#and damnit it was worth the wait

[dandelion-wings]

just read a delightful OT3 story in another fandom involving hot baths and massages, and now I am directly yoinking a bunch of its beats so I can tell myself a bedtime story about Lisa and Kaeya bullying Jean into a hot bath and massages. 10/10, do recommend

[everytimewetouch-dot-mp3]

cang qiong dragon god shen yuan is probably like so old that time doesn’t have meaning? like he transmigrated into pidw as a dragon and and the system gave him a few missions that functionally amounted to ‘claim this mountain range as your territory and defend it from demons’

sy didn’t realize that he was actually laying the foundation for cang qiong mountain sect before its creation. some terrifying demon demigod (one of the first heavenly demons, maybe?) pursues a band of cultivators to his mountain range, and he protects them. they settle his mountains and start cultivating, and because they’re protected by a literal god (who they call lord canglong, and they name the mountains after him) people want to study there.

so cqms is born, and sy takes a nap. when he wakes up, those cultivators he saved bring another group of cultivators, all named 'wen' to his mountain, and they ask his permission to lead the peaks next. another nap, and he wakes up to the wen generation asking his blessing for the ming generation, so on and so forth up until the qing generation. this time he recognizes names: qingge, qingfang, qingqi. this generation's leader, qingyuan. and the one whose bow is shallow and perfunctory, qingqiu. ofc sy isn't super pressed about standing on ceremony or whatever—he's only experienced like six years in this world, and most of them were spent either establishing the mountain as his territory or helping his little cultivators fight off some world-ending cataclysm or other. but he remembers the scum villain’s name, and he’s not a huge fan of the way sqq’s already proving himself to be an arrogant old shit

just like every other time, after he’s met and blessed this generation of peak lords, shen yuan falls asleep. shit!!! he meant to stay awake this time, but the system putting him to sleep is just too powerful! he’s probably missed luo binghe, damnit!!! what’s the point of transmigrating into this shitty novel if he doesn’t even get to meet the only character worth the pixels it took to type him into existence??

but as soon as he sees that fluffy-haired boy curled up in one of his caves, bruised and weeping and wondering what he’s done to be so universally hated, shen yuan knows. that’s his protagonist, and he’s really too pathetic like this. he’s really just a child. and shen yuan might have been easily annoyed by the concept of kids in his first life, but this isn’t just some whiny kid. this is the protagonist. so he does his best to calm tiny lord luo down.

and at first when lbh realizes it’s the fucking dragon god canglong speaking to him, the poor kid falls on his face kowtowing and apologizing for the intrusion, but lord canglong just…asks him what’s wrong. and then listens. and then he allows binghe to…to touch his hand???? not only that, he pats binghe’s head?? and tells him it isn’t his fault??? that one little head-pat is filled with so much spiritual power that binghe almost passes out, and soon after he recovers, lord canglong sends him back down the mountain with a renewed sense of purpose. lord canglong said binghe wasn’t stupid, wasn’t incompetent, wasn’t a failure, and binghe was determined to prove himself worthy of the sect’s guardian deity’s kindness.

and when luo binghe turns to walk down the mountain back to qing jing peak, that google translate voice pipes up in shen yuan’s ear with an update he hadn’t realized he was waiting for.

[Congratulations! Congratulations! Congratulations! Important things must be said three times! USER_002 has completed the quest {From the Ground Up}! B-points +500 USER_002 has initiated the quest {Master of Masters}! New skill [Shapeshifter] has been unlocked! Would USER_002 like to activate [Shapeshifter] now?]

shen yuan slammed the bright glowing [YES] faster than any quest the system had ever given him. that’s how he learned that he was, in fact, just naked in front of luo binghe, and the [Shapeshifter] skill didn’t come with an auto-clothed setting. thank fuck he’d already sent the protagonist away!

[secretmarvelsideblog]

Give me insecure Irondad! Lemme set the scene:

Happy calls Peter just as class gets out, tells him to meet him at the back exit to get picked up. As they drive off, Peter notices a crowd of reporters out front. Happy explains that someone leaked the fact that Peter is Tony’s personal intern and the press managed to track down Peter’s personal details. May has already been taken to the tower and is waiting for them.

Tony and Pepper sic their lawyers on the press and eventually, things calm down. Peter and May go back to their apartment and things move on, only Tony can’t stop thinking about it. About how this only happened because of him, because one of his staff snitched, because of his fame and his money. How Peter would be better off without him. And Peter’s a genius, so obviously he’s figured this out by now too, and Tony can just see it all.

He can see Peter dipping out of their hangout more and more often. No more movie nights, no more working on Tony’s cars or building Lego sets, no more casual bonding time. After that, Peter will start to cancel their lab days too, first once a week, then twice, then he’ll tell Tony he’s taken an internship at Oscorp or Hammertech, somewhere he knows Tony’s influence can’t keep destroying his life. And Tony will let him go, because he knows it’s for the best. He knows he doesn’t deserve Peter, never has and never will.

But still, Tony is selfish. Tony is so selfish that he’ll do anything to make Peter stay. So he starts doing more dangerous, more ‘cool’ things in the lab with Peter, starts giving him more ridiculous upgrades for his suit and web shooters, even buys him a car and lets the him take a joyride in an Iron Man suit in the same day. And that’s when Peter stops enjoying himself and really notices that something is wrong with his father figure mentor.

Because from an outsider perspective, Tony isn’t doing well. Now that Peter’s really paying attention, he notices that Tony’s eye bags are worse than ever, that he’s gotten thinner. And Peter, because he’s a genius, connects the dots and traces this all back to the PR freakout. He doesn’t quite put everything together, though, until one night when he accidentally leaves his homework in the lab and comes back for it, and his super-hearing overhears a sleep deprived (and maybe drunk) Tony talking to DUM-E or FRIDAY about how he’s going to miss Peter so much when he finally decides that Tony’s more trouble than he’s worth.

Peter comes back to the lab, hugs Tony and says “I’m not going anywhere.” Cue Tony having the full on breakdown that’s been coming, passing out and waking up in the medbay to a ticked off (and concerned) Pep and Rhodey and a Spiderkid who’s practically bouncing off the walls with nerves. Cue a chewing out from Pep and Rhodey, followed by Peter being like “I meant what I said, I’m not leaving no matter how much trouble you are, wanna know why?”

And Tony’s like “Lay it on me” but inside he’s like ‘it’s probably the money, but that’s okay. If that’s what it takes to make him stay at least I get to have this amazing kid in my life’.

And Peter’s like “My dad died when I was little, and Ben, well, he was an amazing uncle, the best, and he was more than that. He raised me, but then he died too. It was just me and May, but then you started mentoring me and I guess I started to see you filling that hole. I really look up to you, and well, I guess what I’m saying is you’re way more than a mentor to me, I mean, if you wanna be. I’m sticking around as long as you’ll have me, Mr. Stark.”

And damnit, Tony just woke up and he’s crying again. Peter’s been way more than a mentee too, but Tony didn’t want to weird the kid out and risk pushing him away. Now that he knows Peter feels the same though…

“Get over here Roos,” he says, and Peter gingerly curls up next to him in the medbay bed, and if FRIDAY takes pictures and sends them to Pepper, Rhodey, Happy, and May, then no one has to know.

[justhereforsubsevika]

Can you make a uninterested!reader x persistent sevika? Or uninterested!sevika x playful/persistent!reader! [ i saw your post about the lack of asks for sevii<33

Fluff, maybe a bit nsfw

Sevika is just silly ok. Coworkers au, sevis in a lower position than you

"Hi, hi hello." Sevika ambushed you again, third morning in a row. When you entered the building at 7am sharp you heard the heavy thuds of Sevika's dress shoes, the butch sprinting to be the first person to talk to you. She smiled and fumbled with something in her pocket, making you sigh impatiently and drum at your briefcase. "Look, look." She pulled out your favourite flower from her blazer, like a shit magician, and shoved it into your chest. "You liiiike it?" She asked, swaying on her feet and smiling expectantly.

"Sevika, very kind. I'm not going to go out with you. We've spoken about this- there's a pre existing power dynamic here. Its unprofessional." You spoke sternly, giving her the speech you were forced to rehearse at 6.45 everyday in your car. "I didn't say that, I asked if you like the flower." She mumbles, her hand fiddling with the carabiner on her belt loop.

"I like it. Thank you Sevika." You lift her hand to your lips and bow your head slightly, making her jaw go slack. "Shut your mouth, you'll catch flies." You quip as you go to your office. You can feel Sevika's eyes burning holes into your ass as you walk.

*

Lunch time and theyre all out of pastries. Damnit. You complain to a peer and go back to your desk. Half an hour later and Sevika uses her butt to push the door in, her arm occupied with cradling a huge brown bag. "What now.." you groan, leaning over your desk and sitting your chin on the back of your tented hands. "No pastries, sooooo.." she tips up the bag and neatly packaged pastries topple out. There had to be at least 20 on your desk, every one different. She must've gone into a pastry shop and said "yes."

You tut and shake your head, chuckling when Sevika starts arranging them by size. "Sevika, too much.." you giggle, hand reaching out to grab your favourite. "Ah you like that one. Okay. Ill just bring that one next time."

You smile at her and nod to your door, but she stays put, hand smushed against her cheek as she watches you take little, modest bites. "Why do you eat like that?" She asks plainly, eyes fixed on your lips. "Like what?"

"Your bites are tiny. You eat like a squirrel or something." She grabs a croissant and starts mimicking you. You cant help but laugh, making her beam, her teeth ridden with bits of pastry. "Get out of my office!" You squeal, and she leaves with a laugh.

*

10pm. Fuck. You stayed way past your leaving time. You were fucking exhausted, your legs turned to jelly. Wearing heels from 6am until 10pm wasn't for the weak, and, in this moment, you were the weak.

You struggled to the end of the corridor, about to press the button for the elevator when Sevika's unmistakable fingers pressed it for you. Those thick fingers. You looked up at her and scowled. "Why are you still here?" You questioned, grabbing her forearm for a bit of balance. "I was waiting for-"

"Sevika, i cant make myself more clear. Do I think you're attractive? Yes. Would i hop on that in any other situation? Yes. But I could lose my job, or at least be demoted, if I got into it with a subordinate."

She was stunned for a second but then leaned into your body. "Love it when you talk dirty." She murmured sarcastically. She lurched forward, your hand slipping from her forearm to her bicep. You squeezed and...jesus christ. Maybe she was worth endangering your job.

"You think im attractive?" She whispered against your neck, your breathing picking up as you searched for cameras. You seemed to be in a blindspot, but your nerves were far from steadied. The elevator dinged and you pulled her into it. You looked up at her. Rested on the railing. She stood between your legs, your thighs forced apart by the sheer size of her quads. She looked at you heavy lidded, taking your breifcase from you and setting it down. She grabbed your hand and swiped her thumb across the back of it, making it seem like she knew everything going on in your mind. It was a deep understanding. An understanding you felt even more as she leant down to peck your forehead.

She carried you to your car and put your bag in the boot, waving you off as you drove away. You told yourself it was just late, that it was a moment of weakness, a fluke. Deep down you knew it:

you liked her.

These are so short what the gleep guys

[wesstars]

touch

jenna ortega x fem!reader (no pronouns)

summary: jenna, your lovely girlfriend, has been away filming for far too long, in your opinion. she thinks so, too. wc: 2.6k tags: explicit, MINORS DNI. all characters are 18+. phone sex, masturbation, bad dirty talk lmao, this is basically all bad dirty talk, light D/s dynamics, name calling/slight degradation, praise, reader is a soft dom, strap-on referred to as “cock,” horribly excessive use of italics, feels a bit odd writing rpf… a/n: @crazyoffher :) returning the favor!

masterlist

6:01 pm

call u in a sec?

A grin lighting up your face at the text, you hurriedly type an affirmative reply as you unlock your apartment door. Dropping your bag, you kick your shoes off, sighing as you shed your coat. Making a beeline for your bedroom, your eyes slide shut as you flop down on your gigantic bed. You’d washed the sheets earlier, and they were feeling extra soft. If Jenna were here, she’d be rolling around in them, covering her own scent with one of fresh linen.

Usually, she was—you were lounging in your shared apartment, a wide open space near the top of a sleek, tall building. Every evening in LA, the two of you could be found here, the appeal of a night in far exceeding that of a night out. A bottle of wine and a packet of popcorn to share wasn’t rare either, the expensive drink wasted on you two young lovers. 

Everything had happened so quickly, but you loved it. A chance meeting on a plane had led to a long conversation about anything and everything, so common for new couples, and one-drink dates across busy nights had culminated into a fateful party invitation and an equally fateful blushing confession. Your relationship was wild, and crazy, and everything you could’ve wanted. A year later, Jenna had surprised you with a set of keys. It was a certain kind of promise that made those long nights, waiting for a phone call from half a world away, so worth it.

As if on cue, your phone buzzes in your pocket. Seeing the ID, you instantly pick up.

“Jenna?”

“Hey,” her familiar voice comes shyly through the speaker, a comforting sound. “Are you busy?”

“No, I just got home from work.”

Jenna hums in a way that tells you she’s plotting something, and her little stifled giggle just confirms your suspicions. You fake a sigh, happy to venture into her ploy.

“Jenna, did you have something to drink?”

“No.” She huffs a laugh. “I just miss you. Tired of me already?” She asks, with innocent veneer.

“Of course not,” you say. “It’s good to hear from you, you're so busy now, I had to talk to your secretary,” you teased. She was busy, but you’d already done the calculation of Jenna’s timezone to yours—for her, filming would’ve just wrapped up in the midnight hours. For you, the setting sun was just beginning to stream through the glass walls, and you pressed the button on the nightstand to draw the curtains.

“Well, if you’re not busy,” Jenna presses on casually, “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, Jenna,” you smile. It was a dialogue you two had often, something you never tired of. 

“Mmm,” Jenna’s voice tugs in your stomach, lilting into a whine at the end of her emission, “I miss you, baby.”

Your mouth goes dry; it’s an automatic reaction. Damnit, this girl—she knew what kind of effect she had on you. You were glad the room was dark, because if you had to face your own blushing cheeks in the light, you might’ve just collapsed. You pull the phone away from your ear long enough to take a deep breath. “Do you, Jen?” Keeping your voice composed, you roll the end of the duvet between your fingers to keep you grounded.

“Miss you so much,” she says, the rustling in the background telling you she’s rolling on the covers. She lets out a lilting laugh, the sound sending a swooping, giddy feeling into your stomach. Jenna’s trying to lure you in; it was her game: enticing you with that docile, persuasive tone.

You decided to play, though you held back just a bit. “How much?”

“Some of your clothes still smell like you,” she says in lieu of a direct answer. “So I’m wearing your big shirt, the black one.” You’d been wondering where that shirt went, one you often slept in. Even now, you can see in your head how Jenna looked when she stole that shirt: it cut off at her thighs, the kind of sacrilegious short that inspired crimes. It reminds you of countless times she’d surprised you, when you slid your hands up under the hem to find—

“What else, Jen?”

“No bra,” she replies sweetly, laughing lightly at the end. 

“No bra, huh,” you repeat. You can practically feel your pupils dilating, the heat around your collar. “Good.”

“And this,” Jenna sighs, “lace number I got here; it looks like the one you gave me last year.” 

Your jaw clenches, and you glance at the clock, looking but not seeing. You remember what she’s talking about—a pair of panties, an expensive little excuse for fabric that grew dark at the slightest moisture. Jenna’s birthday had ended in a long, long night.

“It’s red,” she says, “just like my nails.”

Fuck. Everything feels hot, and you can just picture her in that standard issue trailer, lights dimmed, alone in a way that should be illegal. “How much time do you have?”

“Not a lot… got an early morning tomorrow.” There's a trailing edge of disappointment in her voice, but you’re familiar with her—she’s looking, hoping for you to guide her, to push her in the way only you know how.

You breathe in, deeply, your own desire quickly falling prey to Jenna’s. She had you wrapped around her little finger, that’s for sure, but she trusted you to hold her down. “Hand in your hair, Jenna. Gentle,” you instruct.

You hear her sharp inhale, but you have no question that she’ll listen. When Jenna gets like this, playful but pliant, you know she’s willing to go with just about anything you ask. It’s torture for you, each second you wait. “Now pull.”

Her responding whimper sends a bolt of heat down your neck, and you let out a silent breath. Jenna loved it when you would touch her hair, even when it was as innocent as just braiding it. The haze in her eyes when you’d tug on her locks, telling her how good she feels, was your favorite. “Harder. Do you like it?”

She breathes out, “yeah.”

“Good,” you say. “Tell me what’s been on your mind to get you eager like this.” She’s shy, you hear it in her sigh, even though her hands are still running in her hair. “C’mon.”

“I miss your mouth on my neck.” The words tumble out of her almost immediately, and you dare to wonder if that’s been on her mind all day. The bruises you’d left there before filming started were long gone, no doubt. She’d begged you to make them darker, and you were all too happy to please. “I miss the car, before the airport…”

Those frantic, heated ten minutes you two were able to spare in the car before Jenna’s flight were chastised by her manager and makeup team, but you wouldn’t have traded them for anything. “That’s perfect Jen,” you coax gently. She liked your encouragement, you knew. 

“And…” it’s as if something snaps in the air on the telephone line, pushing both you and Jenna’s inhibitions to the ground. “I wish you were here,” she whispers, the cliche line sending equally cliche butterflies rushing through your lower stomach. “I’d be on my knees for your cock right now, and you’d pull my hair, so I’d-” she whines, a small and breathless noise-“suck it so good ‘cause I know where it’s going next—”

“Fingers in your mouth,” you interrupt, blood rushing in your ears. “And listen to me.” If you’d let Jenna keep going, you might’ve just booked a plane ticket right then and there. You can hear her obey you through the speaker, moaning softly. “Play with your nipples under your shirt. Be gentle.” It’s a warning, you know she knows, and a reminder that you control her pace.

“Mmm,” she hums, complying. It’s practically confession on bended knee, how her muffled whimper makes something shoot through your lower stomach.

“Press down on your tongue.” You hear her breath shaking, right in your ear. It makes you bite your tongue to keep from moaning out loud. “Don’t gag, don’t be greedy, Jenna.” She whines around her fingers, and you know her telltale little cry as she touches herself as instructed. You can hear that she’s not being as gentle as you wanted, but you had always been weak for your girl.

