#all i know is that Jasmine is hot

[brainrot-goes-brrrrrr]

I'm going to be uploading a bunch of sbg doodles soon, but I really like this one so-

(Request from insta)

[ryllen]

Another pokemon twst assignments

[niklenakle]

I ran out of tags before i could list all the rune factory girls im really sorry ill do better next time...

Hello, tumblr user. Before you is a tumblr post asking you to name a female fictional character. You have unlimited time to tag a female character, NOT a male one.

Begin.

[cregansdingdong]

ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀᴛᴇʀ ɪꜱ ꜰɪɴᴇ.

Cregan Stark x pregnant!fem!reader | no use of y/n | warnings: pregnancy fluff, the tooth rotting kind <3

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“There you are.”

There he was. Watching from the threshold of their marriage doors—the only separation between their traditional chambers—Cregan gazes over the form of his bare wife, who was enjoying a nice bath in her alcove. His eyes moved slowly, deliberately, taking her in and committing her to his memory like it was the very first time. A sleepy smile graced her perfect face, head leaned back against the edge of the tub. Just barely breaking the surface of the water was her stomach, rounded and taut with his child; her wrist had been resting on it as he entered, a letter held loosely in her hand. “I am.” He murmured, feeling himself relax just at the sight of her, and he crossed the room to sit on the chair by the tub. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better now. Jace wrote to me.” She holds out the small paper to him. Cregan hums at the mention of her brother, and his eyes scan the words on the page, quietly snorting after a few moments of reading—he was as funny as he always was. Nothing new, really, in the letter. He’d mostly asked about how his sister was faring, questions about the pregnancy, and gushing over his coming nuptials to Baela. But it all brought a smile to his wife’s face anyway. Cregan felt guilty sometimes, knowing how far Winterfell was from King’s Landing. She missed her family often, but even more now that she was having a child. “He’s eager to be an uncle.” He muses, handing it back to her. “The second he learns the babe is born, he’ll be outside our quarters pouting.”

“Yes he will.” She laughs and places it off to the side. “Only a few weeks more.” Cregan peers down at her stomach, expression softened now, his hand reaching out to gently pet her bump, fingers caressing the skin. “The water is almost cold.” He notes, a slight chide in his tone. His wife nods along, obviously aware. “Mmhm. The maesters say hot baths aren’t too good for the baby—warm is fine, but it becomes tepid fairly quickly. I’m comfortable though, I promise. Supper was divine. I was craving that stew all day. And grapes, but mostly the stew. I missed you.” A pleased smile lifts the corners of his lips at her soft ramble. He loved hearing her speak—just as much as she liked to prattle his ears blue. “I assure you, wife, I missed you even more. You and our babe. How is she doing?”

“Are you truly still convinced we're going to have a girl?” She muses. Cregan gently splashes her in mock offense, tutting lightly at her teasing. “I know we're having a girl. I can feel it in my bones, wife.” He leans in, pressing a less-than-chaste kiss against her mouth, tongue just barely slivering past her supple lips. She tasted like something sweet. “Cake?” He asks, head tilted even though it wasn't really a question. She grins. “Sara brought the letter up here—and sneaked me some frosted scones from the kitchen. I love your sister.” Cregan rolls his eyes. “I should've known you two would scheme behind my back…and not leave me any. I'm your leige-Lord.” His wife reaches out to pull him in again, not satisfied with the previous kiss, and their mouths clash together nearly with a mutual clack of their teeth. "Get in." She was pulling him down into the jasmine scented water, hands fiercely tugging at the laces of his leather doublet. "This water is so damn cold—" He barely had a moment to remove his boots. "You'll be fine." What Lady Stark wants, she gets.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

[barnacles34]

Bells and Whistles (Professional Hazard pt.2)

Karina x Male Reader

18+

It's three days after that beautiful night. Still in Rome.

The voicemail plays in the quiet of her bedroom. First: silence. Then a sharp intake of breath that makes your pulse jump. 

Your thumb hovers over the phone as her voice breaks into those familiar wet sounds that have been haunting you all afternoon.

'If you play that one more time—'

'Shh. This is art.'

She's burrowed in her fortress of quilts, only eyes visible over the edge. A paperback lies abandoned by her hip.

'Delete it.' But her voice has gone soft around the edges.

'Not a chance.' You take your time with your shoes. Let her watch the deliberate movements. 'This is better than your debut song—and you know how much I love that song.’'

'You're awful.' The quilt slips as she shifts. 'I was desperate.'

'Were you?' You tap the phone, find that specific moment where her voice catches. 'Tell me about desperate.'

Her sock-covered foot sneaks out, hooks behind your knee. Tugs. 'Twenty minutes for milk. Who takes twenty minutes for milk?'

'Someone wearing very expensive, very tight jeans.'

'Someone being cruel.'

You catch her ankle mid-retreat. The quilt falls away, reveals cotton shorts still damp from earlier. Your thumb finds the arch of her foot, presses. She makes that sound again—the one from the voicemail.

'Cruel?' Your fingers trace higher. 'I'm not the one sending pornographic voicemails in the middle of the day.'

'I didn't—' She breaks off as your hand slides up her calf.

'No?' You hit play again. Her recorded gasp fills the room. 'What would you call this then?'

She bites her knuckle. You replace it with your thumb, let her teeth graze the pad.

'That noise you made,' you murmur. 'Right at the end. Makes me feel invincible.'

'Yeah?' Her tongue darts out, tastes salt.

'Like I could do anything. Find Atlantis. Solve world peace.' You brush her temple with your lips. 'Handle two of you.'

She snorts, shoves at your chest. 'You can barely handle one.'

'Want to test that theory?'

The laughter dies in her throat as your palm finds her inner thigh. Heat blooms under cotton.

'Stay.' Her fingers twist in your shirt like anchors. 'I'll send more. A dozen. Two dozen.'

'Greedy girl.'

Her eyes crinkle at the corners. 'Your fault.'

When you kiss her, she melts like she's been waiting all day.

Her tongue maps the ridges of your teeth, memorizing territory she already knows by heart.

‘Cheater,’ she gasps when you pinch the clasp of her bra.

‘Architect.’

Her shorts fall. The quilt tangles around her hips. She arches when your mouth finds her neck. Whimpers when your teeth follow.

‘Still deleting it.’ She breathes.

‘Try.’

You hit playback again. Her moan swells—raw, unfiltered—as your fingers slide into her.

‘Fuck.’ Her head thrashes. ‘That’s—’

‘—Proof.’ You curl your fingers. ‘You’re my religion.’

She chokes on a laugh. A sob. Her hips stutter. You drink the sounds from her lips. Let her nails carve half-moons into your shoulders.

Later, when she’s boneless and blinking up at you, she traces your collarbone.

‘Twelve voicemails,’ she yawns.

‘Thirteen.’

‘Why thirteen?’

You press her palm to your chest. Let her feel the gallop. ‘One for every time I died at this very second.’

She stills.

Her teeth flash. Dangerous. Devoted. ‘Gladly.’

Your fingers move lazy. Slow. Dragging out every twitch, every choked gasp. She arches into your hand, sweat gluing her bangs to her temples.

‘Still… deleting it.’ She pants, hips circling.

‘Try harder.’ You crook your fingers. Watch her back bow.

Her moan syncs with the recording still playing softly nearby—a stereo echo of need. You drink the sound. Memorize the way her throat flutters.

It’s pulsing, it’s so wet and hot. Sucking in your fingers like quicksand.

‘You’re mean.’ She whines.

‘Mean?’ Your thumb swipes. ‘You begged for this. Remember?’

The voicemail crackles: “—can’t sleep, can’t think, just… please—”

You smirk. Kiss her inner thigh. Salt and jasmine. Her hips jerk.

‘No—wait—’ Her hand fists your hair. Doesn’t push. Doesn’t pull. Trembles.

You nuzzle the damp cotton. ‘Scared?’

‘Never.’

Her shorts peel away. You linger—inhale her, lips hovering. She whimpers.

You chuckle. ‘Even your pussy smells like jasmine.’

‘Please.’

The first lick is a tease. A glancing blow. She curses. The second? A vow.

You map her with your tongue—slow, reverent. Learn the rhythm that makes her thighs clamp your ears. The angle that steals her words. She’s wildfire in your mouth.

‘There—oh god, there—’

You double down. Fingers curl inside her. Thumb presses just so.

Her scream is raw. Beautiful. The quilt soaks. You don’t let up—suck gently as she shakes, drag your tongue through every pulse until she’s clawing the sheets.

Her juices quicken, a pungent musk of sex that’s just pure fucking sin—and you’re sucking it up like a thirsty dog.

Your tongue drags a slow circle around her clit—not touching it. Just tracing the swollen bud through her folds. She whines, thighs tensing.

‘Tease.’

‘Worshipper.’ you correct.

Her hips lift. You press her back down with a palm to her stomach. Feel the muscles flutter, feel the soft cream-like softness of her beautiful midriff.

First contact: a glancing lick. Just the tip of your tongue skating over her clit. She gasps. You catalog the sound—high, sharp, yours.

‘Again.’ She breathes.

You oblige. Slower this time. Let your tongue flatten, drag wet heat across her, bury your nose into her pelvis. Her fingers knot in the sheets.

‘Good?’

‘More.’

You hum. Vibration ripples through her. She jerks.

‘Easy,’ you murmur against her. ‘Let me learn you.’

Your thumbs part her folds. Expose her fully—glistening, flushed, pulse visible in the throb of her clit. You blow gently. Watch her clench, flesh constricting.

‘Cruel—’ A high moan escapes her.

‘Thorough.’

The first proper lick steals her voice. You start slow. Broad strokes from entrance to clit, savoring her tang. Her thighs quiver.

‘There,’ she hisses when your tongue flicks her clit. ‘God, there—’

You zero in. Flick. Flick. Steady rhythm. Her breath hitches.

‘Don’t stop—don’t—’

You switch tactics—suck gently. Her back arches.

‘Yes—like—ah—’

Her clit hardens under your tongue. You trace circles around it, avoiding direct contact. She sobs.

‘Please—’

You reward her: firm pressure, rapid flicks. Her hips stutter. You pin her down, red blooming around the hold you have over her stomach—relentless.

‘Close—I’m close—’

You slide two fingers inside. Curl. Her walls clamp.

‘Fuck—fuck—’

Her clit pulses under your tongue. You suck harder.

She shatters.

A broken scream. Hips grinding against your face. You ride her through it—tongue gentling, fingers stilling.

‘Too much—’

You kiss her inner thigh. Two more kisses along the outer lips. Taste salt. ‘Beautiful.’

She trembles. ‘Again.’

Her thighs tremble as she nudges you onto your back. The mattress dips under her weight. You reach to touch her face—always reaching—but she catches your wrist. Presses it to the pillow. 

Her grip isn’t firm. A request, not a demand.

‘Let me,’ she murmurs.

You nod.

Her lips start at your collarbone—a closed-mouth kiss that lingers. She exhales warm breath against the hollow of your throat. You swallow. She smiles against your skin.

Another kiss. Lower. The swell of your pectoral. The scar from that cat. Her tongue traces the jagged edge. You hiss.

The way her thick hair travels along your chest tickles. The soothing aroma of her shampoo almost paralyzing you.

Her teeth graze your nipple. Bite down just enough to make your hips jerk. The denim of your jeans rasps against her bare thighs.

‘Off,’ she says.

‘What’s the magic word?’

Her eyes flick up. Dark. Glossy with submission. ‘Please.’

You sit up to shuck your jeans. She pushes you back down. ‘Let me.’

Her fingers fumble with your belt. The leather slips. She growls—a sound you’ve only heard when she lost at Mario Kart the day before. You bite your cheek. Laughter threatens release.

‘Shut up.’

‘Didn’t say anything.’

The belt clatters to the floor. Your boxers follow. Cool air hits your cock. Her breath follows—warm, uneven.

‘Look at me,’ you say.

She does. Pupils blown. Lips parted. A string of saliva connects her tongue to her lower lip.

‘Beautiful,’ you murmur.

She flushes. Looks away.

Your thumb hooks her chin. ‘Eyes here, sweetheart.’

A whimper escapes her. She obeys.

The first lick is tentative. A kitten testing cream. Her tongue swipes the underside of your cock. Your abs clench in response.

‘Jimin—’

‘Shh.’

Her lips wrap the head. Suck gently. Your groan claws its way out. She moans in response—vibration traveling straight to your spine.

Fuck.

Her hand wraps your shaft. Strokes in time with her mouth. Too dry. Too rough. Perfection.

‘Condom?’ she mumbles around you, the slightest gap allowed for conversation.

‘Later.’

She hums. The sound liquefies your bones.

And she continues. Swollen lips wrapped around your length, tongue slightly pushing on the underside.

Her free hand drifts between her legs. You catch it.

‘Focus.’

‘Meanie.’

You guide her head back down. ‘Earn it.’

She takes you deeper. Smoldering eye contact as she inches closer to the hilt, whereupon her nose almost makes contact with your pelvic bone. Gags. Pulls off. Coughs.

Strings of thick spit follow her mouth as she wipes.

‘Okay?’

‘Perfect.’

She tries again. Slower. Breathing through her nose. Her throat opens. Takes you to the root this time. Tears spill.

You bite down on your lip.

Her nails dig into your thighs. Sting. Ground. 

She finds a rhythm—suck, release, swirl. Strings of spit travel down your length. Where her thumb massages your balls with the spit. Your vision blurs.

Amidst it all, she’s staring into you—daring you to force her down on your cock. Begging, even.

‘Close,’ you warn.

She pulls off. Strokes you fast. ‘Come.’

You arch. ‘Where?’

Her tongue darts out. Catches the first pearl of cum. ‘Everywhere.’

The orgasm rips through you. Strips you raw. You spill across her lips, her chin, the swell of her breasts. She licks her lips. Grins.

‘Good?’

‘Amazing.’

She crawls up your body. Fully swallowing the load, then pressing a light kiss on your cheek.

Her mouth lingers on your cheekbone—wet, warm. The kiss sticks when she pulls back. Milky streaks still glisten between her breasts. You thumb one. She shivers.

‘Messy,’ you murmur.

‘Yours.’

Her nipples graze your chest as she straddles you. Heat blooms where skin meets skin. You palm her ribs. Feel the rabbit-quick thrum beneath.

Her hips lift. Your cock nudges her entrance. Slick. Swollen. You hold still. Make her work for it.

‘Please.’ She breathes, sinking down.

Heat swallows you. Tight. Quivering. You bite your tongue. Blood blooms.

She moves like water—slow swirls, thighs trembling. Her breasts sway. You catch one. Lick the salt from its curve.

‘Look at me.’

She doesn’t. Eyes screwed shut. Hair plastered to her neck. Hot and heavy with arousal.

You pinch her nipple. Gentle. Cruel. ‘Look.’

She whimpers. Lashes lift. Pupils black as oil spills.

‘Good girl.’

She whimpers. Clenches. Your fingers dig into her hips.

‘Faster.’

‘Make me.’

You buck up. She gasps. Nails score your chest.

‘Cheat—’

Her rhythm fractures. Hips stuttering. You let her chase it—the sweet friction, the burn. Her moans pitch higher.

‘Close—I’m close—,’ she whimpers.

You still her hips. ‘Wait.’

She sobs. ‘Please—’

‘Say it.’

Your thumb finds her clit. Circles.

She breaks. ‘Yours. Always yours.’

You release her. Let her slam down. Take what she needs.

Her orgasm rips through both of you—convulsions, bitten-off cries. Her rhythmic roll of hips turns frenzied. You let her ride it. Milk every pulse. 

After all, you’re obsessed—crazy about her.

When she collapses, you roll her over. Press into the sweat-slick hollow of her back.

‘Again.’

She shakes her head. Weak.

You bite her shoulder. ‘Again.’

Her body opens. Always opens. You grip your cock along her swollen slit, the sticky wetness almost  drives you mad. Regardless, you fuck her slow this time. 

Deep. Dragging each thrust. Feeling how her pussy drags on your cock, slick wet sounds singing into your ears.

‘Feel it?’

She nods. Pillow muffling her whines.

Your hand slides under. Cups her breast. Squeezes.

You curl over her. Chest to heaving back. Lips to her ear.

​​Her lips linger at your ear—sticky with confession. You taste salt when she pulls away. The room smells of sex and the spilt vanilla candle she lit hours ago, wax pooling like liquid amber.

She softly guides your hand to her throat. Your thumb finds the pulse. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. A trapped bird.

"Harder," she whispers.

You tighten. Feel her swallow.

Her breasts press against your chest as she arches, nipples pebbling against your scars. The heat between her legs slicks your thigh.

"Inside.’

You flip her. Sheets snag her knees. She whines. You bite the sound from her lips.

Her hands fist the headboard. You press into her slow. Molten velvet. Her moan fractures.

‘Eyes.’

She obeys. Always obeys.

You move. Deliberate. Each thrust a psalm. Her breasts sway—heavy, flushed. You palm one. Squeeze. Milk-white skin blooms red.

‘More—’

‘Quiet.’

She bites her wrist. You replace it with your fingers.

‘Sing for me.’

Her cry splinters the air. You swallow it. Fuck her deeper.

The headboard knocks the wall. Syncopated. Her ankles lock at your waist. Pull. Beg.

‘Who?’ you demand.

‘Yours.’

‘Louder.’

‘Yours~!’

The word still ringing when you slam into her. No finesse. Piston hips. Her breasts slap your chest—heat and sweat and jasmine.

She chokes. Nails rake your back. ‘Too—’

‘Take it.’

Her legs lock. Ankles digging into your behind. You fuck her like proving a point. Jackhammer rhythm. Headboard cracks plaster.

Dust rains down as you drag her hips back, slam into her harder. No rhythm now—just ruin.

She chokes on a scream, face mashed into the quilt, ass raised like an offering.

Your grip bruises her waist, fingers denting flesh as you split her open again. Again. Again and again. 

You can feel your balls hit the wetness of her pussy, smacking wet sounds onto her slit.

‘Take it.’ You grind deeper, pelvis punishing her clit with each thrust. Her thighs quiver, slick with sweat and your earlier release. ‘Wanted me rough? Here.’

She sobs into the mattress, voice shredded. ‘T-too—’

‘You don’t get to.’ You fist her hair, yank her head back. Her spine bows, throat exposed. ‘You begged for this. Remember?’

A nod. A whimper.

You snarl, slamming home. The wet slap of skin-on-skin drowns her cries. Her nails claw the sheets, nearly ripping threads. You lean over her, teeth scoring her shoulder. 

Her scream cracks as you pin her wrists, pound into her like you’re exorcising ghosts.

The bed groans. Her breasts sway, nipples raw from your mouth. She’s so tight, clenching around your cock like she’s trying to keep you trapped inside.

‘Gonna break you,’ you rasp, thumb digging into her asshole.

She shrieks, back arching. ‘P-please—’

‘Please what?’

‘Ruin me—’

You do. Hips pistoning, sweat stinging the bite marks on her neck. You don’t stop—can’t stop—driving into her convulsions until your vision whites out.

She sobs. High. Broken. ‘There there there~!’

Your thumb finds her clit. Grind. Her scream lodges in your teeth.

‘Come.’

‘Can’t—can’t—’

You bite her shoulder. ‘Come.’

She shatters. Walls milking. Clenching. Begging without words.

You drill deeper. Tip hitting that spongy ache. Her eyes roll back.

‘Gonna fill you,’ you snarl.

‘Please please—’

One last thrust. Hilt-deep.

You rupture.

Whiteout. Earthquake hips. Flood her until your knees buckle.

She collapses into the fault line you’ve carved. Whimpers when you pull out. Spend drips down her thigh.

Her finger swipes it—all that cumulative spend coupled along her swollen cunt. Lets the slurry couple along her tongue.

‘I love how you taste.’

‘God. You’re too fucking perfect.’ You drop down onto her. Cuddling.

Moonlight spills through the curtains. She's tucked against you, all soft edges now.

'You okay?' Your fingers ghost over her shoulder.

'Mm.' A pause. 'Was it too much?'

'Never.'

'But I was...' She shifts slightly. 'I got carried away.'

'Hey.' You tilt her chin up. 'That's what I love about you.'

'What? Being a mess?'

'Being real.'

She burrows closer. 'Still. Sorry if I—'

'Don't you dare apologize.'

'But—'

'Want some water?'

'If you move, I'll write a very detailed exposé about you.'

'About what? My green tea addiction?'

'Chapter One: The Man Who Chose Hydration Over Cuddles.'

'Riveting.'

'Mm. I'll even include citations.'

Your fingers trace idle patterns on her arm. 'What's Chapter Two?'

'Our future kids being haunted by your tea collection.'

'Kids, huh?'

'Tiny humans who'll only drink iced americanos.'

'In winter? That's grounds for custody battle.'

She pinches your side. 'They'll be perfect.'

'Yeah?'

'Yeah. Little artists with their mom's smile and their dad's terrible sense of humor.'

'My humor is exquisite.'

'You'll teach them to be insufferable.'

'And you'll teach them to be beautiful.'

She props herself up. Hair mussed, eyes soft. 'Where should we live?'

'Somewhere quiet. With big windows.'

'And a garden?'

'For your flowers and my tea herbs.'

'Domestic.' She wrinkles her nose. 'I like it.'

You pull her closer. 'We'll need a library.'

'For bedtime stories?'

'And quiet mornings.'

'With a reading nook?'

'Big enough for three.'

'Four,' she corrects. 'Maybe five.'

'Ambitious.'

She kisses your jaw. 'Thought you could handle anything.'

'Try me.'

'Five kids. All girls. All with my stubbornness.'

'Terrifying.'

'But worth it.'

You thread fingers through her hair. 'Worth everything.'

'Even giving up your tea collection?'

'Now you're pushing it.'

She laughs, soft and real. 'I'll let you keep the fancy cups.'

'Generous.'

'I know.' She yawns. 'I'm a catch.'

'The biggest.'

Her fingers trail your chest. 'Hey.'

'Mm?'

'Think our kids will be tall?'

'With your genes? Doubtful.'

She bites your shoulder. 'I'm average height.'

'For a garden gnome.'

'For a normal person.’ She groans.

‘—Who has been crushed ever so slightly by a hydraulic press.’

‘Ugh.’ She falls back into the bed.

‘We need a shower.’

She huffs. ‘No, I need a shower.’

‘Hm?’

‘I know what you’re gonna do: act like it’s a shower then nail me for the next half-hour in there.’

‘Oh?’

‘Don’t oh me. My legs are still sore from the cumulative effects of the past 3 days’

'Fine.' You pull her closer. 'Five more minutes.'

'Five turns into fifty with you.'

'Can you blame me?'

She traces patterns on your chest. 'I have to be at the airport by six.'

'Skip it.'

'Right. I'll just tell my company I found something better to do.'

'Like?'

'Like getting ravished by a journalist with no self-control.'

'Sounds reasonable to me.'

Her laugh is soft. Sad. 'I can’t let go of this.'

'This?'

'You.' She props herself up. 'Your stupid jokes. Your hands. The way you look at me like I'm...'

Your fingers find her hair. 'How long?'

'A week. Maybe two.'

'I'll die.'

'Drama queen.'

'No, actually die. Waste away. They'll write articles: Local Writer Perishes From Karina Deficiency.'

She smacks your chest. 'Stop.'

'My last words will be "if only she'd stayed one more day."'

'I hate you.'

'You love me.'

'Yeah.' She kisses your jaw. 'That's the problem.'

She sits up suddenly. 'Wait. What if—'

'What if?'

'My apartment in Seoul has a separate entrance. Service elevator.' The words tumble out. 'Nobody uses it except staff. And I have this office, connected to my room—'

'Jimin.'

'—could set up a desk there. Get you one of those fancy writing chairs. And there's this cafe nearby, really private, the owner's super discrete—'

You prop yourself up. Watch her plan your smuggling with bright eyes.

'The security team changes rotation at 2AM.' She's drawing invisible blueprints on your chest. 'That's when we could—'

'Breathe, baby.'

'I'm serious.' Her fingers curl against your skin. 'I've thought about this. A lot. Like, embarrassingly a lot.'

'Yeah?'

'Yeah.' She ducks her head. 'Have the whole thing mapped out in my head. When to sneak you in. Which staff to trust. Where to hide your toothbrush.'

'My toothbrush gets its own strategic planning?'

'Everything gets strategic planning.' She looks up. 'I'd make it work. I'd make it perfect.'

'Jimin.'

'I know it's crazy.' Her voice cracks. 'But I can't—the thought of not—'

You pull her down. Kiss her forehead, her temple, the corner of her mouth. 'Tell me more about this secret entrance.'

She breathes against your neck. 'Really?'

'Really. Though I should warn you—'

'What?'

'My toothbrush is high-maintenance. Needs its own security detail.'

She laughs, wet and relieved. 'I'm being pathetic.'

'You're being perfect.' Your thumb catches a tear. 'And I'm taking notes.'

'Yeah?'

'Mm yeah. Finally found my title: "How to Smuggle a Writer: A Professional Hazard."'

Jimin nuzzles into you further. Purring at this moment of peace.

2 Weeks Later

Dawn creeps through her expensive curtains. She's wrapped around you like a koala, skin on skin, taking up more space than her tiny frame should allow.

You try to slip away. Her arms tighten.

'No,' she mumbles against your chest.

'Tea.'

'Lies.'

'Green tea.'

'Worse lies.'

But she lets you go, rolling into the warm spot you leave behind. You pause at the door—she's barely covered by the sheet, hair a mess across your pillow. Perfect.

The kitchen gleams in morning light. That copper kettle she insisted on buying catches the sun—"Because proper tea needs proper tools," she'd declared, like your entire existence before her was barbaric.

She pads in almost-naked just as the water's heating, with your discarded shirt from yesterday.

'Cold?'

'Miss you already.'

'I'm right here.'

'Too far.' She hooks her chin over your shoulder, arms sliding around your waist. 'What blend?'

'The one you say you hate.'

'Mm. The grassy one?'

'Getting better at this.'

She hums against your skin. Already reaching for her cup—the blue ceramic one that somehow migrated from the hotel to her apartment.

First sip. Her eyes close.

'Well?'

'It’s okay.' She takes another sip. 'Bland. I guess.'

She grins wide as you turn around. Getting closer to you, inhaling the smell of your fresh t-shirt. 

'Noted.' You kiss her temple. 'Want the rest of mine too?'

'Yes.' A sleepy smile. 'But only because I love you.'

'Of course.' Your greatest triumph: her, here, stealing your tea and your heart. 'Only because of that.'

'Want breakfast?' She's already moving to the fridge.

'You're cooking?'

'Don't sound so scared.' She pulls out eggs, something that looks suspiciously gourmet. 'I've been practicing. Besides, I’m tired of eating the coal you call food, and the bacteria colony I call food.'

'Since when?'

'Since I decided to be domestic.' She hip-checks you away from the counter. 'Go sit. Let me work.'

You watch her move around the kitchen. Something's different. A nervousness in her hands, a flutter in her movements.

'Stop staring.'

She’s revelling in it, how she gets you dumb-struck every time you get a glance of her.

Too cute.

'Can't help it.'

She sets a plate in front of you. Simple breakfast. Eggs. Toast. But arranged with careful precision. Something white peeking out from under the toast.

'Fancy.' You reach for your fork.

'Wait.' Her fingers twist in your shirt. 'Look under.'

'Under the toast?'

She nods. Not breathing.

You lift the bread. There's a small note. Written as small as her hands would allow. 

‘Pregnant.’

The world stops.

'Jimin.'

'I know it's fast.' The words rush out. 'I know we just—but I've been feeling strange and the test was just sitting there in my bathroom for days and I finally—this morning while you were sleeping—'

You pull her into your lap.

'Say something.'

'When?'

'2 weeks, maybe? Remember that night after the bar?'

You remember. Of course you remember. A beautiful night.

'Are you...' Her voice small. 'Are you happy?'

You kiss her. Taste salt. Someone's crying. Maybe both of you.

'Ecstatic.' Your hand finds her stomach. Still flat. But now. But soon. 'Terrified.'

'Yeah?' She laughs through tears.

'Yeah.' You kiss her again. 'Best breakfast ever.'

'Even better than your tea?'

Instead of answering, you kiss her again.

What's tea anyway?

Fin

A/N: Goodness! They make a great couple. Hope you enjoyed!

[clockwayswrites]

City Pigeons Bleed Green Part 25

masterpost

Despite the chill in the air, it was a lovely day to be outside. The sun was warm, the ground had dried out after a few days of rain, and the trees were in full color. Danny threw the ball again for Ursa, using the odd launching stick that Dick had gotten for them. It was appreciated, really. Ursa could run and Danny couldn’t throw the ball nearly as far as she wanted by hand.

Ursa raced back with the ball, just a cloud of black fur, and darted right past Danny. Danny spun around quickly, not wanting Ursa to jump on Alfred again (they were working on it), and almost swallowed his tongue.

“Ursa! Gentle, girl! Be gentle!” Danny called out as he took off after her.

Luckily, Ursa listened and planted her fluffy butt on the ground even if she was still wiggling around excitedly.

“Hi there, Ursa, it’s nice to meet you,” Babs said with a soft smile as she held out her hand to be sniffed.

Ursa dropped the ball in the offered hand with a quiet woof and a large grin. Luckily Babs didn’t seem to mind the sudden, slobbery present and threw the ball like Ursa wanted. Ursa was off after it like a bolt.

“Sorry about her,” Danny said as he scratched at the back of her neck. “Play time means fetch right now. She’s pretty determined about these things.”

“That’s okay,” Babs said as she wiped off her hand on her jeans. “She seems like a real sweat dog.”

“She is. It’s been really good to have her.” Danny didn’t even try to hide how found he sounded. He kept his eyes on Ursa, not able to look at Babs as he asked. “Did you… did you find anything?”

“I did.” Babs’ voice was gentle. “Do you want to know now?”

“I— yes, but no? I think this will… I guess… I don’t want to hear this alone, but I think that means I’ll need to explain everything.”

Ursa dropped her ball and came over to Danny where she pressed herself firmly against his leg. Danny buried a hand in her soft fur.

“They’ll all wait however long you need them to,” Babs said.

“I know. But I think… I think I do need to tell them, if I want to get better, and I want to get better.”

