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babybluebex · 4 months ago

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needs and wants | eric aqpdo x fem!reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: in the direct aftermath of the apocalypse, you meet a man who's worse for wear in just about every regard. even though you can't do too much to heal his injuries, it's possible that you can heal his heart. wc 10.6k (she's a doozy) 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: eric (a quiet place: day one, 2024) x fem!reader 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: SPOILERS FOR AQPDO, DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU DON'T WANT THE FILM SPOILED!, mentions of death/general apocalypse things, panic attacks, mentions of suicidal thoughts/actions (if you know eric's backstory that ended up cut from the film, he talks ab it), far too much intimacy for what this is, smut (minors dni): p in v, tit sucking, condom use 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: umm... i have no excuse for this... other than i need eric on a carnal level lol. hope you enjoy!!

It was funny how your whole world could change in a single day. And it was supposed to be a good day too; you had racked up enough PTO to allow yourself a full day off of work, and you had plans. You were going to brunch with your girlies that you hadn’t seen since nursing school, you were going to rent a movie at home, watch rom-coms in your underwear— you looked forward to sleeping in, taking a bubble bath, going to sleep early. You only achieved one part of that: you hadn’t even received the mimosa pitcher you had ordered when you heard the noise outside, as loud as a rocket taking off on the street just outside the hip brunch place, and you had hardly turned to look out the window when your world fell apart.

Silence became your norm. Fear overtook you at every turn, giving your hands a perpetual shake that you weren’t certain would ever wear off. You didn’t know too much psychological or neurological stuff— you were a trauma nurse, emergency room and ICU type stuff, you were more concerned with stopping the blood flow and stabilizing vitals than ever caring about the after-effects of shit— but you wondered if the shaking of your hands was forever part of you now. You were good under pressure, never scared, but whatever the fuck those creatures were out there had changed the makeup of your being in a single second.

When the helicopters buzzed overhead, drawing the monsters toward them and away from the city, and they announced that boats were departing from a nearby dock, you knew you had to go. More than saving yourself, you knew some very hurt and very sick people would gather there. You were sure that FEMA people would be swarming the boats to take care of the sick and injured, but you didn’t know what else to do. Your brain went on a sort-of autopilot, and you did the only thing you could think to do: you followed the crowd out to the docks.

You had never gone that long without talking. Your throat was so dry from debris and dust anyway that you weren’t even sure that you could talk. Your clothes were torn, various small injuries that weren’t anything some disinfectant and a Band-Aid couldn’t fix, along with a gash on your calf that you had determined would be fine for now but could definitely use some tending-to once on the boat, plus your shaky hands, but otherwise you were fine. When the windows shattered and the monsters invaded, your table had overturned from the force of the sonic blast, and your animal instincts kicked in, throwing yourself behind the table and barricading there. You were one of the lucky ones— you lived. Sure, glass cut up your knees and palms, and you couldn’t even breathe without worrying that your breaths would alert the monsters, but you had lived. That was more than some could say.

You felt packed out like sardines on the boat. Standing room only, except for the few exceptions of the people who were hurt or passed out. You had meager belongings in your pockets, although you weren’t sure how helpful your dead cell phone or essentially-useless credit cards would be in a time like this, but at least you had your work badge in your purse when you went to brunch. You found someone who looked like they were in charge, dressed in all-grey, not a military uniform but not civilian clothes either, and you silently showed them your badge, declaring yourself as a trauma nurse at a hospital in Brooklyn, and you gestured around, trying to ask if there was anything you could do to help. The woman shook her head, but folded her hands in a sort of ‘thank-you’ gesture.

You managed to stand towards the back of the ship, against the railing, next to the ladder, and you flinched at the loud chug of the boat casting off from the dock. Surely the monsters heard that. Everybody around you seemed to hold a deep breath, anticipatory, awaiting the worst to come at your final moments of salvation, but thankfully the monsters weren’t concerned with you all— maybe you were too far out in the water and, if the announcements from the helicopters were to be believed, the monsters couldn’t swim, so they didn’t care too much about the boat. Or maybe, the sudden sound of glass shattering from the shore, followed by shrill car alarms, captured their attention better.

You watched, horrified, as you spotted a woman racing down the street, hardly noticeable from the distance, but the sun glinted off of a silver metal pipe in her hand as she raised it in the air, and she smashed the window of the car next to her as she raced away.

“Hell’s she doing…?” The man next to you mumbled, and you instinctively put your hand on his shoulder to silence him, even though there was no need. The world had changed in a day, habits had formed in 24 hours, and you wondered how long it would take to shake the new habits. You watched the woman flit between cars, trying to outpace the monsters as she smashed windows, but then something else caught your attention. On the dock, there was a man. Wearing a yellow sweater, carrying something that you couldn’t identify, running like his life depended on it towards the edge of the dock. And maybe it did; a few straggling monsters had started after him instead of the woman, and he had to have known as well as you did that the water was safe.

Your heart rammed up into your throat as he ran, faster and faster, white sneakers hitting the metal dock, and he looked over his shoulder for a moment at the monster that was meters, feet, away from him, before he righted himself forward and hurtled himself off the edge of the dock. Everyone on the boat was watching now as he flew for a brief moment, suspended in the air as time stood still, and then plummeted into the water below. The monsters skidded to a halt at the edge of the dock, one curled claw extended out, a scrap of yellow cardigan stuck on its talon.

By now, everyone had come to the same conclusion, and started to gather at the ladder onboarding right next to you— the man would need help coming aboard. You all watched anxiously as he surfaced from the water, frantically looking around and gulping air as he tried to keep his head above water and orient himself. Finally, he looked towards the boat, and you could have sworn that he looked at you instead of anybody else. He gained his senses quickly, starting to swim out towards the boat, and you caught sight of the little white whatever-it-was he was holding: a cat. The cat seemed safe and unharmed, definitely soggy but no worse for wear, and you crouched down, extending your arm down the ladder to meet him.

You didn’t have the strength to help pull him aboard, but the man who had spoken next to you gently moved you, and he grasped the wet man’s arm and pulled him up the last few rungs of the ladder. He heaved breaths, his eyes all big and round as he took in his surroundings. Then, if you were unsure whether he was looking at you before or not, he extinguished any doubts you had this time around, because his eyeline landed on you. He was startled, hurt, traumatized— those wet eyes had seen some things, worse than you had seen.

You helped him move away from the ladder and back towards a more secluded part of the boat, and the FEMA woman you had “talked” to before came to your side, a first aid kit in one hand and a heavy wool blanket in the other.

“Sir?” you croaked. Jesus Christ, speaking really was a challenge. You cleared your throat, hoping that would improve things, and you said, “Sir, are you hurt?”

He shook his head quickly, clutching the cat in his arms, and you spotted the gash on his shin. The leg of his pants was torn and shredded, and you could bet that the wound was pretty fresh. “You can speak,” you told him gently. “We’re safe here.”

He looked at you, tears streaming down his face, and in a hushed voice, said, “How can you be so sure?”

They said the boat ride would last through the day and you would arrive by nightfall, but FEMA assured you that the destination would be worth it. A little island, they said, off the northern coast of the state, that used to house a summer camp but was abandoned however long ago. The buildings there, houses, old camp cabins, would take some sprucing up, they told you, but it was safe, and it could turn into home. As night fell, factions were made, and people divided as best as possible— the vulnerable ones, the hurt ones, the kids, went to the inside part of the boat, and the healthy stayed outside, huddled under the wool blankets and trying to forget the cold November ocean air berating their faces.

The yellow-cardiganed man was moved inside, and you moved through the small crowd in there, doing what you could to help. Passing out crackers and water bottles, winding gauze around bloody injuries, squeezing hands and offering small words of encouragement. It wasn’t a lot, but it felt good to help.

Eventually, you couldn’t ignore your fatigue anymore, and you sat down on the floor against the back wall with a sigh. It was a low din inside there, so you felt relatively safe making a little bit of noise, and you sniffled and zipped open the inside pocket of your coat. The stuff you had stashed from your purse was in there, and you frowned down at your brick of a cell phone, the screen shattered. You cast it aside, then pulled out your wallet, rifling through it to see what went missing. Thankfully, your license was still there, so if anybody needed identification at any point, you had that covered; an old fast food gift card that you were sure still had money on it but was useless now; and an old paper movie ticket that you had saved with the intention of putting it in a scrapbook. Your heart panged with hurt, and you checked every other section of your wallet, but it was empty.

Your house keys were certainly back on the floor of the restaurant, and you thought about the key to your mother’s house that lived on the ring. You hadn’t been able to contact her since the monsters came— the last thing you said to her was a text the morning of brunch, telling her to have a good day, and she had sent the classic mom :-) emoticon to you. Was she still alive? Had she managed to escape the monsters? Even though she didn’t live in the city, you wondered how far the monsters had traveled. Her neighbors were a family, with a high-school age son who played basketball and mowed your mother’s lawn; for your sanity, you chose to believe that they had taken her in (along with her prized African violets).

A little noise came from in front of you, someone clearing their throat, and you looked up through your welling tears to see him. Damp yellow cardigan, wool blanket loose around his shoulders, curls wet and flat to his forehead. He stood still, watching you for a moment, before he spoke, a little louder than the first time but still a whisper. “Never caught your name,” he said. An accent. Not a native New Yorker.

You told him with a shrug. Your eyes canvassed his frame, watching him shiver a little in what was probably an adrenaline rush, and your eyes landed on that nasty cut on his shin. It wasn’t actively bleeding, but still very red. It looked maybe a little inflamed, a tiny bit swollen, and you started to reach out for it, but stopped yourself. Your hands were filthy and, if infection was already setting in the way you suspected it was, whatever germs you had probably weren’t good for the wound. You withdrew your hand and settled in your lap, and you cleared your throat. “One of the FEMA people can help with that,” you told him, nodding towards his leg. “Bandages and anti-inflammatories and shit.”

“Aren’t you a nurse?” the man asked, now his turn to nod at you. You had clipped your badge to the collar of your coat and, even though the plastic flower that had once surrounded the metal clip was shattered and long gone, the clip still served its purpose.

“I am,” you said. “But I don’t have bandages.” You cracked a loose smile, and you winced at the bottle of water and pile of crackers next to you on the floor. “I’ve got crackers and water.”

“I’m starving,” he told you, returning the small smile. “May I?”

You nodded, and he worked himself down to the floor (he seemed to be favoring his left ankle a little, the same leg with the gash). He settled back against the wall, sighing heavily, and he took a pack of crackers into his hands and read the label for a moment. “‘Peanut butter’,” he read. “D’ya like these?”

“They’re alright,” you said. “I used to buy the same ones, shove ‘em in my work bag to eat between patients. Kinda bland and gross, but they get the job done.”

He nodded, and he tore the corner of the plastic sleeve and extracted a peanut butter cracker. “I used to like the ones with, erm, cream cheese and chives,” he said. “A quick snack at work. S’never what I wanted to eat, but sometimes I’d be at the office ‘til late, and at that point, take what you can get, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “What did you do?”

“Lawyer,” he said, popping one of the crackers into his mouth.

“Oh, shit,” you chuckled. “Yeah, you had some long nights… My sister’s husband is a paralegal, he used to tell me all about it.”

“Cool,” he told you. “And you, Miss Nurse?”

“And me what?” you asked.

“What’s your husband do?” he asked.

You laughed. You couldn’t help it. “I’d have to have one of those for him to have a job,” you said. “No, being a nurse is very, like… If you’re not married by the time you leave nursing school, all hope is lost. You won’t ever have any free time to go on dates or even think about that sorta stuff.”

“Same with law school,” he told you. “All my mates were engaged or married when we graduated, and everyone always told me, ‘Oh, Eric, you’ll find the right girl! She’s out there somewhere’, and it’s like… If she’s not in my office building or on the subway home at 2AM, I’m not meeting her.”

“You went to school around here?” you asked, and he (you assumed his name was Eric, based on his anecdote) nodded, then shrugged.

“Cornell,” he said. “Then got hired at a firm in the city, and just… Never left.”

“Well, that’s cool,” you said lightly. “I’m assuming you’re not from around here?”

He shook his head. “Kent,” he said. “About an hour out from London.”

“Wow,” you said softly. “That change must’ve been… A lot.”

Eric shrugged. “I dunno,” he said. “It was alright, I suppose. At that time, I was sorta fighting with my dad all the time, really wanting to leave and go somewhere but he didn’t want that…” He trailed off, letting the conclusion form by itself. “Haven’t seen ‘em in-person since then. I always said I was busy, or it was too expensive, or… I was supposed to go back home at Christmas… My sister had a baby and I was supposed to meet him then…” He trailed off, obviously at a loss for what else to say, and you sighed.

“I’m sure they’re okay,” you told him, even though you yourself doubted it. “I mean, maybe the monsters are only here. They don’t like water; if they came from here, they can’t get over there.”

Eric nodded slowly. His eyes scanned the room, looking and listening, and he reached his hand out in front of him, making a small noise with his tongue against his teeth. You followed his gaze and found his cat, all furry with white and black spots, being adored and pet by a little boy sitting on a cot close by, and Eric tutted at the cat again. The cat turned their big dark eyes to their owner, and dutifully trotted over, snuggling in-between Eric’s criss-cross-applesauce legs.

“Who’s this?” you asked.

“Frodo,” Eric said, stroking the cat between his ears. Frodo began to purr, his eyes closing blissfully, and Eric said, “He was my friend’s, but she… She told me to take care of him.”

Your mind brought back the image of the woman running, distracting the monsters away from Eric. “Was that the one who…?” you started, and Eric nodded.

“He was her service animal,” he said. “She had cancer, he sort-of alerted her whenever her pain medication was going out… Also kept her company in hospice. He’s quiet, so you don’t have to worry.”

“Well, none of us have to worry about that,” you said, and Eric took in a breath. “Not anymore. Not with the island.”

“Right,” Eric sighed. “Almost forgot.”

“I’m worried I’ll never go back to normal,” you admitted. “Even just two days of thinking like this… Trauma’s so fucking weird.”

Eric nodded in agreement. You caught him staring at your hands, shaking and shivering as they laid in your lap, and he started to unwind the blanket from around himself to settle over you, but you shook your head. “M’not cold,” you told him. “Just… Nervous. Y’know?”

Eric watched you for a moment, making sure that you weren’t bullshitting him (you were a little; your coat was wet through, and you definitely could do with a dry coat, but you would live), and he said, “I think you need to pet my cat.”

“Do I?” you asked with a chuckle.

“You sure do,” Eric nodded. “He doesn’t bite or scratch— he might nibble your fingers a little, but only ‘cause he’s curious.”

You reached out for Frodo, letting him sniff your hand a little before he shoved his solid little head under your fingers, squinting his eyes as you started to scratch behind his ears. You couldn’t help the smile that overtook your face, and you said, “He’s very sweet.”

“He’s smart too,” Eric said. “He can do maths. Look’it: Frodo, what’s one minus one?”

Frodo, of course, responded in silence, and Eric smiled, cocking his head. “I think that’s impressive,” he said, and you huffed out a laugh.

“Silly,” you mumbled under your breath, moving to scratch Frodo on his chin. “When’s the last time he’s eaten? I can try to find something for him.”

“Last night,” Eric said, his smile faltering. “Sam might’ve given him something earlier this morning, but I didn’t wake up until later.”

That’s how you greeted the island, petting Frodo and sharing light stories about your past lives. Nothing too heavy or sad or emotional, even though it felt like any story about your past life held an air of sadness and mourning. You could try to go back to normal, but normal was long gone. As everyone departed the boat under the dusky stars, there was a large team of FEMA workers to greet you with big, heavy bags and send you to an empty cabin for the night. You and Eric (and Frodo) stuck together, and you received your bags and moved down to a cabin. To your surprise, the lights worked, as did a small space heater in the corner, but you can tell it had been running for some time, because the inside was already warm. Several beds were set up and made with thin, government-issued bedsheets, but it was far better than nothing.

You went about unpacking the bag as Eric moved to the small bathroom and shut the door. There was a change of clothes, sweatshirt and pants and underwear and socks, basic toiletries like a toothbrush and shampoo and a small bar of soap, two bottles of water, a plastic packaged MRE (you had Menu 3, “chicken, egg noodles, and vegetables in sauce”), and some things like Band-Aids and small packages of Advil like what you kept stocked in the ER, along with a sanitary napkin, and, the piece de resistance (courtesy of the American government, you’re very welcome), a condom. You frowned at the last thing and slid it into your toiletries bag underneath the bar of soap to hide it; to be frank, sex was the last thing you wanted or needed. Your brain was still in survival mode, and you didn’t even feel like you could settle down enough to sleep, let alone to fuck. Could anybody here?

You heard the shower squeak on in the bathroom, and the pipes creaked as water rushed through. You stripped off your clothes, exchanging them for the warmer and drier and less dirty option, and you sniffled as your fingers began to warm up, becoming less stiff but considerably more sweaty. The bed creaked under you as you sat down, the springs screaming at you, and you rubbed the paper-thin blanket between your fingers. It reminded you of the quality of the hospital, where you might as well be using copy paper instead of fabric. If you had known that your last night in your bed, with your memory foam pillow and weighted blanket, would truly be your last, you would have savored the experience far more. Would you even be warm enough under those blankets?

You couldn’t ponder it any longer, because Frodo suddenly caught a bee in his bonnet, and he skittered from atop the second bed, where Eric had settled his things before he went to the shower. He careened to the closed bathroom door, and he got up on his hind legs, pawing at the door handle. Wordlessly, he craned his tiny head to look at you, and he made the first cat noise you heard him make, a sort of “mrrow” chirping groan. As you got up and went to grab him (“Eric’s just taking a shower, Fro, he’ll be right back”), Frodo turned back to the door and began to bat at the handle, like he was attempting to turn it.

And then you remembered. Frodo was a service cat. He had been trained to alert for certain things, and Eric had mentioned rising pain levels, but what else could Frodo alert for? Suddenly, your heart jumped into your throat, and you knocked on the door. “Eric? You okay?” you asked, but you received no answer. “Eric? Hey, man, Frodo’s freaking out, are you alright in there?”

It was hard to hear too much over the sound of the running shower, but you heard the unmistakable shaking breath of a gasping sob, and, maybe against your better judgement, you turned the door handle. The door wasn’t locked, and the hinges squeaked as you opened the door. Eric had shed his blanket and cardigan and loosened his tie, but he was backed into the far corner of the bathroom, staring at the porcelain bathtub with eyes as big as dinner plates. The faucet was running, the tub filling up, but Eric was frozen. Quickly, you turned the tap and shut off the water, and you gave him his space as you asked “What’s wrong? Can you tell me what happened?”

Eric shook his head, his mouth contorting into an ugly sob, and he squeezed his eyes shut. Tears leaked out, and he just kept shaking his head over and over. “No, no,” he mumbled. “No!”

“Hey, easy,” you told him gently. “What’s going on? How can I help?”

“Th-The water,” Eric gasped. “I—I—” His knees gave out, and he slumped against the wall with a sob. He began to claw at his shirt, at the topmost button; even though it was undone, he still seemed to want it looser.

You rushed to his aid, pushing his hands aside and starting at his shirt buttons. His eyes were still shut tight, but you needed to see his pupils— if he was in shock, or if something else was happening, the dilation of his pupils could help tell you. “Eric,” you said softly. “Open your eyes, please. Please? I need to see your eyes.”

Slowly, his eyes fluttered open, and you saw his pupils so big and dark, they almost overtook the brown of his iris. His face was pale, his chest heaving as you undid his buttons, and you pressed your fingers to the side of his neck to check his pulse. Fast, hard, heavy. You had been by his side all night, he hadn’t taken any medication that he could be having a reaction to, and he had been eating the same crackers and water that you had. There weren’t many other conclusions to come to— a panic attack. But at what?

Eric sank down to the floor, sobbing and shaking, and you followed him, putting a gentle but controlling grip on his wrists. You didn’t think he would, but you needed to control him if he started to get violent. “Eric, take a breath,” you told him. “You’re okay. You’re safe. Nothing’s going to hurt you, okay? Everything is alright.”

Eric sucked in a breath and doubled over on himself, and you kept your hands on his wrists as you shifted away— if he got sick, you didn’t want it on your clothes. Although, you were sure you could get different ones somehow. But he didn’t get sick, he just kept crying. You felt awful and tasted bitter in your mouth. Typically, at this point, you would be paging the mental health wing to come by and evaluate him, and you’d move on to the next person waiting in the ER. You didn’t know how to talk someone down from a panic attack. You didn’t even know how to do that for yourself, let alone for Eric.

“Okay,” you whispered. “Okay, it’s okay. What happened? Did something happen?”

Eric’s eyes glazed over you and settled behind your shoulder, and you looked back to see the bathtub. It was hardly half-full, but everything clicked into place. “The water,” you said. “You’re afraid of the water. Is that it?”

Eric sniffled and nodded weakly, and you blinked away tears. “That’s okay,” you whispered. “That’s totally okay. I mean, you had to jump into the water to get away from the monsters, I don’t blame you for being afraid—”

“I was down in the subway,” Eric blurted out. “When the monsters came. I was there, and I couldn’t stop thinking, I just kept thinking, and I… I didn’t have the guts to do it. I wanted to do it, I wanted to! But I was too scared that it would hurt. Was scared I’d looked too fucked up and they wouldn’t be able to tell who I was, and my-my mum, thinking about my mum being told, it would kill her, and I was just thinking… And the water came rushing in. Filled everything up, there was no air… I had to swim, and I can’t swim, I never learned really, but I was swimming and I just thought ‘I don’t actually want to die’. But I started feeling spotty, all lightheaded and fairy, and I think I was starting to drown, but I saw the light and came up…”

You were at a loss for words. If you were understanding him, he had been trying to kill himself before the monsters. It sounded like he was moments away from stepping in front of a train. His saving grace was the flood in the tunnels. You had trouble swallowing as your throat went thick, and you lowered your eyes for a minute before you loosened your grip on his wrists. “It’s okay,” you whispered. “You’re gonna be alright. Do you want to take a shower instead?”