“You wanna put on a show for me, honey? Twist.” You wouldn’t know it, but Jenna instantly closes her eyes at the word show, her pulse spiking.

Jenna’s uneven breaths are pure song to you through the speaker, and it puts your every nerve on edge, remembering how she would sprawl on your sheets, just like how you were now, happy to be over or under you. She’s so vocal tonight, every exhale coming out with a small oh, and it makes you wonder if it’s because of something more than just the distance and time between you two.

The cadence of her breathing matches your stuttering heart. “For someone that likes having her mouth stuffed,” you mutter, “you sure wanna talk real bad.”

The whimper Jenna lets out is enough of an answer.

“Alright babydoll, you can take your fingers out.” Almost immediately, you can hear her panting. You keep your voice even, despite the heat on your cheeks. “I bet you’re soaked, aren’t you?”

Her voice is raspy when she speaks. “I am…”

“Two fingers in your cunt.”

“What about-” you can hear her swallow- “what about my underwear?”

“Push it to the side,” you say, dismissive. You could practically see Jenna like this, warm brown hair splayed on the pillows, shirt rucked up to her breasts, with enough want to end a war.

It’s silent on the other side of the line, save for the shallow breaths you hear her taking. “Are you waiting, good girl?”

She hums an affirmative. 

“Go ahead, I won’t make you beg right now,” you say with a nonchalance you absolutely do not have, “fuck yourself.”

Her breathy laugh in response would drive a saint to sin, and she’s only all too eager to comply. Jenna’s shudder comes out in her moan as she shoves two fingers in herself, shameless in her need.

You close your eyes, her quiet little moan telling you all you need to know. The impatient groan she gives you is just vulnerable enough to be desperate, and it makes your head swim.

Jenna’s voice is small. “You know…”

“What is it, darling?”

“Wish I could put this on a camera for you, baby,” she whines, breath hitching. “Wish you could watch me right now.”

The mere thought of it is enough to have you biting your lip, hard enough to bleed. With the way that Jenna loved to perform, the idea had occurred to you before, but you were always too hesitant to bring it up. “You want me to see you, don’t you? Blushing and wanting all by yourself,” you mock, your arousal overriding your rationality, “you need someone to fuck you, is that it?”

“I need you to fuck me, fuck me so hard that I don’t remember it all, and,” her voice breaks, “you’ll make me watch our video later, to make me like this again.” You close your eyes again, your knuckles growing white around the sheets fisted in your hand. 

“Like what, Jenna?”

“Messy, and-” her voice climbs higher with a gasp-“needy.”

The words cling in your mind, ivy on a terrace. It only takes half a moment for your mind to conjure her up again, flushed cheeks and two fingers deep in her pussy, framed by red lace.

“Is that what you are, mmm?”

She gives a moan, and you laugh because she’s embarrassed. It’s nearly pathetic, how bad you wish you could see Jenna’s face.

“Want…” There’s a hesitant pause. “Want your hand around my throat, too.”

God, no one knew how to play you quite like Jenna did. “Jenna,” you groan, your facade rapidly crumbling, “you’d look so pretty like that, baby.”

“Yeah,” Jenna agrees mindlessly, “I like it ‘cause…” her voice is strained in a way that you just know she has her head thrown back, strong and delicate, “you’re so gentle.” It’s with a bleeding intimacy that momentarily makes you forget you’re thousands of miles away from Jenna, and the only thing you can think of is her warm eyes on yours, just begging for you to touch her.

She quiets down, and in the damning silence that follows, you hear her fucking herself. And because you know your girl, you know she wants you to hear.

“That’s filthy, Jen,” you say, matter-of-factly. It makes your head spin, the knot in your stomach tightening.

“I know,” she whines, and you can hear her going just that bit faster. “Fuck-” she exhales sharply- “I’m—I’m close.”

“Already?”

“I’m sorry,” Jenna whispers, and you know with every hitched moan, she’s hitting that spot inside of her. She’s not sorry, and you certainly aren’t either. “I can’t help it…”

You hum noncommittally, feeling anything but. “Don’t come until I say, alright?”

Jenna moans right into the receiver, and you can tell she’s frustrated to high hell. You laugh lowly, something cruel, and it only serves to fuel the way your fingers crave the smooth of her skin, how your tongue wants for her taste.

But that’s when you hear it, blazing through the fog in your mind, of brown eyes and pink lips. “Please…”

“Please what?”

She falters, breathing ragged. “Please let me…” A beat.

“Let you…?” You press on. 

“Please,” her voice edges on the right side of desperate, the side that makes all of you pulse. “Baby, I’m so close…”

“I know,” you say simply. 

There’s a silence that hangs in the air, and you know without seeing that Jenna’s cheeks are so red with her embarrassment that you could’ve slapped her and not gotten that same glow. You wait, patiently, nails biting into your skin.

“Let me come, please.” Her voice comes out like a quiet sob, resistance broken by her desire.

Letting out a long breath, you press the phone harder to your ear, feeling your fingers tremble. “You’re such a needy slut, Jenna.” She whines again, pleading and keening.

“I know,” she’s soft with it, “I am… so, please?”

You bite your lip, mind swimming, letting her plea hang in the air. 

“Come for me, Jenna.”

It's quiet, at first, and then you hear it—a soft, little ah from where she’s clapped a hand over her mouth, and then muffled moans spilling out from behind as she tries so desperately to not let anyone else hear. You clench your jaw, wanting so bad to tear Jenna’s hand from her mouth just so you can take in every little whimper, quiet her with your mouth instead. But you whisper praises into the phone instead, coaxing her through her orgasm. She comes hard, you can hear it in the way she pants after she’s calmed down.

Jenna’s breathing evens out, and you know it before she does—she’s asleep. Your eyes close again, fist clenched in your bedsheets. It wasn’t the first time that she’d fallen asleep right after she came, and it makes a soft little grin play on your lips. The other end of the line is a loving, sated silence. You keep your voice low, not wanting to wake her.

“God, the things I’m gonna do to you, Jenna.”

--

please do not repost, reproduce, copy, translate, or take from my work in any way. thank you!

masterlist

[snailpebbles]

a night to remember

Natalie Scatorccio x fem! reader

summary: after a brief encounter with your sister Laura Lee, you spend some time with your girlfriend. What could possibly go wrong?

tags: angst then fluff then angst, hah, technically an ambiguous ending if I write a part 2, ANGST, Nat calls u angel, religious uh problems, Laura Lee sister lfg, making out

wc: 1.2k

🖤

It's going to be a good night, a great night even! Everything has lined up perfectly so far: parents gone to bed early, Laura Lee was less nosy, and Nat managed to steal the car keys from her mom. You looked cute too, the two hours spent agonizing over what to wear definitely worth it.

Then there's a knock on your door before it opens.

“What are you doing?" Laura Lee asks, rubbing sleep from her eyes. You blanch, debating on saying she's hallucinating or to just be honest. She beats you to it.

“Are you sneaking out again?" Her voice is more awake now and her posture straightens, eyeing you suspiciously. Fuck, you need to do something.

“If you tell I will burn that bear." Okay! Little too much! It has its intended effect though as Laura Lee fully walks in, shutting the door behind her. She's fully awake for sure, arms crossed disapprovingly in a way that mimicks your mom.

"Are you going out to see Nat again? You know this isn't..” She trails off, voice still a whisper. It hurts your chest, every breath an ache of her disapproval. Your feet bring you closer and you hold onto her shoulders, trying to be as convincing as possible.

" Please don't tell them.” You whisper. Laura Lee's face contorts to consideration, but she's definitely uneasy. The ceiling fan creaks above you as the house stays silent, only one lamp on to illuminate the scene.

"You can't..what would He think? You barely even come to service anymore-” You cut her off, tired of the spiel. It was a long time ago that you stopped believing in whatever this is. How could something meant to love be so punishable? Laura Lee shifts awkwardly on her feet, teddy bear in her left hand.

“I won't tell if you go back to bed." She offers, eyes darting to the window behind you as if waiting for that telltale bleach blonde to appear. You sigh and shake your head. It's when she steps away from you and near the door that the panic starts.

“Laura Lee please! You can't tell.” You're borderline begging now, catching the other half of her teddy bear. She has the decency to feel bad and pause, turning to you. There's a faint rumble from down the street.

" This isn't right..she's..she's not..” Your sister struggles to say it, just speaking it makes it too real. You try again, one hand squeezing hers. Desperation gnaws in your chest - you're running out of time.

" I love her. Isn't that what this is all about? What matters?” You whisper harshly, emotions swelling in your chest as you admit it. You love this girl so fucking much but damnit why does she get here so fast? You've got maybe a minute. Time for the big guns.

"I can't -” you quickly cut her off, " if you tell, you will never see me again.” The ultimatum shocks your sister's system, the bear loosening in her grip. A tap at the window.

" You'd.. you'd choose her over me?” Laura Lee's whisper is full of hurt, a sadness you never would wish to cause. But you did so you nod. Ignore the tears that well in her eyes and yours.

"If you choose God over me, yes.” You speak softly. The bear falls to the carpeted floor with a soft thud before you turn your back. Nat waits at the window, watching with concern.

“Everything okay?" She whispers, eyeing her teammate before her eyes soften considerably on you. You nod and hold onto her shoulder as you slide out of the window. Laura Lee leaves your sight and your chest feels light again.

" C'mon, I'll cheer you up.” Nat wiggles her eyebrows and you laugh, following her into the car. She opens the door for you, kissing your cheek before she gets in and drives off down the quiet road.

🖤

The stars are your only witness as you park at the top of a hill, Wisayok far below. She lays a blanket out of the hood of the car where you both then sit, your head on her shoulder. The breeze is cool but her arm warms you where it sits around your waist.

“You look so pretty." you whisper to the wind, eyes admiring the way the moonlight highlights her features. Her ears flush a pretty pink and lips split into a grin when she looks at you.

“Okay smooth talker." She teases. Those same lips press a grateful kiss to your forehead, making you cuddle closer with a sigh. It's easier to pretend the world loves you when the world is just you two. After a minute of soaking in each other, she breaks it with a kiss. Her lips are chapped and you faintly taste a vice, but it's her.

A hand cradles the back of your head, kissing you like you're made of the sweetest sugar glass out there. A soft breath and meaningless whisper greet you as she pulls away, grinning at how dazed you seem.

“You make it hard to think straight.." You mumble, nose nudging against hers. She snickers and instantly you regret your word choice.

“Well do I have news for you.." She drawls, making you smack her bicep. With a dramatized gasp of pain she starts tickling you, one arm staying around your waist so you don't go tumbling off the car.

“I give up! I give up!" You laugh, writhing beneath her traitorous hands and evil grin. Her eyes fill with affection as she takes in your smile and the way you're still so relaxed.

"I love you angel, y'know that?” She breathes the words of what you're told is sin. So, you say them right back with molten honey love.

“I love you too, even if you're a little weird." You can't resist the tease or the kiss you press to her lips. It shuts her up thankfully - you even earn a nicely pleased groan.

It's soon that you're tugged up into her lap, straddling her with knees already sorely pressing into the car hood. None of it matters though - not when her hands are gripping the back of your neck and your arms tighten around hers. It's all too warm, too good, too addictive. Nat slips past your lips, getting her favorite taste and subsequently her favorite sound; a surprised yet pleased gasp. Your hands slip into her hair, tugging and scratching so your lips can nip at hers. She takes it all in hungrily, pulling you closer, closer, closer until no more space can be left. Cold rings press into your thighs, sending pleasurable shivers through you.

Maybe that's why you don't hear the slamming of the car door, the crunch of the leaf covered grass, and the angry panting until you're both on the ground. Your dad pushed you both into the gravel, small rocks digging into your skin.

“Shit-" Nat is up before you, pulling you off the ground and checking you over. At least she was until you're yanked away by your father's furious hand, only able to listen in horror as your mother slaps your girlfriend. Her lips are still kiss bitten and her hair still mussed, but she looks devastated. You don't even register the screaming and the slurs and the crying as you're forced into the back of the family car.

Laura Lee is there, bear in her lap. She tries to give it to you but you push it into the floorboard, unhearing and unseeing.

Nat watches in horror as you're ripped away so quickly. The air stings now and the breeze goes silent, even the stars dim. You might not have heard it but she did. A conversion camp.

[justwinginglife]

Property of Soshiro Hoshina

NSFW post because I can't stop thinking about him.

Soshiro's just pulled over on the side of the road abruptly.

After a couple weeks of you wearing pants, in the middle of summer for what seemed like no apparent reason, even going so far as wearing them to bed (much to Soshiro's despair) you finally wore a pair of tight, low waisted shorts for your road trip with him. Of course you were holding a jacket in front of your legs when you hopped in the passenger seat and had strategically draped the jacket on top of your legs during the initial stages of the car ride, but then you got to the part in the car ride that was Soshiro's favorite- once he's comfortably, safely on the highway (because your baby always drives safe when you're in the car) and there's nothing but a straight, long expanse of road, he'll pull a hand off the steering wheel, reach over, and rub your upper thigh as he drives. But this time- this time, you had a jacket over your legs.

"Get this damn thing off of you, it's sweltering, why do you even need a jacket? You know this is my favorite spot, damnit." He yanks the jacket off with one fluid motion, chucking it in the backseat and reclaiming his usual spot on your leg. Then he realizes you're waiting for something. Once he's established there's no cars anywhere nearby, he looks over at you, and notices you staring at his hand on your thigh. He raises an eyebrow, wondering what's so strange about him putting his hand where he usually does. He looks around him again to make sure he's not going to hit anyone if he peeks at you again, then he looks down at your leg and catches a brief glimpse of the ink that's peeking out from underneath his fingers. His eyes widen and his head snaps back up to the road.

He immediately veers off the highway, trying to be as safe as one can when doing such a sudden move, and puts the car in park on the side of the road.

"What's all this baby?" You ask him innocently, although you know the reason he's pulled you to a stop.

He slowly pulls his hand away from your thigh and stares at the skin it was hiding underneath. He blinks. He blinks again. Then he starts to grin wolfishly. He licks his lips.

"Well goddamn baby." He whistles.

He starts to stroke your inner thigh where you've recently tattooed the words "Property of Soshiro Hoshina."

You wanted to surprise him once it was all healed up, but you didn't think he'd pull over on the side of the freaking highway just to see it.

It was well worth the wait though because the ravenous look he's giving you now is enough to soak your panties.

"Back seat, now." He says with a low growl.

You smirk but you oblige, turning around and climbing into the back seat, making sure to give him a full view of your ass in these tight shorts. He groans.

"Fucking tease."

You laugh and settle yourself in the middle seat, leaning back against the cushions, legs spreading open ever so slightly for him.

He exhales loudly, his desire burning in his eyes as they roam all over your body. You can tell he's already fucking you in his mind. "Whatever am I going to do with you? Such a troublesome brat."

Then, in one smooth move, he's hoisted himself over the center console and got on his knees on the car floor in front of you. You yelp as he yanks your legs further apart so he can fully see the tattoo. He starts to kiss and lick at your thigh, careful not to cover up the words. He needs to see them, to see you're his. The thought of you marking yourself to prove his ownership of you gets him feeling animalistic to say the least.

He starts fingering you through your jeans and even the rough fabric of your shorts can't mask how deeply and hungrily he's clawing at you like some wild beast waiting to sink himself into you. Then he's decided he's had enough of your shorts. He wants to feel your quivering lips splitting open for him and oozing onto his fingers.

He hooks onto both your shorts and your underwear and yanks them both down in one go. He's too fucking impatient to strip you like a gentleman.

For a moment you think he might just stare at the dripping mess your pussy is making all over his car seat but then he plunges three fingers deep inside you, much to your surprise. You gasp at the sensation, he's only ever done two before. He smirks as your walls clench around him.

"Taking it like a champ baby. I think I'll reward you." He slides a fourth finger in, leaving his thumb hovering outside so he can rub at your clit. You bite down on your lip as the pressure starts to build inside you, moans escaping with every motion he makes.

Then, without warning, he shoves his whole hand into your gaping hole. You inhale sharply, the breath like a hiss, and you throw your head back, squeezing your eyes shut as he continues to pump his hand in and out. "Fuck!"

For a moment, the beast seems to relent, his eyes shooting back up to yours to make sure you're okay with this.

You quickly say, "Just making room for your massive cock baby."

He groans, reaching his other hand down to grasp at his swelling erection that's now begun to pump vulgar amounts of precum against the fabric of his shorts.

"Well I think it's about ready for you anyway baby." He pulls his curled hand out of you and starts to undo the button on his shorts. Then when he's slid out of his clothes, he reaches over your shoulder and pulls a lever that flattens the car seat behind you, laying you flat against it.

Before you can even properly adjust to the new position you're in, he's on top of you, hammering his dick into your pulsing pussy. He grits his teeth as he pounds into you harder, "How the fuck are you still so fucking tight?"

Your nails pierce the skin on his back, scraping as he grinds back and forth. You're scared you might be hurting him but one look in his eyes tells you that it's the most delicious pain he's ever been in.

"I suppose it's only fair to let you mark me considering you did such a sexy job of marking yourself up." He bites at the lobe of your ear as he says that and you can tell the tattoo still has a ferocious effect on him.

If you'd had known that the tattoo would have made the man this feral you would've got it a lot sooner. Now everyone passing by on the highway would know what the tattoo read- that you were his.

He continues to ram himself into you, forcing himself deeper into you than he's ever been before. A mixture of pain and pleasure runs through you and you rush to greet it, bucking your hips wildly against his as though daring him to go even deeper. He can feel how much you need this and he's dying to give it to you.

He knows you're about to cum but it gets him off thinking about you moaning into his lips so he claims them with his own starving lips. His tongue forces itself through the gaps in your mouths and crashes into yours. As he tastes you, he curses himself for being so impatient to get his cock into your pussy because now he wishes to god that it was his dick shoving its way into your mouth instead of his tongue, though you taste like heaven.

He's barely had time to imagine your pretty lips wrapping around the tip of his head when he feels you twitching underneath him and your familiar orgasmic moan seeps into his mouth.

"Fuck." He's not ready to cum yet but he can never resist those delicious noises you make. He hisses as he tries to regain his composure and hold on a little longer but the sight of you flushed beneath him, all sensitive and aching, but still craving his cock inside you, triggers something in him.

He lets out a guttural moan and spills his hot milky cum inside you.

