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drgnflyteabox · 4 months ago

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daddy cool ⋆˙⟡

john price x fem!reader summary: “I’m a producer,” he says, taking a long puff of his cigar, waiting, waiting, “and I scout talent.” ↪or the one in which hairy muscle daddy john price asks you to show him your skills disco style tags/warnings: 70s clubbing, body hair is a central theme, scent kink, daddy kink, deepthroating, rough oral (m), cigars, some alcohol, manipulation if you squint,vaginal fingering + sex, a bit of exhibition kink but not really at all (one line), 'little' not used as a size indicator, dom/sub, oral (f), tiny gape mention

“I think he’s interested in you,” Debbie whisper-screams in your ear. It’s hard to hear her over the boom of the drums, over the four on the floor beat and soaring voices.

“Really?”

“Girl,” she laughs, incredulous. You look over your shoulder and sure enough he’s fixing you with a stare hot enough to burn through steel.

He’s flanked by two others, but you hardly notice them. You’re staring right into the deep V of his open shirt, at the fur peeking out of it, at the pink of his tongue as it swipes his bottom lip under his mustache. Sinful.

The booth he’s sitting in is draped with orange translucent curtains, creating some illusion of privacy. No overhead lights, either, just a soft cave and dark burgundy leather. Perfect for a bear like him.

“Should I go over there?” you whisper-scream back, curling closer to Debbie, “he’s a bonafide stud.”

She laughs, throwing her long hair over her shoulder, “yeah he is, and he’s looking at you, girl.”

You peek again. He’s smiling this time, like someone who knew you’d look twice. Beyond his shirt, his pants are so goddamn tight you can see almost everything. Christ, who let him out of the house looking like that?

“I’m gonna go over,” you say before you can stop yourself.

A saxophone disco beat booms through the club, thrumming right through you down to your toes, which you move to dance your way to him. Debbie laughs behind you, disappearing into the crowd.

Your hips go side to side, your teeth bite your bottom lip, and you fix him with what you hope is a clear message; you’re hot.

He stays exactly where he is. There’s a smugness about him now, the same smugness you saw when you looked twice.

You can’t really blame him for it. Someone that looks like that is bound to expect attention, desire.

God, he’s just your type. A quiet kind of arrogance, one arm slung over the back of the booth as he lifts a cigar up to his mouth and puffs. Lazily, like a big lion that knows he doesn’t have to hunt to get his food.

“Hello, love,” he says slowly when you get close enough. You’re still bouncing to the music, but you lean forward to hear him better.

“Interested in me, are you?” you’re going for a coy, simpering kind of approach. Something about him makes you want to lay it on thick, want to seduce. To preen a little.

His knuckles are dark in the lighting, hairy and tough like he works with his hands, which you catch as he pats the booth beside him.

You hadn’t even noticed his companions leaving.

“Saw you dancing,” he lifts a glass from the table, dark liquid, his mustache getting wet, “thought you might be interested, too.”

“You thought right,” you slide in beside him, the leather seat cool even through your tight bootcut pants. You tilt your knees towards him, lifting an elbow to match his on the back of the booth.

Reds, yellows, oranges dance on his skin. The occasional sparkle of the disco ball peeks through, but mostly it filters through the orange booth curtains and spreads into an archipelago of little bright spots. This lighting agrees with him, accentuates the best parts, makes them look darker and more defined. You’d feel like a pervert looking down his shirt if he wasn’t also doing the same to you.

“Name’s John, love,” and when you tell him yours he says, “that’s fitting.”

“So, what do you do?” boring, typical– but it’s all you’ve got. You’re surprised you can get words out at all with the drool pooling in your mouth. This close, you can see how his shirt strains where his shoulders move. A little too small, but it’s probably on purpose.

Should be illegal, honestly.

His eyes crinkle in the corners. He’s the kind of guy whose entire face changes when he smiles, who looks disarmingly more approachable that way.

“I’m a producer,” he says, taking a long puff of his cigar, waiting, waiting, “and I scout talent.”

“Talent?” you cross one leg over the other, trilling internally with satisfaction when you see his eyes fall to your thighs.

You know you aren’t being subtle in the least– and you aren’t trying to be. But you won’t say anything outright, not yet, not while the anticipation feels this tasty.

The booth isn’t private, but it is insulated. The music is loud, but not too loud, just enough that it thrums through you, that you can hear him. Anita Ward croons in your ear, encouraging you. He can ring your bell, that’s for sure.

“That’s right,” he puffs again. The smell makes you lightheaded.

“Moviestars, you mean?” you roll your ankle around, watching him watch you, wondering if he likes the polish colour you picked.

You like that he’s visibly affected; licking his lips, that meaty hand climbing higher up his thigh.

“Something like that, love,” he smiles again, leans back in the booth and launches a counter attack to your leggy flirtations – he spreads those legs, feet pointed out, hunched just so that his belly starts poking out of those sinfully tight pants.

Motherfucker.

Looking back up at him, his eyes are crinkled at you, head tilted forward. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Which movies have you produced?” you lean your head on your hand, looking at him through your lashes, “anything I’ve seen?”

“I hope so,” he hums. His eyes flit down to your feet again, up to your midriff, then back to your eyes– it’s hot, but it’s also not just a flirtation. He’s assessing, “have you seen Swan Lady? The Nun and the Two Vikings?”

You frown, “no, I haven’t heard of either.”

“How about Call of Duty: Servicing the Captain?”

Ah, it clicks. Your eyebrows go up, into your hairline, “you make pornos?”

“Aye, smart girl,” he gruffs.

Pornos, huh. You could laugh– he looks the part. A little sleazy, unabashed. Masculine not to the point of parody but it’s close. The ‘stache is in style, but in combination with everything else is just the cherry on top.

You only have one question, “you don’t star in any?”

“I prefer working behind the scenes,” something about the way he says behind feels filthy.

John tells all. He does scout, finds girls who want to have a good time (like you), and gently (or so he says) nudges them in front of the camera. I can always sniff ‘em out, he says. The ones that’ll do well on film, that have star quality.

“How can you tell?” you ask, lips pulling on your straw. John has ordered you a tequila sunrise.

You can’t help but trace the skin of his neck with your eyes, roving at the bob of his Adam's apple as he explains. Girls who can take the gloves off, so to speak. Says he can tell by the way they move, how free they are with their bodies.

A little dubious, but it’s honestly doing it for you. You wonder what he saw when you danced up to him, if the sway of your body was free, liberated.

Doesn’t take long at all for him to invite you out either way. John puts his hand on your knee and squeezes, gets real close, gruffs that his place is nearby.

“What do you say, sweetheart?” and of course the only answer is yes, please.

Boney M. soars around you as you follow him out, your hand holding his, your fingers stroking the hairs on his knuckles.

She’s crazy for her daddy!

On the drive over, he keeps that big paw on your thigh, squeezing almost subconsciously. Just the flex of his fingers.

You widen your knees, hoping for that rough palm to slide upwards, glancing at John as he drives one-handed. Not your first rodeo going home with a man from the disco, but it sure is the first time you’ve felt so keyed up about it.

He’s huge, takes up an absurd amount of room in the car, knee knocking into yours. He even drives sexy, so sure and in control.

“You think I could be in one of your movies?” you say, impish, looking to provoke.

John glances at you for just a second too long, too intense. You can tell he’s picturing you in front of the cameras.

“That what you want?”

“Just picturing it,” you simper, shifting your knee to deliberately touch him again. His fingers flex against your thigh again, jaw moving.

The air is warm, breezy, lights passing by like twinkling firebugs. You roll your window down, smiling at the feeling.

“Oh you're picturing it, are you? Is that making you wet, sweetheart?”

Fuck. It certainly is now.

“Only if you can be my co-star.”

“Is that right?” he laughs, low and deep. His hand climbs higher, “‘fraid I’m just the recruiter, but I’ll have to do a quality test.”

“Quality test?”

“Mm,” he hums, “need to make sure you’re ready for the camera, don’t I? You think you’ve got star quality, then prove it.”

Your panties are sticky.

“I can do that,” you breathe.

“Yeah? Can you prove you can show off your star quality for me, sweetheart?” his fingers slide, achingly slow, to the gusset of your pants, “that you can look into that camera and show the world you’re a good girl?”

They press against you, right up against your clit through the fabric. You fight to stay still, to not come across like you’re desperate, but god it’s hard. You ache.

“Mhm,” you breathe, subtly tilting your hips forward as he idly pets your pussy.

“Not an answer,” he says firmly. Butterflies dance in your stomach, the air slowly being siphoned out, leaving you hot and bothered. John is barely affected, it seems, driving still, gliding through the night.

“Sorry,” you swallow, “I can do that, daddy.”

“Much better.”

“Still want to prove it to me, love?” he moves to a glass cabinet, pulling out a little box. It opens with a click, revealing a neat row of thick cigars.

“Yes,” you stand in the middle of his living room, appreciating the atmosphere he’s made; low lighting, oranges, reds everywhere. Brown leather and the heady smell of cigar smoke, of leather polish and an incense-y kind of musk.

He walks back towards you, brand new cigar between his fingers, steps heavy on the carpet. You’re made aware of the height difference when he stands right in front of you, looking down not unkindly.

Your skin prickles at his gaze, the same one from the club; that assessment. Like he’s measuring you, testing you, scanning you.

John leans forward, breath puffing lightly across your face. He smells like his house does, only there’s a bit of whiskey mixed in.

You can’t help but squirm just a little, thighs rubbing together, both to relieve the pulsing ache of your pussy and that it’s impossible to stay composed under that gaze.

“Drop down,” he says finally, “to your knees, sweetheart.”

From your knees, you get a good fucking look at those tight pants– at the bulge in them. The hair on his chest sticks out a little, too, peeking at you from above. Hot. So hot.

“Comfortable?”

“Yes, daddy,” you bite your lip again.

“Keep those hands down, alright?” he leans to the side and picks up a cigar lighter, watching you as he lights up.

John stands over you, new cigar lit, plumes of smoke drifting from his fingers. His expression is neutral, though he hums in a pleased way as he strokes the softness of your cheek.

“Take me out,” he commands.

You lean forward with your mouth, unable to resist giving him a good long sniff before you pull at his zipper with your teeth. He smells good, musky and strong, a little cologne there but mostly it’s natural.

When your teeth gently take his briefs, pulling, he cups the back of your head with a big hand and strokes your hair.

“Are you going to take it all, sweetheart? Right down your throat?”

You let his cock flop out of his underwear, heavy. The bush surrounding it makes your mouth water. It looks so good, long and a little curved, bouncing as if it’s teasing you.

You nod finally, hands squeezed into fists in your lap just the way he asked, “yes, daddy.”

“That’s my girl. Are you going to give daddy’s cock a little kiss first?”

You lean forward, lips pursed, planting a little kiss on the mushroom head of his cock. Though you ache to lick your lips, to taste him, you wait.

“That’s a good little girl,” he murmurs, “open your mouth.”

You do, holding your tongue out.

He grips the base, holding his cock up, tapping your tongue with the head. You almost whine, before he grips your head firmer and holds you still so he can slide the entire length of that monster right to the back of your throat.

Your nose hits his pubic bone, buried in the coarse hairs there, overwhelmed, hands balling into fists.

“That’s right,” he grunts, “hold it right there, sweetheart, show me you’ve got what it takes.”

God, he’s all the way in, a perfect fit. You try to stay still, anchoring yourself to him, to his palm, to the possibility of hearing good girl.

You gag a little, coughing around him, tears burning at your eyes as drool plip plops onto your chest.

Finally, he pulls out, stroking your hair, “good girl, such a good girl. Ready?”

“Yes,” you garble around the heady of his cock, clit swollen and needy, hands pressing hard into your thighs, “please fuck my face, daddy.”

He does, his pistoning, fucking your mouth like it’s a cunt. His hand cradles the back of your head, pushing you, hips moving, grunting when he’s not taking the occasional puff of his cigar.

You throb in your panties, body scorching hot, gagging every so often around the thick meat of John’s cock. Drool falls in viscous strings, tears following, the world dropping away.

Nothing else but the slide of his cock in and out of your mouth exists, matters.

“That’s it, that’s it,” he pants raggedly.

You have no idea how long he lasts, only that when he’s finished you're an absolute mess. Wet faced and panting.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, wiping the tears from your cheeks with his rough thumbs. You look up at him through your clumped lashes, mouth open, “did so well for me, hm?”

“Thank you, daddy,” your voice is a little gravelly, but not painful.

John pulls you up with a hand at your bicep, walking you down a hallway off his living room and towards an open door.

It’s his bedroom– and it’s decorated exactly as you’d imagined it.

The bed is huge, kingsized with a radio inlay and a thick, padded headboard that extends all around the mattress in a kind of cradle. His sheets are silk, dark, and dark orange.

“Nice digs,” you laugh, “you sure you aren’t a pornstar?”

He laughs behind you, setting his lit cigar into the ashtray on the bedside table. He slowly strips out of his clothes, getting totally naked. Then he slides in, and leans back.

“Give me a show, sweetheart.”

You hum, swaying again. You aren’t a pro at this kind of stuff, but it’s fun regardless to pull your shirt up and over your head like you’re a dirty dancer.

“Like this, daddy?”

John hums.

You slowly slide your pants down, turning so he can watch your ass move, kicking them away. You hear the slick sounds of him jerking his cock as you do.

“Should I take my panties off?” you ask, thumbs slipping into the elastic.

“Yes, take them off,” he grunts, “turn around.”

You do, then slowly slip your panties off. He licks his bottom lip again, quick.

“Come here.”

You slide onto the bed, on your knees, then crawl forward until you’re beside him, where he pushes you to lay on your side.

His heavy palm finds the naked skin of your hip, squeezing, “still want to show me your star power, sweetheart?”

“Yes, daddy,” you’re back in it, eyes half lidded. Your pussy is making a wet spot on your thighs, “I wanna show you.”

He pushes you to your back, slaps your thighs until you open your legs and hold them out. Then he pauses, hand at the junction of your thigh and hip, thumb inching towards your pussy.

“Look how wet you are, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

You clench, tilting your hips up. Your clit throbs.

“Ah ah, get back down,” he tuts.

Your ass touches the bed again, hips forced down by sheer willpower. His thumb finally reaches you, pulling aside your pussylip to gaze at your wetness.

It gushes out of you, and you’re sure he can see the way your hole clenches.

“Desperate little cunt, isn't she?” he uses his other hand, two two fingers coming to pull the hood of your clit up and just watch as it jumps needily, “awe, poor thing.”

“Please, daddy,” you could cry, “please, touch me.”

“Touch where, love? Touch this needy little clit?”

“Yes, please!”

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” he abandons holding you open to bring his thumb to your exposed clit, rubbing in circles. You shout, a tremor immediately beginning. It’s too much and not enough at once, electric and icy-hot.

Then he slips those fingers inside you, slow and testing at first, but when he realizes just how wet and soft you are he curls them inside you deeply and oh, fuck, your eyes roll back into your head.

“That’s the spot, that’s it,” he grunts, shaking you, taking you apart.

John only fingers you long enough to let your wetness spill out of you, wetting your thighs, soaking his fingers– until you’re ready for his cock.

“You’re ready,” he lays the length of it against your pussy for a moment, letting your swollen lips hug his length, before he shifts back and nudges the head at your hole, “yeah, you’re ready for it.”

He stuffs you fucking full. You’ve never been so stuffed in your life, thankful for his diligent attention earlier or you might be really feeling the weight of him.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp, back arching, nipples rubbing against his chest hair. It sparks pleasure from your tits right down your cunt, body aflame, hands scratching through the hair at his back.

It’s like fucking a bear, or a werewolf. He’s relentless, too, without mercy. Plows into you hard and long, thrusts measured, never faltering.

John fucks like a pornstar, there’s no doubt about it. He takes up so much space on top of you that without his arms holding him up you worry about being crushed– you crave it, too.

“Good fucking girl,” he snarls, lip curling, mustache going with it, “want to be on camera, do ya? Let me hear you.”

You let loose, mouth open in one long drawn out sound, interposed only by the gasps you let out each time he hits you deep.

You tilt your head back, bearing your throat, taking each heavy thrust and crying out with them, squeezing around him.

“I’m gonna give it all to you, sweetheart, fuck,” he snaps his hips faster now, “and you’re gonna take it all like a star.”

You nod desperately, feeling his pubes each time he thrusts to the hilt, wet with your juices. You’re so fucking close, one breath to your clit and you’d lose your mind.

He straightens, hands going to your hips, tightening, as he snaps one, two, three times and tenses–

His head snaps back, neck bulging with veins as he comes, teeth bared in a growl as he curses, “fuck, good girl, that’s right– good fucking pussy–”

Hot come shoots inside, heating you up further, making you whine with frustration and satisfaction both.

When the taut line of his body relaxes and he pulls out, a flood of come following him, he slides to his stomach and spreads you open with his thumbs.

“Let daddy make it up to you, sweetheart,” he murmurs to your pussy, “he’s not usually so selfish.”

John looks down first. Your pussy is swollen, well-fucked, and you can feel a slight gape.

“Poor little pussy,” he murmurs, then seals his mouth over your clit until you fall apart.

“You sure you aren’t a pornstar?” your cheek is pressed to his chest, basking in the furriness, arm and leg thrown over his body.

He laughs, “I’m sure, sweetheart. But I will say–” he pauses to lean down and kiss the corner of your mouth, mustache still damp, “you’ve definitely got star quality.”

#happy valentines day!#thank you syoddeye for the cig picture its soooooo ruff ruff #theres a little easter egg in there for u #john price x reader #john price #john price/reader #price x reader #price/reader #john price smut #jeopardized my midterm to get this out on valentines day #drgnfly writes

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willyoubemycherryy · 4 months ago

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Intimacy Cues (C. Kent)

Summary: Who better to teach you how to talk body when you never learned the language?

Contains: smut AND plot so it’s long,depressing past, the college au you all secretly needed, struggles with physical touch, struggles with any form of intimacy, one mild panic attack, Clark is understanding but hot, dumb ideas, hugging, bonding, kissing, making out, it starts off shaky then soft but quickly snowballs into horn-e central, size kink, slight dumbification, strength kink, first kisses, virginity kept but not for long just give me till the second part, Clark is a little infatuated, they’re so nasty about each other my word, grinding, kissing (no forreal), prayer bc we all need it

A/N- my stomach is fine, it wasn’t a tumor but a blockage because of something I ate that never digested, causing my tummy to bloat and swell but they fixed me up so I’m back😈

. .* ੈ✩‧₊•

“Nononono- no, stop!!”

This might be the worst decision of your entire life.

Clark pulls away again, looking down at you with his eyebrows drawn together in concern but also exasperation because-

“Hey! It’s okay- you’re okay. Remember…you were the one who asked for my help.” He didn’t say the obvious “but we’re not getting any farther” part out loud but it echoes through your head all the same and you breathe out a deep sigh; regretting it with the depths of your very being but, yes. You did ask him for his help.

Help with what? The answer would’ve ended your social life if anyone who wasn’t Clark had found out.

You needed his help with…closeness- intimacy.

Growing up you were always awkward. Not in a charming way or even unconventional, you just simply didn’t make the cut based by society’s standards. You were always too gangly, too weird, too timid; so imagine the surprise come middle of highschool to now college where you’ve finally grown into yourself.

You know how you like to dress and which clothes look hottest on you, you know what hairstyle suits best for your face shape, you’re still weird but you’re also sarcastic which somehow equals charm to people and you’ve also managed to come out of your shell a bit. Becoming more confident from people naturally gravitating towards you after your blooming stage and even more after letting your friends convince you to join your college’s cheerleading team. You’d become everything you wanted to always try.

Pretty, popular, and fun. The problem?

Thanks to how much of a late bloomer you were, you never got the chance to get comfortable with others intimately during your formative years. Nobody liked you in that way and you were terrified of embarrassing yourself so there was nothing. No first kiss, no first dance with a boy, hell- even now you still get uneasy when others stare at you too long. Hiding behind your image as a college sweetheart made everything you were still to unsettled to try easier. Don’t misunderstand; it wasn’t that you never wanted those things, it’s that you’re not used to others suddenly picking you for those kinds of things after being invisible and missing out on them for almost all your life to the point where you don’t know how to deal with it when those moments do happen.

Still, you acted like everything was fine.

Playing the role of pretty cheerleader- the flirty tease that was favored by many even though that favor was shallow as a tear on a hot day. You pretended. And it was working, nobody knew…or so you believed.

Cue to one of the football teams parties where you’d been flirting with a guy, coy smile painted on your face as you giggled softly whenever he spoke, batting your pretty eyes at him in your little mini skirt. It had been going well until he suddenly leaned closer, focusing solely on you and when you felt the heat of his skin from how close he was- it felt as if the color had drained from your face, leaving you frozen as you became so uncomfortable it was visible; nerves screaming at you to flee until you listened. Spinning on your heels and bolting, trying to calm your breathing enough to will the cotton out of your ears.

You didn’t realize it then but a certain pair of blue eyes had been watching the whole thing. He’s always seen you. Which is funny because you almost always actively avoid him. In fact, he’s seen you enough to know that this isn’t the first time you’ve had that reaction and one day after a particularly rough week of endless pondering over you; he decides to just ask you after practice is over. Clark waits until his and your friends leave, it being only you and him on the field when he starts to walk over to you. The sound of incoming footsteps make you look up and when you see him, he can hear the very second your heart stops; skipping a beat before it quickly begins to thrum out of rhythm.

Honestly, there genuinely are not enough words to describe how attractive Clark Kent was. He was so incomprehensibly beautiful that you avoided Clark altogether just to avoid getting a headache from staring at him for too long especially since the real suffering started when he’d smile. Seemingly perfect pearly white straight teeth but when his grin broadened, his sharp canines would show, leaving you breathless every time. The type of good looking that was flat out overwhelming. Besides being apart of adjacent stereotypes, you two didn’t go together but there was no animosity.

Clark stops and you have to look up at him because of his hulking size. At almost 6’4 he nearly dwarfed you and his proportions matched. Thick, beefy everything- everywhere and you swallow before forcing a smile on your face. While you preferred to avoid him for the sake of keeping yourself out of the psych ward from how crazy he could drive you; you were still curious as to why he came to talk to you. He takes a moment to just look at you, cerulean eyes almost glowing but he doesn’t realize how intense his stare is until you start to shuffle on your feet- dainty hands twitching nervously at your side and that’s when he speaks.

“Hey…I know we don’t usually talk or anything but are you okay?” Even his voice is dreamy but confusion draws on your face because you felt fine; nervous, like you were around any guy you thought was cute, but fine. Clark elaborates at your expression,

“Y’know because of what happened at the party last-”, that seems to jog your memory enough to snap you out of it, eyebrows shooting up as dread overtakes over your face. You whip your head around, making sure there’s no witnesses when you grab him by his sweaty shirt, dragging him all the way behind the bleachers as you slam him against the metal. Clark is caught so off guard that he just lets it happen; lets the pretty thing half his size drag him as you pleased. Your eyes shift as you glare up at him.

You’re positive he’s talking about your little freak out with close proximity guy, the one that made you leave the party completely; walking so fast you nearly burned a trail in the carpet. Heart pounding, you start to spiral.

He wasn’t supposed to see that. He- like everyone else- was supposed to be too drunk to notice anything.

Your nose scrunches, full lips curling in a snarl. “I swear if you say anything to anyone-!” You’re threatening him so fast, Clark falters, raising his hands in defense, debilitating blue eyes widening as he starts to plead his case.

“No no-! I didn’t! I-“, He stutters at your harsh gaze, the feel of your hands soaking through his shirt, warming his chest. He needs to hurry up and explain himself before you start disliking him. “I was just worried! Whenever I see you and a guy, even if you act interested-“, he rushes out, panting as he talks even faster, “the second they get too close you look like you’ll vomit!” Your hostility melts into shock and even more confusion and you let go of his shirt, stepping back as you study him, his words stuck in your mind.

“How..? Are you- you’ve been paying that close attention to me? When do you even see me?” You’re at such a loss for words that it’s hard to string them together to properly question him.

“…I”, he swallows harshly, “I always see you.” It’s pure adrenaline that motors his mouth- he thought he was over the time when lovely faced girls made him nervous but you were unexpectedly feisty. It lit something tingly in him. Your eyes search his face and he spills. “I see how you flirt but you’re sarcastic too. Everyone is so taken by your pretty that they don’t even notice, they just call it ‘wit”, he manages to catch his breath enough to sound less panicked now that you look like you won’t kill him, “I see how even though you’re a flyer, you hate heights-”

“H-how-?”

“Your right leg shakes when they lift you, no matter how stable your base is.” Your mouth opens and closes but nothing comes out, heart racing when his voice goes soft,

“But what I’m saying is- so what that you’re not really what you give off? It’s nothing to be ashamed of. ‘Jus curious why you think it is…”, he blinks those long lashes at you and you find yourself explaining the tale of your sordid social past.

