#can we talk about how CRISP this gif is

[marvyu]

SO WHAT? YOU'RE NOT MY BOYFRIEND.

pairings. choi seungcheol x female reader genre(s). smut, fluff, angst

summary. your roommate ruins your date night and treats you with something better.

warnings. explicit language, sexual themes, unprotected sex, swearing, angst, jealousy, emotional confrontation, masturbation (Male and Female Receiving) clit stimulation, oral sex (Female Receiving) hair pulling, aftercare, dirty talk, overstimulation -- if i missed anything lmk!

It was another late night at the office, the clock nearing midnight as the soft hum of computers and the occasional shuffle of papers filled the air. You leaned back in your chair, stretching your arms above your head and stifling a yawn. Across the room, Seungcheol was doing the same, his eyes meeting yours with a familiar glint. This had become your routine – working late into the night, side by side, before heading back to your shared apartment.

"Are you ready to call it a night?" Seungcheol asked, his voice breaking the silence.

You nodded, shutting down your computer. "Definitely. I think I’ve stared at this screen long enough to see the code in my sleep."

He chuckled, standing up and grabbing his jacket. "I know the feeling. Let's get out of here."

The walk back to your apartment was quiet, the streets deserted and the air crisp. It was a short distance, just a few blocks, and the familiarity of the path made the silence comfortable. When you reached the apartment, Seungcheol unlocked the door and held it open for you, a small gesture that always made you smile.

Once inside, the routine continued. You dropped your bags by the door, kicked off your shoes, and headed to the kitchen. "Want something to drink?" you called over your shoulder.

"Sure, just water for me," he replied, disappearing into his room to change out of his work clothes.

You poured two glasses of water and settled onto the couch, waiting for him to return. Moments later, he emerged in his usual post-work attire – gray sweatpants and a plain T-shirt, looking effortlessly handsome. He joined you on the couch, taking his glass with a grateful nod.

"Long day," he said, taking a sip.

"Tell me about it," you replied, leaning back against the cushions. "I don't know how much longer I can keep up with these late nights."

He turned to you, a playful smirk on his lips. "You say that every night, and yet here we are."

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't help the smile that tugged at your lips. "Yeah, yeah. Don't remind me."

This was your life – a blend of work and personal time that blurred the lines between professional and intimate. Seungcheol was more than just a co-worker; he was your confidant, your roommate, and the one constant in your hectic life. The nights often ended like this, with the two of you sitting close, sharing quiet moments that hinted at something more.

It had started innocently enough, a mutual attraction that neither of you had acknowledged at first. But late nights at the office had a way of breaking down barriers, and before long, your relationship had shifted into something physical. There was an unspoken agreement between you – no strings attached, no complications, just a way to unwind after the stress of the day. And it worked, for the most part.

The routine was simple and comforting. After sharing a drink and some light conversation, the atmosphere would naturally shift. Seungcheol would give you that look, the one that made your heart skip a beat and sent a shiver down your spine. It was a look that promised escape from the day's stress and a dive into something much more exhilarating.

"Ready for bed?" he would ask, though the question always held a double meaning.

"Yeah," you’d reply, though the answer was never just about sleep.

You both moved with a practiced ease, the kind that comes from familiarity and mutual understanding. There were no awkward hesitations or second guesses – just a smooth transition from the living room to the bedroom. Seungcheol would wrap his arms around you from behind as you brushed your teeth, his lips brushing against your neck, sending a thrill through you. These moments of quiet intimacy were as much a part of your routine as the more passionate encounters that followed.

In the bedroom, the air would be thick with anticipation. Seungcheol had a way of looking at you that made you feel like the most important person in the world. He was attentive, always knowing exactly what you needed without you having to say a word. It was this unspoken connection that made your arrangement work so well. He understood you, and you understood him.

He would start slowly, his touch gentle yet firm, his kisses soft but growing more urgent as the moments passed. There was a rhythm to it, a dance that you both knew the steps to by heart. The way his hands roamed your body, the way he whispered your name – it was a routine that brought both of you immense comfort and satisfaction.

"You're so beautiful," he'd murmur against your skin, his voice husky with desire.

"And you're insufferable," you'd tease back, your breath hitching as his hands found their way to your most sensitive spots.

But beneath the teasing and the passion, there was a deeper connection. The routine was more than just physical release; it was a way for both of you to unwind and find solace in each other. The world outside could be chaotic and demanding, but in those moments, everything else faded away.

Afterwards, you would lie together in a tangled mess of limbs and sheets, the post-coital glow making everything feel warm and safe. Seungcheol would hold you close, his fingers lazily tracing patterns on your skin. It was in these quiet moments that you felt the most at peace.

"You should try to get some sleep," he'd whisper, his breath warm against your ear.

"I will," you'd reply, though you often found yourself staying awake a little longer, savoring the feeling of his body next to yours.

One morning, as you and Seungcheol were enjoying a lazy breakfast together, you decided to share some news that had been on your mind. It was your day off, and the apartment was filled with the comforting scent of freshly brewed coffee and the soft hum of the radio playing in the background. You had been chatting casually about work and plans for the day when you took a deep breath and decided to bring it up.

"Hey, Seungcheol," you started, trying to keep your tone light and casual, "I wanted to let you know that I’m bringing a friend over tonight. His name is Haru."

Seungcheol's reaction was subtle, but you noticed it immediately. His grip on his coffee mug tightened slightly, and there was a brief flash of something in his eyes – jealousy, perhaps? – before he quickly masked it with a neutral expression.

"Oh?" he said, raising an eyebrow. "A friend, huh? What's the occasion?"

You shrugged, trying to hide your own nervousness. "Just thought it would be nice to hang out. Haru and I have been talking for a while, and I thought it would be good to introduce him to you."

There was a beat of silence as Seungcheol processed this information. He took a sip of his coffee, his eyes studying you over the rim of his mug. "I see. Well, it’s your place too. You can invite whoever you want."

You nodded, feeling a mix of relief and apprehension. You had expected some sort of reaction from Seungcheol, but his indifference felt almost worse than outright disapproval. You couldn’t quite place it, but there was an undercurrent of tension in the air now, a silent understanding that things might be changing.

The rest of the day was a whirlwind of activity as you prepared for Haru’s visit. You spent hours cleaning the apartment, making sure everything was perfect. The kitchen was spotless, the living room was tidy, and you even put fresh sheets on the guest bed just in case. All the while, Seungcheol watched you with a mixture of amusement and something else you couldn’t quite identify.

"You're really going all out for this guy, huh?" he remarked, leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen as you bustled around.

"Well, I want to make a good impression," you replied, trying to sound casual. "It's important to me."

Seungcheol just nodded, his expression unreadable. "If you say so."

As the day wore on, your excitement grew, but so did your anxiety. You couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to Seungcheol's reaction than he was letting on. You had always valued your relationship with him, but you also knew that things couldn't stay the same forever. Introducing someone new into your life felt like a step forward, but it also felt like a step away from the comfortable routine you had built with Seungcheol.

The afternoon sun filtered through the windows, casting a warm glow on the apartment. You found yourself glancing at the clock more often than usual, your heart beating a little faster with each passing minute. You had spent so much time with Seungcheol, sharing laughs, secrets, and intimate moments, that the thought of changing that dynamic was both thrilling and terrifying.

Seungcheol, meanwhile, tried to focus on his own tasks. He moved around the apartment with an air of forced nonchalance, his usual confidence replaced with a slight edge of unease. He couldn't deny the pang of jealousy that gnawed at him, but he also didn't want to overstep any boundaries. You were free to see whoever you wanted, and he had no right to interfere. Still, the thought of you being with someone else made his chest tighten.

"Need any help with dinner?" Seungcheol offered, his voice breaking the silence that had settled between you.

You looked up from the vegetables you were chopping and smiled. "Sure, you can set the table."

As he busied himself with plates and cutlery, Seungcheol couldn't help but steal glances at you. There was a lightness in your step, a brightness in your eyes that he hadn't seen before. It was clear that you were genuinely excited about Haru's visit, and that realization made his heart ache just a little bit more.

"What's he like?" Seungcheol asked, trying to sound casual.

"Haru?" You paused, thinking about how to describe him. "He's sweet, funny, and really kind. We've been talking a lot, and I think there's something special between us."

Seungcheol nodded, forcing a smile. "That's great. I'm glad you're happy."

You sensed the underlying tension in his words but chose not to push it. Instead, you focused on the task at hand, preparing a meal that you hoped would impress Haru. As the aroma of cooking filled the apartment, you allowed yourself to relax, reminding yourself that this was a positive step forward.

By the time evening rolled around, everything was ready. The table was set, the food was prepared, and you had even taken the time to freshen up and change into something nice. As you gave yourself a final once-over in the mirror, you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the evening ahead.

Just as you were about to head back to the living room, there was a knock at the door. Your heart leaped in your chest, and you quickly moved to answer it. Opening the door, you were greeted by Haru's warm smile.

"Hey," he said, his eyes lighting up when he saw you. "You look amazing."

"Thanks," you replied, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks. "Come in."

Haru stepped inside, and you took a moment to admire him. He was tall and lean, with dark hair that fell slightly over his eyes and a charming, easygoing demeanor. He wore a casual outfit – jeans and a fitted shirt that showed off his athletic build. There was an air of confidence about him that put you at ease and made you feel excited about the evening ahead.

As you led Haru into the apartment, you couldn't help but feel a surge of pride. You had worked hard to make everything perfect, and now it was time to see how the evening would unfold. You guided him to the living room, where the table was set, and the aroma of the dinner you had prepared filled the air.

"This looks fantastic," Haru said, glancing around appreciatively. "You really went all out."

You smiled, feeling a warm glow of satisfaction. "I just wanted to make sure you felt welcome."

Just as you were about to introduce him to Seungcheol, you heard the sound of a door opening behind you. Seungcheol stepped out of his room, wearing his usual post-work attire of gray sweatpants and no shirt. His appearance was casual, yet it held an undeniable magnetism.

His well-defined muscles, honed from hours at the gym, moved with an effortless grace. His broad shoulders and chiseled chest caught the light just right, casting shadows that emphasized his sculpted physique. But it was his face that truly captivated – a strong, chiseled jawline framed a mouth that could shift from a teasing smile to a serious line in an instant. His dark hair was tousled, giving him an endearingly roguish look, while his eyes, a piercing shade of deep brown, held an intensity that made it hard to look away.

There was a certain scent about him, a mix of clean soap and something distinctly his, that lingered in the air and made your heart race. As he moved, there was an air of confidence and quiet strength about him, yet a hint of vulnerability in the way his eyes flickered over to you, just for a moment, before settling on Haru.

Seungcheol stopped in his tracks, his gaze locking onto Haru and then drifting down to where your hands were still connected. The room seemed to freeze in that moment, an awkward silence enveloping you all.

"Hey," Seungcheol finally said, his voice low and rich, like a warm breeze. "I didn't realize we had company."

You quickly dropped Haru's hand, feeling a bit flustered. "Seungcheol, this is Haru. Haru, this is my roommate, Seungcheol."

Haru extended a hand, smiling politely. "Nice to meet you."

Seungcheol glanced at the outstretched hand, his eyes narrowing slightly. He made no move to take it, instead crossing his arms over his chest, his expression remaining cool and unreadable. "Likewise," he said, his gaze never leaving Haru's face.

There was a palpable tension in the air, and you couldn't quite understand why. Seungcheol's usual easygoing demeanor seemed to have been replaced by something more guarded and intense. You brushed it off, attributing it to the sudden change in routine.

"Why don't you join us for dinner?" you suggested, trying to ease the awkwardness.

Seungcheol glanced at the table, then back at you. "I was just going to grab a snack," he said, his tone casual. "But thanks for the offer."

Ignoring the lingering tension, you led Haru to the dining table and gestured for him to sit. As you brought out the food, Seungcheol moved to the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge with an air of nonchalance that seemed almost too forced. He emerged with a bottle of water and a snack, then leaned against the counter, watching you and Haru with a look that you couldn't quite decipher.

"So, how did you two meet?" Seungcheol asked, his voice cutting through the quiet conversation you were having with Haru.

"We met through a mutual friend," Haru explained, smiling at you. "It’s been really nice getting to know Y/N."

"That's great," Seungcheol replied, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "Y/N is pretty amazing."

The compliment, though genuine, felt loaded with unspoken words. You glanced at Seungcheol, trying to gauge his mood, but his expression was unreadable. You turned your attention back to Haru, determined to make the evening enjoyable despite the strange undercurrent of tension.

As the evening progressed, the atmosphere in the room grew increasingly strained. You and Haru settled into a comfortable rhythm, your conversation flowing easily despite the occasional pointed look from Seungcheol. Haru seemed genuinely interested in what you had to say, and you found yourself relaxing more with each passing minute. The food was delicious, and the atmosphere should have been perfect, but you couldn't shake the feeling that Seungcheol was watching your every move with a scrutinizing gaze.

"So, Haru," Seungcheol interjected suddenly, his voice slicing through the lighthearted chatter with the precision of a well-aimed dagger. "What line of work keeps you occupied?"

Haru looked up, momentarily startled by the abrupt inquiry. "I'm a graphic designer," he replied, offering a polite smile. "I work at a small agency downtown."

"Fascinating," Seungcheol drawled, leaning back in his chair with a languid grace that belied the intensity of his gaze. "It must be quite rewarding to indulge in such creative endeavors. Y/N and I, alas, are consigned to the monotonous world of numbers and figures."

You shot Seungcheol a pointed look, silently beseeching him to temper his remarks. However, he merely quirked an eyebrow, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips as if he were savoring the undercurrent of tension he had created.

"It has its moments," Haru conceded, his smile faltering ever so slightly under the weight of Seungcheol's scrutiny. "I do enjoy the creative challenges."

"Good for you," Seungcheol replied, his tone laced with a veneer of civility that did little to mask the sarcasm lurking beneath. "It's always heartening to hear of someone finding fulfillment in their work."

Sensing the rising tension, you endeavored to steer the conversation back to safer waters. "Haru, you were telling me about that fascinating project with the interactive website. Do go on."

Haru's face brightened at the change of topic, and he launched into an enthusiastic description of his latest project. You listened with genuine interest, but you couldn't ignore the way Seungcheol's eyes kept flickering back to you, his expression a perplexing blend of amusement and something darker.

As the evening wore on, Seungcheol's interruptions grew more frequent and increasingly pointed. He made snarky comments about the food, pointed out trivial inconsistencies in Haru's stories, and even "accidentally" bumped into you as he moved about the apartment. Each incident seemed designed to unnerve Haru, whose initial charm was gradually giving way to visible discomfort.

"Excuse me," Seungcheol said at one point, reaching across the table with a deliberate nonchalance that belied his true intent. He managed to knock over Haru's glass of water, sending a cascade of liquid across the table. "Oops. My apologies."

You quickly grabbed a towel to mop up the spill, your frustration simmering just below the surface. "It's fine," you said through clenched teeth, attempting to maintain your composure. "No harm done."

Haru forced a smile, but the strain was evident in his eyes. "It's okay," he murmured, though his voice lacked its earlier warmth.

Seungcheol's behavior was wearing on your nerves, and you couldn't fathom why he was acting this way. He had never been so openly antagonistic before, and it was starting to fray your patience. All you wanted was to enjoy your evening with Haru, but Seungcheol seemed hell-bent on making that impossible.

The final straw came when Seungcheol "accidentally" brushed against Haru's arm as he walked past, causing Haru to drop his fork with a loud clatter. The sound reverberated through the tense silence, amplifying the growing discord.

"Seriously?" you snapped, your eyes flashing with indignation as you glared at Seungcheol. "Can you please give us a moment's peace?"

Seungcheol raised an eyebrow, his expression one of feigned innocence. "I was merely getting a drink," he said, holding up his glass as if to underscore his point.

"Well, can you manage it without causing a scene?" you retorted, your frustration boiling over.

Haru placed a soothing hand on your arm, his touch gentle and calming. "It's okay, Y/N," he said softly, his eyes beseeching you to let it go. "Really, it's fine."

But it wasn't fine. You could see the hurt and confusion in Haru's eyes, and it only fueled your anger further. Seungcheol was ruining what should have been a pleasant evening, and you were at a loss to understand why.

The tension in the room had reached a palpable peak, a silent battle of wills between Seungcheol and Haru with you caught in the crossfire. The evening that you had hoped would be a pleasant introduction of new possibilities had turned into a minefield of unspoken emotions and escalating conflict.

Seungcheol's final act of sabotage came as the three of you attempted to settle down in the living room. You had just suggested watching a movie, hoping it might diffuse the tension, when Seungcheol abruptly stood up, his eyes glinting with barely concealed irritation.

"I don't think this is working out," he announced, his voice ringing with a finality that froze you in place. He turned to Haru, his expression hardening. "I think it's time for you to leave."

Haru's eyes widened in shock, his calm demeanor slipping as he struggled to process Seungcheol's blunt dismissal. "Excuse me?" he said, his voice tinged with disbelief.

"You heard me," Seungcheol replied, crossing his arms over his chest. "This isn't your place, and I think it's best if you leave now."

You felt a rush of anger and embarrassment flood your cheeks. "Seungcheol, what the hell are you doing?" you demanded, stepping between him and Haru. "You can't just kick him out like this!"

Seungcheol's eyes met yours, a storm of emotions swirling within them. "I'm doing what needs to be done," he said, his tone unyielding.

Haru stood up, his expression a mixture of hurt and frustration. "It's okay, Y/N," he said, his voice resigned. "I'll go. This isn't worth the trouble."

You turned to Haru, your heart sinking. "I'm so sorry, Haru. This is not how I wanted tonight to go."

Haru managed a small, sad smile. "It's not your fault," he said softly. "I'll call you later."

As Haru gathered his things and headed for the door, you felt a pang of guilt and regret. This was supposed to be a simple, pleasant evening, and now it was ending in disaster. Once the door closed behind Haru, the silence in the apartment was deafening.

You turned to Seungcheol, your anger boiling over. "What the hell was that for?" you shouted, your voice shaking with fury. "You just ruined my date! Why would you do that?"

Seungcheol's jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with a mix of defiance and something else you couldn't quite place. "He wasn't right for you," he said flatly.

"That's not for you to decide!" you shot back, your frustration reaching a breaking point. "You had no right to interfere like that. Haru is a good guy, and you just humiliated him for no reason!"

Seungcheol took a step closer, his presence towering over you. "I couldn't just stand by and watch you pretend everything was fine when it clearly wasn't," he said, his voice low and intense. "You deserve better than some guy who doesn't even know you."

"Better?" you echoed, incredulous. "And who are you to say what I deserve? You've made it very clear that our...whatever this is...doesn't mean anything beyond a few nights of fun. You don't get to dictate who I see or don't see."

Seungcheol's eyes darkened, his frustration matching your own. "Is that what you think?" he demanded, his voice rough with emotion. "That this doesn't mean anything to me?"

You crossed your arms, trying to shield yourself from the vulnerability his words evoked. "What else am I supposed to think? You keep things casual, no strings attached. That's what we agreed on."

"And maybe I was wrong," Seungcheol said, his voice softer now, but no less intense. "Maybe I want more than that. Maybe I want you."

The words hung in the air between you, a raw and unfiltered confession that left you reeling. You searched his eyes, looking for any sign that he was playing with you, but all you saw was sincerity and a depth of emotion that took your breath away.

The silence following Seungcheol's confession was thick with tension, each second stretching like an eternity. You stood there, heart pounding, grappling with the raw honesty of his words. The anger that had fueled your argument moments ago was now mingled with confusion and a flicker of something unnamed and unsettling.

"Y/N," Seungcheol began, stepping closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "I mean it. I want you."

You opened your mouth to respond, to argue, but before you could utter a single word, Seungcheol closed the distance between you. His hands cupped your face with a tenderness that belied the intensity of his emotions, and then his lips were on yours, silencing your protests in an instant.

The kiss was both unexpected and overwhelming. Seungcheol's lips were warm and insistent, moving against yours with a fervor that took your breath away. For a moment, you were lost in the sensation, the world narrowing to the points where your bodies connected. His kiss was demanding yet tender, a blend of passion and desperation that made your heart race.

But just as quickly, the reality of the situation crashed back over you. You pulled away, your breath coming in short, uneven gasps. "No," you said, shaking your head as if to clear it. "You don't get to do that."

Seungcheol's eyes searched yours, a mix of confusion and hurt flashing across his face. "Y/N, I—"

"No," you interrupted, your voice trembling with a mixture of anger and frustration. "You can't just kiss me and expect everything to be okay. You don't get to treat me like some casual hookup and then suddenly decide you want more. It doesn't work like that."

Seungcheol took a step back, his hands dropping to his sides. "That's not what I'm doing," he said, his voice low but steady. "It's not like that."

"Then what is it?" you demanded, crossing your arms over your chest in a defensive gesture. "Because all you've ever wanted from me is something casual. And now, after ruining my date, you think you can just change the rules?"

"Y/N, please," Seungcheol pleaded, his eyes filled with a vulnerability that made your heart ache. "Just listen to me."

You hesitated, the sincerity in his voice giving you pause. "Fine," you said, your tone still guarded. "I'm listening."

Seungcheol took a deep breath, as if gathering his thoughts. "I know I've been an idiot," he began, his voice steady but tinged with regret. "I've been hiding how I really feel because I was scared. Scared of messing things up between us, scared of losing you if it didn't work out."

You frowned, your anger slowly giving way to confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about how much you mean to me," Seungcheol said, taking a step closer. "I'm talking about how I can't stand the thought of you being with someone else because it makes me realize just how much I care about you. This isn't just some fling for me, Y/N. It never was."

His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of unspoken emotions. You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the raw honesty in his expression. It was a side of Seungcheol you hadn't seen before, and it left you reeling.

"But you never said anything," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "You never gave me any indication that you felt this way."

"I know," Seungcheol admitted, his voice thick with regret. "And I'm sorry for that. I thought I could keep things casual, that it would be easier that way. But seeing you with Haru... it made me realize that I can't do this anymore. I can't pretend that what we have doesn't mean everything to me."

You stared at him, your mind racing as you tried to process everything he was saying. The anger that had fueled your argument was slowly giving way to a deeper, more complex mix of emotions. Part of you wanted to believe him, to take the leap and see where it could lead. But another part of you was still hurt, still wary of getting your heart broken.

The silence hung heavy between you, laden with the weight of unspoken words and the raw, intense emotions that Seungcheol’s confession had unearthed. You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the raw vulnerability that he rarely showed. And in that moment, your resolve began to waver.

“Seungcheol,” you began, your voice trembling, “I don’t know what to say.”

“Then don’t say anything,” he replied, stepping closer, his gaze unwavering. “Just let me show you how I feel.”

Before you could respond, he closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both fervent and tender. His hands moved to your waist, pulling you against him, and you felt your body respond to his touch, the anger and confusion melting away, replaced by a burning desire.

His kiss deepened, his tongue sliding against yours with a sensuality that made your knees weak. You clung to him, your hands tangling in his hair as you surrendered to the intensity of the moment. Seungcheol’s hands roamed over your body, his touch igniting a fire in your veins.

He broke the kiss, his breath ragged as he looked down at you, his eyes dark with desire. “I need you, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice rough with longing. “I need you to know how much you mean to me.”

You nodded, unable to find your voice. He took your hand, leading you to the bedroom, each step filled with anticipation and unspoken promises. Once inside, he turned to you, his gaze smoldering.

“Undress for me,” he commanded softly, his eyes never leaving yours.

With trembling hands, you complied, shedding your clothes until you stood bare before him. Seungcheol’s eyes roamed over your body, his expression one of awe and desire. He stepped closer, his hands moving to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples, sending shivers down your spine.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “I want to make you feel good. Will you let me?”

You nodded again, your breath hitching as his hands trailed down your body, leaving a path of fire in their wake. He knelt before you, his eyes locking onto yours as he pressed a kiss to your inner thigh, his tongue darting out to taste your skin.

The sensation was electric, and you felt a surge of arousal as his mouth moved closer to your core. He parted your folds with his fingers, his tongue flicking over your clit with a skill that made you gasp. Seungcheol’s hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he devoured you, his tongue and lips working in tandem to bring you to the brink of ecstasy.

“Oh, God, Seungcheol,” you moaned, your hands fisting in his hair as your hips bucked against his mouth. “Don’t stop.”

He hummed in response, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure through you. His tongue circled your clit, teasing and tormenting you until you were trembling with need. He slid two fingers inside you, curling them to hit that sweet spot, and you cried out, your body arching towards him.

Seungcheol didn’t relent, his mouth and fingers working together to drive you closer and closer to the edge. You could feel the tension building, a coil tightening in your belly, and then it snapped, a tidal wave of pleasure crashing over you as you came, your cries echoing in the room.

He didn’t stop, his movements gentle as he coaxed you through the aftershocks, his eyes never leaving your face. When you finally came down, he stood, his fingers trailing your slick arousal up to your lips.

“Open,” he instructed, and you obeyed, taking his fingers into your mouth, tasting yourself on his skin. The look of pure desire in his eyes made your pulse quicken, and you sucked his fingers clean, reveling in the way he watched you.

“Good girl,” he praised, his voice a low rumble. He kissed you again, his tongue exploring your mouth with a possessiveness that made your knees weak. You could taste yourself on his lips, the mingling of flavors heightening your arousal once more.

Seungcheol broke the kiss, his hands moving to undo his pants. “Lie down,” he instructed, and you did, stretching out on the bed, your body still humming with the remnants of your orgasm.

He shed his clothes quickly, his erection standing proud as he joined you on the bed. He knelt between your legs, his eyes drinking in the sight of you spread out before him. “I’m going to make you feel so good,” he promised, his voice thick with need.

He took his cock in hand, stroking it slowly as he watched you. “Touch yourself,” he ordered, and you complied, your fingers finding your clit, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles as you watched him.

Seungcheol groaned, his hand moving faster on his cock as he watched you pleasure yourself. “That’s it, baby,” he murmured, his eyes locked on yours. “Make yourself come for me.”

You bit your lip, your fingers moving faster, the combination of his gaze and the sensation pushing you closer to the edge. “Seungcheol,” you moaned, your body tensing as you felt your orgasm building once more.

“Come for me,” he commanded, his voice rough with desire. “Come for me, Y/N.”

His words pushed you over the edge, and you came with a cry, your body trembling with the force of your release. Seungcheol watched you, his hand moving faster on his cock as he brought himself to the brink.

He leaned over you, his eyes burning with need. “I need to be inside you,” he said, his voice a raw whisper. “I need to feel you.”

You nodded, spreading your legs wider in invitation. Seungcheol positioned himself at your entrance, his cock slick with your arousal. He pushed in slowly, the sensation of him filling you making you gasp.

He set a slow, steady pace, each thrust deep and deliberate. The pleasure built with each movement, the intensity of the connection between you making your head spin. Seungcheol’s hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Look at me,” he murmured, his voice a soft command. “I want to see you.”

You locked eyes with him, the depth of emotion in his gaze taking your breath away. The rhythm of his thrusts increased, the pleasure building to a fever pitch. He reached down, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing in time with his thrusts.

The combination was too much, and you felt yourself hurtling towards another orgasm, the intensity overwhelming. “Seungcheol,” you gasped, your body arching towards him.

“Come for me,” he urged, his voice rough with need. “I want to feel you come around me.”

His words sent you spiraling over the edge, your orgasm crashing over you with a force that left you breathless. Seungcheol followed you, his release spilling into you as he groaned your name, the sensation of him filling you only heightening your pleasure.

He collapsed beside you, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. You turned to him, your body still humming with the aftershocks of your release. He pulled you close, his lips pressing gentle kisses to your forehead.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, his hand smoothing over your hair.

You nodded, your heart full. “I’m more than okay,” you replied, your voice a whisper. “I’m perfect.”

Seungcheol smiled, his eyes warm with affection. “Good,” he said, pulling you even closer. “Because I’m not letting you go.”

The promise in his words wrapped around you, a comforting reassurance of the depth of his feelings. In that moment, you knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, you would face them together. And that was all you needed.

The first light of dawn filtered through the curtains, casting a soft, golden glow over the room. You stirred, nestled in the warmth of Seungcheol’s embrace, his arm draped protectively around your waist. For a moment, you lay still, savoring the tranquility of the morning, the quiet intimacy that enveloped you both.

Seungcheol shifted beside you, his eyes fluttering open. A slow smile spread across his face as he took in the sight of you in his arms. "Good morning," he murmured, his voice husky with sleep.

"Good morning," you replied, your own smile matching his.

He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "How did you sleep?" he asked, his lips trailing soft kisses down your temple and along your cheek.

"Better than I have in a long time," you admitted, feeling a warmth spread through you at his affectionate gestures.

Seungcheol’s kisses continued, each one a tender promise of his feelings. He moved to your other cheek, then your nose, then your chin, covering your face with a constellation of soft, loving kisses. You couldn’t help but giggle at the sensation, your heart swelling with affection for the man beside you.

"Seungcheol," you murmured, your fingers threading through his hair as he nuzzled against your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

"Hmm?" he hummed, his lips moving to your jawline.

