#but depending on this is done and how content is going to drop this could potentially be a good choice for the majority of the players

[thefirstknife]

Honestly, I'd personally love to see D2 take some breaks. Maybe have 2-3 years between expansions with, instead of seasonal content, smaller permanent content drops (alongside our few annual special events) between. It would mean longer without brand new content, but it would also mean the new content could be more expansive, more polished, and hopefully devs having even better working conditions. Obviously the "MORE ALL THE TIME MORE MORE MORE" crowd would never survive that, but it's sort of what's needed if they want better content. (But also I suspect the only way D2 could do that would be if they swapped to a sub model, and I don't see that happening. It also wouldn't work great if they kept their FOMO model alongside a sub model, vs what some other games do where you can sub and unsub as desired and won't miss out on important story, lore, etc. content)

Same, I would really love more time between content too. I don't personally mind seasons, but I think seasons should be longer or have more time between them. Definitely fewer seasons per year.

But yeah, it would need some massive changes to how the game works, how content is managed, what players can expect and so on. Historically Destiny gamers have been quite annoyed by any longer waits between content drops which is probably partially what inspired the seasonal model. And any normal player is often oversaturated with this model as it is now, but the same people who complained before are complaining now as well. So there's no winning here with the Gamers (TM).

They did announce some changes post-TFS that they'll tell us about during the showcase so we'll probably get some insight into how things will go after. I assume there will be some changes to this model. I hope they go for more breaks and longer dev cycles.

[ruinix]

can you do one where reader goes to one of his games and shows up on the big screen then it switches to quinn and him smiling looking up 🙇‍♀️ i fear this would kill me

( i love all ur writes they fuel me throughout the day esp w the cannuck season over )

Hello, lovely. This is such a cute prompt for a lil fluffy thought.🥺Thank you for reading, lovely, sweetie. I am sending you lots of forehead kisses, mwamwa. Apologies for only getting to your ask. Hope you're still there! (Game photo from Pinterest.)

18+. Fluff thoughts. No warnings except it might not be realistic. (Optional) Bonus content on your POV included!⬇️⬇️⬇️

Quinn would always want you to attend his games. He knew you would sometimes prefer sitting with the crowd, sometimes the family box. Depending on your decision, he would try to get you the seats you wanted, always eager to ask whether you would be going or not, especially for home games. Except for tonight, you told him that you had plans.

He was dejected. Of course, he was. He only wanted you to see the brief intermission featuring Fin—you've always loved Fin—and perhaps even get the chance to interact with Fin when the mascot roamed the crowd during the game. He would even make that happen, perhaps drop hints to the mascot wearer where you would be, but you would not be attending tonight.

However, instead of telling you that to entice you to cancel your plans, he didn't, fearing you would cancel your plans. He didn't like interfering with your plans no matter how much he craved your very presence in the arena. You were his good luck charm, but that included your presence wherever you were. As long as he had you.

Currently, Quinn was fucking thankful you weren't in the crowd. He was playing like shit. The Canucks were down a goal in a 2-1 game with no change in the score since the first. It was more than halfway through the last period. He tried to make plays but the puck was getting swiped away. It didn't help that he could feel his fatigue, his heart pumping hard, his nearly cramping.

Yet he pushed himself. He knew you would be watching, even by checking the NHL app for the score or play-by-plays. He had to do you right, especially when you gave him actual good luck kisses before he went out. He just—

A whistle was blown for a stoppage. Quinn swerved behind the other team's goal line, taking deep and regulated breaths, taking full control of himself, skating towards the bench when the coach called for timeout. He sighed, taking sips of water, listening to the strategy while he rested himself.

At that point, he was starting to get overwhelmed. From countless plays to be done, to the slight cramped spaces next to his teammates. Until he heard the crowd cheer, he dared to look up the jumbotron, seeing Fin holding a messily done sign.

In broad black markers, in fucking glitters, it said, "GO CANUCKS. GO QUINNY, MY LOVE!"

He nearly frowned until he saw you, jumping and cheering despite the frustrating score, wearing the signed home jersey and red-black-yellow outfit. He could read your lips, shouting "Go, Quinn! I love you!" before you spun to show off his number on your back.

Quinn laughed, earning looks from his teammates and the coaching staff, but he didn't fucking care, because you spun again, grabbing your sign from Fin and waved it in full avid fan energy. Nothing could ever bring him down, not even at the sight of his game-exhausted yet grinning face being blasted on the Jumbotron for at least a second before it flipped over to you cheering harder. So, this was your plan. Fuck, he loved this. So much.

"Huggy, do you hear me?" The couch called. "You either get back to the bench or—"

"I'm rested. I'll play," he said just as the whistle was blown, signaling the end of their timeout. He nodded at his teammates on the ice. Feeling renewed, feeling the burn of your kisses earlier, wishing that you were still on the jumbotron, he adjusted his helmet one last time. "Let's do this."

˚｡⋆ ❀ ˖ Bonus: Your POV ˖ ❀ ⋆｡˚

They won. The Canucks actually won 4-2 with Quinn having the game-winning goal. Three goals on the last 5 minutes.

With glitter under your nails, on your jersey that you purchased in arena store, on your seat, on the floor, you screamed with the crowd, waving your crumpled sign. Even more when Quinn got the first star.

You were shaking all over the place from the adrenaline, zooming onto Quinn when he went back on the ice to give out his Canucks hockey stick. You felt so proud of him. He played so amazingly, so breathtaking, especially after their timeout.

Your heart did backflips when you noticed him turning to your general direction before he skated away for an interview. Then there he was again on the jumbotron, his voice raspy, his hand running through his hair to keep it away from his face, yet a few wet strands fell on his temples. It should be a crime to be that handsome, no?

After Quinn disappeared, everything felt like a blur. You walked with the crowd, determined to go to a specific place in Rogers Arena to wait for him.

Your phone pinged with a message, "Don't leave. Wait on our spot."

Our spot, he said. You let out a giggle, ignoring the concerned looks you received. You called him and he instantly answered.

"My Love...hi." He sounded like he was breathless.

"It's our spot now, huh, Mr. Game Winner?"

There was a pause on the other line. "What else is it then?" You could hear the smile on his voice, could see the blush blooming on his face. Quinn has always been so simple. Shy but so eager to brag in his own way.

"Our spot," you echoed, giggling so much that you heard him chuckle. "Don't take long."

"See you in fifteen."

"Make sure to shower!" You whisper-yelled.

That made him laugh. The loud and cute laugh of his. The exact laugh you wish you had heard when he was on the ice after your quick five-second-jumbotron fame. You felt so soft all over, like you were swimming on the clouds with Quinn's laugh on repeat in your head.

"Longer then? Thirty?"

"Thirty. I'll wait for you, Quinny. I love you."

"I love you more."

You both spent a whole minute just listening to each other's silence before you ended the call with a soft kissing noise which made him laugh again, leaving you so happy as if you won the world when it was Quinn who won the game.

I tried my best. This was written with me who doesn't attend hockey games face-to-face (or any sports) as an avid TV watcher (i fear the crowds).

-> more thoughts? List. Want to be notified? Join my taglist!

[bloodlines-if]

Bloodlines is a 18+ dark, low/urban fantasy, horror story.

Demo (TBA)

Content Warnings include: Graphic violence and gore, Body horror, Strong language/profanity, Death and murder, Disturbing imagery, Blood and injury descriptions, Mental health themes, Supernatural horror elements, Substance use, (optional) sexual content. (Please keep in mind this is a very dark story with heavy themes and may not be suitable for everyone!!)

They call you Leech – a journalist with too much nerve and not enough self-preservation. You dig where no one else will. You expose what gets others buried. In Sordia, that makes you a target. Some respect you. Most want your throat cut.

You thought you'd seen the worst the city could offer until your estranged sister crashes back into your life, dropping a mystery in your lap: Twelve photos. Twelve people. And you’re in one of them.

Two people in those photos already went missing. No ransom, no trails, no bodies and no answers.

Now you’re caught in a story you didn’t ask for, but you'll follow it to the bitter end anyway.

Try not to run out of time to figure out who’s collecting names… before yours is crossed out too.

Centuries ago, there were myths about supernatural beings roaming through this world. Now, their descendants walk the streets. There are eleven main Bloodlines: Primordial, Umbra, Draegon, Seraph, Infernal, Fae, Abyssal, Ifrit, Manitou, Chronos and Chimaera.

The power runs in the blood. Not gods. Not monsters(?) Just a little more. Their abilities make them stronger, richer, deadlier but not untouchable.

In Sordia, a decaying metropolis built on the bones of old New York, humans and the powerful bloodborns coexist – barely. It’s a city where humans fight Bloodlines, and Bloodlines devour each other for control. Violence is routine, loyalty is rare, and everyone bleeds the same in the end. At the top sit the Twenty-Three Families, the ruling mix of old blood and old money. They own the precincts, the papers, and the people.

The law? Corrupt. The faiths? Weaponized. The truth? Up for auction. And you?

You’re just one more soul with a heartbeat, following blood trails with a camera, digging up what should’ve stayed buried.

Welcome to Sordia. The city's rotten to the core. Try not to catch it.

꙰ Play as a human Journalist and customize your looks, gender, pronouns, sexuality etc.

꙰ Form deep, messy, or dangerous connections. Romance is optional but sometimes survival depends on who you trust (*cough*or betray).

꙰ Are you more respected, or loathed? Your choices will shape how the Sordia treats you... and how you survive in it.

꙰ Print the truth no matter the cost or bury it for the right price. You decide where the line is, and how often you cross it.

꙰ Choose your career background – investigative journalist, tabloid reporter, war correspondent or whistleblower. Each path offers unique advantages... and setbacks.

꙰ Human or not, blood still spills. Sordia’s streets are dangerous, and your choices can mean life, death, or something worse.

Maud (female | Umbra Bloodline) Your estranged younger sister, and a walking disaster you can’t quite let go of. Maud only shows up whenever she wants and never when you’re ready. She’s been off the grid for years now, you have no idea where she’s been or what she’s done.

Benedict ''Ben'' (male | Human) Your uncle, and one of the few people who’s never lied to you. Ben tried to raise you and Maud the best he could, but Sordia eats good men fast. Now he doesn’t leave his apartment, not ever. He handles your digital back-end. Cameras, firewalls, encrypted archives, you name it, he’s cracking it. Ben’s not made for this place. But without him, you’d be dead ten times over.

Andre/ Anaya ''Ace'' Reid (male / female | Human RO) Your best friend, your backup, and one of the few people left who’ll pick up the phone when your name flashes on it. Ace works for the CRD, the folks who handle everything criminally bloodline related. Some say they’re too good for Sordia. You’re just hoping the city doesn’t eat them next.

Dr. Arden (male / female | Manitou Bloodline RO) Dr. Arden runs a neutral clinic in the undercity, patching up anyone who can crawl through the door. They're blunt, cold, and don’t care who you are, only how bad you're bleeding. They don’t take sides, don’t make friends, and don’t ask questions. But if you’re dying, they’re your last best chance.

Egon/ Emme Han (male / female | Draegon Bloodline RO) Heir to one of the most powerful Draegon families in the city, and the youngest CEO to ever make the top board. Sharp suit, sharper tongue. Egon/Emme moves through the world like it owes them something, and maybe it does. They’re arrogant, calculating, and impossible to impress.

Lucian/Lucia ''Luz'' (male / female | Infernal Bloodline RO) A crime boss with too much charm and not nearly enough mercy. Luz runs their empire with a grin, a drink in hand, and pink-tinted shades. No one really knows where they came from. All anyone knows is: you don’t cross them, and you don’t ever mistake their smile for kindness.

[daylighted]

SOMETHING IN YOUR MOUTH ━ DARYL DIXON x BOLD!READER

18+ CONTENT! daryl told you to be quiet how many times? and yet still, it is so much more fun to push his limits than follow his grunted pleas.

"mmph," you can't even get a proper word out through the fingers shoved between your parted lips, the taste of daryl's salty skin coating the inside of your mouth.

you don't know why he's so insistence of your silence; at this time of night, the prison was quiet enough to hear a pin drop. it was more that obvious what you were getting up to by the sounds of the squeaking bedsprings and the lewd skin slapping noise seeming to echo off of the stone walls.

but daryl was quiet when he wasn't in your orbit. he stuck to his favorite shadows and observed, so used to being on watch that he'd made a home in the silent dark. getting into this thing with you was, probably, the worst and best thing he could have done for himself.

how else could someone express frustration with the loudest person in the group other than to fuck it out of them?

it was inevitable, you thought. the bigger, isolated cells were reserved for the people with dependents, leaving the rest of the group to pair off and suck it up in the other cells, all in the same block as to not lose track and keep a head count. inevitable that you'd end up buried in the sharp springs of the bottom bunk's mattress, because daryl sure as shit wasn't getting on the top bunk to screw you into silence.

"i told you," daryl seethes in your ear, always so quiet even when he yelled, like he was more than aware that he didn't need volume to demand control of something, "to shut the hell up."

you liked getting him angry, though. every time, it got you closer and closer to this: the breaking point. when he'd climbed on the wiry bunks' frame and grabbed you by the face and slammed his mouth against yours. he was strong enough to haul you down from there for easier access.

now, you were both half dressed, and he was ranting and raving in your ear about your silence, ironically making him the loudest in the room.

you open your mouth around his thick fingers to try and tell him as such, but he pushes them down harder on your tongue. "never fuckin' listen," his words are more rasp and gravel than anything, hardly intelligible around the creaking, the deep thrusts enough to make you see stars. you should piss him off more often. you were going to piss him off more often.

his other hand goes to your thigh, lifting it higher up on his waist, giving him all that more access to getting as close to you as he possibly could. your head tips back into the thin, pathetic excuse of a pillow, no more words trying to escape your mouth but pleas of your own. shut the hell up, he pleaded you before. please make me louder, you pleaded him now, without the proper ability to say such.

daryl's thumb digs into the bottom of your jaw, cupping your open mouth in a claw. your saliva is all over his fingers, pooled in the corners of your lips, and yet the only sounds you can get out are the growled, unintelligible ones in your throat.

your hand reaches up to fist at his raggedy shirt, tugging him down closer. there's something wild in his eyes, like this little sense of normalcy, no matter how raunchy, had him gone. being in a world so ruined made the human things seem that much more exotic.

his thrusts are more erratic, and each noise around his fingers is becoming more desperate, more pleading. tears sprig in the corners of your eyes, clenching them tightly to focus on something, anything, that isn't the fact that you want to scream and cry out and can't even hardly utter a proper moan to show for how he breaks you apart and shatters you.

daryl lets go of your mouth suddenly, that hand going to the top bunk's metal frame as he uses his grip on your thigh to sink one last time into you, a guttural groan heaving from is chest. in the end, it's always the man that breaks his own rules.

his face is flushed when he lifts his forehead from the top bunk's frame, leaning beneath the boxspring above him to get a proper look at you. it's always hard to tell when he's blushing or when he's worked up. you think maybe this time it's both.

"you," you manage to choke out through your broken voice, mouth dry and thick from having it pried open for so long, "are a filthy little hypocrite."

daryl's lip quirks in the corner, more of a muscle twitch than a smile. "y'want me t'tell you to shut the hell up again already?"

he doesn't smile properly, but you do. a wide, toothy grin that only turns the pink on his cheeks more vibrant. "if you'll let me scream this time." daryl goes to argue, but you dig your heel into the muscle of his thigh. "only fair. you probably already woke up every damn walker at the gate."

a man of little words is more than likely also a man of many actions. he grabs your other ankle and pulls you closer to the edge of the mattress, and when the bed starts to creak again and you melt into a fit of moans hardly muffled by the scraps of fabric they called blankets here, he doesn't bother trying to shut you up this time.

notes. u let me write when i'm tired and i start acting like a proper slut PLSSS. anyways my venture into another fandom i hope the twd ppl don't bite.

tags. idk if i have any twd girlies in my audience rn but if u are one & want tagged pls lmk. for now special mentions to @deansbeer & @starzify & @frosttbitessam who ik at least have seen it hehehehe

[fleurfiles]

Caitlyn x reader w misunderstanding trope we are having dinner with her parents at the manor and excuse ourselves to go to the bathroom or something and as we’re walking back to the dining room we overhear Caitlyn say “no it’s not like that, I don’t see her like that” and we think she’s saying that she doesn’t see us as a partner/gf but what we didn’t hear was what Cassandra had said “You shouldn’t play with her feelings, she isn’t like the other girls you’ve snuck in before, before all else she’s your friend treat her heart kindly” so Caitlyn was in reality reassuring her mother that she truly loves us, that she doesn’t see us as one of her flings maybe she clears it up when we can’t sleep and tell her what’s bothering us

NOT LIKE THE OTHERS

contents. caitlyn kiramman 𝑥 fem!reader

masterlist ‧₊˚ taglist

gabi’s quick thoughts. eek this is so cute i love love love

dinner at the kirammans was always going to be a little nerve-wracking. not because you weren’t used to formality– you could easily handle the pristine silverware placement and cloth napkins and saying “thank you” like your life depended on it– but because it was them. caitlyn’s parents. cassandra and tobias kiramman, with their polished gazes and quiet, pointed smiles that made you feel like you were being interviewed even when they were being kind.

caitlyn had held your hand on the way in. had told you you looked beautiful– no, it was much stronger than that– she had told you that you looked radiant, and had kissed your cheek like she meant it. she’d pulled out your chair before sitting next to you, knees brushing under the table, her fingers dancing across your skin when no one was paying attention.

it had been fine, for the most part. awkward small talk, compliments on your schooling and your ‘poise,’ but nothing unmanageable. you were starting to relax, laughing at something tobias said, brushing your foot against caitlyn’s beneath the table like you’d done a thousand times before. feeling seen. safe.

and then, maybe an hour in, the wine starting to lull everyone into softness, you’d excused yourself to the bathroom. just for a second– but on your way back, the contents of the conversation which you had excused yourself from caught your attention. you hadn’t even meant to eavesdrop, but you were rounding the corner back to the dining room when you heard her voice, and you felt the need to listen in.

it wasn’t everyday that cait outwardly expressed how she felt about you– or anyone, for that matter. but when given the opportunity, you were always going to tune in to what she had to say, and even if it wasn’t directed at you now, you felt the undying urge to figure it out.

“no, it’s not like that,” caitlyn said, and you felt your pulse quicken. you must’ve not heard the beginning of the conversation, because there was no possible way that she could’ve been talking about you. all the nights you shared, sneaking out to sightsee piltover or the sleepovers you had, staying up late to bake and share secrets– or the days you spent on the phone just talking and enjoying each other’s company, it was way more than just platonic feelings. 