As both of you pant, sweat mingling with each other's, trying to recover from the intensity of the moment, you almost don't hear the car pulling up behind you.

But you do hear the siren and you do see the flashing lights.

You curse and shove Soshiro off of you as you struggle to find where he threw your clothes.

He just laughs, seemingly resigned to the fact that you two have been caught.

"Think the officer will take 'I just couldn't help myself' as an excuse?"

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Drop the mask (drop your clothes)

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 10 & the 12 Days of Christmas bonus card of the @steddiebingo

Prompts: Shopping & Daddy Kink

Rated: E

Tags: Modern AU; Rockstar Eddie; Nepo baby Steve; Bratty Steve; Fake relationship; Sexually explicit language; Sexual tension; Dry humping; Groping; Degradation kink; Daddy kink

Notes: Set in the same universe as this one

“Stevie, honey,” Eddie croons. “Which would your dad prefer? I like the charcoal one, but maybe it's a bit loud for his taste? Help me out here, I want my first Christmas present for him to be perfect.” 

The curtain of the changing room whips open, revealing a glowering Steve. Eddie’s mouth goes dry, because God fucking damnit. Eddie loathes suits and ties on himself - always felt like being forced into a straightjacket on the rare occasions that he had to squeeze into one - and thinks that most other men look frankly ridiculous in them, but Steve? Steve sure knows how to pull them off. Speaking of pulling things off, Eddie would like to tear the damn thing off him with his teeth. He files that thought for later as Steve strides towards him, eyes blazing. For a second, Eddie thinks he's gonna make a scene in the middle of this ridiculously high-priced men's outfitters, and his heart jumps in giddy anticipation. But the employees have all gone silent and are gawking at them, and there’s still a flock of paparazzi waiting outside with their cameras, trying to get a decent shot through the clothes racks. Steve’s mouth snaps shut again. The bitchy scowl melts into a saccharine smile.

“Don't be silly,” he says, swaying closer into Eddie’s space and taking the tie from his hands. His next words are a low murmur against the shell of Eddie’s ear. “There's no way you're spending Christmas with us and you know it.” 

Of course Eddie knows. Hell, he never even expected their little farce of a relationship to last this long. But Senator Harrington's poll results are skyrocketing, and people are ripping Eddie’s new album off the shelves, and the PR people thought it would be a good idea to continue this into the new year. Take walks in the snow, do winter sports together, go Christmas shopping - all conveniently in front of the cameras. 

Not like Eddie minds. On the contrary, he’s come to find that he rather enjoys it. Not the fake flirting and the pet names and putting up with the pack of reporters trailing them at every step, no. What fills him with a perverse glee is pushing Steve’s buttons, testing how far he can go before that smooth, icy facade shatters into a million sharp-edged shards. What does it matter if he cuts himself. It's well worth it if he gets to see Steve without the mask for a short while. 

“Shame,” he purrs, reaching out under the pretense of straightening Steve's tie, reveling in the choked-out little gasp he gets when his fingers settle against that long throat. He wonders if the marks and bruises he left there are fading already. Maybe he ought to touch up on them. “You'll be awfully bored over the holidays, won't you? I mean, if you'll have to put up with Daddy calling you a whore and a slut, you should at least get some decent cock for your trouble.” 

Steve's smile goes a little less sweet, a little more sharp. 

“Aw, and you think I need you for that? Don't give yourself too much credit, Munson.”

They trade a look. Eddie’s eyes flick towards the back exit of the store.

“Can you ring up the suit, please?” Steve asks the employee standing nearest to them. “I'll leave it on, thank you.” 

*

They crash into the wall of the alley with a force that has Eddie seeing stars. Steve doesn’t leave him any time to catch his breath, crowding him against the wall and shoving his tongue past his teeth with a greedy moan. Eddie lets him have his way for a second or two, just enough to lull him into a false sense of control, before he grabs him by the lapels of the new suit to haul him around and switch their positions. Steve’s eyes are glassy with arousal, lips pink and full from their kiss, parted around a wordless gasp. 

“Look at you,” Eddie whispers, leaning in to press the words right against Steve’s throat, grinning when he feels the racing heartbeat under his teeth. One of his hands reaches down, finding the shape of Steve’s straining cock through the expensive fabric of his pants. Steve shudders and bucks in his hold, rolling his hips forward to seek friction. “Look at how greedy you are for it. You can deny it all you want, baby, but at the end of the day? You’re desperate for my cock, and we both know it.” 

“Shut up,” Steve rasps, grinding himself into Eddie’s hand. His fingers fist into Eddie’s hair, yanking him down to keep his mouth on his neck. Eddie laughs, biting down on the fading bruise just below the line of Steve’s slipping collar. 

“I’ve been wondering,” he says. “D’you think your father knows? You think he’d let this continue if he knew how much you’re actually enjoying this? How every single one of these little outings ends with you riding my cock until you scream? How the only one you’ve been calling daddy lately is-”

Steve makes a raw, wrecked sound that's somewhere between rage and lust, crushing their lips together for another bruising kiss. 

“God, you're annoying,” he pants against Eddie’s mouth, hands finding the zipper of his pants. “How about you stop talking about fucking me and actually-” 

“Look, there they are!” 

They flinch apart, disheveled and breathing heavily, to see the first paparazzi sprint around the corner. 

“Aw, shit,” Eddie swears. A quick sweep of the alley reveals a wire fence at its end, with a dumpster just low enough to climb in front of it. “Wanna ditch these fine people? I know a guy who has a club nearby, I'm sure he'd let us hide there.” 

Steve’s shocked expression morphs into a wicked little grin and Eddie’s heart kicks in his chest. 

“I'd love that,” Steve says, and takes his offered hand. “C'mon, let's get outta here.” 

More holiday drabbles

My Steddie Bingo fills

[r0-boat]

Whb!Solomon x Fallen Angel Gn!Reader

Reader is a fallen angel working under Lucifer. They're trying to get their work done, but there's somebody who makes it a little difficult to focus.

Sfw

Cw: wounds and blood

Him, Again...

You tried to hide the displeasure on your face as you stare at the 'new patient' sitting in the waiting room. Clutching the clipboard against your body, watching your other coworkers swarm him like moths to a flame.

His eyes met yours as you puff out your chest and walk toward the group You could feel The feathers on your wings fluffing at the same time as they fold in. Your devil workmates become unease when they hear the ruffling of your feathers as they shy away from their temptation despite your your Halo and your weakening angelic aura you are still a devil. A devil that your colleagues both respect and slightly fear.

The devil's that admired you did so from afar to intimidated for their signature direct and shamelessness to shine through, and devils that find you unappealing because of who you were before your current home kept their distance.

You didn't mind, especially as the devils dispersed with a warning glare from you, but not without some grumbles of displeasure. You could care less; This is a place of work, after all... Well was... As long as he's around, instead of paperwork and, more importantly, patients waiting for treatment, devils will think with their other heads than the one that matters.

You're unsure why His Majesty allows him to roam freely, doing whatever he pleases like some stray animal.

The human obviously noticed your cold expression your arms folded against your chest. And as always Solomon just smiles resting his chin on the palm of his hand his eyes softening as his eyes taken your form.

"Well good morning to you too~,"

His nonchalantness only makes you grimace "hardly count this, this is a good morning..."

Solomon frowned his hands moving from his face to his legs as he pushes himself off from the chair. His eyes now more focused on your face more importantly the dark bags you tried horribly to conceal "Oh no, Is everything okay? You're not working too hard are you?"

Too close.

Part of he wants to lean away as you felt keep climbing to your face your chest tightens but you stand your ground.

Damnit even that damn perfume he wears is too distracted. Your arms are for real before clutching the clipboard debating on whether or not to use it as a shield for your nose.

"This is a hospital you know... Do you wish to see Lord Lucifer unfortunately he's currently-.

"Actually I wish to seek treatment." He cuts you off with an awkward smile and your eyes went wide. In an instant your previous coldness disappears grabbing his arms you frantically search until that's when you see it. Looking down from his robes his leg crudely bandaged loose and dripping blood!!

WHAT IN HELL?!

"SOLOMON!" You practically scream He has never seen your wings so fluffy... So cute! Sparring with that soldier from Gehenna was almost worth it considering all the pain he went through getting all the way here.

You took a deep breath and pinched at the bridge of your nose clenching your teeth as you hiss. "Why didn't you say anything before?"

That human, that damned human... Just smiles " there's someone specifically I wanted to see."

Asdgagjjrf!!

SeriouslyWhoSaysThat?!

Your mind squeals as your clipboard finally decides to cover half your face, trying desperately to hide your flushing cheeks. But your eyes tell a different story; you were glaring daggers at him.

Here's this idiot still smiling...

"Just come with me..." You grumble He falls behind you like a excited puppy into your examination room ordering him to sit down which he gleefully does even kicking his feet and having a tune!

Who is this man... When your face finally calm down you took in a deep breath and let out another sigh putting on a mask and some gloves. You put a coat over your blackened wings. Which Solomon frowned at.

"Why are you covering them?"

"are you dumb? Because I don't want any loose feathers to get on the wound." You grumble as you begin removing the bandages. You cussed under your breath at the sight before you,

From the rough bandages and the careless wrapping, and the abysmal stitch work! Which had long since reopened, This had to work of Gehenna all over it!

You're not surprised. It's the nation of wrath ruled under Satan. Where giant gashes like this were basically paper cuts. You wouldn't doubt the wound is probably infected.

"please don't tell me you walked all the way here..."

.... :)

Of course.

You brought some silk cloth, a tub of clean water, and half-empty rubbing alcohol that you just bought yesterday, right before seeing Abyssos's Lord of the Flies.

Whatever, This will have to do for now. You folded the towel putting some rubbing alcohol in it to sanitize the wound, You could feel his sculpted legs flex under your soft touch.

"does it hurt?" You murmur and Solomon whispers back in a husky voice. "Not at all darling. Thank you."

Your cheeks blush but you had no time to internally scream, as you focus on removing the old stitches and catching and cleaning up the blood, red towel after red towel going into the wash bin.

His eyes, watching your every move, train on your shaking hands. He knows he shouldn't. But he does, Solomon reaching out to place his hand on your cheek regardless of how much you hiss, Huffing and puffing. "Hey, my dear angel... I'll be okay; you're doing a great job." Your whole body tenses, but your eyes soften and your face is cradled in his soft hands.

But that moment of tenderness disappears as quickly as it formed as his hand pulled back and you're breathing started to calm.

Yes the restitching and the cleansing of his wound did hurt, But being in your presence was surely worth it. Having your gentle hands care for him so sweetly. He knows full well that your actions speak louder than your words.

After you finish wrapping his wound this time properly; neat and tidy. You couldn't help but even draw A little smiling devil on it, something that Solomon will look at and cherish.

You take off your cup to hung it up at your wings stretching out, They weren't as big as they were when you were in heaven having your wings permanently clipped they no longer work, But they are still your pride and joy.

Solomon pipes up, "Don't I get a treat, Doctor?" He tries to stand up on his leg, but you rush forward stopping him, hands on his shoulders.

"treat? If you wish for candy then I'm afraid to tell you we're all out. My last patient yesterday would not shut up till I gave him the entire bowl of my st- patient bowl."

Solomon exhales that charming smile ever so present on his face. "Oh no it does not candy I want."

You tilt your head to the side in confusion but he was good so you give in. "All right what is it..."

"May I see your wings?"

You could feel your feathers prickle at his words. Your face rather than his ever been stumbled over your words. "Wha-Why?"

"they're beautiful other than Lucifer I think you're the only fallen angel that still keeps their wings."

"please they are nothing compared to My ex brothers and sisters That's still use them for their intended purpose." You laugh off your embarrassment but Solomon shakes his head sneaking a hand around your waist his fingers sliding up your back.

"nonsense, don't speak such white lies. Your wings are as Jet as night your feathers still sparkle like the stars that swim in it."

His fingers comb through each feather. "Soft like a kittens fur as well, softer than I imagined." He muttered

You arch your back all your attention on the way those soft yet manly hands gently caress and stroke each plumage in between his fingers. And Solomon was there to hold you closer resting his head on your chin. His breath tickled your ear.

" I think I still feel a little ill, My chest feels so tight whenever your around, and my heart aches for you to be closer." His teeth nipped at your earlobe.

"I think I need more of your attention doctor. Please just a little longer? " Solomon practically whined.

You've never once refused a patient and will definitely not start now.

[pleasingforharry]

For Your Eyes Only

college!harry x quiet!yn

SUMMARY: Harry didn’t want Y/N to leave for class as he woke up needy and horny. But she needed to go, so he was left alone wishing she were there to take care of him. Maybe there was a way to persuade her to come back home. A text? A video? Something for her eyes only.

WORD COUNT: 6.2k

WARNINGS: Uhhhh smut because I was in a smutty mood.

-

-

"Don't go," Harry begged, clutching his girlfriend to his chest. He was sitting on the edge of his bed with Y/N stuck in between his legs. “I need you.” His tone was suggestive. And to make it more obvious, he pushed her naked leg against his clothed cock—hard and throbbing.

Y/N sighed and tangled her hand in his hair. It was beyond messy in the mornings. “I don’t have time, dove. Class starts soon. I’m pretty sure I’ll be late even if I leave now.” 

“So, just stay,” He whispered in her ear. Y/N let him handle her so now she sat on his lap, arms loose around his neck. It may have looked as if she was agreeing to stay as she sat comfortably on him. “I’ll make it worth your while. Take care of you so good, baby. I’ll do anything you want.” His voice was raspy from the early morning, but also dark from desperation.

It was very enticing. Y/N gave her boyfriend a light kiss before pulling back before he deepened it. Then appeared that charming smile. “No, dove. I can’t. But I'll come right back, as fast as I can. Promise.” she told him softly. Her lips pressed against his cheek, nose, brows, and back to his own pair of plush lips.

Harry wasn’t ready to give up yet, though. His hand grabbed Y/N’s hips and moved them so her cunt rubbed against his hard cock. “Feel that?” He gazed at her with hooded eyes. Y/N could moan from how fuckable he looked. He bucked his hips up, causing her to gasp. “Just for you, baby. I can make you feel good. Just stay, okay?”

Y/N dropped her forehead on his shoulder in defeat. 

“I just know you’re wet. I know my baby too well,” Harry turned his head to reach her ear. He gently bit her lobe. “Come on. Let me eat your pretty cunt out. I want to suck on your little clit while you try to push me away. Then I’ll fuck you so hard, baby. I can make you come so many times. And then we can watch a movie while I massage your puffy pussy lips with my fingers. Maybe accidentally let one slip inside.”

Damnit. She moaned. She couldn’t help it. Neither could her hips as she moved them on her own.

“Harry,” she cried.

“I got you, come on. Stay.” His voice traveled through every inch of her insides.

If Y/N wasn’t so worried about missing an important topic in class, she’d keep her ass right in Harry’s room and let him have his way with her. But as much as she loved to be with Harry, she’d never forgive herself if she missed class over something that could wait.

“Okay, fine,” Y/N sighed and kissed his cheek. “But I’m hungry. Can you make me some breakfast?” Harry’s eyebrows shot up. He was not expecting to win that battle.

He nodded and flipped them over so Y/N was laid out on the bed. “Stay right here, princess. I’ll bring you up something nice,” He said, smiling widely. Y/N patting his jaw. “Thank you for staying. I love you.” He leaned down to kiss her, which she gladly accepted, before Harry shot out the door and down the stairs.

Y/N only laid there for a minute, debating which guilt would make her feel worse. Was it really a big deal if she missed one class? Was it so bad if she left Harry here for only two hours? She thought about it. And then she decided.

Her movements turned quick because she didn't want Harry to catch her in the act. Y/N dressed herself in sweatpants and a tank top that were left in her boyfriend's room and had never returned to her own dorm. She layered it with Harry's hoodie.

There were a pair of crocs that she left in his closet. They had to do. Her bag was against the desk as she slid it on, before leaving the room. She listened for Harry in the kitchen. He wasn’t alone as numerous voice toppled over his.

Y/N planned to sneak out the front door because it wasn’t in view from the kitchen. She crept down the stairs, listening in on Harry's conversation to ensure he wasn't about to go back up to his room.

“You gotta put that thing away, man!” She heard Isaiah complain.

“Why don’t you take care of it for me? If you’re so worried about it,” Harry snapped back. Niall laughed loudly.

“Poor Y/N, how does she even walk after that?” He sighed. “Don’t you feel guilty, H?” 

“Mind your own business, Niall.”

“Hey, she’s my friend. I have a right to be concerned about her ability to walk after you destroy her with that absolute weapon!”

Y/N rolled her eyes and continued her journey. She successfully made it out, but hesitated closing the door behind her. Her teeth sunk into her lip as she thought about it. She’s already late. Maybe she could just email her professor to sum up the class.

It was tempting. Very. But she still closed the door and started a light jog to the bus stop.

-

dove: you left.

my baby: i did. i have class

dove: i made you breakfast

my baby: i know. i asked you to

dove: you tricked me.

my baby: i love you

dove: i need you

my baby: need me from afar

Harry didn’t respond, which surprised Y/N. But she just shrugged it off and flipped her phone over as her professor continued to teach the class. When she arrived, no one looked at her, but her professor gave her a sidelong glance. Y/N blushed profusely and scurried to her seat. She spread her papers out in front of her and caught up with everyone.

On the other hand, Harry wallowed in his room. He ate the breakfast he made for Y/N and sighed with every bite.

The class was two hours—two hours too many for Harry. He was laid out on his bed, huffing and pouting like a child. He missed his girlfriend. And so did his cock. His hand was softly squeezing over his sweats as his other texted Y/N again.

dove: i’m so hard rn

dove: i think i might have to fuck my hand, i cant wait two hours

Y/N placed her phone under the table, before looking at the screen. And she was thankful she did. She shot her eyes to the people sitting next to her, but they were too busy copying what was written on the board.

Her legs twitched at the message, and she shifted in her spot. She lowered her brightness, before responding.

my baby: i’m in class

dove: then come back. maybe ill forgive you

my baby: busy

dove: i need you.

my baby: i’m sorry

The three dots appeared for a while, but then disappeared. Y/N was a little disappointed. She didn’t think he’d back down. Unless both of his hands were busy. She shifted in her seat again, feeling a sudden damp in her panties.

Y/N began to set her phone down when a video sent from Harry appeared. The thumbnail was black, so Y/N clicked on it with curiosity. And her eyes widened when it started.