By the end of it he’s stunned speechless.

You? Just how bad was your awkward phase for nobody to be interested in you? Wait so that also probably meant that-

“You’re a virgin?!”

You slap your hands over his mouth with a speed equal to his own, face flushed as you shush him, hissing in a low whisper.

“Jesus Chri- shut up! Are you trying to tell the entire campus?!!” You let out another heavy sigh.

“…yes, I am”. You let your hands fall to the side, refusing to look at him while he’s trying to process; silence filling the space between you. You’ve accepted that your ego will never recover from the most gorgeous being on the planet knowing about all your…truths. That you looked and acted the part of a vixen just to hide that you secretly weren’t.

“…so you’ve never done anyt-”,

“No.”

Well then.

You can’t take another long drag of awkward silence, turning to face the boy who knew you probably more than anyone else did.

“Look- I would’ve loved to remedy this but I-”

“Can’t stomach whenever a guy gets too close due to previous deep rooted societal wrought insecurities…” Bingo.

“Well for what it’s worth,” he gives you one of his disarming grins and a flush creeps up your neck; warming your ears, “I think you’re doing fine now.” You snap your head down to see that you two are standing fairly close or at least closer than you normally allow and you don’t have that itch to get him as far away from you as possible. That’s when you get the idea that- “Oh my god! You can help me get over my thing! This is perfect!”! You’re practically vibrating with glee, excited to finally have all your firsts without that looming of touch related dread haunting you. Clark however is swarmed with various images of him “helping” you and can’t keep his ears from reddening at all the different scenarios where he’d be required to be close to you and begins to stutter.

“W-well, I wa- not that I-! I don’t think that’s a good idea, I mean w-we-”, you cut him off before he can weasel out of it, eyebrows creasing in frustration. You unconsciously step closer, your sweet smell bathes his senses as he stares you down, trying not to gulp too hard. “Please, Clark?”, you start and he swallows harshly at how his name sounds in that whiny tone from your lips.

“It can’t be anyone else because you’re the only one who knows! We’re not close now but we could be-“, and the double meaning makes him tune out completely as he only watches your plump lips move; not even registering the sound coming from them. He was thankful you didn’t ask him why he watched you so closely because the answer was one he wasn’t ready to even admit to himself.

Your lips stop moving after a while and them paired with your begging doe eyes make him cave, Clark nodding in hopeless defeat. He was supposed to be over the influence of pretty girls.

“S’okay, I’ll help you out. Your secret’s safe with me.” The corner of his mouth tilts up in a lopsided smile that was somehow both attractive but made you feel safe and you smile shyly back. You were nervous but you know Clark is a good guy- reckless as hell with his charms- but a good guy. What could go wrong?

•

Standing in the middle of your dorm room with your arms wound tight around yourself is when you find out that alot can go wrong.

Clark came over and you two came up with a starting plan that seemed the easiest: talk and slowly close the distance between you two until he was touching and looking at you without you getting uncomfortable or pushing him away. It sounded simple enough at first only…. you severely underestimated how you’d react to Clark. The way his deep mellow voice sounded in your ears, how he always held such steady eye contact as he moved towards you, that heavenly jawline tilting when he’d think too long. Already, Clark was big from afar but up close he was even bigger. Strong arms and broad shoulders; chest so thick it was noticeable through his shirt. You were used to others falling at your feet but Clark stood fine and it affected you in ways you didn’t prepare to deal with, so you tried to do what you always did- ignore it.

Matching Clark’s light conversation as you two eventually get more comfortable, gradually gravitating towards each other with slow short steps. The air shifts when you exhale and the breath tickles his chest. This is when you normally get squeamish but you merely hesitate for a few minutes before taking a deep breath and pushing yourself by letting him keep his distance.

His hand twitch and he shuffles a bit closer, biceps flexing as he reaches out, resting his hands on your shoulders; your conversation quiets as he stares at you with perfectly blue lidded eyes and then you feel the stirrings of restlessness under your skin. That impeding urge to get away. Despite the way you feel, the slow atmosphere helps you tremendously to not pull away but your pulse spikes all the same. His hands felt nice. You take another deep breath as you try to come to terms with what you were feeling.

Clark was a guy.

A guy who was standing in your bubble, touching you- looking at you.

A million emotions fly across your face at record speed and Clark doesn’t move any more for the next couple minutes. No, he waits for you; large rough palms warm on your bare shoulders while his pinky idly messes with the thin strap of your top. Your skin was soft. The heavy rise and fall of your chest has him focusing on you more intensely, trying to get a read on how you felt until you break the silence with a shaky exhale.

“We can keep going- you can keep touching me.” He knows you don’t mean it that way but his ears burn anyways as he nods. Taking a second to think before taking his hands off you to take yours, ignoring your big eyes look as he places your hands around his waist- inevitably moving closer and his voice softens like he’ll frighten you away if he were to speak any louder.

“You can touch me too. Promise I don’t mind…this is for you after all.” You suppress a whine because being so close was already hard with you fighting every instinct yelling at you to get gone and go somewhere where nobody could comprehend you but now with Clark staring at you like that, it was even harder. Your eyes flick about the room as you flatten your palms more against his back, mentally rolling your eyes back at how his muscles feel. You don’t even realize you’re biting your lip but Clark does, instantly alert the second he felt your small hands nervously press against him, his eyes zeroed in on the swollen skin dipping under the pressure of your teeth. He feels bad because while he was supposed to be helping you, he couldn’t stop thinking about how sexy you were being so shy but hardheaded enough to build up the grit to go for what scared you because you wanted it.

Without taking his eyes off your face, he rubs his hands up to your neck, making you squeak before smoothing them back down your shoulders; repeating the motions with a gentle hum.

The room feels hot- you felt hot and jittery but it’s too much. Unable to keep the waves at bay, goosebumps trickle over your skin and your eyes scrunch in panic as your breathing picks up. He was close. Close and touching you. You can’t bring yourself to look into his eyes because you know when you do, you’ll be naked for all to see and you scream.

“Stop!”

Nobody can see you-nobody’s supposed to be seeing you, the girl who was never even chose last as you were overlooked entirely no matter how badly you wanted to reach out. Maybe that’s what started your fear. Maybe you were scared of losing experiences because of rejection.

Clark doesn’t move away but he isn’t touching you anymore and you aren’t touching him as your hands fly to the sides of your head, trying to calm yourself down and guilt pours over him. He wants to hug you; comfort you but he knows that pulling you against him in a hug will only worsen things right now so he waits. Closing his eyes to help you feel at ease, listening closely to the beat of your heart until your breaths quiet and he hears it fluctuate back to normal. He keeps his eyes closed until he feels your small trembling hands slide back around him and instead of putting his hands on your shoulders, he moves his arms around them; resting them against your back but not pulling you in yet. It’s quiet besides the hushed sounds of him cooing at you and your breathing. The air now has an underlying current and you shift in his heavy arms, inhaling deeply as you finally look up at his face. Shyly, you cut the silence; voice soft as how you feel.

“…you can open your eyes now..” Clark feels his own heart speed up before he responds, low tone matching yours and electricity hits you when it clicks. This is intimate.

“Are you okay? We can stop and try again some other time; I don’t wanna upset-,”

“I want you to look at me.”

His eyes pop open at your command, peering down at you in such a way that your breath catches; anxiousness rising up you again but you stay right where you are. Willing yourself to embrace the exposed way he makes you feel.

Under the heat of his stare it’s like he’s seeing everything you’ve ever hid or been but his hold is steady enough to let you know he’s there with you and he’s not going anywhere. You still feel naked but more than that, you feel safe. Comfortable enough to not shy away from his warmth, you take another breath; looking up at him through your lashes- it makes his head fuzzy.

His eyes shift from their usual blue to the shade of the sea after a storm and you’re swept away, logic going with you as you slowly glide your hands up his sides to his where his arms hold you. Feeling every dip and curve of his strong build until you reach his hands, repositioning them around your lower back. You move closer but because you two were already standing so close- your chests touch and Clark stops breathing. The soft swell of your breasts move against his body with your every inhale and he finds his senses filled with you.

Your gaze is torn away when you turn your head, looking down as you drop against his chest. Arms looping around him making his own instinctively curl around you, holding you tight to the firm but soft muscle of his chest. You both pause for a few minutes- waiting for the urgent panic but it never comes. Instead, you melt into him with a relieved sigh, warm breath bleeding into his shirt. You two were officially hugging.

And you were in heaven.

You never knew close contact with the opposite gender could be so delightful. Clark was just so big and warm and smelled so good, you bury your face into the meat of his pec almost deliriously, sighing happily. Fuck, you really had been missing out. His arms are firm and heavy against your back, effectively locking you against him. The endorphin rush hitting you has you practically purring; the sounds of your bliss vibrating Clark’s chest and he smiles, letting you get your fix as he enjoys the way you fit into his arms.

Unsurprisingly, you two stay like that for a while. Fitted against each other in the silence of your cozy bedroom. He sees the top of your head move and he’s suddenly looking into your eyes, pupils blown so wide that your eyes are black. Clark has to bite his lip to keep from smiling at how cute you look. Your eyes flit down to his mouth to see the peek of his fangs that always show, letting out a small breathy ‘oh’ when you do. You’re still reeling in all the best ways as you rest your chin against his chest, unabashedly looking at his handsome face.

Clark raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow at the phantom hearts in your eyes and the way your small feet are standing on top of his larger ones while you make no attempt to separate your bodies, completely content with his proximity. He likes you so he likes your closeness and he’s even more elated that you seem to like him being so close too. Speaking lowly so he doesn’t disturb you, he checks if you’re still on the planet with him.

“This okay, sweetheart? Y’enjoying yourself?” The petname slips out but you don’t move or rush to correct him as your blood simmers, a numbingly pleasant heat washing over you so strong it’s hard to think. Running your hands in a slow caress up his back, you feel the muscles flex as his arm twitches and a smile grows on your face as you blink dumbly- brain currently taking a break, you mumble sweetly,

“Mmhm, yeah. Never better.”

And it’s true. You’ve never felt this safe, this free with anyone that wasn’t immediate family or your best girl friends. He was touching you and seeing you but you didn’t care because you knew whatever he was seeing and touching, was safe as it would ever be with him.

Clark huffs out a laugh at your belated response, moving one of his hands in a warm caress up your back, feeling you shiver and he bites his lip again. You were so alluring without even having to try and he breathes to reign himself in since he was currently the first and only to have you melting like this from a hug alone. If a hug got you like this he could only imagine how beautifully you’d respond to-

“Um, C-Clark?” Your soft voice brings him back as he hums, flicking his eyes down lazily at you.

“Yeah, baby?” Your sweet little gasp makes him realize that he just called you another nickname but you don’t seem to mind, flustering prettily in his arms. He leans down closer to your face, only to hear you better, eyes patient as he stares at you.

“I know this is supposed to be about me but how do you feel? You’ve been so good with me..I just wanna make sure you’re okay too.” Clark smiles, moved that you’re worrying about him even with all his experience.

“Yeah I feel good but how about you? Want me to let go or we can try something different?” He would’ve asked if you wanted to stop but he was going off your body language and it was telling him distance was the last thing you wanted and he was right as you shook your head before resting your chin back into his chest, looking up at him with those pupil eclipsed doe eyes.

“I feel great but…”, your voice gets smaller as it takes on an almost needy tone before stopping altogether. You snap your face back into his chest and he’s even more curious to get it out of you but you just can’t say it.

“You really don’t need to be embarrassed. Clothed or naked, we all start somewhere”, he whispers against the top of your head, stroking your back soothingly as you try to talk yourself into asking him before you chicken out, “with me you can start wherever you want and you know I’ll never tell. Or make fun of you..”,

His voice is tender with warmness and it turns your reservations to raindrops as you look back into his eyes. Steeling your nerve, you ground yourself with the way you feel in another persons arms for the first time in your life- his arms and decide to go for it.

“You said- we can try something different?” Your heart begins to race again as Clark’s starts to pound. He can’t keep the heat out of eyes as he returns your stare, nodding.

“Yeah. We can do whatever you want.” His breath wafts across your face, forehead resting against yours and the rate at which you find yourself needing him- scares you. You’ve been depraved of this kind of contact to the point of fear since forever but now…

“Then…can we-“, you blink rapidly, not wanting to verbalize it but not wanting to go without even more.

“Can we kiss please?”

Clark has to shut his eyes. You looked so sweet, felt so soft and even though you couldn’t keep the neediness from seeping into your words, you still asked so politely. Blood rushes through his ears as he feels a familiar stirring in his groin, taking a deep breath because it wouldn’t do for him to lose control now, his voice is heady with pure want when he answers,

“F’course. I’d love to kiss, baby.”

Large hands settle around your waist as you get pulled completely flush to him, legs almost intertwining while your pelvises touch; bodies glued together. The languid heat of arousal thrums through you, making your head spin.

Your lips part when Clark presses his forehead more firmly against yours, lighting you from the inside out when he dips his neck to slot his open mouth over yours.

Immediately your chest burns, heart feeling like each pump is gasoline, fueling the fire hes started in you. Clark’s full lips slide against yours, alternating between suckling at your top lip then bottom lip slowly, coaxing you to follow his lead, groaning his approval and the sound turns you up as you press yourself harder against his body. You feel so good you’re thrumming- heat steadily pulsing through you.

Your heads move from how hard you’re kissing, slick sounds coming from your mouths intensifying as you get rougher, delicious shivers all up your spine. Clark presses his lips fully against yours, moving them open wider with his own, hot breaths mingling as he licks hotly against the opening of your mouth. A bolt of pleasure hits you so hard that you gasp, wrenching your mouth off his as you moan- the needy little thing so whiny it makes his cock fatten in his pants as you pant against each others lips. Fuck. He can smell how wet you are. The sweet, heady smell makes his mouth water with him tossing shame clean out the window.

“Can I put my tongue in your mouth? Please, pretty girl?” You move your arms around his neck to get as close as possible, nodding desperately.

“God, yes-” His mouth is back to consuming yours before you can finish. Opening your lips with the force of his swollen ones, he sucks your bottom lip before lapping his tongue into your mouth. You twitch in his hold, even more turned on when he doesn’t have to move to keep your squirming in place, casual show of strength making you lightheaded as he swallows your moans. Wet smacks fill the air, your grip on him tightening when he sucks your tongue into his mouth. You get wetter and he can tell, growling in pleasure as he suddenly lifts you; your legs locking around his waist as he uses his hold on yours to grind you against him. The result is instantaneous. You melt like cotton candy, chest shaking against his from your pleasured moans as your shared spit wets your lips. Still aware of the fact that you need to breathe, Clark pulls away with a suck of your lips- staring at you hungrily with dark eyes.

He can’t even remember when he picked you up but the tiny undulations of your hips let him know it was a welcome decision. You looked so good. Lips puffy n slick, doe eyes teary and blown out, wet as fuck with your hard nipples poking through your top…you could ask him for every one of Saturns rings and he’d get them for you.

Clark takes a deep lungful of your tantalizing scent before he checks on you again.

“How was that, sweetheart? Y’first kiss right?” You nod, cupping his face. You can’t help the way you smooch more pecks onto his pink lips, aching as you answer.

“It was so good”, you drag your nose down his jaw; kissing his ear as you whisper into it, “you feel so good, Clark..”. You have him completely hard at this point, thick and fat as his tip oozes pre when you start to whine. He almost feels bad that you’ve waited so long, being so pent up wasn’t healthy and you deserved to feel good everyday.

“What’s wrong baby?” The low timbre of his voice makes your pulse skyrocket, causing you to absolutely dissolve against him, hips twitching as he helped you rub yourself on him.

“I-I need..-“, you let out a soft cry and he quickly soothes you. Kissing you deeply before pulling away, licking his lips of your taste as he verbalizes exactly what you need.

“Need to cum?”

The heat in your chest blooms up to your face as you nod, suddenly growing shy but still comfortable. You purr as Clark presses a sweet kiss to your cheek, looking at you with pretty lidded eyes.

“Would it be okay if I made you cum princess?”

The utterly wrecked moan that comes out of your mouth has goosebumps scattering up his arms, holding you tighter as you nod vigorously.

“I need words baby”, he whispers. Giving you another kiss to tempt you and it works. He was too irresistible and he knew it.

“Yeah, you can make me cum Clark.” And with that he carries you over to your bed, laying you on the plushness as he takes over your mouth again with a hungry groan, your hands touching everywhere until he pulls away- fangs on display as he smiles making fire sweep through your veins.

Massaging your legs, he rises on his knees- taking off his shirt as your mind checks out from how hot he is, shifting restlessly as the ache in your pussy throbs with the best pain. Whining his name, Clark cooes at you; big hands moving to pull your clothes off. Your nerves are going haywire but you need this- need him to make you feel things, lifting your hips to help him slide your shorts and underwear off, spreading your legs as you let him get a good look at your messy wet hole twitching in need.

Clark swears, hooking his hands under your knees and bending them towards your chest. Exposing you more as he licks his lips, keeping his eyes glued to your cunt.

“Atta girl, jus’ lay there nice n pretty and I’ll give you what you need..”

Part ✌🏽…

#smallville #Tom welling #smallville x reader #smallville fanfic #clark kent smallville x reader #clark kent smallville #tom welling x reader #tom welling smut #tom welling smallville #smallville smut #clark kent smut #clark kent x reader

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joelsrose · 6 months ago

Text

Good Night

writing this was too much - fluff central i need him rn i recommend listening to sweet by cigarettes after sex while reading this !!!

You lay nestled against Joel’s chest, his arm wrapped securely around you, fingers lazily combing through your hair. His glasses rested low on his nose as he read, the soft light of the lamp illuminating the gentle lines of his face. The warmth of his body enveloped you, solid and comforting, and his steady heartbeat was a lullaby against your ear.

This was life in Jackson—simple, unhurried, and steeped in a kind of quiet joy that felt almost sacred. Every evening followed the same cherished rhythm, a melody of love and familiarity you never wanted to break. After dinner—always cooked by Joel, who insisted on spoiling you—you’d step into the shower together, the warm water mingling with shared laughter and tender touches. His hands would linger, not out of need but out of devotion.

Later, you’d make love, the kind that left you breathless, wrapped in his warmth, every touch steeped in passion and care. His hands would linger, his lips trailing over your skin like he was memorizing you, until you were both utterly lost in each other. Then, as the world softened into quiet again, you’d settle into bed, your body curled into his, his arm wrapped securely around you.

Joel would lean back against the pillows, glasses perched on his nose, engrossed in a book, while you nestled into him, your head resting on his chest. His hand would drift to your hair, absentmindedly tracing patterns or tucking stray strands away. His warmth, his steady presence, the sound of his heartbeat beneath your ear—this was all you ever needed.

It was perfect—a life that felt like a dream, yet so deeply real you couldn’t imagine ever living without it. It was home, in every sense of the word.

Now, your fingers danced lazily over the fabric of his shirt, the soft rise and fall of his chest beneath your touch grounding you in the quiet peace of the moment. Your eyes fluttered closed, your breathing syncing with his, as your fingertips skimmed over his stomach, savoring the simple intimacy of feeling him there, solid and warm.

Joel’s gaze dropped to you, and his lips tugged into the faintest smile, one so soft it barely lifted the corners of his mouth but carried a tenderness that always made your chest ache. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your temple, the warmth of his breath lingering on your skin.

You could do this forever, you thought, the ache in your heart bittersweet and sharp. God, why can’t you stay here forever? Why couldn’t life be this simple, this perfect, with nothing but the steady rhythm of his heart beneath your cheek and the quiet murmur of his affection in every touch?

“You tired?” he murmured, his voice low and thick like honey.

“No,” you murmured, your face now smushed against his chest as you burrowed in deeper, inhaling him—soap, the one you both shared, cedar, and that unmistakable something that was purely Joel. He was warmth incarnate, the kind of warmth that made you want to melt into him entirely, to smush yourself so close there was no space left between you. You never wanted to move, not from this, not from him.

“You’re ridiculous,” he muttered, his gruff tone doing little to mask the affection laced within it. The corners of his mouth betrayed him, tugging into that familiar, reluctant smile that always appeared whenever you did anything—anything at all. It was as if you had some inexplicable hold over him, something he couldn’t fight even if he wanted to. And truthfully, he never did.

His hand threaded through your hair, each movement deliberate, gentle, and slow, as though he was savoring every strand, every texture, every part of you. “My sweet girl,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, the words so soft they felt like they were meant for your heart alone.

Yet, they reached you, sinking deep, sending a flood of warmth through your chest, wrapping around you like a protective embrace. You couldn’t help but melt into his touch, your heart swelling at the quiet affection in his tone. You loved being his—loved the way he claimed you, not with grand gestures or loud declarations, but with moments like this, soft and unspoken, but so full of love it was undeniable.

Then, his hand tapped your back lightly. “Sit up,” he said, his tone soft but with a quiet insistence.

“What?” you protested, your voice tinged with playful defiance, though you had no real intention of resisting. You were far too content, nestled against his side, his warmth seeping into you like a cozy blanket you never wanted to leave.

He shifted beside you, closing his book and setting it carefully on the nightstand before slipping off his glasses. “C’mere,” he said, his voice a low rumble as he patted his legs, making space for you to move.

Your heart flipped at the unspoken invitation, the way his gestures always carried so much meaning. Happily, you obliged, scooting up to settle between his legs, your back pressing against his chest.

The contrast had startled you the first time—Joel’s hands, weathered and calloused from years of hard work, wielded an unexpected tenderness as he braided your hair. There was something reverent about the way his fingers moved, weaving strands with care that felt almost sacred.

He adored your hair; you knew it in the way his hands lingered as if committing every texture to memory. He’d tell you, in his own quiet way, how much he loved the way it framed your face, how it shimmered in the sunlight, and how it carried the faint scent of lavender and the outdoors.

His fingers sifted through it now, slow and methodical, his touch so light it made your eyes flutter closed. The rhythmic motion was soothing, like being lulled to sleep by the ocean’s waves.

“You’ve got the prettiest hair, darlin’,” he muttered under his breath, the words almost lost in the quiet of the room, as if he hadn’t meant for you to hear them.

You hummed softly, leaning into his touch as his fingers continued their gentle work, weaving and twisting with practiced ease. Warmth bloomed in your chest, spreading outward like a soft glow. “You’re just saying that because you like messing with it,” you teased, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“Maybe,” he drawled, his voice low and thick, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine as his lips ghosted over the back of your neck. His hands never faltered, steady and careful, as though he were handling something precious.

“Or maybe I just like takin’ care of my girl,” he drawled, the corners of his mouth twitching with a faint, knowing smile.

And God, everyone knew that Joel Miller took care of his girl. He wasn’t subtle about it—not in the way he carried your pack when you both went out, or how his hand always found the small of your back, guiding you like it was second nature. He hardly let you in the kitchen, insisting on cooking every meal himself and making your coffee just the way you liked it. Your arms hadn’t lifted to wash your own hair in months, Joel deliberate in taking care of you in every way possible, as if it was the most important thing he’d ever do.

If being whipped was a person, it was Joel Miller, plain and simple. He was the kind of man who loved so completely, so unapologetically, that anyone who saw him around you could feel it—the quiet reverence in his gaze, the way his shoulders softened when you laughed, the way he seemed to breathe easier when you were near.

A smile tugged at your lips, one he couldn’t see but surely felt, known to him as if it were an extension of his own. The quiet stretched between you, a comforting silence filled with the steady rhythm of his hands in your hair, the weight of his presence, and the unspoken tenderness that tied you together.

“All done, baby,” Joel murmured, his voice low and soft as his hands fell away from your freshly braided hair.

You turned to face him, your knees brushing his, a playful smile tugging at your lips. The warm lamplight bathed his face, casting soft shadows that highlighted the rugged lines carved by time and a life that had seen its share of hardship. But his eyes—steady, grounding—softened as they met yours, the corners creasing just slightly in that way they always did when he looked at you with quiet affection.

You struck a mock pose, tilting your head and letting your braid fall over your shoulder. “Pretty,” he murmured, his voice low and gruff, yet somehow impossibly gentle. His calloused fingers cradled your face, his thumb grazing your cheek as he brushed a stray strand behind your ear. The touch lingered, unhurried and full of meaning, as if he couldn’t bring himself to let go just yet.

You leaned into his touch, pressing your face even further into his palm, craving the warmth and comfort it offered. You were utterly drunk on him—on his love, his care, the way his presence wrapped around you like a sanctuary that nothing in the world could breach. Your chest swelled with emotion, your breath catching in your throat as you gazed up at him, completely undone by how perfect he was in his imperfect, rugged way.

The slope of his nose, proud and strong, the scratch of his beard against your skin, familiar and grounding, the lines etched into his face—each one telling a story of a life hard-lived, a man who had endured but somehow still chose to love you so fiercely. He was everything, and in moments like this, you couldn’t fathom how you’d ever lived without him.