“i don’t see her like that.”

your heart dropped, and everything else dulled. you didn’t hear cassandra, or the context of what was being said before or after that comment. all you did know was that you were hurt, and you were done with listening to whatever else the conversation held, because just that one sentence echoed in your mind like it had been carved into you. i don’t see her like that.

your hand gripped the doorway. you stood there for another breath, maybe two, before you decided to just turn back. quietly, slowly, you ducked into the nearest hallway and tried to collect your face into something neutral to avoid ruining the evening for everyone else– but your heart was literally racing. your eyes burned with tears, but you blinked them down and pressed your palms into your thighs, practicing your smile in the dim reflection of a window pane.

when you returned, nothing had changed. the candles were still flickering. more wine was still being poured. caitlyn looked up and smiled at you, and you tried to return it, but your throat had closed up and your lips didn’t dare to move.

you somehow made it through dessert and more idle conversation, though you’re not really sure how. you laughed when you needed to, nodded when it was expected, and said ‘yes ma’am’ and ‘no ma’am,’ when cassandra would try to offer you something. caitlyn reached for your hand once under the table and you almost didn’t let her take it, but you weren’t that strong. she may not have felt the same way, but deep down, your feelings still remained.

it was stupid. it was so stupid, but your mind wouldn’t stop playing it back. i don’t see her like that. the words sat heavy in your chest, sticky and bitter, coloring everything else.

you didn’t sleep.

you stayed curled up in the guest bed they’d set up for you, caitlyn still in her room down the hall. you could hear the wind outside the window, hurling throughout the bare trees that lay victim to winter, and you resonated with them. you felt bare and exposed, like the entire ‘thing’ you had going on with cait was only raw for you. like she had been masking, meanwhile, your guard was already down.

you tried to fall asleep, you really did, but it only resulted in constant tossing and turning. it was gnawing at you, that sinking feeling that maybe this had all been one of cait’s little games– and maybe you were just something temporary. a distraction. another girl caitlyn had brought home to appease her parents and to fulfill some short-lived need, but nothing more. 

you hated how much it hurt. how much you’d let yourself feel. you had something so deep for cait that you almost let yourself believe that she still had it, too. but according to whatever she told mrs. kiramman at dinner, there was nothing there. she didn’t have an ounce of feelings for you.

though you tossed and turned for what seemed like hours, around midnight, you finally gave up. you sat up and stood out of bed, reaching over to the dresser to grab and pull on your sweater before making your wait to caitlyn’s room, bare feet against the cold wooden floor as you crept out. you knocked on her door gently and waited, unsure if she was awake, or if you even wanted her to be. 

she opened the door almost immediately, like she’d been expecting you to come, or maybe she was just hoping that you would. 

“you okay?” her voice was soft, and her dark blue hair was mussed like she’d been running fingers through it. she was in a long sleeve and shorts, barefoot, like you.

you nodded, “can i… come in?”

“of course.”

you stepped inside and she closed the door behind you. the both of you were swallowed by an awkward silence, which was rare– considering you were always so comfortable around each other. but a different feeling came about tonight. you wondered if cait knew that you had heard what she said, but it wouldn’t be like her to apologize this late after it happened.

you didn’t say anything at first, mostly out of embarrassment mixed with fear. you just stood there, arms crossed, staring at the edge of her rug and counting the amount of frays on the side before she finally spoke up. she walked closer to you, more careful this time, “you’re upset.”

you shook your head, biting your lip, “i just couldn’t sleep, and wanted to see if you were awake.”

she frowned, not believing you for a second. you hated that no matter what you said or how hard you tried, cait always had the ability to see right through whatever lie you were trying to persuade her into believing. “did something happen, darling? you can always tell me what’s going on, you know that.”

the nickname makes your chest pulse. you hesitated to respond to her question, and that’s when her eyes changed, softening up, like she knew whatever you were going to say was going to be hard for you.

“i didn’t mean to listen,” you whispered out,“but i heard you earlier, when i excused myself to go use the restroom.”

caitlyn tilted her head, confused, so you continued, “when i was coming back, you said…” your voice cracked and you hated it, your teeth gritting together in frustration, also stopping you from letting out a cry. you looked away, “you said you don’t see me like that.”

she froze.

“and it’s fine,” you rushed, trying to backpedal, voice all twisted and cracked, a complete giveaway on how you were really feeling, “and i get it, i just– i didn’t know. i thought we were… i don’t know what i thought, but–”

“no.” caitlyn took a step forward, eyes wide. she crossed her arms at you and shook her head fervently, “no, no, no, darling, that’s not what i meant. you didn’t hear the whole thing.”

you looked up at her, and she gently reached out, but didn’t touch you until you nodded that it was okay. once you obliged,her fingers found your arm, soft and grounding.

“my mother was telling me that i shouldn’t toy with your feelings. that you’re different. not like… not like the others.”

you blinked.

“she said you were my friend, and that i should be kind to your heart,” caitlyn continued, her voice softer now, more careful, and deeply understanding, “and i told her it wasn’t like that at all, because… you’re not just my friend. i do see you like that. like a partner. someone i–”

she paused and swallowed, like she always did when she wasn’t exactly ready to admit something out loud. but, contrary to usual, she kept going, “someone i care about more than i know how to say sometimes. i wish i was better at that.”

you stood there, breath held, heart cracking open and blossoming like you had never felt before. caitlyn drew closer to you, and your hand rested against hers as her irises softened before you, into something much sweeter than you had ever seen her let on.

“i would never play with your feelings,” caitlyn added, quieter now, “not yours. you’re precious.”

you looked up at her, finally letting her see how much it hurt you when you had heard what she said, and how stupid you felt, now realizing that you really had missed the entire context of the conversation.

she pulled you in before you could begin to speak.

her arms went around you and yours mimicked, your face buried in her neck like you were trying to disappear into her. her hands rubbed your back soothingly, her breath warm in your hair, and you could feel how tightly she held you– like she never wanted to let go.

“you could’ve just told me,” you mumbled, voice muffled, “i thought i was just one of your little playthings after hearing that.”

“i should have told you.” she admitted, and the air filled with another interlude of silence. it wasn’t awkward or heavy, just quiet and comforting, and a sense of nostalgia rushed within you, thinking back to when you and cait would just enjoy each other’s presence, communicating, yet not sharing a single word.

you stayed like that for a while. when she pulled back, she looked at you like you were her favorite thing, and it was evident that deeply, and truly– you really were.

“do you want to stay here tonight?” she asked you, but it felt more like a plea than a real question. of course, you had nodded, and her lips tugged into a smile as she squeezed your hand a couple times. she helped you into bed, pulled the covers up, and laid beside you, bodies curling together comfortably.  neither of you said anything else after that– she just reached for your hand under the sheets and held it tight.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Idia Shroud: The Daily Grind

Oooh, his limited-edition shirt (from a live performance, implying he actually may have attended a concert in-person??) has the Fates on it! Idia also talks about getting birthday messages from his mobile games… True Gamer rep... though I cannot forgive him using an all-in-one cream for his face don’t let Vil hear—

THAT GROOVY IS TAINTED 😭 The less I say about it, the better…

Rise and Shine!

Idia Shroud lived by numbers. Measurements, code, games. They were dependable things, easily controlled and predictable, unlike the fleshy meat sacks called humans. The most improbable creatures of all.

The luck of the draw had been unkind to him this year. A test ("In person attendance is required, Shroud," Trein had told him sternly), on his birthday! If a higher being existed out there, Idia was certain he was their least favorite child.

Touching grass? Tch, so annoying.

Idia drew out a ragged groan and rolled his neck, which still ached from having slept upright in his gaming chair. Clasped in his hands was a rectangle, its screen glowing as one of his many mobile games booted up. He had a list to run through, missions to complete--all a part of his routine.

Another day. Better do my dailies before heading out.

He sighed.

A familiar home screen unfolded before his eyes. It was a lounge, newly refurbished and dipped in a neon glow. Balloons clouded the ceiling, banners and streamers were strung up, confetti dusting the floors. Jewel-colored flowers in crystal vases and sumptuous dishes crowded the avaliable space on tables. On special occasions, the background was automatically decorated in honor of the holidays.

A grinning anime girl faded in. She was dressed in a fluffy cloak and hat, keeping her cozy for the winter season. This particular version of her was a SSR he had dumped money into to max out (no expense spared for the best girl).

"Happy birthday, Gloomurai!" she chirped, parroting the same phrase that she did to all players once a year. "Geez, did you sleep in again? Wakey, wakey! How are you going to enjoy your birthday if you're only half-awake for all of it? ... Wh-What? You're wondering if I prepared anything for you? Don't be stupid. I-It's not like... I... like you or anything..."

"Hihihihi... Aaaah, the way she runs hot and cold is so cute, just the best! This is peak content!" Idia chuckled to himself. Here, in the comfort of his private quarters.

Beep, beep, beep!

Idia yelped and leapt up in his seat, nearly dropped his phone. He squinted at the blinking envelope icon that had overtaken the screen.

"... What? A new message?"

Who's it from? I-I don't talk to any of my classmates enough for them to contact me out of the blue like this... C-Could it be Riddle-shi shouting at me to attend the next dorm leader meeting?

Idia cautiously opened the message. He winced as he braced himself for the redhead's shouting (all caps) from the other end.

A cheerful jingled played, followed by pixelated fireworks popping off. Ortho exploded forth from the envelope with a giggle, the words HAPPY BIRTHDAY blinking on either side of him. The video message began to roll.

"Gooood morning, nii-san!" his little brother cried. "Did you get a good night's sleep? I hope so, because you'll need all that energy for your exam--and your birthday party afterwards!"

"B-Birthday party? When did I agree to attend that...?" Idia mumbled, running a hand through his fiery hair.

The prerecorded Ortho continued. "But I know you. You're probably thinking, 'Birthday party? When did I agree to attend that...?' ... Right?"

H-He got me nailed word for word!!

"We can't have you shut away in your bedroom as soon as you're done with that test! So to make sure you don't try and squirm out of socializing, I've recruited a guest character for an escort mission to your class and then to the birthday party afterwards. They'll be by to pick you up at 7:30 am. See you then, nii-san!"

Ortho waved farewell before he blipped out of existence. Idia sprung out of his gaming chair, slick with sweat from a freshly sprung, anxiety-induced leak. He stared at his phone in disbelief, his eyes wide and bugged out.

"D-Did I... Did I hear that message right?! S-Someone's coming to escort me to class?! But the time right now is…!!”

Knock, knock, knock!

“E-Eeeep!!”

This time, he did drop his phone. Its fall was cushioned by the mountain of cardboard boxes, opened chip bags, and volumes of manga loitering on the floor. The impact restarted the video message: “Gooood morning, nii-san! Did you have a good night’s sleep?”

“Idia-senpai?” a voice called out, joining Ortho’s. Your voice. “Are you there? I’m here to grab you for class.”

Th-Them?! He turned paler than Death, even as his cheeks and the tips of his hair burned bright pink. Why… wh-why did Ortho have to choose THEM for this?!

“H-Hold on a minute!” Idia called out.

He crumpled to his knees and gathered as much of his junk as he could, shoveling it into convenient hiding places to create the illusion of tidiness. His closet, under his bed, empty boxes and bookshelf space.

“How much longer?” you asked worriedly from the other side of the door. “You might be late at this rate—and you know how Professor Trein can be about tardiness.”

“A-Almost…!!”

Idia grabbed his phone and got back up, glancing at himself in the reflection of his monitor. His bangs had gone awry, covering one eye in cobalt bangs. He hurriedly brushed them away, trying to get his hair to behave as best he could, then attempted to straighten out the creases in his pajamas.

Screw the school uniform. There was no time left to make himself any more presentable than this. He’d have to deal with the disapproving shake of his teacher’s head when he slumped in. If was preferable to keeping you waiting.

His temperature spiked again. Pink became red. He waved frantic hands at his hair, urging them to cool off back to blue.

Calm down. C-Calm down, you’ve got this!! You’ve played so many dating sims, summon that main character charm!

But in real life, there were no clearly defined routes to head on. No dialogue options to choose or love flags to trip. No resets, should he fail miserably. He was left on his own to fumble through social interactions—and their consequences.

He shambled over to his door and, swallowing hard, cracked it open. A sliver of light poured in from the outside, along with your smiling face. He was a monster crammed into a gap, and you were his savior.

“There you are!”

Idia tried to picture a brazen male lead. The sort of guy that leaned against doorframes with a cocky smirk and casually went, “Hey, you.”

Nope, nope, nope!!! WAY too cringe! I-I can’t say that like I'm a confident alpha dudebro…! I can’t…!!

Idia froze, his mind defaulting to a 404 error. Even his heart seemed to stop, seized by clawing panic.

“H-Hey,” he said meekly.

"Happy birthday, Idia-senpai.” You blinked, slowly taking him in. "Did you sleep in again?"

E-Eh…? What is this weird sense of deja vu? They sound almost exactly like the birthday login lines from earlier... e-except it's a real person this time, not a fictional character...

The pace of his heartbeat quickened.

S-Something’s wrong with me. Th-This reaction’s definitely not normal!!

He flushed again, fervid as a flame. Short circuiting, overheating.

“Er… Idia-senpai? Are you feeling okay? Your hair, it’s going haywire, shifting colors like a lava lamp,” you vaguely gestured. “And you’re still in your pajamas. You hardly look ready to leave your room."

“I-I’m fine!” he squeaked. “I wasn’t expecting a guest, s-so… I didn’t prepare to receive… any... one…” Idia trailed off.

"Hehe. How are you going to enjoy your birthday if you're only half-awake for all of it?" You extended a hand to him. "Come on, it’s time to wake up.”

Just like the greeting from the mobile game.

Idia shyly ducked behind his door, hiding his burning face.

Is this a dream? If it is, I don't know if I want to wake up from it.

[iinthehexcore]

the last drop

summary: Work could be hard to find in the Undercity. Thankfully, you had found a job - at the Last Drop.

content: probably ooc silco, reader works at the last drop, silco saves you from a drunk dude, nothing too crazy, requested but not proofread! 1396 words

a/n: i have never written for silco before but he is one of my favorite characters! hope i did him justice wahaha!! i used 'jinx fixes everything' as a reference for the layout of the last dropw

⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

Work, especially work that is not... completely illegal, was hard to find in Zaun. Safe work, even less. But as someone who had grown up on the cold and harsh streets, you would take anything you could find. The Last Drop - last you had seen it, Vander owned it. It was the heart of the Undercity, the one warm place in the cold town. But Vander disappeared, and someone else took it over. Not as warm and inviting, but it was your best bet at a stable job.

The woman who interviewed you - if it could even be seen as an interview - only nodded, telling you to be there the day after at seven p.m. sharp. One minute later, and she would come find you.

Well, it was easy to say that you even turned up early. You did not want to know what would have happened if you hadn't. When you walked in to the empty bar, you saw another bartender.

"Hey," he looked up, throwing the towel on his shoulder, "You're the new bartender?"

"Starting today," you nervously said, pulling at your shirt.

"Cool," he nodded, "I'm Thieram. I'll help you your first few shifts."

Working with Thieram was fun. He was familiar with all the people who came into the bar, telling you funny stories of what they did while drunk and betting on who would be the most drunk that night. He even went to split up a fight that had broken out. Even though you had worked here for a little over a month now, you had yet to see the big boss.

The lady who interviewed you, Sevika, frequently sat at the booth hidden in the corner. In front of her always sat a glass or bottle of booze, depending on how her day went, together with some playing cards and a cigarette. Today, however, the bar was completely empty.

Either it was because there was finally a bit of sunshine in Zaun, or maybe a natural disaster was heading your way without you knowing. Even Thieram wasn't at work - something about 'another job needing to be done'. It left you alone with only one drunk man in the far corner of the bar. Only you, the drunk man, and a bucket of water.

If there was nothing else to do, then you could just clean. Though you truly care about Thieram, you could tell that deep cleaning wasn't his strongest suit. You had finally rid the ceiling of spiderwebs with the help of a chair, a stick, and a rag that was nearly falling apart. Sweeping the floor, wiping the tables, and lastly, cleaning up behind the bar.

Every bottle got neatly placed in their spots and the wood was nearly shining now that all the dirt and grime was wiped off of it. The pipes above your head had no more dust on them and even the lightbulbs were now clean.

As you were about to throw your towel down, you heard footsteps on the stairs. You never went up those - you knew Silco had his office up there. There was simply no need for you to be even near it.

Were you supposed to look him in the eye? Maybe not. Maybe you shouldn't even speak until he spoke to you. But it would be rude to not acknowledge him at all, too. You had no time to go over your options as you heard one of the bar chairs scratching against the floor.

There sat Silco.

The two of you looked at each other in silence for a moment. You, terrified. Him, almost curious.

"You are the new barmaid."

Not even a question.

He knew the answer. Sevika had told him about a handful of people coming to find a job, but she thought you the most capable one. Not addicted to Shimmer, seemingly healthy enough, and Thieram told her you were good at your job.

"I am, sir."

He only lowly hummed as you turned to grab a glass and the bottle of alcohol that was meant for Silco. Thieram made sure to remind you where it was multiple times - only the boss could have this. Unless he said the opposite, he would always get a glass poured for him. So, you did.

You carefully put it in front of the man, not sure if you should say anything. He didn't seem like someone who really did any small talk anyway.

"Did Thieram put you up to this?"

"Up to what, sir?"

He shook his head.

"It's Silco," he lit his cigar, raising the glass to his lips, "And the cleaning."

"No, si-Silco," you corrected yourself, shifting your weight from one leg to the other, "Wasn't sure what else to do, so I thought that I might as well."

It was hard to read him. All he did was hum in response, downing the rest of the gold liquid before disappearing back upstairs again.

Two weeks had passed, and thankfully, Thieram was back. The pub was packed - inside people were nearly sitting on top of one another, and the crowd even went on outside of the bar. You heard laughter, talking, screaming, a bang every so often. Sevika, back in her usual spot, just kept an eye out. As you glanced over, you saw her glass nearly empty.

Sevika and you weren't... friends. No one in the Undercity necessarily had friends. But you were both... friendly, at least. If no curse words or glares was considered friendly. What you had learned was that she liked to have her glass full, so you grabbed her usual bottle, stepping past some drunk guys before standing next to Sevika.

No words were exchanged as you filled up her cup, wiping away some spills as she nodded in response. More than enough, you thought. With a slight smile, you twisted the cap back on the bottle, turning to walk back to the bar.

Halfway through, though, your path was blocked. The group of drunks, the jugs in their hands nearly empty. You knew that these weren't their first ones, either. You took a deep breath, trying to squeeze past them, but it was simply impossible.

