#didn’t make the full reference sheet for nothing

[ratwithhands]

Z-A NEWS ON POKÉMON PRESENTS 🎉🎉🎉

The connection is really spotty where I’m at but I got to check out the pokemon presents finally. Seeing Z-A being set in the future was very baller 👍

I’m debating if I dig up my old Z-A AU with Cybernetic Emmet, since in that one Unova and Kalos are making a joint effort to futurize and develop the capital. It’s gonna be a while before I get back to that but for you guys who saw it beforehand, would you like to see it again?

Catch you later, I’m going to bed

[celestial-toys]

*closes 13 tabs on astrology and greek mythology*

ES Ch.5… is now complete.

[zyafics]

GIRL UNDER THE MOONLIGHT | Rafe Cameron

MASTERLIST (Oneshot)

Pairing – Rafe x Mermaid!Female Reader

Summary — Rafe invites you out to the Druthers for a sunrise event with Sarah and his friends.

Word Count — 2.3K

Content — fluff, protective!Rafe, Sarah being a good sister (and considerate to you!), you being clingy and possessive of Rafe, and suggestive scenes. A continuum of this and this and this!

“She can’t be a mermaid,” Sarah announces unexpectedly.

Rafe stops what he’s doing to turn to his sister, “What?”

“I poured some water on her skin,” she diligently informs, leaning against the doorframe of his office, her arms crossed over her chest with this vindicated look. "Nothing happened. Therefore, she can’t be a mermaid.”

Rafe scoffs at Sarah’s hypothesis. “What did you do? Chuck it at her?”

“Who do you think I am?” She rolls her eyes. “I just dropped some water on her… accidentally. I even brought towels—just in case.”

“A scientist,” Rafe drawls sarcastically, returning to his work.

“Precisely.”

Rafe had nearly forgotten that little quirk about you. It’s been almost a month since your arrival, and while there have been some occasional odd moments, nothing has proved evident about your supposed mermaid abilities. Finally, Rafe tucked it in the back of his head as nothing more than a phrase—a figment of your imagination, your fantasy transcending into the natural world.

Nothing more.

“Why is this relevant?” Rafe asks stodgily, flipping through the account books of Cameron Development, his fingers trailing the edge of the sheets.

“Because now you can bring her to the sunrise trip,” Sarah declares.

It takes Rafe a second to remember what she’s referring to. A summertime tradition where Sarah and Rafe host their friends on the Druthers, taking it out to sea to stay a night and wake up before sunrise.

Sarah had tested whether you were truly a mermaid to make you a candidate for the journey.

Rafe scoffs, “So that’s what that little experiment is for,”

“I had to,” she smiles sweetly, “Didn’t want her to turn into a fish when we’re out at sea. It’ll ruin the fun.”

“My fun or yours?”

Sarah doesn’t answer, giving him a knowing wink, before departing from his office.

That night, Rafe asks you. He was getting ready for bed, turning off all the lights, before you patter your way into his doorway, shyly inviting yourself into his room. Rafe no longer is surprised by your arrival, and with a wave of a hand, he beckons you forward and you sink in his arms.

You’re always giddily, full of soul, and when Rafe has you in his arms, it amplifies. You detail him about your day—the time spent along the coastline of his estate, traveling barefoot along the empty roads, interacting with land critters. You’re always so fascinated by the mundane, the landscape and sights, but the way you go about it—it’s a soothing sound, full of bursting energy.

He can, and has, fallen asleep to it.

Knowing you’re in a good mood, Rafe decides to pop the question. He tells you about the trip, taking his yacht out, and watching the flaming palette of orange-blue light in the morning sky. He thinks you’ll enjoy it; after all, you’re a self-proclaimed mermaid with a fascination for all human derivatives.

But, for the first time, you say no.

“Why not?” Rafe asks as you lay on his chest, shaking your head at the invitation. Your nails are tracing the fabric of his shirt, drawing doodles in similar manners you would do at the bottom of the ocean floor.

“I don’t want to,” your voice is quiet and tiny as if you don’t like the idea of saying no to him.

“It’s just for one night,” Rafe assures. Perhaps you’ve gotten used to the stability of the Tannyhill estate.

You persist, declining the offer.

“It’ll be fun,” Rafe reasons, but there’s a bitterness in the way he’s pushing the topic. Truthfully, if you don’t attend, Rafe doesn’t have much incentive to join either. Yes, it’s been a long-standing tradition, but he wants to experience it with you. Ever since you entered into his life, he’s been feeling that way.

Yet, he knows he has to go. Sarah doesn’t know how to drive the Druthers, and she’s been looking forward to this all summer. Despite their bickering, he doesn’t want to let her down.

You shake your head quietly, slouching your shoulders inwards, making yourself small. It’s as if your body is physically recoiling at denying Rafe.

He doesn’t know what’s going on. You never do this. You’ve always been pliant, and obedient, agreeing to every little concoction he conspires. It’s one of the many things he adores about you; yet, for the first time, you’re being wayward.

“Are you afraid of the water?” Rafe asks gently, stroking the curve of your spine with his finger, in a way that makes you relax your muscles. He accidentally hooks it underneath the shirt—his shirt—drawing it up to expose your skin; soft, tender, and perfect.

Sarah had been right. Normally, you don’t like wearing clothes. Only when Rafe asks you to whenever you go out together, but preferably, you choose to remain as close to naked as possible. It’s too hot, you told him. You’ve gone years without clothes, and the actual barrier produces heat. The only exception, however, is if you get to wear his.

Again, you don’t answer. Your fingers coils around the loose fabric of his shirt, bundling it into a fist, as if you’re frightened by the suggestion. Rafe sees it—feels it—emulating from your body, and he stops for a second and relinquishes his touch.

“We’re just going to be on the boat. You don’t have to go into the water if you don’t want to,” Rafe reassures, hoping his words soothe something over you. He knows he’s been persistent, but he truly doesn’t want to leave you alone—not even for one night. “I’ll protect you.”