“I love you,” you said, your voice soft yet brimming with a devotion so pure, so absolute, it left no room for hesitation or doubt.

Joel’s lips curved into a slow, tender smile, the kind that reached his eyes and softened the edges of his rugged features. His thumb traced over your lower lip, unhurried, as if he were committing the feel of you to memory, savoring the moment. His gaze locked on yours, deep and unwavering, holding you in a way that made you feel seen, cherished, utterly his.

“I love you,” he said, his voice steady and low, the kind of tone that carried the weight of truth. “More than anything.”

The certainty in his words was unshakable, like a vow carved into stone—solid, eternal, and wholly Joel. You believed him without question, felt the truth of it in the way his eyes softened when they met yours, in the way his hands lingered as though letting go was unthinkable. There wasn’t a single doubt in your mind—not then, not ever.

“Now, let’s go to bed,” he said, his voice dipping into something softer, more tender, as he lifted his arm in a silent invitation. It wasn’t just an offer—it was home.

You didn’t hesitate, shifting into his embrace and curling against him like it was where you were always meant to be. The steady rise and fall of his chest beneath you, the comforting weight of his arm draped around your back, made the rest of the world feel distant and insignificant.

His warmth enveloped you, his heartbeat a soothing rhythm that grounded you, steady and sure. As your eyes drifted closed, the last thing you felt was his lips brushing over your hair, and the last thought that floated through your mind was simple but certain.

This is what love feels like—unshakable, enduring, perfect.

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loveharlow · 3 days ago

Note

need more protective jj pls!!

i don't think i have any more hc ideas for him but here's something small :p

The bonfire crackled, spitting sparks into the night sky, a vibrant contrast to the pulsing music and the laughter that echoed across the sand. The air, thick with the scent of ocean water, cheap beer, and a hint of weed. You were nestled beside JJ, his arm slung loosely around your shoulders, the warmth of his skin a comforting anchor amidst the chaos.

"Want another one?" he shouted over the din, gesturing vaguely towards the cooler.

You shook your head, a smile playing on your lips. "No, I'm okay. This one's still half full." You held up your plastic cup, the condensation cool against your fingers.

JJ's eyes, usually alight with mischief, held a softer, more possessive glint tonight. He nodded, then, without a word, gently plucked the cup from your hand. "I'll hold it for ya," he mumbled, his thumb brushing over your knuckles before he tucked the cup into the crook of his arm, already holding his own. He knew you had a tendency to put it down anywhere. It was a small gesture, almost imperceptible in the dim light, but it made your chest fill with a certain warmth. He always did little things like that – catering to your needs, taking care of you without you ever having to ask, really.

A group of Kooks stumbled past, one of them bumping clumsily into your back. You flinched, muttering a small 'ouch' under your breath, but before you could even register it, JJ had shifted, eyebrows set into a firm frown. His arm tightened around you, pulling you closer, almost flush against his side. He shot a glare over his shoulder at the retreating figures, a silent warning in his narrowed, blue eyes. The Kooks, perhaps sensing the latent danger radiating from him, didn't even glance back.

"Dick..." He scoffed. "You alright?" he murmured, his breath warm against your ear.

"Yeah, fine," you whispered, leaning into his embrace. You loved how he always had your back, how his protectiveness felt less like control and more like an unbreakable shield.

Later, as the party swelled and the music grew louder, you decided to brave the makeshift dance floor. JJ, of course, was right there with you, his movements loose and uninhibited. You laughed, trying to mimic his carefree sway, when a guy, someone you barely knew, tried to cut in.

"Hey," he slurred, a little too close, a little too familiar. JJ immediately clocked it, his shoulders tensing. "Wanna dance?"

Before you could even formulate a polite refusal, JJ stepped in front of you, his body a solid barrier. He didn't say anything, didn't even raise his voice. He just looked at the guy, a slow, deliberate sweep of his gaze that started at the kid's shoes and ended with a piercing stare into his eyes. It was a look that spoke volumes.

The guy's confidence visibly deflated. He mumbled an apology, something about "just asking," and quickly retreated into the crowd.

JJ turned back to you, a slight smirk on his lips. "The fuck's up with everybody tonight? 's like douchebag central..." he said, then pulled you closer, his hand finding the small of your back and holding you firmly against him as he resumed dancing. Every so often, he'd lean down and whisper something silly in your ear, or press a soft kiss to your temple, making sure anyone watching knew exactly where his attention, and yours, was.

JJ Maybank Taglist in replies!

feedback is appreciated! thanks for reading.

©loveharlow

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odileeclipse · 2 months ago

Text

In the Presence of Truth {"Sage of Truth" (SMC) x Reader} PT 21

<<<Previous Next>>>

When morning came…The door to the lecture hall swung shut behind you with a dull thud, the echo trailing like the remnants of Professor Almond Custard’s latest rambling theory, something about spontaneous infusion patterns that had your mind swimming more than it should have.

You rubbed at your eyes, blinking away the residual glaze of boredom. Your mind dozed off before you knew it whatever was said was lost on you.

“Another riveting lecture,” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie drawled, slinging his bag over his shoulder as he caught up with you in the hall.

“I think my soul left my body around minute twenty.”

“You lasted that long?” Chai Latte Cookie teased, linking her arm through yours as the group moved toward the central corridor. “I lost interest when he pulled out the second chalkboard.”

“I rather liked the second chalkboard,” Earl Grey Cookie said smoothly, appearing at your side with his usual effortless poise. Hazelnut Biscotti rolling his eyes trailing behind Earl Grey. “Though I suppose it’s only natural that one must enjoy chaos to appreciate it.”

“Speaking of chaos,” you muttered, squinting up at him, “you said you’d show us what’s required for the Spire, right?”

Earl Grey Cookie gave a short nod. “Ah. Yes. I was wondering when you’d ask.” He gestured for you all to follow him and led you through the glass-paneled corridor that cut through the Scholar’s Wing like a vein of light. The noonday sun spilled through in dappled patterns, illuminating golden dust motes as they danced lazily in the air. He stopped just outside the smaller lecture annex and pulled a folded parchment from the inner pocket of his coat. The seal on it shimmered faintly with magic, stamped with the same sigil that had been on the article you'd read about the Spire. “This,” Earl Grey began, unfolding the paper with careful precision, “is what’s required to be considered for student placement at the Spire of Knowledge.” He held it out so everyone could see.

You and the others leaned in, eyes scanning the list.

Preliminary Application Requirements for the Spire of Knowledge (Student Research Cohort): -Demonstrated academic excellence in magical theory and application (minimum GPA threshold: 3.5) - One letter of recommendation from a faculty member (Spire-affiliated or Senior Scholar preferred) -A minimum of one completed research project within your department -Submission of an intent proposal: a 750-word document explaining your desired research path and its relevance to the future of magical study -Optional: portfolio of magical constructs, spellwork matrices, or theoretical contributions

Your mouth felt a little dry as you reached the bottom. “That’s… a lot.”

Earl Grey tilted his head. “They want promising scholars. Not perfect ones. But those who can prove they’re capable of more than passive learning.”

“You said this was optional?” Hazelnut Biscotti asked, pointing to the final note about portfolios.

Earl Grey nodded. “Optional, but highly encouraged. It’s a way to stand out. The review board will be selective.”

Chai Latte Cookie leaned closer to you, whispering, “Looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us.” You nodded slowly, still taking it all in. The list in your hands was more than a formality; it was a door. One that could lead you there. To the Spire. To him.

“Applications open next month,” Earl Grey added, tucking the parchment back into his coat. “That gives you a few weeks to pull things together. I’d suggest speaking with your current professors about research topics, if you haven’t already.”

Hazelnut let out a low whistle. “Well, this just got a whole lot more real.” You stood quietly for a moment, the magnitude of it settling in your bones. Research. Letters. The proposal. You could do this. You had to do this.

For yourself. And for the chance to be where he was, too. “Think we’ll make it?” you asked, mostly to yourself.

Earl Grey regarded you with something almost fond in his expression. “I think you’re more than capable,” he said simply.

Chai Latte bumped your shoulder with hers. “We’re doing it together, remember?” You looked between them Hazelnut Biscotti already plotting aloud how to spin his latest project, Earl Grey calmly listing professors who might agree to sponsor a recommendation, Chai Latte’s quiet determination and felt the edges of your fear soften. Together. That part was never in doubt. You exhaled, a slow breath, one hand curling around the strap of your bag.

“Then let’s get to work.” You chewed the inside of your cheek for a moment before glancing up at him. “Earl?” Your voice was smaller than you meant for it to be, but the moment felt fragile somehow, and you didn’t want to break it. “Would you… help me organize everything?”

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie leaned back in his chair, letting out a soft laugh. “What, you don’t trust us to help?”

You shot him a look. “I trust you to set my desk on fire by accident.”

“Rude,” he grinned, clearly unbothered.

Chai Latte Cookie hummed. “Fair, though.”

You turned back to Earl Grey, offering a sheepish half-smile. “No offense to either of them, but… you just have a way of making things make sense. I don’t want to mess this up.” Earl Grey Cookie tilted his head, gaze unreadable for a moment before softening, just slightly. “We’ll all help,” he said. “That was always the plan.” His eyes met yours, steady and sincere. “But I’ll make sure your materials are in order. I know how… overwhelmed you can get.”

You winced, just a little. “Is it that obvious?”

“To most? No.” His voice was low, reassuring. “To me? You forget how long I’ve been watching you wrestle with your notes during every group study session.” A flush crept into your cheeks, but it faded quickly beneath the warmth blooming in your chest. There was no judgment in his tone just gentle honesty, the kind that made you feel more seen than exposed.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper. Chai Latte Cookie leaned her head against your shoulder. “We’ve got you.”

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie offered a lazy thumbs-up. “Team effort, as always.” You glanced at the stack of papers again daunting, yes, but suddenly, not quite so impossible. Not with them beside you. Not with him. You smiled down at the neatly arranged documents, a weight lifting off your chest now that it wasn’t just you staring down a mountain of requirements alone. The way Earl Grey had broken everything into clean, digestible pieces, color-coded tabs and annotated margins made it all feel far less impossible than it had even ten minutes ago.

“I think I’ll look over it tomorrow,” you said, fingers brushing the edge of the folder. “Maybe… after I’ve slept and recovered from Professor Almond Custard’s war on attention spans.”

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie snorted. “Sleep first, suffer later. Classic.”

Chai Latte Cookie giggled. “I’ll bring snacks for morale support. You know, the important kind of support.”

You beamed at her, heart light. “You always do.”

Earl Grey Cookie gave a quiet hum of approval as he slid the folder back into its case. “Sleep is an acceptable excuse for now,” he teased, a rare note of mischief in his otherwise polished tone.

“I’ll hold you to that,” you said, stretching your arms out with a small sigh. “Tomorrow, then. We’ll tackle it together.” There was a warmth at the table that lingered, a quiet promise spoken not in declarations, but in gestures. In how Earl Grey kept the documents close at hand, in how Chai was already thinking of snacks, in the way Hazelnut’s relaxed posture said you’ve got this without a single word. And deep down, you knew you’d be okay. Because you wouldn’t be doing this alone. Chai Latte Cookie reached across the table, her fingers lightly brushing yours as she closed the folder you’d been staring at for the past few minutes.

“You should nap,” she said gently, her tone so sweet and final it left no room for protest. “We’ll wake you when it’s time for tutoring. Promise.”

You blinked at her, blinking slowly, the heaviness in your limbs catching up to you all at once. “But what if-”

“Nope,” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie interrupted with a lopsided grin. “No arguing. You look like you’ve been dragged through five lectures and four existential crises.”

“That’s… alarmingly accurate,” you muttered, already sinking back into your chair. Chai Latte Cookie giggled, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face like she had every right to like she always did. “You’ve done enough for today. Let your brain take a break.” Earl Grey Cookie gave an approving nod, already tidying the papers as if sealing the deal. “We’ll keep everything safe. You’ll be far more efficient after rest.”

You gave a weak laugh, warmth blooming somewhere in your chest at the quiet care in all their voices. “Alright, alright. Just for a bit.”

Chai Latte Cookie stood and held out her hand, helping you up. “Come on. You can use my blanket. It smells like cinnamon and reassurance.” You let her guide you away. Chai Latte Cookie’s dorm room smelled exactly like her warm, floral, and ever-so-slightly spiced, like steamed milk kissed with cardamom and honey. The door clicked shut behind you, muffling the sounds of the hallway, and you stood still for a moment, letting the atmosphere settle around you. It was soft.

Every corner of her room breathed softness, like it had been designed not just for comfort but for care. The walls were a muted rose color, washed gently in natural light filtering through gossamer curtains embroidered with little constellations of gold thread. Strands of fairy lights looped from one end of the room to the other, casting a gentle, magical glow over the shelves lined with worn novels, dried flower bundles, and carefully curated trinkets from festivals and markets long past. There were pictures, too tucked in between vases and books of the four of you, of her family, of blurry sunrises captured in shaky hands and bright, unfiltered smiles.

Her bed was massive, layered in plush quilts and far too many pillows, silk, velvet, hand-stitched, patterned with swirling florals and soft geometric shapes. It looked like a cloud pulled down from the heavens and coaxed into a shape meant for daydreamers. On the desk, there were journals open and overflowing with curling cursive and half-doodles, stars and teacups and notes-to-self and an old teapot kept warm on a charm-cast tray. There was a small music box by her windowsill, its paint chipped just slightly, as if it had been loved too much to stay pristine. She placed a hand on your back, guiding you gently toward the bed.

“You’re using the quilt with the little stars,” she declared, already fluffing the pillows behind you. “It’s my favorite, and it’s good for dreaming.”

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie dropped onto a chair in the corner, stretching his arms overhead with a yawn. “Place still smells like poetry,” he muttered.

Earl Grey Cookie only nodded once, fingers ghosting along the edge of her bookshelf as he glanced over the titles. “A surprising number of historical romances,” he mused.

“I contain multitudes,” Chai Latte replied sweetly, pulling the quilt over your legs once you settled down.

“And a hopeless romantic streak.” You murmured something incoherent into the pillow, and she brushed your hair back, tucking it behind your ear like she always had. Her touch was as familiar as the rest of her gentle, grounded, and unflinchingly kind. “We’ll be right here,” she whispered, voice quiet enough to rest on your skin like sunlight. “Just rest, okay? When it’s time, we’ll wake you.”

The last thing you saw before your eyes drifted shut was the soft, golden lantern light flickering above, casting faint stars across the ceiling. And the sound you fell asleep to wasn’t a lullaby, but the low hum of your friends talking softly just beyond you, safe and close. You didn’t remember falling asleep. One moment, the quilt was warm against your cheek, the scent of Chai Latte Cookie’s lavender sachets settling deep into your lungs, and the next gentle fingers were brushing over your shoulder.

“Hey,” Chai Latte Cookie murmured, her voice like steam rising from a fresh cup. “Time to wake up, sleepyhead.”

You groaned softly, blinking into the plush folds of her favorite star-quilt, bleary-eyed and dazed. The golden hue of the room hadn’t changed much, though the fairy lights now glowed a little brighter with the late afternoon sun dipping behind the window curtains. A hand gently patted your back.

“You should get to your study date,” Chai Latte said lightly, a playful lilt in her voice. Your eyes opened a little wider. “Tutoring,” she corrected, in the exact same breath, as if she hadn’t just tripped over her words.

“Obviously.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie snorted from where he lounged on the floor, flipping through one of Chai’s romance novels. “That slip was louder than a thunderclap.”

Earl Grey Cookie, ever composed and mildly insufferable, offered a knowing glance over the rim of his teacup. “I believe the term is freudian. Though I’m not entirely convinced you mind the implication.”

Your face flushed as you pushed yourself upright, the quilt pooling around your waist. “It’s tutoring,” you mumbled, throat dry from sleep. “Academically-motivated tutoring.”

Chai Latte Cookie only grinned, her hands on her hips, betraying no shame. “Mm-hmm. That’s what we’re calling it.” You shoved your arms through your sleeves, cheeks still hot as you gathered your bag. “You guys are the worst.”

Earl Grey grinned, rising to his feet, “you still rely on us though.”

Chai handed you a small to-go cup of tea warm and sweet, because of course she’d made something while you slept. “Go,” she whispered, her teasing replaced with something gentler. “You’re gonna be late.”

You clutched the tea to your chest and nodded once. There was no turning back now. Whatever this was, whatever it would become you were already stepping toward it. You moved through the Scholar’s Wing on autopilot, feet barely grazing the floor as you weaved through the golden afternoon light slanting in through the high-arched windows. The halls were quieter now most students still lingering in their final classes or tucked into the library, looking over pages with ink-smudged fingers. But you?

You had somewhere else to be. The cup of tea Chai Latte Cookie had pressed into your hands remained warm, cradled like a charm of courage between your palms. You hadn’t taken a sip yet. Just holding it felt like enough a silent reminder of your friends’ unwavering support. You reached the familiar door tucked in the Scholar’s Wing, simple and heavy, carved with the faint outline of ancient runes barely visible unless you knew how to look. Your hand hesitated for only a breath, hovering before the wood. Then, with a quiet rap of your knuckles, you knocked. Just three times. A formality, really. You both knew you didn’t need to anymore. But still you knocked.

From within, you heard the soft shuffle of parchment, the closing of a book, and then his voice: calm, measured, and unmistakably him. “Come in.”

You exhaled slowly, adjusting your grip on the tea, and pushed the door open. “Hey,” you said, the word coming out softer than you intended, like your voice hadn’t quite found its footing. It was the same type of greeting you always gave him, informal, unceremonious, something that once masked how nervous you used to be just being in the same room as him. You had said it a hundred times, maybe more. But today… it didn’t sound the same. Not to your ears. Shadow Milk Cookie looked up at you from behind his desk, and though his expression remained composed, there was something quieter in the air between you. Something not yet named, but no longer hidden.

He didn’t answer right away. Just held your gaze for a moment too long…long enough that your heart skipped. Then, with a faint curve to his lips, he replied in kind. “Hello.” You sat down without being asked, as you always did. The chair was familiar beneath you, the desk scattered with papers and ink. Everything about the moment should have felt like routine. The familiar rhythm of your tutoring sessions, the way the silence filled the room like velvet, the warm scent of parchment and candle wax clinging to the air. But it wasn’t the same. Not really. Because even though you were still you and he was still him, something had changed. The truth had shifted the light in the room gentle, but unmistakable. And maybe no one else would notice. But you did. You sat straighter than usual. Your fingers didn’t fidget with your notes. And when you looked at him you saw something new in the way his gaze lingered, in the way he waited for you to speak like he already knew you would, but still hoped to be surprised. “Long day?” he asked, voice calm as always, but softer somehow.

You smiled, small and private, the kind of smile that only belonged here. “Not yet,” you murmured. “But it’s about to be.” You reached into your bag and pulled out your notes slightly crumpled from being stuffed between too many books, corners folded and scribbled with your usual half-formed thoughts and highlighted passages you weren’t entirely sure you understood. You flattened the pages out on his desk between the two of you, fingers hovering over the diagrams you'd drawn. “So,” you said, nudging the notebook forward, “I think I’m missing something here between the leyline convergence and the anchor sigils.” You tapped your pen against the margin, frowning. “This part just… doesn’t make sense to me.”

Shadow Milk Cookie leaned forward, his expression sharpening not with judgment, but with focus. His eyes swept across the notes, tracing the lines you’d drawn, the hastily-sketched symbols. And just like that, something shifted. Gone was the quiet, almost tender stillness from moments ago. This was the Sage of Truth. His gaze took on that unmistakable glint, bright as a star yet weighted like ancient stone. He didn’t rush. He simply began his voice even, calm, yet commanding in that way that always made you sit a little straighter, hold your breath a little longer.

“You’re approaching it as if the sigils are meant to reinforce the leyline. But in this configuration,” he said, lightly turning the notebook toward you, “they’re actually meant to contain its flow, not strengthen it.”

He reached for a piece of parchment, already illustrating the concept anew, translating the arcane theory into something tangible with practiced ease. His voice wove through the explanation, never faltering, never hesitating. Words that might’ve felt impenetrable in a lecture hall unfolded here with clarity, like pages turned by a knowing hand. “And this,” he added, pointing toward a corner of your notes, “is not a convergence, but a divergence caused by residual energy. You mistook it for equilibrium but in truth, it’s instability.”

You blinked. “But how is that even sustainable?” He glanced at you, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Because it isn’t. That’s the lesson.” Oh. You sat back slightly, processing the weight of his words not just the answer, but the way he always knew how to give it. As if he had peeled back the layers of your confusion before you’d even fully formed the question. It was humbling. A reminder of why you’d come to rely on these sessions more than you ever thought you would. And yet… this time, the air between you carried something more. You weren’t just looking at a scholar, or a guide, or even the Fount of Knowledge. You were looking at him. The one who had seen your worst confusion and never turned you away. The one who’d waited quietly, patiently for you to understand more than just theory. You exhaled slowly, gaze flickering from his notes back to his face. “…You always make it sound so simple.”

Shadow Milk Cookie looked up at you fully then, the golden light catching in his eyes like some distant, steady flame. “Truth,” he said gently, “is rarely simple. But clarity that, I can offer.” And you believed him. You always had. You leaned forward slightly, propping your chin on your hand, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at your lips. Your notebook still lay between the two of you, now marked with new annotations and precise diagrams that only he could make look so elegant.

“You know,” you said, half-teasing, “I was thinking…”

Shadow Milk Cookie glanced up from the parchment he’d just finished sketching on, one brow arching in mild curiosity. “Were you?”

You gave a soft, amused exhale. “What’s it like? Being able to reshape the academic world with, like… a flick of your wrist?” You wiggled your fingers dramatically for effect. “One stroke of a quill and suddenly entire departments are reorganizing themselves to follow your latest lecture.”

There was a beat of silence. Then he laughed. A real one, low and soft, like the echo of a library chuckle that had never quite forgotten how to be human. “If only it were as effortless as you make it sound,” he replied, eyes gleaming with something like fondness. “Influence is not granted by the flick of a wrist. It is earned over years, sometimes centuries by the flicker of ideas. The wrist simply carries them forward.”

You wrinkled your nose. “You could’ve just said, ‘It’s a lot of work.’”

“I could have,” he agreed, amused. “But then, you wouldn’t have had your little moment of reverence.”

You scoffed. “Who said I was reverent?”

He leaned forward ever so slightly, voice dipping lower, quieter. “You speak as if I move stars with my hands,” he murmured. “Yet it is you who offers constellations in your margins, and truths in half-formed questions.”

Your mouth opened, but nothing came out. Your face flushed with heat as you quickly averted your gaze, muttering, “That’s… unfair.”

Shadow Milk Cookie only tilted his head, the faintest smile still playing at his lips. “You’re the one who asked.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “I’m never asking anything again.”

“You will,” he said, with maddening certainty. You would. You were supposed to be reviewing ley line variance theories, something about elemental drift and spatial fractures but somewhere between diagrams and ink stains, your mind veered off-course. It always did with him. You tapped your pen against the page, then looked up at him slowly, voice casual despite the steady thrum beneath your skin. “If you weren’t doing this teaching, theorizing, being the Fount of Knowledge or whatever what do you think you’d be doing instead?”

Shadow Milk Cookie paused, the tip of his quill held just above the margin of your notes. “An intriguing question,” he said, not looking up yet. “Though I suspect anything I answer will sound terribly pretentious.”

You tilted your head, smirking. “Try me.”

He finally set the quill down, folding his hands atop the desk, expression thoughtful. “I suppose I’d be… a lighthouse keeper.”

You blinked. “What?”

“A lighthouse keeper,” he repeated, as if the idea wasn’t completely ridiculous. “Somewhere far from here. Remote. A cliffside, perhaps. I would tend to the light. Keep records. Listen to the sea.”

You stared at him. “That’s so dramatic.”

“I am dramatic,” he said mildly. “And there’s poetry in solitude.”

You leaned forward, grinning now. “So you’d rather be alone on a craggy coast with no one but a thousand squawking seabirds for company?”

“I never said I’d be alone,” he said, and the corner of his mouth twitched. “I’d simply prefer… quieter company. Perhaps someone who asks nonsensical questions to fill the silence.” Your breath hitched. It was such a small thing his tone was still and even. His gaze was still soft but it made your heart lurch anyway.

You looked back down at your notes, suddenly embarrassed by how warm your face felt. “…You’re impossible,” you mumbled.

“I prefer inevitable,” he replied smoothly. You bit the inside of your cheek, holding back a laugh. And for a long, quiet moment, the question of ley lines was forgotten, suspended in the hush that had settled between you the kind that needed no explanation. The study session passed more smoothly than you had anticipated. The gaps in your understanding didn’t feel like deep chasms waiting to swallow you whole, but rather, shallow dips you could step across with care. You flipped through your notes with a practiced hand, the ink clean and your diagrams if a little messy and accurate.