"Ah, look here," one of the men coughed, grinning weirdly, "The new barmaid!"

"Yes, and the new barmaid would like it if she could go by," you mumbled, the glass bottle in your hands.

The men looked at each other before loudly erupting into laughter. One jokingly wiped his non-existent tears away, shaking his head.

"Why? We not fun enough for ya?"

"Yeah, come on," the one in the middle leaned over, his face uncomfortably close to yours, "We're good guys, I swear."

"If you were, then you would let me pass."

He whistled, circling you as he now stood behind. There was still no way of getting through though - his friends just moved closer together, blocking your exit.

"Big mouth for a barmaid," he grumbled, "Maybe someone should teach you to shut up."

"You think so?"

A voice, raspy and low, accompanied by the smell of cigars. You slowly turned your gaze away from the terrifying man in front of you, your eyes falling on Silco. The man was hard to miss, but what was even harder to miss was the shining pistol he held in his hand, aimed at the man who had been bothering you.

"What?" He raised an eyebrow, cocking the gun, "At a loss for words?"

The man and his friends didn't say anything, the glasses in their hands shaking as they nervously looked at Silco. He just rolled his eyes in annoyance, pressing the gun against the man his temple before gesturing to the door.

"Get out."

You nearly let out a relieved sigh, holding the bottle close to your chest as you looked back at the ground. You felt a hand on your shoulder, making you turn your head. Silco looked down at you for a moment before pushing the gun back into the holster.

"They will not bother you anymore."

He glanced at Sevika who downed her glass in return, wiping her mouth before nodding at the redhead next to her, both walking out of the bar. They could handle it.

"Thank you, Silco."

"No need to thank me," he glanced at the bar, seeing Thieram busy with all the other customers, "A drink will do."

[rememberwren]

Practice

About this: certified drabble gone out of hand. best friend!Kyle Gaz Garrick/fem!reader. PIV, fingering, oral (fem receiving). King of your firsts, you ask your best friend Kyle to take your virginity.

Part 1 here.

-

“Kyle?”

“Hm?” 

“Can I talk to you about something?” 

He sucks in a breath, like you’ve asked for something painful. “No can do, honey pie. I’m just here to sit in silence.”

You roll your eyes, though his joke breaks through the ice of your nerves and melts that anxious, frozen part inside you. Kyle’s good at that—putting you at ease. He does it in such easy, flippant ways that you aren’t even sure if it’s being done intentionally. Just another excuse added to the grocery-list-length of reasons why you’re here now, asking him for this. 

“If I had a favor…a big one. Would you do it?” 

He grins, a flash of pale, straight teeth. “That’s totally dependent on the favor. Does it involve burying a body?” 

“No.”

“—because my answer is yes—“

“Would you have sex with me? For my first time.” The mirthful expression drops from his face, all teasing fading away. He turns to you—literally angles his body toward you—to give you his full attention. You do your best to meet his eyes. See, you can make eye contact too. You’re to be taken seriously.  

He blinks placidly and asks: “Why me?” 

“We’ve practiced stuff before,” you begin to recite, though that grocery list of reasons why Kyle would make the perfect party in your brain has suddenly gone frustratingly fuzzy. “You make me feel safe, and I’m—like, really attracted to you.”

His mouth wobbles, threatening to grin. “Yeah?” he asks, playing at unaffected. He runs a hand over his shorn hair and answers for himself: “Yeah.” 

“Kyle. Focus.”

“Okay, okay, how’s this for focus: all those things you just said? Those are things you’ll probably feel for someone in the future. A partner. Somebody you really want to give yourself to. So why do it now with me? Why not wait for it to be real?” he asks. 

It’s…it’s a good question. With a really good answer. But telling Kyle that this is real for you? That’s not an option. So ignoring the obvious, what’s another good reason you could possibly have for not wanting to wait for Mx. Right?  

Kyle’s waiting, watching, brows raised in an smug expression that says, See. I’ve just talked you down from a dangerous ledge. You’re welcome, when you finally settle on the only excuse you can think of.

“Because,” you say, “I wanna feel good now.” 

-

He can get behind that. He can get underneath it, on top of it. Anywhere it wants him—Kyle can get there. Because you deserve to feel good, and there’s nobody in this godforsaken world who deserves to be making you feel good, but Kyle comes close. You chose him, after all, and he thinks that must stand for something. 

He sinks into the mindset the way other men must slip into well-fitting suits; this is tailor-made for him. He’ll give you the princess treatment: dinner, back to his place for wine, then he’ll sip the taste of it off of your tongue and—

At the first sign of his acquiescence, you whip your shirt off over your head and his brain blue screens. 

“Whoa,” he says. He gives himself a solid moment to eat you up with his eyes: your soft curves, your dimples, the bra you’ve chosen with the lacy edges—god, did you somehow know that he’s a sucker for lace? After the moment ends he contents himself to going hungry, scoops up your shirt and hands it back to you. “I didn’t mean now.” 

You frown, pressing your shirt to your chest to protect your modesty. “When, then?” 

“When I have the chance to treat you right,” says Kyle, laying a hand on your thigh, smoothing his thumb along the curve of your knee. “To take you out first. Dress up. Light some scented candles, I don’t know—“

“That sounds like it will take forever,” you grumble. “Can’t we fast forward? Give me a sec.”

Brushing his hand away, you disappear into your bedroom and then the light to the en suite bathroom clicks on. You leave your shirt behind. Kyle’s fingers are drawn to it, feeling the warmth from where it pressed against your skin. He wonders if it smells like you, but Jesus he’s not going to sniff your fucking shirt. He’s not that desperate—

God, it smells good. 

You reappear just a split second after he tosses your shirt back into its place on the sofa, and you set your boon down on the coffee table. It’s a scented candle, blueberry, half burned off. You flick the sparkwheel of the lighter in your hand and tip the candle dangerously sideways to light it. 

“There!” you say cheerfully. “Candles. All my dreams are suddenly coming true.”

“You are a cheeky little brat. You want in my pants that bad?” he asks, just to watch the way your mouth drops, words turning into stuttered syllables. He laughs and pats his lap. “C’mere.” 

You go, kneeling over him. His hips are slim, but it’s still a stretch for you, his hands finding your waist and helping to keep you steady, thumbs smoothing against the bare skin of your belly. He draws you against him in a hug, tucking your head into the crook of his neck. His hands run up and down the length of your back, soft and slow, drawing shivers from you. 

“What’re you so eager for, hm?” Kyle wonders. On his lap like this, arms looped around his neck, you have a small height advantage. He pulls back to look up at you, eyes tracing over your nose down to your mouth and back up again, memorizing your features in the dim lamplight. “Don’t even know what you’re missing, do you?” 

“It doesn’t have to be a big deal,” you murmur, playing with the collar of his shirt. It tickles, but he doesn’t laugh. “Virginity is an outdated concept anyway.” 

“You want it?” 

Your brows raise. “Yes?” 

He’s a bastard for saying: “Don’t sound too sure to me.” 

“I want it, Kyle. Come on, don’t tease me.” 

“Hey—if we do this, you’re in charge,” he tells you, finally relenting against his body’s fervent desire to see his cock harden. You shift on his lap and he has to pause speaking, hands flexing against you. “Whatever you say goes. Whenever you want to stop, we stop. Alright?” 

“Sounds like a lot of responsibility.”. 

“Tough,” he says. “Those are the rules, honey pie. Take it or leave it.” 

“Can I make my first rule?” 

“I’m all ears.” 

You clear your throat and mutter into the juncture of his neck and shoulder, “Kyle, I want you to be in charge.” 

Kyle’s breath leaves him in a rush. He’s a bad man. He must be, for getting so drunk off of those words. For wanting so badly to be in charge of you and your pretty body, for finding your overwhelming trust in him absolutely heady.

He leans up and kisses you. It’s not the first time you’ve ever kissed, but it’s easily the best. You take it to a hungry place and he doesn’t even attempt to rein you in, just sighs into your mouth and sucks on your tongue, your kisses turning into a heated give-and-take that reminds him of ocean waves he wants to be swept away in. 

You settle more firmly in his lap, fingers stroking up through his shaved hair. Your nails against his scalp makes him groan. The two of you kiss until your mouths are numb, until you have devolved into little thrusts against him, seeking friction. 

When you seem well and truly desperate, Kyle slips his hands up from your hips to cup your breasts, thumbs tracing your skin above the cups of your bra. 

“Take it off,” you gasp against his mouth. “Please Kyle, take it off—“ 

“Pretty pushy for the girl who isn’t in charge anymore.” 

“Kyle!” 

“Alright, alright,” he says, hands tracing around your ribs to the clasp at the back. He undoes it on the first try and mutters under his breath: “Score.” 

“What?” you pant, slipping your arms from the straps. The bra comes off, and tumbles from the couch to the floor, but neither of you pay it any mind. 

Kyle can’t speak. He’s never seen you here before, miles of new flesh on display. Your nipples pucker in the cool air under his stare, and he reaches out to rub the pad of his thumb over one, watching you shudder. When he cups your breasts in his palms he can’t help but think how well they fit in his hands, how every part of you seems molded for him. He’s not going to be able to let you go after this. It’s like being behind the wheel skidding on black ice. He sees the collision course he is on, but there’s nothing he can do to stop it. 

“Are you sensitive here?” he asks, thumbing at the hard peak of one breast. 

“Isn’t everyone?” you breathe.  

“No,” says Kyle with a warm laugh. He pinches you softly, attuned to the breath you suck in and the way your body trembles. You are a sensitive little thing, untouched by other hands, and fuck, Kyle’s never had a thing for virgins but he’s got a thing for you, and it threatens to destroy him. 

“Gonna ruin you,” he says, leaning in to nuzzle at the hammering pulse in your throat. He opens his mouth and scrapes his teeth over your collarbone just to hear the way you squeak.  

“Do it,” you whisper, hips grinding down against the hard line of his clothed erection. “Come on, Kyle, you’re all talk—“ 

“Me—?”

“—said I wanted to feel good,” you say. “Why am I still waiting?” 

Well. It’s logic he can’t argue with. 

He urges you off of his lap. “Bedroom.” 

“Alright,” you laugh. 

Just after you stand on shaking legs, Kyle adds: “Race ya.” 

-

Kyle launches himself over the back of the couch in a move that would not look nearly so smooth if you tried, socked-feet slipping on the hardwood as he races toward the bedroom. 

“Kyle, you cheater!” you howl, rushing after him.

“Blow out that candle, it’s a fire hazard!” he shouts behind him, sending you whirling back to the coffee table to huff a breath against the flame. 

By the time you make it into the bedroom, he’s reclined on your bed, ankles crossed, hat resting over his face like he is taking a restful nap. You’d believe it if it weren’t for the erection tenting his jeans. 

“If you’re tired, I can leave you to nap,” you snark, feigning for the door. 

Kyle whips his hat off of his head and tosses it like a frisbee with frightening dexterity. The hard brim clatters against your knuckles and makes you gasp, clutching them against your chest as you stare at him in shock. 

“You’re not going anywhere,” Kyle says. He sheds his shirt in that slick little maneuver men have mastered, gripping the back collar and tugging it up and over his head. It reveals a length of dark, soft skin stretched taut over muscle that has your mouth watering. You’ve seen him shirtless plenty of times—God, you’ve seen him naked, really, though not all at once—but it never stops having such a heated effect on you. He kneels up and comes to the edge of the bed, sitting on the side, reaching out one hand for you, palm soft and facing up. “C’mere.”

You go to him, taking his hands and lacing your fingers together. He strokes his thumb against yours. 

“You wanna finish undressing me?” he asks. 

“Do you want me to finish undressing you?” 

Kyle stares. Then a slow smile spreads across his face. He gets it; he always does. Standing up, he guides your hand to rest flat against his abs, drawing it downward toward his belt buckle. He says: “Undress me, then.”

Your hands shake as you unfasten his belt. You don’t bother slipping it free of the loops, just let it dangle open while unfastening his jeans. His erection makes that a little more difficult than it might have been otherwise, and every time your knuckles brush against him, he gives little sighs that go straight to your head. 

He’s not wearing any underwear. 

“Gaz you devil.” 

“That’s me,” he says with a warm smile. His fingers find the waistband of your leggings, and it’s his turn to draw them down your legs and let you brace yourself on his broad shoulders while he helps you out of them. With any other man you might have been shy, but there’s no room for it with Gaz. The way he looks at you takes up all that space in your brain for anxiety. He looks at you like he’s seeing artwork, like he wants to pin you to the wall and stare at you for the rest of his life. 

“Bed time,” he says, coaxing you down onto the soft duvet. You shift to scoot back but his hands grip your thighs, fingers denting the soft flesh as he tugs you back toward the edge of the bed in a show of strength that has your heart hammering. He kneels and spreads your thighs. Then he shuts his eyes, muttering under his breath. 

You lean up onto your elbows. “What is it?” 

His eyes flicker open. “In my house we pray before we eat, thank you.” 

“Kyle!”

He’s still laughing when his mouth presses against you. You slip off of your elbows and onto your back, both hands clasped over your eyes as he licks a broad stripe over your folds. Gaz eats pussy with remarkable tenderness, no hint of teeth, all tongue and soft kisses. He lets you hide your face and muffle your noises but draws the line when you try to close your legs with his head still between them. Winding his arms up over your thighs, he pins them open to the bed with his forearms, hands framing your cunt nicely. His thumbs slip in your own arousal when he tries to spread your folds too, and in the end he gives up, burying his face deeper into you to tongue at your entrance. 

He draws back for breath at one point, his pretty jaw smeared with your slick. He sounds winded when he asks: “What do you think, honey? Can you cum like this?” 

You continue covering your eyes with one hand, but the other reaches down to grip at his short hair and guide his mouth back to your clit. He chuckles against you but takes the hint, lapping the flat of his tongue at that aching epicenter of nerves, taking it into his mouth and suckling with sweetness. 

You’re climbing that first peak when he carefully slips his first finger inside you, giving you just enough to whet your appetite. You hadn’t realized how badly you craved something inside you until you had that slender finger to grip, but now you want more. 

“Another, Kyle, please,” you ask. 

He groans, mouth full of you, and shifts on his knees. Pulling back, he guides two fingers into you, easy as anything. “I love your manners. You’re so fucking good, you know that? So good.” 

He stops talking before he can make you uncomfortable—knows the way your chest feels fileted open with any kind of praise or compliment—and gets back to his important work. With his fingers gently working you open and his mouth on your clit, it takes hardly any time for the pleasure to crest, the muscles in your belly tensing as your pleasure draws tight and then snaps clean in two. Your toes curl, groan bitten off as you clamp your mouth shut, pussy spasming around his fingers. He works you through it, dark eyes shut like he’s savoring the taste of you. 

“Can you take more?” he asks, mouth wet, lips swollen. 

Your head bobs in a nod, throat dry from all the sounds you’ve been making. Kyle’s grin is beatific, and he leans down to kiss your closest thigh while he works a third finger into you. This one gives you a pleasant stretch, but there is no pain; you are plenty wet and relaxed. 

“You want me to use a condom?” he asks, smoothing his free hand over your belly to watch the muscles jump and twitch at his soft touch. “You been taking your pill everyday?” 

You roll your eyes. “Jesus, yes, Kyle I’ve been taking my birth control. Do you—?”

“Nope,” he says, shaking his head. “This one’s on you. Condom or no condom.” 

“Could we—without?” 

“We could,” he teases with a smile. He stands, fingers slipping free from inside you. It leaves you feeling empty, aching. 

You hope that he’ll make you cum again. 

Leaning over you, he plants a hand on either side of you and kisses you, still tasting faintly of where his mouth has been. You loop you arms around his neck, pulling him down until he rests his weight against you, chest-to-chest, your legs hooked around his waist. When he pulls back, it’s just to encourage you higher up onto the mattress so he can follow, finding his home once again in the hollow of your thighs. He says: “Let me know if anything hurts, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you breathe, looking up at him. Suddenly it doesn’t feel like there’s enough breath in your lungs. You feel starstruck by him, by the look of concentration on his face as he angles his hips until his tip brushes against your folds. Slowly, he slips inside you, and it’s a fullness you’ve never known from your own fingers or even his. Your eyes fall shut, but your mouth can’t help smiling, beaming practically. 

“Yeah?” Kyle laughs breathlessly. “That good already?” 

You get the giggles. 

“Not the best time to laugh at a man, you might give him a complex,” Kyle says, grinning. 

“All men deserve complexes.” 

“Except for me.” 

“Sure.” 

He sinks in, deeper, deeper until there’s nowhere left for him to go. His forehead brushes against your own, and your eyes open to find his own closed, mouth parted as he pants softly, looking almost as wrecked as you feel. He opens his eyes and catches you looking, but instead of calling you out, he just cocks his head, giving one of his pretty, closed-lip smiles. 

He sets a slow rhythm to start with, and it’s not enough. Your ankles lock around his back, urging him on, fingers scrambling for purchase against the smooth skin of his shoulders. Every thrust drags against the wet, swollen walls of your cunt, and at the apex his pubic bone meets your clit in a touch that’s nearly soft as a kiss. 

“Is it good for you?” you wonder, taking note of his uncharacteristic silence. 

He drops his head to rest in the dark juncture between your neck and shoulder, kissing you there. “Best it’s ever been,” he admits with a little laugh. “Your pussy is perfect. I’m trying not to cum and end things early.” 

You groan. Something about that knowledge makes the heat in your belly rise up to a boil. You clench around him on instinct, and he hisses a breath against your neck, then teases the spot with his teeth. When he’s drawn blood to the surface of your skin, he leans up onto his elbows to admire his work. His mouth is swollen, but he looks unquestionably pleased with himself.  

For a while the two of you continue on like that: his lazy thrusts and mouth leaving bruises on your neck. Bracing himself on one elbow, he takes your hand and kisses your fingertips before guiding it down between you both toward your pussy. 

“Make yourself feel good,” he says. “You probably can’t cum just from this.” 

Your body agrees. He felt good inside you, but it isn’t until you touch your clit that you feel the first tendrils of that addictive heat in your belly. You chase it immediately, eyes falling shut as your fingers work faster. It’s different with him inside you—like there’s no room for the pleasure to fizzle out and die the way it sometimes does at your own touch. Instead he drives you higher, especially as his tight-knit control wavers and his hips drive into you with more force. 