Normally, under that advisement, it would palliate all concerns; and would coaxe you into an affirmative yes. But you say nothing, and finally, with a tick of agitation pulsing through him, Rafe gently grabs your chin and lifts your tender gaze to his.

“Don’t you trust me?”

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip; plumped, fresh, coasted with this perpetual wetness that makes Rafe burn with desire. And you nod your head, listening, but not actively responding.

His thumb traces your lower lip, pulling down the plumpness and forcing it to split apart. Your eyes meet Rafe with a tenderness, almost hunger, while your breathing slightly stills.

You still don’t answer him.

And this time, Rafe decides to let it go.

“If you don’t want to go, you don’t have to.”

This should make you happy, for him to drop it, but the coated disappointment in his tone causes your stomach to twist. You don’t like upsetting him, don’t like the idea that you’re not meeting the standard and his needs.

“But you’ll still go?” You ask softly, gently, like an ocean breeze.

“I have to. Sarah doesn’t know how to drive,”

Your brows pinch, furrowing together. “Will there be other females there?”

“Yeah,” Rafe nods. “Some of Sarah’s girl friends.”

You purse your lips, eyes squinting. You don’t like that. You’re possessive about your mate. You understand Sarah’s his sister, and that company is natural, but with other women? Unrelated to him? It’s wrong.

You can’t stand it.

“Okay,” you murmur softly, conceding in a way that Rafe likes. “I’ll come.”

The next morning, everyone’s at the docks of the Tannyhill estate, loading onto the yacht. Sarah brought a variety of fruits and snacks, while Kelce and Topper helped her and her friends abroad. They climb up the slippery steps and enter into the cockpit, settling with their things.

You stay close to Rafe, timid among the new crowd.

Out at sea, everything is smooth sailing. Today’s a beautiful day, with steady waves, and it’s meant to last the entire week. Rafe parks the Druthers off the coast, where you can’t see Kildare anymore, save for a small coastal cove that’s within view. The boat gently bobs against the rolling tides, and the sounds of Sarah and her friends are screeching with enthusiasm as they take a swim around the yacht.

You watch from above the deck, your focus on the distance, staring at the island cove.

When Rafe slips out of the cockpit, his hand slides over your waist, snapping you out of your concentration. You lift your gaze to meet his, and the furrowed crease between your brows disappears, shoulders relaxing upon his touch.

Rafe offers you a rare, gentle smile. “You wanna swim?”

You shake your head, “Not with them.”

He likes the fact that you don’t entertain his friends, that you want him and only him. “You were waiting for me?”

You nod, leaning your head against his shoulders. “You looked busy,”

“You could’ve told me,” Rafe declares, “Better yet, you could’ve joined me.”

You huff softly, amused, as Rafe pulls you closer to his side. Again, he smells the scent of the sea—but it’s fragrance, exuding from you. His eyes drift to the direction you were looking at, “What's that?”

“Nothing,” you hum, but there’s a pang of longing. You tip your chin skyward to find his gaze once more. “Can we go inside now?”

A couple of hours later, Sarah’s right. Again. The whole crew is having dinner on the main deck, and someone accidentally spills a cup of water on your arm, but nothing happened. Rafe was ready to see something—a twinkle, a glow, or a glimmer—but it was absolute zilch. One of her friends who did it apologizes, and you chuckle softly, wiping it away with a towel, not a care in the world.

He truly doesn’t understand this mermaid business. He really doesn’t.

Maybe you’re someone who loves the sea so much, you claim it as part of your identity. You want to be closer to the ocean, to the marines, to the corals and the sea creatures that the title is merely an expression of self, rather than a true folktale.

You can’t be a mermaid, Rafe reasons, you don’t even have a tail.

Later, everyone shuffles off to their individual cabins. Rafe claimed the biggest one—because of course he did. When you step out of the small bathroom, in nothing but a large shirt of his, Rafe swallows thickly. Because most times, when you come into his room, it’s night, punctured with darkness saved for a glow of moonlight through his curtains.

Now, the cabin lights remain perpetually on, at low brightness, and it allows Rafe to see everything. He’s reminded of the tidbit from Sarah—how you hate panties—and his eyes drop to your thighs, where the shirt casually brushes mid-level, almost revealing more. His heart beats heavily, and you slowly climb onto the bed, wrapping yourself around him.

You fall asleep on his chest, as you normally do, and the weight is like a natural blanket to him. Something he knows, expects, and remembers. It tames all the raging emotions inside of him, silences all the busy thoughts, and hones in completely and only you.

During the duration of the night, while the yacht slowly rocks against the stronger currents, his hand falls on your back protectively.

Until it doesn’t.

Something doesn’t feel right; missing. His eyes slowly blink awake, drowsiness coating his features, while his eyes adjust to the low cabin lights. His hands weaved through thin air.

You’re gone.

With the door of the cabin wide open.

Consciousness strikes Rafe, and he jumps out of bed, rushing out of the cabin, and following the hallway lights to the deck. Slowly, with the rocking of the tides, Rafe climbs up the stairs, to the main deck, and finds you in the stark darkness.

Standing on the ledge.

You’re at the gap where the railing ends, allowing an opening to jump to the swim platform. You’re standing dangerously close to it, his shirt flapping against the wind, a loose hand wrapped on the safety handle.

Rafe calls your name, but you don’t turn around. He suspects you’re sleepwalking, entranced in a dream, that led you up here. Ocean calling you home, it’s evidence for his theory.

But you’re not a mermaid and you can’t survive that leap.

Cautiously, Rafe approaches you, slowly, tenderly, calling your name. He’s afraid of waking you, afraid of startling you from your dream and causing you to release and fall. With each step closer, he hears the thumping of his own heartbeat and the prize within reachable fingertips.

He’s almost there.

He’s so close.

Until you jump.

Rafe screams as he reaches the ledge, his eyes adjusting to the dark currents of the sea. Nothing is visible, not a stream of light underneath, except for the glowing reflection of the full moon bathing the dark waters.

He’s calling your name, again and again, trying to see if you’ll surface to the sound of his voice.