“Okay. I’ll make sure the family is on the way for dinner tonight and we can talk once they get here,” Babs said with that carefully gentle sort of voice that Danny always hated a little. Jazz used to do that too. “In the mean time, I’d love to get to know Ursa more.”

Danny cleared his throat. “So, I guess it’s obvious that she really likes fetch…”

-

Dick helped Babs settle onto the sofa. She didn’t need the help, not really, but the easy back and forth of movement was just natural for them, even after all of these years. It also gave him someone to fuss over that wasn’t Danny. What he wanted to do was scoop Danny up into a hug and never let him go. Dick figured that would be a bit too stifling though. Instead, Dick made sure that Babs had her laptop while the rest of the room got settled.

Danny chose the floor, apparently. He leaned back against Jason’s legs while Tim was pressed on the other side with Steph crammed next to him. Damian was on the floor next to Danny. The two were oddly hard to separate. Ursa had draped herself across both their laps; Danny dug his fingers into her mane. He didn’t look up at the rest of the room, even as Cass sat on the arm of the couch.

They hadn’t been told much about why they were there, a fact that ate at Bruce, but he worked to let that go. Danny had asked them to be there and to the one, they had shown up. Alfred was passing around hot chocolate with Duke’s help. The inclination that the comforting drink would be needed was probably right, as much as Dick hated that. He took his own mug and clung to it like a lifeline.

“The other night,” Babs started, “Danny asked me to look into someone for him, a Jasmine Fenton.”

On the television, a picture of redheaded girl appeared. The person who’s hair Babs had reminded Danny of, Dick realized. It looked like a school photo: mediocre studio lighting, bland background, a forced smile. She was late teens with a scatter of freckles and bright blue eyes.

“Jasmine Fenton, age nineteen, is currently enrolled at the University of Arkansas in Fayetteville, where her permanent residence is.”

“Arkansas?” Danny asked quietly.

Babs nodded. “She’s been in the state since she entered the custody of Alica Bayard, Jasmine’s aunt from her mother’s side, almost two years ago.”

Danny sagged forward, burring his face into Ursa’s mane. “Oh thank god.”

“Why did her aunt receive custody?” Bruce asked when none of the rest of them seemed able to.

The steadying breath that Babs had to take wasn’t reassuring. “Jasmine was removed from her parent’s custody after the living conditions were found unsafe. This was part of an investigation into the disappearance of her brother, Daniel Fenton.”

A familiar face joined Jasmine’s on the screen. It was the same, awkward sort of school photo and Danny looked even more uncomfortable in it. His hair was shorter, his eyes bluer, and there were none of the scars. This was Danny before everything went wrong.

“The parents, doctors Jackson and Madison Fenton, were never charged with anything relating to the disappearance. They moved away from Amity Park four months later, likely due to increasing hostility from the town.”

“They weren’t dumb enough to keep me in the house,” Danny said. His words were somehow loud in the room despite being muffled by Ursa’s fur. He gave a mirthless chuckle. “You know, I used to think they were … not dumb, but clueless, you know? That they were science smart and low in everything else. The hapless, accidentally mad scientists. And then… and then I find out how much they had planned. That all of me was planned… I don’t know if anything about them was real.”

Damian leaned over to press against Danny’s side, offering his silent support. Dick was proud of how good a brother Damian was to Danny. It was a small silver lining in all of this. Danny slumped against him.

Danny’s eyes flicked back up to the screen and his sister’s face. He glanced away a long moment later. “Is there… are there any picture of the lab from the report that you can put up?”

Of course Babs had the photos and soon they were cycling through on the screen.

Mad scientists was right. The place looked distinctly science fiction, full of every day objects and tools that should be recognizable but where three steps away from reality. Everything was gleaming metal accented with a toxic green.

“My… they… the Fentons are ecto-biologists,” Danny explained as the rest of the room cataloged the details in the pictures.

“Ghost biologists?” Tim asked with furrowed brows.

“Yeah. Not that they ever met the ethics that biologists go by. But they didn’t think ghosts were sentient let alone sapient, so I don’t know why they even called themselves that. They didn’t… the screams means it’s working,” Danny said, choking on something between a laugh and a sob.

Jason cursed, the words a low rumble of anger that echoed through the rest of the room.

Dick had to get up and pace.

He brushed his fingers lightly over his family as he moved through the room, assuring himself they were all there and alright. Bruce caught his fingers and squeezed. Dick huffed, but settled lightly on the arm of Bruce’s chair.

“There’s a lot I didn’t really think about as a kid,” Danny said, once the room had settled again. “I should have. But they were—I thought they were my parents. I thought they knew best. When I started to really pay attention… we didn’t see eye to eye pretty quickly, but I thought they were just misguided, you know? I thought that maybe, eventually, I could talk to them about all the things that I’d learned and show them that they were wrong. But I didn’t know.”

“Didn’t know what, sweetheart?” Bruce asked.

“That I was never their son. I was just a lab rat.”

“Danny,” Cass called softly.

Danny shook his head. “It’s true! They even said it: ‘you can love the test monkey, Danny, but you can’t let that get in the way of the experiment’. Apparently I was an easy monkey to care for. Not too demanding. Easy enough for them to just add to the effort they already put towards Jazz, their real kid. Easy enough to ignore when they wanted. For me it was all just… normal. Just how I grew up.”

Tim bumped Danny with his leg. “Don’t worry, Steph and I will teach you how to annoy everyone in this family so that they can’t ignore you.”

The little snort of laughter Danny made seemed to surprise even him.

“Not that we would want to ignore you anyways, Dandelion,” Jason said. “We’re not perfect, but we’re family. Real family.”

Danny leaned back against Jason’s legs, a faint smile on his lips. Dick felt something in himself unwind at the sight. Jason was right, they were far from perfect, but they were family and they would be there for Danny always. It would talk time, a lot of time, but Danny would be alright. And all along healing he’d be loved.

Bab’s caught Dick’s eye. She clearly had more to tell, but Dick shook his head slightly. Give everyone a moment. Let everyone process and drink their hot chocolate and eat some of the cookies that Alfred brought with his impeccable timing. When everything was calmer and the cookies almost gone, Dick got up and returned to his seat by Babs. He touched her wrist gently. It was as good as time as any.

“So I’ve figured out when the Fentons visited Gotham,” Babs said. An old, poor quality image of a convention banner popped up on the television. It was for alternative energies. Next to it was a list of booths, the Fenton’s ‘Ectoplasm Energy’ booth highlighted. “But what I don’t understand is why they chose to clone Bruce. They never tried to use it as a claim for child support or any of the obvious reasons someone would clone a Wayne for.”

“I, um, never knew the when,” Danny said, squinting at the images. “I didn’t… I didn’t even find out the who until I was escaping. It was stupid to stop and look, they could have come back at any moment, but I had to know, you know? But I know the why. Bruce registers as a liminal. I would bet all of you do except for Steph and maybe Alfred. Well, Jason is more like me and Dami is something other, something more. Duke’s totally different.”

Bruce leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “Liminal.”

Danny nodded. “Yeah. It can—like, it’s not the best term, really, because it can mean a lot. A lot of exposure to death, exposure to death at key moments, being somewhere liminal for a really long time, or longterm exposure to ectoplasm can cause it.”

“Is it dangerous?” Tim asked, mouth twisted in a curious frown.

“No,” Danny said quickly. “Think of it sorta like a meta gene? Some people are more susceptible to being liminal and liminals, if exposed to the right… incentives, can develop… not powers but kinda? Or, if things go really wrong, can turn into a halfa.

“My—the Fentons are really immune to being liminal, they learned that in college when their lab partner got really sick and then later turned into a halfa. I dodn’t know if… I don’t know if they would have tried to use Jazz like that did me if not. I don’t think so but… well, they didn’t have to worry about her when they exposed me to all sorts of stuff around the house growing up.”

“They chose to clone me simply because I was a liminal?” Bruce asked. He sounded befuddled.

To be fair, it was like the weirdest reason ever to clone Bruce Wayne and Batman.

“Yeah. A strong one,” Danny said. “Gotham itself is pretty liminal and you’re, you know, both her knight and her prince. I think you were sort of like the perfect choice for them to pick. I guess you went to the convention. They had you handle a device, it nicked you enough for them to get blood. They, um, would have played it off. Like they bragged, everyone always just thought D…Jack was just a bumbling fool. It let him get away with a lot.”

“They snagged Bruce’s blood and cloned you to just, what, have their own liminal?” Steph asked. Her nose scrunched up at the whole idea of it.

“Yeah. Apparently they tracking how much I was exposed to and what my levels where. I didn’t… I never noticed. It was just growing up. My, they always did my check ups. Experiments were left everywhere. I cleaned the lab. Sometimes hot dogs came back to life and attacked.”

“What?!” Duke squawked.

“One more reason to be vegetarian,” Damian tsked.

Danny just shrugged. “It was just life. But, um, I didn’t really get any powers or anything so they pushed things. They set it up for me to die and be exposed to a huge amount of ectoplasm at the same time.”

Dick stilled. “It was planned?”

“What?”

“You said they killed you, but it… that was planned. Killing you was planned?”

“Oh, yeah,” Danny said softly. “Like, I thought it was an accident, just being a stupid teen and not being safe enough around big science experiments. My friend just wanted a picture of me in the portal. It turned on and—”

Danny trailed off, fingers tight in Ursa’s fur.

“And halfa.” Cass said.

“And halfa,” Danny agreed. “Which I guess was the best outcome. I could have just died and been a ghost. It was proof that someone liminal enough could be dead and not at the same time. My, um, my friend Sam said I was responsible to fight the ghosts that the portal accident let out. It was just another way to test my powers and see how they grew. Not that, it wasn’t Sam testing me, but the Fentons would let ghosts ‘escape’ and I would fight them and get new skills.”

“You were a hero, Master Danny?” Alfred asked with a purposeful look to Bruce.

Bruce had the good graces to look a little chagrined. “It just seems part of the make up at this point?”

Danny smiled a little. “I guess. I went by Phantom. The city didn’t always like me, the ghosts could cause a lot of damage, but nothing ever got too bad. I really thought I was doing something important.”

“You were,” Tim insisted. “Even if the Fentons were the real villain behind it all, you still dealt with the threats that you knew about.”

“…I guess?” Danny agreed doubtfully. “I don’t know if it matters when they just were waiting for my powers to stagnate. Apparently they had pressure from the group that was funding them, the GWI, for results so they moved up their time line. I went to sleep and woke up in a box in a GIW lab. Then I was just a lab rat. I was just something to experiment on and cut into and—and—”

Dick moved to the floor and Danny’s side, pulling his newest little brother into a tight hug. “Don’t. You don’t have to think about that anymore.”

They had seen the scars.

They knew the sort of things that Danny had been through.

That those monsters had done.

Danny didn’t need to relive any of it just to try and explain things to them. Part of Dick wanted to protect his other siblings from having to be exposed to those horrors too, even with everything else they had been through. Danny sniffled wetly and buried his face into Dick’s shoulder. Hitched sobs wracked his body. Ursa huffed and tried to lick Danny’s chin. Damian leaned closer.

Dick looked up at Jason who was already watching Dick with a question in his gaze. Jason didn’t listen to anyone, not really, but this was a family mater and Dick was the oldest child. It was his call. Dick didn’t even hesitate to nod.

Jason looked viciously pleased.

Jason and Tim could handle the Fentons. The Titans would see to the GWI. The Justice League could deal with any fallout. The family would protect their own.

Dick pulled Danny closer as he let him cry.

---

AN: *lies down dead like Danny* this chapter was exhausting to write. I hope you all like it and it feels full.

[jinwoosbabyboo]

"Will You Marry Me?"

How I imagine LADS Men would propose. This is part 1 of 2. I tried to do the sweet elegant writing, but that ain't me so here you go....

Zayne

Zayne definitely shows his love through his actions.

He's the type to be nervous the weeks leading up to his proposal. He won't show it though his coping mechanism would just be to work more hours to avoid thinking about all the reasons you'd say no. So you'd barely see him for weeks.

Don't worry though trust he's planned everything down to the last minute. He even tried to plan how the conversation would go. He quickly scraps that idea when he remembers he can never predict your response considering the way you always surprise him with your antics.

He's private about your relationship (Private not a secret read that again twice). He wouldn't want a crowd or prying eyes he'd want a cozy afternoon at home with you. The PERFECT cozy afternoon. He'd have you sit down on the couch as he'd bend a knee and give you the most Shakespearian speech you've every heard in your life before ending it with a......

Zayne: I know I've told you before nothing last forever but I'd like to be your nothing and last forever .... Will you marry me? MC: You're my everything Zayne Zayne: Is that a yes? MC: Yes yes of course

How could you even think of saying no? He would also turn you every which way but loose to celebrate. The aftercare would consist of a hot jasmine scented bath with you to relax your muscles. That nap would hit different after that cozy afternoon. ;)

Rafayel

Rafayel is so silly he'd stumble and drop the ring down a drain or something. I bet you thought thats what I'd say huh? Wrong number babes.

He can be serious when he wants to and he'd want his proposal to be perfect as well however he would want to have fun prior to asking just to calm his nerves. He'd take you to a festival or a farmers market or the arcade anything to take his mind off his racing heartbeat for his plans later.

When the time comes he would take you to a quiet gorgeous beach at sunset (A place where he feels the most calm) and right when nightfalls. Fireworks. Perfect timing huh? Coincidence? I think not!

He always finds you beautiful no matter what. He could stare at you for hours and never get tired of looking at you. There was something about you in the moonlight mixed with the awe on your face while watching the fireworks. You were unreal.

He'd wait until you're completely enamored by the fireworks before subtly mentioning something further down the beach. You'd turn quickly seeing beautiful candle light set up complete with a heart shaped flower archway covered in Flame Lillies. It was ethereal.

MC: Oh my gosh someones getting proposed to Rafayel: Lets get a closer look MC: No we might ruin it let's stay here Rafayel: It'll be fine I know the person proposing they haven't got there yet we can go look MC: Fine but quickly

Rafayel would lead you over directly in front of the archway where you would pull at his sleeve to try and leave. Because why does this man got you in the middle of someone else’s proposal set up??

MC: Your friend could be here any minute we should leave Rafayel: He's here MC: *Looks around frantically* Where?!? Rafayel: It's me MC: *Turns to see Rafayel on one knee*

His speech is an absolute tear jerker. He'd promise to love you endlessly and passionately. "I promise to chase you to the ends of the earth even in death I'd find you in the next life"

Rafayel: So ... will you be my beloved bride? MC: YES!

Me personally I'm tackling his fine ass in the sand after he slips that ring on

Xavier & Sylus here...

[luveline]

hot bombshell bau!reader flirting and winking at spencer every chance she gets and poor spencer just gets hot and bothered very flustered and blushing😋😋

i love you jade i read ur blog like it's the daily newspaper<33

I love you anon, thank you for requesting ♡ fem!reader

"So," says a voice, low and syrupy as warmth spreads up Spencer's side, "how's my favourite agent?" 

Your perfume a subtle fragrance of jasmine and vanilla alike, sweetness that lingers —and Spencer knows, having thought of you every time he walks past the sugar ring donut stand by the Staples Mill Station for weeks— you put a hand on his shoulder and lean in for a one-armed hug. His skin erupts with goosebumps. 

"Y/N," he says, sounding much too much like a wimp for his own liking. He clears his throat. "When did you get back?" 

He's afraid to look at you. He doesn't have a choice. His heart skips a beat at the state of you, which is to say you look stunning in your dark clothes, a tight cut top that borders unprofessional and a pair of thigh hugging pants that pass the border completely. (He's kidding. Mostly. You're dressed fine. He's a loser, is all.) 

"This morning. They couldn't keep me from you if they tried, handsome. You look good." You disengage from his side. Spencer's relieved and regretful at once. "I love the haircut, they take a little more than you were expecting?" 

"Is it too short?" he asks unsurely. 

"It's perfect."

Spencer's taller than you but he never feels it until you're looking up at him, pretty eyes and quirked lips, permanent amusement in your gaze. "I missed you," you say.

"Y/N," Hotch says as he descends the steps to the bullpen. "We talked about this." 

"Pen and Morgan do it every day." Your eyebrows pinch together. 

Hotch doesn't say anything else, an empty coffee mug in hand as he passes. You don't baulk at his disapproving look, the opposite, sitting on the edge of Morgan's desk to kick your kitten heels gently, a slow back and forth that has Spencer's eyeline pulling down your legs. He shakes it off, but not before you've noticed. 

"You don't mind, do you, babe?" you ask. "My flirting?" 

It'll probably kill him sooner rather than later. "No. Don't mind." 

"'Cus I can stop, I promise. But you're the kind of boy that should be flirted with, you know? And the kind of smart that makes you crazy attractive, which is unfair. It's not like you needed help in that particular department." You lean back as you talk, scrounging around Morgan's things.

"Second shelf," Spencer says. 

You stop your searching to grin at him. Pleased, you reach down to the second drawer of Morgan's desk and find what you'd been looking for, a coveted, half-eaten pack of cherry twizzlers. 

"But we're not like Pen and Morgan," you say, bringing a twizzler to your mouth. 

"We're not?" Spencer asks, confused. He may not summon the necessary charisma to flirt back, but he likes what you have. 

"Nope." You take another bite, chew, leaving Spencer in anticipation. Finally, you swallow, lips curving into an even stickier smile. "'Cus Pen and Morgan are never gonna happen. They're better as friends…" 

You slip down off of Morgan's desk, leaving his twizzlers behind. Spencer has enough sense about him to anticipate your approach. He's proud of himself for the composure he maintains as your footsteps slow. He even takes a step back to follow you, to your abject delight. 

"But we're not just friends, are we?" you ask softly. You lift your chin. He can smell the cherry on you. 

"Y/N, enough," Hotch says from somewhere behind. You refuse to look away, and while Spencer fears his chief's tone, he manages to hold your gaze. "HR will mandate another presentation." 

"It's alright, Hotch," Spencer says. His cheeks are flushed and his palms are clammy, but his voice holds up. "I don't mind." 

"I'm sure you don't." 

"This could all be avoided if we took this somewhere a little more private," you murmur. 

"Enough. I won't tell you again, Y/N. Shouldn't you be helping Penelope with her ViCAP recalibration?" Hotch asks pointedly. 

Spencer takes it for what it is; an effort to separate you from each other before it goes too far. You know it too, rolling your eyes at Spencer like you've a shared secret —Can you believe this guy?— clasping his arm loosely in farewell.

"See you later, Spence." You call him handsome, babe, bub, even sweetheart, but Spence is the worst of all of them because of how you say it, your voice entrenched in pure honey. His heart pangs as you go.  

Hotch lingers by Spencer's side, coffee freshly filled and steaming in rings. "You know, you're getting better," he says sympathetically. 

Spencer rubs the bridge of his nose roughly. "Thanks." 

[nor-4]

Soooo Anxious

Oscar Diaz x Reader

It's been a really hot day the degree keeps increasing definitely because of climate change, those damn uncaring did this if only they cared more about the earth.

Good thing you are nice enough to make a Popsicles and snacks for everyone outside since they nag oscar to hang out and fix Oscar's car.

"God why is it so hot outside, I think I'm about to evaporate." Jamal squealed as he roughly swing the fan around, "Boy if you don't shut your mouth I wi-" Oscar was cutted off when you slam the door with you foot as you carry a tray of foods with both of your hands.

"Oh cesar you didn't told me you will be having your friends over." You said luckily you have more popsicles inside as you didn't include Jamal and the others on the list, "I didn't even know, they just passed by." Cesar stated receiving a smack from monse.

"Who's that?? She's so hot.." Jamal whispered as he scooted over to cesar as he eye you up and down, "I know right." Ruby popped out out of nowhere they arrived with him here but they just forgot him.

"If I were you I will not even say that." Cesar said as he catch a glimpse of his brother giving a side eye on Jamal and Ruby. He for sure knew what they said.

"Monse, Jasmine, dear I'm so happy you guys are here." you happily squealed as you walk near cesar to do a beso with monse and jasmine. Monse is like a little sister for you, you are the first person she run to everytime she has this girl problems, same goes jasmine. You are just old to be their sister, a sister that will have a girls night with them.

As for jamal and ruby they were quietly waiting for you to approach them and also do a beso on them but instead you just shook their hands, even though they are still grateful.

"Good thing i made more popsicles, wait.." As you started walking again inside as the two horny boys watch you walk with agape mouth, looking at your clothing which really fit your body. It will for sure make every man's hungry eyes full.

"Oy cesar, what this little friends of your staring for." Oscar said standing up from sitting on the small chair he own to use everytime he fix his wheels. "What who's staring, hey monse stop staring it's bad." jamal said nervously slapping over monse's arms earning a slap back from her.

"Been telling them that." cesar just shrugged walking to get a popsicle since heat have been bothering him since this morning, "You little putas better stop eye fucking my girl before i pull them out." oscar threatened as he started washing his hands so he can eat.

"Stop acting like a bitch in heat now oscar." You scolded as you handed out the popsicles on everyone, "Come on ma I'm just saying." oscar sighed in defeat.

Cesar still can't believe on how you can scold over oscar, he knows scolding on him is not a thing he would even tolerate. But look at you, you just make everything so peaceful by shutting oscar up.

"Here baby sit infront of the fan, it's been really smoking hot lately." Oscar offered quickly as he plugged the electric fan that jamal didn't even know it's there until oscar plugged it, "Thank you darling." You thanked as you touch his bicep after sitting on the chair.

"God she sound so hot, i wish she would call me that." ruby murmured as they sat comfortably infront of them watching oscar reach for a chair from God knows where and sat beside you.

"I swear this kids better stop looking at your boobs" oscar murmured as he stared back at jamal and ruby who was to focused on you, to shut oscar up from saying something about violent stuff you started feeding him with fries you made because you were craving.

"You made this? It's really good." jasmine asked as she almost choked from swallowing it all the way without even chewing it, good thing monse has a heavy hands to slap Jasmine's back.

"Yes i did, thank you.." You said it made you a bit shy but you love it when someone praises your cooking skills, "Do you want a drink monse? I heard the temperature will get higher later, you need to be hydrated." Cesar asked as he placed a hand on monse's shoulder.

"Yes please." Monse said as cesar quickly stood up to get a drink on the kitchen, "Get my queen some too" oscar commanded as you smack his face.

"You're being too cringe you know."

"Come on, i cannot care for my girl now?"

"Do you want me to tie your hair up?" Oscar asked again but this time more sincere than his sarcadm earlier, "Yes please baby, thank you." You said as your back faced oscar to tie your hair up.

It took a long time for oscar to learn on how to tie your hair so everytime it's getting hot you wouldn't even need to do an effort to tie your hair, plus oscar always carry two of your hair ties on his wrist just in case you forgot one.

After tying your hair up he kissed you shoulder like a light weight of feather which made both of you giggled like a high school teenagers as you face him, oscar used to be a not so affectionate significant others. But by the time being on a relationship with you he learned that it's very important to do, it's his favorite language of love.

He loves to touch you feel you in his hands, to hug you on a cold night, to hold you when you feel sad, to hold you and make you know that nothing can really change his love for you.

Another thing is he used his confidence to compliment you every second, to assure you, to tell you how much he loves you how much you meant to him.

"God I've never been more jealous in my life.." ruby murmured as he sadly munch on his burger.

[andraxicated]

No Hard Feelings

Pairing: zayne x f! reader

tags: nsfw | mutual pining? | virgins in love | 69 | protected p in v | big dick zayne (cause he was my man before sylus and we love virgins who hide big packages) | small angst |

a/n: sitting pretty on my drafts since february. i love writing in this format it just lets your ideas flow | zayne is a harvard med alumni free from student debt cause he's rich and we all know it

inspired by one of my fav rom coms no hard feelings i swear its so funny

you are nothing but a broke college student looking for ways to make extra money. so what can you do when your friend shows you a totally suspicious ad?

"we are looking for a girl with experience to seduce our son and help him have a social life. preferably pretty. will be handsomely compensated"

you grab the opportunity after much thought and show up in the sluttiest dress to make sure you fit the 'girl with experience' part despite your v-card being intact.

and you never thought that you'd be sitting in a mansion's living room, listening to a rich mother yap about her worries for her beloved and only son's social life

"you see... it's because i'm deeply worried about our son! we are very proud he's doing well before going to medical school but it's summer and all his peers are going out on vacations, dating, and partying, but he doesn't seem to be interested in any of those since his time at university!"

let's say when you asked what he looked like and turned around to see a picture frame, you were instantly sold onto this 'fuck their son' plan

his parents said their beloved Zayne volunteers at the public park to tend to the flowers. he works under the hot son with his stoic face and meaty arms to which you space out a little.

imagine his surprise when his view got shadowed by your figure, looking up to see the expanse of your thighs, your boobs supported by a push-up bra. this was your best attempt at looking like a vixen

"heyyyy, can I touch your buds?" you giggle (cringing inwardly) and the rest is history.

Zayne didn't know what to fucking say but glare at you.

it was hard to get close to Zayne because that man was a brick wall. he was so reserved and quiet, always so serious despite your attempts at fun time. yet with every time you spent together, his walls break down bit by bit.

and when you saw a crack in his walls, you unknowingly tore it down along with yours.

because you are unexpectedly falling in love with him.

"I thought this was movie night" Both of you remove your tops amidst giggles and short kisses.

"Mhmm, you smell like Jasmines." Zayne pretends not to hear you as he rasps against your ear, kissing your neck as his fingers drag down to tug at your shorts and panty. You whine when he successfully removes it, cold air hitting your inner thighs as he shushes you through small, wet kisses.

"That perfume was on sale, I knew I had to buy it for you" You smile and Zayne mirrors it on his lips, making your heart skip out of your chest. He caresses your hips softly, dangerously inching closer to your core where you're positively throbbing.

"You know me so well. It's as if you were sent by someone for me."

You chuckle awkwardly, letting him trail down light kisses on your neck, all the way to your collarbones. His statement slaps you back to reality. That you were just a girl taking advantage of him and his parents' money. But with each kiss that matches with the beat of your heart, you feel that this acting of yours turned a little too real. You just wanted him between your thighs, lost in your body, drunk on your kisses, and never have him find out the truth.

Zayne looks up at you from an angle, wanting to ask for permission to dive in your pussy, but then he sees you spacing out, and it’s not the cockdrunk look he sees on porn videos. You looked sad and miserable while staring into nothing, he fears he might have bored you to death and he’s too much of a virgin to satisfy you. Zayne looked scared to snap you out of it, he lightly nudged your thigh, and your gaze finally shifted to him. You still haven’t gotten rid of that look yet. 

“Sorry, let’s not do this today if you aren’t feeling well” zayne speaks softly while sitting up, the care evident in his eyes, and you wanted nothing more than to jump in his arms. 

You shook your head, a smile on your face. “I’m sorry I killed the mood. Are you still hard?” 

“What?”

“I mean, is your dick hard?”

Zayne looks down for a moment and replies, “Yeah…I’m hard”

You giggle and reach over to give him a peck. “Let me suck you off. You’ll feel good, I promise” You say as if you sucked dick before. You were quite nervous to put something in your mouth for the first time, fearing for your throat and untrained gag reflex. Also, Zayne looks pretty big from the way he’s tenting from his shorts, it wasn’t going to be easy.

Your heart was beating from your chest as Zayne sat with his legs on both sides of your body, presenting you with his aching bulge. You tug down his shorts along with his underwear and you see his big cock that he’s been hiding all along. Zayne flushes red on his ears and neck as you stare at his size in awe. The tip was angry and leaking, twitching occasionally as the man before you winced. Its girth was impressively thicker than your wrist and length longer than what you’ve seen in videos, this guy was above average. But before you could try to touch him, Zayne coughs up to get your attention.��

You question him in your eyes and he blushes, struggling to get his words out. 

“I-I want to make you feel good too. Can we try that position?” 

“What position?” 

“...69” 

Zayne bites his lip, looking at your face for any sort of disgust but none came. A smile broke out on your face before you nodded, taking the initiative to adjust your positions accordingly. Zayne was taller than you so you had to be the one on top, your body tensing as you face his leaking cock staring at you. You wanted to put your mouth on it so bad but you knew you had to wait for Zayne to adjust at your bottom. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m good.” Zayne huffs out and you involuntarily clench, feeling his hot breath around your hole. You can’t help the heat that travels to your cheeks as you recognize yourself putting your ass up in the air for a man to gape at your hole. You could feel every bone in your body praying not to fuck this up.

“I’ll start,” You say, biting your lip and squinting your eyes before hurriedly starting the job. Your lips come into contact with the tip and Zayne moans, throwing his head back as you try to engulf him in your mouth. He feels you testing how your mouth glides up and down thanks to your saliva as lubricant. Zayne thinks he could burst right then and there in your mouth but he tries to at least save himself some dignity by not finishing through a 20-second blowjob. 

He leans forward and settles his palms on your ass, squeezing the soft flesh experimentally, making you moan at his touches. His lips press outside your pussy, shying away from the main course before steeling himself with the courage of a man. 

Choked moans left your mouth as Zayne suddenly parts your ass for a clear view and dives right in to fuck your hole with his tongue. He laps up like a man starved with eyes closed, executing toe-curling techniques that you didn’t know he could do. 

“Nghh! Mmhphh!” You’re drooling on his dick, taking what you can of his size and pumping what you couldn’t reach. He’s too much of a big fit in your mouth, struggling to hollow your cheeks since most of your wet cavern is occupied by his cock. You could only bob your head up and down, moaning to get him feeling some vibrations, and rubbing your pussy along his lips. 

On the other end, Zayne was having a very much-awaited make-out session with your cunt. He sloppily kisses your hole, circling his tongue as he tastes the softness of the flesh. His hands rubbing your ass in gentle motions causes you to clench and he groans, chasing the movement of your cunt. He does it like the boys do in those videos, he closes his eyes and imagines he’s doing a good job just like them, making their girl scream like it's the end of the world. 

“So pretty” he pulls away mesmerized by your glistening cunt. Zayne couldn’t help but be addicted to your pussy, and he gives it more attention by sucking and playing around with his tongue. To hear your muffled cries sends vibrations down his spine, making him even more hard as your eyes widen. 

You gasp for air as you fix your breathing. You wanted to complain about why he was getting bigger but you just couldn’t stop yourself from sinking deeper onto his cock. You’re positive you looked like a cockhungry slut with dick in her mouth, wiggling her ass as her man eats her out because that’s exactly what you’re doing, you could picture how dirty the position was and it makes you throb, edging you to your release.