You forget to tell him when you’re close. It creeps up on you, really. All at once your muscles seize, everything focused on that narrow place between your legs and the epicenter of an orgasm that has your back arching until your breasts press flush against his chest. (You hear him suck in a breath like you’ve stabbed him, his voice shaky when he asks: “Are you cumming?” but there’s no breath to answer him with.) There’s no more room for your hand to work but Kyle’s thrusts drag you through the aftershocks. It seems to go on forever, your sounds embarrassing but your brain wiped clean of embarrassment. 

“I’m not pulling out unless you tell me to,” he says once your ears have stopped ringing. He sounds strained, his chest brushing against your nipples with every shallow pant. “So jot that down.” 

“Don’t want you to,” you admit, boneless. “I want to know what it feels like when you cum inside me.” 

Kyle moans quietly. His head drops, forehead resting against your own as his thrusts grow hectic. He mutters the quietest fuck in your ear when he cums, filling you with a rush of wet warmth that turns the sounds of his cock slick and lewd as he works himself through it with your pussy. 

When he pulls out, it’s jarring. You feel so empty. He kneels back on his heels and spreads your thighs to watch his own spend leak from your entrance and says it again, that quiet little fuck that makes you feel invincible. 

Collapsing on the bed beside you, he finds your mouth, cradling your head in one of his hands, turning you to angle your mouth just right for his tongue. 

“You were perfect,” he says when he breaks the kiss. His knuckles skim your cheekbone. “Thank you. For choosing me.” 

You nod, throat suddenly tight. It’s over now, time to return to reality. Except you don’t want it to be over. You don’t want a reality without Kyle by your side or in your bed. How did you think that this would be a good idea? How did you think you could be so intimate with him and just let him go? Stupidly your eyes burn, and he must see something on your face because he rushes to assure you: “Hey, we’re okay. Nothing’s different now, yeah?” 

Yeah, you think dully. That’s the problem. 

[yourmomsawh0r3]

cowboy hat rule

pairing: tyler owens x f! reader

warnings: NSFW, 18+

Tyler had no plans to go out that night. He was perfectly content to spend the evening at home, maybe watch a game or catch up on some sleep. But his friends had other ideas. They dragged him out to a bar in town, claiming he needed a night out, and after some reluctant agreement, he found himself nursing a beer at the bar, feeling slightly out of place.

That was until he saw “her”

She was standing near the end of the bar, laughing at something her sister said, a mischievous glint in her eyes. Tyler couldn’t take his eyes off her. There was something about the way she carried herself confidence mixed with a playful edge that intrigued him.

His friends were still talking about something in the background, but he wasn’t paying attention. All he could focus on was her. The way she moved, the way she smiled it was like she was teasing the entire room just by existing.

Tyler knew he had to talk to her. He wasn’t normally one to make the first move, but something about her made him bold. He excused himself from his group and made his way over to where she stood, leaning casually against the bar.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked, his voice low and smooth.

She turned to look at him, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Depends,” she said, her voice equally teasing. “You think you can keep up with me?”

Tyler raised an eyebrow, a slow grin spreading across his face. “I think I’m up for the challenge.”

She tilted her head, studying him for a moment before nodding. “Alright, cowboy. I’m Y/N. And this is my sister, but don’t worry she’s already spoken for.”

Tyler chuckled, tipping his hat slightly. “Tyler. Nice to meet you, Y/N.”

She accepted the drink he ordered for her, taking a sip while maintaining eye contact with him. There was a tension in the air, something simmering just beneath the surface, and Tyler could tell she was enjoying every second of it.

“So, Tyler,” she said, leaning in closer, “how about we play a game?”

“What kind of game?” he asked, intrigued.

“Twenty-one questions,” she replied with a smirk. “I ask you a question, you ask me one. And no lying.”

Tyler grinned. “You’re on.”

They went back and forth, asking each other everything from favorite movies to the wildest thing they’d ever done. Each question was a chance to flirt, to push the boundaries just a little further. Tyler found himself getting more and more drawn to her with every answer she gave, her wit and charm only adding to her allure.

As the night went on, the tension between them grew. Tyler could feel it the way her eyes lingered on him a little too long, the way she bit her lip when he said something that made her blush. He was getting hot under the collar, and it was clear she was feeling the same.

Eventually, she leaned over and, with a sly grin, plucked his cowboy hat off his head and placed it on her own. Tyler froze, his eyes narrowing playfully as he watched her.

“I wouldn’t do that unless you know the cowboy hat rule,” he warned, his voice taking on a husky tone.

Y/N tilted the hat down slightly, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Oh, I know the rule, alright,” she teased. “But I’m not one to follow the rules.”

Tyler’s heart pounded in his chest as he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You know how to ride?”

She leaned in as well, her lips almost brushing against his as she whispered back, “Oh, sugar, I’ll give you the best ride of your life.”

Tyler felt the temperature in the room spike. His skin tingled, his pulse raced, and for a moment, he forgot where they were, lost in the heat between them. She was a challenge, no doubt about it, and Tyler was more than ready to see where this night would take them.

But before anything else could happen, she pulled back slightly, a coy smile playing on her lips as she adjusted his hat on her head. “Guess you’ll just have to wait and see, cowboy.”

Tyler grinned, shaking his head in amusement. He was hooked, and he had a feeling she knew it. Whatever happened next, one thing was for sure he wasn’t letting her out of his sight.

Tyler watched as Y/N adjusted his hat one last time, her mischievous grin sending a rush of heat through him. She held his gaze for a moment longer before turning on her heel and sauntering over to where her sister was sitting.

His eyes followed the sway of her hips, each step drawing him in deeper. The way she moved was hypnotic, effortlessly seductive, and Tyler couldn’t help but be captivated by her confidence.

She leaned down to whisper something in her sister’s ear, her voice too low for him to hear. Whatever she said made her sister’s eyes widen before they both broke into knowing smiles.

Tyler leaned back against the bar, a satisfied grin on his face as he watched her. He was in no rush to leave, content to take in every last detail of her before the night was through. And from the way she glanced back at him over her shoulder, he knew the feeling was mutual.

This wasn’t over not by a long shot.

When the bar closed, Tyler asked, "Can I walk you home, Y/N?"

She looked at him, her eyes reflecting the dim bar lights. "I'd like that, Tyler. But I have a feeling walking might not be the only thing we do."

Tyler felt a spark of anticipation. He offered her his arm, and they strolled out into the cool Texas night, the stars above them twinkling like a private audience to their burgeoning romance.

They barely made it to Y/N's apartment door before Tyler's self-control snapped. He pressed her against the door, his hands cupping her face, his lips finding hers in a passionate, hungry kiss. Y/N moaned, her hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. Tyler's hands traced the curve of her body, his touch igniting sparks wherever it landed.

"Tyler," Y/N gasped, breaking the kiss. "Inside. Now."

Tyler grinned, his eyes never leaving hers as he reached behind her and opened the door. They stumbled inside, their lips locked, their hands exploring. Tyler kicked the door closed behind them, his hands finding the zipper of Y/N's dress. He slowly pulled it down, his knuckles grazing her spine, sending shivers down her body.

Y/N's dress fell to the floor, leaving her in a lacy bra and matching panties. Tyler took a step back, his eyes drinking her in. "Damn, darlin', you're beautiful."

Y/N smiled, her hands going to the buttons of Tyler's shirt. "You're not so bad yourself, cowboy."

She pushed his shirt off his shoulders, her fingers tracing the muscles of his chest. Tyler groaned, his hands finding her hips, pulling her flush against him. "You feel that, darlin'? That's what you do to me."

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes filled with desire. "I want to feel more, Tyler. All of you."

Tyler growled, his hands cupping her ass, lifting her up. Y/N wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck. Tyler carried her to the bedroom, his lips never leaving hers. He laid her down on the bed, his body covering hers.

He trailed kisses down her neck, his hands unhooking her bra, freeing her breasts. He took one nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the hardened peak. Y/N arched her back, her hands tangling in his hair, pressing him closer.

"Tyler, please," she gasped, her hips grinding against his.

Tyler chuckled, his hand slipping under the waistband of her panties, finding her wet and ready. "Please what, darlin'? Tell me what you want."

As Tyler settled between Y/N's thighs, his hands gently spreading her legs, he looked up at her with a mischievous grin. "You ready for me, darlin'?"

Y/N nodded, her heart pounding in anticipation. "More than ready, Tyler."

Tyler chuckled, his breath warm on her sensitive flesh. "Good, 'cause I've been dyin' to taste you all night."

He leaned in, his tongue flicking out to tease her clit. Y/N gasped, her hips lifting off the bed. Tyler hummed in approval, his hands gripping her hips to hold her in place as he began to lick and suck, exploring every inch of her pussy.

"Tyler," Y/N moaned, her fingers tangling in his hair. "That feels so good."

Tyler looked up at her, his eyes heated. "You taste fuckin' amazing, darlin'. Like the sweetest candy I've ever had."

He buried his face between her thighs, his tongue delving deep inside her, lapping up her juices. Y/N cried out, her body writhing as Tyler devoured her, his tongue working magic on her clit.

"You're so wet, baby," Tyler growled, his fingers joining his tongue, fucking her slowly. "I could spend all day down here, eat your pussy until you can't take anymore."

Y/N whimpered, her orgasm building with each thrust of Tyler's fingers, each flick of his tongue. "I'm close, Tyler. So close."

Tyler groaned, his tongue circling her clit. "Come for me, Y/N. Come all over my face."

And with a final lick, Y/N tumbled over the edge, her body convulsing as she came, her cries of pleasure filling the room. Tyler continued to lick and suck, drawing out her orgasm until she was a boneless, quivering mess.

As Tyler resurfaced, his face glistening with Y/N's arousal, he grinned up at her, his dimples on full display. "Damn, darlin', you taste even better than I imagined."

Y/N, her cheeks flushed and her chest heaving, looked down at him with hooded eyes. "And you're pretty good with that tongue of yours, cowboy."

Tyler chuckled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "I aim to please, ma'am.”

Tyler's hand, still slick from Y/N's arousal, grasped his hardening length, stroking it slowly as he looked down at her. "You see what you do to me, darlin'? You make me so hard, I could fucking explode."

Y/N bit her lip, watching him with hooded eyes. "I want you to fuck me, Tyler. Hard and deep. Make me scream your name."

Tyler growled, positioning himself at her entrance. "You sure about that, sweetheart? Once I start, I ain't stopping until I've filled you up with my cum."

Y/N nodded, her breath hitching as Tyler slowly pushed into her. "Yes, Tyler. Fuck me."

Tyler groaned as he sheathed himself fully inside her. "Fuck, you're so tight, darlin'. Like a fucking glove." He started to move, his hips thrusting in a slow, steady rhythm, his cock stretching her with each stroke.

Y/N's hands clutched at his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin as he filled her completely. "More, Tyler. Faster."

Tyler obliged, his pace increasing, his cock slamming into her with more force. "Like that, darlin'? You like it when I fuck you hard?"

Y/N moaned, her body arching to meet his thrusts. "Yes, Tyler. Just like that."

Tyler reached between them, his fingers finding her clit and rubbing in time with his thrusts. "Come for me, Y/N. Come all over my cock."

Y/N's body tightened, her orgasm building. "Tyler, I'm close. So close."

Tyler's thrusts became erratic, his own release building. "Come on, darlin'. Let me feel you milk my cock."

Y/N's body shattered, her orgasm ripping through her as Tyler slammed into her one last time, his cock pulsing as he filled her with his hot cum.

They lay there, Tyler still inside her, their bodies slick with sweat and satisfaction. Tyler looked down at Y/N, his thumb brushing a strand of hair from her face. "You okay, darlin'?"

Y/N smiled up at him, her fingers tracing the lines of his tattoos. "Better than okay, Tyler. That was...incredible."

Tyler chuckled, his cock twitching inside her. "We're just getting started, sweetheart. There's plenty more where that came from."

As they lay there, their bodies cooling and their breaths evening out, Y/N stirred slightly. She propped herself up on one elbow, looking down at Tyler with a soft smile. His eyes fluttered open, meeting hers with a warm gaze.

"Hey, you," he murmured, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Hey," she replied, her smile growing wider. "I was just thinking... are you hungry?"

Tyler chuckled, his stomach rumbling in response. "Now that you mention it, yeah, I could eat."

Y/N laughed, her eyes sparkling. "I thought so. I don't know about you, but all that... exercise always makes me hungry."

Tyler grinned, pulling her down for a quick kiss. "Me too, darlin'. Me too."

She pushed herself up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed.

Before she could leave the room, Tyler called out softly, "Hey, where are you going?" Y/N paused, looking back at him with a smile. "I was going to order us some pizza. My fridge is as bare as my bank account right now," she laughed, leaning against the doorframe.

Tyler grinned, patting the bed beside him. "Come here, let's do that together." Y/N walked back to the bed, crawling in beside him and snuggling close. She picked up her phone, her thumb hovering over the pizza app icon. Tyler, however, noticed something first. "Hey, what's this?" he asked, pointing at the lock screen of her phone.

Y/N looked down, her cheeks flushing slightly as she saw the picture. It was her, grinning widely with her arms wrapped around the neck of a beautiful chestnut horse. "Oh, that's just me and my horse, Clover," she said, as if it was no big deal.

Tyler, however, was intrigued. He pushed away loose strands of her hair, his eyes soft as he looked at her. "You have a horse?" he asked, his voice filled with surprise and something else admiration? "Why didn't you tell me that?"

Y/N shrugged, a small smile playing on her lips. "It never came up, I guess. I've had Clover for years. She's like family to me." She looked back at Tyler, her eyes sparkling with warmth. "But I'll tell you all about her over pizza, if you want."Y/N looked up from her phone, a small frown on her face. Tyler shakes his head. "What do you mean? I was going to pay for it. she says

Tyler shook his head, a playful smile on his lips. "No way, darlin'. I'm paying for dinner."

"But I don't mind paying," Y/N insisted, holding onto her phone.

Tyler reached out, gently prying the phone from her hands. "I know you don't, but I want to. Consider it my way of saying thank you for a great night."

Y/N bit her lip, considering his words. She knew better than to argue with him when he had that determined look in his eyes. "Alright," she finally conceded, "but next time, it's on me."

Tyler grinned, pulling her into his side. "Deal," he said, before leaning down to kiss her. He quickly added his credit card information to the order, pressing 'submit' before Y/N could change her mind. "There," he said, handing the phone back to her, "all taken care of."

Y/N smiled, leaning into his embrace. "You're too sweet, you know that?"

Tyler chuckled, pressing another kiss to her forehead. "Only for you, beautiful."

After devouring their large pizza, which Y/N had insisted they both eat, they collapsed onto the bed, sighs of satisfaction escaping both their lips. "I could eat that every night," Tyler said, smiling up at her.

"Totally agree," Y/N replied, snuggling up close to him.

They talked for a bit more, sharing stories of Y/N's childhood growing up on a farm and about her beloved horse, Clover. Tyler listened intently, his eyes filled with wonder and interest. It was clear he was thoroughly enthralled by the thought of her horse, the way she spoke of her with such love and passion.

As the talk went on, they noticed how late it had become, the room growing dimly lit. "Well, I think it's getting pretty late," Y/N said, her voice a little softer now. “We should probably get to bed."

Tyler nodded in agreement, though he showed no signs of moving away from her. "You're right," he murmured, his arms still wrapped around her. "But I don't really feel like moving right now."

Y/N smiled up at him, her heart filling with warmth. She didn't feel like moving either. So instead, they just sat there, holding each other close, the only sounds their gentle breathing and the creaking of the bed as they shifted against each other.

After a few moments of silence, they both knew it was time to clean up. They went about washing their faces, brushing their teeth, and making their way back into the bedroom. The atmosphere had changed slightly, a hint of intimacy now woven through the air.

Without needing to say a word, they snuggled back into bed, curling up together once more. The room was silent except for the sound of their breathing, the comfortable darkness enveloping them both.

As they drifted off to sleep, Y/N smiled softly, feeling like this was exactly where she belonged in Tyler's arms, surrounded by warmth and comfort.

tyler whispers to her "Now, about that cowboy hat rule..."

Y/N's hands went to his chest, pushing him back slightly. "Oh, I remember. But I have a rule of my own."

Tyler raised an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah? And what's that?"

Y/N smirked, her fingers deftly unbuttoning his shirt. "When I'm on top, you have to keep that hat on."

Tyler laughed, his hands going to her ass, pulling her close. "Deal. But only if you promise to give me the ride of my life, darlin'."

Y/N leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear. "Like I said earlier, honey, I'll give you the best ride of your life."

Tyler groaned, his hands squeezing her ass. "Fuck, Y/N. You keep talking like that, and I won't last."

Y/N pulled back, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Then we'd better get started, hadn't we?"

Tyler quickly shed his shirt, his chest bare and taut. Y/N took a moment to appreciate the sight before him, her eyes trailing over the ridges of his abs and the light smattering of hair that led down to his waistband. She reached out, running her fingers over his skin, feeling the heat of him. Tyler's breath hitched at her touch, his eyes never leaving hers.

"You're playing with fire, darlin'," he warned, his voice low and husky.

Y/N smirked, "Maybe I like the burn," she repolied

Tyler groaned, his eyes dropping to take in the sight. "You're trying to kill me, aren't you?"

Y/N laughed, stepping out of her jeans and pushing him back onto the bed. She climbed onto his lap, straddling him, her hands going to the brim of his hat. "No killing allowed," she said, tipping the hat back so she could see his face. "Just some good old-fashioned fun."

Tyler's hands went to her hips, holding her in place as he lifted his own hips, pressing his erection against her through his jeans. "Fun, huh?" he asked, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "I can do fun."

Y/N gasped, her head falling back as she grinded against him, feeling the friction through their clothes. Tyler took the opportunity to lean forward, capturing one of her nipples through the lace of her bra, sucking and biting gently. Y/N moaned, her fingers tangling in his hair, holding him to her.

Tyler's hands moved to her back, unhooking her bra with ease. He pulled back, allowing the material to fall away, leaving her bare to him. His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of her, his hands reaching up to cup her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples.

"Tyler," Y/N gasped, her hips moving of their own accord, seeking friction. "Please."

"You sure you can handle all this, darlin'?" Tyler asked, his voice laced with amusement.

Y/N licked her lips, her eyes meeting his. "I wouldn't have it any other way," she replied

After a series of kisses and gentle caresses, Y/N climbed on top of Tyler, her hands reaching down to grasp his hips. She rubbed her wetness against his cock, and Tyler moaned, his eyes closing in pleasure. "Mmm, yeah," he breathed, his hands moving up to grasp her hips.

Y/N leaned in closer, whispering in his ear. "I could get used to that sound," she said, her voice low and husky. "It's music to my ears."

Tyler chuckled, his eyes snapping open to look at her. "You're trying to make me come," he accused, his hands tightening on her hips.

