#but it felt like an appropriate following to the last one

[damned-punk]

Happy Birthday Killer (Killer x Reader)

@gratefulcheeses Kidd Pirate’s Month 2025 🏴‍☠️

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Content Warning: self esteem issues

Content Description: Killer is going through a difficult time following the SMILE incident but you have hope for the future ♡

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Following Killer’s selfless consumption of the failed SMILE fruit, your relationship had changed. You weren’t sure if it was for better or worse, but a metamorphosis had taken place where you were closer but farther apart than ever before. He was still Killer, undeniably the man that you loved, but things were different. It was as though he cared even less about himself than usual, constantly throwing himself into the most dire situations for the most minuscule gain. He worried you and no matter how you articulated this to him, he just wasn’t getting it.

It wasn’t that he’d grown cold or distant, but rather that he was preventing himself from feeling anything toward you. He despised his laugh and that it was the only way he could display his affections for you, he didn’t want to lose you but he didn’t want you to have to live with him like this. He’d said many times that this wasn’t what you signed up for and that he would not fault you for leaving him, it was all too much to bear. Turning to the only other person on earth who might be able to get through to him, you brought the issue to the Captain.

His usual reprieve of being a loud, sarcastic asshole was lost as soon as Killer was brought up. This was just as dire and near to Kidd as it was to you, he’d nearly lost his best friend too. It took days for Killer to even speak to Kidd, the image of him bandaged head to toe and laughing maniacally through tears would never leave you. Kidd of course agreed to help, never shying away from anything that concerned his partner, and instructed you to give them space for the time being.

This was somewhat of a problem as Killer’s birthday was only a short time away and you wanted so deeply for him to relax, even if just for a few hours. You considered coordinating with the crew for a nice dinner and time spent together but it just didn’t seem appropriate. They were rowdy as hell and while letting loose did seem appealing, it wasn’t right for the occasion. Killer had been sleeping in his own cabin since the incident which had been hard in its own right, but it allowed you to prepare in privacy. You lightly decorated and prepared a quiet celebration only to be enjoyed by the two of you, three if Killer wanted Kidd at his side.

It was strange going about things in this manner, Killer was far from delicate but this felt necessary. You’d already had an idea for his gift and wrapped it in a small black box with a blue bow, simplistic and perhaps a bit silly but hopefully something that would bring him even the smallest amount of joy. You’d had it made on an island during one of your last supply runs, ensuring that you saved it for his birthday.

Once things were settled in your cabin, you let Kidd know your plans and he agreed that approaching the celebration in this manner was the best course of action. The crew still showered him with congratulations and gifts, but you wanted to preserve some level of intimacy for time with him that you hadn’t had in a while. You waited until that evening, approaching him after cake had been passed.

“Meet me in my cabin when you’re ready.”, you leant up to speak near his ear, giving his arm a light squeeze for reassurance.

You waited for him on the bed, gift in hand, hoping that he wouldn’t be against spending time alone together. The minutes felt like hours but just as you began reaching the threshold patience, heavy footsteps echoed through the empty corridor just outside your cabin door. They stopped outside for a few moments, likely in an attempt for him to brace himself for whatever you had planned. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t worried, you’d been so patient with him for so long that he wouldn’t be surprised if you were fed up. He reluctantly grasped the door handle and pushed the door open, awkwardly standing in the doorway after closing the two of you off from the others.

“Come sit.”, you held a small smile on your face as you patted the spot on the bed next to you.

He wordlessly obeyed, making his way over to occupy the space at your side.

“Happy Birthday, I hope you like it.”, you stated softly while placing the gift in his hands.

He laughed for a moment, his expression caged by his mask. You studied the way the mask contoured around his skull, your eyes combed over the grooves in the metal from Kidd’s handy work. You hated the mask for what it represented, but it was a part of Killer no less. He seemed to be unsure about opening the box, he felt like he didn’t deserve to receive something from you after so many terrible things transpired on Wano.

After several long and grueling moments, he finally opened the box and lifted the silly present to hang between his fingers. It was a small golden bracelet with the teeniest, tiniest pasta charm. On the back of the charm were your’s and his initials, a small gesture that he could wear and know that you were with him always. Suddenly, his laugher surmounted and his head flew backwards. He did what he could to stifle the sound, his shoulders shaking violently. You wrapped your arms about him, his hands lifting to meet your skin.

“Thank you, (Y/N). I’m sorry I-“, he began to apologize but you stopped him immediately.

“None of that… not tonight. You don’t have anything to apologize for.”, you reassured him, “I love you and I know that we can get through this… Always have and always will.”

“Always have and always will.”, he repeated, tucking your promise into the back of his mind for safe keeping.

There was undoubtedly a lot of uncertainly on these seas but a small part of you was sure that things would work out in the end, no matter what that would look like.

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[shivunin]

For the Rook story promots, how about

8. A time Rook argued with someone they care about

or

18. Rook trying to impress someone.

Hope the distraction works AND that you have a lovely day ^^

Thank you!! This wound up a bit longer than I intended, but it dovetailed really well with something I'm writing about Lenore and Caterina.

Bias-Cut

(Rook Ingellvar/Lucanis Dellamorte | 2,369 Words | CW: Implied/referenced past child abuse)

In which Rook prepares to meet the former First Talon

“It’ll be fine, Rook,” Teia said from the settee, deftly spinning a dagger around her finger. “She’s tough and stubborn, but she loves her family. She’ll intimidate you a little. It’s her way. But really, after all that, it will be fine.”

Rook cast a doubtful look over her shoulder, shifting uncomfortably in her borrowed dress. Every small movement sent ripples of light over the silk, which seemed determined to cling to her skin. 

“And you’re sure that this is the appropriate sort of thing to wear to an evening like this?” 

Something about the gown felt wrong, but she couldn’t put her finger on why. It wasn’t the fit; she and Teia were more or less the same size, save around the hips. The color was even one of her favorites, a deep purple that leaned more toward plum than the usual indigo the Crows seemed to prefer. 

“Of course it is. I’ve done so dozens of times. You couldn’t go in what you were wearing before, Rook. Armor sends a message.”

“She won’t be angry that we’re late?” 

“She’ll expect it. She is the one who left the message for Lucanis with Viago. They’ll have to resolve whatever it was before you can leave.”

Borrowed dress aside, Rook still looked like herself in the mirror. That had been important to her for reasons she couldn’t place. Even so, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d worn something so fine, silk slippery and drifting over her skin with every movement. It felt like… 

“Antonia,” she murmured, taking half a step back from the mirror. 

It was absurd. Antonia had been taller and paler and human. Lenore didn’t look a thing like Antonia had; Antonia had never been her actual mother, after all, and had only playacted at being one when it’d suited her to do so. 

Still, she couldn’t help but recall being shepherded around some cocktail party with the Nevarran nobility, Antonia’s silken gown brushing against Lenore’s arms as she was ferried to and fro. She’d been the picture of politeness, the perfect child, had answered only when spoken to and commented only on matters intended for her ears. The only time she’d slipped up, that lovely, elegant hand had clamped onto her shoulder with bruising force while Antonia apologized to their host. 

And when they’d gotten home…

“Rook? Did you hear me?” 

“Hm? Oh—I’m sorry Teia. I was lost in thought. Can you repeat that?”

“Sure,” Teia said, standing to follow her. “I’m going to go check on the others. I thought they’d be finished by now. You’re alright on your own?” 

“Yes, of course,” Lenore said. She waited there, eyes locked on herself in the mirror, until the door clicked shut behind her. 

Her violin case had been left on the table by the door. Lenore crossed to it now, taking comfort in the familiar click of the clasps as they were undone. 

Willful child. Defiant child. You shame me.

There was the bow, smooth and warm under her fingers, rosin already applied. There, the familiar body of the violin, varnish gleaming over woodgrain in the lamplight. The strings shone silver, each carefully tuned on the other side of the eluvian while she’d waited for the correct time to step through. Lenore touched each piece in turn now, resisting the urge to tune and rosin and check one more time. All was already prepared for use. Anything more was fussing.

If she was allowed to, she would play for Caterina. It was a silly gesture, a candle against a hurricane, but it was worth trying. The Dellamortes must love something of the arts if they had their own opera house, right? She wasn’t certain if Lucanis thought this a good idea because she still hadn’t seen him yet. Teia had swept her off to the attic of the Diamond almost as soon as she’d stepped through the eluvian and she’d been here ever since, digging through the other woman’s apparently endless wealth of clothing. 

In truth, she’d brought the instrument for her own comfort. No matter what Teia said, she knew that Lucanis’s grandmother had no intention of giving Lenore her blessing. No beautifully executed sonata would sway her; nothing short of bending her knee and kissing the ring would suffice, she supposed. She knew the type very well; she’d been raised by the type.

Carefully, Lenore snapped the case closed again and rested her hand on the lid. The lamplight shone differently on the scars over the backs of her hands. They were very old now, faint enough that most never even noticed they were there. Lucanis had noticed. Lucanis had scars that matched hers. He had seen them, noted them, and never once pressed her to explain how she’d gotten them. She supposed they both knew very well. 

The marks of a cane and the marks of a wand didn’t look so different from each other, after all.

“Rook?” Teia said, leaning through the doorway. Lenore turned toward her, hand still resting on the dark wood of her violin case. 

“They’ll meet us at the canal. Soon,” this last said pointedly over her shoulder. “She’ll expect you to be late, but not so late she feels disregarded. Follow me.”

“Alright,” Rook said, and gathered the trailing end of the dress over her wrist so it wouldn’t catch on the wooden stairs. 

“You look more relaxed,” Teia said, patting Lenore’s shoulder as they descended the stairs. “That’s good. I thought you were going to run before I got back.”

The more tightly wound Rook felt, the more relaxed her body became. This, too, was a holdover from childhood. She had, at least, exorcised the need to flatter and appease when somebody else seemed angry. Perhaps someday she would leave this vestige behind, too. 

“Thought about it,” Rook lied. “But I know how much his family means to him. If this is important to him, it’s important to me. I just wish I’d been able to see him before…well.” 

“It will be better this way,” Teia said, pointing at the door they needed. “I’ll arrange you for full effect—it’ll be worth it just to see his face when he sees you in this.” 

Lenore allowed Teia to take her arm as they left the Diamond and stepped onto the streets of the city. In truth, she had difficulty imagining that Lucanis would think any more of her in a pretty dress than he had when she’d been coated head to toe in the blood of a god. Still, it was a pleasant enough distraction to pretend that it would matter, that there would be some pretty silver lining to this evening. The thought carried her all the way to the canal steps.

“Tsch,” Teia said to someone standing beside the dock, tossing her hair over her shoulder. She let go of Rook’s arm to plant both of hers on her hips. “You weren’t supposed to be here yet.”

“Perhaps you should move faster,” Viago said, still out of sight for Lenore. 

“You think I should take her running across the rooftops like this?” 

Teia stepped down and to the side, clearing the space between Rook and Lucanis. The latter stood in the gondola already, steady and balanced despite the faint rocking of the boat. Lenore looked at him, her grip loose on her violin, and he stepped from the boat to the ground. There was something soft in his face, something she’d only just begun to identify as affection for her. 

“Doesn’t she look perfect?” Teia prompted. 

Lenore had been left for dead in a crypt in the Necropolis before she was a week old. She had been raised by the Mourn Watch, save those four long years with Antonia. She’d never had a legacy to shoulder, a mother to mourn, a grandmother to appease. She had never had a name to live up to; Ingellvar had just been the word engraved on the crypt where they’d found her. 

“Always,” Lucanis said, his voice quiet. “Rook. Thank you for coming tonight.”

She would never really understand what it meant to Lucanis to have his family, but she would do everything in her power not to drive a wedge between them. One night was a small sacrifice. This was a conclusion she’d come to last week; seeing him now only reminded her of her purpose. The dress was nothing; the dinner was nothing. The ghost of her foster mother was less than nothing. For him, she had braved far worse than any of it. 

Lucanis met her at the bottom step, hand held out to help her down the last step. 

“Thank you,” she said. 

Generally, they avoided public displays of affection in Treviso. They’d agreed it painted an unnecessary target on her back. Accordingly, he held her hand only as long as might be considered normal, but he murmured to her as she passed.

“Did something happen?” 

“No,” she told him quietly and truthfully, and raised her voice when she went on. “Teia is good company. She was kind enough to lend me this.”

“It was for my own gratification,” Teia said, wrapping an arm around Rook’s shoulder and kissing her loudly on the cheek. “Look at her. She was meant to wear this, yes? It was wasted in my closet. You should keep it, Rook; it suits you.” 

Viago crossed his arms and grimaced at them, but Lucanis touched the bare patch of skin down Rook’s back. 

“We’re late. We shouldn’t keep her waiting.”

“Of course. I’m ready to go,” Lenore said. Lucanis stepped down into the boat and lifted a hand for her to take. Teia stepped closer one last time and Viago followed, still glowering. 

“Remember what I said and you’ll be fine,” Teia said quietly. 

When Rook would have turned away and taken Lucanis’s hand, Viago stepped between them.

“Don’t listen to Teia,” Viago said, voice low enough that he might think Lucanis didn’t hear. Lenore knew better. “Not all of us have the benefit of being the favorite. Be polite, don’t make yourself a threat, and you might make it back in one piece.” 

“Unusual for you to give me personal advice,” she said, voice faintly amused in a way she despised. Antonia again. She’d be hearing the damned woman all night. 

“For the sake of Teia’s dress,” he said, already turning away. “She likes it too much for it to end up bloodstained.” 

Lenore snorted and turned away from the two Talons, taking Lucanis’s hand at last and stepping down into the boat. It rocked faintly under her feet in a way she found unsettling. Boats were still strange to her, still a little dizzying to sit in. Drowning didn’t top her list of worst ways to die, but it came close. Accordingly, she sat on the closest bench as quickly as she could manage.

“Are you comfortable?” Lucanis asked, and waited for her agreement before pushing off from the dock. “Don’t listen to Viago. There won’t be any fighting. Caterina would never allow it.”

“Lucanis—” Lenore bit back the next words, struggled to find others to fill the space they left behind. 

“Go ahead, Rook,” he said, glancing down at her before returning his attention to the canals. Looking for assassins, she supposed, as well as navigating around the other boats in the canal. “Say whatever you need to say. You know I won’t hold it against you.”

Rook took a slow breath, filtered the things she wanted to say from the things she needed to say, then went on. 

“I’m not Antivan. I will never be a Crow. I don’t have a family name or anything to offer materially—no connections, no significant money or land,” she began, and hesitated. “I know this doesn’t matter to you, nor Spite, but it matters to Caterina. She doesn’t approve of me.”

“How do you know that?” he asked, and turned back to the canals long enough to steer around a gondola floating aimlessly in the center of the passage. He murmured something uncomplimentary at it and glanced back at Rook. 

“Something she said the last time we spoke,” Lenore said, and watched Villa Dellamorte rise as they approached. “I’ll do my best, but I can’t promise…”

“Then don’t promise,” he said, and surprised her by sitting down across from her. 

They’d moved into a relatively empty stretch of water, the sounds of the market and its shops far behind them. When he took her hand from her lap, there was nobody to see. 

“There are things I need to say, too,” he said, solemn. “Whatever happens tonight, Rook, it doesn’t change anything between us. What Caterina thinks is her business. You are mine. All I want from tonight is to share the place I called home and what’s left of my family. Without having to kill our way through it this time.”

“You know it isn’t going to be that simple,” she said, wrapping her other hand around his and squeezing. “So I won’t remind you. I’ll be honored to see the place you grew up, Lucanis, however Caterina feels about it.” 

He leaned forward and kissed her, quick and dear. She didn’t close her eyes when he did. She wanted to watch him, just in case…In case she needed to remember later. 

“Let’s go,” she said when he drew away. “I don’t want us to be any later than we already are.” 

“Alright,” he said, but paused a moment longer, still watching her expression. “If it’s ever too much—if you decide that you need to leave—”

“I’ll tell you,” she said. “I’m more worried that I’ll lose my temper. I don’t know if you noticed, but I don’t have the best track record with authority figures.” 

“That you do not,” he said, and kissed her again. He was smiling while he did it, and she caught the barest sliver of his teeth with her lips. They kissed for longer than was advisable, but she drank in the contact, the reassurance. Lucanis loved her wholly. She could never question something so obviously true. 

As long as she remembered that, she could handle whatever came next. 

She was certain of it.

[likeafairytale]

"I'm a servant. Slave, actually. And you might be a princess, but you're a prisoner just as well. Or have you forgotten that prince Aeron still didn't give you your bracelet back?" - Yasmeen to Calypso

What happened following Yasmeen words was something Calypso never thought, in a million years, she would do. She slapped her. She always knew she was a bit fierce and bratty. That she could have a bad temper when she wanted. She was the golden child after all, used to everyone giving in to every whim she had. But she never thought of herself as mean. Or maybe she was, but people just never told her, because she was her realm's delight, so no one wanted to upset her? She wasn't sure, but Yasmeen words resonated in her and made her took action before thinking. Calypso was impulsive and she has shown many times she was capable of being a brat when she wanted, after all, she cut her old maid's hair just for being a Fae.

❝I may be a prisoner here but I still am a Princess and I won't let anyone disrespect me!❞ She was herself surprised by her words. They came out by themselves. It was as if her body wasn't hers anymore, as if someone else took control of it.

She knew she could go to extreme length when she was angry, once again, her first maid might remember that too well, at least her brothers liked to joke about this incident. But she thought her action with her previous maid came from a place of hatred, because she was a Fae, and therefore ignored her most of the time, so she obviously believed she would never had to be harsh to Yasmeen like she was to her.

But it might also be because the truth was that Yasmeen was right, and Calypso hated that. Not that the human was right, but that she was herself a prisoner. People still referred to her as ‘Princess Calypso’ well the few ones who were talking to her at least, but was she a princess still? Because she didn't feel like one anymore. The only privilege she still had of a princess was a constant companion, in Yasmeen, but since she surprised Yasmeen and Morgana talking a few days earlier, she realized that Yasmeen wasn't given the role of maid or friend or confident, but the role of jailer. Making sure Calypso wouldn't left. Not that she could anyway. Hence the whole discussion right now.

Without thinking she touched her wrist where her bracelet was supposed to be, her eyes still on Yasmeen. Her stormy eyes were full of sadness that she tried to hide her best, but she wasn't really sure she was succesfull to do so. Compared to Yasmeen or her oldest brother, she wasn't good at hiding her feelings. Just right now, the reality of what she have done, hurting Yasmeen, hit her and she felt sick in her stomach. She didn't want to. She didn't plan to do it. But maybe she was truly her father's daughter. Maybe violence was in her veins after all, instead of the kindness she always thought she had from her mother.

Calypso was shaking now, and she took a step toward Yasmeen, but this latter might have thought that she was about to slap her again, or worse, blind her, because she took a step back and the mermaid just wanted to cry. She never thought she could be menacing to someone.

❝Yasmeen, I... I'm...❞ she started, unable to finish her sentence.

She couldn't say the words. She was sorry. She truly was. Calypso wanted to hug her and tell her how sorry she was and how much she regretted what she just did. That she was still her friend. That she needed her. And she wasn't angry anymore. Because those were true; she wasn't angry now she was sad that it turned sour so quickly and it was part of her fault too, she had to admit it. But, once again, Calypso was Triton's daughter, and though it was acceptable to apologize to your family, it wasn't to apologize to other people. She wasn't teach how to do so. She know she could but she had too much pride. Her father's words came to her and she hated how often them came to her lately: if you show weakness to other people, and apologize after your first strike, you're doomed. They will know they can keep hurting you and that you will crawl back to them, like a weak little goldfish. Deep down she was scared of those words being true.

❝I won't need you any time soon. You can tell the Queen and my husband that I'm not feeling well and won't assist to any dinner or meeting for a few days. Not that my presence will be miss anyway.❞

She tried to switch between sadness and concern to indifference, but she knew it didn't work as she wanted to. She had a lot to learn and she vowed to herself to ask lesson to Yasmeen on how to do it. Because they won't be mad forever, right? At some point they will talk back... Everything was so blurring and uncertain now, she didn't know what she did to deserve this falling from grace... Yasmeen didn't say anything, actually, Calypso only knew she left the room because of the door closing behind her and once it was done, she did something that she didn't do since her mother's death; cry. True tears, not this tearless cry every merfolks were doing. She was wasting her tear for her friendship, for the loss of her friend, not knowing if it will be forever. For the loneliness she will feel now. And she knew damn well that somewhere, Aeron and Morgana will probably laugh at her, thinking that she should have seen it coming. And for the next two weeks, not only Calypso didn't leave her bedroom, no matter how hungry she could have been, but for two weeks straight a light rain poured nonstop on the Fae Kingdom, the only indication that Princess Calypso wasn't over it yet.

[cherienymphe]

Lead Us Not Into Temptation

Father Charlie Mayhew x Reader

Warnings: NON-CON, mentions of prostitution, mentions of infidelity

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies 

summary: turning your life around is easier said than done when you tempt the very man meant to lead you to salvation.

♱

“Bless me, father, for I have sinned…”

The familiar words tumbled from your lips, and your gaze remained on your lap, eyes following your finger as you traced patterns into the solid black skirt on your frame. It kissed your ankle as you shifted your feet, and the reminder of the long fabric had you swallowing down less than gentle thoughts. You slowly reached up to touch the collar of your shirt, eyes briefly falling closed as you cleared your throat.

You’d spent hours agonizing over how you’d leave the house…

“It has been seven days since my last confession. These are my sins.”

Like clockwork, you listed the time you cursed for some accident or another and the time you took the Lord’s name in vain and the brief impure thought about that attractive man you’d seen in the grocery store. Every week, it was the same. Sins that you yourself would never have considered as such months ago that you were now hyper aware of. They climbed out of your throat seamlessly, remembering every single one until only one was left.

The silence between you and the man just on the other side of that wall stretched—a familiar occurrence—and you took your lip between your teeth. You could taste blood as you worried it, swallowing it down before clearing your throat again. You smoothed your hand over your skirt, and you furiously blinked, struggling to blink away the tears that had started to collect. As you sat in silence, you wondered why you were trying so hard to impress people that had already written you off?

“I’ve had…some hateful thoughts as well.”

You struggled to get the words out, always struck by just how emotional this made you. You looked up towards the ceiling, eyes roaming, and you hadn’t even realized that your breathing had started to pick up until he spoke.

Father Mayhew.

“Take your time,” he gently encouraged. “Speak when you are ready.”

It wasn’t the first time you’d heard those words, recalling your first ever confessional and how you’d cried. It was as embarrassing now as it was then, but it was necessary. You were determined to live differently now—to be different, now.