No one was saying anything, too occupied with the job at hand as wet noises filled the room. Both of you were pushing each other at the brink of release. Zayne lightly thrusts to chase the feeling of a wet heat—challenging your gag reflex, not knowing it's your first time giving a blowjob. He suddenly hits the back of your throat as cum floods inside your mouth. You’re breathing through your nose, too full of erotic sensations, and you cum following his release. Wet spurts land on Zayne’s face as he drinks up your release, relishing in his first time making a girl cum. 

You pull away from his dick, white semen landing on the bed from your mouth and Zayne’s eyes widen seeing you keeping his release inside your mouth. He thinks you probably didn’t want to swallow it so he grabs tissues, and places them below your chin. 

“Spit it out” 

You look at the tissue on his hand and swallow the cum, wincing as the taste hits you. You just wanted to do it like others do, swallowing because you worked hard for it. Zayne was flabbergasted to even move, his flaccid member unapologetically rising hard when he saw you swallow his seed. 

It made him want to put it inside you. 

“Why did you swallow?” 

You wipe the excess off your face, “I just wanted to try” You hoped he didn’t catch on that it was your first time. Both of you were tired but you wanted to keep going, driven by lust. Zayne was trying to hide his erection and you decided to just get on with it, you wanted him inside right now.

“Zayne, do you want to be on top?” Your question left him surprised. He blinks for a few seconds before nodding and positioning on top of you as you lay down. Then it hits you.

“Wait, do you have a condom?” 

He visibly freezes before reaching over to the bedside table, pulling out the drawer, grabbing a condom, and opening the package. While he puts it on, your eyes drift to the package and you notice the XL size and the ‘super ultra-thin’ inscription. You couldn’t help but be a little nervous after reading that. 

“It’s on,” he says awkwardly, the tip of his ears reddening by the minute. At this moment, the air was thick with nervousness radiating from you and Zayne. You exchange eye contact with him as his palm rests on your hip, drawing circles to coax you and relax your walls. 

“I’m ready, are you?” 

“Yeah,” he kisses your lip to distract you from the pain of your cunt breached open by his thick cockhead. You wince in discomfort, legs shaking as the thickness stops moving. Zayne panics over your pained expression, whispering sweet nothings that it will pass soon because fuck, you are incredibly tight and wet. He almost moans at the sight of your hole struggling to take all of him. 

You look down and let your head fall back onto his soft pillow. “Move”, you let out breathlessly. 

“I’m too big for you, you need to adjust”

“Zayne, just move! Let me adjust when you’re inside me” You whine, wanting to have him inside you as soon as possible. Zayne complies and pushes in slowly, all his worries about med school and sex are completely gone when he buries himself to the hilt. You moan in unison, the stretch being painfully good for your first time.

It was the kind of pain that you’d willingly take because the pleasure was too much to lose out on. He stretches you out nicely, feeling every vein inside you, especially the tip that kisses your g spot. How did he find it in one go?

“You're so tight!—Shit” Zayne picks up on his space, letting his dick rub inside you before starting to thrust full-on. His hips smoothly roll as he pistons his cock in and out of your hole. Your wetness and the condom's lubricant make him move easily inside.

“Ohhh! Zayne!” You jolt towards the headboard as his grunts fill the room, his cockhead repeatedly locking in on your sweet spot, making you clench in response. His hair falls over his face, masquerading on his eyes as his hips put in the work for your pussy. He looks so pretty like that, flushed red, breathless, as he stuffs you repeatedly with his cock.

“Ahhhh, so big~” You could only moan and clench around his member, the movements making your boobs jiggle, and Zayne couldn't help but grope one of them—giving attention to the other by going down on his mouth. You just looked so pretty under him, so messy and good at taking his cock.

“My pretty girl” he huffs while bucking his hips into you.

Then he remembers that you probably had sex before him, and you have experienced other guys. And something deep within him tears its ugly head. Zayne suddenly had a primal urge to claim you, to make sure from now on, you're showing this lewd face to him and only him. 

He was jealous and it wasn't a good feeling.

He pounds his cock faster, pouring all the anger he has into vigor. You scratch his back as Zayne goes feral at a fast pace fucking his cock back into your hole. You thrash in his arms from the pleasure, wanting to run away because the dick was too good. But his strong arms cage you in place as he ruts like an animal in heat. 

His hand suddenly flicks on your clit, pinching the bud to edge you closer to your orgasm. He wanted to make you finish first, to feel your cum coating his length before he releases. 

Your nerves were set on fire just as you think your brain is fried from too much dick. You wanted nothing but to cum and release the knot forming on your lower abdomen. He pumps exactly at a target in a frenzied state, balls swinging against your skin. Zayne continued to grunt, letting out the manliest sounds you've ever heard.

“Z-zayne I'm Cumming—Hahhh!!!” You scream as your eyes roll to the back of your head, cunt spasming and dripping around his girth, body shivering from how hard it was. You feel like floating on cloud nine as Zayne leans down to kiss your neck, leaving hickeys in his wake. 

“That's a good girl. Now take this.” 

His pace gradually falters and he slides in one last powerful thrust before exploding his cum and flooding the condom. You cried out as he did small jerks of his hips to ride out his high while cumming buckets. You fear some cum may have slipped out but you didn't care to voice it out.

Zayne learned that it wasn't good to make you oversensitive so as soon as he finished, he took out his softening cock and watched your abused cunt close. He thinks It might have been his favorite sight.

The night ends with you receiving aftercare, drinking water, and cleaning up in the bathroom to make yourselves clean for bed. You didn't even know Zayne changed the sheets, which explains why he left the tub faster. 

But as you lay in his bed with his arms wrapped around you, there wasn't any semblance of reprieve because of your anxiousness about the arrangement. 

Sooner or later he would find out and everything would come crashing down. You'd go back to your own life, paying expenses thanks to the money you received while Zayne would also go on and continue to med school, fuck a few girls since he already had a taste with a girl who duped him for money. 

Just thinking about that brings tears to your eyes. No, you don't wanna be separated from Zayne. You wanted whatever you had with him despite having no label. 

You tried to tell him the truth a few times but fear got the better of you and you find yourself backtracking, saying something else, and laughing it off. Every moment was precious with Zayne, you couldn't cut his smiles short—it would break your heart to wipe off the soft love on his face. 

So you did nothing but let time run its course.

Zayne soon expressed his want for you to meet his family. He feels like he's known you for a lifetime despite meeting just that summer. So you took his offer and had lunch with his parents who tried their best to act as if they first saw you that day. The food was delicious yet the whole dining experience was painful. You and his parents lying to his face made you unable to stomach the food very well. So you left the house and went to their garden, gazing at the flowers that you knew Zayne himself planted. 

He was looking around for you, sighing since you didn’t tell him where you ran off. He was about to ask his parents in the dining room when he accidentally eavesdropped on a conversation that made him stop in his tracks. 

“Well that was awkward, can you believe our son actually fell in love with her? I mean, she’s pretty skilled”

He wasn’t supposed to hear that.

“This isn’t what I was expecting when we hired her. I think we need to end this arrangement soon. I’ll give her the money before this situation blows up.”

He couldn’t fucking believe it. 

Skilled? Hired? Money? It didn’t take an intelligent man to connect the dots as the conversation went on. Every word that came out of their mouth froze his heart and shattered it like glass. Anger, hurt, and confusion overwhelmed him for the first time in his life. He found it hard to stabilize his breathing. He couldn’t help but let hatred cover his eyes as he stormed into the dining room.  

“Is what you’re saying true? You hired a girl to seduce me?” he demanded, voice shaking with emotion as his parents looked very much terrified to see him there. He didn’t want to believe it was true, but as the seconds went by it was all becoming clear that this was a big fat farce all along. Zayne didn’t know what hurt but he knew he’d been played by the people he loved. And that was all it took for him to break his promise of never raising his voice at his parents. 

“Is it true?!” he roared and to see his mother flinch hurt him but at that moment, Zayne was the victim. 

“Zayne, darling let me explain—”  

“Why?” 

His mother breathed out. “We thought it would be good for you. We wanted to let you have some fun since I feel like you’re constantly buried in books! You need to take some time to socialize too!”

He could only pinch the bridge of his nose as he steeled his mouth in case he said something he could not go back on.

“This conversation isn’t over yet” he uttered coldly, leaving his parents guiltily mulling over their actions.  

Overcome by the need to confront you, he walks in long strides to the garden. He honestly does not know what he wants to hear from you. Apologies? Explanation? He doesn’t know but his feet take him to you and destroy your peaceful moment. 

He sees your figure basking in rays of afternoon sun, checking on the flowers he planted. He stops and stares before storming and grabbing your wrist to make you face him. You meet his face in shock, body tensing from the dangerous aura he was emitting. His hazel eyes were swirling with hurt and you knew it was that time. Zayne knew how much you were playing him like a fool. 

“Is it true?" he pants “That my parents hired you to seduce me for the summer? So that I could get with a girl and have some fun?” 

Tears flowed from your eyes as you nodded shakily, accepting your fate. He was disgusted by how easily you admitted it. Was it that easy for you?  

“I want to hear it from you. Speak before I kick you out” he spat out with so much venom that it wrecked sobs from you. Zayne hated hearing you cry just as he hated how this was such a cruel game you played. 

“Zayne, it was all real. I swear! My feelings are real. It’s true that I accepted a deal with your parents for money but you have to know that I needed it!” You feel like ripping your hair out just to make him believe you. You were so desperate to not be a villain in his eyes. “And what I feel for you is real! I love you and I’m so sorry that I did this to you.” You sobbed, holding your face in your hands as you wiped the overflowing tears that clouded your vision. 

You took a step forward and he took a step back, reflecting the hurt in your eyes. 

“How do I believe you now? How do I know this is still not an act?” 

“I don’t know…” You shook your head, mind at a loss for words. “I just know that it would kill me to be separated from you.”

Zayne could hear the desperation in your voice and it was constantly stabbing at his heart. He longed to believe and touch you, but the pain of deception stung deep. 

He took a deep breath and calmed himself. “Who are you? Do you have any other name?”

You whip your head in shock, shaking your head frantically. “No! (y/n) is my real name! Everything I told you is real!” 

He stood frozen so you took your chance to explain, fighting the cries that shook your body. 

“I love you. I-I wanted to give my body to the guy I love and it’s you. It was my first time having sex with you! I’m not some vixen who sleeps around. I’m just me!—a college student in need of money. Believe me, I beg you.”

It honestly didn’t matter to him if the girl he loved had his first time with him or not, he loved her regardless. But when you say it like that, he knew that trusting him with your virginity must have meant a great deal to you. That almost made him want to hug you but the rational part of his mind begged him to have some dignity. 

“You broke my trust” he exhaled, barely above a whisper. “You have no idea how much pain I’m feeling. But I love you…and it would kill me if you weren’t around.”

You take a step forward and grasp his hand to place on top of your heart, making him feel how much it beats for him. 

He’s entranced to feel your racing heart, a testament to your love. This gesture was enough to repair a piece of his shattered heart. 

He uses your interlocked hands to pull you into his arms, burying your face on his chest. You snuggled close as warm tears fell slowly on your cheeks.

“I don’t wanna leave” you cried softly. 

“You’re not leaving until you make me trust you again. And if I trust you again, I won’t let you leave.” 

You nod and ask, “What do you want me to do?”

Zayne cleared his thoughts even if his emotions were a mess. But he was an intelligent and rational man, he was able to think clearly in times of distress and he knew what needed to be done. He knows how you’ll pay for your sins. 

“From now on, I want you to be honest with me. No lies or secrets between us. Tell me everything you feel because I want your full transparency.”   

It was a light sentence and you were eternally grateful to the forgiveness he showed you. Because you'd die if he didn’t.   

“I will. So let’s start on a clean slate please.” you grip his shirt, signaling him your desperation. “I’ll be that girl you met in the park. And you have to believe me when I say I loved you every step of the way. I-I won’t even take the money if it means proving my feelings are real.”

Zayne shook his head as he caressed your hair. ‘Take the money and promise me you won’t leave me. Don’t put yourself in a situation like this just for some money. If you need some, then ask me.”

“What?”

“If you need support I’ll be there to help you in any way I can. All I ask is for you to do the same for me.” 

“Of course I will!” Your voice came out louder than intended and he smiled, yet not like he used to.  

“But you’ll move to Harvard soon for med school? How-how are we going to do this?”

Zayne’s face fell at the mention of his move at the end of his vacation. He hadn’t forgotten but it was a reminder that summer was nearing its end. He had to settle all affairs before treading on a new chapter in his life. 

He sighed, arms still around you. “Long distance isn’t easy, and I don’t know how we’ll do it.” 

Fear crept into you like a snake dampening your mood.    

“But,” he continued with a promising tone. “I’m not giving up on us. I won’t let a little distance come between us. We’ll make it work.”

‘We’ll make it” 

“We will” 

He whispers in your ears, kissing the top of your head, and bathing himself with the love that he receives from you. 

You feared a second chance wouldn’t last long but if anything were the testament to your unbreakable bond with Dr. Zayne, it would be the family photo with you and the kids, standing nicely on his office desk. 

[gretavanmoon]

VERGE OF OBSCENE

Jake x female reader, Danny x female reader

14k words

+ Reader is faced with making a decision that she didn't anticipate when she left the bar, one night. Stuck between a rock and a hard place, she refuses to end her night on a bad note.

+ Hello friends! Tomorrow is my birthday, so I decided to gift you all with a little sum sum Danny and Jake. This story spawned from an idea @moonlightisdancing so graciously shared with me, so hopefully I did it justice ;) Enjoyyyyy

Thankies to @gretavangroupie for the read thruuu

Warnings: 18+! Angst: Cursing, Drinking, Bar Scene, Erratic/Unsafe Driving, Lying, Slight Jealousy, Unclean Thoughts

Y/N being a little heaux / Asshole Danny (I'm sorry don't k!ll me)

Smut: Kissing, Heavy Flirting, Dirty Talk, Touching, Penetrative Sex, Unprotected Sex, Fingering, Oral Sex (M! and F! Receiving)

“Let’s get the fuck out of here, huh?” Danny says into your ear, his breath hot and spiced with the scent of dark rum as it melts you into a puddle of nothing on the floor. His hands are placed lightly on your hips, holding you up steady as your group of friends begins making its way toward the exit of the crowded club.

“Mhmm,” you nod, your hair falling in front of your face as you fight the urge to arch your back into him. Your eyes have begun to blur on their own, the alcohol and the atmosphere seeping into your system in the most delicious way. Your body begs you to let him know that the feeling is mutual, but before you can, he pulls away, sliding his phone out of his pocket as he sips down the very last of his icy drink. 

“I’ll order an uber,” he says, crunching on a piece of ice as his eyes drift from your face all the way down to the black strapped heels you’d chosen tonight.

“Bitch, you’re drunk,” your best friend Jasmine giggles in your ear, taking the place of Danny as she grabs your hand in hers, still halfway dancing as she pulls you toward the doors. 

“I’m not, Jas,” you laugh, wishing that you hadn’t worn these high heels. “I mean I am, I’m just… I think I’m more exhausted than anything. I haven’t danced that much in years.” 

Her hand is reassuring in yours as she guides the two of you, her own unsteadiness on her feet making you laugh.  

“Yeah, exhausted from eye-fucking Jake all night,” she squeals.

“Jasmine!” you yell, your eyes wide as your stomach drops, hoping that none of the other members in your group heard her. You stop the two of you and yank her hand from yours, gritting your teeth as you scold her. “I was not eye-fucking Jake. And you know that.”

“Sure babe, keep telling yourself that,” she raises her eyebrows. “My vision might be blurry, but I’m not blind.”

It’s pretty widely known within your circle that you and Danny have something going on, that something being more of a situationship with no actual boundaries or titles or anything. The two of you usually ended up making out at the end of the night, a little touching and whatnot, but it has never gone further than that. Neither of you are in the market for anything serious, so you’ve taken to letting him be your go-to on those lonely late nights, sending him risqué photos of you in the mirror after a few glasses of wine. 

But Jake… Jake has been your good friend since college. The guy that was always there to accompany you to social events, pick you up from parties, and cram last minute for exams with you. He’d always been that guy you could call on for anything and everything, the one you felt completely comfortable with in any situation.

“Just admit it, dummy,” Jasmine belts as you near the crowded exit doors, her arm in yours. 

“There’s nothing to admit,” you whisper. “I mean…look at him, he looks completely fuckable tonight, so I took a few glances. Sue me.” You roll your eyes at her as you watch her gaze covertly float back to Jake, standing amongst the rest of your group. 

“God, you’re right. He’s been looking exceptionally delicious lately, hasn’t he?” she purrs. 

“Mmmhm…” you agree, making sure not to look at him. 

It’s true, though Jake has always been good looking, lately there has been something special about him, something magnified in his persona, something devious in his aura. He’s changed up his attire a little, now donning sleek suit jackets and silver jewelry on his wrists and neck, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t prefer the way he’s been slicking his hair back into a tight knot at his neck. Over the past few months he’s become a lot more sophisticated and sure of himself, a complete 180 from the silly guy you never thought twice about. 

Lately he has seemed so much more confident in himself, and it literally drips from him. He’s sexy in his own way, that’s for damn sure, but these past few months you’ve caught yourself looking at him for longer than a few seconds, staring at his hands as he did literally anything, and finding yourself swept up in the way his lips danced across his teeth. And if it weren’t for Danny occupying most of your thoughts lately, you may actually picture Jake in those dirty daydreams, instead of him. 

As conversation takes a pause you do sneak a glance at Jake, his elbow leaned against the bar with the other tucked away in his pocket. He’s eyeing you hard, and he doesn’t make any attempt to look away when you catch him. Fuck, he looks so goddamned good tonight. But why isn’t he looking away?

You feel your stomach muscles tense just from the way his hooded eyes are staring you down, confident and obvious as he chews on the tiny black straw that once stirred his whiskey rocks. Fuck, fuck, fuck! He’s fine… he’s so fine. Jake. Friend Jake. Friend Jake?

“What I wouldn’t give to experience a good old fashioned romp with him, though,” Jasmine says, breaking the stare-down you and Jake had caught yourselves in. 

“Huh?” you say. “Danny?”

“Yes bitch. His long arms, his big hands… mmh. You lucky, lucky dog, being his sneaky link,” Jasmine goes on. 

“Jas, we haven’t even slept together, yet,” you admit quietly. 

She looks at you in disbelief. “Are you serious?! Why?”

You shrug. “Just.. hasn’t happened yet, I guess.”

“It’s going to though, right?” she asks, and you know she just wants to live vicariously. 

You look back at her, knowing that yes, it most likely will, but you’re also not here for rushing it with him. Why? You’re not sure…

“Uber will be here in ten,” Danny announces as he comes up behind you, his hand resting on your lower back as he takes another bite of the melted ice still floating in the rum in his glass. He leans down, his voice icy and heavy in your ear. “Let’s go to the bathroom,” he slurs. “Just for a minute. Wanna see what you’ve got on underneath your…”

You smile and bring your tongue to your top lip, knowing that sexually, things have been brewing between the two of you for some time now. Though he’s never outwardly asked you if you wanted to hook up for real, you know that given the way things are going, it’s bound to happen at some point.  

“The bathroom?” you reiterate, turning your attention to him and wrapping your arms around his neck. God, he smells good. You crane up to whisper in his ear. “Why don’t you just get out of the Uber at my place?” 

Danny hisses through his teeth at your proposition, rolling his head back on his neck. Finally he looks back down at you, biting his lip. “You really want me to?”

You consider it for a second, knowing that he is pretty damn intoxicated, and if anything, you might get a shower and some other extracurriculars out of him before he inevitably passes out long-ways on your bed. “Yeah, why not? Or your place, whatever.” You figured you’d give him options. 

His hands are traveling covertly across your ass as he tries not to make a big scene of the PDA, and for a split second, you hope that Jake can see it. “We can go to my place, my roommate is out of town…?” he perks his eyebrows. 

“Even better,” you reply with a cheeky grin. 

“Perfect…” he growls, looking over you more intensely than he ever really has. 

“Hey, come with me, I gotta pee,” Jasmine says, pulling on your arm. 

“Hurry up, the Uber is almost here,” Danny says as the two of you walk toward the bathrooms, Danny’s hand holding onto yours until the very last second. 

The bathroom is packed and loud with people touching up their makeup and waiting in line for a free stall. “I’ll hurry,” Jasmine says, hopping into an open one.

You don’t have to go, so you sulk away in a corner, deciding to check your phone for the first time in an hour or so. Your eyes adjust to the bright screen and you flip through a few instagram notifications and emails, not really seeing anything too important. Until– a text. 

A text from… Jake?

Your thumb hovers over the notification for a few seconds before you slide it open, expecting to see a funny meme or dumb article he’s shared, like always. But instead what you see sends a rush of nerves through your body strong enough to steal the breath from your lungs. 

Jake

1:12am: Stay with me tonight.

You nearly drop your phone as you look away from it, your eyes suddenly fixated on the floor. You can hear your heart beating in your ears, and a cold sweat breaks out across your palms. What? This is a joke, he’s joking. 

That’s why he was watching you so intently, he wanted you to look at your phone…

“Hey, you okay? You gonna throw up?” you hear and feel Jasmine enter your bubble, all the sound suddenly returning to your ears. “Your face is turning green… come on… let’s get to the toilet–” 

“No, no I’m fine, I…” You’re speechless as you turn your phone screen around to her, showing her the text. Her eyes read the words, and then grow so big that you think they might pop right from her skull. 

“JAKE? Jake, our Jake? Texted you this??” she yells, grabbing the phone from your hand as she does a quick few paces. 

“Yeah.. what…?” You don’t even know what to say, or how to react. “He has to be joking, right?”

“Text him back! Answer him! Oh my god,” she rambles, handing you your phone back. 

“What do I say?!”

“I dunno, just– anything!” she squeals, quickly rinsing her hands off in the sink. 

You type up a few different responses before landing on one, nice and simple. 

You

1:14am: Did you mean to text me? Lol

A bubble pops up almost immediately, and you feel like you could quite literally explode. 

Jake

1:14am: I most definitely did. Stay with me.

“Fuck, Jasmine, oh my god, I am not cut out for this…” you start to panic, shaking your hands. 

“Yes you are, bitch! Get your shit together, ok? He saw you looking at him, he knows you want him, jump. On. That. Shit,” she grabs your shoulders and shakes them.

“Hello, Danny? You expect me to just forget about him?!” you argue. 

She clicks her tongue. “Is it really going anywhere with him, though? Jake just asked you to come home with him, he couldn’t be more forward than that. And you said you and Danny are just having fun, right? Messing around?” 

“He just asked me to come stay with him, too. Tonight,” you admit, leaning your back against the wall in defeat. “There is no way this is happening, I need another drink.”

“No, you need to figure out who the fuck you want,” she says, pulling you from the bathroom into the sitting area outside of it. “Danny is fine as fuck, you guys have been having fun together, right? Yeah yeah whatever… and Jake. Our goofball friend suddenly turned… Christian Grey level sexy? And he wants you?! You need to decide, and quick,” she says, turning to look toward the exit again. 

“You’re just saying that because you want Daniel all to yourself,” you joke, trying to take the heat off the situation. 

“No no no no, that’s not… ok well that’s not untrue,” Jasmine says, crossing her arms. “If the opportunity presented itself, I would not turn him down,” she laughs, sticking her tongue out. 

“Hey, Uber is here!” you hear Danny yell from across the bar, motioning with his arm to come on. 

You feel a nervousness you’ve never felt creeping into your bones. “Maybe I should just get another ride and forget the whole thing, say I’m not feeling well and go home,” you suggest. 

“That’s up to you, babe. You’re your own woman. I’ll go with you, if you want…” Jasmine says, laying her hand on your shoulder. 

You glance back over to the group and see Danny standing holding the door open, and Jake a few feet behind him, watching you all the same. What in the actual midday soap opera is happening right now…

Your feet carry you toward the door on their own when you see Danny’s rushing expression and Jake’s intense one… both of these men want the exact same thing tonight. Great.

You’re on autopilot as you watch everyone begin drunkenly piling into the backseat, stumbling and laughing. First Danny’s two friends, then Jasmine, then Danny, then Jake. You’re left standing outside when you realize there isn’t enough room. Yes…

“Oh, shit. I’ll just call another ride, it’s no big deal–”

“No come on, we’ll make room,” Jake mutters as he looks at you with a smirk. 

“No, seriously, it’s fine. I’ll grab the next one,” you say, but you’re stopped short when you see Jake’s hand being held out for you. He wiggles his fingers to tell you to come on, and his slow-blink tells you he means it.

“Babe, c’mon,” Danny says, leaning over Jake. 

You swallow hard, taking a quick breath before grabbing onto Jake’s hand, and stepping up into the packed vehicle. As soon as you close the door behind you, the car takes off, making you lose your balance and fall straight into Jake’s lap. 

Oh shit fuck.

“Oh god, I’m sorry,” you panic, trying to stand back up and adjust into another seat. Jake’s hands are on your waist as you stumble around the extremely crowded car, and you hear him mumble a soft and sweet “s’okay”.

Even in the dark, you can see that there is most definitely not enough room to take a seat of your own. The driver is driving erratically, taking fast and sharp turns and having absolutely no regard for his passengers, and it’s taking everything in you to hold on to the back of his headrest and the handle above you to keep from falling into the floor. 

You start to panic as the man speeds down the streets and takes a particularly sharp turn, forcing you against your will right into Jake’s lap again. Fuuuuuuck. There’s nothing you can do about it. 

You finally give up and let your body weight fall onto him, his hands instinctively holding you steady so you don’t slide sideways again. Everyone is loud and laughing drunkenly, in their own worlds and conversations as the car travels down the road. 

“You’re alright, you can sit all the way down,” Jake laughs, patting his knee. For some reason, Jake suddenly feels like a stranger. A person you have never met before, not one of your very good friends. You feel anxious in his presence, and your mouth goes dry when you hear him mutter again, “It’s just me…”

Danny is caught up in his own thing, hardly paying either of you any mind at all as he’s belting the words to whatever old Nelly song is blasting through the car speakers. You take a deep breath, and relax all the way down onto Jake’s waiting lap. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologize to him, rolling your eyes. 

“It’s not your fault,” he says lowly, still smiling. You feel yourself go straight as a board, nervous to make a move at all as you realize the position you’re in. His hands are still respectfully balanced on your waist, and your hands are still gripping hard on the handles. 

The drive is nearly ten minutes, and even with the way the man is navigating, the traffic still holds up progress, making the drive even longer. You begin to sweat thinking about how you’re going to survive this, what you’re going to do when the time comes to get out. You glance back over at Jasmine who is making the most outrageous face at you, clenching her teeth and smiling from ear to ear. 

“You alright? You seem tense,” Jake brings his mouth close to your ear so that you can hear him over the blasting music. 

Tense. Tense? Is he joking?! You’re worse than tense, you’re about to jump out of your fucking skin, actually! 

“Yeah, I’m–” Another quick whip of the vehicle and a harsh stop makes you lurch forward and fly back again, your shoulder pressing into Jake’s chest. The smell of his cologne takes your breath even more intensely than the whiplash does, and his hand reaches up quickly to catch you from moving any further. “Fuck, dude! Drive often?!” you say, making everyone in the car laugh, but the driver pays you no mind. 

“He’s not getting a tip, is he?” Jake laughs sarcastically. You feel the tips of his fingers tap your thigh, signalling you to sit up a little. 

“Stand up a sec,” he orders and you do, and he lurches his groin forward, pressing himself into you. You have no idea what he’s doing as you feel his upper thighs press into your ass, and you know that your eyes have grown ten times their size. His left hand is still gripping your waist, almost holding onto you for leverage. Fuck, what is this… What is he doing? And why is it so hot?

Just as quickly as it happened it ended, and you catch sight of his right hand exiting his side. “Sorry, had to get in my pocket,” he says. “Here, one for you, one for me.” He plops back down into his seat, and you have to admit, the loss of the feeling of him damn near pressing his dick into you makes you shudder a bit. It felt…

He holds his hand out and presents you with two airplane bottles of some type of clear liquor. Once you see what he needed to get in his pocket for, you look back at him, his facial expression painted a mix of red and green as you pass underneath the crowded streets and stop lights. He raises his eyebrows, and urges you to take one. 

“Here,” he says, “thought it could help with your tenseness.”

You swallow as your eyes fall to his hand, and you realize that he isn’t wrong. Yeah, you definitely need another drink for what has turned into a shitshow of a night. “Thanks,” you offer, taking one of the bottles from his hand. 

You quickly open the lid and smell the contents, recognizing it right off the bat as tequila. Perfect. Jake does the same, but before he presses it to his lips, he presses the edge of his bottle to yours. 

“Cheers, Y/N. To a night of revelry.” His eyes are boring into yours as his tongue licks across his lips, and a tiny smirk comes across his face. 

“To revelry…” you repeat, and Jake is wrapping his arm with yours, tilting his bottle back to drain its contents. You prepare yourself for the sting of the liquor and take the shot, needing it now more than ever to numb your racing and confused thoughts. 

Your arms uncross and you replace the lids on the bottles after you’ve both swallowed it all down, and you’re thankful that Jake had paid special attention to what you needed in the moment, while Danny still sits completely unknowing directly beside you. 

Jake rips the empty bottle from your hand and sticks the two of them in the front pocket of his jacket, his hands going right back to supporting you still in your awkward position on his lap. You hate to admit it, but the alcohol has almost instantly calmed you a little, while it simultaneously is making you feel just a touch more daring. Jake looks like a fucking model tonight, and you’re relaxing comfortably on his lap. After he asked you to come home with him. What more could you even ask for?

In an act of courage, you decide to wrap your arm around his neck, balancing your elbow on the back of his seat. It brings you significantly closer into his realm, and you hear him take in a sharp breath at your new proximity. “Sorry, couldn’t sit like that any longer,” you say, your chin nearly resting on his shoulder. 

“No worries, love,” he replies, readjusting his hand on your waist to fall a little lower than it was. Your heart is beating from your chest, and you swear you can feel the blood pumping through your veins. Why? It’s just Jake… just your friend. You’ve hugged him a million times before. Why does it suddenly feel so… different?