"This is nice," you said, your voice soft. "I could get used to waking up like this."

He pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting yours with a tenderness that made your breath catch. "So could I," he replied, his hand cupping your cheek as he leaned in to kiss you softly on the lips.

Just as you were losing yourself in the sweetness of the moment, a familiar sound interrupted the tranquility. The door creaked open, and you felt a rush of fur and energy as Kkuma, Seungcheol’s dog, bounded into the room.

"Kkuma!" Seungcheol exclaimed with a laugh, sitting up as the dog jumped onto the bed, tail wagging furiously.

Kkuma wasted no time, planting herself between the two of you and showering Seungcheol with enthusiastic licks. You couldn’t help but laugh at the sight, the dog’s antics bringing a lightness to the room.

"Kkuma, stop," Seungcheol said, though his laughter belied any real annoyance. He scratched behind the dog’s ears, giving her the attention she so eagerly sought. "You’re interrupting a very important moment, you know."

You smiled, reaching out to pet Kkuma as well. "I think she’s just making sure we’re both awake," you said, your heart full as you watched the playful interaction between Seungcheol and his beloved pet.

Kkuma’s presence had an undeniable way of lightening the mood, her joyful energy infectious. She turned her attention to you, her eyes bright with curiosity. You scratched her behind the ears, earning a contented sigh as she settled down between you and Seungcheol.

The three of you lay there for a while, enjoying the peaceful morning. 

"Y/N," Seungcheol said softly, his hand finding yours under the covers. "About last night..."

You turned to him, your heart skipping a beat at the seriousness in his tone. "Yes?"

"I meant everything I said," he continued, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. "I want to be with you. For real. No more pretending, no more keeping things casual."

You felt a lump form in your throat, the sincerity in his eyes nearly overwhelming. "I want that too, Seungcheol," you whispered, squeezing his hand. "I want to be with you."

He smiled, a look of pure relief and happiness washing over his face. "Then let’s do it," he said, leaning in to kiss you again, this time with a gentle, lingering sweetness that left no doubt about his feelings.

Kkuma, not to be left out, nudged her way between you once more, her tail thumping against the bed as she demanded attention. You both laughed, the moment made all the more perfect by her playful interruption.

As the morning sun continued to rise, you and Seungcheol talked about your future, about the possibilities that lay ahead. There was a sense of hope and excitement, a feeling that together, you could face whatever came your way.

© marvyu 2k24 — please do not copy, repost or translate any of my works on other platforms: i do not tolerate them at all.

[thesithdiaries]

Queen's Envoy

Pairing: (fancast) Benjicot Blackwood & Velaryon female!reader

Plot: The Princess is sent as an envoy to get more allies. She is tasked with treating lords in the Riverlands. As she finds herself far from home, she discovers a certain Blackwood boy, who isn't as scary as she thought.

Warnings: typical westeros stuff, badly written panic attack, losing consciousness, being carried (no weight mention tho)

N/A: thanks to my friend and grammarly cause i had such a huge mess

“Prince Jacaerys will fly north. First to the Eyrie to see my mother's cousin, the Lady Jeyne Arryn, and then to Winterfell to treat with Lord Cregan Stark for the support of the North. Prince Lucerys will fly south to Storm's End and treat with Lord Borros Baratheon. And Princess Name will fly west to Raventree Hall and treat with Lord Blackwood. We must remind these lords of the oaths they swore.”

Rhaenyra saw how her children talked in the distance, as they were getting ready to depart. Name held Luke's hand and chuckled softly at something he said. The Queen’s heart ached as they embraced, expressing good wishes and mentioning how they would eat by the beach when they all returned.

-

Flying to the Riverlands was not an issue. As they flew over forests, [Name] rehearsed what she would say out loud. She would speak of uniting the realm, strength, and the promise of a good queen. During his reign, Viserys Targaryen named Rhaenyra as his heir, but the Hightowers were now threatening her claim. The support of the Riverlords was crucial for the cause and [Name] knew this.

Goldwing descended on a small clearing of flowers, allowing [Name] to slide down his wing. She caressed the dragon's face, glad that they arrived safely.

She glanced around, seeing how a group of men were pointing at them in the distance. [Name] heart began to race as she clutched the dagger Daemon insisted she had to take. Goldwing stood tall, protecting his rider.

“We mean no harm,” one of the men said, now at a talking distance. They were all staring at Goldwing in awe, they had never seen a dragon.

“What do you want, girl?” The other asked with curiosity.

“I am here to see Lord Blackwood.”

Their expressions turned from amazement to worry as a guy walked towards her with a crazed, yet amused look. “And who is looking for him?” He eyed her shamelessly, not missing the intricate details in the riding leathers she wore.

“Princess [Name] Velaryon,” she revealed proudly, not allowing herself to feel intimidated.

The boys fell silent, shock evident on their faces. They never expected to see a princess in the Riverlands. The boy cleared his throat and lightly scratched his brow, uncomfortable with his crude behavior. "My name is Benjicot Blackwood," he said. "But I can guide you to Raventree Hall if you'd like to speak with my father."

“Thank you,” [Name] smiled kindly.

They walked quietly, [Name] was enjoying the smell of nature and the breeze. The air was crisp, as the sun had just risen not long ago. [Name] glanced at Ben from the corner of her eye, expecting him to speak about something, since he seemed like the type that would talk for hours. Ben, on the other hand, was very aware of [Name’s] presence beside him. She moved with grace and her eyes filled with wonder at her surroundings. He had never seen anyone like her, and her sudden appearance had sparked different emotions in him.

They eventually reached Raventree Hall. Everyone inside the walls stopped and stared, even murmured, about the unexpected visitor. As they approached the main hall, Ben finally broke the silence. "My father is a good man," he promised. "He will listen to you. No matter what you need, he can help you."

[Name] nodded, grateful for his reassurance. "Thank you, Ben," she replied softly. "I hope he listens. It's... it's important."

Ben gave a small, encouraging smile and pushed the door open, gesturing for [Name] to enter first. Perhaps this meeting would get a strong army to support her mother’s claim to the Iron Throne.

-

Raventree Hall was filled with laughter, clinking goblets, and loud chatter. Samwell Blackwood had reaffirmed his claim to support Rhaenyra Targaryen, the rightful heir.

Samwell sat on the high table, alongside his sister Alyssane and his son Benjicot. The boy, however, could not take his eyes off her. His admiration grew into a silent yearning.

As the evening grew late, Ben found himself drawn into conversations with the Princess. At first, he stumbled over his words, his cheeks flushing. But [Name], sensing his nerves, engaged him in discussions about anything that crossed her mind.

Encouraged by her words, Ben found himself talking more freely. He recounted tales of his training, his support for her mother’s claim and of course, about fights he had with Bracken boys. Throughout the night, they shared stories and laughter. Others at the feast noted their conversation and exchanged glances, some smiling at the young boy’s naiveness.

As [Name] stood up to leave for the night, Ben grabbed her hand and spoke without thinking, “Princess, would you like a tour through the Riverlands?”

[Name’s] heart was pounding in her chest. “Of course, I would love that.”

-

Ben woke with the sun, excitement coursing through him.

After getting dressed, he hurried through the castle to the guest chambers. As he knocked on the door, he cleared his throat, suddenly feeling shy.

There was no response from inside. Did she leave without me? He wondered as he knocked again, but still no answer. Glancing down the hallway, he slowly opened the door.

[Name] was there, lying on the bed. "Princess?" Ben called out softly. She turned toward his voice, struggling to open her eyes. "Oh... I apologize for waking you," Ben said, now feeling like he had ruined everything. "We can speak later."

"No," [Name] protested, her voice groggy. Ben's heart fluttered, he thought that was adorable. "Let me get dressed. I will meet you by the gates."

-

Ben was talking a stroll through the gardens, waiting on [Name]. He was debating if he should give her a bouquet of wildflowers when the maester hurried towards him, a letter clutched in his hand. The urgency in his eyes made Ben’s heart drop. Accepting the letter, he noticed the seal of Dragonstone and felt a sinking feeling in his stomach.

He read the brief message: Prince Lucerys was dead.

He found her not far away, possibly on her way to meet him, lost in thought. Ben approached her slowly, the letter gripped tightly in his hand.

“[Name],” he called softly, trying to keep his voice calm.

She looked up, her face brightening before she saw his expression. “Ben, is something wrong?"

He stood in front of her, taking a deep breath. “I received a letter from Dragonstone,” he began, his voice heavy with pity. “It’s about your brother, Lucerys.”

[Name’s] eyes widened, a mix of fear and dread washing over her face. “What happened to Luke?” she asked, her voice trembling.

Ben handed her the letter, not trusting himself to tell her.

Her hands shook as she read it. She stared at him, her face draining of color. “No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “No, it can’t be true.” Her breathing grew rapid and shallow, her eyes wide with panic. “Luke...no...” she gasped, struggling to catch her breath. She stumbled, her movements frantic. “I need to get to him,” she cried, looking around desperately. “I need to go home.”

Ben reached out to steady her. “[Name], please,” he pleaded, but she was not hearing him. She broke free from his grasp, running towards Goldwing.

“No!” she shouted, her voice breaking. “I have to go to him!”

Goldwing lifted its head, sensing her distress. [Name] reached for the reins, her hands shaking uncontrollably. “We have to go,” she repeated, her voice frantic.

Before Ben could intervene, her legs gave out, and she collapsed to the ground. “[Name]!” he shouted, rushing to her side. Goldwing roared, eyes glowing with worry.

Ben cradled her in his arms, his heart pounding. Servants and guards came running after hearing the dragon, their faces filled with concern as Ben lifted her body and ran inside to the guest chambers.

Ben stayed by her bed after she was examined by the maester, holding her hand and watching over her. As he sat there, his heart ached, knowing that the pain of losing her brother was something no words could heal.

Hours later, a soft groan had alerted Ben that she had woken up. [Name] stared at the room, confused by her surroundings, before trying to stand up. “Easy,” he begged, pushing her back onto her pillow. “Please don’t stand up.

After some minutes of silence, [Name] rubbed her hands on her face. “I remember... my brother..."

“I know. I'm so sorry,” Ben grabbed her hand and squeezed it gently..

“I… what now?” She asked herself, starting to tear up.

“The maester said you can return to Dragonstone when you feel better,” Ben informed her.

[Name] nodded. “I do not think I can travel back alone,” she whispered to him, causing Ben to give her a reassuring smile.

“Then I can go with you,” Ben softly wiped the tears from her cheeks.

[buttercandy16]

In-laws

PAIRING: Dark!Agatha Harkness x Reader, Agatha Harkness x Reader x Rio Vidal

SUMMARY: In-laws are the worst and you found out the hard way.

WARNING(s): Dark themes, Non-con, and a whole lot of SMUT!

A/N: Dark themes ahead. If you find these things disturbing I strongly advice that you skip this post. Thank you!

Y/N POV 

The night's cold breeze is crisp on my face as I stand outside the balcony thinking about how perfect my wedding tomorrow will be. 

Nicky and I have been together since my parents started working for his parents. At first, I was reluctant to engage in a romantic relationship with him since in the eyes of society we were unfit for each other, but he was persistent and in the end, I let love win. I was even more thankful that his parents accepted me and my family with open arms despite our lowly status in life. 

After years of being together, we are finally making it official tomorrow as husband and wife. 

I just finished celebrating my bachelorette party earlier which was neatly organized by one of my soon-to-be mother-in-law, Agatha. While Nicky is having his bachelor's party with his set of friends. 

Everything will be perfect, for sure nothing will go wrong. 

"Excited?" I was pulled out from my thoughts when Agatha appeared by my side with a bottle of wine in hand. 

For the record, I'm currently staying at Nicky's house. Both of his mothers insisted that I stay here before the wedding and I agreed.

"Yeah, I'm so excited to get married to Nicky!" I exclaimed excitedly. 

Agatha gave me a chuckle before waving the wine bottle in front of my face. 

"Good, then we better celebrate with this." 

"Ummm... I don't want to be rude, but I'll have to decline. I don't drink alcohol, remember?"

Agatha rolled her eyes at me before she leaned in closer to my ear. 

"Oh come on, sweetheart. That was different, this one we get to enjoy all to ourselves, and I think it's about time you try right? And it's not like we're gonna get wasted, you'll be fine tomorrow. I swear." 

I suppose... 

"O--okay then, but I'll only drink one glass.”

"One glass is enough" Agatha smiled at me mischievously before slightly pushing me inside the room. 

I was a bit nervous about how she was acting, she seemed pushy. But I was fast to dismiss that thought as she filled our glasses with wine. 

She gave me mine before sitting next to me on the sofa, only an arm's length away from each other. 

"Go on" she urged playfully... 

I swirled the wine in my glass slightly before carefully putting it to my lips and tentatively sipping the liquid. I found it delicious and very cooling.

“This is delicious!" 

"Yes, simple but very soothing. Finest wine you can ever have. But, you must drink deeply for the full effect." 

I eagerly did as I was told, and Agatha seemed satisfied with this. Soon I was holding an empty glass. I had drained it and hadn't even noticed. The drink was that smooth. The only problem is that I found that I was still thirsty. 

"Could I have another, please?" I asked, her eyes glinted with something dark from my request. 

"I think that can be arranged." 

Agatha was careful to replenish my glass whenever it emptied as we talked and talked into the night. 

It was quite odd, no matter how much I drink I still feel thirsty. 

I wondered if it was starting to affect me. I noticed that the room was becoming increasingly warm. Worse, I was finding my body becoming uncomfortably warm. My face was becoming flush. My heart was beating very fast and I was practically panting, my breath had gotten so fast. I was starting to sweat inside my clothes, too. My clothes were becoming very confining. How odd, I thought. It was supposed to be a chilly evening. But now, I desire nothing more than to get out of my clothes, then I would feel so much better. 

"Have you and Nicholas done it yet?" Her question almost made me choke on my drink, her eyes never leaving mine. 

Am I hearing this right? Does she mean th--- 

She slowly traced the rim of her wineglass while looking at me curiously, "What do you mean?" I asked.

"Did you have sex yet?" 

Her question slightly took me aback but answered, nonetheless. 

"N--no, we haven't. I'm still pure" 

The moment I said pure, a shadow seems to pass on her features as the corner of her lips slightly lifted sinisterly, barely noticeable in the dark. 

But I saw it... 

She snickered under her breath as she slightly swirled the wine in her glass. 

That's when I realized that she's never touched it. Not even a single drop. 

She followed my gaze to her wine glass before catching mine. Slightly tilting her head, she then smiled knowingly. 

She knows that I've noticed. 

I was starting to feel uncomfortable from this so I decided that it was time to retire for the night. But when I stood up, I was immediately met by sudden dizziness making me sit back on the couch ungracefully. 

It felt like my innards were being replaced by some kind of emptiness. I tried to stand again, desperate to leave this room. I swayed for just a moment before Agatha caught me. There was nothing I could do now, and as I slowly slumped sideways, she gently tugged on my shoulder, causing me to lie flat, with my head on her lap. Now all I could see was my fiance's mother smiling down at me… and the world went black. 

_=_=_ 

How long I was out, I’m not sure. I opened my eyes, and it took them a moment to adjust to the light.

Something was wrong. 

My arms could not move, despite my best efforts, and the air felt rather cold on my skin. And when my eyes adjusted, I immediately saw why. My wrists had been secured firmly in two straps, on either side of my head. And the cool air on my skin was because I'm completely naked! 

I tried to scream my lungs out, to shout for help, to do anything that might get me out of this situation. But the only thing that came out was a muffled sound. That has something to do with the gag placed over my mouth. But it did draw some attention to me because a figure suddenly appeared over my vulnerable form, and when it spoke, I heard the unmistakable voice of my fiance's mother. 

"So, you're finally awake" 

"I think before you try going off on one, I should probably introduce you to a bit of "context," I think you'd call it." She reached for the table next to her and picked up a remote. She turned on the TV that was positioned just above the bed I was strapped to. "Let's just say you might want to forget about struggling when I show you this video." 

My confusion made me forget my anger, for a moment. But as the film started, and what I was watching became clear to me, my anger was replaced by shock and horror. 

It was a video of me and my co-worker Tony, sitting in my office, and him kissing me. It had been a professional meet-up, he was showing me some files that we needed to sort out before the big presentation when out of the blue he just kissed me. I froze out of shock while his lips continued to press against mine but when I finally snapped out of it I immediately pushed him off me and gave him an ear-deafening slap on the face. But that wasn't shown in the film. It was just the kiss, making it look like I did it deliberately. I remembered him looking at me in pity like he was sorry for what he did. I didn't tell anyone about it, not even Nicky. And now my soon-to-be mother-in-law possesses proof of it.

But how? Why was there a video? Based on the angle I know it was filmed from a hidden camera. Was it done intentionally? For what reason?! Was she behind it? 

If someone got hold of it, I wouldn't just get fired from fraternizing with a colleague. I would probably lose Nicky as well. 

And that scared me shitless... 

Agatha pressed another button, and the video switched off. She looked at my face, now starting to become tear-stained and the fear now plain for everyone to see. She smiled. 

"I think that expression is a good one for you," she remarked. "It makes you look so sweet and innocent." 

She leaned over and planted a kiss on my cheek. I tried to jerk away but couldn't. The kiss practically seared my skin like molten lava. 

"Now that no one is going to disturb us, how about we get some fun done?" 

Agatha then began to touch me, and that was when I started to squirm a little. She moved her arms around my body, rubbing it in a very erotic way. "Aww… such a nice body, pet! I can't help myself but touch myself thinking about you every day. And now, I can't help myself anymore." She put a hand on my knee and began to gently stroke my leg. 

"What should I do first with your body?" She ran her finger on my smooth skin, before taking the gag off my mouth. 

I gritted my teeth from both anger and sadness. "Why are you doing this?" 

"Didn't I already tell you? I want your body to be mine! We are going to have so much fun, pet. And if you disobey me, I think you already know what will happen right? Not to mention, I can get  both of your parents fired, tsk... that would be unfortunate" 

A single tear ran on my cheek and Agatha kissed it, licking the drop. I know that I have no other choice but to let things happen. I have so much to lose if she doesn't get what she wants. 

She moved around and brought our lips together in a violent kiss, forcing her tongue past my gritted teeth. She bit my bottom lip hard enough to earn a gasp, allowing her to move her tongue past the barrier. 

The tongue quickly found its way around my mouth and explored every inch it could. In parallel to that, her hands moved around and groped my breast. She slightly massaged them and pinched the erected nipples. It was not that the events made me horny. It was the cold that made my body like that. 

The kiss ended after a while, me being out of air while the older woman was looking crazier than before. She licked her lips another time before stripping her shirt, skirt, and underwear away. She moved and kneeled in front of my face, her warmth being right on top of my face. "Eat up!" She said in a commanding voice, but I hesitated. The woman gritted her teeth in anger and grabbed my hair. "I ordered you to eat up!" She forced my mouth to get in contact with her entrance. 

Out of reflex, I attempted to close my mouth, but then felt a pair of forces crushing my head from both sides as her legs pressed me. The pain was enough to make me gasp. She took the opportunity to tighten her grip on my hair and pressed me harder. 

"That's more like it!" She started to move her body up and down, making my juice splash on my face. "Now, get that tongue of yours to work baby" She ordered and once again tightened the grip, forcing me to obey her order. 

I had to stick my tongue forward, forced to have a taste of the older woman. It was sweet and I can't stop myself from moaning from the taste of her. She also moaned at the feeling of my tongue inside her and moved faster until she cummed in my mouth. 

Just as I was about to let go of a sigh, my left leg was lifted, Agatha’s right leg sliding under it. "It is not the end yet! I still have a lot of things I want to teach your body." She pushed her hip forward, making our center meet.

I can't help but admit that it started to feel so good. The pleasure coursing through my veins like a blast of adrenaline... 

She repeated to thrush several more times, bringing our center together and making them part, and then collide again. She started to moan once again as I did the same, her hands starting to play with my breast, enjoying every contact through my body. Until my second orgasm was ripped from me this evening, followed by the beautiful temptress who laid on top of me while catching her breath from her release. 

She looked down on me in complete amusement as I lay helplessly underneath her. 

Agatha kissed the tip of my nose before sliding her warm body over me to reach something on the nightstand. When I saw what it was, my eyes grew wide as saucers... 

Oh no... please no more 

"P--please... I can't. It's too much" 

I struggled with my bonds as I tried to pull myself away from her. 

"Shhhh... I know you can. Just give mommy one more baby. I just need to taste you." 

She settled herself in between my legs, parting them by force. 

She reached between my legs and pushed something. The buzzing vibrator held against my clit sped up a notch, causing my back to arch. "Oh!" I gasped, head falling back. "Oh, oh—" 

Agatha cupped my left breast and mouthed at it, kissing and licking. I didn't know where to look but into her eyes, our foreheads practically touching on the pillow. 

I'm not sure what possessed me at the moment but I was suddenly desperate to taste her lips. 

"Kiss me," I begged. "Please..." 

And she did. Soft and sweet, holding me to her. Tugging my lip with her teeth and stroking my back, my butt. She took hold of my legs, cupping the underside of my knees. Bringing my legs around her waist, she rocked against me, teasing my lip with her tongue. 

I parted my lips for her, tasting her, sighing... Jolting when she tugged on my nipple. "Oh, ow, owie—, please don't—" 

I cried out with pleasure. This was so nice; it felt so good. 

She smiled at me. “You’ve got the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen, pet,” she said, reaching to touch me, pulling back the hood of my clit so she could rub me with her thumb. I shivered. “Look at this tiny clit. So fucking cute, and all mine…” 

She proceeded to slide down my body until she was face to face with my dripping warmth. 

I gasped when she started to lick me and felt my stomach twitch, surprised and excited at Agatha’s eagerness to please me. I felt her tongue trace the outline of my lower lips and shuddered. A moment later, the older woman finally slid her tongue over my clit, and that's when I felt my walls clenching in a sudden spasm, screaming in pure pleasure for the third time. Due to the intensity, I blacked out. 

_=_=_ 

A groan left my lips when I woke up in the middle of the night with a sore body. 

Slightly stretching, that's when I realized that I was no longer chained to the bed and I was all alone in the room. 

Seeing this as an opportunity to get the hell outta here I immediately grabbed my clothes that were placed on the vanity chair before frantically dressing. 

No longer caring if I was dressed right I immediately ran towards the door but stopped when it suddenly opened, revealing my fiance’s other mother, Rio Vidal dressed in her expensive suit. 

"Ri-rio..." 

"Sweethear, what are you doing here?" Rio asked as she curiously surveyed my disheveled form. 

"Rio, you have to help me, please" I pleaded as I went closer to her. 

"Why? What's wrong?" She asked as she gently held my arm. 

"It's A–agatha, she---" 

"Hello, my love! You're home early," My words were cut off as Agatha appeared from the bathroom only covered by a plush purple robe. "It seems you caught our little bunny trying to hop away." She smiled devilishly... 

Wha-what? 

"Which is quite fortunate, I wouldn't want to miss out" Rio chuckled darkly. "But I'm very disappointed that you started without me, my love." 

"Well, you were late. It's been so long since I wanted a taste of her. I lost all self-control the moment I had her in my grasp. But don't worry, I saved the best for you." 

My eyes widened in realization and I felt my whole body shiver in fear as I heard the door's lock click. Locking me inside with two predators hungry for my young flesh... 

Nonononono... this isn't happening... 

Tears started to fall from my eyes as Agatha walked over to me, and Rio’s hand settled over my shoulders in a tight and almost painful hold. 

Agatha looked down on me with a predatory grin before slowly tilting my chin with her finger to meet her eyes. 

It was so dark and full of lust that it felt like I was about to drown in it. 

"Do you know the real reason why we let our son be with someone as lowly as you? It's because the moment we saw you, we knew that we needed to have you. Our perfect little toy." My heart ached from her words. So after all this time, I was nothing but a fool. 

"So here's what will happen from now on, you will get married to my son tomorrow and officially become part of our family. You will be a good wife to him and grant him the children he desires. But behind closed doors, you will become our pretty little pet and cater to our needs. Do you understand?" I nodded weakly.

"But the most important thing is... Nicky must never know about this little arrangement of ours. This secret will stay with you until you reach your grave, or else... I'm pretty sure you are aware of the power that we hold Y/N, if you go against us, we will destroy you and your loved ones. Do I make myself clear?" Her grip on my chin tightened, emphasizing how serious she was. 

"Ye-yes" I stuttered through gritted teeth. 

Agatha's eyes moved from behind me as Rio pressed her lips to my ear as she whispered... 

"If you behave like a good little girl for us, we will reward you with anything you desire, aside from your freedom of course." 

"Since that's all settled then, I think it's time for the main event" 

"Wh-what would that be?" I fearfully asked. 

Agatha smiled at me before leaning in close, her lips almost touching mine. 

"We're going to take your virginity baby"

_=_=_

Please don't forget to like, repost, and leave a comment below. I love hearing other peoples thoughts about this. Also, if you have any good ideas for a Dark fanfic featuring mother agatha please do send it. Thanks! 💜

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Under the Mistletoe || OP81

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x bff!fem!reader Summary: Sick of his friends pining for each other but two stupid to realise it was mutual, Logan sets about making sure they both get their Christmas wish. Warnings: pining, angst, fluff WC: 2.2k

“Hold up, let me find his spare key,” Logan said as he balanced his box on top of the one you already carried.

“Just use mine,” you said as you carefully turned. “Back pocket, left. Other left, dude.”

“My bad.” Logan grabbed the keychain and tried the ones that weren’t your car or letterbox keys. “He gave you a key?”

“Just so I can water the plants while he’s away, and make sure the stove is turned off.”

Logan laughed, turning the right key and opening the door. “He doesn’t even cook.”

You shrugged and followed him into Oscar’s house. “Doesn’t stop him thinking he’s left it on as soon as he’s at the airport.”

It was like walking into your own apartment, there was a home comfort to hanging your keys on the hook that had your initials and hanging your coat on the rack. Picking your box up again, you followed Logan to the kitchen and deposited it on the bench before grabbing two glasses and pouring you both a much deserved drink.

“This is why people don’t believe you are ‘just friends’,” Logan stated, chuckling when you rolled your eyes at him and continued to help yourself to the snacks Oscar kept stocked for you.

“Just shut up and hang the decorations before I overlook your usefulness.”

Logan returned to his box, unpacking the tinsel and bunting that you had bought. “At least you didn’t deny it this time.”

“We are definitely just friends, Lo.” You looked down at the crisp packet and muttered under your breath, “I’m not his type anyway.”

You didn’t notice Logan pause, but you did look up when he shoved his handful back in the box. “What?”

“What?” you echoed.

“What did you say?”

“We are just friends.”

“No, after that.” He leaned back against the kitchen benchtop and crossed his arms. “How do you know you’re not his type?”

“Because we are friends, we talk about these things,” you said with a shrug. “Can we not talk about this right now? He’s going to be home in a few hours.”

“We have time,” Logan said with a shake of his head. “What makes you think you’re not his type?”

You huffed in annoyance and grabbed the decorations yourself, taking them to the living room since Logan was going to be no help. “Because I’m not, okay. He likes funny girls. He wants someone he can have a laugh with to take his mind off work when he gets home. And pretty too, actually he said ‘beautiful’.”

“Okay…” Logan stared at you until you grew uncomfortable.

“And he's surrounded by models at every event.”

“So why isn’t he dating one of them then?”

“Because his standards are obviously high if they aren’t pretty enough for him. I don’t stand a chance.”

Logan shook his head and groaned. “Have you told him that you love him?”

“Of course I have, I tell him all the time.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

You gave him a look that warned him not to ask another stupid question. “I’m not going to risk our friendship when my relationships never end well. I’d rather be his friend forever, than an ex I never see again.”

“God, you are both so stupid.” Logan brushed you aside as you tried to jump and reach the hooks high up the wall. “Give me that before you hurt yourself.”

You watched on as he hung the tinsel around the room with minimal guidance needed and deemed it safe enough to leave him in charge. Oscar was fairly tidy, compared to the other men you know, but his pet hate was making his bed. He would always leave it unmade claiming he was only going to make it messy again that night.

You went upstairs and made the bed before seeing the laundry basket was overflowing. He mustn’t have had time to do it between his trip to Baku, the McLaren Factory and then his short trip home to Melbourne. That was why you were in his house, setting it up for another Christmas he would miss with his family. You didn’t want him to feel alone so you were bringing Australia to him.

You lost track of time when you found his whites mixed in with the colours and you tutted to yourself as you separated them to soak in the sink.

“You don’t have to do that,” Oscar said when he found you in his laundry, both the dryer and the washing machine working as hard as you.

“Hey, you’re home!” You dropped the clothes you were folding and threw your arms around him. His tired chuckle made your heartbeat a little fast as he embraced you back and buried his face in your neck. “How’s mum and dad? And your sisters? Did they like the presents?”

His head grew heavier as he leaned against you and nodded. “Of course they did, you always know what they want.”

“Not me, you,” you corrected as you brushed a hand over his messy hair. “You got them remember.”

Oscar pulled back with a shy smile. “I think everyone knows you are the mastermind. I would have just given them a gift card.”