“Although I have abandoned my former life and…occupation…” you thought you heard him shift. “...I feel as if I will never truly be forgiven for it.”

You swiped your tongue between your lips.

“...will never be accepted.”

You recalled the eyes that often found their way to you during mass—the judgment, the disdain, the way in which some stared at you as if they didn’t know how to place you. 

Every sunday it was the same. You’d wake up and agonize over how to present yourself in a place as holy as this. You’d fret that this skirt was too short and that dress was too tight. You’d fiddle with your hair for far too long and every lipstick you wiped off would stain your lips a little more than the last. You were constantly at a crossroad, torn between wanting to look nice for church and concerned about looking like…well…a whore.

You struggled to swallow.

“I see the way they look at me,” you eventually whispered, staring at nothing. “I can’t hear what they whisper, but I know it’s about me.”

You touched your throat, hating how tight it felt.

“It’s…discouraging.”

You didn’t want to use that word, but it was the only word that was appropriate. It made you sad, and you often wondered why you kept returning to a place that made you sad. Surely a church wasn’t necessary to ‘find God’...right? You didn’t think so, but you had wanted to start somewhere, and considering that none of your friends even owned a bible, they had been of no help. Stepping foot into a place that had only ever served to be ominous and oppressive in your eyes was the most terrifying thing you’d ever done.

…but then you had laid eyes on Father Mayhew.

He’d been the only one in the church at the time, and you would never forget the curious glint in his dark gaze. You’d had no doubt that he could see you were scared and unsure and in an environment you were wholly unused to. You’d appreciated the gentle way in which he talked to you, guiding you towards a pew in the front as you asked him questions that some people had answers to their entire lives. He hadn’t treated you like you were stupid, but more importantly, he hadn’t treated you like you didn’t belong.

You were willing to bet that he hadn’t even known about you then.

Although, months later, you were willing to bet that he did now…even though you’d never told him.

“Humans are flawed,” his smooth voice reached your ears through the wall. “We all fall short—even the most devout of us—and we find ourselves falling prey to the temptation of judgment…pride…lust…”

You intently listened. After all, he’d never said these words to you before, always giving you some speech about God’s love trumping all.

“I have no doubt that it is trying, but I am sure you will come to give them grace for their sins just as they will give you grace for yours. We are all God’s children striving to lead a life in his image…”

His voice lowered at that, and you frowned slightly, looking towards the wall and thinking to yourself that he almost seemed to be talking to himself now.

“He wants his children to love one another, a feat that is not without difficulty I’m sure you know…” that actually made you hold back a chuckle. “...but God’s love is powerful and he always grants forgiveness to those who genuinely yearn and ask for it.”

At that, you did smile.

You told him that you were truly sorry for your sins, and he told you to say ten Hail Mary’s, and you stepped out of the confessional feeling better than you did thirty minutes ago. You didn’t know how long the feeling would last though, and so you wanted to hold onto it for as long as you could, but you knew from experience that was easier said than done.

You touched the crucifix around your neck as you stepped out of your building.

It had once belonged to your mother, and despite how long she’d been gone and how down on your luck you’d been ever since, you could never quite find it in you to pawn it. It was real gold—probably the only real piece of jewelry you ever owned—but you just couldn’t do it, and you supposed that you were never meant to. Despite the many years you’d lived life as the complete opposite of a God fearing woman…it felt right sitting just below your collarbone.

Even if many would not agree.

You were no stranger to several men in this town—and the ones who often passed through on their truck routes—but that had not stopped you from seeking solace and guidance from a place you’d never stepped foot into in your life. You couldn’t lie and say it didn’t feel…strange to be in the same building as some of the men you’d serviced before, their wives and children at their side as they furiously avoided making eye contact with you. It felt even worse to watch the way the women would congregate together after church, excluding you all the while talking about you.

It felt somewhat pathetic for your only ally in the place to be the priest.

Although you sometimes wondered how true that was these days. You’d never once confessed that you used to be a prostitute—although the kids called it sex work these days—but you weren’t stupid. As godly and devout as they claimed to be, you knew that the church was filled with gossip and there was no telling who’d let it slip to the dark haired man. You knew when he knew though…

…because he looked at you different.

It wasn’t a bad different—thank God for that—but just…different, and while it wasn’t necessarily bad, you still didn’t think you liked it. Confession—being anonymous—never allowed for you to tell him your name, and considering you’d only ever spoken to him once outside of confession months ago, you didn’t know if he ever knew it was you he was talking to. You didn’t know if he knew that the woman he spoke so gently with each week and listened to cry on the other side of some window was the same woman who often shrunk under his heavy gaze as he looked down on his congregation.

You never felt like he was judging you, no, but you also never felt like he was looking at you as he did that first day, a gentle curiosity in his eyes. He wasn’t your friend—far from it in fact—but he felt like the closest thing you had to one in this church, and so you often forced yourself to find excuses for it. He watches you because he wants to make sure you’re settling in okay. He watches you to observe how other members of the church are treating you. He watches you because he’s wondering if you’ll ever come to confession, convincing yourself that he’s never recognized your voice all this time.

That is why he watches you, you told yourself.

No other reason. 

“You always come to pray at least three times a week…”

The familiar voice startled you as you stood, hand lowering as you’d just finished signing the cross. Your hand was still on your chest as you turned to face him, a small smile on your lips as he stood directly in the center of the aisle. You hadn’t even heard him make a single sound, and you wondered how long he’d been standing there.

He slowly returned your smile with one of his own, although it was smaller, and the silent way in which he stared at you reminded you that he’d said something to you. 

“Yes,” you finally said, moving away from the altar. “It helps with…um…really everything.”

He blinked at you, and you noticed that a strand of his hair was threatening to go rogue. He always looked so neat and perfect that it was hard to miss. Father Mayhew was handsome—if anyone had seen enough men to know it was you—but he was handsome in a way that you would categorize as flawless. Divine even. In a way that was untouchable and only meant to be admired in the most innocent of appreciation. 

He slowly nodded at your response, and you didn’t miss the way he studied you—dark eyes drinking you in and taking note of every stylistic choice you’d made today.

“You know, I think I might see your face far more than those who have been coming here for years,” he lightly told you, a slight laugh on his lips.

You laughed with him, only offering him a shrug.

“I’m still new. I’m sure it just seems that way because you aren’t used to seeing me.”

He started to shake his head before you could even finish talking, and you watched him move closer.

“No,” he murmured—so low you almost didn't hear him. “I think you are perhaps my most…devout congregant.”

He touched your crucifix as he said this, dark eyes tracing the shape of it, and he was so close that you could smell his cologne. You blinked at the scent, finding it strange to know that he wore cologne. It shouldn’t be strange, you supposed, but you realized then that you didn’t quite view priests—view him—as human. As normal…

His eyes lifted then to finally connect with yours, and a crooked smile danced along his pink lips.

“It’s admirable,” he whispered. “More of my congregation could stand to follow your lead.”

You couldn’t ignore the way your chest bloomed at those words, almost hating how much validation you wanted from this place. Validation that you were a good person…you weren’t who you used to be…that you were worthy of something more, you didn’t know. It just felt relieving to hear such a compliment from Father Mayhew when no one else in the church would even give you a chance.

“Thank you, Father,” you quietly replied to him. “That means a lot to me.”

You watched him slowly inhale as he dropped his hand, and he seemed even slower to step out of your way. When you walked past him, you could feel his gaze on you—always watching—and you smiled when he called out to you, telling you that he looked forward to seeing you on Sunday.

No one was more sad than you when you had to disappoint him.

An unexpected cold had you bedridden for days, and while you knew that an illness was a perfectly valid excuse to miss church, you couldn’t swallow down the disappointment. You hadn’t missed a single Sunday since you first started going, and you thought to yourself that the first thing you’d do when you returned was explain your absence to Father Mayhew.

You had never anticipated him showing up at your door to get it himself.

No one ever knocked on your door these days, so the sound had taken you by surprise. Your friends—while supportive of the direction your life had taken—didn’t quite understand it and so you didn’t see them as often, and as for anyone else… Well, there wasn’t anyone else who would come knocking on your door. You didn’t do that anymore so no customers were going to be greeting you on the other side with their money in their hand and an eager grin on their lips, and you doubted any of the women in town would want to sit down for a chat anytime soon.

Your shock at Father Mayhew’s presence was all over your face.

“Father,” you stated, the lilt in your voice hinting at your surprise.

He looked just as you were used to seeing him—clerical collar still on, not a hair out of place, and a hint of a smile on those pink lips. You stood there gaping at him for all of five seconds before it struck you how rude you were probably being.

“I…I’m so sorry. Um…come in,” you told him, stepping out of the way and widening the gap in the doorway.

He didn’t respond nor move right away, looking past you into your small house with a look in his gaze that you couldn’t name. If he were anyone else, you might worry that he was judging where you lived. You watched his jaw briefly tighten, a noticeable strain in his face, and it only just occurred to you that maybe this wasn’t appropriate? Although you were positive you’d heard of priests and pastors visiting the sick before, and while you certainly weren’t on your deathbed, you didn’t see why this would be different.

Before you could say another word though, his foot crossed the threshold, and you closed the door behind him.

“I do apologize for the unexpected visit,” he said to you, gazing around before his eyes landed on you again. “...but when I noticed that mass was absent of a face I’d grown to look forward to, I became concerned.”

You couldn’t stop your smile at his words

“Oh,” you softly said. “Well, there’s no need to be concerned. It’s just a small cold that will be gone in a day or two.”

You watched him exhale at that, nodding to himself, and you studied him, surprised to see that he looked genuinely relieved at that.

“I’m glad to hear that’s all it is…”

At that, your brows furrowed, and you watched him slowly walk about your living room.

“I had feared that some of your fellow church goers had scared you off.”

Your lips parted at his words, and he turned and looked at you.

“They often fall into the temptation of judgment, after all…”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you didn’t know how to react with the knowledge that he knew it was you who came to see him once a week. You’d only spoken to him face to face twice, and you swallowed, looking away.

“I thought it would be a shame if they scared you off,” he confessed, and you noted that he was closer now. “I wondered what I would have to do to convince you to come back. Drag you, perhaps.”

You gave a soft laugh at that, although he didn’t join you, and it awkwardly faded. He stared at you in silence for what felt like a long time, and just when you were considering asking him if he wanted anything to drink, he reached out to touch the crucifix around your neck again.

“So devout,” he quietly said to himself. “It almost makes me ashamed…”

At that, you gave a heavy laugh, wondering how you could ever shame a priest.

“Why?”

“...because I see why they flocked to your door…money in hand.”

His gaze lifted as he said that, and you were still as you both just stared at each other. His words made you blink, and you were suddenly very aware of his hand practically on you. You couldn’t stop the slight frown that fell over your face, and for the first time in months—since you first stepped foot into that church—you felt…wrong.

“I see why their eyes trace every inch of you when you’re not looking…as if to relive the memory of what you felt like—tasted like.”

You finally took a step back, hand coming up to cover your necklace as if protecting it from his touch.

“What memories they must have of you…”

You wrapped your other arm around yourself, mind whirling to reconcile the man before you with the same man who’d always been so welcoming and gentle. Not once did you ever think he judged you for your past, and you supposed that you were right, but not once did you ever think he also might…

You hadn’t done that in over a year, but had it really escaped you so quickly that a seemingly devout man was still…a man?

“Father, I think you should-.”

“I don’t say any of this to offend you,” he interrupted, tilting his head. “I say it because I fight the urge to touch you every time you’re in my presence.”

You moved by him to make your way to the door, but like an ever present shadow you only just noticed, he was close behind.

“You can cover up as much as you’d like—wear skirts down to your ankle and shirts up to your chin…” his hand on the door halted your movements. 

You felt his chest just barely grazing your back, and his lips followed suit, the softness of them brushing against your ear as he spoke. That familiar cologne invaded your senses.

“...but none of it can hide the temptation you pose by merely existing.”

You shrunk away from him at that, tears in your eyes as he verbalized the same fears you had every time you walked into the building. You flinched when his lips touched the back of your neck, heart dropping to your stomach, but you reached for the door handle anyway.

“Father, I’d like you to leave-.”

Your words were cut off by your own sharp scream, taken aback by the feel of his fingers harshly pressing into the skin of your throat. His hand rested on the back of your neck, and you pressed your hand to the door when his lips grazed your cheek.

“They’re all like rabid dogs…just waiting to pounce,” he mused against your skin, sliding between you and the door and forcing you further into your house with every step. “Just waiting for you to give up this charade and go back to taking their money for a quick fuck.”

You blinked, and a few tears escaped.

“...but they don’t know you like I know you.”

He grinned against your cheek, and you winced as he lightly nipped at the skin there.

“They don’t know that you come to church at least thrice a week to light candles and pray…”

You were full on sobbing now, and you could feel the cool metal of his ring against the back of your neck.

“They don’t know that you never miss your weekly confession, telling me every time you so much as say the Lord’s name in vain.”

His free hand was reaching for the buttons of your shirt, popping them open one by one, and you gasped when his fingers finally met skin. He dipped his head, mouth finding the skin of your shoulder and collarbone interesting before his hand searched for your wrist.

“They don’t know that you are the most pious woman to walk through those doors,” he purred, pressing gentle kisses to the inside of your wrist. “...and that I just want to ruin you for it.”

When his hand dipped between your legs, you were quick to try and stop him, still wincing at the tight grip on the back of your neck. Father Mayhew made a noise of disapproval, and your hand faltered when he harshly bit your shoulder.

“We are…and always will be…sinners…”

Once his fingers were inside of you, it was like the point of no return. You found it funny that he likened the men in church to that of rabid dogs when he himself was behaving like the very thing he used to insult them. When your knees buckled, he followed—one arm around you and holding you in place while the fingers on his other hand curved into you.

Every thrust of his fingers made you wetter—embarrassingly so—and when he pulled your head back, he forced a kiss onto your lips. He swallowed down your whimpers and noises of protest, a moan escaping him as he tasted the inside of your mouth. With him so close to you, you could feel the muscles and contours of his frame beneath his clothes, and you were forced to recognize your predicament and his strength and what that meant for you.

When you were face to face with him again, his hair was nowhere near as neat as it was when he first walked through your door. His pink lips were swollen and reddened from kissing you and dragging over your skin. Your pajama top had long been discarded, the bottoms long ripped and pulled off of you. Father Mayhew’s—Charlie—clerical collar was long gone, his shirt pulled open and hanging off of him.

You recalled the way your mouth had parted into an ‘O’ shape when the head of his cock finally dipped into you, stretching you with every inch and making your heart momentarily stop. His hand covered a breast, the feel of his ring cooling that singular part of your skin, the rest of you so overheated. His other hand was wrapped around your throat, and you clawed at his hand as he fucked you.

The sound of skin slapping against skin was loud in your tiny home, the only sound to rival it being his harsh grunts and your strained voice. Any fight that you’d put up had been quickly squashed down, shown in the harshest manner just how strong your priest was. You hated how good it felt, hated that you didn’t want this but was now forced to enjoy it. Nevermind the fact that you hadn’t enjoyed sex for the act itself in years…

…but of all people to find yourself in this predicament with.

Father Mayhew’s hands never stayed in one place for long. He seemed determined to touch every part of you he could get his hands on, lips tasting the saltiness of your skin. Sweat clung to your frame and his, his fingers sliding over you as he kneaded your thighs and your waist and your chest. Every time you reminded yourself how wrong this was, he’d push his cock into you to the hilt, and you’d involuntarily throw your head back.

You could feel your crucifix pressing into your skin, and your eyes watered.

“I must admit that I was—am—jealous,” he dragged out, voice hoarse and throaty and wholly unlike how you were used to hearing him. “Your devotion to God inspires an envy within me that I never knew existed.”

You took note of the scars on his back underneath your fingers.

“...a desire to have you completely devoted to me,” he bit out, covering your lips with his own. “You so desperately desire forgiveness and acceptance…and all the things you didn’t think you were worthy of having.”

He harshly thrust into you, making you gasp.

“...and I can give that to you,” he whispered into the kiss.

The power behind his thrusts had you scratching at both his back and the floor, eyes squeezing shut at the way his fingers dug into your skin. It was like he was both holding you to him and trying to prevent you from ever walking away. Your chest arched up into his as you gasped, choked whimpers climbing out of your throat with every push of his hips. He growled against your skin as his lips traveled to your neck, the sound almost demonic to your ears.

When you came around him—your first orgasm in over a year—you couldn’t swallow down the noise it forced out of you. You could feel blood beneath your nails and a slickness on the inside of your thighs, but all the while Father Mayhew didn’t stop.

With one hand pressed against the floor, he pushed himself up to look down at you. His free hand slid up your sweaty frame, coming up to wrap around the crucifix that rested against your skin. He tightened his hold around it, and he pulled on it, forcing you to lift your head and meet him halfway for a kiss.

“I want you just as eager to get on your knees for me…”

[7kh]

༉ feverish.

cw — sevika x fem! reader. wlw. sloppy make outs. finger-fucking. public space, kind of? if you squint a bit. little dialogue, just you guys pathetically needing each other. men and minors dni.

you had only made your way to the last drop to discuss with sevika a mishap about her weapon supplier. how you were suddenly straddling her lap and having her tongue-fuck your mouth was beyond you.

but really, what did you expect? distracted, stolen glances from both of you, and hot lingering touches were bound to get you two here, whether you liked it or not. when you felt a cold metal hand grab your arm firmly and felt a pair of chapped lips against your softer ones, you knew it was over. of course you didn’t make any attempt to push her off either.

you were then pushed to the door as she ferociously kissed you like she hadn’t gotten a good meal in weeks. her human hand slid to the side of her neck, having her thumb prop up her chin to (accommodate for the height difference) kiss you even deeper. if that’s even possible.

having your wettest of dreams come true felt exhilarating. nothing your mind could ever imagine held a candle to this. her wet tongue caressing your lips and your own made you dumb, literally. so empty-headed you didn’t even know you were drooling until you felt her her tongue darting out to lick the almost forgotten saliva from the corner of your mouth before immediately devouring you again.

she slid a thick thigh between your legs, subconsciously rubbing your core on the hardened surface. you wrapped both of your hands around her nape, the both of you swallowing the other’s moans like breathing. she bit your lower lip hard, not enough to draw blood but enough to make you wince a bit. she quickly soothed it with her soft, wet tongue, appreciating the moan that came out of it. the loss of her lips and her thigh made you whine, but you didn’t complain more when her lips traveled down to your jaw, her hands originally sculpting your body unbuckling the belt of your pants skillfully.

you barely even had time to think before her chilled human hands slid down your underwear and conquered your scorching heat. she smirked against your chin when she rubbed rigid circles on your erect clit and heard you whimper. exactly where she wanted you. her metal hand slid under your shirt, exposing just enough tummy to drive her fucking crazy.

“if i knew i could get you this malleable, i would’ve fucked you a long time ago.” she muttered against your skin. you whined, opening your mouth to reply with a retort before a thick, long finger filled you up, making you clamp your lips together and throw your head back, moaning a bit too loudly for comfort. your juices immediately coated her finger, her harsh yet mastered thrusts making wet and outright disgusting sounds throughout the room. you were sure your knees would’ve given out if her metal hand wasn’t keeping you up.

she slickly added another finger in you. if you didn’t know any better you would’ve thought she was fucking you with her cock. it was so unfair how big she was in every which way possible, having you this broken just from her index and ring finger. she effortlessly exploited your wet and quivering walls, hitting that particular gummy spot that was guaranteed to make you arch and whine her name, thighs shaking around her. it was when your essence drooled to the ground was when you were close, dangerously so. your head hit the wooden door when you threw your head back again, but the brief pain quickly turned into delicious pleasure. “please, please please please—“

she never relented, hefty fingers drilling you to your peak. you screamed out her name, followed by drunken and incomprehensible praise as her fingers slowed down, however only by a bit. people hearing you two be damned. your thighs were still shaking as you looked down and saw sevika undoing her own belt, too impatient to go to a more private and appropriate place to spill your utmost of desires. you were going to be trapped in this room for a looooong time.

© 7KH 2024, all rights reserved — do not claim, modify, copy or translate my content.

[thalwri]

NOBLE ARRANGEMENT

synopsis: with a marriage you didn't want and a terrible first impression, you weren't too sure your life with sylus would be peaceful. but what if there was a little nerve loosening component that could help?

warnings: porn with plot, smut, arranged marriage, use of aphrodisiacs, inappropriate use of evol (if you squint), mutual masturbation, oral sex over and lowkey under a table (m! and f! receiving), biting, floor sex, creampie, petnames

wc: 11,6k

a/n: I was rewatching dune prophecy (for the third time) and I felt a little creative. hope you enjoy!

you were a lady. 

or so you were raised to be. having been brought up in the high society of the city of linkon, you knew your social purpose amongst others and you also knew you had to make a place for yourself beyond being a delectable, innocent, and poised young woman brandished for the wealthy to negotiate through joining families. you had to be a hunter; an unapproachable entity that was most desired yet most difficult to obtain.

behave appropriately, act well amongst your peers, and also know how to defend yourself against the crude wanderers that lurked within the shadows. it had been made law that every citizen was forbidden from traveling around in the dark of night due to the unsafe nature of the environment. but you were never truly one to follow the rules among others.

that is, until you found yourself fighting for your life against the very creatures the law was created for you to avoid.

your given abilities were useful for you to defend yourself but they were more impactful when partnered with another– a privilege you currently did not have. your attire, bedazzled in jewels and badges representing your awards for the late soiree you had just left, was torn and stained with your own blood and the dirt of the ground. 

you had considered that night to be your final celebration of your freedom. though you didn’t really anticipate being attacked by wanderers to be on the palate for your night. your blunting blade in hand trembled as your arms suffered from tremors of stress, pain and exhaustion. 

your breathing was ragged and your body ached. had you worn your riding attire, perhaps the battle would have fared more in your favour. you had effectively destroyed more than seven lurking wanderers, the following were stronger and larger than the last. morale was reaching a low, and your energy was not enough to sustain yet another battle without you collapsing.

though if your corpse was to be found, you would wish it was in good condition and not ruffled, so you straightened your form and held your blade as stiffly as you could force your body to. you would not lose your life piously or aimlessly. you were raised to hold a blade like a warrior adorned with her femininity, and you would die as such. after all, a death by the blade would always be better than a marriage to a man orchestrated by your stepfather. 

a foreign man, you had heard from his private meetings. a foreigner with a questionable background, having travelled multiple worlds and fought endless battles. the more he conquered, the higher the bounty on his head. the imperial council, from what the gossipers have whispered across the entirety of linkon, has done little to none to control the “beast” or the “relentless conquerer”. though from what you’ve heard their lenience was also due to him allegedly being of noble rank. he ran amok, with his blood red eyes, and hair as white as a ghost’s chilling grasp.

his iron fist ran a vast network of crows, all known in union as onychinus. like a marbled table spreading its onyx darkness across the known universe, onychinus stretched its arms into every known and potentially unknown world marking its territory and ensuring its name was remembered. ensuring the name sylus was unforgotten.

the same sylus you were doomed to marry. 

you didn’t know which god to pray to for your last battle, not that you were religious to begin with. but it was customary for anyone who held their last blade to send a prayer if they believed they near taking their final breath. so you briefly muttered your gratitudes, your repentances, and your pleas to them all hoping at least one would listen.

the heavy thumps of the wanderer drew painfully near. you solemnly opened your eyes, readjusting your grip and preparing your body to strike. your lips move rapidly as you repeat your words in a broken mantra.