And all of a sudden, the car jerks you sideways again, redirecting your ass to sit directly on top of… him. Perfectly. Fuck. If there weren’t clothes to block the connection, the two of you would find yourselves in the most perfect position for some insane obscenity, right now. And you feel a surge of desire flood you, while simultaneously feeling Jake jerk in his pants below you. God damn, he feels fucking…

He takes a deep breath and exhales it through his mouth, his air blowing across your hair and lips a little bit as he reacts to the new position. He’s just as flustered as you are. For a split second, his hand wrapped around your waist tightens, squeezing at your side before he lets it drift down just a little to your thigh. Fuckkkkk. Your eyes nearly roll back as you feel his dick jerk between your legs again, in the most perfect position. You’re thankful for the darkness of the lower half of the car, concealing everything that has happened in the past few seconds in shrouded shadow. 

Danny still sits oblivious, deep in pointless conversation with his friend beside him. He could give a damn less, and you’re almost positive he doesn’t even remember that the two of you have made plans, tonight. 

Meanwhile, Jake’s breath is picking up as you see the slight rise and fall of his chest behind his partially unbuttoned shirt, also a new staple in his changing wardrobe that had you going fucking nuts the first time you saw him in it. Your face is still close to him as you continue leaning sideways on his seat, and you realize just how close your lips are to his ear. He’s trying his best to seem nonchalant, but still is being very intentional with the movements of his hand, still concealed in the darkness. 

It slowly travels up your leg to your upper thigh, gentle but forceful all at the same time. Your head starts to spin, he’s touching you. He’s touching you like that. You blow out a huff of air into his ear, making his jaw clench. His hand squeezes at your muscle, his fingers dangerously close to being up underneath the hem of your tight dress. 

He turns his head to face you, almost within inches. “That dress looks really good on you tonight,” he mutters, his eyes flicking from the windshield back to you. You can feel the heat from his breath on your lips, complimenting you in the sweetest most flirtatious tone. 

“You think so?” you ask, your breath hitching as you feel him hardening below you. 

“Mmmhm,” he growls, your faces within centimeters, now. “It really accentuates your body. Shows you off…” His eyes drift to your tits for just a second too long, as his tongue juts out and licks his lips. “But I think my favorite part is this… right here…” His hand that is squeezing between your legs moves to curl a finger up underneath the tight hem that is stretched across your thighs, way too high now that you haven’t yet been in a position to pull it back down. His finger runs along the seam around the side of your leg to the back, and his hand wastes no time in completely gripping your ass.

…You might fall the fuck apart. 

You squeak out a sound that you can’t control as his hand squeezes and kneads at your partially-covered ass cheek, and his motions make your body react completely on its own. You sit down harder on his dick, grinding your hips onto him for just enough time to get a little friction where you need it. You should be embarrassed, but you’re not. Thanks, tequila.

“Your– your favorite part, huh?” you manage, your lips drifting across the baby hairs sticking free from his ponytail. He still stares directly out the windshield, like nothing is happening at all. 

“That’s right,” he says, his fingers beginning to get a little more adventurous as you feel them nearing your heat, from behind. He’s squeezing the muscle even more tightly now that you haven’t stopped him. You’re completely flushed… dizzy and wanting as he’s sitting cool as ever below you. It sort of pisses you off, how you know for a fact that your body language is anything but relaxed, while his hand is buried between your legs. He displays hardly any outward look, at all. The perfect facade. 

Just to get a rise out of him, you sit down on him with a little more force, swirling your hips as you grind in your search for friction. The action takes him by surprise as he grunts out a breath that sounds a bit desperate, exactly what you wanted from him. 

He tries to cover it up with a cough. 

“Jake man, you alright?” Danny turns from his other conversation to ask. Danny’s eyes flick to the two of you in this position and you quickly clean it up, leaning up a little and acting as though Jake’s fingers aren’t dancing around your opening. 

“Yeah man, all good,” Jake replies through a strained breath. 

"Take a breath, dude," Danny says as he smacks Jake's knee.

The way everyone is crammed in the seats has Danny’s back to you, anyway, so he has to strain to turn around backward and look for you. You’re not sure if it’s a gift from the heavens that he can’t see you very well, or an opportunity for the ages that Jake saw, and took full advantage of. Just then, Danny’s hand reaches back behind him, gripping onto your knee that’s closest to him. His hand starts to travel a little, all the while Jake’s fingers still exactly where he left them. 

Oh fucking hell… no.

Danny’s hand moves again, down the length of your shin and back up again, rough and hot as he feels you up in the darkness. He never turns his head around, but his hand continues to sneak higher and higher, so much to the point that his fingers are dusting the inside of your opposite thigh. It’s then that you’re positive he’s completely unaware of what you and Jake are doing just inches away from his hand. 

Danny firmly grips the muscle of your leg, switching between squeezing onto it and lightly trailing his fingertips over your already goosebump-covered skin. You wish you could see Jasmine, you wish you could telepathically tell her what is happening, that both of their hands are secretly on you, fighting for all of your attention. And neither of them have any idea the other is there, and neither have any intention of stopping. 

You try to breathe and calm yourself, trying to ignore the fact that both men have their hands on you in their own stealthy and secret ways. It's jarring, but it also mind-fucks you a little, your thoughts streaming with filthy and unadulterated thoughts of... No. Don't even go there, Y/N. Absolutely not...

“I meant what I said tonight, in the text,” Jake’s graveled voice is suddenly brushing against your ear. His fingers are still slowly working you into an oblivion, down a long road you’re not sure you’ll ever return from. You feel him press a little harder, inching closer and closer to your thong- the only barrier between his hands and you. You sit down on him even harder, the mixture of his fingers teasing you so deliciously and Danny’s hand massaging you… it’s a cocktail that you can’t deny, a mixture of deathly decisions and filthy visuals that you can’t help but become victim to. And you’re fucking loving it. 

“Did you?” you manage, your mouth still close to his ear. You're nearly intoxicated by the smell of his cologne.

“I did… and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say that the way your body is reacting right now, you just might tell me you will,” he goes on, making your head spin again. “Am I right?”

Your eyes flutter closed as you swallow again, arguing with what’s right and wrong as Danny’s hand reminds you that technically, he had you first. You told him you’d stay with him, tonight is supposed to be the night…

Jake’s fingers move a little closer, pulling your thong to the side as he slowly creeps even deeper, his movements so calculated and drawn out that you have to bite down on your own tongue to keep from crying out. Both of their hands are driving you to insanity, and you can’t even say a damned word without revealing what the other one is doing. 

You’re in a delicious purgatory, and you’d sit in this car for all of eternity if it meant you could keep feeling like this. 

The way that you're currently the keeper of both of their secrets, letting them do what they want to you, in complete confidence. Every few seconds you're reminded that the other one is there, when one of their hands would steal all of your attention away from the other. Your mind is being pulled in two directions, your consciousness traveling from left to right as they both unknowingly battle for your attention.

Just then Jake’s fingers find your clit, pressing harshly into it with tiny circles as you realize now that you’re fighting for your life. Your forehead leans onto his temple, all the breath escaping your lungs as he starts to build you up. “Oh my god,” you whisper in his ear through grit teeth. Your voice is desperate and pitiful as you fight swirling your hips on his hand, pleading with yourself to ignore the way he feels, and the way Danny’s hand is relentlessly kneading into your other leg. 

“That feel good, baby?” Jake whispers below the roar of the music still filling the car. “That what you wanted me to do?”

You nod quickly, knowing that your decisions tonight will be ones that you try and forget about tomorrow, but the situation is too damn delicious to ignore, right now. “Yeah,” you whisper, nipping your teeth onto his ear. You feel his hips buck up, his dick hard as a rock beneath you. 

“Tell me about it, tell me how it feels…” he whispers to you again, his fingers still working you to a point of no return. 

Danny’s hand is still stretched as far as it can in the position he’s in, and you can tell that the way he is moving, his mind is coming back to him, and he’s preparing you for what is going to happen when the two of you get out of the car. 

“Feels so fucking good…” you murmur, little whines falling from your lips as he lets his thumb tease at your entrance. “Don’t want you to stop, but…”

“But what, baby?”

You swallow, opening your eyes a bit as his thumb still teases. “I–You know I’m… going home with Danny…” The words feel like poison in your mouth, and you hate to admit it, even though it’s the complete truth. 

But Jake knows your situation with Danny. He’s not unaware of any of it, at all. 

“Hm,” Jake grumbles. “Is that still a thing?”

“Kind of, yeah… I mean…” you breathe, and Jake hasn’t slowed down his movements, at all. Each pointed touch of his finger on your clit is driving you to madness, and you’re surprised at your ability to even keep a little bit of a level head in your conversation. 

“Interesting. Every time I looked at you tonight, your eyes were already on me, watching me like a hawk. I could have sworn those were fuck-me eyes, Y/N…” 

He presses his thumb inside you a little, making you gasp a loud breath. The way your name sounded coming from his perfectly pouted lips… It sounds so different than it normally does. So much more strained, so desperate. He pulls his thumb back out, concentrating again on your clit. 

“Who even are you, Jake? You’re like an entirely different person, all the sudden,” you admit through quiet choked breaths. You don’t know where that question came from, though you’ve been so curious about it for the past few weeks.

You catch his eyes darting around as he searches for an answer. He shrugs his shoulders. “Just have come into my own lately, grew up a bit. I dunno… why, is it a bad thing?” 

“No! No, it’s… you’re the same you, just…” 

“Now I have the confidence to do what I’ve always wanted to do to you, in the back of a car, secretly…” he mutters, clicking his tongue a little as he adds a little pressure to your clit. You can tell you’re absolutely soaking his hand, but you feel no shame in it. You hope to god Danny can’t feel your legs shaking and vibrating with pleasure… either that, or you hope that he thinks he’s the one causing it. 

“You have? Why didn’t you ever…” you ask him, wondering why he’d never made an advance before. Or, had you been just too blind to see it?

Jake takes a breath. “I dunno, just never thought you’d be into me like that.”

“First stop!” the driver calls out, putting the car in a harsh park. You lurch forward and back again, your mind coming back to you a little bit. 

Jake and Danny both quickly remove their hands from you as the cab lights in the car come on, and Danny’s two friends jump out. The loss of their touch is devastating, and you wonder what in the actual fuck you’re going to do when you eventually make it to Danny’s place. You take a second to glance back at Jasmine in the backseat, and immediately she can tell that something is going on. 

You have only a second to communicate wordlessly to her before the doors are closing, and the car is taking off again. Now, the freed up space allows for you to have your own seat. 

“Here babe, you can scoot over here, now,” Danny says, patting the seat between him and Jake. “Your legs fall asleep, Jake? Damn, we were really smashed in here.”

“You could say that…” Jake grumbles, taking one last opportunity to squeeze your ass as you climb off of him, the disconnect instantly making you fill with a frustrated rage. 

You cross your arms as you find yourself sat between them now, pissed off and left feeling more edged than anything. Danny’s arm wraps around your shoulders and pulls you toward him. “Can’t wait to get that dress off you… I’m over here going fucking crazy…” he says into your ear. 

You can’t help the expression that falls across your face. Fuck… if he only knew the situation you’re currently in… he’s going crazy?! He hardly paid you any mind at all for the past ten minutes you’ve been in here… his hand was the only contact he made, and you know his touching you was solely out of drunken opportunity. 

Jake, on the other hand… quite literally…

You don’t give him a straight answer as the car pulls down Danny’s street, and your mind begins to race with crazed thoughts. Your stomach churns with nerves, and you almost wish you hadn’t taken that last shot of tequila. You feel like you’re being pulled two ways- wanting to go home with Danny after dancing around the act for weeks now, and leaving yourself to stay with Jake to finish what the two of you have started. 

You know it’s wrong to even consider Jake, but something about him lately, and tonight, has made him like a forbidden fruit that you can’t help but crave. And after learning that apparently he’s wanted you all along…

The car begins to slow down in front of Danny’s building, and the nerves are so bad you feel like you could throw up. Danny slings the door open and steps out, turning to take your hand. 

The invisible string… one end of you tied to Danny and the agreement you’d already made, and one end tied to the man beside you, his aura magnetizing you to stay with him… don’t get out of the car…

Your hand moves on its own, clasping itself around Danny’s as your body pulls itself from the vehicle, slow and blurry as your foot hits the concrete. Danny offers you a sweet, buzzed smile as he helps you to get your footing on the sidewalk. “You ready, gorgeous?” he asks, and your head nods, really unknowing if you are ready, or not. 

Danny closes the door behind you and you turn to look at Jake, his jaw clenched tightly with his hand in front of it, his eyes glaring and low as the car pulls off to the next stop. 

Well, fuck.

Danny pulls you through the front doors of his building and up the stairs to his apartment door. Your mind is still racing and your legs are still like jello from the performance that Jake had given you just minutes ago. You can tell that Danny is still feeling his liquor, stumbling just a little as he meanders through his dark apartment with you in tow. You had only been here once before, so you know your way around just a little bit. It’s a studio apartment, so you plop down on his bed, pulling your arms into yourself as he turns the kitchen light on. 

“Gonna grab a water, you wann’one?” he stammers, his eyes hardly focused. 

“Yeah, please,” you say, pulling your phone from your purse to see a string of notifications from Jasmine. 

Jas

1:31am: BITCH WHAT THE FCUK WERE YOU TWO DOOIGN UP THERE

1:31am: i saw you whispering to him

1:31am: what did he say what did you say

1:34am: ANSER MEEEE

1:34am: he was so sad looking when u went with danny i cant believe uuuu. Anyway have fun i guess

“Here ya go,” Danny says as he hands you a cold water bottle. He’s already chugged half of his, and he lies down beside you, pressing the cold bottle to his forehead. 

“Thanks,” you say, taking a few sips off the top. “You have too much?”

He sits up, tossing the bottle to the side before wrapping his arm around you and pressing you down into the bed. “No no, I’m good. Just kinda… well, maybe a lil’. But I still want to uphold our plans, yeah?” His face is buried in your hair, and you can feel his mouth starting to lay wet kisses up and down your neck. 

“Yeah,” you breathe, the feeling of his mouth on you overtaking your mind already. Danny has always felt exceptionally good, able to turn you on within seconds. His hand is traveling over your body, over your stomach and legs and thighs as he delves into the sensitive skin of your neck, on the verge of leaving marks, if he wasn’t careful. Your eyes roll back as he moans in your ear, pressing himself up against you. 

“Now, about this dress..” he says, pulling your straps down. You help him free your arms as your tits pop free, your nipples already perking up just from the contact he’d made. “Fuckin’ beautiful…” he says, leaning up on his elbow to reach down and hitch your leg over his waist. He takes your nipple into his mouth and begins swirling his tongue around it while his hand massages and kneads the other. 

Your body begins shuddering from the feeling of it all, and the presence of his hardening dick pressing between your legs doesn’t help matters. Finally he connects his lips to yours, hot and messy as the kiss is deepened second by second. His hands are cupping your tits, and you can’t help but grind into him. Fuck… yeah, he feels good, but, is this going to go as planned? No matter how hard you tried, you can’t get the visual of Jake’s face as the car door shut from hanging in the back of your mind. 

You switch gears to try and flush the thought of Jake from your mind, pulling Danny to his back and straddling his waist. You immediately lean down and pull at the hem of his shirt, ripping it over his head. God, his physique is un-fucking-real… You can’t help but to want to kiss it, to lick every inch of him. Your mind is completely reeling with a wild hormonal draw to him, while thinking about Jake’s hand between your legs, while you’re undoing Danny’s belt, thinking about how Jake’s breath felt on your lips. 

For the love of god, get it together, Y/N. 

“So sexy, baby…” Danny stutters as you begin making your way down his body, nipping at his pecs and sides as you descend down him, your body pulling you there on its own. His hand is tangled up in your hair as you begin teasing at his dick through his boxers, breathing hot air and humming your lips against him. You can feel your mouth starting to water just thinking about how he is going to taste on your tongue. This wasn’t the first time you’d done this for Danny, of course, but the foreplay has to start somewhere, right?

Danny bucks his hips into your mouth as your tongue glides over the tip, the indirect touch driving him absolutely wild. “Need your mouth, baby.. Need it– ahhh… so bad…”

His words urge you on to get your head on straight, pulling down at his boxers to expose him. His dick springs free and you immediately connect your lips to it, flicking the tip of your tongue. You feel the saliva begin to pool in your mouth as his stomach tightens in. “Fuck, yes, baby…” he says, his hand tightening in your hair again. You open your throat as best you can, taking him all the way down in one go. The sounds that leave him make you feel a fierce desire for him again as you begin bobbing up and down, using your hand for help. 

Your tongue swirls and flattens as you watch his free hand grip onto the sheets. You sit up and pull his boxers and jeans all the way off, giving yourself a little more space to work. You dig your nails into the skin between his thighs, making him hiss an inhale. “Too much?” you ask.

“No, perfect… Keep going…” he breathes, sitting up for just a second to watch you. You work at him for what feels like ten minutes or so, just watching him get to the edge before he falls right back off again. You try different techniques and tricks, but you realize fairly quickly that your jaw is beginning to tighten and feel sore. You bring your hand to the base of his dick again, pumping it along with your mouth. “Fuck, fuck… baby…” he grunts again, and you can taste the precum finally dripping into your mouth. 

“Taste so good, Danny…” you breathe when you find a free second. You’re trying to get him there, pulling out all the shots you can think of to get him to tip over the edge. His hand tightens in your hair again, and you feel yourself feeling touch-starved, especially since you were so worked up earlier. You slip your hand between your legs and move your thong to the side, quickly finding the place that Jake’s fingers had just inhabited not long ago. 

Jake… 

His fingers… they were just… there. 

Maybe if you picture it’s him touching you again instead of yourself…

You close your eyes and envision it, letting yourself moan a little hum onto the tip of Danny’s cock. 

“Oh fuck, do that again,” he cries, his head falling back onto the headboard. You do as he asks, all the while still picturing the feeling of Jake’s hand bringing you right back to the brink. Fuck, this feels so wrong. And so, so fucking right. 

Suddenly Danny’s hand leaves your hair and grips onto the sheets again, the veins in his hands popping out as you watch him claw his way to the peak, his stomach caving in over and over as you work him harder. 

“Mhmm…” you hum onto him again, realizing that is what he needed to get over his awful case of whiskey dick. You finally manage to get him there, watching as his face falls into a clenched expression as he fills up your mouth completely. You swallow it down and do your best to clean him up while he catches his breath on the come-down. 

“Jesus you are so fucking hot,” he says once you’re all done. He hooks his arm up underneath your arm pit, pulling you to lay beside him. “That was… excellent.” 

“Thank you,” you giggle, your clit still pouding with stimulation. The two of you lay there for a few minutes as he enjoys his euphoria. 

“Gimmie just a minute, I’ll pay you back, baby,” he says softly as his eyes begin to close. 

You nod as you glance up to him, your body on fire with want and need for reciprocation so intense that you can hardly stand it. His eyes are all the way closed and he’s completely relaxed back, and it’s then that you realize exactly what you had suspected would happen- he’s going to fully pass out on you. 

‘Fucking kidding me,’ you think to yourself. ‘Is he serious?’

You should have known better, given how hard it was to get him to cum from a fifteen-minute long blowjob. A good one, at that. 

Two minutes later, he’s snoring. Goddamnit. 

And suddenly, you’re pissed. Pissed at it all. You know its just the rage from not getting anything out of this fucking deal tonight, and feeling rejected and forgotten after Danny got his. You have half a mind to sneak into his bathroom and finish things off yourself, but just as you’re about to grind your knuckles into Danny’s chest to wake him up, he rolls over, tucking his hands up underneath his pillow as his breathing completely evens out. Yeah, he’s out for good. Your heartbeat is flying off the handle from the bitterness you feel mixed in with how fucking turned on you are. 

Fuck this night. 

You gently lean down and pick up your phone that is still sitting on the bottom of the bed, the bright light hurting your eyes as the screen comes to life. You decide to answer Jasmine’s texts, even though you know she is probably already asleep. 

You

2:13am: 🍆❌🥃👎😴

Your finger flips back over to the text from Jake, and you shudder at how harshly you left him on read… through text and in the car. You feel absolutely terrible. In all honesty, you should have stayed back with him tonight. Things could have ended up so differently. You halfway curse yourself for being such a brat about it all, because really, Danny didn’t do anything wrong at all. Upsetting, but not wrong. He did have a bit too much to drink.

In an act of pure courage (and horrific lingering arousal), you text Jake back. 

You

2:14am: If I would have stayed with you, would you have fallen asleep on me?

You set your phone on your chest, halfway regretting sending the text, at all. You cover your eyes with your hand, fiercely tapping your other hand on your stomach as regret fills your mind. 

Then suddenly, it buzzes. 

You peek one eye open, expecting to see a reply from Jasmine. But– of course…

Jake

2:16am: He didn’t…

You

2:16am: 🙂

Jake

2:17am: Fuckin idiot.

2:17am: No, I wouldn’t have fallen asleep on you. I think we both know that. 

You

2:18am: Why are you still awake?

Jake sends back a photo of his feet propped up on his ottoman in front of a fireplace, holding a glass up in front of it. 

You

2:19am: Nightcap?

Jake

2:19am: No, it’s carbonated water. Couldn’t force down another drink if I wanted to

Danny startles you with a loud snore as he adjusts himself, getting comfortable again in his bed. And for some reason, it pisses you off all over again. 

You

2:20am: What if I was there, would you have a drink with me?

Jake

2:20am: I would do anything you want, if you were here

2:21am: I got you all worked up for nothing, huh

You

2:21am: Understatement of the year.

Ya know what? Fuck it. 

2:21am: But, not for nothing…

You slowly stand from the bed, rushing across Danny’s living area to slip quietly into his bathroom. Before you close the door behind you, you check to make sure he’s still asleep. When you’ve made sure the coast is clear, you lock the door behind you. 

Alone and still frustrated with sexual tension, you turn on the dimmer switch on the wall, pulling it all the way down to as dark as it will go. You stand in front of his full-length mirror and pull one of your straps down to expose one of your tits. You fluff your hair and find the perfect position to stand, covertly covering up your nipple as you hike the tight bottom of your dress up a little higher. 

You open your camera and adjust the lighting and snap a few photos, finding them all to be unreasonably sexy, if you do say so yourself. You finally choose the best one and attach it in a text to Jake, holding your breath as you hit send. 

You

2:23am: Still very much worked up 

You watch as the messages deliver, and Jake’s text bubble pop up and disappear four or five times as he is likely trying to decide what to respond with. You’re feeling a little more confident now, knowing that you’ve most likely left him a little speechless. It's an entire minute before he finally responds. 

Jake

2:24am: Fuck

You snicker at his response before going ahead and typing up another. 

You

2:24am: Think I made the wrong decision tonight

Jake

2:25am: Was waiting for you to admit that to yourself 😏

You sit down on Danny’s toilet, suddenly feeling very cold in the skimpy dress. You take a deep breath and rest your chin in your hand as you try and decide what to do next. You can steal one of Danny’s t-shirts, climb under the covers next to him and call it a night, or you could convince Jake that you’d rather be with him, and see what happens. 

You feel your phone buzz in your lap. 

Jake

2:27am: What if I promised to finish what I started

You

2:27am: If that entails anything like what you did to me in the car, I’ll take you up on that promise

Jake

2:28am: It has everything to do with what I did to you in the car

2:28am: And don’t act so innocent, I felt you trying to tease me, too

You

2:29am: Jake, it was obvious I wasn’t the only one worked up

2:29am: I never claimed to be innocent… 😇

Jake:

2:30am: God you’re a piece of work

You

2:30am: Come get me. 

Jake

2:31am: Be there in 5. 

Fuck fuck… this is really happening. Shit, you have made some horrible decisions tonight. But there is time for repentance later. Tonight, you’re going to pretend like nothing in the world matters. 

You take a quick second to freshen up and dab some of Danny’s toothpaste on your finger, at least making yourself seem like you’ve not taken part in too many bad decisions, tonight. When you’re done, you creak the bathroom door open again and find Danny still snuggled up and passed all the way out. You quickly send him a text that you found a ride home, not wanting him to wake up and freak out too badly. You’re pissed at him, but honestly, not too mad. It ended up in your favor, to be honest. You place your bottle of water on the table beside him and plug his phone in before making your way to sit on his couch, waiting for your incoming text from Jake. 

+++

“Here, brought you these,” Jake says as he hands you a pile of clothing after you’ve placed your seatbelt across your chest. “Thought you’d probably be cold.”

You unfold it all to find a pair of his sweatpants and an oversized sweatshirt, and a pair of old socks. “Jake, this is so sweet, you didn’t have to.” You feel your chest warm at his gesture. 

“You look fine as fuck in that dress, but I know you’ve gotta be uncomfortable,” he laughs, one hand balancing on the steering wheel as he backs out of Danny’s lot. 

You place the clothes on your lap, biting your lip in. “How about I leave the dress on for just a little while longer?” 

You hear him exhale a laugh through his nose. “You really are trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

“No,” you reply shortly. “You can’t finish what you started if you aren’t alive.”

His eyes drift over to you in the passenger seat as his fingers rub over his mustache. Still so horrifically sexy. Good god. 

“You really wanna do this, Y/N? I really just wanted to save you from staying somewhere you didn’t want to be tonight… we don’t have–”

“I want to Jake, I do,” you reply strictly. Your hand shoots over and lands on his leg, and you feel no shame in teasing him in the exact same ways that he was teasing you, earlier. Your hand moves up and cups right overtop of his bulge, and you hear him hiss as his hips jut forward in the seat. You begin lightly massaging it. “Unless you don’t want to…”

“Nonono I do, I do,” he says, shaking his head through a laugh at you as he continues down the street. “Can’t believe Danny did that to you tonight. Fucking figures.”

Your hand stops its motion. “What do you mean, figures?”

Jake inhales a sharp breath. “I told him he had to make a decision, you or that other girl. It wasn’t fair him leading you on like he was… guess he proved that to you all by himself.”

Your blood rushes to your head. What?

“Wait, what?! What other girl?” you sit up in your seat and face Jake, now entirely interested in something else. 

He stumbles over his words, focusing on the road in front of him. “You didn’t– I thought you guys were kind of, open… right?”

You’re suddenly exasperated. “I mean, yeah I guess… we didn’t have a title or anything but like… we… I thought we were something… I thought he’d at least stay awake long enough to–”

Jake is silent for a second as he lets you process your thoughts. 

“He was texting her all night, Y/N.”

Your jaw falls slack. “What? He was?”

Jake nods, flicking his turn signal. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, it’s not my business.”

“No, it most definitely is your business. You’re my friend, right? Longer than Danny has been my friend. It’s your business, I’m your business…”

His eyes dart to you again and give you a look that makes your heart skip a beat. He’s being protective over you. 

“He’s been texting her a while, hooking up and whatnot. I don’t know anything further than that, or even who she is. But it pissed me off to see him hiding his phone so much, tonight. He was supposed to be there with you. I knew that he was trying to not let anyone see, but I saw it. A couple of times. I–I honestly thought that was why you were eyeing me so hard from the dance floor, I thought you might uh, have noticed him being weird and might be wanting to make him jealous or something. I dunno.” 

You shake your head and laugh disbelievingly. “Wow…” you mutter, suddenly not regretting your decision to come here with Jake, at all. Fuck Danny for that. He should have at least told you. You weren’t exclusive, but you also didn’t have anyone else on your radar. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have told you that… I probably ruined your night,” Jake says as he pulls into a parking spot in front of his house.

“No. Actually, no, I’m glad you did. Something had felt kind of… off with him lately. I’m glad to know my gut wasn’t wrong,” you reply. 

Jake turns the car off and you just stare at one another, waiting for the other one to talk. “I can take you home instead, if you’d like,” he offers, his true colors coming through even through his brand new facade. Actually, maybe it isn’t a facade at all. Maybe this is who he has truly always been.  

“No. I want to be here, with you,” you reply honestly.

“Not for revenge?”

“No, fuck no. I should have told you I’d come home with you when you sent me that text. I know that now. I wanted to… I just… didn’t want to be rude and bail on him.”

“Maybe you are a sweetheart,” Jake pokes as he opens his car door, signaling for you to follow him. You both make your way out to his walkway and start heading up to his front door. 

“I am a sweetheart! What do you mean?!” you laugh, slapping him in the arm. 

“Ow, fuck,” Jake says, grabbing his arm as he turns to you in faux pain. 

“That didn’t hurt,” you laugh, stepping up onto his doorstep. 

“Yeah, you’re right. It didn’t hurt as bad as you leaving me in the dust tonight. Broke my fuckin’ heart,” Jake pouts. And for some reason, his words shoot right through your heart.

“Jake, I am so sorry,” you cry, turning to him. “Really.”

He laughs and turns to you, pulling a few stray hairs from in front of your face. “I’m kidding. I was sad, though.” He steps closer to you, enveloping your senses as he closes the proximity between you. “I’ve watched you walk away from me too many times over the years.”

Another shot through the heart. You’re one step away from feeling like total shit. “I didn’t even know you… cared, Jake. About me, like that.”

He shrugs his shoulder as he continues fixing your hair. “Ah, s’alright. You’re here now…”

You take a step closer to him, feeling a warmth travel over you that you don’t dare force away. Your lips are within inches of his, and your hand slowly comes up to grab behind his neck, playing with his hair that’s still pulled back into a low knot. His breath hitches but he doesn’t pull away, instead he brushes his nose against yours, making you break out in a chill that overtakes your entire being. 

“Yeah, I’m here now.” You close the gap and press your lips to his, kissing him gently at first, just to test out his waters. You feel him holding his breath just a little as he pulls away, giving you a smile so genuine you feel as if you could melt into a puddle, right there on his doorstep. He places his hands on your hips, reconnecting the kiss in a more heated way now. His hands are gripping at your sides, and your hands are grabbing onto his jaw, kissing him fiercely as if doing so is the only right thing in the world. 

You think you’re floating. No, you’re positive you are. The way he feels with his hands on you, the way your whole body is tingling and rushing with emotions… Kissing your friend never turns out well, but then again, he was fingering you in an Uber only an hour ago…

Just as quickly as things had started, they end, as Jake pulls himself away from you in a rush of excitement and nerves. “Let’s go inside.” 