You laughed at the truth as the dryer finished another load but Oscar took your hand and towed you out of the laundry. “I’ll do it later,” he stated. “Logan’s already got the tree up but there’s one thing missing.”

Your jaw dropped as you saw the living room had been completely transformed into an Australian Christmas so Oscar would feel at home. A pine tree sat in the corner of the room, needles scattered around the base from trying to manoeuvre it into place. Like the ceiling, green and gold tinsel snaked around the tree but it was the floor that caught your eye.

“The sand was meant to be in the pool,” you laughed as you pointed to the small children’s sized blow up pool still in the box. Logan had poured the bags of golden sand around the tree and the wooden floor now resembled a tiny beach.

“You know, that makes more sense,” Logan admitted.

You bit your lip but it did little to stifle the laugh and when Oscar’s deeper laugh joined there was no holding back. The three of you collapsed laughing onto the couch to embrace the beach themed room and you kicked your shoes off to dig your toes into the sand.

“It’s so weird to imagine,” you chuckled, the snow falling outside a complete contradiction to the scene inside. The central heating had been cranked up to its hottest setting and it truly felt like summer. “Christmas is for making snowmen and having hot chocolate by the fire.”

Oscar draped his arm over the back of your cushion and stretched his legs out after his long flight. “How about next year I can take you home to experience this first hand?”

You smiled at the idea but you couldn’t make that commitment by saying yes, even if you wanted nothing more than to make it happen. “Maybe, let’s just see what the year brings. Who knows, you might want to take your girlfriend home.”

He looked at you with a frown. “I don’t have a girlfriend, yet.”

“Exactly, yet.”

“Idiots,” Logan mumbled as he got up. “I’m getting a drink. You guys want one?”

You both thanked him and as he left the room Oscar patted your knee. “Star time.”

You grinned at the fact he remembered your favourite part of setting the tree up and his hands settled on your hips when you reached it. “I can’t be bothered getting the ladder out,” he said before he picked you up. You placed the glittery star on the highest point and adjusted it a few times more than necessary until Oscar laughed and eased you down. But his hands still remained on your hips. “It’s perfect.”

Logan returned and the moment shattered as you took your drink from him and cleared your throat. “Merry Christmas, my orphan friends.”

“Thanks for the adoption,” Logan chuckled. “If I can’t spend Christmas with my family it’s nice to at least have you guys.”

“That probably sounded better in his head,” Oscar teased before raising his glass too. “But he’s right, thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure.” Your cheeks warmed at the smile on his face and you were sure he felt it when he pressed a chaste kiss to one. A little frazzled, you tried to hide the effect he had on you and pointed to the mess on the floor. “Do you think we can build a sandcastle?”

“No, but I think we can build a snowman. Go put your coat on, I know you want to.”

You didn’t have to be told twice and Logan laughed as Oscar followed you to the backyard. “You two have fun, I like the heat more.”

Your breath misted as it hit the chilly air and you rushed to pull your gloves on, something you should have done before stepping outside.

“Here, let me,” Oscar offered, shoving his own in his pocket in the meantime. He took your woollen mittens and held them open for you before tightening the wrists and sealing the warmth that remained inside. “You look like a marshmallow.”

You bent down and started to collect the snow needed to make the first ball and narrowed your eyes at him when he joined you a moment later, his gloves already on. “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“You should,” he smirked. “Marshmallows are cute.”

“Cute?” You wrinkled your nose and gently nudged him with your shoulder. “Now that’s an insult.”

His brows furrowed in confusion. “To you or the marshmallow?”

“Uh, both,” you decided with a definitive nod.

“Okay, sorry,” he apologised and then bit his bottom lip as he stared at you over the growing snowball. “Marshmallows are beautiful and my favourite thing in the whole wide world. I love marshmallows.”

“Wow, weirdo, they aren’t that great.”

Logan had been about to ask if you wanted another drink but instead he closed the kitchen window. “Marshmallows, idiots.”

“Not bad for an Aussie,” you commented as you wrapped your arms around his waist and admired the finished product. “A shame you didn’t have a carrot in your fridge.”

Oscar pushed the cucumber nose in further to stop it drooping down before hugging you tighter. “Or a spare scarf, you must be freezing.” He pulled his own off one and draped it around your neck so yours could stay on the snowman. “Ready to go back in?”

You nodded reluctantly and let him go, following him into the warmth where Logan sat in the leather recliner watching Home Alone. “Nice to see you waited for the rest of us,” Oscar noted as he dropped onto the couch and pulled you down with him. 

“You know it word for word.”

“So do you.”

“I ran out of things to do,” he said with a shrug.

Everything had been seen up so you were confused by the statement. “What did you do?”

Logan didn’t answer as he tossed another handful of popcorn in his mouth before blindly pointing in your direction, but higher. You and Oscar looked up and found a small wreath hanging where a picture frame of the Albert Park F1 circuit was, woven into the greenery you spotted it - Mistletoe. 

“Dude!” “Mate!”

Logan laughed to himself and kept watching the movie. “You know the rules. Kiss or streak in the snow.”

“I don’t remember it being streaking,” Oscar commented as he turned to you.

You looked at him too, your eyes drifting down to his lips. You had spent countless daydreams imagining how they would feel against yours.

“Don’t overthink it, the rule needed changing,” Logan mumbled. “So…”

“It’s really cold outside,” you murmured as you dragged your eyes back up to meet his. 

“Way too cold,” he agreed with the smallest of nods. The air was pregnant with the pause before he exhaled and reached for you. His hand curled behind your nape and drew you closer, so slowly you weren't sure he was going to change his mind or thinking you would. If only he knew.

Your heart thumped loudly as you felt his breath on your skin and your hands found their way to his shoulders and ran along the thick muscles that climbed his neck. “Osc,” you whispered softly as you felt the warmth radiating off his lips but still they didn’t touch.

“Yeah?” he asked, the corners tugging up as he heard the need in your tone.

“Please...”

He pulled back just far enough to see the burning desire in your eyes and his thumb stroked your jawline. “Been waiting years for this.”

You couldn’t tell who moved first, but you both moved together, his mouth slanting over yours perfectly like they were made to complement each other. Your fingers tangled in his hair and you tasted the beer on his tongue when he slipped it between your parted lips with a deep moan.

Popcorn rained over your heads and you broke apart to glare at the very smug looking man responsible. “About fucking time! I love you, but you are both idiots.”

[satorusluver]

Dilf!Toji x college student!reader

Word count: 800 ish

Tags: smut (MDNI), slight fluff, fem reader, age difference, p in v, mating press, doggy style, mild degradation

A/N: I can't get dilf college au Toji out of my mind so....

Although it had been a couple of years since his wife died, Toji hadn't had the time to date. He was too busy balancing his work and single fatherhood, especially now that he was going back to school. Instead, he settled for the occasional dating app hookup to get his needs met. Until he met you.

You had to be what, ten, twelve years his junior? But you were a pretty little thing, and no matter how much you tried to hide it, you practically drooled over your older dilf classmate. Toji didn't miss the way you eyed him every time he walked into class, or how easily you would get flustered with just a bit of flirting on his part. Toji didn't have time to date, no, but that didn't mean the two of you couldn't come to a mutually beneficial arrangement.

After all, Megumi often needed a babysitter on nights Toji worked overtime. Toji was quite up front with you about it -you watch his son for a couple of hours until he got home from work, and in return Toji would reward you with a crisp twenty and by folding you in half like a lawn chair on his bed and pounding your cervix with the fat, precum-dripping head of his eight inch dick until you soaked his sheets with your cum.

"Oh, fuck, To-oji!" you cry, your orgasm rocking through you as your messy cunt squirted all over Toji's wide girth. He loved seeing you like this, your knees against your chest and your eyes rolled back in bliss as he fucked you completely dumb on his cock. And Toji, well, he had quite the mouth on him in the heat of the moment, something which he'd warned you about ahead of time.

"Atta girl, don't gotta fuckin' think, do you? Just gotta cum for me. Ohh fuck, that little pussy's squeezin' me so tight," he huffs, leaning his massive, muscled form over you to achieve an even deeper angle as he fucks into you harshly. The overstimulation of him hitting that spongy spot inside you so hard makes your toes curl and your body arch into him, unable to get enough even if it's too much.

"What're you even in college for, princess? We both know your real job is taking my dick. You should just quit and become Megumi's stepmother so I can fuck you this good every night. Wouldn't you like that, princess? Hungry little cockslut that you are, practically beggin' for my dick the moment I walked in the door." But instead of answering him, you slap a hand over your mouth to keep your sobs of pleasure from being heard by Megumi, who was currently watching cartoons just down the hall.

You both knew it was his dick talking, that he didn't really mean it, but when he was balls deep in your sweet, tight heat and your needy little cunt was sucking him back in with every thrust, he'd utter things he'd never otherwise dare.

"Fuuuck yeah, wouldn't mind coming home to this everyday, having this pretty little pussy waiting for me." As he speaks, he reaches his hands down to gently spread your pussy lips with his thumbs, getting a good look at your puffy pink folds and swollen clit that glisten with your mixed juices.

You'd never admit it to him, he was cocky enough already, but you think his dick might've spoiled you for all other men. He was by far bigger than any of your exes, and far more experienced thanks to his age. The ease with which he managed to find your g-spot never ceased to amaze you, and not one time have you had sex with him without him getting you off at least twice.

As the semester dragged on, you kept coming back for more. One night after a shitty first date you show up to his house all dolled up and holding back tears after your date went to the bathroom and never came back, and it's mere minutes before he's ruining your so carefully done makeup by shoving your face into his pillowcase and fucking the melancholy from your failed date right out of you.

"He was a fuckin' dumbass, that guy," Toji says as the two of lie next to each other in the afterglow. "Leavin' a girl like you alone like that. If I took you out, I'd show you a good time...well, I just did show you a good time," he adds with a chuckle.

"But you know what I mean. If...if you were up for that..." he mumbles, nervously scratching the back of his dark, now disheveled hair.

"I thought you didn't have time to date?" you ask him, although your tone is light and a small smile tugs at the corners of your lips.

"Yeah, well, for you...maybe I do."

[charlesslut16]

hey babe i loved the max fic about the one wherereader pregnant, my idea/vision for part two is probably reader move somewhere probably england and live there fast forward years later they run into max. i think that's all i have thanks loveee

-gaining you to love-

summary : you and max meet again after all the trauma you had went trough

PAIRING : max verstappen x fem!reader

WARNINGS : none?

note : i hope that you like this and please request more!!!

masterlist ; Part 1

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Years had passed since you had last seen Max Verstappen. After the heartbreak, you had packed up your life and moved to England, seeking a fresh start away from the painful memories. 

You found solace in the quaint countryside and raised your child with the love and dedication that had always been your strength. In your heart, you still wished he and you could raise your child together.

But this would still always be your dream.

Your child, a vibrant and curious soul, grew up knowing about their father only through the carefully chosen stories you shared and the races you watched on television. 

It had never crossed your mind to not tell your child, who their father is. It just never felt right to you. How could you not allow your child to know the person that was one's your most loved person and their dad.

Max’s name was synonymous with greatness in the world of Formula 1, and even though you had distanced yourself, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of pride every time his name was mentioned.

One crisp autumn afternoon, you were out shopping in the bustling streets of London with your now four-year-old child. The city had a way of making you feel both anonymous and connected, a perfect blend for the life you had built.

It was not the perfect life you had chosen, but it was as perfect as it could be. As you walked through the crowded market, a familiar voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Y/N?”

You turned, and there he was—Max, your max, standing just a few feet away. He looked different, older, more mature, but the spark in his eyes was unmistakable. 

He had the same smile and the same voice, both features that broth you great happiness, a long time ago. Your heart skipped a beat, memories flooding back with an intensity that took your breath away.

“Max,” you whispered quiet, not quite believing your eyes. Max, your max, standing in front of you. Impossible, right? Your child looked up at you, sensing the shift in your emotions. 

Max took a step closer to the both of you, his eyes scanning your face as if trying to confirm that you were real. If it was really the love of his life.“I can’t believe it’s you,” he said softly. “How have you been?”

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your voice, not sure if words would come out surely and understandable.“I’ve been…good. How about you? You’ve done well for yourself. You have grown more mature”

He nodded, a hint of a smile on his lips. A smile that had not shown like that, since you left.“Yeah, it’s been a wild ride. But I’ve thought about you a lot. About us.”

Before you could respond, your child tugged at your sleeve, looking curiously at Max. You did not thread this moment, but you sure were nervous.“Mommy, is that?”

You took a deep breath, kneeling down to your child’s level. “This is, Max,” you said gently. Not too sure if your child was ready for this important moment in their life.

Max’s eyes widened as he looked at the child, realization dawning on him. It was his your child. The child he did not chose. “Is this…?” he began, his voice trailing off and cracking slightly.

You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes. “Yes, Max. This is our child.”

He looked back at you, a mix of emotions playing across his face—shock, regret, longing. All because his younger self chose his career and not his family. “Can we talk?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You agreed, and the three of you found a quiet café nearby. As you sat down, the tension was palpable. Your child, oblivious to the emotional undercurrents, chattered happily about their favorite books and toys. 

Max listened intently, a soft smile on his face, but his eyes kept drifting back to you. He had never realized how the feeling of being content really felt until this exact moment.

Once your child was occupied with a coloring book, Max reached across the table, taking your hand in his. “I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “For everything. I was scared, and I handled it all wrong. I’ve regretted it every day since.”

Tears spilled down your cheeks as you listened to his words. “I was hurt, Max. So hurt. But I had to be strong for our child. I moved here to start over, to give them a good life.”

“You’ve done an incredible job,” he said, his eyes full of admiration. “But I want to be part of their life. I want to be a part of your life. I want us back. If you’ll let me.”

You looked at your child, then back at Max. The pain of the past was still there, but so was the love you had always felt for him. And always will.“It won’t be easy,” you said softly. “But I want what’s best for our child. They deserve to know their father.”

Max nodded with a lift of his lip, his grip on your hand tightening. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make things right. I want to be here for both of you. To have you both with me.”

The weeks that followed were a whirlwind of emotions as Max integrated himself into your life. He was patient and understanding, taking the time to get to know your child and to rebuild the trust between you. 

The bond that had once been so strong, that you had thought would never be like that, slowly began to mend, and the love you thought you had lost forever started to rekindle.

One evening, as you sat together in your cozy living room, your child asleep upstairs, Max turned to you with a serious expression. “I want to make up for lost time, Y/N. I want to be a family. Will you give me another chance?”

You looked into his eyes, seeing the sincerity and determination there. The years of hurt and loneliness had taken their toll, but the love had never truly faded. “I want that too, Max,” you said, your voice trembling with emotion. “I’ve always wanted that. I had always hoped for a happy ending for us.”

Max pulled you into his arms, holding you close as you both let the tears flow. It felt like coming home after a long, arduous journey. The pain of the past was still there, but it was overshadowed by the promise of a future together.

As the weeks turned into months, you and Max built a life together, full of love and laughter. Your child thrived, surrounded by the warmth of a united family. Max balanced his racing career with his newfound responsibilities, proving to be a devoted father and partner.

The journey had been long and painful, but it had led you to this moment—standing together at the finish line, not as competitors, but as a family. And as you looked at Max, you knew that despite everything, you had finally found your way back to each other.

In your heart, you had truly known that this would be the outcome. It was a dream that came through and even tho you all went to tremendous pain you would go through it as a family.

A family he chose.

[ghostyeyestohide]

I Put A Spell On You

Pairing: Terrance (Foe) x Valerie (Plus Size Black Fem OC)

Warnings: SMUT (not too extreme), 18+ (MINORS, SCROLL AWAY), buildup (if you got the attention span of a squirrel, DONT READ), titty fondling, oral sex (f receiving, m receiving), bisexuality (from m), masturbation, slight edging, spitting, slapping, smoking, choking, striptease, some femdom, dirty talk, praise kink, creampie, cussing, aftercare, mentioning of death, a hint of voyeurism (from Junior), and Non-Canon.

Parts: Part Two • Part Three

Summary: After a day of examining Junior, Terrance returns home for a sit down dinner with his wife, Valerie, who wants to do a little more afterwards.

A/N: So, I basically restarted this app with a new account just to snoop around and read smut. I noticed that Aaron became even more popular now, and since there is already a lot of Terry fics, I thought it would be perfect for me to finally show my idea of how I think Foe should’ve went if I was in the writers room as someone who has seen the movie and read the book. I’m making this a two (or four) part series as I got the perfect bisexual hookup scene for Terrance, Junior, and OC since Ian and Garth didn’t want to give it to us in the movie, so that’s otw! And this is a one time thing as I been retired for a decade from fanfic (smut) writing, so ENJOY!

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do not copy or repost my work. I do not authorize it.

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Valerie was in the kitchen, spreading parmesan and fresh basil on top of the toasted cheesy garlic bread when she heard a car pulling up in the driveway. She walks to the window near the door, pulling the curtain back a little to see who it was.

The sounds of the door unlocking is heard, with it lifting up. Out comes Terrance, her husband and OuterMore’s hardest worker. He looked exhausted in his light brown top, black slacks, and black dress shoes, but happy. She smiles, walking towards the door to greet him.

“And there’s my beautiful girl in her pretty, ruffled dress.” Terrance states as he walked through the door, smiling as he puts his suitcase down and pulls her into an embrace.

Valerie chuckles before placing her lips over his, giving him a long but sweet kiss, to which he responds by doing the same.

“Sounds like someone had a good day today.” says Valerie, wrapping her arms around his neck and looking at him.

“Yes, I did. Love to tell you about it over dinner because my word, it smells wonderful in here.” he replies, getting a chuckle out of the both of them.

“Oh stop! It’s nothing crazy, just spaghetti with meatballs, cheesy garlic bread, some Caesar salad with the crisp parmesan, and that bottle of white wine you got from your previous assignment.” she replies sly, tracing her finger over his shirt.

“And I’m guessing you’re the dessert?” he asked in a low, seductive tone that enhances his British accent well while rubbing over her curves. Valerie laughs as she pecks his nose with a kiss.

“I mean…..I could be that, but I was looking forward to eating my homemade lemon loaf, drenched in homemade lemon buttercream, with that vanilla ice cream I also made, but we can go with your first option!” she responds with a smile.

“Dont tempt me with temptation already out there, Val.” he replies, kissing her again.

“What’s that suppose to mean?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

Terrance stammers, looking for the correct thing to say.

“You know I’m talking about that cake, dear. But, I’ll go change so I don’t keep you waiting. I am hungry after all!” Terrance exclaimed, kissing her one more time before going up the stairs to their room.

“Hurry! I’m not one to be waited on, Terrance!” she replied jokingly as she picks up his suitcase and places it on the living room table before walking back to the kitchen.

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As the couple ate their dinner and drank their wine, Valerie started first with how she spent her day crocheting new clothes for herself to wear, reading some books, and prepared the food as Terrance talked about what him and Junior did, from him watching him do farm work to doing scans on his body for measurements, assuring he has everything that the real Junior gave them.

“And then, I had dinner with them. Of course, I didn’t eat as I told them you were cooking, just some wine and whatnot. For some odd reason, Junior started going off.” said Terrance as he bit into his slice of lemon loaf and ice cream.

“Going off?” asked Valerie, very confused since he told her he was perfectly fine all day.

“I told them the trip to the space station is coming sooner and he knew this when I told him on the farm. But now, he was mad, saying “I don’t want a robot living with my wife!” angrily and demanding that we go outside and fight.”

“With a broken arm?” she asked as she ate some of her slice. Terrance nods as he dranked some of his wine.

“You had to be there to get it. It was a bit scary, but…..it was very indecent that he was doing all of that while not looking at Hen not once.”

“Hm.” she nodded, looking down at her bowl.

“And what was Hen doing by the way?” she asked after a few minutes of silence.

“Oh. She was trying to calm him down. Saying “do the fight test with me, not him” blah blah, and then, I can’t remember the exact words, she said something and he basically called her stupid. I laughed, which I shouldn’t have and she got mad at me. So, she got up from the table, crawled across it slightly, and slapped me…..” Terrance replied, with his voice going quiet with the last few words.

Valerie sat there expressionless, taking in the words that just came out of her husband’s mouth. Hen slapped Terrance kept replaying in her mind, slowly adding to the burning sensation that was growing inside her. Finally, she got up and put her bowl in the sink.

“Val, are you oka—“

“You let that miserable bitch slap you…..you let Hen, who changes emotions like she has a permanent period, slap you?!” Valerie cuts him off, looking at him with anger all over her.

Terrance gets up, slowly walks up to her in order to not make her even more mad.

“You have to understand: I deserved that slap. He basically insulted her and I had no business laughing!” he responded with.

“I don’t give a fuck if you’re the one who insulted her, she had no right to put her hands on you! And you’re calm about it?” she said, slamming her hands on the island in front of her, startling Terrance.

Valerie shakes her head, thinking if he should continue his assignment of watching Junior and Hen or stay home permanently for her sanity.

“I can’t do anything or we’ll accidentally reveal what he truly is.” he replies, throwing his hands up. Valerie scoffs, just in shock at how calm he’s being about this.

“Why couldn’t she take it out on her walking sex toy since he the one who said it? You’re the not the one in a loveless marriage.” she states.

“……do you see yourself as that?” he asked her.

“In a loveless marriage?”

“No. What you called him.”

“…..no. I’m just…..ugh. How can you hate your actual husband, but fucking on a replica of him?. Is it love? Is it hate? Or is she just confused…..” she said, stopping in her tracks before looking away from Terrance.

Terrance looks back at her confused, trying to figure out how would his wife know that if he never told her much about Hen. Then, it hit him.

“…..you been reading my files behind my back again. After I told you not to do that”

Valerie lets out a cold laugh before looking at Terrance again, tears swelling up in her eyes.

“That’s the only way I can keep pretending to live the life the real Valerie would be as the man, who makes endless promises to not push her to the side, fawns over his growing sexual attraction to his newest assignment in Junior.” she responds with, tears now falling down her face.

Terrance exhales quietly, leans up against the counter as he faces away from her.

“You read that in the notes, huh.”

“…..is it true? Or are you just toying with him and keeping proof?”

Terrance sighs, rubbing his face as he stands near the island in front of her. Taking in what she said, he pulls out a cigarette, lights it up and smokes it, blowing the smoke away from her.

“Okay. I am attracted to him. I’ll admit it.” he replies.

Valerie wipes her tears, inhaling and exhaling quietly before clearing her throat.

“Always knew the minute you can home and told me about meeting them. The way you mention his name, what he does, how he acts, his instant rejection to being chosen to go to space…….almost similar to Valerie’s story. Which I’m assuming you have yet to mention that to them.” she said, locking eyes with him.

“They don’t need to know that.”

“Why not? Will it make things worse when you ask him to run away with you?”

He looks at her in disbelief, caught off guard with what she just said.

“If you think I’m leaving you for him, I’m not. I can’t have any type of sexual contact with any of our subjects or I get terminated. And they take you back since you’re their property. You knew this the minute you were made.” he says, blowing more smoke out.

Valerie looks down, slightly embarrassed about throwing that accusation out. She was afraid that he was going to risk everything by being with Junior, putting everyone in danger. Terrance blows out smoke one more time before tossing the cigarette and stands in front of Valerie.

“Hey.” he gently holds her chin up, looking into her eyes. “I can’t throw off this feeling I get when I’m around him. He just brings something I never seen in other subjects out of me. But, I have control. You know me too well for me to abandon you like that.”

He wraps his hand around Valerie’s face, wiping away tears as he kisses her.

“Those notes don’t mean shit to me right now. You do. You’re the only thing I have left of her, replica or not. You been with me all these years and never once have I ever did anything that seemed like I don’t value you anymore. I never forgot about the things you love, the things you do, and the things I do for you that make you happy. I always go home to you, which OuterMore hates since it violates the ‘staying at the subject’s house’ rule, but I refused to let you be here all alone out here. And this won’t change that.” he says as he begins to rub on her body.

“I know you’re being genuine, but this……this is becoming an obsession and it needs to stop.” she responds, pointing at Terrance’s suitcase on the table.

He laughs, gently rubbing his hands all over her body as Valerie tries to fight against it, but fails.

“I’m serious, Terrance.” she states, gently pushing him back.

Terrance turns Valerie around, with her back against him as he has her pressed against the sink. He begins placing soft kisses all over her back and neck, making her let out some soft moans.

“He’ll be home soon. That Junior will go back to the factory and we’ll move on from all of this. It will always be just the two of us. You. Just. Need. To. Trust. Me. Val.” he responds, with each sentence and word ending with a kiss as he slowly lowers himself to his knees, positioning himself in front of Valerie’s ass. He starts tracing over her legs, brushing closer and closer to her pulsating heat.

“Uh-uh” she responds, placing her right foot against his chest and gently pushing him back, creating some distance as she turns around.

“I can’t get a taste first?” he asked, looking into her eyes with a pathetic, begging look.

She shakes her head ‘no’. “Go sit on the couch.” she says as she gently removes her foot from his chest.

Terrance smirks before carefully getting up and walking to the couch. She grabs their wine glasses, pouring the remaining bottle in each one before bringing it over to where he’s seated at.

She places his glass on the table before walking over to their vinyl player, turning it on before placing the needle on the disc, tuning the volume as the song begins to play:

Turning around to face Terrance, who has his wine in his hand now, she begins dancing seductively while drinking, hitting her marks as she lipsync to the voice of Nina Simone.

I put a spell on you

Cause you’re mine as she points at him, earning a smile back from him, who is slowly becoming even more aroused at her movements.

As she slowly walks over to stand in his view, she notices a male stranger is standing outside of their window near the door, watching them. He looked intrigued, with his messy clothes, dark brown hair, Roman-sculpted face and piercing blue eyes staring at her. Noticing a bandaged arm wrapped against his chest, she realizes who this stranger is.

“Junior,” she said in her mind.

“Everything okay, baby?” said Terrance, very concerned for why she stopped suddenly.

She snaps back into motion, not mentioning to him that his subject is also watching her do a dance that’s only meant for his eyes. She doesn’t seem to care, only focusing on showing where the love should always be.

You know I can’t stand it

You’re running around

You know better, daddy as she gently sits in front of him on the table, placing her glass on her left. She begins to untie the knot on her strings that hold her breasts up, letting the top fall down to expose them.

He leans forward, tempted to touch her, but she slaps his hand away, belting out the next part:

I put a spell on you

Because you’re mine as she stands up and walks behind the table.

You’re mine as she removes the rest of her dress, leaving her in just her lacy underwear. She gestures him to remove his clothes, but play with himself afterwards.

Now even more aroused, he complies with her order, gently taking out his semi-hard length and begins jacking off slowly, growing with each stroke.

Sipping her wine, she locks eyes with Junior to see if he’s still watching. To her amusement, he was, gently breathing against the window while slowly stroking himself. This is exactly what she wanted to happen: two men who are avoiding each other to not violate the rules both salivating over her. Just one gets to fully experience her as the other one watches.

I love you, I love you as she sits in a chair that faces Terrance, rolling her hips as he watches with hunger in his eyes.

I love you, I love you anyhow

I don’t care if you don’t want me as she gently removes her panties.

I’m yours right now as she tosses them towards him.

Oh you hear me

I put a spell on you as she opens her legs, exposing her glistening bliss towards him, gesturing him to come to her, but slowly.

Terrance gets up, walking towards her as she gently rubs her clit, looking at his girthy, long length swinging back and forth.

Because you’re mine as he kneels in front of her, giving her a fat sloppy kiss before moving down towards her pussy, placing his mouth over her slit, making her inhale loudly at the friction of being touched.

He begins to flick his tongue in and out, burying his face deeper in between as she places her hands on his head, gently pushing it down a bit more.

“Wow, you really were hunger.” she laughs before being replaced by her moans.

He hums on it to vibrate around her, gently rubbing her folds with one hand as the other creeps up to her breasts, gently rubbing them.

“Fuck…you’re so good when you’re on your knees, pleasing me.” she whispered as she exhaled loudly when he inserts one finger inside, gently rubbing at her spot that she likes that he hits while fucking her.

As he adds another finger inside and speeds up the pace, she looks at Junior once more, see his self pleasuring has sped up too. There shouldn’t be a reason that Val is enjoying this so much, being devoured by a man who helped create her to replace the emptiness of his deceased wife as a replica of another watches them hungrily, desperately wanting to join them.

“I’m getting closer and close—oh, fuck!” she exclaims as Terrance begins sucking hard on her clit, repeatedly plunges his fingers inside her, watching her squirm with his eyes locked on her.

After her moans grow louder and louder, she finally releases, the sensation washing all over her and Terrance’s face. After a few minutes of regaining herself, he removes his face from her, which is covered in her essence.

“Come here.” he mumbled as he gently pulls her up for another sloppy kiss, mixing in her juices with her mouth. She responds by kissing him back harder, gently wrapping her hand around his length and stroking it, causing him to groan.

“Fuck, you’re perfect. You know that, right?” he says, throwing his head back as she strokes around his tip.

Valerie gives an ‘mmhm’ as she places kisses all over Terrance’s chest and abs, leaving a few marks as she trails lower and lower to his length. She lets go, tracing it with her tongue before engulfing him into her mouth, making him let out a soft moan.