Shadow Milk Cookie sat across from you in that same elegant stillness he always did, his hands folded atop a stack of tomes, golden eyes sweeping across the parchment you laid out before him. He didn’t interrupt, didn’t steer, he simply watched, letting you walk yourself through the concepts. You knew he’d only speak if you faltered, if your logic veered too far off course, but today… you didn’t falter much at all.

“…So, if the anchor pulse destabilizes, it starts to slip through the ley line current, right?” you asked, tapping your pen against the diagram you'd drawn. “But if the convergence point is reinforced beforehand, the distortion minimizes less of a ripple?”

His gaze didn’t leave the page. “Precisely.”

You looked up at him, blinking. “Wait, really?” A slow nod. “You’ve grasped the core concept. That’s more than most.” There was no teasing in his tone, no quiet amusement at your surprise just a calm certainty, the kind of praise that didn’t flare and vanish but settled deep into your chest like a quiet ember. You looked back down at your notes, a small smile tugging at your lips. It felt good, so good to not be drowning for once. Every now and then, you still asked a question. But they weren’t frantic or confused, not desperate grasps at meaning. They were thoughtful, steady. The kind you could only ask when you understood enough to start wondering why. And he answered them with the same gentle depth he always had. But there was something different about it now. Something less guarded. Something warmer. Eventually, you leaned back in your seat, stretching your arms over your head with a soft groan. “Okay,” you said, smiling a little, “I think that’s everything. I mean for now. Until I find a way to confuse myself again tomorrow.”

Shadow Milk Cookie regarded you with a soft look, the corners of his mouth curving upward in that quiet, elusive way of his. “Then tomorrow, I will be here.”

You let out a laugh, your hand brushing your notes into a neat pile. “Of course you will. You’re as consistent as the moon.”

He tilted his head slightly, expression unreadable but not distant. “Even the moon waxes and wanes.”

“…But you don’t,” you said, then quickly added, “At least, not when it comes to this.” He didn’t answer right away. But his gaze lingered on you longer than it needed to. Something soft. Something steady. And you found that for today you didn’t need him to say anything more. Shadow Milk Cookie had begun tidying the corner of his desk a quiet, practiced movement, like brushing away the remnants of time. You gathered your things just as softly, your fingertips trailing along the edge of your notebook before finally lifting it from the polished wood. But as you stood, something lingered. Not just your steps, not just your thoughts, but a truth you hadn’t spoken yet. The kind that pressed at your throat with hesitant breath. You clutched your notebook to your chest, and before turning to go, you paused by his desk once more.

“…Can I ask you something?”

He looked up immediately. Not surprised. Not impatient. Just present. “As always.”

You bit your lip, gaze faltering. “Do you want to keep this” you gestured vaguely between you, between the two chairs and the shared silence and all the unnamed moments that had stacked quietly in the space between your hearts “us… quiet?”

His expression didn’t change at first. But you saw the flicker in his eyes. A small shift, like a truth catching the light. “I wouldn’t mind,” you said, quickly, earnestly. “If you did. If that’s what you want. I mean, I understand. You’re… you.” You offered a small smile. “You belong to a bigger world than I do. You have so much ahead of you, and I just…” You swallowed. “I don’t want to be the thing that ever holds you back. I want your happiness more than anything.”

Shadow Milk Cookie remained still for a heartbeat. Then another. He set the scroll in his hand down with quiet precision, the soft papery hush of it folding into the quiet. His gaze met yours not the gaze of the Sage of Truth, but of the man beneath it. The man who let you ask nonsensical questions just to hear your voice. The one who never looked away when you were uncertain.

“You are not something to hide,” he said at last, his voice low and even as always held the weight of something certain. “But some truths deserve to unfold in peace.” Your heart gave a strange, aching flutter. He stood, stepping around the desk not to close the distance between you, but simply to see you off, as he always did.

“If discretion grants us quiet joy for a time,” he said softly, “then let us choose that joy.” You nodded slowly, understanding, grateful. “Then that’s what we’ll do.”

You turned toward the door, pulse steadying as your hand reached for the handle. “And for the record,” his voice came, just before you opened it, “your happiness is not a cost to be weighed against mine.” You turned to glance at him, surprised. His gaze met yours, unwavering. “It is part of it.” That moment was enough to carry you through the rest of the night.

The dining hall buzzed with its usual chatter, but your friends were easy to find same table, same chaotic energy. Chai Latte Cookie spotted you first, her hand already raised before you’d fully stepped inside. She waved you over with all the subtlety of a spell gone awry. “Look who finally returns from their very academic meeting,” she sang, scooting over to make room.

You slid into your seat, giving her a look. “Don’t start.”

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie snorted into his cup. “Oh, we’ve already started. You’re just catching up.”

Earl Grey Cookie, ever composed, gave a polite nod. “Welcome back.” He set his teacup down with that familiar, deliberate clink. “We took the liberty of organizing your Spire application.”

You blinked. “Wait, what?”

Chai Latte grinned. “Well, not submitting anything. Just getting everything in one place.”

Hazelnut stretched his arms behind his head. “More like rescuing your drafts from binder purgatory.”

Earl Grey reached into his satchel and produced a neatly clipped stack of papers, which he passed across the table to you. “You had almost everything already. We compiled what we found. Personal essay, transcripts, relevant project summaries, letters you’ve started…”

Chai Latte Cookie beamed. “We even labeled the sections. Earl Grey wouldn’t let me use glitter ink, though.”

“I spared you,” Earl Grey said dryly. You flipped through the pages, a bit stunned. “This is… really well-organized.”

“Of course it is,” Chai said, reaching over to straighten one of the tabs. “He color-codes everything like his life depends on it.”

Earl Grey ignored her. “You’ve got four weeks until the deadline. But if you want to be considered for the earlier review batch, I’d recommend finishing your research statement by the end of next week.”

You looked at the stack, heart catching just a little at the effort they’d put in. “I didn’t even ask.”

“You didn’t have to,” Chai said, nudging your arm. “We knew you’d want to apply early.”

Hazelnut nodded. “Besides, this way you don’t have to panic last-minute. Very unlike you, I know.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips was hard to fight. “I don’t even look stressed.”

“No,” Earl Grey agreed smoothly, “you look suspiciously well-balanced. Which is why we struck while the calm was fresh.”

“We can go over the rest of it tomorrow,” Chai offered, tugging your tray toward you. “Tonight, just eat and bask in how loved and supported you are.”

You laughed. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re welcome.” She tapped your arm. “Come back to my dorm after, yeah? We’ll start organizing the research sections. Or nap. Or both.”

Hazelnut grinned. “Mostly the nap.”

Earl Grey just smirked, sipping his tea. “I’ll bring copies of the department rubrics tomorrow. For your reference.” Your chest ached, but in a good way. Full. Grateful. This strange, unexpected life you were building wasn't just yours anymore. “Okay,” you murmured, hugging the papers closer to your chest.

“Tomorrow.” The thought of the Spire didn’t feel far away. It felt like something real. Something possible. Something within reach. You let your fingers linger on the edge of the neatly compiled documents, flipping absently through the labeled sections again as warmth rose in your chest. All the care, all the little details each one held pieces of your friends. It wasn’t just their effort you held in your hands. It was them.

“So…” you said, glancing up at them around the table, “what about you guys? Are you all submitting for early review too?”

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie looked up from his plate, a half-eaten bread roll hanging between his fingers. “That’s the plan,” he said. “Assuming Chai doesn’t start rewriting her personal statement every other night.”

Chai Latte Cookie swatted his arm. “I’m just thinking about fine-tuning the narrative voice.”

“You’re going to be rewriting your life story like it’s a romance novel,” he shot back, grinning.

“It is!” she declared with a dramatic flourish, earning a chuckle from Earl Grey Cookie. You turned to him. “And you?”

Earl Grey lifted his cup, always so poised. “I’ll be submitting before the week is out,” he said.

“Just waiting on one final signature.” You nodded slowly. “So… letters of recommendation are all that’s left for everyone?”

“Pretty much,” Chai said, balancing her spoon on her finger. “Professor Mulberry’s writing mine, but I’m going to ask Professor Pistachio, too. She knows my research better.”

Hazelnut raised a hand. “Professor Currant. He already said yes. He owes me after I helped him fix his projector like three times.” Earl Grey took a measured sip of tea. “I��ve asked Professor Cardamom, as mentioned.”

He paused, looking at you. “Have you decided who you’ll ask?” Your breath caught. Your thoughts immediately drifted to him his eyes, the soft way he’d looked at you when you’d asked what you were, the weight in your chest when he didn’t answer but stayed anyway.

“I think I know,” you said softly. Chai Latte’s smile bloomed like sunlight. “He’d say yes,” she said. “I know he would.”

You offered a sheepish smile, tucking your papers closer. “I’ll… ask tomorrow. Maybe.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie smirked. “Oh, come on. You’ve already made out with the man, what's a letter of rec in comparison?”

Your face went red. “Hazel-!” Chai burst out laughing, Earl Grey pressed a hand to his mouth in a rare moment of stifled amusement, and you could only bury your face in your hands.

“I hate you all,” you muttered into your palms.

“No, you don’t,” Chai teased, leaning her shoulder against yours. “You love us. And you’re going to do great.” You peeked out from between your fingers, and for a moment, the thought of the Spire didn’t feel heavy or impossible or frightening. It felt like something you were walking toward together. Maybe it wasn’t about reaching the top alone. Maybe it was about the ones walking beside you the whole way there. And tomorrow… you’d ask.

Dinner had ended in a blur of laughter and half-finished stories, the kind of night that made you forget the time until it was too late. By the time you and Chai Latte Cookie reached her dorm, the halls of the Orchid Wing had quieted to a sleepy hush, the enchanted lanterns dimmed to their softer, golden hue. Her room welcomed you with its usual warmth, soft and familiar the scent of cardamom and honey curling around you like a shawl. The constellation-threaded curtains danced in the faint breeze, and the fairy lights blinked low and slow, like they too were ready for rest. Books and trinkets stood like sentinels in their places, watching over the space with a kind of loving stillness. Chai didn’t bother to turn on any brighter lights. Instead, she set her satchel down with a sigh and pulled out the packet Earl Grey had prepared. “Okay,” she whispered, her voice a murmur in the hush of the room. “Research tracks. Let’s at least pick the ones you’re leaning toward so we’re not scrambling tomorrow.”

You dropped your bag beside hers, stifling a yawn as you joined her on the bed. The plush quilts dipped beneath your weight like they were embracing you, and the moment you sat down, you felt how late it truly was. “Do we really have Almond Custard first thing?” you muttered, rubbing your eyes. You don’t know why you bothered to ask…you knew the answer.

Chai smirked. “Unfortunately, yes. Bright and early. And you know how he gets if we’re late he drones slower just to punish us.”

You groaned and flopped back against the pillows. “This is cruel. There should be a rule against late-night responsibility and early-morning boredom coexisting.”

She chuckled, laying down beside you with the research packet still in her hands. “Just pick your top three tonight, and we’ll organize the rest tomorrow after class.”

“Fine.” You reached over, squinting at the categories in the low light. “Leylines. Dimensional stability. Artifact restoration.”

Chai hummed in approval. “Strong choices. We’ll mark those and build out the proposal after class.”

You let out a soft breath. “Thanks for doing this with me.” She didn’t say anything at first. Just reached over and gently adjusted one of the velvet pillows behind your head. “Of course.” You both knew you wouldn’t be awake much longer. She clicked off the fairy lights with a flick of her fingers, leaving only the soft glow of the charm-warmed teapot on her desk. Then she settled beside you, her arm brushing yours beneath the covers.

“Wake-up call at dawn,” she said through a yawn, “and I swear, if you fake sleep, I’m dunking you in cold water.” You smiled sleepily. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Liar.”

You let the silence stretch between you, quiet and safe. And then, just as your eyes began to flutter shut, you heard her whisper, barely audible beneath the breath of the curtains “I’m proud of you.” You didn’t answer. Not because you didn’t hear her. But because your heart did, and that was enough. Sleep claimed you gently, wrapped in the warmth and scent of tea and twilight. And someone who had always, always stayed.

The next morning came far too soon. Drowsy sunlight filtered through the constellation-speckled curtains, casting golden patterns over the room. The air smelled of jasmine and cinnamon warm, familiar, like the remnants of a half-forgotten dream. You blinked awake slowly, blinking against the soft light, your mind still wrapped in the folds of sleep. And that’s when you noticed it. Chai Latte Cookie had, at some point in the night, wrapped herself around you like a favorite pillow. Her arm was slung over your waist, her cheek resting against your shoulder, her breath soft and steady in the crook of your neck. Her hair smelled like her tea floral, warm, and sweet and the weight of her presence was both grounding and… impossible to slip away from.

You shifted slightly, trying not to wake her. Her grip tightened. You groaned softly. Of course. A muffled voice mumbled from behind you. “No moving. Warm.”

“Chai,” you whispered, poking at her arm, “we have class.”

“Don’t care,” she mumbled, nuzzling closer. “You’re comfy. Five more minutes.”

“Professor Almond Custard will literally bore us to death if we’re late.” A dramatic sigh. Her arm loosened slightly, but she still didn’t let go.

You gave her a gentle shake. “Chai.” Another groan.

Then, reluctantly, she peeled her arm back with the sluggish agony of someone parting with the last honey-drizzled waffle on campus. She flopped onto her back, blinking up at the ceiling with one eye open. “…You’re so annoying in the mornings,” she muttered, voice hoarse with sleep.

You smiled. “You say that like it’s new.”

She waved a hand limply toward the teapot still warm on her charm tray. “Warm tea on the desk. Go be functional. I’ll rise like the dead in a minute.” As you sat up and stretched, your heart swelled a little with affection. It was the kind of morning that, despite the looming threat of Almond Custard’s lecture, felt soft and safe woven with lazy smiles and quiet friendship.

You reached for the tea. “You’re the one who latched onto me like I was a quilt.” Her only response was a sleepy hum and a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes… but lingered all the same. You paused mid-sip, blinking down at the cup in your hands. The tea was warm and comforting, as if it had just been poured and yet you knew neither of you had gotten up in hours.

You glanced over your shoulder at Chai Latte Cookie, who still hadn’t moved from her sprawled position on the bed, one arm thrown dramatically over her eyes like a swooning noble.

“…How is this tea still warm?” you asked, eyeing the cup like it might reveal its secrets if you stared hard enough. “It’s been sitting here since last night, hasn’t it?”

She cracked open one eye, lips curling into a lazy, triumphant smirk. “Mm. Magic.” You squinted. “That’s not an answer.”

“It is an answer. Just not one you understand before breakfast.”

You set the cup back on the tray, though your hands lingered near the steam curling up in delicate wisps. “Seriously though, what spell keeps tea warm but doesn’t overbrew it?”

Chai rolled onto her side, propping her head up with one hand. “An enchantment I learned from my aunt. She used to make whole pitchers of chai and keep them warm for days. Said the secret was warmth without burn. Gentle heat. Like affection.” She grinned. “Like me.”

You gave her a look. “So what you’re saying is the tea is imbued with the essence of you.”

“Exactly.” She tossed a pillow at you with very little aim. “Drink it with reverence.” You caught it with a laugh, shaking your head. “You are so full of yourself.”

“And you love it.” You didn’t argue. Mostly because she wasn’t wrong. The morning air was crisp as you and Chai Latte Cookie stepped out of the dorm, the soft clink of her tea thermos tapping against her satchel with every step. You’d barely managed to wriggle out of her grip earlier; she had clung to you sometime during the night like a beloved plush, soft and immovable, mumbling half-asleep protests when you’d tried to move.

You’d barely had time before the morning pulled you both forward, the hazy light of dawn glimmering through the ivy-veiled arches of Blueberry Yogurt Academy. By the time you reached the central fountain on the way to Professor Almond Custard’s lecture, Earl Grey Cookie was already there, unsurprisingly punctual, tea in hand and posture perfectly composed. He nodded toward you both, adjusting the strap of his satchel. “Good morning,” he greeted smoothly. “I hope the sleepover didn’t devolve into midnight chaos.”

“Oh, it absolutely did,” Chai said proudly.

“You didn’t hear about it because you weren’t invited,” you added. He hummed in amusement, eyes twinkling behind his glasses. “Noted.”

Then Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie arrived, nearly bouncing down the steps with his usual easy charm. “There they are!” he said with a grin, stepping up beside you.

“Good morning to you too,” you said, already bracing for whatever chaos he brought with him. “Hold on,” he said, reaching into the pocket of his coat. “I found something the other day meant to give it to you sooner but kept forgetting.” He pulled out a small pendant on a delicate chain, an orchid carved in fine silver, its petals etched with intricate veins and tiny dew-drop sparkles that caught the light.

“I saw it in a market stall,” he explained. “Made me think of you. It’s got this… quiet strength to it. Like it blooms when it wants, not when it’s told.”

You blinked, stunned. “Hazelnut…”

He grinned, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Sentimental. Just take it before I regret getting all poetic this early in the morning.” You took the pendant carefully, the silver cool against your palm. “Thank you. It’s… beautiful.”

Chai Latte leaned in, whispering with a wicked smile, “You’re getting all the suitors lately.” You elbowed her gently, but your heart fluttered all the same.

Hazelnut just chuckled. “Come on, we’re gonna be late for Almond Custard’s lecture of doom.” Together, the four of you moved as one through the morning mist, the comfort of friendship tucked quietly between the space of laughter. The lecture hall was unusually still for an early morning. No fidgeting. No distracted glances at the window. No whispered side conversations. For once, everyone including your trio of partners-in-chaos was focused. Professor Almond Custard stood at the front of the room, droning on in his usual syrup-slow cadence about interdimensional grain storage and enchanted fermentation ratios, but somehow… it stuck.

Maybe it was the looming exam next week. Maybe it was the collective determination to end the semester strong. Maybe it was just that shared sense of urgency that crept in when the finish line was finally in sight. You found yourself scribbling notes faster than you could think, underlining terms you knew you’d have to memorize, circling formulas with half-formed mnemonic devices already taking shape in your head. Beside you, Chai Latte Cookie was unusually silent, her brow furrowed and her pen dancing swiftly across her notebook. Her handwriting, always looping and dreamy, had sharpened into something tighter still lovely, but undeniably focused.

Every so often, she’d tilt her notes your way for you to copy something you’d missed. Behind you, Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie didn’t make a single joke. Not one. His gaze was locked on the board, his fingers tapping steadily as he jotted down formula after formula. His notes weren’t neat, no surprise but they were thorough. You could hear the quiet rustle of his pages turning, one after another, like he was chasing the lecture’s pace and determined not to fall behind.

And Earl Grey Cookie, of course, looked like he was born for moments like these. His notes were already color-coded, diagrams annotated, keywords highlighted with exacting precision. He barely blinked, the corner of his mouth twitching every so often when something particularly important was mentioned. He looked perfectly calm, but you could see the intensity in his eyes, the kind of focus that could burn through stone if left unchecked. You sat straighter. You matched their pace.

You wanted to do well not just for yourself, but for them. For everything you’d been building. For the Spire. The professor’s voice faded in and out of clarity, not because you weren’t listening, but because your mind was working faster now linking concepts, stitching them together with things you’d learned from Shadow Milk Cookie, from your own late-night study sessions, from the lingering weight of all the time you’d invested. This was the final stretch. And you weren’t going to stumble. Not now. The clink of chalk against the board marked the end of a long equation. Almond Custard cleared his throat and turned back toward the hall.

“This,” he intoned, “will be the cornerstone of your final exam.” A quiet rustle of pages. Pens pressing faster against parchment. No one slacked. No one dared. You glanced at your friends, all of them immersed, serious, determined, burning quietly with a shared sense of purpose. You took a breath. And kept writing. The lecture ended with a dry scrape of chalk and Professor Almond Custard’s half-hearted reminder about next week’s exam. You were already closing your notes before he’d finished his sentence, your fingers itching to be anywhere else.

Outside the classroom, the halls buzzed as usual. You and your friends walked in easy step together, still half-absorbed in the material. Earl Grey had already started analyzing one of the professor’s offhand comments. Chai Latte, always the multitasker, chimed in while braiding a bit of ribbon into her hair. Hazelnut Biscotti popped a candy into his mouth and offered you one without even looking. You shook your head, hugging your portfolio close.

“Hey… I’m gonna head to the Scholar’s Wing.” Chai looked over with a knowing glance. “Another meeting with him?”

“Tutoring,” you said too fast, clearing your throat. “Mostly. Also… I want him to look over this.” You lifted your binder slightly for emphasis.

Hazelnut raised an eyebrow. “You don’t trust our craftsmanship?”

“Please,” you said, giving him a look. “I trust you three more than I trust myself on most days.”

“Correct answer,” Earl Grey murmured. You smiled faintly. “I just… want a fourth opinion. He sees things differently. Thoroughly. Painfully, sometimes.”

Chai Latte nudged your elbow. “You’re hoping for an endorsement, aren’t you?”

“I mean,” you began, “if anyone’s word could get something noticed by the Spire committee, it’s his.” Hazelnut gave a low whistle. “Think he’d recommend all four of us?”

You shrugged. “I’m not counting on anything. He probably wouldn’t unless he thought it was deserved. Too much integrity, that one.”

Earl Grey nodded in agreement. “He won’t be swayed by sentiment. But he will tell you the truth. Whether you want to hear it or not.”

“That’s the plan,” you murmured. Chai gave your shoulder a light squeeze. “Go get your truth, then.” You glanced back at the three of them, warmth pooling low in your chest. “Thanks. I’ll meet you at dinner?”

“We’ll save your seat,” Hazelnut said, already pulling Chai into a new conversation. And with that, you turned down the familiar path to the Scholar’s Wing, fingers curled tight around the edge of your binder. This wasn’t about doubt. You just wanted to know what he saw when he looked at your work, when he looked at you. You weren’t late. You weren’t even close to late, actually but your pace had been brisk more out of nerves than necessity. Still, there was something jittery about the way your fingers tapped against your binder, like your body hadn’t yet received the memo that everything was, technically, on time.

The Scholar’s Wing greeted you with its usual hush soft-echoing footsteps, warm sconces glowing like suspended starlight, the faint scent of ancient parchment lingering in the air. You passed a few scholars deep in discussion near the far alcoves, but no one paid you any mind. It was peaceful. Familiar. And maybe that was what made it worse when your foot suddenly slipped on the overly polished marble. It wasn’t dramatic. No witnesses. No loud crash. But your binder, your painstakingly organized, section-labeled, early-application-ready binder flew from your hands in an arc that felt cruelly slow. The contents fanned out in every direction: pages sliding across the floor like they were trying to flee your academic future, post-it notes scattering like panicked birds. You didn’t fall. You just stumbled, catching yourself with a quick, awkward step forward.

But somehow, that was worse. You stood still for a second, heat flooding your face. Not because anyone was watching. Not because someone laughed. But because of that ridiculous little flinch in your chest that whispered, Of course. Of course this would happen now. You crouched down quickly, gathering up your pages, cursing every single loose document for not staying put in their designated folders. You had dividers for a reason.

Earl Grey would have been appalled. A soft sigh slipped past your lips as you pressed everything back into place, palms brushing away the dust that had settled along the page corners. You gave the binder a pat like it was a pet that needed soothing and straightened. Still not late. Still fine. Just… slightly less composed than you wanted to be. You smoothed your hands down the front of your robes, forced your shoulders back, and took the last stretch of hallway with steady steps. Shadow Milk Cookie’s door came into view, tall and dark and just a little intimidating, like it always was. You paused at the threshold, one breath to center yourself, then knocked three times softly. For formality’s sake.

And then, you opened the door, stepping inside with your binder pressed close to your chest and a heart that beat just a little too loud in your ears. Shadow Milk Cookie didn’t glance up at first. His desk was covered in constellations of parchment and drifting quills notes levitating just above the surface, slowly rotating through invisible orbits as though the air around him itself hummed with focus. His brows were furrowed, eyes moving quickly as he scribbled something down with a deep indigo ink that shimmered faintly, catching the warm lamplight.

You didn’t speak right away. You never did when he looked like this. There was something endearing about it this kind of focused stillness he fell into when no one else was watching. He wasn’t the Sage of Truth then, or the Fount of Knowledge, or any of the titles inked beneath his name in gilded letters. He was just… Shadow Milk. Lost in thought, and unaware at least for the moment that you had entered. You lingered by the door, hugging your binder closer to your chest. Not out of nervousness, not really. Just… quiet admiration. There was something sacred about watching someone so consumed by something they loved.

Eventually, as if the rhythm of your breath finally disturbed the quiet equilibrium of the room, he paused. His quill stilled mid-word. His fingers relaxed. And then, he lifted his gaze. His eyes found yours calm, luminous, sharp as ever and you could see the shift behind them. That subtle click back into awareness. “You’re early,” he said, voice low and steady, the faintest curl at the edge of his mouth betraying his otherwise unreadable tone.