Eric shook his head. “Doesn’t work,” he mumbled. “Only the tub does.”

You sighed heavily. “Do you want me to stay?” you asked. “Or I can wait outside the door?”

Eric seemed edging into a catatonic state, just shivering and blinking, and you frowned. You finished your abandoned job of undoing his shirt buttons, and you loosened his tie until it came off completely, and you gently pushed off his stained and ragged buttoned shirt. His undershirt wasn’t in much better shape, the underarms and neck stained with sweat, and you started to take it off, but paused. “Is this okay?” you asked. He didn’t react to your question, just staring at your neck, and you carefully angled his head up to look you in the face. “Eric. Is it okay if I undress you and put you in the bath? I’ll be right here the whole time, I won’t leave you alone.”

Eric weakly nodded, shifting his arms a little to better help you pull his undershirt over his head, and his hands went down to his pants to finish the job. You quickly considered what the next steps were as Eric fished his belt from his pants loops, and you pushed the sleeves of your sweatshirt up to your elbows to free up your hands. Eric, now only in his boxers, gave you a pathetic look, and you took him by the hand and helped him to his feet. You figured that he had forgone removing his boxers for a reason, so you didn’t push it, and you held him stable as he lifted a shaking foot over the edge of the bathtub. He was silent, but you watched tears run down his cheeks as he settled both feet in the water, his grip on your hand so tight that it almost hurt.

Slowly, he sat down in the tub, and the water splashed your hand. It was warm but not hot enough to hurt, and you sat by the edge of the bathtub, watching Eric as he sniffled. He certainly was dirty after two days in an apocalyptic city, and you were sure that you weren’t any better off, and you started to get up to retrieve the toiletry bag that he had brought in with him, settled by the sink, but his tight grip only became more vice-like as you tried to depart. “Don’t—” he choked out, and you shushed him gently.

“I’m not leaving,” you told him. “Just getting the shampoo and stuff, just by the sink.”

“Can you get in?” Eric asked softly, almost at a whisper. “When you come back?”

“I-In?” you repeated. “Like, in the bath?”

Eric nodded. He was watching you with his big, intense eyes, and a shiver ran down your back.

“Okay,” you told him. “Umm… I don’t know if I can. I don’t have any other clothes, and I can’t get these wet.”

“Please?” Eric whimpered. “Need… Just need help.”

Maybe it was because you felt bad for him, or maybe you were feeling something that you didn’t want to consider yet, but regardless of the reason, you nodded. You got up from the floor and retrieved the bag from the sink counter, and you came back to the tub. The sides of the tub were curved, not allowing for you to settle the stuff on the edge, and you quickly handed the shampoo and soap to him. He held them gingerly, and he averted his eyes down to the water as you put the bag down and started to pull off the sweatshirt. “Eric,” you said softly. “You can look. You’re gonna see everything in the next few minutes anyway, so it doesn’t matter.”

Slowly, Eric raised his eyes up, but he still didn’t look staright at you. At least now it wasn’t obvious that he was avoiding looking at you like before, where it felt like he would be burned alive if he looked. You carefully pulled the sweatshirt over your head and set it by your feet, then you pulled down the sweatpants and stepped out of them. Your heart was beating quickly as you lowered yourself into the bathtub, sitting with your back to Eric, and he nudged his legs a little wider to allow you to sit comfortably. The water felt good on your aching muscles, especially your back, and you sighed lightly. You sat for a moment, trying to drum up enough courage to turn to him and start to help, but he beat you to it.

Eric’s hands were warm, his palm a little rough, as he touched your shoulder, sliding his hand down a little to reach your back. His fingers played with the ends of your hair, and he lowered his hand back to the water. He cupped his palm and let water flow in, then he brought it up to you and wet your hair. Was this his definition of help? To help himself, he had to help others? It made sense, but it still took you a little by surprise. You don’t think anybody had ever washed your hair for you, not since you were a kid. But this was different, in just about every way possible. It was intimate in a way that made your breath catch in your throat, and you swallowed thickly as Eric lifted a hand and tilted your head back to lightly pour water over the front of your hair. He was careful in his work, making sure not to get it on your face or in your ears, and you listened to his breathing even out as he diligently did his task.

The shampoo was some cheap, basic crap, didn’t smell like anything and was only good for getting the oil out of your hair, but the way that Eric worked it into your hair made it seem like it was made by the gods. You felt relaxed, the first time in a long time, and your eyes slipped close as his fingertips worked into your scalp. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt that good, especially by someone else’s hands— maybe years, it was hard to say. You knew that, no matter how good it felt, you couldn’t sink too hard into the feeling of it. Eric just needed to help you, and this was his help; nothing more, nothing less.

He gently poured water from his palms over your hair, rinsing it out as best as possible, and you felt that hot streak shoot up your nose. You wanted to cry. You hadn’t cried in… You had no idea. It certainly had been a long time, and you frowned and gulped as you held down the tears. Unluckily for you (or maybe luckily; it was nice to know Eric was so attentive), he noticed your catched breathing, and his hands gently settled on your shoulders. “Are you okay?” he asked gently.

“Are you?” you answered, almost a knee-jerk reaction. Don’t worry about yourself, worry about your patient, your friend, anybody else. You came last in your mind, everybody else was more important than you.

“That’s not what I asked you,” Eric said firmly. “Are you okay?”

“I…” you started. You wanted to tell him that you were fine, that nothing was wrong. He didn’t need to worry about you, you were tough, you could handle yourself. You watched as water filtered through your own fingers, pooling in your palm but escaping out of every little break and crevice possible, and you pursed your lips as you slowly rubbed your face, trying to wash away to grime and dirt. You shook your head lightly, trying to come up with any words to express yourself, and you wiped off your cheeks as you sniffled. “I don’t know.” You couldn’t come up with any better explanation; you just didn’t know if you were okay or not. Your hands slid down your face and flattened up against your neck, and you sighed. “Are you okay?” you tried again.

“I’ll be okay,” Eric told you. His hands smoothed down your shoulders to your arms, and he squeezed your upper arm for a moment before he went for the soap, starting up a lather between his palms.

“Well, sure, we’ll all be okay eventually,” you replied. “But are you okay right now?”

Eric waited until he was washing your back to answer. His sudsy hands slipped over your skin easily, but he dug his fingertips into your muscles, offering relief. “I’ll be okay,” he repeated. “I don’t know what I am right now, to be honest. Head’s just full of… I don’t know. A whole lot of noise, but not any one thing. It’s all quiet out here, but in there, it’s just…” He sighed, and his hands halted at your sides. He obviously had been on track to move to your front, doing his job on autopilot, and he only thought about what he was doing as he was about to do it.

Silently, you shifted your weight back just a hint, closer to him, trying to tell him that it was alright without saying the words. He quickly caught on to what you were telling him, and his hands slid around your body to your front. To your relief, he avoided where you had expected his hands to go, instead wrapping his arms around your shoulders and hugging himself to you, setting his chin on your shoulder. “You make it quiet up there,” Eric whispered, barely above a breath, like he was afraid of saying it out loud. “I don’t know how, I don’t know why… But you start talking, and it’s like everything else fades away.”

That was your breaking point. Tears started to fall from your eyes, and you sniffled as your hands reached up to your neck and clutched his wrists, looking for anything tangible to hold on to while you cried. And cried you did, your face contorted as you sobbed, your shoulders shaking and chest heaving, and you squeezed Eric’s wrists. He was quick to move impossibly closer, molding his front to your back, and his arms slipped down to your middle, squeezing you tightly as he buried his face in your neck and began to cry as well. He was much quieter than you, not having nearly as much that he held back and needed to get rid of, but it felt good to have someone commiserate with you.

You weren’t sure who moved first— maybe there wasn’t a first to move, maybe you both moved at the same time— but somehow your foreheads came to touch, and your crying pettered down to a sniffle and watery eyes. Your hand came up to touch his cheek, scruffy with a few days’ old beard trying to grow in, and your thumb stroked his cheekbone. He keened into your touch, his eyes fluttering open to look at you. His big brown eyes, so full of every emotion, hidden just so but easy to see if you knew where to look, locked on yours, and your lips fell open in anticipation of his mouth on yours.

Instantly, though, you shifted away and lightly cleared your throat. This wasn’t the time for that. You didn’t know if there would ever be a time for that again. Quietly, you splashed water on your face, and stood up, carefully getting out of the bathtub and going after the towel that sat on the countertop. You scooped your clothes up off the floor as well, and you escaped from the bathroom without a word. You were sure he was confused, maybe even wounded, but you didn’t care. On some level, you did want that— you wanted to feel wanted, to feel adored, cared about, and Eric was a great guy for that, but you didn’t want just that. You wanted a life, you wanted a partner, you wanted love— not just some trauma-borne fuck that you forgot about as soon as it happened.

You dried your body and slipped into your full outfit, pants and sweatshirt and underwear and socks, and you sat on your bed as you dried your hair. You listened as, inside the bathroom, the water sloshed against the side of the tub while Eric moved around, and you watched as Frodo calmly stalked the perimeter of the room, seeming to check every nook and cranny. You put your damp towel to the side and tutted out at the cat, and Frodo looked up at you for a moment before he scampered over to you, hopping up onto the bed and settling himself in your lap. “You’re a good boy, Fro,” you whispered, stroking his back. “Such a good boy.”

“Did I do something wrong?” Eric’s voice floated to you, and you turned to him. He was now all clean as well, his hair soggy and his face free of grime, wearing the sweatpants and sweatshirt. His hair was pushed away from his face, and you could see, even in the dim light, freckles dotting his forehead.

You sighed. “No,” you replied. “I’m just… I don’t know.”

“Did you not want me to…?” Eric began.

“No, no, it’s not that,” you told him quickly. “Not that at all, I did want you to, I just… I don’t know if I can do all that.”

“All what?” Eric asked. “What did you think was going to happen if I kissed you?”

“Well,” you shrugged. “I don’t know, I assumed more would come of it. And I just don’t know if I’m ready for more. Even before the world came crashing down, I wasn’t ready for more. That’s why I didn’t have anyone; not because I didn’t have time, although that was true. I’m just… Scared.”

Eric quietly moved towards you, bypassing his bed and settling at the extreme edge of yours, as far away as possible while still occupying the same space. Frodo looked at him with thin eyes and he slowly blinked at Eric, and his tail flopped in an indignant half-wag. “Scared of what?” Eric asked.

You sighed. “That I won’t be right for anyone,” you said. “Even back when I was on the market, people always… I don’t know. Wanted more, and for whatever reason, I could never give more to them. I was always so afraid of what would happen when I finally gave all of myself to someone that I never did, and by the time I figured out that someone did want all of me, it was too late and I’d already lost them. I can never win— I’m always never enough or I’m too much. I’m never just right.”

Eric thought on your words for a few moments, and he moved closer to you, just an inch. “Yeah,” he said. “But that was back then. Everything has changed. Everything is different now. You don’t need to be afraid of being what’s right, because what used to be right is just… All sorts of fucked up now. Nobody knows anything anymore. I certainly don’t. But I know what I want, more than I ever have before.”

“And let me guess,” you said. “You want me?”

You hoped that calling him out on his cheesy cliché would have him back down. You liked that he wanted you, and you wanted him too, you wanted him so badly that it hurt, but you didn’t want him to mistake wanting you for wanting a connection with someone.

“I want to be okay again,” Eric told you. “But I need you.”

That was the most magical word of all. Need. It punched a hole in your heart and took your breath away, and you watched him as he watched you, just seeing who would dare to break first. Frodo seemed to know something you didn’t, because he jumped up out of your lap and skittered across the room with an uncharacteristic yowl, and you frowned as he sped away, but your frown was quickly wiped off your face as Eric bridged the gap and kissed you.

You didn’t hesitate to kiss him back. He held your face as his lips moulded to yours, a perfect fit as you kissed back, and you wound your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. It felt good to kiss someone, to hold someone and be held by someone. You forgot how much you missed the feeling of another person, and you melted into his body as he claimed your hips in his strong hands. His knuckles were scuffed up, but he held you so gently, and you easily fell back onto the bed. He followed you, settling over you like he had done it a thousand times before, but the way his hands slowly slid up the sides of your shirt to touch your bare skin showed you how much it meant to him. Slow and gentle and sweet, he was everything you had wanted from a partner and a lover for as long as you could remember.

But you could tell, even though he was being sweet, how badly he wanted to have you. His kiss was greedy, shifting away from your mouth to kiss your chin and jaw and neck, almost feral with his need for you, but you welcomed it. Strong emotions like that were flattering, especially here and now, and you didn’t waste much time before sliding your hand past the elastic waistband of the sweatpants nestled around his hips. Your palm found his cock instantly, and you held in your gasp of surprise at his size— he definitely had something to be proud of. His skin was warm through the layer of his underwear, and you paused and widened your eyes at him, a quiet question of how far he wanted you to go.

“You don’t have to be quiet anymore,” Eric whispered. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”

You shivered underneath him at the sweet name he had bestowed on you, and you quietly asked, “Do you want me to…?”

“God, yes,” he moaned. “Haven’t done this in so long…”

You couldn’t help but crack a smile as you slipped under his briefs, and your fingers wrapped around his thick length. His skin was hot to the touch, his cock rock-hard, and he moaned softly into your neck at the contact. Whether he meant to or not, his hips rolled forward, pushing himself further into your grip, and he quickly whispered, “M’sorry, fuck—”

“Don’t apologize,” you told him. Your free hand went to cradle his cheek, and you shifted his face so that you could kiss his plush lips again. “It’s hot.”

“Oh, yeah?” Eric asked. “It’s hot how…” He paused to kiss you, nipping at your bottom lip with his front teeth, and he continued. “How desperate I am?”

“I am too,” you told him. “I just hide it better.”

Almost as if he was checking if you were lying, his hand skated down from your side and into your pants, letting his fingers mold to your cunt, and he chuckled lightly. “God, you’re wet,” he smiled. “That makes me feel better.”

“Were you worried I wasn’t?” you asked.

“Just a little,” Eric whispered, wrinkling his nose. “But I figured you’d tell me if something wasn’t working for you.”

“I’ll let you know,” you told him. You chased him into another kiss, and his tongue invaded your mouth. It had been so long since you had someone make you feel like that, and you whined softly into his mouth. “Eric, please.”

“What do you want?” he asked. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll do it.”

“Anything,” you whimpered. Your legs shifted, coming up to anchor around his waist, and you slowly started to stroke his cock, teasing his soft head, just to see his reaction.

Thankfully, his cheeks went red, and that pretty pink mouth of his opened in a moan, and he squeezed his eyes shut as he mumbled, “Fuck, sweetheart, I’m already too close for you to be doing that.”

“Already?” you asked. You sounded a little more surprised than you meant to, and you quickly added, “That’s really attractive, Eric, I hope you know that.”

“What is?” he chuckled. “That I’ve got a short fuse?”

“Well, yeah,” you shrugged sheepishly. “I think it is, anyway. How can I help you?”

“Umm,” Eric said, then swallowed thickly. “Can I… Tits?”

You smiled at him, and you laid a gentle kiss on his lips before he shifted away, letting you pull up your sweatshirt. Your little survival packs hadn’t provided you with a bra of any kind, and you watched Eric’s already-wide eyes flare out at the sight of your chest. He didn’t say a word before he moved down your body and started to kiss everywhere he could reach, taking time and care on your tits. Your hand fell out of his pants at the angle shift, and you settled your fingers to twist in his damp curls as his own hand replaced yours, jerking himself off as he gently licked at your hardening nipple.

“S’that okay?” he whispered, casting his doe eyes up at you, and you nodded quickly. “’Cause if it’s not, I can stop—”

“I promise it’s okay,” you whispered. “I swear.”

Eric smiled. “She swears,” he whispered under his breath, and you giggled. “She swears she likes when I suck her tits. Aren’t I a lucky guy?”

You could hardly ignore the hot pressure between your legs, and you snaked your hand in-between your bodies and started to push down your sweatpants, but Eric noticed what you were up to, and he tugged his hand out of his own pants to capture the waistband of your sweatpants in his grasp. “Please,” he said. “Allow me.” You could tell that he intended to be funny, but his flushed face and fucked-out pupils made it seem a lot more pathetic than you’re sure he meant to be, but that just made a rush of heat strike your core, and your head fell back in bliss as you felt your hot skin slowly exposed to the air.

When you lifted your head back up to look at him, you watched as he shed his own clothes, finally matching you, and you bit your lip as his heavy cock rose to lay against his tummy. He had the thinnest trail of hair coming from down his belly button, smatterings of hair on his chest, a nicely-groomed bush of hair at the base of his cock; he clearly cared about the way he looked, and you loved that. You wondered if the Eric you knew was anything like the Eric before the monsters came, and you watched as he leaned back and began to gently place kisses down the length of your body. He was soft and gentle with you, although you were nearly certain he wanted to take you then and there, and you wiggled a little under his lips. “Can we…” you started. “Do that later?”

“Do what?” Eric asked.

“The whole ‘sweet and kissy’ thing,” you said. “Not to sound, like, sex-starved or anything, but I am, and I think my heart’s gonna explode if you’re not inside me soon.”

Eric chuckled, obviously not expecting that level of honesty out of you, and he pushed his damp curls off of his forehead. “Whatever you’d like, sweetheart,” he told you. “As long as you promise to let me eat your cunt eventually. I can only go so long seeing you like this and be expected to not put my mouth on you.”

“Sure,” you replied, secretly excited that he was expecting a second time.

Eric swiped a quick kiss on your mouth, and then he furrowed his eyebrows. “Umm…” he began. “I— Do you… Are you on any birth control or anything?”

You squeezed your eyes shut. “No,” you sighed. “I was, but all that’s back in my apartment in Brooklyn. Haven’t taken my pill since, like, three nights ago, so I’m basically fucked for the whole month.”

“Fuck,” Eric whispered, his eyebrows knitting together in concern. “I guess, are you alright with this, then? We can figure something else out—”

“There’s, umm,” you winced. “A condom, in the bag with the shampoo and everything. There’s one in mine, and I bet there’s a second one in yours too.”

“Oh, shit, really?” Eric laughed. “That’s… That’s pretty funny.”

“Apparently, FEMA knows what people do in times of crisis,” you smiled.

“So, what I’m hearing,” Eric started, moving himself off the bed and going to your toiletries bag on the floor. His back turned to you, and you felt your eyes widen in shock at the state of his ass. Jesus Christ, this guy had a great ass, smooth and plump and perfectly rounded; you almost wanted to reach out and bite it. “Is that we can fuck twice, and then we’ll need to figure something else out.”

“Is that so?” you asked, and Eric came back to the bed, deftly tearing open the condom wrapper. You leaned up on your elbows to watch as he got back up on his knees, caging you between his thick thighs, and he made quick work of rolling the condom down his thick length, making a quiet grunt as he got it situated the way he wanted. “What makes you think there’ll be a third time? Or a second, for that matter?”

“Won’t there?” Eric asked. “You seem pretty into it right now. Or least your cunt is; look at how wet she is for me.”

“Well, yeah, now,” you teased him, biting the tip of your tongue, trying to will your thundering heart to go back to normal. “But what if, when everything is said and done, you’re actually a terrible fuck and I don’t want anything else to do with you?”

He laughed deep in his chest, and he took your thighs in his strong hands and opened your legs, smoothly settling himself so he could rub his hard cock against your weeping cunt. You felt blood thrumming under your skin, making every inch of you pulse and surge, and you whined high in your throat when the head of his cock caught at your hole, threatening to slip in with ease. “I doubt that, sweetheart,” he told you. “I’ve been told I’m a fantastic fuck.”

“Are you sure they weren’t trying to keep your ego intact?” you asked, and Eric tilted his head curiously at you.

“Well, they weren’t telling me much of anything,” he said. “Usually, by the end, they’re so fucked-out and brainless that they can hardly string a sentence together.”

Then, without a word of warning, he gripped your hips and slid himself inside of you, and you gasped. It had been so long that you had almost forgotten what sex felt like, but this was something entirely new and different. You could feel every ridge and vein on his cock, even through the condom, and he gave a delicious throb as you tightened your thighs around his hips. “Fuck!” you yelped, and a shade of worry passed over his face for just a moment. “I-I’m okay,” you told him quickly. “Just… Fuck, Eric, you’re so big.”

“You flatter me,” he chuckled. Slowly, he began to rock his hips into you, moving shallowly at first, just letting you get used to his size, and his dull fingernails buried into the flesh of your hip. You couldn’t help all the little noises he caused you to make— you could feel every inch of him, burying deep within you, stretching you and filling you like he was made for you, and he leaned down and ghosted against your lips with his. “Feel good?” he whispered, and you nodded quickly.

“Do I?” you asked softly. Your arms went around him, holding him close to you, and you pressed your fingers into his shoulders. He felt like a lifeline, his warm skin keeping you grounded, and you didn’t even care if you sounded pathetic or insecure. He made you feel good and safe, and that’s all that you cared about.

“Fuck, so good,” he grunted out. He was picking up speed, gaining a good rhythm that made you wonder how prolific he had been before his career got in the way, and you listened to the bed squeak under you as he mumbled, “So warm… So wet… You feel like a dream… Remember that short fuse I talked about?”

“Really?” you smiled. “Already?”

“Listen, woman,” Eric started, and you dragged him into a messy kiss. You loved him talking like that, and it made you realize just how close you were as well. He tugged away from the kiss to take a deep breath, and he went in to kiss you again, hungry and wanting you. He was going fast now, pumping in and out of you, leaving pleasure and sparks in his wake, and your legs twitched and tightened as the knot in your belly twisted closer and closer to its end. “I haven’t had sex in years,” Eric continued, finally tearing himself away from your lips. “And my right hand can only do so much after a while. So excuse me for being a little quick to the draw tonight.”