Harry’s cock filled up the screen with his thick fingers wrapped around it. The tip was red, twitching, and leaking with come. His voice was gravely as he slurred out a moan. Y/N squealed, lowering the volume completely before more was heard. No one glanced at her as the professor boomed her voice.

Harry’s hand moved up and down his cock at a slow pace. Y/N whole body jumped at the sparks that attacked her. The V line that led to his cock was prominent and so kissable. Harry lifted his hips to meet the thrust of his hand.

“Jesus, Harry,” Y/N mumbled, her eyes memorized on every detail of the video. His thigh muscles had Y/N’s breath uneven. She shot her eyes up when the class got suddenly quiet. The professor had asked a question and everyone’s hand went up. But for the first time, Y/N didn’t bother answering. She looked back down at the video of her boyfriend.

Nothing more happened besides Harry fucking his hand. He would occasionally swipe his tip, and his legs would twitch in response. Y/N was so eager to hear the sound, knowing exactly what noise he’d be making.

dove: for your eyes only, baby

Y/N was wet. It was starting to become uncomfortable. She had replayed the video with her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. 

“Damnit,” she groaned. Her clit was now asking for attention. Y/N's free hand innocently rested on her lap before sliding between her thighs. It just looked as though she was simply warming up her hands with her heat. Her sweats were baggy, so nothing appeared off about her appearance.

Y/N watched the video again while running her finger along her cunt. She poked at her clit and flinched at the pleasure. She imagined how Harry’s cock would slide up her cunt to tease her before pushing in slowly, every inch stretching her.

Fuck.

dove: i want to come

dove: my cock needs you, Y/N. please.

Double fuck.

Y/N slapped her phone down and sat correctly, her attention trying to focus back on the class. She wrote what the professor explained and copied the board. Harry’s cock was red and shiny from the saliva he had spat in his hand. Y/N pushed her hair behind her ear and cleared her throat. His thighs muscles thickened when he thrusted up, just like he would when she would get tired on top of him. Y/N pinched her nose to ignore the thoughts. His hand moved faster when he felt close, but stopped to tease himself.

Triple fuck!

Y/N gathered her things and stuffed them into her bag. She was quiet but fast, making sure to not disrupt the class—whatever topic they were on. Her phone pinged, and she flipped it over as she expected Harry’s text.

dove: please tell me you're wet. are your thighs clenching together and your pretty fucking clit puffy?

Her grip on her phone tightened. She put it in her pocket before gathering the rest of her belongings. She slug her bag over one shoulder and excused herself out of the classroom.

Y/N walked with speed to the closest bathroom. Fortunately, not many classes were in session in the building, so the few stalls in that smaller bathroom were empty. Y/N took out her phone as she leaned against the counter.

my baby: i’m in the bathroom

my baby: can’t focus anymore. thanks for that

Harry answered right away.

dove: are you wet?

my baby: so wet.

She could imagine Harry moaning at her text.

my baby: did you come yet?

dove: ofc not. its only going to be inside of you

Y/N covered her mouth to gasp. She walked into the farthest stall and locked it shut. She threw her bag to the side and pressed her back against the wall.

dove: what are you doing in the bathroom?

my baby: you know what

Her hand shoved into her sweats. She didn’t waste any time pushing her panties to the side and collecting the juices that instantly coated her fingers.

dove: tell me

my baby: you don’t deserve to know. but i can tell you it feels really good.

Y/N wasn’t lying. Her thumb and index finger pinched her clit, causing her to moan in the echoing, empty room. Her hand holding her phone dropped to the side as she focused on her fingers. She pushed her ring finger inside herself, imaging it was Harry’s. That made her eyes roll back.

Suddenly, her phone started to ring. Y/N looked down and saw Harry’s contact on screen. She smirked through her gasps. “Fuck,” she whined, before declining the call. Her hand dropped again.

dove: answer. let me see you.

Y/N typed with one hand while the other plunged more fingers into her cunt. Her eyes were turning glassy that it was kind of hard to see.

my baby: not yet.

dove: just wait until you come back, baby. i promise I’m going to fuck you dumb

Y/N moaned at the text. Her legs warned to give out, but she didn’t want to sit naked on the bathroom floor. Harry had too much power over her when it should’ve been the other way around. So, she had an idea.

Y/N swiped to the camera app and pressed the video tab. Her phone was between her legs, revealing everything. She started recording, looking down at the screen with a whiny face—eyebrows drawn together, lips parted as she gasped with each thrust of her fingers.

“Yes,” she moaned, touching her sensitive clit. “I want to come so bad. Fuck. I need it, dovie,” She hissed. “I have to do it all by myself.” Her head fell back against the wall, the camera shaking from her wavering hand. Her fingers shot into her cunt and curled, just like Harry would do to earn the most symphonic noises from her.

The video was filled with heavy breathing and wet fingers moving inside of Y/N’s cunt. Her thighs clamped together. 

“I can’t hold this anymore,” Y/N sighed, raising the camera to her face. She stared back at her flushed cheeks and smiled. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.” Y/N ended the video and boldly sent it to Harry.

A few minutes of silence passed. During that time, Y/N stopped playing with herself and cleaned up with toilet paper. She was desperately horny, and just as needy as her boyfriend, but really didn’t want to come in the bathroom alone.

When she was composed, Y/N walked to the door to leave, but a message from Harry finally went through.

dove: Y/N, come to my dorm right now.

my baby: i have to get back to class.

dove: then im on my way

Y/N chuckled with a roll of her eyes.

Yeah right.

my baby: ill see you later

Y/N left the bathroom and snuck back into her classroom. Maybe she was gone for a suspiciously long amount of time because the classmates that sat besides her gave her an up and down glance. One raised their eyebrows and chuckled.

Y/N wanted to die on the spot.

Another ten minutes passed, and Y/N was able to rejoin the class as if she had never left. She quickly caught up on her notes and answered some of the questions the professor asked. It felt good to be back and focused on what was important. Not her boyfriend, who should be at his dorm pouting and waiting for the time to roll by.

She was wrong.

Her phone pinged, and she was going to ignore it, but after another buzz to her thigh, she looked.

dove: im outside your classroom. come here

dove: i’ll gladly walk in and take care of business on your professor’s desk

Y/N eyes widened as she read the messages. She cursed under her breath, considering what to do. Harry wouldn’t actually do that—storm into her class and cause a scene, but the fact that he was here, in the building, caught her off guard.

Once again, her papers were collected and stuffed back into her bag. Y/N waited until her professor turned away to face the board, before scurrying out. She could feel the heat of eyes on her back, and her hand connecting to Harry’s face when she finds him.

Just like he said he was, Harry leaned against the wall by her classroom door. He looked out into the distance with a smug smile, lost in thought. Y/N puffed out a breath, earning his attention. His smile turned into a devilish smirk.

“Hello, baby,” He said, stalking towards her. 

“What are you doing here?” Y/N stepped forward and hit his chest. “Everyone saw me leave twice because of you. I’m so fucking embarrassed. I’ll have to drop the class now. I can’t walk in there ever again. You—”

Y/N was cut off by a hard kiss from Harry. He grasped her neck and held her there, immediately shooting his tongue into her mouth. Y/N moaned within the kiss, holding onto Harry’s wrist. He pulled away an inch to speak. “What bathroom were you in?” He asked in a voice so low, Y/N could barely hear him.

Her head motioned to her right. “Down the hall. It’s the smallest in the building so more likely that I’d be alone,” She explained. The end of Harry’s lips curled up.

“Perfect.” He kissed her roughly again before moving behind her. He pushed his cock against her ass and sighed in relief. “Lead the way. I’m right behind you.” Y/N rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” 

Harry pressed closely to his girlfriend as she walked them to the bathroom she previously occupied. He leaned down to find her ear. “I missed you. And I love you.” Y/N looked up at him.

“I know, and I know,” She giggled, stopping in her tracks to push her ass back against him, before continuing to walk.

The couple made it to the bathroom, and it was empty. Harry thanked the heavens because no one deserved to hear the noises he was soon to yank out of Y/N’s throat.

“Which stall?” He asked. Y/N pointed to the farthest one, and the biggest. “Get in there.”

She turned to face him. “You’re staying here?” He lifted his chin, staring down at her degradingly. 

“When you get inside, you take off this hoodie and bra. Then you get on your knees and wait patiently for my cock. Understand?” Harry instructed. His hand swiftly wrapped around her neck. 

Y/N gulped—nervously and excitedly, she wasn’t sure—before nodding. 

“Finally listening. Good girl.” Harry smacked her ass. “Go.”

Y/N went inside the stall and shut the door behind her, but didn’t lock it. She placed her bag on the wall opposite of her. Harry was quiet on the other side, and it grew nerves inside of her. What was he doing?

Like he told her to do, his hoodie came off, so did her tank top and bra. She stuffed them inside her bag so it wasn’t on the floor. Finally, she sank down to her knees and shuddered. She was facing the door, so whoever opened it would have a full view of everything. 

Y/N’s eyes saw Harry’s feet near the sink, deadly still. He didn’t move for a while, nor made any sound. She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to tell him she was ready, but it had to be obvious because it’s been a while.

“I made sure I didn’t come, this morning,” Harry suddenly spoke. Y/N flinched in surprise. “Even after you left, after I texted you, sent that video, watched yours and fucking almost died on the spot, Y/N, I stopped myself. You know why?” Y/N wanted to soak into the floor by the authority of his voice. He sounded mad. Good.

Y/N watched his feet move closer to her stall. They stopped when he was exactly on the other side. 

“You want to know why I made sure I didn’t come after the painful hardon I had?” Harry asked. The door swung open and there he was. Eyes filled with desire, lips panting out harsh breaths. And his cock out of his boxers and sweats. It was slapped up against his chest—thick, veiny, and perfectly fitted for any of Y/N’s holes. 

The girl gasped as she stared straight at his cock. Her mouth dared to water at the sight. 

Harry leaned forward, and Y/N had to tilt her chin up to meet him face to face. His tilted to the side in a teasing manner. It felt degrading with her naked on the floor as he stood, almost clothed, with a shit eating grin.

“Because I promised myself that when I have you, this heavy load that I’ve been carrying is going to fill every inch of you,” Harry finished as he grabbed Y/N’s jaw. He made sure she continued to look at him. “And you will take everything I give you. I almost feel bad about how much you'll leak when I take you back to my room and do it all over again.”

Maybe Y/N shouldn’t have teased him.

She smiled sincerely at him. “Is it too late to apologize?” Harry chuckled and let go of her jaw to stand back up straight. He took his cock into his hand.

“You’re about to apologize right now,” He said. “Now open.”

Y/N was timid to do so, but her mouth widened anyway. Her boyfriend definitely wasn’t small, and it always took some time for him to fit anywhere inside of her. But she was still obsessed with him. He was pretty, and veiny, pink at the tip, and reactive every time she was near. It made her feel special.

Harry sighed at the sight of Y/N. His hand tugged on his cock. Not that he really needed to because he was already as hard as he could get. He’d been waiting for this all morning.

Harry pressed his thumb into Y/N’s lower lip to push it down further. His other hand directed his cock into her mouth. Y/N subconsciously closed around him, hollowing her cheeks. Harry hissed at the warmth around him. He tangled his fingers into her hair for a grip.

“Think you’re ready, baby?” He asked her. Y/N looked up at him with doe eyes and nodded. “I don’t think so,” He teased. 

Harry doesn’t waste another minute stuffing his cock into Y/N’s mouth like he dreamt of since that morning. His body tensed up as he let out a predatory moan. Y/N used her hand to stroke the inches that couldn’t fit in her mouth.

She bobbed her head quickly, feeling Harry twitch inside of her. He could drop on the spot from how weak in the knees he felt. His thighs gladly accepted her sharp nails digging into the flesh. 

He wanted it to leave a mark.

Harry’s cock was finally getting the attention it needed. It was warm inside Y/N’s mouth and was teased by her tongue that petted the veins along the sides. His tip pressed the back of her throat, causing her to gag and back away briefly. But Harry had a hold on her hair to guide himself back inside of her.

Moans were spilling out him. “I’m already about to come, baby. Doing so good for me,” Harry praised her. He looked down to watch Y/N’s eyes squeezed shut as she focused on sliding his cock in and out of her mouth. She fondled his balls to quicken the process. “Gonna let me fuck your face now? Finally adjusted to my cock?” He needed to get control again before he got lost in the pleasure. She did that to him.

Y/N nodded and dropped her hands to his thighs for leverage. Harry drew his eyebrows together as he held her by the hair. He planned to start at a slow pace, but as Y/N tried to move her head closer to suck him in, he knew she was ready for him. Needy thing.

Harry kept Y/N’s head still, before snapped his hips forward. He tested the waters and watched for a reaction. Y/N shut her eyes while a muffled moan strained out of her. Harry took that as the confirmation to keep going.

His thrusts were quick. Each time he went in, he’d hit the back of her throat. It felt like heaven. Y/N moaning around him sent vibrations to every nerve in his cock. She watched his stomach muscles—covered by ferns—react to each thrust. She loved the view.

Her eyes turned glassy from the tears building up. Her jaw was tired and sore, but it was only the beginning. She was ready for it all.

Harry didn’t back down on his speed. His hips were fast and direct, never missing a beat or shifting. He hit the same place each time. “Fucking love your mouth, baby,” He spoke out loud. “The perfect shape. Made for me, I swear.” He groaned as he looked down at Y/N drooling from the corner of her mouth.

There was a puddle dripping in her sweats. Y/N was extremely wet that she dared the thought of taking care of herself right in front of him. But it was a death wish to try. Harry had a plan for her.

His grip in her hair tightened, pulling a moan out of her. He was close. His head threw back again, Y/N getting the perfect view of the underside of his chin. His neck was thick and veiny as he clenched his teeth together. He was letting out hard pants.

“Gonna fill your mouth with my come, baby. You’re gonna swallow it all like my good girl?” Y/N nodded, unintentionally bobbing her head to match his thrust. She shifted on her knees in anticipation. She loved the taste, the saltiness of his come. It spurted in her mouth like a dart from how hard he usually comes. She had pride from being able to make him do that.

Harry stopped his movements as he moaned out a gasp. “Take it all, Y/N. I’m not asking.” Her thighs wanted to squeeze together.

After one last thrust, Harry was shooting down Y/N’s throat. His moaning and heavy breathing got louder as he released. He repeated Y/N’s name under his breath, and it was music to her ears.

Harry pulled out, allowing Y/N to swallow properly. She smiled like an angel as she enjoyed the taste in her mouth. Harry had a hand on the stall door to balance himself. 

“Open,” He said to her through pants. She stuck her tongue out. Every drip was gone and down her throat. “You’re fucking amazing. I don’t think I tell you enough.” Y/N laughed.

“You don’t. You only tell me three times a day. I need more.” Harry winked at his girlfriend and stood back up straight. Y/N wanted to discard her sweats as her panties were destroyed, and soon her sweats.

Harry grabbed Y/N by the armpits and lifted her to her feet.. She had to hold onto his shoulders. Her body was on complete fire, mostly her bruised throat and scalp. But it felt amazing. 

“You okay, baby? Too much?” Harry held Y/N by her hips, their bodies close together, as he asked her. He kissed her cheek, before backing his head to look at her.

Y/N smiled drunklike. Her throat was tight, and she didn’t trust herself to speak. So, she did it by grabbing his face and engulfing him in a wild kiss. Harry tasted himself on her tongue. 

“I can take that as a ‘yes’?” He chuckled when she stopped. Y/N nodded and quickly kissed him again. “Okay, good. Stand at the wall and hold onto it,” He instructed, flicking his eyes to the spot he wanted her at.

Y/N did her best to walk over there with a seductive sway of her lips. Harry smiled proudly at her. He leaned down to pull his sweats and boxers down, stepping out of them. Y/N didn’t see as she was facing the wall.

Harry approached her from behind and did the same with her sweats. “Lift your feet, baby. Let me get you out of these.” He helped her slid the rest of her clothes off until they were both naked. “This is a sight I need embroidered in my head,” Harry commented as he unabashedly examined Y/N’s posed body leaning against the wall. She smiled shyly and looked away, facing the wall again.

Harry stood behind Y/N, kissing the back of her neck as his arms wrapped around her body. His cock poked into her ass, and she pushed back against it. She was actually dripping down her thighs now that her panties were gone.

He sucked a mark on her shoulder and another on her shoulder blade. He peppered more kisses down her back, before traveling back up until he found her ear.

“Ready to take me like a good girl, baby?” Harry asked. Y/N arched at the question and nodded. “Say it. I don’t care if your voice is gone. I want to hear you want me.” She whined with her head falling back on his shoulder. Harry grabbed her breasts and squeezed them in response.

She let out a breath, before struggling to properly say, “I’m ready for you. I want your cock in me so bad, dove.”

“Yeah?” Harry smirked and kissed her jaw. “You want my cock?” Y/N nodded, pushing into him again to prove her point. She was thinking of just reaching back and doing the work herself. She was over the teasing.

“Yes. Please.”

“Alright, I got you. You’re gonna take me so well. I just know you will,” Harry whispered, dragging his hand down her stomach and around her hip to her ass. He squeezed her cheek, before finding his cock and holding it. “My baby is gonna let me fuck her so hard, yeah? Apologize for leaving me all alone this morning, huh?” Y/N nodded, even though she really wanted to roll her eyes hard enough that her pupils disappeared.

Harry held Y/N by her waist—an arm horizontal across it—while lining himself with her cunt. Y/N waited in anticipation. Her hands holding the wall in front of her. She arched her back and bit her lip.

A gasp was shared between the couple when Harry finally pushed into Y/N completely. His lower abdomen touched her ass. Harry was in complete bliss that he had to stay still for a moment because of the overwhelming pleasure. He placed his hands over Y/N’s against the wall. He curled his fingers between hers.

“Fuck me,” He groaned as Y/N panted. She thought his cock in her mouth took her voice away. No, it was his cock stretching her walls as if it were their first time. He slipped in so easily from her wet cunt inviting him in eagerly. “Good, princess?”

“Yeah. Yes. Fuck, yes,” Y/N nodded rapidly. Her eyes fluttered shut so her senses were directed to Harry leaving her cunt briefly before plunging right back inside. Her hands turned into fist—one of Harry’s held the back of hers, but the other dropped to her hip for leverage. She felt his nails dig into her hip.