You smiled, a little sheepish. “Not really. You’re just distracted.” Shadow Milk Cookie set his quill down with care, the ink on the parchment still drying in slow, shimmering trails.

“Is that what I am?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. “Distracted?”

“Thoroughly,” you replied, stepping further into the room. “But in a charming way.” He huffed, a soft exhale that could almost be called a laugh, and leaned back in his chair as his papers gently rearranged themselves with a flutter.

“And what brings you here with such flattery on your tongue?” he asked, eyes gleaming. You placed your binder on his desk and slid into your usual seat.

“I want a fourth opinion,” you said. “On the Spire portfolio. My friends helped me get it together, but well, I figured I’d ask the most terrifyingly honest person I know to look it over.”

He looked at the binder. Then back at you. “And what makes you think I would go easy on you?”

“I don’t,” you admitted, smiling. “That’s the point.” You nudged the binder closer across his desk, its neatly clipped pages now feeling heavier than ever. Your fingers hesitated just for a second before slipping away. “I want you to look it over,” you said, meeting his gaze. “All of it.”

Shadow Milk Cookie’s eyes flicked to the binder, then back to you. “I gathered as much.” You let out a breath, shoulders tightening with something nervous but steady. “And I want you to be honest. Completely. Brutally, if you have to.”

There was a pause. He looked at you not just with those piercing, soul-deep eyes that always made you feel like your thoughts were laid bare, but with something gentler hidden beneath the surface. Something knowing. “Brutally?” he echoed. “Even if it leaves your pride in tatters?”

You snorted. “Please. My pride’s already hanging on by a thread.”

He considered you for a moment longer, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he reached out and opened the binder. “If you ask for truth, you shall have it,” he said, flipping to the first page. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You smiled faintly, hands settling in your lap. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

A/N Hey y'all <3 So I finally got around to posting this I am so excited to finally have more time to write and work on things I want so yah!!! HELLL YEAHHH!!!! anyways I have been doing well... I am getting through my inbox...I will have more time tomorrow...Now excuse me as I go to finish my genetics lab report <3 I'm almost done

anyways...

Remember to follow and reblog for more bangers 😎😎😎🔥🔥🔥🔥

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arijackz · 1 year ago

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PICK A CARD: The ☆Glow-Up☆ 2024 Has Planned For you

♠︎ “At bottom every man knows well enough that he is a unique being, only once on this earth; and by no extraordinary chance will such a marvelously picturesque piece of diversity in unity as he is, ever be put together a second time.” ― Friedrich Nietzsche

Disclaimer: This is a general reading, take what resonates.

p1 → p2 ↙︎ p3 → p4

✧ Pile One ✧ (queen of cups, 5oC rev., 10oC, the chariot, the magician, 4oS)

Release.

➣ The central theme of this glow-up is inner fulfillment. You are on a journey of true self-love. The queen of cups is sitting proudly at the front of the spread. Major water energy here. You are unraveling emotional trauma down to your roots and reevaluating past attachments and burdens with the six of cups.

➣ I picture floodgates opening, allowing all of the pent-up emotional turmoil to release and finally free you on a deep psychophysiological level. You released something, an attachment or mindset that was set in motion during your formative years that was hindering your ability to hold compassion for yourself.

➣ Shuffling my music, "Daddy Issues" by the Neighbourhood came on. I also saw the hierophant while shuffling the cards. You experienced a lot of undervaluing and emotional neglect in your home. Emotions in your home were taboo and possibly even punished.

➣ I feel like the people around you growing up, were either always dissatisfied with you in some way or made you feel small. Since this is a group reading, it is hard to word this without excluding a large chunk of the audience, but some of you grew up in a home situation where any form of outward self-love or expression was met with a lot of negativity and ridicule.

➣ This forced you into hiding your true self which groomed you into a mental space full of self-criticism and doubt. In your mind, you were unwanted or inherently broken in some way and deserved less. The way you were treated created deep emotional wounds in your young psyche which made it hard to feel satisfaction within yourself or with the outer world.

➣ With the five of cups, I get the sense that you had felt you were in a desert and unable to fill any of your cups so to speak. Baby, that’s coming to an end. The ten of cups is at the center of your spread with a big ass RAINBOW touching corner to corner. The drought is over. The dark days are over. The sun is shining and you can taste hope again.

➣ On this self-love journey, you are currently grieving (releasing) a degraded perception of yourself along with any beliefs that inhibit you from feeling good about your character.

➣ You are realizing just how enough you are and flushing out all of the poison that was crammed in your head about being inadequate. You are freeing yourself from the chains of feeling unworthy of a good life.

➣ You will find true beauty in every corner of you. Beauty in your laugh, beauty in how you dance, beauty in how you take care of yourself, beauty in what you care about, inner beauty that cannot be taken from you or scaled down. You will nurture your inner world, thus adding color to your outer world.

➣ During this major life-changing period, your view of reality will flip in a way you never thought imaginable. Life will feel worth living again. Your music will move you more and the swift pass of wind will invigorate you with new ideas for creative projects that will propel you forward to lifelong prosperity.

➣ I’m hearing 🎵 “… I'm so, I'm so, I'm so, I'm so, I'm so proud of you” from Make Me Proud by Drake. Congratulations babe, you just broke a fucking karmic cycle. 10 of cups, following the 5 of cups??? You have graduated from a dark knight of the soul and are now approaching new, abundant energy.

➣ The universe is proud of you. Your ancestors are proud of you. Your inner child is proud of you. Your God(s) is proud of you. All of the cells in your body are proud of you. You have released something cosmically within you. Please hug yourself and have a good cry because you are doing something you never believed you could. Your hopes and dreams are unfolding.

➣ Get ready to make your daydream your reality. With the chariot, you’re prepping to TAKE AWWFF BABY. The release of this blockage has raised your energetic vibration and is ushering bountiful opportunities into your life, new passions, new ideas, and new connections.

➣ Your newfound faith in yourself is going to give you the courage to go out and experience life. Most importantly you will find satisfaction in the mundane. Every frame of your day will be brighter and feel better. You have gone from 5 empty cups to an eternally flowing fountain. Take the time to thank yourself for all of the hard work you put in to get here.

➣ Advice: Extend yourself grace. During this period, you will have enlightening moments that will unlock pieces of the puzzle surrounding your trauma and a lot more will make sense and become easier to process.

➣ However, as the flawed humans we are, we tend to make sense of something and then turn around and beat ourselves up for not realizing it sooner. Or, minimizing our pain and criticizing our past selves for not doing more about it because hindsight truly is a dirty dawg. No that is not how it works.

➣ That’s like when you were in school and the teacher would start bullying you for not understanding a subject. YOU HAVE A DEGREE??? I’m fourteen?? Of course, you can say it's simple when you have already “graduated” and learned from it, not when you’re in the middle of experiencing it. You gained clarity during this tower moment and can now see the bigger picture and liberate yourself.

➣ Younger you fought to make your way through the fog and deserves grace because you would not be here today without your younger self’s perseverance. Forgive yourself for the time it took to get here and see the beauty in your evolution throughout the journey.

➣ Also, drink plenty of water and get rest!! It’s Pisces season, and a Pisces new moon is coming too. Most of your trauma will unravel while you’re unconscious. Please get plenty of rest and hydrate. This pile has Cancer/4th house energy written all over it. Mother yourself during this period. Clean your room, make your favorite foods, watch cheesy movies, and splurge on special skin care. Pamper yourself. okay I'm done. KISSES.

"My consciousness has outgrown this vessel"

✧ Pile Two ✧ (4ofS, the tower, the wheel of fortune, the emperor, the lovers, judgment, 7ofW, ace of wands)

Life's gotta always be messing with me (you wanna see the light) Can't they chill and let me be free? (So do I) Can't I take away all this pain? (You wanna see the light) I try to every night, all in vain, in vain

Justice.

➣ I asked for a song to explain the central theme of your reading and I got "Freak on a Leash" by Korn. I get the feel that one of the main struggles of your life path is unfair judgment. People are quick to create a false narrative of you and run off with it.

➣ If you read my last PAC, “What is most alluring about you”, you may have chosen pile 2 or 3. With the seven of wands, you are constantly under attack.

➣ Take what resonates but I see a few scenarios. People may be quick to paint you as a bad person without getting to know you. Your public reputation was heavily influenced by rumors from people who intentionally wanted you to be disliked. People will take something small, blow it out of proportion, and try to impose it as a character flaw. Oh, you don’t eat the crust on your sandwich? How wasteful! There are starving kids out there, you’re so inconsiderate!! and then everyone else in the room who claims to not like you (but are truly your biggest fans) are oooing, ahhing, and egging that hating ass bitch on.

➣ I’m seeing a bus. You may have been betrayed and thrown under the bus a few times before. This is the pile of my Lilith placements. Your power is your ability to garner attention, both good and bad. You attract a lot of envy. The ugliest emotion, in my opinion. It’s partners in crime with greed.

➣ For some of you, I am getting the message that all of this underserved hate has sent you into a dark mental space and driven you to take an attempt on your life. And if you like my messages or my readings please believe me when I say this,

I know you are meant for greatness. I picked up on your energy and you found this reading for a reason. Just like the Universe and everything within it, we go through cycles. And I know this is a long, painful cycle but it will come to an end and you will get out of this darkness. From the bottom of my heart, I feel your importance and I am happy you are here to share this moment with me. Keep swimming, I support you, the Universe supports you. The sun is rising and is offering you a new beginning.

➣ In this dark period in your life, the negative attention may have outweighed the good. I see a theme of being outcasted and isolated. Severe bullying. For some, even abuse. Like pile one, you have gone into hermit mode and isolated yourself from the unfair judgment of the world.

➣ But head up muffin, the scales are balancing, and the wheel of judgment is turning in your favor. Following the wheel of fortune, you got the fucking emperor!!! You will come out of this on top. The people who kicked you while you were down will have to swallow their pride and kneel to shine your shoes while you sit rightfully on the throne. The public scrutiny you face needs to balance itself out karmically.

➣ Think Megan Thee Stallion. I won’t bring up any of her business, but if you've been keeping up with social media, there is a good chance you are well aware of it. That woman has gone through the unimaginable, one traumatic event following the other all while facing an obscene amount of public scrutiny. She had to go into solitary and off the internet to rebuild her life. But guess what??? MY GIRL STAYS ON TOP>>>>> After all the bullshit she endured, she’s coming out on the top of the charts, brand deals with major conglomerates, she is the people’s princess.

➣ That’s going to be you. You have dealt with a lot of injustice in your life, now you’re coming out of your “rehabilitation” and all of the people who spent the better half of their day attempting to tear you down will have to watch your rise like a phoenix and fucking weep.

➣ People were constantly taking from you , now the universe (whatever you want) is preparing to give you the power to replace what you have lost tenfold. Ace of wands, I see that life is handing you the metaphorical talking stick. The king stick. You are being blessed with a flame in your belly (activated solar plexus chakra) and the chance to completely reinvent yourself.

➣ There is a lot of king and authority messages here, the ball is in your court. You are being released from the shackles of public perception and these next few months will be filled with inspiration and willpower to prove everybody wrong and showcase your strength. I feel like a good chunk of this group will get chances to be in positions of authority or importance.

➣ This is going to sound silly but I got this exaggerated imagery of a mean person calling you poor and ugly but the next year you drive past them in a Bugatti with their sugar boo in the passenger seat. HELLOOOO.

➣ With the lovers, I see you are coming in union with what is rightfully yours. In the grand scheme of cosmic law, you are owed good fortune and it is on its way. With the tower, I see an explosion and people fleeing. You’re going to pop out stronger than ever and that’s going to scare people cause whatever superiority they got from painting you as inferior is going to blow away and their true scummy nature is going to be seen.

➣ After this, there may even be people who pretend to be your friends and claim they supported you all along. Have faith in your discernment. I have faith in your discernment. It will all be okay pookie.

➣ Advice: Just keep swimmin' my love. <3

"The child who is not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth."

✧ Pile Three ✧ (queen of wands, knight of pentacles, 6oC, page of pentacles, 10oW, 3oW, the hermit)

It's in the reach of my arms The span of my hips, The stride of my step, The curl of my lips. I'm a woman Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That's me.

Awaken.

➣ Regardless if you’re a woman, a man, somewhere in between, or none of the above, you are approaching a newfound understanding of your sexuality. For some of you, it is a full-blown sexual awakening.

➣ Some people here are realizing their sex appeal, others are coming to terms with their lack of sexual attraction, some are learning what they like in sex and what they’re attracted to. Yes bae, all of it; the whole spectrum of sexual exploration is here.

➣ There is an emphasis on attraction to yourself. You will see a huge shift in your physical appearance. Yes, your style will change but the main reason for this glow up is because you shifted the perception of yourself into a higher light. You’re allowing yourself to feel desirable and embracing the aspects of yourself you once shunned.

➣You will carry yourself in a higher regard and this will open doors for you. Look into the mirror and give yourself a nice smack on the ass. Your self-esteem is sexy.

➣ Pile one is on a watery emotional self-love journey, this pile is all about fire and finding out where sexuality and passionate relations fit into your life. 5th house (flings, passions, hobbies), 8th house (sex and rebirth), 9th house (adventure, connecting with your soul tribe).

➣ I asked for a song to tie up this message in a cute little bow and I got the 639 HZ frequency. This is the frequency of love, radiation, and positive energy. It is the frequency of the heart. The heart chakra is opening significantly during this glow-up.

➣ You are opening yourself to adventure and sending a high vibe out into the ether. I see a sunflower and the queen of wands is decked out in bright yellow, you are stepping into the spotlight and attracting a lot of attention. I would say Venusian attention because the aura here is very romantic and collaborative. It's like the universe is spraying you with extremely magnetic pheromones and having opportunities run at you.

➣ You are going to get a lot of offers. Love offers, career offers, party invitations, you’re going to be involved with exclusive circles. You are realizing your self-worth and now you’re attracting things and people who also see value in you.

➣ This isn’t going to resonate with everyone, but I sense that for a few of you, there is going to be a reconnection with a past lover or a past friend from your childhood (or just the past in general). I also sense a theme of using your attractiveness and people’s attraction to you to your benefit. Somehow monetize your appeal.

➣ It is like you finally released your ugly duckling mentality and you woke up and went, “WOAH, what can I do with this???” Lmao you discovered you’re an undercover member of the pretty privilege club.

➣ Yeah, with the page of pentacles and the ten of wands, I’m seeing an entire life path open up for you. Your passion and fiery energy will get you places, and you’ll go on adventures exploring your opportunities with that. Some of you will even become spicy content creators or do some risque sex work. Orrrrrr just venture into a career path you weren’t courageous enough to do before.

➣ You’re a giant magnet energetically right now (I mean c’mon, 639 HZ???) you’re attracting a lot of romantic suitors. But watch out, they’re not all good suitors.

➣ I pulled another card and got Justice in reverse. Some people will try to get over on you. Also, the person on the justice card looked strangely untrustworthy when I flipped it over. Once again, practice your discernment.

➣ Your romantic and passionate life is taking off and it's going to be extremely exciting, especially if you are coming out of a period of stagnancy. However, with the 3 of wands and the hermit, the cards remind you to remain centered and plan bigger. Your passion, attractiveness, and sexuality will amount to more than hookups and shallow relationships if you invest in yourself wisely.

➣ You are unlocking an advantage you have in this lifetime. Open yourself to career endeavors, social networking, and creating a strong foundation for your talents and hobbies. Yes, date and have fun but don’t spend all of your energy in one place. Your attention and your energy are your greatest currencies.

➣ To expand on the hermit, I need to emphasize you are going to be getting a LOT of attention soon (I’m getting Sun-conjunct-Venus energy, is that in your natal chart or is there a transit with Venus right now or something?). You will receive more eyes on you than average and this might overwhelm you and push you into hermit mode.

➣ That is okay, let life flow. During those moments to yourself, dream big because you have the power to pull your dreams into your reality. You will meet lifelong friends during this period. I am sensing a power trio for some of you.

➣ Advice: To wrap up, we all know attractiveness is social currency, and you are coming into a great deal of social wealth baby. But please spend it wisely and do not lose yourself in the crowd. Keep up with your self-work and take introspective breaks away from people so you can figure out how to best utilize this awakening for you.

➣ You look really good in red currently. Red hair. Red lips. Red clothes. Red jewelry. The color red is bringing you a lot of abundance. Okay bye. MUAH. <3

"I said mom, I am a rich man."

✧ Pile Four ✧ (page of swords, knight of cups, wheel of fortune, temperance, 7oP, the devil rev.)

Ascension.

➣ OMG I’m so sorry, I wrote a novel for the other piles but this one is going to be short. Maybe you were drawn to another pile mainly and this is your secondary pile. BUT IT’S SHORT BECAUSE ITS FUCKING AWESOME.

➣ The song I channeled for you was named “Elniño Prodigo” and I want to say the artist is Love Record but I'm not too sure. This means child prodigy. When I was laying out your cards, I got this sense of anticipation and impatience. Theeeennn BOOM the wheel of fortune, temperance, and the seven of pentacles smack me in the face.

➣ Oh me oh my, you are chilling in the universe’s womb just BAKIN’ being prepped for a complete rebirth. You are a prodigy, you are not meant to live an ordinary life, you are being prepared for a unique journey. I know this is going to sound hard to believe because I feel like with this pile, a large portion of your life was spent in waiting.

➣ Do you feel like you are a late bloomer? If so, trust me, it is for a reason. Whatever you build in this lifetime will be built slowly and have a solid foundation because your legacy is meant to withstand the test of time and last long after you leave this Earth. This period you’ve spent waiting is you getting your ducks in a row and sowing your seeds for the next evolution of you. I said something like this in my last pac, if that's you, heyyyyyyy i’m glad your energy stuck around, i love it.

➣ Do you have Pisces or 12th House placements mixed with Saturn significance? Whatever this glow-up exactly holds for your future is a secret. It’s the universe’s divine surprise to you. I did not get any energy detailing exact events, just something big in the works behind the scenes is making its way to you.

➣If you’re reading this pick a card there’s a good chance you’re spiritually attuned and can feel this cosmic shift happening. Something about your energy is so excited. I imagine a hyper dog being held back by a leash because it's not quite time yet.

➣ If you’re in a period where you’re not seeing any life progression and it's causing you anxiety, relax, you are on the right track and you are where you need to be. You have not wasted time, time really isn’t even fucking real. Everything is moving slowly for a reason.

➣In this “boring” period you are meant to tap into your inner world and curate what you want your life to look like. Create vision boards, imagine your future hobbies, involve things that mentally stimulate you, keep the spark of curiosity in your life, and nurture your inner dreamer.

➣ You are connecting with your sensitivity at this time, finding the sweet spot where your mind and heart meet, and letting it fuel your zeal for life. Get these thoughts on paper. Journal them, draw them, sing it, and call this energy into the 3D. Your life is about to have a complete 180. Maintain faith.

➣ You’re seeing a lot of synchronicities currently. Animal synchronicities and repeating numbers(111,444,222,1144,1414). You’ll find strangely personal messages in music and media. Maybe you’re seeing shapes repetitively pop up around you in your environment, like stars or eyes.

➣ Patience is a life lesson for this pile, there is a lesson to be learned in the stillness of your life. You are mentally restless right now, slow your body down and try out parasympathetic regulation techniques to calm your racing thoughts. Go swimming, take a class, try out a new hobby. In this “womb” era, enjoy your last moments of stillness because your life turns up a notch. I’m not even getting rebirth, I’m getting BIRTH. No matter your age, your life is truly beginning in this new season.

➣ Advice: I see a lot of clouds. I see angel symbolism. You’re ascending. You’re shedding old skin, letting go of dead weight, and you’re growing wings, getting ready to experience life to the fullest. Maintain hope that your life will pick up pace and become exciting again.

➣ Find peace in this waiting period. Listen to bird sounds!!! They are going to calm your mind and elevate you emotionally. You’re growing your wings and getting ready to take off like a bird, you should learn from the best. Okay, I love you, the universe loves you, MUAH <3.

"Your sim has gone stir-crazy!"

watching tumblr shit on my images in real time is just...

On a lighter note, I know some of these piles are heavy, I posted my first reading two days ago, and the support I received has brought so much joy into my life. I love doing this, if you like this me doing this, I'll do this forever. I am eternally grateful for all of you likes, reblogs, and comments <3

Also, some of these piles are connected, feel free to poke around and pick up on messages spread out for you. okay, I'm done. kisses! MUAH

#pick a card #pac #pick a pile #tarot #tarot reading #glow up #arijackz #astrology observations

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draxofoy · 1 month ago

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i haven't posted anything here omg kinda nervous... but here's zutara in traditional javanese wedding attire 🙇🏻‍♀️ commissioned this from my friend she's amazing 😖❗️

some facts about the attire! ☺️😙

The headwear these babies are wearing are called Blangkon and Cunduk Mentul, Blangkon is a traditional headwear worn by men usually in Central Javanese and Yogyakarta (especially the one Zuko is wearing!) The word Blangkon itself is said to came from the word 'blanco' referring to the blank cloth used to make the headwear, tho there are soo many theories about the origin of both the headwear and the name itself cause sadly there aren't many records about it :(

The headwear is also used to represent wisdom and class because back then, these were used to differentiate the nobilities from the commoners (wr don't really do that anymore dw). The Javanese people believe that your hair, head, and face are the most important and treasured parts of your body, so these Blangkon are used to protect those parts. We also believe that Blangkon represent self-control, since Javanese men tend to keep their hair long back then and keep them loose when they're in a state of 'conflict' such as battles or war, representing uncontrollable flow of emotions so keeping their hair up and covered is seen as an act of self control.

As for the Cunduk Mentul, these pretty headpieces are typically worn by brides on their wedding day! They represent 'the sun that shines over the universe' and also... well, it depends on the number of the pieces they use, usually it's 1, 3, 5, 7, or 9, each representing a different value. 1 is used as a symbol of God's singularity, usually worn by muslim brides, 3 is for the Trimurti or the Trinity of Hindu Gods that deeply rooted in Javanese values, 5 is for the five pillars of Islam, 7 symbolizes 'help' or 'aid'- the Javanese believe that 7 is a lucky number since 7 is 'pitu' in Javanese, so, yeah, 'pitu' for 'pitulungan' or help and aid in Javanese language. 9 represent the Nine Saints/Wali Sanga, 9 saints that have a major impact on the growth of Islam in the island of Java.

Their clothing respectively are called Beskap and Kebaya 🤩 Beskap is more of a modern version of Javenese traditional clothing, for it was adopted from the modern suits worn by the Deutsch during the colonization era. The word Beskap came from the word 'beschaafd', meaning civilized (oh!)

Kebaya, on the other hand, has no specific area origin cause each region has their own styles and versions! The one Katara is wearing is a Central Java Kebaya tho, famous for the velvety fabric and dark colors along with the gold motifs. The history of 'modern' Kebaya itself started in the 15th century when Dutch first settled in Dutch East Indies (now Indonesia!) The clothing had taken inspirations from different cultures (like Chinese and Indian) along the way since Indonesia was (kinda still is!) One of the centers of trade routes for both Hindia and Pacific Oceans.

Damn I'm getting tired of writing this, but next 😭 is Kain Jarik! A piece of fabric with Batik motives wrapped around the legs :))) these babies have RANGE, like they could be used daily, for traditional dance attire, sacred rituals, weddings, even used in funerals 😀 they're usually 2 to 3 meters in length and more variations in width, easy to customize! They also usually have dark colors like dark brown and light brown motives, but i asked my friend to draw them with red and blue and gold motives cause why not 😝

Anyways I think i went a little overboard cause my fingers are hurting from typing this lol.

#zutara #zutarian #zuko x katara #katara #zuko #atla fanart #atla #zutara fanart #fanart #atla zutara #traditional clothing #javanese #idk how to tag this #is this okay?#anyway #commission #art commisions

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dustpages · 28 days ago

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Momoring

"We ought to find a bigger flat." I murmured within myself.

My studio apartment wasn't big enough anymore for me and my precious baby; we were forced to share the bed even though neither of us had ever complained since I adopted him.

My dance clothes were stored under the bed and into every free spot of the small house. I was a professional dancer teaching hip hop in a school in central London.

My son rolled over to my side of the bed, resting his face in the valley of the tits. "Look who is awake." I greeted him, brushing his messy hair.

I had adopted him a few years ago, and since then we had had no boundaries regarding touching in ways that many would reckon inadmissible.

His blue eyes were staring at me in adoration; his warm breath tickled my tits, making me wet.

"You know what to do," I told him.

He began kissing my big tits, licking my nipples and sucking on them. My fingers were gently caressing his hair; the touch of his lips and tongue on my sensitive nipples was making me moan in pleasure.

I was wet, so wet. My pussy was begging for his attention; it always did. His little hands were sliding on the curves of my body, his lips still attached to my nipples.

"Turn around," I demanded.

He obeyed at once, turning his back on me. I positioned myself behind him, my nipples pressed against his back, my hands gently caressing his sides.