Y/N smiled, her hips moving in slow, deliberate strokes. "Maybe I am," she replied, her voice teasing. "Maybe I just want to see you happy."

Tyler's eyes locked onto hers, his expression soft and sincere. "You make me happy," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N's heart skipped a beat at his words, her cheeks flushing with warmth. She leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear. "I want to make you come," she whispered, her voice full of desire. "I want to hear you moan my name."

Tyler's eyes widened, his body tensing beneath hers. "Yeah," he breathed, his hands grasping her hips tighter. "Yeah, do that."

And with that, Y/N leaned in, her lips trailing down the side of Tyler's face, her hands moving down to grasp his cock, her hips moving in time with her hand, the sound of her wetness against his cock filling the air.

Y/N leaned forward, her lips brushing against Tyler's ear. "I'm going to give you the best ride of your life," she whispered, her voice husky with desire.

Tyler moaned, his hands tightening on her hips. "I can already tell you're going to be an amazing girlfriend," he growled, his eyes fixed on her face.

Y/N grinned, her body moving against his. "yeah? ," she teased, her hips slowly sliding backwards, her wetness leaving a trail along his cock.

Tyler moaned again, his eyes falling to her breasts as they bounced with each movement. "You feel so good, Y/N," he muttered, his hands moving to cup her breasts, his thumbs rubbing over her nipples.

Y/N gasped, her body arching as his hands touched her. "I'm ready for you," she panted, her hips lifting and lowering, her body teasing his cock.

"Good girl," Tyler moaned, his hands gripping her hips tighter. "You're such a good girl."

And with that, Y/N finally sank down on him, her body enveloping his cock in a hot, wet embrace. "Ah," Tyler groaned, his eyes closing as he felt her tightness wrapped around him.

Y/N moaned, her hands grasping his shoulders, her body moving up and down on his cock in slow, deliberate strokes. "Mmm, this feels so good," she panted, her breasts bouncing with each movement.

Tyler opened his eyes, his gaze fixed on Y/N's tits as she bounced on his cock. "You look so beautiful," he breathed, his hands moving up to grasp her hips. "Ride me like that, Y/N."

Y/N grinned, her body moving faster, her hips thrusting down harder. "I'm riding you," she panted, her voice full of desire.

Tyler moaned, his hands tightening on her hips. "Keep going, Y/N. Keep riding me."

And with that, Y/N continued to ride Tyler's cock, her body moving faster and harder, her eyes fixed on his face. Here is the revised paragraph:

Tyler's cock throbbed with anticipation as he gazed at Y/N's enticing body, her curves glistening with sweat. He knew he couldn't resist her any longer. "Come here, Y/N," he whispered, his voice husky with desire. "I need you now."

Y/N smiled, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. She slid closer to Tyler, her body gliding across the bed as she reached out to touch his chest. "I'm clean, Tyler," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of their heavy breathing. "I'm on birth control. You can come inside me."

Tyler's eyes locked onto hers, his gaze burning with intensity. He knew this was it, the moment he'd been waiting for. With a low growl, he pushed himself deep inside Y/N, feeling her warm, wet walls envelop him. He began to thrust, his movements powerful and urgent, as Y/N's moans filled the air.

As they moved together, their bodies slick with sweat, Y/N reached down to scoop up their combined juices. She brought her hand to her mouth, moaning as she tasted their mingled essence. Then, she slid her finger back into her entrance, coating it with their shared fluids.

Tyler watched, transfixed, as Y/N brought her finger to his mouth. He sucked it in, feeling the warm, sticky liquid coat his tongue. "Fuck, you're perfect," he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion.

Y/N smiled, her eyes shining with happiness. She knew this was what she'd been waiting for, the moment when they could finally be together, their bodies and hearts entwined. And as they lay there, wrapped in each other's arms, she knew that this was only the beginning of their journey together.

And as they drifted off to sleep, their bodies entwined, they knew this was just the beginning of many more incredible rides to come.

[saltnsugarbear]

i see you’ve tentatively opened ur inbox for bob requests lmaoo, may i TIMIDLY request a fox that flips the whole “bob has a breakdown reader comes to help” narrative? ITS A GOOD NARRATIVE but there’s soooo many fics of that, give us some protective bob! some bob with emotional weight!!

shyly putting this on the Robert Reynolds x reader tags doorstep

thank you for the idea, my love! I wanted to see how I felt writing for Bob and if I could find his voice in myself,,,,, I wanted to contribute and I want to give him kisses so thank you thank you <3

I went a bit,,,, idk not like a meltdown but I wanted Bob to be the one that had hope and whimsy!!! Bob is the one to banish the doubt and sadness!!! I feel unsure about this piece and if I like it but here you go Bob enjoyers <3

word count: 1.8k

content warnings: gender neutral reader, 🍃 smoking to cope with existence/trauma/thoughts, reader and Walker have a non-descript past, post Thunderbolts*, existential dread,

side note: did you guys know Bob might have photokinensis (control/production of light) which is pretty cool idk also he dropped out of high school and his addiction started in middle school :( his wiki made me sad

Bob takes care of you in little ways. Quiet ways.

You've learned that he loves quietly. He does your laundry, folds your clothes neatly, and puts them away. He knows your coffee order better than his own, what meals you prefer depending on the restaurant when the team orders out. Bob knows it's easier for you to fall asleep around the team than by yourself, and despite warnings from Walker, how violently you could wake up.

That's how the team first found out Bob could... Well... Glow, for lack of a better description.

Bob's photokinesis was jarring for the whole group. Ava and Yelena whispered softly as they put away blankets while Walker and Bucky picked up leftover trash, snacks, and dishes. Alexei was the only other person asleep on the other side of the couch, so Bob was left hovering near where you rest. No one was paying attention to his silent turmoil, not wanting to turn on the lights in the room and risking a disgruntled group of half-awake Avengerz but not wanting to risk catching an elbow to the stomach like Alexei had earlier that week.

He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts he hadn't noticed that Ava and Yelena had stopped talking. Bob didn't notice the soft glow even as your brows scrunched together, and you grumbled an annoyed "Walker.."

"What?" He chirped defensively, not bothering to look in your direction as he stacked cups in a bowl.

"Turn off the light," you complain, burrowing further into your blanket.

"What ligh-" Walker cuts himself off when he looks over.

Bob misses the way that the girls glance to Walker, who looks to Bucky. None of them had seen Bob display any other powers after the Void's fit over New York. So the soft glow emitting from the man's skin gave them pause, unsure if they should intervene or stay silent. Finally, after a few minutes of staring and your quiet grumbling, Walker makes a choice.

"Bobby-" The sharpness of John's voice makes Bob startle, a bright flash of light blinding him before the room is dark again.

"What the hell," you grumble, finally opening your eyes, officially awake after that. "Why are you yelling at him?"

"I didn't yell-" Walker starts.

"You raised your voice."

"I did not raise-"

"And you know he doesn't like when you call him Bobby." You tack on.

"I know, I forgot." John huffs, glancing at Bob. "Sorry, kid."

"It's fine.." Bob assures him passively, tangling his fingers together as his softly drags a nail over his skin. "I- I didn't turn on the lights, though?"

"You were the light." Ava says bluntly, and Yelena can't help but nod.

"You were glowing, Bob." She says it the same way she would tell him that he was wearing a grey sweater or he had done the dishes.

"I.. I was?" He asks, glancing at each of his housemates for confirmation. Ava huffs with an endeared roll of her eyes while Yelena nods solemnly again. Bucky and John look the most put-off but the revelation, so Bob is unsure if he should be alarmed or not.

"Next time you decide to glow, Bob," You start collecting your blanket as you prepare to get up. "Do it when I'm awake. And when I have sunglasses on, in case you decide to blind Johnny again."

"O-Okay.." He nods, shuffling back so you can stand up.

"Thanks, bub," you say softly, nudging him with your shoulder as you pass. He hums shortly, watching as you make your way down the hall.

The rest of the supers watch Bob quietly before Yelena speaks up.

"We will be talking about this tomorrow.." An easy dismissal that the others agree on, different noises and hums from them. Bob nods, shifting as he watches everyone else clear up. Ava sighs quietly and gives him a pitying look.

"We're not upset, Bob, just surprised. Go get ready for bed." The reassurance settles something in his stomach. He feels like he's can let out a breath again. Bob carries those words with him when he climbs into bed.

Not upset. Just surprised.

Bob can live with that.

Being in an apartment full of people in different stages of recovery from varying substances can be... Stifling, for when you want to let loose. You, Ava, and Bucky all made a vote to keep any form of alcohol or drug stronger than Tylenol out of the house. For the sake of the remaining Avengerz. The three of you also agreed your votes counted as more, as the people least affected by the ban, when the other four tried to argue against it. Not that Bob had much reason to fight it. It was for the better, really.

Except, you didn't realize how horribly this plan backfired until you wanted to smoke or have a glass of wine after an annoying day with Valentina or reading a particularly gruesome article. Or dealing with the most recent, Sam's copyright lawsuit.

As such, your only options were drinking in the dark of your bedroom or standing on the balcony and smoking. The latter is the more appealing, letting you watch the streets with a level of detachment you only got when you were high. The rest of the team had dispersed to their separate night activities, watching TV or sparring or training.

So, you're surprised when you hear the door open behind you. You turn to look out of reflex, and your curiosity peaks when you spot Bob in the doorway. He sniffs softly, and you remember the joint between your fingers.

"Oh, fuck-" You scramble to put out the joint, stubbing it out against the railing. "Sorry."

"It's fine, never really liked pot.." He laughs softly. Bob watches silently as you tuck it away in a small tin and shove it back into your pocket. "What are you, uh.. What are you doing out here?"

"Needed some quiet to... Well..." You sigh. "Like you guys and everything but.."

You let out a deep breath, leaning against the railing heavily. Bob nods behind you, taking a few steps closer to where you stand. He took the stubbing of the joint as the silent invitation it was to stay out with you.

"Alexei is a little loud... Ava and Walker are always fighting." Bob shares quietly.

"Not fighting," You muse before you look back at him. "Maybe bickering?"

"Bickering.." Bob agrees quietly, nodding a little. You hum before turning back to the city lights.

"C'mere," you call him over, glancing back at him when you don't hear him move. "I'm not gonna let you fall."

The assurance makes Bob's stomach twist with an emotion he can't name but is finding himself familiar with the longer he's a part of the team. He muses over it long enough that eventually you hold your hand out to him, not bothering to turn to him. Bob tugs at the cuff of his sleeve before putting his wrist in your grasp.

He doesn't miss the huff you let out, but it follows as you gently tug him closer to the railing. He can feel a flush making its way to his face when you cradle his forearm against your side like a football. Your hold on his arm is gentle but firm, keeping him in place beside you.

"Those people will never know what we go through..." You say quietly, watching people jay-walk, honk their horns at one another, and pass each other in fleeting steps.

"Isn't that the point?" Bob asks, keeping his eyes on the buildings, watching people walk the halls and live their lives. You make a noise beside him, contemplating it silently. You dwell on it for a few minutes before you speak up again.

"Do you ever... Regret signing up for that Sentry serum shit?" You ask Bob softly, eyes tracing the cars as they wind around the city. Bob hums softly, tilting his head this way and that as he thought.

"I wouldn't have met you guys... Probably still doing meth and signing spinning... So this is probably better?" He says it like it's a question, and then he nods. "I don't think I regret it."

You nod, letting that sit in the air, wishing you could cling to that feeling he had. You can't find it in yourself tonight, grabbing around for something that isn't there.

"Do you regret yours?" Bob asks in turn. You turn it over in your mind for a couple of minutes, listening to the city noise.

"I was a kid..." You tell him. "I didn't know... I didn't-"

You cut yourself off, letting out a breath. "I'd stop myself if I could go back."

"Then you wouldn't be here, and we wouldn't be here.." Bob protests quietly.

"You guys could still do this without me," you counter, crossing your arms over the railing. "Be the New Avengerz... Deal with Valentina, play dress up every now and then..."

"Who would fix Walker's shield?" Bob asks quietly, and you can't help but scoff. It's not a mean scoff, more of a huff of exasperation and fondness for the man.

"He can still fight crime with a taco," you tell him. "Sometimes the doubt and the pain is just...."

"All consuming," He fills in. You nod. It's the only way to describe it on nights like tonight.

"Guess you would know something about that." You sigh, having forgotten who you were talking to. He shrugs beside you, making a sound of indifference.

"It's not always like that." Bob reminds you. "Like a wave or- or Ava. It comes and goes."

The comparison makes you snort, ducking your head to hide your grin. Bob sees it, though, adopting a small smile of his own.

"You guys made it better, though."

"Even Walker?" You muse. That keeps Bob quiet for a moment.

"Not always, but... It has to be better than dealing with it alone?"

You hum softly, mulling over his words. Apply them to the pit gnawing at your stomach and climbing at your throat.

"It eventually goes away... Even if it's just for an hour or a month." Bob says. "Like the seasons..."

His words settle over you like a blanket, soothing the doubts in your brain.

"You should become a therapist," you tell him. Your words surprise a laugh out of Bob. You sigh softly, feeling the light buzz behind your eyes.

You lean against him but just enough that if he pulled away, you wouldn't fall over. Instead, Bob finds the pressure comforting. The feeling of his arm cradled against your body and your weight beside him fills Bob with an overwhelming sense of peace. He doesn't even release he's leaning against you as well.

You hum quietly, taking the small victory of him pushing against you. He's warm, even through his sweater, and it bleeds into your own being, taking that warmth and holding in your chest as you look at the city. There's a soft glow in your periphery, and you can't help but grin.

"You're glowing again."

[studioeisa]

my lovely !!!! congrats on 1 million followers 💝🎉✨ although u deserve a billion 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ i’m here to submit a📱 bc i’m dying to hear some more about ‘blindsided’ pls 🤲

char, my light! u make this godforsaken site worth it and i love u oh so dearly ୨ৎ i am forever a u/pochaccoups fan 🙂‍↕️

📱 office worker!wonwoo x reader, based on blindsided (fic + text imagines). part of my follower milestone celebration. mdni, 18+ content. word count: 700.

Wonwoo has fucked you in every imaginable corner of your office.

He knows he should probably be guilty. He’s a model employee, after all. Perfect performance evaluations and all that. 

But he just can’t bring himself to care, not when he’s got you bent over the copy machine after hours. He doesn’t think of ethics or rules when he’s eating you out in one of the bathroom stalls or when the two of you steal away to the supply closet for a quickie.  

He’s certainly not thinking of it now as the two of you christen his new office room. 

Graduating from a cubicle was no small feat. At least that’s what you sweetly told him before sinking to your knees and unbuckling his belt. Wonwoo has a fistful of your hair in one hand while the other clutches the corner of his desk, white-knuckled in its grip. 

He hasn’t had this room for more than two days and he’s already risking it all for some head. Maybe he should— 

The tip of his cock hits the back of your throat, and whatever he was thinking of doing is as good as gone. 

“Fuck,” he huffs, his fingers tightening around the strands of your hair. “You’re— ah— going to get me in trouble.” 

You hum in response, unrepentant in your debauchery. You merely continue to suck him off like your life depends on it. The only thing Wonwoo can do is keep an eye on the door and hope, pray, that nobody needs him for the next ten minutes or so. 

When Wonwoo’s gaze flicks to you underneath his desk, he’s done for.

Maybe it’s the tears edging at your lashes, the way you’re trying so hard to take in every inch of him in your mouth. Maybe it’s how you look underneath his grasp, how you’re pliant and perfect and on your goddamn knees. 

Maybe he’s always just been weak for you. There’s that, too. 

Either way, Wonwoo finishes with a strangled groan. His hand that had been clutching the desk goes to cover his mouth in a futile attempt to bite back the sound. You lap up every drop of his seed in the way that drives him absolutely crazy, the way that makes him want to shoot his cum down your throat for days on end. 

His chest heaves as you shuffle out from underneath the desk, a coy grin tugging at your lips. You throw a quick glance at the door before draping yourself across Wonwoo’s lap, your skirt riding up as you bracket yourself across his thighs. 

Wonwoo’s hands instinctively find purchase at your waist. He lets out a low hiss when he feels just how wet you are, the evidence of your arousal seeping through your underwear and on to his pant leg. 

“Can’t do this,” he breathes out, his denial weak in the way his fingers slide up your blouse. “We have to stop.” 

He’s given you this bullshit excuse enough times that you know he doesn’t really mean it. A part of him does this time, he likes to think, and you must know that, too, because you lean forward until your chests are pressed together.

“Don’t worry.” You give a playful nip at his earlobe. “I’ll be gone in two weeks.” 

“What?” he sputters, his eyes widening behind his glasses. 

He tries to gently pull you away from him, but you don’t budge. Your head instead falls into the crook of his neck as you giggle breathlessly. 

“Got poached. Same position as yours,” you inform him. “Our company’s non-compete clause is pretty shitty, so I think I’m going to get away with it.” 

On one hand, Wonwoo is grateful. Your move would solve a number of issues, from conflict of interest to his never-ending war with morality. And— maybe, just maybe— he could graduate from friends with benefits to something more. Something real. 

But it also meant— 

Your teeth scraping his pulse point drags him out of his thoughts. Wonwoo’s grip on you tightens. You and your stupid habit of leaving marks right before ruining him. 

“What do you say, Jeon?” you tease. “One more for the road, yeah?” 

[rcklessheavn]

𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐫 ── ★ ˙🏎️ ̟ !!

f1 driver!matt x influencer!reader au

summary: after influencer!reader is invited to give interviews at the grand prix event, she meets matt and everything changes for both of them.

intro pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4

warnings: mentions of alcohol, brief swearing

wc: 3.6k

notes: im new to the F1 world, so bare with me and im sorry if i get anything wrong. english is NOT my first language.

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 ༉‧₊˚.

You’ve seen countless races and know just how fast a racing car can go, but seeing it live is a whole different experience.

Practice had been done for about five minutes, and you couldn’t move. Your ears were still ringing, your body pulsing with an incredible surge of adrenaline. It was overwhelming—and this was only practice! You couldn't wait for qualifying tomorrow and the race on Sunday, but for now, you had to survive the day.

Nick noticed your stunned silence and broke it. “Crazy, right?” he said. You turned to him, still in disbelief, shaking your head.

“More than crazy. That was insane! You get to watch this every year?” you asked. Both he and Chris nodded.

“I mean, with Matt here, we get a free ticket if we want it,” Chris explained. “We can’t make it to every race, but our usual ones are the first, the last two, and Monaco. After that, it just depends on our schedules.”