“the blade pierces fear, the blade pierces fear.”

the caws of a crow disrupted your mental flow, distracting you momentarily. in an instant, a gust of darkness rushed past you with a shadow of darkness tinted with red following. the wanderer was blown back by the blunt impact of the shadow, then again. and again. until its arm was separated from its body, then one of its legs, making it topple over. 

a flash of darkness rushed past you, assaulting the wanderer in crude blows, a double light trail of red following its movements and soft, white tufts flowing with the wind as the scent of spice flowed into your nostrils. perhaps an energy-based evol? with red eyes and what seemed like white hair– it couldn’t be. no way in hell could it be.

you quickly stumbled back, hearing the crow’s noise grow louder until a loud crackle of energy and a heavy screech silenced the night. the wanderer was obliterated. literally blown into energetic dust as if erased from existence– or rather transformed and reduced to the crystal core before you.

you remembered your father– your biological father– teaching you about protocores, but you had never seen one until now. you reached for it with a shaky, bloody hand, tempted to feel that peculiar thing you’ve always wondered about but a large hand beat you to it, crushing the core to dust with the same energetic shadow. 

“best not touch what you don’t understand,” the deep voice sent chills down your spine. you blinked, whipping your head towards the source only to find a gust of falling black feathers in the air. you caught one before the rest blew far from your reach, carefully storing it on your person. a small souvenir wouldn’t hurt especially after the one you wanted was destroyed.

“what i don’t understand?” you scoffed. “says the douche bag that broke the protocore and disappeared!” 

you felt like the air got kicked out of your lungs. you deeply exhaled and leaned against the wall of a modiste. it must have been an hour since you left that soiree. your best option would be to sneak into the manor to avoid getting a telling to from your stepfather. but if he did perhaps your mother wouldn’t have to deal with him, especially in her current state.

you pushed yourself to your feet and began to walk back where you came from. you had intended to take a small walk before you returned to your estate on horseback. if you had taken the motorcycle, someone would have noticed. it wasn’t your first time sneaking out after the curfew. 

there was a quick route through the crowd of stumbling drunks that also completed their night of drinking and possible fornication, not considering the risk of being both drunk and open to the sharp claws of the nearby wanderers. it was almost like those creatures were attracted to foolishness– though to be fair, you were recently attacked.

you eventually found your horse impatiently waiting for you with a very timid and very pissed off valet. 

“i work with keeping cars safe, my lady,” he hissed, roughly handing the reins to you. “cars. not rude horses!”

“perhaps you should have been nicer,” you muttered, fumbling through the holographic screen of your watch. a high pitched ring sounded and echoed onto his wrist. “payment for your hard work, good sir.”

the valet’s mood quickly rose as he fully digested the price paid for his ‘service fee’. he grinned and quickly bowed to you continuously, thanking you for your generosity and asking for you to return with your horse again.

you smiled to yourself as you settled on the saddle, and patted your horse to start moving. the valet was still singing praises to you as the distance between the two of you grew increasingly larger. 

“like i’d ever let him touch you again, my sweet.” you crooned, stroking the mane of your horse. you checked the time and hissed in worry. it was the middle of the night and your stepfather would soon be waking up to plot and ponder in his study like he always did. 

“hyah!” your horse’s calming trot gradually transitioned into a sprint, carrying you through the late night towards your family home. you’d be there in minutes if you maintained your speed. throughout your travels you couldn’t shake off a weird feeling from your shoulders. as far from the central city as you were, you still felt like you were being watched.

one of the few interesting concepts of these ‘arranged’ marriages was that neither of partners in the wedded couple were allowed to see each other until the day of the wedding. and even those weren’t subtle. 

huge celebrations would be held to celebrate unions and from the rumours you’ve heard along with what you’ve seen, the bride and groom would have already met one another at least a month prior at some party or another event where it would be difficult to track who comes in and when.

your case was slightly more discouraging, considering you only knew of the tales laced with potential deceit and fear regarding your husband-to-be. no secret rendezvous, no hidden in plain sight meetups like all the others blabbered on about. you were going to experience the real deal of having your hand and choice in who you marry signed off by a man who wasn’t even your biological father.

and that fury was why you threw a glass of juice at him during your adornment fittings. your wedding dress was far from simple. it was adorned with precious jewels around the neckline and embroidered on your back in the shape of your family’s crest. it was more than transparent that your wedding was considered big if your stepfather was going through the expenses of ensuring your dress was extravagant, inviting multiple politically influential figures, and trying to trap you within the estate until this very day.

it was to ‘maintain your purity’, according to him. though, that was no longer a claim you owned. not since your twentieth birthday. and that was five years ago.

and that doesn’t include the other outrageous comments and demands he made. one of them– and definitely not limited to that– involved him wanting you to give him grandchildren. grandchildren. as if he would have the privilege to ever see them!

he could fuck off and get his grandchildren from the bastard kids he’d abandoned for all you cared.

“you insolent wretch–“ the old man’s hands balled into fists as he slowly rose to his feet. the maids standing on either side of the dining room shifted to the sides of the door to give you passage to run in case he got violent.

“oh, are you going to banish me?” you bitterly chuckled, not minding his impeding anger radiating towards you. you cut through your croissant and relished in every bite as if it were the most important thing in the world. “do remember my mother and i are both more than capable of handling ourselves without you.”

you absentmindedly listened to him draw a deep, heavy breath before sighing and returning to his seat. “your mother is ill.”

the fork and knife in your hands dropped onto the plate, clattering around the room’s silence like the resonating waves of a bullet firing into an empty field. your gaze slowly flickered to him. 

“and you aren’t getting any younger.” he scoffed, looking you up and down as if you weren’t known as one of the most beautiful women in high society. “you must serve your purpose to this family–“

“i believe you meant serve your personal interests.” you cut, with venom laced in your voice. 

“he means in the interest of this family and you.” a frail voice pulled you out of your angered state and dragged into momentary shock.

your mother, frail and thin, stood at the entrance to your dressing room leaning over on her walking stick. the maid beside her stood like a cowering puppy that had been swatted away. even in her state of weakness, your mother still stood strong– one of the many qualities you inherited from her. her perseverance. 

“mother,” you began, slowly rolling your next words over your tongue. “there has to be another way. we are influential and financially affluent enough to handle ourselves–“

“not enough to handle the imperial court.” your mother sighed as she slowly reached you. she raised her eyes to up to you, your form elevated by the pedestal and illuminated by the lights above you. in her eyes it seemed as though she had birthed an angel. 

“so beautiful, dear child,” she smiled softly, running her hand up the waistline of your dress until her cold slender fingers held your cheek. “your father would have loved to see you in this. he used to fantasise about walking you down the aisle.”

“he’s not here anymore,” you whispered with cracks of grief slipping through your hardened tone. or was it hatred? hatred for the fact that he left you so young, or that his best friend married your mother almost weeks after? “and he doesn’t deserve to get that chance.” without looking, she knew who you meant.

your mother’s lips quivered into a straight line. she stepped back as her hand cold on your face fell to her side. “best you get your makeup done. you have the audience of the imperial court, the people of linkon, onychinus and that n109 zone. you must represent us well.”

to hear that struck you like an iron bullet. almost as painful as it would have been had you been killed last night. you were starting to wonder if you should have laid your blade to the ground. if being consumed and destroyed by a wanderer was better than giving up your hand to an intergalactic criminal.

“you will not walk by my arm.” you hissed to your stepfather. “i’d rather dig up my father’s corpse than let you get that chance.” you hiked up your gown and stormed off into the adjacent room where the stylists had prepared the makeup for you.

the rest of the process was quiet. the stylists whispered their condolences to you, mentioning tips to help you survive should your life be threatened, some others suggesting your husband-to-be may not be as cruel as rumour says. 

your fears were etched into your face so much so that not even the prospect of being away from your family could console it. 

the stylists had dispersed for your family priestess to bless your body. the back of your wedding gown was deliberately left open for your family crest to be inscribed onto your skin temporarily. it was an olden tradition that dated back to the ages where evols had not become more common amongst humans and the sole equivalent was sorcery. 

some of the wealthier families stemmed from old sorcerers and practitioners of ancestral magic, protecting themselves through their family crests and watchwords. talismans, charms, sigils, spells, runes, the titles would vary amongst cultures but their meaning remained the same. 

protection. strength. power. a call to war. they would be granted regardless of the method.

the needle was hot on your flesh and the scent of your skin burning made of your body twitch in discomfort. the priestess, adorned in her traditional garb designed to cover her entire body, tutted at you.

“remain still.” she dragged the hot needle down your spine, finalising the process of your marking. “it will fade in a few hours. but the magic stay intact for as long as you allow it.”

you slowly stretched, feeling the stiffening pain growing on you. you swallowed the reel of profanities threatening to roll of your tongue as you turned to the priestess who was packing away her supplies.

“you were trained to fight wanderers, and honour our family like your predecessors. my predecessors.” you rushed to her and tightly held her hands. your options were slipping out of your hand like sand, making you more desperate than before. “cousin, i know of the faction that trained you– that hunters association. and you know i’m more than capable to be within your rank. take me with you.”

you could almost hear her smiling in pity. she pulled her hands away and slowly stepped back. “my destiny is tied to my position. yours is much different and much more broad.” as she turned her back to you, she placed a small coin on the dressing table. “you will do far better once you marry the dragon concealed as a crow. best of luck, little cousin.”

and alone you remained to float within your thoughts. your destiny was broader than hers? the only thing you could envision was the potential torture you’d go through once the ties were sealed. there was not much left for you to do.

the burning sting of the crest carved onto your back had run cold, a searing tingle burst through your back like gentle sparks indicating the talisman was now active. and always would be.

the bells snapped you out of your daze, ringing away the last of your freedom– or perhaps the last of your captivity. your mother and stepfather walked you to event hall of your mansion, where everyone awaited you. your mother gently kissed your forehead, whispering you luck and reminding you to maintain composure.

the large double doors swung open and melodic music silenced the crowd before you. row by row, they all rose to their feet acknowledging you more than your family behind you. perhaps it was the dress, or that you possibly held the expression of wanting to run. the last person to turn around met your gaze with his crimson eyes.

sylus.

the very sylus, leader of onychinus, fearsome conqueror of planets, was dressed in a fitted white suit stricken with embroidered red crows. a small brooch was pinned on his blazer, the ruby in the centre sparkled under the light. his eyes scanned you briefly before he adjusted his stance, silently reminding you to walk. 

you deeply inhaled and stepped forward, deliberately moving as slowly as you could to scan each present guest in the hall. dignitaries from neighbouring planets, a large group of guests dressed in red and black including some wearing masks, distant family members and friends amongst the people of linkon, and most surprisingly four counsellors of the imperial court. you had expected less.

whispers broke out behind you as the insignia etched onto your back was clearly visible. you slowly realised that it wasn’t just a protection charm for you. you carried the burning torch telling your family’s enemies to remain in their place, that you were no longer weaker than them. you decided to assign it as a call to war against your own parents– cursing them for sending you off like this.

that would explain the secret meetings over the last few months. your marriage was a deal to grant your family protection. and judging by the satisfied look on one of the imperial counsellor’s face, they also had a chip in the transaction. control? access to weapons and intel? 

but there was nothing that caught your attention more than the man standing patiently before you. for someone so menacing, he looked divine. god-sculpted face and damningly soft lips. his white hair looked as soft as a kitten’s fur. he was so tall and muscular. so beautiful too. you almost released your tension just from the sight of him. 

he reached his hand out to help you step onto the pedestal to join him and the officiator. as you stood next to him, while feeling underwhelmingly short despite wearing heels, you caught a whiff of his scent. it was a bit too familiar, almost like burnt herbs and spices.

the officiator droned on about the beauties and responsibilities that came with marriage and how the union would connect our societies more than ever. you watched him glance to your left around the same area where your parents and the imperial counsellors sat. so he was in on the stunt too. maybe not a direct beneficiary, but all rivers end up in the ocean one way or another.

“you’re observant,” the rumbles of his voice sent shivers down your spine. another thing about him that was all too familiar. “good.”

you did not respond to his comment. a young girl skipped towards the two of you, cautiously holding a white cushion holding two rings; both encrusted with rubies and diamonds but one had a larger gem in the centre. 

sylus picked the ring with the larger diamond and turned to you. he recited his vows to you, swearing his loyalty and endless care for you, among the many traditional vows a husband would make to his wife. his crimson eyes held firm on yours with a serious stare, meaning every single world– though that was the first time you met.

“you look rather calm to be marrying the douchebag that broke your protocore,” he muttered as his fingers caressed your hand before slipping the encrusted ring on you. the realisation slowly dawned upon you like the rising sun shining directly in your face. “don’t gawk, you’ll make a spectacle.”

you quickly relaxed and took his ring from the bearer to exchange the gesture. “so it was you last night.” 

his hand was large and yet well cared for and almost scarless despite his endless battles. you recited your vows, similar to his and returned his gesture, though you couldn’t guarantee that you wouldn’t try to kill him in his sleep. if he did sleep. you slipping the ring onto his finger with more cruelty than intended, inducing a pained smirk from his lips.

“definitely a douchebag.”

the officiator, after another round of praises and ramblings of loyalty and union, asked if anyone opposed the union. you had hoped someone, anyone would say something. but the silence was clear and loud. you raised your head high, concealing the slither of disappointment– no, fury brewing within you.

“then through the powers bestowed upon me, i pronounce thee husband and wife. you may seal the union.”

you could feel your heart sink. you had to kiss him. kiss a renown intergalactic criminal, kiss those soft lips, kiss yourself into a marriage you likely wouldn’t leave by choice. those soft pink lips–

he was smirking at you. smirking! as if he read your mind– can he?

his hands, warm and gentle, cupped your cheeks as he leaned towards you.

“may i?” your words were held in your throat from the shock, making you to nod. 

he closed the gap between you and the world temporarily fell silent. his lips were really soft. like, plump and so cushiony. he was gentle with the kiss, almost like you were his lifelong lover whom he relished, and kept it brief but long enough to illicit excited giggles from the young girls within the crowd. as you leaned away, your audience burst into a round of applause, standing to congratulate the sealing of your marriage. the finalisation of a deal made behind the curtains.

it didn’t feel like sparks bursting, not that you expected it to, but it felt surprisingly warm. homely and comfortable. like it was just you and him that mattered. which was a weird feeling. but you didn’t dislike it.

and in the deafening round of applause, in celebration, relief, envy, and pity, your eyes did not leave your stepfather’s. your mind did not leave the thought of screaming until your lungs shrivelled, as if your body wanted to do it itself.

it did not leave the desire to claw the life out of his throat.

“i can kill them all if you’d like,” sylus whispered, glancing down at you as you left the hall to enter another for the reception. 

“excuse me?” 

“you look unhappy,” he adjusted his tie, giving you a clearer view of his hands. the same hands that took down the wanderer last night. those veiny, strong hands– “about your current… position. so we can kill them all now, obviously excluding the children, then annul the marriage. would you like that?”

“wait, wait,” you paused in your steps. he just offered to murder every guest present then annul your marriage. he was giving you an open door to living your own life. but why? “isn’t this what you wanted? this marriage?”

“it was a necessary agreement,” he slowly spoke, carefully choosing his words. “there were many other ways to conduct a deal with your parents and the imperial court but those would have required more precision and time to handle. however, forcing your hand in something you don’t like isn’t right. i don’t mind ending this union between us once the time requisite passes– it’s a year, isn’t it?”

you were stunned, but still managed to muster a nod. he was so polite and colloquial. he kept a healthy distance from you to not make you too uncomfortable but kept close enough not to catch the suspicious eyes of the guests. 

“if that is what you want then by all means,” he smirked as he paused, his right eye glimmered for a second. “though i can’t guarantee you’ll want to by that point.” 

sylus’ hand remained on your person throughout the more festive side of the wedding, either on your hand or your shoulder, or your waist while his thumb rubbed up and down the bare skin of your back. 

watching him whisper to foreign dignitaries just loud enough for you to hear, shaking hands with members of the imperial court while ensuring you were fully acknowledged with respect, his occasional check-ins with you to ensure you were fine throughout– that wasn’t what you had expected of the fearsome leader of onychinus. 

his present ‘crows’ were all introduced to you, pledges and vows were made to your name to serve you with integrity, leaving you slightly confused as they only referred to you by your first name or ‘missus’ or ‘mrs boss’– specifically by two younger men wearing crow-like masks. 

“do you not have a last name?” you whispered to sylus as the next group of pitiful, arrogant, or opportunistic guests began to flock towards you after the last.

“is it needed?” you shrugged and sighed, rolling your shoulders back to prepare for the fake smiles coming to you like a hurricane. 

“i guess not, especially when you’re a planet conqueror.”

sylus softly hummed and took your hand, briefly walking away from the crowd before you. he guided you towards the entrance of the hall, attracting the attention of the guests you quickly moved past.

“what are you doing?” you hissed, subtly flicking the hand holding yours as you glanced over your shoulder. sylus briefly stopped and gently hooked your arm over his, which was surprisingly rather comfortable.

“i won’t let my wife tire herself out,” he said, glancing down at you with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “don’t worry about the maggots behind you. they’ll likely assume we are too excited to wait for the night.”

right. you had almost forgotten about that old tradition of consummating marriages. it was an outdated practice by general standards, but some of the wealthier clans and families still found it necessary to lock the marriage in place. you were surprised he believed in that, considering his line of business.

“i’ve never understood the practice honestly,” he tutted. “let couples do as they please at their own pace.” perhaps you were wrong about him.

his crows began to depart one by one, stopping to either nod, give you a look of respect, or even hug you wishing their welcomes to you. the two crow mask wearing young men nudged each other before they handed you a bouquet of blood red roses.

“your first wedding gift from the bossman!” the one with a deeper voice said. you could tell they had meant sylus. you accepted the roses and gave him a questioning side glance.

“would you have preferred receiving it during the ceremony?”

he guided you out of the hall to the main entrance of the estate. a crow– with ruby eyes and adorned with mechanical alterations especially to its wings– landed on sylus’ shoulder as you stepped outside. a very expensive looking luxury car awaited you. along with your parents.

your mother hobbled towards you with her cane, holding her hand out to hold you one last time. you instinctively leaned into her touch and pulled her into your embrace. a wave of emotion washed over you brimming tears in your eyes. 

your mother slowly stepped away from you, reluctant to let go of your hand. her sharp gaze averted to sylus who silently watched your stepfather throughout the interaction.

“keep my child safe. and alive.” he only gave her a nod. it became clear that your time was up for your old life. the transfer was complete and what happened next was up to you to brave with courage.

you gave your mother a final hug, requesting for her to take care of herself and that you would visit whenever you got the chance– both of you knew you never would.

as the vehicle pulled out of the main driveway with sylus at the wheel and you on the passenger seat, you heard your stepfather wishing you godspeed. it took more than balling your hands into fists to stop yourself from jumping out of the car and decapitating him with your hands.

the drive was mostly silent. the roof the car was opened to allow the wind to brush through your hair. a few black cars drove by your side for several minutes before branching off to different locations until the two of you were isolated on a road leading to the outskirts of linkon city.

you weren’t too sure on how to begin conversation with him– your… husband. even thinking about it felt unnatural. the car slowly picked up more speed until passing vehicles flashed by in less than a second. 

the exhilarating thrill of the speed reminded you of your horse and how you would often go riding at night to experience a sense of thrill to dispel your anger or disappointment. you had gone for a morning ride before preparing for the wedding, too afraid to say goodbye as your horse was the one thing– outside your mother– that you weren’t willing to let go of. like a man with a dog, you and your horse were true companions.

“you did well,” his voice almost made you jump in your seat. you turned to him with a look of slight agitation, watching him concentrate on the road. 

“oh sure, you would definitely be proud.” you scoffed, voice heavily laced with sarcasm.

“it’s good that you’re not ignorant,” he continued as if you didn’t say anything, making your eye twitch. “keeping an eye on every guest there to understand their intentions behind their presence and discerning between those who cared and those who benefitted from your- our marriage… that was admirably smart.”

your eyes narrowed. he was being painfully meticulous with his words but it also seemed effortless. you felt warmed by the praise, the acknowledgement of you putting your knowledge to good use. the crow cawed at you in what you assumed was anger.

“is this your pet?” you bit at the bird, making it flutter its wings and caw even more. sylus’ grinned as the car drove into a more isolated road.

“mephisto,” he said as the crow hopped off his shoulder and flew ahead of the car. “i don’t consider him as a pet– more like a confidant.”

mephisto cawed at you once more before flying off of sylus’ shoulders to speed ahead towards a large estate. the mansion looked absolutely marvelous, with its aged designs and well maintained grounds. it was slightly larger than your family’s estate with the lengthy driveway, the magnificent fountain at the main entrance and the overall quietness of the space. 

a dozen uniformed staff quietly moved boxes of what you recognised as your personal belongings into the mansion through what you assumed was the side entrance, stopping to bow in the presence of their employer.

one of them jogged to the car to greet sylus, not forgetting to acknowledge your presence, and announced that the staff would vacate to their quarters once your belongings were placed inside.

the interior was just as bourgeois as the outside. the main sitting area was dark, red and black with hints of rusted gold to be specific, covered with vintage furniture and collections of rare assets. you recognised a few of the paintings on the walls as prized works of classic creators. sylus was a creator.

towards the couches in the living area sat a bundle of neatly wrapped gifts in varying shapes and sizes. a few of the ones you picked were there as well. one of the many gifts that sat on the pile was the box of alcohol similar to the wine bottle in your hand.