I could feel his hard cock against my thighs; it was always ready to get some attention. I began rubbing my pussy up against his cock.

He was panting heavily; his little body was trembling with excitement.

My lips were on his neck; my tongue was tracing the line of his jaw. I kissed his cheek, making him blush.

"M-mum." He stuttered, his voice hoarse.

"What is it, baby? Don't you like it?" I asked, still grinding my pussy on his hard cock.

"I do. If anything, I'm enjoying it too much," he responded.

"And what should Mummy do to make you feel better?" I whispered into his ear. "My naughty baby wants to stick his dick inside Mummy's pussy, doesn't he?" I teased him.

He moaned into my ear. "Please, Mum. I need it; I want it so badly."

" You've been such a good boy." I kissed his temple. "Mummy is going to give you what you deserve."

I got off from him and flipped his small frame on the mattress. I straddled his hips, guiding his cock inside of me. "I need to be very slow with you." I told him.

"Why, Mum?" he asked.

"Because I'm way too big for you, sweetie. My pussy can tear you in half." I laughed.

His hands reached my breasts; he began to fondle me while he was watching me riding him. "You're huge, Mum," he moaned.

His dick was buried inside of me, he was moaning loudly, and I was going faster and faster. "I know, I'm too big for your tiny body." I replied.

"You're making me feel so good, Mum." He moaned again; his hands were grabbing my hips.

I pressed his arms on the bed; I put my hands on his chest. "I can crush you, baby, so you better let me fuck you as I want." I moaned.

My hips started to move faster; his dick was so deep in my pussy that he was hitting my cervix, and he began to moan even louder than before.

"I think you like to be used by your big mummy." I laughed.

"Yes, Mum." He moaned, his face red, his body trembling in pleasure.

His fingers rubbed my clit in circles; I could feel how much I was wet for him. I was enjoying every second. "Oh, that's so good, baby!" I purred.

His finger left my pussy and grabbed my breasts, his hands fondling me while I was bouncing on him, his cock buried in my cunt, his breathing getting faster and faster. I knew he was close to orgasm.

"Fuck, I'm going to cum, Mum!" He moaned loudly.

"Don't worry, baby. You can cum in my pussy." I purred.

"Really?!" he asked in awe.

"Yes, baby, you're my son, and I want you to fill me up." I assured him.

His face contorted in pleasure, his body twitching in ecstasy, he came. I felt his cum filling my pussy; it felt warm and comforting.

I bent forward, my pussy pressing against his pelvis, my lips kissing his cheek. "That was so good, baby. You're such a good boy."

With obvious effort, he flipped me on my back, getting on top of me, his lips close to mine. "I want to kiss you, Mum." He purred.

His tongue swirled around mine, his hips snapped forward, making me moan into his mouth. He was still hard, and I could feel that he was ready to go again. His hands were holding mine over my head, his tongue was exploring my mouth, and his cock was getting even deeper inside of me.

He lifted my hips to meet his thrusts. His lips were now on my neck, his tongue tracing the line of my jaw while he was fucking me with such intensity that I could barely breathe.

His pace became faster; he was pushing his cock deeper inside my pussy, his breath tickling my skin. "Oh fuck, baby! You're going to make me cum!" I moaned.

"Are you close, Mum?" He whispered in my ear.

"Yes, baby, I'm so close." I assured him.

My nails were scratching his back; his dick was pounding my cunt; I was so wet that his cock was going in and out without any effort. He kissed me again, his tongue swirling around mine while he was thrusting even harder inside of me.

I arched my back as an overwhelming sensation took over my body; my orgasm hit me hard. I was moaning so loudly that our neighbours could hear me.

"Oh, baby, that was so intense. You made me cum so good." I murmured.

He kissed me with such a hunger that took my breath away. "Mum." He whispered into my lips. "I want to cum again. I need it."

I was smiling, kissing him back. "I'm all yours, baby." I murmured.

He flipped me over, my ass up in the air. His hands grabbed my hips, pulling me closer to him; his cock was already at the entrance of my pussy. He began thrusting inside me, hard. "Oh, baby, you're so deep." I moaned.

He bent forward, his chest pressing against my back; his cock was going even deeper. His lips brushed against my ear; his warm breath sent shivers down my spine. "I love you, Mum." He whispered.

I moaned into the pillow; my pussy was so wet that it was dripping onto the sheets. His cock was hitting my cervix with every thrust; I loved that feeling. "I love you too, baby." I purred back.

His hands were on my shoulders; he was pounding me so hard that I couldn't think straight. His hips were snapping forward; his balls were slapping against my pussy.

"Oh fuck, baby! I need it again. I'm so close." I begged.

He kept fucking me, his cock going deeper and deeper with every thrust. "You're so tight, Mum." He groaned.

I could barely form coherent thoughts; I was just a mess of pleasure and lust. "I know, baby. Your cock is so big for my tiny pussy. You're going to break it." I panted.

He grabbed my hair, pulling it back, making me arch my spine even more. His cock went even deeper, and I came again. I was screaming in pleasure, my pussy throbbing around his cock. My legs were trembling; I was barely able to keep myself up.

We collapsed on the bed; his thrust went on relentlessly. "Please, baby, I can't take it anymore." I begged him.

"I'm almost done," he moaned into my ears. His thrusts became erratic and wild, approaching his climax.

"Fill my cunt up, baby. Please! I need you." I was begging him.

He came with a loud moan, his cum filling my cunt; some of his cum was dripping down my leg.

He collapsed on me, our breaths laboured. "So fucking hot," he cussed, praising me.

I chucked. "You are not so bad yourself." I told him, still catching my breath.

We fell asleep like that, our bodies entwined, my pussy full of his warm cum.

The following morning, while he was still sleeping next to me, I contacted my older sister Hana, who lived in the city as well.

She was engaged with a real estate agent named Martin, and hopefully he would have been able to find a new and vaster place for us.

Martin was a hot man; I had always thought of him as handsome and with a good body. He was tall and well-trained, his blond hair always perfectly styled.

I planned to meet him while my baby was at school during one of my days off. We met in a cosy café near his office; he was dressed impeccably, and his blue eyes were staring into mine when I walked in.

"Martin, it is so good to see you." I smiled at him, kissing him on the cheek.

"The pleasure is mine, Momo. It has been so long." He smiled back.

"I'm in need of a bigger apartment; can you help me out?" I asked.

He nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. "Of course, Momo. I know you and your son are struggling to live in that tiny studio, but the prices are quite high at the moment." He explained.

I sighed in frustration. "I know the prices are high, but I can't go on living like this with my baby." I said.

His eyes softened. "Don't worry, Momo, I'm going to find you a decent place." He promised me.

His hand brushed over mine, and I shivered. I could see in his eyes lust and desire.

"Martin, don't." I reprimand him, pulling away.

"What? I thought you were into me." He smirked.

"I am, but I can't. I have a son." I replied.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I get it, Momo." He muttered in a luring tone. "But still I am sure I could provide you a pleasurable afternoon, if you concede to me."

"Are you not considering my sister?" I asked, getting nervous.

" If we both keep it for ourselves, I don't see why you couldn't indulge." He retorted.

I bit my lower lip; his words were tempting me. " If we are going to do it, I want a big discount on the rent." I negotiated.

He chuckled. "Of course, you're going to have a discount." He assured me.

We walked into the car park, and once we were hidden from the cameras, he pushed me against his car, his body pressed against mine. "You are so damn hot," he praised me.

His hands started to wander on my curves; his lips pressed against my neck.

"I want it hard and quick." I requested. His mouth was on mine, his tongue swirling around my mouth, his hands on my ass. He lifted me up, my legs wrapping around his hips, his mouth still on mine.

His tongue was exploring my mouth while his hands were gripping my hips. "I like it when you talk dirty," he purred.

He lifted me up, setting me on the bonnet of his car. His lips trailed down my neck, his teeth nipping at my skin.

His hands slid under my blouse, unhooking my bra with ease. His mouth closed around my nipple, his tongue flicking it while his other hand was pinching and rolling my other nipple between his fingers.

I moaned at the sensation, my back arching, my fingers tangled in his hair. I could feel his bulge against my thigh, and I couldn't help but grind against it. He chuckled, his breath hot against my skin.

"Someone's eager," he murmured.

"You're the one who started it." I retorted, my voice breathy.

He smirked, his eyes darkening with lust. "Let me see your tits," he demanded.

I complied, pulling my blouse over my head and discarding it on the ground. His eyes roamed over my body, drinking in the sight of my naked chest. He licked his lips, his gaze fixated on my breasts. "They're fucking perfect," he groaned.

"Don't just look; touch them." I urged.

He didn't need to be told twice. His hands cupped my breasts, kneading and squeezing them. His thumbs circled my nipples, eliciting a moan from my lips. "That feels so good." I purred.

He leaned down, his mouth closing around one of my nipples. He sucked and licked, his tongue flicking the sensitive bud. I writhed beneath him, my hips bucking up. "Martin." I moaned.

His name was a plea on my lips, and he responded in kind. He switched to my other breast, giving it the same treatment. His hand trailed down my stomach, reaching the waistband of my skirt. He tugged it down, along with my panties, leaving me completely exposed.

"You're so wet," he groaned, his finger slipping between my folds.

I whimpered, my body aching for more. He obliged, his finger plunging inside me. I gasped, my walls clenching around him. He pumped his finger in and out, adding a second one. I rocked against his hand, chasing my pleasure.

"Please," I begged. "I need more."

He withdrew his fingers, bringing them to his lips. He sucked them clean, savouring my taste. "You taste hella good," he growled.

I shuddered, my desire burning brighter. He unzipped his trousers, freeing his dick. As my sister Hana had confessed to me, Martin had a monster in between his legs. My eyes widened at the sight of it. It was long and thick, the tip glistening with pre-cum.

"Holy shit," I breathed.

He chuckled, his eyes gleaming with pride. "Like what you see?" he teased.

I nodded, my mind going blank. He gripped my hips, pulling me to the edge of the bonnet. He positioned himself at my entrance, teasing my clit with the tip of his cock. I whined, trying to push myself onto him.

He held me still, a wicked glint in his eye. "Not yet, darling. I want to savour this."

I pouted, my frustration mounting. He leaned down, capturing my lips in a bruising kiss. His tongue invaded my mouth, dominating me. I melted into him, my body surrendering to his touch.

He broke the kiss, his lips trailing down my neck. "Tell me what you want," he commanded.

"Martin, we don't have all the time in the day; just stick it in." I whined. "I don't want to risk getting caught; my son's school is not that far from here."

He smirked, and without any warning, plunged his dick inside of me to the hilt. I cried out, my walls stretching to accommodate him. He groaned, his fingers digging into my hips.

"Fuck, you're tight," he gritted out.

I took a moment to adjust to his size, my inner muscles spasming around him. He gave me a moment to catch my breath before he started to move. He set a brutal pace, his hips snapping forward. I moaned, my eyes rolling back.

He leaned over me, his lips brushing against my ear. "Do you like that?" he taunted. "Tell me how much you love my cock."

I whimpered, my words slurred. "I love it. It's so big. So fucking big."

He grinned, his thrusts becoming more erratic. "That's it. Let go."

I threw my head back, my moans echoing through the car park. He pounded into me, his balls slapping against my ass. I could feel my climax approaching, my body coiling tighter and tighter.

"Oh god. Oh fuck. Martin, please." I begged, my voice a sob.

He pistoned into me, his pace unrelenting. "Come for me," he growled. "I want to feel your pussy milk me dry."

His words sent me over the edge. I came undone, my pussy clenching around his cock.

"I'm close." Martin grunted, his thrusts speeding up.

I convulsed beneath him, the pleasure too much to bear. "Do not cum inside; that is allowed only to my son." I warned him.

He smirked. "All right then." He withdrew his dick from my cunt. "I'm going to invade your ass."

He aligned his cock to my ass; he began to push, making me scream. His cock was stretching my ass, making my body shiver.

"Fuck," he gritted out.

"Yes, you're so tight." He moaned.

My ass was struggling to accommodate him, but he kept pushing, determined to fuck my ass. Finally, he was buried in me, his cock filling my ass.

I was a moaning and trembling mess, the pain and pleasure intertwining. "Oh my fucking god." I gasped. "Your cock is so big in my ass."

He grinned, pulling out slowly before slamming back in. "Yeah, it is," he smirked, starting to fuck my tight ass. "Your ass is so fucking tight. It's strangling my cock."

"Oh fuck." I groaned, feeling every inch of him. "It's so intense."

He kept pounding into my ass, his thrusts steady and deep. I was moaning uncontrollably, my body overwhelmed by the sensation of having my ass filled up with his huge cock. "God, it feels so good." I whimpered.

He grunted in response, his grip on my hips tight. I was at his mercy, my body subject to his desires. He kept fucking my ass, slamming his cock deep inside me with each thrust. I was losing my mind, the pleasure consuming me.

"Harder, Martin." I moaned. "Fuck my ass harder."

He obeyed, his thrusts becoming more forceful. He pounded into me, his hips snapping forward with a force that made me cry out. I was a mess beneath him, my moans filling the air.

"Yes!" I screamed, my body shuddering. "Just like that. Fuck my ass just like that."

He growled, a low, primal sound. "Do you like that?" he taunted, his voice rough with desire. "You like it when your ass is stuffed with cock."

I nodded, unable to speak. He kept fucking me, my ass clenching around his thick shaft. "God, yes." I moaned.

He leaned forward, his chest pressed against my back. His lips brushed against my ear, his breath hot against my skin. "I'm going to fill up your ass with cum," he growled, his tone filled with lust.

"Do it." I urged, my voice breathless. "Fill up my ass with your hot cum."

He grunted, his thrusts becoming erratic. "Fuck," he groaned. "I'm going to cum."

I moaned, my body trembling in anticipation. "Do it." I repeated it, my voice a desperate plea. "Cum in my ass. I need it."

He slammed into me one last time, his cock buried deep inside of my ass. He came, his cum filling up my ass; I felt it warm inside of me.

He withdrew, his cum dripping out of my ass and down my legs. "Oh fuck," he groaned.

My legs gave out, and I collapsed onto the ground, my ass still clenching around the memory of his dick.

He hoisted me up on his arms, my legs wrapped around his waist; he was still inside of me; he fucked me standing. Martin's thrusts were relentless, pounding into me with brute force. I screamed in pleasure, my body on the brink of collapse. My pussy was getting wetter by the second, my body shaking. I was so close to my orgasm.

Martin's thrusts sped up; he was fucking me like a wild beast. His cock hit my cervix with each thrust, making me moan even louder. We heard a group of young boys coming our way.

” Martin." I warned him.

"I don't give a fuck if some kids see us fucking." He retorted. His words took me aback; his cock was still going in and out of my cunt with no signs of stopping.

" Martin I'm not a fucking exhibitionist." I protested.

The boys had almost reached us, and I knew they would catch us in the act. I looked up, and sure enough, many boys were staring at us in shock.

I covered my face with my hands, mortified. "What the fuck are you doing here?" I shouted at them.

One of the boys emerged from behind. "Judas, you swore to be mine," my baby shouted back.

I froze, my eyes wide in shock. "W-what are you doing here?" I stammered.

My son got delirious, and he smashed his mobile on the tarmac, shattering it. "Fuck off," he cussed, before running away with tears streaming down his face.

"Baby, wait." I called after him.

Martin pulled out of me and zipped up his trousers. "That went well." He chuckled.

I glared at him, my anger rising. "Shut up, you idiot. That was my fucking son. I need to go after him."

I grabbed my blouse and skirt, hastily getting dressed. I didn't even bother with my panties; I just left them on the ground. I ran after my son, calling his name, but he was already gone.

"Bollocks." I cursed, my heart heavy with guilt and worry.

I called Hana, and she came to pick me up in my desperate quest to find him.

She was driving while I was nervously chewing on my lower lip. "What did you do to make him so upset?" she asked.

I had to lie to her; I couldn't tell her the truth about me and Martin. "We argued," I lied.

She frowned, her eyes on the road. "About what?"

"Nothing serious, just get me home, please." I responded.

Once we arrived at the flat, I thanked her and rushed inside. I found him sitting on the floor, his back against the wall. His head was down, and his shoulders slumped.

"Baby." I called out to him. He didn't respond, his body trembling. I approached him cautiously, kneeling beside him. "I'm so sorry." I apologised. "I never meant to hurt you."

He looked up at me, his eyes red and puffy. "Why?" he croaked. "Why?" His voice cracked with emotion.

I reached out, cupping his cheek. "I had met Martin to get his help to find us a new place, but things got carried away. I'm so sorry, baby." I pleaded.

He pushed my hand away, his anger and hurt evident. "You said you loved me. Was it all a lie?" he accused.

I shook my head frantically. "No, baby. I love you, I do. I've never felt this way about anyone else."

He scoffed, his lip curling in disgust. "Then why? Why did you let him have his way with you?"

I sighed, my heart breaking at the pain in his voice. "Understand that I did it for us, to get a better place to live."

He scoffed again bitterly. "That might have been your noble cause, but you enjoyed him beyond the mere thought of helping us."

I pulled him closer to me, wrapping my arms around him, my cheek against his. "I didn't, baby. It didn't mean anything, I swear."

He didn't say anything, his body tense in my embrace. I held him tighter, my tears falling onto his shoulder. "I love you." I whispered. "You're my everything."

He remained silent, his breathing ragged. I pulled back, looking into his eyes. "Say something, please."

He licked his lips, his voice barely above a whisper. "I am pathetic. I don't have the might to hate you; I love you too much."

We fell silent, the weight of our situation sinking in. I stroked his hair, my heart aching with regret. "What can I do to fix this situation?" I questioned.

He looked up at me, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "Give me the chance to make it up to you." I offered. "Let me show you how much you mean to me."

He considered my words, his expression enquiring. "What do you mean?"

I took a deep breath, my resolve firm. "Let me make you feel good. Let me worship every inch of your body. Let me show you that you're the only one for me."

He hesitated, his doubt evident. "Are you sure?"

I nodded, my conviction unwavering. "I've never been more certain of anything in my life. You're my son, my baby, and I love you more than anything."

He searched my eyes, looking for any sign of deception. Finding none, he finally nodded. "Okay," he agreed.

I smiled softly, relief washing over me. "Okay," I echoed. "Lie down."

He lay down on the bed, his eyes never leaving mine. I positioned myself between his legs, my hands on his thighs. I leaned down, my lips a whisper away from his cock. "Is this okay?" I checked.

He nodded, his breath hitching in anticipation. I smiled reassuringly and then took him into my mouth. I swirled my tongue around the tip, licking the pre-cum that had already formed. I took him deeper, my mouth engulfing his shaft.

He moaned, his hips bucking up. I bobbed my head, my hand stroking the base of his dick. I hollowed my cheeks, sucking him hard.

"M-mum," he stuttered. "It's so good."

I hummed around him, the vibration making him shudder. I reached down, my fingers teasing his balls. I rolled them gently in my hand, feeling them tighten.

I could feel him getting closer, his breathing becoming ragged. "I'm going to cum," he warned.

I pulled back, a string of saliva connecting my lips to his cock. "Oh baby, it is going to be the first of many ejaculations ." I promised.

My mouth seized his cock again, bobbing up and down, my hand twisting his shaft. His moans grew louder, his body tensing up. "Fuck. Mum," he cried out.

His cum shot into my mouth, hitting the back of my throat. I swallowed, savouring his taste. I continued to suck him gently, milking him dry. When I was satisfied, I pulled back, licking my lips.

"That was delicious." I praised. "Did you like it?"

He nodded, his eyes glazed over with pleasure. "Yeah, it was amazing."

I smiled, satisfaction coursing through me. "Good." I leaned up, kissing his lips softly. "Now, let me take care of you."

I straddled him, grinding my pussy against his cock. I could feel him hardening again, his desire for me evident. I reached between us, guiding him inside me. I sank down on him, taking him to the hilt.

"Oh fuck," I moaned. "You feel so good inside me."

I started to ride him, my hips moving up and down. "Mum," he groaned. "You're so tight."

I leaned down, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss. Our tongues danced together, our bodies moving in perfect sync. I could feel another orgasm building inside me, my walls clenching around his shaft.

"I'm close." I panted. "So close."

He reached down, his thumb rubbing my clit. "Come for me, Mum. Cum all over my cock."

His words sent me over the top. I screamed, my pussy spasming around him. I rode him through my orgasm, prolonging the waves of pleasure.

When I finally came down from my high, I looked down at him, a smirk on his face. "That was fucking incredible."

I kissed him again, our love for each other palpable. "I love you so much." I whispered.

He responded to me reciprocating my feelings. I dismounted him and settled in between his legs, my face inches from his butt. "Can I?" I asked.

He spread his legs, giving me better access. "Do it," he urged.

I licked my lips, anticipation coursing through me. I leaned in, my tongue lapping at his hole. I swirled it around, tasting every inch of him. He moaned, his body shuddering.

I licked and prodded, my tongue pushing inside him. I fingered him with my tongue, making him squirm. "Oh god," he groaned.

I pulled back, spit dripping from my chin. "Do you like it?" I teased.

He nodded frantically. "Yeah, I do."

I licked him again, this time adding a finger. I pushed it inside, feeling him clench around me. "You're so fucking tight." I marvelled.

I worked him loose, adding another finger. I scissored them, stretching him out. My other hand wanked his cock, feeling it throb. I pumped it fast, knowing he was close.

"Mum," he moaned. "I'm going to come."

I sucked his cock hard, tasting his cum in my mouth. He released a long and loud moan, his body shaking with pleasure. I swallowed every last drop, savouring his essence.

When he was done, I pulled back, a satisfied grin on my face. "You are not done for tonight; you have two more holes to fill up.

I lay down on the mattress, my legs spread wide. "Come here." I beckoned.

He climbed over me, his dick hard again. "Ready for round two?" I smirked.

He nodded eagerly. "Fuck yes."

I guided him inside me, feeling him fill me up completely. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. "Fuck me hard." I demanded.

He didn't hesitate, his hips pistoning in and out. I threw my head back, moaning loudly. "Yes." I cried out. "Just like that."

He leaned down, capturing a nipple in his mouth. He sucked and bit it, making me writhe beneath him. His other hand reached down, his fingers finding my clit. He rubbed it furiously, sending jolts of pleasure through me.

"Don't stop." I begged. "Please, don't stop."

He increased his pace, his cock hitting my cervix. "I'm close," he grunted.

I clamped down on him, my pussy milking his cock. "Fill me up," I moaned. "Give me all of your cum."

He came with a roar, his seed painting my insides. His warmth triggered my own orgasm, making me quiver under him.

I raked my nails down his back, my pleasure overwhelming.

He collapsed on top of me, his breathing laboured. "Holy shit," he panted. "That was mind-blowing."

I laughed breathlessly. "Yeah, it was pretty fucking good."

We lay there for a moment, basking in the afterglow. Eventually, he rolled off me, his cock slipping out.

I massaged his dick lazily, keeping it hard. "This is how it's going to go in a few seconds." I began speaking with my sexy voice. "I'll get on all fours in the middle of this very bed, and you 're going to mount me and fuck my ass like there is no tomorrow."

He got on his knees, his hands on my hips. His cock was pressing against my tight hole, seeking entrance. "Are you ready?" he questioned.

I nodded. "Do it."

He pushed inside, his tip popping in. I winced at the initial pain, but it quickly turned into pleasure. I felt so full, so complete.

"Oh fuck," he groaned. "Your ass is so tight."

I wiggled my hips, adjusting to his girth. "Start slow," I instructed.

He pulled out slightly, then pushed back in. He set a steady pace, his hands gripping my hips tightly. I moaned, pushing back to meet his thrusts.

"Harder," I demanded. "Fuck me harder."

He complied, his hips snapping forward with more force. I cried out, the pain and pleasure melding together. He reached around, his fingers finding my swollen clit. He rubbed it vigorously, sending jolts through my body.

"Yes." I screamed. "Just like that."

I could feel another orgasm in bound, my body tensing up. He sensed it too, fucking with wild abandon.

"I'm going to cum." I screamed.

He grunted, his thrusts becoming erratic. I threw my head down on the pillow, my screams muffled. I felt him cum, his hot seed filling my ass. I shuddered, my own orgasm ripping through me.

I collapsed onto the bed, my body spent. He fell beside me, his chest heaving. "That was amazing," he panted.

I nodded, unable to form words. We lay there for a long time, our bodies intertwined. Eventually, we drifted off to sleep, our hearts full of love and our bodies sated.

The following days were a crescendo of stress. My son pushed me to confess to my sister Hana what happened, but I could not bring myself to do it.

"Mum, she has to know what kind of man his fiancé is," he declared while we were cuddling on the bed after another sex marathon. "If he had betrayed her with you, the odds would suggest that he might have done it already."

I kissed him softly, running my fingers through his hair. "I'll do it, but I need you to be with me."

He smiled softly. "Of course, I'm always here for you."