But nothing happens.

Rafe’s already taking off his shoes, taking off his shirt. He’s gearing up to jump in after, especially if you don’t surface within the next minute.

He’s praying. A godless man as himself, who doesn’t believe in a higher power, is begging for you to come up unscathed.

But he still sees nothing.

Until something cuts the waves, a sharp prodding sculpture that slices through the harsh currents.

A tail?

He isn’t sure if his eyes are deceiving him, especially with the drowsiness of his sleep, but he sees another cut in the ocean, this time paired with an iridescent color of a fin, scaly and glimmering.

He calls out your name once more, a little timid, a little frightened.

And you raise to the surface.

Attached to a long, kaleidoscopic tail, with skin full of scales, climbing up your shoulders and throat, you’re flipping through the water; your smile bright, eager, and real.

Rafe breathes out a sigh of disbelief.

“Holy shit,”

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[fakebwitch]

mean nerdy!rafe helps reader with physics…

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

you played with your hands while walking along the corridor that would lead you to his dorm. you stopped recognizing the number of his room, you took a deep breath trying to relax yourself as you raised your hand, knocking two times on the wooden door. after a few seconds the door opened wide, your eyes met the figure of rafe, a white polo shirt with simple brown pants, his face decorated with a delicate pair of glasses. he gave you a small look before moving leaving you some space to enter, “come in”.

choosing rafe cameron as your tutor was one of the last things you would have wanted. you had tried to ask other students but everyone was busy with their sessions or they already had too many people to tutor for, and he was your last hope. he was a few years older than you and was fucking good at any scientific subject - math, physics, chemistry, biology - always getting the best grades, and this did nothing but increase his ego, exploiting his excellent knowledge as an excuse to be arrogant and presumptuous. your grades were really bad and failing in physics was certainly not among your plans, so you had to resort to his help.

you would never have thought that he would agree to give you private lessons, you thought that he would have much better things to do, like studying for the next sessions or maybe he already had someone else to whom he dedicated his time, instead he looked at you for a few seconds — maybe feeling your despair — and accepted, giving you an appointment for friday at 5 p.m. at his dorm.

you get inside, a strong smell of cigarette with a vanilla room perfumer flooded your nostrils. the room was quite tidy, very minimally furnished with few personal decorations — unlike yours— there was a small bookcase full of books, and not to mention his desk, covered with scribbled sheets, just as you had imagined it. he sat on one of the chairs fixing his hair, “sit” he said looking at you, you did as he said by sitting in front of him, placing your bag on the chair next to you.

“let’s just start” he said crossing his hands on the table, you nodded taking out your book with a small notebook, as well as a small pencil case. “what do you want to start with?” he asked you, his look stinging while waiting for your answer, you had never had a real conversation with him and being aware of his character you didn’t really know how to behave, you didn’t want to look stupid in his eyes. you opened the book showing him the topic you hadn’t understood, rafe gave it a little look without uttering a word, an imperceptible “mhm” was audible to you while he took his notes.

before you noticed it he began to explain, his words fluid and clear while he gestured lightly with his hands, his eyes fixed on yours sometimes fell on his notes or on your book showing you what he was referring to, not even the slightest difficulty transpired from his speeches, as if he was talking about a banal topic that did not include the most complicated formulas and most absurd meanings. holding his gaze was difficult for you, having to focus your attention on something other than his sharp blue eyes. no matter how much you got lost in the details of his face and how he seemed so involved in what he was explaining to you you could not afford distractions, you had to listen and you had to understand above all what he was saying, or you would not have solved anything.

he stopped leaning his back on the back of the chair, the biceps muscle contracted as he scratched the back of his neck, “got it?” it was all he said, his tone almost arrogant as if not understanding what he said was stupid. “yeah” you nodded placing the pen on the table, on the sheet of your notebook some small sentences were visible concerning some important formulas or terminologies.

“we need to make a little practice” he said taking your book in his hands, flipping through the pages in search of some exercise to put into practice what he explained. the room felt suffocatingly quiet, his presence was intimidating, his sharp gaze like a dagger that kept you on edge.

“let’s try this problem” he said, sliding the book across the table toward you. his hand brushed yours briefly, and you felt a jolt shoot up your arm. it was ridiculous how much his touch affected you, how even his scent—a mix of clean cologne and the faint, lingering cigarette smoke—was making your head spin. “okay” you murmured, trying to focus on the equation scribbled on the paper. but your mind was anything but clear. you picked up the pen, feeling his eyes on you, watching every move you made as if you were under a microscope. he got up from his seat, your breath hitched as you heard his slow step approaching you. you tried to shake it off, focusing your attention to what you should’ve solved, but then he stopped right behind you, you could feel his presence towering you, his scents even more clear now that he was so close to you.

“you’re doing it wrong” he said, leaning closer. his voice was low and curt, but not cruel. he reached out, his large hand covering yours as he guided your pen across the page. his touch was firm, his skin warm, and you found yourself holding your breath as he pressed against your back. “there. that’s how you set it up” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. his breath ghosted across your cheek, and you couldn’t help but turn slightly, catching the edge of his jawline and the curve of his lips in your peripheral vision. he was so close you could see the flecks of gold in his blue eyes when he glanced at you.

“are you even paying attention?” his words snapped you out of your thoughts, and you blinked, heat flooding your cheeks. “y-yeah, I’m paying attention” you stammered, though your voice betrayed you.

rafe smirked, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “doesn’t look like it.” he sat on the chair next to you, his eyes never leaving yours. there was something about his expression—arrogant, almost predatory—that made your stomach flutter in the most inconvenient way.

“i said I’m paying attention” you repeated, your voice a little firmer this time, your eyes never leaving his. you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how flustered you were.