“How many years?” you asked.

Eric sighed. “I dunno,” he said. “At least since I graduated law school, so… Five years, maybe?”

“God,” you chuckled. “That’s… A while.”

“No, wait,” Eric said. “Three years. My birthday a few years ago, my mates took me out to a bar, and I met a girl, I spent the night at her place… And she never answered my texts after that.”

“Ouch,” you hissed. “That must’ve hurt that ego of yours.”

“Not gonna lie, it did,” Eric laughed. “But it’s for the best. I didn’t have time for a girlfriend anyway, I would’ve been an awful boyfriend to her. Or to anyone, not just her… What about you?”

“Umm…” you started. “Sex… Yes, I know what that is. Definitely a thing I’ve had before now.”

“Don’t play with me like that,” Eric started, jokingly wide-eyed and startled, and you laughed.

“About the same, I guess,” you said. “Three-ish years… It was back a few years ago, I was feeling bad about getting older and having a career but no partner, so I… I went on a dating app, found a guy, and we talked for a little bit and hooked up, but I got a bad vibe from him, so I broke it off.”

“I’m sorry,” Eric said. “Did you like him?”

“Not really,” you sighed. “And he wasn’t even that great in bed.”

“So, I’ve got him beat in every category, right?” Eric asked.

You kissed him again, cupping your hand across the back of his neck, and he smoothed his hands up your body lovingly. “You’ve got everyone beat, baby,” you told him.

“I think you’re an angel, actually,” Eric told you, and you shyly shook your head. “No, no, I think so. I don’t care if you don’t agree, that’s what I think.”

“Whatever you say,” you told him. “Can you, umm… Maybe a little faster?”

Eric obliged, pistoning his hips quicker to fuck you to your liking, and his hand floated to your pussy, his thumb gently rubbing at your throbbing little clit. You whined and scratched at his back, tightening your legs and digging your heel into that ass he had, and the electric shocks that ran up your toes and into the rest of your body started to become too good, too much. “Eric!” you gasped. “Eric, fuck!”

“I’ve got you, angel,” Eric whispered in your ear. “I’ve got you. Let me see that pretty face when you cum, yeah? Wanna feel your cunt squeeze me, fuck, I need it.”

You looked down at yourself, watching as his hard cock plunged in and out of your hole, leaving a creamy ring at the base of his cock, and your whining and whimpering almost had the wet squelch of your bodies together beat. Then, almost against your will, your whole body relaxed, every muscle feeling like it went slack, and you sobbed out your final moan, your head falling back as your nails went hard into his freckled shoulders. You felt your wet cover your inner thighs, and you panted as Eric chased his own end. You didn’t have to wait too long before you heard him choke back a moan, and he spilled himself inside the condom. You felt the warmth of his spend inside you, and he slowly pulled out of you with a hiss at the sensation on his sensitive, softening cock.

He was quick to take care of the condom, and he came back to the bed and settled in the small, empty space beside you. His red chest was heaving, his cheeks flooded with pink color, and he wrapped his arm around you and tugged you close to him. You melted into his warmth, mashing your cheek against his hard chest, and he let out a breathy laugh. “Fuck,” he gasped. “I don’t know if it’s because I haven’t eaten real food all day or what, but I’m exhausted.”

“Me too,” you giggled. “I think you were just that good.”

“Once again, angel,” Eric whispered, settling a soft kiss on your head. “You flatter me.”

You fell into a comfortable silence then, listening to each other’s breathing even out, and Eric cleared his throat after a while. “Typically, at this point,” he started. “I’d be smoking a cigarette.”

“Oh my God, Eric, no,” you groaned. “Don’t you know how unhealthy that is?”

“Oh, right,” Eric chuckled, rolling his eyes. “Miss Nurse. So concerned for my health.”

“Right,” you told him. “I care about you, and I don’t want you to have breathing complications or worse early in life from smoking.”

“I think I’ll manage,” Eric told you. “I think I need another shower after that, though.”

“You do sorta stink,” you giggled, and Eric rolled his eyes. “If you shower, I can be making food.”

“Food?” Eric asked. “There’s food?”

“Yeah, an MRE,” you told him, and you grunted as you got out of bed, going in search of the plastic-packaged meal. “Chicken and noodles. I didn’t see what yours was.”

“Fuck,” he laughed. “I’ve got a sexy woman making dinner for me? I might keep you around after all.”

“You have to keep me around,” you told him. “Who else is supposed to help you raise your cat?”

Frodo seemed to know his cue, because he revealed himself from behind a bookshelf, batting a bit of cobweb on his nose, and Eric smiled. “I suppose you’re right,” Eric said. “Just don’t feed him too much; he’ll get fat. He’ll also try to attack your hand if you pet his belly, so don’t do that either.”

“Noted,” you told him. “Go shower, handsome, this should be done by then.”

Eric took a moment to wrap his arms around you and press a kiss to your temple, and he softly said, “I wish we could have met any other way. But, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here now.”

“Me too,” you told him, turning in his arms to give him a real, genuine kiss. “I’m so glad you found me.”

#joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn #eric aqpdo #eric aqpdo x reader #a quiet place: day one #aqpdo #joseph quinn x you #eric aqpdo x you #joe quinn

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servicpop · 5 months ago

Text

NSFW ; BLACK , WHITE & GRAY criminal bottom m!reader x detective oc

warnings; age gap , degradation , hate sex , exhibitionism/infront of people (mentioned slightly) , hand cuffs , dubcon/noncon(?) , no after care

notes __ this idea has been sitting in my inbox for awhile but I've finally gotten around to it !

JUNE 19 1999 / 11:48PM

Red and blue lights colored the night skies; not even a slither of the moonlight slipped past the cover of the clouds. The bright yellow caution tape strapped around the fences of the home squealed when Callahan Marshall pulled them up to duck underneath them.

Officers on the scene scrambled to question him but were quickly shot down with the flash of his badge. They slowly retreated, allowing for the man to walk into the crime scene.

The rain had been unforgiving tonight, covering all traces of footprints that might have been left by the culprit in an attempt to escape. A scowl plastered Callahan's face as the stench of alcohol and smoke insulted his nose. The floorboards creaked underneath each step he took, whining with the burden of his weight.

"Careful, Marshall, we aren't too sure if the culprit even left. There's been no signs of escape." Callahan's eyes slowly met the ones that belonged to one of his co-workers — another detective. The other man visibly shuddered when Callahan's pitch-black eyes met his, deep circles tainted the bags of his eyes. A gruff noise was all he got in response before Callahan made his way through the home.

It wasn't a house belonging to someone particularly made up of money so why would anyone make such a mess out of it?

The rooms were left clean, untouched almost. Only a few drawers or cabinets were opened and a few appliances were out of place but no alarming indicator a robbery had happened. Callahan traced a finger along the countertops of the kitchen, looking at the dust that had been sweeped up. This house had been left like this for awhile, even before the culprit set foot in there.

A sudden clattering caught Callahan's attention and he turned his body to the other detective and police officers searching the house, "Did you knock something over?" "No sir, what did you hear?"

Callahan slowly approached the laundry room, twisting the doorknob with caution. He pushed the knob forward and the door swung open. It was hard to make out with the lack of light but Callahan saw a figure dart out the window. "Here!" He called out, alerting the officers before he walked up to the window, watching as the figure scrambled away. He wasn't worried though, the whole place had been surrounded by police patrolling the area.

You couldn't get far even if you tried.

JUNE 22 / 2:24PM

You got caught. It was about time you did.

You had spent the past few years doing various, sketchy jobs in the desperation for money. You lost your job not even three months into it and it had become harder and harder to find suitable jobs to spend the rest of your life slaving away at. You had no choice, it was either that or living off the streets with the local sewer rats as your only form of entertainment and friendship.

Now, you were stuck in an enclosed, dusty white room, sat cuffed to a metal table right in the middle of it with an annoyingly bright light dangling from the ceiling. It was the interrogation room. And the man you sat infront of you was none other than the 'greatest detective of our time' Callahan Marshall.

He was an older guy, probably pushing his 40s by now. You could tell from the way his brows were locked into a furrowing position and the stubble that graced his chin seemed lazily maintained. He also had quite the bit of hair on his arms, his sleeves loosely rolled above his elbows. You couldn't really tell what color his eyes were from how low he held his head and the light above you casted a deep shadow over his eyes, but through the darkness you concluded that they were a yellow-ish orange. Interesting.

"June 19." You flinched. It was expected that he had a deep voice but actually hearing it was different. His voice was coarse, gravelly like wheels crunching against a rocky trail and you could practically hear the amount of cigarettes he's smoked throughout his years of stress. "You were caught about and hour or two after police had arrived," Callahan sounded bored, mumbling his words.

Growing up, Callahan had always hated criminals. From watching bad guys on TV to coming home and seeing his parents dead on the floor and his house a mess from a robbery, Callahan devoted the past years to serving justice. His world was devoid of color, a black and white film on an old, vintage television.

"Did you steal from Mr Broadwood's home?" He pressed, leaning his forearms along the table. They were meaty, not extremely muscular but definitely built from casual hours at the gym. Could you even lie at this point? He was so sure with his words that even the fact that people were watching you from the two-way mirror comforted you from this man.

"No." And the cheap lie rolled off your tongue like it was sweet candy. He raised his eyebrows, unamused. Yeah he was definitely onto you. "So... these photos aren't you?" A confused look flashed across his face as he slid the printed images of your face in full view; it was painfully obvious that it was you. But your head seemed to shake side to side saying 'that's not me' like it was instinct. Callahan leaned back in his chair, scrubbing a hand over his face as his head tilted back in annoyance. You could hear the prickly sound of his stubble scraping against the palm of his hand.

"I'll force it out of you if you don't fess up," His hand slammed down onto the metal table, causing it to rattle from the contact. "Fine, is force the only thing you cops know how to do?" It was only natural you acted this way. For all your life you've relied on cops to protect you and your loved ones, but each time you needed them the most, they turned a blind eye to you.

But, oil doesn't mix with water. Your two starkingly different perspectives caused conflict. With balled fists, Callahan stood up, the chair scraping against the floors with how abruptly he stood up. Before you knew it, a hand made its way to your hair. Callahan's thick fingers tangled in the strands and pulled your head back, eliciting a small yelp from you. He leaned in closer, looming over you with hate seeping from his pores.

"Tell me this isn't you," He growled, picking up the photos and shoving it in your face. In all honesty, you were focused on how damn close he was. His breath was fanning against the shell of your ear and if you concentrated enough, you could hear the short breaths he took. Callahan straightened his posture but never loosened his grip on your hair. He pulled your head back even further and peered down at you. "Dirty criminal," he muttered under his breath.

You swore it was just the adrenaline making you hard. There was no way you'd fall for a detective like him. So why did he have your face squished onto the table and your boxers pulled down just under the curve of your ass.

"This is what you wanted isn't it?" Callahan had one hand holding your head down and another on your waist, digging into your flesh. He found out that the more he dug into your waist, the more you'd whine and squirm against him. You couldn't deny his words though, something in you was so intrigued by Callahan. He got straight to the point, and he didn't try and fool you with kindness. But maybe you wished he'd be a little more gentle with you.

Your eyes shot wide open when you felt his tip circle your rim. You didn't even have to see it to know the size of it. Could it even fit? "Wait—" Your words were cut off as he thrust forward with no warning, letting his cock sink into your hole. The burning sensation of the stretch made tears bubble at your eyes, threatening to spill. A groan slipped from his lips as he buried himself to the hilt, "God you're too tight."

Callahan moved his hand from your head to firmly grip at your waist, leaning forward so his body weight would pin you down. His hips grinded against you, digging his cock deeper inside your warm body. "Spit it out, did you do it or not?" He grunted, beads of sweat trickled down his temples as he pounded into you repeatedly, watching your flesh ripple with each thrust. "You're leaking everywhere," He chided, snaking his hand to reach for your neglected dick, holding the tip in his palm.

Your wrists strained against the cuffs binding you to the table, the metal cutting into your flesh as you struggled. "I didn't— do it!" You managed to gasp between moans, your hair spilling out onto the table. "Oh really? You didn't do it huh?" He scoffed and his hand tightened around your weeping tip, stroking you off in time with his relentless thrusts.

"People are watching you through that mirror and through the cameras, your pathetic face is on view for everyone to see," Callahan leaned down to whisper in your ear, grabbing a fistful of hair to yank your head up, allowing your teary face to be on full display for the cameras. Fuck, that turned you on more then you would've wanted it to.

His head slung against your shoulder, an oddly affection gesture for how hard he was fucking you. "I know you're not innocent, but your fuckin' doe eyes pisses me off," Callahan's voice had gotten even rougher, and the anger was clear in his tone. He was just using you for stress relief.

Your thighs trembled and your body started to give out, the stimulation was too much for you. His cock kept abusing your prostate, grinding and rubbing against it so much that black stars seemed to cloud your vision. Your fingertips clawed at the metal table, trying to ground yourself as shameless moans came out of your throat. "You're so loud," He scowled, leaning back so he could admire your back in its full glory.

It got him off with the way you sucked him back in even if you seemed so stubborn to liking him. Watching his fat cock disappear into your hole was enough to make him groan. "You wanna cum? Admit it." It was like his dick was a truth serum, you found yourself blabbering, tears rolling down your pink cheeks as you spewed out the truth, "Fine, I did it, I did it, please— just—" A smirk plastered Callahan's face as he whistled, "Go ahead."

In a split second you found yourself spurting out white all over his hand, your back arched and your body convulsed in his grip. Callahan meant to pull out but you were sucking him in so much that he couldn't. He cursed as his orgasm crashed down on him like a wave, filling you up with his sperm before he could pull out. "Shit," he huffed, pulling up his pants before he stared at his cum dripping from your hole. It was still clenching around nothing, and Callahan couldn't help but feel a pang of responsibility for you, but he shook off those thoughts. His one duty was to protect the civilians, not empathise with criminals.

"I'm done here," He grumbled, picking up his things and leaving you slumped on the floor, still bound by the handcuffs on the metal table. He turned his head over his shoulder to glance at you one more time, feeling a strange uncomfortable sensation in his heart before he scoffed and walked out the doors.

He's never lost control like that with any other criminal.

BONUS ; IN THE OTHER SIDE OF THE INTERROGATION ROOM

"Kid looks like he's about to die," Alastair, a co-worker of Callahan, was assigned to supervise the interrogation, "Marshall sure is brutal," He sighed, standing up once he heard that Callahan was finished.

"At least his tactics work though, props to him," Alastair turned around to face the intern who was meant to learn from this experience. The poor boy had his hands covering his eyes.

"It's fine now, you stay here, I'll clean the guy up."

a/n ; i changed my layout !! Its alot easier now ^^; my previous one had so many symbols I had to copy and paste ,, anyways ! I finally wrote about him ♡♡ the original request(?) was a bit different so this is ooc of him but I will expand more on his story if you guys like him ! Also I introduced Alastair ,, maybe I can write a threesome with them sometime !! I've never done it before so who knows

#servicpop — fics/drabbles #mlm #oc x male reader #sub male reader #male reader #bottom male reader #male x male #male x reader #oc smut

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pnutbutter-n-j-elyy · 5 months ago

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They unknowingly bring up an insecurity Seungmin|Pt1

Pt2 Pt3

Your heart was strung in your throat. Seungmin was always one to tease; and for the most part he was good about shying away from topics you were sensitive about so no problems had ever arisen. But as you read over his texts over and over again you felt your heart pinch in a way that was all to similar to what you had felt in your previous relationship.

"You talk too much, you know that?" Your ex had told you that numerous times, and eventually it led to a break up. And your constant yapping became something that made you insecure.

But when you first met Seungmin you felt like you were perfect the way you were. Chan had said you would balance Seungmin out quite well. And up until now you felt as if that were the case.

Now you wondered if maybe you did become to much.

Maybe the constant chatter had become annoying to the quiet boy you loved dearly.

And while you had been in love numerous times before, it hurt more to even think of losing Seungmin than all your previous heart breaks combined. And that was a lot considering you had always been the one to have your heart broken.

You couldn't tear yourself away from your phone screen - rereading those texts and overanalyizing the tone.

Maybe it was in a light hearted way? Or maybe it was the complete opposite and it was fully aggression?

You sat there trying to pick apart every single meaning, connotation, and tone the words he sent could have when your phone dimed again.

"I'm guessing your busy shopping since my phone has been quite for more than fifteen minutes. Haha, I think that's a first!"

You did everything in your power to try and bite back the knot in your throat from coming up and causing tears. So much so your eyes started to burn and you ended up shedding a few quietly.

The rest of the day you busied yourself with miniscule little tasks like dusting the fans and sweeping the welcome mat that you intended to take along with you when you moved in with Seungmin.

You tried to take your mind off of the texts. You figured Seungmin didn’t mean it in anyway malicious sort of way. In fact you knew he meant it as a lighthearted joke. In the time you had spent with him you had easily learned just how kind and loving of a person he was, and how much he cared for you.

You just couldn’t shake the hurt from those words - and more importantly the fear you had deep down that there was some truth to the words he had sent.

By the time Seungmin arrived at your apartment it was early evening. Every Wednesday you guys would cook together ever since you witnessed him and Felix blowing food up by accident on a live. Seungmin followed the normal routine of slipping off his shoes and into his house slippers and immediately changing into a cheap shirt he had bought when you first had started your endeavors since he was smart enough to realize he was a messy cook.

“Hey baby.” He said as he greeted you with a quick hug from behind and a chaste kiss to the cheek before he went to wash his hands.

You have a small noise of acknowledgement as Seungmin dried his hands off on a plaid towel and turned to you with happy anticipation.

“What are we cooking today?”

“Spaghetti and meatballs.” You replied as you started to grab the necessary ingredients. Seungmin followed you around like a happy puppy and helped you a carry everything to the counter you reserved for preparation of ingredients.

“So how do we start?” Seungmin asked. By now he had noticed your face was a little droopy and your responses were short and if there was any conversation it was only in answer to his initiation.

“With the ground beef.” You said as you pulled out a big bowl to put the meat and seasonings in. Seungmin watched you from his peripheral as you poured in some panco bread crumbs and a bunch of other various aromatic seasonings while he opened up the meat packaging.

As he kneeled everything with his hands he tried asking you about your day.

“So did you end up ordering the mugs baby?”

“No, I didn’t.” Silence.

“Oh…maybe after dinner we can look on Etsy together? Or maybe find a website to customize them? It might seem like a lot but I think the guys would really appreciate your sentiment.”

“Yeah, we can do that.” Silence.

Seungmin started to roll out oddly and unevenly shaped meatballs and continued to try and ask you questions as you guys worked, but your answers we short. Not rude. But literally short.

Not thouroghly explained like usual.

Even at dinner you were quiet and barely even touched your food.

“Do you not feel good baby?” Seungmin asked you as you played with a piece of garlic bread.

“I feel okay…maybe a little tired.” You said popping the piece into your mouth as if to show you were feeling fine.

Seungmin sighed and put his fork down.

“Did my text hurt your feelings?” He had been worrying about it all day when he had seen you had left him on read. It was an odd thing but nevertheless endearing when you would finish a conversation over text and send a meme to him just to acknowledge the end of the conversation, and to make sure he “didn’t find it hurtful” that you had left him on read. Even if he constantly assured you it was in no way shape or form a problem.

You hadn’t sent him a meme. And the more he thought about it he realized that his humor might not have translated through text.

“Im sorry if I hurt your feelings. It was a joke, Y/N. I would never purposefully want to hurt you. I love when you share about your day. I was a bit tied up so while you texting me might have been inconvienent at the moment doesnt mean I don’t appreciate you wanting me to know everything about what you are doing. I love that you want me to be a part of your life , even the tiny thing.”

“It’s okay babe.” You replied putting a smile on your face. “I know you didn’t mean it to hurt me. I’m just tired that’s all.” You let out a breath as you stood up and collected Seungmin’s plate. “Maybe we can just watch a movie instead of shopping? I just don’t feel like thinking very much right now in any capacity…” You let out quietly.

“Of course.” Seungmin responded, trailing you into the kitchen as you set the plates in the sink. “I love you.” He said quietly, his voice lilting up slightly. Were you actually okay?

“I love you too Minmin.” You place a a small kiss next to his eye and head towards the living room.

During the movie Seungmin kept stealing glances at you as you leaned on him but not into him. As you laughed but the curve of your mouth didn’t exactly reach your eyes. And how those same eyes were focused on the screen but your mind was obviously some place else.

Although you had said you were fine your silence gave him the answer you actually wanted to give. That Seungmin had struck a nerve more sensitive than he had known.

#skz texts #skz seungmin #angst #skz angst #skz imagines

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nanamiscocksleeve · 3 months ago

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Sucker For You

Warnings: monster fucking, tentacles, PIV (? kinda?) sex, MDNI, DVP, clit and nipple play.

Long awaited tentacle smut! Enjoy monster lovers!

You moan softly, trying to fight against the restraints curled firmly around your wrists and upper thighs but the more you try, the more futile it seems. Smooth, pink appendages snake their way down to your panties, the last scrap of fabric left on your body, and begin to pull them down, while the others that had been supporting your torso gently caress your heated skin, feeling delightfully cool and silky, forming twists around your puffy nipples and tickling your neck and lower back.

In retrospect, it’s your fault you were in this situation in the first place but you hadn’t been able to control yourself. The perfectly formed black sphere sitting in a box on the coffee table had been calling to you like a siren song from the moment Suguru had brought it home. He had strict instructions to not ingest this one as it needed to go to the higher-ups and he had warned you to not touch the sphere which would break the seal and release the curse that he had worked so hard to contain.

Well cat’s out of the bag, and curiosity most definitely killed the cat in this case.