“Just like that.” he says as he gently grabs a fistful of her curls before she slaps his hand away.

“I mentioned you have to work for it. That means no touching me and following my orders.” she said as she looks up at him, stroking his length in her hands.

“You let me eat you out. And push me down into it.”

“That’s your job. Being on your knees for me and me only.”

Terrance chuckles quietly, nodding his head as Valerie continues sucking him, gently massaging his balls as she strokes the rest of what she can’t fit into her mouth.

She looks out the corner of her eyes to see if Junior was still watching, but noticed his disappearance. I guess he couldn’t bare to see more of something he can’t touch physically. She looks up at Terrance and begins bobbing her head & hands faster, going off the adrenaline that sudden decided to pop inside her.

“You’re gonna make me bust fast, doing that.” he groaned, tensing up at his growing climax inside him.

Valerie laughed, speeding up the pace. Terrance began letting out some expletive, hinting that he’s near. Just as it was about to release, she stopped just in time, with him inhaling and exhaling hard.

“Told you you’re working for it.” she says, winking at him before letting it go and laying back in the chair. He laughs slyly, licking his lips as he examined her body. Her curves fit in the right places, her skin glowed like she was a diamond, and her busty elements enhanced her beauty. She was the perfect woman for him and he wouldn’t give that up for anything. Not even him.

“Where do you want me to be?” he asked, gently stroking himself.

Valerie repositions herself, put each leg on the post of chair, exposing her heat like she did previously before he ate her out. She gently taps her pussy, gesturing him to insert there first. She was eager to feel him inside her, waiting enough to get what she wanted.

He nodded, lining himself up to her entrance. Before he inserted, he let out a long trail of his spit out of his mouth, using his tip to rub it all over her clit and lips. He then inserted himself inside, both lovers letting out a loud gasp as she instantly clenched around him. He gripped her legs, gently moving his hips to get her adjusted.

“No matter how many times we make love, mm,….it still feels like you’re getting bigger and bigger each time.” she whispered, gently scratching over his abs.

“Oh yeah?” he asked before pushing all of him inside her, lifting her legs towards her chest. Valerie gasps, taken aback by the sudden move. He laughs before gently kissing her face, swaying his hips around a bit.

“What do you want me to do now? Since you’re in charge.” he mumbles against her cheek.

“You know how I like it. Don’t overexceed it.” she replies before moving his right hand around her neck, keeping both her hands wrapped around it.

He starts with a quick thrust, causing her to let out a low moan. Then, he picks up the pace a bit, continuously slamming his pelvis into her thighs. He squeezes her throat a bit as his thrusts become even more aggressive, making her let out a bunch of lewd sounds she never thought she could make mixing in with the sounds of her wetness being poked fills the living room.

“Fuck, you’re gonna break me, Terra-mmhm! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” she yelled as he hit her sweet spot over and over, moaning louder.

Terrance puts his left hand on top of the chair, holding it in place as he continued fucking her, slowly building up both of their releases as Valerie becomes a pleasure mess under him.

“Come on and let me release, Val. I already got your release coming and I’m not too far behind you.” he states as he looks down at her, giving her deep thrusts.

She lets out a hoarse chuckle before being cut off by how sloppy his thrusts were becoming, feeling herself on the edge of release. Just as it was about to occur, she pulls his length out, feeling it beating hard in her hand.

Terrance, puffing very hard, looked at her in disbelief, once again being denied release. He scoffs sarcastically, gently rubbing her breasts.

“You’re making me work hard for mines, you’re denying your own.” he said.

“Makes this even more fun. And worth the wait. Now lay across the table.” she replied, gently pushing him off her.

He bits his lip as he walks towards the table, grabbing a few pillows and placing them on it before laying onto, carefully positioning himself.

“Hands above head.” she says as she gets up.

He obliges, placing his hands above, anticipating what she’s gonna tell him to do next. The cool air in the air, settles on his skin, creating goosebumps as his heated length slightly moves up and down, yearning to be touched again.

As she walks over slowly, something in the window between the kitchen and the living room (by the fireplace) catches her eye. She notice its Junior instantly, admiring her and him. Had he been standing there the whole time or does he moves to get a better a view of the show?

Becoming even more aroused, she kneels down in front of Terrance, beginning to place a trail of kisses, from his thighs to his length to his chest to his neck and lastly, his mouth, positioning herself on top of him. She sits up, looking down at the man, who’s looking at her with a dark glare in his eyes.

“Are you gonna be a good boy for me? she asks, slightly moving her hips to grind on his length, making his hands and mouth twitch.

“Mmhm.” is all he could get out, fighting real hard to not touch her.

Suddenly, she slaps him across his face. It wasn’t hard, but with the way she gasped, that wasn’t her intention at all. Trying to play it off, she wraps her left hand around his throat, squeezing it. He lets out a stifled groan, breathing hard as the stinging brewed on his cheek.

“When I ask you a question, I expect an answer, not a sound. So let me ask you again: are you going to be a good boy for me?” she asks, tilting down towards him.

“Yes. Yes. I am going to be a good bo—“ he’s cut off by her lowering herself onto his length, causing him to buck his hips upwards.

“Fix yourself right now. Or you don’t get a release.”

He relaxes, letting his hips lie down as she begins moving her hips back and forth, creating a aphrodisiac motion that makes her moan his name a few times and praising how good he’s making her feel right now.

“Touch me up here and look at your art, please.” she cries out as she pulls his hands towards her breasts, letting go of his throat. She looks at him quickly, who is mesmerized at what she’s doing, before look back at him, slamming herself down on him again.

Terrance gently massages them, breathing hard as he was in awe at how much she’s enjoying doing this. Every bounce, every speed, every curve, every moan, he was happy that this was pleasing her as much as it’s pleasing him. He can feel her release building up again as she begins to slow down her pace.

“Mm. Can you…can you finish……” she asks as she collapses onto his chest, breathing hard. He chuckled, amused that she lasted almost close to her release.

“Do I have permission to receive my release?” he asks, gently massaging her back.

“Yes. You deserve it, finally.” she replies in an exhausting manner.

He kisses her forehead before hooking his arms under her legs, picking her up as he stands up, not fully removing her from his length. He gently lays them on the couch, positioning a pillow under her before he started to pound her, causing her to let out some screams.

“Not so dominant after slapping the shit of me, huh?” he asked, aligning himself face-to-face with her as he wrapped his hands around her neck, still having her legs hooked in his arms.

Valerie lets out a stifled ‘no’, moaning loud as she watches his length go in and out of her, feeling like she’s losing oxygen at the sensation.

“Play with yourself for me. I wanna see this beautiful pussy cumming all over me, this masterpiece of a body shake, making its mark as I fill you up. Can you do that for me, Val?” he whispered as he deepens his thrusts, sweat dripping down his face and body on her, who is in a daze with her body’s reaction.

“Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!” she yells as finally, while rubbing her clit, her release washes over her, causing her to shake unbearably and squirt all over him and the couch.

Terrance moans “that’s my girl” as he thrusts a few more times before releasing inside her, letting out grunts as his load pumps into her womb, laying on top of her until he was finished.

The couple laid in silence, calmly rubbing each other, for a few minutes before Terrance removes himself from her, both groaning at the separation. He gets up and goes to a different room, disappearing for a few minutes.

As she waits for him to return, she looks again to see if he was still watching. He was gone this time, taking what he saw with him back home. She smiled, knowing this about to be so awkward when they finally meet.

A wiping between her legs snaps her out of her thoughts. She looks up and see Terrance, wearing a robe now, wiping off any juices or sweat with a wet cloth. He sits her up, lays a robe near, as he walked to the dirty laundry basket, tosses the cloth in there before walking to the kitchen. He grabs the both of them a bottle of water and sits next to her, taking out a cigarette to smoke.

“Drink.” he whispered, handing her a bottle.

Valerie nods, taking it and sipping some of it. She grabs the robe and puts it on as he lit his cigarette.

“Anything feel loose? Feeling low on your fluid? I can go grab your case so you can change your tab.” he said.

She shakes her ‘no’, tying the robe string around her waist to close it. She leans over to give him a few kisses, placing some over his face.

“…I’m sorry for slapping you.” she says, giving him puppy eyes.

“You’re good. You were just in your element, that’s all.” he replied, puffing out smoke.

“You sure? Cause I can see my hand mark slowly forming on your face.” she said, leaning over as she traced it with her fingers.

“At least you marked your territory.” he responded with, making both of them laugh.

Valerie laid on Terrance’s shoulder, slowly closing her eyes as she is exhausted from the partaking she did. He gently traces over her thighs, looking down at her.

“Did you see something out there while we were making love?” he asked.

“Hm?”

“You kept looking at something towards the window for a few moments. Was there something there?”

“….no. I think I was….getting myself caught in my own spell. And I kinda like it.”

“Glad you do. It makes you even more hotter.”

She feels him smile against her head before he placed a kiss on it, continuing his smoke as she fell asleep on him, tiredness finally taken over her. He looks at his suitcase again, thinking about what the next few weeks here is gonna look like.

🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲

A/N II: Started this at 8 PM on Saturday and I finished it this morning. This is how you know I’m a writer with experience (writing fanfics, essays, screenplays, reviews of film and tv) because I cannot believe I wrote all this in two days.

Part 2 is currently in progress and it is now a four part, but two of them will be like a little emotional so I can show a little more of my writing in screenplays style.

If you want to be tagged in it when I publish it, let me know so I can make a list. Have a good day/night, everyone! 🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽

[nanivinsmoke]

❥ Paparazzi

mma!fighter toji x fem!reader

‘ chase you down until you love me ‘

summary ❥ the story of how the paparazzi changed the life of the strongest mma fighter. heavily inspired by lady gaga’s song 

warnings: angst, TRIGGERING topics, friends with benefits, unfaithfulness, degradation, deteriorating mental health, nudes, stalking, oral sex, etc.

note: happy PYSKINKTOBER. m.list here

the red button glowed red as the reporter set it on the table, before looking up at the scarred lip man.

“can we have your name please?”

“toji fushiguro, but please call me toji.” the reporter nodded and scribbled in her notebook before continuing with her next question.

“and how do you know know her?” she slid over a picture and he sighed. he looked over every detail of her pretty face. she was so happy then.

“she was one of my biggest fans. she was a reporter and journalist, just like you.” his voice was gruff and his face was plain, but behind those eyes held a story; a painful one.

“you talk about her like she is no longer with us,” the reporter chuckled at her own joke, but there was nothing to joke about. there was a brief silence before she cleared her throat to ask him another question.

“tell me all about her. how you met, her life, don’t spare any details…”

“alright. she was….”

“you’re fucking annoying.” he cursed, peering over his shoulder, watching the girl follow after him—note book in her smaller hands. she rolled her eyes and pushed some of her hair out of her face, still hot on his tail.

“same thing could be said about you, toji. now are you gonna let me ask my questions or are you going to keep dodging me?” she was used to his antics, wasn’t scared of him one bit. he was intimidating inside and outside of the ring, but not to her. she saw right past his demeanor and saw who he really was.

he sighed and grabbed his bottle from his manager and downed the cool liquid, before shoving it back into his hands. “three questions, only. no more. no less.” she smiled and watched as he shooed people out of his locker room, giving them some privacy.

she pressed the button on her tape recorder before beginning with their introductions and then moving onto her first question. “how does it feel it feel to be the undefeated heavyweight champ?”

“great. im untouchable, in and out of the ring.” he was cocky, but he had to be. in this industry, they eat the weak and worship the strong.

“i hear your next fight, you’re fighting your prodigy. think he can beat you?” she slid off her jacket and folded her glasses up, looking at him through her long lashes. “did you not hear me, woman? im untouchable. i trained him, but he can never beat me, no one can.” he responded, sitting down on the bench behind him, pulling the white towel from around his neck.

“last and final question,” she paused, turning off the table recorder and reaching for her matching white buttons to her crisp button up, “when are you going to finally kiss the cute reporter?”

by now, the locker room was cleared out, leaving the two of them alone. he sighed and ran a hand over his face, before standing up; his body towering over her. “didn’t i tell you, i don’t kiss? that’s how people get attached.”

the two had been in a mutual relationship for a while now. a friends with benefits relationship and from the moment it started, he made it very clear that there would be no affection between the two of them—no kissing, no holding hands; just straight fucking.

she understood that and in the beginning, she wasn’t looking for a relationship, but as time moved on; that changed. she wanted him, craved him even. the sex was so good between them too, she wanted more. she just wished he wanted more too.

“right of course….how could i forget?” she moved to re-button her top only to be stopped by his big hands. “take it off. need to see my pretty girls today,” he smirked, alluding to her breasts. it puzzled her, how he can call her body his, but wouldn’t make her his? however, she took it off—along with her black bra—and sat on his lap, watching as he sucked on those pretty lil nipples he loved so much.

“ tojiiii~” she whined as he teased them, swirling them on his tongue and not fully placing the mounds into his mouth. “quit yer’ whining,” he pinched them, making her squeal, until he finally gripped both of her breasts and placed them into his mouth.

he knew how to get her off easily. he knew all of the spots that had her creaming her panties instantly. it was like her body was made just for him.

the more he sucked the more she felt herself get wet and soon she could feel her panties starting to stick to her second set of lips. she rolled her hips over his crotch, feeling his boner rise and poke her core. he groaned when she tugged at his raven colored hair, mouth still attached to her little love buds. “need you so bad. please”

“not till i taste her,” he picked her up and placed on the work bench a few feet away, laying on her back before tugging her pants down, along with her panties. “shit, you’re soaked. so pretty and wet fa me,” he cooed, swiping his thumb over her slit, watching how webs of her essence stuck to him. he did this a few more times, eliciting a series of mewls from her before he finally attached his lips to her needy clit—making her back arch off the leather workbench.

he was like a dog licking up cold water on a hot day, feasting on her clit; slurping and sucking up all her fluids that pooled out of her. he knew exactly how to please her, slipping two fingers inside of her aching hole and curling it upwards—hitting her spot each time.

she was a mess. her sweet, sticky slick slid down from her cunt and onto the black leather underneath her—gushing each time she felt him. her hands were tangled in his hair and she brought her hips up, his nose pressing into her clit as she grinded against his face; speeding up the orgasm she desperately needed.

“gonna cum—oooh shhhitttt,” toji started to spell his name on her clit, sending jolts of electricity up her spine. and once he got to the ' r ’ in fushiguro, she was cumming all over his scarred lips. he wouldn’t let up on her clit either as she came, causing a gush of a water like fluid to splash against his face.

he quickly lapped up every droplet, sucking on her sensitive clit once more, before letting go— a ‘pop’ sound following afterwards. after taking a few minutes to calm down, she sat up on her elbows expecting him to have his dick out, only to be met with him pushing her panties back up her thighs.

“you’re not gonna fuck me?” he shook his head and chuckled, pulling her pants back up as well. “nah, got a press conference in a—“.

he was cut off as the door opened, entering his best friend and his trainer; shiu kong. she immediately sat up and buttoned up her pants, sliding off the piece of equipment—trying to fix herself.

shiu smirked, shooting a nod to his best friend before looking at the flustered woman. “y/n”

“kong,” she responded, clearing her hoarse throat, turning her attention elsewhere; eyes lingering on the puddle she made a few seconds ago. “you know, you were very loud. lucky it was just me out there,” her eyes widened and she tried to hide her face; too embarrassed to be seen. “bye toji! thanks for the interview!”

she ran off, running out of the gym and to her car—driving far away from the establishment.

“looks like you two had quite the relationship.” the reporter spoke, blushing herself, shifting in her seat after hearing the lewd story.

“that’s what you think. there’s more to it.”

—

the chime of her phone put her attention elsewhere. she stppped typing on her laptop and checked her phone; a message from her best friend, utahime, telling her to her asap.

she pressed her contact name and held the phone up to her ear, immediately hearing her voice. “turn on the news right now!”

she raised an eyebrow and stood up and got her tv’s remote, turning it on and turning it to the news. “hello to you too, utahim—WHAT THE FUCK?”

on the screen it was toji and some woman walking out of a restaurant, hand in hand, avoiding the paparazzi the best they could; that is until one of them finally stopped the new couple. “toji we wanna say congratulations on the fight earlier! you did amazing! and who is this lovely lady right next to you?”

“my fiancé,” everything seemed to fade into the background as her mind blurred. she couldn’t believe it. fiancé? ‘but he said—he just—‘ her mind was running rampant, trying to come to terms with what she just watched. utahime’s voice was like white noise in her ears, before the girl started to yell on the phone. “YOU THERE, Y/N?”

“gotta go hime’.” she hung up before she could even respond, eyes glued to the tv, watching as the couple got into the all black jeep; before she turned it off. she quickly grabbed an all black hoodie and a hat, switching into something comfortable; grabbing her car keys and headed out.

she appeared outside of his building in a heartbeat, slamming her car door before jogging into the building. there was no doormen at night so she was able to not be spotted, taking the elevator up to his penthouse suite. she was fuming, pounding on his door, teetering on the edge as each second passed. and when the door opened, she threw a punch to his jaw, causing his head to swivel. “fucking lying asshole!”

she tried to hit him once more, but he caught her fist and put her in a distressed hug, tearing cascading down her smooth face. “you’re a liar! get off of me!” she pushed away, staring at him with nothing but hurt and anger in her gaze.

“it’s not what you think,” he started, trying to keep calm—not wanting to upset her further. “then what is it? hm, toji? you don’t do relationships remember? yet you’re fucking engaged! since when?”

“like i said it’s not what you think. sit down.” he pointed to the couch, but she wasn’t budging. “SIT. DOWN.”

she huffed and sat down on his soft leather couch, watching through her red eyes as he walked over to his mini bar, pouring her a drink before following suit. he explained to her that this was just a publicity stunt. he was being sued by another pro mma fighter and in order to paint a good picture to the media that he’s not some hot head, his manager thought it was good for the world to see that he was a family man.

by now she was on her second glass of wine. her tears were dried up, yet she was still sniffling. her mind still on a hundred, trying to process everything. when she didn’t say anything, toji inched closer to her and cupped her face, his emerald eyes staring into her’s, before he closed them and pressed his scared lips against her plump one’s.

she was in shock. he was kissing her? yet, she quickly followed his movements and enjoyed the kiss. his tongue sweeping into her mouth, dominating her’s with ease, pulling the woman into his lap—big hands all over her ass. and when he pulled away, a string of spit followed, making her whine. “toji~”

“never wanted to hurt you. i hope you believe that. just let this case play out and end, then it will all be over.”

“why did you kiss her?” the reporter asked, only to be met with silence.

“alright then. continue.”

—

as the case against him progressed, so did the portrayal of his healthy relationship with his new fiancée. there was photoshoots, interviews and home visits. none done at his place, always at his fake house.

and she was always there. covering it or writing magazines on it. she hated it, it was like torture. but, she knew this was for the media. she knew how the paparazzi worked and how the world would take things. anything for a good story.

however, she was a little happier. every night she would be at his house. dressing up each time, putting on some sexy lingerie and covering it with a long black trench coat. toji loved it each time. they would fuck until the sun came up and usually he would kick her out, but now he enjoyed having her stay the night.

cuddle up against her underneath his thousand dollar sheets, sun peeking through the curtains—making her skin glisten. he loved watching her sleep. loved the way her nose would scrunch up when the sun hit her eyes and the way those same beautiful eyes would flutter open; greeting him. he would kiss her in the morning and watched her pretty lips curve into a smile. he didn’t want to admit it, but he had it bad for her. he was in love.

and the moment he finally said “i love you,” had her swooning for days. she had got what she finally wanted. him.

that is until the court day came and he delivered her terrible news. “pregnant? she’s having your fucking child?!” she was seething, pushing him further into the bathroom. why was this happening to her again.

“look it wasn’t sup—“

“save it, toji. just save it. i can’t believe it….again? what about me?” she paused and looked at him, waiting for the answer that never came. she chuckled and wiped away her tears, fixing her makeup and her blazer. “whatever. let’s go. your trial is about to start.

—

it looked good for toji. everything the prosecutors tried to throw at him was immediately turned down. he was gaining the jury’s trust, that is until the prosecution pulled out some evidence.

“this relationship he’s trying to paint? it’s a sham. this was found on his phone! i hope your fiancée knows about this, fushiguro.” higaruma, the lawyer for the guy suing toji announced, pushing the button to the projector—showing off a toji’s messages with a woman posing nude. however, it wasn’t just some random lady. it was her, y/n.

she gasped and screamed in horror. her face wasn’t blurred out either, so everyone knew who she was. the flashes of cameras blurred her eyes as she stood up, racing out of the court room; ignoring all media personnel. she ran, ran until her feet started to blister—her heels bullying into her skin. she hailed a cab once she was far away from the courthouse and went straight to her place; where she stayed for months.

her world was crumbling by the second and it was all because of him.

he had won the case, despite her nudes being leaked, however his fans still blamed her for what happened—blamed her for trying to ruin his career; even though she wasn’t suing him. their outrage and her face was plastered all over the media, shaming her, calling her all types of degrading names. she had to quit her job as a reporter and stayed in solitude.

the police came to her house and put her into protective custody, after seeing how many threats she was facing. utahime came and tried to console her but everything was a blur.

she sat in her new apartment, living in a shell of her old self. the bottles of alcohol started to pile up as she drank herself to death. she couldn’t take it, the more hate she received and the more she thought about him—killed her. he never called her since that day, it was like he never loved her.

she was over him, for good. that is until she received a text from an anonymous number. it was an address and a time, telling her to be there. she raised an eyebrow and put on something to keep her incognito, before getting into her truck and going to the address.

she parked across the street, hiding underneath a tree—staring at the big beautiful house. she was wondering what she was doing here or why she was sent here, until she saw him. his raven hair still looked soft as always, hanging in front of his face. his muscles looked even bigger, poking through the black sweater he wore. he looked good. however, she had to stay focused, to see what was going on.

she watched him climb the black steps, knocking on the front door; revealing a woman—and not the one he was engaged to either. ‘what the actual fuck?’ she thought, unbuckling her seatbelt and getting out her truck. the slam of her door caught his attention, his eyes widening when he saw her approaching.

she whipped her phone out in a flash, recording as she started yelling at him. “so much for not doing relationships right?! you said you fucking loved me! toji!”

the woman standing at the door came closer to the door, tugging on his sweater, “toji, who is this?”

“the woman who’s life he ruined.” there was silence between them, the crickets chirping filled the void, only their eyes were having a conversation—before she started up again.

“my nudes get leaked and my life gets ruined! but, yours? oh you get to live happily ever after! you got a baby and a side piece? oh oh and you still got a career! well what about me? hm!” she couldn’t cry, no matter how much she wanted to, she couldn’t. he wasn’t worthy of her tears anymore.

“got nothing to say? hm? cat got your tongue, toji?!”

“im sorry.” he huffed out and she laughed, flipping the camera to face her. “oh he’s sorry?! you aren’t, but you will be!” she stopped recording and stormed off his porch, before turning around to face him once more.

“im about to ruin your fucking life!”

“oh so that’s where that infamous video came from.” the reporter rose an eyebrow, swallowing down her warm cup of coffee, staring at the man sitting across from her.

“look, you got five minutes left. you gonna let me finish telling the story or what?” his voice and demeanor were cold, and she held her hands up in defense. “sorry. what happened next?”

—

she sent her video to the media which earned her a new job as a paparazzi. she also made articles and never stopped covering articles about him. each one was there to deface him. she was doing like she said she was, ruining his life. but, she was ruining her own as well.

she was drinking more and taking pills to escape her thoughts, sending her into a downward spiral. she was heavily depressed and on the brink of a mental breakdown, yet she still kept going. she was obsessed with him and she should’ve moved on, but how could she? how could she forget the past? when it hasn’t been a year yet?

the more time that passed, the more she wasn’t herself and when utahime came over and saw her in her wretched state—she did what any best friend would do and got her some help.

she was in a psych facility, being treated for chronic depression and memory loss; due to all the pills and alcohol she was consuming. her body couldn’t handle it. all she could remember was the good ole days she had with toji, before her life was ruined.

as for toji, his life was never the same either. he blamed himself for what happened to her, everyday for the rest of his life. he divorced his current wife and co-parented with his ex fiancée with their child that they shared, retiring as a pro mma fighter—passing the torch to his protege and running his own mma school. he was done with fame, he just wanted to go back to normal.

“alright. interviews over, no more questions.” toji got up from his spot and the reporter got up as well, trying to get him to stay. “where are you going?” the recorder was still on, catching his last words.

“going to see my wife.”

as he entered the psychiatric facility, he pushed his wedding band on and navigated his way towards her room, where he saw her waiting on her twin bed—a book in her hand. his eyes softened, she still looked pretty like always. he stepped in the room and she perked up.

“is this my husband?” she asked, trying to remember and he nodded, sitting down next to her on the bed. he pulled out the photo album and showed her pictures from before; her past life before everything changed.

“yeah baby, I’m here.”

[humanpurposes]

So thrilled you’re taking requests! I love winter themed fics this time of year. I’m requesting modern Aemond (if not allowed then Michael Gavey) + stuck in this cabin until the storm passes/come sit by the fireplace. As much smut as you’d like with maybe a teeny bit of angst?

Thank you for taking requests, I know they will all be lovely

A/n: Took the liberty of making this a Michael Gavey request 😈 Also this gif is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen!! Shoutout @barbieaemond and all the other amazing gif makers on here. These guys are such an integral part of fandom and they deserve all our love, appreciation and credit ❤️✨

Words: 2.9k

Warnings: 18+, slight angst, handjob, thigh riding (ish), Michael Gavey being awkard, but not quite a virgin

Main Masterlist

“Fucking skiing holiday. Should have fucking known this would be a fucking disaster.” 

Michael’s foul mouth hardly phases you anymore. When you first met him you thought he’d be a shy type of guy, with his baby blue shirts, cargos and wire frame glasses he kept pushing up with his middle finger.

You’d quickly found that he wasn’t at all like you expected. He can be abrasive, often judgemental and vulgar, not so unlike your other friends but with Michael it seems to come from a place of unashamed honesty. You sort of admire him for it.

He’s pacing the small living room and kitchen of the cabin, furiously fiddling with his mobile. You’re kneeling by the wood burning stove, hovering a lighter by the kindling in the hopes that you can light a proper fire.

You’re surprised he agreed to go on this trip at all. 

You have a few friends who do Maths, and at the start of second year they started inviting Michael to the pub on the weekends. You recognised him from your trips to the library, where he’d usually sit alone after his friend ditched him for Felix Catton.

They’d been all talking about a skiing trip between Christmas and New Year, to this little Italian village in the Alps. You didn’t— and still don’t— actually know how to ski, but spending a few nights in a cabin in the mountains, surrounded by snow sounded like a dream. Michael had been sceptical at first but you’d managed to convince him to come when you said you’d need someone to keep you company when the others were on the slopes.

The others had all gone out as soon as you arrived, leaving Michael to get settled in the cabin.

But it’s turned out to be somewhat of a nightmare. It’s too dark to actually see the snow storm but you can hear it, shrieking and howling against the walls and windows of the cabin. You have no service, no central heating, just the small assortment of snacks you had brought with you, a packet of paprika crisps, a bar of chocolate and a prosciutto sandwich you’d bought back at the main resort, back down the mountain, back in civilisation.

“Fuck, fuck fuck!”

“What now?” You ask, still focused on the fire.

“Mobile’s fucking dead. Shit! I have a charger in my bag but the bloody electricity isn’t fucking working so I can’t fucking charge it!”

You smile to yourself as the kindling catches alight and the flames start to lick at the larger logs.

You glance over your shoulder as Michael tosses his phone on the sofa, runs his hands through his hair and catches his lower lip with his teeth.

“I have plenty of charge on mine,” you say, “I’ll turn it off to save the battery and we can see if the service is working in the morning?”

Michael stares at you for a lingering moment. He can be so intense sometimes, almost unsettlingly so. “You want us to stay here all night?” he says softly.

“People know we’re here. I’m sure someone from the resort will come up when they can. Until then, we just have to wait out the storm.”

He tuts, but he knows you don’t have any other options.

You sit together with your backs against the sofa so that you can be as close to the fire as possible. The heat pleasantly burns your face and skin through your jeans and jumper. Even then, where your arm presses against Michael’s, you feel the warmth of his body beside you. 

You grab the crisps and the sandwich out of your bag, offering them both to Michael. He only takes a handfuls of crisps and when you split the sandwich in two he takes the smaller half. You offer him more of the chocolate bar but he insists he’s not hungry. You frown at that. It might not be a Crunchie, but Michael never turns down chocolate. 

“How was your Christmas?” You ask, popping a square of chocolate on your tongue.

“Fine,” he says, looking down at his hands, “had dinner with my dad and my nan, went to see my mum on Boxing Day.”

Guilt twinges in your chest. “Are your parents not together?”

“Oh no, they split up a long time ago,” he says, like it should have been obvious.

“I’m sorry.”

He turns to face you, staring intensely. “Why would you be sorry?” 

“Because I didn’t realise.”