“hmm” he hummed, tilting his head as if he were trying to figure you out. “prove it. solve the next one on your own.” he slid another sheet toward you, his fingers lingering on the edge of the paper. “let’s see if you actually learned anything.” his voice provocative, almost amused by the situation, as if he knew the kind of effect he was having on you. you did your best to hold back, the words threatened to come out of your mouth but you swallowed them; being given private lessons by the best student was certainly not something that happened to everyone, and you could not afford to lose this privilege just to retort his stupid provocations.

you picked up the pen, determined to prove him wrong, even if your heart was pounding like a drum. the numbers and formulas blurred in front of you, and you could feel the weight of his gaze, the heat of his body still lingering near yours. you tried your best, but you didn’t even have the slightest idea of where to start. minutes passed, and each seconds you became more discouraged, his gaze fixed on you almost judging you and you couldn’t take it anymore. “I can’t,” you admitted, your voice barely audible.

rafe chuckled softly, shaking his head. “of course you can’t.” he stood up, moving behind you. you felt your chair shift as he placed his hands on the backrest, leaning over your shoulder to look at your work. his voice was close to your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “let me show you again.” you froze as his hands settled lightly on your shoulders, his thumbs brushing against the base of your neck. it felt too intimate, too intentional, but he didn’t seem fazed. instead, he leaned closer, his chest just barely grazing your back as he reached for the notebook.

“this is where you keep screwing up” he murmured, his tone low and deliberate. “you’re overthinking it.” his hands squeezed your shoulders lightly before one slid down your arm, guiding your hand to pick up the pen again.

you could barely focus on what he was saying. every nerve in your body was hyperaware of his touch, the heat radiating off him as he stayed impossibly close. you managed to scrawl out the equation under his guidance, but your mind was a mess, the numbers meaningless.

when he finally pulled back, his lips brushed your ear as he whispered, “see? wasn’t so hard.” your breath hitched, and you turned to look at him, your faces dangerously close. his smirk widened, his eyes flickering down to your lips before meeting your gaze again. the air between you felt heavy, charged.

“rafe—” you started, but your words faltered when he leaned in, his hand brushing your jaw as he tilted your face up. “relax” he said, his voice a mix of command and tease. “you’re way too tense” his thumb grazed your cheek, and before you could think, his lips were on yours—soft but insistent, a mixture of dominance and curiosity.

you were shocked by his gesture, it took you a few seconds to actually realize that his lips were on yours, and that he was kissing you. your hands tightened around his face pushing him towards you, the kiss quickly became more intense, both fighting for dominance.

rafe pulled away from the kiss trying to catch his breath, but was taken by surprise by your lips again on his, eager to taste his soft lips again. one of your hands went down his chest, pushing him so that he was sitting on the chair next to yours, and in a quick movement you sat on his lap. rafe didn’t utter a word, leaving you free to do whatever you wanted; he couldn’t hide his amusement in seeing you so eager, taking the lead.

his hand tightened around your chin, moving you away from his lips. his intense eyes stared at you for what seemed like an eternity, admiring the way you seemed so desperate after just one kiss, your lips flushed and your hair already messy, your eyes stared at him with a burning desire that you could no longer hide.

“so eager are we?” he was teasing you, a faint laugh left his lips. you tried to speak but his hand was too tight and you knew that if you opened your mouth nothing sensible would come out, he would only have made fun of you. he let go of the grip on your chin, letting it wrap more gently under the jaw, angled your face while his lips approached your cheek, placing a sloppled kiss right under your ear. you bit your lip closing your eyes while his kisses followed the line of your jaw, slowly going down towards your neck. for sure that bastard knew how to use his lips.

his lips moved skillfully against your neck, sucking and wetting the skin. unknowingly your hips began to move against his lap, looking for a desperate clutch with his bulge, your pussy almost praying to be touched. his free hand tightened around your waist stopping your movements, his lips let go of your neck bringing his gaze back to you. “didn’t know you were so needy” he said lowly almost as if he was talking to himself, his cock semi hard in his pants and he could feel through the thin material of your panties a wet spot.

"you were the one who kissed me first," you replied, raising an eyebrow, the corner of your mouth lifting into a sly smirk. you weren't lying-it had been him. he kissed you first, set everything into motion, and now here you were, the one craving more, so typical of him.

his gaze darkened, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. "and you were the one who couldn't keep your hands off me, pushing me back so you could grind on my dick" his voice was low, dripping with heat, each word sinking into you. “just a consequence of your gestures” you said shrugging your shoulders, rafe couldn’t help but laugh at your answer.

“i think we should do less talking” he said in a whisper, resting his lips on yours, this time he didn’t stop you, letting you rub yourself on his bulge, earning you little whinings from him. his hand tightened around your breasts, squeezing it between his hand, you weren’t wearing a bra so it was easy for him to feel your hard nipple and squeeze it between his fingers through the material of the shirt, earning a small gasp from you.

“you want this?” he asked you, as if it wasn’t already obvious enough. but he needed to hear you say it, just to boost his ego even more. his hand made space under your skirt, playing with your panties. “yes” you answered without hesitation, the need between your legs growing more and more. his thumb gently brushed your clit, moving in a circular way, the contact sent a shiver all over your back and you couldn’t help but let out a little whine at the slightest pleasure he was making you feel.

“stop teasing” you ordered him in a firm voice, your hands clenched around his shoulders in search of support. “as you prefer” he replied in a moking tone, a grin on his face. without wasting more time with two fingers he moved the material to the side, with two fingers he collected all your wetness. he started teasing your clit again with his thumb, this time, however, he pushed two of his fingers inside you, a big gasp left your lips to the sudden intrusion. his fingers moved quickly and with experts inside you, touching all the spots that made you shudder, as if he knew you for years and knew by heart how to make you melt.

your head fell back completely overwhelmed by pleasure, small and continuous moans kept coming out of your mouth, unable to contain you. rafe loved how responsive you were, your moans were like a sweet song to his ears and he couldn’t help it, he angled his fingers inside you, his pace getting faster and faster making you continue with your melody. “love your pretty sounds” he said, his eyes completely fixed on you while his hands worked on you like no one had ever done, “fuck... just like this” you incited him, your voice choked completely out of breath, your hips moved slightly, riding his fingers.

you could still feel his hard cock against the soft skin of your thigh, and for the pleasure he was making you feel you couldn’t help but reciprocate. you brought your hands to his belt, unbuttoning it quickly, you unbuttoned his pants and with your fingers you tightened the zipper pushing it all the way down with a quick movement. you stopped for a few seconds, your legs trembled while rafe continued to hit your spongy spot. you continued your work by pulling out his cock, his pink and swollen tip practically screaming to be taken care of, he was long and thick. lke a magnet your hand tightened around it, your thumb rubbed on the fluffy skin of his tip.