The tentacle curse released from the sphere enticingly rubs a moist limb between your legs, creating smooth friction against your now bare pussy, your panties having been dropped to the floor a moment ago. Initially, you had tried to fight it, worried that it was after your life but the curse had made it apparent it had other things in mind. Upon attaining freedom from its spherical prison, it apprehended you effortlessly before scooping you up almost gently and undressing you like a Barbie doll.

You had braced yourself to be hit with cursed energy but it never came, the tentacles becoming more and more occupied with the various parts of your body, like your ears, touching them the way a lover would causing heat to pool into them and turn them red. And your mouth, which it experimentally pushed a tentacle tip into and you were surprised at the lack of taste from it as you sucked it, and of course, your pussy, which was now swollen from the attention, clit engorged from the soft touches it was receiving.

You were pretty much helpless to do otherwise; the tentacles were supporting you in a way that wasn’t uncomfortable and as it ran one long limb teasingly between your sopping folds, the others worked in tandem to move you back and forth along the length, essentially mimicking the grinding motion you performed on Suguru’s cock to get your juices all over him. The tentacles themselves were surprisingly warm and lubricated with a strange watery substance that served to only make the movements smoother and, to your unexpected shock, pleasurable.

Your brain was in a state of conflict, one side arguing this was a cursed spirit that you needed to contain, and the other, the hedonistic side, whispering to you that it was all right and that it wasn’t hurting you after all. In fact, the cursed spirit was doing a wonderful job of keeping you on your toes, the various tentacles allowing it to pleasure you in multiple places all at once. The ones tightening around your nipples now pull back and the undersides, full of suckers, begin to latch onto the hardened buds and mimic a human mouth, suckling and providing delicious pressure to the nubs.

As they rock you back and forth along the wet thickness between your legs, you feel the suction on your nipples being echoed in your clit, your pussy embarrassingly slick and aroused, clenching desperately for something to fill it.

Just as you think you could fall no further, the appendage pleasuring your pussy begins to turn, revealing a long line of suckers. It adjusts you so that the sucker on the very tip is on your clit then you gasp, the tentacle in your mouth muffling the noise as it latches on, gives a very pleasant suck, and letting go before it slides you down to the next one, repeating the motion and continuing. It was like a strange game of musical chairs, each sucker taking its time to provide pressure on your clit before moving on to the next one. You’re lost in a haze of sexual need, not even bothered to think about when this pleasurable assault might end. The tentacle was too long to gauge and the suckers kept growing wider as you were moved closer towards the body of the monster, covering more of your clit and sensitive folds with each passing suck. You allow it to drag you along, panting and trying to buck against the reactions felt in your pussy.

A small stab of fear fills you as the curse suddenly lifts you up by your arms, then wriggle in shock as a thicker tentacle teases your wet hole. The limb pleasuring your clit pauses, sucker firmly pulsing on the tender bud as the other tentacle pushes in. You groan, body convulsing at the intrusion, marveling at the way it fills and stretches you before the tentacle snug in your pussy begins to fuck you, the upward thrusting motions causing your tits to bounce, then with a croak of shocked delight, you find yourself continuing to be dragged along the length of the other one, each individual sucker back at work on your clit.

Your voice keens as it continues to fuck you, the appendage inside you reaching your cervix and then just when you think it can’t get any better, another tentacle, much slimmer, joins the thicker one, sliding effortlessly into your wet pussy and staying focused on your gspot.

Stars erupt in front of your eyes at the unbelievable pleasure that’s coursing through your body right now. The double pussy penetration. The suckers on your nipples. The suckers on your clit. Your being shakes, feeling every muscle in your body tense and waiting on a release that was building ever so slowly. Your mind is a mess now. Was this a curse? It didn’t feel like one. The warm lubrication exuding from the tentacle was now all over your body, glistening like oil on your skin, dripping fat droplets from your cunt, suspended above the floor.

Your pussy clenches in need then with a moan that almost came out as a feral cry, you feel an intense orgasm grip your pussy, the explosive waves of pleasure radiating from your core into every fiber of your being, feeling the tentacles pulse in response, the suckers spasmodically pulsing curiously all over you, inside you as you ride out every last drop of satisfaction.

A familiar feeling fills your sloppy hole and you look down to see slippery globs of clear, watery fluid dripping from your cunt. As the curse withdraws from you, you feel the absence keenly, your stretched-out pussy still doing the occasional clench from a forgotten pulse of pleasure. The tentacles lay you down gently onto the sofa and retreat back into the orb, and you stare at it in disbelief. Was that all? Would it start up again if you touched it?

When Suguru finally returns home a few hours later, he’s perplexed to find you naked and covered in watery fluid and laying supine on the sofa, a faraway look in your eyes. He calls your name and you turn to look at him.

“Do you really have to give it back?”

@facelessfionna

@actuallysaiyan @aether-seawolf

@makingtimemine @snwvie

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader smut #geto suguru smut #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru #tentacles #monster girls #monster fucker #monster lover #tentacle lover #tentacle smut #monster smut #ncs #ncs scribbles

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amiableness · 3 months ago

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just a blurb about mattheo because i desperately needed this earlier! word count 556!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Mattheo sat there, half-listening to Draco, who was in the middle of his latest rant, tearing into their professors with his usual cutting sarcasm. Every word dripped with disgust as he mocked their incompetence, painting their lessons as not just boring but utterly beneath him.

Mattheo was laid out along one of the couches, eyes closed and arms crossed, attempting to relax after a long day. It had dragged on endlessly, and after receiving a letter from his mother, he had little patience left. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with anyone.

“Sweetheart! Today was a complete waste, wasn’t it?” Draco called out, his voice cutting through the room. Mattheo glanced over, his heart lifting slightly when he saw you at the receiving end of Draco’s comment. He had hoped the question was directed at you.

You mumble your agreement, loosening your tie as you make your way to Mattheo. You drape your tie and robes over the back of the couch before settling into his side, your leg draped casually over his. He’s stretched out with his head resting against the armrest, and you slip into the space beside him, curling up against his chest. His hand reaches down to rest gently on your knee, and he presses a soft kiss to your hair. You nestle your head under his chin, feeling the rise and fall of his breath as you both relax into each other.

“You okay, baby?” He asks softly, his voice a gentle murmur. You let out a sigh, leaning closer. The boys murmur protests, their voices tinged with frustration at how Mattheo is so sweet with you, and only you. Just half an hour earlier, they had been sharply reprimanded for speaking to him at all.

“Just needed you.” You reply quietly. You press a tender kiss to his jaw, and he visibly melts at your touch, a soft smile spreading across his face. Around you, the room fills with various noises of disgust and disapproval.

“Seriously? When I tried to sit next to you, you nearly shoved me off the couch.” Theo grumbles, earning a disinterested look from Mattheo.

“You’re not his girl, mate.” Enzo chimes in, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“She’s not, either,” Theo protests, eyeing the two of you with disbelief. “They’re not even dating.”

Mattheo turns and levels Theo with a withering glare. Everyone knew you were his girl, even if you weren't officially dating yet. The connection between you was undeniable, and it was clear to all that you belonged to Mattheo.

You consider speaking up, but you’re far too comfortable wrapped up in Mattheo to make the effort. The scent of his cologne and the feel of his arms around you are making you unbearably content. All you want to do is sleep.

“Watch your mouth, Nott.” Mattheo snaps, his voice sharp and unyielding. Theo slouches back in his chair, a defiant glint in his eye, but he falls silent, clearly weighing his words before speaking again.

Eventually, the boys shift their focus to their own conversation, leaving you and Mattheo in your own secluded bubble. Mattheo tenderly brushes his fingers over your hair, calming both of you. It isn’t long before you fall fast asleep against him, and he turns to the boys, warning them to keep their voices down.

please consider reblogging or leaving a comment! it keeps me motivated to write! 💌

#mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x y/n #mattheo riddle x fem!reader #mattheo riddle blurb #mattheo riddle fanfic #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle headcanon #slytherin boys

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nvrsaidiwasinurcloset · 7 months ago

Note

Hiii love your writingggg, could you plsss do very innocent!reader and pervy!ethan 🫶🏻

Hiii! I hope you like it, even though you requested this MONTHS ago.

I'm not innocent, so I'm not the best at writing it🙃 Hopefully this is okay:)

Creep - Pervy!Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader

This contains SMUT - Minors DNI

Summary: You ask Ethan for help in econ, and once Mindy mentions the empty bedroom in the apartment she shares with Ethan and Chad, you agree to move in. But you realize that your sweet, dorky new roommate has been stealing your panties.

Contains: Pervy kinda creepy Ethan, innocent inexperienced reader, fingering. m!masturbation.

A/N: Okay...this needs a part 2 but I'm already at 5k words lmao. A lot of fics I've read along these lines had had Ethan more subby, but not in this one. 👀

*For the poll I posted earlier today, this one had the most votes at the time of me posting this fic. I'm going to write them all in the order that they're wanted:)*

It seemed like your life was starting to fall apart. You couldn’t stand your roommate, your boyfriend had broken up with you, and your grade for econ was starting to tank. When you brought up your grade to your professor after class, hoping to figure out some way to raise it, she suggested that you talk to Ethan Landry.

The next time you had class, you beelined towards him once he walked in. He noticed you, getting a little nervous the closer you got. He wasn’t the best at talking to girls, he even thought this could’ve been a figment of his imagination that the girl he struggled to take his eyes off was walking to him. He was chewing the inside of his cheek, his eyes not leaving you until you were finally face to face.

“Ethan, right?” you sweetly said, as he nodded. “I hear you’re the best for tutoring, and I desperately need your help if you have the time.”

“I’ll make the time,” he spat out, before he internally screamed at himself for sounding so desperate to help. “I mean, I can help you.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” you said, as you pulled out your phone. “What’s your number?”

“Oh, um…” he trailed off, racking his brain for those ten digits that he suddenly forgot. “I’m sorry, it’s been a long day.”

“It’s okay,” you smiled, “Are you okay with me just giving you my number and you can text me so we can set something up?”

“Yeah,” he said, as he pulled out his phone and went to create a new contact. He passed you his phone as you typed in your name and number, before you handed it back to him.

“Don’t forget to text me,” you said, a sweet smile playing on your lips as you turned to walk back to your seat.

“I won’t,” he said, tightly gripping his phone in his hand as you turned to smile at him once more.

He was struggling to focus as he sat through that class. His fingers kept rubbing over the phone screen that your thumbs had moved across, and he started to realize how pathetic he was for already being so addicted to you when you’d only spoken to him once.

Later that week, you were supposed to meet Ethan in the library to study. You both completely forgot about the renovations they were doing, the normally quiet space filled with the loud sounds of the various pieces of machinery on the opposite side of the room.

“Maybe we should try to do this some other time,” you yelled over the noise. “I can’t concentrate on anything you’re saying.”

“Oh, okay,” Ethan said, looking down so you wouldn’t see the sad look on his face. That’s when he started to get an idea. “My apartment is only two blocks away. It should be quieter. You want to come over to study?”

You liked to be cautious, and you normally wouldn’t go to someone’s apartment that you barely knew, but Ethan seemed innocent enough, and you desperately needed to pass the class so you wouldn’t have to take it again.

“Sure,” you said, wincing as the noise in the room got louder.

You walked beside Ethan as you went to his apartment, and even though it was just for studying, he felt a glint of pride as he walked with you. He hoped that anyone who saw you together would think you were his.

“Hopefully my roommates won’t be too loud,” Ethan sighed, as he stuck his key in the front door.

“Nothing is worse than what’s going on in the library right now,” you said, as he shrugged.

“You say that now…”

You barely made it inside when you heard arguing. Ethan sighed in defeat before he turned to you, “I moved in with my friends, and they’re constantly arguing.”

“Oh,” you giggled, as you followed him into the living room of the apartment. “Oh, hey Mindy,” you said, as she turned to you and smiled.

“Hey! What are you doing here?” she asked, as she walked over to you. Chad just stood there, still worked up from the spat they were having when you walked in.

“Ethan’s trying to help me not fail econ,” you said, as she nodded.

“I remember you mentioning you were having trouble with it.”

Ethan was confused as he stood there, because Mindy had never mentioned you, but she seemed to know you quite well. The two of you talked for a few minutes, and once Ethan heard another guy’s name get mentioned, he immediately got jealous.

“I’m proud of you for not giving him another chance,” Mindy said, as you let out a small laugh.

“I’m not going to say I didn’t think about it, but I don’t need him making my life any harder than it needs to be right now,” you sighed, “On top of the bullshit with him, my roommate is just so awful. Like, she woke me up blasting music before the sun even came up today. I’m trying to find somewhere else to live, but I haven’t had any luck yet.”

“Well, we’re looking for a fourth roommate…” Mindy trailed off, as Ethan’s eyes grew wide. “It’d be nice to have another girl here.”

“Don’t tempt me,” you joked, as Mindy smiled.

“Seriously, think about it,” she said, before she started to yell. “Chad!”

You noticed that the other boy was no longer in the room, but you saw him again as he turned the corner and groaned. “What?”

“Okay, don’t be rude,” she snapped, “I’m trying to convince her to move into the fourth bedroom.”

“Oh,” Chad said, his annoyed face turning up in a smile. “Hey, I’m Chad.”

“Hey,” you said, before he started to go over rent and other things you’d need to know. “Why would I want to move in when you two argue like this?” you joked, as Chad tried to play it off.

“We shared a womb, we lived in the same house until we moved into our dorms, and I finally got a break from her,” he said, as she scoffed, “But now we have to live together again and we’re trying to figure out how to do that.”

“I’ve never lived with boys before…and I’m sure my parents would kill me if they ever found out, but I’ll definitely think about it,” you said, before you turned to Ethan. “I’m sorry, you want to study now?”

“Yeah, let’s go to my room,” he said, as he led you there.

You both got settled on his bed. He sat across from you, his back against the headboard as you adjusted to get more comfortable, laying on your stomach. He bit his lip once he noticed the perfect view he had down your shirt, the neckline barely covering anything as your chest was pressed against his bed.

“So, where should we start?” you asked, your soft voice barely getting his attention as he kept staring at your chest. He wanted to squeeze your boobs, suck on them, fuck them, even. “Ethan?” you questioned as you looked away from your notebook, and opened your laptop, completely blocking the sight he was fantasizing over.

“Oh, uh…” he said, as he opened his laptop. “Maybe let’s work on the quiz that’s due this weekend. It’ll show me what you do and don’t need help with.”

You spent over an hour studying with Ethan, and you felt like you were having a little bit of a better understanding. You were starting to get hungry, so you closed your laptop. Ethan glanced over his screen the second he noticed, getting another peak down your shirt again. This time, he saw a part of one of your nipples peaking out of your bra, the sight making his pants grow tighter. He fought off the sound that was threatening to come out before you sat up, once again taking his perfect view away from him.

“I’m starving,” you said, as you started to put your stuff away. “But thank you so much for your help, and I hope you’ll want to keep helping me. You’re my only hope.”

He softly chuckled at your words, “If you move in, we can study whenever you want.”

“You’d be cool with it?” you asked, smiling at him. “You didn’t really say anything out there and I didn’t want to actually start considering it until you said something.”

“Yeah, I think it’s cool,” he said, “If you do want to, and you need help moving or anything, let me know.”

“Thanks, Ethan,” you said, smiling again before you made your way out of his room.

He wanted to walk you to the door, but he knew the second he stood up, his hard cock would be so obvious. He ran his hand over the spot you were laying on the bed, your warmth still soaked up by his comforter. The view down your shirt was burned in his brain as he got up and walked over to the door, shutting and locking it before he dropped his pants to give his aching cock the attention it desperately needed.

The next time you had econ, you walked in and sat down beside Ethan. He didn’t notice at first, but he soon smelled the familiar scent that he couldn’t get out of his head after you’d left his apartment a few days before. He wasn’t sure if it was your hair or the perfume you were wearing, but it smelled delicious.

“Hey,” he smiled, his pupils growing large as he saw you. “Are you okay?”

He took in the stress on your face, and how tired you looked.

“Yeah, are you sure you’re cool with me moving in?” you asked, “Because I can’t deal with my roommate anymore.”

“Yeah, of course,” he said, “What happened?”

“She invites her boyfriend to stay over whenever she doesn’t have class the next morning,” you sighed, “I don’t want to explain all the sounds I had to listen to while I tried to sleep last night.”

“Oh,” he said softly, “Well, your room would be beside mine, and I wouldn’t keep you up all night.”

“I bet that’s why I’m failing this class right now. I never sleep,” you said, as you looked over to him. “Wait, you don’t have a girlfriend that stays over?”

“No,” he said, his cheeks turning pink at your question.

“Sex is overrated,” you shrugged, “But I really thought you would’ve had a girlfriend.”

“Really?” he asked, as your professor walked in.

“Yeah, you’re a cutie,” you smiled, before you directed your attention to the lecture.

Ethan was thankful that you were so focused and didn’t see the cheesy smile on his face. The girl he’d been thinking about as he jerked his cock for the last few days called him cute, and his heart was swelling.

After a couple weeks, Ethan, Chad, and Mindy showed up to the apartment you currently lived in while your roommate was at her boyfriend’s to help you move.

“First, I want you guys to know that none of this mess is mine,” you said, as soon as you answered the front door for them.

“Whoa,” Chad said as he glanced around. “There’s no way you live with a girl.”

“Yeah, you’ll never guess what I found on the kitchen floor this morning,” you said, as Mindy started to think.

“With the mess, I’m going to guess…dead mouse?”

“Not even close,” you said, as you shook your head and shuddered as you thought about it. “It was a condom.”

“Like…in the wrapper or…?” Chad asked, as you, once again, shook your head.

“Used.”

“Ewwww,” Mindy said, cringing at the thought. “Okay, is anything in the kitchen yours?”

“I already boxed that stuff up. Except the dishes that she’s refused to wash,” you said, as you led them to the living room. “The TV is mine, and that lamp,” you said, as you pointed, “But other than that, I really just have to worry about my room.”

“I think it’d be best to have all the heavy stuff in the living room so Ethan and I can worry about that,” Chad said, as you nodded and led them down the hall.

You had already packed up most of your room, which made it so easy for your new roommates to help you. Once Chad was carrying your mattress out and Mindy had ran out to get coffee, Ethan started to glance around your room. He noticed the hamper full of clothes in the corner, and he found himself inching closer towards it as he listened to you and Chad talk in the living room. Before he could stop himself, he grabbed a shirt off the top of the pile, inhaling its scent. He let out a deep breath before he went to put the shirt back in the hamper, before he noticed some black lace sticking out under a pair of your jeans. He snatched it out of the basket and put it in his pocket before he put the shirt back in it once he heard footsteps coming back down the hall.

“Did you need help with this?” Ethan asked, pointing to the basket, trying to make it not seem like he was being weird.

“Shit, I forgot to do laundry,” you groaned, as the realization hit him that the panties he’d grabbed had been worn. “I’ll carry that out.”

“Okay,” Ethan said, before Chad motioned for him to help with the dresser.

Later that day after you got your stuff moved into your new room, you flopped on your freshly made bed as Mindy popped in.

“So, I’m going to try to convince the guys to share a bathroom so you don’t have to share with Ethan,” she said, as you shrugged.

“It’s not a big deal,” you said, “I just hope he doesn’t mind all the girly stuff in the shower and the makeup and stuff.”

Ethan didn’t mind at all. In fact, he’d already been in the bathroom, smelling your body wash, your shampoo and conditioner. The skincare products you used. He realized that all those things together were the cause of the scent that made his head spin.

Later that night after you had takeout with everyone, Ethan excused himself to go to bed. He couldn’t stop thinking about your panties that were still in his pocket. Once he pulled them out, he ran his fingers over the lace before taking in your scent. He softly groaned before he dropped his pants, the thoughts of his face buried in your pussy making him harder by the second. He had them tightly clutched in his fist as he started to stroke himself with his free hand, small whimpers flying out of his mouth as he tried to imagine how soft your hand would feel wrapped around him. His bottom lip was in between his teeth once he started to get louder, the tip of his cock red as be brought himself closer to the edge. Just as he was about to cum, he deeply inhaled the scent of your panties one more time before he rubbed them against the tip of his cock, his thick, white ropes covering the lace.

You thought living with boys was going to be difficult, but your first month wasn’t bad. You were surprised at how clean they liked everything to be, and Ethan always put the toilet seat down. You started to get close to your dorky roommate, especially once you spent so much time studying together. You already thought he was cute, but once you actually got to know more about him, you realized that he was so sweet, so nice. He might’ve been a little shy, too, but he got to the point where he was doing cute little things to make you laugh.

One day, you went to do your laundry in the apartment. You walked over and were about to throw stuff in when you noticed clothes were already inside, and Ethan quickly rounded the corner with the rest of the stuff he needed to toss in.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he said, “You want me to take my stuff out? I can wash it later.”

“No, it’s fine, I’ll wait,” you said with a smile, before you noticed something familiar in the washer. “Oh,” you said, your cheeks turning pink as you reached out and grabbed your panties out of the washer. “Must’ve dropped these in.”

Ethan’s eyes grew wide as he noticed them in your hand, the realization hitting you that they were sticky.

“Eww, what is all over these?” you said, a disgusted look on your face as you tried to figure it out. You looked over to Ethan, his face bright red and his eyes huge, when you pieced it together. “Ethan…”

He just stared at you, the silence deafening as he tried to think of something, anything to say to you. He’d gotten away with stealing your panties for a month, but it was a way for him to feel close to you, and satisfy some of the sexual frustration he had whenever he thought about you.

“What’s on my panties?” you questioned, as he tensed up. “Actually, I don’t think I want to know.”

You tossed them back in the washer and walked past him and headed straight to the bathroom to wash your hands. When you went to your room and shut the door, Ethan huffed and tossed in the rest of stuff that was in his hands before he started the washer.

As the day went by, you couldn’t stop thinking about Ethan, and how you’d noticed that pairs of your panties had been going missing ever since you moved in. But then you’d randomly see them again, in the top drawer of your dresser after a few days. You didn’t think Ethan was like that, and it made you feel a little uneasy to live with him.