We walked to her house hand in hand, my heart pounding in my chest. We got to the door, and I knocked, my nerves on edge.

Hana opened the door, her face lit up with joy at the sight of us. "What a pleasant surprise!"

I forced a smile, my guilt eating away at me. "Hi, Hana. We need to talk."

She frowned slightly but stepped aside to let us in. "Of course. What's wrong?"

We followed her into the living room, taking a seat on the couch. Martin was nowhere in sight, and I was relieved by that. " It's about Martin." I began.

She looked at me quizzically. "What about him?"

I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what I was about to say. "He… he cheated on you. With me." I blurted out.

She froze, her face paling. "What?"

I nodded, tears welling up in my eyes. "I'm sorry, Hana. I never meant for it to happen."

She sat back in her chair, her mind reeling. "How?"

I licked my lips nervously. "We met up to talk about finding a new apartment for me and my son. And things just… escalated."

She looked away, her emotions in turmoil. "When?" she croaked.

I hesitated; my son, sensing my difficulties, spoke for me. "Auntie Hana. I know you have a noble soul; forgive her because she is really feeling terrible, and she was just looking to get a new house for us," he said.

Hana looked at him, then back at me. "Why did you not tell me sooner?" she questioned, her voice shaking with hurt.

I wiped away a tear, my heart breaking. "I was scared. I was afraid of losing you." I admitted.

She stood up abruptly, pacing the room. "And what about you?" she turned to my son. "Were you aware of this?"

He nodded solemnly. "Yes, I was. And I'm the one who forced her to confess the truth to you."

Hana stopped pacing, turning to face us. "I… I need time to process this."

I nodded, understanding. "I understand. I'm sorry again for everything."

She looked at my son, then back at me. "I appreciate your honesty, but this… this is a lot to take in."

We stood up, giving her space. "Of course. We'll leave you alone." I said.

I walked out first; my son hugged my sister, whispering something into her ears.

We walked home hand in hand, my head on his shoulder. "What did you tell her?" I asked.

He kissed the top of my head. "That she should not trust her boyfriend in the slightest and to take into consideration your honesty as an act of love," he answered.

I laughed softly. "You always know how to make me feel better."

We arrived home. As soon as the door closed, I grabbed him, pinning him against the wall. His eyes widened in surprise, his breathing hitching. "What are you doing?" he gasped.

I didn't answer, my lips crashing into his. I kissed him hard, my tongue pushing into his mouth with a desperate hunger. He moaned, his arms wrapping around my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair.

I pressed my body against his, feeling his hard cock against my thigh. I rocked my hips against him, grinding on his dick. "Mum," he gasped, breaking the kiss.

"Shh." I silenced him, my hand slipping under his shirt. I caressed his chest, my fingers tracing the contours of his muscles. He shivered, his body responding to my touch. I pinched his nipple, rolling it between my fingers. He moaned, his head falling back against the wall.

"M-Mum." He stuttered, his voice trembling. "W-What are you doing?"

I smiled against his lips. "I'm showing you how much I love you." I murmured.

He nodded, his eyes filled with a mixture of desire and uncertainty. "Okay," he breathed, his hands gripping my waist.

I kissed him again, my tongue exploring his mouth with a fervour that left him breathless. I sucked on his tongue, nibbling on his lips. He moaned into my mouth, his body arching against mine. I could feel his dick throbbing against my leg, his desire palpable.

"Mum," he moaned, his hands sliding down to my ass. He squeezed my cheeks, pulling me closer. I ground against him, feeling his length harden even more.

I broke the kiss, trailing my lips down his neck. I licked and sucked on his skin, leaving a trail of love bites. He gasped, his fingers clutching my hair. "Mum, please," he begged.

I ignored his pleas, continuing my ministrations. I reached the collar of his shirt, tugging it down. I exposed his shoulder, biting down on the skin. He cried out, his body shuddering with pleasure.

"Fuck, Mum," he groaned, thrusting his hips against me.

I moved lower, pushing his shirt up. I kissed his chest, my tongue swirling around his nipples. They hardened under my touch, and I took one into my mouth, sucking on it. He arched beneath me, his moans filling the room.

"Oh god, Mum," he panted, his hands tugging at my hair. I switched to the other nipple, giving it the same attention. He writhed beneath me, his body trembling with pleasure.

I continued downward, my tongue tracing the lines of his abs. He had a toned stomach, and I couldn't resist licking every inch of it. I swirled my tongue around his navel, making him shiver.

"Mum, please," he begged, his voice hoarse with desire.

I looked up at him, a smile on my face. "Please what?" I teased.

"I need you," he pleaded, his eyes dark with lust.

I chuckled, unbuttoning his trousers. I pulled them down, along with his boxers, freeing his hard cock. It sprang free proudly. I wrapped my hand around it, stroking it slowly.

"Mum," he groaned, his hips thrusting into my hand. I pumped his cock, my fingers tightening around the shaft. I ran my thumb over the tip, spreading the pre-cum that had formed there.

I lowered my head, my tongue licking the tip of his cock. He moaned loudly, his fingers tangling in my curls. I licked the length of his shaft, swirling my tongue around it. I reached the base, licking his balls.

He gasped, his body trembling. "M-Mum," he stuttered.

I took his balls into my mouth, sucking gently. He cried out, thrusting his hips forward. I released them, licking my way back up his cock. I reached the tip, sucking it into my mouth.

"Fuuuck," he moaned, grinding his hips against my face. I took more of him into my mouth, my lips stretching around his girth. I sucked him hard, my head bobbing up and down.

His moans filled the room, his fingers tugging at my curls. I hollowed my cheeks, increasing the suction. He thrust into my mouth, fucking my face with abandon.

I gagged, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. He kept going, his moans turning into grunts. "Mum, I'm going to cum," he warned.

I pulled back, his cock slipping from my mouth with a pop. "Not yet." I purred, licking my lips.

He groaned, frustration evident on his face. "Please, Mum," he begged. "I need to cum."

I smiled, stroking his cock. "Soon." I assured him.

He nodded, trust shining in his eyes. I stood up, kissing him deeply. He moaned into my lips, his tongue tangling with mine. I broke the kiss, guiding him to the sofa. I pushed him down, climbing on top of him.

I positioned myself above his cock, lowering myself onto it. He moaned as I engulfed him, his cock stretching me. I gasped, feeling him fill me up completely.

"Oh fuck, Mum," he breathed, gripping my hips. I started to move, riding him at a steady pace. He watched me, his eyes hooded with lust.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured. I smiled, leaning forward to kiss him. I rode him faster, my hips slamming down onto him. He groaned, meeting my movements with his own thrusts.

His hands took care of kneading my tits, his thumbs circling my nipples. "You feel so good," he grunted.

I moaned, losing myself in the sensation. I bounced on his cock, taking him to the hilt with each movement. He grunted, his hips snapping up to meet me.

"Fuck, baby." I moaned, throwing my head back. "You're so hard."

He grinned, thrusting up into me. "You make me hard," he growled. I rode him harder, chasing our orgasms. His hands gripped my waist, helping me move.

I leaned back, placing my hands on his thighs. I changed the angle, taking him deeper with each movement. "Oh god," he gasped. "That feels so good."

"Do you like it deep?" I purred. "Do you like feeling my pussy clench around your cock?"

He nodded, unable to form words. "Yes," he finally breathed. "I love it."

I rode him faster, bouncing on his cock with a desperation that bordered on insanity. He met my movements, thrusting up into me with equal fervour. I moaned loudly, the sound echoing off the walls.

My movements turned erratic, my body on the verge of orgasm.

"I'm going to cum." I cried, my walls clenching around him. "Oh fuck, I'm cumming."

He groaned, his thrusts becoming jerky. "Me too," he grunted. I convulsed around him, my orgasm hitting me with a force that left me breathless. He came soon after, his seed filling me up. I collapsed on top of him, our chests heaving as we caught our breath.

"Wow." I finally breathed, lifting my head to look at him.

He smiled, his eyes filled with satisfaction. "Yeah," he agreed, brushing a strand of hair from my face. I kissed him softly, my lips lingering on his. We stayed like that for a while, basking in the afterglow of our lovemaking.

Finally, I lifted myself off him, sitting up. He looked up at me, concern shining in his eyes.

“ Are you feeling any better?” he questioned.

I nodded, smiling, my fingers through his hair. He smiled back, relief evident on his face.

“ Hanna will decide what to do on her own; hopefully, she will forgive me.” I analysed.

He nodded, agreeing with my assessment. We stayed on the sofa, wrapped in each other's arms, finding comfort in each other's embrace.

The following morning I received a text from Hana; she was inviting me to a coffee. My baby gave me a small kiss on my lips, wishing me good luck.

I arrived at the café, and Hana was already there, her face neutral. I sat down, my heart in my throat.

“ Hey.” I greeted her. “ How are you?”

She looked at me, her eyes searching mine. “ I'm okay,” she replied, her tone guarded. I nodded, fidgeting with my hands.

“ I'm glad you're okay.” I said, my voice soft. “ I was worried about you.”

She sighed, her shoulders slumping. “ I know,” she murmured. “ And I appreciate it.”

“ Hana.” I began. “I—”

“ Stop,” she interrupted, holding up her hand. “ I don't want to hear it.”

I nodded, clamping my mouth shut. She looked at me, her expression torn. “ I have cut all bridges with my ex-fiancé; I chose to prioritise our sisterhood,” she revealed. I gaped at her, shock written all over my face.

“ You… you did?” I questioned, my voice trembling. “ Why?”

She sighed again, her eyes sad. “ Because despite everything, you're my sister,” she explained. “ And family is the most important thing to me.”

I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes, my heart swelling with love and gratitude. “ Oh, Hana.” I breathed, reaching across the table to take her hand. “ Thank you. Thank you so much.”

She smiled softly, squeezing my hand. “ It's okay,” she assured me. “ Be grateful to your son for having supported you."

I nodded my head vehemently, my resolve firm. “ I cannot do anything but adore him; he is everything to me.” I confessed.

We held hands for a moment, the bond of sisterhood strengthening between us. Then, I pulled back, wiping away a stray tear. “ So.” I began, my tone lighter. “ How are you holding up? Really?”

She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “ I'm angry,” she admitted. “ And hurt. But I'll get through it.”

I nodded, understanding in my eyes. “ Yeah. Yeah, you will. You're strong, Hana.”

She smirked, a glimmer of her usual spirit returning. “ Damn right, I am,” she retorted. I chuckled, the tension in my body easing. “ That's my sister,” I praised.

We sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, enjoying each other's presence. Then, she spoke up, her tone curious. “ So,” she began. “ Would you mind my help to find you a place to live with your son?" she proposed. "After all, you were looking for a new house, weren't you?"

I gaped at her, my jaw dropping in shock. “ Are you serious?” I asked, my voice filled with disbelief. “ You'd help me after everything?”

She laughed, shaking her head. “ Of course,” she reassured me. “ Like I said, family is the most important. And I want to help you.”

I felt a wave of gratitude wash over me, and without thinking, I stood up and pulled her into a tight embrace. “ Thank you, Hana.” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “ Thank you so much.”

We hugged for a long moment, both of us finding comfort in the other's arms. Then, we pulled back, a sense of peace settling over us.

Finally, in the span of a month, we managed to find a flat that suited all our requirements and was fairly close to Hanna's place.

"Even though we have two bedrooms, we are just going to use one as far as I'm concerned," my son declared, unpacking one of the last boxes.

"Yeah, we are. I don't think I could sleep without you next to me anymore." I acknowledged.

#twice smut #kpop fanfic #twice momo #momo smut #hirai momo #twice #twice fanfic

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bastardofharrenhal · 2 months ago

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sorry theres something inherently tragic about the riverlands like. theyre the central kingdom, theyve three major rivers which bring the people food and feeds their crops and helps their trade, they've got the Isle of Faces and Ravenhall and Riverrun and they connect all other kingsdoms, but no matter what decade u look at, theyre always ravaged. the ever going conflicts between the Blackwoods and the Brackens, Harrenhal being built on the bodies of thousands of peasants by one invader only to then be drowned in fire by another, then an uprising marched through them and only ended when two dragons fought high above them all, and just when peace was there, the dance happened and they burned again and again, and when Robert's Rebellion happened and their liege lord wed his daughters to the rebels and the last key battle happened at the Trident, they knew peace for a time, before it was promptly ripped away from them again by the Lannisters and then the War of Five Kings and the Northern rebellion and the raiding and the Red Wedding. even still with the war technically over, the Brotherhood Without Banners is fighting for them and their liege's daughter is now haunting their assailants and there are people who sought to protect them like Edmure Tully or help them like Septon Meribald and its all so

#chaos reads #asoiaf #house tully #riverlands #not to be emotional and messy post over the hardships of a fictional region but. consider that im sick #i have so many thoughts about the riverlands and the north and the violence against them. i am not ok !!!!!!!!#do not get me started on harrenhal i think i will Cry.#valyrianscrolls #a song of ice and fire #catelyn tully #edmure tully #robert's rebellion #dance of dragons #brotherhood without banners

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luvly-writer · 27 days ago

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Basgaith: Eyes Up, Gamlyn

Xaden Riorson x Gamlyn! Reader

Masterlist

Later that afternoon, the sun was lower, casting long shadows over the training yard. The squads had moved into formation drills under the watchful eyes of the wingleaders, and Xaden Riorson—shirt back on, to Y/n’s great disappointment—was stalking the line like a general preparing for war.

“Positions should be tight,” he barked, sharp voice cutting through the air. “If your flanks are open, you’re already dead. Move with your squad like they’re your wings.”

His tone was clipped, commanding, and way too attractive for someone who was supposedly terrifying. Y/n tried to focus. Really. But her eyes drifted again. To the way his black rider jacket clung to his broad shoulders. To the effortless way he moved—calculated, sharp, dangerous. A shadow wielder wrapped in command and cold beauty.

Then it happened.

He turned.

Caught her.

And winked.

It was fast—barely a twitch of one eye—but it was unmistakable.

Y/n’s breath caught. Her entire body stiffened.

And then—

“Oh my gods.”

Rhiannon snorted it first, grinning like a devil.

Violet wheezed next. “Y/n’s blushing again!”

Sawyer whistled loud enough for the cadets across the yard to turn. Ridoc—ever the doting older brother—threw his head back and cackled.

“HE WINKED AT HER,” Sawyer teased. “I SAW IT.”

Y/n groaned and covered her face with both hands. “I will murder every single one of you in your sleep.”

"You can't do that, it's against Codex"

"Shut the fuck up, Ridoc"

“I think you just got promoted,” Rhiannon teased. “Straight to Riorson’s favorite.”

Xaden, from the center of the yard, did not comment. He didn’t look again.

But that smirk?

Yeah. It was very present.

Battle brief was dimly lit, the only illumination coming from the flickering mage lights overhead and the massive map stretched across the central table. The Iron Squad sat shoulder to shoulder with other riders as Xaden led the briefing, his voice low, crisp, and authoritative.

Y/n sat between Rhiannon and Violet, braid tight, posture straight, trying to focus despite the way Xaden’s presence always seemed to pull at the edges of her awareness.

“Gamlyn,” Xaden said suddenly, looking straight at her. “If the enemy surrounds your flank while a forward ambush is in play, what’s your best counter?”

“Pull the center forward, redirect the flank into a crescent maneuver, then trap them in a false retreat,” she answered quickly, voice clear and steady.

He gave a small nod. “Correct.”

She barely had time to let the praise settle before she felt it.

A soft brush.

Not on her hand, not on her shoulder—but around her ankle. Cool and silken, like smoke wrapping around skin. Not alarming—just a tease. A caress of magic no one else would notice.

Her breath caught. Eyes flicked downward. A faint, wispy curl of shadow danced around her boot before dissipating entirely.

No.

Her gaze darted up, scanning the riders at the table—until she found him.

Xaden hadn’t moved from his position across the table, arms folded, voice still deep in explanation. But his eyes?

They flicked toward her—just briefly—and there it was.

The smirk. Barely there. Just the edge of his lips curving up, like he knew exactly what he’d done. Like he was daring her to call him on it.

Y/n straightened in her seat, pulse thudding quietly in her throat.

Rhiannon leaned in, whispering, “You good?”

She gave the smallest nod, lips twitching into a secret smile. “Peachy.”

Xaden continued speaking, cool and collected.

But the next time her eyes dropped, she swore she saw the faintest flicker of shadow curl beneath the table once more.

The Iron Squad was technically supposed to be studying.

Books were open, yes. Scrolls unrolled, quills in hand, the works. But the library table they’d taken over looked more like the aftermath of a strategy meeting and a bakery run—crumbs from stolen pastries, notes half-doodled, and Liam’s bored sketches scattered among actual information.

Rhiannon had her feet propped up on a chair, leaning back as she quietly bickered with Sawyer over the interpretation of some dragon battle formation. Ridoc was half-asleep with a book over his face, and Violet kept trying to quiz everyone, only to be met with groans.

Y/n, seated at the edge of the table, was dutifully scribbling notes, eyes down, posture perfect… until she glanced away—too quickly and too often—to the far corner of the library.

Where Xaden was seated.

Focused. Intense. Reading over something with Garrick beside him. He hadn’t noticed her gaze, too deep in thought—or maybe he was just good at pretending not to notice.

But Liam noticed.

And so did the rest of them.

Sawyer’s brows shot up first. Rhiannon’s smirk followed. Violet elbowed Ridoc without looking up. “Don’t,” she warned under her breath.

Ridoc smirked at her, lifting the book off his face just enough to peer at Y/n with a suspicious grin. “Y/n. Dearest sister. Something got your attention over there?”

Y/n didn’t look up. “Hm? No.”

“You sure?” Liam chimed in, barely hiding his grin. “Because it looked like you were studying a particular... shadow wielder’s form.”

“Must be a fascinating subject,” Rhiannon added, mock-innocent. “Very advanced material.”

Y/n lifted her head with the calmest expression imaginable. “I was not.”

“Right,” Sawyer said. “And I didn’t hear you sigh five minutes ago.”

“I sighed at your inability to do simple math,” she retorted smoothly, flicking her eyes back to her notes.

“Uh-huh,” Ridoc drawled, leaning across the table. “Just saying, for someone who isn’t looking at Riorson, you’ve got a very focused non-gaze going on.”

Y/n didn’t even blink. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Sure, princess,” Rhiannon teased under her breath with a wink.

Y/n rolled her eyes and flipped a page dramatically, trying to ignore how warm her face felt—especially when she looked up again, just to make sure he hadn’t noticed the entire thing.

Spoiler alert: he had. And he was definitely smirking.

Later that night...

It was late in the evening, the sky outside their dorm window glowing with the soft purples and oranges of twilight. The three girls were sprawled across Rhiannon room, a rare quiet moment between brutal training and even more brutal classes.

Violet was lying on her stomach on the bed, flipping through notes halfheartedly. Rhiannon sat cross-legged on the floor, braiding a piece of Y/n’s hair absentmindedly while Y/n lay back with her head in her best friend’s lap, staring at the ceiling with a dazed expression and a dreamy little smile tugging at her lips.

“Okay,” Rhiannon said, narrowing her eyes. “Spill it. What’s got you all floaty?”

“Hmm?” Y/n blinked. “Nothing.”

Violet lifted her head, immediately catching on. “Liar. You’ve been in a daze since sparring this morning.”

Y/n flushed and groaned. “No I haven’t.”

“Yes, you have,” Rhiannon said smugly. “You tripped over your own feet walking back to the barracks. You never trip.”

“It was a loose stone!” Y/n squeaked.

“Uh-huh,” Violet said, smirking. “Was the stone tall, dark, and broody with a mark crawling up his arms and a voice like a war drum?”

Y/n shoved a pillow over her face and mumbled something incoherent.

“What was that?” Rhiannon teased, tugging the pillow away.

“I said—I might have a small... teeny tiny... barely-there crush on Xaden,” Y/n muttered, face bright red.

Rhiannon let out a triumphant gasp. “Knew it!”

Violet burst into laughter, falling back onto the mattress. “Girl, we’ve BEEN knowing.”

Y/na sat up, scandalized. “No, you have not!”

“Yes, we have,” they said in unison.

“Violet caught you staring at him three days into training,” Rhiannon added, grinning.

“You told me his arms were ‘so unfair it should be illegal,’” Violet added with mock innocence.

“I—I never said that!”

Rhiannon laughed so hard she nearly toppled over. “You absolutely did!”

Y/n covered her face with her hands. “I hate you both.”

“No, you don’t,” Violet said sweetly. “But you do like him.”

Y/n let out a dramatic groan, collapsing back onto the floor. “He’s going to know. He knows.”

“Good,” Rhiannon said with a wink. “He should.”

All three of them dissolved into laughter, their voices echoing into the twilight like the beginning of something wonderful.

Unbeknownst to knem...

The hallway outside the girls’ barracks was dimly lit, quiet except for the muffled sounds of laughter echoing from one of the rooms.

Xaden and Garrick were walking past, having just returned from a strategy meeting, when Garrick suddenly slowed down, one brow raised. “Wait.”

Xaden frowned. “What?”

“Shh.” Garrick tilted his head toward a door cracked just slightly open—Rhiannon’s room.

From inside, they could hear unmistakable giggles—and then Rhiannon’s voice, loud and teasing: “What was that?”

There was a pause, and then a flustered voice followed. Y/n’s.

“I said—I might have a small... teeny tiny... barely-there crush on Xaden.”

Xaden froze mid-step.

Garrick’s jaw dropped for a second… then his lips split into a slow, smug grin.

“Oh my gods,” he whispered, absolutely delighted. “She likes you.”

Xaden was still frozen, expression unreadable—but the slight twitch of his mouth gave him away.

“You’ve been brooding like a lovesick idiot for weeks,” Garrick whispered, practically vibrating. “And now this? This is the best day of my life.”

“Shut up,” Xaden muttered, but he couldn’t stop the way his eyes darted toward the door, or how his jaw relaxed slightly at the sound of Y/n’s laughter.

Inside the room, Rhiannon let out an exaggerated gasp, Violet howled with laughter, and Y/n was protesting loudly.

“They’re adorable,” Garrick whispered like a proud mother hen. “Can I plan the wedding?”

Xaden rolled his eyes and tugged him away by the arm, muttering under his breath. “You breathe a word of this and I’ll have Sgaeyl drop you into the river.”

“Worth it,” Garrick grinned.

As they walked off, the door clicked gently shut behind them, the girls completely unaware that their secret had just made a certain Wingleader’s night.

Author's note: Because of her being a pretty girly girl, Ridoc constantly called her princess from an early age, which caused the nickname to stick with their friendgroup once they got to Basgaith.

Taglist: @eepyfaerie @dreamdragonkadia

To be added to the taglist, leave a comment <3

#iron flame #violet sorrengail #fourth wing x reader #fouth wing #fourth wing xaden #fourth wing #onyx storm #xaden riorson #xaden riorson x reader #fourth wing imagine #ridoc gamlyn #ridoc fourth wing

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cloudsmateria · 5 months ago

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cloud strife x reader - are you ready to cry? cause i’m no good

this fic is impaired by les by childish gambino bc our little cloud is emotionally unavailable but he becomes infatuated with a girl he met at the club, both horribly drunk, leading him to catch some feeling and make some decisions he maybe probably shouldn’t have. they sneak around with each other until he has to cut this off. part 2 will probably come, we’ll see how i feel. this is my not proofread first draft, and is mostly an attempt for me to get better at smut since i don’t do it often. also my new fav song i’ve been previously gate keeping is here <3

tw: alcohol, drunk sex, a lot of sex

word count: 7.5k, most of it smut

wall street was party central beneath the plate, it was aerith who took him here promising a drink at the bar before he’d go back to sector 6, but one drink turned to two, turned to three, turned to 4 and the next thing he knew he was in a club on the dance floor with aerith, sending tifa a message telling her where he was.

it didn’t take long for you to catch his eye, you were already looking up at him, smiling and drawing him in. his head was swirling with everything revolving around you, but with a nudge from aerith it didn’t take much for him to approach you, not a thought behind those eyes to make him think twice.

“can i get you a drink?” he shouted over the music, your friends laughing and going off to the floor to let you have your moment.

“one more and i’m gonna pass out.” you giggled wrapping your arms around his neck to dance with him. “you’re not too far from your limit too.” he laughed, his hands naturally resting on your waist.

“how could you tell?”

”it took a good 5 minutes for you to notice me, you were in your own little world.”

”so you’ve been watching me since i came in, huh?”

”with that sword on your back? yes.”

”that the only reason?” he said smugly, leaning in to tease you. you smiled, going for a kiss, he pulled you forward without thinking. the warmth and softness of your lips engulfed his mind, you drawing away. he looked slightly shocked when his eyes met yours again, in a trance of your entirety. your giggle echoed throughout him. “what?”