He started a slow pace so they could cherish the tightness of Y/N’s walls and Harry’s thick cock filling her up. Y/N choked on her own moans at each thrust. Her ass snapped back in its own. Harry loved it.

“Alright, baby. I’m done being gentle with you,” Harry whispered in her ear. “Ready?” 

“Mhmmm. Yes,” Y/N answered, followed by incoherent noises that added to Harry’s list of his favorite things he’s heard come out of her mouth.

Both of Harry’s hands were on her hips. His grip was rough that it was for sure going to leave marks. For his eyes only, though.

He fastened his thrust, jumping to a brutal speed. The skin slapping sounded of an audience clapping at an award show. Loud, fast, and full of pride. That’s what Harry felt as Y/N took him perfectly.

His head tilted up to the ceiling with his eyes shut. He buried himself in the pleasure of his cock being covered by what it yearned for. Not his hand, but the cunt made for it. His cock was home, and it wasn’t leaving any time soon.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Harry moaned loudly as he felt his legs almost give out. His pace didn’t stop, it actually went faster. Y/N gasped at the fiery of his thrust. He was getting his revenge, and she loved the pain that was included.

“Keep going, dove. I want it,” Y/N panted out. She searched behind her for some part of him. Harry felt her hand on his shoulder and smiled. He let go of her hip to twist her arm behind her back—a new kind of leverage. Y/N whined as she wanted some sort of comfort. But as he squeezed at her wrist, her eyes rolled back.

“You’re so warm and tight, baby. I can stay in you all fucking day. I don’t think I’m ever gonna stop,” Harry spoke over the skin slapping. Y/N had a moment of weakness from his voice. She had to use the wall to stop herself from falling on the floor. “I got you, princess. I’m not letting you go anywhere. You’re taking all of this,” Harry chuckled as he watched her struggle in front of him.

Harry barely spoke like that during sex. He was gentle, holding back on the teasing because he was too caught up in the love of their intimacy. But today, he was pissed. And he was going to make sure she felt it.

He switched his thrust again. Snapping his hips hard into her at a slow pace. Y/N yelped each time, feeling him reach deeper than before. She looked down at her stomach.

“What? You feel me in there, princess?” Harry asked. He pushed into her and groaned. “I do too. Reaching so deep inside my baby. Only I can do that, right?”

Y/N nodded. “Yes. Only you. More.” Her words were wavering, but he still understood. He always knew what do to satisfy his girl. She would turn into a moaning, mumbling mess because of him. He loved that power.

Harry wasn’t stopping anytime soon, but Y/N could feel her release creeping up on her. He noticed because she was squeezing his cock more frequently and writhing in her spot. She was too busy whimpering to tell him. Her ass tried to meet his thrust like before, but she was tired and ready to burst.

Her forehead met the wall. “I’m... dovie, I—”

“I know, babygirl. Doing so fucking good. Gonna lick that pretty little cunt of yours when we get home,” Harry whispered to her. She moaned through heavy breaths. He was trying to kill her.

Harry continued to throw praise and light degradation to tease her. Y/N took it all with whining moans. Her knees bent and wiggled. She was getting close. Harry, on the other hand, she wasn’t so sure as he’d snap into her with a loud, gravely moan, causing her clit to throb, before pulling out slowly and doing the same again.

“Can I hold onto you? I’m close,” Y/N cried out. Harry was still holding her arm down behind her back. His face grew soft at her request.

He briefly stopped his thrust. “Of course, my good girl,” He chuckled. “Turn around.” Y/N did so, and Harry wanted to kiss all over her. She looked spent but not completely satisfied. 

His hands grabbed her legs and picked her up while they wrapped around his waist. He pressed her to the wall, smiling up at her. She returned it and kissed him. Her arms locked around his neck.

Harry slid his cock back into her and continued his fast, furious pace. Y/N cried out every curse she could think of while twisting Harry’s name into the mix. It was getting him close to his own release. Hearing her beg him to bring her to euphoria became his most important mission.

Fuck revenge. He would do anything right now to please his girl.

Harry reached between them to rub at her clit. It was throbbing fast like her heartbeat against his chest. “Mmmm, my baby’s clit is so warm and pretty,” He said, pressing his lips against Y/N’s opened ones. She was trying her best to breathe properly. “It’s all mine. I get to rub it all day, all night. Make my girl feel so fucking good. That’s all I want to do. Make you feel so good. Okay?” 

Y/N suddenly came, gasping loudly and digging her nails into Harry’s back. With a few slow thrust, he was right behind her.

Harry smoothly rode Y/N through her orgasm, whispering more sweet nothings in her ear as his fingers quickened its rubbing on her clit. His cock continued to spurt more come that he stayed deep inside of her.

The couple were panting in sync now, reminiscing the sinful activity they partook in this innocent bathroom.

Harry pushed his cock into her a few more times. “Making sure all my come stays in there. Keep hold of it for me.” Y/N giggled and kissed his neck. It was all just dirty talk. Harry knew Y/N should pee and clean up her legs. 

He pulled out of Y/N, before placing her on the toilet. While she peed, he gathered their clothes from the floor and her bag. He bent down to slip her panties and sweats back on. She put on the rest of her clothes herself so Harry could catch up with his own.

When they were completely dressed, Harry lifted Y/N back in the air and held her against him. Her legs wrapped around his waist again. 

“How ya feel, baby?” He asked her, walking to her bag in the corner. He slipped his arms through the straps so he was wearing it himself.

“Sore. Very fucking sore. It’s not fair,” she pouted. Harry chuckled and kissed her puffed out lip.

“Well, your only break is during the drive back to my room. Use it wisely,” Harry said, nonchalantly. Y/N eyebrows raised.

“What?”

“Don’t you remember? We’re doing this all over again.” His smile was wicked. Y/N sighed and rested her head on his shoulder. Harry walked them out the bathroom and to his truck.

Y/N really shouldn’t have teased him.

- 

dont even say it. i know. im ashamed. but fuck, it was kinda good

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

I’ll Throw Away My Faith, Babe, Just to Keep You Safe

Part 1

Pairing: Murphy MacManus x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Violence; Blood and injury; That damn iron; Suggestive themes

Summary: “If love is what you need, a soldier I will be”

A/N: Finally, after a year. I hope it was worth the wait. I'm a little proud of it, so I hope you are too.

“Supermarkets are the worst.” You had just returned from grocery shopping, placing one bag at your feet in order to fish your keys from your pocket. Door unlocked, you went inside and placed the first bag on the countertop and returned for the next. Your fingers had just gripped the top of the bag when the old elevator dinged and two men stumbled out. 

“Still with me, dear brother?” The one with lighter hair asked in a thick Irish accent. He was all but dragging the second man against his side. Both were bleeding. You had only seen that amount of blood on a person in the movies. 

“Aye.” The man with the darker hair rasped without lifting his head. You barely heard it. 

“Hey, uh—should I call an ambulance?” You straightened, groceries all but forgotten in favor of possibly being of some assistance. 

“Kind of you, lass, but we’ll be just fine once we—” The light-haired one staggered when any aid the other offered in carrying his own weight suddenly vanished. “Murph? Murphy? Fuck!” Their trek to their own unit had come to an abrupt halt, the dark-haired one now limp as a ragdoll. 

“I’m calling an ambulance!” You had barely stepped into your door when he called after you, a frantic edge to his voice. 

“I beg you, please don’t.” He adjusted his grip on the other, still appearing as if the weight might take him down. 

“Are you, uh—are the two of you in some sort of trouble?” That was a ridiculous question.  There were bloody prints leading from the elevator, their clothes saturated, rivulets dripping onto the cheap linoleum flooring. “Just—here, come inside.” He studied you with narrowed blue eyes. You could tell a refusal sat on the tip of his tongue, but the other man coughed in a spray of crimson. 

“Damnit.” He cursed. 

You snatched up the other bag of groceries and jogged over to the countertop, depositing it roughly. You needed a blanket, towels, water, and your pitiful excuse for a first aid kit. “Blanket. Blanket, blanket, blanket.” The top of the hallway closet was difficult to reach for you, half the contents spilling out onto your head when you tugged on the quilt’s edge. 

“Let me put this on the couch. You can lay him there.” You rambled quickly in passing. The man was dragging the other with some measure of difficulty and had just crossed into the doorway as you spread out the blanket. Without really thinking, you sprinted over to drape the other arm across your shoulder and take some of the burden. 

“Thank you, lass. Heavier than he looks, my brother.”

The trek to the couch was more coordinated with your help and soon the stranger was lying prone, breaths shallow and skin pale. There was so much blood but it was alarmingly obvious that it was not all his. 

“I have a first aid kit but I’m not sure it’ll—”

“Have all we need in our own place. Start cleaning what you can see, I’ll fetch the iron and bandages.”

You blinked, your hand stilling just over the man’s shirt. “Iron? As in tablets or—?”

He shrugged, expression grim. “I’m Connor. That’s my brother Murphy.”

“I’m—” He was already gone. “I’m Y/N.” You sighed and started picking at the saturated clothing. Most of the injuries were shallow, superficial. The bullet wound to his left flank, however, was immediate cause for concern. It was not through and through.  “Okay, Murphy. It’d be nice to get some answers because my boring day just got really interesting, really fast and my head isn’t equipped for this much chaos.”

Using the scissors from the kit, you cut away his shirt and spread the two sides. A rosary hung from his neck, long enough to slide from his chest and over his arm. You didn’t remove it, that didn’t feel right. Handling it carefully, you let it hang over the couch arm. By the time Connor returned, you had wiped away most of the blood and were pressing a towel against the hole in his side. 

He placed an iron—that’s a fucking iron iron—on the coffee table with some gauze. As he drew away his hand, you noticed the blood seeping out from beneath the sleeve of his black coat, dripping from the tips of his fingers. 

“Are you hurt too?” 

“Aye, but it’ll keep. Murph first.” Connor hovered, blue eyes flitting back and forth between the saturated towel and his brother’s slack face. 

“You realize I have no idea what I’m doing, right?” You lifted the towel and winced at the thick crimson bubble that broke into a stream trickling down his side. 

“Between the two of us, we’ll have him right as rain, lass.” 

“Right.” You sighed heavily, pressing the towel against the wound once again. “I suppose the bullet needs to come out.”

“Aye.” He scrubbed his unsullied hand over his face. 

“And how exactly do we do that?” The corner of your bottom lip found its way between your teeth. How exactly did you end up in this position? Two strangers, bruised and bleeding, in your apartment. Sure, you weren’t exactly in the best neighborhood and you didn’t own a penthouse, but the place had proven to be safe enough. Mostly quiet. 

You had never seen the men before. You knew there were other tenants, but you had never met any of them. You were perfectly content in your little bubble of solitude. 

But then there you were, a man bleeding out on your couch, his brother using a pair of needle-nose pliers to dig into a gunshot wound—thank god you had managed to take it long enough to clean the tool with some rubbing alcohol. 

“Got it.” He announced triumphantly, holding up the bloody slug. Both were discarded onto your coffee table as if it were a surgical tray. The unconscious brother hadn’t moved an inch, his skin pale, clammy, and damp with perspiration. He didn’t look well at all. 

“Are you sure about an ambulance? He isn’t looking so hot.” You were headed toward the kitchen, hastily grabbing a dish towel and wetting it under the tap. 

“I’m sure, lass.” Connor replied. When you returned, he was plugging the cord of the iron into the socket closest to the couch. 

“Whoa, whoa, wait!” You slid onto the couch by Murphy’s hip folding the towel. “You’re not actually going to burn him, are you?” Dabbing the sweat from the other man’s forehead, you felt nauseous at seeing Connor approach from the corner of your eye. “Can’t we just stitch it?” 

“He’s bleedin’, love. It’s needin’ to be stopped.”

“Shit.” Choosing to stay seated where you were, you helped shift Murphy onto his right side but swiftly turned your head as the iron came down. The sizzling sound was horrible enough but the second the smell of burning flesh wafted into your nostrils, you gagged. How was Murphy remaining unconscious through it?

“It’s done.” 

“Good. Go me for keeping down my lunch.” You panted. “Let’s, uh—let’s get him all bandaged and then I can look at you.” Connor nodded, gingerly removing his coat. “Don’t expect me to use the iron.”

The apartment was cast in shadows, the moon beginning its shift. Connor had fallen asleep not long after you had, indeed, used the iron on his arm. Unfortunately, your lunch did not survive the second onslaught of burning flesh. 

You had finally been granted an opportunity to put away your groceries. Why you had also felt the need to clean up the blood in the hall and the elevator was beyond you, though the crimson trail leading right to your door might have had something to do with it. It was a miracle no one had been on the lift since the brothers. Well, not really. The building had few tenants. After that task, you had told yourself to keep your eyes on the men, but the sight and smell of blood on your skin proved to be very persuasive in the mental argument on whether or not to shower. 

Your hair was still damp by the time you sank into the chair opposite of where Connor slept. The brothers were exhausted, as were you, but at least you had no injuries. You’d love nothing more than to crawl into your bed, but showering was one thing. Sleeping was an entirely different matter. 

Maybe you should have called the cops. It was logical. These men were obviously into some bad stuff. Still, there was something about them, something you couldn’t put your finger on. Something good. To sense something like that when one of them had yet to speak to you—well, it was curious. 

And curiosity killed the cat. 

Lost in your thoughts, you must have allowed your eyes to close at some point. The next moment of awareness you could identify was met with a deep groan. Connor was still asleep in the same position you had last seen him. Murphy, however, was sitting up, arms draped across his knees with his head hanging. 

“Murphy?” You uttered, sliding to the edge of your chair. 

He was a little slow to react, expression dazed as he sought you out. He lingered on Connor for a moment, the little tension—you hadn’t even noticed—in his shoulders visibly dissipated. Once his gaze found you, you immediately noticed how the moonlight made the same blue eyes you had seen on Connor appear more silver. 

“Who are you?” He croaked, clearing his throat with a hand flying to his left side. 

“I’m Y/N. I, uh—your brother brought you here.” Feeling nervous without Connor awake to corroborate your story, you rubbed at the back of your neck. “You were really hurt and he didn’t want an ambulance.” 

“Turn us in then, will you?”

“If I was going to turn you in, I would have done it before the iron was plugged in.” You curled your lip at the memory of the stench. “I think I’m traumatized.” The man chuckled quietly, dropping his head again. “Is there anything I can get for you?”

“Aye.” He sounded exhausted. Being unconscious was likely not as restful as a decent night’s sleep. “Water would be nice, lass.” 

“Sure.” Pushing yourself out of the chair, you crossed in front of him on your way to the kitchen. His hand moved faster than you thought him capable of given his current state, wrapping around your wrist in a touch that could only be described as tender. You jerked to a halt and dropped your head to regard him, finding him looking right back at you. God, the man was handsome.

“Thank you.” He offered, his accent thick and sweet like honey. You barely suppressed a shiver. “Truly.”

“It’s no big deal.” It was very much a big deal. You had no idea what you were getting yourself into, but you were surprised to find that when he let go, you missed the warmth of his touch, replaced by the tingle it left in its wake. Maybe you had been alone too long. That had to be it. With a soft upward tilt of your lips, you continued to the kitchen, the glass quickly filled to the brim and spilling over onto your hand whilst you found yourself staring at the dark-haired brother. No, you had no idea what you were getting yourself into, but you were quickly going to find out.

“I’m not saying it’s wrong, I’m just saying that not everyone wants to get wasted just because it’s Saint Patrick’s Day.” You smiled over the rim of your glass, opting for a soda instead of beer, much to the MacManus brothers’ dismay.

“You bite your tongue, lass.” Connor feigned offense, a hand splayed dramatically over his chest. Murphy was shaking his head beside his twin.

“Oh, stop clutching your pearls, Con.” You jested, throwing a foot out from the rest at the lower part of the stool to playfully nudge the toe of your boot against his shin.

“Everyone’s Irish on Saint Patty’s day, love.” With a nod toward Doc, another beer was slid straight into Murphy's hand. “It won’t hurt you to have a little fun.” When he stepped into your space to offer the drink, you had no control when your eyes flitted to his lips and back, orbs dancing back and forth as if comparing the two pools of brilliant blue that stared with a suffocating intensity. The corner of his mouth slid up into a smirk that had you tingling in all the right places.

Over the past few months, you had grown close to the brothers, more so with Murphy. He would separate himself from his twin to visit your apartment more than you visited theirs. Quiet conversations, moving closer to one another on the couch with each social call. It wasn’t long before you were perched with your legs folded beneath you, his arm wrapped around your shoulders, and your head on his chest. It was just dialogue, catching one another up on the events of the day. 

He was open about their efforts to rid the city of those that caused harm to the innocent. While you didn’t understand how they could just walk around, unbothered and unrecognized, you found yourself comfortable with what they did. You helped treat their wounds and offered your apartment as a safe haven, should one of their targets send someone to act violently in their stead. The aggressors had no reason to suspect you. Aside from the bar, you were never seen with them. Murphy made sure of it.

“Just one drink, lass.” He insisted. You knew he would back off if you said the word, so you didn’t feel pressured, just persuaded. With a roll of your eyes, you lifted the glass to your mouth and made a show of taking the first sip. “Hurá!” He exclaimed, weaving his arms underneath yours to lift you off the stool. 

“Murphy!” Your beer sloshed in the glass, spilling over the rim and onto your jacket. “Aw, man!” You pouted, opting to stand when he attempted to place you back on the stool. You unzipped and pulled off the article with a huff, revealing your bright green shirt with gold lettering of Kiss Me, I’m Irish. 

“What’s this, love?” Murphy chuckled, his eyes so obviously on your chest. 

“It’s a shirt. More specifically, those are my boobs.” His eyes flitted up to your face, that smirk returning. The man had no shame. For Catholics, the brothers had some questionable morals. 

The drinking went on well after the doors had been locked and the open sign extinguished. You were still nursing your first beer—barely buzzed—the twins too drunk to notice. It was your first Saint Patrick’s Day with the small group, Doc the only one other than you that was resembling anything close to sober. 

When the dark-haired brother staggered toward you, throwing an arm across your shoulders and pulling you into his side, you decided they needed to be cut off. 

“Okay, boys, last call.”

Romeo was protesting loudly to the old man, but your focus was on the brothers. While you knew you needed to accompany them home, it would be the first time you would be with them on the streets. 