Later that night, you had to say something to him. You walked out of your room and glanced around the apartment for him, before you walked to his closed door and started to knock. He eased it open after a few seconds, his eyes connecting with yours through the small crack.

“Can we talk?” you asked, as he took a deep breath and hesitantly opened the door for you.

You walked in and took a seat on the side of the bed, your gaze on his floor as you tried to think of the right way to talk to him.

“You want me to leave the door open,” he asked, barely above a whisper as you shook your head no.

“If Mindy or Chad come home, I don’t want them to hear the conversation.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled, before he took a seat beside you. “I’m sorry.”

“Why were you stealing my panties?” you asked, as he took a deep breath.

“I can’t explain it without sounding like the total creep you probably already think I am.”

“So…that was what I thought it was on them,” you said, as you turned to look at him. He nodded, looking away to not meet your gaze.

“Again, I am so sorry,” he said, “I know you probably hate me, and I understand if you don’t want to be around me. I’ll stay in my room so you don’t have to see me.”

“I’m just a little confused,” you said softly, as he finally let his eyes connect with yours. “What’s so exciting about my panties?”

At that moment, one thing you said to Ethan started to play in his head. ‘Sex is overrated.’ He was questioning how much experience you actually had.

“Do you really not know or are you fucking with me?” he questioned.

“Like, does it feel good? How does it even turn you on?” you asked, curiously staring at him.

“They uh…yeah, it feels good when I uh…rub them on myself. And they smell like you.”

“They smell like fabric softener and laundry detergent,” you said, a small laugh slipping out as he shook his head.

“I haven’t been stealing clean ones…they smell like you.”

“Oh,” you said, as you looked away from him. “That turns you on?”

“You have no idea,” he said, and even though the conversation was uncomfortable, he was getting hard.

“Why are guys so weird?” you thought out loud, laughing a little as you shook your head. “So does that mean that you like me? Or you’re like…sexually attracted to me? I still don’t fully get it.”

“Both,” he said, “I think you’re so beautiful, and I’ve had so much fun with you this last month…but I also think about you in a different way, too. Ya know?”

“I’ve thought about you that way, too,” you admitted, “It’d kind of hard not to. I hear you through the walls all the time.”

“You’ve heard me?” he asked, a blush spreading to his cheeks. “I’m sorry, I know you hated when you heard your old roommate.”

“I like it when I hear you,” you said so softly that he barely heard it.

“Do you touch yourself when you hear me?”

Your breathing got heavier at his question, and Ethan noticed. You were getting so flustered under his gaze.

“I…I’ve tried to,” you said, as you took in the curious look on his face.

“Tried to?” he asked, “What do you mean?”

“Like…I know what feels good, but I can never get myself…there, if you know what I mean.”

“You’ve never made yourself cum?” he questioned, admiring how cute you looked as you got embarrassed.

“No one has.”

“No one?” he asked, his throat dry at the thought. “Are you a virgin?”

“No…but I’ve never enjoyed sex. Like, it feels good, but I think it’s so disappointing when you hear how amazing orgasms are and then I just never get one.”

Ethan expected the conversation that was happening to go so differently. He thought you hated him, but there you were, telling him that you’d tried to get yourself off when you’d heard him. The thought of him being the first one to make you cum had him salivating, but he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable if he offered.

“Have you ever…given someone an orgasm?” you asked, as he nodded. “I’m jealous of whoever she is.”

“Don’t be,” he said, scooting a little closer to you. “Fuck, I’d make you cum all the time if I could.”

“Really?” you smiled, “If you ever want to, I’m right next door,” you joked, as he smiled and shook his head.

“Hey, don’t offer that or I’ll be in your room every day.”

You were starting to squirm against his bed, your thighs rubbing together so subtly that he could barely tell. The sexual tension was so thick, your breathing getting heavier as you thought about how good Ethan would make you feel.

“I think I need to go back to my room,” you said, as you started to stand up. That’s when you glanced at Ethan’s lap, noticing the tent in his sweatpants.

“Do you really want to?” he asked, “Because if you want me to take care of you right now, I will.”

“Seriously?” you questioned, as he smiled and nodded.

“Come here,” he said, reaching out to grab your hands, pulling you to him.

Once Ethan leaned in to kiss you, he was almost taken aback by how quickly your lips were moving against his. He was desperate for you, but you were just as desperate for him. He matched your pace before he pushed you back on the bed, his hand running from your hip, up your ribs, until it landed on your breast. You gasped into the kiss once he squeezed it.

You had massive butterflies in your stomach once you felt his cock pressing against your thigh through his sweatpants, your head was spinning, but you were loving every second of it.

“Hey, I have an idea,” he said, once he pulled away to catch his breath. “I think we should go to your room.”

“Why?” you asked because you didn’t want to stop. You needed his lips back on yours.

“Because you have that full length mirror leaning against your wall,” he said, chuckling once you noticed the confused look on your face. “I want you to see what I’m doing to make you cum…in case I’m never here to help you.”

“Okay,” you said, as he stood up and grabbed your hands.

Once he opened his bedroom door, he listened to make sure he didn’t hear anyone else in the apartment before he walked out and to your room next door. He shut and locked your bedroom door once he made it inside, before he pulled you into another kiss. His hands held onto your hips until they started to rub against the flesh under the hem of your shirt. He kept inching it further and further up, until he pulled away to pull it over your head. His lips went back to yours as he reached around to unhook your bra, his hands squeezing at your breasts once they were free.

His mouth moved to your neck as his hands explored your body, before they snaked under the waistband of your leggings. He moved them down over your hips as you shimmied out of them, leaving you in nothing but your panties. He recognized them as the first pair he ever stole, the black lacy ones.

“Fuck,” he mumbled, as his hand moved to rub you over your panties. The material was soaked as you moaned at the feeling. “That feel good?”

“Yes,” you said, quickly nodding your head just in case he needed the extra confirmation. “So good.”

“I hate that I have to take these off you,” he said, as he inched the fabric down your thighs, leaving you completely nude in front of him. “I’m going to sit on the floor in front of the mirror, and I want you to sit between my legs.”

“Okay,” you said, as he took a seat on the floor, his legs spreading for you to sit. You did as he said, looking at him in the mirror as he spread your legs, placing your feet on either side of his legs on the floor.

You watched him lick two of his fingers before he placed them against your clit, rubbing slow circles. Your eyes stayed on the reflection of his hand, your mouth parting as you started to breathe faster. He added a little more pressure as you fully relaxed back into his chest, the softest moans slipping out as he went a little faster.

“Ethaaan,” you whined out, the noise quickly becoming his new favorite sound.

“Shh, I don’t know if anyone else is here,” he said softly, “Just keep your legs spread for me, baby.”

He rubbed a few more circles on your clit before his fingers moved lower, one of them slipping inside you. He pumped it in and out for a minute before he added another, as you angled your neck to look up at him. He leaned down to kiss you as his fingers moved, before he started to mumble against your lips.

“If you ever finger yourself, this…” he said, as he curved them just right, a low moan flying out of your mouth, “Is the spot that needs attention. Okay baby?”

“Okay,” you whimpered, as he moved his fingers faster.

The sounds you were making just kept getting louder, and Ethan was just hoping and praying that no one else was home. One of your hands clung to his thigh as your other hand wrapped around his wrist, as you started to feel…different. It felt so good, and the last thing you wanted was for him to stop. Once he went even faster, the squelching sound of your wet pussy and your whimpers filling the room, your legs were trying so hard to close as your toes curled against the carpet on the floor.

“Oh my god,” you moaned, your fluttering eyes watching his hand in the mirror as your body started to tingle.

“Cum for me baby,” he encouraged, as you finally let that feeling wash over your body. You were jolting, your eyes screwed shut as his fingers started to slow, his free hand roaming your chest as you let out all your sounds.

Once you fully relaxed in his arms, he placed a kiss to the top of your head as your hazy eyes connected with his in the mirror.

“Now you can’t say no one’s ever made you cum,” he said with a smile, as he slid his fingers out of you. “Did it feel good?”

“That was better than I thought it was going to be,” you said, “Thanks, Ethan.”

“You’re welcome.”

You sat there in silence for a minute as you felt his cock pressing against you, and you wanted so badly to take care of him, until you heard commotion in the apartment.

“Hey, guysss,” Chad yelled, as he walked down the hall.

You tensed up as you glanced at your door, before Ethan whispered, “It’s okay, I locked it.”

You relaxed again before Chad started to yell again, “Tara’s here!”

You forgot about hanging out with Mindy and Tara for the night, and you didn’t want to pull away from Ethan, but you hesitantly did, your legs wobbling as you tried to stand. Ethan got up to help you, and once you got your bearings, he started to grab your clothes off the floor for you.

“Thanks,” you said, before you noticed him pick up your panties.

“No, thank you,” he joked, a smirk playing on his lips as he backed towards your door. “I’ll see you when you get back in the morning.”

“I better still have panties in that top drawer when I get back.”

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #scream smut #ethan landry smut #smut

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versadies · 9 months ago

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in a world of boys, he's a gentleman! (various x gn!reader)

SALUTATIONS. in a world of boys, he's a gentleman!

ADDRESSED. alhaitham, zhongli, wriothesley, and neuvillette (x gn!reader)

STAMPS. the little things they do around you that remind you that chivalry is not dead <3

CONTENT. ooc!neuvi (?), ooc!wriothesley (?), fluff/no-angst, established relationships, possibly cheesy (i like cheese), and possible grammar errors. some of the things mentioned can be applicable to others!

POST-SCRIPT. can you already tell that these four own my heart? i love them sm ( >-< )!!! also made new banners for a change hehe

LINKS. masterlist \ taglist

Although ALHAITHAM is someone who prefers to focus greatly on himself and prioritizes his own well-being over others', that does not mean he is selfish nor inconsiderate. Which is why it is not far-fetched for someone like him to do the little things that proves the fact that chivalry is not dead.

Though of course, he does it in his very own way. You just have to be very observant to notice it.

For instance, whenever you two are sitting in front of the table, he’d cover the edge whenever you lean down to get something that fell from the table, ensuring that you don’t bump your head from the furniture and get hurt.

Another instance is when you’d rant on and on in his presence, thinking he’s not listening to you due to his earpieces that’s used to cancel out meaningless noises. When in reality, he’s actually listening to you — because to him, your words are always something of importance to him whether he’d admit that or not.

It doesn’t even matter if you’re talking about your day, complaining about prices, or even expressing your concerns over things you shouldn’t even be concerned about; he’d listen without a word if not necessary, because if it’s important to you, then it’s important to listen about it. Though of course, the only exceptions are when you’d actually talk about something he doesn’t care about, such as gossip.

Meanwhile, in the bustling marketplaces of Sumeru, there’s bound to be scammers preying on oblivious consumers, and Alhaitham sees to it that you won’t fall for such things. It’s partially one of the reasons why he always tags along with you whenever you shop for groceries or for other things.

If a scammer tries their shot, they’ll only be greeted by a stern warning glare from the scribe as you look through the displayed products, only for your lover to drag you to a more appropriate stall that’s much better than the suspicious one.

During the later stage of your relationship when you moved into his humble home, he made sure to have enough space for your things, and even sacrificed some of his own possessions for the sake of yours.

Speaking of sacrifices, there are also times when he’d sacrifice his leisure time that he values in order to hang out with you. Despite your assurances that he doesn’t have to spend time with you if he wants to be alone, he doesn’t care and still hangs out with you anyway.

In his perspective, it’s not a sacrifice, because spending his spare time with you is much better than spending it alone.

It’s the little things that remind you that he does care. Though, you couldn’t help but try and confront him about his actions since you want to hear it from his mouth.

When you do though, you’ll only get a deadpan look from him and a few words:

“Isn’t that the bare minimum of what boyfriends should do anyway?”

ZHONGLI is no doubt a traditional gentleman when it comes to not just you, but also towards anyone around him. Of course, you’re still special in his eyes. After all, you’re his darling gem who is above any other treasures that he’s come across in this lifetime.

He always checks up on your well-being with care and tenderness that often causes your legs to become jelly-like. He never fails to bring heat to your face from how sweet he is!

Like your average traditional gentleman, Zhongli gives you his coat as soon as he sees even a slight sign of you feeling cold from Liyue’s breeze, caressing your arms with his glove-covered hands while he’s at it. Not that you’re complaining, especially from how good his cologne smells from his coat that just made you a little in a daze.

He’s willing to open doors for you to enter first, no matter your gender. He doesn’t want your hands to get dirty from door knobs that have been through things that only Celestia knows what, so he insists that he shall open them for you. In a way, it sounded a bit over the top, but how can you say no to such a kind man like your lover?

He sees to it that you’re the first one to be seated before him, pulling out a chair for you before sitting next to you. It’s almost essential for him to sit next to you, as if you’re a light that he finds himself drawn to.

When it comes to eating together, he offers you a bite of his meal that he either made or ordered, wanting you to try the delicious meal that’s made with precision and passion and appreciate it with him (though it usually ends up with him giving you more bites of it like a grandma would to her grandchild). Whenever he does this, he makes sure to blow the food first before giving it to you, not wanting your tongue to get burnt by accident. He even goes as far as putting his hand beneath the spoon to ensure nothing will spill on you and your clothes.

Traveling is also to be expected when you’re with Zhongli, with you two visiting different areas of Liyue for a variety of reasons such as work, vacation, leisure time, etc. Whenever you two travel, he’s always there to give you a hand, especially when climbing up and going down.

He’ll even go as far as putting his coat down on the ground for you to sit on to avoid your clothes becoming dirty should you two ever need a break, not wanting you to get too exhausted from your trip.

Of course, we cannot forget how Zhongli has a sharp memory, so he knows the exact day for your relationship milestones and would never forget it. Expect him to celebrate things such as your first date-sary, monthsary, first kiss-sary, and the list goes on until you eventually tell him that most people (if not all) wouldn’t celebrate most of these things.

That doesn’t stop him from greeting you with such occasions though ^^

It’s clear to see that the consultant loves you dearly and wants the best for you. The same goes to his dear friends and peers around him, and you couldn’t be all the more grateful to have such a man like him as your lover. In fact, his amber-hue eyes that you always seem to lose yourself to shines much brighter when he’s kind.

“Why are you smiling? Is there something on my face?” He’d ask you when he catches you admiring him from your place.

“Nothing. I just want to admire how perfect my boyfriend is.” You sigh dreamily, looking at him happily. “How are you such a perfect spouse?”

He chuckles in response, now putting down his tea. “I beg to differ. Especially since the most breathtaking person in front of me is more worthy of such title.”

It’s no lie to everyone in the Fortress – both inmates and guards alike – that WRIOTHESLEY adores you, even if he wouldn’t outright admit it. Though his words are nothing but silent, his actions speak louder. Out of the very few people that the duke trusts, you’re the one that comes to mind, and the same goes for you towards him. He’s quite honored that you trust him enough to let him become your spouse, and what better way to express that than actions?

You’re rest assured that he always has tea saved for you whenever you come and visit his office. When you do, he always makes sure to pull out a chair for you to sit on, pour your cup with your drink of choice before pouring his tea on his own cup.

For a man such as him, he’s observant and is quick to notice when someone is uncomfortable – in this case, you. As soon as he takes note of your discomfort or uneasiness, he is quick to comfort you and assure you that all’s well as he either swiftly takes you away from the scene or finds a way to help you go through it.

With that in mind, Wriothesley understands if you find yourself preferring the world outside over the Fortress of Meropide. He gets it! He’s content with you just visiting whenever you can. He knows not everyone would be keen on staying in the stronghold prison for a long time, especially when they have no reason to besides visiting their spouse.

Unless you’re an actual criminal, then that’s when you entirely have no choice but be stuck in the fortress and with him until you’re free to go.

Speaking of criminals, danger lurks everywhere in Fontaine. You certainly can’t blame your lover for being quite protective with you, often telling you through his letters to be careful with going out at night and to not fall for any scammers or tricks by possible criminals that are still out there. He’s aware that you’re more than capable of protecting yourself from danger, but it doesn’t stop his worries even for one bit.

It’s not common for the Duke to come out from the Fortress and visit the city. When he does, there’s a huge chance that he’s seen with you, holding your hand as you two go on with your day as a couple. He does not show affection in public much, but that doesn’t mean holding hands would hurt!

To others, he always seems so calm and collected on his own, but in comparison to how he acts with you, he’s much more content and relaxed, as if he’s in a utopian paradise that he feels at peace in as your laughter and voice soothes his unfaltering spirit.

Should you ever ask for a mora of his thoughts from how distracted he was during your time spent together, you’ll only gain this response:

“Hm? Oh, forgive me for being distracted. You don’t have to worry about it.” He’d say casually, hiding the fact that he’s simply distracted from thinking about how much he wants this kind of experience to last forever.

Given that NEUVILLETTE is unfamiliar with human customs and feelings, the same goes for his unfamiliarity in the romance department. He didn’t think he’d end up courting someone, let alone form a personal relationship – especially since he avoids such things. However, you’re somehow an exception.

His experience in the court is unfortunately not enough to help him with his goal in winning your heart, yet somehow, he finds himself in a relationship with you. Though inexperienced and busy, he still has his perks that makes it up – such as his mannerisms.

Just like Zhongli, he’s quite a traditional gentleman. Not only will he help you sit down by pulling out a chair and remove your coat, he’d even make sure that none of your clothes, accessories, and even your hair would get caught in the furniture’s ornamentation to avoid the same inconveniences that he goes through in his daily life.

He tends to hold your hand when the two of you go through the seats of the Opera Epiclese to watch a performance, dragging you to the best seat in the middle of the front row as he helps you become comfortable. After watching your first performance together, he never thought that watching a performance could be so enjoyable when you have companions to share the joy with. Where were you in his entire life?

On another note, Neuvillette is the type to carry your bags whenever the two of you go shopping or when he sees you holding something heavy, wanting to ease your burdens and struggles swiftly as he insists that he should help you. You should be able to have your hands free like a dove in his perspective.

It shows that he’s willing to help you with anything you need, whether it’d be giving wise advice, getting something, lending a shoulder for you to cry on, and anything else so long as it eases your struggles.

Given that he’s still exploring human customs and feelings, he entrusts you to guide him through it, and this means that he’s open with new things that he hasn’t tried before so long as it doesn’t clash with his busy schedule.

He doesn’t mind doing particular activities with you, be it pot-making, watching documentaries, playing classic games, and the list goes on! If he has you by his side to try everything, then he’s okay with it all.

Speaking of activities, Neuvillette has taken a liking for walking in the rain. He even fantasizes about going out into the rain, wanting to feel the raindrops pouring on him as he walks down the streets of Fontaine.

Despite enjoying such joys, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t consider your comfort with the weather. Knowing how humans are with not wanting to become wet from the weather, your lover is there to help you in holding an umbrella that he’d bring should he hear any forecasts of rain beforehand.

He makes sure that the entire umbrella is on you and stays that way, and he simply wouldn’t forgive himself if he sees even a few drops on your clothing that he could’ve prevented despite your assurances.

If you ever expressed your concern of him getting drenched and possibly sick from the rain, he’d simply reassure you that it’s nothing to worry about, telling you that he does this very often whenever it rains.

“Don’t worry about me, ma moitié.” He says with a tender gaze as he continues to walk side by side with you, holding the umbrella above you. “I will not get sick easily from the weather, nor do I mind having my clothes drenched. I want you to worry about yourself more.”

PENPALS. @scaraslover @saving-for-xiao @dawgimsohot @ragnvdnr @chiruru @aqualesha @renamichii @mrkamisato @shenhesl0ver @serami00 @serenareiss @hiqhkey @emperatris-rinaka @bystander36 @irisxiel @ladycoleigh @034ven @dear-dairiess @owozi8 @hadesaedes @chiro-chiro-kun @hersscherofyatta @mariusvonhangme @yuzuricebun @nejibot @hoshikistarlette @solaaresque @crowbird @lordbugs @flowersforayato @headintheclouddd @estelwrld @giyusimpsassemble @irethepotatosblog @moonlightaangel @alice0blog @shotosbrainrot @sniffoat @chihawari @mxsomn @kuni-kuzushii @jiminscarmex @mitsukii14 @ylimeprive @sachispet @loreleis-world @sn-owo @starforecasts @someonetookmynamelmao @ceylestia @astrequa @ymikkos @reallysporadicarcade @melodyyamino @dudufodd @somberrock @yevenly @lemontum @nghing @shaiah @miss-lady-witch @yashe @imkaaayy @badlywrittens @0rah-s @totallynotaraidensimp @garlicforthewin

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sttoru · 1 year ago

Text

“PLAYING WITH FIRE.”

༄ sypnosis. you show up to jujutsu high to pay satoru a visit on your day off, though that visit quickly turns into him bending you over in his office.

༄ note. ehh.. satoru brainrot. especially teacher satoru who’s a different person when you two r alone and away from his students.. slurps.

༄ tags. satoru x female reader. dom!satoru, sub!reader. unprotected sex, creampie, doggy style, degradation, objectification, kinda dubcon in one sentence, hair pulling, satoru takes pictures, bit of overstimulation, tiny bit of aftercare.

satoru had been trying very hard to keep his hands off of you in front of his students after you walked into his classroom. you used the famous excuse of ‘dropping off his forgotten lunch’ to bother your boyfriend at work.

you were all dolled up, make up done nicely while wearing a skimpy outfit that was almost scandalous to attend a prestigious school in.

satoru caved in immediately the moment you two were alone in the privacy of his office.

“n’more.. no more— please.” you babble mindlessly, a string of your own saliva trickling down the corner of your mouth and onto your chin.

“ah, fuck, you can do it, baby; just hold on f’me.” satoru reassures you through deep grunts, clamping a hand on your mouth to prevent you from making too much noise.

not that that’d be able to muffle the squelchy sounds that echoed throughout his office every time he plunged his cock into your sopping cunt.