He pushes the door open and you step inside, feeling some strange sense of deja vu as you enter another man’s house this evening. You step out of your half-strapped heels, kicking them to the corner as you toss your purse onto his couch. Instantly, you feel his arms wrapped around your back, holding on to you with a sincerity that you’ve always felt with him, just never physically. His mouth is behind your ear, and his waist is already pressing into your ass. 

“I know you want to leave the dress on, but I don’t think you’ll want it getting wet,” he growls into your ear. 

“Wet?” you ask, your eyes fluttering closed from his use of the word wet. Why? Guess that’s just where your mind is going to live, tonight. 

“Yeah. We’re taking a shower,” he replies, breaking away from holding you. But before he lets go, he grabs your hand and spins you around, making you follow him up the stairs. 

A shower… holy shit…?!

Your brain short circuits as you realize that within the next minute, you’re going to completely expose yourself to Jake, your very good… friend. It’s okay. It’s okay!

The top floor of his home is carpeted, and the softness of it feels like heaven on your sore and tired feet. He pulls you behind him still, one of your hands locked with his, the other still lugging the clothes he’s supplied you with. He turns a left corner and introduces you to a large room, much larger than any bathroom you’d seen in the houses in town. 

He turns on a light and illuminates a rather clean place for a man, a giant bathtub, and a shower that is bigger than your walk-in closet. 

“Wow…” you exclaim, in awe of it all. 

“Yeah, I knew you wouldn’t turn this down,” Jake laughs. “Right?”

“Most definitely not.” You feel a cold chill rush over you at just the thought of hot water pouring over your skin, and you have to rub your hands over your arms for friction and warmth. 

You look to Jake who is leaning with his back on the counter, eyeing you so sweetly you could almost die. He cocks his head sideways with a tiny smile, and you cursed yourself for never really giving him the time of day in any regard other than just friendly interactions. Why had it never hit you before?

There’s a long pause as the two of you watch each other, and the tension between you is so thick it’s almost palpable. He kicks his shoes off and pulls his shirt over his head, never taking his eyes from you. You haven’t seen him shirtless in a long time, and for some reason the visual of his unclothed body literally makes you salivate. You have no shame in raking your eyes over him as he cocks an eyebrow, moving over to turn the shower on. Water begins to stream from two copper showerheads, and steam begins to fill the space immediately. 

You pull the straps of your dress down, slowly inching the tight dress over your breasts, stomach, and hips… really making a show of removing what little clothing you have left on. Jake is eyeing you still as he roughly grabs his belt, ripping it from its buckle and pulling it from the loops. For the love of god, you could watch him do that over and over again…

He kicks his pants off as you finally slip free of your dress, reaching down to pick it up and hang it over the doorknob. You’re left in just your thong, feeling exposed as Jake stands before you in his dark gray boxers. He slowly walks to you, placing his warm hands on your waist as he kisses you again, slow and deep and sultry as you let his tongue explore just a little further than it had earlier. 

He begins backing you up to the shower, the steam now coating the mirrors and window of the room. “I’m really fucking hungry for you, Y/N, in case you haven’t noticed…” Jake says as he takes your hand, placing it directly on his dick. Fuck, you’re in for it. 

You take the liberty, and gently squeeze at it. “I’ve noticed.” 

His mouth reconnects with yours again, the action of hungry really coming in to play as his fingers are slipping into the hips of your thong, running around the hem to the front. “Take it off,” you order him, swirling your hips a little as he begins to pull the fabric from your waist. 

“Yes ma’am,” he grits. You do the same for him after you kick free of the last shred of fabric on your body, pulling his boxers down and off, all the way. 

Through the steam, you can finally see him and he can finally see you, completely naked and baring yourselves to one another in the most enticing way possible. And god, is he a sight to see. 

His hand comes up to cover his mouth in disbelief, and you can see him smiling behind his covertness. “You’re really, really gorgeous, Y/N.” His compliment sends butterflies through your belly, and you rush to him again, pushing him back and into the hot downpour of the shower. 

The water blinds you completely as you’re both standing beneath it, a mess of slipping hands and missed kisses, all inhibitions out the window as neither of you can see what you’re doing. His hands find your tits, gripping them both in his hands and squeezing them with just enough force to make your back arch. His fingers work at your nipples, giving him a straightshot to go ahead and connect his mouth. He sucks one particularly hard, letting his lips pop off it with a loud snap. 

“Fuck,” you breathe, finally wiping the water clear from your eyes. You’re met with a soaked Jake, grinning at you so deviously that you swear you could devour him, right then and there. He pulls you back a little again, pressing your back against the cold tile wall as he falls to his knees. 

He’s biting at the skin of your stomach and hips, leaving marks you’re sure will be there tomorrow. He’s absolutely ravenous, and you know exactly what he’s about to do. His hands grip your ass, pulling at the muscles to make you lean into him, exposing your cunt to his ready and waiting mouth. Your hands find his head, your fingers tangling in his hair already as you feel yourself dripping with anticipation. Everything is rough, and forced, and so, so deliciously exhilarating. 

He reaches behind himself and pulls his hair free from its knot, giving you so much more freedom to wrap it around your fingers. It’s like he knows you’re going to need something to hold on to. 

His brown eyes shoot up to you, silently asking for permission to go further, of which you respond with a harsh nod. In less than a second his face is buried in you, his tongue already lapping through your folds and licking at you so deliciously that your knees start to buckle. He catches you, though, as if he had anticipated it, holding you steadily against the wall. 

“God, baby,” you cry out, wiping away the water falling into his face and in his eyes. He feels absolutely incredible, like an otherworldly experience you had no idea you needed to feel. Pleasure is already wracking through you at an ungodly pace, until you feel his tongue swirling your clit, making you cry out again. Your head flies back as your hand covers your mouth, blocking any sound from escaping. 

Jake lifts your left leg, tossing it over his shoulder to give him better access. “Let me hear you baby,” he says, “we’re the only ones here.” Your cries are pitiful as he pulls at your ass again, burying himself even further. You’re sure he’s going to drown as the shower is pouring directly on him, giving him little room to inhale anything other than water. Your fingers wrap up in his strands as you feel your hips begin to grind onto his face, swirling themselves as he moves his tongue to enter you, wet and luscious as his nose hits directly on your clit. 

“Fuuuuuck!” you yell out again, unable to stop yourself from letting him know how good he’s doing. 

Everything is happening so fast and so fiercely that you’re already nearing the edge, but you want this to last as long as it possibly can. He hums on you as his nose pumps against your clit, and you know that even if you could clear the water falling into your eyes, you still wouldn’t be able to see straight. 

You feel your body beginning to tighten, the muscles in your stomach becoming rigid and tense as you feel the sweet release knocking on your front door. He notices this, and brings his finger up to take the place of his tongue. He slides it inside you, and the feeling is even better than you’d thought it’d be, given that he’d only given you an inch or so in the car, earlier. He starts pumping it with force, his speed only increasing as you are trying your best to breathe through ragged breaths. 

“That good baby?” he asks, breaking away for air. 

You nod, “So close…”

He flicks his finger up to the perfect hook, massaging your g-spot as his tongue still laps away, perfectly pointed on your oversensitive clit. You know that his fingers are only a preview of the real thing, and already you realize that if he is this good with just his hands, how is he going to be in bed?

“Oh god, baby… I–” You hunch over, your hands pulling his hair so hard you want to apologize, but he brings you to an orgasm so delicious you have to remind yourself where you are, and what you’re doing. His lips circle around your clit, pulling it into his mouth in quick motions while circling still with his tongue. The motion is new to you and you swear for a second you go deaf from the pleasure. 

“Mmhmm, mhmm,” he hums onto you, releasing his finger and letting his tongue take its place again, collecting up everything he can as you find your mind. 

After a few seconds he slowly stands up, wiping the drenched strands away from your face as he gives you an energetic smile. 

“Jake, that was…” you can hardly form a thought before he’s turning you around, reaching for a bottle of shampoo to wash your hair for you. You let him, knowing that your elation is too high to even argue with him. He massages your scalp before rinsing all the suds, then gives you a healthy dose of whatever conditioner he has sitting in the corner, massaging it into your strands again. 

For a minute, everything is… peaceful. 

“Why you taking such good care of me?” you finally ask, feeling his still-hard length brushing across your ass. 

“Because I want to. Any other questions?” 

You laugh through your nose, realizing that enough time has passed that you’re damn near getting turned on, all over again. You shake your head no. 

You switch off, washing and massaging Jake’s hair for him as no words at all are exchanged. Comfortable silence. 

After you’re all washed and a little pruny, you turn to him again, this time the both of you exchanging looks that aren’t laced with as much aggression, but more painted with looks of desire that make your stomach swirl with the perfect anxiety. 

“You ready to get out of here?” he asks, reaching for the shower handle to switch it off. 

The two of you step out and you reach for a towel, but his hand stops you. “Hmm-mm,” he says, gently grabbing your hips. His lips are instantly connected to your neck, whispering sweet little nothings in your ear as you feel him pushing you to walk again, right over to the countertop. He spins you backward, and you find yourself facing a steam-covered mirror. 

He reaches up and wipes it clean, and it's then that you see the reflection of the two of you, flushed and soaked and in pure and utter bliss… together. You take the initiative and lean over for him, stepping your legs apart as you eye him in the reflection. 

His eyes glaze over with a hunger again, and as you press your ass back on him, the ravenous attitude returns. He places one hand on your waist and the other disappears between you, and you finally feel the touch of his dick rolling through your folds, instantly making you dripping wet all over again. 

You watch as he grits his jaw, his cheeks puffing up with air as his eyes watch himself, deliciously entering you inch by inch. Goddamn, he’s a lot bigger than you had imagined… He presses himself all the way in, finally looking at you again in the mirror as he slowly pulls back out, his eyes rushing back between you so he can watch himself do it all over again. 

Just the thought of him wanting to watch himself fuck you turns you on exponentially.

The feeling of him inside you is earth-shattering, to say the least. Each thrust is better than the last, and he hasn’t even picked up any pace yet. “Fucking hell, Jake… Oh my god…” you say, your jaw falling open as you squint your eyes closed. He moves his hand to hold on to your shoulder, picking up a pace now that has your mind reeling with a blinding pleasure you’ve never even felt before. 

You arch your back for him, giving him a new angle to pound himself relentlessly into you, the sounds of your still-wet bodies smacking together echoing off the walls and making for an even more shrewd display. You watch him as he fucks you, powerful and gorgeous and sweet, making sure to catch your eye contact every few seconds to let you know he’s still there. It’s truly unreal, and you can hardly even catch your breath as you watch yourselves. 

“Fuck, Y/N, keep taking it, baby…” he finally speaks, his head falling back a little as he slows his pace, concentrating now on a different stroke. He snaps his hips upward, hitting you in a whole new place deep inside. It nearly chokes you, the pleasure unimaginable and overtaking your every thought. 

“It’s yours, Jake, it’s all–”

His hand grips in your hair, pulling your neck back in a tight jerk. The motion makes you feel used in the best way as he thrusts even more deeply now. Your hands are holding onto the sink for dear life as the water still in your hair drips down into your face. 

Suddenly, Jake pulls all the way out, spinning you around to face him. His mouth is connected to yours in a flash, and you kiss him back, digging your fingernails into his ass to show him how pissed you are that he stopped. The two of you whine into each other’s mouths, desperate as you feel him pick you up and begin walking to the door. You can’t see where he’s going, but you don’t even care. You’re burying your tongue into his mouth and biting at his lips, feeling like an insatiable rabid animal for him. 

You’re flying through the air backwards before you land on his mattress, bouncing a few times into the thick and plush down comforter that smells exactly like him. “Jake, we’re soaked, let me dry off, we’ll ruin your–”

“Do you think I give a goddamn about getting my sheets wet, Y/N?” he yelps, cutting you off from standing back up to get a towel. His hand is on your chest, gently urging you to fall back down into the messiness of his unmade bed. 

It’s the most comfortable thing you’ve ever laid on, and the blankets and sheets are like mountains around you, protecting you and holding you between them. You feel safe here, you feel good. 

“Say wet again,” you say, remembering how much you liked to hear him to say it. 

He crawls back over you, pulling a dark blanket behind him as he positions himself between your legs, covering the two of you up in a warmth you can’t explain. 

“Wet, wet… soaking fucking wet,” he sings as he pushes himself into you again, taking all the air from your lungs as you feel him enter you this way. You whine pathetically into his mouth, feeling so vulnerable and unguarded in his presence. Your hands fly above your head, letting his body weight fuck into you again. Every nerve ending in your body is on fire, zapping your every cell into a state of shock. You’ve never had sex like this before. What had you been missing out on with him, all this time?

There’s no light around you at all as the blanket is tucked into your sides, tightly wrapping you both up so you have no choice but to touch on nearly every surface of your bodies. You slide against one another, your hands coming down from above you to grab onto him, pull his hair, and grip his jaw for an overly-forceful kiss. 

The way his breathy grunts sound in your ear make you soak again and again, and you know he can feel it. “Is that all for me, baby?” he asks, and you nod, breathing heavily as the pleasure wracks through you over and over again. 

“All for you, all of it’s yours…” you breathe, wrapping your ankles around his back. “You feel so fucking good baby, god… please don’t stop…” you beg him, already feeling another impending orgasm on the horizon. 

Your mind is so far away from everything that has happened tonight, and from Danny, and from whatever other girl he has been with, all this time. You could care less about it all. The way Jake is making you feel right now, the way he has been making you feel all night interrupts everything else so easily that you don’t even know why you were worried in the first place. 

He’s perfect, this is perfect. 

You pull the blanket back to uncover your heads, and you can finally see his face in the dim light of his room, fucked-out and ethereal as he continues. Your hand reaches up to grip around his neck, your fingers pressing over his jugular as his mouth opens for just a split second. You watch as his eyes fill with that same darkness again, and you know for a fact he wants you to do it. “Harder,” he says, so you listen, choking him with a little more intensity as you feel his thrusts begin to falter. 

You feel like he can’t be deep enough, nothing will ever satiate you enough, when it comes to him. Your knees fall apart even further as your ankles uncross, and you stretch your legs up to hang over his shoulders, folding your body in half. “Oh my god babe,” he breathes, leaning all his bodyweight onto the backs of your legs. Your fingers still wrap around his throat, and you grab his hand, pulling his middle finger deeply into your mouth. You wrap your tongue around it, sucking and swirling as you hold him up through his thrusts, now deeper and rougher at this angle. 

You watch his eyebrows furrow together as he starts to lose his composure, his entire body beginning to tremble as you realize you’re right there with him. Your eyes meet with his as you watch him, so much more beautiful than you could have ever imagined. 

You pull his finger in as deeply as it will go as you start to chase your own high, your entire body quaking as your muscles experience your second orgasm of the night. 

“Yeah… yeah…fuck…” he exclaims, biting his own lips. 

Your mouth falls open to cry out, every inch of your body raving and shaking with unimaginable pleasure. He’s falling apart on top of you as he lets himself go, and you make a promise right then and there that you’d never settle for anything less than what Jake has given you, tonight. 

His body trembles with a few aftershocks, making him hum through the comedown. He pulls out, and you instantly wish he was back, lying on top of you in the coziness of his bed. He’s panting and out of breath as he runs his hands down the lengths of your legs, lovingly kissing the insides of them as he steps back from you and off of the bed. 

“I’ll get a washcloth,” he says, stepping sideways into the floor. 

“It’s ok, I’ll come with you,” knowing that you’d prefer to clean yourself up, and get a towel for your still-soaked hair. You hop up and walk past him, smacking him on the ass as you dash to the bathroom. 

After you’d both cleaned up, you follow him back into his bedroom, searching around for that pile of clothes that you were sure he’d grabbed again for you. You locate them easily, and slip the t-shirt and pants on. 

“What are you doing?” he asks from the bed, reclining with his arm behind his head. 

“Getting dressed,” you say. “I’ll get another Uber, they should still be out and abou–”

“Y/N, get your ass back in bed with me, don’t be insane,” Jake chortles as if you’d just suggested the most ridiculous thing ever. 

You roll your eyes, a little embarrassed now. “Jake, it’s fine, I can go home. I know it’d probably be weird of me to stay.”

He sits up, and you realize that he’s still completely naked under the covers. “Have things ever been weird between us?” he asks, his voice a little more serious than before. “In all the years we’ve been friends?”

You stand awkwardly there in his clothes, in the middle of his bedroom, considering his question. “No.” 

“Exactly,” he says as he lays back down. “Now strip down again, and get back over here with me. Unless you’d rather take the couch downstairs… Up to you, sweetcheeks.” 

Thereeeeee’s the old Jake. 

You huff a breath of annoyance. You know he’s right. “Ok, but only because you’re so bossy.” 

You pull the pants back down, but decide to leave his shirt on before climbing back under the unbelievably comfortable sheets and pillows. His arms pull you in toward him before you even have a chance to lay down all the way, and you instantly are brought right back into that safe, comfortable embrace that is him. 

“Yeah, actually, leave the shirt on. Looks good on you,” he says, placing a kiss to your temple. 

You laugh as you dig down in beside him, tossing your leg over his waist. “Thanks. Think I’ll steal it.”

He reaches down to hike your leg up higher, then pulls your palm up to his lips as he places a sweet kiss to it. 

“You’ve stolen more than the shirt, babe.”

<333

Taglist: @britney-gvf @sacredstarcatcher @wetkleenex-gvf @farfromthehomelands @builtbybrokenbells @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @fleet-of-fiction @milkgemini @gvfpal @ageofcj @dancingcarbon @highway-tuna @stardustjake @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface @gvfmarge @gracev0609 @myleftsock @literal-dead-leaf @peaceloveunitygvf @ageofbajabule @slut4lando @jordie-gvf @sadiechar @tinydancer40 @rosabellagvf @capnjaket @lyndz2names @thetroublegetssoloud71 @gretavanomens @spark-my-nature @josh-iamyour-mama @anythingforjtk @alwaysonthemend @danieljlmwagner @klarxtr @fortunatelytinybasement @demonrat444 @gretavansara @watchingover-hypegirl @hippievanfleet @digitalnomadz @raviolilegs @lipstickitty @hippievanfleet @klarxtr @strange-whorizons @do-it-jakey-baby @myownparadise96 @gvf-luna @starshine-wagner @cassiesgreta @joopsandjangs @whimsiliz @kiszkas-canvas@whimsiliz @joopsandjangs @broken0mens @scoreofinfantryvines @whereiskeara @do-it-jakey-baby @miravanfleet @heckingfrick @gretavangroupie @moonlightisdancing @jakeyt @joshym

[corkinavoid]

The Tip Of The Iceberg · Owl City

Grumpy x sunshine

Winter wonderland

DPxDC Love at Frost Sight

Jason's favorite season of the year was fall. Early fall, to be exact, when the trees become red and golden, and the air smells of pumpkin spice because of all the coffeeshops simultaneously deciding it's the time to bring it back once again, and it's not yet cold enough to wear a coat, but just cool enough to put on a comfy sweater.

On the other hand, his least favorite season was winter. All of it, starting from late November and ending in early April. His bones ached in the cold that no coat could manage to keep out, the roads were always slippery, no matter how much salt was thrown over them, and he despised the amounts of hot tea he had to drink to keep himself from freezing to death.

Not to mention the lack of sunlight, the vitamins he had to take daily, the shiver that ran down his body when he stepped out of the shower and-

"You know, if you keep frowning like that, people are going to start thinking I've brought you here under the threat of a gun."

Jason blinks and tears his gaze away from the dimly lit, snowy scenery of Robinson Park and looks to Jazz, who is walking just beside him, a steaming cup of coffee in her fingers. She looks beautiful, even wearing a puffy purple jacket that makes her look like an off-color penguin and a knitted hat that hides all her red hair.

Jason huffs and rubs his forehead, smoothing the wrinkle between his eyebrows manually.

"You still hadn't told me why are we taking a walk in the park instead of doing literally anything else," he reminds her, and Jazz smiles, holding her chin higher.

"I have my reasons," she tells, her voice full of mischief. Jason rolls his eyes and hides his freezing palms deeper in his pockets. "We're almost there, don't roll your eyes at me," Jasmine shorts a short laugh and pokes him in the side.

Almost where, he wants to ask, because he is pretty sure she can't show him anything he hasn't seen before in here. He is a Gothamite, after all, and she just moved here two years ago, and Robinson Park couldn't have changed that much since his whole dying and coming back act.

But then, Jazz finishes her coffee in a few large gulps, tossing the empty cup into the nearest bin, and takes his elbow, all but dragging him forward, off the path and into the who knows where.

Jason stumbles over his feet but catches himself quickly enough to not faceplant the snow. Yet, that doesn't help in the slightest with figuring out where they are going because, well, it's half-past-six, which means it's already rather dark around them even with all of the street lights, and Jazz can be really fast when she wants to, and-

"Here," his impossible girlfriend suddenly stops, so abruptly like she's just ran into a wall. Jason, despite all his vigilante training, is not capable of canceling the laws of inertia on command, so he takes a few more steps forward to slow down.

"And what exactly is here?" He shakes his head, trying very hard not to snap, because he is cold, and he doesn't like surprises, and Jazz can be frustrating more than she likes to admit. But, before she can answer, and before Jason is able to put all that winter irritation into words, there's a snap.

Jason turns his head sharply, looking for the source of it just out of habit.

And halts, feeling his eyes go wide and his head completely empty.

The lights appear one by one, a slow, charming process of illuminating the small clearing they've run into. Warm and fuzzy, like tiny stars, or maybe fairy lights, but with no strings to hold them, they light up the trees and the sparkling, untouched snow under their feet. Jason blinks. The sight that he's grown to associate only with those decorative glass balls full of fake snow doesn't shatter.

And, to be fair, Jason knew winter could be beautiful - he's seen countless pictures and movies, and he understood the appeal it had on some people. But he's never really felt it, what with winters in Gotham, even at Christmas Eve, being more glum and gray than sparkling white and twinkling pretty.

But this is exactly that.

The tall trees covered in white snow, the gentle fall of snowflakes over them, the bright yellow lights that surround them.

"Close your mouth, love, you'll catch a cold," he hears Jazz say with a fond, soft laugh, and only then he realizes he is gaping.

His mouth closes back with a snap as he turns to face his girlfriend.

"How did you..." he trails off, not even sure what he's asking. How did she bring a fairytale into life? How did she find this place? How did she manage to bring him here?..

Jazz's teal eyes hold the reflections of countless warm lights around them, and she is grinning from ear to ear, her hand finding Jason's to intertwine their fingers.

"Danny helped," she admits, "But I just wanted you to see it. See why I love winter - not just because my brother is a living icicle, but because winter is magic, in a sense. It's only in winter that you can feel what's really warm and what's not."

Jason has half of a thought to ask her what she means, but he gets it just a moment before the words fall out of his mouth.

Because this, standing in the silent snowfall among the tiny lights of miniature stars, holding Jazz's hand in his, is warm. Not in a literal sense - his skin is still moments away from freezing - but something inside his chest feels like a tiny, flickering flame.

And that flame makes him smile.

"It's very pretty," he says, not taking his eyes off Jazz, and watches her cheeks become pink.

Somehow, he is certain it's not because of the cold.

~•~•~•~

This was written to not one but two Owl City songs. The first one was, as requested, 'The Tip of The Iceberg', and the second was 'Peppermint Winter', my all-time favorite winter song.

And here's the additional aesthetic!

Danny, who is responsible for the gently falling snowflakes and keeping the lights from going out, sitting invisible in a tree above them: what great lengths do I go for you, Jazz, you better get me something nice for Christmas or I swear to Ancients-

[stabortega]

NO SURPRISES — CHAPTER ONE

Summary: Jenna never thought that she would be paying the bills of the videographer from her next movie.

Pairings: Jenna Ortega x Fem!G!P!Reader.

Warnings: NSFW, smut. Implied fem reader, she/her pronouns used. G!P reader. Mentions of: Sex, dirty talking, sexting. Top!Reader x Bottom!Jenna. MDNI.

Author's note: Meh. Don't know how I feel about this one yet, sorry for any typos. 💔

MASTERLIST.

Jenna considered herself a very busy woman. Having to shoot movies every couple of months, press circles, parties to attend, and taking care of her own mental health could be challenging sometimes. She didn't have a single second for herself for a very long time. God, she couldn't even remember when was the last time she even went out for a drink, watched a movie outside of her own home, or even kissed a stranger at some stupid nightclub. She was too busy to live, and that made her rethink about all of the stuff she's been building for herself. It made her sad, even.

Until Jasmin came along with some ideas, obviously.

"It's just a stupid website, Jen. You don't even need to leave your house or your bedroom. Masturbating in the comfort of your own home." Jasmin rambled while searching for the website name in her phone, Jenna looking at her with an apprehensive (and embarrassed) look on her face. I mean, the best place to have this conversation is definitely not in the middle of one of the Scream VII sets, which they just started filming. "Don't be such a prude, girl. Live a little."

"I'm not, it's just-" She took a deep breath. "I've been out of the market for a while now, I don't even know what to say, or do." She sighed, making Jasmine roll her eyes jokingly.

"Girl, that's bullshit. And plus, you don't even need to say anything. You choose a model, girl or guy, watch their livestream, and pay them to do anything you ask. It's wild." It was obvious that Jasmine was a loyal customer on that website.

"Anything?" Jenna regreted asking that the minute it came out of her mouth.

"Sis, last sunday, I was talking with this chick..." And then Jasmine went on rambling about how she made the poor girl squirt on her own laptop camera for mere $500 bucks.

Jenna looked aghast.

And yet she was interested enough to browse on that website at 11PM while everyone in that hotel floor was asleep. Obviously, she clicked almost immediately in her area of interest. It was minimalist, yet full of information at the same time. You could choose between all sorts of categories; MILFs, findoms, intersex, you name it. She browsed a little on each category, not finding anyone that really sparked her interest, untill she came across one certain page under the intersex category. @(Y/N)xz. A boring username, to say the very least. But when she clicked on your profile, you were just in the middle of your livestream. Without hesitation, she clicked right on top of it, and she could swear she almost felt the tip of your cock poke her face.

You were standing on top of your bed, on your knees while you stroked your cock very slowly. The camera position made it impossible for someone to see your head, which made Jenna curious on how you looked like. Then, a raspy moan drove Jenna out of her thoughts, looking at the screen one more time. You were massaging your breasts with one of your hands, while the other stroked your cock in the most erotic way Jenna has seen. She felt something the moment you started thrusting your dick on you hand, making the latina girl wish that you were pounding her instead.

She watched you for a couple of minutes, trying her best not to touch herself, let alone interact with you. She would not succumb into feeding that industry that sexualizes men and women, objectifying their bodies as if they were nothing but a piece of meat.

jenna2709: you look so hot fucking your hand like that.

jenna2709: wish you were fucking me instead.

You weren't the type of person to really respond the chat if they weren't paying or if they weren't loyal customers, but somehow, you felt like answering that one. You held down the base of your cock and slapped it on the palm of your hand a couple of times. "Wish I was fucking you too, Jen."

Oh, that drove Jenna to the edge. She immediately got up and closed the door, locking it behind her. She sat down on her bed, not taking her eyes off of you for a second. She knew her panties were already wet, but only when she touched her clit while laying on her bed, she realized that she would need to change her underwear as soon as possible. It amazed the actress that you made her pussy dripping wet and she didn't even knew your name. Her hand started to make slow and circular movements on her throbbing clit, and the fact that she felt so dirty and wrong for doing that made everything better.

She looked at the chat, seeing that some girl (with the most obnoxious username ever) sended you $100 asking you to moan her name. Which you proudly did, the sound of you saying that chick's name almost made Jenna close the laptop and go to sleep. Instead, she clicked on some keys on her keyboard and waited for the magic happen.

Wow! "jenna2709" donated $500 with the message: now, you moan my name.

You looked surprised, but thankfully the camera positioning made impossible to look at your face. That was probably the highest tip you've ever recieved live. "$500 bucks to only moan your name? Come on, baby... You can do better than that, huh?"

She was right, Jenna thought. I can do better that only asking for her to moan my name as if I were a hormone-filled teenager.

jenna2709: fine.

jenna2709: tell me what would you do if i were in front of you.

"Oh, you know what I'd do, baby." You laughed a little, holding down to the base of your cock and letting it hit your belly a couple of times. "Have you on all fours, holding your hair in a ponytail and railing you raw, until you couldn't function anymore. Until you forget your name. Just like this."

You started to thrust on your hand again, making it sure that your viewers (and her) could see your cock going in and out of your hand. Jenna felt overwhelmed, but in the best way possible. Right now she had completely lost all of her ideals. Fuck the rules, fuck the noises, fuck that stupid industry. She just wanted to feel you inside of her, filling her up with your cock and your cum. The actress never felt this dirty before, and she was loving every second of it. "You wished I was doing that to you, huh?"

jenna2709: you know i do.

Jenna couldn't stop looking at you and thinking about your face. The camera position made it impossible for someone to see your head, but there were a few things Jenna learned about your identity just by analyzing you & your room. It didn't seemed it were your own room, it felt more like a hotel room or something. Smart, she thought. Not a single hair strand falling from your head, which could mean you had short hair. A few random tattoos here and there, nothing specific. You had only the left nipple pierced, for some unknown reason. And a scar right on the palm of your right hand. She knew she would never find you with that little information, but it comforted her that you were out there, somewhere.

"Fuck, I'm almost there..." Again, your voice distracted Jenna from her thoughts, and this time, she was able to think more quickly.

Wow! "jenna2709" donated $1000 with the message: cum for me, will you?

"Shit, Jenna, you know it's all for you..." You started to thrust even more violently, every now and then slapping your own cock. Jenna felt close too, at that point her panties were pretty much ruined and her hand felt sore, but she wouldn't stop until she came with you.

And then you finally did. Thick ropes of cum fell right onto your white duvet, while you thrusted your member a little bit more to ride your climax out. Jenna's mouth watered, she couldn't stop imagining that thick cum inside of her, filling her up. And the thought of that made her cum as well, trying to be as silent as possible so no one could hear her moaning your name secretly. Little did she know that you were thinking about her too.

Jenna felt embarrassed after she was done, so she pretty much slammed her laptop shut, and got up to take a shower. She prefered to erase that moment out of her head, and erase you (and your delicious body) too. She was trying to figure out what excuses she would give to her accountant once he saw her bank statement for this month, when she fell asleep.