“g-goddamn...” his head fell back, a spit fell from your mouth ending directly on his tip, using your fingers you spread it along the entire length, quickly working the hand around him. his expression was simply fantastic, his face corrugated, his eyebrows sulked while his mouth emitted small pathetic whimpers. despite this his fingers continued to abuse your little wet hole, his free hand tightened tightly around your thigh, his fingers dug into the soft skin leaving a mark.

“f-fuck” his voice completely broken as he continued to moan your name, your walls tightened around his fingers at the sight below you. you could not explain what you were feeling, in seeing a presumptuous, unpleasant, proud guy like him completely wrapped around fingers, a mess of moans and whines, bringing yourself closer and closer to the orgasm.

slimy sounds filled the room, coming from both of you. you tightened your hand around his tip, focusing on it again, having realized how sensitive he was. “h-holy shiiit baby” a broken moan came out of his mouth and you could feel his legs shaking under you, he was close.

and you were too.

he could feel it, from how your moans were more persistent and how your pussy was clenching around him, almost trapping his fingers. “as much as I love you pretty hand around me, i fucking need to be inside you” and so he took out his fingers, your hole clenched around nothing as you felt your stomach squirm for the orgasm just denied. your hand around his cock stopped,you watched him with a pout, even if you knew that in a few seconds you would finally have his cock inside you.

“you better make it worth” you provoked him. you knew he would fall into your trap, “oh don’t worry angel... you know I’ve got you.” and before you could realize his cock slung inside you, his length made space inside you while his thickness widened your walls. rafe let out a choked moan at the sensation of your warm walls, which welcomed him inside him. “feels soo good around me... so fucking tight” he praised you, his hand was around the flesh of your ass, holding it in his hands.

without giving you a any time to get used to him, he began to push himself hard inside you, his tip hit in no time your cervix. he helped you take off the shirt you were wearing, throwing it somewhere in the room. his hand immediately tightened around your breasts, squeezing it. he gave you an hard slap on the ass as his hot mouth wrapped around your nipple, sucking it and biting it lightly. you wrapped your hands in his hair, pushing him closer to your chest, completely ruining his carefully done hairstyle.

you don’t know what happened to you, but you put your hands on his shoulders, pushing him backwards so that his back was against the back of the chair, you dug your nails into his skin while you crossed his gaze — confused but intrigued by your sudden gesture of dominance — his cock stopped inside you. you began to ride him, your hips moved quickly as a hand of rafe came down to stop firmly on your waist, his glasses completely fogged. “shit rafe... feels so good inside me” you said with a big moan, his big cock sank into your hot and wet pussy. you lowered your face meeting his lips, the kiss was completely messy, your tongues quickly collided with each other, the salivas mixed together as well as your cum inside you.

“look so beautiful like this... riding me so fucking good” he said with clenched teeth, another hard slap on your ass. “i’m cumming” you said immediately after hearing his words, you could feel the weight in your stomach grow. rafe’s hips met your thrusts, while his hand went down, the index and middle finger moved quickly in a circular way on your clit, leading you to high.

with a big moan you finally reached your climax, your movements slowed down abruptly, your legs trembled at the intense pleasure achieved, and if it hadn’t been for his hands tight around your body you were sure that you would have already fallen. “fuuck” your pussy tightened around his cock, releasing your cum that was covering his tip inside you.

“that’s it baby, took me so well... f-fuck gonna cum” his voice hoarse as he used his last forces to push himself inside you, trying to reach his orgasm. it took you a few seconds to recover from the insane orgasm you had just had, despite the sense of overstimulation you moved your hips slowly, meeting his thrusts. “shit... here we go” when he feel he’s reached the limit he pulled out, he squeezed a hand around his length moving it quickly up and down, with a few pumps splashes of his cum finally fell on your lower stomach.

“thaaat’s it” his words dragged as he fully enjoyed the sensation, his hand tight around the tip not wanting to waste even a drop. without thinking twice you brought two fingers along your stomach, collecting his cum and then bringing your fingers to your mouth, savoring its flavor.

he didn’t say anything, but his gestures spoke clearly. he approached to give you one last intense kiss, savoring himself on your tongue, his hand gave a last slap to your ass before finally detaching from your lips, “we have to continue studying” he said, suddenly returning seriously. he lifted you slightly so that you were sitting on the chair next to him.

he got up from his chair, adjusting his pants and polo while sitting in front of you. “alright, let’s get back to work,” he said, his tone casual, as if nothing had happened. but the way his gaze lingered on you told a different story.

[dreaming-medium]

Stray Kids Kinktober Day 5

Stray Kids Kinktober Masterlist

Cockwarming - Felix

Word Count: 5.7k

Summary: End of the quarter reports are due and somehow one of the calculations got messed up; it’s nothing you can’t do by hand. And luckily you have a preppy secretary who will stop at nothing to make sure you’re relaxed.

————————————————————

“Felix, can you bring in my incoming forms, please?” you say into the intercom on your desk. 

“Right away, ma’am.” His deep voice answers you immediately through the speaker. 

Leaning back in your large office chair, you cross one leg over the other and look out of the floor to ceiling windows that line the wall behind your desk. 

Your arms cross over your chest and your bottom lip pulls between your teeth in deep thought. 

Various different items on your to-do list for the day fly through your mind as you stare out over the Seoul skyline.

Partnership approvals, tax forms, time sheets.  