He smiles. You think it’s because he knows you’re nervous. “I’ve been splitting Christmases between my parents every year since I was twelve, I’m well used to it now.”

The topic doesn’t seem to phase him. He takes another crisp from the packet and looks into the fire as he crunches it between his teeth.

The low light reminds you of the nights you’ve sat opposite him in the King’s Arms in Oxford, all the times you’ve been tipsy off wine spritzers and found yourself trying not to make it obvious that you’re staring at him. He’s handsome, especially up close when you can see the details of his face, his lips, his surprisingly pretty eyelashes, the little cleft on the tip of his nose.

When his eyes turn towards you, you think your heart might leap out of your chest.

You take a quick breath, eyes darting around the room, at the fire, the pile of logs beside the stove, the sprinkling of ashes on the floor, but it seems inevitable that you’ll find your way back to him.

“Why did they split up?”

Michael raises his eyebrows but keeps his face solemn. “She left him for someone else.”

“Oh,” is all you can think of to say. 

“It happens,” he says. “People always want to find something better. My dad was never the most exciting guy to be around.”

“But what about you?”

He huffs a laugh to himself. “I’m not exactly enticing company either.”

You can’t tell if you just want the conversation to end or if you should say something else.

“It’s not something I can fix,” Michael says. One of his hands rests on his thigh and he slowly flexes it so the tendons shift beneath his skin. “And it’s not something that needs to be fixed. People come in and out of your life, but you move on. That’s just the way it is.”

He’s almost hunched over himself, with his chin tilted down and his glasses sliding down towards the end of his nose. 

You’d seen him in the pub once, back in first year, with that friend of his, Oliver Quick. Oliver had gone up to the bar and ended up sitting with Felix Catton and his band of admirers. You’d watched Michael leave the pub and remember your heart shattering for him, for this boy you didn’t even know.

Now, stuck in this cabin, snow swirling past the windows, the sound of the fire crackling a few feet in front of you, and Michael’s side pressed against yours, your heart shatters all over again.

You place your hand over his, and he instantly stops moving. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re great.”

Michael tries not to smile. “You don’t need to flatter me,” he says.

You curl your fingers over his hand and tighten your grip. His eyes meet yours and you feel yourself frowning, because he doesn’t understand, because he doesn’t see himself the same way you see him. 

“I mean it. You’re funny, even when you don’t even mean to be, and honest, and straightforward…”

You glance down at his lips, slightly parted as he listens to you. It crosses your mind to lean in closer, but something stops you.

“I really love that we’re friends,” you say.

Michael looks down at your hands. His lips are pressed together.

He doesn’t want this, you think. He doesn’t want me.

So you pull away, with a little smile to keep it friendly.

He blinks a few times as he looks back at your face. “Thanks,” he says, softly. 

He stands, and you don’t think you can bear to look at him as he moves towards the hallway that leads to the bedrooms.

You turn your attention to the fire, add another log for good measure and poke at the glowing embers in its heart.

You hear movement behind you, footsteps and fabric.

When you look back you see Michael has his arms full with pillows and blankets. He layers some of the blankets on the rug, and soon he has two makeshift beds, one on the sofa and one on the floor.

“What’s this?” You ask.

“We’ll freeze in the bedrooms without the heating, we might as well make use of the fire.”

It’s a good call, and now that you have somewhere to sleep you start to realise how tired you are. 

You rummage through your suitcase and pull out a pair of pyjamas you got for Christmas. Michael changes in one of the bedrooms and comes back in one of his maths pun t-shirts and a pair of red and black bottoms. 

You go to lie in the bed on the floor but Michael puts his hand on your shoulder and insists you sleep on the sofa.

Even with the heat of the fire on your face and the blanket pulled up to your chin, you can’t stop shaking. Your limbs are frozen and your skin is tight, but it feels deeper set than that. You feel the cold in your chest like a fever.

It feels like hours have passed and you still can’t sleep.

“I can hear your teeth chattering,” Michael’s voice grumbles below you. You peer down over the edge of the sofa. He’s turned away from you, towards the fire. You hadn’t even realised he was still awake.

“It’s fucking cold,” you say, wincing at the quiver in your voice.

Michael shifts to his other side so he’s facing you. You’ve never really seen him without his glasses, and he looks completely different, somehow softer, not as harsh.

“We’ll be warmer if we, if we share,” he says quietly.

His suggestion weighs heavy in the space between you, unless it’s just in your head. You can already imagine yourself pressed against him, feeling the warmth from his body and letting it sink into yours.

You don’t trust yourself not to try something stupid either.

You take the blanket with you. The floorboards are piercing against your bare soles so you step on the balls of your feet, quickly slotting yourself by Michael’s side, on the layers of blankets. 

He’s facing you now, your noses must only be inches apart and you feel his breath running over your cheek.

You try to steady your own breathing, but it only makes your heart beat faster.

You see his neck move as he swallows. “Come here,” he mutters, and brings his arm around you, pressing his palm to your back to pull you closer into his chest.

You let your arm drape over his side and your legs intertwine with his. You need the heat, tucking your head in under his chin and resting the side of your face against him.

You move with the rise and fall of his chest, breathe in the scent of him with every breath, hear his heartbeat against your ear.

If you shifted your head slightly, your lips would meet the base of his throat.

Want tightens and lingers in your stomach, but curled up under Michael’s arm, you let its dull ache soothe you to sleep.

You wake slowly, opening your eyes to cold sunlight glaring through the windows. In your haste to get warm last night, you had apparently forgotten to draw the curtains. All you see on the other side is white, the snow now settled and piled high.

The fire has long since died and the air is colder than it was when you fell asleep, sharp as you take a breath through your nose.

It’s still warm where your cheek meets Michael’s chest, where his hand rests against your back and your bodies are pressed together.

It feels good to be so close to him. He’s still asleep, as far as you can tell. You hear the heavy sound of his breathing, air fluttering in his throat and passing through his pouted lips.

As you start to become more aware, more awake, a warm wanting stirs in your gut and between your legs.

It’s a stupid little crush, one you’ve not been able to distract yourself from these last few months.

You start to trace your fingertips over his chest, feeling where his chest is hard, then soft, and remember everything you said to him the night before, and what you perhaps should have said.

You nuzzle your face in closer to him, to the clean scent of his t-shirt and something else that is so uniquely him.

You try to stay like this for as long as possible, even if it’s torture not to want more.

“You’re moving a lot,” he mutters. You feel his voice rumbling in his chest and humming against your head like it’s a part of you.

Only when you freeze do you realise you’ve been rocking your hips, every hint of friction you get against the fabric of your pyjamas only fueling your hunger. But you’ve stopped now, resting your palm against his stomach.

“I’m cold,” you say.

“Hmm,” he says, resting his lips and his chin against your head, over your hair, “I don’t feel cold.”

The low rasp of his voice only makes you want him more.

The lingering haze of sleep must be clouding your judgement, your sense.

You tilt your head up, brushing your lips over his throat like you’d imagined. You feel him shudder, and feel his stomach tighten under your touch.

He utters your name in a breathless whisper as he paws at your back and pushes his hips into yours. His arousal is evident, hard and pressing to your centre through two layers of fabric.

And then he pauses, and his hand slips away.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he says.

You drag your hand down a little further, to slip under his t-shirt and feel the ridges of his surprisingly toned stomach, just above the waistband of his bottoms. “Why are you sorry, Michael?”

“I don’t know, I just…” he huffs in frustration as his hand returns to your body, gripping at your waist through your shirt.

You start to snag your fingers on the waistband, and realise he’s forgone wearing any boxers to bed. “Do you want me to help you?” You whisper, unable to hold back a grin.

“Yes, fuck, please,”

A whine sounds in his throat as you shift his bottoms down just enough to free his cock, and close your hand around it. He’s bigger than you expected, long and thick, heavy, hard and soft-skinned as you stroke, up, down, up, down.

You enjoy the feel of him, run your thumb over his weeping tip as he starts to pant and try to hold back his moans, leaning against you and ghosting his lips against your temple.

You only feel yourself becoming more and more desperate. You hook your leg over his, grinding your core against his thigh. Sparse sparks of pleasure course through your body, not enough for a release, but it still feels good.

You tilt your head again, eagerly pressing your lips to his. He seems taken by surprise at first, but meets you with clumsy enthusiasm. He kisses you like it might save him from something. Once or twice he seems to lose track, dragging his lips to the corner of your mouth only to pull you back into him.

The movements become more and more frantic, your hand pumping Michael’s cock, his hips bucking under your touch.

“Fuck,” he hisses against your lips, “I’m close. Fuck, I’m so close.”

You rock particularly hard against his thigh, and he brings his hand to your rear, squeezing at your flesh and urging you on.

You tease your lips against the shell of his ear, smiling at the wanton noise he makes as he buries his face into the crook of your neck.

“Are you gonna cum for me Michael?” You whisper as you up the pace.

“Please,” he grunts, “please…” and suddenly he’s moaning against your skin, holding you tightly as you feel his cock pulse in your hand as he spills over your fingers and knuckles.

You quickly move your head back so you can look at him, eyes fluttered shut, jaw slack and tongue just peeking out from behind his teeth.

“You’re so pretty,” you say quietly.

He blinks his eyes open, looking down at you with a dazed smile. “You think I’m pretty?”

“So fucking pretty,” you say, with another drag against his thigh.

He hums, low and cryptic in his chest. “Do you need some help there?”

Before you can answer he’s slipped his hand underneath your pyjamas. He cups your bare, wet cunt, lightly circling over your clit with the tip of his finger.

“Fuck you’re soaked,” he mutters, all but teasing your lips as he leans in to kiss you. “Got yourself all worked up, hmm?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, “fuck, don’t tease me, please…”

“Now, sweetheart,” he coos as he presses more firmly against you, hastening his movements so your breath catches in your throat. “We might still have a few hours before anyone comes to get us, and I can think of more than a few ways to pass the time.”

Tags (comment to be added)

General taglist: @randomdragonfires @jamespotterismydaddy @theoneeyedprince @tsujifreya @dreamsofoldvalyria @lacebvnny

[stairain]

Down by the Dock.

After telling Spencer how distant he's been, he's determined to prove just how close he can get with you.

Warnings: Soft Dom Spencer, slight angst, creampie, breeding kink, gentle sex, praise, nicknames, missionary. 

WC: 4.3K

You were sitting on the edge of the dock, lightly skidding your feet into the water of the ocean as you looked onward at the sunset. Swirls of orange, pink, and purple overtook the sky as you sat on the damp wood surface, right outside of you and Spencer’s beach house.

This was supposed to be a romantic getaway from your daily lives, a time where you could be with him as much as you wanted and needed, however, that still didn’t deter the dull ache in your chest. 

A few minutes passed, and you heard footsteps padding closer to you. Spencer walked out onto the deck with a blanket over his shoulder and his hands in his pockets. He saw you and smiled.

"Hi. Ready to watch the sunset?" He asked, gesturing to the blanket he had brought for you. You look over your shoulder at him and give him a solemn smile.

“Yeah..” Turning your head back to the sky, you bring your legs to your chest, tucking your knees under your chin.

Your boyfriend sat down next to you, wrapping the blanket over your shoulders and putting an arm around you as he did so.

"Are you okay?" He asked quietly, his tone filled with concern. You take a deep breath and let the crisp evening air flood your lungs, you look away from him as you bite your lip. 

“I don’t know, Spence..”

"Do you want to talk about it, baby?” He asked gently, rubbing your shoulders and looking at you with a gentle and comforting expression. He had always wanted you to feel the same comfort around him that he felt around you. He wanted you to know that you could come to him about anything. Spencer always did whatever it took to make you feel better, and this was no exception.

He would do anything for you, no matter what it was.

You turn your neck to look at him with glossy eyes and quickly look away. “Are we okay..?”

With a nod, he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. He smiled comfortingly.

"Of course. We're always okay.”

He said quietly, holding you close after the kiss. He felt a sense of responsibility for you that he had never before felt for anyone else, and he wanted to make sure that you felt safe around him. He wanted to make you feel loved, cared for, and understood, so he held you close to him. 

"What can I do to make us better than ‘okay’”? He asked, knowing you needed comfort. You shook your head at his words and sniffed.

“I-I don’t know.. Just been feeling like we’ve been drifting, recently..”

Spencer’s heart broke at your words, and he held you even closer.

"Oh, sweetheart, I'm so sorry."

He mumbled, rubbing your back slowly in a comforting, soothing way. "How long have you been feeling that way?” 

You let yourself be held by him, and you could feel the tears running down your cheeks, soaking into the blanket he had wrapped around you.

“You’ve just been so busy with work and I know how important it is, b-but I just- I don’t know.. feeling not so important to you, you know?”

He nods as he wiped some of the tears from your eyes with a soft expression of remorse.

"I should have realized sooner. I'm sorry, sweetheart.” He whispered sweetly, stroking your face with his hand. "I don't want you to feel like my work is more important than you. Because in the end, if I had to choose, I'd only ever choose you."

Taking a few staggering breaths, you nod at his words. “Thank you, Spence.. I’m sorry for all of this.” You look down at your hands and begin to play with your nails to distract yourself.

"Stop apologizing, sweetheart. You're allowed to express your emotions. And I'm here to support you, no matter what. Don't be afraid to come to me."

He whispered, his tone filled with understanding and kindness. He gave you a soft smile, wanting nothing more than to help ease your pain. "This was my fault. Not yours. I should’ve noticed earlier on. And you're not alone; I'm here for you. Always."

With another nod, you look up at him and gaze into his eyes, admiring how the colorful sky reflected beautiful light on his features. “I love you, Spence.”

His heart fluttered at your words, causing him to blush ever so slightly. He placed his hands on your cheeks gently, leaning in just slightly and kissing you softly on the lips.

"I love you too, sweetheart."

He whispered gently, holding you close after the kiss. He was grateful to have you in his life, and he hoped you knew just how much he cared about you, how much he loved you.

As soon as he had broken the first kiss, it had only left you wanting more. Hearing his confessions of pure, unbridled love and care for you made a deep passion inside of you ignite. 

You look at him with a faux pout on your mouth.

Spencer chuckled softly at the pout on your face, and leaned in again, kissing you gently on the lips, this time kissing you a little more passionately than the first one. His hands rubbed your back gently, and he ran a hand through your hair, pulling you closer to him as he kissed you. 

As the sun began to set below the horizon of water and the two of you continued to embrace and kiss the other, he reluctantly pulled away and got up to kneel beside you.

“Come on, love. It’s getting cold out.”

In one swift fluid motion, he lifted you up in the air, as if you weighed next to nothing; he carried you through the house and into your shared bedroom, laying you down on the bed gently. 

As you lay against the bed, you sprawled yourself out against the plush material of the cold blankets and pillows, and looked up at him with adoring eyes.

Spencer’s breath catches in his throat when he gets a good look at you laying there, all his. He crawled onto the bed on top of you, getting as close as he possibly could. With wide eyes of his own, he stares into yours before whispering against your face. 

“Are you alright with this, sweetheart?” He whispered, his voice was low and husky, full of passion. When careful fingers find your waist, you all but melt into the soft touch.

You could feel his breath on your skin and the heat his strong body radiated off. The look on your face was one of pure need. The need to be taken care of, to be cared for, to be worshiped. 

You nod, swallowing. 

He smiled and began kissing your neck, moving down to your collarbone as he ran his hands up and down your body. He did just as he knew you needed, and he cared for you, as he always did. You were the most important person in the world to him, and you knew he'd do anything you asked to take care of you, to love you, and to show just how much he meant it when he told you he loved you more than life itself.

Shivers ran through your frame at the feeling of his large warm hands running over your cold skin. The window that was facing the water wasn’t helping with the chill you felt, but you knew Spencer would warm you up in no time.

His warm hands moved over you in a gentle, comforting way, as he placed numerous tender kisses on you, on your neck, shoulders, chest, everywhere he could reach. His kisses were full of love, passion, and affection, and they were meant to take you to a place of total bliss. You knew you could always count on him to make you feel loved and appreciated, and he did it better than anyone else in the world could. He did everything he could for you, and he would always be there for you.

You took a deep breath when you felt his gentle hands pull at the buttons of your shorts, and reached your hands down to help him. But he was quick to grab your wrists and gently place them against your chest, he didn’t want you doing any work right now.

“Hands to yourself baby, you know better.” 

His tone was gentle, yet still scolding. It made your mouth dry and your panties wet. You’d do anything for him as long as he kept speaking to you in that voice of his. 

“S-Sorry, Spence..”

You move your hands so they’re side by side with your head, trying to relax and let him do everything he wants to you.

“I’ll take care of you, you know that." 

He kissed your forehead softly, looking down at you with his light eyes as he continued to undress you. His hands continued moving gently, and he worked your shorts down slowly, taking his time as he did so.

A small gasp leaves you at the way you’re left in your little lace underwear, laid out just for him. And you can hear the sound of your shorts hitting the hardwood floor, and soon enough, your panties, top, and bra, would be joining it. 

"You're gorgeous, darling."

Spencer whispered gently, giving you soft kisses as he did so. With every press of his lips against your goosebump raised skin, it only further turned you on. It was embarrassing to you, how easily he was able to arouse you. But he loved it. He loved being able to get your panties soaked and your cheeks flushed with a blush, just from a few kisses. 

You heard him undo his belt and pull down his pants, taking them off and then dropping them to the floor. The sound of the hardware of his buckle hitting the wood of the night stand made you shudder in anticipation, and you couldn’t help but clench your thighs together in excitement. 

“Are you still doing okay, baby?” 

He looks at you and faintly raises a brow.

“Y-Yes.. Spence..”

He smiled softly at you, and he leaned down to give you a gentle kiss down the lower part of your neck, before he leaned back up and his hands went back down to pull your underwear down slowly.

"Good girl.." 

You squirmed in his hold against the bed as he slowly, teasingly, dragged your underwear down your bottom.

Spencer chuckled softly at your squirms. It made him know that he was doing everything right, and he continued to slowly pull your underwear down your bottom.

"Easy there, darling. You can wait.”

He softly spoke, his tone full of devotion and love as he tried to tease you as much as possible, which proved to be quite easy. You could feel the fabric being pulled away from you body, and all you could do was lay back and let him take control. 

You wanted to wince when you could feel him pulling the drenched fabric off your body, practically having to peel them off of your soaked pussy because of how wet you were. 

You felt his eyes on you, watching with eager interest. They were filled with adoration and arousal. He couldn't wait to show you how much he loved you, and the sight of you was already more than he could've ever dreamed of. 

"You're so beautiful, sweet thing..." Spencer whispers, his voice a husky tone full of passion and excitement as he licks over his bottom lip.

“Thank you.. Spence, y-you’re beautiful, too..” You shyly murmur as you stare at the ceiling, trying not to focus on the embarrassment rising in your cheeks from how hard you think he’s staring at your exposed body. 

And you’re right. His eyes are absolutely shining with fascination at just how soaked you are, from a few light touches and kisses to your neck. He reaches out a gentle hand and pushes your folds around, smearing the slicks all over your thighs and his fingers. You moan at the feeling.

"You're very welcome, darling. You look so beautiful right now.." He whispered, smiling softly and letting his eyes follow every curve of your body. He was absolutely entranced by you, and he could barely control the intense look in his eyes of wanting you more than anything in the world. 

Spencer pulls his hand away from you, and slips them in his mouth for a quick moment, cleaning your arousal from his fingers. You watch the way his eyes roll into the back of his head when he retracts his fingers out of his mouth. 

"I love you. So much."

“I-I love you too..”

The soft crashes of the waves against the dock were audible in the room, and it only added to the calming atmosphere that engulfed you entirely and made you dizzy with bliss.

As he kneels in front of your spread body, he reaches a hand out to stroke over the skin of your thigh. 

“You wanna keep your shirt on or off, baby?”

He knew you were iffy about being completely naked, even in front of him, and you can’t help the swell of your heart at how considerate he’s always been towards you. 

“Y-You can take it off, Spence.. I don’t mind.” 

And his eyes practically glowed at your words, they were filled with admiration and love, at how much you trusted him. 

With a nod, he leans over you to pull up the soft fabric of your top, pulling it over your head, leaving you only in your bra. He reaches out to play with the delicate straps. 

“And this? You wanna keep it on, my love?”

You shake your head hesitantly, you trusted him completely, and wanted him to know just how much. 

His hands reach behind you, and your body arches under him to help. A small smile quirks on his lips at the sight, and he begins to unclasp your bra. 

And once he pulls the lacy undergarment off of you, he tenderly rubs the fabric between his fingers as he stares down at your fully bare body. He licks over his lips and sets the bra gently on the floor next to the rest of your clothing. 

“My god, baby.. You’re incredible.” 

And with the way his voice is utterly dripping with sincerity and pure adoration, you believe him. A small smile of your own creeps onto your face at his praise. 

“Thank you, Spence..” 

He nods, feeling far too emotional to speak at this moment. Kneeling back, Spencer goes down to pull down his own underwear, and even though it's a sight you’ve seen numerous times before, you couldn't ever bring yourself to get tired of it. 

As he threw the thin underwear onto the floor, his thick and heavy cock sways with his body, and god did you need him so badly it was starting to hurt. 

His hand wraps around his member, and he bites his lip at the feeling. You’re forced to watch him give himself pleasure with a pout, because you know you can make him feel better than that hand of his, even though it’s the same hand that’s brought you to countless orgasms before. 

You rub your thighs together in hopes of some relief, and he chuckles when he realizes just how desperate you’ve become. He grabs himself at the base of his dick, and slowly passes it through the slippery folds of your cunt.

The feeling of being entirely coated with your arousal makes his head spin, and it makes your breath grow short. The blunt tip of his cock buts against your sensitive clit and you’d be ashamed to admit that it was already bringing you so close over the edge. 

“P-Please.. Spen-” 

“Shh shh, I know, baby..” 

He’s quick to shut you up, because only he knows what’s the best for you, and right now, he’s giving it to you. 

Spencer rubs his head over your hole, before slowly, so slowly, pushing himself inside of your warm walls. The intrusion makes you wince, he’s always been big, and somehow he always made it fit. 

With each inch he sheathes inside of you, the fuller and fuller you feel. You can feel yourself tightening involuntarily around him, and you can hear just how wet you are when you do. With each squeeze of your pussy around his cock, and quiet squelch can be heard, you were so wet that you were already leaking around him.

And when he’s entirely engulfed inside of you, his pelvis pressing into the sides of your thighs, your legs wrapped around his back, he throws his head back at how warm you are. It’s almost burning him, and he can’t get enough of it, even if you him fuck you forever. 

But he’d still be a foolish man to ever deny the offer.

The man gently caresses your soft skin as he forces himself to stay still inside of you, despite how hard it was, and despite how much he just wanted to fill you over and over again with his cock, then once more with his searing hot cum. 

“Let me know when, baby. O-Okay?”

His voice is wavering at how much control he’s trying to instill, and you’re not doing too hot either. Your body is trembling against the sheets as you try to adjust to the intrusion and keep your release at bay. 

After a few soft cries and moans from you, and a few more groans and heavy sighs from Spencer, you clench around him to let him know you’re ready, and the feeling makes him keel over your body, caging your head with his arms. 

“Fuck, baby..” 

His fingers intertwined with yours beside your head, and began to shallowly thrust into your weeping cunt. 

Looking down was a big mistake, you soon found. Because the second you leaned up slightly to watch the way he fucked you, you threw you head back almost immediately. 

After noticing this, he does the same. He bows his head down to look where your two bodies meet, and he lets out a guttural moan at the sight. 

“God, look at you, angel.. You’re swallowing me right up.”

You shake your head at his words and squeeze your eyes shut. Because you know if you look again, you’ll be trembling and cumming on his cock that instant you see the way his thick cock pushes into your greedy cunt. 

Spencer’s having a hard enough time as is holding himself back, just watching the way he disappears inside your pretty pussy has him rolling his eyes back into his head. Seeing the way your slick arousal has turned white on his length because of how much he’s been encasing himself inside of you. 

The fingers that are intertwined with yours leave your hands, and reach down to hold you in a firm grip at your hips. He uses them to pull your body down against him, further humping his cock into your drenched hole. 

He begins to rub the sweat slicked skin of your hips as he still fucks into you so lovingly.  

His touches were so gentle and comforting that it almost made you feel drowsy. You let out a soft yawn and felt your eyelids grow heavier with each tender pass of his cock inside of you.

Spencer was quick to notice this, and pat you lightly against the side of your face, forcing you to look up at him.

“Come on baby, stay with me. I know you can do it..”

His voice was full of so much emotion it made you want to cry. The way he talked to you like you were precious to him never ceased to make you absolutely melt under his gaze.

With a nod, you blinked a few times to bring yourself back to full consciousness, and lolled your head back against the plush pillows as your swollen lips pushed out a soft moan.

“There you go.. that’s my sweet girl..”

Each roll of his hips into you drove you crazy, and the way he was making you feel was out of place with how tenderly he was making love to you. He made you feel like your body was on fire, like at any given moment, you’d be gushing around his cock and soaking his skin and sheets. 

You clench around him to pull him even deeper inside of you, and he groans loudly at the sensation. You were so close already, he might as well have gotten an award. 

Spencer readjusts his body to plant his knees firmer against the bed, and leans down to wrap his arms around your waist to lift your lower body against his own. He began to fuck into you quicker now, just how you needed it. A whiny whimper was what you granted him in response. 

He nodded, and a shudder ran through him at how amazing you felt around him, and how utterly beautiful you sounded and looked.  

“Anytime you need to, baby.” 

Sounding breathless, he grinds his body harder, faster, and longer into yours. You’re sucking him up like it’s your job, and feel him yanking you closer and closer to your release.

Your hands gripped at the sheets, your nails digging into them in a substitute for Spencer’s back. You didn’t want to hurt him right now, not when he was taking care of you like the most delicate thing to ever exist, definitely not.

“I-I love you s-so much.. So so much, Spence..” 

You pathetically yet lovingly confess to him through a moan, and your eyebrows scrunched at the imminent orgasm that was quickly washing over you.

“Oh baby.. I love you too, more than anything.” 

His voice is full of adoration, and you can hear the way he’s fighting off cutting himself off with loud moans and groans of his own. 

Your body trembles as your cunt gives one last greedy swallow of his entire length, and you can practically see the back of your skull with how hard your eyes are rolling. Warmth. Warmth is all you feel. 

You’re gushing around him, feeling your release spill out of you around him and coat your thighs and drip down to your ass. Your orgasm sends you into a state of euphoria, and after your body turns stiff from the impact, you go entirely limp in his hold, moaning and whimpering endlessly. 

“My sweet baby.. You did so well.” 

He whispers through your noises, and starts to push into you quicker, chasing after his own very close release. With your orgasm still wracking through your fragile body, he can just feel the flutter of your pussy around him, begging to be filled with his cum. 

“Baby- Baby I’m gonna cum.. W-Where?” 

His voice sounds absolutely desperate, like if you didn’t answer him in the next second he’d explode. 

Crying out through a moan, you squeeze your cunt harder, pulling him deeper and deeper where you needed him most, where you needed him to claim you, and show you just how sorry he is for being so distant. 

“I-Inside.. Now, Spence.. Oh–Please, I need it so bad.. Please…” 

Spencer shakes his head at your response, as if it drove him crazy. And truthfully, it did. Nothing sounded more appealing than absolutely filling you to the brim with his thick, warm, cum. He needed it inside of you, probably more than you did. He wanted to stuff you with his release, praying to god your body would take his seed into you, and give you the family you always yearned to have. 

You deserve it. You deserve everything. 

Is what he chants to himself in his head, it wasn’t like he needed any help believing it, he just wanted to make sure he did a good job of showing you just how devoted he was towards you, and how far he'd go just to make sure you’re happy. 

With one final push into you, he locks himself inside of you, and keeps himself there. He’s so fucking deep inside of you that you can feel his tip blowing a kiss to your cervix, and yet the both of you craved he could get deeper. A primal moan left his mouth, accompanying your whines of pure pleasure.

Spencer’s hips stutter against your thighs, and you feel him lose all of his control at that moment. He’s pouring his release into you, shooting thick ribbons of arousal and coating your walls. 

And he was tucked so far into you, that none of it leaked out. So he pumped you full of cum, and forced your body to take it, take it as your own. 

When his release starts to subside, he lets out a soft laugh and squeezes at the flesh of your waist. 

“You alright, love?”

You wordlessly nod, and swallow the spit pooling in your mouth. You lean up on your forearms to look up at him with a gaze full of unmistakable admiration and adoration. He returns it. 

With a breathless moan, he starts to slowly pull out of you, but you’re quick to protest. With your legs against his back, you pull him closer to you, and force him back inside of you. 

“Stay, Spence.. Please..” 

He looks up at you with a crooked smile and tilts his head to the side. With a slightly trembling hand, he reaches it up to your face and moves some of the sweaty hair stuck on your face out of the way, and leans down the best he can to press a kiss to your cheek. 

“Baby I honestly think I’m stuck inside of you at this point, you don’t have to worry about that.” 

[agroteraa]

Actaeon

Oliver Quick x f!Reader

My fic masterlist

Part 1.