Nick hummed in agreement. “Sometimes only one of us, or our parents, comes out. Or one of us and our older brother. Honestly, it varies. But yeah, we've seen this plenty of times.” You couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy—who wouldn’t want that kind of access?

“That’s really nice,” you said, just as footsteps approached.

“Ready to continue the tour, Y/N?” Claudia called. You nodded and hugged the guys goodbye.

“I’ll see you both tonight, right?” you asked, and they both nodded. You smiled and headed toward the stairs, eager to continue exploring the paddock.

Claudia, Hailey, and you toured the entire paddock. You waved at a few of your favorite drivers, hoping you’d have the chance to interview some of them tomorrow. You saw a few other influencers invited by brands and teams—some seemed just as excited as you, while others looked bored, likely treating it like a brand trip. You didn’t quite understand that mindset, but then again, it wasn’t your life.

By the end of the tour, you and Hailey had silently agreed—it was time to find something to eat.

“Hey, Claudia, Hailey and I are thinking of grabbing a late lunch. Wanna come?” you asked as the three of you walked toward the paddock’s entrance.

Claudia smiled. “That’s sweet of you, but I can’t. I’ve got a meeting in about 30 minutes, and we still need to organize tonight’s dinner. Speaking of which, you need to be here by 6:30—no later than 7:00. Bring the passes you’re wearing so they’ll let you in. They’ll tell you where to sit. You’ll probably be seated with the Sturniolos—”

At that, your stomach dropped. You couldn’t help interrupting, trying to act casual despite the sudden panic inside. “Are the drivers sitting with us or…?”

Claudia didn’t seem to notice your unease. “Uh, I don’t think so. They probably have their own table, or they're with sponsors, but don’t quote me on that.” She continued, “There’s no dress code, but you have to wear red. It’s a theme night, apparently. Oh! And we want you to film for our TikTok account—those cute, aesthetic mini vlogs you do. Plus, we want you to do a quick, laid-back interview with our drivers.”

Your head was spinning. Not only were you asked to create content for Ferrari’s page, but you also had to interview both drivers. Charles was manageable—he seemed like someone you could easily befriend. Was he intimidating? Sure, a little, but that wasn’t the issue. Matt, on the other hand… your heart raced just thinking about him. And the weird staring contest you’d had earlier—what the fuck was that about?

Claudia noticed your inner panic and chuckled, patting your shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t worry. You’ll do great. Besides, there’ll be an open bar for a little liquid courage if needed.” She smiled, and both you and Hailey chuckled.

“Thanks, Claudia. We’ll see you tonight,” you said before hugging her goodbye. Hailey did the same.

You and Hailey ended up at La Rascasse, a popular nearby restaurant that you’d heard a lot about. The food was delicious, and to celebrate the start of a big weekend, you both ordered cocktails. After eating and chatting for a few hours, the clock hit 3:30—time to start getting ready for the first big event of the weekend.

-------------------

Once you were at the hotel, you decided to multitask—vlogging on two devices at once: your camera for YouTube and your phone for the mini "come with me" vlog for Ferrari’s TikTok. Surprisingly, you weren’t stressed. Vlogging had become second nature by now—your biggest skill and passion—and a small challenge never hurt anyone.

Home with You by Madison Beer was blaring through your speaker as you finished doing your hair, when Hailey suddenly rushed into your room.

“Did you even bring any red clothes?!” she asked, panic clear in her voice.

You looked at her and chuckled. “Do you really think I’d come on a trip sponsored by FERRARI and not bring any red?” you shot back sarcastically. Hailey rolled her eyes.

“I brought ten red outfits,” you added confidently. Hailey walked over to your suitcase, muttering under her breath, “Of course you did.”

“Is this what you’re wearing?” she shouted from across the room.

“Yes,” you called back, stepping through the door. You were wearing a gorgeous red outfit that accentuated your skin tone beautifully, hugging your body in all the right places—hoping it would make everyone who saw you drop their jaws. Or at least, you hoped so.

“Okay, Ms. Ferrari,” Hailey teased, raising an eyebrow. “I see you’re trying to leave your imprint on a few people.”

You laughed and walked back to the bathroom to start on your makeup.

“I’m not, but whatever,” you said as you finished prepping your skin. “You’d look amazing in either that silk dress or the off-the-shoulder top with the matching skirt, by the way. Maybe you’ll leave your imprint on a certain media person… or should I say, woman?” You flashed her a mischievous grin.

Hailey froze for a moment before trying to play it off with a nervous chuckle. “What are you talking about?” she asked, clearly wondering if you’d figured her out.

“Oh, come on, Hails,” you said, finishing your eye makeup before moving to your base. “I saw the way your eyes literally followed Claudia every time she spoke. Be so for real right now.”

“That’s not true, you’re insane,” Hailey said, clearly flustered, as she picked up the two-piece set from the bed. “Besides, I don’t even know if she’s gay,” she added, a hint of disappointment in her voice.

“Please, she totally is. I swear she checked you out—like, really checked you out,” you said, completely serious.

“Now you’re just joking. Very funny. I’m leaving,” she replied with a smile, clearly trying to brush it off. You couldn’t help but laugh as she exited your room.

Thirty minutes later, you stood in front of the mirror, staring at your reflection. You looked... unbelievable. You barely recognized yourself, but in the best way possible. You looked ten times hotter than usual—and you loved it.

The car’s here, Hailey texted.

It was game time.

---------------

The dinner was at Castelroc, a beautiful restaurant just a short drive from your hotel. Stepping inside, you were immediately struck by the elegance of it all. The space was adorned with red roses and subtle Ferrari logos, creating a classy, sophisticated atmosphere. You felt out of place, yet, at the same time, incredibly welcomed.

The entire event took place outdoors, with stunning views of the Monaco coastline. Tables were scattered across the space, each one illuminated by flickering candles and warm lamps that, though a bit intense on the eyes, added a cozy touch. Whoever was responsible for the decor had truly outdone themselves—it was by far the most beautiful dinner you’d ever been invited to.

As you made your way through the garden, you spotted Nick and Chris immediately, deep in conversation with someone you didn’t recognize. As soon as the mystery person walked away, Nick noticed you and waved you over.

“Hey, guys!” you said with a smile, moving in to hug each of them.

“Y/N! You look beautiful—red is definitely your color,” Nick said, giving you a once-over and making you twirl.

“I have to agree,” Chris chimed in with a smile. “You look amazing.”

“Thanks, guys, you both look great too.” You smiled, then realized Hailey was standing beside you. “Oh, this is Hailey, my manager and literal best friend. Hailey, these are Nick and Chris, Matt’s triplet brothers.” You introduced them, and Hailey extended her hand to each of them.

“Enchantée, mademoiselle,” Chris said with a dramatic, over-the-top bow, which made Hailey laugh.

“Hands off, Casanova,” you teased, grinning. “She plays for the other team.”

Chris flushed a bit, his awkward laugh filling the air. “Oh... sorry. Good for you,” he stammered, making everyone laugh.

Once the laughter died down, the four of you dove into conversation, chatting about everything under the sun as you got to know each other better.

Then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw someone approaching Chris. You turned and froze—Charles Leclerc was standing right beside you. For a moment, your brain short-circuited, and it took you a beat to regain control of your senses as Nick spoke up.

“Charles, this is Y/N Y/LN. She’s here with Ferrari. And this is her manager and friend, Hailey,” Nick said smoothly, introducing you both. You extended your hand with a smile, your mind still in a haze.

“It’s nice to meet you both,” Charles said, turning to you. “I hope you’re enjoying the experience so far.”

Then, he asked, “Were you the one on the balcony today by the track, with the Ferrari hat?”

You froze, suddenly forgetting how to breathe.

You nodded. “Y-yes, that was me,” you said, trying to swallow the lump of nerves in your throat.

“Oh, yeah, Matt and I saw you,” Charles said with a smile. “We were wondering who you were. Are you a Ferrari fan?”

Your brain was scrambling for a response, but Hailey swooped in just in time.

“A fan? Oh brother she sleeps, lives, and breathes Ferrari– it's like in her blood or something,” Hailey answered before you could even open your mouth. You could’ve kissed her in that moment for saving you from your awkwardness.

Charles raised his eyebrows, his smile widening. “Is that so?” he asked, intrigued.

“Yeah,” you chuckled, trying to sound casual. “I grew up alongside it. My dad’s the original fan.”

“That’s awesome,” Charles said, giving you an appreciative smile. “Well, I hope you enjoy your time here. Welcome to Monaco! I hope I can catch up with all of you later.” With that, he gave a nod before turning to chat with another table.

When he leaves, you can't help but breathe. What just happened?!

“You met Charles Leclerc, that's what” said Nick. Oh I said that outloud you think.

“Oh my god, that was crazy,” you said, shaking your head in disbelief. “I need a drink.” You chuckled nervously, standing up. “Anyone want anything?”

When everyone shook their heads, you made your way to the open bar, which had been calling your name since you walked in.

At the bar, you ordered a cosmopolitan—yes, your mom was obsessed with Sex and the City, and you’d somehow developed a love for the drink as well. While waiting for your order, you couldn’t help but admire the view. The marina was beautifully lit, with boats drifting by and people enjoying the night. It felt surreal being there, and you couldn’t quite comprehend what you had done to deserve this moment.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a voice.

“Can I get a root beer, please?” The voice sounded familiar—like you’d heard it before—but you didn’t want to turn just yet.

When the bartender placed your drink in front of you, you quickly thanked them, but just as you were about to leave, the voice spoke again.

“Hey, you were the girl on the balcony earlier, right?”

You turned, and there he was—Matt.

Matt Sturniolo. The Ferrari Formula 1 driver. The Matt. The one who had locked eyes with you in what could only be described as a weird staring contest earlier on the balcony.

“If you weren’t, it’s okay,” he added, when you didn’t immediately respond, clearly unsure.

Words, right. those are important to have a conversation.

“Oh, yeah—sorry, that was me,” you said, somehow feeling a lot more relaxed than you expected. “I’m Y/N,” you said, stretching out your hand.

“Matt,” he replied, as if you didn’t already know, taking your hand in his.

When his hand touched yours, you could have sworn you felt sparks. It was strange—almost like your hand was meant to fit in his, and yet, maybe that was just the cosmopolitan talking.

Which, you realized, you hadn’t even taken a sip of yet.

“Well, Matt, it was nice to meet you,” you said quickly, trying to break the slight awkwardness. But just as you tried to pull away, Matt grabbed your arm, stopping you.

“Wait, don’t go,” he said, his grip gentle but firm. “Don’t you want to talk?”

You blinked, a little taken aback. “You want to talk to me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” he said, his gaze unwavering, intense. “You’re pretty, you’re here, and you seem about my age.”

You could feel your confidence waver, but you pushed through, trying to match his energy. “Oh, so you think I’m pretty?” you asked, your voice teasing but slightly nervous.

“I don’t think. I know.” he said, his tone firm and confident, trying to throw you off. 

But you don't flinch, maybe blush, but it's dark so who’s going to notice? 

“Is this how you seduce women, Matthew?” you ask, clearly joking. 

“Why? You want me to seduce you?” He replies, his cockiness coming out of him. Which he didn't understand, he wasn't usually like this… but after that slight handshake, you ignited something within him, and he couldn't stop, he had to have you now. 

You chuckle at his question “funny, i'm gonna go now” you say, a slight smile creeping in. You turn around and start walking back to the table, then you feel a presence behind you. 

“You know, following me wont seduce me right?” you say, without turning around and he chuckles. 

“I'm not following you, i'm going to my table” he says, a smile clearly on display, you couldn't see it but it was clear in his voice. 

You stay silent, a bit confused, maybe his table was close to yours. 

And you were absolutely right… but he was much closer to your table than you thought, he was IN your table, right beside you actually. 

“Great! You’ve met Matt!" Nick says as Matt dabs up Chris. “Hailey, this is my brother Matt.” Nick introduces. 

“So you're the famous Matt Sturniolo” Hailey says as she stretches her hand. 

“Heard of me?” Matt asks, knowing the obvious answer. 

“Ehh, a bit– it's her fault to be fair” she says as she sits down, Matt sitting beside you with a cocky grin. 

“Oh so you talk about me?” He says to you and you bite the inside of your cheek, avoiding eye contact. 

“Well, you're a Ferrari driver, I'm a Ferrari fan, what do you expect?” you say, turning your head towards him, narrowing your eyes. 

You will not give in to his games, no matter how captivating those ocean blue eyes of his are. 

“Don't deny it pretty, you like me” he says, in almost whisper once everyone turns into their previous conversation. 

“In your dreams” you say, standing your ground once again. 

“Maybe you can help me make them come true” he says, and that makes your stomach flutter cause WHAT. This couldn't be real right now. 

Before you could react, Claudia came over, said hello to everyone and told you it was time to give Charles and Matt their small lighthearted interview. 

After about 20 minutes of trying not to laugh, turns out Charles and Matt made a very funny duo, you could see they had a very nice and genuine friendship, which you were glad about, not many F1 drivers were actually genuine friends, but they were. 

The interview itself wasn't THAT fun, it was standard questions about their favorite memory together, how they felt about this year, if they had any predictions and their most crazy hear me out, Charles coming up with Sally from Cars, and Matt coming up with the Elder Wand from Harry Potter, which had you question your entire existence and his. 

The dinner was perfect—delicious food, great conversation, and the whole table was buzzing with happiness. The atmosphere was relaxed and warm, with laughter flowing easily between everyone. Charles had joined you at your table later that night, and Hailey had mysteriously disappeared after dessert was served. She claimed it was to hit the bathroom, but you knew her well enough to guess that she was probably off searching for Claudia.

And the next text you received confirmed it. 

Found claudia!She IS gay. 🤗🤞And well… would you ask for a ride back? Or uber?Do you hate me?

LMAOAs long as i get all the details tomorrow, youre goodHave fun! and be safe🫶

You let out a quiet breath and glanced at the clock. It was getting late, and you didn’t want to be too tired for qualifications tomorrow.

Matt must have noticed the slight distress on your face because he nudged your arm gently.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft and sincere.

“Yeah, I just need to find a ride back to the hotel,” you said, offering a neutral smile as you opened your Uber app. But before you could search for a ride, Matt took your phone and set it down on the table.

“I can take you, if you want,” he said, his usual confident demeanor shifting into something more shy and modest.

“I-I wouldn’t want to bother you,” you said, feeling a little embarrassed.

“You’re not bothering me,” he replied quickly. “I was going to head out anyway. Where are you staying?” He grabbed your purse from the chair and stood up.

You were caught off guard but managed to answer anyway. “Uh, the Hermitage Monte-Carlo… I think that’s what it’s called.”

Matt made a satisfied sound. “Perfect, I’m staying there too,” he said, sounding pleased.

“Of course you are,” you muttered under your breath with a chuckle, before turning to say goodbye to the rest of the table. Nick gave you a teasing side-eye, but you tried to play it off, even though he wasn’t letting up.

Outside, Matt’s car was waiting for both of you. He opened the door for you, handing your purse back as you climbed in. You took the opportunity to admire the sleek sports car for a moment.

“Nice car,” you said, turning to look at him.

Matt smiled and shrugged. “Not mine. They just let us rent them while we’re here,” he said, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. “Don’t tell anyone, but back home, I drive a van.”

You couldn’t help but smile, and Matt caught the expression, grinning right back. How could he not? You had a way of lighting up a room.

The ride was quiet, but it wasn’t awkward. It was the kind of comfortable silence that only came after hours of talking and laughing. And besides, the drive wasn’t long—ten minutes at most.

When you arrived at the hotel, Matt quickly parked and rushed around to open your door. You couldn’t help but think it was cute.

“Well, aren’t you a charmer?” you teased, and he chuckled.

“I have to impress the ladies somehow, don’t I?” he shot back with a grin, and you laughed.

You both walked side by side to the elevator.

“What floor—” you both started at the same time, causing you both to laugh.

“Three,” you said, pointing to the button.

“Four,” he replied with a smile, pressing the button for three.

You both stepped into the elevator, settling into a comfortable silence for a few moments.

“Hey, we could go for a longer car ride if you want,” Matt said, breaking the silence. You turned to him, smiling.

“Tempting,” you replied, “but I should get some sleep, and so should you.”

He smiled back. “Maybe next time?”

“Maybe,” you said, not sure how true your words were, but the idea was certainly tempting. Just as the elevator doors opened, you gave Matt a smile and started to walk out, but he called your name before you could go too far.

“Are you going to watch the qualifications tomorrow?” he asked, standing between the elevator doors.

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” you assured him, turning back toward him with a smile.

“Good,” he said, his tone hopeful. “Come see me before?”

You blinked, a little surprised by the request. “If you want me to?”

“I do,” he said, his eyes locking with yours, and you felt a flutter in your chest.

“I will then,” you said softly, and he smiled.

“Cool, have a good night, pretty girl,” he said, his grin widening. You couldn’t help but blush at the nickname.

“Good night, Matt,” you said, before walking down the hall toward your room, Matt heading back into the elevator with a wide smile on his face.

What the fuck just happened… is the last thought you both have before you close your eyes for the night, ready for whatever tomorrow will bring.

y/n.yln posted

liked by matthew.sturniolo, and 200k others

y/n.y/ln day to night in monaco ✨❤️‍🔥

nicolassturniolo ate so hard, left everyone speechless

y/n.y/ln SO DID YOU!!!! are you kidding!???

hailey_matthews Ms. Ferrari delivered🔥

y/n.y/ln ms ferrari is lowkey growing on me

tarayummy OH RED IS SO YOUUUUU!!

y/n.y/ln UGH ILY

emiluvsyn i cant believe i met you!!!

y/n.y/ln OMG!!!

matthew.sturniolo red suits you

y/n.y/ln huh crazy… it suits you too

userlovesferrari OMG DID MATT AND Y/N MEET!?????

y/n.sturniolo22 MY WORLDS ARE COLLIDING AHH!

a story by rcklessheavn

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ series link

⋆˙⟡ tag list

⤷ authors note: see i didnt think this was going to be this long but OH WELL! i guess chapters are just gonna get longer and longer... but dont quote me on that!!!! enjoy <3 and thank you so so much for the love this story is getting so far <333

@courta13 @matthewsroses @mattswifeyy @sturniolomatthewb @nessabarretswhore @nickmillersn1gf @mattslefttoenail @thecrawlys @tuttifruttixx @obsessedwiththesturniolos @period-queen1 @pair-of-pantaloons @b4by-hon3y @idkwhatthisis2009 @malsmind @matts-247 @baileysturnz @sturniololover1738 @emely9274 @stitchlover324 @priscillaog @hvlplvss @kiarasmaybank

[nahoney22]

Oooo, I'm excited for your celebration!!! Congratulations!