“cherry wine,” sylus appeared next to you in complete silence, making you jump on the spot. “i love the scent of it.”

he poured you a glass and slid it to you before preparing his own. it smelled deliciously sweet to the point where you couldn’t tell if it was actually alcoholic. as the wine coated your lips, the sweetness was the first thing for you to sense. it was like drinking liquid sweets in the most erotic way possible. no wonder the term ‘pop the cherry’ was said when drinking that. the engulfing burn of the alcohol ran down your throat just as you swallowed. 

your tolerance for alcohol was reasonably strong– strong enough to have at least three glasses of the wine before you began to act differently. sylus, on the other hand, was already in a bit of a blush. he wasn’t near finished with his first glass.

“i didn’t take you for the type that can’t stomach drinks,” you commented as you poured yourself another glass. something about that intoxicating sweetness just had you thirsting for more. you were heating up under the confines of your wedding dress with it pooling close to your core.

sylus chuckled with a hint of nerve. “i don’t have the tolerance for it,” he admitted as he took another leisurely sniff of the drink. “and my sense of taste is somewhat dull, so i appreciate the smell more than what i consume.” he swirled the crimson beverage in the crystal glass, admiring the gloss of it under the warm lights above you. 

he glanced at the ring on your finger. “it looks good on you. i had feared that you would not like it.”

you followed his gaze, watching the light reflect on the crystals making them shine like water under the moonlight. 

“and you looked marvellous in that dress, as tattered as it was.” he was talking about the previous night. before you got roughhoused by those wanderers, the dress was rather beautiful and formfitting for you– dashed with gold and black jewels to complement the ruby red colour of your attire. you didn’t think he had noticed.

you could feel his gaze peeling you open layer by layer, increasing the bubbling heat within you. the alcohol must have been quite strong since it was rare for you to get so fuzzy so quickly. he was probably going to ramble more if you didn’t change the subject.

“do you live here?” you asked, turning away to look around the living room. your torso still felt so tight and constricted. “it looks untouched.”

your fingers fumbled to remove your necklace, struggling to get a good grip of the clasp– partially because you were flustered and that you the dress was designed in such a way that you couldn’t vigorously move around.

sylus moved behind you and moved your hands to your sides with an uncharacteristic amount of gentleness. this kindness was still something you were suspicious of. for a conquerer to be so kind to you felt weird.

“it’s a temporary stop before we get to the n109 zone,” he helped you remove your necklace, his fingers slowly travelled up your neck to unclasp it. “we can stay however long you need if you’re not ready to go.”

you instinctively leaned into his touch, feeling the heat of his hand spread across your skin. his patience and care was something you greatly appreciated– so much so that it gradually lowered your guard.

from the wedding to the tedious reception to that very moment, his behaviour went completely against the rumours that spread tainting his name. the same rumours that instilled fear amongst your peers. even when he stepped in to help you in battle the previous night, he wasn’t cruel– not with you at least.

“what were you doing in linkon yesterday?” you asked as sylus placed the necklace on the couch. he took your hand, silently indicating his desire to walk with you.

“confirming a few deals with the hunters association,” the hallway was wide and covered with pillars of withered plants and old paintings. although it looked meticulously clean it was still so void of life. “i needed to maintain my influence with my associates working there. i believe one of them are distantly related to you. she said you have a habit of chasing wanderers.”

then that was what she meant about your destiny. she knew about the deal too. a flash of disappointment in your face caught his ever so watchful eye.

“don’t blame her for this arrangement. she didn’t know better.” he rubbed your hand with his thumb and tugged you into the dining hall, embroidered with expensive carpets, couches and a fireplace on and by the floor, exotic plants on the corners of the large room and large windows overlooking the extensive grounds of the estate, coloured orange from the setting sun. 

your skin was painted in a warm gold colour along with his, kissed by the light shining into the dark room. the faint tipsy blush on sylus’ cheeks had gradually darkened as he looked at you, fully taking you in.

the way your dress hugged your body and accentuated your beauty, the soft amount of makeup on your face that amplified your natural appearance, and your relentless energy in how you spoke and moved had set his mind in a bit of a frenzy. even when you gave him that confused look you were just so pretty.

so pretty.

so beautiful.

so attractive.

heat flowed through his veins in rapid flashes, more than he could comprehend. it wasn’t similar to what he normally experienced whenever he was intoxicated. his hand left your grip to tug down on his tie that tightened around his neck, feeling as though he was suffocating.

his vision began to haze slightly, almost as though he was blinded by a wave of a familiar yet enhanced sensation– a magnified feeling.

lust.

“sylus?” his large hand hit the wall to maintain his balance. you almost called out for the staff to help but you quickly remembered they were all likely gone.

“are you alright?” your eyes blurred in a daze, your body fuzzed from the heat surrounding you and the incessant throbbing and swelling feeling of arousal spreading around you. sylus leaned on the wall, covering his eyes with his hand, the other quickly rushing down his abdomen to his crotch where a very large bulge pressed against the fabric of his pants.

oh. oh.

this was far from noble. both of you were basically clawing at your clothing, disheveled with the heat of pure desire– that had to be what it was. and for some reason, the muscles on his arms bulging through his tailored suit became more prominent than it was throughout the entire day.

just what could have caused a flash of this to happen out of nowhere?

then it clicked. the wine. that damned wine. did someone send it to you to spike you? the speculation made you pause to think. if someone wanted you and sylus dead, why would they send over a crate of cherry wine that has rendered you both insufferably hot–

“cherries, sylus, cherries are aphrodisiacs.” you groaned, holding your face in your hands. you just knew it that recommendation had no pure intent behind it.

“not strong ones,” sylus muttered, his back turned to you. though you could clearly see his ears were flushed red. “unless there’s another component in there– damn it, did you taste pomegranate?”

you did but it wasn’t that strong over the sweetness of the cherries. but you remembered someone mentioning (back in your clubbing days) that there are variants of the wine that have stronger effects– one of them being an aggressive aphrodisiac.

the air was thick, your breaths were heavy, the distance between you was less than a few steps away and ethically speaking it should have been much further than that. and yet– and yet you didn’t want to be any further from him.

you wanted to help him and yourself. through the clearest means possible.

“we need to fuck our way through this.” sylus whipped his head to you, almost bewildered by your brash approach. “only if you’re willing.”

“i am,” his chest rose and fell heavily, beads of sweat began to form on his forehead, damping that soft, cloud white hair of his. “but i worry if you are willing to do it. there are other ways we can handle this without going as far as intercourse–“

“what, masturbate in separate rooms?” you scoffed. you hissed in a breath, tugging down at your dress in a sore attempt to breathe more. “i don’t think i’d be able to get off if i can’t see you.” that part came out in a loud whisper which didn’t go deaf to his ears. 

“oh sweetie,” that same infuriating yet charming smirk tugged at his plump, soft– fuck. “you think i’m attractive?”

“wasn’t that obvious?” you panted and tugged at your neckline. “gods, i need this dress off.”

a gust of energy pulled you towards sylus until you were fully in his embrace. his head was dipped into your neck, lips so close to your skin. if this was his attempt to help relieve your mutual tension it definitely wasn’t working.

“perhaps i can take it off,” his hands traveled to the back of your neck and the small of your back, searing your nerves just with his touch. “your desire has changed to that of wanting something. someone. should this someone step in?”

oh that ass– you knew exactly what he wanted you to say. you weren’t going to give him that satisfaction. not by a long shot.

“maybe a kiss will suffice,” you mentally slapped your forehead. a kiss will suffice? your flirtation skills must have turned into pure mush. it was probably his face. handsome, divine, damned face!

and to your internal relief and joy he dutifully complied, engulfing you in his touch. just like the first kiss you shared, he was so gentle but this time you could sense he was holding back. though, admittedly, so were you. your hands stroked his hair, occasionally tugging at those soft tufts. a low groan erupted into your mouth accompanied with a harsh tut.

“my dear wife,” his voice had dropped an octave, rumbling straight down to your core which had already started to pool with arousal. something about him calling you that felt good. really good. “we are dangerously dangling over this cliff. are you sure you want to take the dive?”

you pecked his lips, giddy from the kiss. “let’s hope you can swim.”

your hands swarmed all over each other as the kiss intensified with each beat of your heart. in intervaled tugs and pulls and breaths between the kisses, your shoes both were kicked off, then his tie fell to the floor, then his blazer, then his dress shirt, exposing his torso to your hungry eyes. 

he expertly unbuttoned your dress at its collar and paused waiting for your permission to proceed. you quickly nodded and assisted him by tugging down the front of the dress, revealing your torso both bare and sparkling from the glitter sprayed onto your dress.

sylus eyed you with an indecipherable look all while feeling his way down to your hips so slowly with his large hands, tracing his fingers over the outline of your breasts and the sides of your waist. he was admiring you. 

his eyes fluttered shut as a shaky whine left his lips. within the closed space between your heated bodies, his hips managed to jut to yours reminding you of his throbbing length trapped within the confines of his clothing.

you leaned back, widened eyes peering into his burning crimson gaze. a quiet bond had formed between you in seconds and the instant understanding had been made transparently clear. he took your hands– which were not surprisingly smaller than his own– until they cupped his erection. sylus’ hands swiftly touched the zipper below the back opening of your dress and tugged it straight down.

“my patience is wearing thin, sweetie,” his lips tickled the shell of your ear. “i don’t know how much more i can hold back with you this close to me.”

you wasted no time in tugging down his pants along with his briefs allowing his cock to spring free, slapping your skin with precum almost spurting from his reddened tip. that alone was enough to have you soaked.

it was so hot and heavy, and long and thick, thick enough for you to question if your hand could wrap around it let alone your poor pussy, who was shamelessly leaking even more while sylus slid your dress and your lacy underwear down to the floor.

“i wanted to rip that off.”

“what?” 

“what?” with a scoff, you pushed him back with a singular finger to his chest and stepped away from the abandoned dress on the floor to get a better look of your husband confidently standing before you.

you’re mentally fanning yourself at the sight, shamelessly thinking of all the profanities you can conjure and all the dirtiest images involving the two of you. those thoughts must have been made under the influence of the wine. right?

“you like?” sylus grinned, watching you relentless stare at his body. his well-built, muscular body. god-sculpted and revered– fuck, you were in too deep.

“don’t get cocky.” you huffed, feeling your face warm for the nth time that night. that dress was getting a bit too tight on you. you tugged at the opening at your back to force more airflow around your skin but nothing was working. prickles of sensitivity brought you to a shiver, the slightest movement from your legs was stimulating pleasure to the power of a thousand. 

you almost pounced on him. almost. but you maintained composure. you straightened your posture and moved to the dining table, pushing away the plates and cutlery in your way to free up the corner. fortunately it was short enough to stand between. 

sylus followed in suit, standing at the opposite end of the table at the shorter side to not be too far from you. his hands wandered all over his body, stroking and pinching at his skin to tease himself– and you.

“i know what you’re doing, sylus.”

“i know what you’re doing, sweetie,” his hand eventually found his cock, ghosting his touch over his sensitive length. you watched him bite his lips, watched him intentionally raise the stakes in the little game you were playing together. 

you were going to go all in. you leaned into the corner of the table, connecting your needy wetness to its new source of pleasure.

sharp jolts ran up your spine from your clit rubbing against the corner of the table. you paused, slowly repeating the movement until you relaxed into the position too needy to stop. your hand flew to your mouth to muffle the impeding moans just begging to roll off your tongue.

across the table, he watched you in a daze while lazily pumping at his cock. his fist squeezed around the base, making the veins running up his shaft more prominent, and stroked up until his angry red tip disappeared within his hand. a gentle plap! rhythm accompanied the classical music in the background as he picked up a reasonable pace. 

his fingers danced around his tip rubbing back and forth on the slit that dribbled out precum like a leaky tap– soft moans were being pulled out of his lips as he teased his body, he caressed his chest and ultimately tortured himself, all while intently watching your pretty, squished breats bounce between your arms as your hips began to rut against the table.

he must have been doing all of that on purpose.

your knuckles paled as your grip on the table strengthened, so desperate to have something inside your weeping pussy that you almost stuffed your fingers as far as they’d be able to go. but alas, you knew they weren’t capable of satiating what you needed. you dropped your head to concentrate– to go just a bit harder–

“uh-uh, kitten,” you could just hear him smiling. kitten. a jolt shot straight down to your core. you could just feel your slick begin to drip down your legs, and judging by the reckless pump of blood flow your lips must swollen from all that need. “look at me.”

nope, you weren’t planning on doing that. not while you were getting closer to your climax. the angle you had found was just perfect, hitting the bud of your swollen clit and rubbing at the sensitive nerves surrounding at. you could just hear the squelches from your wetness leaking onto the table and dripping down in small, sticky droplets. 

you raised your head slightly, panting out a desperate moan, eyes hazed with arousal and need only to find sylus not where he was originally standing. your breath hitched, instantly feeling his overwhelming presence behind you. how did he get there so fast?

his lips found the back of your neck, still well exposed despite the neatness of your styled hair falling apart. his hands settled on your waist, holding you in place as kissed down your spine and around the fading remnants of the insignia painted onto your back.

“how about i help you a bit?” he murmured and licked his way up your spine until his hot, wet tongue found the shell of your ear. “would you like that?”

too breathless to speak, you nodded.

“use your words, sweetie.” he whispered and pecked your jaw. his hardened cock lightly grazed the curve of your ass. “this only works if you tell me you want it.”

“oh fuck you.”

“that’s not what i’m looking for.” he teasingly presses himself against you, rubbing himself up and down, nestling his cock between your lower cheeks. “tell me what you want.”

he was so close yet so damn far, and his teasing wasn’t helping at all. “you.” you choked.

“hmm?”

“damn you, i need your help!” you blabbered while your body instinctively pushed back to be closer to him. “i want your help and i want you– now, help me!”

sylus hummed in approval, lowering his hands to your hips. “yes ma’am.”

your legs were beginning to ache from your endless grinding to satisfy your insatiable desire, bringing you to a tremble. sylus’ presence had briefly left you until he returned with his hands on the back of your thighs and warm air fanning your pussy.

“absolutely soaked,” he commented in astonishment, pressing a wet peck on your thigh, intentionally making you feel how far he is from where he’s supposed to be. you groaned, bucking back in urgency.

“stop teasing!”

“oh?” he pressed another kiss on your other thigh, intentionally increasing the distance. “i thought enjoyed my brattiness, kitten. are you going to threaten me with your claws?”

you stopped moving to give him a glare. “sylus–“

“no, continue what you were doing. i’ll take care of this little mess right…” his fingers rubbed your entrance, spreading your wetness down to your thighs. “here.” 

oh yes. his hands were perfect. 

they did so much more to you than your own ever could. you slowly rocked your hips against the desk to return your wavering attention to your needy bud. the double stimulation from his fingers gradually going deeper inside you and your clit being abused by a bloody inanimate object– you could just feel yourself reaching your limit.

his fingers explored your weeping pussy without restraint, curving and curling in you to find exactly what made you tick, twitch, and tingle. his lips caressed your bare lower cheeks, making your pant more and more until a sharp sting threw you off your daze. it was a bite. he bit you.

“did you just bite my ass–“

“yeah, what about it?”

you scoffed in disbelief, muttering that you’d stop him from biting your ass and pushed his head back to devour your soaking cunt. sylus grunted in surprise but wasted no time to get to work, resting his hands on your ass to give his tongue more access to you.

you heard of tongue-fucking as a concept but you never understood how good it felt– not until now. feeling him smoothly curl and curve that wet muscle inside you so effortlessly had you in a messy daze. your nails clawed into his hair, keeping him in place to continue with his gentle yet persistent ministrations.

“s-sylus,” you moaned, moving faster and faster to chase your impending high, keeping him close to you to ensure he followed your flow. “oh, fuck, sylus!”

“mm– so profane.” his voice was muffled against you, his tongue swirled around your entrance before slipping back inside. the vibrations of his moans rumbled through you almost triggering you to tip off the edge. that familiar plap! plap! rhythm sounded beneath you, accompanying his choked noises.

you pushed his head back to face him, and you were shockingly pleased.

your dangerous husband was on his knees with his hand shamelessly tending to his abandoned, flushed cock, jutting his hips to simulate what it could feel deep inside you. the experience of having his fingers and tongue in you alone was more than enough to set him off.

now he just needed to have you in every position humanely possible.

“need some help?” you grinned in a mocking tone, slowly kneeling before him. sylus’ face was as red as the cherry wine, his broad, muscular chest glistened in a layer of sweat that dripped down the lines of his abdomen until it was lost within the trimmed, white tufts of the hairs surrounding his cock. you just couldn’t take your eyes off him. you didn’t want to.

“please,” it didn’t even take you teasing for him to give in. sylus leaned forward, hand still working his raging cock, and rested his head against yours. 

“i need you,” you watched his cock twitch in his hands, slowly beginning to salivate. damn, those aphrodisiacs were strong. you had never felt that aroused before. never felt such a strong desire to take him in your mouth. 

“i have an idea,” you whispered, pecking the corner of his lips. he whimpered from the mere contact, leaning into you more to reach your lips. “if you’ll let me.”

“anything, kitten,” he pressed a desperate kiss on your lips. then another. “anything.”

what he didn’t anticipate from you was that you’d immediately go down on him, moving his hands up and swiping your tongue around his cock in an instant. he sucked in a deep breath, closing his eyes. what a seductress you were.

from the way you walked down the alter to him, to your joy and serenity on horseback, to that very moment with you bent down lubricating him with your tongue, kissing his leaking cockhead with your pretty lips.

you kissed your way up his shaft, long and heavy, testing how girthy he truly was with your hand– so thick you couldn’t wrap your hand around it fully. you took his tip in, getting a taste of his precum bursting into your mouth from a simple touch all while swirling your tongue over his slit.

his groans vibrated onto your tongue as it lapped up more drops of his precum at debilitatingly slow pace. lick, lick, lick like a kitten drinking milk. his shaft was not left alone, being delicately handled by your hands stroking up and down with gentle squeezes in intervals.

“squeeze– squeeze harder.” sylus panted. you raised your eyes to meet his piercing crimson gaze. a shot of tingles vibrated around your pussy, making you so much wetter. you obeyed without complaint, strengthening your grip on his cock with each stroke. 

your head bobbed taking you further and further down his shaft until his leaky tip tapped the back of your mouth, right before the curve down your throat. you choked out a moan, feeling a tingle of tears burn the corners of your eyes. sylus quickly noticed and cradled your head, about to pull you out.

“are you alright?” from your angle he looked like such an adorable puppy, worried for you while his cock was stuffed in your mouth. you hummed, stroking his hand, and opened your jaw to take more of him. you took deep breaths through your nose slowly returning to your initial rhythm.

sylus watched his cock slowly disappear into your mouth until he was fully bottomed out in you. you were so warm and your throat was so tight around his length, so much so that you couldn’t help but gag every so often around his girth. the sounds of your chokes and gags filled the space along with the delicious sloppiness of your pretty mouth slurping around him.

“so pretty,” he huffed. the temptation to grip your head and guide you to go faster was getting stronger by the second. his knees ached from sitting in that position for so long but the pleasure was worth the pain. his hand instinctively pushed your further down into him and you responded so well by hollowing your cheeks, tightening your mouth around him as much as you could. his eyes rolled back as he moaned, your noises of pure pleasure reverberated in the air.

it was so wet and sloppy, creating a small puddle of precum and saliva from what dripped out of your mouth. you pulled your head back with a loud pop! with your tongue out, letting all the slickness drip down to his tip. sylus groaned in an attempt to hold back whatever profanities brewed in him.

your face was drenched from the tip of your nose down beyond your chin. sylus breathing was heavy, chest heaving, face fully flushed. his lips opened to speak but he was rendered speechless. his lips rushed onto your neck, licking up the slick wetness until his lips found yours. 

like how you worked his cock, the kiss was wet, sloppy, lustfully passionate and boiling with your mutual greed to consume each other. your tongues swirled and collided, teeth occasionally clashing as well in reckless pursuit of remaining as close as possible.

he pulled you onto his lap, cock still rock hard and flush against your abdomen, rubbing against your flesh, making him shiver from the stimulation. the buzz from the aphrodisiac was still strong, coursing through him as quickly as his pulse.

“need to be in you,” he moaned against you lips in a rough plea. “need to feel you.”

your inhibitions were right out the window. all you could think of was the thought of you two sickeningly together, divinely united, fucking consummating the damn marriage just so you could fully feel him. “need you inside, sy,”

like hearing an instant buzzword sylus immediately acted on your word, picking you up and moving you towards the carpet by the fireplace. he rested your head on the larger pillow while pressing his lips down your body, whispering his praises.

his lips found your hand and kissed each knuckle. “thank you for accepting me despite our rough first impression.” he kissed you up your arm all the way to your collarbones, nipping your flesh then licking you as an apology.

“want to make you feel so good,” he suckled on your skin as his hands fondled your breasts, thumbs circling your pebbled nipples making your back arch. he gently tugged on your hardened bud with his teeth and switched to the other, lathering it with his tongue and leaving harsh bruises behind.

“want to be yours,” his lips slowly travelled back up your neck, suckling small bruises and biting his mark onto your skin.

“you are, genuis.” you huffed, wiggling your finger holding the bedazzled ring. sylus glanced at it with a look of great admiration, enamoured by how it looked in your hand. how you wore it so confidently.

“legally,” his hands held your face and gave you a squish. “legally, but not of your own accord.”

you had to admit that he was correct. the marriage alone wasn’t something you would have agreed with. but you found him interesting within the last few hours where you got to speak to him. outside of your physical attraction to him you liked how his mind worked too.

“then let me make you mine.”

a look of surprise painted his face. you assured him with a smile. “let me claim you as mine. my husband. my friend. my partner.” 

your lips found each other once more, dancing in pure passion and adoration as your bodies performed a more lewd waltz in grinds and strong grips on sensitive flesh. sylus adjusted himself, aligning his cock with your dripping entrance.

he gave you one more questioning look to which you responded with an affirmative nod, lacing your fingers between his. he rolled his hips against yours, gently bullying the tip of his cock into you until it disappeared past your swollen pussy lips. you felt so warm and so damn tight he struggled to keep what was left of his composure. 

the sting of his sheer size and girth made you hiss and claw your fingers on his arm, gasping at the sheer buildup of pressure. sylus’ eyes were squeezed shut, brows furrowed, and lips parted allowing a melodic moan to flow into your ears. 

somehow the feeling of him being inside you get you wetter than you could comprehend and your walls sucked him in, pulling his cock deeper into you until he was almost, almost bottomed out.

“i think she likes me,” he huffed, massaging your hips to soothe the sting. 