Part 2: Artemis

Part 3.1: The Wrath of the Stag (ch.1)

Part 3.2: The Wrath of the Stag (ch.2)

Warnings: smut, voyeurism, masturbation, fingering, light choking.

Word Count: 5K

"Venetia! I also wanted to..."

But she had already triumphantly closed the bathroom door. You slammed the door a couple of times, but all you heard in response was the muffled sound of water and a Paris Hilton song blasting from the speakers that were in that room. She would definitely listen to the entire album during her bath procedures, and certainly more than once.

Clearly, this would take a long time. It was too long to wait - you'd been shivering from the cold. Nothing special had happened, you just opened the window in your room and were so engrossed in reading a book that you forgot about everything in the world. The summer days in Saltburn were hot, but still the nights gave you chills sometimes. So, every fascination has its price to pay.

The second bathroom in your wing of the house broke down tonight. That was bad, because the servants could not cope on their own, and it was too late to call the plumbing, and there was no such urgent need when there were several bathrooms. It was a pity the senior Cattons didn’t know that when Venetia used to occupy the only bathroom nearby, that was indeed the most urgent need.

You didn't want to bother Felix and Venetia's parents, much less use their bathroom. James and Elspeth were friends of your parents and this was far from your first summer in Saltburn, but still it would be somehow too inconvenient, they were not your uncle and aunt, after all. There was also no question about the servants' bathroom, it seemed even more inconvenient for you to occupy a bathroom that was used by more than 10 people at once.

There was only one option left if you wanted to lie in the bath for as long as you wanted so that no one would bother you, and right now.

You went down to the living room, where you could hear the sound of the TV. Felix was sitting next to Oliver, smoking a cigarette, switching channels and talking cheerfully to his friend.

"Hey Felix!" you spoke to the guy, and he turned to you, his face reflecting the blue light from the TV in the semi-darkness.

"Yes, Y/N?" he smiled.

"Mm... Can I use your bathroom now? We’ve got one tub malfunctioning, and Venetia got stuck in the other, deciding to do Live at Saltburn's Bathroom 2007, no less..."

You specifically said "your bathroom," looking at Felix the whole time. It was more correct to address both guys at once, but you just couldn't look into Oliver's eyes like that and ask him to use his bathroom with Felix.

"Say no more," he grinned, "Of course! Go ahead, enjoy yourself!"

"Thank you," you smiled and nodded at him, and at that moment you finally looked at Oliver. Unlike you, he had been doing nothing but staring at you all this time. You looked into his blue eyes on a face that was bathed in blue light, which made his eyes seem even more piercing. But he never said anything, absolutely nothing. His expression was unreadable. Was he offended that you didn't address him?

You smiled shyly at Oliver, nodded too, and left the room, bumping into Farleigh in the doorway, who was carrying a large pack of crisps.

"Hello, Y/N! How are you... hey Felix, did you switch that reality show that I was watching?!"

"Of course, yes, because no one wants to watch it except you," Felix replied.

"What? It's "Big Brother", actually! Yes, it's a great show, and we all need a little drama sometimes late in the evening! I bet Oliver likes it too. Yes, Oliver?"

"Oh, please!" Felix rolled his eyes and teasingly began to put the remote away from the hands of the approaching Farleigh.

You chuckled and finally left the room. You never looked at Oliver again, but you could swear that you felt his gaze burning into your back.

God, could he really be offended? Or maybe you did something or said something before and didn't realize it? It seems that Oliver had been noticing a lot, but always kept everything to himself.

Oliver, this guy. You met him at Oxofrd and you chatted and even went to some pubs with him and Felix a few times, but you didn't understand what he was like then. To tell the truth, you still had no idea, but the main reason why you were afraid to look him in the eye when you asked about the bathroom was that you thought he would immediately feel and find out about the crush that had been developing for him for the second month now of your growing closer with him here, in Saltburn.

The only thing you could say for sure was that he was not as insecure and awkward himself as you thought at university, rather he was silent and observant, knowing the value of himself, his words and actions. Attentively listening and being generally deep. His inner confidence and even some kind of mystery began to intrigue you in earnest.

Walking through the corridors of the beautiful old manor, you thought to yourself that you were even glad that everything turned out that way with your bathrooms. The thought of you lying in the same hot tub that Oliver lied almost every night strangely excited and turned you on.

You reached the right room, looking around - it was quiet and cozy. You immediately started taking water into the bathroom, and while you were waiting, you started walking in circles. Here was Felix's bathroom table, next to which his red robe was carelessly hung, two crushed toothpastes and a brush with slightly protruding bristles. You imagined that he was brushing his teeth with the speed and power of a blender in order to quickly deal with this chore and get down to much more interesting things that another day had prepared for him.

You laughed softly at this thought, and then went over to Oliver's side.

Everything was surprisingly neat in contrast to his neighbor, one almost full paste, one brush, two neatly folded towels. You wonder where his robe was. Did he come and go without it?

Gods, you started to think about something wrong. But it was too late – you already started imagining Oliver in his underwear, how he comes into this bathroom, takes them off and lies down in a hot tub… Or maybe he comes and goes here right away without underwear? Ugh... that's enough.

You decided not to lock the door from Felix's room - the boys were obviously absorbed in domination for the telly, besides, they know that you were here, so you just loosely closed the door. No one should come in.

The bathtub was almost full of water, you impatiently took off your clothes and decided to put them together with your bathrobe... where? You didn't want to go to Oliver's side - it was too minimalistic and clean. And besides, it seemed like... too intimate for some reason. But Felix's side would tolerate it, also there were a couple of spare towels in the corner that you forgot to take.

You carefully lowered yourself into the bath, the hot water started nibbling your skin. God, it felt so good. You gradually began to stretch and relax.

There was something about lying in an empty room in the bath while the water was still bubbling. The light was pleasantly dimmed, and the air in the room was gradually getting hot and sticky. This kind of environment had always calmed you down and turned you on at the same time. Except that there was a lot more of the excitement this night rather than the calming.

Thoughts of Oliver came back to you. The way he leaves his room, comes into this very bathroom, fills it just like you did. He lies down in it, as you were lying now, inhales hot air and breathe out even hotter air. Beads of sweat are gathering on his body. And you'd already seen his body too many times while you were swimming or sunbathing. Even you, being more of a face girl rather than a six-pack girl, could not sometimes look away, it was good that most of the time you were wearing sunglasses and he hardly noticed anything. Usually you rather admired his face and beautiful eyes, but now, in your fantasies, his eyes were closed, so your imagination stopped at his beautiful figure and, without too much modesty, began to write it out in details.

You couldn't help yourself, except…

The fingers on your left hand began to lightly brush your lips from left to right, you felt your own hot breath. You wondered if they were…

Then the hand began to descend lower, to your breasts, gently cupping one breast. Fingers slowly drew circles around your nipple, and then squeezed it, causing you to bite your lip and inhale sharply.

...if it were his hands, then....

The water was hot, but the heat below you was even stronger. Unable to resist it, your hand moved even lower, carefully making its way through your folds. You started caressing yourself. All these stoked emotions, tension, unspoken words lately, it was all too much. Of course, when you turned to Felix, the first thing you thought about was that it wasn't him using this bathroom, but someone else. What if he did it too, right here in this place?

...You wonder if those were his hands, would they have caressed you the same way?

This and the previous thoughts and the briefly popped images in your head finally brought you to the peak.

"Oliver..." you whispered loudly, unable to keep that name on your lips.

He almost gave himself away at this point.

Of course, you weren't alone all this time. While Felix and Farleigh were arguing over the right to own the remote, Oliver sat next to them, unable to believe that this was happening. You were going to his bathroom. Of course, in his thoughts now (and maybe in his plans for the future) it wasn't just you and Felix's bathroom, no. You, lying in his bathtub, was the only way to say it correctly and so... luscious.

He was already preoccupied with these thoughts from the very beginning, when you innocently asked Felix about the bathroom, and was just waiting for the right moment to slip away from this company. Fortunately, Elspeth soon joined them, and James came in after her, so, thanks to new guests in the room and the still ongoing discussion about what the Catton family would be watching on TV that evening, Oliver was able to slip away without much difficulty.

He impatiently followed your footsteps, counting in his head whether it was enough time to pass for you to look around there, fill the bath, lie down in it and start relaxing. Thinking about the last words, Oliver began to tense up in a certain sense and in a certain place. Yes, he decided, enough time had passed.

Very quietly, he walked through Felix's dark room to the crack in the door, which left a narrow strip of light from the next room. You were lying in the bath. God, it was a pity that he missed the moment when you took off your clothes and lay down there, but it was also good. He would see everything again, and very soon.

Oliver breathed very quietly and slowly.

God, how beautiful you were, even that small part of your body that could be seen from the bathroom and was also limited to the door crack was inexpressibly beautiful to him. He felt like an ancient Greek myths character, some kind of satyr watching the bathing of a beautiful nymph. No, the goddess. He thought of himself as Actaeon, and you were now his Artemis, taking your bath. A hunter who made his way to the goddess of hunting in the forest and was punished for his excessive curiosity, desires and impatience.

It was also some kind of forbidden act, as if he had actually made his way into the sacred grove. The grove was sacred, but he was glaring at you in a completely blasphemous manner. If he had got to be turned into a stag or something, he was willing to pay the price right now. Every fascination has its price to pay. Although no, not right now.…

Oliver was breathing very quietly and slowly, but soon his breathing became heavier and heavier.

It was too much when you started slowly running your hand over your body, starting with your lips and going lower and lower.

His mouth involuntarily opened in amazement, and then his jaw clenched, and he gnashed his teeth almost audibly. He bit his lip. It was impossible to tolerate, no. His own hand also began to slowly descend.

What was he counting on? Probably just to see you lying in his tub, left to yourself. He didn’t know himself. But for some reason, he did not hope for what was happening at that moment. What or who is Y/N thinking about now? He would give a lot to know that. And he would give everything to change the answer to his own name.

His excitement and despair grew within him every passing second.

He did not calculate exactly what happened next. Or rather, he could have guessed only in his wildest dreams. But it must be said, Oliver always had wildest dreams, which he quickly began to believe in.

"Oliver..." - the acoustics of the bathroom and the silence around gave away your secret, and the sensitive hearing of the bearer of this name picked it out unmistakably.

At that moment, the pupils of his eyes widened to their limit, as if he had just learned the most important secret of the universe, which he had longed to possess all his life. To some extent, even on the modest scale of human life and the moment, this was exactly the case.

So, yes. All this time Y/N was thinking about him. Not about Felix. Not about Farleigh. God, it was not even about Venetia or anyone else. About him. About Oliver. About Oliver Quick.

He smiled broadly at the thought that his observations, his intuition and his wildest dreams had met at a single point of truth. He knew that he hadn't made much of an impression on you in those brief meetings you had at Oxford. But you made an impression on him, and that was enough. He was good at waiting, and he was even better at planning. All this getting closer with Felix, this whole year – it was all for you first of all. He knew that you were friends, that you were the daughter of his parents' friends, and that you were often invited to stay at the Catton family estate, and he did everything to get there too. Yes, even if he didn't make a big first impression on you, even if you didn't study together, even if Felix didn't study with you and your paths didn’t cross often enough to communicate a lot at Oxford, but Oliver knew the place where all this would happen. In Saltburn.

That was why he’d been working very hard for the last two months – even if he wasn't always a good conversationalist, he was a great listener and an even better observer. You began getting closer, and he clearly caught your attention. But to what extent, even Oliver was not sure. It seemed that you communicated with Felix and Farleigh with much more ease, even flirting a little. And not only with them, in general, your ease was expressed in communicating with anyone. With anyone but him. More and more often, you began to avoid his gaze, felt visually uncomfortable, stiffed when you were alone with him, and felt a clear relief when someone joined your company. Did you really get to know him better, and the initial indifference became a constant awkwardness in his presence? Oliver was very afraid of that. And deep down he hoped that this way you could just mask your affection for him, because sometimes people do that. This was also present in him to some extent, or rather, it used to be, because Oliver Quick decided to bury his insecurity and shyness deep inside himself. He was not quite done with it yet, but oh the boy was trying, he was trying very hard. He wanted to kill everything in himself that prevents him from becoming who he desired to be and getting what he wanted. Or who he wanted.

That brief smile changed again to a soundlessly open mouth that almost gave out a groan. Oliver held his hand tightly on his crotch, holding onto the wall with his other hand so that his knuckles turned white. After that confession of yours, Oliver was ready to burst into the bathroom at the same second, but no. He would restrain himself, he would not do that. He would be smarter than Actaeon.

He was really able to keep his composure and wait for you to relax and move away from your blessed condition a little, diving into the water a little deeper and slightly closing his eyes from pleasure and calmness that came to you. He moved noiselessly to the other side of the room. He exhaled deeply. Oliver looked at the half-finished can of Red Bull that had been on Felix's bedside table near the entrance for almost a week. Now it was time to act.

You heard footsteps approaching and shivered, opening your eyes.

"Knock, knock! May I come in?" a familiar voice asked sweetly and quite lively.

"Oliver? What are you..." you started, but he interrupted you by going into the bathroom, without waiting for your invitation or even more so for a refusal.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I need to change my clothes urgently," he began guiltily, "I-I'm not looking!"

He was actually walking past you, covering his face with his hand.

"What's happened?" you asked, half rising from the tub.

"I spilled a drink on myself. It's so unsuitable, because this is a shirt that Felix recently gave me, so that I, quote, "won’t wear the same thing over and over again, otherwise it upsets mother, we're not some kind of paupers here, she said to him." This is so damn awkward," he said frustratedly.

"Yes, of course, come in. It's okay."

"Thank you, Y/N! Once again, I'm sorry for the suddenness."

Oliver disappeared and rummaged in his room for a while, and then knocked again, but this time from the side of his own door.

"Yes? Do you want to go back?"

"Yes. And no. Not quite. It seems that I need to wash my shirt right now, before the stain is completely dry..."

"Can you just leave the shirt to the maids?"

"No, no! Disturbing people at such a late hour...And again, until I find someone and get there..."

"Yeah, you're probably right. Come in... if you won’t be watching,"

"While I'm washing my shirt, I won't," Oliver smiled.

He entered the room with his eyes closed in a caricature manner and showed a white shirt with a dark yellow Red Bull stain on the shirt hanging in his outstretched arms. He was wearing white tank top and black trousers, which were only left part from his dinner costume. He also took off his shoes.

"Yeah, I see it. Maybe you can wash it with soap or something?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm going to do now," Oliver went to his sink under a mirror, starting to wash the stain.

You didn't promise not to look. This view of him, the combination of a formal suit with something casual, formed a knot in your stomach. The white tank top that accentuated his slender torso and exposed his muscular arms so well, which were now busy doing laundry, black suit trousers that hugged his legs and ass in such a nice way, as well as the fact that he was standing barefoot in the bathroom, created a feeling of some kind of intimacy. Few people could see him like this even in this house, as if you came from some sort of gala dinner, and now you saw him in the process of changing clothes between some business. It was like you came together, and this was just your house, and that only you were allowed to see this semi-domestic, yet at the same time very sexy look. You inhaled the air quite sharply.

He didn't promise not to watch either. Therefore, the smile slipped from his face, since you did not see him from this angle, from where he could watch you through the mirror while washing his shirt, completely not looking at it. The smile faded because he could barely contain himself again. He was breathing heavily the hot and sticky air of the bathroom. Damn if only could he pounce and ravish you right now, in this very bath. Oliver was reveling in the way you were looking at him, the way you were looking at him now, thinking that he didn't notice it. Your sharp sigh was the last drop.

"Thinking about something?" Oliver asked you in an even tone.

"What? Oh, no, I just, uh..."

"It's weird, I thought I heard your voice when I first came in here. Did you talk to someone?"

"Of course not, because it's just me... and you."

"I could swear you were talking to someone..." Oliver said wistfully.

You felt the heat in the still hot bath water again, only now your face was burning. Did he hear you muttering his name? It couldn't be, could it have happened before he came in? Or did you not remember something? You were so relaxed. And now you were tensing up, afraid that he would find out your little, or rather, very, very big secret, which you were afraid to fully admit even to yourself.

"I... don't..."

Oliver sighed and stopped washing his shirt, turning to you and leaning on his table. He stared at you unblinkingly, arms crossed over his chest. You instinctively gasped and covered your chest with your hands, crossing your legs.

"My dear, I don't bite. Be a good girl and tell me who you were thinking about while lying in that bathtub, mm?"

"You promised not to look!" It seems like your face couldn't be any redder than it was now.

"I said I wouldn't look while I’d be washing my shirt," Oliver raised both hands in front of him, looking straight into your eyes, "As you can see, I'm done with it."

"But I’m not done with you at all," he thought to himself and slowly began to approach you from behind.

"Oliver, what are you-"

"Shh," he knelt down and gently put his hands on your shoulders, carefully gathering your wet hair to the center of your neck, "I won't look if you want, but let me apologize for my intrusion, I didn't mean to bother you."

He began to gently massage your shoulders, as the pads of his thumbs moved to your neck. You sighed softly and shifted your legs. It seems like both halves of your body were burning equally badly now.

"That's it, good girl," he cooed softly, exhaling hot air almost into your ear. His measured breathing burned your neck, "So, will you tell me who you were thinking about while lying in this tub?"

He asked the question as if he knew the answer to it. You wanted terribly and didn't want to tell him at the same time. It seems that even if you wanted to, the words were stuck in your throat. His long fingers began to tighten, moving slightly towards your neck. "I won't leave it until you tell me yourself." You twitched your legs again. Were you scared or did it turn you on? It seems to be both.

"And please don't hide with your hands from me, yeah? Do you know how fuckin' beautiful you are?" he took one hand off from your neck and gently pushed your hand away, taking up space under your breasts. There was a complete silence in the room. He moved a little to the left side of the tub. At that moment, your eyes met, and everything inside you turned upside down. His beautiful blue eyes were now almost dark with longing. His breathing was slow and heavy, shaking the already hot and sticky air between your faces. The tension was too strong to resist. Yes, it seems that your feelings towards each other were mutual.

Your lips slowly met, and then everything was like a blur. After a short while, Oliver sensually ran his tongue over your lower lip, asking for an invitation to come in. You opened your mouth a little more, where he immediately had slipped with his tongue, leisurely enjoying every corner of your mouth as much as possible. Then he broke the kiss in the lips just to kiss your collarbone without breaking your visual contact. You remembered that his other hand was resting under your chest, and now it began to stroke your skin and climb higher. Oliver began caressing your breasts just the way you had done before – first cupping it in his hand, and then slowly began to lead circles around your nipple until he squeezed it lightly. You cried out softly with pleasure.

"So, darling? And now you're going to tell me who you were thinking about...?"

If earlier words did not come out of you because of surprise and sensation of a slight fear, now they did not come out of you because of excitement and disbelief in what was happening in general. Oliver grinned, closing his eyes, lowering and shaking his head a bit. Then he stood up and, cupping your face in his hands, kissed you again. But this time the kiss was greedy, almost immediately his tongue penetrated you mouth, without asking for any permission now. But you didn't need it, you almost moaned into his lips in response. One of his hands moved from your cheek to your neck and began to squeeze it lightly.

After breaking the kiss, he looked at you again. It seems that now you were ready to reveal his name, but decided not to do so, to see what would happen next, gathering all the remnants of your weakening will, and silently looked at him in response. Oliver seemed to catch this mood and, giving you a dark excitement smile, took a step back, removing one hand from your throat and moving it to your inner thigh. His other hand was on your chest again. Your body covered with goosebumps under the water. He entered you with one finger, and you finally let out a real moan. Smiling with satisfaction, he added his second finger and increased the pace. The water started splashing out of the bathtub from your fidgeting and legs movements. The hand that rested on your breast began to squeeze it, and the thumb massaged your nipple rougher and rougher. You began to moan more often and louder under the caresses of your uninvited, but such a welcome guest. Perhaps it was more correct to say that you were the guest, and he was more like the host here, but your already confused thoughts were interrupted by his hoarse and authoritative voice, "Who were you thinking about lying here, touching yourself? Whose hands were you imagining at that moment?"

You just moaned in response, and he picked up the pace.

"Say the name, say it out loud"

"Oh... Oliver! It was you, Oliver."

"Yes," his eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze darkened even more, and his mouth let out a soundless moan full of satisfaction at what he had heard. He had experienced complete moral satisfaction, and now he would give you a physical one.

He bent down to you more, greedily and sloppily kissing you, without taking his hands off caressing your body, he added the third finger, and in less than a minute you came loudly under his fingers.

You were breathing heavily, just like Oliver himself. You looked at each other, both of you had a swarm of thoughts and a hurricane of feelings in your heads. "Good, sweet Y/N. I'm so glad that tonight turned out that way," he kissed you again, sweetly and almost innocently. He sat on his knees by the bath for a while and just looked at you. You started to get embarrassed again and looked away.

"I'm sorry, you probably need some time alone, and they've probably been waiting for me downstairs. The shirt still needs to be hung up to dry!" he said cheerfully, getting up from his knees, quickly taking the shirt from the sink and disappearing into his room. When he returned, you saw that he was wearing shoes again, and another shirt was thrown over his tank top.

"Have a pleasant late evening, Y/N! If you're not tired, join us in the living room," Oliver smiled at you, and then, already standing in the aisle, added quite nicely but firmly, "And if you want or need to use this room again, put your things down and take towels from my half of the bathroom, hmm?"

With these words, he left the room, leaving you in a storm of feelings and once again thinking how observant and puzzling he was sometimes, as it may not seem at first.

He was over the moon, but of course he would like to get a lot more out of you than he got today. But he knew how to wait, a good hunter should be able to do it, and today Oliver praised himself that he did it perfectly. Actaeon was considered the best out of the mortal hunters.

He was running, almost flying down the estate towards the living room. The Cattons were probably watching some nonsense there, as they always did. But he didn't care, because all his thoughts were about tomorrow night, hoping that you would come to use his bathroom again. Hoping that Venetia would occupy your bathroom again for a long enough time, and if she wouldn't, then maybe he would consider clogging of the second tub.

Oliver knew how to wait, and even better he knew how to act at the right moment.

Surely, he would surpass Actaeon himself.

[mysaintkitten]

Trigger-happy | Tommy Shelby x fem!reader

prompt: idek how to summarize this other than gunplay with tommy loool (18+ MDNI !!!)

WARNINGS: gunplay (real sick shit i’m not playing), degradation, unprotected sex (p in v), orgasm denial (eeeehhh)

*not proofread*

the first thing you notice is the crisp and cold dead grass beneath your knees and calves, then the cool breeze blowing against your bare skin. as you crack your eyes open, you nervously scan your surroundings. it doesn’t take long for you to realize you’re bound in a very large vacant field.

the dress you had been wearing was cut messily, the uneven fabric barely covered the tops of your thighs, and your stockings had been removed too. you couldn’t check, but just judging by how you felt, you assumed you weren’t wearing any underwear either. with your arms and ankles tied, you couldn’t do much to try and cover yourself let alone warm yourself up.

from behind you, you hear footsteps, followed by the sound of a match being lit.

“i assume you’re coherent now.” you hear a familiar voice mutter behind you. that gravely, deep, sexy voice that you know all too well.

as expected, tommy shelby comes up from behind you and steps in front of you, towering over you as you look up at him with confusion. you’d heard of tommy through the grapevine, and you’d occasionally spot him out and about. he was so enticing. like a forbidden fruit, so delicious, so dangerous, you wanted it all.

but being here now and having no choice to submit to him was having your mind and body stirring. you’re partially terrified, and just the slightest bit turned on.

“why am i here?” you finally gather up the courage to speak. tommy leaves you with an uncomfortable silence as he places his cigarette between his lips while he retrieves something from within his pockets. seconds later, he flashes his gun at you.

your body tenses at the bleak shift in energy. was tommy shelby, the man you occasionally fantasized about, moments way from killing you?

“you know …” tommy briefly takes the cigarette out of his mouth while he rummages through his other pockets for bullets. right in front of you, he loads them in one by one. “i’ve heard quite some tales about you, how could a little thing like yourself cause such problems?”

what the fuck is he talking about? for the most part, you just kept to yourself. yes, you may have been involved in some dirty work here and there but come on, who isn’t?

“i don’t know what you mean tom-“ you attempt to start before tommy cuts you off.

“aht- sweetheart, you don’t get the privilege of saying my name. it’s sir.”

“… i don’t know what you mean, sir.” you correct, your tone becoming shaky as the weight of the situation has began to settle in. again, tommy doesn’t respond, leaving you with nothing but your own thoughts. tommy leeches off your nervous energy, it feeds into his superiority complex.

without saying a word, tommy aims the gun directly at your forehead, the icy metal barrel caused your heart to race faster.

“please.” you plead breathlessly, your entire life is playing out in front of your eyes, every single fuck up is looping inside your head.

by some force, an unfamiliar wave of confidence makes it way through you. maybe it’s the adrenaline mixed with some delusion, either way your actions begin to change.

“please.” you repeat, rising up to your knees as best you can with your ankles still bound. tommy keeps the gun in the same place and watches you attentively as you move around in front of him. the barrel of the gun now grazing your nose and lips.

“i’m sure we could …” you hum as you plant a kiss onto the barrel, testing the waters. “work something out, sir.”

through a chuckle, tommy asks “is this your plan? whore yourself out to try and save your life?”

“mmm …” you pretend to think for a moment, your kisses against the gun becoming more deliberate and sloppy. “i’ve always thought you were so handsome, sir. so big and bad.” you bat your lashes at him while teasingly licking the underside of the barrel.

quickly, tommy snags the gun away and shoots off into the field before quickly bringing the gun back down to where he had kept it before.

you can’t help but giggle, this entire situation is so tense— yet suddenly you cannot take it seriously for the life of you.

“wow …” you grin, kitten licking the barrel. “gives you a rush, huh?” you ask tommy. his jaw is clenched and he’s shifting his weight around in a way you’ve never seen him do before. tommy was normally so calculated, have you really thrown him off that much?

“do it.” you whisper, slowly taking the tip of the barrel into your mouth. his jaw goes slack, undoubtedly he’s imagining your lips around his member, licking and teasing him like you’re doing to his gun.

as you slowly blink, your lids becoming heavier as your body starts to get worked up, you take more of the barrel into your mouth. jesus, if any outsiders saw you mimicking fellatio on tommy shelby’s gun, along with tommy allowing you to do it, they’d likely be convinced that hell had frozen over.

tommy swallows, huffing loudly as he finds the right words to say.

“you’re disgusting.” tommy spat. your ego was bruised temporarily, until your eyes drifted down to his bulge, which ultimately revealed tommy’s true opinions on the matter.

“d’you get off on being disgusted, sir? because …” you signal to his cock as best you can without your arms being available, tommy scoffs as if him having an erection during a moment like this meant absolutely nothing.

“come on, just blow off some steam.” you purr as you muzzle the side of your head against the gun, “you’ve got a dirty, vulnerable girl right here in front of you. i couldn’t stop you even if i tried.”

finally, something snaps within tommy. with his free hand, he nudges your shoulder and pushes you down. you fall against the hard ground, and before you even have time to process that tommy is proceeding to flip you over onto your stomach.

then, you feel tommy’s big rough hand grab onto your hip. with ease, he lifts your hips up and forces you into a face-down-ass-up position. you turn your head to the side and whimper at the change, you had much less confidence in a state like this.

“i could blow your fuckin’ brains out …” tommy grumbles as he roughly whips up the bottom half of your very short dress, your back involuntarily arches at the brisk wind hitting your most private, and now sensitive areas. you can tell you’re wet, and tommy can too, cause he can see the wetness glistening off of you. “and all you’re thinking about is getting your holes filled?”

as you mewl back to him, you gasp when you feel the cold barrel make contact with your desperate core. he toys with your slick, watching how quickly your sticky arousal eagerly coats whatever it touches. he pushes the tip of the barrel inside, almost fucking you with his gun.

and as if things couldn’t get worse, his skilled thumb finds its way to your clit. he rubs it and groans when he sees you get wetter around his gun, a bit more of the barrel accidentally sliding inside of you due to your increase in arousal. this is sickening, tommy is getting you off with the weapon he uses to off whoever wrongs him.

tommy takes the gun and his thumb away from you, before you can protest you hear fabric rustling and the sound of a zipper being ripped down. you hold your breath with anticipation, until you feel tommy’s warm tip press against your opening.

“mmh-“ you moan, attempting to rock your hips back against him. you really didn’t need to though, because seconds later tommy shoved his full length inside of you. the sudden stretch and fullness made your mouth hang open with pleasure and pain.

tommy pulls his hips back before slamming them back in, immediately fucking you with a relentless pace. you felt like a cheap whore beneath him, like all he was thinking about was getting himself off. hell, he probably was thinking that, and that only made it hotter.

“such a fuckin’ whore… ‘n still so … shit … so tight.” tommy groans, tipping his head back while mumbling strings of curses under his breath.

“uh-huh … mmh—“ you gasp as tommy’s angles change, causing him to slam into that special spot inside you. “right there, right there—“ you ramble as your whole body pulses with pleasure. again, tommy’s not doing it to make you feel good, he just happened to tweak his angle. and if it just so happens to make you come on his cock, that’s just life he thinks to himself as he feels your arousal spill down onto his balls.

as your mind reels from tommy’s harsh pounding, you feel the barrel being pressed against the side of your head.