Clone: Commander Wolffe

List: NSFW 🔞

Prompts: D17 with S20

Proof of age: I saw Jedi in the theater when it released in 1983. The Rancor will always be my fave creature in the SW universe.

Congrats again! Can't wait to see what you come up with!!

@dreamie411

Make Up Your Mind*** 🌊

🫧 Pairings: Commander Wolffe X Female!Reader

word count: 3k

Prompts:

• “I’m going to fuck you so hard you’re going to forget that other guys name.”

• “Stars, you're so much better than the last person I was with."

When Wolffe finally had enough of letting you slip into hands that weren’t his own, he makes sure to remind you who you really belong to.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ only, explicit sexual content and language, mutual pining, minor alcohol consumption, flirting, reader is implied to have done hook-ups before, rough kissing, nudity, fingering, vaginal sex, dom!Wolffe, creampie, confessions of feelings, friends to lovers, tender aftercare.

Authors Note: Sorry for the wait @dreamie411, hope this is okay. 🩵

As you stand behind the bar at 79’s, wiping down the surface, you hear a gravelly voice that you recognise all too well. One would assume it was any of the Clones, but there was something different about the Commander that you just could tell the difference with.

You glance up, locking eyes with the man who has spent far too much time lingering around this bar, and a smirk tugs at your lips. Commander Wolffe is eyeing you with the same intensity he always does, though there’s something unmistakably different in the way he’s watching you now.

“What did you get up to last night?” he asks, voice low but edged with curiosity—or maybe something more.

You raise an eyebrow, already knowing that he’s fully aware of what you were up to. After all, he’d spent the better part of the night silently fuming as you entertained the advances of a flirtatious patron, someone who might’ve turned into a one-night fling if the mood had struck you. You’ve always been casual about these things—no strings attached, just a bit of fun. But judging by Wolffe’s barely-concealed irritation, it’s clear he wasn’t thrilled watching you entertain someone else.

“Just this… and that,” you answer with a cheeky grin, moving away briefly to serve a trooper from the 212th. When you return, Wolffe is still leaning against the bar, his eyes following your every move. You tilt your head, feigning nonchalance. “Why do you ask?”

He swirls the ice in his empty glass, the tension in his shoulders visible even in the dim strobe lights. “Can’t a man be curious?”

Your gaze sharpens with mischief. “Depends. Not many men are curious about my sex life unless it’s for a reason.”

His jaw clenches ever so slightly, and you relish the way your words get under his skin. There’s a charge in the air between you, a tension that neither of you has been willing to break. “Care for a refill?” you ask, the words slipping out smoothly.

Before he can respond, you reach for his glass, brushing your fingers against his just long enough to feel the warmth of his skin. It’s a fleeting touch, but it sends a ripple through you that’s hard to ignore.

Admitted, you have thought about the idea of being with Wolffe before—how could you not? He’s rugged, disciplined, and there’s an undeniable magnetism in his reserved demeanor. And utterly sexy.

Yet, despite his clear jealousy, he’s never made a move. Maybe it’s the restraint that comes with his rank or the weight of his responsibilities, but it leaves you wondering if it’s just that what holds him back.

You pour him his usual drink, sliding it back across the bar before he can even reach for his credits. As he starts to pay, you place your hand over his, stopping him. “It’s on me, Commander,” you say with a wink.

Wolffe’s voice drops a notch, almost a murmur. “I want to give you something. You deserve it.”

You hum softly, leaning closer across the bar, teasing him with a slow, deliberate gaze that traces from his furrowed brow down to the scar that cuts across his eye, finally resting on his tense, but oh-so-inviting lips. “And what do you think I deserve, hmm?” Your voice is a playful whisper, laced with just enough suggestion to make him falter.

For a brief moment, it’s as if time stops. Wolffe’s attention is locked entirely on your lips, on the way your breath gently fans against his face. The lights of the club dance across your features, casting you in a soft, almost hypnotic glow.

He’s caught, just for a second, torn between giving in to whatever’s been simmering between you two and holding himself back. But as much as he wants to close that distance, something pulls him away.

He takes his drink, your fingers slipping away from his as he steps back, eyes soft with something left unspoken. You watch him walk away, a sigh slipping from your lips.

When 79’s finally closes for the night, the hum of laughter and music fades into silence as you finish tidying up. The bar is empty, save for the clinking of glasses you swiped from tables and the faint buzz of neon lights overhead. You wave goodnight to the other workers as they exit through the back door, their voices echoing faintly down the corridor. With a tired but satisfied sigh, you begin locking up for the night, turning toward the entrance when you feel the unmistakable weight of someone’s gaze.

A knowing smirk pulls at your lips. You don’t need to turn around to recognise who it is. “We’re closed, you know,” you call out, your voice playful.

But when you finally do turn, you find Wolffe leaning against the bar, his back to you, shoulders tense. He doesn’t move at first, the muscles in his back taut under his armor as he collects his thoughts. Something about his posture is different tonight—more guarded, more intense. You step closer, curiosity mingling. “What is it, Commander?” you ask as you lean against the counter beside him.

He straightens up slightly, turning his head just enough for you to catch the edge of his stormy gaze. “I need to talk to you.”

There’s no hint of teasing in his tone, and the seriousness in his eyes causes your flirty retort to falter. You’ve never seen him this conflicted, this on edge and your smirk fades. “What’s going on?” you ask softly, cautious.

For a moment, he just stares at you, a battle clearly raging behind those eyes. And then, with a voice rougher than you’ve ever heard, he speaks. “You drive me mad, you know that?” frustration lacing every word. “Watching you, knowing you’re letting others close when all I can think about is how badly I want you. How I’ve wanted you for longer than I care to admit.”

Your breath catches, pulse quickening at the raw intensity of his confession. Wolffe steps closer, closing the distance between you in one stride, his eyes locking onto yours with a hunger that sends a shiver down your spine. “I’m done holding back,” he says, voice dark and laced with that possessiveness you’ve always suspected simmered beneath. “You want to know what I’ve been thinking about? About having you, in every way. About making sure you never forget it’s me you should belong to.”

The heat in his words draws something deep and electric from within you. “Wolffe…” you whisper, but it’s lost as he crowds you against the bar, his body radiating a warmth that sends your senses into overdrive. The look in his eyes is almost feral, desire mixed with a longing that makes your head spin.

His lips are on yours in an instant, rough and claiming, as though he’s been holding back for too long and can’t bear it any longer. You respond in kind, meeting his intensity, hands grasping at his armor as he presses you into the counter. The kiss is a clash of need and frustration, every pent-up emotion pouring into the way his mouth moves against yours. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, begging for entry which you allow, your fingers tugging in his textured hair as his tongue dominates your own.

When he finally pulls back, both of you are breathing hard, your lips swollen from the fervour of it. “I’ll give you everything,” he whispers on your lips, voice a low rumble that reverberates through your chest.

There’s no hesitation in you now. You’ve wanted this just as much as he has, and the fact that he’s finally lost control is exhilarating. “Then show me, Commander,” you challenge.

That’s all the encouragement he needs. In a blur, he lifts you onto the bar, hands sliding possessively over your hips as he steps between your legs. The kiss that follows is deeper, more desperate, fueled by weeks—maybe months—of tension. His hands grip your waist with enough strength to leave marks, as if he’s afraid you might slip away if he lets go.

Wolffe’s lips leave a trail down your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he moans, “You’re mine tonight. No one else. Just me.”

Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, drawing him closer and with a swift, practiced motion, he begins unbuckling his armour, peeling it off piece by piece while his gaze stays fixed on yours, dark with intent. There’s no room for hesitation, only pure, unfiltered desire.

You barely have time to catch your breath before his hands are on you again, yanking your workshirt over your head, fingers deftly working at your waistband before he slides your pants down and panties. The tension is almost unbearable as his calloused hands slide up your thighs, parting them with authority. His lips land on yours again, hungrier than before, biting gently on your lip as he frees himself from the confines of his uniform. When he finally pulls away, both of you are breathless, the air thick with want.

“Been thinking about this for a long time,” he mutters, voice low as his fingers slowly dip between your folds after getting your consent, finding you already slick with need. “You’re dripping for me already. You really want this, don’t you?”

You can’t help but moan softly as his fingers tease you, brushing over your clit before plunging inside. “I’ve wanted this as much as you have,” you manage to gasp, leaning back on your hands for support as his fingers begin to pump into you with a steady, ruthless rhythm.

“Good,” he groans, leaning in close, his breath hot against your ear. “Because you’re about to get exactly what you’ve been craving.” His thumb presses against your clit in tight circles as his fingers curl just right, hitting that spot that makes you shudder and arch against him.

You bite your lip, stifling the cry that threatens to spill out as your hips rock into his touch. The intensity of his gaze, the way he watches your every reaction—it’s overwhelming. “How’s that feel?” he taunts, voice thick with a mix of pride and lust. “Am I as good as you imagined?”

A wicked grin spreads across your face as you look down at him, voice dripping with teasing satisfaction. “Stars, you’re so much better than the last person I was with.”

That earns a deep, possessive moan from him, and his pace quickens, fingers plunging deeper, harder. “You think I’m going to let you go to anyone else after this? Not a chance,” he hisses, clearly spurred on by your words. “I’m going to make sure I’m the only one you think about from now on.” His gaze is locked on your cunt as his fingers curl inside you

Your response is lost in a choked gasp as he withdraws his fingers suddenly, leaving you momentarily empty. You whine at him for stopping but your words are caught in your mouth as you watch him pull his cock free, only for him to then line himself up against you. At first he teases your sentence pearl with his aching tip, feeling you shudder against him. Then, with one fluid thrust, he buries himself inside you, filling you completely.

The stretch is intense, and you can’t help the cry that escapes your lips. He feels perfect—thick and unyielding, just what you’ve been aching for. He groans, hips stuttering as he buries his face into your neck. Then he pulls back and cups your jaw with his hand, making sure every word he’s about to say sinks in; “I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll forget that other guy’s name.”

The need between you both is primal, each thrust deep and purposeful as he claims you in the way he’s been fantasising about for far too long. His hands grip your hips with bruising force as he drives into you, the wet sound of your bodies moving together mingling with the breathless moans that spill from your lips.

“Tell me how good it is,” he commands, voice rough as his pace picks up, your legs tightening around him. “Tell me how much you like the way I fuck you.”

You don’t hold back, your voice a breathy moan. “It’s so good, Wolffe. So much better than anyone else. You’re the only one who can give it to me like this.”

That spurs him on, his movements becoming almost punishing as he growls your name, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. “You’re mine tonight,” he breathes against your neck, the words possessive yet laced with something deeper. “No one else is ever going to touch you like this again.”

Your body tightens around him, every ridge of his cock brushing against your walls. Pleasure builds within you until it’s impossible to hold back any longer. “Fuck,” he groans, head tipping back briefly before his eyes lock onto yours again. “You feel incredible.”

When your release finally crashes over you, it’s intense, your vision going white as your muscles clench around him, drawing a guttural moan from his throat. He doesn’t let up, riding you through your orgasm, praising you, until he’s right there with you, thrusts growing erratic until he spills into you with a deep groan, his forehead resting against yours as he tries to catch his breath.

For a moment, the only sounds are the heavy breathing and the faint hum of the bar’s lights. Wolffe’s hands remain firm on your hips, almost as if he’s still afraid to let go. When he finally pulls back, there’s a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes.

Before you can ask, Wolffe’s hands gently cup your face, his thumbs brushing tenderly along your cheeks. There’s a softness in his gaze now, something you’ve never seen before. His fierce determination melts away, replaced by something far more vulnerable.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, voice thick with emotion. His thumbs continue to trace delicate patterns on your skin as if memorising every contour of your face. “I’ve watched you for so long; how you smile, how you laugh. How you take care of people, even when you think no one notices. You’re not just beautiful—you’re kind, too. And it drives me crazy because you deserve more than just a quick fling. You deserve someone who sees you for all that you are.”

His words hit you harder than any of the passion you’ve shared so far. Your heart stutters at the sincerity in his voice, the way his eyes soften as he holds your gaze. For a moment, the world outside fades, leaving only the two of you in this small, quiet moment. You’ve seen Wolffe as a soldier, a leader, but now, you see him as a man—a man who’s been holding back something real, something deep.

“Wolffe,” you breathe out, touched by his unexpected confession. “I—”

He doesn’t let you finish, leaning in to kiss you with a gentleness that contrasts the rough desire you shared moments before. The kiss is slow, unhurried, a silent acknowledgment of what’s blooming between you. His lips move against yours with reverence, taking his time as if savoring each moment.

When he finally pulls away, his forehead rests against yours, breath mingling with yours in the stillness. “You’re not just someone I want in passing,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “I want you for more than just tonight.”

Your chest tightens with warmth, a rare vulnerability breaking through your usual confidence. You reach up, running your fingers through his hair, grounding him in this moment. “I’ve wanted you too, more than you know. Not just for what we have now, but for what we could be.”

He studies your face for a moment, as if committing your every feature to memory, then smiles—a small, genuine curve of his lips. “I’m done hiding how I feel,” he says quietly. “You’re mine, but I’ll also be yours, in every way that matters.”

With that, he kisses you again, this time with a perfect balance of passion and tenderness, his need still evident but tempered by something deeper, more meaningful.

It’s not long until a second round of passion ensues, this time him stripping himself completely bare as he lifts you and moves you towards one of the booths for a more comfier setting. He lays you down, crawling over the top of you as his erection firms and pushes into you once again.

“Tell me how it feels,” he moans softly in your ear, his breath warm against your skin.

You can’t help but smile, the words slipping out between moans. “Beautiful… perfect. Nobody has ever made me feel this way.” You whimper, the sound of his cock sliding in and out of your already dampened and filled pussy stirring your crazy.

That longing glint returns to his eyes, but this time, it’s mixed with the affection he just bared to you. “Good,” he murmurs, his pace picking up slightly, his hands never leaving your skin. “Because I’m going to make damn sure you never want anyone else.”

The rhythm between you builds again, the intensity returning as his movements grow more insistent, more determined to claim you in every way possible. But there’s a new layer to it now.

His touch was something deeper, more profound, and it’s shown in the way his lips brush against your skin, the way his hands hold you like you’re something precious. Like a porcelain doll.

As you both approach that edge again, the tension coils tight, your bodies perfectly in sync. The pleasure mounts higher and higher until it crests, a shared release that leaves you both trembling and breathless. You collapse into him, clinging to his shoulders as he holds you steady, his own breath coming out in ragged pants. “Mesh’la,” he breathes, kissing your forehead gently.

For a while, neither of you move, caught in the afterglow. But then, Wolffe gently lifts your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “I want you,” he says again, “No games, no hiding. I want us—for real, whatever it takes.”

You smile, reaching up to cup his face, thumb brushing over the scar near his eye. “Then we’ll make it real. But… What about your status? You’ll be reprimanded.”

“Status be damned,” he growls at the thought of the GAR taking you away from him.

You’ve crossed a line, and there’s no going back. But for once, neither of you care.

🌊 Masterlist is Pinned 🌊

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[candypot]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𝗩𝗜𝗟 𝗦𝗖𝗛𝗢𝗘𝗡𝗛𝗘𝗜𝗧 : ex with attachment issues headcanons

♱⋅── Autor notes: came back with more cunty content about this cunty queen

♱⋅── NSFW mentions - don’t scroll if you’re a minor

• Probably will resent you very much for wasting his precious time, but the scale of his harshness towards you depends on the breakup reason.

• At the worst case he'll throw some light shade at you whenever you happened to be in the same room as him. It would be too impolite to just directly address his displeasure with your presence, so expect just some indirect complaints about your "exaggerated perfume" or your "disrespect towards the school etiquette”. He'll make sure to bother just enough to satisfy his hurt ego, even though he knew deep down it was ridiculous for his image as a dorm leader.

• if the breakup reason was lighter, he'll just make sure to address you with indifference and politeness like he does with any other student of Night Raven College. You might feel some sharp glares towards you sometimes or a additional rigid breath, but he'll never bother you with such a nonsense because of his unattached persona.

• Surely won't bat an eye when you pass through him on the crowded corridors of the college, Vil was an excellent actor after all and he would do everything he could to hide how much you affected him with your absence.

• But this doesn't mean you should go around underestimating his peripheral vision, in the end the day his eyes were scanning every little corner with the hope of finding you somewhere.

• Also, don't get too careless thinking you can move on quickly after the break up. If you're even thinking about seeing someone else with less than two months, be aware that he's going to come back in your life just to torment you. Vil loves to remind you how good it was to have him as a partner in times like this and also how horrible it could be to lost him forever. He'll make sure to come back to you just to make sure you drop your other options before he pushes you away again.

• Make sure you're prepared to be dragged on a vicious cycle of affection and indifference depending on his mood of the day. He missed you so much... but he had to move on from that phase as quick as possible for the sake of his career... but you had to understand that you were made to be his... but he also should stop pampering you so much after such mediocre relationship…. but you also should be more considerate with his feelings, you guys had story together... but seriously! you had to stop being so overly sensitive and leave him alone when he needed. It would be a endless and torturing cycle for the both of you, he wanted to feel worth your attention and at the same time make sure you knew what you had lost.

• Would try to push the thoughts of you to the back of his mind with the practice of physical exercise. It was honestly so stressing to not being able to focus on anything after that awful break up with such a common person! He had to clear his mind up with something or at least be tired enough to not think about it (he would probably dream about you anyway).

• Maybe he could even start seeing a therapist to read more deeply into this strange addiction he had of you. The other alternatives weren't helping to clean his mind anymore and he could notice how physically and emotionally draining it was getting to not understand his feeling towards you.

• Shamefully, hate sex would probably be a thing. It was so so so humiliating to have his thoughts wandering around you and the heated moments you guys shared together... his bed seemed so empty without your warm body trembling bellow him (or on top of him). He was so dumb to even bring you to his room in first place! How could he even sleep in such a place after all you had done in those sheets? Now it was almost as necessary as oxygen to have your lowly presence by his side again, he needed to feel your grotesque hands on him and your petulant mouth on his.

• The whole experience would be very humiliating for the both of you, nor him nor you would have the gut to admit you were constantly seeking each other behind that hatful facade. At some point, people wouldn't even bother to understand your current status of relationship anymore. Even Rook, which was the biggest stalker supporter of the both of you was tired of listening those well know noises from his roi du poison's room.

[002yb]

Suspension with no pay is a generous punishment, given how severely Dick knocks another officer's lights out. He's lucky no charges will be pressed. His 'colleague' probably isn't keen to air the dirty details of his provocations to the police commissioner; to have them put on paper.