Before you could give it too much thought, Murphy was spinning you, hands on your shoulders at arm's length, eyes unfocused and a drunken flush to his cheeks. With a face too serious to be genuine, he ran a finger over the golden four leaf clover just below your breasts. 

“Tell me, love. Do you have any Irish in you?” His attempt at stoicism was bellied by his slurred syllables. 

“No, Murph. I don’t.” 

“Would you care for some?” A lopsided smile formed regardless of his obvious attempts to hold it at bay. You patted his arm with a shake of your head. 

“You’re wasted. Time to get you boys home.” There was a shimmer of disappointment in those blue eyes, so profound that you almost wished you could show your own dismay. Your feelings for Murphy were strong—unnamed but strong. It had been years since your last relationship, one so devastating that you weren’t sure what love was supposed to feel like anymore. Maybe you were simply drawn to his mystery, his ability to make you feel anything at all. 

“It’s early yet.” It was a weak argument, the pout he pinned you with proving his knowledge of it. 

You pointed toward the door and grabbed your jacket.  “Walk, MacManus.” The man grumbled beneath his breath but still staggered to where Connor impatiently protested by the door. 

“Get a room, little brother.” He slurred. 

“I came out first. Settled this, I thought.” Murphy was quick to correct. 

Rolling your eyes as the bickering continued, you steered both of them out the door, calling back a night, Doc over your shoulder. The night air was still chilly for March. You pulled your jacket tighter around yourself, the scent of beer strong from the spilled drink earlier. 

“What’s on your mind, love?” You felt the weight of Murphy’s arm across your shoulders before you even realized he had shifted closer, his stumbling pushing you off balance. 

“The hope of staying vertical while chaperoning a set of drunk twins.” Using your elbow, you pushed him aside, reaching for his black peacoat to keep him on his feet. Chuckling, you wound your arm around through his. “Let’s just focus on getting you two home and in bed.”

“Whoa there, lass.” Connor interjected, his arm falling around your shoulders. “We draw the line at falling into bed together with one woman.” 

“Oh my god!” You threw back your head with a drawn out exasperated noise. “You’re insufferable.” Bracketed between the brothers, you kept up the slow pace toward the apartment building. 

With Conner face-down and snoring into his pillow, you turned your attention toward Murphy, who was currently attempting to fight his way out of his coat. Your smile was fond, your capable hands grabbing his forearms. 

“Wait, wait, wait.” You laughed, stilling his movements. His lopsided smile never wavered while you helped him. “Stop smiling, you idiot.”

“You’d rather I frown then?” The deliberate pout was something beyond adorable. With a snort, you dislodged his arms and held out the article of clothing. 

“Time for bed, Murph.” Rubbing his left eye with a fist, the Irishman finally appeared as if he would acquiesce. “Goodnight.” Your arms slid around his neck and you squeezed lightly. As you made to retreat, his own arm slid around your waist and held fast. “Murphy?”

“Stay.” He had angled his head, his lips against the shell of your ear. You could smell the Guiness and cigarettes on his breath, a surprising tonic that made him almost irresistible. 

Almost. 

“I need to go. And you need to sleep.” His other arm wrapped around the middle of your back, both holding loosely. You knew he’d release you if you willed it. 

“Stay.” He said again, nuzzling the side of your head. The heat of his body was rapidly melting your defenses. The last thing you wanted was to wake up to Connor’s jibing at Murphy’s expense—though it wouldn’t be the first time. The two were just such children sometimes. 

However, as his hands languidly explored your back, you felt that snuggling was not what was on his mind that night. That made it easy to unwrap yourself from his hold and step out of reach. Though you had told yourself long ago that you would take that leap with him without hesitation should he ever offer, he was drunk. It wasn’t even a consideration. 

“You don’t want me to stay, Murph. Not like this.” Needing one last touch, you patted his cheek and nearly melted when he leaned into your palm. 

“I do, lass.” He retorted, staggering when your hand pulled away. You chuckled. 

“If you still feel that way in the morning, you know where to find me.”

“Y/N.” He called as you opened the door, pausing to cast him a gentle smile, disappointment hiding just behind it. 

“Goodnight, Murphy.” Once in the hall, you pressed your back against the door and closed your eyes. If only the words could have left a sober tongue, you would have stayed. No, you would have invited him back to your own apartment where privacy wouldn’t have been a concern. 

You wondered how his lips would feel on yours as you pulled out your keys and unlocked your door. How would his hands feel on your skin? His mouth? How would he taste? You imagined the sounds he would make, the breaths and moans. 

Slamming your keys down onto the countertop, you shook your head. “Get a grip, Y/N! He’s your best friend and he’s drunk!” When a whisper of your name, breathless and blissed out echoed in your head, you muttered to yourself, “okay, I need a cold shower.”

The water was lukewarm at best, but did little to cool your skin, flushed with arousal. You shouldn’t have been thinking of Murphy as you lathered up your body, or when your hand ventured between your thighs, but you couldn’t help it. He was all you had ever wanted: kind, loyal, funny, and exquisitely handsome. Reaching the precipice within moments, it didn’t take long for the shame to descend upon you, the guilt of imagining your friend in such a manner. 

“Fuck.” You cursed your weakness, the fragility of your defenses when it came to the opposite sex. You had been burned so many times that it was only natural to assume that anything changing in your relationship with the man—including those depraved thoughts—would destroy what you had built with him.

Clean—at least physically—you crawled into bed and pulled your sheets up to your chin, covering your face with your hands. This had to stop. You were torturing yourself, it was bound to seep into reality eventually, ruining everything and ejecting him from your life. 

It wasn’t until there came a knock on your door that you jolted awake, only then realizing that you had fallen asleep. The morning light crept across the floor and laid warm against the sheets. You could stay there, warm and safe, and you could stay away from Murphy—at least until you could rid yourself of your yearning for him and what could never be. 

The knock came again. 

It was early, maybe 6am. The boys wouldn’t have even rolled over in their beds. So who was at your door?

“Hold your horses!” You barked, clambering out of bed and grabbing blindly for your robe. The front untied, you were in your camisole, sleep shorts, and bunny slippers, the soles loudly scuffing the floor as you reached for the doorknob. “Yeah?” You asked lazily, scratching at your disheveled mane with one eye closed. 

The man wasn’t small. He was big and burly, donned in a trench coat over his button-up and slacks, the shoulder rig holding his twin pistols visible just behind the double breasted buttons. His grin was wicked. 

“You’re not here to sell me Girl Scout cookies, are you?” You squeaked, immediately attempting to slam the door but he was faster with a boot over the threshold. “Mur—” You tried to yell before he tackled you with a hand over your mouth. 

“Boys!” He grunted, his meaty fingers nearly covering your nose as well. It was difficult to breathe. Three more men entered, gazing around your apartment. None of their weapons were drawn. There was no way they could know that the boys lived just down the hall. “Give it a good going over. We want them to know that we were here.” His thick accent was easily recognizable. Italian. 

Your eyes watered from how wide you held them, watching the goons raze your possessions as you were hauled to your feet, hand still silencing you.

“Are we gonna kill her, Luca? Send a message?” One of the men asked as he stepped on your jewelry box. You began to struggle, shouting behind the large palm until the cold muzzle of a gun was pressed roughly into your temple. 

“Not unless she doesn’t leave us a choice.” Then his sour breath was against your ear, the biting metal of the gun grinding against your skull. “You hear that, doll? You be a good girl and you’ll get to live. For now, at least.” He released you and uncovered your mouth, and you sank your teeth into your lip.

Yeah, fuck that. 

Stomping his foot, you threw back a fist and connected with his groin, bolting for the door when he doubled over with a shout. 

“Murphy! Murphy, Connor! Help! Mur—” Your path was blocked, a hand fisting into your hair to slam you against the unforgiving wall. 

“Don’t kill her!” Luca ordered, catching his breath with a hand still cupping his crotch. “Boss wants her alive. Bait for the Saints.” Once he recovered, the bastard grabbed your arm and sharply yanked you away from the other man. The back of his hand snapped your head to the side. You fell onto your hip, catching yourself on your hands with a misting spray of blood from your mouth. “Behave, bitch, or I’ll just have to tell the boss that you pulled a gun and I had to put a few holes in you.”

“Fuck you.” You spat. 

“Maybe. We’ll see how the night goes.” He smirked, slapping your throbbing cheek with a mocking pat before giving the room a once over. “That’s enough. Let’s get out of here before—”

The first shot came from the doorway, the sound muted by the long silencer on a handgun held just in view. The thump of a body hitting the floor from your right made you flinch. Murphy was still fully dressed, t-shirt and jeans rumpled from sleep, while Connor donned only his boxer shorts. Not exactly rescue attire, but you would laugh about it later. 

Hopefully. 

“Get down, lass!” Connor shouted as he stepped into the room. After an elbow to Luca’s gut, you dropped and curled in on yourself, arms wrapping around your head. 

You didn’t dare watch the scene, the gunfire being enough of a motivator to keep you pinned to the floor. Something heavy hit your thigh and drew out a cry of protest. That was going to leave a bruise but it was substantially better than a bullet wound. If some contusions and lacerations were the extent of your injuries, you’d be fortunate. 

Your belongings were shattering, wall plaster crumbling. There was shouting, wails of pain and rage. And you were cowering on the cold floor, your thoughts a myriad of fear, distress. The brothers could be dying and you were doing nothing. 

Three quick huffs through your mouth, you amped yourself up but just as you unfolded, the room went silent. Was it over? Where were the boys? Palms on the floor, you dared to raise your head just as a hand softly gripped your arm. You drew back a fist. Fight or flight had been activated and you’d be damned if you’d run. 

“Easy, love.” Murphy’s hand wrapped around your clenched one, gently urging you to lower it. “It’s over. You’re safe, but we need to leave.” Striking blue eyes gave you a once over. “Can you stand?” You nodded. “Up we get then.”

“Are you okay?” You inquired, dizzy with concern and a possible concussion. There was a cut on his cheek,—the graze of a bullet—blood trickling down his jaw. 

“Right as rain, lass.” His hand dropped yours in favor of clasping your chin, turning your head left and right. You still tasted the iron on your tongue, felt the sting of the hand that had struck you. 

“Fine. I’m fine.”

Connor shuffling behind him, Murphy narrowed his eyes. It was a moment before he seemed to accept your response and stepped around to your side. Hand pressed against the small of your back, he steered you towards the door. 

“Let’s go then.”

[hannahwdraws]

I want to draw the whole exchange that follows Magda'len Rook Laidir coming to dinner to meet Catarina as Lucanis' romantic partner but that will be a lot of drawing!! So I wrote it below instead.

Despite Lucanis' reassurances, Rook was having a difficult time convincing her armpits not to sweat, her stomach not to churn, or her nose to twitch in nervous anticipation.

Her first time in Villa Dellamorte had been under different albeit just as high stakes circumstances: rescuing the very woman they were coming to have dinner with. And during that first visit, she was nearly taken down by Venatori for how much she gawped at the luxuries on display.

A treasure hunter for much of her adult life, trying to earn enough coin to survive and turns out all she had to do was attach herself to the crown prince of The Crows and she’d be set for life.

Provided Catarina didn't kill her tonight.

Despite The Crow matriarch's gratitude on the night of the rescue and her promoting of Lucanis to first talon, her approval was in short supply tonight. There was no warmth in her welcome, and Lucanis all but shivered from the icy brush of her lips to his cheek when they met her outside the dining room. Her eyes slid over Rook like she wasn’t even there. Was it better to be ignored in this case? Rook would have to wait and see.

They made it through the first course (a light salad) relatively unscathed. Only polite comments on the weather, the markets, and how they might get tickets to a pantomime that swore to recount the most accurate depiction of the fight against the Elven gods in Northern Thedas and they wanted to test that claim for themselves.

Catarina found a biting comment to make in response to every one of theirs.

Rook was determined to smile through the discomfort and hope that none of the food was stuck in her teeth. Or poisoned.

Unfortunately, Lucanis caught the disdainful sneer Caterina tried to hide behind her napkin and evidently thought now was the perfect time to put his title of First Talon to the test.

"Aye, Catarina, don't make faces like that. I thought you liked Rook? Didn't you always ask me when I would bring someone home? Well now I have, and you're picking it apart," he said.

"I am happy Lucanis, but you have to understand, she isn't a Crow. How will your children continue the Dellamorte line as you need to with an untried, an untested thief?" Catarina immediately shot back.

Funny, Rook thought, that thief was worth such contempt from an assassin.

Lucanis' hands raised in disbelief, and he could only scoff,

"She rescued me from The Ossuary, she rescued you from Illario. She killed a GOD!"

"Yes? And?" Catarina sniffed, only as a grandmother with impossible standards could. "A soldier can kill a man just as well as a vagrant in the streets, a Crow is of a different stock entirely. She has no parents, so I don't know anything of her house. She has no fledglings she trained with to compare against. How am I to know she is worthy of you? For the family?"

"Mierda, Catarina," was all Lucanis had strength for. He had to rub at his forehead, realizing only now that this wouldn't be as easy as he initially thought.

"WE. LIKE! ROOK." forced through Lucanis' lips before he could clamp them together.

Catarina's eyebrows creased even more (if possible) and Lucanis flushed. It was the same feeling of shame and embarrassment as when he didn't hit every target when Catarina trained him as a boy.

His shoulders tensed. His eyes unable to meet hers. Damnit, Spite was supposed to stay quiet while they were here.

Convincing Catarina was difficult in the best of times, they didn’t need the added challenge of Lucanis’ inner demon making him look incompetent or out of control.

Rook reached over, rubbing his thigh hard enough to generate heat. She gave what weak smile she could. She was too busy biting her tongue to stop herself from jumping to Lucanis' defense. They needed Catarina's approval and ripping her a new one was the least likely way to get it.

"Thank you, Spite, but don't worry about it. We are still getting settled into life after all this... crazy Elven invasion. Marriage and kids are a long ways off, if they were to even happen at all!"

"Oh so you wish to deprive me of meeting my great-grandchildren? How selfish," Catarina scoffed.

Shit. There was no winning against this woman. At least the second course was being brought in. The words would stop coming out while they were busy putting food in.

The bowls of red had only just touched the tablecloth before there was a flash of silver coming from a butler's cummerbund.

"DOWN WITH DELLAMORTE, LONG LIVE ZARA!" was screamed, as the butler closest to Lucanis raised his blade. How he got so close, into the house, no one was sure. And it didn’t matter! All that mattered was surviving the next minute. Lucanis and Catarina both dove for their cutlery, the closest weapons they had.

But they wouldn't have a chance to use it, as their vision failed them.

A cold flash of light burned around them, a flash grenade? Smoke? They blinked away the stars in their vision, and only once their eyes started to clear did they come to find their ears were blocked too. A crashing roar of thunder rolled through. The light was at least brief, while it took their ears much longer to stop ringing.

Lucanis was on his feet, knife in hand. He appeared to be fine, no injuries, no wounds. He was a coiled spring but looking around, he couldn't see the assailant anymore.

He saw a knife fall to the tiles, clattering next to a black scorch.

Only two butlers remained in the dining room, both looking just as surprised and ready to defend the Dellamortes.

Catarina was as prepared for a fight, the knife hidden in her cane drawn and at the ready. But her eyebrows and hairline were both blown back.

Slowly, the two master assassins turned, looking at the only other person in the dining room they didn’t have in their immediate vision.

Rook's hand was extended. Sparks continued to crackle up her forearm. Her chest heaved in fury for a few more breaths. A deep shuddering breath and she let the tension leave her body. The threat was not longer in the room, so she could blink the rage from her eyes. She tossed her hand a few times, dissipating the sparks as thought they were flicking water from her fingertips.

She smiled at Lucanis and Catarina. This was a different kind of uncomfortable from before, but just as bizarre. So she might as well approach them the same.

"Is this gazpacho? It looks delicious. Is it the same recipe you make, Lucanis?"

Lucanis and his grandmother both slumped back into their chairs. Everyone was on much better behavior for the rest of the evening.

Later, Rook looked out to sea on the balcony attached to the guest room that was larger than her apartment over the canal. The wealth on display was truly mind boggling. She never would have guessed given how grounded Lucanis was.

Though he wasn't exactly grounded at that moment. He made a sinuous entrance, sliding down an eave from the roof, and dropping to the balcony. He earned the squawk of surprise Rook let loose. Her laughter didn't follow far behind collapsing into his arms.

"You scared me half to death! I couldn't have handled two assassination attempts in one night!" she laughed into his chest.

"You might have to, if you don't keep it down. Catarina will know I snuck out to see you."

"Mm... isn't this supposed to be your house now? Can she really forbid us from sharing a room?" Rook grumbled against the soft knit of his vest. Her fingers were already picking to get underneath.

"Not really, no. But it's another one of her little tests. If I'm an assassin worth my salt, she won't ever know I was here. But, if I didn't try to defy her in the name of love, she wouldn't think I was serious about you. So either way, I prove she taught me well," his eyes were hooded in a devilish smoulder and he brought Rook's gloved fingers to his lips for a gentlemanly peck.

Taught well indeed, as Rook's stomach turned molten. But it was hard to feel amorous with all the worries still piled on her shoulders.

"Well good thing you aren't the one she has a problem with. I might have bungled this beyond repair. i'm sorry if I ruined dinner. I can pay to replace the tiles if they can’t get the scorch out. At least I think I can afford to replace them."

Lucanis’ eyes were focused on the cut of her dress, on the rosy flush on her cheeks. Those were much more important than listening. He was too busy pressing his lips to her wrists, biting at the gloves and eyeing where they joined her dress. Could he take just them off just as gloves? Or would the whole dress have to go?

"Mm do not worry mi amore. You did wonderfully, genuinely, I believe Catarina will give us her blessing. As soon as she's done investigating the butler. She wants to be sure you weren't the one who hired him."

Rook snatched her hands back. Her fists clenched and pressed to her cheeks. Immediately she was confused and panicked.

"ME? She thinks I hired him?! Why? And why would she give her blessing to someone she thinks tried to kill her favorite grandson and first talon?!"

Damn the rich laugh Lucanis rolled out. He shouldn't be so relaxed around someone who allegedly wanted to kill him.

"No, she is impressed! If you hired someone to make you look good by saving my life! It shows dedication and a flair for the dramatic. Both things Catarina appreciates greatly. Or, if you didn't hire him,"

"I didn't! I swear! Lucanis I would never," she grabbed his wrist and hoped her emphatic tone expressed sincerity and not panic that her plot had been figured out.