When she woke up, the next morning, she went on her day normally. Went through her routine and left her room, going to the set trying her best not to think about you and the way you moaned.

"Jenna!" The actress heard her name getting called the minute she stepped foot on that set. It was one of the videographers, Dave, who Jenna had been working since Scream V. "Let me introduce you my newest assistant. She's gonna work with you guys very closely this movie, so I thought I should introduce you two." Dave said, his accent making it clear that he was from NYC. "Ay, (Y/N)! Come here for a sec!"

(Y/N)? What a coincidence, Jenna thought, as she looked over Dave's shoulder and saw a girl walking towards them. Needless to say, she was gorgeous.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Jenna." The girl smiled, and Jenna swore she had the most beautiful smile she has ever seen. Then, she stretched out her right hand so Jenna could shake it. The actress almost had a heart attack when she looked at that familiar scar which she had seen the day before through her computer screen.

[brewed-pangolin]

MDNI 18+

Imagine being woken up by Captain MacTavish's strong arms around your waist.

The sun had barely crested over the horizon. A soft bluish red glow emanated from behind the curtain, yet all you could feel was his vice like grip and the weight of his muscular leg over the flesh of your thigh.

And a very prominent, however languid jab of his hardened length against the small of your back ad he undulated his hips against your still sleeping form.

"John," you managed finally on a groggy whimper. Sleep loosening its tight hold on your psyche as the feel of him rubbing his cock against your back took hold.

"C'mon, love." His breath, hot and despondent, ran like a gentle stream against the back of your neck.

Familiar. Vulnerable. Cleansing.

And you didn't have to ask. You knew by the subtle quiver in his voice what the Captain was so desperately pining for.

"John. It's not even 6am."

"Aye. I know. Just let me stick it in for a while, yeah?"

His calloused hand traversed the flesh of your pelvis, pressing into the curve of your hip to assist in promiscuous provocation. Lifting your leg just enough as he positioned himself against your backside and leisurely slid himself into your heat.

You breathed deeply the moment you felt him stretch within your silken walls. Expelling a quiet murmur of his name, his hand splaying out over the flesh of your abdomen until he was fully seated within your tightness of your cunt.

"Tha's it, m'lass. Jus' let me sit 'ere a while."

His accent always ran thicker when he was lost in the feel of you wrapped around him.

His well maintained and muscular physique enveloping the entirety of your back. Draping over you like a weighted blanket while he inserted the essence of himself into the depths of your soul.

He inhaled the fine fragrance of your sleep cloaked scent. Night time jasmine with a hint of fresh cotton. Pulling a soft growl from his depths as you felt him pulse against the walls of your soaking core. Clenching around him. A barely audible moan rolling over your lips as he hovered his mouth over the nape of your neck.

"Don't move, lass. Cannae take it when ya clench 'round me like tha'."

You obliged, reluctantly. Easing your mind. Blanking out all thoughts and letting him bask in the warmth and silken hug that only your divine pussy could provide.

"You're gonna have to make up for waking me up, John."

"Aye? An' how would ya like me to do tha?"

You replied with a smooth buck of your hips into him. Your ass pressing into his pelvis, tugging a muffled groan thar reverberates within the confines of his throat.

"Yer a little minx, y'know tha'?"

"You're the one that started this, Captain. Are you going to finish it, or am I going to have to take command?"

His hands pressed firmly into the divots of your hips in response to your taunting quip. Burying himself deeper into your tight femininity, asserting his reprimand while the soothing baritone of his voice echoed against the shell of your ear.

"Keep it up, lass. An' I'll show you just how voracious my command can be."

I'm horny for the Captain, okay?

Captain MacTavish Masterlist

[angelremnants]

A TALES OF... l Jasmins and Prayers

OR.. Still seething with frustration from what had transpired in the cave, Loki storms into his room while cursing your damned dress that lingered in his mind. The tension inside him grows as he struggles to maintain control, and the white jasmin petals floating in his bath only heighten the ache. Caught in a whirlwind of temptation and self-loathing, he finds himself confronted by the dangerous path his thoughts have taken—and, more urgently, by the overwhelming need to act on them.

pairing : Loki Laufeyson x f!reader

warnings : Mature themes (18+—MINORS DO NOT INTERACT), Loki-centric, emotional turmoil, graphic sexual content, gratification (male masturbation), twisted fantasies running wild, oral sex (male and female receiving), unprotected penetrative sex (wrap it before you tap it!), themes of norse lore and worship, edging, degradation & praise kink, choking kink, power play, dom!Loki/sub!reader, strong language. Proceed with caution if you're sensitive to such material.

word count : 15.1k

author's notes : Trust me when I say that I was biting my nail the whole time I was writing this—then again, I was also listening to Kiss Land on loop. The man is too hot for my well-being, Your Honor.

This is a continuation of A Tales Of Tides and Mishaps—you can also read this separately, but I'd recommend reading the first part to understand the context. This is the first time I've ever written something NSFW, so please do let me know how I did.

(ao3 version)

The torches lining the grand corridors of the palace flickered and hissed against the weight of the evening air, their golden glow casting restless shadows on the towering marble walls. The echo of footsteps carried through the vast halls, announcing his approach. Loki moved swiftly, his cape billowing behind him like the rippling edge of a storm cloud, the emerald and black of his attire catching the light with each stride.

The palace was quieter at this hour, subdued under the veil of twilight, yet it was far from peaceful. Whispers of court intrigue hung in the air like smoke, weaving through every corner of Asgard’s opulent halls. It was a place that thrived on appearances, on masks as intricate as the golden carvings that adorned the throne room doors. Loki was no stranger to this game. He played it better than most—deftly, effortlessly, and always with an edge that dared others to challenge him.

Tonight, however, something gnawed at the edges of his mind, unsettling his usual composure. The weight of unspoken words lingered on his tongue, and the echo of a gaze—not his own—followed him like a shadow. He had faced gods and monsters, chaos and ruin, yet there was something about the quiet tension of that earlier encounter that refused to let him go.

The grand corridors seemed to stretch endlessly, the silence amplifying every subtle sound—the faint rustle of his cape, the barely perceptible sigh of the wind brushing against the windows, and the distant murmur of voices from somewhere deeper within the palace. Loki barely registered any of it. His focus remained inward, on the fire still simmering beneath his carefully constructed facade.

It had been a fleeting moment, no more than a handful of exchanged words, but it had been enough to unearth something he had long buried—a vulnerability he could not afford, not now, not ever. And yet, there it was, clawing at him with an unrelenting persistence.

The throne room loomed ahead, its doors partially ajar, spilling warm light into the corridor. A faint hum of voices drifted out, the low cadence of his parents and their guest among them. Loki slowed his pace, his expression hardening as his gaze lingered on the doors.

He could walk in. His presence would be noticed, his words sharp enough to cut through whatever discussion you were undoubtedly steering with your usual reckless charm. He could force himself into the center of it all, just as he always did—commanding attention, manipulating the narrative, and ensuring that no one, not even his mother, could look past him.

And yet, Loki hesitated.

The previous fire burned hotter now, threatening to consume him if he did not retreat. He turned on his heel, his movements swift and precise, and strode away from the throne room. Whatever tension awaited him within those gilded walls would have to wait. Right now, he needed to be anywhere else.

The corridors seemed darker now, the torchlight dimmer as he navigated the familiar path to his chambers. Each step brought him closer to the solace of solitude, to the space where he could strip away the mask he wore so effortlessly and face the tempest within.

His mind raced, the unease gnawing at him with increasing intensity. He had tried to ease the tension—an impromptu training session in the palace's sparring chambers had seemed like the perfect solution. The clash of blades and the heavy exertion of physical combat usually grounded him, soothed the simmering anger that had no outlet. But tonight, even the sharp sting of combat had failed to settle the fire within him. His movements had been fluid and practiced, and yet, the burning frustration lingered—nothing had worked.

As he reached his room, Loki paused for a fraction of a second, his hand resting on the cold metal of the door handle. The thoughts he had tried to suppress surged again, sharper this time, cutting through his defenses like a blade. With a sharp exhale, he pushed the door open and stepped inside, the heavy wood creaking as it swung shut behind him.

The silence of his chambers was a stark contrast to the noise in his head. The air was still, undisturbed, save for the faint scent of cedar and leather that always lingered here. Yet, even in this sanctuary, he could not escape the weight of your presence, the echo of your voice, and the pull you had over him.

Tonight, Loki realized, no amount of distance would be enough to silence the chaos your had left in your wake.

⠀⠀

The door shut behind him with a finality that seemed to press against his chest. Loki’s chambers were dimly lit, the golden light of a single lantern on his desk flickering faintly against the polished surfaces of dark wood and stone. The quiet hum of Asgard beyond his walls was muted here, but the storm inside his mind was deafening.

He took a step forward, shrugging off his cape and letting it fall onto the back of a chair. The fabric slid noiselessly to the floor, but he didn’t bother retrieving it. His boots echoed softly on the smooth stone floor as he crossed the room, every movement deliberate yet restless.

He paused near the tall windows, the view of the city below sprawling in shimmering lights. For a moment, he allowed himself to stare out at it, his sharp features etched in the pale glow of the moon. The beauty of Asgard, timeless and magnificent, failed to reach him tonight.

Instead, his mind lingered on the moment he had fled from. Your gaze, steady and unrelenting, had burned through the walls he had spent centuries perfecting. The way you had spoken to him, your tone laced with something he couldn’t quite place, had stirred something dangerous within him—something he had tried to bury beneath layers of wit and cruelty.

Loki’s jaw tightened, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. He could still hear your voice, the faintest trace of challenge, or perhaps curiosity, woven through it. You had looked at him in a way that made his thoughts crumble, and for reasons he couldn’t comprehend, he hadn’t hated it. No, what he hated was how much he had wanted more of it.

It made no sense. He didn’t crave closeness, didn’t long for understanding—those were weaknesses he had abandoned long ago. But this? This was different. This was something he couldn’t name, and it terrified him as much as it thrilled him.

The tension that coiled in his chest now was almost suffocating. His body betrayed him, heat pooling low in his abdomen as he fought to chase the thought away. He let out a sharp breath, running a hand through his hair as if the act could dispel the intrusive images crowding his mind. He could still see you in his mind’s eye, the way your lips had curved, the way your hands had moved as you spoke. Would your hands feel as soft as they appeared? Would your lips taste as sweet as they seemed?

Loki squeezed his eyes shut, but the images only became more vivid, more intrusive. Your laughter, light and warm, played on repeat in his memory, tugging at him in ways he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in ages. And your touch—he could almost imagine it now, your fingers grazing his skin, your breath mingling with his. The thought sent a shiver down his spine, one he couldn’t suppress.

“Foolish,” he muttered to himself, his voice low and bitter. “Utterly foolish.”

But even as he berated himself, his body betrayed him. His pulse quickened, his breathing shallow as the ache beneath his skin grew harder to ignore. He felt you everywhere—in the warm air that wrapped around him, in the faint flicker of the lantern’s light, in the silence that hung heavy in his chambers. You weren’t there, but it felt as though you had seeped into the very fabric of his being, your presence undeniable and inescapable.

Loki began to pace, his steps measured but restless, like a predator stalking the confines of a cage. His movements were sharp, the tension in his frame radiating with every step he took. His hands itched with the need to do something, anything, to dispel the storm inside him. They brushed against the buttons of his tunic, and with a frustrated sigh, he began unfastening them. His movements were quick and almost angry, as though shedding the layers of fabric could rid him of the thoughts that clung to his mind.

The cool air of his chambers kissed his skin as he pulled the tunic from his body, but it did little to extinguish the fire raging within. He tossed the garment aside carelessly, his breath coming faster now. His eyes darted back to the window, to the city below, but the view offered no solace. All he could see was you, all he could feel was the pull of you, and it was maddening.

Loki leaned heavily against the windowsill, his palms pressed against the cool stone as he stared out into the night. The lights of Asgard below shimmered in a haunting dance, indifferent to the turmoil within him.

“Why?” he whispered, his voice barely audible, as though seeking some answer from the vast, indifferent universe.

The question hung in the air, unanswered, like a bitter curse, and Loki squeezed his eyes shut, fighting back the surge of emotions threatening to drown him. The need to control was a constant in his life, but now, it was slipping through his fingers like sand. He couldn't make sense of any of this. Why you? Why was his mind consumed by someone so... insignificant? Someone who could never understand the weight of the worlds he carried or the gods he had to contend with.

His frustration surged again, building like a pressure that had nowhere to go. He slammed his fist into the nearest table, but it wasn’t enough. The magic thrummed beneath his skin, begging for release, demanding action. And in a moment of unbridled rage, his hands flared with green energy, bright and violent, slicing through the room like a storm tearing through the air. A flash of blinding light erupted, and before he could even register what was happening, his magic shattered the nearby mirror, sending shards of glass scattering across the floor in a chaotic spray.

The sharp sound of cracking glass filled the room, and for a long moment, Loki stood frozen, chest heaving as he stared at the destruction. He had lost control. Again. The realization hit him like a wave of cold water. You’ve let it consume you. A mortal. And this is what it leads to.

A deep sigh escaped him as the weight of the situation began to sink in. He was not a man to let his emotions dictate his actions. But there it was, the undeniable truth—your effect on him was far more than it should have been. The intensity of his feelings, his desire, his frustration—they were more than he could stand. And here he was, a god, destroying things that held no real importance in the grand scheme of things.

His hands trembled, not with weakness but with the uncontrollable surge of magic. He closed his eyes, his breath shaky as he reached out with his magic again, this time not in destruction but in self-repair. With a wave of his hand, the pieces of shattered glass began to float back together, the cracks mending themselves, the mirror reassembling as if it had never been broken at all.

Once the room was quiet again, Loki stood still for a long moment, his fingers flexing as he allowed the tension to drain out of him, though it was impossible to completely erase it. The ache still gnawed at his insides, relentless and unforgiving. His breath came out in a slow exhale as he straightened his posture, fixing the collar of his tunic and wiping the last traces of anger from his expression.

He couldn’t stay here, surrounded by the evidence of his volatile nature. I need to cool off. He needed to distance himself from the fire that raged inside him. And perhaps a bath would do that—remove the tension from his body, quell the heat that seemed to pulse beneath his skin.

With a final exasperated sigh, Loki turned toward the door, his movements purposeful, though his mind still felt like a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and desires. This will pass, he thought, trying to convince himself. It’s only a fleeting distraction.

But deep down, Loki knew that you were no fleeting distraction. He had already allowed you to slip too far into his thoughts. And he hated himself for it. Yet, the ache remained, and all he could do was seek solace in the solitude of a hot bath, hoping that somehow, the water would cleanse him—if only for a moment—from the chaos you had stirred within him.

⠀⠀

As he pushed open the heavy wooden door to the bathing room, a cool breeze greeted him, the scent of lavender and cedarwood drifting through the air, mingling with the faint scent of stone and ancient marble.

The room before him was a sanctuary, a perfect reflection of Asgardian elegance—spacious, luxurious, and imbued with a sense of tranquility that seemed to pulse from the very walls. The floor was polished white marble, veins of gold tracing through the stone like lightning trapped within, glowing faintly in the low light. Tall, arched windows lined one side, offering a view of the vast garden outside, though the curtains were drawn, leaving only the soft glow of magical lanterns to illuminate the space.

At the center of the room sat a large, circular bathing tub, crafted from gleaming obsidian stone. It was deep, large enough to engulf him entirely, a perfect retreat for someone of his status. The water within was an inviting shade of blue, shimmering with an ethereal glow that suggested it had been heated by some unseen magic, its surface smooth and still, reflecting the light above.

Loki paused for a moment in the doorway, letting the serenity of the room wash over him. The tension that had gripped him so tightly seemed to ease just slightly, though the ache in his chest remained. His thoughts swirled back to you—your eyes, your voice, the way you had looked at him. He couldn’t escape it, couldn’t shake it, and it gnawed at him with every breath.

With a sharp exhale, Loki closed the door behind him and turned to face the room fully. He flicked his fingers, a subtle wave of magic rippling through the air, and the lanterns brightened, their light now casting soft pools of warmth across the marble floor. A gentle mist filled the room, adding an element of tranquility, as though the very atmosphere was designed to soothe his frazzled nerves.

His gaze moved to the mirror above a stone counter, where his reflection stared back at him, eyes intense, troubled. A god, reduced to this. His hands moved to the fastening of his tunic, slow and methodical, as though the very act of undressing held some measure of control.

Loki's movements radiated a sensual confidence, each action steeped in an intoxicating blend of precision and allure. He took his time, weaving an intimate dance with the fabric of his clothing, each piece falling to the floor like a whispered secret—soft, intentional, and laden with significance. He navigated the dimly lit room, the soft glow of flickering candles casting playful shadows that danced along the walls. He wasn’t in a rush; there was an artistry to his undressing, each piece of clothing becoming a symbol of the facade he wore, now being shed in this private sanctum.

As the fabric of his shirt slipped off his shoulders, it fell to the floor with a whisper, a soft thud against the wooden planks, almost reverent in its descent. The air was thick with a tension that mirrored the slow cadence of his movements, as though he was peeling away layers not just of cloth, but of burden. The shirt landed, joining a delicate mosaic of who he could be—each article holding memories, masks, realities.

Next came his trousers, the fabric snaking down his legs, revealing the sculpted lines of his body illuminated in the dancing candlelight. Muscles taut beneath pale skin, he moved in a way that was both sensuous and fierce, the shadows playing across his form, creating images of both beauty and danger. As the heat of the moment surged through him, he became acutely aware of his body’s response, the way his muscles tensed with anticipation, each sinew straining beneath the surface. A flicker of arousal sparked within him, causing his hardness to awaken, a subtle yet undeniable shift that added to the intoxicating energy swirling around him.

Yet, amid this heady mix of sensations, a sliver of disappointment crept in, gnawing at him like an unwelcome specter. He felt almost ashamed of his reaction, wondering how he could be so easily swayed when he prided himself on his control. It was merely the stress and the biting cold that wrapped around him, he assured himself, drawing deep and steadying breaths to dispel the tumult within. He paused for a fleeting moment, taking in the reflection of his body, the duality of godhood and vulnerability coiling within him, a tension rippling just beneath the surface, a potent mix of the primal and the divine swirling together in the glow of the flickering light.

In a final, almost reluctant motion, he let the last vestiges of his clothing fall away, relinquishing that last act of defiance. Standing there in the barely-there illumination, he felt the cool air wrap around him like a lover’s embrace, tender yet precise—inviting yet cautious. His skin prickled at the contrast, the air a stark reminder of both exposure and freedom.

With his gaze drawn to the tub—water rippling softly, steam curling sensuously into the air—he felt an anticipation unfurl within him. The promise of warmth beckoned, a siren’s call for solace amidst the whirlwind of emotions swirling within. Yet, there lingered in his heart a feral tug, an instinctive hesitation, a wildness that resisted the notion of surrendering to something so simple as water. It was a battle within, between the aching need for release and the primal urge to remain untamed, unsurrendered. There was a beauty in this struggle, the rawness of his being laid bare in the stillness, poised on the precipice of either yielding to warmth or holding fast to the tempest that raged just beneath his skin.

But he was a god of control, and this was necessary. Just a moment of peace.

His magic swirled around him again, a green glow radiating from his hands as he guided the water to shift, the surface rippling softly before calming once more. He wove intricate spells, adjusting the temperature, ensuring that the water was just the right warmth—neither too hot nor too cold, but perfectly comfortable, a balm for his strained muscles and his mind.

Loki’s fingers hovered just above the water, watching the gentle ripples his magic created, feeling the subtle shift in the room’s atmosphere. With a final, sharp flick of his wrist, the water settled into perfect stillness, the surface smooth as glass once again.

A slow, almost imperceptible sigh left his lips, and he stepped forward. His body, tense from the moment before, finally released its last vestiges of resistance as he lowered himself into the tub, the cool water meeting his skin with a comforting embrace. The water rose around him, enveloping him with its warmth, soothing the ache that had burned within him for far too long.

Loki leaned back, his head resting against the edge of the tub, eyes closed for a moment as he let the water cradle him. The tension in his shoulders, his chest, and his legs seemed to dissolve as the heat seeped into his muscles, coaxing them to relax. The water, now lapping gently at the sides of the tub, seemed to hum with its own energy, resonating with his magic.

But still, the thought of you lingered, persistent as the heat in his body. He couldn’t escape it—not even in the quiet solitude of the bath. His fingers, tracing the surface of the water, clenched for a brief moment, his nails scraping softly against the ceramic of the tub. The conflicting feelings of anger, frustration, and desire—they all bubbled within him, mixing in a stew he could neither ignore nor understand.

For now, he would let the water soothe him. But deep down, Loki knew that the tension, the ache—it was only temporarily quelled. Like the magic that swirled through his veins, the thoughts of you would return, relentless as ever.

He tried to focus on the soothing embrace of the bath, the gentle ripples caressing his skin. His breath slowed as he let the water hold him, but even then, in this sanctuary of water and solitude, the thought of you crept back into his mind.

Your face, so close to his in the cave, flashed before his eyes. The way your breath had quickened, the flicker of something more than just a shared moment of tension between them. The warmth of your body, the steady pulse beneath your skin, the way your gaze had lingered on him. The hunger, the unspoken invitation. It haunted him.

Loki’s eyes snapped open, and his hands clenched around the edge of the tub, his pulse quickening as an image of you lingered—your lips so close to his, the soft touch of your hand against his chest. The thought of you in such proximity, your scent mingling with his own, sent a shiver down his spine.

No.

The word was a bitter hiss in his mind, the sharpest of rebukes. She’s mortal, he reminded himself, though it did little to quell the heat that surged within him.

His breath grew shallow, his pulse drumming in his ears as the desire swelled, thick and unyielding. It filled his chest, squeezing, suffocating. He couldn't control it—not when all he could see, all he could feel, was you.

Loki's eyes clenched shut as the thought of you intensified. His stomach twisted with frustration, his body aching with need he had no desire to acknowledge. He couldn’t stay here, couldn’t let this consume him—not now, not in this moment of fragile peace.

With a sharp, exasperated breath, Loki plunged himself beneath the water, his magic swirling in the depths as he submerged his entire form, letting the cool embrace of the liquid swallow him whole. The world above disappeared, and for a moment, he was weightless, suspended in the depths of the tub.

The coldness of the water stung against his skin, sharp and refreshing, but it did nothing to wash away the images of you. They clung to him, persistent and relentless, like shadows in the depths of his mind.

Foolish.

The word echoed in his mind as he held himself underwater, his breath held tight as the world remained muffled, distorted by the pressure around him. The steady rhythm of his heart was the only sound, the only constant as he lingered in the dark stillness. Time stretched on, but he could not escape it. The ache in his chest burned, the tension in his body still there despite the cold water.

He remained submerged for what felt like an eternity, the minutes slipping away in the quiet abyss. The longer he stayed, the more he realized that the thoughts would not leave—not just like this, not with any amount of magic or water.

Reluctantly, with a slow, frustrated exhale, Loki pushed himself back to the surface, breaking through the water with a gasp, his hair plastered to his face, droplets clinging to his skin like a reminder of his defeat. He dragged a hand through his damp hair, his breath ragged as he lay there, floating in the stillness of the room.

The lingering warmth of the water against his skin did nothing to soothe the fire that still simmered inside him. As much as he tried to push it away, he could still feel the imprint of you—the way you had looked at him, the way your voice had tangled with his thoughts. And for the first time in centuries, Loki found himself unable to control the ache that pulsed through him, unable to banish the thoughts of you from his mind.

His mind began to drift again—against his will, like a tide pulling him back to the same, dangerous shore. The silence of the room felt too heavy now, too quiet, and the very stillness of the water seemed to echo with your presence. He could still feel the weight of your gaze, as though you were standing there beside him, watching him in this private moment, your eyes lingering on him in ways he couldn’t dismiss.

He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, but the thought of you wouldn’t fade. It surged forward, unstoppable. The way you had leaned in close to him in the cave, how your breath had ghosted over his skin. How close you had been.

Loki clenched his jaw, his muscles tightening involuntarily. He had wanted to pull you closer, to feel your body against his, to lose himself in the heat of it. The thought of it was maddening, and yet it brought an odd thrill that he couldn’t explain.

The way you had been perched so close to him—the soft heat of your breath against his neck—had made his entire body hum with something unfamiliar, something raw. And your touch... the way your fingertips had traced the contours of his skin, leaving behind a trail of fire that burned long after you had pulled away. The memory of that touch tormented him now, echoing through his mind with unbearable clarity.

His pulse quickened as a flash of that moment surged through him once more. Why couldn’t he let it go?

Without thinking, his hand reached out to the small table beside the bath, fingers brushing against a bottle of scented oil—cinnamon and citrus, a soothing blend he usually used after a long day of training. He didn’t even register what he was doing, lost in the spiral of his thoughts.

He uncapped the bottle, the faint scent of lavender and citrus filling the air, and without hesitation, he poured a small amount onto the length of his torso. The droplets were cool and soft against his skin, but as his hand moved lower, his thoughts drifted again—back to you.

Your skin... soft, delicate. How would it feel to touch you like that? To press his fingertips into you, to feel your body respond to him in ways he had only dreamed of?

The oil dripped onto his abdomen, the cool droplets traveling from the perch of his pectorals down to the navel of his hips. Loki’s eyes squeezed shut, but the memory of your touch was impossible to push away. Your touch could be like that. Your fingers, warm and slow against my skin.

A shiver ran down his spine as the cool oil continued to trickle down his abdomen. His breath hitched when the thought came unbidden, If she had done that...

He imagined you, perched on the edge of the tub just as you had been in the cave—your body so close to his, your breath mingling with his. Your fingers, trailing over his skin, leaving a burning path in their wake. The thought was so vivid, so intoxicating, that he didn’t realize he was still rubbing the oil into his skin, his movements becoming more deliberate, more sensual, as if he were trying to mimic the sensation he had felt in that moment with you.

His fingers, almost without thinking, moved—mirroring the sensation in his mind, tracing a path down his own body just as he had imagined you doing. The movement was slow, deliberate as if he were trying to imitate your touch, to feel it against his own skin. His fingertips brushed lightly down the length of his torso, where the oil had left a trail that seemed to burn even in its coolness.

The more he thought about it, the more the tension inside him grew. His chest tightened, and his body, betraying him, responded to the fantasies that plagued his mind. Loki’s hand faltered for a moment, his thumb hovering near his navel as the reality of what he was doing settled over him.

What am I doing?

But the thought of you—the memory of how you had looked at him, how close you had been, how you had made him feel—was too powerful to resist. His chest heaved slightly, his fingers tracing the curve of his abdomen, the droplets of oil now warm against his skin as they mixed with the heat of his body. He was unaware that his movements had become more purposeful, as if trying to recreate the sensations of that moment, that touch, over and over again. His breath became shallow as the oil slid across his skin, and the fantasy, once small, bloomed into something more dangerous, more tangible.

His fingers pressed against the base of his navel, his thoughts spiraling further into the fantasy. He imagined you again, your hands on him, your body close—too close. It was like a fever, impossible to escape, a longing that twisted deep inside of him. The oil, cool at first, was now nothing but a reminder of that same burn, that same ache in his chest, the ache that he hadn’t asked for, that he couldn’t ignore.

Loki’s heart raced, his fingers slipping lower, brushing against the taut skin of his lower abdomen. His eyes shot open then, as if a switch had been flipped. The realization that he was doing this—falling deeper into a dream, into a desire that should not be his—hit him like a thunderclap.

“No,” he hissed, clenching his jaw tightly, the word coming out sharp and furious.

He abruptly pulled his hand away from his skin, the sudden action leaving him breathless. He quickly closed the bottle of oil, the small sound of the cap snapping into place echoing in the stillness of the room. But even as he tried to stop, to force his thoughts to turn elsewhere, his body refused to listen. The desire was still there, simmering just below the surface, igniting something deep inside him that he wasn’t prepared to face.

Loki sank back into the water, burying his face in his hands, as if trying to rid himself of the images, of the fantasies that had invaded his mind so effortlessly. But no matter how much he willed it away, no matter how much he tried to drown the thoughts with water, with cold, with magic—it was there, clawing at him, persistent and unrelenting.

The ache in his chest had not dulled, and despite his efforts to push it aside, the restless tension lingered, coiling in his gut. His body was on the edge of something he didn't want to acknowledge, and it only grew more intense the more he tried to deny it.

His eyes flickered over to the small decorative jar at the edge of the bath. Inside, delicate jasmine petals rested in an elegant arrangement, their white blossoms giving off the scent of calming sweetness. He reached for it, his fingers brushing over the petals with a gentleness that contrasted with the storm of thoughts swirling in his mind. He needed to relax. He needed something to distract him, to ground him. He closed his eyes as he sprinkled the jasmine petals into the water, watching them float gently, their fragrance filling the room.

The scent was intoxicating, subtle yet powerful, and it seemed to settle the storm in his chest, if only for a moment. He inhaled deeply, the calming effect of the jasmine wrapping around him like a soft, invisible embrace.

But even in this moment of tranquility, his mind refused to be still. The petals floated serenely on the surface of the water, their white silk-like texture reminding him of something else—someone else.

You.

He couldn’t help it. His thoughts wandered back to you, back to the way you had looked in that cave, bathed in the dim, flickering light. The way your robe had clung to your skin, almost like a second layer, leaving little to the imagination. The soft, translucent fabric—white, like the petals—had clung to your curves in a way that made his pulse quicken. He could remember how the fabric had shimmered, catching the light as it molded to the shape of your body.

Loki's breath hitched, his gaze unfocused as the image of you lingered in his mind, vivid and undeniable. The robe, almost too delicate, seemed to shimmer like gossamer threads in the soft light, so sheer that it practically beckoned to him, enticing and inviting. He had found himself frozen for a brief moment, utterly mesmerized, unable to tear his gaze away from the sight of you. Your silhouette was barely concealed, each curve and contour tantalizingly revealed, igniting a fire of desire deep within him that was both exhilarating and maddening.

He could still see how the fabric draped over your body, caressing your every curve, accentuating your femininity with an intimate familiarity that sent his heart racing. The translucent material clung lovingly to your skin, almost teasing him, whispering promises of warmth and intimacy beneath its sheer veil. He had almost been envious of the way it clung to you, as if the robe shared an intimate secret with you, a bond that left him yearning to touch, to discover the warmth of your flesh nestled against that delicate barrier.