“maybe it would be better if i shot you like this.” he pants, laughing breathily to himself. “we could keep that pretty face of yours intact.”

your fate sat in his hands. he could kill you right then and there, you’d have zero say in it. it’s petrifying, and incredibly erotic.

you huff, “you think i’m pretty?”

tommy presses the gun against your head harder, “that’s the part you’re focused on? jesus … stupid fucking whore.”

your cunt clenches around him from his degradation, this wasn’t going to last long. the pace tommy has stuck with was not meant for longterm endurance, that’s why he chose it.

tommy let’s out a low purr at the sensation, “you really are disgusting … gripping my cock like that …” the last bit of his sentence had the slightest bit of praise hidden within it, you absolute ate up such a drastic bittersweet mixture.

his thrusts start to get janky, and his breathing is loud and laboured. much too soon for your liking, tommy pulls out and feverishly pumps himself, huffing harshly as he spills his load onto your ass and back.

you release a little whine. like, obviously the man who was sent to kill you isn’t going to sit there and make you come, but it was definitely nice while it lasted.

you’re pulled out of your thoughts as you feel tommy silently untying you. before long, your limbs are fully free.

tommy pulls out a cigarette, lights it, and takes a generous inhale before speaking.

“if anyone asks, just say you broke out of your restraints before i got here.”

you raise your brow, challenging tommy in a way. “and what if i don’t? what if i say what actually happened?”

tommy laughs, slipping his gun back into his pocket.

“then i’ll find you and actually put a bullet between your eyes. how’s that sound, sweetheart?”

—

this was one of my before-bed imagine scenarios. sigh. i’m sorry god.

[bookishcarmela]

Dark Desires

warnings: none

pairings: jacaerys velaryon x targ!reader, aemond targaryen x targ!reader

synopsis: Princess Y/n, the eldest daughter of Daemon and Laena Targaryen, faces a tumultuous life after her mother's death. Her father marries Rhaenyra Targaryen, and Y/n is betrothed to Rhaenyra's eldest son, Jacaerys. Over time, Y/n and Jacaerys grow to love each other deeply. However, their lives are thrown into turmoil when Y/n unexpectedly reunites with her cousin, Aemond igniting new emotions. As the threat of war looms, Y/n grapples with her feelings and the competing demands of love, duty to her family, and her betrothal to Jacaerys. She must navigate this emotional and political minefield to find her true path amidst the chaos.

Chapter 1: Drift Mark

 Y/n Targaryen felt the cold bite of winter against her skin as she rode Silverwing through the crisp morning air. The dragon's scales gleamed in the early light, a beacon against the pale sky. The flight from Dragonstone to Driftmark was short, but the chill in the air tinted her tan skin a soft pink. As she approached High Tide, she saw the pale stone towers peeking over the clouds. The welcoming cry of her grandmother's dragon, Meleys, echoed in the distance.

Landing gracefully, Y/n spotted her sister Baela waiting for her. They laughed and embraced each other warmly.

"Sister, it’s been too long," Y/n said, though it had only been a fortnight since their last meeting.

Baela’s silver hair was now cut short and braided, a change Y/n noticed immediately. As they let go of each other, Baela still held her hand.

"Come, sister," Baela said. "We have much to talk about."

They made their way down the corridors of High Tide, catching up on everything they couldn’t fit into their letters. Entering the main room, they saw their grandmother, Rhaenys, sitting upon the driftwood throne. She stood and embraced Ayra warmly.

"My sweet girl, it’s been too long. I’ve missed you," Rhaenys said.

"I’ve missed you as well, Grandmother," Y/n replied.

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the maester and their uncle Vaemond. Y/ns' heart sank as she remembered her grandfather, Lord Corlys, who had been gone for six years fighting in the Stepstones. The maester spoke solemnly of how Corlys had been injured in battle and had contracted a fever that many hadn’t survived.

Rhaenys thanked the maester, asking him to prepare for Corlys’s arrival. Y/n could see the mix of emotions in her grandmother’s eyes.

"The Sea Snake is strong, Grandmother," Baela said, trying to comfort her. "Truly, it’ll take much more than a fever to best him. The Sea Snake is much too stubborn."

"I’m afraid not even my brother’s stubbornness can save him," Vaemond interjected, stepping closer. "I have seen blood fever overcome men half his age."

"I will not suffer the talk of crows in my house, Vaemond," Rhaenys said sternly, giving him a pointed look.

"I love my brother," Vaemond continued.

"If you loved your brother so much, then you would be doing your best to help him, not trying to usurp his seat while he is ill," Y/n said, interrupting.

"I speak only the truth, niece," Vaemond replied, turning to Y/n. "We might greet that ship only to find my brother already gone. Who will sit the driftwood throne then?"

"My grandmother seems quite comfortable here," Baela said.

"She resides only in the absence of her husband," Vaemond snapped. "Upon his death, the seat passes."

"To Lucerys Velaryon," Rhaenys interrupted, her voice firm. "As is my lord husband’s wish."

"I am the Sea Snake's own blood, the closest he has left," Vaemond said, looking at Rhaenys.

"I would mind my words if I were you, Uncle," y/n said. "One could take your words for treason."

Vaemond’s hard gaze turned back to Arya as he stepped onto the dais where Ayra and Baela stood on either side of their grandmother.

"I speak the truth, niece, and you know it. All of you know it," Vaemond said, looking at all three of them. "It has been decided," Rhaenys said, her voice steady but tinged with anger.

"By a man whose ambition has brought calamity upon us," Vaemond said, raising his voice. "My brother cares only for the history books, but the Velaryon line is to be snuffed out, supplanted by the pups of House Strong. Driftmark is mine by all rights. I should like your support," he said, looking Rhaenys dead in the eyes, "but I do not… need it. The winds have shifted. The crown has good reason to take my side."

"My cousin, the king, would have your tongue for this," Rhaenys said, her voice venomous.

"But it’s not the king who sits the Iron Throne these days, good sister. It is a queen," Vaemond said, stepping closer.

"You best mind yourself. She is still the lady of this household, and you are no more than a second son," Ayra said.

"Why, you little—" Vaemond started, straightening himself, his words cold.

"I would choose my next words carefully," Y/n said. "You forget yourself, Uncle. I am a princess of House Targaryen. You best mind your tongue before you lose it."

"You’ve overstayed your welcome, good brother," Rhaenys said, standing. "You may take your leave."

Vaemond tilted his head up and sent pointed looks to both Ayra and Baela before leaving in angry steps.

After her strenuous morning, Rhaenys excused herself back to her rooms, leaving Y/n and Baela to spend the day together. They walked along the beaches of Driftmark, the ocean seemingly calm today. The waves lapped gently at their feet, and the salty air filled Y/n with memories of her mother.

The sea always made Y/n think of her mother: her long curly white hair, her soft skin, and the way she used to hold Y/n. She remembered those last days before her mother passed, the day she had claimed Silverwing. She had rushed into her mother’s room, filled with happiness, to announce that she had finally claimed her own dragon. Her mother, sitting in a long white dress with a hand on her pregnant belly, had been so proud.

Her mother had promised that after the baby came and she healed, they would fly together. Such a simple memory, yet it brought a heavy weight to Y/n heart. Baela’s voice brought her back to the present.

“So, dear sister,” Baela said with a mischievous smile, “how is your betrothed?”

Y/n let out a giggle. “Jace is fine. He’s still struggling with his High Valyrian, but he’ll get it in no time. Vermax is big enough to fly now, so we’ve been flying together over the Dragonmount and the Blackwater.”

“You seem quite taken with him,” Baela teased, laughing. “You’ve come so far from playing kissing games with Father’s squires.”

Y/n nudged her with her shoulder, laughing as well. “If I remember correctly, I wasn’t the only one playing those games.”

“Yes, but you are the older sister. You’re supposed to set an example,” Baela replied in a light, airy tone.

“Oh, please, Baela. You were just as much trouble as I was. Besides, now I’m too old for kissing games,” Y/n giggled.

“Yes, we do much more than kissing now,” Baela said, laughing and bumping into Y/n.

“It is unladylike to speak of such things,” Y/n teased. “All I will say is that Jace does not leave me wanting for anything.” She winked, and both girls erupted into laughter once more.

After laughing until they were out of breath, they looked at each other.

“I’ve missed this,” Y/n said. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” Baela replied. “How much longer will you stay here, Baela?”

All the humor left Baela’s face. “I don’t want to have this conversation again, Y/n.”

“Baela, please,” Y/n said. “You cannot stay mad at Father forever. Rhaena misses you. I miss you. Father misses you. We have two younger brothers who barely know you. You have to let this go. You have to come home.”

“Dragonstone is not my home,” Baela said. “Driftmark is my home, as it was Mother’s. My place is here with Grandmother. You see how things are here—Grandfather’s not dead yet, and still, vultures come to try to take his throne. I must stay here with Grandmother.”

“You and I both know that Grandmother can take care of this on her own,” y/n said. “With Meleys, she would make quick work of anyone who tried to harm her or her house. Don’t use her as an excuse to stay here. You’re five and ten, Baela; you’re too old for these games.”

Baela kept quiet and looked away, towards the sea, watching the sun slowly set as the sea swallowed it whole.

“The hour is late, sister,” Baela said. “Our grandmother is waiting for us.” The rest of the walk was quiet, and once they were within the walls of High Tide, they took their separate ways.

High Tide had always been an odd place for Y/n. They had lived in Pentos until she was four and then made their way here because her mother wished for her children to be raised in her childhood home. Y/n could tell that her father never really liked it. He never fully adjusted to High Tide, yet he stayed for her mother’s sake.

As she made her way into her childhood room, closing the door behind her, it seemed almost frozen in time, unchanged since she was a girl. No one ever took it. High Tide had a lack of guests ever since the death of her mother and uncle Laenor. Y/n quickly stripped out of her riding leathers and bathed herself, changing into an airy dress.

Its top was a light blue silk, almost so light it looked silver, with two silver dragons connected at her waist. The bottom of the dress was white lace. It was rare to see her out of her house colors, but she did love the blues and silvers of House Velaryon.

A servant took her to where her sister and grandmother waited. She sat opposite Baela, who only glanced at her. Y/n looked towards her grandmother, grabbing her hand.

“How do you fare, Grandmother?” Y/n asked.

“I am well, my dear. These leeches try to take everything from me, but I am of my father’s blood. I will stay strong,” Rhaenys replied, pausing before continuing. “My dear, I need you to write to your father about what has happened today. I have received word that Vaemond is readying to go to the capital to petition for your grandfather’s seat. We will leave on the morrow.” She looked at both her granddaughters, grabbing Baela’s hand as well. “We must stand as a united front. I need you both to ready yourselves for anything that might happen. It has been too long since we’ve been in the capital, and I fear we have no friends there.”

The rest of dinner was light, filled with simple conversations and old memories. When they were done, Y/n excused herself and went back to her chambers. As she wrote to her father, she couldn’t help but feel a pang of excitement. It had been too long since she had been in King’s Landing since they had all been in King’s Landing. Once she was done, she lay in bed and readied herself for what the morning held.

next chapter

[yujo-nishimura]

"Rubber Duckies"

You are stuck with your studies and your research and you decide to use your crew members as rubber duckies to explain to them what you are doing in the hope of overcoming your writer's block. 

Words: 1023

Comment: This is something I wrote while I am really stuck. I hope his helps other people who experience the same right now or need a little motivational booster for their papers/exams. The whole fic is fluff with a hint at smut (Law and Kid just always leave me feral).

Let me know in the comments if I should add any characters.

Luffy

He would listen patiently the whole time, lowering his head, his eyes covered by his straw hat. After several minutes, you realize he has fallen asleep. When you ask him a follow-up question, he jolts awake and gives you his brightest, most infectious smile. Despite your frustration, you can't stay mad at him.

"It all sounds very complicated, Y/N," Luffy says. "But I believe in you, and I'm sure you'll excel at this. Now come here, we can cuddle and snack on some of the crisps I swiped from the kitchen!"

His boundless enthusiasm and unwavering faith in you, even when he doesn't fully understand the details, leaves you feeling a little less stuck. 

Robin 

As you explain your research question and methodology, Robin listens with rapt attention, her eyes never leaving yours. When you finish, she pauses thoughtfully before speaking.

"I think the only thing this study lacks is your confidence, dear Y/N," Robin says, chuckling lightly. Her words strike a chord within you - she has a way of cutting straight to the heart of the matter.

"Can I give you a hug?" you ask, feeling deeply grateful for her patience and wisdom. You know her insights have been invaluable, not just for this project, but for the whole crew.

Robin opens her arms widely and smiles at you. "Of course," she says, enveloping you in a warm embrace. At that moment, you feel the weight of your doubts and insecurities start to lift. Robin's faith in you is a precious gift, and it's exactly the encouragement you need to find the courage to complete your work and submit it.

Law 

You decide to explain your work to Law, hoping his keen analytical mind will provide valuable feedback. As you begin speaking, however, you can see his face growing increasingly impatient. He clenches his jaw, clearly struggling to hold back interrupting you.

When you finally finish, Law wastes no time in his critique. "I think the structure is off, Y/N. I don't understand why you chose this theoretical framework, and I'm lost - did you even have a research question?"

You gulp, suddenly realizing you may have forgotten to explicitly state your core research question. Law's piercing gray eyes have a way of making it difficult to maintain focus.

Seeing your flustered expression, Law sighs. "How about you give me the paper to read, and I'll go over it with a red pen?" he offers.

You nod enthusiastically, immediately moving to retrieve the document. "Not now!" Law interjects, grabbing your arm before you can turn away. A mischievous smile plays on his lips beneath his white hat.

"It may not be the best study," he admits. "But the way you've explained it, showcasing your intelligence, has left me wanting more."

Zoro

Falls asleep immediately. Despite your best efforts to engage him, Zoro remains unresponsive, his gentle snoring the only indication that he's still present. You continue talking, but it's clear you're essentially just speaking to yourself at this point.

In a way, Zoro has become the most authentic "rubber duckie" of all - the perfect listener, oblivious to the intricacies of your work, but providing a soothing presence nonetheless.

Sanji 

As you dive into the details of your research, you can't help but notice the adoring way his eyes are fixed on you. It's clear that Sanji is enamored, and would likely listen with rapt attention no matter what you chose to talk about.

You continue your explanation, confident that Sanji is absorbing every word, even if he may not fully grasp the intricacies of your work. When you finally conclude, Sanji erupts into enthusiastic applause.

"That was amazing, Y/N!" he exclaims, his face alight with genuine admiration. "You've done such an incredible job with this research. I'm in awe of your brilliance!"

You can't help but sigh, knowing that Sanji's feedback, while well-intentioned, isn't exactly the critical analysis you were hoping for. But as you look into his sincere, shining eyes, you also feel a sense of pride and relief.

Even if you haven't quite overcome your writer's block yet, having someone so genuinely praise your hard work feels like a reward in itself.

Eustass Kid

As you begin explaining the details of your research to Eustass Kid, it's immediately clear that he has little patience or interest in the topic. His brows are furrowed in what can only be described as an annoyed scowl, and he fidgets restlessly in his seat.

Despite his clear disinterest, however, Kid sits through your entire presentation, never once interrupting or trying to leave. You can't help but appreciate the fact that he's making the effort to listen, even if he doesn't seem to understand or care about the intricacies of your work.

When you finally conclude, Kid simply yawns and cocks his head to the side.

"So what's the problem with all this?" he asks, his tone bordering on disinterested. "Sounds like a solid piece of work to me."

You sigh, explaining to him once again that you feel stuck and unsure if you've done a good job. You're hoping for constructive feedback, but it's clear Kid isn't the right person to provide that.

Suddenly, Kid reaches out and grabs your hand, pulling you forcefully towards his chest. You can feel the warmth radiating from his skin as his low voice speaks calmly.

"You're asking the wrong guy about this, Y/N," he says. "I can't tell you if any of the things you did for this research make sense. But if you're struggling right now, I know a way to make you feel better..."

You blush as you realize the implication behind his words, and without further thought, you give in. Perhaps a brief break from your studies, spent in the comforting embrace of someone who cares for you, is exactly what you need to recharge and tackle the problem with a fresh perspective.

[maybege]

Drained

Summary: Donating blood suddenly has a very different meaning.

Pairing: vampire!Paz Vizsla x fem!!Reader

Wordcount: 3.9k | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: Modern AU, explicit sexual content, dry humping, blood

Happy October everybody! I hope that autumn is treating you well and if it is not, that I can make you feel a little better with this Halloween-y Paz piece. As always, this is an AU that has existed extensively in my mind for a very long time, so it was fun to actually write something about it lol I hope you enjoy it and if you do, please leave a comment or a reblog, so we can all freak out about what a hot fun guy vampire!Paz is.

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

The night air was crisp as you made your way to one of the most exclusive clubs in the whole city and your choice to wear high heels felt stupider with every step you took over the wet streets of downtown but it was too late to change your mind now. In more ways than one.

You threw another look at your phone, where your navigation app guided you down yet another dark alleyway until you arrived at a door that couldn’t look further from trustworthy if it tried.

But as you pushed the door to Vizsla’s Speakeasy open and made your way behind a deep red velvet curtain, you were suddenly enveloped in pure luxury. You could make out leather tufted booths in the candlelight. The walls were dark but shimmery, looking soft to the touch, and more than one wall was covered in golden picture frames. Jazz music played in the background, though you could not see a live band, though maybe they were just hidden in the depths of the bar.

The place was packed – so packed, in fact, that you were surprised you hadn’t heard the commotion outside. Those brick walls must be very thick, indeed.

Trying very hard not to think about the fact that you were surrounded mostly by vampires, you made your way to the bar which was set up on the long side of the room. A tall woman stood behind the counter, looking busy. The shelves behind her were stacked with easily hundreds of liquor bottles, creating a colourful backdrop.

“Uh, hi, I am here to, uh, to – “

“New donor?” the gruff woman asked, not stopping her work of wiping down the counter.

You nodded quickly, trying to make yourself feel tall and confident and hoping that no one saw how tightly you were gripping your bag.

Marylin had sworn on her new designer bag that blood donating was one of the safest things one could do (“and it gets you bags like these!”). Considering how long you had worked together, it was kind of tragic that it took four years and her floating into work with that cherry red bag that you had seen in a window one day and had dreamt of ever since to ask her where she had all that disposable income from.

After all, you both worked the same job.

“Oh, that is easy,” she grinned, “I am donating blood.”

It was common knowledge that the streets of the city belonged to the creatures of the night. At least it had been that way ever since you could remember. Your grandparents sometimes still talked about the time before vampires and werewolves suddenly appeared at every corner, drastically changing life as they knew it.

The time of change was something neither of your grandparents ever talked about. It must have been rough. But somehow, after years of tensions and deaths and protests, it all settled into something that everyone could live with. And part of that was that the cities were flooded at night with people that previously had to hide. There were establishments specifically for them, where like and like mingled, and from a young age you were taught never to go out at night.

As you grew older and actually moved from your parents' place in the peaceful suburbs to the city, you knew that nighttime was not as dangerous as they had made it out to be. The interest vampires and werewolves had in actually tearing you up was overrated and you could still go out for an after-work drink or celebrate your birthday by going out until the sun rose. There were just some streets you tried to avoid.

But a huge part of why it was no longer so dangerous was because blood banks existed. And not the kinds to save people’s lives. Although, in some way, they did. Vampires no longer having to hunt and drain innocent bystanders entirely of their blood to survive made the biggest difference in being able to share a society.

You could go to any hospital and donate blood just like in old times and, just like in old times, you were compensated with a small fee. Charitable work, truly.

Unless you wanted to get a cherry red handbag, pay off the medical bills inherited from your childhood, finally afford an apartment bigger than a shoebox, or invite your friends out for dinner sometime.

Then, you wanted to go where Marilyn directed you. Into one of the vampire-owned locations where said vampires would splurge a lot of money on getting blood that was not vacuum sealed in a medical-grade plastic bag.

“It is like a very unusual cocktail bar,” your colleague had explained, showing you her neck and wrists to make her point about how no marks were left after a few days, “And I have never felt safer anywhere else. Just try it and thank me later!”

Which is why you were now standing in front of a woman who looked nothing like how you imagined a vampire to look. She was wearing normal clothes, for one, and her tattoo sleeve did not make her look very immortal. “Name’s Steph,” she introduced herself. “Care for a welcome mocktail while you wait?”

“No, thank you.”

She nodded. “Mar sent you, right?”

It took you a moment to realize that Mar was Marilyn and you nodded, nervously looking around. There was no official dress code but you were happy you ended up going with the black pumps and the little black dress. Everyone here looked like they were dripping in understated wealth. “She said she wouldn’t be here today.”

“Nah, she only comes on Tuesdays,” Steph explained and set the glass down, “But you’re not here to see Mar.”

No, you were not, and the reminder made your throat feel very dry.

“There is no reason to be nervous,” she smiled, “The first donation is always with one of your more senior guests. They have more experience with feeding off someone alive and can control themselves if you show any signs of discomfort. If you feel in any way unsafe, just say Geronimo, and I will come and make sure you are okay, okay?”

You nodded, biting your tongue to ask how she was supposed to hear you over the noise.

“I am sure you want to get to know who is going to be assigned to you tonight – Pat!”

A woman turned around with the happiest smile you had ever seen. Her dark hair was in a tousled updo and heavy diamond earrings swung when she turned around. Though that was not what you focussed on. There was a small trail of blood down her throat and you wondered if you should tell her. How hard was blood to get out of clothes anyway?

“What’s up?”

“Where’s Djarin tonight?”

“Oh, he's gone camping again,” she explained, “He asked Mr Vizsla to take over, he should be here somewhere, I just saw him …”

“He is right here, ladies,” a deep voice said right behind you and you turned around.

You were not sure what you had been expecting. Certainly not this specimen. He was tall. And broad. And handsome.

Oh fuck, why is he so handsome?

Mr Vizsla was the biggest man you had ever seen and if you didn’t know better, you would have thought he was a werewolf. He had a strong, stubbled jaw and his dark hair was swept into a hairstyle that made you think of your grandmother's movies. He wore an all-black suit with the first few buttons undone, which meant you got a peek at his chest and the gold chain that was around his neck.

“She’s the newbie that was assigned to Djarin tonight.”

You met his gaze and immediately knew he had caught you ogling him. Shit. But then his eyes roamed over you and you swallowed, trying to stand a little taller even if your feet were already killing you. This was the most beautiful man you had ever seen and everything in you wanted to impress him. The side of his mouth quirked up into a charming smile.

“I'll take it from here,” he announced and held out his hand to you, “why don’t we get you somewhere more comfortable, darling?"

You followed him silently through the bar that seemed to much deeper in the building than you had originally thought. At one point, you even passed the band. You spotted his face in a few pictures, several of them black and white.

He looked older than you but he didn’t look old. Not like he had lived entire millennia. Maybe he hadn’t. Was it considered rude to ask vampires their age?

“Did you read the pamphlet?” he asked when he stopped you both at a small and empty booth. His hand was warm and dry, you could feel a few callouses at his fingertips and you wondered if he worked. Or if he had always been a … businessman? Bar owner?

You nodded, listing off every bullet point that had been on the online info sheet Marylin (Mar, apparently) had forwarded to your email. “I made sure to hydrate plenty, am not taking any blood thinners and my last check-up at the GP did not show anything wrong with my bloodwork. I should be good to donate blood.”

“Good,” he nodded, “do you have any questions before we get started? Anything at all?”

You shook your head. You knew why you were here but why did it suddenly all feel so fast?

His strong hand wrapped around your wrist and you let your eyes drift over the tattoos on his knuckles and the girth of his fingers and … damn it, how could one man be so … handsome? You had always thought of vampires as pale-faced, porcelain statue versions of humans. But he looked … rugged, and warm, and real. And pretty damn sexy.

“Do you have a preference?”

“What?”

With burning ears, you realized you hadn’t listened to a word this handsome stranger had said. He realized it too because he had that cocky smile again. “Don’t get distracted by my dashing looks, sweetheart,” he teased you, “This is important.”

You nodded numbly, still watching your hand in his. “I will take a bite at your wrist first,” he repeated gently, “Some people have a strong preference for where to bite and we find that it is a good test to see how you feel afterwards. I usually suggest the non-dominant hand but maybe you already have a preference?”

“No, uh, non-dominant is fine,” you murmured, holding out the hand in question.

Mr Vizsla did not look away from you though. His dark eyes were filled with mirth as he patted the spot right next to him. “Might be a bit more comfortable if you're closer,” he said and you looked down at the big space between your bodies. He was right, you knew that, but you also knew that your heart was not just racing because you were nervous to give yourself over to a vampire. No, you were pretty sure that the closer you got to him, the likelier you would be to embarrass yourself.

You really did not want to embarrass yourself.

Not even a second later, you could feel his thick thigh press against yours. Your heart skipped a beat and you wondered if he could hear it. It had been too long since anyone touched you and of course, it had to be at the most inopportune moment that you realized that.

“No need to be nervous,” he assured you, “If you feel in any discomfort if you want to stop for whatever reason, just say Geronimo and Steph is right there to punch me off you if you feel unsafe.”

“Steph?”

Who was Steph? All you could focus on was the sight of him gently cradling your hand and brushing his mouth over your palm. The touch was so gentle, yet so intentional, it made your thighs clench. His lips brushed over the inside of your wrist and your breathing stuttered. “Think of nice things,” he winked at you before his teeth sank into your skin.

An image flashed in front of your eyes. Nice might be the wrong words to describe it. You saw him – felt him, more like – bent over you, driving into you from behind. Your eyes rolled back, hands fisted into white sheets. It was warm, you were in the tropics somewhere, but that did not bother you. Because the man behind you fucked you so good you were crying, begging him for more and all you could see was –

“How are you feeling?”

You blinked, feeling dizzy at how violently you were pulled away from an idea that felt so real. What was that?

The dark-haired man still had your hand in his and you could see two little drops of blood forming on your wrist. It did not hurt, not really, except for a dull throbbing in your veins. You frowned, trying to clear your head of the image that had been so real for a moment that your body still craved being filled by … him.

“Good,” your voice felt hoarse and you swallowed, trying to get rid of the sudden dryness in your throat. He had no business looking so devilishly handsome with his lips stained dark from your blood.

Your neck would be next, you knew, and immediately your mind was filled with pictures of you in his lap, closer than what was probably appropriate. Then again, it didn’t exactly seem like society’s rules were followed in this place.

He shifted in his seat, his legs spreading and your eyes involuntarily darted to the bulge hidden by his slacks. With the dim lighting, you shouldn't have been able to see anything but still, you imagined to see a very distinguishable something between his legs.

And then an idea popped into your head that you could not get rid of.

“Would it – would,” you swallowed again, trying to find the courage to ask what you wanted.

“What, darling?” he asked, his tongue darting out to lick over the puncture wounds on your arms. You gasped at the feeling. Maybe someone should add spontaneous arousal to the side effects section of that pamphlet.

“Can I – Could …”, you stopped short, frustrated at how nervous you were.

“You want to straddle me?” he suggested his legs spreading the tiniest bit more and you could feel your core pulse at the sight of it. Shit. Fuck. Damn it.

“Is that very inappropriate?” you rushed out, “I am sorry, I don’t mean to put you into an awkward position and –“

“Hey,” he murmured, his hands on your waist gently guiding you to him “Whatever makes you feel the most comfortable, all right?”

You took a deep breath, “All right.”

His large hand was on your neck, gently cupping one side so you could rest your weight against it, offering him up all this space. There was faint music in the background and you could feel his breath wash over the sensitive skin.

Your breathing stuttered, your heart raced and you shifted closer to him, your core settling over his which made you even more.

“Calm down, sweetheart,” he whispered, his thumb brushing over your jawline, the tip of his nose over your neck, “It is like I can hear your thoughts from here.”

Your laugh sounded breathy even to your ears but before you could worry about how you wanted to make sure you were not being a nuisance; his teeth sank into the soft skin of your neck.

The images returned almost instantly.

This time it wasn’t him behind you in the tropics. This time it was right where you were sitting. But instead of straddling him, you were kneeling between his legs, your mouth wrapped around the girth of his cock. You were caged in by his thick thighs, you could feel the heat of his body at your shoulders, his hand at the back of your head, pushing and pulling you on his shaft.

Good fucking girl, he rumbled in your mind and you gasped out a moan. With a particularly deep thrust, he hit the back of your throat and you gagged, your eyes eager to find him even through the tears.

The scene morphed and you were somewhere else, wearing next to nothing. There were people all around you, club music pounding in your ears. You wore a mini-dress with an orange pattern looking like it came out of one of those retro shows. But that was not what you focused on, no.

You were on him, his cock nestled inside you as he faintly talked with other people and you were just there, moving in minuscule thrusts as he kept his hands on you, his mouth occasionally on your neck, whispering things you could not hear but knew were dirty.

Oh fuck. You wanted to pull away, feeling your pussy getting wetter. At this point, you would not be surprised if you had left a wet patch on his pants. But you would be really fucking embarrassed.