"If you didn't," Lucanis drawled, all while taking her hands again and winding her close. Back into his arms she went, "Then you still showed great power, excellent reaction time, loyalty..." Lucanis' eyes were so soft, so glowing with admiration for this beautiful creature against him.

"And a flair for the dramatic. I cannot emphasize enough how important that is for Catarina and most Crows."

Rook hung her head, leaning forward to press her brow against his chest.

"I know everyone says their in-laws are crazy. But you have them all beat by 60 leagues."

"It's a good thing you love me then, isn't it?" Lucanis purred, only just able to hide the nerves that his family would be the reason Rook finally left.

She heaved a sigh, lifting her eyes to his, pursing her lips like she was really thinking about it. Really weighing her options. But she couldn’t let him dangle for long. She pressed upwards to brush her lips against his and slide her arms around his neck.

"Yes, it is."

[indigomez]

A Brighter Lighthouse.

1923 Spencer Dutton x f! mermaid reader. ( No use of Y/N. Can also be red as unnamed original character. ) Mentions of blood, open wounds. Authors note: I haven't written in years so bare with me I'm quite rusty. But! This piece was inspired by this audio: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LUr6soGZKDE&pp=ygUMcGViYmxlcyBhc21y and it's Halloween and I like mermaids so I'd like to think it's meant to be! Hope you enjoy it! ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ With the tides mellow, the breeze cool and the stars glittering in the sky. Spencer for once allowed himself to be at ease. His tired eyes gazed to the stars with a mindless wonder. Surprised at the sudden silence of his often raging mind. He took a breath. Looking at the small rocky island his lighthouse stood upon, with a soft grin he watched his dog Odis venture to the small sand patches, keeping the large dog in his sight as he continued prepping his dinner, mixing the sorry excuse for porridge mash vigorously with a curse. " Damnit' too watery... " He muttered, he took the box of dried porridge and poured it into the bowl, he continued mixing before ultimately hanging his head in defeat. " Too fuckin' thick..." He scoffs, shaking his head. " Y'know Odis, 'm starting to think -" He calls out, that's when he then notices that Odis wasn't at the sand patch. He turned his head, nor was he on the smaller grass patch. " Odis?" He calls out, waiting a spell to hear any sounds of him... Nothing. Something's not right. "Odis! C'mon kid lets eat!" Spencer called out again, grabbing his dogs food bowl and pouring the sorry excuse for porridge into his bowl. Noticing that his dog still hasn't come to him, he places the bowl down to the table with a roll of his eyes, so he calls his name out again. A series of whistles, and again nothing. "Odis! What did you get yourself-" The abrupt, low, and harsh barking halted him. The hairs of his neck stood up as he snatched the kitchen knife from the table.

With an aggressive shout of his dog's name, his heart pounding against his ears at the sudden ambivalent nature of the nighttime, he followed his dog loud barking and snarling, rushing over rocks and uneven terrain he finally made it around the large boulder to the rocky shore, there. In the dim light he could see his dog Odis barking and nipping towards a mass thrown against the rocks. With an eerie squint in his eyes, he carefully steps closer, A fish? No... He continues to step closer, A shark? "No.. It couldn't be..." He whispered, he stood silently. Letting Odis sniff the unidentified mass before he began to whimper, nudging and nipping at the supposedly dead animal. With a few steps closer, he snapped for Odis to move aside. Odis wouldn't budge. " Odis- son move." Dejected by his dogs lack of manners he looked over the large mastiff. "Oh no..." He drops his kitchen knife to the void of the rocks to hurriedly crawl over the sharp rocks. Finally reaching the two with a grunt he looks to the body with sorrowful eyes, followed by a slight shake of his head. Lord have mercy, I didn't think I'd have to see another dead body..

He kneels beside the body with a furrow of his brows, Odis relentless as he nudges the poor body's head with a pleading whimper. " Boy relax, ain't nothin' we can do." With those words Odis went into a frenzy, he continues to nip and nudge the body, he watched Odis as he dog scurried from nudging the body, to scratching and pawing at this large rock. Taking a closer step with a whispered curse he looks to her leg trapped between the cracks of the sharp boulders, he's in debates in his mind... Is this even worth it? With a final harsh nudge from Odis, the body cries out. Weakly moaning in pain, Spencer's head snapped as Odis licked the poor girl's face, bruised and painted with cuts from the rocks, it's not until then he finally registers what exactly he's doing. Or exactly who he's helping. "How the hell did you get here girl?" He spat, carefully twisting and adjusting her battered and bruised foot to try and ease it from the cracks, goosebumps littered his skin with every whimper and cry she let out. In a sorry attempt to adjust her body, he calls out to her again. " Don't move yet you hear me? You're almost out." He continued focusing on the task while Odis licked and nudged her head and chest, almost saddened for the girl as she weakly patted the dog. With a few shifts and twists, her leg was finally free from the cracks, he looked to the foot as best he could. " Gotta take you up the lighthouse, can't see too well to help you-" The leg was snatched from his grasp, looking up he finally meets her eyes. And oh boy was he locked in. The pure horror painting her features felt guttural, in a sorry attempt to try and shuffle away he stepped closer, holding his free hand out to her. "No no no- wait now just hol' on!" He called out, she was weak, and taking what was left of adrenaline she had she grabbed a rock. " Hey now- " With a pained grunt, she threw the rock, only tapping his shoulder with a pathetic pat before falling to the wet stones. Deep down he was amused by the attempt, poor thing. He thought he crawled his way over to her, kneeling beside her as his eyes gazed over her nude body. "Ma'am.. Ma'am what happened to you?" He asked, observing the damage done to her body he finally looked to her face. Her lip busted, minor cuts and abrasions here and there but no signs of horrible damage compared to her foot, he leans in closer, her eyes bored into his own. Petrified, she's purely petrified. He could see the tiredness in her eyes. "Ma'am hey-" She was losing it, fighting fatigue he puts a rather harsh pat to the side of her face, with a moan she fought the sleep before ultimately falling limp in his arms, Odis licking and nudging her again wasn't working. Spencer looks to his dog with a huff. "Do we have to?" Guidance... I'm asking for guidance from a dog. Spencer couldn't believe it, Odis then licked his hand which helped the girl ultimately make the decision, with a grunt. Spencer sweeps her up into his arms. " 'm trusting you with this one Odis.." And with that, he carefully steps his way towards the flatter side of the lighthouse, girl in arms. Dog in tow.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The once calm evening now a semi-hectic night surely ruffled Spencer's normal routine of shitty gruel for a meal, a good book his beer, and falling asleep with his dog Odis. It's now turned into a scavenger hunt for what he felt was a nonexistent first aid kit for a naked woman found on the shore. He's scrambling, something there has to be something. He moves the heavy box to the side before opening it, with a rusty creek. Spencer cringed at the family of dust bunnies and spiders residing in the sadly preserved first aid kit. He looks to the contents, at least at ease with the full box, and he takes it back up the stairs. His footsteps echoed as he reached the top of the tower, where he saw his dog Odis. Tail wagging and resting his large head upon the girls lap, she petted him weakly, shivering and lethargic. She slowly blinks as she looks to Odis with some odd sense of wonder, once hearing his footsteps her tired eyes looks to Spencer. Defeat, she's utterly defeated. He makes his way over. " 'lright ma'am, I need to take a look at that foot alright? Then we can get you to bed. " His low voice echoed the room as she looks to Spencer, he couldn't quite read what she could be thinking. She's fuckin' weird.. He thought, shrugging his shoulders he bents down to one knee, taking the bandages from the box. " So.. What's your name ma'am? " He asks softly, taking the cleaning solution into his hands, after a few seconds of silence he looks up to her. She's just staring at him, he continues to wait.. And nothing, " Ma'am?" He asks again, still. Nothing, annoyed he continues to tend to her wound. " Fuckin' weird.." He whispers under his breath, he then pours the wound cleaning solution to her wound, jumping at the sudden cries coming from her. " What's your problem!?" He yells out, suddenly the smell was rancid... No, not rancid. Burning? He looks to her leg, he almost gagged at the sight of the wound expanding with a sizzling hiss, he holds her leg in place. " 'm sorry- I'm sorry!" He huffs frantically, he takes the bottle of water from the desk side and flushes out her wound, the sizzling then fading. Her once was a scrape now turned into a burn, her flesh scorned with splotches of blood, god he felt terrible. But he couldn’t help but question this iridescent glitter onto her wet skin, he speaks;" I'm so sorry. " He speaks softly, slightly defeated himself he holds her leg into his hands, he softens his grip, carefully patting away the excess water and blood from her wound. " Y'know, you still didn't tell me how you ended up here." He speaks, attempting to lighten the mood as he takes a clean gauze, to place upon her wound. " Still nothin' huh?" He huffs lightly, astonished by the silence as he continues to wrap her leg. " Could you at least tell me your name? " Curiosities just taking the best of him, just mindlessly asking questions as he rewraps her leg, correcting his mistake. But what he wasn't prepared for was to hear her weak, small but kind voice say her name. His brows raised at the melodious sound of her saddened voice, he looks to her again. Eyes wide in shock as she swallows. " That... That is my name." Her accent was foreign, though understandable. She looked to Spencer with still the tinge of fear, her body lightly less tense. "Spencer... " He speaks softly, mindlessly letting go of her leg. He continues to study her face. " How'd... How'd you get here? Why'd you end up like this?" He adjusts himself slowly to comfortably sit on the ground beside her, she slowly with a small whimper of pain adjusted to hold herself, her knees tucked to her chest. " He does not want me... He banished me from my home. " He hummed, nodding his head lightly as he listened to her limited words. " But... How? Where did you come from? " She fell silent, looking away from Spencer with shame and a tense tinge of her shoulders. " Ma'am..." He calls for her, he carefully takes her face into his hand. Moving her head to face him ever so softly. She leaned into the warmth of his hand, is.. Is she melting into my hands of all things?

" Please tell me, I need to help you." He asks, almost pleading for an answer, with a small sigh she relaxes to his touch. He felt her weight now resting fully on his touch, and he sighed. He scoops the girl into his arms once more, he studies her. What are you...

[bronx-bomber87]

Happy Wednesday amazing readers and wonderful fandom :) Writers put themselves right back on course with this one. Returning to a balanced and all around amazing episode. End to End. It's been their thing this season and I'm happy to return to form with this one. The giving season continues to give with this episode.

I'm truly so satisfied with this season it's unreal. Once again can see why Eric said it's his favorite. Why they had the cast in such a social media lockdown about it. It's been worth every bit of waiting and hold out from the cast. We've been # 1 on Hulu every week it seems too. So I hope that trend continues this week with this ep. Makes me giddy to see us on top. Love to get some S8 news next month, but until then let us break down this gem of an ep shall we?

7x11 Speed

We start out with Lucy missing that sweet T.O. money already. Awww. I'll be honest I didn’t think about her losing her pay cause of stupid Seth. But it makes sense since she is now Rookie-less lol Heh I love her spending that extra money on self care. That’s the best. Also very Lucy to do so. It's fantastic. Proud of her for doing that. It's not an easy thing to do tbh.

I love her face as he hands her the file at the beginning of the scene btw LMAO Always say it's the little things I love between these two. *happy sigh* So much said in such a little glance between them. If you don't catch it you'll completely miss this cute exchange. Also it frees his hand up to look sexy af just hanging out on his duty belt. So thank you for your service Lucy ha

I will say her comment about her budget reminds me when she tried to get Aaron on one back in 5x14 LOL Tim telling her to just go to T.O. permanently then. I mean logically that makes sense. She would crush that test and then some. Tim knows it too. So that'll restore that extra money she is currently missing.

I knew she would be hesitant to do this because of losing focus on the Sergeant exam. Honestly I don't blame her. She was derailed a bit by T.O. in the first place. Although it did lead her to this Sergeant decision. Also training another rookie would take a lot of her time. Like to note even though Tim is giving her sass about training a new rookie, his body language shows that he is intently listening to her and I love it.

They're in their usual lock step as they make their way to roll call. Always floors me how they do that. Tim trying to find the words to describe Ridley and Lucy beats him to the punch. I mean he was that and more for her oh my lord. Was a hell of a first rookie for her. So can't say I fault her for being hesitant to dip her toe back in.

Hahahaha 'That is a horrifyingly high ratio.' LMAO It kinda is tbh. Not doing her any favors here love. Or convincing her to go back to being a T.O.... Lucy is firm in her decision to focus on Sergeant instead. That it'll just give her peace of mind instead of doing something else to detract.

Tim has to give her one last sassy comment before they part. 'Guess that means bye bye cleaning lady.' I love these two idiots so much I cannot stand it. Their banter is unrivaled. Ain't no one got what our ship does in just banter alone. Damnit I love these fools.

Look at Tim giving the same Sergeant speech Grey gave him so many moons ago in 4x02. to Lucy. Saying how she needs to learn to supervise from the sidelines. To delegate if she's wanting to be one. Look how far you’ve come my love. It's the little steps of growth that make my heart happy. Also loving the amount of scenes they’re having this early on in the ep. I knew was gonna be a good one.

Like a gift after last week's low amount and unbalanced ep. I LOVE him letting her practice being a Sergeant. To call the shots today. Like an advanced version of PCD for her. Lucy getting excited and pushing her luck like only she can do with him. Asking if that means she gets to drive? Tim sensing this and shutting it down. Naturally he wouldn’t let her drive haha Her face. So rare when he allows it. hehe These two dopes just low key flirting most of this episode.

Angela calling Tim 'Timothy' on the radio LOL Telling him not to be such an ass. I love this episode. Only two women he would allow to be that forward with him are in this convo. Lucy being wifey af rips the radio from his hands and he allows it. Cause well it's Lucy.

Of course she has a good idea. I mean selling stuff suckkkksss. Especially when it has value, but if it saves a job you love it’s worth it. Also loving all the hand touching with the back and forth of the radio. Don’t think I didn’t notice that you two...Bickering like an old married couple as they advise poor Miles.

Hahahaha look at the growth in our boy. Calling himself an ass when Lucy calls him out for his comment. Fantastic. Although I always enjoy his pot shots at Nolan LOL (Sorry John you have been much better this season) This new Tim delights me to no end every week in so many ways I cannot even tell you.

I'm a happy girl. As is Lucy. She has a smile for days for Tim this entire episode. Look at her when he says his line. Couldn't love that man more if you tried my friend. Seeing that change in him and loving it.

Oh my, Tim calling her Sergeant Chen. *fans self* That did things to me holy cow. Loved hearing him call her that. Also the confidence she is exuding when he does. Letting her lead this entire operation. Not questioning a single thing she does either. How far we have come fandom. How far we have come. Always love watching her be a friggin kick ass leader when given the chance.

Oh Lucy you are so much more of a BAMF than you ever give yourself credit for. I love how Tim doesn’t allow the pot shots at herself. Refuses to let her sit in that for even a moment. Reminds her of how she saved him back in 6x10. That SHE IS a bad ass. Making her smile with his sass. 'You're right....Totally lame.' God I love s7 Tim fandom. I can totally cross off 'Seeing a new side of Tim Bradford.' off my bingo card confidently.

Look at her smile. He did that. By building her up. Not letting a single second go by without him reminding her how amazing she is. Also Lucy you would've jumped even if there had been ten bombs. Why? Because it was Tim you were jumping to my girl. Just adore her smile after he makes his playful joke. She is melting everyone. Slowly but surely. Especially with moments like this. Keeping showing up for her babe. She is noticing and liking what she sees.

One of the best parts of the episode right here. Let us begin to dissect this glorious shop scene. Let me start with the 5x08 vibes I was getting from this scene. Some of their best moments are in a shop together. Most truthful and honest moments. Love when they have pod car eps. We always get such good scenes from it. Iconic ones.

Their body language alone is enough to make my shipper heart happy. The way they check in on each other when the other isn't looking. Gah I love these idiots in love. The heart eyes are plentiful in this scene. First off let me say I'm so glad she crushed being a Sergeant. Not at all like her detective run. No complaints from Tim. Came naturally to her. 'Ordering around people is one of your gifts.' The man isn't wrong....

'I've never heard you complain.' LOL Lucy Friggin Chen. Oh my lord The subtext in that line had my head spinning. ZERO doubt in my mind Tim ever had issues with her bossing him around. At work, In their relationship, In the bedroom... Where I am sure this flirty line stemmed from. That's just my opinion though....The flirtatious nature of that line and his devilishly happy smile right afterwards proving that IMO. ‘I don’t mind.’ Heh he sure doesn’t….This man is all giddy smiles most of this scene. Making me lightheaded with shippy joy. He is glowing in this first portion. The man couldn't be more in love with her if he tried. Or be happier to be in this light flirty place with her.

Lucy is getting flustered af with Tim's forward flirting. His smiles and not holding back at all. Letting her know he is A-OK with her flirting with him. Transparent Tim is sending her into a tailspin in the best way. It's making me insanely happy. He is just being candid with her and she is feeling it. Has no where to go but face the music in this moment. This woman just navigated a potential bus bombing as a Sergeant no sweat and it's the man to her left that is her undoing.

Once again, he is all smiles as she tries to steer her way out of this flirty situation she's put them in. His cute 'No idea.' I cannot. Also ‘Just co-workers’ my ass Lucy Chen. You will never ever be just that. Tim is enjoying this ramble so very much as she stumbles her way to her point. I think it is HUGE she is letting Tim know she’s not looking to date or has any interest in doing so. And of course he has zero himself. Man is a walking 'I love Lucy Chen' Billboard.

Has been all season and will continue to be as such. Now we all knew this. (If you didn't then this scene will help resolve that pretty quickly) Knew there was no way these two would go looking for anyone else. They are each other's endgame. But just like Tim going to therapy and working on himself. Getting the actual proof of hearing it makes it so satisfying. Just like it was in 7x07. Physically hearing them say it is literal ship crack right now. Hearing the confirmation from the both of them is EVERYTHING. We are headed in the right direction people.

Lucy continues on with her 'boundaries.' They need to have. Which they do need to have until this is truly sorted. Till they have that talk. Tim letting her know he respects them and will continue to meet her where she is at. Which he has done a masterful job of throughout the season. Never pushing her or trying to get her to talk more than she is ready to. Respecting what she wants to give him and thriving off of that. Continually showing up for her. Which has led up to this wonderful moment. Lucy reminding Tim that she still hasn’t fully forgiven him yet. As she should honestly.