The jasmine petals scattered about like whispers against the deep water only amplified the sensuality of the memory, their pure white softness echoing the ethereal glow of your robe. It seemed as though the petals mirrored those intimate moments, each delicate blossom a reflection of the way the fabric clung to your body, effortlessly sculpting your form in a dance of elegance and allure. He imagined you gliding toward him, your skin bathed in the silvery embrace of moonlight, each step orchestrating a balletic shift of the fabric that clung seductively to you, igniting every sense within him.

Loki’s fingers tightened against the edge of the tub, the cool stone under his grip grounding him in the heat of the moment. The pull of his desire was intoxicating, an unquenchable thirst he could feel consuming him. He could almost feel the weight of your presence beside him, the heady warmth of you, the intoxicating scent of your essence wrapping around him like a fragrant embrace. He could hear the soft rustle of your robe brushing against your skin, each sound a silky promise, hear the delicate rhythm of your breathing—soft, steady, a symphony of desire that drew him in deeper.

He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the image of you to disappear. But instead, it grew stronger, more vivid.He imagined reaching out, the tips of his fingers grazing the fabric of your robe, feeling its divine softness beneath his touch, the warmth of your skin simmering just beneath it. He envisioned how it would feel to press himself closer, to let his lips trail along the graceful curve of your neck, to slip beneath that fragile seam where fabric and flesh met, to taste the sweetness that awaited him—his body aching with the promise of connection, longing to bridge the distance that separated them. To raise you out of that damned pool and let the thin fabric slide off on the stone, to—

Loki’s breath caught in his throat, and he suddenly felt a sharp, urgent pressure building within him. With a frustrated growl, he plunged his hand into the water, scattering the jasmine petals as his fingers clawed at the surface in an attempt to break the chain of thoughts that had consumed him. But it was no use. The image of you lingered, relentless.

“Damnation,” he muttered under his breath, his voice hoarse. He leaned back against the edge of the tub, his eyes burning with frustration as he tried to steady his breathing. The jasmine scent, now stronger than before, filled his senses, but it only seemed to heighten the memory of you. He could almost feel you there with him, your soft skin, the way the fabric of your robe had clung to your body most invitingly.

Loki forced himself to close his eyes again, breathing deeply in an attempt to regain control. But no matter how hard he tried to suppress it, the image of you, the memory of that translucent robe, haunted him. The petals, the scent, the softness—it all became intertwined with his hunger. He could still feel your fingers trailing over his skin, the heat of your body against his.

His body trembled with desire as he succumbed to the memories and fantasies that had been consuming him. He could no longer deny himself the pleasure that he so desperately craved.

With a low groan, he allowed his hand to wander back down his abdomen, feeling the defined muscles ripple beneath his fingers. His other hand was still clenched in the water, sending jasmine petals drifting to the surface. He trailed his fingers lower and lower, feeling the heat emanating from his body.

He closed his eyes, imagining your hands on him instead, your digits tracing patterns over his skin. With a sharp intake of breath, he slipped his hand beneath the matter, feeling the soft trimmed hairs on his lower abdomen.

Loki's breathing grew ragged as he allowed himself to indulge in the fantasy, his mind filled with newfound scenes of him, of you, of an 'us together'.

⠀⠀

He envisioned himself entering a temple with quiet confidence, his footsteps reverberating against the cold stone walls as he moved toward the inner sanctum. His attire was nothing short of magnificent: garments woven with iridescent threads, shifting in color with every step, embodying the very essence of his trickster nature. His cloak, a masterpiece of fine silk, cascaded gracefully around him, embroidered with intricate patterns and symbols that spoke to his divine status.

As he crossed the threshold, his gaze was drawn to you. You sat within a large stone basin, the water steaming gently around you, its surface dotted with fragrant petals that seemed to float in harmony with the light filtering through the stained-glass windows. The sight of you struck him like a physical blow; you were even more captivating than he had envisioned.

Your infamous robe still clung to you like a second skin, damp from the water, accentuating the delicate curves of your body. The radiant Wyrmscale artifact resting against your neck glowed with soft golden light, its power pulsing through the room, almost as if in tune with your very being. Your long, damp hair was swept back, revealing the delicate lines of your face, and your eyes—those damned eyes—met his with a mixture of trepidation and something far more potent: desire.

He circled the tub slowly, his gaze never leaving you. Each step was measured, deliberate, his mind consumed by the sight of you—your beauty, your vulnerability, your submission. His pulse quickened, a quiet flutter deep within his chest that echoed through his veins. The heat of the room wrapped around you both, intensifying the weight of the moment, but still, he found it difficult to tear his eyes away from you. You were a vision, an offering he couldn’t resist.

“I’ve seen you in many visions,” Loki’s voice was low, almost a purr as he spoke, his words laced with something darker, more thrilling. “I’ve spent nights wondering what it would feel like to have you here. To see you like this—vulnerable, willing to give everything, your body and your soul laid bare. And now... here you are, offering yourself so freely, so openly. Tell me, priestess, are you sure you understand what this means?”

His fingers brushed your collarbone, the lightest touch, but it felt as though it was searing your skin. The warmth of your skin under the damp fabric sent a jolt through him, stirring something primal deep inside. His breath caught as he trailed a finger down the curve of your neck, feeling the soft pulse beneath your skin, steady and inviting. You were trembling just slightly—whether from fear or desire, he couldn’t be sure. But it only made the air between you more charged, more delicious.

You met his gaze, the challenge in your eyes unmistakable, even as your fingers tightened subtly around the edge of the tub. “I don’t know,” you replied, your voice steady but with an underlying edge, “But I’m sure you’ll be eager to show me.”

Loki’s smile deepened, his eyes glinting with both amusement and something far more dangerous. “Such confidence. But you know as well as I do, the gods take no mercy when they’re pleased,” he whispered, his lips brushing your ear as he leaned in closer. “When I fuck you, it will be more than a mere battle of wills. It will be your surrender, your desire, your need that I feed. And when it’s all over, you’ll know exactly who owns you.”

Your breath hitched as his words sank in. The weight of them, the intensity of his gaze—it felt like you were standing on the edge of something profound, something that could consume you entirely. But somehow, a part of you wanted it. A part of you wanted to give in to him, to the promise of pleasure and power he dangled before you like an impossible temptation.

Loki pulled back slightly, his finger resting on your chin, lifting your gaze back to his. He gazed deeply into your eyes and lowered his voice to a husky murmur. “I’m certain you’ve imagined it, priestess. But the difference is that I make your fantasies real. What I offer you is beyond anything you could possibly have dreamt. Tell me, are you ready to be taken, to be claimed—body and soul?”

Your body tensed, but your gaze never wavered from his. “We’ll see, won’t we? Then I’ll simply make sure it’s not you who has the final say.” The defiance lingered in your voice, soft yet insistent, despite the way your breath betrayed you.

Loki’s eyes darkened, his smile widening as he stepped back, eyes alight with an undeniable hunger. “You think you have control in this game? You’ve already surrendered more than you realize.”

He ran his finger along your chin, tilting your head back slightly, his voice a dangerous whisper. “It’s time for you to do your due diligence.”

A shiver of excitement ran down your spine as Loki rose from his crouched position, striding with almost sensual slowness to his dedicated altar on which he took place. The sight of him, poised and confident, filled you with an intoxicating mix of desire and fear, emotions that tangled together in a heady rush. His dark eyes never left you, and you could feel the weight of his gaze like a tangible thing, burning into your skin. Your breath hitched as he ascended, his silhouette framed by the soft glow of the room, the shadows falling just right to highlight the chiseled perfection of his form.

The air between you thickened with vibrating tension, as if the very space you occupied pulsed with the energy of your closeness. Your pulse quickened in your neck, your heartbeat erratic, and the anticipation settled heavily in the pit of your stomach. You could feel his power—dark and alluring—drawing you toward him, a magnetic pull you couldn’t escape. You were trembling, your skin sensitive under the damp fabric of your robe, which clung to your body like a second skin, accentuating the curves of your breasts and hips. Every inch of you seemed to be on fire as your body responded to his presence, a mixture of anxiety and anticipation thrumming through your veins.

Loki’s voice sliced through the air, a low, beckoning command. “Come along, priestess. Join me.”

His words were soft yet laced with an unmistakable power, a challenge, an invitation, and something darker—a promise. The tension between you grew almost unbearable, and despite the trepidation swirling in your gut, you found yourself obeying, rising from the water as though compelled by some unseen force. Your body was stiff with both reluctance and yearning, your knees weak as you took your first step toward him. Your skin, slick with water, glistened under the light, and the weight of the robe clinging to you only heightened the sensitivity of every nerve in your body. Each movement felt slower, more deliberate, as you crossed the distance between you, your every step trembling.

Loki watched you intently, his eyes narrowing slightly, a flash of something dark crossing his features, his lips curling into a faint, knowing smile. “That’s it,” he murmured, his voice like velvet wrapping around you. “Come closer. Show me that you can follow through, priestess.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you fought to steady yourself as you made your way toward the altar. Your legs felt like they might give way under the weight of his gaze, but you continued forward, each step echoing your growing need, your pulse racing as you neared him. Your hands, trembling slightly, reached out instinctively, grasping the cold stone of the altar’s edge for support.

Standing before him now, you felt small, fragile even, in contrast to his towering presence. Loki’s eyes roamed over you, their gaze calculating yet filled with an unmistakable hunger. The intensity of his stare made you feel exposed, as if he were unraveling your very soul with nothing but a look.

“You’re trembling,” he said, his voice a whisper, yet every word felt like a brand against your skin. He reached out, his fingers brushing against your trembling hand where it rested on the altar. The simple touch sent a jolt of heat racing through your body, an electrifying sensation that made you want to both pull away and draw him closer.

“I can feel it,” he continued, his eyes never leaving yours. “You’re not as composed as you’d like to pretend. But do not worry, I’ll teach you how to surrender.”

Loki’s smile deepened, an expression of quiet satisfaction that made your heart race. “Don’t be shy,” he breathed, as his hands moved to undo the golden tie of your robe, fingers brushing the fabric slowly, deliberately. “Come worship your god.”

The anticipation was unbearable now, every motion seeming to stretch time, prolonging the moment between you as he loosened the knot. The robe, heavy with water, fell slightly from your body, revealing more of your curves, the soft, enticing shape of your figure exposed to his hungry gaze.

Your breath quickened, your body trembling with anticipation, but you did not pull away. Instead, you stood still, your chest rising and falling rapidly with each breath, waiting for him to make the next move. There was a strange mix of defiance and longing in your eyes, the embers of resistance still glowing, but you couldn’t help yourself. You were drawn to him—compelled by something darker, something you couldn’t name, and that terrified you more than anything else. You felt his presence wash over you like a tidal wave, filling your senses and drowning out any other thoughts. You were trembling, not just from fear, but from something deeper—something you couldn’t control. And with every passing second, you realized that you had already given yourself to him, even if you hadn’t fully admitted it yet.

Loki's fingers traced the curves of your hips, the delicate touch sending a shiver of anticipation through you. You couldn’t help but react to his every movement, your body trembling under his touch, as though every inch of your skin was attuned to him. His presence enveloped you, warm and overwhelming, stirring emotions you were both eager and afraid to face.

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against the soft skin of your neck, tasting the remnants of the water that clung to you. The sensation of his lips, warm and demanding, sent a jolt of heat straight to your core. Your breath hitched, the tension in your body rising as his hands roamed upward, gently parting the collar of your wet robe, exposing the smoothness of your shoulder. His fingers traced the delicate curve of your shoulder blades, making you shiver as a thrill of sensation coursed through you.

His lips followed the path of his hands, soft at first, exploring the skin of your shoulders with slow, languorous kisses. The warmth of his mouth, combined with the sensation of his hands on your skin, made you lightheaded with want. You tilted your head back instinctively, surrendering to the sensation, offering him more of your neck, and Loki took full advantage of the invitation. His tongue traced a path up to your ear, the action sending a tremor through you as a soft gasp escaped your lips.

Loki’s breath was hot against your skin, his voice a low murmur in your ear. “You can feel it, don’t you?” he whispered, his hands moving down your arms in teasing strokes, the light touch leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. His fingertips skimmed over your skin as though savoring every inch of you, his touch light yet laden with intent.

Your pulse raced, your body betraying you, drawn to him in ways you couldn’t fully understand. You swallowed, trying to steady yourself, but the tension between you was palpable, thickening the air with every passing moment.

“Please,” you let out in a shaking voice, the defiance still lingering within you even as your body reacted to him. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the strength in his frame pressing against yours, but it was the hunger in his kiss, the way he seized your lips as if he couldn’t hold back any longer, that set you completely aflame.

His mouth was urgent, claiming, and yet his hands remained gentle, pulling you closer, as if he were testing the boundaries between you. His lips moved against yours with a growing intensity, a hunger you couldn’t ignore. Your hands now timidly fisted the front of his tunic, pressing your body more firmly against his. Your heart beat erratically, a rhythm of need and desire you were now powerless to deny.

Loki’s hands slid around your waist, pulling you flush against him, and for a moment, everything around you faded away. There was only the feel of him—his warmth, his presence, the taste of his kiss—and the undeniable pull between you that neither could escape. Your breath came in quick gasps, your lips parting as you tried to steady yourself, but there was no stopping it now. Not when Loki’s touch was like fire on your skin, lighting every nerve ablaze.

Loki’s fingers traced every curve of your body with a gentle yet possessive touch, as if memorizing the feel of you beneath his hands. His fingers skimmed across your waist, sending waves of sensation through you, before slowly traveling down to your hips. His touch was deliberate, his skin leaving a trail of fire where it met yours. The sensation was intoxicating, and your breath caught in your throat as you fought to keep control, but each brush of his hand made it more difficult to resist. Your body seemed to respond of its own accord, your pulse quickening, your skin flush with anticipation.

You couldn’t help but tremble under his touch as his hands ventured lower, tracing the outline of your thighs, fingers grazing over the soft skin, sparking a flood of warmth that radiated out from your core. With each slow movement, each teasing caress, you felt as if you were being pulled deeper into him, your body writhing, arching under the pressure of his touch, desperate for more.

Loki’s voice was low and husky as he broke your kiss, his hand wrapped around your throat and his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Now, priestess, I want you to undress me. Slowly, deliberately, as if every touch is a worship of my body.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, your breath hitching in your throat as you nodded, your hands trembling with anticipation. You reached up, your fingers finding the hem of his tunic, and slowly began to lift it, exposing his toned abs and muscular chest. Your eyes traced every inch of his skin, taking in the defined lines of his muscles, and the smattering of dark hair that peeked out from his Apollo’s belt.

Loki’s voice was smooth and laced with arrogance as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “You should consider yourself fortunate, priestess,” he whispered, his tone dripping with confidence. “Not many are allowed to touch a god like me. So take your time. Let every movement be a tribute to what stands before you.”

A surge of boldness and desire filled you as Loki's words of encouragement caressed your ears. Emboldened, your delicate hands slowly slid up the length of his tunic, inching it upwards to reveal more and more of his godly physique inch by tantalizing inch. His skin was unveiled to your hungry gaze—you could feel the heat radiating from his very being, his muscles rippling and tensing beneath your fingertips like coiled steel as they glided across the expanse of his abdominal muscles.

Your tongue explored his heated throat as you pressed soft, open-mouthed kisses along the column of his neck, taking your time to thoroughly savor the taste of his skin. Your lips moved lower, trailing over his defined collarbone until you reached the hollow at the base of his throat. There, you let your teeth graze the sensitive flesh before soothing the sting with a slow, firm lick.

Loki's breath caught in his throat, a ragged hitch that spoke of barely contained longing. His emerald eyes blazed with smoldering desire as they roamed hungrily over your form, drinking in every dip and curve of your body. Reaching up with a hand that trembled with need, his fingers tangled in your silken tresses, the cool strands slipping through his grasp. Tilting his head back in wanton surrender, he exposed the smooth column of his throat to your questing mouth.

"Yes," he rumbled in a deep growl that sent delicious shivers cascading down your spine. The velvet timbre of his words caressed your heated skin like a physical touch, stoking the flames of your desire higher. "Just like that."

His tone dripped with sin and dark promise, full of tempting subtext that left little room for misinterpretation. Loki's voice painted sinful pictures in your mind, hinting at secrets and pleasures only he could provide. Each low, raw word fell from his lips like a forbidden confession, igniting your blood until it burned through your veins.

Your heart pounded wildly, your breath coming fast and shallow as you leaned into the delicious friction of his fingers in your hair. The light pressure at the back of your skull sent sparks skittering across your scalp and down your nape. Loki's grip held you in place, keeping your mouth pressed to the supple skin of his throat where his pulse fluttered like the wings of a caged bird. The heat of him seeped into you, his quickening heartbeat a counterpoint to your racing rhythm.

He imagined your lips brushing against the corded muscles of his neck, feeling the coiled tension thrumming through his body like a tightly wound spring. As your phantom touch grazed his skin, he found himself arching instinctively into the sensation, craving more of that teasing contact. His thick throat flexed and undulated beneath your mouth as he swallowed hard around the lump that had formed there, fighting to control the intense reaction coursing through him.

Loki's gasps encouraged you to continue your sensual exploration. He felt you apply light suction, pulling at his skin until you could feel his pulse jumping beneath your lips. Reluctant to release him, you transferred your ministrations to the opposite side of his throat. This time, you used your teeth more insistently, worrying the flesh and nipping at his hammering pulse until you could taste the coppery tang of blood on your tongue as it beaded on his skin.

You could practically feel the heat of his breath as you traced the strong column of his neck with your lips and tongue, igniting sparks of sensation with every pass. His skin prickled with goosebumps, drawn taut and hypersensitive, as if your imagined touch had burned away every layer between you until only nerve endings remained. He strained towards the pressure of your mouth, blatant in his need for stimulation, his body an instrument thrumming with tension.

Again and again, you returned to the spot, alternating between deep, open-mouthed kisses and teasing licks and nips until his neck was mapped with darkening love bites. Each mark was a brand, a symbol of your possession, the evidence of your claim on him. You loved seeing the proof of your wanton lust decorating his fair skin.

Releasing your mouth from his throat with a wet pop, you admired your handiwork, trailing your fingers over the tender, reddened flesh. Loki's hands had found your hair, tangling in the silken strands as he held you close. His breaths were shallow, chest heaving with the force of his exhalations. The visible strain of his erection pressed against your belly, but you ignored it for now, lost in your need to taste every inch of him.

In a frenzy of lustful desperation, you wrenched Loki's tunic up and over his head with an almost violent urgency. The flimsy garment was hastily cast aside, fluttering forgotten to the floor as your hungry gaze raked over the newly bared expanse of Loki's sleek, pale skin. You drank in the sight of him with fevered eyes that glittered with unslaked craving, your pupils blown wide with desire.

The air between you felt charged and taut, thick with the promise of what was to come. It crackled with an electric tension that made your very skin prickle, so dense with want that it seemed to pulse and undulate like a living thing. The space seemed to swell, heavy and swollen with the weight of your unspeakable needs.

You began a worshipful descent down the sculpted planes of Loki's torso. You laved your tongue over his cool skin, tracing the elegant sweep of his collarbones and the dip of his sternum. Your lips brushed feather-light over the flat discs of his nipples, drawing a shuddering hiss from between clenched teeth as you suckled and nibbled, determined to wring as much pleasure and praise from him as you could. Your teeth scraped carelessly, leaving crimson blooms on his skin like stigmata.

Loki shivered and flared, his powerful frame surging beneath your ministrations. His fingers clenched in your hair, dragging you inexorably up and molding your curves meltingly flush against the hard, unforgiving lines of his body. Loki's gaze burned into your own, twin flames of liquid emerald fire that seared straight to your soul. "The pants," he commanded, his voice a rough, guttural sound edged with feral hunger. The raw command in his tone sent primal heat licking through your core, urging you onward even as it threatened to undo you utterly.

Your trembling fingers fumbled at the waistband of his breeches, clumsy with desperation. You wanted to tear them from his body, to lay him bare before you, but some distant scrap of coherence kept your movements measured. The air felt too thick to draw a proper breath, the anticipation coiling tighter and tighter in your blood until it was almost painful.

Finally, blessedly, his breeches joined his tunic on the floor. You hummed in satisfaction, drinking in the sight of him laid out before you in all his naked glory. You reached out to trail reverent fingers down the dips and ridges of his abdomen, savoring the way he shuddered and tensed beneath your touch. But you were only allowed a brief moment to admire him before Loki was surging up to capture your mouth in a bruising kiss.

As he broke your deep, passionate kiss, his piercing gaze locked onto yours, smoldering with an intense, almost feral hunger. A knowing smirk played at the corners of his lips as he made you advance towards him in a slow, deliberate manner, his voice dropping to a low, dark purr.

"Go on, priestess," he rasped, the words dripping with a sinful promise that sent shivers down your spine. "Take what is yours to worship and claim as your own."

You gulped for air, your lungs burning, fervently nodding as much as you could with the firm grip he still maintained in your hair. A needy whimper escaped your parted lips, your body yearning for more of his electric touch. 

You redoubled your descent down his chiseled body, pressing small, reverent kisses along the way. Your lips mapped a winding path over the planes of his chest, down his taut stomach, savoring the taste of his skin, the heat of him. Reaching his navel, you dipped your tongue inside, circling the sensitive dip teasingly and drawing a groan from the god and his grip tightened, spurring you on to go further.

Finally, you arrived at the apex of his thighs where his long, hard and imposing member jutted proudly towards you. Its thick length seemed to throb, begging for your worshipful attention. You knelt before him in obedience, gazing up at him with hooded eyes clouded by lust and a hint of trepidation. 

As he sat there, watching your crafted image intently with anticipation, you hesitated for a moment. You could feel his intense gaze on you, and you knew what he wanted. Gathering your courage, you slowly reached out a trembling hand towards him. Your fingers inched closer to the hard, rigid length of his cock, and as you made contact, you felt a shiver run through your entire body. The feel of him was intoxicating—hard yet silky smooth, just like the rest of his toned body.

He couldn't help but let out a low groan as you touched him—as he imitated your touch. His hand moved unconsciously to wrap around his member, mirroring your makeshift movements. You would watch in fascination as he began to stroke himself, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of power and arousal at the divine sight that he displayed.

In his mind, you’d marvel at the feel of him, so different from anything you had ever experienced before. Your fingers looked so meager that he doubted they would quite close around his girth. He imagined you, feeling even more turned on by the contrast between your delicate hand and his thick, hard cock like he was to the idea.

"Do you like that?" he asked, his voice low and husky with desire. 

You nodded, unable to find your voice at that moment. You couldn't believe you were doing this, touching him like this, but you couldn't deny how much you were enjoying it.

"Good," he murmured, his eyes darkening with lust. "Because I relish the way your touch sets me alight," he murmured, his voice velvet-soft yet edged with longing, as if the confession itself was both a gift and a weapon.

Fingertips danced along his length, tracing the prominent vein that ran along the underside—he didn’t know if it was your phantom touch or his very real one, he didn’t care for it. He’d pretend that it was yours for now, that he could trade the feeling of the rough palms of his hand for your soft ones.

You watched as his eyes fluttered closed, his breath coming in quick gasps as you touched him. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the way his muscles tensed under your touch. You circled the base, marveling at the size and the heat it emanated from his member. A bead of clear liquid welled from the slit, making his erection jump. Softly, reverently, you swiped your thumb over the tip, smearing the precum and eliciting a strangled groan from above.

Then, another flash: slowly, almost shyly, you leaned forward and placed a feather-light kiss on his inner thigh, right at the root of his shaft. Your lips trailed up the sensitive skin, pressing soft open-mouthed kisses in their wake. A faint whimper escaped you as you tasted him for the first time, the salt, musk, and pure masculine essence of his arousal thick and heady on your taste buds.

He hissed in pleasure, his fingers tightening in your hair as he pulled you closer. You flicked your tongue over the weeping slit in response, lapping up the salty essence. Another kiss was placed right at the crown before you started to slowly circle the flared head with the flat of your tongue. You took your time, mapping every ridge and vein, savoring the taste of him on your tongue.

But he wouldn’t let the exploration go on any longer, or else he’d go mad beyond reason with want. The massive hand gripping your silky damp tresses gave a sharp tug, wrenching your head back and forcing your face upwards. You let out a yelp at the sudden motion, eyes widening in fear and surprise darting up to meet the smoldering gaze pinning you in place. A deep, rumbling growl emanated from above, the sound resonating in your very bones and sending sparks of trepidation skittering down your spine.

Above you, his imposing form loomed, all chiseled planes and rippling muscle. Sweat gleamed on his alabaster skin which heaved with each labored breath. Heavy thighs bracketed your smaller frame as he towered over your kneeling form, his commanding presence seeming to fill the very air around them. Drawing in a shuddering gasp, you tried to give a jerky nod of acquiescence, your delicate throat working nervously under his stern glare.

His calloused palm dragged from the silken coil of your hair to seize your chin, fingers pressing firmly into the delicate curve of your jaw as he forced your gaze upward. "Enough games," he snarled, his voice a low, dangerous rasp steeped in authority and promise. A flicker of fear danced along your spine, sharp and electric, under the weight of his piercing glare. "Open," he commanded, the single word carrying the weight of inevitability.

You could only whimper in response, breaths coming in short, precipitated puffs as his other hand guided the thick root of his cock to nudge demandingly at your parted lips. With a final, shallow inhale, you let your jaw fall slack, allowing the heavy weight to rest against your waiting mouth. He slowly thrust forward, pushing into the velvet heat past your lips and over your tongue. You could feel every rigid vein, every throb of his width stretching you open as inch by delicious inch sank into the clutching confines of your mouth and throat.

Tears sprang anew to your eyes at the sudden intrusion, but you held his gaze, giving a tentative suck as he hilted fully. The wet glide of your tongue traced over the bulbing head, dipping into the weeping slit to lap at the salty-sweet essence gathered there. Above you, you could hear the hitch in his breathing, feel the air between them crackle with building tension. 

Slowly, he began to rock his hips, sawing in and out with deep but shallow thrusts as he mentally fucked into you face as he did to his enclosed fist. Your lips worked over his length, hollowing your cheeks to suck harder as you brought one small hand up to gently fondle the heavy orbs below. You breathed harshly through your nose, tongue fluttering along the underside as he thrust between your lips.

"Norns' mercy," Loki gasped, his head falling back on a low, wanton moan that echoed through the chambers. "Your mouth is exquisite, a divine temple of pleasure."

Emboldened by his praise, you began to bob your head along his impressive length, hollowing your cheeks to suck hard as you took him deeper, feeling him hit the back of your throat. You ghosted one hand up the length of his body before lightly scrapped your nails down starting from the navel, teasing the sensitive skin. 

Losing yourself in the act of pleasuring him, you consumed yourself in carnal desires that threatened to overwhelm you. You loved tasting him, feeling the hot, hard weight of him sliding between your lips, stretching your mouth. You loved his musky, masculine scent filled your nostrils, making your head spin with lust.

Loki's grip on your hair tightened, fingers tangling and tugging as he began to speed up his thrust into the heat of your mouth, not enough to gag you, but just enough to show he was rapidly losing control. "Just like that, priestess, don't you dare stop," he growled, his voice strained with need. "You look so lovely with your lips wrapped around my cock, worshipping me like the god I am. Such a good girl, so eager to please."

His filthy words inflamed your lust to new, dizzying heights. You redoubled your efforts, taking him to the hilt and swallowing around him, throat working to milk his length. He let out a string of filthy curses in the Old Tongue, hips snapping as he chased his impending release, fucking your face with shallow thrusts.

But just as you felt him start to pulse and swell, he forcefully pulled himself from the slick heat of your mouth with a lewd pop. He pictured strings of saliva connected from your swollen lips to the engorged head of his cock as he squeezed the base hard enough to prevent him from cumming so soon. He didn’t want it to end just yet. Too soon.

He could almost hear you whine at the loss as you gazed up at Loki through heavy-lidded eyes, your plump lips glistening and swollen from his earlier bruising kisses. He imagined your enticing face flushed with pride and deep feminine satisfaction knowing you had thoroughly pleased your god, his divine favor a heady rush of power and approval. Loki's eyes gleamed molten green, his expression one of ravenous, possessive hunger as his heated gaze roved over your naked form kneeling wantonly at his feet.

"Well done, priestess," he’d purr to you, voice a dark, sinful promise. "You've more than earned your reward. I'm going to taste every exquisite inch of you until you're writhing and begging for completion."

Loki prowled forward like a wolf, his powerful body looming over her in dark promise. Calloused fingers trailed scorching paths along your quivering thighs, leaving shimmering trails of magic in their wake. You shivered and arched into his expert touch, dizzy with need.

"Please, my god," you breathed. "I'm aching for you. Make me yours."

Loki's fingers trailed down her forearm, gripping your hand and pulling you up. He pushed you down onto the marble of his altar in a smooth show of strength, admiring the way your breasts bounced from the force. Settling between your splayed thighs, the god inhaled your heady, alluring scent. "So desperate for your god's favor," he growled, pressing hungry kisses up the column of your throat. "I'm going to make you scream my name." 

With a wicked grin, he turns to you, his eyes gleaming with desire. "May I?" he asks, indicating the delicate fabric of your robe. At your nod, he rips the flimsy material to shreds, exposing your naked body to his feasting gaze. Loki's gaze lands on a part of untainted skin, and he wastes no time, sucking hard enough to leave a vivid mark. You can't help but gasp at the sensation, your body reacting instinctively. 

He continued his path of destruction down your body, licking and nipping every inch of bare skin. Reaching pert breasts, he caught a nipple between his teeth and tugged just shy of pain, to which you answered by unconsciously spreading your legs in wanton invitation, practically begging for his touch.

"Oh, my sweet [Y/N], so desperate and needy for me," he hummed, trailing his fingers down your arm. His touch was cold fire, leaving goosebumps trailing in its wake. Loki's lips curled into a wicked smirk, his voice a silky taunt as he leaned closer. "How utterly delightful. Let us see if you can endure as well as you deliver, shall we?"