Being the CFO for a large cooperation like this one was never easy. There was never a single day in the office that you weren’t busy. When you think about it, you can’t even remember the last time you took a vacation day.

Once you get this high in the corporate ladder, it’s supposed to get easier, that’s what you thought. It’s what you were told your entire life. But, now that you’re here, you see that it’s the exact opposite.

Every single day is filled to the brim with meetings, phone calls, and business lunches. It’s all chock full of fake smiles and forced laughter. 

You worked your ass off to get to where you were now, and nothing was ever going to change that. Sleep be damned..

A gentle knock sounded through the room.

“Come in,” you call out, turning your chair to face the door.

The door opens and Felix walks in with a large stack of papers in his hands. His crisp white dress shirt is tucked into his navy blue dress pants, a matching tie around his neck. A pair of thick black glasses sat perched on his nose, face framed by long, perfectly kempt, blond hair.

“Your inbox, ma’am,” he says warmly, walking closer to your desk.

“Thank you, Felix.” You motion down to the empty desk in front of you. “You can just place them anywhere.”

He nods and gently places them on an empty spot on the wood.

“Do I have any more meetings for the day?” you ask him, flipping through the papers.

“No, ma’am.”

You run one hand through your hair tiredly. “Good, good.” A beat. “What time is my first meeting tomorrow?”

Felix reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. He taps on the screen a few times before speaking up. “Ten o’clock.”

“Really? That’s the best news I’ve gotten all day.” 

“Your 8:30 was rescheduled to the afternoon.”

“Now that makes sense.”

Your eyes tiredly flick over to the time on your desktop. “Jesus, Felix. Weren’t you supposed to leave an hour ago?” 

He shifts his weight on his feet. “Yes, but I don’t leave until you do.”

“I told you that you don’t need to do that.”

“It’s just in case you need me, you know?” A soft blush covers his cheeks, but you pay no mind to it.

“You’re putting these hours on your timesheet, right?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” You sigh again. “Tomorrow is the day, isn’t it?”

“If you’re referring to the quarterly rebalance, then yes, it is.”

At the end of every quarter, you were in charge of verifying each analyst’s calculations and reading their predictions for the next one before presenting them to the board of directors. 

Every single time you end up staying at the office until the wee hours of the morning.  

Last quarter, you didn’t leave the office until two in the morning. And, like every quarter, Felix stayed with you.

“Well, then,” You put the forms back down on your desk and push your chair away to stand up. “I’m not going to bother with these tonight when I’ll be here until sunrise on Saturday.”

“Should I have your car brought around?”

“If you could, please.”

“Right away, ma’am.”

Felix briskly leaves the room and you roll your head around your sore neck.

“Fuck quarterly rebalances.”

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

Your hand runs over your face for the millionth time in the last four hours. The numbers are starting to blend together at this point. 

The analyses started coming in around 11 AM and since then you just haven’t stopped. 

Line chart after line chart, spreadsheet after spreadsheet, everything looks the same now. 

You’ve been hung up on one single data set. There’s a random spike in it for no reason at all. Why is there a spike in this calculation? 

You cannot move on to the rest of the data until you get over this spike. 

Blindly, you reach over to the phone on your desk and press the intercom button. “Felix,” you say after the beep.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Can you please patch me through to Seo Changbin? There’s no way this spike is correct.”

The sound of typing on a keyboard echoes over the line. 

“Seo Changbin clocked out three hours ago, ma’am. Would you like me to ring his personal phone?”

“Three hours?” you ask incredulously and look down at the time. “Holy shit.” you murmur under your breath.

8:00 PM. It’s 8:00 PM.

“Ma’am?” Felix grabs your attention after a second of waiting. 

You throw your glasses down onto the desk and pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration. A headache has been resting behind your eyes all day. 

“No,” you say after a few moments. “No, that won’t be necessary. I’ll just run the numbers myself.”

“Is there anything else I can help you with for now, ma’am?”

You look around the room, the sun is setting over the skyline. A sigh leaves your chest. 

It’s hard to believe you were working for nine straight hours on this. When was the last time you looked up? 

“Have you eaten yet, Felix?” you ask, keeping your eyes outside. 

“No, ma’am.”

“Order whatever you want, make it double. Put it on the corporate card.”

Felix’s deep laugh comes through the intercom. “Right away, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Felix.” 

“My pleasure, ma’am.”

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

Two plus two is four, right? Yes, of course it is. Two plus two has always been four. They wouldn’t just change that suddenly, right?

But you’re so delirious that you still punch it in your calculator. 

“Two plus two...” When the calculator says four, you stare at it. “To be honest, I was expecting something else with how tonight is going.”

Laughing at your own joke, you continue to re-input the numbers into the spreadsheet on your desktop. 

A knock at your door pulls your attention.

“Come in!” you call out without looking up. 

The door clicks open. “Delivery!” Felix’s cheery voice calls into your office.

You look up at your secretary with weary eyes. His mouth pulls into a sympathetic smile. 

“That bad, huh?”

“You have no idea.” you groan and lean back in your chair. Your muscles scream from the movement and you grunt. “I just verified two plus two on the calculator.”

“Still four?”

“Surprisingly.”

“I think it’s time for a break, then.”

Peeking at the clock, it says it’s around 9:00 PM now. 

With an apologetic smile, you look up at Felix. His white collared shirt is undone at the top, no tie around his neck. A plain pair of tight black slacks hugging his legs. He’s looking at you with nothing but pity in his eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Felix,” you say while taking the takeout container from him. He just laughs.

“Don’t apologize, it’s all part of the job.” He shifts in place for a moment and turns and looks at the door. 

“Where’s your food?”

“Oh, at my desk.”

“Why don’t you bring it in here? I’d love the company. Wayne can only do so much for my sanity.” You point at the house plant on your windowsill.

A little nametag on the front of the pot says ‘Wayne’ in cursive. 

Felix’s eyes widen and his cheeks turn a bit pink. “Oh! Yeah! I’ll um… I’ll go grab it and be right back.”

You follow his lithe body as he rushes out of your office with one eyebrow raised.