“i don’t know, just you. i like you.” a sheepish laugh escaped his lips, looking down. he looked back to check if aerith was watching him, she luckily missed the entire exchange. tifa had come by and they had hit it off straight away, the two of them laughing at the bar. but he wasn’t too keen on them seeing him for the mockery that would come for the rest of his life.

“let’s get out of here, i wanna hear your voice better, see you in the light.” you said, like you were reading his mind, you pulled him gingerly toward the exit, his hand tightened around yours as you pulled him forward, spinning you around to wrap his arms around your waist when you got outside, kissing you like it was the first time against the wall, mindlessly. his hands feeling the skin of your waist in your silly crop top, he was too drunk to read what it said, it was something stupid undoubtedly.

he didn’t care, his lips wondered to your cheek kissing you all over, leading down the the back of your ears and kissing you down your neck, all he wanted was to taste you to feel the way your body shivered when his lips made contact.

“ah-“ your voice shivered. “i don’t know your name.” you whimpered, making his heart throb at your shaky voice, clear in the empty cold air.

“cloud.” he said, slowly pulling back, his breath gone at the look of your face. “you?” oh my god his voice was so hot. you tell him and he repeats it softly. you could’ve whimpered again right there, you could feel pink blushing your cheeks in the cold, something you hadn’t felt in ages and you didn’t want this to be just lust. you didn’t want to waste this moment.

his stomach twisted at your slight change in demeanour, slightly shy. to be honest he really wanted to kiss you more than anything, but decided to lay off for a second. how drunk you both were was also a concern that crossed his mind for a split second, he’d like to think he’d fight fine drunk. whatever, he’s a soldier.

”come on.” he held your hand, starting to walk down the street.

“you familiar with the area?” you asked.

“i have no idea where i’m going.” he said blankly, making you giggle.

”you must be far gone.”

”no, i just want to spend some more time with you.” you felt your heart pulse, skipping ahead a step to look at him.

“well, you’re in luck. i happen to know all the good spots, soldier.”

”lead the way, m’lady.”

you were already in the heart of wall market, the streets were bustling at this time of the night, the alleyways were filled with dodgy groups but you had your pretty little guard dog with you. his face was so pretty lit by the amalgamation of lights you walked through, red, purple, blue, he was beautiful, and a gentleman. 10 minutes into your walk your feet started to hurt so he ended up picking you up, a few giggly, teasing pecks being slung around until you were at the door of your small apartment, the elevated entrance looking over the street of wall market.

he hugged you from behind while you unlocked your door, picking you up on your way in to kiss you, pinning you against your entrance wall while kicking the door shut, pulling off your heels and pulling his sword off with his free hand to place against your door. your arms wrapped around his neck, focused on how soft his lips were. the alcohol had worn of slightly, you were both undoubtedly drunk which made everything about this feel that much more amazing.

“i’ve been waiting for this.” he whispered in your ear, nibbling your lobe while his hands got more adventurous, sliding up your dress to holding you by your ass. your breath caught in your throat, unable to resist the mako-infused trance his eyes cast over you, he carried you to your bed, laying you down gently. the room spun slightly, but it was a pleasant feeling, a whirlwind of excitement and anticipation. his hand traced the curve of your waist, his eyes never leaving yours, breath shivering at the touch of the softness of your skin.

all of it was so intimate, so real, the way you looked at him made his heart throb. your hand found his cheek, guiding his gaze back to yours, and in that moment, he knew he would never get enough of you, not the morning after, not in 10 years when you had split ways, he’d never forget your loving touch, soft skin, saccharine laugh. his hands moved to the hem of your dress, pulling it up slowly as his mouth was desperately pressed against your plump lips, revealing your stomach, your chest, your shoulders. the cool air hit your skin, but his touch was like fire engulfing you.

his eyes searched yours for any signs of hesitation, but all he found was desperation like his. he leaned in, kissing down your chest, making you gasp with every gentle press of his lips. your heart was racing so fast it felt like it was going to burst out of your chest, you felt so alive, so loved, so desired. his touch was tender, yet firm, leaving no doubt about how badly he needed you, you slipped your fingers under his vest, tugging it upward. he pulled off his top with one hand, you were shocked, staring at his chiselled chest blatantly. you should’ve expected this from his arms, but even then, none of that prepared you for this.

his body was a masterpiece, sculpted from clay like an idol. every muscle defined, the way his abs rippled with every movement was mesmerizing. his arms were strong, yet gentle as they held you down, his chest a book of scars. the light from the street lamps outside danced across his skin, casting shadows that played tricks with your eyes. you couldn’t help but run your fingers over them.

his breath hitched, and his eyes closed briefly as you touched his scars, trying to keep himself under control. his hands slid up your thighs, teasing the edge of your panties, making you squirm. he pulled away from your chest, looking down at you with a smirk. “you enjoying yourself?”

you nodded, feeling a bit shy at his sudden question. “yes...” your voice was barely a whisper, and he leaned down to kiss you again, his hands continuing their exploration. he gently slid your panties to the side, his finger grazing your wetness. you gasped into his mouth, and he took the opportunity to slip his finger inside, making you arch off the bed, gasping loudly.

“oh, cloud!” you moaned out his name, your voice a mix of pleasure and surprise. his eyes lit up with satisfaction, his smirk turning into a full-blown grin.

“that’s it, baby.” he said, his voice deep and rough, making you press your legs together. his finger moved in and out of you, setting a steady rhythm that had you clutching the bed sheets. he leaned down to kiss you again, his free hand playing with your nipples, rolling them between his thumb and forefinger, making you whimper. his free arm leaning above your head to keep himself stable, his shadowed face watching your blissed expression. your hips rolled up with his fingers, desperately trying to get closer. he could feel your pussy twitch, the heat radiating from you and the warm smell of your perfume surrounding him, intoxicated by more than just the alcohol, it was your aura he was drinking in. he was throbbing so hard it hurt.

he buried himself into your neck in his breathlessness, panting right in your ear, your hand buried in his hair pulling him closer into you. he kissed your lobe softly, every touch left a mark on your soul, you could feel his intensity in every action, it all came out. he felt this was the only peace he had in his hectic life, you unwrapped him to his barest form.

his finger continued to work you, making you squirm under him. “what do you want?” he whispered, his breath hot and ragged in your ear. you bit your lip, trying to hold back a moan. “anything…. ah- you’re enough, anything, cloud...” you breathed out, your voice shaky, you were close.

his voice was a soft caress, the words coming out of his mouth were like a gentle storm, confusing yet comforting, the kind that left you breathless. “are you sure about this? about me?” he asked, his thumb circling your clit, driving you crazy. you nodded, unable to form more coherent words. his fingers moving faster, curling just right. your orgasm quickly building as your legs pressed tighter together, quivering. his thumb found your clit, circling it perfectly, you were at your limit.

“c-cloud!” you screamed, body convulsing as waves of your pleasure crashed over you. he was amazed. your sound was music in his ears, and his own arousal grew tenfold to the way your pussy pulsed around his fingers, everything you did was beautiful. his bulge was already uncomfortable, but now it was unbearable. he pulled his fingers out of you, making you twitch. you wrapped your arms around him as he kissed down your neck, teeth nipping at your skin.

he sat up to kick his jeans off, throwing them to the corner of your room. you could see his dick straining against his boxers, a wet spot at his tip from his leaking precum. you jaw dropped, his size was intimidating and yet unbelievably hot, you did not expect him to be packing this much. he palmed himself through his boxers, chuckling at your reaction. he pulls you on top of him, taking your hand and pressing it against his erection, skin hot to the touch.

“what?” he asks, a playful smirk playing on his lips, watching your reaction. you blush deeper, not breaking eye contact, your hand still wrapped around him.

“iis that even going to fit?”

“dunno. you having second thoughts?” he teases. you bite your lip, shaking your head. yes, you definitely were having second thoughts but that wasn’t going to stop you. you want him more than ever now. you lean down to kiss him again, feeling his cock pulse in your hand. his tongue slides into your mouth, dancing with yours, the taste of alcohol as you mix together. you can feel your heart racing in your chest.

he moves your hand away, sliding his boxers down, his cock springing free. he’s huge and dripping. “are you sure?” he asks, his voice soothing.

“mhm.” you nod, eagerly leaning down to kiss the tip of his cock, feeling him twitch in your hand.

"fuck." he whispers, the taste of saltiness coated your tongue as you wrapped your lips around it, making you want to taste more of him. you lick the length of him, watching his eyes roll back in his head, a low groan leaving his mouth. you swirl your tongue around the head, making him hiss before taking him into your mouth, feeling him fill your throat.

"shit!"

his hands went to your hair, gripping it tightly as you moved your mouth up and down his length, your tongue caressing every inch. he watched you with a mix of pleasure and disbelief, feeling his orgasm build rapidly. he could feel your throat contract around his tip, his balls tightening. but he didn’t want to come too soon. he gently pushes your head away, panting heavily.

“you’re too good at that, but it’s not what i had in mind.” he breathed. “i need to be inside you so badly right now.” his hand went to the side of your face, thumb stroking your cheek. the affection in his voice made you squirm, he brought his head down for another kiss. his hands roamed up to your hips, kneading the fat in his hands. he flipped over hovering over you with your back against the sheets, his eyes were filled with lust and something else you couldn’t figure out, whatever it was, it was intense.

he gripped your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head. his free hand slid down between your thighs, prying your legs wide open for him, fingers slowly dragging up your slit, getting drenched in your wetness. his eyes searched your own for any sign of hesitation.

“i don’t know how much control i have over myself.” he said lowly, he has pushed himself to his limit with you. you nodded quickly, already desperate for him and ready for anything he wanted to do to you.

“that’s okay, cloud.”

”are you sure?”

”ive never been so sure about someone in my life.” you said, looking up at him tenderly. his heart swelled in his chest, feeling heavier than before. no one had ever looked at him like that, spoken to him like that, your words raw and ripping deep into him. he knew he didn’t deserve this, but in this moment, he couldn’t help but revel in it. if he only had sober enough of a mind to turn away now and stop himself from hurting you.

“fuck… stop looking at me like that.” he murmured, heart hammering in his chest. the look in your eyes was like a warm embrace, he looked down, trying to avoid it, it was overwhelming him. your giggle only made his heart throb more, he couldn't help but smile.

his grip on your wrist tightened, pushing your hips down to align with him, his tip could feel the heat of your entrance. slowly, he dragged it up your folds, drenching it in your wetness and making your body shiver until it hooked against your entrance, making you arch your back. he groaned, the friction was driving him insane. you looked up into his eyes, trying to prepare yourself to accommodate him. he took a deep breath.

“are you okay with this?“ he asked one last time, his voice strained with the effort to not rushing into this no matter how badly he wanted it. this was your first time and you were nervous but sure. you nodded eagerly, cheeks flushing red. it was all he needed. he pushed into you, slowly sinking the tip into you, it was so tight.

”fuck….” he breathed out.

you closed your eyes, you could feel them rolling to the back of your head, a mixture of pleasure and pain. you bit your lip though a muffled moan still managed to slip out as you stretched around him. he paused for a moment giving you time to adjust around him. he pushed in deeper, groaning, the heat was overwhelming as he felt himself getting deeper until he bottomed out completely and you’re sure your neighbours heard the disgusting noises that spilled from your mouth.

“shit, you feel too good. “ he twitched inside you, he cursed himself for being so close already. you felt so full, the pain of trying to adjust to him was wearing off slowly and all that consumed you was pleasure. he watched your face, all your reactions, it made his heart ache. “see what you’ve done to me?”

“oh, cloud.” you whimpered, he loved it when you said his name like that. his face trailed down to your, neck the peaks between your breasts until his hands lost the grip of your wrists to cup your breast, the thumb grazing over the sensitive peak, rolling them between his fingers. the other squeezing your ass. his lips latched onto your nipple, sucking them into his mouth. his hips drew out completely, until it was just his tip left in you just to push back in inch by inch. it was driving you crazy, and yet it was keeping him from spilling into you too early.

“you don’t know how bad i needed you, so good.” he whispered. your hand tangled into his hair, the other digging into the flesh of his shoulder. he took your nipple into his mouth, sucking gently, flicking it with his tongue. you could feel your core clench around him as he switched to the other, his hands supporting your weight. the way his mouth felt on your sensitive skin was heavenly. you clenched around him from the shockwave of pleasure, you felt him twitch. he groaned, the vibration of his voice making you shiver. “you drive me insane.” you were going to ask what you were in a minute, the way he made you feel on an emotional level just made everything that much more intense. “i want you all to myself.”

his sucks grew harder, more insistent, the sounds of your combined breathing filling the small apartment. your moans grew louder, mixing with the occasional whine as he stretched you open, his cock thick and demanding. he could feel your nails digging into his skin, urging him to go faster, deeper.

he pulled away as his control thinned, hand leaning against the headboard while his other gripped your hip tightly, the sound of his groans filling the room. his pace picked up as he got more urgent, hips snapping with a rhythm that made you wrap your legs around his waist. you threw your head back pleasure quickly building in your belly, your pulses starting to get more frantic, begging for more.

“ah! cloud! yes- oh!” his need was getting more urgent with each thrust, the way your body was moving against him was mesmerising, your breasts bouncing in the dim light, his eyes were stuck on you as he quickened, getting rougher, watching your chest rise and fall with each irregular breath and moan, your lust playing out just for him in fusion with your flushed face, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure, it was just enough to make him come undone as he felt you pulse and clench around him frantically.

his thumb found your way to your clit, teasing it as he fucked you. that was it for you. your walls clamped down on him, shaking as your orgasm crashed through you. you bit your lip desperately to stop yourself from waking everyone in the building up, nails digging into his back as he kept up his pace, chasing his own climax. he could feel it building quickly, balls tightening as he dug himself deeper into you, body begging for release.

“fuck, where do you want it?” your mind was gone, drunk with pleasure and the thought of his cum in you was too much to resist, you wanted to be his, all of him inside you.

“inside me,” you moaned. his eyes darkened, heart jittering in his chest, pounding against his rib cage. the idea of marking you with his cum, was so fucking hot, it sent a shiver down his spine and his cock throb even more insistently, movements getting more urgent and deliberate.

“are you sure?” his jaw clenched as he pushed himself closer and closer to the edge.

“yes cloud.” your voice with that pulse of your pussy around him sent him over the edge. he grabbed your hips, forcing himself as deep as possible, you felt it shoot inside you in waves as he groaned loudly, cock twitching with each spill.

“all of it, fucking take all of it.” he managed in ragged, raspy breaths as he buried himself deeper, you clenched and tightened around him instinctively, milking every drop, you were so sensitive you felt yourself get close again. everyone must have heard that. his body sloped over, wrapping around your waist tightly as he slowly pumped himself in you a few more times to fuck everything as deep as possible, all of his hot seed filling you completely, it couldn’t be possible to have that much cum. you moaned softly as you felt yourself get overcome with the sensation again, a second orgasm, becoming a twitching and shivering mess all over again.

he laughed quietly, his body still trembling with the aftershock of his release as he continued to pulse inside you. he leaned down to kiss you again, you could feel each other’s heart race as your bodies pressed against each other.

“you’re something else,” he murmured against your swollen lips, your legs were still trembling, and you were still deliciously full of his cum and hard dick. you realised how much you wanted this to be more than just a drunken hookup without any courage to say anything.

he took another moment to catch his breath, his forehead resting against yours sweetly. “i want to go down on you until you pass out.” his soft voice did not match that nature of that sentence, you felt your cheek heating up at the words. “but i’ll let you get some rest, you need it.” his gentle kisses trailed down your neck, carefully flipping you over so he didn’t slip out of you, your bodies fit perfectly against each other as your head rested against his chest, his hands playing with your hair as you pulled the covers up.

his breath was warm and steady against your cheek, you felt so safe, he was so warm and big underneath you. your eyes grew heavier, the room still slightly spinning, in complete bliss. his other arm around you tightly, holding you closer, his heartbeat like a lullaby. and that’s when the gravity of what happened weighed on you, you didn’t want him to leave tomorrow, you really liked him, and he didn’t even know your last name.

you sat up, looking down at him, his eyes still closed and breathing steadily. “cloud?” you whispered, unsure if he was asleep. his eyes fluttered open, a gentle smile playing on his lips. “yeah?”

his hand squeezed your side, the warmth of his touch sending a jolt through your body. “can i ask you something?” you took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart.

“of course, what’s on your mind?” he sat up with you, his smile fading slightly as he sensed your shift in mood.

you took a moment to gather your thoughts, your heart in your throat. “what is this going to be between us? i mean i know it’s not a relationship, and i just need to know if this means anything to you or if it’s just a one-night thing?” you whispered, staring at the ceiling.

cloud’s hand stilled on your back, his smile fading into a contemplative line. “what do you want it to be?” he asked, his voice low and serious. you felt his eyes on you, waiting for your answer.

“i don’t know,” you admitted, feeling the weight of your words. “i just know that i really like you, i don’t want this to be the last time we see each other.”

cloud’s gaze was intense as he studied your face, his thumb gently stroking the curve of your waist. “i like you too,” he said finally, his voice a soft rumble that seemed to resonate through you. “i just don’t want to hurt you. I’m not good at this sort of thing.”

the confession hung in the air. you could see the fear in his eyes, had he been sober it would’ve been a definite no. yet, here you were, entangled in each other’s arms.

”can we see where this goes?”

he took a deep breath, gaze not leaving yours. he wanted you so badly, but a hint of his sober self was warning him, he ignored it. “yeah, let’s see where this goes.” his arms wrapped around you tighter, holding you closer as he kissed the top of your head. his dick was still semi-hard inside you as you drifted off.

��

you were woken up by the orange glow across your room from the windows. cloud’s arms were still around you, you looked up, his face peaceful with his messy hair splayed across your pillows, chest rising and falling. his morning wood was still inside you, it was already starting to stir, growing in length and thickness as he slowly woke up, your body was still sensitive and full from last night, you squirmed slightly.

his eyes slowly fluttered open, feeling your movement, his sleepy eyes met yours. he smirked, remembering what was happening

“good morning, to both of you.” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly from sleep. his fingers circled your hip, his cock fully hard now, rolling it up into you.

“cloud!” he covered your mouth, not wanting to wake up your whole apartment block, his other hand sliding down to your clit, grazing it enough for you to gasp into his palm. your eyes rolled back in pleasure as he moved his cock inside you, shallowly thrusting in and out, feeling you clench around him.

“see, you don’t mind it, do you?” you felt his back muscles tighten under your hands, your face on his chest, flexing as he picked up his pace. he leaned in to kiss the top of your head, his hand moving to grip your thigh and keep your open for him.

his strokes grew deeper, his cock sliding in and out of you, lubricated by the mess of the night before. your breath hitched as you felt him hit that spot deep inside, making your toes curl. he was like a different person with you, easy going with no need to hide himself, confident. his movements got stronger and more demanding, so big he filled you up completely, stretching you out all over again.

his hips were slapping against yours, echoing throughout the room mixed with your muffled moans and his groans of pleasure. he hit that spot inside you repeatedly, making your mind go numb all over again, tensing around him, orgasm building up quickly. it didn’t take much for either of you to finish, both still sensitive from last night. his hips jittered, your pussy contracting around his cock as he pushed through your walls, pressing you down on him. it twitched inside you, sputtering hot cum inside of you again.

his breathing was ragged, flipping you over again so he was on top of you as he slowly pulled out despite the suction of your pussy, being left empty. some of it leaked out, but he fingered it back in, making you shiver and moan. he chuckled quietly, looking at the state of you.

“good morning to us.” you said as he lay his head on your chest, continuing to push in and out of you. he looked around your room, it was as big as his, though a lot more lived in and homely. books stacked up on the floor, notebooks and makeup from last night splayed out on your desk and a scythe in the corner of the room which caught his attention.

“i’m gonna go clean up.” you whispered, trying to slip out of bed, his arms tightened around you

“stay a bit longer.” he mumbled against your neck, it was clear he was about to sleep again. “it’s only 6.” the warmth of his breath tickling your neck.

“i would love to, cloud. but i do have work.”

his eyes searched yours, the conflict of his want versus your needs. "i'll make it quick." he whispered, kissing your forehead before rolling off you, his cock sliding out of you with a wet sound that made him groan. he stood up, grabbing your hand, pulling you off the bed. the warmth of his cum trailed down your thigh. "we can shower together."

you nodded, following him to the bathroom, the floor cold against your bare feet. the shower was already running, the sound of water hitting the tiles echoing through the room. cloud stepped in, holding his hand out for you, the water washing over him, his muscles rippling as he moved. you stepped in, the warmth wrapping around you, his arms enveloping you again.

his hands roamed your body, the water slipping over your curves, his eyes tracing your figure. “you’re so beautiful.” he murmured, pressing his lips to your neck. you leaned into his touch, his hands moving down to your ass, squeezing it gently, making you giggle.

cloud picked up a washcloth, soaping it up and moving it down your body, his eyes never leaving yours as he washed you off. the warmth of the water washed over you both, mixing with the steam that filled the small room, the scent of your combined arousal still lingering in the air. his soapy hand reached between your legs, washing off the mess of the night, his thumb grazing your clit, making you jump.

his eyes were on your face, watching every little reaction, the way your eyes would roll back at the slightest touch. “can’t get my hands off you.” he chuckled, kissing the side of your neck. his other hand cupped your face, tilting it up to look into your eyes. “you really do drive me crazy.”

you couldn’t help but smile, feeling his hardness press against your thigh. ”do you ever take a break?”

“this is your fault. you’re too tempting,” he said, his voice a low growl. he stepped closer, pressing you against the tiles as he dropped the washcloth. his hand went back to your neck, tilting it to the side, kissing the pulse point. “but i’ll behave for now.”

his hands were gentle but firm. you leaned into him, your breasts pushing against his chest. he took his sweet time, washing every inch of you, his eyes never leaving yours, as if he was afraid you would disappear if he looked away. your heart fluttered at the tender way he touched you, while your hands ran over his arms, washing him off.

his cock was hard again, brushing against your stomach. it was clear he wasn’t done with you, but he didn’t push it, he knew you had to get ready. instead, he kissed your forehead and stepped back, letting you wash off the soap. you watched him under the water, the way his muscles flexed.

you stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around yourself, feeling the warmth of the air hit your wet skin. he followed you, his own towel around his waist. you get into a clean set of comfy clothes, you gave Cloud one of your large sweatpants you normally slept in. "you can keep it," you said with a smile, watching him put it on. "i have plenty."

“why? you do this often?” he asked.

“the opposite actually.” you said.

you both looked at the clock again, it was only 5 AM, and the sun hadn’t fully risen. “why don’t we just cuddle for a bit longer?” you suggested, pulling off your bed sheets and changing them, he helped you spread ita cross your matress, your voice filled with hope. Cloud’s eyes lit up, he didn’t hide his enthusiasm.

“i thought you had work,” he said, walking back towards the bed and pulling the covers aside for you to slip in next to him.

“well, i do… at 5pm.”

“what?”

“i work at a bar, it's a night shift today so i've got the whole day off."

"i wish i could stay here with you but i have to get back to sector 7 at 8. my friend owns a bar and she does need my help if i want to continue to have a place to stay."

"that's cool, are you a bartender?"

"mercenary. i thought i told you this last night?"

"oh." you remembered, though it was still surprising. "sorry, i think i was just more focused on some other things from last night."

he laughed quietly. "don't worry."

you lay there for a bit longer, basking in the warmth of cloud’s embrace, listening to the rain tap against the window. His arm was draped over your waist, his hand playing with the hem of your shirt, his fingertips grazing the skin just above your panties.

“when will i see you again?” he asked absent mindedly.

you turned to look at him, his eyes still sleepy but filled with something that looked a lot like hope. “im free tonight after my shift, though it's about 1am.” you said with a playful smile. that was perfect, aerith and tifa would've been asleep by then, he could sneak out to see you.

“i’ll make it work,” he said, his voice filled with determination. you couldn’t help but feel a warmth spread through your chest, his willingness to make time for you was something you weren’t used to. “i want to see you again, badly.”

cloud’s hand stilled on your shirt, his eyes looking at yours with a mix of guilt and excitement. the guilt was something he wasn’t used to feeling. he was a mercenary, used to taking what he wanted and moving on, but with you it was different. the thought of not seeing you again was unbearable, and he felt guilty for feeling this way, knowing he might be leading you on, he couldn’t help himself. he warned you last night.

you nodded, trying to keep the hope off your face. “i’ll be waiting for you.” you leaned in and kissed him softly, feeling his cock twitch against your thigh, it was clear he wanted more but he knew he couldn’t push it. you both laid there, your bodies entwined, talking about everything and nothing until the sun had fully risen, and suddenly it was 7.30, and he had to leave.

his kiss was gentle as he pulled away from you. “i’ll see you tonight then,” he said, getting back into his soldier uniform. you gave him a peck on the cheek before he left your apartment, the cold air of the early morning a stark contrast to the warmth he left behind.

…

leave a comment if u want a part 2, i’m undecided <3

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