“haah, shit— let me put that pretty mouth of yours to use, c’mon.”

two of his long fingers slide between your lips and without hesitation, you twirl your tongue around and suck at them as if on cue.

“mhh, just like that.” satoru hisses as he feels your saliva coat his skin while his other hand circles your clit.

his eyes wander down to your ass and the way it jiggles each time he slams his hips against the plump flesh.

satoru was also completely entranced by the sight of his cock—now glazed with a mixture of your juices— disappearing and reappearing not a second afterwards with each thrust.

“holy shit, y’re such a slutty thing.” a groan leaves his lips and you can feel him twitch inside of you the minute you tighten up around him. his filthy words were making your legs shake.

“yeah? ya like that, hm?” satoru’s hand which stimulated your clit left its place only to grab a fistful of your hair to yank your head back,

“bet you do, ‘cause this is exactly what you wanted by comin’ here dressed like that.”

you whine and dig your nails into the wooden surface beneath you, vision blurry as you feel the tears form due to satoru pulling at your hair. not only that; satoru knew just how to angle his hips to be able to hit the furthest parts of your sloppy pussy.

“nnh— yes, yes! fuck.” your desperate cries were muffled as you continued to suck on satoru’s fingers with your drool dripping down onto his desk.

satoru’s bangs clung onto his forehead, the sweat running down his skin making it hard for his glasses to properly remain on the bridge of his nose.

“so eager- so fuckin’ eager for a cock to fill you up.” satoru lets the words roll off the tongue in the heat of the moment.

you know that you got him extremely riled up when satoru’s being like this. it’s attractive to say the least; you’ve always loved it whenever he lets go of any self-control and just straight up fucks you brainless—not caring where you two may be.

his desk trembles with each intense thrust. the various objects on it threatening to fall as they all neared the edge due to the vibrations from your bodies.

it’s not like your boyfriend cared about the mess he’d make of his office when he’d rather make a mess out of you and your aching cunt.

“gonna—fuck—cum in your pussy, yeah? gonna have ya walk ‘round campus with my cum.”

you mindlessly nod along, babbling something incoherent that sounded like a ‘yes, please’ to satoru’s ears. and if it wasn’t, well, he’d do it anyway.

the thought of you walking out of his office afterwards with his hot load leaking out of your sweet cunt, you subtly trying to hide the liquid with your skirt since he ripped your panties apart; it drove him to the edge of insanity.

“shit, shit, shit.” curses leave satoru’s lips as he feels the pleasure building up to the point of release, “‘m gonna cum so hard— fuck!”

a deep groan echoes in your ears as you feel spurts of hot, thick cum flood your aching pussy— seeping straight into your womb.

“ngh— ‘toru!” you gasp for air once his fingers left your mouth so that satoru could grab onto your hips.

“stay still, angel. mm— have’ta make sure it stays.” the white-haired man adds in a husky tone and continues to pump into you with a few firm and deep strokes.

his blue eyes peered through his glasses at the sinful view of the white liquid overflowing and slowly dripping onto your thighs.

after making sure to push his cum as far as possible, satoru pulls out with a hiss.

just when you thought it’d be over, you could feel him rubbing the tip of his cock up and down your cunt— smearing his cum, along with your own juices, all over your folds.

“now that’s a sight.” satoru hums slightly, licking his lips before bending his upper body forward. his chest was flush against your back while you tried to catch your breath on his desk.

soft pecks were placed all over the back of your neck, one last one on your forehead.

“you did so well, baby.” he reassures you, tone and expression back to his usual soft one.

you smile back tiredly at him as you mumble a quick ‘thank you’ between deep breaths. your exhausted eyes followed satoru’s hands as they searched for something in his pockets.

a grin spreads on his face before he leans down again to whisper into your ear, one hand caressing your back while the other held his phone.

“be good for me and stay bent over like that, m’kay? need to take a pic of the mess i made.”

#sttoru writes.#jjk smut #jjk x reader #gojo smut #gojo x reader #jjk x you #gojo x you #satoru x reader #satoru smut

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ragingbookdragon · 10 months ago

Text

Price finds her in the equipment room doing a rather meticulous job of cleaning their weapons, but he also notices that the only set she currently has out, is none other than the side-arm and knives owned by their resident Lieutenant.

“Quite rare to see you here on a Friday night,” he says, taking a seat across from her, grabbing an oiled rag to start cleaning with. “Shouldn’t you be going out with Gaz and Soap for drinks?”

She pauses, looks up and then lowers her gaze back to the firing pin she’s cleaning. “Didn’t feel like going out tonight, Captain.”

“Didn’t feel like it or didn’t feel like seeing ‘you know who?’”

“You know?” She asks and he shrugs.

“It’s my job to know everything that happens within the one-four-one.”

“I thought that was Miss Kate’s job?”

Price smiles. “We share responsibility.” He methodically rubs the rag along the parts of the side-arm, his expression and voice becoming rather calm but she feels the air turn a little stern, if almost a fatherly stern. “You’ve been avoiding him.”

She makes a noise in her throat. “I can’t exactly talk to him. Look what happened last time.”

“He feels bad.”

“I’m sure he does,” she retorts, looking at him. “He really hurt my feelings. What am I supposed to do, tell him it’s okay? That we can move on like he didn’t tell me I’m clingy?” She stops, looks down at her hands. “I sound like a fucking child.”

Price hums. “You actually sound like a person who’s had their feelings hurt and you’re not sure how to proceed.” He dips the rag in a big more oil. “I know it doesn’t equate what he’s said to you, but allow me to fill in some blanks you might have on Simon.”

She cocks a brow. “Okay?”

“Simon was the oldest child of two. Abusive dad, terrified mom. Younger brother used to terrorize him too.” He goes back to cleaning the gun parts. “Nine-eleven had Simon enlisting, came back after a lull, kicked his dad out, got his brother sober and even found himself the proud uncle of a nephew named Joseph.”

“Where are they now?” She asks. “Simon’s from Birmingham, right?”

“He is,” he answers, but his face and voice are void of any hope. “But they’re not anymore.”

She blinks, feels the shift in temperature. “They…moved?” She hopes; he meets her gaze, and she knows instantly. “Oh…I…how did it…”

“I don’t want to divulge Simon’s past without his permission, because it’s also his own choice to tell you what happened, but I can tell you that Simon had a personal vendetta against the man and others who hurt his family. And he took care of it.” Price inhales and exhales. “In doing so…Simon sacrificed himself. He made himself—“

“A Ghost,” she finishes, and he nods.

“Simon, when it comes down to what he truly is beneath his cold stoicism, my dear, is simply a very tired and even more broken-hearted man who believes that if he keeps everything and everyone at a distance, then nothing can hurt him.” Price sets the weapon and rag down. “He likes to think he’s incapable of feeling but don’t let his demeanor or words fool you, Simon feels more deeply for the people he loves more than anyone I’ve ever met.”

Something aches in her chest, rising up to close around her throat as she asks, “A man like him…he can still love?”

He smiles half-heartedly. “I’ve seen the man run back through a burning building to pull Gaz out. I’ve seen him run through gunfire, take a bullet to the thigh and keep going to carry Soap.” He nudges her under the table. “I’ve even seen him pull your ass out of even stickier situations. If we viewed Simon how he wanted us to view him, it’d be easy to call him a heartless bastard. But he isn’t as heartless as he wishes he was.”

“That just shows he’s doing his job as our superior officer,” she counters weakly. “He’s doing it because it’s his duty to get his subordinates out.”

“Does it ever just feel like that?”

“…no.”

Price gazes on her like a father to his daughter with her first heartbreak. “What do you feel right now, puffin?”

She purses her lips, looks down at the various weapons on the table before she admits, “I’m still hurt. His words keep replaying in my mind. I’m clingy and I’m always around.” She fiddles with the fraying hem of the rag. “That I’m a bother.”

“Would it make a difference if I told you that I don’t think such things?”

She shrugs.

Price blinks, reaches up and rubs his chin thoughtfully. “You can be very excitable. Sometimes, I think you let it get the better of you and you often forget that others don’t always have the same personality as you.”

“Excitable is the polite way of saying annoying.”

“If I wanted to say you were annoying, I would’ve. You genuinely are a good and wholesome person, my dear. But you have to remember that everyone has a different level of extroversion. Sometimes, we have to tone it down a bit.” He meets her gaze and she knows his is full of honesty. “Simon doesn’t actually hate you. And he probably feels a tad bit of annoyance, but then again, he always does regardless of who it is, because Simon hates anything that makes noise. But I also know that he feels bad for what he did and said to you—and he wants to make it right.”

She takes in his words. “Do I need to engage him first? Extend some olive branch for peace?”

Price rises from the table and smiles, walks around and pats her shoulder. “Nah, let him come to you.”

“You really think he will?”

“I do. He knows what he’s gotta do and he’ll do it because he knows it’s the right thing to do. But he’ll be skittish. He’s like a newborn deer.” He winks. “Let him mull over how he wants to do it. As for you,” he points at her. “You’ve gotta move on from this. Learn from it. And stop ignoring him and avoiding him like you’re a ten year old. Be a grown-up. Act professional and be polite. I will not let this effect the team any longer than it is. Am I understood?”

She swallows thickly and nods. “Yes, sir, Captain Price. I promise.”

Price smiles and pats her again. “Go on. Soap and Gaz headed to Purecraft.”

“But the Lieutenant—”

“Is in the training room working out,” Price waves her off. “Go. Have some fun. Get some drinks, talk to Tweedledee and Tweedledum.”

As she gets up, she pauses and looks at him. “Captain?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

Price’s eyes crinkle around the edges. “You’re welcome, Puffin.”

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count-on-mi · 3 months ago

Text

Mile High Club (Mina)

Mina is a senior flight attendant of an airline. The stewardess uniform tightly wraps her towering breasts and round buttocks, , also her angelic face, always allow her attracting countless envious glances when shuttle through the air.

As a senior flight attendant, Mina knows the first-class passengers on the plane very well. She knows which passengers will stare at her beautiful legs as soon as they board the plane, and which guests like to deliberately touch her butt when collecting their luggage. some people will even send her obscene invitations to " take care of " themselves during the flight.

Mina never refuses invitations from these men because she knows her advantages - she has a mesmerizing face and a pair of beautiful legs that can drive any man crazy. Whenever Mina sees the first-class guests casting fiery glances at her, she knows she has a new target.

Mina walked lightly to the first-class seat in black pointed high heels, attracting the attention of many people along the way.

She sat nimbly next to a middle-aged man about forty years old. This was not the first time this guest had taken this flight. Mina recognized his squinting eyes immediately.

" Hello, sir, I am Mina, the steward of this flight . Do you need anything?" Mina smiled and handed over a glass of red wine. Her little hand slipped across the man's arm intentionally or unintentionally, causing the other person to immediately become short of breath.

"Ah... no, no... I'm just... honored to be on your flight..." the man replied incoherently, and Mina noticed that his eyes kept rolling on her thighs.

"Then, if you have any needs, sir, please call me at any time and I will try my best to satisfy you." Mina put the red wine in front of the man, got up and walked towards the other passengers.

" Really ... is it okay ...?" The man looked at Mina 's back in surprise, watching her tall and graceful figure gradually move away, with an evil smile on his lips.

Of course, Mina understood the meaning behind this smile, she had expected it, but this was her job - to meet the various needs of first-class guests, even those that went beyond ordinary etiquette.

Sure enough, after the meal was over, the middle-aged man pressed the internal call button. Mina smiled knowingly, opened the hatch and walked in. "Sir, how can I help you?" Mina stood in front of the man and asked with a low eyebrow.

The men looked at Mina lustfully : "I want ... to let you stay with me here for a little while ... just for a little while ..."

Mina blinked innocently: "Here? But this is against the rules..."

"Don't be afraid... we'll keep the noise down... and I'm willing to give you some tips..." The man quickly took out a stack of thick bills from his wallet, put it on the table and pushed it to Mina.

Mina's eyes wandered between the banknotes and the man, and she quickly decided: "Since you are so sincere, then I have to try my best..."

She walked up behind the man, quietly unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt with her little hands, and whispered softly in her ear: "Sir...how do you want me to 'take care' of you...?"

The man's breathing suddenly became heavy. He reached out and grabbed Mina's arm and pulled her into his arms...

Mina smiled knowingly. She stood up and closed the seat partition to ensure that no one would disturb their "game".

Returning to the man, Mina leaned down, stretched out her tongue and licked the man's neck, leaving wet traces. "Sir, do you think my 'care' is adequate now?"

The man had been completely aroused by Mina. He roughly pulled open Mina's collar and covered her breasts with his hands and keep kneaded them. "Oh...it's so cool...I really should have chosen first class earlier..."

Mina hummed softly, raised her neck and let the man bite her throat. Her little hand restlessly inserted into the man's crotch, skillfully found the hot hard cock, and began to stroke it up and down.

" Umm ... you are so amazing ... It is already so big ..." Mina looked at the man with charming eyes and increased the speed of her hand.

"Fuck! It's so fucking exciting..." the man roared, grabbing Mina's wrist to stop her movement, then grabbed her collar and ripped it open, revealing a large area of snow-white skin.

" Miss Mina ... I want you to give it to me now ..." the man gasped and growled. Mina nodded with a smile, knelt on the ground and took off the man's pants ...

Mina gently took off the man's pants and underwear. The man's already highly erected penis eagerly popped out and jumped twice in the air.

"Oh...it's so energetic..." Mina wrapped her fingers around the thick and hard penis, stroked it up and down a few times before lowering her head and swallowing the tip into her mouth.

"Ah...Miss Mina...so good..." The man cried out comfortably, and inserted one hand into Mina's hair to press her head down, while the other hand reached into Mina's open top. The pair of white and tender breasts were rubbed vigorously inside.

Mina didn't care about the man's rough movements. She skillfully swallowed the huge thing in her mouth, and occasionally lick the sensitive crown with the tip of her tongue to arouse the man's excitement.

"It feels so good... You are much better than that whore last time..." The man became more and more excited. He simply picked up Mina's head and inserted it completely. His abdomen hit her chin and made a loud slapping sound.

Mina tried her best to relax her throat to allow the man to thrust easily, sucking and swallowing with the men’s rhythm at the same time. Soon the man's breathing became heavy and rapid, the only thing left in the cabin was the man's sensual moans and the gurgling sound of water in Mina's throat...

With Mina's efforts, the man quickly reached climax. He held Mina's head firmly against his crotch, and a thick white liquid spurted out, pouring all of it into Mina's mouth.

Mina did not spit out the man's penis immediately, but swallowed every drop of semen in her mouth, and did not raise her head until the man softened.

" Miss Mina ... you are so wonderful ..." the man gasped, still stroking Mina 's hair with his big hands.

Mina smiled and wiped away the residue from her lips, then crawled back onto the man: " In that case, sir, do you want more ' care ‘? "

Without saying a word, the man pushed Mina down on the seat and eagerly pulled open her uniform skirt, revealing the narrow thong between her slender legs. " Fuck ... you little evil ... I'm going to fuck you up ..." The man growled, taking off his clothes, stepping forward and possessing Mina fiercely...

"Ah... so deep... you are so powerful..." Mina raised her neck and hummed softly. The man's penis was thick, long and powerful, and it reached the deepest point at once.

The man grabbed Mina's waist and pumped her quickly, hitting her every time, causing Mina to moan intermittently. "Scream louder...I like to hear your voice..." the man ordered, while increasing the intensity.

" Oh ... Sir ... be gentle ... I won't be able to bear it ..." Mina twisted her waist to escape from the man's control, but it only made the man more excited.

"Little evil... you just need to be fucked..." The man rushed forward and kissed Mina on the lips, holding her swaying breasts in his big hands and kneading them.

Mina responded to the man's deep kiss, inserted one hand between the two of them, and gently twisted the man's scrotum, while the other hand left scratch marks on the man's back.

"Hmm... It's so fucking exciting... You really should be a prostitute..." The man was so excited by Mina's reaction that his penis expanded more and more, and each penetration brought Mina greater pleasure.

In the midst of this passion, the plane suddenly encountered turbulence, and the fuselage began to vibrate violently. "Be careful...ah..." Mina exclaimed, hugging the man's shoulders tightly with both hands, and the two of them swayed on the chair.

"Fuck...I don't care...let's continue..." The man gritted his teeth, fixed Mina's buttocks with his hands and continued to thrust violently, as if he wanted to penetrate her...

Mina lost control due to the man's collision. She raised her head and threw her hair away. She screamed and twisted her waist desperately, seeming to enjoy this wild pleasure.

The bumps in the fuselage caused the two of them to constantly collide and rub against each other, which only added to the excitement of sex. Mina's legs were wrapped around the man's waist, her fingers dug deep into his back, and her nails made bloody marks.

"Fuck...it feels so good...I'm going to cum..." the man growled, speeding up his thrusts and gushing out in the deepest part of Mina.

Mina also reached climax at the same time. She screamed and stretched her waist, her vagina tightened around the man's penis like a spasm, and a large amount of honey gushed out.

" Ah ... that's great ..." Mina fell into the man's arms exhausted, her forehead covered with beads of sweat.

The man chuckled lightly and kissed the corner of Mina's lips: "Your 'care' is so perfect... I will only choose you when I fly first class in the future..."

Mina chuckled and whispered in the man's ear: " Then we'll see you on the next flight ..."

When the man heard this, he was immediately excited. He hugged Mina tightly and planned to have a second round...

"Wait..." Mina suddenly pushed the man away with an embarrassed expression.

"What's wrong?" The man looked at Mina in confusion.

Mina blushed and shook her head: "For the second round of your special service, we need to charge some extra fees..."

The man's eyes widened: "What do you mean? Aren't you a flight attendant on the plane?"

Mina said: " Yes, but to provide such a long-term special service to one customer, there is still an additional charge ..."

"What?!" The man was furious. He stood up angrily: "So you are playing tricks on me..."

Mina quickly grabbed the man and explained aggrievedly: "Don't be angry... Of course I am willing to serve you, but this is not in compliance with company regulations... If I am found out, I will lose my job..."

"Then how much do you want?" the man asked.

Mina thought for a moment and held out three fingers hesitantly.

"Three thousand?!" The man was shocked.

" No ... it's three hundred thousand ..." Mina said with a blush.

"What?! Do you think I'm being taken advantage of?" the man was furious.

Mina immediately put on a pitiful look: " But sir ... I really can't provide such services for free ... You just said that I am much better than a prostitute ..."

The man sighed helplessly. He took out a thick stack of cash from the suitcase and threw it to Mina: "Okay... take it..."

After getting the money, Mina immediately changed into a different person. She knelt on the ground and leaned down again, using her gloves to touch the man's genitals while taking it into her mouth.

" Ah ... little fairy ... you are really ..." The man felt Mina 's skill and closed his eyes comfortably. Mina licked the man like a charming cat, her tongue swirled around the crown, and then suddenly slid into the deepest recess, scraping the sensitive spots teasingly.

"Oh... you're really good at licking..." The man couldn't help but hold down Mina's head and completely insert his penis into her mouth.

Mina obediently allowed herself to be manipulated by the man. The tip of her tongue hung at the base of the penis, rubbing the sensitive parts as the man thrust. "I'm going to cum..." The man's breathing became heavy. He held Mina's head firmly, thrust dozens of times, and then poured all the hot fluid into Mina's mouth.

Mina carefully swallowed every drop of semen, raised her head and showed a charming smile to the man: "Do you have any other 'requests'?"

The man stared at Mina's flushed lips and smiled evilly: "I want to fuck every hole in your body..." Mina immediately understood what the man meant. She turned over and lay on the seat, raising her butt high: "Then come on...please enjoy my back garden..."

The man stared intently at Mina's buttocks. Her vagina had not yet been closed, and the pink flesh walls could be vaguely seen, as well as the white turbid semen that was constantly flowing out. "What a beauty..." The man reached out and slapped Mina on the buttocks with emotion, causing her to scream.

"Moan..." the man ordered. He held Mina's waist and slowly advanced. The front end of his cock separated the pink anus and gradually sank into it. "Ah...Sir...slower..." Mina raised her head and gasped, feeling a strange pleasure from the thick foreign object invading her anus.

The man ignored Mina's pleas. He grabbed Mina's waist and pushed hard, inserting the entire penis into Mina's anus. "Oh..." Mina whispered in a daze. She felt that part of her body was stretched to the limit, and the man's penis jumped up and down in her body, bringing waves of tingling pleasure.

The man began to thrust rapidly. His penis was tightly wrapped by Mina's ass, and every inch of skin was rubbing, causing an extreme sense of comfort. "It feels so fucking good...you little devil..." the man growled and sped up, hitting Mina's G-spot with every penetration, causing her to scream.

"Ah...don't...too deep...sir..." Mina cried, the pain and pleasure coming from her anus made her almost lose her mind. The man doesn't care about so much, he just wants to indulge in Mina. His big hands pinched Mina's breasts, kneading them into various shapes, and pinched the sensitive nipples with his fingertips.

"Moan louder...I'm going to fuck you out..." The man gasped, his penis moving in and out of Mina's body quickly.

"Oh...Sir...I can't survive...I'm going to be broken..." Mina burst into tears. She felt that her lower body was completely out of control, and streams of juice could not stop pouring out of her vagina.

"Then let me see how wild you can be..." The man bit Mina's shoulder viciously, and his penis hit the deepest part, and then erupted again amidst Mina's high-pitched moans. White turbid semen spurted out and poured into Mina's rectum, mixing with the previous semen, making the entire anus look even muddier.

"It feels so fucking good...you are such a natural born slut..." The man pulled out his penis, covered Mina's buttocks with one hand, turned her over and pressed her on the seat, and once again buried his head in her Chest biting and sucking...

Mina looked at the man in front of her who was crazy about her with joy. She understood that as long as she could make him cum more often, she would get higher rewards.