Strange.

True, this was the first time you invited him to eat in your office with you. But it’s not like you ever had the opportunity to do so.

Typically, you ate in your office by yourself while still working. Truth be told, you had no idea when Felix’s lunch break was. He was always available when you needed him. Did he work through his lunch too?

Your secretary re-enters your office slightly out of breath. 

“By the way,” he pants. “I had forgotten to order us drinks, so I got this out of the vending machine for you.”

He comes up to your desk holding out your favorite drink.

“Ugh, what would I do without you?” You smile and take the drink. “Pull a chair closer, you can eat on my desk too. It’ll get all over you if you try to balance it like that on your lap.”

Eagerly, he places his food on your desk and scoots forward. The redness in his cheeks deepened. 

Soft lo-fi music is coming through your computer and filling the silence in the air. You crack open the takeout container and dig in. 

It’s a stir fry. And stir fry has never looked this good in your life.

“This is so good,” you basically moan after taking your first bite. 

“O-Oh, yeah? I’m glad you like it,” Felix stutters back and takes his own bite. 

“It’s definitely much needed after today.” You whine and look back at your desktop. 

“What’s going on with the numbers?”

“Based on what Changbin gave me, it says our internal earnings spiked massively this quarter. And yes, while this is great, it’s extremely abnormal. If this is true, I need to verify it before I can present it; otherwise, I’ll look like a fool.” 

Felix listens intently to your explanation. “I don’t think you could ever look like a fool, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Felix.” You smile at him. He grins back and suddenly it’s like the sun is back up. His pearly white teeth shine in the office light.

“You have such a pretty smile,” you compliment him. “I don’t think I ever told you that.”

Felix squirms in his seat and looks down bashfully. The blush spreads all over his face. One of his hands comes up and rubs the back of his neck. 

“Ah, thank you, ma’am. I appreciate that.”

Chuckling softly, you turn back to your calculations. 

The gentle, twinkling sounds of lo-fi beats do nothing to help calm the swirling confusion in your head. 

Minutes pass and you’re staring at the same algorithm. 

Your shoulders are slowly coming towards your ears with all the tension in your body. When you lean forward to use your keyboard, a burning pain runs through your back. 

“Fuck.” Your hand flies up to grab where your shoulder meets your neck to massage it and roll your head around. 

“Everything alright?” Felix asks. 

“Yeah, I just get so stiff sitting at my desk while I work on the end of quarter stuff. Feels like my shoulders are on fire.”

No amount of massaging your own shoulders seems to be working, though. 

Felix looks down at his food for a moment, then back up to you. His eyes shift away from you nervously. 

“Before this job, I had gone to massage school for a few months. Would you like me to see if I can work those kinks out?”

Normally, you would say no. It would be so wildly inappropriate to have your secretary massage your shoulders while you work. Imagine if someone decided to walk in?

But now? When no one else is here and there’s no end in sight with these analyses?

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” you ask, unsure. 

He seems to perk up a bit. “Not at all!”

Another moment passes while you weigh it in your mind, your lip pulls between your teeth before looking at him a bit sheepishly. “If you don’t mind…”

Felix is up on his feet, food immediately forgotten. It almost startles you how fast he’s up and around the back of your chair.

You had shucked off your blazer a few hours ago. Just your button up on, the top few buttons undone and sleeves rolled up to your elbows. 

Felix stands behind you for a moment, his hands hovering over your shoulders. “Do you have any lotion?”

“Yes, actually.” Reaching down into your desk drawer, you pulled out an herbal lotion that your one friend had gotten you as a gift. 

“‘Stress Relief’, huh?” Felix teases when you set it on the desk.

“A friend thought it would make a great gag gift with everything going on,” you laugh to yourself and stare back at your computer. “She didn’t realize how appropriate it was.”

Once more, Felix moves his hands around your back, his lithe fingers sweeping your hair off the back of your neck. Instead of keeping it down, you lean forward and grab a long pencil out of the cup and twirl it around your hair to then pin it up.

It’s a trick you learned back in college.

Felix watches behind you silently, his breath hitches slightly when he sees your hair settle all pinned up. Strands fall out of the bundle and frame your face and neck a bit.

It’s the most perfect messy hairstyle he’s ever seen. 

Felix’s jaw clenches and he gulps, pulling himself together.

“Do you mind if I, ah– lower the back of your shirt a bit?” 

“Yeah, here.” You’re already back in word mode; after looking at the sheer number of raw data littering the spreadsheet on your desktop, you were no longer focused on your secretary. 

You unbutton more of the buttons and let your shirt slide off your shoulders a bit. Your cleavage was still covered– mostly. 

Felix’s brain whites out for a split second and he has to physically force his brain to reboot. There’s a slight twitch in his pants at the sight of your naked shoulders. You’re always in those high-collared shirts, blazers, sweaters, so ungodly professional.

But your clothes are always so skin tight. Or you’ll wear a blouse like this one and a tiny little pencil skirt. 

Felix leans down and pumps some lotion on his hands, rubbing it together to warm it up before setting his hands on your wonderfully smooth skin. It takes every fiber of his being not to let out a moan at the feeling. 

His breathing picks up as he digs his thumbs into your muscles. 

Immediately, you groan at the feeling. “God, that already feels so good, Felix.”

His name, you said his name, moaning nonetheless. 

He can only make a noise of acknowledgement while he continues to work out the high strung muscles in your neck and shoulders.

Meanwhile, your brain is completely focused on your calculations. It’s so much easier to focus on everything when it doesn’t feel like your back is on fire.

Felix’s hands are absolutely magical. Everywhere he rubs loosens up underneath his strong, yet gentle, grip. He kneads right at the base of your neck and every knot slowly releases.

Small moans slip past your lips without realizing it.

And just because you don’t realize you’re moaning does not mean that your secretary hasn’t. Every single sound that comes out of your mouth goes straight to his dick. His slacks have tightened significantly, a tent pitching higher and higher each second.