“maybe.”

“definitely.” he slowly drew his hips back and thrusted forward with little restraint. the pain had disappeared with a fiery ignition replacing it. your gummy walls held onto his cock as it drew back and rushed into you again, creating a slick and wet noise between you as he gradually went faster.

your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist to lock him in place while your hands explored his back, smooth and rippled with his muscles tensing and relaxing with each gentle thrust. his lips peppered kisses and bites onto your neck, sucking harsh bruises into your skin as a substitution for the pent up desire he was desperately trying to hold back.

your name was rambled into the air in seething moans as if he was almost pained to have to restrain himself. to not harm you in pursuit of pleasing you. and then you tugged his hair. and gave him that look.

“stop holding back sy,” you whispered and pecked the corner of his lip. you were feeling a bit too greedy. “let’s give in.”

something must have snapped in him. a switch must have flipped because you saw a completely different look in his eyes in the exact second you felt his cock fit inside you entirely, fully bottoming out in you. your eyes rolled back from the sheer quick force of it, choking out a cry.

he wasn’t merciful either with his pace gradually picking up to the point where your skin slapped against his every time your hips collided until a wet clapping rhythm echoed across the dining hall alongside your joint noises.

your hands crept up to his back, finding comfort in rudely carving red lines into his skin without restraint. sylus’ melodic groans serenaded you into a haze that demanded more and more from him– more noise, more pleasure, just more.

sylus slowly sat up and glanced down to watch his cock disappear inside you then pull back out, glistening with your joint wetness to the point where it ran up his abdomen. the pillows propping you up gave you a slight view as well, a view so lewd that you almost hit your orgasm then and there.

“you are so– so tight, kitten.” sylus panted, pushing his damped hair back. his muscles were flexed, defining the sweat dripping down his body. you were almost certain you could ride his abs and get off just from that.

“you’re so big,” your eyes fluttered closed, too overwhelmed by him filling you up consistently. the pleasure alone was overwhelming. seeing him so disheveled because of you was so delightful. 

your legs were pushed up against you before he leaned back down, his tip teasing your dripping entrance for painfully long seconds before pushing in entirely in a swift slam. your pussy stung with esctasy, your toes curled from the intensive swell of pleasure in the direct spot his tip brutally poked, your eyes crossed out of your control. just what did he do?

near shaking above you, sylus leaned into your touch, hypnotised– no, enamoured by you. he just wanted to stay buried so deeply inside you, privileged to be the only one to feel how your walls squeeze and flutter around him, to be able to explore what makes you tick and moan or scratch him in need, what would make you happy, what would anger you, he wanted it all.

he had it all. he had you. and he was gradually learning just how much he needed you.

“you’re so enchanting,” he half moaned-half laughed as he returned to his initial pace in that deeper angle. “so– gods– so powerful.” he watched your pretty face fall into a daze, lips spread apart for him to hear your voice crack with your cries. your bodies were so close that the friction of your sweat stricken skin no longer bothered either of you.

you could felt your limit approaching. all that stimulation and foreplay from earlier on top of the aphrodisiac’s influence was driving you insane. you pulled sylus’ head to yours, pressing your lips onto his desperate to consume him, desperate to ensure he knew how you felt so good with him. how you felt safe.

but fuck, you were going to explode. you were so painfully close and it looked like he was too. 

it took a few more sharp thrusts before the thin string snapped, throwing you into a whole new realm of bliss. a loud cry escaped you, followed by a soft whimper from the man above you before you both crumbled in the cloud of intoxicating sparks bursting. 

your soaked walls fluttered as globs of sticky, hot cum filled you up, partially spurting out with each rough thrust. a string of curses filled the air from both of you due to the sheer deliciousness of the feeling.

hours– or, realistically speaking, minutes– must have passed while you panted, glistening in the afterglow of your erotic pursuit. despite the exhaustion, you somehow managed to soothe each other through soft caresses and massages in the areas where you gripped each other harder than intended.

sylus rested his head on your shoulder, kissing the parts of your neck that he could reach. you brought his hand to your lips and pecked each knuckle over and over again, blessing his ring finger with a particularly longer one.

“when the effects wear off, things will be a bit awkward.” sylus grumbled. 

you hummed in agreement. but considering how far you had gone on your first– technically second– day of knowing one another, you could pretty much do anything.

“how about we start off as friends first and see where that goes?” you suggesting, lacing your fingers with his. your rings dazzled in the moonlight for to admire. “i mean, we’ve already achieved the marriage goal. and the consummation.”

his laugh vibrated onto your neck, further lulling you in to comfortable exhaustion. maybe a nice nap on the floor wouldn’t hurt. 

sylus smiled a kiss onto your neck then your cheek, eyes twinkling with bliss and joy. “alright then, dearest wife who is also my new friend. let’s do that.”

in the mutual quiet, you both found yourselves admiring each other as the heat of your climax finally cooled down. and then the next wave of arousal quickly arrived. you definitely weren’t going to hold back this time.

“again.” you pressed a kiss on the corner of his lips.

“again?” he panted, almost in worry. you were insatiable.

“you can’t handle it?” you laughed in a teasing tone. within an instant you found yourself straddled on top of him– he must have turned you over with that inhumane strength– his cock quickly hardening again inside you. 

“i was worried about you, sweetie,” he squeezed your nose with a playful grin before settling his large hands on your hips, rocking them back and forth. you could just feel his cum seeping out of you. “i hope you can keep up because we won’t be stopping till the sun rises.”

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

A fake soccer date

Summary: Joel asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend to get the soccer moms off his back. How convenient that you're both kind of in love with each other.

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem. reader

Wordcount: 2.2k

Rating: E

Warnings: no outbreak, friends to lovers, FAKE DATING, mentions of dead spouse, a little angst, soccer moms (ugh), fluff, making out, smut (protected sex), dirty talk, a lot of kissing, Joel being in love, banner just for the vibes

Part of Fake Dating drabbles

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Full Masterlist // Joel Miller Masterlist

You understood his weekly dread of going to Sarah’s soccer matches now. 

It wasn’t the soccer or the getting up at 6 am to drive to some god awful town hours away to watch a bunch of teenage girls play ball. 

It was the soccer moms.

And Joel was the only single Dad of the group. There was flirting. There were definitely not occasion appropriate attire and cleavage. There was touching. 

And that was only what you saw as you watched him in the middle of at least six women who were fussing over him like he was the only men left alive while you made your way towards the field from the parking lot. 

He had asked you before if you would accompany him to one of Sarah’s games. 

You had been neighbours since before Sarah was born. He had inherited the fixer upper next door when he just turned twenty and made the most out of it. You had seen his life fall apart within months from the moment he found out his ex girlfriend was pregnant not long after. They had tried to get back together again. 

It was you and your late husband Andrew who had been there for him once Sarah was born and his ex had left him alone. You probably spent more times in Joel’s house than your own in those first weeks, all of you being new to taking care of a new born. 

But Sarah made it easy. 

Andrew, Joel and you grew close in the coming years. 

So close that Joel was the first one you called when you were sitting in a hospital in the early morning hours after an accident on your way back from your summer vacation. 

An accident Andrew did not survive. 

He showed up an hour later with a sleeping Sarah in his arms, holding you all night as you cried into his shoulder. 

The time after that was blurry. But you knew Joel was there every single step through your grief, right beside you. 

He was your best friend. 

And as best friends it was okay to ask you to pretend to be dating him to get the soccer moms off his back, right?

It’s not like he knew that you kind of fell in love with him over the last year, right?

With a nervous inhale you put a smile on your face as you approached Joel from behind, his broad back standing out to you in between the moms who had only eyes for him. You put one of your arms around him as you sneaked to his side, feeling him stiffen for a moment as you looked up at him, meeting his eyes. He smiled down at you, instantly relaxing, his arm coming around you to pull you closer against his side. 

„Hi,“ he smiled warmly and you smiled back. 

„Sorry I’m late. The line was endless,“ you lied and he chuckled. You felt his hand rest on your hip, squeezing you lightly. 

„Glad you could make it. Sarah is gonna be excited to see you,“ he said. Like you had not seen her yesterday when you had dinner together at your house. 

He kissed your temple and you closed your eyes for a moment before you turned your head too look at the people standing around you. The women were glaring at you and didn’t even attempt to hide it. 

„If you'll excuse me ladies. We got a match to watch,“ Joel said, not waiting for an answer before he pulled you towards the field, not letting go of you. 

„I can practically feel them trying to kill me with their eyes,“ you mumbled and he huffed a laugh. 

„I told you. I didn’t even do anything. They just appear out of thin air once I get here,“ he groaned and you rolled your eyes. If you didn’t know him, you’d think he’d pretend to not now the looks he received from women around him. 

Joel Miller was a catch and everyone knew it. 

You came to stand at the fence separating the field and the audience, watching as the girls warmed up on the soccer field. Sarah saw you and waved wildly and you waved back with a bright smile. You felt Joel stand behind you, before his hands came down next to yours on the fence.

„Thank you for doing this,“ he hummed against your ear as he leaned down, his chin resting on your shoulder for a moment. You took a deep breath. 

„Anything for you,“ you mumbled, gasping when he fell into you against the fence, someone having pushed him. You heard him groan lowly against your ear, his body flush against yours. He took a step back immediately, turning to his side but you were pretty sure you had felt his hard bulge press into your ass for a second.

You turned your head to look at him, finding his cheeks a little flushed as he looked everywhere but at you. But before you could say anything the kids coach cheered the girls on and they got into position for the game to start.

And a couple minutes later Joel was standing behind you again, and you were leaning against his strong chest, one of his arms around your stomach as you watched his daughter play soccer on the field in front of you. 

„Are we…. Are we still pretending to be dating?“ You mumbled against his lips, your fingers unbuttoning his flannel. 

Things had…. Escalated a little. 

One of his hands was on the side of your neck, tilting your head up as his lips moved against yours, your body pressed against the wall next to his bedroom, his body caging you in. 

„Do you want to be pretending?“ He asked, his lips kissing down your throat as his other hand came to squeeze one of your tits over your shirt. 

„Cause I haven’t been all day,“ he mumbled and you gasped. 

You were both still fully clothed, having spent the whole day together on the soccer field, pretending to be dating. 

It was pretend when he held your hand while you grabbed food. 

It was pretend when he pulled you on his lap when there wasn’t enough place to sit. 

It was pretend when you went up and kissed him when one of the soccer moms had her hands on his chest. 

Right?

„Joel….“ You hummed letting you head fall against the wall as his hand slipped under your shirt and towards your chest. You finally had his flannel open your fingernails scratching over the shirt he was wearing underneath. 

„I… I don’t want to pretend. I… I want you. I want you all the time,“ you confessed, your eyes closed as he sucked on the soft skin on your neck. 

He looked at you then a small smile on his flushed lips. 

„Good,“ he simply said, before he kissed you again and pulled you towards his bedroom. 

He undressed you slowly, kissing a path from your lips down to your hips before he told you to lay down. 

With your arms spread out on his mattress you looked up at him as he got out of his clothes, biting your lip when you saw his thick cock, already glistening at the tip. 

„Dreamed of this,“ he said as he joined you on the bed, crawling on top of you, kissing you softly as he laid down between your spread legs. 

You nipples hardened as his chest brushed against yours, the only thought in your head being that you wanted him closer. Always closer.

„Yeah?“ You asked with a small smile, your fingers brushing over his back. He nodded. 

„Me too. Dreamed of this for months,“ you confessed and he kissed you again.

„Months?“ He asked kissing your nose.

„Mhh… Think I knew when you fixed my bathroom sink and explained every little step you were doing. Thought back then that I’d listen to everything you’d explain to me as long as you wouldn’t leave,“ you said quietly, a little shy. 

You parted your lips when you felt his cock slip though your folds. 

„When you held Sarah after she fell from her bike last year. I watched you with my daughter in your arms and thought to myself, fuck I’m in love with her,“ he said and you felt a tear slip out of your eyes. 

You tilted your chin up to find his lips in a deep kiss before you brought one hand down and between your bodies, hearing him moan when your fingers wrapped around his stiff cock. 

„Wanna taste you first,“ he mumbled against your lips. 

You shook your head. 

„Plenty of time for that after. Wanna feel you please,“ you pumped his cock and he closed his eyes, his forehead resting against yours. 

„Fuck. Fuck okay. Condom?“ He asked and you grinned. 

„You got some? I’m on birth control and I trust you,“ you said. He looked at you for a moment before he shook his head. 

„The last time I didn’t use a condom with someone who was on birthcontrol I got Sarah,“ he chuckled before he pushed off of you and reached towards his bedside table, finding a little golden foil package, ripping it open and pulling it over his cock. 

He came back to kneel between your legs, one of his hands wrapped around his cock while he reached for a pillow and with a grin. 

You grinned back, arching your back as he pushed the pillow under you and under your ass before both of his hands pulled you towards him. You crossed your legs behind his ass, pulling him closer as he leaned down, lining his cock up with your pussy. 

„No more pretending,“ he whispered and you shook your head. 

„No more pretending,“ you repeated before you kissed him as he slowly pushed inside of you. 

Your lips parted against his as he slipped inside you, both of you breathing heavily, a quiet moan coming from you as he stretched you. 

You hadn’t been with anyone since your husband died and Joel wasn’t exactly small. 

"You okay?“ He asked, slowing down. 

You just nodded, before you kissed him again, finding yourself enjoying the stretch of his cock as it pushed slowly inside of you. 

„Keep going, feels so fucking good,“ you mumbled against his lips and you felt him smile as he moved, his cock moving inside of you until his whole length was filling you, both of you releasing a loud breath. 

„Should have done this sooner,“ he said as he pulled back and began to slowly fuck into you. You had one hand in his hair, the other on his ass, feeling him as he moved inside of you, his cock filling you perfectly with every thrust. 

„Yeah,“ you moaned, closing your eyes. 

„Keep your eyes open,“ he hummed and you did, finding him looking at you. 

„I wanna see you when you cum on my cock,“ he said and your walls clenched, making him smirk.

„You liked that, huh?“ He asked and you nodded slowly. 

„Keep going,“ you whimpered. 

„You know what I think of when I jerk myself off in the shower? I imagine the way you look when you cum. I wonder how you sound when I make you cum so hard you see stars. I wonder how you taste. I wonder if you like it hard or slow. I wonder if you wear these pretty lace panties I saw hanging in your bathroom that one time whenever you’re around me,“ he continued and you whimpered his name. 

„I wonder if you would let me fuck you at the dining table when we have dinner together. Or if you’d suck me off in the garage when we have a couple minutes to ourselves. Or on the couch after we watched a movie. I wonder if I can make you scream my name so everyone knows that you’re mine,“ he said before he kissed you and changed the angle of how he was fucking you, his cock hitting a spot inside of you that had you shaking. 

„I’m gonna take you to the lake house this weekend so I can have you screaming as loudly as you want to,“ he said and you nodded biting your lip to keep quiet, still mindful of the child sleeping down the hall. 

„Cum for me baby, let me feel you,“ he said as he crashed his lips down on yours and you shattered, coming harder than you had ever before, your legs shaking as he kept pumping his cock into you in quick deep thrusts. 

„Fuuuuuck,“ you cried quietly against his lips, feeling his lips twitch into a smile. 

„Beautiful,“ he hummed before his hips stuttered his cock pulsing inside of you as he slowly continued to fuck into you, his forehead coming to rest against yours as he orgasmed. 

Both sweaty and out of breath you just looked at each other before he kissed you and slowly rolled you to the side, pulling you against his chest, his cock softening and still resting inside of you. 

Kissing his chest you nuzzled against him, feeling his arms tighten around your body. 

„Best fake date ever,“ you grinned and you felt him chuckle, before he kissed your head just as you drifted off to sleep. 

[rainydayathogwarts]

The Chosen one - Ron Weasley

summary: harry may be the chosen one, but he wasn't the one you chose. (lowkey creep!harry) wc: 1.3k

When Ron had first noticed Harry’s lingering gaze following you whenever you appeared he only rolled his yes; you were yet another girl he would have to hear Harry constantly ranting about. He was sick of the boy's tendency to play around with girls' feelings, yet never stop talking about them. The first couple of weeks, neither you or Harry had spoken a word to each other. Harry stared, couldn’t speak to you when you were around, a blush overtaking his features. Ron, leaning his chin on his hand, tried not to make snarky remarks at his friend about his painfully obvious crush on you. You, on the other hand, didn’t seem to know the boy existed. However as time went on, it became glaringly evident that you weren't just another crush because Harry was silent about you and hadn't tried speaking to you as the month went by.

If Harry wanted you, he should’ve just made his move because it seemed that the chosen one got everything he ever wanted. Ron lived in Harry’s shadow, and it was getting harder to be the supportive best friend day by day, his jealousy stirring inside him like a beast ready to be unleashed. So about a month after Harry’s feelings for you began developing, when you approached the pair with your friend, offering to work as a group in Potions class, the last thing Ron expected was for you to turn your attention to him rather than his best friend.

“I think Ron should crush the griffin claws.” you started, eyes glinting with something more than friendly kindness when you turned to face him. “You’ve definitely got the muscles for it.” Ron felt his pale skin heat up with a pink flush, and he ducked his head in embarrassment, feeling Harry’s stare on the side of his neck. Ron took the compliment with a chuckle, exchanging conversation with you throughout the lesson, your friend making comments every now and then while Harry hadn’t uttered a single word, his gaze trained on you laughing with his best friend. The ginger walked out of lesson with a newfound confidence in his stride, chest puffed out with a sense of security, feelings for you immediately blossoming. “She’s absolutely amazing, isn’t she?” He’d told Harry, and only then did he notice his best friend jealously fuming next to him. Harry hummed, clutching his book bag so hard his knuckles turned white.

Ron gulped, a dilemma forming in his mind. It was obvious his best friend had feelings for you, however he had never said a word about you to him, and Ron fully understood where Harry was coming from, a crush of his own moulding. Ron could make his move on you, playing the clueless friend and pretending not to know about his best friend’s painful crush on you. He'd return the flirting, see where things went with you. Maybe it was time for Harry to know what it was like wanting things the person closest to him had.

When you'd finally asked Ron out, a hopeful smile on your face while you looked up at him, Harry had immediately left the common room to go sulk in his dorm, within the comfort of his four poster bed. Successful date after the other, Ron was proudly able to call you his girlfriend, and soon enough, you hit the three month mark. Sat on Ron's lap in the cozy window nook of his dorm, you told him about your day, and the unfortunate detention Snape give you, one hand playing with your boyfriend's fiery hair. Ron hummed along where appropriate, adding comments whenever you paused shortly, hand on your thigh, settled just under your skirt, the other resting on your hip. He listened to every word you said, but more importantly, he focused on Harry's gaze stuck on your figure from where he hid in the confines of his bed, Charms textbook uselessly open on his lap.

Where Ron had a girl, Harry had his textbook. The thought made Ron smile.

Finally finishing your story, you pressed your soft lips against Ron's, feeling his smile through the kiss. "I love you." You whispered, finally pulling away from him. Ron's eyes shot open in shock, a wide grin gracing his features "What was that?" He teased, wanting to hear the words escape your lips once more, lightly tickling your sides. You squealed, jerking away from him only to repeat, much louder this time "I love you, you dork!" Ron laughed in joy, arms wrapping around your waist whilst you threw yours over his shoulder, squeezing him closer to you to peck his lips. You readjusted yourself on his lap to straddle him, tucking your head in the crook of his neck and shutting your eyes in satisfaction when you hear him murmur to you "I love you too."

Harry’s face flushed as blood rushed to his face in a mix of anger and envy. He knew he should have told you how he felt when he realised he liked you. And now, he had to look at you melt your body against his best friend’s, yelling about your love from the roof tops. Harry watched with resentment as Ron’s hands trailed down your body, and how you continued pressing teasing kisses against his lips. He had enough. “Get a room!” He exclaimed, pulling the curtains of his four-poster bed shut.

“Sorry Harry.” He heard you mutter with embarrassment. Your and Ron’s footsteps were loud on the wooden floor as you crossed the bedroom, pulling the door shut behind you as you made your escape. You were probably headed to your dorm. Your dorm, which would probably be empty, and leave you and Ron the freedom to do anything you wanted to. Harry shut his eyes tightly. He hadn’t meant to shoo you both out of the room, especially not you. He just didn’t want to see you and Ron together.

Harry shut his charms textbook, tossing it to the side and getting out of bed. He glanced around the room, gaze finally landing on Ron’s bed. Shit. He approached his best friend’s bed, falling to his knees once he was in front of his side table. He pulled the top drawer open, attention immediately caught by the polaroid at the top of the drawer. It seemed like a trap. Like if Harry took held the photo, the door would swing open and Ron would walk in, an accusing finger pointed at Harry whilst he yelled that he knew that Harry had a crush on you. Harry pushed the polaroid of you and Ron aside. You looked too happy together at the latest party Gryffindor Tower hosted, smiling widely as Ron pressed a kiss to your cheek. No, Harry wasn’t interested in that. What he was interested in was the fourth photo he came across.

The photo was rather… suggestive, if Harry could phrase it that way. The photo cut off just above your shoulders, focused towards your chest, barely covered in a tank top. You were clearly taking the image, because Ron’s hands were too occupied acting as a bra for you, squeezing your tits just enough to push them up slightly. Harry pocketed the image, instantly rushing to the bathroom before pulling his trousers down. He felt bad, but not guilty enough to stop himself from jerking off to the image of his best friend’s girlfriend, and especially not while you were both fucking in your dorm, barely a hundred meters away.

Hours later, when Ron and Harry returned to their dorm after dinner, Ron’s attention was immediately caught by his open drawer. The drawer that he certainly hadn’t opened today. He turned to take a glance at Harry, watching as his best friend crawled into bed without another look back. It didn’t take Ron looking through his drawer to know what had gone missing from it, nor who had taken it.

[jezebelblues]

slowpoke | h.s

summary: harry passes the lime torch to his son. or in which you teach your son how to ride a bike.

cw: fem!reader, literally sickeningly sweet dadrry. (also unedited)

word count: approx 3.1k

| dadrry never fails to cheer me up fr. i hope everyone’s doing alright in light of today, please take it easy.

— as a dv victim myself, i understand how the news of liam’s passing can be a really conflicting feeling to struggle with if you’ve experienced dv. please know i can be an outlet, and ur not alone. <3 ash

not my gif. if u have the info of the original creator, lmk so i can appropriately credit them.