Dick isn't too eager to discuss it, either. Just thinking of it tests his temper and his resolve not to tear through the precinct to the infirmary the bastard hides away in; to grab him by the collar of his uniform again and wail on him for being a sick fuck.

Gordon wants an explanation. Because he knows Dick. Because he knows Dick doesn't do shit like this without reason.

Dick keeps his mouth shut. He sets his jaw, clenches his teeth. He wants to scream, but he swallows it down. Looks just over Gordon's head instead, and waits to be dismissed.

He takes his punishment. He slams the door on his way out.

The only thing he wants is to go home, but he doesn't want to bring his bad mood past the threshold. So Dick sits outside, back to the wall, and makes himself breathe.

His knuckles are still red and swollen, but they'll bruise in the coming hours. He picks at split skin, smudging away blood that beads up.

There’s no cleaning up the mess he is, so Dick settles in. Dropping his head back against the wall beside the door. Breathing. Meditating. Glaring off at nothing as he sits, stews, and broods. Hands clenching periodically because he still wants to hit something.

Someone, specifically. Because Dick wasn’t done fucking them up before other officers stormed in to intervene. Alerted by shouts and familiar sounds of a scuffle. Baffled, probably, that good boy Dick Grayson can lose it worse than any of them ever could.

So Dick sits there. For a long time, until he feels numb. Until he can compartmentalize and put all his anger and irritation and hurt behind him. Because he’s not bringing it home.

Not this.

Not with Jason there.

Jason who, after some hours, comes up the stairs and startles at the sight of Dick sitting just outside their flat, quiet and unnaturally still.

Jason who sees the damage to Dick’s hands and the storminess to his expression with just a quick glance, and who takes that ugliness in stride and sits beside it anyway. Because it’s Dick.

Somehow it’s both easier and harder to breathe with Jason there beside him.

Mercifully, Jason doesn't pry. Not yet. He just sits there with Dick, quietly shuffling through the mail he must have grabbed on his way up. Ads, bills, notices.

It's so normal, so mundane that Dick feels winded by it. The easy slope of Jason's shoulders, the quiet contentment in his expression. They're outside their flat, sorting through mail; when they go inside, they'll debate on eating in, going out. They'll talk casework, get distracted by their own banter. They'll go on patrol, come home and tend each other's hurts. And they'll go to sleep together, same as any other day. One of many.

Fuck. Dick looks skyward. Blinks. Breathes.

Then he turns to look down at that pile of mail. Distracts himself with the cluttered ad that shows deals at a nearby grocery that Jason scans and scoffs at or stops to consider.

'Are you happy?'

'Depends who won the fight.' Is the cheeky reply.

Dick snorts, but doesn't comment. Doesn't trust his voice, or what words might pour out of him. Despite the lack of bruises anywhere but along his knuckles, Dick doesn't doubt it looks like he's the one that got fucked up.

Apt. Because to Jason, Dick doesn't look upset - he seems hurt.

And Jason isn't going to badger Dick. Or chide him. He trusts Dick's judgment, his reasoning, even if Jason likes to be contrary and challenge Dick at every turn.

But he's a Robin at heart, always curious. And he's also a street kid in soul, nosy because intel is an invaluable resource. He's also Jason, who worries even if he's prickly about it.

'Must've been fucked to get under your skin so bad.'

The words are there, but they're ugly. Dick swallows them down and deflects:

'Got suspended.'

'With pay?'

'Without.'

'How long?'

'A week.'

Jason clicking his tongue and scoffing about it, but he doesn't care about the lost income. It's a line of questioning to gauge the severity of the fight.

When Jason asks about on a scale of Damian to Jason, how mad will B be about it, Dick can't help the quiet laugh that bubbles up in him. He considers, then shrugs, 'Tim levels, maybe?'

Jason sitting with that, puzzling it over until something seems to click and he grimaces. Because, 'what the fuck would you be fighting over me for?'

Dick can't talk about it: about how an officer implicated themselves in the solicitation of a 'back alley whore,' a child, at the time. Provoked by the picture Dick keeps of Jason as his lock screen. Unable to resist the temptation of mocking, ridiculing Dick 'perfect golden boy' Grayson by going after his boyfriend, 'How much is that running you? Used to be dirt cheap, back in the day.' , 'Gotham's sloppiest seconds, or mine at least. Does he still cry pretty when you--?' Etc. Etc.

So maybe Jason figures it out for himself and makes an accurate guess. Because since Jason came back, he hasn't dealt with the police in any notable way. Not as a civilian, at least.

Jason would know that if someone saw Dick's lock screen and talked shit about Jason's appearance or other superficial bullshit, Dick wouldn't be so quiet about it. He'd be ranting and raving, incensed because he insists Jason is handsome, gorgeous (and it's sweet, because Jason isn't anything to write home about; a fun fight to provoke, some days, if only because Dick gets so up in arms over it).

And if it's not anything to do with present!Jason, that only leaves all the shit of his past, which is...

They haven't talked about it. Jason doesn't doubt that Dick knows, it's just - Jason doesn't want to talk about it.

Just Jason recognizing Dick's kindnesses for what they are. How Dick defended him. How he hurt enough for him that Dick risks it all. And then he comes home and waits outside because he won't bring that anger home like Jason's dad would. And he goes so far as to bite his tongue because he won't corner Jason into talking about shit he doesn't want to.

Just Jason, breathing steady and changing the topic entirely: 'I'm happy.' So happy. Happier than he's ever been. It's jarring, sometimes, how happy he is. Because there was a time when he didn't think he'd be allowed it. But here he is. With Dick. At their flat; a shoddy home, but theirs. Where they'll make dinner together and complain about romance not existing in the kitchen, get outta my way )< ; and where they'll talk circles around case work before they start bantering, gossiping, laughing. And where they'll leave for patrol but still flirt over comms and come back and hide their hurts only for the other to poke at them because they know. And they'll sleep. And it's warm. And of course Jason is happy.

It's a simple life, but it's theirs.

Oh, Jason looking at Dick's bruised hands and feeling overwhelmed at just how happy he is - to be loved and cared for so much. ;////////;

Getting all bashful as he tells Dick again, 'I'm really...really happy.'

And because it feels a little too heavy, a little too raw, Jason would cough and deflect in his own way. Grumbling because, 'Would've been happier with an expulsion, but...' Shrug.

Dick laughing under his breath. Taking the out. 'On my way. It was a 'formal reprimand'.'

Then Jason snickers because, 'Could I give you more names? Speed up the process.'

Which oops. Too dark, too soon. But after the initial grimace is a brittle laugh because wow.

Then something something Jason standing up and offering Dick a hand to pull him up, too. And they go about their routine. When Dick settles down, Jason starts prompting for details on the fight. How fucked was the officer's face? How many men did it take to tear Dick away from him? (♡ˊ͈ ꒳ ˋ͈)

Dick teasing him about it sounding like Jason likes that Dick lost his shit. And Jason owns up to it fully. Of course he likes it; it was for him. (ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ.ﾟ

Jason makes it easier for Dick by teasing him about it. Taking some of the weight away from it. Because this is how they look after each other. ♡

[words-etched-in-her-skin]

Hello, dears ❤ I do apologize for the lack of content lately (Moving to Germany and getting everything settled, on top of writer´s block and taking German lessons is the culprit, I swear 😂) BUT, I finally got around to writing that scene where Reader has to serve Alcina tea while wearing a remote control vibrator 👀This was written with Sasha in mind (if you can´t tell lol) and I do hope some of you will enjoy! ❤

TW: Slight degradation

Word count: 2,054

The castle clock hadn't quite made it to nine yet when you found yourself waiting dutifully outside of your employer´s office. You had known better than to enter the large room at a time other than exactly when she requested you to. Being early at Castle Dimitrescu was considered just as much of an offense as being late, with just as dire consequences depending on the Countess´mood. So, you stood there, quietly, obediently, waiting for the old steel bells in the clocktower to strike nine.

You had even made a point to make sure that everything placed on the silver tray in your hands was precisely as she liked it. Your uniform had been freshly pressed, your hair as neatly done as you could get it, and the small toy that she had commanded you to wear that was nestled deep within your core - while albeit, a little uncomfortably - was nice and securely settled in. 

The sound of the first bell almost made you jump, nearly knocking the antique silver teapot over in turn. You rolled your eyes at yourself and straightened out your vest. You were admittedly more nervous than you´d expected to be - but also excited. Your arousal already beginning to pool, pulsing against the firmness of the toy. You found your heart all but a flutter as the final bell finally struck, forcing a slight flush across your cheeks.

With a short exhale you knocked softly on the large door. 

“You may enter, pet.” 

Her voice was warm, aged - like a finely distilled whiskey. The sound of it alone brought an even deeper heat to your cheeks, and you knew right then and there that this wasn't going to be easy. Not a single drop spilled, she had said. Not a single one. 

And she had meant it. 

You entered quickly and without pause, eyes adjusting to the bright morning sun as it shown brilliantly into the normally darkened room. Luminous rays of warmth basking the Countess in a dusting of cladden gold. 

“Right on time, pet. As always.” She smirked, looking up at you over the rim of her reading glasses - her desk covered in a mess of invoices and letters for the day ahead. You cleared your throat. 

“Of course, my lady.”

She carefully placed the paper she had been reading on top of the others before allowing the smirk on her lips to curl a little deeper. “Mh, obedient little thing, hm? So eager to please.”

You swallowed hard, mouth suddenly dry. Fuck, she wasn’t going to make this easy, was she? Still, you smirked a little in turn, walking closer to the desk, your stride slightly staggered. 

“I do believe that's how you prefer me, Countess, is it not?”

She chuckled. “Feeling rather cheeky this morning, I see.” 

At this you only grinned, placing the serving tray on the one empty spot on her desk and raised the teapot in your hands. “Tea?”

She chuckled again and nodded, leaning back into her chair - with one perfectly shaped eyebrow arched in your direction as her gaze raked you over, watching you. She was absolutely stunning in the fresh morning light - nearly evanescent. Her raven locked hair perfectly styled and a tight fitted, white collared shirt in place of her normal everyday dress. It was cuffed at her forearms and hugged her body quite exquisitely. In that moment, you were certain the small toy that remained in your core was already sufficiently drenched, its presence becoming ever more noticeable as you began to set out the tea.   

“I'm assuming you haven’t forgotten our deal?” 

She traced her fingers down your arm and your core immediately clenched, forcing you to adjust your stance. 

“O-of course not, my lady.” 

“Not a single drop.. Or there will be consequences.” 

You nodded. “Yes, my lady.” 

She smirked. 

“Though, something tells me you'd rather enjoy that.” The chuckle that now danced darkly across her lips was dripping in desire, much like the juices that had already begun to drip from your core. And the sight of the small black remote appearing casually between her fingers only fueled that.

Gods, she was not playing fair and she knew-

“Mph-!” 

You let out an embarrassingly needy moan the moment you felt the warm, abrupt vibration deep inside you, your knees almost immediately buckling. 

Fuck. Why had you agreed to this again??

Because you loved it, that's why. You loved the effect she had on you and just how needy she could get you. You loved how aroused you already were, knowing just how much higher she'd eventually take you. With your core soaking wet and absolutely aching for her. 

And this, she knew. 

“Mh.. you look a little flushed, my pet. Is the tea too hot for you?” 

Oh, that devilish smirk as she leaned back into her chair even more, eyes bright with a teasing glint while she idly allowed the remote to dance between two fingers. You cursed softly under your breath before straightening your back, teapot still in hand. 

“Quite the contrary, my lady. The only thing too hot in this room, is you.” You replied with a smug smile, making her chuckle. 

“Always with that silver tongue of yours.” 

“Last I checked you quite enjoyed my tong-” 

Another wave of pleasure erupted in your core, this time even stronger than the last. Your hands held firm around the warm metal as you moaned needlessly, wantingly, the slacks of your uniform growing more soaked by the second. You were panting by the time the vibration was cut short, which only brought forth another chuckle. 

“That I do, pet. Though, it does have the tendency to get you into trouble, no?” 

You cursed again, this time wiping the sweat from your brow before rising back to your full height. Every inch of your body now screaming for more, for release. For her fingers to replace the all too small toy that resided deep within you. You took a steadying breath and smiled, holding the steaming water over her cup. 

“I s-suppose it does, my lady. How would you like your tea this morning?” 

You tried your hardest to remain focused, but your eyes were locked on the tiny remote in her hand. Watching it's every movement, waiting for any indication that she was about to press it. That was until she cleared her throat, bringing your attention swiftly back to her. 

“Eyes on me.” She ordered. 

You nodded. “Yes, my lady. Sorry.” 

You straightened out your vest again, teapot in hand. Your cheeks a deep crimson and your underwear nearly completely soaked through. She watched you intently, a scorching gaze that never wavered and only made the heated place between your legs throb relentlessly. Her lips parting ever so slightly before she spoke, legs coming to cross in front of her. 

“Two cubes of sugar this morning, pet. And a generous pour from my flask.” 

“As you wish, my lady.” 

“Oh, and one of those intricate designs of yours I love so much.” She smirked. “Expertly executed, of course.” 

You swallowed and gave her a nod. “O-of course. Any specific design in mind?” 

“Mh.. surprise me.” She replied with a wink. 

You nodded again and moved a little closer to her desk, a slight tremor to your hand as you reached for the small silver tongs for her sugar. One small clink into the cup followed by another, breathing a sigh of relief as you moved onto the flask. Though the moment the dark crimson liquid began to pour from the opening your whole body jerked in pleasure. The vibration, albeit a much softer one, was still plenty enough to send a wave of ecstasy across your body. 

You bit your bottom lip, nearly hard enough to draw blood. Your legs trembling as it became harder and harder to focus on anything other than the deep ache in your core. You moved your hand slowly, thighs clenched shut as you continued to pour the dark liquid into the cup before capping it off and shakily placing it back on the tray. A staggered exhale as the toy swiftly shut off again. 

“Very good, pet. Continue.” 

You nodded through a whimper and shifted from one foot to another, your desire now trickling down your inner thigh - your uniform becoming ever more stifling. You could only imagine how flushed your face was, if the rest of you held any indication, that was. Your entire body felt as if it set a flame. As if you were the match and Alcina the strike. You straightened your back once more, this time a little more wobbly and picked up the teapot. 

The look on your Mistress's face was entirely unfair. Smug, and knowing. Nostrils slightly flared as she could undoubtedly smell just how aroused you were - how utterly drenched. You steadied your hands, keeping them both firmly on the now cooling metal as you slowly began to tip it. The warm aroma of Alcina’s favorite tea wafting through the air. A predator’s gaze encased in swirls of steam as she watched you - intensely. A swift flash of crimson in her smile as she pressed the little black button yet again. 

“F-fu-” 

“Language. You're doing so good.” 

“Mmmph-” 

A muffled whimper as your teeth sank hard into your bottom lip, thighs clenched even more than before. You did your best to hold yourself steady. With the only thing working in your favor being the master of your craft - the ability to serve to no end. 

Especially when it came to Alcina. 

Your legs shook, body trembled. Core aching in a way that you had never experienced before. You so badly wanted to come for her, to feel the exquisite release of pleasure that only she could give you. But still, you held strong. Feeling the simple fabric of your slacks grow wetter by the second as you dutifully fill her cup with warm tea. Leaving just enough room for the foam at the top. 

By the time the vibration came to a halt within your aching walls, you were a panting, shaking mess. Hair a muss and beads of sweat dripping down your all too heated face. You honestly weren't sure how much more you could take. If the heartbeat that throbbed so strongly in your core had anything to say about it, you'd likely come the moment she pressed that button again. An act that would surely get you punished. A punishment that would surely be worth it. 

Your hands trembled as you placed the teapot back onto the tray, breath erratic as you looked up to catch her gaze. 

And that smirked. That damned smirk. 

“So dutiful, pet.” She said coyly. “You never do disappoint, do you?” 

Her tongue skated over her bottom lip and wetted it, making you groan. She chuckled yet again. 

“Almost there now. Just one more step.” 

You nodded and quickly added the foamed cream to the top of her cup. She wanted something intricate, she had said, so you knew you couldn't get away with your usual simple heart. And your mind was far too fogged to think of anything creative at the moment. So, you picked up your small metal tool and got to work, brow furrowed as you tried to concentrate. An act that was all the more difficult when the Countess rose from her seat, remote in hand. Her scent even more intoxicating than usual. Her mere proximity fueling the ever throbbing pulse between your legs. 

“I don't think you've ever smelt so aroused before, my pet.” She whispered, leaning in so her bosom was directly eye level. The ebb and flow of her chest, her warm breath across your ear, it was almost all too much. 

You took a deep breath and steadied. 

“A-and whose fault is that?” You replied quietly. 

“Oh. I'm well aware of my affect on you, dear.” She chuckled, leaning in even further. “One could say I revel in it.” 

You whimpered but held your hand steady, intent on finishing the work at hand. You were almost finished as it was, with one or two lines left to g- 

“Mmmph-!” 

There it was again, that all encompassing heat. That warm vibration engulfing your core just as you'd finished the final line on the crest of House Dimitrescu in her cup. She looked down at it, proud and knowing, and leaned her body against yours. You turned fully in her arms, wanting to feel every inch of her against you. 

“Such a good, obedient pet.” Words whispered against your lips before she took your mouth in hers, kissing you deeply. Large hands roaming over your body before resting on the hem of your pants to unbutton them. “Such a shame it'll have to go to waste, hm?”  

She kissed you again before you could even reply. The soaked fabric of your slacks and underwear quickly discarded to the floor as her thigh came to rest between your legs. You moaned, whimpered, clawed at her back as you begged for release. The toy in your core now at its highest vibration as she pressed her thigh against your clit. 

“F-fuck.. Alcina.. please.” 

Her only response was a soft growl and the subtle rock of her thigh, moving deliciously against your most sensitive areas. A prickling heat that built slowly across your body with each movement. With tears streaming down your face and your nails digging into her skin. 

“P-please.. I need to.. I need to come for you.” 

She growled into your swollen lips and pushed her thigh into you even harder, forcing you to cry out. 

“Be a good slut and come for me then.” She hissed.

The next moments that came were all but a blur. Waves of unrelenting pleasure crashing over you as your whole body trembled and shook. As your desire shot out from your core and soaked the soft skin of Alcina's thigh. You weren't even sure how many orgasms she’d given you, or just how long she’d kept you there. With a cold cup of tea resting next to you on the desk as your chest heaved in pants. The silhouette of her leaning over you as you felt yourself begin to fade. Body limp as the darkness swiftly took over you, with the small toy still nestled deep within your core.