That’s a deep wound he needs to remember he caused, and it remains ever-present. One he still needs to fix. That they're getting there but it's not quite healed yet. His soulful ‘I know.’ Is everything. Eric getting me right in the damn feels with it. It's very loaded with emotion and heavy. He is extremely aware he still has ground to make up with her. Penance still to be had. I love that he knows it and is telling her as such. They're being so open and vulnerable I wanna cry with this progress. Lucy’s reply is wonderful. Saying When not IF but WHEN she does. This is massive. We all knew she would get there. Because it's who she is to forgive of course.

But also she is seeing the change in Tim. How consistent it is. That it's not going away. There hasn't been an episode this season he hasn't shown that change to her. She still loves this man so much and he is slowly making his way back in. So much so that she is saying 'When' instead of If. The shift here is monumental. Her following it up with 'Maybe you can come help me study.' The subtext is unreal. It’s quite the olive branch. His smile is so cute and he is delirious with joy. He couldn't be happier with this reply. Keep putting in the work babe. This is the result. Heart eyes abound at the end oh my lord. Look at these two. Eric and Melissa convey SO much with just their heart eyes. I'm flying high.

If that final scene wasn't enough. That PROMO. OH. MY. LORD. Just coming by with flimsy excuses, just to have her way with him whenever she damn well pleases? Ok! Sign me up haha. He sure as hell is not gonna say no. Clearly. They messy and I don't hate it. Especially after that final scene. Also Lucy showing up looking like a bombshell. Holy hell. How could he say no? I mean she could show up wearing a paper bag and he would be panting after her. Let's be honest.

But legit her goal from that 5 seconds we got was to come and seduce him. I don't know what's going on or what is prompting this scene but I'm excited. Feral Caitlin is going to make an appearance if we're getting Half naked Tim in sweatpants at home. and he looks GOOOOD. Phew lord. I love this season everyone. Every week is a friggin joy. My happy place truly delivering in so many ways.

Thank you forever and always to my incredible readers. I would not be here without you. Thank you for every like, comment (seriously love chatting with you all. Come chat) and reblogs of these first impressions. You are the best. Shall see you all in 7x12 when we lose our minds over whatever is happening. Looks like it'll be a solid ep all around as well :)

~~~

Side notes-Non Chenford

Poor Miles LOL learning all his lessons the hard way ahaha Tim making his ass run for their coffee and their shop.

Always enjoy Nyla and Angela in the field. Gimme that all day in an ep I'll be happy.

Celina handled herself like a bad ass. AND got a Tim compliment in the process. He don't give those out lightly unless your name is Lucy. and even then took her some time to crack him for it. The continued growth astounds me in him.

Wes being adorable worrying about Angela. Love me some Wopez.

Oh and Monica is back least important info of the ep haha Was hoping we'd see Oscar before her but oh well. She's back I guess. Yay....

[poselysscripts]

Art by SARDINE! on twitter

Note: Helloooo, been a while, got a job, got fired halfway through writing this…. Yeah, life. This is highly self indulgent, highly inspired by my own struggle when I still had my job. Very short as well. I'm posting it here a few days after releasing it on AO3, don't think it did very well, not sure if I like it that much either (I feel like I write better than this usually, pff) but here you go. Anyways, fuck capitalism, have a good read!

You come back from work, exhausted, depressed. All you need, to be buried in your boyfriend's arms.  Leon X GN!Reader

My brother in Christ had today been a hard day…. you had taken this job because you needed it to survive the bullshit that is capitalistic society.

You’d worked there for a few months, and things had been okay for the most part, it wasn’t even that hard of a job. You could consider yourself lucky. But lately… Jesus… You don’t know what it was but, you were getting tired, anxious. Was your life all it was supposed to be? Didn’t you have any other purpose that could animate your life? Or was it just supposed to be, wake up, work, wait at the end of the month to get your pay, spend it on rent, food and things that could potentially give you the serotonin you lacked, for only a few moments. Then repeat.

Really? You desperately wished for something, anything, to free you from the shackles of this reality. But well once again, you needed the pay, and truly, whatever self worth you had left couldn’t just let you depend fully on your boyfriend. He could afford his rent and yours, could spare a few dollars on a Sanrio blindbox, a game on steam you’ve wanted to play for ages, or the third volume from this one manga you haven’t even begun quite yet, but according to what you’ve seen on tiktok, should be worth the read. Leon was a godsend. You don’t even know how you scored him, but well he doesn’t even know how he scored you either. 

How could you be attracted to him? tragic past, tragic life, tragic mental state. Even his flirting was tragic! (According to Chris that is, but well, he wasn't one to talk either). And then there was you, constantly asking yourself what you could have possibly done to make him fall in love with you. You were so anxious, an overthinker, always trying to get in the minds of the people around you, instead of just, asking. But oh no! what if you asked, and then people hate you? You didn't talk very much either during gatherings, you were awkward, painfully so. But so was Leon actually, according to Claire (Chris's sister, Leon's.... friend? Been a while since you last saw her around), a few of his coworkers agreed too, mostly Ingrid and Helena. 

 You loved him deeply, and he did too, but the one thing you just absolutely couldn't let yourself do was, be fully dependent on him, as much as he told you that you could always quit and he’d take care of you, you had your mind set. You were not gonna depend on a man. As wonderful as it sounded, there was always this part of your mind that kept telling you, ‘What if you break up? Then what?’, ‘What if you rely on him too much?’. And somewhere deep in your mind, you just wanted to prove that you could take care of yourself.

“Baby? You okay?” damnit, you loved his voice, you wish he talked more, wish he were the one yapping away at his interests or about his day. But he was the listener in the relationship.

You hum in response looking at the time on your phone, jesus you’d been staring into space, thinking, for an hour. God, today truly was rough if you’d been dissociating on the couch ever since you came back from work. You didn’t even hear him coming in. And ever since that one time he scared you half to death, he made some noise, or just gave a greeting when coming in.

“hm…. yeah, I’m fine”, you were not fine.

“I called you twice, are you sure?” Oh damn you really were not fine… The blond comes sitting next to you on the couch, expectantly waiting for you to spit it out. He could see it on your face, something was bothering you, he’d never force you to say anything, but if he could help you in any way…

That was the problem with Leon, always helping everyone, he’d give, and give and give, until he had nothing left. Always the saviour, never the saved.

He was working on it ever since you forced him into seeing a therapist. But habits die hard, like the ember liquid he’d down from a shot glass every night. Or how he’d stop just a second too long if he saw a dark haired woman dressed in red in the crowd. He was working on it.

Aquamarine eyes pierce your soul, and you break. Letting yourself fall face first on his chest, arms around his waist. Instinctively a calloused hand comes combing your hair, while the other sets on the small of your back.

“Just wanna stay like this for a while…. please” the end of your sentence breaks, and his hand travels up under your shirt, tracing your spine with the tip of his fingers. Up, and down. Soothing. After a moment of silence, he whispers, scared to break your state of calmness, “Want to talk about it?” . You take a moment, inhaling his scent. “I don’t know… Just a hard day ” but usually a hard day doesn’t make you spiral like this, trapped in the depths of your mind. But today it did.

You take another breath “I just- I don’t really know what happened, I’m just tired, and, like, is this, all I was made for? Is there more I just haven’t found yet? Am I gonna be stuck doing this for god knows how long? What the fuck am I supposed to do? I-“ and it all came spilling out, although a bit muffled from being against Leon’s chest, but it still did.

It left you dizzy, and left Leon to debate on the right words to use. Thing was that he knew all too well what you were feeling. Ever since he was a kid, he knew what he wanted to be, until at 21 it was ripped from him, now he had only one option, he didn’t ask himself those questions too often, he’d been doing this for so long, what was even the point anymore? And in a way, he was still saving lives, it just cost him all that he had been. Rookie cop ebbed away along with Raccoon City. But he couldn't tell you this, Classified, all of it, classified, unless he wanted to put a target on your back. He hated keeping it all from you, but did he have a choice? When did he ever have a choice? 

“You’ll figure it out, sweetheart, I know how this feels, you'll make it” he settled for this, albeit awkward, unsure if it was the right thing to say. But for now, it was enough, and you were too tired to keep talking about this, and anyway, the way he held you, and when you looked up, the way he gazed at you, he just wasn’t good with words, but it was enough, in the comfort of his strong arms, he understood you.

Divider by @uzmacchiato, image found on pinterest!

[silentsneezes]

in regards to your essential oils post: i am absolutely interested and i think i can safely say others would be too 👀 if you want to write if you definitely should

i hope this is worth the wait anon! here's 1.7k of j/ayce being helplessly allergic to essential oils

cw for talk about chronic illness/disability and mess! it's mostly just spray, but after the line "There’s a few moments of silence, broken only by Jayce’s desperate gasps" there are some more descriptions of mess

On a good day, there’s little to nothing Viktor can’t manage with a cane and the occasional break to sit down. He’s proven most undercity doctors wrong just by living past 25, and yet both he and Jayce understand the importance of the Hex Core. It’s their biggest breakthrough yet, their closest glimpse of magic aside from Jayce’s rune bracelet. 

Still, it’s not enough. Viktor knows it’s not enough to rely on the half baked mystery of natural runes. So he does what he can. He drinks enough water, he attempts to sleep consistently, he’s even taken up stretching for God’s sake. You may be asking “why now?”, to which he would answer “Jayce.”

Jayce has done everything for him, would do anything for him. So even if Viktor gave up years ago, he refuses to sit back and allow Jayce to watch him bide his time. He’s trying, damnit. 

Today, that effort entails using a new combination of essential oils Jayce purchased— a tasteful mix of eucalyptus, rosemary, and chamomile. Viktor has always denied such simple pain relief techniques, finding it to be more bothersome than it is effective. Except Jayce is nothing if not persuasive and he insists on indulging in buying expensive oils and herbs for his partner– it doesn’t help that Viktor is head over heels in love with him. 

Viktor doesn’t even want to know how much this new batch must’ve cost, but he will admit it seems promising as Jayce begins massaging it over his back. Viktor is laid face down on the cot in the lab, his arms pinned by his sides as Jayce straddles him from behind. Jayce is careful not to put any unwanted weight on Viktor’s hips or bad leg, propping himself up on the edges of the cot cautiously. His legs are bent at the knees, forcing him to rest his ass against Viktor’s– the first few times he’d massaged Viktor, Jayce asked for reassurance that he wasn’t too heavy or causing any pain every few minutes, but by now he’s figured out which position works best. 

Jayce’s hands work over Viktor’s upper shoulders, his thumbs rubbing little circles over the especially tense knots. Viktor emits quiet noises of pleasure as Jayce kneads his fingers into the sore sections of his back, taut and misshapen due to his brace. His spine bends awkwardly at the center, having contorted into an abrasive arch over the years. Still, he looks perfect in Jayce’s eyes. Every notch of his spine, pressing against his skin and accentuating his thin frame. Every mole and freckle gone unnoticed by his previous lovers. Every scar left along his back from the metal brackets of the brace chafing or cutting his porcelain skin. It’s all beautiful. 

Occasionally, Jayce will lean forwards and press a kiss to Viktor’s back, intermixing the massage with a gentle affection. As he does so, Jayce feels a buzzing sensation begin to work its way from the back of his sinuses up to the tip of his nose. He raises a hand, rubbing the bothersome appendage against its backside. Unfortunately, he gets a whiff of the strongly scented oils coating his palms. Fuck. 

Jayce’s breath catches in his throat, a vocal hitch forcing its way out, “hhHH-” Jayce places one hand on the small of Viktor’s back, steading himself so he doesn’t jostle Viktor at all. 

“Are you okay?” Viktor murmurs at the touch, half asleep under Jayce– it isn’t uncommon for him to fall asleep when Jayce massages his back. Jayce nods wordlessly before remembering Viktor can’t see him, “Yeah, f-hhih-fine…”

Jayce’s hands continue working over Viktor’s shoulders, but his mind remains distracted by that tantalizing itch dancing through his nose. It forces his nostrils to flare every so often, his eyes beginning to water with every hitch that catches in his chest. Viktor can feel every minuscule movement Jayce makes, suddenly feeling wide awake as he registers the little hitches. 

Unfortunately for Jayce, the buzzing worsens, and those “little hitches” are quick to turn into full on gasps, “hhHH-uh… hhheh-hhHHngh… hh’uUHH’ hHHHHRSCHHHEw!” 

Jayce barely turns his head to the side in time, the spray of the expulsion narrowly missing Viktor’s exposed back. His body shudders over Viktor’s, his thighs tightening their hold around his partner ever so slightly. 

“Bless you,” Viktor murmurs, feeling his abdomen fill with a swirling heat. Jayce rubs his nose against his shoulder, wrinkling the appendage and sniffling, desperate to subdue the continuous itch, “Shhsorry- did I get you?”

“No,” Viktor answers simply, humming as Jayce’s big hands begin their work again. Viktor waits, listening with rapt attention to every little shift in Jayce’s breathing, hoping the sneeze wasn’t just a single expulsion. 

A minute later, Jayce stupidly leans down to press a light kiss to the mole on Viktor’s upper left shoulder out of habit. As soon as his nose nears Viktor’s oil-covered back, it twitches. He takes in a desperate, “hhHHH-” before snapping forward with no other warning, “hhHGSSXCHHHew!ugh…” Jayce’s head is forced down as he convulses with the expulsion, his nose briefly pressing against Viktor’s shoulder. 

Viktor shivers as he feels the spray cast upon his bare skin, intermixing with the dampness of the oils. He swallows a moan as Jayce’s nose makes contact with his back, only heightening his arousal. He can feel Jayce’s weight shift, a bit more pressure being applied to his ass as Jayce is forced to change positions. 

Jayce’s eyes widen as he realizes the sheen of spray left on Viktor’s skin, blushing crimson and stuttering to apologize as his breath hitches again, “oh god VhhhViktor I’m s-hhH-so hhuHH- so sorrhhhHRRSXCHHh’uh!” 

Never has Jayce been hit by an allergen so intensely, having thought he had no allergies until this very moment. But the itch ravaging his nose is evidence enough to prove him wrong, causing him to hitch and whine. He can’t even raise his hands to cover or attend to the twitching appendage, knowing they’re both coated with the essential oils. 

“hhHhhngh- ehhhhHh- huh’hhHHEH-“ Jayce builds up to yet another sneeze, his hands now holding Viktor’s waist tightly in an attempt to keep some semblance of control, “hhHZZSXCHHuh’hh!”

The sneeze mists Viktor’s skin again, causing arousal to thrum throughout his body. It doesn’t help that he can feel Jayce’s hips buck against his ass with every expulsion. He muffles a moan into the cot’s surface, his body alight with desire. 

Jayce buries his nose against his own shoulder, berating the appendage as best he can without the use of his hands, “hhhuhh-ngh’uh,” Jayce’s breathless hitches are audible despite his efforts to suppress them. 

‘Foolish’ Viktor thinks upon hearing Jayce’s attempts at suppressing the build up. Viktor of all people knows just how loud Jayce’s hitching can get, having toyed with inducing his partner on many occasions. 

“hhHihH- Vik I’mhhh-I’m ghhehHgoing to sn-hhhHPDTSCHhew!” Jayce once again mists Viktor’s skin, his hands holding onto Viktor’s waist in utter desperation as the sneeze tears through him. Jayce stays bent over, not bothering to straighten up as he feels his breath catch haphazardly again. 

There’s a few moments of silence, broken only by Jayce’s desperate gasps before, “hhHHGGDZSCHh’uhh!” Jayce freezes as he feels a string of mess trail down his upper lip. Before he can move to catch it, it falls onto the nape of Viktor’s neck, causing the pinned man to shudder. Viktor doesn’t bother muffling his moan this time, his imagination running wild at the sensation of the mess against his skin. 

Jayce is quick to clean it up, gently swiping his fingers over the wet splotch and cringing at the sensation of the snot against his skin. He wipes it on his pant leg, murmuring a stuttered, broken apology, “sorry, I thinkhhhI’m hhHHallerghhHiHH– HHRRXSCHHeWw’huh! snNDFF- allergic.” 

At this point, Jayce’s thighs are pressing tightly against Viktor’s hips in order to maintain his balance, his big hands cupping Viktor’s bare waist. With every expulsion, Viktor can feel Jayce’s fingers grip his sides as the sneezes rack his body. 

The fact that Viktor can’t even see Jayce just makes him all the more aroused. Of course he enjoys watching Jayce sneeze, finding his expressions utterly enrapturing, but being pinned face down is equally as exciting; it leaves some of the experience up to imagination, allowing Viktor to picture his partner’s appearance while feeling every movement atop him. 

It doesn’t take long for Jayce to recognize that he’s not going to stop sneezing, unable to do anything but blink away allergic tears as sneeze after sneeze tears through his strong frame. After a little, Viktor shifts, signaling for Jayce to move off of him. Obedient as ever, Jayce attempts to do so, nearly stumbling over as he dismounts his partner. 

Once he finds his footing, Jayce looks at Viktor in utter disarray. His eyes and nose are streaming, a sheen of mess trailing down his upper lip, his nostrils flaring, his eyebrows knit together in a constant pre-sneeze expression. He holds his hands out in front of him helplessly, unable to tend to his nose. 

Wordlessly, Viktor stands and pulls Jayce into a kiss, taking his partner by surprise. Jayce melts into the kiss once his initial shock at the affection dissipates, reminding himself that Viktor finds his disheveled mess of a state hot rather than disgusting. Jayce has one arm draped around Viktor’s waist in support, his other hand tangling itself in his partner’s hair. He finds himself momentarily relieved as his and Viktor’s tongues dance along with each other.

Unfortunately for Jayce, the itch’s temporary dormancy is over. He takes in a desperate, quick inhale, his lips still pressed to Viktor’s, “hhHH-” before shuddering with a wet sneeze, “HHGGSXCHHew!” Jayce blushes crimson as he feels the spray of the sneeze intermix with the kiss, but his embarrassment is forgotten as Viktor moans, deepening their embrace. 

By the time Jayce’s allergies finally die down, it’s safe to say Viktor’s pain has been tended to… though not how the couple had initially intended. 

“You know,” Viktor murmurs lazily as he sits beside Jayce on the cot, “I now see the value of those essential oils you insist on purchasing.” He grins coyly at Jayce, watching his cheeks flush in response to the slight taunt.