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october, 2023 | london

The air was crisp, tinged with the scent of damp leaves and earth, as the soft sounds of autumn filled the neighborhood streets. Fallen leaves crunched beneath shoes, and the occasional gust of wind sent orange and gold spiraling through the air. In the distance, the hum of city life could be heard faintly, but here, in the quiet of their neighborhood, it felt like a peaceful little bubble in the midst of the bustling world.

YN stepped outside, adjusting her scarf that Anne knitted herself for her birthday last year. Harry followed close behind, his eyes shining with excitement, a grin lighting up his face. His curls tussled in the wind, his hand held tight on his son’s hand. His fourth birthday had just passed in May, and Atlas, their boy, was finally ready to take off the training wheels. Harry, ever the doting father, was already emotional prior to this evening—realizing his baby was ready for a big-boy bike already. His dimples crater his cheeks, the other hand gripping the handle of the small lime green bike, just the right size for Atlas’ small frame.

“This is going to be fun, bub.” He grinned, bending down to look into his son’s wide eyes. “Jus’ like Daddy’s bike, yeah?”

Atlas looked up at Harry, a glimmer of excitement mixed with nerves evident in his expression. “It’s the same color!” He mused, his voice tinged with wonder as he examined the bike again. His little fingers ran along the frame, tracing the lime green paint.

YN smiled at the two of them, her heart swelling. Harry had always loved his bike, the one he had ridden around Italy so many times, and now, here he was, passing that same joy to their son. “Do you remember how much daddy rides his bike around?” She asked, squatting down to his level and gently brushing a stray curl away from his face.

The boy nodded, his eyes lighting up. “He goes really fast! Will I go fast too?”

“We’ll take it slow first, mate.” Harry chuckled, a pang in his chest from the boy’s eagerness to grow up so fast. First was the bike, next was his eighteenth birthday. “You’ll be zooming around in no time.” He tossed his wife a wink, and she couldn’t help but grin back at him.

She looked down the street, a perfect place to practice—quiet and lined with trees, the leaves creating a soft, colorful carpet on either side. It was the kind of autumn day that felt timeless, like something out of a painting. The sunlight filtered through the branches, casting golden streaks onto the pavement.

Harry gave the bike a little jostle in his hands and then looked back at Atlas. “Alright, bubba. Let’s get you started—y’ready?”

He hesitated for a moment, chewing on his lip. He glanced up at his mom, seeking reassurance, to which she knelt beside him, her hand on his small shoulder. “You’ve got it, love. One pedal at a time, hm?”

“I don’t want to fall.” he whispered, his little hands gripping the handlebars of the bike as though they were his lifeline.

Harry crouched down beside him, his hand resting over his on the handlebar. “S’alright if you do. I’ve fallen loads of times, but guess what? Every time, I got back up. That’s what makes it fun. Falling down, getting back up, ‘nd trying again.”

She nodded, running small circles into her son’s back. “Daddy won’t let you fall, okay?”

Their boy looked between them, a flicker of courage dancing in his eyes, and nodded. “Okay, m’ready mama.”

Harry helped him position the bike in the middle of the street. He held it straight up for him, looking at him expectantly, but he hesitated.

His dark curls, so much like Harry’s, peeked out from underneath the spider-man helmet that seemed slightly too big for him. The helmet had been Harry’s doing, of course—safety was always the first priority. He tried to talk YN into letting him scour ebay for an old one direction helmet, but she shook her head with a laugh, insisting on either spider-man or luigi, his all time favorite characters.

Eyes that resembled his mother’s stared at Harry wide, his lips parted.

His eyebrows furrowed, lips pulling into a slight frown. “S’wrong Attie?”

He shrugged, casting a nervous glance toward YN who only smiled and sent him a thumbs up. With a deep breath, his fingers traced the handlebars, gazing up at his father. “Will y’show me again, dad?”

Harry grinned, a breathy chuckle falling from his lips as he nodded. He threw his leg over the bike that sat far too low beneath him. Atlas smiled widely as his dad unstrapped the helmet from his mess of curls, placing it on his own. He couldn’t get it to buckle, and it sat loosely upon him, if he were to tip his head it would surely fall off.

The boy giggled, running off to stand against his mother’s legs as she combed her fingers through his locks. Harry lowered into the seat, his knees nearly scraping the ground as he pedaled. He kicked off into a circle, wobbling purposely. “See, even y’old man has to practice a bit!” He smiled, making a loop around the ones he loved most in this world. He mocked a clumsiness that he had hoped would ease his son, and it did, as he fell into a fit of giggles. As Harry pedaled back to the start point, YN brushed some of Atlas’s curls from his ear, whispering, “You’re gonna go so much faster than him.”

He nodded enthusiastically, giddily running toward the bike his dad now sat off of. “Such a slowpoke, dad.” He grinned as Harry placed the helmet back onto his head, feigning offense as he buckled it under his chin. “Cheeky boy.” He murmured, gently pinching his cheek and wiggling his hand lightly, which cause his son to smile wider. Harry tugged on the helmet, making sure it was tight before he sat onto the bike. He held it steady as he climbed on, the boy’s legs wobbling as he tried to find balance.

Harry leaned down slightly, peering out toward the empty road in front of them. “Okay, high speed, m’gonna hold on while y’start pedaling. Don’t worry about steering jus yet, okay? I’ve got you.”

He made sure his feet were firmly on the pedals, his small frame looking both tiny and determined on the lime green bike as he nodded. Harry’s hands held the back of the seat steady while Atlas gripped the handlebars, his face scrunched up in concentration.

Atlas took a deep breath and began to push on the pedals, slowly at first, wobbly as he adjusted to the motion. Harry jogged alongside him, his large hands keeping the bike steady as he moved forward.

“Good job, Attie!” YN called from behind, watching as her son started to pick up the rhythm.

The boy smiled, and she could see the edges of his uncertainty melting away, replaced by the sheer joy of it. “M’doing it!” he squealed, the surprise in his voice making Harry chuckle.

“You are, baby!” His mother called back, walking quickly to keep up, her scarf fluttering in the breeze. “Look at you go!”

Harry let out an encouraging laugh as he continued running beside his boy, keeping the bike upright. “That’s it, Atlas! Keep going!”

He was pedaling faster now, but his hands were still shaky on the handlebars. His little body swayed as he tried to balance, but Harry was always right there, keeping him steady, making sure he felt safe.

After a few more feet, Harry spoke again, his tone calm and reassuring. “Alright, bub. M’gonna let go now, just for a second. I’ll be right here if y’need me.”

Atlas’s eyes widened, but he nodded. “Okay, daddy.”

Harry’s hands hovered over the seat for a moment, his steps slowing just slightly as he prepared to release his grip. Then, in a brief but powerful moment, Harry let go.

For a few glorious seconds, Atlas rode on his own. The bike wobbled a bit, but he was moving forward, his little feet pushing the pedals, his body balanced, and his face was lit up with pure delight.

“Faster than you, dad!” He yelled, his voice full of joy, and he could see the pride shining in his eyes.

But before YN could take another step, the inevitable happened. The bike tilted too far to one side, and despite Harry’s quick reflexes to grab it, Atlas tumbled to the ground in a flurry of leaves and laughter.

He was on him in an instant, kneeling beside him and lifting the bike off his small legs. “Y’alright, mate?” he asked, concern lacing his voice.

Atlas sat up, his cheeks flushed from the excitement and the fall, and for a split second, YN thought he might cry. But instead, he let out a breathless laugh, shaking the leaves from his jacket. “That was fun!”

She breathed out a sigh of relief and walked over to him, kneeling beside Harry. “You did amazing, sweetheart. That was so good!”

Atlas beamed up at his parents, his face full of pride despite the tiny scrape on his knee. “Can I do it again, mama?”

Harry grinned, ruffling his hair. “Of course, you can, buddy. Let’s get you back up.”

With Harry’s help, Atlas was back on the bike in no time, this time with even more determination in his eyes. His little body seemed more confident as he positioned himself, ready to try again. Harry stood beside him, keeping a steady hand on the seat for a few moments before slowly letting go, and this time, Atlas stayed up longer before wobbling.

His mom cheered him on from the side, her heart swelling with pride as she watched their son push past his initial nerves and embrace the thrill of riding. His laughter filled the street, echoing off the nearby houses, blending with the rustling of leaves overhead. It was the kind of sound they wanted to bottle up and keep forever.

Time passed in a blur of laughter, gentle falls, and moments of success. Harry’s patience never wavered, and YN couldn’t help but smile as she watched him guide their son with such care, the two of them bonding over each small victory.

At one point, Harry ran a few steps beside Atlas again, his eyes locked on his baby, a look of pure love and pride on his face. “You’re flying now, Atlas! Look at you!”

His grin stretched from ear to ear, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “Just like you, Daddy! Look, m’fast like you!”

YN laughed, catching Harry’s gaze as he beamed back at you, his heart clearly bursting with pride. “He’s got your speed.”She teased. “Maybe more.”

“He’s got more than that,” Harry replied softly, his eyes lingering on Atlas before he fell to a brief stop, waiting on his wife to meet up with his strides. “Maybe a little of you too. I guess.”

And so, they continued—struggles of balance, wobbly starts, and triumphant rides that grew longer with each try. YN watched as Harry guided their son, his patience unwavering, their laughter filling the air, blending with the soft rustling of autumn leaves.

As the sun began to sink lower in the sky, Atlas rode one last lap, his helmet askew, his grin wide, leaves swirling in the air behind him. YN stood beside Harry, her heart swelling with love for the life they'd built, for the man beside her and the boy in front of her.

"Givin’ his old man a run for his money," Harry mused, slipping his arm around her waist as Atlas played in a pile of leaves, tossing them into the air with a squeal.

YN smiled, leaning into him, her fingers curling around his. "Got a kink in my back already."

Harry's arms tightened around her as his wife smiles, pulling her closer as they watched Atlas giggle, his small hands sending a flurry of golden leaves into the air. The sound of his laughter danced through the air, mixing with the rustle of the trees and the soft evening breeze.

"Y'know," Harry whispered, his lips brushing her ear, voice low and filled with warmth, "I've been thinking–.." He paused, glancing down at her with a soft, adoring smile before his gaze drifted back to their son. "It's hard to believe our little boy's getting so big."

YN's heart swelled at the tenderness in his voice.

"He's growing up too fast," she murmured, resting her head on his chest as they watched Atlas dart through the leaves, his laughter filling the air.

Harry's hand moved gently to rest on her stomach, a subtle but meaningful gesture. "Maybe it's time we gave him a sibling. What d'ya think?"

Her breath hitched slightly, her heart skipping a beat as she turned her head to look up at him. His green eyes were soft, filled with love and hope, the idea of another little one filling the space between them.

"You want another?" She asked gently, her own smile starting to bloom.

Harry's arms wrapped tighter around her, pulling her against him. "I do. I'd love nothing more than to see him running around with a little brother or sister. Just imagine–..”He trailed off for a moment, his voice taking on that playful tone she loved so much. “‘Nother little Styles running amuck.”

YN let out a soft laugh, butterflies in her belly at the thought. She imagined it—another tiny hand holding onto theirs, another set of wide eyes learning to ride a bike, another burst of giggles filling their home.

Atlas, still playing in the leaves, looked up at them, his cheeks flushed, his energy endless. Harry pressed a kiss to her temple as her lips parted. “Dunno if the world could handle three of you.”

He laughed, nibbling her earlobe as she shook in his grasp from a small giggle. YN felt her heart flutter as she leaned back into him, the thought of growing their little family filling her with joy. She turned in his arms, catching his lips in a soft, lingering kiss, before they both turned their gazes back to Atlas, who was still gleefully tossing leaves into the air. "I think you might be right," she whispered against his lips, feeling the warmth of his embrace as they both imagined the beautiful future ahead-one filled with more laughter, more love, and the promise of another little soul to share it all with.

Harry only drew a sharp inhale as he wrapped his arms tighter around her waist, wiggling her into a hug with her feet a few inches off the ground.

Just as they shared a soft, lingering kiss, lost in the tenderness of the moment, they heard the unmistakable sound of their son’s giggles. Harry eased her back onto the ground, as they both turned their heads in the direction of their son, just in time to see Atlas bounding toward them, his small arms full of crisp orange and reddened leaves. His cheeks were flushed pink from the chilly air and his recent excitement, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

His curls bounced with every run forward, his laughter bubbling up as he raced over, his tiny legs moving as fast as they could.

Before they could react, Atlas flung the pile of leaves up into the air with an exaggerated grunt, his tongue between his lips in focus, wanting to toss the leaves up high enough to reach them. A flurry of vibrant colors cascaded down over their heads, the leaves scattered across their shoulders, tangling in Harry’s curls and catching on YN’s scarf, all while Atlas’s laughter rang out loud and clear.

Harry feigned a gasp of shock, dramatically shaking his head to get the leaves out of his hair. “Oi! What’s this then, Attie? Attackin’ us with leaves, are ya?”

YN couldn’t help but laugh, her heart full as she shook off the leaves, her fingers brushing through Harry’s hair to remove a few stubborn ones. “Oh no! We’ve been caught in a leaf storm!” she teased, looking down at Atlas, who was now doubled over with giggles, clearly proud of his ambush.

With a playful growl, Harry lunged toward Atlas, scooping him up into his arms and spinning him around. “Y’think you can get away with that, huh?” he said, his voice filled with laughter as he squealed in delight, wriggling in his arms.

Atlas flailed with laughter, tiny hands grabbing at more leaves as Harry twirled him around. “M’leaves! More!”

YN grinned, quickly gathering a pile of leaves at her feet, and as soon as Harry set Atlas back down, she tossed them gently over both of them. “Got you both this time!”

Harry let out an exaggerated “Oof!” as the leaves fluttered around him and Atlas, catching in their hair and sticking to their coats. The boy’s eyes were wide with delight, and he scrambled to scoop up more leaves in his little hands, tossing them right back at YN. “Mama! Catch!”

Before long, all three of them were knee-deep in leaves, tossing them high into the air and letting them fall down like confetti. Harry knelt down beside Atlas, grabbing fistfuls of leaves and tossing them toward YN with a mischievous grin. “We’ll get her, bub!”

He followed his father’s lead, giggling as they both launched leaves toward YN, who pretended to shield herself, laughing as she stumbled backward, covered in the golden debris.

“Alright, alright! I surrender!” she cried, holding up her hands in mock defeat, but her laughter betrayed her as Harry came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her down into the soft pile of leaves they had created together.

With YN now nestled in Harry’s arms, Atlas climbed onto her lap, still giggling, his cheeks rosy from the crisp autumn air. His small hands grabbed at more leaves, sprinkling them over both his parents as they laughed together, completely lost in the moment.

The three of them lay there in the leaves for a few quiet seconds, the sound of their breathing soft, the laughter having died down into contented smiles. The rustle of the trees above, mixed with the occasional burst of wind, made the world around them feel distant and peaceful. Harry’s arm was wrapped securely around YN, while Atlas sprawled across them both, eyes twinkling with joy.

Atlas suddenly sat up after a beat, throwing a final handful of leaves into the air. “More leaves tomorrow, Mama?”

YN laughed softly, brushing a stray leaf from his curls. “Definitely more leaves tomorrow, Attie.”

Harry grinned, ruffling his son’s hair as Atlas wiggled between them. “But now we gotta help y’mum make dinner, yeah?”

And as the last bit of sunlight filtered through the trees, casting a golden glow over them, they shook themselves of the grass and leaves, trotting into their home with rumbling stomachs and full hearts.

[soleilapproves]

Sitting on trueform!sukuna’s lap and feeding him grapes

notes: fem/afab!reader, not proofread, dubcon(ish), suggestive

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The King of Curses wasn’t even sure if he liked eating human food as much as he enjoyed sinking his teeth into their juicy and tough flesh.

The screams of terror they’d let out as he’d consume and digest them alive satiated his appetite like no other.

But the human woman in his lap made grapes, a round sweet, acidic fruit taste like it was the most delicious thing ever. Like people died to have a taste of its juices.

He wasn’t sure if he liked the taste because she was feeding it to him or because she was sitting on his lap while doing so. Maybe it was both, but it definitely trumped his love for human flesh.

His hungry red eyes bore into her scared meek ones. Every time he’d look at her, she’d turn away. She was aroused. He could smell it on her. He’d much rather be between her thighs, devouring what was meant to be his the second he laid eyes on her, but for now he had to keep his calm. He had to ease her into his bed and this was the first step.

He had to build trust before using her body to his liking.

His eyes trailed down the silhouette of her body as she lifted her shivering arms towards his face, dangling the last grape by his mouth

“S-sire, this is the last grape. Would you like me to get off your lap after this?” She couldn’t even look him in the eye while asking the question. How adorable.

He grunted and lifted her face with a single finger. “How about this instead- you can either stay in my lap and feed me another branch or you can get off my lap after feeding me this last grape from your mouth,” he snarled into her ear. The puffs of breath he left on her skin almost felt like she had been burnt by acidic vapor.

Sukuna knew what her answer would be. From the minute he had initially asked her to sit on his lap she had been jumpy. Aching and waiting for a moment to run off to her quarters in his estate. A sanctuary he had built to spoil his future wife before their wedding night.

She was taking too long to answer so Sukuna did what he thought was appropriate- lick a stripe from her collarbone to her ear. His long nails dragged up her leg, tearing her dress from her calf to her thigh, exposing the creamy skin beneath. Sukuna looked away from her legs before he could hoist her up and give her the fucking she needed to be his.

She felt like she was being scented by a territorial animal.

“I’ll feed you the last grape from my mouth,” she whispered.

“Good choice. I was getting tired of just sitting and eating.” His gravel rich voice rumbled beneath her small body as she plucked the round fruit from the stem of branches.

His eyes followed as she placed the plump burgundy fruit between her teeth. It was too small- both of them knew that it would be impossible to eat the fruit without their lips touching. But she would take that risk for she valued her life.

She shut her eyes tight, gutless. It’s almost as if he knew that if she looked into his scarlet orbs then she would run away, so his second set of arms secured her in his lap. Holding her down tightly while his upper arms wrapped around her waist and shoulders.

He could hear her heart quicken. Lub-dub, lub-dub.

She didn’t mention his well endowed hardness growing right beneath her clothed core.

His iron rich breath fanned over her face as he admired lips that were starting to stain because of her teeth digging into the firm flesh of the grape.

He couldn’t tell if he was more excited to hear her terrified sounds or taste the sweetness on her lips. Either way, one could only find out by executing their desires.

He bit into the fruit and groaned as his warms lips made contact with hers. Her hand automatically held on to his tattooed bicep, digging her blunt fingers in them.

Had it been another woman, he would’ve beheaded her by now. But not this one. She was special.

He pulled the fruit out from between her teeth and swallowed it. It was sweeter than any human flesh he had tasted and it was all because of her.

He bit into her bottom lip, drawing a drop of blood and a gasp from her, giving him entry into her mouth. Her mewls of pleasure only egged him on to continue kissing her. He smirked into her mouth as he felt her rock her hips against his hardness. He knew his sweet thing would come around sooner or later.

Pushing, pulling, biting- she had never been kissed like this. Like he was a sinner and she was his only salvation.

His hands travelled up her body, making way for her center. When she realized that, she began to push her clammy palms against his chest.

“No, please, I have never been touched before!” she cried into his mouth.

“Good, that means you’re pure and mine to taint,” he confidently chuckled. He knew all this was a show. He knew that she wanted him as well- with the way her nipples were perked up through her thin muslin gown and her wetness has seeped onto his robes.

Her body had accepted him. She just didn’t know it yet.

He pulled away as he looked at her. Salty tears streamed down her face as she bit her swollen lips in embarrassment and fear. She looked beautiful. His dream woman. He was finding himself softening up for her. His arms let her go and he set her down before ripping out a part of his clothing to cover her torn dress.

“Go, I don’t wish to be bothered with your pathetic crying. I want my wife willing and happy.”

She let out a deep breath of relief and sputtered out a small ‘thank you’ to him through her crying. He couldn’t help but lick his lips at the sight- missing her taste.

He knew that treating her like a doll was wrong, especially if he wanted her to be ruling beside him.

But he couldn’t help himself. Her little reactions were so adorable. He wondered if she would act the same on her wedding night.

—

why do I always feel like writing before an important exam 💀

[thevoidstaredback]

How To Balance Your Daytime and Nighttime Activities So That You Don't Burn Yourself Out More Than You Already Have

It had been a long few minutes since he'd opened the door and there were a lot of questions running through Dick's head. Most pressing of which was how this kid seems to have information he should not have.

"How did you..?" he asked, but the words wouldn't leave completely. There's so much he wants to know, so much he wants to ask.

"How do I what?" Danny tilted his head like the child he seems to be is.

"How do you know?" Dick knows he sounds weak. There's no hiding that, but there are a lot of implications in what the kid has said so far and none of it is painting a very happy picture for him.

"Oh!" Danny had the audacity to smile, "You want to know how I know you moonlight as a vigilante!" And of course he knows. Dick knows he knows, but he'd held a little bit of hope that the child Danny was mistaken. Danny's smile softened a bit as he explained, "Your hair and voice match up in both jobs almost perfectly. Not to mention your build and how you hold yourself. There's also the matter of your overall vibes, but that's not something living beings can normally pick up on." Excuse him? "Well, not living humans, at least, so no worries on that end!"

"Excuse me?" Dick was fairly sure his heart just stopped beating for a moment there.

"Anyway, I was a hero back home for a while, too. I know what it's like to have to walk the tightrope between maintaining a civilian cover and a hero persona. I know how it feels to have to keep secrets from everyone because anyone who knows will be in danger." he rambled, Though, admittedly, our circumstances are quite different. I was working as a hero all hours of the day as well as going to school. You only have to worry about properly balancing between day and night jobs. Either way, me having more to bounce between just makes me al the more qualified to help you!"

Oh. Oh he did not like that. He didn't like a single thing that just came out of the kid's mouth. Because that's what he is, a kid. "Are you...Are you alright?"

"Not in the slightest," Danny admitted with an even smaller smile. Then, it brightened, not quite to a grin, but to something similar, "But I'm here to make sure you are."

He gets points for being honest, but Dick felt his heart shatter. He knew for a fact that he'd never worked with this kid before. He also knew that the Justice League didn't know about him. If they did, he would've been picked up and dropped with either the Young Justice team or the Titans.

Dick wasn't going to ask why he became a hero because that's not his place. It's more of a 'third mission with the team' kind of questions, anyway. Most of the heroes didn't have many options when they took up the mantle. Asking what Danny can do is a more appropriate question, but he wasn't going to ask that, either.