He descends upon you like a starving man, licking and sucking at every inch of your damp skin. His lips and teeth marked you with dark bruise shaped like crescent moons and love bites as he made his way down your body. You writhed and moaned helplessly beneath him, your back arching as he teased your sensitive flesh.

"Mmh, perfect. Sing for me," he growls against your hipbone before dipping his head in your mound.

Loki licks a broad stripe up your dripping slit, his skillful tongue circling your aching clit without directly touching it. He parts your folds with his fingers to delve deep, pumping in and out of your fluttering walls while he laps at the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your thighs trembled and clenched around his head as he devoured you mercilessly, his silvertongue more than living up to its title.

"Such exquisite nectar you have, my priestess," he’d mumble into your sex, the vibrations making you see stars. He suckled your clit and thrust two fingers knuckle deep, curling them to rub that special spot inside. "I could feast on you on my altar for ages and never have my fill."

You tossed your head back with a loud moan as Loki's skilled mouth worked you over. "Yes, god, just like that!"

He sealed his lips around your throbbing clit, suckling the sensitive bud while his wicked tongue flicked rapidly. Two fingers delved deep, curling just right to stroke that velvety patch along your front wall. "That's it, let me hear all those pretty moans while you fall apart on my face," he urged huskily, hot breath gusting over your drenched folds.

Leaning on your elbows, your gazed down at him with glassy eyes, desperate little pants falling from your lips. Your thighs trembled violently, muscles pulled taut. "Please, please," your babbled incoherently, fisting his inky locks and yanking him impossibly closer. "I need—oh!"

"Need what, pet?" His lips and tongue never ceased their sweet torment, fingers plunging and stroking without mercy. "Tell me and I'll give it to you."

"I need—ah! I need to come!" Tremors wracked your frame as you ground yourself wantonly on his face. "Make me come, please Loki!"

"What pretty begging." He doubled down, sucking your clit greedily as you bucked and thrashed. Lips and fingers worked you into a frenzy, wringing out your pleasure with devastating intent. Pressure climbed, tighter and tighter until it finally snapped.

You threw back your head with a choked scream, core clamping down rhythmically. "I'm coming, mmh—fuck!" Your back arched sharply, juices gushing to coat his cheeks and chin as ecstasy overtook you.

His hips thrust upwards as he imagined the expression you would make when reaching climax, writhing in the water as he desperately tried to hold back, not ready for the end just yet. The ripples of the water surrounding him served as a reminder of the feeling of being blessed with your sweet release, droplets splashing onto his face.

With a final thrust, he slowed down, gasping uncontrollably. He gentled his touch, mimicking how he would with you, licking broad and slow to keep you suspended in bliss. "That's it, that’s it. Ride it out on my tongue. You taste divine when you let go."

He knew all too well the effect he had on you; even your casual, teasing banter left you unraveling. His words and actions now, deliberate and charged, were designed to push you to the brink—to drive you wild in ways only he could. He made a low, hungry noise, never stopping until the last aftershock shivered through you and you collapsed back against the altar, spent.

"Good girl, you took it so well. Such a pretty picture you make in your pleasure," he praises, giving your sensitive clit a final kiss before rising to cover your body with his own. "You please me greatly, my priestess. I knew you'd be the perfect consort."

He couldn’t endure the torment he was inflicting upon himself any longer; it was unbearable, a relentless ache that clawed at his sanity. He had to put an end to it—one way or another. Loki's lips curved in a wicked smirk as he visualized him pulling back to admire his artwork, hands gripping your hips possessively. 

"Turn over," he’d command, voice rough with need. You scrambled to obey, rolling onto your stomach and lifting your hips in the air. The position left you completely vulnerable, your dripping core exposed and ready. Loki groaned at the sight, his cock throbbing. "Hands behind your back," he growled, giving your rear a sharp smack.

You gasped and complied, crossing your forearms at the base of your spine. Loki manhandled you, using his strength to pull your arms higher until they were pinned tight against the curve of your lower back, your wrists crossing one another. He nestled your chest down against the altar, leaving you arched and spread open. "Such a good little offering," he purred, running a hand over your naked form. His fingers dug into your hips as he notched the flared head of his cock against your entrance. 

"I will ravish you to the point of forgetting everything but my name." Loki declared with a salacious smirk. His eyes gleamed with determination as he charged forward, impaling you with a single, ruthless thrust. The force of his entry elicited a startled cry from you, your back arching as Loki filled you to the hilt. The exquisite stretch of his length was unprecedented, breaching depths no other had ever reached.

"There we go," he praised, starting to move. His strokes were deep and powerful, pulling nearly out before slamming back in. "Take it. Take every ounce of pleasure your god deigns to bestow upon you." You sobbed brokenly, overwhelmed by the sensations. The altar bit into your breasts as Loki used you, pounding into your pliant body. Lewd squelches filled the air, mixing with the sound of flesh slapping against flesh. 

Just when you thought you couldn't take it anymore, Loki hauled you up by fastening his free hand to your throat, squeezing lightly as he constricted his grip on your wrists. "Look at you," he crooned while sending another mind-blowing thrust that made you almost shout. "A perfect little slut, born to be bred and used. You relish this, don't you? The sensation of being utterly filled and ravished by your god?" You had no choice but to dumbly nod with parted lips and hazy eyes, his words igniting something primal in you. Loki's hand tightened around your neck, further restricting your airflow. Simultaneously, his thrusts grew fiercer, pummeling you with relentless intensity.

"You were made for this, pet. Made to serve. I will ruin you for all others. You will adore only me, and my name will be your mantra." He accentuated each word with punishing thrusts. You convulsed, his degrading words and ruthless pace pushing you to the brink. Your cunt clenched desperately around him, trying to hold him deep. You were so close, teetering on the edge of oblivion that all it would take was a slight pressure in the right place, and you would shatter completely. 

Sensing your readiness, Loki slid a hand down, zeroing in on your swollen clit. He circled the sensitive nub with a knowing touch, keeping you vacillating on the cusp of release. "Come for me, priestess," he ordered with a gasp, voice a sinful purr. "Come apart on my cock, my little whore. Let me feel your pleasure." You couldn’t do nothing except obey, your body seizing up as your climax crashed through you. A guttering scream ripped from your throat as you came violently, cunt clenching down on Loki's pistoning cock.

⠀⠀

As he allowed his mind to wander, lost in the picture of you falling in the throes of ecstasy, his eyes flew open with a start. He hadn’t realized how deeply he had slipped into it until he felt a sudden jolt back to reality. His hips were moving rhythmically, thrusting as if he were actually buried deep inside of you.

His breath came in gasps, the air stolen from his throat as he imagined the feeling of your tight walls clenching around him. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps. His hips were gyrating wildly, thrusting up and down in his grasp, like a ship caught in a stormy sea. How deep had he been lost in his fantasy for his state to go unnoticed, even to himself?

The pleasure was all-consuming, a tidal wave of sensation that threatened to drown him in its depths. His blood rushed through his veins like a raging river, surging downward to pool in his aching cock and upwards to flood his face with a burning heat. Stray and thin tears streamed down his cheeks, unbidden and fierce, as he gasped and writhed for oxygen, his thrusts growing wilder and more desperate with each passing moment.

“Oh, fuck—fuck!” With a final, desperate cry, he came violently in his hands, shouting his muse’s name in a reiterative and frenzied manner, as if it was a prayer made to the gods. Spurt after spurt of his release shot forth, hitting the water with a soft plink and splattering the few jasmine petals that had survived the violent waves. It seemed as if the pleasure would never end, each wave of release only serving to build the tension higher and higher until it threatened to consume him entirely.

But eventually, the storm subsided, leaving him spent and shivering in its wake. He laid there, his breath slowing as he came back down to earth. The fantasy had been so vivid, so real, that it took him a moment to remember where he truly was. The sensation was intense, a violent explosion that seemed to rock his entire body, leaving him utterly shaking from the intensity. 

Loki collapsed against the smooth, cold marble steps of the grand tub, his body spent, a haze of exhaustion clouding his senses. His breath was ragged, still trying to catch up with the frantic, overwhelming rush that had just passed through him. For a moment, he was weightless, floating on the remnants of the high he had just experienced, the delicate hum of release thrumming under his skin. The contrast of the warm water around him and the cold air against his exposed skin sent shivers racing up his spine, but it was not the chill that made him tremble.

His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, his head tipping back to rest against the edge of the tub. The silence in the chamber felt deafening after the storm that had ravaged through him. The heat of the moment still lingered, but now, it felt oppressive. He was left with a deep, gnawing emptiness, as though a part of him had been drained away with the surge of release. But that empty feeling was nothing compared to what came next.

As the steam clouding his mind began to clear, the aftermath of his actions came crashing down on him like a tidal wave. His breath caught in his throat, and for a brief second, he felt like the room was spinning, his body still reeling from the aftershocks of the desire he had just indulged. His chest tightened, a knot of unease tightening in the pit of his stomach.

He hadn’t just given in to the pleasure of the moment. No, that would’ve been easier to accept. What had really shaken him was who—or rather, what—he had let himself desire.

He dragged a trembling hand through his damp hair, his lips pressed into a hard line as the remnants of his thoughts taunted him. A mortal, really? The thought of desiring you—so mortal, so beneath him—made him feel physically sick. His heart pounded in his chest, but not from desire this time. The heat in his veins was no longer a heady rush; it had morphed into something darker, something that made him feel dirty. He had let himself be ruled by a fleeting impulse, a mortal who—by all rights—shouldn’t have mattered to him. You weren't worthy of his attention, let alone the attention of his body. And yet, he couldn’t shake the memory of the way your presence had consumed him.

A bitter laugh escaped his lips, though it lacked any humor. How could you? he asked himself, gripping the edge of the tub as if it could ground him. A sharp pang of disgust sliced through him, his jaw clenching tightly. How could I stoop so low? he thought bitterly, his disdain for his weakness growing with each passing second. The heat of his actions still lingered, clinging to him like a second skin, and he hated it. He hated himself.

As Loki's breath slowed and the weight of his actions pressed down on him, his gaze drifted to the scattered jasmine petals that floated lazily in the water. Their delicate fragrance filled the air, and for a brief moment, it was almost suffocating. His eyes narrowed as he focused on the pale petals, their soft white against the dark water mocking him with their innocence. They reminded him of that damned robe, the mortal woman who had worn it—you.

He scowled, a wave of irritation rising in him as he cursed them for being the catalyst, the one thing that had led to this moment of weakness. It wasn’t their fault, of course; it never was. But in his mind, they were the symbol of everything that had gone wrong. If only she hadn’t worn it, he thought bitterly. If only I hadn’t noticed her at all...

With a sharp wave of his hand, he dispelled the jasmine petals and the evidence of his indulgence, watching as they disappeared into nothingness, as if they had never been there to begin with. But the disquiet that followed lingered, refusing to vanish as easily as the evidence of his lapse.

Another gesture and the steaming bath turned icy cold, the sudden shock making him shudder. The chill was a reprieve—a way to snap himself back to reality, to wash away the lingering tremors still trembling his resolve.

“This means nothing,” he muttered under his breath, the words more of a command than a truth. He busied himself scrubbing away the remnants of his lapse in control, desperate to rid himself of the memory. His movements were quick, almost frantic, as if staying in the tub any longer would trap him in the thoughts he wanted to escape.

Nothing. He forced himself to believe that. He had allowed himself to be overwhelmed by his body’s basic urges, by the frustration of months of mounting stress—the endless manipulations of his “parents,” the suffocating chains of his conditional freedom, the constant reminder that his every action was watched and judged. And then, you—this mortal who had somehow wormed her way into his thoughts. You were simply an enticing distraction, an irritation that had lodged itself under his skin, and nothing more. He had no time for such trivial mortal attachments.

He exhaled sharply, dispelling the shame that clung to him like an uncomfortable cloak. It was just stress. A temporary lapse. The heat of the moment. It didn’t mean anything.

He turned his attention to the water, an escape of sorts, as he manipulated the temperature. His magic flowed effortlessly, and the warm bath transformed into an icy, biting chill. He let the cold seep into him, willing it to numb the stirring emotions that had begun to surge. But the cold only made him feel sharper, more exposed, the shock of it heightening his awareness of every thought, every tremor within him.

He couldn’t stay in the water any longer. The longer he lingered, the more the memory of what had just transpired would settle into his mind. And he couldn’t bear that. He didn’t want to acknowledge how badly the moment had shaken him.

His movements were quick, almost frantic, as he grabbed a towel, wrapping it around his waist. His fingers were stiff as he dried off, each movement seeming mechanical, as though he was trying to force himself back into control, back into the careful, calculated Loki that he prided himself on being.

But even as he dressed, the thoughts didn’t fade. He told himself it was nothing. He told himself that it meant nothing. But even as he stepped away from the tub, a small, nagging voice echoed in his mind. Unless?

He stopped, mid-step, his chest tightening again. Could it be that simple? Could he dismiss it so easily? His gaze flicked to the empty tub, and a deep, unsettling feeling curled in his gut. The space seemed too quiet now, too still, and he could almost hear your voice again in the silence. Loki quickly turned away, his mind racing. No. He refused to entertain it. It was stress. Nothing more. You were nothing more. Still, as he left the bathing chamber, his steps quick and unsteady, that seed of doubt lingered. He could feel it in the way his heart beat a little faster, the way his breath caught for a fraction of a second longer than it should have. And no matter how much he tried to push it away, there it was: Unless...

ending notes :

The way I was acting like that for the entire writing is SHAMEFUL. Lord have mercy on me.

Also, I'm not sorry for the length. I hope you enjoyed it thoroughly nonetheless. And get your mind out of the gutter, I'm talking about the fic, not Loki. :p

⠀⠀

see more A Tales Of related ficlets.

Want to read more of my works? Check out my masterlist !

taglist : @stilleobjection — @the-fandoms-onceler .

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dividers ©️ @angelremnants + @arminsumi .

angelremnants ©️ 2024. All rights reserved. Do not repost, reproduce, or distribute without explicit permission.

[clockwayswrites]

Like Betta Fish Do- Final Part

WC: 3359, Masterpost

“The response to the article has been great— better even than we had predicted,” Tim informed the various family members as he joined them at the breakfast table, tablet in hand.

Jason glanced up from his porridge to look his little brother over. The eye bags were a little dark, but not to the point of concerning yet, at least not on Tim. Still… “You weren’t up all night running numbers, were you?”

“I slept, I just woke up early.” Tim said defensively. “Besides, it’s best to get data like this when it’s new. It allows me to compare the first reaction to the long term response and see if there are any shifts.”

“Good data gathering is important,” Jazz agreed, “but so is taking care of yourself.”

She set the bowl of porridge that she had just finished adding toppings to in front of Tim and blatantly stuck a spoon in his hand. Tim blinked down at the food for a moment before shrugging and taking a bite. Cass, smiling in amusement, handed Jazz a fresh bowl.

“Best news is,” Tim continued after he had swallowed, “that everyone thinks Danny is, and I quote, a ‘Beautiful Cinnamon Roll Too Good For This World, Too Pure’. I mean, that’s not really a new opinion, but the new article really cemented it.”

“I don’t know how to take that,” Danny said after a pause.

“I mean, I’d just be glad to not be a poor little meow meow,” Duke said as he leaned over to look at Tim’s screen.

“The big change,” Tim continued and tilted his screen for Duke to see better, “is that public opinion of Jason has recovered. It was always solid in Gotham, we get it here, but outside of Gotham people were really having some issues with how quickly Jason pressed the button. Danny going on record to say that he asked Jason to press it— that he knew that’s what he was saying— has made a real difference.”

That was good news, but something about the way that Tim was presenting it made Jason tense and he had to purposefully relax his grip around his spoon. “What’s the bad news?”

Tim glanced over at Jason for a moment before looking back down at his tablet. The way he chewed on his lip pretty much assured there was bad news.

“Tim,” Jason pleaded. He got they were all trying to protect them while Danny was still recovering, but he needed to know, “just tell me. I’d rather hear it here from you than out there on the street.”

“There’s a small, and I mean really small, group that claims we made Danny say those things,” Tim explained with a grimace. “It got dug up that Danny’s on a Wayne Inventors’ Scholarship. They’re saying that we threatened to pull the scholarship if he didn’t clear Jason.”

Maybe it was best just to set the spoon down before he bent it in half.

“We don’t publish those names,” Bruce commented, a heavy frown in place as he joined the breakfast table, own tablet in hand.

Tim nodded. “I know.”

“I’ll look into who at the school may have leaked that information.”

“I mean, it could have just been a classmate?” Danny pointed out. “It’s not like I’ve gone around shouting it to the heavens or anything, but, like, I haven’t kept it a secret how I ended up suddenly mid degree in the program.”

“It could have been,” Bruce acquiesced, “but it still bears looking into. Even if nothing comes of it, reminding the school of how they’re bound by FERPA hardly hurts, not with you returning to classes in a week.”

“Yeah that’s going to be… yeah,” Danny said with a sigh.

Jason leaned over to wrap his arm around Danny’s shoulder and brush a kiss against his temple.

“I’ve got to leave in a few days too,” Jazz said apologetically.

Danny nodded and leaned further into Jason. “You’ll be careful?”

“I will.”

“She will also have assistance in that matter,” Alfred said. The clink of the fresh plate of hot cross buns was a firm period on his declaration.

“That’s a sweet thought,” Jazz managed after a moment, “but I do live in a different state.”

“That is hardly an issue, Miss Jasmine. Master Richard will accompany you for the first week to simply make sure that everything is both secure and calm. When he is certain you will be well, he can make his way back easily enough,” Alfred explained. When Jazz opened her mouth to protest, Alfred held up a staying hand. “Miss Jasmine, I assure you it is not a hardship. You are family now and we very much look after our family. It would do all of us well to know that you are safe and sound.”

“Yes, family now,” Cass agreed as she made a grabbing motion at the plate until Tim passed her one of the buns.

“I, well…” A faint blush spread across Jazz’s cheeks. “I guess if it wouldn’t be a problem? And if you’re okay sleeping on the couch, Dick? We’ve only got one actual bedroom in the place, we use the other as an office for us both.”

“Hey, a couch isn’t the worst place I’ve slept by a long run,” Dick chirped. “But if you’re feeling guilty, I’ll taking getting to pick the tunes on the drive.”

“Don’t do it,” Jason said, an attempt to save Jazz that hell. “Seriously, not worth giving him that power. His music tastes are atrocious.”

Dick pouted. “They’re fabulous.”

“No, Jason’s right on this one,” Tim said.

“If Drake is agreeing with Todd, I am afraid that one has to accept there is some truth in the statement,” Damian interjected.

“Baby bat, no,” Dick whined.

From the look he aimed Dick, Damian was unmoved by the plea. “While you have a great many skills, Grayson—”

“Thank you.”

“—your taste in music, fashion, and other matters of culture is not one of those skills.”

“I’m wounded. You wounded me Damian, my baby bat, so cruel… so callous,” Dick said as he basically melted down into his chair.

“Keep up such antics and you will have a true wound to worry about, Grayson,” Damian said with a sniff.

Jason chuckled. “Ah, it’s not breakfast at the Manor without a threat of violence.”

Duke leaned around Tim to look at Jazz. “You still have time to run, Jazz, you don’t have to be part of this family. You can still get out.”

“Hum, I don’t know. Give me a Creep Stick—”

Multiple people looked at Danny and mouthed ‘creep stick?’.

“—and I think I can manage. Besides, none of the food has come back to life yet so it’s a better breakfast than I had most of my childhood.”

In the following silence, Bruce very carefully set his tablet down and folded his hands on top of it. “Food that came back to life?”

“Lab safety was just sort of an ignored suggestion in our childhood home,” Danny said.

“They kept samples in the fridge,” Jazz continued. “It sometimes had… unexpected results.”

“I don’t know, I think after the tenth time the hotdogs come ‘alive’ it’s an expected result,” Danny argued dryly.

“Good heavens,” Alfred declared softly. “And… the Dr. Fentons did nothing?”

Danny just shrugged. “I ate at school or out with my friends a lot.”

“No wonder you’re so pint sized,” Dick cooed.

“Hey!”

“You are, fish. Just a little guppy,” Jason teased. When Danny grumbled, Jason only pulled him closer.

“It really was just the way things were,” Jazz said, apparently still trying to soothe the table. “We know it’s not normal now, but that was just life at the time. It almost made more sense when there were actual ghosts around haunting Amity Park— and I don’t just mean Danny.”

“Boo.”

“Oh, yeah! You still haven’t shown us your ghost form,” Steph pointed out.

“But only if you’re up for it, dude, like… physically and emotionally,” Duke cut in quickly. “You don’t have to show us if you don’t want to.”

“Oh, I don’t mind. I mean, it was strange showing Jason the first time— showing someone who knew me as Danny first,” Danny said, “but, like, there are times when I want to be in that form. I even get restless if I go too long without changing over.”

“Or sometimes he just needs something off the top shel-oof,” Jason winced as Danny elbowed him hard. “Hey, I’m just speaking the truth here.”

“You’re the one who used me instead of a step stool to hang cameras,” Danny said with a perfectly sweet smile. “But anyways, yeah, it’s no issue to show you all! You might want to cover your eyes though, it’s a bit bright.”

“Bright?” Dick asked, right as Danny transformed.

It served him right if he was left blinking away spots.

“Oh wow, your lights are totally different like this,” Duke said, leaning forward to peer at Danny.

Danny peered back. “Lights?”

“Oh, sorry, I’m a meta, I see… like, after images of stuff, kinda You’re all sorts of wild like this,” Duke said, waving a hand at Danny.

“And inverted,” Tim pointed out.

“Oh, yeah, it seems to be a thing with halfas? Like, I was wearing a white with black hazmat suit when I died and the inverted version was what my ghost form was in for ages. I’ve learned to make changes to it since, but it’s easier to stay close to that original form.”

“Easier, how?” Bruce asked. He was clearly brimming with questions now that Danny was talking about ghostly matters, but he was obviously trying not to ask everything at once.

Tim didn’t seem much better in his eagerness.

“Oh, hum, there’s this resistance? Think of it like trying to pull apart two things that have been glued together. If you have the right solvent or heat or tools you can do it, but you have to have that and you still risk damage if you don’t go carefully. So small changes are easier. Also what um, role I’m in changes things.”

“Fascinating,” Bruce murmured.

“Wait, hold up,” Dick interrupted before Bruce could ask a follow up. “If you’re a halfa and Jason is a halfa, does this mean that Jason has a ghost form too?”

Jason had to resist pushing his chair back as all eyes spun to him. Sure this was his family, but that single minded Bat focus was still intimidating.

Cass tilted her head. “Like Duke said, only if up for it.”

“It’s just, I haven’t… transformed yet,” Jason said. He tried for a casual shrug and felt like he had missed by a mile. “We had to wait for my core and everything to form first.”

“But you could transform now?” Tim asked curiously.

Jason glanced at Danny.

“I think you could,” Danny said. He was floating a little above his chair now. Casually, as if it was odd, he crossed his legs and leaned forward onto them. “Your core is strong. You aren’t having the power issues I did, but you aren’t trying to go through this when a teen either. Question mostly is if you’re ready to try.”

Did he want to try?

Jason didn’t know. Part of him wanted to. Part of him wanted to be able to experience this aspect of being that Danny experienced— to experience it with Danny. Another part of Jason was still afraid. It still felt like the final period on everything that had happened with the Joker all of those years ago.

But maybe it was time to put that period on it.

Maybe it was time to let go.

Maybe it was time to live.

“I’d… I’d like to try.” At least if the worst happened he’d have his family here with him. One of them would be able to talk him down from a panic if he came back as Robin.

“After breakfast, Master Jason,” Alfred said firmly.

“Yes Alfie.”

-

“So… how does this work?” Dick asked.

They were gathered in the gym— originally a room converted for Dick’s gymnastics and since expanded to have various workout gear— on the bright blue mats. Danny was still in his ghost form and drifted in a lazy circle around the group. Jason and Jazz paid him no mind, but Duke and Steph kept glancing at the ghost.

“Well, I mean, when I was a teen I had to say a catchphrase and everything, but I was a lot more in flux at that age so it was all harder. Now it’s much more like just… taking a breath and jumping.”

“Yeah, fish, I’m going to need you to be a little more specific than that,” Jason drawled, his attitude a thin veil over his nerves.

Danny stopped, hovered in front of Jason, and gave him a chaste kiss. “You’ll be okay,” he whispered.

Jason gave a terse little nod.

“Really,” Danny continued, “you’ll be okay. Close your eyes and take a few deep breaths.”

Breathing slowly through his nose, Jason focused on the feeling of Danny’s cold fingers against his cheeks.

“Now feel for your core. Think of what we saw with Frostbite— the fire, the ash, the movement of it. The light of it. Think about how warm it is there under your sternum. Even in this form, it’s part of you.”

Jason let out a breath slowly, feeling his chest fall with it. He focused on that warmth that nestled itself just under skin and bone. He thought about how it had looked in his hands, destructive but full of the promise of life.

“Keep a focus on your core, but think about how it feels to fly through the air as Red Hood. Think about that moment when you’re at the height of a swing and gravity doesn’t seem to matter. Now let go of all of that and fall. Your core will catch you. I’ll catch you.”

Jason gasped. His knees went out under him. He couldn’t breathe.

No…

He didn’t need to breathe. There simply wasn’t that demand on his body. Everything was just… calm. Static. Still. And he felt so warm. He hadn’t been this warm since before he had died only to wake up cold and alone in his own grave.

Jason looked down at his own hands. They were a dark ashen grey and when he flexed them, soot flaked off and scattered. The bat symbol— his bat symbol— glowed molten orange on his chest. He wasn’t in his Robin costume.

His knees felt weak for a second time, but he still didn’t fall. He looked up into Danny’s fanged grin. The other was holding him up by the elbows. Danny had caught him, just like he promised.

Danny's slow grin only uncurled further. “Hey there, hot stuff.”

Jason let his head fall back as he groaned at the joke.

“Nope, you’ve gotta deal with my puns because wow you really took the whole lava core thing to heart, didn’t you?” Danny said, looking Jason over. “Not that you aren’t totally rocking the look.”

“Really?” Jason asked. It was odd to hear his own voice come out modified from the black mask, deep but without the mechanical edge his Red Hood mask did. Steam escaped from the mask at the filters, swirling up into the still air.

“Payback for months of fish jokes,” Danny said and met the glowing red eyes without an ounce of shame. He drew his hands back along Jason’s arms from where he was holding onto his elbows. Jason could feel cold run along his arms and he held back a shiver. “You good to stand?”

Jason nodded. He felt fine now, weird, but fine. “Yeah, I am. Just… this is a lot different.”

“I know,” Danny said easily and a little sadly. He squeezed Jason’s wrists before letting go and drifting back. Without warning, he plunged his hand into his chest to find his Tucker™ phone.

“What the fuck,” Steph whispered from the sidelines.

“Hey, it’s an easy way not to lose things,” Danny said, “and you need a special phone to be able to handle stuff in the ghost zone so I just keep it on me.”

“In you.”

“Same diff,” Danny said with a shrug. He floated back enough to get all of Jason in the frame and snap a photo.

Jason took the phone carefully as it was passed over to him. That was him. He didn’t know what to think of it all yet, but that was him— as much him as Jason or Red Hood were him. This form certainly drew from his current Red Hood uniform, there was no question of that, not with the face mask and hood, but the coat was longer. The end of the coat ended mid thigh in drips and drops of bright red lava that turned to rick black ash and drifted away. The drips gave a clue to the make up of the rest of the coat, an oddly, roughly iridescent black that glowed bright on edges and seems. Inside the hood was almost blindingly bright.

“It’s definitely a look,” Tim said.

“I like it,” Steph interrupted. “You’re going to make the bad guys shit themselves.”

“Miss Stephenie,” Alfred sighed.

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it!” Tim grumbled. “I guess I just didn’t expect it to be so… otherworldly after Danny’s form.”

Danny shrugged and tucked himself into Jason’s side. The coat sizzled where Danny touched it. “I’m really the odd ghost out. Most of them are much more dramatic and themed to their obsession or core.”

“I think it is impractical. There will be no ambushing anyone when you glow in such a manner,” Damian sniffed.

“Jason’s ghost form isn’t for taking on criminals, Damian,” Bruce said. Jason knew B was thinking it through though from the slightly constipated look on his face.

“I guess with that coat you could totally say that look is dripping,” Duke said and then reached over to high five Dick as Cass signed ‘fire’ dramatically.

“This is your fault,” Jason let Danny know, “the puns.”

“They were like this when I got here,” Danny said, repentantly. “Come on though, open up.”

“Open up?”

“Your mask,” Danny said, tapping on the hard black surface. “I bet you can retract it. Just think about it pulling back and tucking away.”

Jason frowned under the mask but Danny was right before, so he took a breath and tried to picture the mask collapsing on itself and pulling back behind his neck.

The air of the room felt cold on his face.

“Oh, wow, your hair’s inverted,” Dick said, “just like Danny thought it would be. That’s almost more wild than the outfit.”

Jason reached up self consciously to tug at what must now be a black lock only for Danny to catch his hand and kiss it lightly.

“There you are. It took me a long time, but I finally found you,” Danny said.

“Found me?”

Danny gave a little hum. “Yep. Found that ghost whose haunt I crashed into all that time ago. Who would have thought I’d go from being worried about how angry your haunt felt to actually getting to know you like this— getting to know all of you. Getting to see you.”

Danny drifted up just a little more, just enough to press their lips together into a kiss. Icy cold met magma hot and Jason closed his eyes to sounds of cat calls and ‘steamy’. His siblings might be damn annoying, but they weren’t wrong, the kiss was literally steaming.

“Careful or you’ll be smoked salmon before you know it, fish.”

“I don’t know, I think I’d put up with it for you. You know why? Because I lava you,” Danny said with a cackle of laughter.

Jason rolled his eyes, but pulled Danny into another kiss. He had better get used to the puns, he supposed, but somehow he thought he would manage. He thought he would manage because he was no longer just a dead boy, because he had his family around him supporting him, because he also loved Danny. They had not only their afterlives, but their whole lives ahead of them.

And Jason… Jason was determined to live.

---

AN: And here we are... done! I hope you all enjoyed every moment of this fish's adventure, the love he found, and the life he helped give back! It was a journey for sure, and it took me longer than I expected, but I am ever so grateful for you all being along for it! I'll update ao3 tomorrow!

Stay delightful, darlings!