The burning in your cheeks made you want to jerk back, get off his lap and run away to move to the other side of the county.

Don’t, sweetheart, you will hurt yourself.

Your eyes flew open, seeing nothing but the dark corner of the ceiling. He was in your head. Was he in your head?

You are in my head?

His mouth did not leave your throat and his other hand landed on the small of your back, pulling you closer to him. Right onto the growing bulge in his pants.

Believe me, that’s my first time, too, his voice sounded amused, almost, don’t stop on my account. I quite enjoyed the little picture show.

The hand on your neck spanned wide and suddenly he was tilting your head differently and your eyes fell closed, returning to the images in your minds – and in his, too, apparently.

Your hips started moving on their own accord, grinding against his prominent erection as you found yourself chasing a high you had not felt in a long time.

Fuck, sweetheart. You could faintly hear him groan against your neck and you bucked against him again, the pressure on your clit delicious. The hand on your back wandered lower, to your ass and with how you were moving against him, it was easy for his fingers to slip under the hem of your dress.

Please, Paz, you thought, your pussy aching when his calloused fingertips brushed the lacy edge of your panties before finding the wet spot between your thighs.

Come for me, sweetheart, his voice commanded in your hand.

Countless scenarios flashed in your head, each one more pleasurable than the last but all of them too quick to focus on one. Even if you had wanted to, you would not have been able to form a coherent thought as your orgasm crashed through you.

When you came back into reality, his tongue was on your neck, closing the wound just like on your wrist before. Your thighs felt uncomfortably wet and you could hear your heartbeat in your ears.

“Well, that was a first,” Paz breathed and you blinked, trying very hard to be present. The high you were still floating on came crashing down when you realized you were still sitting on his lap and you had just come in front of this, essentially, stranger when that had really not been the plan.

Fuck, you had to get out of here before he kicked you out. How could you have dropped the ball so badly on this?

“No movement,” his hand flexed your back, stopping you from clambering off him, “We don’t want you to get dizzy. Stay here for five-ish minutes and we will see how you feel after some aftercare.”

“A-aftercare?”

He nodded, his fingers brushing over your neck. “A mocktail and the pastry of the day,” he elaborated, “I think it’s croissants today. “

You really liked croissants.

“I am so ashamed,” you whispered, your eyes firmly fixed on his collarbone, “I am so sorry. I promise I will never come back. When Marylin explained donating blood, it didn’t sound like – I wasn’t prepared for –“

“Please do come back,” he interrupted you gently, fingers tipping your chin up until you had to meet his dark eyes, “It – What happened is rare. And I never heard of both happening at the same time.”

Your puzzled expression was enough for him to continue.

“Some people are more … sensitive,” his deep voice sent a shiver down your spine, “When it comes to feeding from them. And I have heard of the odd pair where there was a telepathic connection, but I’ve never – haven’t experienced either. There is no reason to be ashamed. Clearly, I was affected too.”

Your cheeks burned at the memory of that one image that you were certain your head hadn’t come up with.

“Though I have to warn you that if you do come back, I might ask you to be assigned to me every time,” he teased, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. You wondered what it would be like to be kissed by him. When he spoke, his fangs did not seem all that prominent but would it be different if you kissed?

“I – I wouldn’t mind that, Mr Vizsla,” you admitted quietly.

He scoffed, “Call me, Paz, sweetheart, please.”

The arrival of the waiter interrupted any further conversation and Mr Vizsla (Paz) gently eased you off his lap until you were sitting right next to him. Although the movement was slow and minimal, a wave of dizziness still washed over you and you understood why he had kept you from fleeing.

“Drink,” he offered you the fancy glass and you took it. His arm was draped around the back of the booth right behind you and you felt both comforted and nervous by how close he was.

“Slow and steady,” he murmured as you gulped down the fruity mocktail. His forehead was almost leaning against your temple and you had to resist the urge to just … relax into him.

This felt like the best sex you ever had and yet this man was virtually a stranger. But there was no hesitation in his gentle touches as he offered you the plate with the croissant and there was no flinching on your part when he put his arm around your shoulders.

Was it possible to feel such deep trust in someone you had met only once?

His phone rang and you watched as he pulled it out of his pocket, the sizable screen dwarfed in his hand. A frown formed on his face and your smile fell.

“I am so sorry, but I need to go now,” he announced with a frown on his face. With you still sitting down, he seemed even bigger and you looked up at him with big eyes. Somehow, you had hoped that he would stay. That you could get to know him more.

“So soon?”

“I have to be home in time to feed the cat,” he replied.

“You have a cat?”

“Yeah, her name is Biscuits and if her dinner is late she will start killing any mice she can find and I will not spend my eternal life digging small gravesites.” As if to prove his point, he unlocked his screen and showed you a picture of the fluffiest cat you had ever seen. Biscuits seemed a fitting name.

“Will – will you be here next time too?” you asked before you could lose your courage.

“Oh definitely,” he grinned, “Remember what I said, love, you’re stuck with me now.”

[vizslasaber]

FRIENDLY FIRE ──── ii.

SUMMARY | The mission continues, and with it, your growing suspicion of Krell’s authoritarian methods. But the troopers relying on you—including Rex—lead you in the right direction: one of unyielding kindness, even when it’s hard.

PAIRING | Captain Rex x female Jedi!reader

WORD COUNT | 3.7k

WARNINGS | Combat/action, mentions of injury & death, Krell being a bitch as usual, gender neutral use of the term “sir,” gratuitous use of Mando’a, and one (1) curse word. Also, a Shakespeare reference because I’m a historian & couldn’t help myself.

A/N | Yay, chapter 2! As you'll probably notice, I changed the reader's story a little bit, and I like it better now as it adds more tension to the plot. Enjoy!

< PREVIOUS CHAPTER

SERIES MASTERLIST | TAGLIST | NAVIGATION | AO3

For once, you’re glad to have woken up early. It gives you time to get in a pep talk you know will motivate the men rather than bring their morale down, as you know Krell’s speech—which he gave upon arrival—would have done.

“Alright, men,” you call briskly, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face as you pace back and forth in front of the battalion. “You would all do well to remember that it’s not just the safety of the Republic relying on our success—the other battalions have placed their trust in us. Generals Kenobi and Tiin will stop approximately two kilometers outside the capital city, waiting for us to get close enough to begin our initial assault.”

You glance at Rex, who’s standing beside you, and nod for him to continue.

The Captain steps forward. “We’re about elevens klick behind them right now, and fifteen klicks from the capital,” he says. “We’ve got to make good time—and it’s going to be hard, what with the enemies we’re sure to meet along the way. The native population doesn’t play around, and neither do their weapons capabilities. Is that understood?”

“Sir, yes, sir!” comes a unanimous shout from the rest of the troopers. They start to disperse, packing up camp faster than your eyes can follow, and you nod to yourself in satisfaction.

“Rex,” you start, then hesitate as he turns to you with a raised eyebrow. “Is it… are you alright with forgoing titles? I always seem to forget to use them.”

Rex looks almost torn—likely between protocol and what you’re asking—but eventually nods. “Of course, sir,” he says, then blanches. “I mean…”

“It’s okay,” you assure him. “I just don’t want to feel bad if I slip up.” He smiles slightly, one corner of his mouth quirked upwards. “As I was saying—do you have a chief medical officer that I can talk to?”

“Yeah, that would be Kix,” Rex tells you, then frowns. “Is… everything alright?”

“Yes, don’t worry.” You adjust one vambrace, looking out at the men, then at General Krell on the far side of camp, who’s been surveying the battalion tempestuously since you began to speak. “I just… wanted to ask him something. About battlefield medicine.”

“Are you a medic?” Rex asks, shifting his helmet to one hand.

You grimace at the clinical, militaristic term. “Something like that.”

Rex looks doubtful, but motions to a trooper with an intricately buzzed haircut who's putting supplies into a pack. "Kix—get over here!" he calls, before nodding to you and leaving as he puts on his helmet.

"General," the trooper greets with a crisp salute, and you notice that his pauldrons have the universal sign for medic painted on them in a bright, obvious red. "How can I help you?"

"Actually," you say with what you hope is a courteous smile, "I was hoping to ask you the same question. You're the battalion's CMO right?"

Kix tilts his head. "Yeah..." he says. "I'm not the only medic, though. Got a whole team of 'em. We specialize in what we do, sir, train for it our whole lives, so I don't want to be rude, but—"

"Don't worry about that," you cut in, shaking your head. "I'm not a medic—I haven't been trained in combative tactics—but I am a healer."

"So, like," Kix pauses, searching for the right word as he does so, "a Jedi doctor?"

You snort. "That's... one term for it, yes." You watch as Kix moves the weight of his medpack from one shoulder to the other. "Force healing is an ability that a Jedi is born with. Not every Jedi can become a healer—using the Force to reverse the effects of an injury is not something that can be learned."

There's a pause as Kix nods slowly. "Reversing the effects," he echoes, fascinated. "Even bacta can't do that—it just speeds up the healing process. Sounds like we could use your help."

"Yes," you say. "That's why I wanted to speak with you." You let out a sigh, remembering one of the first things your master told you as a Padawan. "But it's not all-powerful. Just like bacta can only heal what is able to be healed, Force healing cannot create a life force where there isn't one. If someone is near-death, trying to bring them back would render me unable to defend myself from exhaustion."

"Right," Kix replies. "So no resurrection."

"No resurrection," you affirm, smiling. "But I can help. And I know triage."

"Oh, that's even better!" Kix exclaims, then holds out his wrist comm. "Here—we've got a medic frequency—" he waits for you to scan his comm to yours, and when the happy little chime sounds, he pulls away. "Thank you, General."

"Of course," you say as he turns to leave. "And thank you, Kix."

The battalion falls silent and prepares to move out—but just as you’re double checking your armour, a cold, sharp presence casts a shadow over you. Turning around, you make eye contact with General Krell, who's now standing just a short ways from where you and Kix were talking—like he was listening.

“Conspiring with the soldiers, General?” Krell sneers, putting a mocking emphasis on the last word. You raise an irritated eyebrow.

“Conspiring?” you repeat, glancing at the hastily assembling troopers. “They're hardly the enemy, Master Krell. I only want us to win this campaign as quickly and smoothly as possible." Before you can reign in your impulse control, you add, "And continuing to let the troopers rest will get us there faster."

“Rest is a luxury we cannot afford!” Krell snaps, and you jump in surprise at his excessive volume. He leans forward, acrid breath forcing you to resist the urge to cough. “The other battalions are far ahead of us, and you think we have time.”

“We do,” you reply calmly, despite your quickening heartbeat. “The men are keeping a good pace, especially with this difficult terrain. Fifteen clicks isn't far, especially with the supplies we have.” You purse your lips. “Now, I suggest we set off. Talking will slow us down as well, Master—and as you so wisely pointed out, luxuries are not something we can ask for.”

You walk away, then, and feel a rush of satisfaction enveloped in a Force signature that you’re almost positive belongs to Rex. Resisting a pleased smile, you let your hands drift to where your lightsabers are clipped to your belt before moving to walk beside Rex.

“Captain,” you greet, taking notice of the way Rex’s shoulders tense just slightly. “Shall we?”

“Yes, General,” Rex replies, voice clipped. He motions for the battalion to follow, and soon the two of you, along with a still angry General Krell, are leading the troopers through the unwelcoming terrain of Umbara.

The journey is precarious and—as much as you hate to admit it—tiring. Hours pass, and soon you’re almost to the checkpoint Rex had pointed out on the map, situated just outside the city’s heavily fortified border.

You stop for a moment, leaning against the glowing trunk of a colossal tree, and fidget anxiously with the tabards of your tunic.

“Sir,” Rex says, and you turn around. “We’re ready to bring our forward platoons in. What do you suggest?”

“We should continue with Anakin’s original plan,” you say quietly. “A surgical strike on the outer defenses—we must take great care not to needlessly damage any of the city’s buildings. I'd prefer minimal collateral damage when we’re done.”

It is a plan you’ve been turning over in your head since you’d landed on the Umbaran surface. Hopefully—and assuming there were no hindrances—it would succeed. Despite being overly idealistic, and sometimes a little too impulsive, Anakin is nothing if not a strategist—when he wants to be.

“If I may,” sneers Krell from behind you, and you set your jaw. “I do not think that General Skywalker’s futile plan will be necessary.”

In spite of yourself, you clench your fists at your sides. “And why not?” you grit out, not bothering to turn around as Krell comes to stand at your side, towering over your figure.

“Captain Rex and his insolent men have already brought it up with me, and I explained this to them as well. I hold the authority here, and I am ordering all platoons to execute a full-frontal assault,” Krell continues, seemingly unfazed by your irritated expression. “We will travel along the main route to the city and force them to yield.”

“Force them to—” you cut yourself off and draw in a deep, calming breath. There is no emotion, you remind yourself vehemently. There is only peace. “Master Krell. With all due respect, we can't just storm in there with no plan. Casualties will rocket if we try something that impulsive. I just don't think—”

“Need I remind you, General Neridian,” Krell interrupts scathingly, “that you are only one week into Knighthood? We may be of equal military rank, but I am a Master, and therefore hold precedence over your commands.”

“This isn’t about me or you,” you hiss, swiveling to face Krell as your patience is finally pulled taut. Ignoring the shocked stares you know the troopers have fixed on you, you cross your arms. “It’s about this campaign. It's about our mission, and it's bigger than us. So I suggest we agree to disagree, and carry on with General Skywalker’s plan—”

Krell clicks his tongue. “Losing your temper already?" He asks, and you could swear he's taunting you, waiting to see when you'll do something mortifying like raise your voice (but then again, he's done it several times already and it's only been a day). "How unfortunate. Perhaps the Council should not have been so adamant that you face the Trials so early."

You blink and take a step back. He's right, and you know it. You're one of the youngest Padawans to face the Trials in generations, as are all your peers, thrust into a rushed end to your training at the beginning of the war. So many of your friends—Darra, Galene, Ferus, and of course, Anakin, the most tenacious of them all—seem to have risen to this unique challenge with their heads held high. But all you can seem to do is flinch away from the ugly parts, the parts that remind you of just how unprepared you are for these new and daunting responsibilities.

Unclenching your fists, you swallow the bile in your throat and try to stop your hands from trembling. “The Council,” you say, voice tight, "made their choice. And so must I make mine." You turn to Rex, who's standing just behind you and gripping his helmet with both hands. “Captain—prepare the troops. We’re going with General Skywalker’s plan.”

“I…” Rex’s knuckles have gone white with how hard he’s clutching his helmet, and he looks strangely helpless. “I’m sorry, General, but—the regs state that General Krell outranks you due to his status as a Jedi Master.” He presses his lips together and averts his gaze from yours, cheeks red with what you know is anger. “I’m afraid that General Krell’s orders do indeed… take precedence over yours.”

Beside you, Krell looks more satisfied than you’ve ever seen him. The Besalisk turns to the battalion and crosses his upper set of arms over his chest.

“Troopers!” he barks, and the soldiers stand at attention simultaneously. “Prepare to move out!” He presses a button on his wrist comm, and a holomap flickers to life. “You will take the main road straight to the capital. You will not stop and you will not turn back, regardless of the resistance you meet. We will attack them with all our troops—not some sneak attack with a few men.”

You close your eyes and clasp your hands behind your back. There is no emotion, there is peace.

It feels less like a mantra and more like a meaningless, empty chant. Peace, you think despairingly, looks to be farther than ever.

"Sir." Rex clears his throat, making you look up to see him watching Krell like one might survey a blown fuse at risk of setting fire to a building. "Sir, General Neridian is right. This is practically a suicide mission. I don't think—"

“What you think, Captain, is irrelevent. You have my orders, and you will follow them explicitly,” Krell growls, then leans forward, turning to the Captain. “Do I make myself clear, CT-7567?”

Your eyes widen in shock and you glare at Krell, crossing your own arms over your chest to mimic Krell’s stance. “It’s Rex, General,” you snap. “Captain Rex. That’s how he introduced himself, if you've forgotten?”

Many troopers turn to you, and you can tell—even under their helmets—that they’re clearly surprised at your derisive tone. You ignore them, turn on your heel, and storm away, but not before you hear Rex mutter, “Crystal, General Krell.”

The path is lit with some form of concentrated bioluminescent light, making it easier for you to see where you’re going. The clones have the advantage of night vision built into their visors, which makes it hard not to envy them. That alone, that feeling so unbecoming of a Jedi is enough to make you feel a sting of shame, not unlike the feeling that so often came with a scolding from Master Venn when you were still a Padawan.

You wonder for the millionth time if you’ve been forced into Knighthood too soon. Of course, there is nothing to do about that now—every war needs warrior, after all—just like there was nothing you could do when Master Venn told you the news just one week years ago.

She was grim when she told you, and your stomach goes cold with the memory of how she delivered the news, like she was handing you your own death sentence. Now, you know why.

And some have greatness thrust upon them, you think bitterly, remembering how often Master Venn made you read ancient poetry as a Padawan, the kind so old it's still stored on dusty books instead of firmware.

“General.”

You turn to find that Rex has fallen into step with you and smile. “Captain,” you acknowledge. “Forgive me. I was just…” you clear your throat. “Lost in thought.”

Rex—now wearing his helmet—nods and turns his gaze to the path ahead. “Thinking about the plan?”

“No,” you admit sheepishly. “Just about—” you gesture vaguely to your surroundings “—all of this. This war, this strife.” Shaking your head, you fidget with the one of the lightsaber hooks on your belt, clasping and unclasping it. “How fast I've been thrown in, and whether or not it’s necessary.”

“Hm.” You can hear the frown in Rex’s voice. “If it’s any consolation, we clones have mixed feelings about the war, too.”

You raise an eyebrow and turn to look at him. “How so?”

He gives a one-shouldered shrug and turns his head away. “Just that… well, I’d rather do without all the lives lost, but... without it, we wouldn’t exist, would we?”

Frowning, you consider this. “I suppose you’re right,” you concede. “But it is the will of the Force that you came to be. And,” you add, shooting Rex a sly smile, “the galaxy would be very different if you hadn’t, hm?”

There’s a moment of silence, during which you get the feeling that the troopers behind you are listening to your conversation. Rex seems lost for words, until he clears his throat. “Me specifically, sir?” You nod, and Rex adjusts his helmet. “I—I don’t know. I’m just one man, aren’t I?”

“That may be so, Captain, but you’ve made more of a difference than you think,” you inform him. “I think I’m correct in assuming that you’ve saved General Skywalker’s arse more times than he alone can count.”

Behind you, someone lets out a surprised laugh, then tries to cover it up as a cough. You smile at Rex and continue.

“And even without that, you’re responsible for many of the Republic’s victories in this war.” You shake your head. “The smallest insect feeding off of a single flower’s nectar has an impact on the entire garden. In the Force, we are all an entire world, a whole galaxy. Never assume that you do not make a difference.”

You feel a ripple of shock, gratitude, and something else—something you can’t quite place—flow through the Force. It’s a refreshing change from the tension and stress of the mission, and you’re just about to open your mouth to thank Rex when—

A white-hot warning flashes in the Force, and there’s a split-second warning as you scan your surroundings for the threat. Then—

“Get back!” you shout, and the troopers in your immediate vicinity immediately scramble off of the path.

They’re just in time—the sheer force of the explosion is enough to knock you off your feet and send you flying backwards. You land on something hard and feel all of the air get knocked out of you.

“Mines!” someone shouts. “Nobody on the path move!”

You freeze as you realize that the surface you landed on is, in fact, Rex—specifically, his armour. Your back is pressed to his chest plate, and you can feel his nervousness as though it is your own, but neither of you move for fear of setting off another mine.

Your cheeks burn when Rex finally leans forward, void of his helmet—it must have been knocked off it the blast. He's close enough to your ear to whisper, “Left. Slowly.”

It sends chills down your spine, but you shake them off. Drawing in a deep breath, you oblige, easing left and onto your knees, so you’re kneeling beside a disoriented-looking Rex. He looks shaken, but quickly gathers himself and cautiously stands up as he scans the area for his helmet.

“Oz is down,” you hear one of the medics say grimly. “So is Ringo.”

Rex spares you one last glance before swooping down to pick up his helmet, brushing the dirt off the visor. He moves to inspect the dead troopers. “Can you sweep ‘em?”

For a long moment, there’s silence as the medics gently move the bodies aside—you respectfully avert your eyes, feeling the sting of grief from the other troopers—and set them down on the side of the path. You hear Kix declare happily that there are no injured despite the two casualties and smile to yourself.

There’s no time to bury the dead troopers, so you settle for approaching Rex and placing a hand on his tense shoulder, over his pauldron with fading and scratched blue paint. “Nu kyr'adyc,” you murmur. “Shi taab'echaaj'la."

Not gone, merely marching far away.

Rex turns his head, and this close, you can see his wide eyes through the visor of his helmet. He takes a deep, shuddering breath, then raises his hand and places it over yours. It lasts for a split-second; the next thing you know, he’s pulling away, talking quietly to Fives and Kix.

“Come on, men,” you call to the rest of the battalion. “We need to—”

Chills fly up your spine and you stiffen, just as a loud, shrieking sound engulfs the path and—BOOM! More troopers go flying into the air. There are shouts of Basic, Mando’a, and Umbaran, and the firefight begins, during which you realize—

An ambush. You draw one lightsaber to deflect an oncoming barrage of blasterfire, but it's not enough, and there's no cover afforded to the terrain.

“Shit," you mutter under your breath as you switch on your shoto saber, calling on your knowledge of Jar'Kai to deflect the bolts with both blades. You raise your voice and call over your shoulder. "We’re fully exposed! Retreat to the forest!”

“We can’t, General!” shouts a voice, and you turn to see a blue-painted helmet accented with a small red arrow: Fives. “They’re coming from all directions—” he grunts and fires another blast “—we don’t have any cover!”

You feel your blood run cold. There’s no way for you to retreat—and it’s all Krell’s fault.

“We need them to follow us!” Rex answers, standing with his back to yours as he fires his blasters rapidly. “If we can draw them out, we can see them—and if we can see them, we can hit them!”

“Good idea,” you breathe, even though you know it’s too loud for Rex to hear you. Raising your voice, you lift one lightsaber so the other troopers can see the path. “All squads, pull back now!” You close your eyes for a moment to call on the Force, then propel yourself upwards and leap through the air so you’re at the back of the group. “I’ll take the rear! Cover me—sword and shield maneuver!”

The troopers obey, and soon you find yourself at the center of a tight semicircle formed by clones, all firing mercilessly on the Umbaran soldiers. You bite your lip and shift to Soresu to parallel the blasterfire more easily, deflecting the barrage as quickly and efficiently as you possibly can.

Just behind you is an AT-RT walker, defending your flank. Beside you is a trooper with intricately painted markings on his helmet, firing a rotary cannon and shouting, “Ha-ha! Where you goin’? Get back here, you wimps!”

You grin at his sheer audacity. “Careful there, trooper,” you admonish playfully, deflecting another blaster shot.

“They’re falling back!” Fives shouts, then, and you can hear the smile in his voice. The troopers all holster their blasters while you hook your lightsaber onto your belt.

“CT-7567, do you have a malfunction in your design?” You turn around and raise your eyebrows as Krell approaches Rex, looking furious. “You’ve pulled your forces back from taking the capital city. The enemy now has control of this route. This entire operation has been compromised because of your failure!”

You feel your hands start to shake. “Master Krell,” you say, trying your best to remain calm, “I gave the order to pull back, not Rex. We were completely surrounded and couldn’t risk losing any more men.”

Krell, looking furious at worst and disgruntled at best, saying nothng. Seizing the opportunity to walk away, you turn on your heel and breathe through the anger, urging yourself to keep going, trying to find a quiet place to rest and meditate for just a few minutes.

And you do. Closing your eyes, you lean against the firm trunk of a glowing tree, wiping sweat from your brow. It’s quiet, and you can hear the steady chirping of crickets (or something else) in the phosphorescent grass.

“General Krell,” says a trooper’s voice. It’s more firmthan Rex’s—Fives, you're pretty sure. “In case you haven’t noticed, Captain Rex just saved this platoon. Surely you won’t fail to recognize that.”

Blinking in surprise, you start to return to the group, wondering if this is an argument you’ll be able to break up—but the hum of a lightsaber being drawn makes you stop in your tracks.

“ARC-5555,” Krell growls. “Stand down.”

You feel your mouth go dry and approach the other troopers. Krell is standing with his back to you, but you can clearly see the green blade of his lightsaber from where you stand, hovering next to Fives's neck. If only Esya could see this, you think, horrified.

Don’t make any sudden moves, your Master’s teachings remind you. He could strike, and then you’d be responsible for the death of yet another man.

Just after the tense conversation between Fives and Krell, the Umbarans returned, sparking yet another firefight—this one with more casualties than the last. You were forced to retreat with the platoons, exhausted and spent.

Now, you sit on the ground, leaning against a fallen tree trunk in a brief moment of rest while the troopers drive away a small squad of Umbarans. In your hand is a pocket holotransmitter, refracting a cluster of blue light in the form of Esya Venn.

“I feel your discomfort from here, young one,” the older Theelin Master is saying, one eyebrow raised skeptically.

“Impossible,” you scoff. “You’re all the way on Coruscant, there’s no way.” There’s a moment of silence, during which the hologram flickers. You add, “And I’m not so young anymore, you know.”

Esya smiles wanly—you notice the shadows under her normally bright eyes with a pang of sadness—and shakes her head, her long colorful hair swishing lightly.

“You're still young to me,” she says softly, gently. "And you're avoiding the subject."

“I’m fine, Master,” you sigh. “Really.”

"You must not know me as well as I thought," Esya replies primly, a hint of a smile showing through her stern expression, "if you think you can lie to me like that."

You sigh again, frowning down at the flickering hologram. "It's just..." you shake your head, staring off into the foggy distance. "I'm concerned about Master Krell's tactics. They're aggressive, nothing like what you taught me of strategy, and they don't take into account the fact that we need to strive for as little casualties as possible—on both sides."

"Hm." Esya crosses her arms. "I have heard of Master Krell's... unconventional style. Is there anything else that concerns you about him?"

"I mean—everything, really," you admit, lowering your voice. "He has a blatant disregard for life that I haven't seen in a Jedi in, well... ever. He refers to the clones by their birth numbers, not their names, and he sees the native fauna as just—objects. Nuisances." You place the holotransmitter on the ground in front of you and shift your sitting position. "I fear that, to him, no life is sacred."

"If that were the case, I do not think the Council would have granted him the rank of Master," Esya says, but she looks thoughtful, like there's something she isn't saying. "Who is the commanding officer?"

"His name is Captain Rex," you say. "He's Anakin's first-in-command. I think he's just as worried by Master Krell as I am, and..." you trail off, unsure how to voice your next thought.

"What is it?" Esya prompts, light eyebrows raised.

"There's something about him—about Rex," you say finally, reluctant. "It's like the Force is trying to tell me something. That—that he's important. But I can't figure out why." You huff, fighting back a frustrated scowl. "I wish the Force would just tell me. But the answer is so—so elusive."

"As is everything since the start of this war," Esya replies, shaking her thorned head. She fixes you with a fond expression. "But, Padawan... you must remember that the Force is not your enemy, but your ally. If you open your eyes, it will show you the way."

"Yes," you murmur, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. The sounds of talking from the group's position behind you make you frown. "I have to go. May the Force be with you, Master."

“And with you. Always,” Esya replies before cutting off the connection seconds later.

You stand, tucking the transmitter into your pocket, then make for the rest of the group and move to stand beside Captain Rex. He's observing General Krell talk to General Kenobi via comlink.

“The capital city’s too fortified,” General Kenobi is saying grimly. “We still need your battalion to help us take it.”

“Resistance from the Umbarans has been greater than anticipated,” Krell replies. “We’re holding our ground at the moment.”

You swallow, averting your gaze to your boots. Holding our ground… what does Krell think is happening? Surely he hasn’t failed to notice the heavy casualties your battalion is sustaining.

“We’ve gathered intel on an airbase to the west,” General Kenobi replies. “It is resupplying the capital’s defenses.”

Taking a step forward, you cross your arms over your chest. “Should we attempt to take control of the airbase, then?”

Turning to you, General Kenobi nods. “Yes,” he answers. “Doing so will sever the capital’s supply lines, allowing the rest of our forces to move in.”

“I’ll see to it that the airbase is placed under our control,” Krell says decisively. It sends a wave of nausea through your stomach.

“Remember, Master Krell; Knight Neridian,” Kenobi says, mouth pulling into a tight frown, “The entire invasion depends on your battalion.”

Krell nods and severs the connection, then turns to you. “Neridian, have those coordinates mapped when you’re finished here, and make sure all troops are ready to move out immediately.” He walks away, leaving you alone with Captain Rex.

You watch Krell retreat with a feeling of incessant dread. “Right, then,” you say to Rex. “What do you say the odds are that we finish this thing his way?”

“Good question, General,” Rex says, and you can hear the smile in his voice as he watches the Umbaran sky darken with more eerie purple clouds. "I guess there's only one way to find out."

NEXT CHAPTER >

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