"Now that that's out of the way," Danny turned a few pages from the table of contents to another one that was topped with 'Why Sleep Scheduling Is Important' in the blue glitter pen that Dick was starting to suspect he favored. "You're not getting enough sleep. Following you around - no one's been able to find me for a while, so don't worry about that - for the last two weeks has given me some really worrisome information on you."

Dick was worrying. He was worrying a lot and even more questions were coming to the forefront of his mind.

"Your dayjob is as an officer on the Bludhaven Police Force, or BPD for short." He was looking over the page he'd turned to very aptly and Dick realized that the kid had notes written on him. "The average hours per week for police across the country is forty hours. Gotham and Bludhaven are the exceptions. As a member of the BPD, you work a solid two days and two hours. Six nights a week, you work as Nightwing from eight in the evening to three in the morning. The last day, you take off, which is good. No deserable pattern, so good on you for that. Regardless, that's seven hour nights and ten hour days, with one day off and one day on call as an officer. Seven hours are now left in your day for personal time, eating, and sleeping. That's not a healthy way to live."

Oh, god, the kid had honest to god notes on him! What the hell!

Danny didn't even skip a beat as he pulled Dick's attention back to him and his binder. "I've drawn up a schedule for you to follow." The back of the page had a meticulously drawn schedule, complete with blocks of time to eat, sleep, work both jobs, travel, personal time, and still have a bit extra left over. It was titled 'Ideal End Result' in green marker. "Drastic changes right away will only affect you negatively, so we're starting off smaller." The next page over had another schedule titled 'Where To Begin'. "I've only pulled one hour from your Nightwing hours because I know important that time is to you and the city. I am, however, going to be having you submit an appeal to your boss to cut back your hours from fifty a week to forty a week. That way, you'll only be working eight hours a day and not ten. You'll still be on call for one day, and you'll have that last day off. Altogether, you'll be going be going from working seventeen hours a day to fourteen hours a day. Nine in the morning to five in the afternoon, and eight in the evening to two in the morning. Not including breaks at work or travel time. It opens up a few more hours for you to sleep!"

"You really think the chief is going to pull back my hours?" Dick raised an eyebrow in question.

"He will if he knows what's good for him."

"You know I can arrest you for that threat, right?"

"Yeah, but you won't." And, damn it, he's right.

Although, there was now another thing he had to know. "How to you plan on enforcing this schedule of yours?"

Danny seemed to have been waiting for this. He got a gleam in his eye as he pulled a black folder from his bag, not breaking eye contact with Dick. He placed it on the table and pushed it across. "Congratulations, it's a boy."

Part 1 Part 3

[odoraful]

𝑨 𝑴𝑨𝑻𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑶𝑭 𝑻𝑰𝑴𝑬

you and zayne attend a wedding of a childhood friend, and zayne thinks about what could have been

⟡ content: gn!reader; reader is described as wearing a dress; made-up childhood friends for backstory purposes; more bittersweetness but i swear the sweetness outweighs the bitterness!; 4k wc (a little longer than my usual, but pls give it a chance > <)

⟡ a/n: kinda had billie eilish's birds of a feather in my head when writing this :') been on my zayne bittersweet streak because i've been sentimental about him, but i swear i will be back to writing fluffy pieces soon :D also writing endings are so hard for me !! i hope it doesn't fall too flat in the end aahh

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The last time Zayne attended a wedding he had hardly known the groom and left as soon as the dance floor opened up to guests.

His relationship to the groom was that of a loose acquaintance when he was still a university student. In fact, that person had invited most of the medicine cohort to his wedding, close or otherwise. Is it socially appropriate to attend a wedding of someone who isn’t close to you? Zayne had texted his parents asking for advice, who, at the time, were probably on the other side of the globe on a medical rescue mission. Even so, they still managed to reply to their son. If he invited you, then he wants you to come, sweetie, his mother answered. It’ll be a good chance for you to forget about your studies for a night and have some fun! his father responded. And so, he ticked ‘accept’ box on the RSVP letter.

As for the dancing, however, it just wasn’t his idea of fun.

The night was pleasant enough, and he enjoyed the change of scenery. Though he felt minor affection towards the couple performing their first dance, he could admit it was rather pretty and sentimental.

This wedding was different though.

This time he was closer to the bride and groom, seeing as he grew up with them. They had all attended the same primary school, and even though his contact with them throughout the years had been sporadic at best, he still held fondness for them from that period of his childhood.

And, most importantly, he had you with him as his partner and plus one. Honestly, he believed many things became more bearable with you at his side.

The wedding venue was a spectacle, located in a high rise building in the heart of Linkon City. Archways filled with white and pink flowers guided people towards the grand entrance where a sign that read ‘Welcome to the wedding of April and James’ stood. Inside, thick velvet curtains were tied away to reveal open large glass doors leading to balconies overlooking the glistening city below. Projected throughout the edges of the room were holographic photos of the couple. Some were of them at various destinations they’ve travelled to, but many were just everyday photos, taken on dates outside or in their home.

You and Zayne stood by one of these holograms. You had arrived a little earlier than the time provided and were taking a turn around the wide space, admiring the set up.

“Look at this!” you exclaimed, pointing over to a hologram and hurrying over to it before it was replaced by another image. “It’s a photo from back in primary school.”

Zayne followed his excited partner, seeing the skirt of your dress fluttering against your legs. Sure enough, it was a photo of you and the couple along with other students from many, many years ago.

“You’re not in this one though, Zayne,” you said, furrowing your brows.

“If my memory is correct, I wasn’t in the same class as you,” he replied.

“Ahh,” you sounded in remembrance. “We spent so much time together when we were little, I guess I always assumed that you were.”

The photo seemed to be from a school trip, likely taken by a teacher. Six students were squished together in a line with arms draped across shoulders and a victorious look on their face. One student on the very end held up a peace sign beside their eye. Though the face was rounder, that toothy grin was unmistakably yours. He fondly remembered that face from his childhood.

Zayne observed your animated expression as you recounted the story behind the photo.

You had chosen to wear a silky navy-blue dress (which matched the tie of his own suit), the fabric gently reflecting the warm light from the chandeliers above. Shimmering by your ears were a pair of earrings—snowflakes with a length of silver chain dangling below them, almost imitating snowfall. It was a gift he had given you on one of your anniversaries, and was silently happy to see you wear so often. Both of you had grown up much since that time in the photo, but for all the changes that happened, your smile had stayed the same, if not more brighter now with your rose-tinted lips and crinkles around your eyes.

“Zayne, are you listening to me?” you asked, those same rosy lips forming a pout.

His eyes must have wandered more obviously than he expected, but he still remained an attentive listener.

“Yes, you just said that on you tripped over the edge of a carpet which revealed the last item your team needed for the scavenger hunt,” he recounted.

“You know, that was probably the only time when my clumsiness did me a favour.”

Zayne placed a hand on his chin in mock thought.

“Hm, I do recall a time when you bumped into my shelf and a book that I had been looking for fell out,” he said.

Though his intonation didn’t change, his eyes glistened with amusement. One of the telltale signs of his playfulness.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his response. A small smile broke through on his face as well as he drunk in your expression.

As you continued around the room together, the venue filled up with guests dressed in their most formal attire. Everyone began to move to their assigned table and seats, searching for the calligraphed name card. You both were at a table with old classmates from your primary school. Their reaction to seeing Zayne was delighted surprise, many saying that they couldn’t even recognise that he was the same quiet boy. There was an even greater reaction to the news that you two were a couple, with Zayne being the one to share it after a classmate asked if you two arrived together. You flushed at the sudden attention placed on you both, now being showered with various compliments to do with the cuteness of the pairing, and questions as to the exact when, where and how's of the relationship. It was your shyness compared to Zayne’s coolness that made everyone so endeared to the couple in such a short period of time. Zayne simply responded to all the commotion on the table with ‘We reconnected and have been with each other for a while. We’re both very happy together.’

Soon after everyone had settled in with their table company, the wedding couple made their appearance.

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April and James had been together since they were little. You remembered them always paired up together in classes, scribbling on each other’s notebooks, kicking each other’s feet in their seats. Overtime, they began to realise that they felt more for each other than just friendship. The music in the room grew louder as the entrance doors swung open. Everyone whooped as the couple, pumping their fists in their air, walked in. April’s dress was a pearly white that went down to her ankles with draped sleeves around her upper arms. James’ black suit contrasted sharply against his wife’s outfit, however, the small bunch of white flowers pinned to his lapel ensured their looks would match.

You cheered with the crowd and Zayne clapped along. Undoubtedly, the energy in the room was infectious. This was much different to the last wedding he attended. Zayne felt a genuine tug in his heart seeing the couple together.

The wedding reception continued on, the banter and drinks among the tables flowing freely. Your old classmates loved hearing the stories of your Hunter expeditions and were in awe of the work Zayne was doing at Akso Hospital.

“So that’s why we never saw you when we got to middle and high school,” one of them commented.

“Yeah doc, you were ahead of all of us!” another chimed in. “I thought skipping grades was something you only saw in the movies.”

A third leaned their head against their hand, reminiscing aloud to the table. “I remember you and Y/N used to hang out all the time, and then we slowly started seeing you less and less. I guess it makes sense now with you moving schools and skipping ahead.” They gave a wink to you and Zayne seated together across the table. “But, I’m glad to see you two reunited now, in more ways than one.”

You gently nudged Zayne with your shoulder, eyes glittering with joy. “So I am,” you answered.

Interjecting from the current line of conversation came another voice, slightly slurred who spoke, “Guys, do you remember that time in Grade 8 when someone tried to sneak the school’s OTTO robot home?”

“Yeah, that was you!” the person seated beside them exclaimed.

“It was so loud we all heard it speaking from the inside of your bag: I will be reporting your misconduct to the principal,” another added, mimicking the robotic OTTO voice.

The table erupted in laughter.

Zayne sipped on his glass of sparkling juice whilst the chatter flowed. He enjoyed the atmosphere—the bubbly conversation, zipping between topics with ease. But there was a feeling he couldn’t shake. A distance between himself and the rest of the table. He was the odd one out. A puzzle piece that couldn’t fit in just right. All of you had shared the same childhood together, and Zayne had only been there for a small part of it. He could never know you from that period of time with the same familiarity the rest of your classmates had.

He felt your hand envelop his own beneath the table. Zayne turned curiously to you before leaning closer.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice brushing your ear in a whisper.

You nodded. “I’m fine, Zayne. I was just wondering how you were going.”

He softened at your concern. You had always been attuned to his subtleties.

“There’s no need to check up on me. I’m enjoying myself. Everyone is quite entertaining,” he replied earnestly.

You relaxed. “Well, I just hope they don’t share any of my embarrassing teenage stories.”

The corners of his lips twitched into a smile. “Admittedly, your uneasiness has made me more curious to hear them. Perhaps it’s time to change the conversation topic.”

“Zayne!” you hissed.

He breathed a quiet laugh. “But, I wouldn’t pry if you’d prefer me not to.” His glanced to the other guests at the table. “I just want to know more about you.”

You furrowed your brows, somewhat confused. “You know lots about me. More so than anyone at this table I’m pretty sure.”

Zayne thought about his next words, “I believe there are opportunities to learn more about someone everyday.”

The seriousness of his tone gave you pause. His gaze settled on you again, and there was something in his greenish-gold eyes you couldn’t decipher. Nevertheless, you would never miss an opportunity to provide him with comfort.

“Then,” you began, gently squeezing his hand, “I look forward to our continued learning experience.”

The feedback of a microphone drew everyone’s attention to the center of the room. The emcee had handed over to the groom to speak next. James mouthed a thank you before taking in a deep breath and addressing the room.

“Thank you everyone for coming to our wedding. My wife-” (he swung his head back dramatically to April, his deliberate emphasis of the word making her laugh with adoration) “-and I are thrilled to see so many of our family and friends here. As you know, we shared out vows in private, but I’d like to speak to everyone here about me and April’s relationship.”

“April and I met when we were only kids. One might call us childhood sweethearts. I don’t even remember the exact age, but I do remember that she has always been a constant in my life. We’ve walked side-by-side through the good and the bad that life has thrown at us.”

Wanting to sit more comfortably to watch the speech, you rested your arms on the top of your chair and laid your chin on it. Zayne wordlessly reached out to readjust the skirt of your dress so it wouldn’t get crumpled.

“I’d like to share one of my favourite memories I have of April. I know our old classmates know about this,” (he nodded towards your table), “but we always walked home together from school, and there was one time when we both heard this distressed chirping coming from near my house. We searched around and, sure enough, there was a little bird laying helplessly on its side between some bushes.”

“It must’ve been in shock after falling from its nest because was stiff and unresponsive. I had no idea what to do and stood there like a doofus, but April jumped to action. She brought out a spare towel from her PE bag to gently wrap the bird. We rushed inside my house and she ordered me to find a box and poke some holes into it so the bird could rest without distraction. A few hours later, the bird was responsive again.”

“I’ll never forget how delighted and relieved she looked seeing that the bird was alright. From that day on, I knew I wanted to be someone as decisive and resourceful as her one day.” James looked warmly over at April. “Even now, I’m still inspired by her.”

The speech thus far had been nothing but sweet, however, Zayne oddly had a weight in his chest. A story so innocently simple as walking home from high school with the one you like and taking care of an injured animal had left a sinking feeling in his heart. There were some certain comparisons he just couldn’t help but draw. The sounds of lowered chatter and cutlery scraping against plates in the background faded, and he could only focus on the words spoken into the microphone.

“I think about all these years we’ve spent together, and I believe that we’ve been fortunate enough to have what a lot of people don’t: Time.”

“Time to really know each other, time to witness each other’s personal growth, time to strengthen our bond. I believe that all that time we shared allowed us to be where we are now.”

James lifted his glass up towards April. “I would like to share a toast now to this wonderful woman.”

Everyone raised their glasses to toast alongside the groom. Zayne’s reaction was a second delayed, disorientated by the sudden onset of his emotions. Rather than look at the bride and groom, he couldn’t take his eyes off you, even though your own gaze was fixed on the couple. Zayne lifted his glass high along with all the guests, though, perhaps he was directing his toast at a different person instead. James’ voice echoed in the microphone as he ended his speech.

“I love you with all my heart. My past, present and future is with you.”

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Zayne’s skin immediately cooled as he stepped out into the night air. He loosened up his tie a little as he rested his hands on the balcony’s railing. The balcony stretched across the length of the room, connected by the multiple set of doors that led outside. It wasn’t unusual for guests to be out here. Many had also gone to get some fresh air, or to take some pictures with the Linkon City skyline. You, alongside your other classmates, had been pulled aside by the bride to get a few photos. Zayne had told you he’d be waiting outside when you finished up.

Zayne was not a regretful person, but he did find indulgence in reminiscing on what could have been. If you both hadn’t drifted apart in your youth, how would things have changed? False memories flashed through his mind of your younger selves—walking home from school on cold winter days bundled up in scarves and coats, petting stray cats that stalked the streets in the afternoon, visiting cafes where you’d try and distract him from studying, watching the fireworks at local festivals.

Would this be his and yours wedding instead? Instead of your navy dress, you’d be wearing an ivory one. He’d be the one in the center of the hall speaking about how much you inspire him, how much he loves you.

“What are you thinking about?”

Your voice lilted in the air beside Zayne. You joined him by the balcony, hands on the railing in support as you stretched your arms. The light from the venue diffused out into the dark night, leaving the faintest yellow glow against your back. The wind brushed your hair back with a gentle caress, framing your side profile just so.

“Us.” He blinked away from your expectant gaze.

“In a good or bad way?” You leaned closer, resting your shoulder comfortably against his.

“It’s not possible for me to think of us in a poor light.”

Zayne became more aware of the placement of his hands on the railing. If he stretched his right hand out, his pinkie would touch yours. Even with being partners for so long, initiating physical affection where there were so many people around still took some getting used to. He chose instead lean back into your shoulder.

“How did the photos end up?” he asked.

“They turned out well! Though, I think I still had tears welling up in my eyes after James’ speech. I’m sure it made my eyes extra sparkly in those pictures.”

Zayne knew he desperately needed to see those photos now.

“James said some really meaningful things,” you continued, “it made me more emotional than I was expecting.”

Zayne clasped his hands together, absent-mindedly fidgeting with his thumbs. “May I… be honest with you?”

The wind played with his dark hair as well, the careful style loosening as strands were lightly swept against his forehead. For those moments, he looked like the Zayne you’d see just as you woke up in the mornings on those lazy weekends. In what light there was outside, you saw his expression turn somber.

“Of course,” you replied without hesitation.

He took a breath before speaking, “James and April… they reminded me of us, in a way. I’m grateful we both grew up safely so we could meet again, but I couldn’t help of think of the time we lost being separated for so long.”

Greediness was hardly a trait Zayne would associate himself with, but when it came to you, he felt his control slip. He wanted more. More time, more memories, more of life with you.

“It’s no good to be down at a wedding, you know,” you said, the soft smile on your face like light a salve to his troubles.

“We have time now. I’m also a bit sad that we never experienced youth together, but we get to make up for it now that we’re here.”

“So,” you leaned your head on his shoulder, “you’re going to stuck with me for a very, very long time,”

Accentuating your statement, you nuzzled deeper. You felt the reverberations of his chuckle against your skin.

“Stuck has the implication that I’d only accept or tolerate you,” Zayne corrected. “The happiness you bring me certainly earns a better title than being stuck.”

“But, if I follow the same convention then I guess… I would want nothing more than to be stuck with you for the rest of my life.”

Hearing the determination in your voice was all the comfort he needed. Those snippets of your shared childhood would always be treasured, and perhaps the time apart just meant more space for new memories. Memories just like this—sharing an quiet conversation on a moonlit balcony.

“Would you like a wedding similar to this one?”

“Hm, why do you ask?” you asked back with a teasing lilt, your curiosity stirred.

“You are the one I wish to marry one day, so it’s only appropriate I ask,” he replied with a straight face.

Your eyes grew wide with surprise. “Y-you’d really want to marry me?”

He frowned that you even had a sliver of doubt about his commitment to you. His voice was soft and sincere as he spoke, “Of course. There is no one else I can picture spending my life with.”

Even though it was well into the night, the way you brightened seemed like dawn had come early.

“Then when that day comes, I would want my wedding to be in nature. Do you remember the villa we went to for your birthday? It’d be nice if we had something similar to that.”

Zayne nodded in agreement, “I would also enjoy that.”

In secret, he was already thinking about the honeymoon as well. Maybe going someplace snowy so the two of you could ski during the day and snuggle during the night. He slowly realised that there was no need to dwell on the past so much. Thinking about a future with you was like waking up to fresh snowfall—serene and magical.

The feedback of the microphone reverberated through the space and you both turned at the sound. The emcee was standing in the center of the hall again, addressing all the guests.

“April and James would like to now invite all the couples in attendance tonight to come to the floor to share a dance! Please make your way over if you’d like to join.”

Out on the balconies and inside the hall, couples excitedly looked at each other and made their way to the dance floor. Zayne decided to follow suit, boldness filling him. He didn’t feel like shying away from dancing this time, especially now since you were here. He extended his hand out to you.

“Would you like to share a dance with me?”

You happily accepted, letting him guide you the floor. A slow, romantic melody began to play from the band. His hands held your waist, feeling the silky fabric beneath his fingertips. Yours moved to his shoulders, clasped loosely behind his neck. At this closeness, the delicate scent of jasmines and mint enveloped you from Zayne’s cologne.

“I didn’t know you enjoyed dancing,” you said, voice low enough for only him to hear.

“Only if I like my partner. Fortunately, the person in front of me is the one I love most,” he answered.

It was difficult to hide your fluster at such a close proximity. He savored the way his words made you blink away from his gaze, a smile tugging at your lips.

“Do you have all these romantic lines in a book somewhere, doctor?”

“Yes, in my fifth edition of Ways to Woo Your Partner.”

You couldn’t hold back your reaction and you broke into a chuckle, shaking your head at how silly his jokes could sometimes be.

The music swirled around you, and time slowed. Everything in the background melted away, leaving only the two of you in the room. Your own little world where you danced and talked about your past, present, and future together. Yet another new memory to be catalogued by Zayne—dancing with the one I will cherish for the rest of time.

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[transformation4life]

Looking The Part

Jerome wasn't know what he was expecting when he was dragged into attending a costume party in the middle of December. His friend Jake, practically begged him to come and he couldn't say no to his puppy dog eyes. The theme was weird too. "Dress up as the Job you wanted as a kid." For Jerome, he wanted to be a doctor. The thought of saving lives was really appealing to the young child, before reality hit him with all its down and the thoughts of constantly being around dying people became way less appealing once he experienced real life. Even so, he felt obligated to follow the theme and bought some doctor's outfit that even came with some work appropriate hat and shoes off some online store. It was crazy cheap too and here Jeremy was, staring at the uniform on his bed right before he needs to head to the party. "Let's get this over with..." He starts stripping down into just his underwear and starts putting the clothes on.

Jerome slid the pants over his legs, pulled the shirt over his head, put on some bracelets and put the cap on. To his surprise, they were a bit big on him. "I thought I got this in my size... Ugh whatever time to get to the par-" Jerome froze. It felt like his body just stopped moving and it felt like he couldn't move his body at all besides his face. "What the hell?!?!" He said to himself. But that's when the fun began. Jerome felt a quick jolt of pain hitting his entire body as his face scrunched in pain. It subsided eventually and that's when Jerome saw it. Jerome's body was... growing. Jerome could hear the snaps of his bones as he looked to his left arm bulging. growing. becoming much more meatier than it used to be. Now it looked like one thick tree branch with veins visibly covering the arm. He looked to his right and saw that his right arm now mirrored his left. "I-Is this making me muscular? W-Why?" Jerome spoke out. He still couldn't move and the transformation kept going. Jerome's torso underwent its own transformation as any fat on his stomach was evaporated leaving a flat stomach that gained six sexy bulges. Jerome's flat chest was flat no longer as two massive chugs called pecs adorned him now. To top it off, his torso gained a v-shape. Next up was Jerome's lower half as it instantly gained a lot of bulk. His legs becoming thick and beefy and his feet growing a couple sizes larger. It's a good thing he wasn't wearing the shoes yet. The next to last change was Jerome's ass becoming bigger and much more bouncy. What seemed to be the final piece of the transformation was Jerome's face as it became much more Brazilian in appearance while his skin gained a minor tan. The transformation stopped by thickening his vocal cords and letting Jerome free.

Jerome looked down at himself. He couldn't believe his eyes. He just turned into a brazilian stud in mere minutes. "O que havia nestes-" (What was in these-) He put his hand over his month. Did he just speak Portuguese?