"Do you still want it... Are you satisfied with Mina's service... Do you still want more?” Mina’s teasing is so effective that the men’s cock starts to rise again. "You little evil..." the man growled. He grabbed Mina's hands and held them above her head. Then he lowered his head and kissed Mina's red lips hard.

Mina responded to the kiss passionately, her tongue protruding into the man's mouth and entangled with his. At the same time, she felt a hot thing squeeze into her body, slowly but surely moving deeper.

" Ah ... Sir ... you are so amazing ..." Mina gasped repeatedly. She felt that the desire in her body was completely ignited, and her whole body seemed to be in cloud 9, bumping up and down with the man's movements.

The man pumped faster and faster, and his penis was tightly wrapped by Mina's tight vagina, bringing unprecedented pleasure. " Fuck ... you're driving me crazy ..." the man cursed in a low voice. He grabbed Mina 's slender waist and pushed hard ..." Mina pretended to be helpless and moaned. In fact, she felt unprecedented Relief.

The man gasped and sped up, and every thrust hit Mina's deepest core, causing a throbbing sensation. " It feels so good ..." Mina swayed obliviously, her breasts rising and falling as if they were two active volcanoes waiting to be conquered.

The man became even more excited when he saw Mina. He grabbed Mina's breasts hard and rubbed and pressed her nipples with his thumbs, causing a burst of electricity to pass through her body. " Ah ... Sir ... harder ... deeper ..." Mina twisted her body to meet the man's movements. She felt that her desire had reached the limit, and she longed for a more violent impact.

The man's scalp was numb from the stimulation of Mina's words and movements. He growled, held Mina's slim waist with both hands, and pushed his penis deep. "Oh...it's too deep..." Mina raised her head and gasped. Her eyes were blurred, as if she had lost consciousness.

The man pumped faster and faster, and his glans kept hitting Mina's cervix, causing waves of spasms." Call me husband ... you slut ..." The man bit Mina 's ear, his hoarse voice filled with indescribable temptation.

" Husband ... " Mina responded unconsciously. Her body was completely dominated, and she could only passively withstand the man's attack.

The man felt Mina 's body tighten suddenly, followed by a violent tremor. His penis was tightly twisted, almost suffocating.

" Ah...I'm going to cum..." the man growled, his penis buried deeply into Mina's body, spurting out stream after stream of hot heat inside. "Husband..." Mina also reached climax. She hugged the man tightly, and their bodies softened after a spasm.

The man gently stroked Mina's sweaty back and whispered, " You are mine for the rest of the flight. " Mina raised her head and smiled sweetly at the man. She responded softly: "Yes, husband..."

The man stared at Mina in front of him. Although the stewardess uniform she was wearing was already messy, the contrast between chaos and order gave people a very impactful sense of beauty.

Mina also noticed the man's gaze. She deliberately shook her body, revealing the snow-white skin under her clothes and a faint red mark. "Sir..." Mina blinked and called softly, as if teasing something.

The man felt that the thing in his body was tending to rise again, and he sighed. This woman was simply a natural succubus, who could always easily arouse his desire.

"What are we going to do now..." Mina tilted her head and looked at the man, looking innocent, but her eyes were so coquettish that her heart beat faster.

The man couldn't help but leaned down, and his lips fell on Mina's forehead, nose, and lips, licking all the way down, and finally took a hard red fruit in his mouth and sucked hard. "Oh..." Mina raised her head and hummed. She put her arms around the man's neck and offered her lips and tongue.

The man growled and deepened the kiss. His big hands slipped under Mina's skirt, covering her smooth thighs, and gradually explored upwards...

"Well...Husband..." Mina's murmurs came intermittently. She felt that she was about to be ignited again, and that primitive desire was taking over her reason little by little...

Mina knew exactly what she had to do - there was only the last moment before the plane landed, and she had to seize this last opportunity to drain the man in front of her. So, Mina kept whispering "husband". She twisted her body and rubbed the man's lower body, trying to arouse his interest.

" Husband ... I want more ..." Mina said coquettishly, her fingers slipped under the man's nightgown, grabbed the half-hard penis and started to play with it.

The man felt that he was about to lose control, but he still couldn't bear to stop. Mina's techniques are proficient and full of skills. She seems to be born with all this, and people can't help but indulge in it.

" You goblin ..." the man gasped and pushed Mina down on the seat again. His tongue swept across Mina 's bare shoulders, leaving a trail of glistening saliva.

" As long as my husband likes it ..." Mina chuckled. She put her arms around the man's neck and pulled him to cover her again.

The man buried his head in Mina 's chest and sucked her nipples hard. At the same time, he raised his buttocks and pressed against Mina 's private parts, rubbing them slightly.

"Oh..." Mina felt a numbing pleasure spread from her lower body. She couldn't help but raise her head and moan in response to the man's sucking. " Baby ... you are so sweet ..." The man's hoarse voice sounded extremely aggressive. He pulled open Mina 's dress without any explanation and bit into a bud.

"Husband..." Mina sighed softly and opened her legs to facilitate the man's further invasion. The man unhooked Mina's bra, and a pair of proud jade rabbits popped out. The man eagerly lowered his head, took one of the nipples into his mouth, and teased it with the tip of his tongue, causing Mina to gasp.

" Ah ... it feels so comfortable ... honey ... push harder ..." Mina twisted her body, her hand kept touching the man's penis and began to stroke it gently. The man felt the heat gradually rising in his lower body, and his breathing became heavier, but he still did not forget to take care of Mina's two-point red cherry in his mouth, sucking and licking it, making a "tsk tsk" sound.

"Husband... I can't bear it anymore... Come in..." Mina begged softly, her legs automatically parted, inviting the man to enter. The man finally let go of Mina 's breasts. He put his hands on Mina 's waist, then slowly moved forward, and slowly inserted his huge penis into Mina 's body.

" Ah!" Mina raised her head and gasped. The depths of her body were immediately filled, and an electric-like pleasure coursed through her limbs.

The man began to pump slowly, going all the way in every stroke, hitting the deepest part of Mina. " Honey ... come on ... harder ..." Mina urged, feeling like she was about to melt into the waves of pleasure.

The man obeyed the order and sped up. His penis quickly moved in and out of Mina's body, making waves of water and sluggish sounds. " Baby, you're so tight ... it's driving me crazy ..." the man gasped, and beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.

When Mina heard the man's words, a proud smile appeared on her lips. She adjusted her breathing, and then rhythmically tightened her body cavity, tightly wrapping the man's hot desire.

"Oh!" The man felt that he was being tightly clamped, and Mina's pussy seemed to be alive, squirming and squeezing, trying to squeeze out all the essence in his body.

"Baby...you're going to drain me..." the man roared, his speed getting faster and faster, hitting Mina's deepest part hard every time, causing waves of convulsions.

Mina 's breathing became more and more rapid. She clutched the sheets tightly, and her whole body was shaking uncontrollably.

"Honey... cum together... I'm cumming..." Mina shouted in a daze, her body suddenly tightened again, and a strong suction force hit the man's clone. "Oh...fuck!" The man could no longer control himself. He growled and poured all of himself into Mina's body.

The two of them froze up while climaxing and could not recover for a long time.

After a while, the man withdrew from Mina's body, bringing out a large amount of viscous bodily fluids. Mina was lying on her back on the seat, the lingering feeling had not dissipated, her eyes were a little confused, and she seemed to be in some kind of passionate state.

The man leaned down, gently stroked Mina 's hair, and said with a low smile: " Baby, you are truly a stunner. " Mina narrowed her eyes and showed a charming smile: "Husband, this is just the beginning." "

For the next period, Mina was like an insatiable demon, constantly squeezing the desire out of the man's body. They tried various positions and methods, reaching the peak again and again.

It wasn't until the plane started to land that Mina stopped this wild game. She quickly arranged her clothes to cover up the mess on her body. Then, Mina took out a large check from the man's wallet, smiled kindly at him, and left his first-class cabin.

When Mina returned to work, she looked as elegant and capable as ever. No one could have imagined that this dignified stewardess had just staged such a ridiculous love affair in a private cabin.

Mina greeted the other passengers with a smile on her face. She stuffed the check left by the man into her pocket and silently planned her spending plan for tonight.

The drained man was still unconscious on the first-class bed. His body was covered with hickeys and fingerprints, and a pool of thick bodily fluids wet the sheets.

It seems that this journey will become a very unforgettable memory for him.

#minasaiyatis #twice smut #girl group smut #kpop smut #female idol smut #m reader #twice imagines #mina smut #twice mina

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vixensdungeon · 2 months ago

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Alright, time to talk about one of the hot button issues in D&D today: skills, and how they've evolved over the 50-year lifespan of the game. We'll start, of course, from the beginning.

Dungeons & Dragons (1974)

So there actually isn't a skill system here. But the primordial origins are there, in the various neat little procedures of adventuring. Firstly there are languages. Humans know the "common tongue," which at this point isn't a single language, it just refers to the local Lingua Franca. I think all non-human player characters are assumed to be in 20% of other creatures who speak the language along with their own one. You also know an alignment language (Lawful, Chaotic, or Neutral), and one additional creature language for every point of Intelligence above 10.

NPC reactions. This is rolled on a simple 2d6 table for recruiting hirelings. Another 2d6 table is for monster reactions.

Surprise rolls. There are no stealth or perception skills, and adventurers are simply assumed to be sneaking around while in dungeons, with surprise rolled when monsters are encountered.

Doors can be listened at and secret doors found, with simple d6 rolls.

There's also a chance of getting lost in the wilderness, which sort of implies a general ability to not do so in most situations.

And that's basically it! You can already see several different skills we know today forming in the primordial soup.

But you feel like something is missing, right? Ah, of course! We must take a little detour to

Greyhawk (1975)

Did you know that in the original game, the only classes were fighting man, magic-user, and cleric? That's right, the now classic thief would not be introduced until the first supplement! And with them came for the first time actual named skills.

Thieves could open locks, remove traps, listen for noise, move silently, pick pockets, and hide in shadows. Additionally they could read languages, treasure maps, and even magical scrolls at higher levels.

Now, these skills are only for thieves, so what are other characters to do? Well for most of them, nothing. It simply is not a fighter's job to pick pockets, or a cleric's job to open a lock. Certainly an item can be forcefully taken from an NPC, and a door bashed open, so they are not completely helpless in these tasks. But the thief simply excels at doing such things with superior ability and grace. And of course any character can hear noises behind doors, thieves are simply better at it. Moving silently and hiding are two slightly odd skills, as they overlap with surprise rolls but don't interact with them. It can be assumed that a thief moving silently can scout ahead and report back without actually encountering the monsters they find, and a hiding thief can let wandering monsters pass by even when there isn't sufficient cover (as only shadows are needed, other characters can obviously still hide behind cover if they are aware of the need to do so). Other characters can also climb using ropes and other tools, but won't be able to climb sheer surfaces unaided like thieves can, so again the thief can simply do something general in a superior manner.

There are many classes with their own skills to be found in various magazines, but I'm not going to dig through them. So let the totality of original D&D skills be the above.

Next time: we get Advanced

#dnd

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dmitriene · 10 months ago

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THOUGHTS ABOUT BATHING WITH SIMON.

cw: fluff, comfort, slighty suggestive, established relationship, female and male anatomy, sleepy and soft simon, maybe slighty ooc simon because of his behavior, hard on, intimacy, kisses, bits of a clingy behavior, hints on sex. pairing: bf simon ghost riley x gf fem reader

✎ 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘴. 𝘢𝘰3. ˑ༄

periodically, getting simon into the bath was a bit of a challenge, not because he was against showering on a schedule, but because he was terribly tired.

being at the base, running around on various missions that, at best, took several weeks, incapacitated any person, and he was no exception, especially once he finally returned home.

he was incredibly glad to return to the warmth of your common harbor only because he could finally rest, without unnecessary noise, without one open eye in case the enemy was unexpectedly close, without annoying and depressing experiences — just a soft bed, you, and your soothing scent.

the slight smell of cologne and ingrained gunpowder tickled your nose when simon buried a slightly uneven line of his nose into the back of your neck, blowing it with periodic warm sighs and thus tickling your skin, while his voluminous, heavy hand was thrown around your waist, literally pressing you into the place near him, he wasn't sleeping, at least not completely, at the moment he was just silently enjoying your presence.

you toss and turn, causing him to pull away from you with a slight dissatisfied growl so that you change your position, facing him when he was already in a hurry to bend down to bury his face in your chest, but you intercept him, the roar of chesty growls is heard throughout the room, frozen in the morning silence, while his light stubble pricks yours warm palms, and you lift his face, seizing the moment to examine his dirty blond hair, which would be nice to wash, his stubble has grown, gunpowder has eaten into his light eyelashes, turning them black to match his bottomless, equally dark brown eyes.

simon frankly doesn’t understand why you don’t let him rest, and you are driven by sincere concern when you stroke the line of his cheekbones, tracing the edges with your fingers and scratching him like a cat, forcing his already barely open brown eyes to close with fluttering eyelashes, snuggling into your warmth and comfort closer, looking for more affection, but you are in a hurry to interrupt him with a whisper from which he frowns, practically jerks back like a dissatisfied kitten, so incomparable to a strong soldier, but this is no less charming, because such a reaction is caused by one simple invitation — «need to clean up, si, you're home already second day and just sleep all the time, i can't even recognize my man anymore»

— «no wanna» he interrupts instantly, childishly leaving the warmth of your palms and immediately turning over to the other side, showing you his bare, wide, slighty pale back, a scattering of scars, barely noticeable moles, even freckles that seem to appear to the eye as a homely canvas when he folds his hands on his chest, slightly tensing his muscles, which immediately go limp when you giggle at his behavior, pressing closer, wrapping your arms around his torso and reverently leaving a warm kiss on the curve of his shoulder, feeling the tense muscles as if under the lips themselves.

— «come on, si, i'll help you, hmm? would make you a warm, bubbly bath, help you wash yourself, give a massage to those aching muscles of yours?» you mumble rather purring, quite seductively, running your fingers along the curve of his muscle and shoulder blades, practically tickling, and he is unable to deny the craving for the way you describe it, making him growl and rise, brushing the blanket off his hips and standing in nothing but in boxers, stretching on the corner of the bed.

— «bloody woman» the only thing he mutters, not at all out of resentment and hostility, but from the realization of how much power you hold over him, forcing him to overcome all laziness and fatigue in order to finally reach the bathroom, shuffling his feet on the floor not even in slippers, throwing open the door when you follow behind him, nothing more than giggling from gloating and his domesticated appearance, just like a lazy, well-fed cat, with crumpled strands of hair, a slight softness on the sides and belly.

the smell of scented bath foam and some kind of scrub caresses your nose with soothing smells when you sit with simon, settled in a slightly narrow, but at the same time comfortable bathtub, he reclines with his arms outstretched on both edges of the snow white ceramic, looking at you sleepily through the flutter of his light eyelashes when you gently rub his chest, washing everything thoroughly, sitting in front of him in a complete nakedness and focusing on his comfort as he traces your every move.

his muscles relaxed, the hot water doing its job of softening him while you rub the scrub into his rough, scarred skin, doing deep cleansing, and he doesn’t even resist or turn his nose, allowing you to absorb the sweetish aroma into him, making his skin completely soft to the touch, as if he had just been born, leaving his hairy chest and strong muscles to go lower and down to his legs.

simon lifts one leg, following your movement, allowing you to stroke it with a washcloth that was floating nearby, applying even more foam on top of the one that was already there, while he only followed with his eyes, looking at your naked breasts and wet nipples, covered with the same foam with warm water and unable to look away, starting to pull his hand, crumpling your hip under the water and pulling you towards him, making you squeak, losing focus — «simon! what's happening, love?»

he simply grumbles, arranging you on his lap to press closer to your wet, warm skin, outlining your waist with his heavy hands, kneading the soft flesh under his fingers with pleasure, burying his nose somewhere in the intersection of your shoulder and chest, limp and relaxed, without raising his head, to which you sigh and just stroke his shoulders, moving to the back of his head and going down to his neck, scratching and purring — «talk to me, si»

he remains silent, as if on purpose, continuing to breathe measuredly into the area of your collarbone and fidget with his lips against the soft flesh, before you feel his limp cock rise slowly, rubbing against your bodies and softly hitting his lower abdomen, straining slightly, thick veins run along the length of his hard cock, the tip slowly gets wet not only from water, but also from sticky precum, and now you understand his excessive clinginess to you, giggling quietly before kissing the top of his head.

he finally raises his head in response to the light touch of your lips to his wet hair, brown eyes look absolutely calm and puppy like, moving to softly kiss your breasts, while his slippery hands change position from your hips to your thighs, stroking, as if silently asking for green color and resolution to go further, but when you tsk, he snorts in disappointment, hitting his forehead against your ribcage.

— «no, si, first i continue to wash you, and then we'll see about this» you tut, taking up the stroke of the back of his neck again, sliding down his back with pressing fingertips, stroking and pressing on the tense muscles before he mumbles — «fine, love..» and lifts his head again, tilting it back along with his back, letting you move on to washing his hands, rubbing in the shower gel and a slightly tingling scrub, as simon's head tilts slightly to the side with quiet breathing, his eyelids growing heavier with a fleeting movement of blonde lashes before he settles into a sensual sleep, his slightly hairy chest heaves with each breath.

as long as you continue to groom him, focusing back on washing his body with the still hot water, moving slightly on his lap before scooping even closer, reaching out to stroke his wet hair and squeeze the shampoo into your palm, rubbing his scalp, massaging and scratching, causing him to growl contentedly and flutter his eyes, seems that he won't be able to continue other activities after such a bath.

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illyrianbitch · 4 months ago

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One Summer — Part Two

Pairing: Reader x Azriel

Summary: One beach house. One festival. One summer to fall in love.

Warnings: brief mentions of alcohol, cass & mor being bickering siblings, cass with facial hair, modern adaptions of bat wings aka tattoos, sexual n romantic tension, reader has a big fat crush

Word Count: 5.5k

Part One — Series Masterlist — Part Three

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

“I hate it.”

Though Mor was seated beside you, her voice seemed to reverberate from a great distance, oscillating from one ear to the other. Your attention was not on your two best friends; their conversation filtering through your senses like white noise. Instead, your mind was entirely captivated by the view of the beach you sat on. The sun was setting and a golden hue painted the skies, its final light skittering across the soft waves of the ocean.

This was always one of your favorite times of day.

There was a specific sense of peace that seemed to settle among everyone as the sun gave over to the power of the moon, a peace that almost felt tangible on your skin, like the grains of the warm sand beneath you. You dug your toes further into its warmth as Mor scowled next to you, her gaze stuck on the horizon where Azriel, Cassian, and Rhys currently ran around, attempting to pin one another and throw each other into the waves.

The topic of conversation was what it had been every time Mor complained over the past week: Cassian’s new mustache.

It had grown exponentially over the last week, now fully formed above his top lip. Even from this distance, you could make out its shadow. But, in all honesty, it wasn’t his mustache that you were focusing on. It was his chiseled, bare torso.

The boys were always very fit, sporting defined bodies with even more defined muscles. But you hadn’t seen them like this in a while: shirtless, sun-kissed, tanned skin, and swimming shorts that created sleek, stark tan lines along their hips. Not since way back in the first summer you all shared. Last year’s break was filled with an internship to beef up your resume, moving into your new place with Mor and Feyre, and spending whatever free time you had with Eris and his family— far, far away from Mor.

The boys had grown even bigger since that first summer. Cassian, in particular, had developed noticeable definition, which you attributed to ROTC and his various sports activities. After all, ROTC combined military training with college coursework and demanded a significant amount of time and discipline. Balancing academics, those military duties, and being a student athlete seemed like an overwhelming feat, but Cassian managed it all. His physique was a clear indication of it.

Yet, despite his impressive build, it was Cassian’s face that truly drew attention. His large, beaming grin had a way of captivating anyone who saw it. It seemed to say more about his character than his muscular frame ever could, making it clear that beneath all that strength was someone incredibly approachable and genuinely good-hearted.

Your attention traveled to Rhysand next. Rhysand always held a certain grace to him, a regal essence of someone born to be a leader, to stand out among a crowd. You’d watched him come into his own in the past few years, watched as he fell in love with Feyre and began planning a life for himself outside of the pressures his father had implemented throughout his childhood.

Rhysand’s usually meticulously styled hair now hung in front of his eyes as he dodged Cassian and went under his arm. He was always a bit leaner than Cass, but still very built, with large, defined muscles that Feyre giggled about every girls' night. Rhys knew how to put those muscles to use, Feyre seemed to remind you every time she was three margaritas in. You didn’t doubt it, even if you and Mor groaned and pushed her further off the couch—and watched as she fell to the floor since Feyre’s balance tended to disappear when alcohol was introduced to her nightly diet.

Despite every fiber in your being begging for your gaze to fall to him first, your eyes went to Azriel last. You’d been fighting the urge, telling yourself that if you looked at him last, your eyes could linger just a few seconds longer.

You were currently mesmerized by the tattoo sprawling across his back.

The design was captivating—an elaborate pair of wings stretching gracefully across his shoulder blades, with their apex extending along the sides of his neck. The wings seemed almost alive, their fine details appearing three-dimensional against his golden skin. The spaces around the wings were filled with swirling patterns that looked like shadows, moving fluidly as though they were dancing across his skin.

The wings didn’t stop at his back; they extended over his biceps and down to his elbows. When he moved his arms, it almost seemed as if he was preparing for flight, the tattoo coming to life with every gesture. Cassian’s wings mirrored this design, stretching over his own biceps and elbows in a similar fashion. However, the empty spaces on his arms were adorned with sharp, angular patterns. Where the patterns on Az’s skin were fluid, like smoke and shadow, Cassians were rigid, sharp lines like that of a fierce fight.