"Como vou explicar isso para Jake?" (How am I going to explain this to Jake?) Jerome certainly couldn't go to the party looking like this. But how how would he change back?

But before Jerome could think further, he subconsciously lifted his right arm, flexing it. That instantly gave Jerome a hard on, which in turn made his cock grow inches longer. The fabric on the shirt even started to rip.

"Eu poderia me acostumar com isso..." (I could get used to this…) While pointing at the rip.

After Jerome said this, the final changes began. Small little hairs appeared on Jerome one by one until a thick forest on his torso and pecs. Tattoos above his left pec and left arm sketched themselves onto Jerome and for the piece of resistance, a luscious beard of facial hair grew onto Jerome's face as well as his hair becoming more professional. There even seemed to be some greys sprinkled in, giving him a much more older appearance. And that's when the memories came flooding in. Jerome was no longer jerome, he was Ademir Pereira, a brazilian doctor. He started bodybuilding at a young age and it showed. Years of medical knowledge entered Ademir's mind as his apartment quickly changed into a luxurious house with multiple rooms and his bedroom became much larger to boot. Jerome was all but gone. Ademir settled into reality, looking around his room, wondering why he was in his hospital uniform so late at night, but then he heard his phone ring. He picked it up and saw a text from someone named "Jake" "Hey man, still coming to the party?" Ademir was confused. From what he could string of his limited knowledge of english, he never said he was going to a party with this "Jake". he had an early morning workout before work. He had no time for parties. "eu não falo inglês" (I don't speak english) he typed before putting his phone down again. The phone promptly changed into something much nicer than the dingy one he had before. With that morning workout in mind, Ademir was ready for bed. He threw off his uniform, bouncing his pecs before promptly sleeping.

The next morning at the gym, Ademir was ready to get his workout on. He spotted his workout buddy and waved. "Vamos trabalhar meu amigo!" (Let's get to work my friend!) He said before showing off his pecs to them.

"Nossa, Ademir, com esses peitorais, você realmente precisa de um sutiã!" (Geez Ademir with those pecs you really need a bra.) "Haha! Você realmente acha isso?" (Haha! You really think so?) Ademir laughed with confidence as he took his shirt off.

"Definitivamente. Mas chega de falar disso, vamos colocar seus representantes!" (Definitely. But enough about that let's get your reps in!) His friend said before reaching for his arm.

Ademir nodded, as they got to work on their routines for the day. After a couple hours. Ademir did a good flex in the mirror for all to see. This was the life! But he better get to work soon, those patents need him.

This was Ademir's daily routine. Work hard, workout hard, flex hard. He wouldn't any other life. Not to mention the upkeep on his social media which he also enjoys. Just recently he bounced his pecs to his viewers and they cheered, sending him hundreds of donations. Ademir was happy and that's all the mattered.

[allurilove]

Yandere Professor x you

Rated 18 + — mature short content !

Includes: sweet talking, breath play, age gap, fucking in his classroom, pretty gender neutral, manipulation, abuse of power, obsessed professor.

*Everyone is of age, and older than eighteen. He is referred to as “your professor” his only existence is to be obsessed with the reader, and without you, he ceases to exist. This is purely fictional writing!*

Synopsis: He’s your strict professor, and you’re trying to get a better grade. You’ve never seen him be swayed by a student before, perhaps you would be the first.

Your grade has tanked by a lot. You had an unreasonable professor, the man was picky, and on your last test it was covered in corrections by that damn red pen of his.

You began to wonder what it would take for him to give you an A.

You wouldn’t consider yourself to be a bad student. In fact, this is the first time you have been close to failing. It was honestly your fault, you’ve read the reviews on this teacher and still chose to take the class anyways. You just wanted to challenge yourself.

You gawk at the paper he hands back to you. Your eye twitched at the big fat zero out of a hundred, and that might’ve been impressive just in itself. Not even one question right. You narrow your eyes at the professor who was still handing out the quiz back to the students.

When class ended, you slowly packed up your things, and you kept tabs on how many students were still left in the classroom. When the last student left, you got up from your seat, and stormed your way over to the professor.

Any sliver of dignity you had was gone. Your cheeks still flushed when he announced the lowest score to the whole class. You pushed that memory aside, and you crossed your arms as you stood in front of his desk.

“I don’t have time for this.” Your professor sighed, and his brows furrowed as he loosened up his tie.

He knew why you were coming over to talk to him. This was the worst grade you have gotten in his class. And really, he’s not surprised. In his opinion you have been slacking off. Your body bristles at his words, his eyes are cold and unforgiving.

Maybe if you weren’t a rash individual, you would’ve seen that his comments on your test was totally fake. Every circle and outline with a tiny scribble on the side? That was his way of professing his love for you, and about fifty “I love you’s.” were on the paper, but he knew you wouldn’t read them.

He did know that the grade would haunt you. He did know that it would make you desperate enough to come to him during office hours.

Your professor watched you with amusement as you crawled onto his lap, and you guiding his hands onto your body. He could already feel his dick stirring in his pants.

“This is hardly appropriate.” He said in a disapproving tone, though his hands do cup at your chest.

His thumb circles around your nipple, and the rest of his fingers gently squeeze at opportunity you have given to him. His other arm wrapped around your waist, holding you firmly in his lap.

It felt like you were trying to chip away at his resolve, his face was stern, and he listens to you rant on about the grade he gave you. Though, him letting you sit on his lap, let you subtly grind on his growing erection. With every whine and pout, you tried to play with his heart strings.

Your professor sighed, shook his head, and tried to pretend that there was no way you could make up for it. His hand slowly, and quietly, opening his drawer to grab for a condom.

It didn’t take long for him to agree when you took off his glasses, your lips capturing his in a searing kiss. He followed your lead, letting you feel like you were in control.

His hands groping at your ass and he puts you onto his desk, his body moving his way in between your legs. You wore something easy to slip off, your shorts and underwear now down to your ankles. He caressed your inner thighs, his lips now trailing down to your neck.

Your professor licked and sucked at your skin, his teeth gently nibbling at you, and he made sure to leave marks.

“You can be quite cute like this…” The older man mumbles, “…so pretty, so perfect.” he took a deep inhale as his nose was buried into your neck.

“Oh shit.” Your professor growled, his belt falling to the floor and his pants were pulled down roughly.

Before you knew it, he ripped open the condom wrapper and he slid it on his cock. He spit on his hand for lube, and gave his member a few pumps. He aligned his tip against your warmth.

His hands wrapped around your throat, squeezing the side of it, as his hips began to rock itself. His dick hit the deepest part of you, he went slow, and he was determined to find your sweet spot.

“Don’t be upset…” He cooed, and he kissed you in between his words. “I had to give you a zero.”

“You weren’t understanding my hints.”

He needed you. He wanted to be with you the moment you stepped inside his room, or maybe it was when he found out you signed up for his class. Your name was interesting to him, your looks, and the way you carried yourself got him hooked.

He took a couple points off on your first test, just to see what you would do. You certainly didn’t deserve it, and he thought you would’ve challenged him on it, or come talk to him. Or even offer your body to him sooner.

He did it over and over again, until you were on the verge of receiving an F. He was getting frustrated, and you were a damn tease.

He was never like this before, and if you exposed him, he could lose his job. But maybe then he could be with you in public? He let out a deep groan, his eyes rolling back as he was fucking you for his release.

Your professor didn’t realize that your face was turning pink, your nails scratching at his hands that were on your throat, and you were on the verge of cumming. You gasp as he finally let you breathe, his hands now on the desk behind you.

The room was filled with his vocalizations, his whimpers, his mumbles of how good you feel, and how much he needed this.

He even called you his baby, his good student, love, and when you finally came— his eyes were glued to the white substance dripping out of you.

That was when he knew you were going to be his. He was going to be the only one that could make you feel this way.

That day, you received the A you have been wanting. But you also indulged the man that’s been pining after you, and he never stopped.

Allure: Idk why, but i’ve been really active lately omg.

[pathologicalreid]

i'll be home for christmas | s.r.

in which you, Spencer, and your toddler prepare for what will hopefully be your first Christmas together as a family

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: just a little family grocery shopping. domestic!spencer, chemist/professor!reader, the spencer reid dilf agenda, toddler tantrums word count: 889 a/n: this fic is basically my christmas present for lia. this is her errand fic which has literally been on my list of fics to write since october!!! i am home for the holidays!! so the title felt appropriate

The holidays were starting to get overwhelming. It was no longer enough to take Christmas Day off with a container of store-bought Christmas cookies and text Spencer in whichever state he’d been called away to. No, it was much more serious than that. Thanks to your daughter.

Now, you took the entire winter break off, along with the majority of your coworkers, and spent every day with your daughter. You weren’t sure who found the prospect more exciting—you or her.

At only two years old, Leah was the one in charge of this particular trip; she led the charge through the diary aisle of the grocery store, hands on her hips as she carefully inspected the canned whipped cream. Her brown eyes squinted at the labels while Spencer hauled a gallon of milk on the bottom rack of the cart, and you checked it off of the list.

You watched her carefully, toeing the line of helicopter parenting with the way you kept her in your line of sight. If it were entirely up to you, she’d be sat in the cart, but she’d thrown a tantrum when you tried to sit her down upon your arrival at the store, and you were carefully choosing your battles this holiday season. “Do you think she needs glasses?” You said to your husband, watching as she moved in even closer to the glass doors.

Leaning over your shoulder to check the list, Spencer hummed before pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, “We can make her an appointment,” he offered. “It looks like she might just be too short to see the labels,” he frowned at the shopping list that you precariously balanced on the handle of the cart, “We passed the butter.”

You looked behind you to see the boxes of butter—already picked over by other holiday shoppers—at the beginning of the aisle, “Oh, would you...?” Your voice trailed off as Spencer had already begun backtracking to the butter, looking over the selection as if it was the biggest choice of his life.

“Mama,” a little voice called, Leah had made her way back around the cart, holding a red aluminum can in her little hand. The little glint in her eyes spoke for themselves, Can we get this?

Smiling down at her affectionately, you crouched down to grab the whipped cream from her hand, tiny fingers red from the cold metal. Whipped cream wasn’t on the list, but this was a battle you’d gladly give in to. Peeking over your shoulder for Spencer, you found him slightly retreated from the wall of butter, holding a box in his hand with his phone pressed to his ear, “Uh oh,” you murmured, bending down and picking Leah up so you wouldn’t have to worry about her wandering off.

The toddler followed your gaze, seeing her father on the phone, eyebrows pinched together. “Uh oh,” she echoed, resting her head on your shoulder. You checked the time on your watch, knowing good and well enough that it was nearing her naptime, but you’d wanted to do the holiday grocery shopping while the majority of the population was in the middle of the workday.

You so badly had hoped that Spencer would be home for Christmas this year, but the look on his face didn’t seem promising. He’d been called away on Christmas Day for Leah’s first Christmas, and last year he’d been in Kansas through the December holidays.

Hoisting Leah up on your hip, you guided the cart away from the milk and out of people’s way, waiting for Spencer to come back. “Gotta go?” You asked, wondering if you’d have time to at least check out with what you’d managed to grab.

Surprisingly, he shook his head, “That was JJ, she was asking if we had any plans for New Year’s.” He put the butter in the cart, crossing it off of the list for you, “They only had salted, I hope that’s okay.”

You nodded silently, watching him mindfully as you exited your mild panic and returned to the present, “That’s fine.” You let Leah back down, “Okay, lovey. Next aisle,” you steered the cart over to the baking aisle, where you were sure to make a dent in your list.

“Are you alright?” Spencer asked, grabbing a bag of flour from the bottom shelf and looking at you thoughtfully.

Apparently, you wore your concern more plainly than you had previously thought, “Yeah, I just hate spending Christmas alone now, it used to be the standard for me.” You rested your chin in your hands while Spencer went through the aisle, grabbing a few bits and pieces off of the shelves, “Oh, Spence!” You called out when Leah detached herself from her legs to chase after her father.

Her pigtails—courtesy of Spencer—bounced as she ran after him, erupting in a fit of giggles when he deftly scooped her up with one arm, giving her the vanilla extract to hold as she beamed up at him. “Okay, no more walking for you,” Spencer told Leah upon their return, looking through the crowded aisle as he passed you everything he’d taken off of the shelves. “On the bright side,” Spencer said, shrugging at you as he kissed your cheek, “You’ll never spend another Christmas alone.”

[darnell-la]

Sub! Logan would be so fucking hot. And the way you write him is soo good! I'd love to see your ideas about how he would act as a sub.

note: we rushed this BUT we have more. better ones coming soon!

follow our Instagram @ darnell.la so we can start posting random videos, photos, edits, and memes of the people we write about!

———

“Going to pearls,” a woman spoke as she got into his car. “What’s your name?” He asked to confirm. “Y/n,” she said. The man turned around, realizing that this young lady was alone.

Usually, he picks up a huge group. That’s why he has a limousine, but she’s alone and has no one on her guest list.

“You gonna drive, handsome?” Y/n asked. Logan quickly turned back around and began driving. He was surprised by the nickname, but he let it go. He’s been called everything by now.

Logan’s been driving for ten minutes, music low, and y/n looking out the window. He’s never felt this awkwardness because it wasn’t him and only one person in the car.

“So — Friends busy?” He asked. Y/n slowly turned her head, looking at the man in the mirror. “All canceled. As always,” she added before she looked back out of the window.

“Oh,” he said, feeling a bit bad. He could see she paid one hundred for every hour tonight, and he would be with her for six hours.

“I mean, I can talk to my job, probably give you a refund or somethin,” he said, feeling like he should help her in some way. Usually, the man couldn’t care less, but y/n’s a young woman going to a club alone.

“I’ll be fine — Guess all the drinks I bought will be for me,” she said in a low voice that pained Logan to hear. She seemed sweet, and her friends canceled out on her. All of them.

“What was this for? Like, tonight? What did you have planned for tonight?” He kept a conversation going which confused y/n. His profile says he preferred not to talk and that he wouldn’t talk first.

“Well, it’s kind of my birthday, so — Yeah,” y/n sighed. “Oh, well — Happy birthday?” He said, not knowing if it was appropriate. The woman giggled to herself at his attempt to make her feel better.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna drink? I’ve got plenty and I can’t leave with any bottles,” she said, pointing to the bottles on the table, all hard liquor and only one juice for a mixture.

“I kind of have to drive you back home,” Logan turned down her offer, which he’d never done before. “C’mon! It’s my birthday,” she smiled at the man as she raised a bottle for him to take.

Logan waved her off, wanting to be responsible and think about her life that could be at stake, but he still felt bad about the empty spaces on the couches.

“Fine, but only if you don’t report me,” he joked, making her laugh as she took a bottle herself. “Cheers to me and my only friend who showed up which is the bodyguard,” she raised her drink.

“Cheers,” the man chuckled before raising the drink to his lips. He watched the girl drink, thinking it would be a small amount like any young lady, but her — She had almost chugged half the bottle.

“Woah, bub — Don’t hurt yourself,” he said, making her roll her eyes playfully. “Oh, don’t be mad because I can drink more than you,” she said, wanting to have some kind of fun tonight. Getting her bodyguard drunk and then driving her home sounds like a fun story to tell.

“Trust me, y/n — You can’t,” he said, but y/n didn’t believe him. That was until he shrugged his shoulders and chugged the whole bottle. The expression across her face was stunned. She’s never seen anything like that before.

“What the fuck,” she whispered. “Yeah — Kinda my power,” he chuckled. The man turned around to start his job and stood outside of her closed section until she spoke.

“Wait! I-I’m kind of alone so I don’t mind if you — stay? Please, I kind of feel like shit,” she admitted. She told her friends she was completely fine about their cancellation, but she’s not. She lost a lot of money and her mood was talk.

Logan couldn’t turn the offer down just like the last, so he stayed. The two drank all night, finishing every last bottle. She even got him to dance with her which he wouldn’t have done with anyone else. He had no idea what’s gotten into him tonight.

“God, tonight was fun,” y/n said as the man turned the corner where her apartment was. “Yeah, it was,” Logan smiled as he took a quick look at the young lady who was now sitting in the passenger seat, body turned towards him.

“You don’t understand how much I appreciate you, Mister Logan. You were the best fun I’ve had in like years!” She admitted. He wasn’t scared to drink and dance like most of her friends were.

“You’re the most fun I’ve had in maybe forever,” Logan meant it, but she had no idea who this man was. She was too sad to notice when she first met him and now she’s too drunk to realize.

“Is there a way I can repay you? Maybe like a cup of tea? I don’t fuckin’ know,” y/n laughed with him. “I don’t know, hun, I kind of have to get back home,” he said.

“How far do you live from here?” She asked. “About thirty minutes,” he said. “Oh, no,” she gasped. He’d been drinking because of her, and now she was going to have him drive back and half an hour just to get him.

“Don’t worry, bub. I've been doin’ this a lot,” he said. “Yeah, but I’ll be stressed all night. Please, stay the night. I have a spare room? It’s the least I can do,” she said, sounding like a beg. “God, it’s hard to turn you down. Do you know that?” He said as y/n smiled.

Logan parked the car for the night before y/n got him situated in her spare room. “Still want tea?” She asked. “I think I’ll be fine, bub,” he said. “But a shot would due,” he added. He had seen the liquor drawer she had.

“Comin’ right up, handsome,” she said before walking off. As she did, he couldn’t help but watch her figure. He scanned her dress earlier, but she looked way better just now. Maybe it was the alcohol? He didn’t know.

“You always drink this much?” She asked. “Yeah, and you?” He asked as she handed him his shot before sitting next to him with hers. “As you can see,” she giggled.

“Cheers to a goodnight with a man I brought back from the club?” She couldn’t help herself. “Cheers,” the man downed the drink as he watched her. She’s looked so drinking…

“God, that it’s hard,” she shook her head. “Yeah,” he aimlessly said as he watched a drop of liquor roll down her lip. “Hey, c’mere,” the man said, softly turning her face before wiping the liquor from her mouth.

Y/n was shocked and silent, not knowing what to do after. That seemed so sweet, but at the same time, she was drunk out of her mind.

“They look pretty,” the man spoke, breaking the silence. His thumb grazed her bottom lip, loving the smooth feeling of them. “Really?” She asked low, feeling shy all of a sudden. She hasn’t been all night until now.

“Mhm hm,” he mumbled as he slowly leaned into her. She felt like she was in a trance the way she felt she needed to lean in. Her heart was raising until their lips touched.

At first, it was sweet and slow, maybe a little tongue but after they both opened and locked eyes, they couldn’t help it.

Y/n quickly hopped on top of Logan, now grinding on his hips as he held her up by her ass. The man was shocked at her aggression and dominance but couldn’t complain.

“You taste so good,” she said under her breath as she kissed him. “I’m glad I took you home,” she added before moving down to his neck. She felt this hard urge to mark the man she hardly knew.

“Fuck, y/n,” Logan moaned low. He knew his voice could go that high. Y/n hummed into his neck, sucking long and rough to make sure he was living here marked up.

“Can feel how hard you are. Bet you’ve been waiting for me to touch you all night, hm?” She asked, hands traveling down his stomach until she could palm his clothes cock.

“Mhm hm,” the man whined at her grip. “Words, baby,” she demanded in a soft voice. “Y-Yes, baby,” the man’s mouth went slack at her touch. “So good,” she said before pushing him down in the bed.

“Gonna be good for me tonight?” She asked as he nodded quickly. “Gonna be my birthday gift, baby?” Y/n had lifted her dress before fondling with his belt. “Yes, yes, I am,” he couldn’t hide his heavy breathing.

“Oh god — You’re a big boy, aren’t you?” Y/n pulled Logan’s cock out. He was heavy and huge. “Yes, I am,” he answered, wanting to be good for her. He wanted to make her proud. He wanted to make a woman he barely knew, proud.

“He looks hungry,” y/n stroked the man, watching his pre cum leak from the tip. Y/n spat on the man’s cock, making his eyes widen because no one has ever done that to him before. They’d just wrap their mouth around him or push him inside with no preparation.

“Gonna feel so good,” y/n lifted her hips before sliding all the way down in one go. “F-Fuck,” the man cried out, his already bucking up into her.

“Fuck — Could you be my bodyguard every night?” She jokingly asked but the man nodded back so quickly, she thought about it. Maybe he isn’t too bad. He was fun tonight. He could be fun every night.

“Gonna let me wet you every night, baby?” Y/n asked as she leaned down on his body. “Fuck, yes — I wanna be with you every night,” the man’s hips moved slightly up into y/n, causing her to clench around him from how deep he gets.

“How old are you again, baby?” Y/n asked. “Two hundred,” the man’s hands gripped y/n’s ass, not thinking about his response. “A man with a sense of humor — So hot,”

Y/n rolled her hips, grinding on the man to feel every thick and long inch in her. The way his skin rubbed her walls, made her squeeze around him. He was close but felt embarrassed about how short he was going to last.

“Gonna cum for me, baby?” Y/n asked, seeing the man bite his lip, trying to focus on holding back. “C’mon — I want you to fill me,” y/n whispered in his ear before giving it a light slick.

“Fuck,” the man let out a shaky moan as his legs shook. “C’mon, baby — Cum in me,” y/n began bouncing in the man’s cock, feeling him twitch inside her. She just knew he was going to give her a big and well-needed load.

“C’mon,” y/n rode him harder, filling the room with their skin slapping against each other and her wet cunt coating his cock. “I’m cumming!” Logan warned through his teeth as his hips bucked upwards a few times.

Y/n kept riding him, mixing his seed inside of her until she felt like she had enough. “So fuckin’ good, baby. I wonder if you taste you,” y/n spoke, feeling the urge to suck him dry.

“Fuck, it’s too much,” the old man said, grilling her hips a bit tight so she could slow down, but she wouldn’t. “Oh, really?” She asked, feeling the knot grow in her stomach. She was so close.

“God- Fuck — I can’t take it, baby,” Logan tried begging her. “Yes, you can. Just a few more seconds, baby. You think you can do that?” She asked, looking into Logan’s eyes. They were glossy and full of lust.

The man nodded his head with a shaky hum, feeling the need to cum again. “Good boy,” she spoke as she leaned up, rocking her hips back and forth until she couldn’t anymore.

Y/n released on the man, earning a whine from him. After she came, he couldn’t hold himself in. He had come inside of her again. For the second time.

“Oh god,” y/n breathed out, feeling so full. “S-Sorry,” the man shook as she leaned in front of his face, hands rubbing his cheek. “Wanna feel more of you,” she said.

The man was shocked at how many times this woman could go, but he didn’t want to disappoint her. He wanted to pleasure her and make her happy. He tried to be good for her. And he was for the whole night and many more.