Rhysand’s tattoo was distinctively more reserved. His bat-style wings were intricately etched into his back, spanning from his shoulder blades to his lower back, but they remained tightly confined to his torso. Unlike Azriel and Cassian, the design didn’t extend onto his arms. Instead, it was tattooed in a tucked, retracted position. Besides the wings, Rhysand’s collarbone was adorned with an elaborate tattoo of stars and swirling patterns that mimicked the night sky, with galaxies appearing to shimmer and shift across his skin.

Your eyes stuck to Azriel’s moving form— glued to his every gesture, really.

Azriel was always very cute. Handsome and pretty in a way that made chests tighten. But you hadn’t seen it much recently, hadn’t paid attention to anyone besides Eris, really. Now that you were broken up, it was as if you were seeing things in a completely new light, with new glasses that magnified every detail of the males around you. The reality was undeniable: Azriel had gotten more attractive over the past two years.

It was unfair. Completely and utterly unfair.

And you were completely and utterly overwhelmed by it— more so than you’d ever expected. God, you needed to check yourself, to reel in this strange crush that had begun to bloom like a flower in a new spring. You felt feral. It was embarrassing, to say the least, and you were grateful that your friends were often too absorbed in their own lives to notice your lingering glances.

Your fingers itched to trace the intricate ink on Azriel’s skin. You settled for running the pads of your fingers along the bare skin of your knee, mimicking the graceful movements of his tattoos. The act was a poor substitute for the real thing, but it helped channel the sudden urge to connect with the beautiful art that adorned him.

Feyre let out a hum besides Mor. From the corner of your eye you caught sight of her tilting her head in quiet focus. “I don’t know,” she said after a moment, “It’s not that bad.”

Mor whipped her head to the side, her blonde locks cascading across her shoulder like a golden waterfall. She let out a shocked gasp.

“Feyre,” she scolded, “You can’t be serious.”

Feyre raised an eyebrow in response. “I’m serious. I’ve seen worse. It works for him, I think.”

Mor’s attention shifted to you. It took a minute before you were able to tear your gaze away from the view in front of you— the three boys illuminated by the soft glow of sunset; the delicate waves behind them that collected the remaining colors of the sky.

You turned to look at her, taking in her widened eyes and pursed lips. It was an expectant face, one she wore when she was waiting for important news— or in this case, for someone to agree with her. You offered a sheepish smile and shrugged, pulling your knees closer to your chest.

“Sorry girl, it’s kinda growing on me, too.”

Her mouth fell open and another dramatic, shocked gasp left her mouth. She returned her gaze to the view before her.

“It’s like I’m the only one with taste in this entire house.”

You snorted, turning to look as Mor shook her head in disbelief. Your gaze connected with Feyre’s as you leaned over slightly and you watched as her mouth curved into an amused smile, a small laugh leaving her delicate lips.

“You have a completely different taste than both of us, Mor. Maybe that's why you feel so passionate about this topic.”

Mor shook her head again, waving the comment off with an elegant hand— long red painted nails on every finger except for two: her ring and middle finger. The same style was mirrored on her other hand, currently at her side and playing with the sand.

“Actually,” Mor started, and you rolled your eyes at the tone of her voice, a smile tugging stronger at your lips. “It’s because I’m into girls that my opinion here matters the most.”

Your attention drifted back to the boys who had finally ceased their game. They were catching their breath, hunched over and panting, before gradually making their way back.

Cassian reached you guys first, his steps falling from a jog into a soft walk before he came to a complete stop. He brought his hands to his head, smoothing down the top of his pulled back hair and readjusting his bun. Then, he placed his hands on his hips as a grin broke out on his face, eyes trailing between you, Mor, and Feyre.

“Whatcha ladies gossiping about?”

His voice was still ragged from the running, coming out in a long breath and followed by a deep one. Mor frowned at him, crinkling her nose as she scanned his appearance.

“We’re talking about that disgusting caterpillar of facial hair you’ve forced us to endure the sight of.”

Cassian’s grin faltered. “Excuse me?”

Mor only raised a brow in response— a challenge. Cassian accepted wordlessly, crossing his arms across his bare chest and jutting his chin out defiantly.

“Don’t be a hater, Mor.”

She scoffed. “Hater is my middle name. Consider this a reality check: Shave.”

Cassian considered her response for a moment, lips pursing in feign contemplation. Nope,” he said, a hand caressing his mustache. “You’re just too stubborn to admit you might actually like it.”

Another scoff. Offended and insulted all at once, the presence of those emotions fully present in the sound as it left her lips. “There are many words to describe the way I feel about that monstrosity you’re touching. ‘Like’ is certainly not one of them.”

You tossed a glance over at Feyre. She caught your gaze, eyes glistening with a quiet amusement as she tugged her legs to her chest, her sitting stance mirroring yours. She placed her chin on her knee, eyes drifting back towards the two bickering adults.

“You’re so dramatic. This ‘stache isn’t for you, anyways. You’re not the population I’m aiming for.”

“And who, pray tell, is the target audience? Divorcees in soon-to-be foreclosed homes?” A raised brow. “Republicans?”

This conversation was one you’d heard almost every day since Cass had decided to grow his ‘stache out, opting to only shave his beard. The argument held the same structure everytime. Mor would complain that it was gross and an eyesore, offer a new metaphor to describe it, and insist that Cassian shave it off. Cass would wave it off, act offended, and explain his reasonings once more to her deaf ears. It’s for the indie girls at the festival, Mor, Cassian had whined two days prior, They’ll go crazy for a pornstache. It’s a trend now. Mor only complained more in response, groaning in disgust and telling him she was going to shave it in his sleep.

As the argument continued, Azriel and Rhysand finally approached. Rhys raised an eyebrow at the bickering duo, a knowing smirk spreading across his face. He flashed you a grin before flopping down next to Feyre. With a playful shake of his head, reminiscent of a wet dog, he sent droplets of water flying. Feyre let out a startled shriek and pushed him away, her eyes sparkling with annoyance as Rhysand’s laughter filled the air.

Meanwhile, Azriel approached slowly, the last rays of the setting sun casting a faint glow on his figure. As he neared, Cassian turned his attention to him, desperation evident in his eyes.

“Hey, man, help me out here,” he called, a hand extended in Az’s direction. “Tell her it works. Back me up.”

Azriel gave him a steady look before shaking his head. “I’m not going to do that.”

Mor let out a triumphant laugh. “Aha!” Her eyes glimmered in satisfaction. “Even Azriel agrees with me!”

Cass kicked a spray of sand towards her in response. It scattered in all directions and you sputtered, grimacing as the gritty texture found its way into your mouth and eyes. With a groan, you brushed it off, watching as Cassian’s face dropped and concern flashed across his widened eyes.

Both him and Azriel muttered curses under their breath, the two starting to move towards you. But Cassian was faster. With a swift motion, he plopped down beside you, arm reaching out to pull you into his side.

“My bad, my bad,” He said, his voice laced with sincerity as he tucked you against him, his damp arm warm around you. He gave you a reassuring squeeze, though you still felt the remnants of sand clinging to your skin.

You squirmed a bit, trying to escape his sweaty embrace, but Cassian held you close. Over your hunched back, he shot a glare at Mor. “See what you made me do?”

She squeaked. “What I made you do?”

“Yes you.”

Your cheek pressed against his chest, squished near the area where his arms met his torso.

“I didn’t force you to kick sand at me with your big ass feet,” she huffed.

A new argument arose, Cassian leaning further over your back to bicker with Mor face to face. The more enthusiastic he became, the farther he seemed to shove you into his form. You looked up and managed to meet Azriel’s gaze, widening your eyes in a plea for help.

He understood the look immediately. The corners of his lips twitched upwards in amusement as he stepped forward, knocking Cassian’s muscled calf with his foot.

“Cass,” Azriel said, “You’re suffocating her.”

It took him a moment to register the words. But when they finally hit, Cass sprung back, holding you out with his arms in a movement so swift you blinked to reorient yourself. He examined you with the same observant eye as a parent, looking over your exposed skin as if he was searching for any open wounds or deformities.

“My bad,” he repeated. He gave you a guilty grin as brought his hands to smooth down your hair. His large hazel eyes met yours, widened and soft like that of a puppy. “All better.”

You gave him a look— brows raised and scrunched, a deep crease forming in the middle of them.

“Get outta here,” you muttered, pushing his warm body away from you. But despite yourself, a small grin hung on the corners of your lips.

You still felt Azriel’s eyes on you— that faint warm sensation that filtered through your skin. You met his gaze momentarily, watching as his eyes bounced between all of you. He settled back on the large teddy bear next to you.

“Help me start the fire,” Az said, calling Cassian’s attention back to him. Azriel looked at Mor next, gesturing towards her with his chin. “You too, judgy.”

“What?” Mor paused, hands freezing mid motion of wiping sand off her thighs. “Why me?”

“Because you’re mean,” Cassian said, bringing a hand to stroke his mustache. “And mean people do labor.”

Rhysand snorted. You had almost forgotten Rhys and Feyre were sitting there, quietly in their own world until Rhys leaned back on his hands with a grin, obviously enjoying the argument.

Azriel rolled his eyes. “Get up, c’mon.” He gestured with his hands, herding them both like sheep. Mor let out a grumble but began to push herself up nonetheless.

“I’m getting up because I want to. Not because you told me.”

Cassian was in front of her before she managed, offering a large hand out. “Yeah, yeah,” he said. “Let's go.”

She threw him a scowl, but the act had no malice behind it. Taking his hand, she muttered, “This would be much sweeter if you didn’t look like my creepy uncle Chris.”

Cassian just groaned.

Thank you, you mouthed when Azriel met your eyes once more. The corner of his eyes crinkled as he gave you a soft smile. Something deep within your chest flickered, like a candle being lit aflame. He dipped his head in acknowledgement before trailing after the two.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Forty five minutes later, you found yourself seated around a crackling fire, the sound of Rhysand's offhand joke eliciting laughter from everyone.The night had fully descended and the sky above was dotted with dim, flickering stars. You’d all discussed the summer, the festival, and your plans for the month. It was a summer of living, you’d told them. A summer to sit back and let life do with you what it may—and hope that meant all good things.

The stretch of beach was empty except for your group. Whether Rhysand and Mor’s family owned this area or the rest of the world had simply decided to stay in, you weren’t sure. Either way, you were appreciative.

Cassian was beside you, but your attention was solely on Azriel, who sat next to him. The firelight played upon his skin, casting a warm glow that accentuated the sharp lines of his face. The embers illuminated his hazel eyes with a brilliance that made your breath catch every time he laughed.

Azriel met your gaze, his features softened by the dancing flames, and your heart skipped a beat. His mouth moved, forming words, and it took a moment for you to realize he was speaking to you. You blinked, the spell breaking, and slowly forced yourself to focus, bringing yourself down from the reverie you had drifted into.

“Are you cold?”

Azriel’s voice rolled over you like a small wave and you shivered at the sensation. You looked down at yourself and realized, for the first time, how the night’s chill had settled in. Goosebumps had risen on your skin, more pronounced than you had initially thought.

“Just a little,” you admitted, running your hands along your arms in a vain attempt to generate warmth. The friction offered little relief and you exhaled softly. “I can just move closer to the fire.”

You repositioned yourself, moving to scooch closer to the fire that illuminated your faces.

“Nah, don’t do that.” Cassian said. You turned to find him watching you, his gaze steady, shadows of flames flickering on his features. He gestured back towards the house with his chin. "I have a hoodie in the living room if you want to grab it."

You considered his idea for a moment, then nodded in agreement. It was a sensible suggestion. Placing a gentle hand on Mor’s shoulder, you let her know you’d be right back. She smiled in response, her eyes warm in the flickering firelight.

You brushed off your pants and walked towards the house, your feet sinking slightly into the still-warm sand with each step. The contrast of the cool night air and the lingering warmth of the sand created a soothing, almost nostalgic sensation as you made your way to the living room.

The dimly lit interior welcomed you with a cozy, muted glow and your gaze fell on the kitchen counter. There, amid Azriel’s keys and a variety of Rhysand’s rings, rested a camera.

You took a moment to examine it—a digital model. While you weren’t particularly knowledgeable about cameras, this one was nice; reminiscent of a simpler time. You weren’t exactly sure if it was the design that made you feel that way or the person that owned it: Azriel.

You knew without a doubt that it was his. You could also assume, with a fair degree of confidence, that the camera could beautifully simulate the look of film.

Azriel had mentioned his burgeoning passion for photography two years ago, expressing a particular fondness for the aesthetic of film. He’d said that a true film camera was beyond his budget at the time, but a digital model with film simulation would be an ideal compromise. Rhysand and Cassian had gifted him this very camera the following Christmas. From what Mor had told you, Az never felt comfortable enough to pick up the passion— kept telling her that he hadn’t found his muse yet.

"Hey."

Despite how soft the voice was, you still jumped, placing the camera back down on the counter as you turned to face Azriel. He always had an uncanny ability to move silently, almost as if he emerged from the shadows themselves. It was unnerving at first, but there was a certain comfort found in his stealth now. His presence wasn't loud. You appreciated it.

"Hi, Az." You smiled sheepishly. "You're so quiet. It's crazy."

The corners of his lips twitched upwards. Azriel’s gaze softened slightly, his hazel eyes now glowing with a gentle amusement.

“Sorry,” he said, accompanied by a small laugh. He moved around you and made his way to the fridge. It opened with a small clatter, the glass bottles stacked on the door moving with the movement. He pulled out a few bottles of beers.

“You agreed to be the errand boy?” you asked, a hint of playful reproach in your voice.

Usually, the boys argued over every action; who would grab the next drink, who would drive while the others drank— the options were endless. It was often settled with a game of rock, paper, scissors, or a classic nose-goes. Azriel always seemed to come out on top.

He glanced back over his shoulder, a casual shrug punctuating his response. “If I didn’t, no one would.”

His voice was quiet– steady. You studied his movements, taking in the details of his tattooed back that were too small to appreciate from a distance. He turned around, walking forward to place the bottles on the kitchen counter across from you.

"You could be a spy, y'know."

Azriel raised an eyebrow skeptically, his eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that suggested he was both amused and intrigued. You returned the gesture, leaning forward on your forearms. The kitchen counter was cold against your skin and you felt a slight chill run through your body.

“You don’t agree?” you asked.

He met your gaze through his lashes and shook his head, a lopsided smile playing on his lips. The curls otop of his head bounced with the subtle movement and the warmth in his eyes reflected the gentle glow of the dim kitchen light.

“Nah,” he responded. He popped the caps off the bottles. “Don’t know if that fits me.”

“I think it does. You’re an observer.”

“Careful,” Azriel warned with a playful edge. His voice was smooth in a way that made you clench, tone low and unintendedly seductive. “Don’t make me sound like a creep.”

”Okay, what would you like me to say instead?”

He contemplated. “I just like to people-watch.”

You had to stifle a chuckle, finding his self-description almost endearing in its simplicity. You didn’t have the heart to tell him that actually sounded worse— at least to you. Instead, you reached to the side, grabbing the camera that had been in your hands a few moments prior. "This kind of people watching?"

For a moment, you both stood in silence as you stared at the camera in your hands. When you looked up, you focused on Azriel’s face. His eyes traveled from the camera to your eyes, and in that moment, there was something alive in his gaze—an intensity that seemed to make the room itself disappear. Something warm and comforting.

“I remember you talking about wanting to get into photography,” you said, your voice softening with genuine warmth. With a smile, you extended the camera toward him. “I’m glad to see you’re pursuing it. At least for the summer.”

Azriel’s smile widened slightly as he reached out and took it from your hands, the brush of his fingers against your skin sending a pleasant shiver through you. Your smile grew deeper into your cheeks, pulled at the edges by his very touch.

But when the camera was finally in his hold, something seemed to change in his gaze, as if the weight of the it in his palm was transferred to a weight on his chest. He let out a small sigh.

"Don't get your hopes up,” he murmured, “I haven't taken any pictures yet."

He placed the camera back onto the counter with a slight thud, the sound echoing softly in the quiet kitchen. You gave him a face.

“It’s barely been a week,” you said, trying to keep your tone light. “Six days to be exact.”

“That’s already a week behind.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, a small laugh leaving your lips. Azriel seemed to lock onto the sound, eyes glittering as his hand found the beer bottle again.

“Seriously?” You leaned against the counter, crossing your arms in a playful gesture of mock indignation. “It’s been six days and you’re already considering yourself behind schedule?”

He gave a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “It’s not just about having the camera. It’s about actually using it. I had high hopes for this week.”

“Sometimes its okay to just enjoy the moment, Az.”

He leaned in slightly, his eyes twinkling with playful intensity. You felt a catch in your breath at the way his expression shifted. It was enough to remind you that Az wasn’t just kind and attractive; he was a suave college boy when needed.

“Ah, but the burden of my artistic aspirations are too great,” he said, his voice low and playful, “How will I ever manage without my schedule?”

A comedian, truly. You raised an amused eyebrow. “And I’m the Type A one?”

"You are." He grinned. "Who counts the days they've been on vacation for, anyways?"

"Okay that's not fair."

Azriel chuckled and walked over to a vase on the counter. The vase, a clear, simple one that had come with a bouquet of flowers for Rhys’s mother, was part of a collection Azriel started—a small yet meaningful tradition of saving bottle caps from vacation. You took the opportunity to glance at his back again, taking in the intricate tattoos that adorned his shoulder blades. The designs seemed to pulse with life against his skin when they caught the light.

“It’s cool seeing all of the details in your tattoos. I never really noticed them before.”

Azriel turned slightly, his gaze meeting yours as he considered your observation. “Is this you admitting that you’re staring at my naked back?”

“Do you want me to be staring at your naked back?”

Azriel dropped the caps into the vase and walked back towards you. He gave you a nonchalant shrug, his mischievous smile lingering slightly on his lips, casual and knowing.

“It’s hard not to stare,” you added, tracing idle patterns onto the counter, unaware of how the motions mimicked the swirls on Az’s skin. “You, Cass, and Rhys have the most ink out of everyone I know. My eyes naturally gravitate.”

“And here I thought my back was special.”

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks and you quickly looked down at the counter, hoping it would hide the color spreading across your face. Your smile was so wide it almost hurt. You met his eyes once more. They were already on you.

“I will tell you that your wings seem a bit bigger than Cass or Rhys’s.”

Azriel’s grin widened at your response. He leaned forward, resting on the counter and lowering his gaze to meet yours. “Don’t tell them that.”

He took a swig of his drink. You watched the path of the liquid down his throat, tracing it to his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. You cleared your throat, laughing softly. “Never.”

He looked at you for a moment, gaze soft and contemplative. A thoughtful glaze found his eyes, as if he were lost in deep reflection.

“What?”

Your voice came out meeker than intended.

“I’m just really glad you’re here.” Azriel said. His voice was sincere, carrying with it a weight that made you pause.

You sucked in a breath. “Me too. It’s nice to be around you guys. All of you.”

“Would I be a dick if I said that I’m glad you and Eris broke up?” Azriel paused. “Because now you can be here with us.”

You bit back a smile, your cheeks warming slightly. “Maybe just a tiny bit.”

But the corners of your lips still twitched upwards, forming a lopsided smile.

He shrugged, a casual grin returning to his lips. “In that case, consider it thought, not said.”

You smiled at him, feeling a nervous flutter in your chest. The dim light of the kitchen seemed to cast a warm glow around him, making his features appear even more inviting than usual. He looked soft now, and you found yourself struggling to understood why, at one point, you were unbelievably intimidated by him.

Freshman year you would be having a heart attack now, truly. You could still feel her deep down in your mind, beginning to hyperventilate with excitement.

You looked down shyly, trying to steady your racing heart, and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear before pointing at the beers.

“Do you need help with those?”

“Sure,” he replied with a grin, pushing one towards you. “I can never say no to you.” His words sent a rush of warmth through you, and you bit your lip to prevent your smile from growing even more. Forget alcohol— subtlety is what you needed more of. He rounded the kitchen counter.

As he neared you, he paused, his eyes flicking to your forehead. Placing the beers back down, he reached out, his fingers hovering inches from your skin. You scrunched your brows in confusion, blinking rapidly as his face came closer to yours. His touch was feather-light, so soft it was almost imperceptible, yet it sent a shiver down your spine all the same.

“What—” you began, but the words caught in your throat.

“There,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. He brushed something from your temple, his fingers lingering for a heartbeat longer than necessary. You felt your cheeks heat up, a growing blush spreading like wildfire.

You couldn’t help but imagine how Azriel must be with those he loved beyond friendship—how his gentle gestures must perfectly soothe the hearts of those he held dear. The soft touches, the attentiveness, the small actions that made Azriel so uniquely himself. The thought lingered as he pulled away, rubbing his fingers with a small, smile.

“Some sand,” he said, his voice casual, but the warmth in his eyes gave it a softer edge.

You managed to breathe out a thank you, the breath escaping you in a soft rush. Another shiver ran through you, not just from the chill, but from the unexpected intimacy of his touch. You stared at the counter, hoping it would hide the flush on your cheeks and the way your smile made your cheeks ache.

Azriel seemed to have a sudden realization. “Aaand,” he said, turning on his heel and walking briskly into the living room. Moments later, he returned with a small jog, tossing you a hoodie. “It’s mine, not Cass’s, but hopefully it’ll work.”

The hoodie smelled faintly of him—an understated blend of his personal scent that made you feel a little warmer. You took it from him, the fabric soft and reassuring against your fingers.

“Thanks,” you said, smiling as you pulled the hoodie on.

“Ready?” he asked, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer before he grabbed the remaining beers.

You nodded, following him back outside. As you stepped into the night, you couldn’t shake the lingering warmth on your temple. It felt as if the very spot on your head held an imprint of his touch, a marker of his fingerprints.

You smiled for the rest of the night.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Part Three

authors note: this series is the only thing keeping me going rn, just two sweethearts with crushes on each other and a lovely beach….and cass with a pornstache 😏

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