He scolds himself internally. He knows he needs to pull it together, you’re his boss. You sign his paychecks. But fuck, knowing that you’re making those noises because of just his fingers is messing with his brain, he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to.

Felix runs over a particularly tight knot and you jump with a yelp.

“Sorry! Sorry!” he apologizes profusely, keeping his hands on your shoulders.

“It’s okay,” you soothe his worry. “God, I already feel better. It felt like someone was stabbing flaming daggers into my shoulders.”

Your voice sounds somewhere else. Even though Felix has been your secretary for almost two years now, you’ve never spoken this casually with him. You were always professional, always so put together. 

The work in front of you has you so consumed that you don’t realize how much your tongue is slipping.

It’s been like this the entire night. You’re too distracted to care. 

“I can’t believe you chose to pursue this instead of continuing with massage school.” you continue.

“Well, I had originally gotten this job to pay for massage school. Then, when I got this position, I realized it paid more than being a masseuse ever would.”

You move your head around your shoulders, “Still.” you write down a string of numbers, click around on your keyboard, punch a formula into the calculator, then write something else down. “God, your fingers are fucking magical.”

Hearing you curse sent a lightning bolt down his back and Felix’s head is shot into the clouds. And you were complimenting him! 

“I can’t imagine what else those fingers can do.” 

Now he knows he’s dreaming. Did you really just say that? Did he hallucinate it? His fingers pause on your muscles.

Your own words must have sunken into your brain; your entire body goes rigid and you gasp, one hand flying over your mouth. Your heart drops to your stomach.

“Oh my god, Felix.” you say quietly, your tone is horrified. “Felix, I am so sorry, please. Oh, god.”

You can’t even turn around to look at him. It’s like ice water was injected to your veins. How could you have said that? He’s going to report you to HR! Who wouldn’t? You quite literally just harassed him in the workplace.

“I have no idea why I said that.” you sputter.

Say goodbye to everything you worked for. You threw it out the window by accidentally letting your tongue slip while he massaged your bare shoulders.

While you were apologizing profusely, you didn't feel him lean down until you heard his baritone voice was right next to your ear.

“I could show you.”

Like a zipper, pleasure shoots right up your spine. It makes you sit up straighter in your desk chair. Your mouth is suddenly so dry.

“W-What?” you stutter out, still looking down at your desk.

Felix is so close behind you that you can smell his cologne wrapping around your nose. It’s so fresh. It has a cotton-like musky smell to it. You’ve always caught whiffs of it when he came breezing through your office.

So many times you’ve found yourself leaning into the smell, and now here you have it so close to you.

“I could show you what these fingers can do, ma’am.” he purrs in your ear. Goosebumps raise all along the back of your neck, the hairs stand on end and a shiver creeps up on you.

His warm, slippery hands slide from your shoulders down your bare arms to grip them for a second before sliding back up. Felix reapers the motion a few times, letting his hot breath fan over your exposed skin.

“But,” the gravel of his voice makes your insides flutter. “You need to finish these calculations, ma’am.”

You hum in response, allowing your eyes to flutter closed and you lean back into his touch.

Felix chuckles under his breath. “I have an idea.”

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

Oh, it was a sinful fucking idea. Did he really think you were going to get any work done like this?

Felix had sat down on your desk chair, the tent in his pants so painfully obvious. At the same time, you can’t deny the wetness in your panties. It was getting worse and worse during that massage.

It’s only natural. 

He grabs your hips and pulls your body towards him, his face level with your lower stomach. He looks directly up at you, his fingers curling into the fabric of your pencil skirt.

Those deep brown eyes staring up at you with a lustful haze covering them. Every freckle was highlighted on his face due to the blush covering his skin.

You bring one of your hands up to his face and softly caress his cheek, letting your fingertips dance over his skin. Felix leans into your touch; he turns his head and presses a kiss to your palm.

“This is crazy,” you whisper down to him.

“The secretary sleeping with the boss is not a new concept, ma’am.”

You roll your eyes. “Yes, but it’s usually the other way around.”

One of your knees comes up and rests on the chair right in front of his crotch. Felix bites his lip and his eyes squint shut for a moment.

His hips stutter, you can tell he’s trying not to roll them to rub against your bare skin.

Your head cocks to the side and you smirk. “Come on then, I need you to be fully hard if I’m going to sit on your cock.”

One of the deepest moans you’ve ever heard pulls from deep within his chest. Felix’s head tilts back and his grip on your hips tightens. In a fluid motion, he gyrates his hips and you feel his cock press right against your leg.

A devious smile crosses your face, you move your hand down to grip his face tightly to bring his clouded gaze back to you. 

“Come on then, Felix. You can do better than that.”

He whines and closes his eyes again, his hips stuttering and moving faster, harder. He parts his lips to begin panting. Each breath is hot and heavy, you can barely hear your music over it. The heat from his exhales goes right through your shirt.

Further and further, he descends into a subspace.

“Good boy,” you praise and it goes straight to his head. 

Felix gulps and moves his hands around to grip your ass a bit.

In a quick movement, you rip your leg away from his hips.

Felix cries out and his eyes fly open to look at you with astonishment.

“Did I say you could touch me like that?” you hiss down at him. 

“No, ma’am.”

Your head cocks to the side and you stare for a few seconds. “I need to get back to work already. Take your cock out.”

His eyes widen and he hesitates, not used to hearing such filth tumble from your lips. You tighten your grip on his face.

“I’m waiting, Felix.”

He’s then fumbling with his pants trying to fulfill your wishes. He’s practically scrambling. Why isn’t the zipper fucking working? Come on, come on.

Meanwhile, you drop his face and pull your skirt up around your waist, revealing your black lace thong. While still fumbling with his own pants, Felix moans, staring at the beautiful sight in front of him. It sounds like it’s punched out of him.

Teasingly, you hook your thumbs around the elastic band and drag it down your legs slowly.

Another whine comes out from Felix’s throat. His tongue practically falls out of his mouth at the sight of your pussy, acting like a starved dog.

“Please,” he pants, not able to tear his eyes away from it. “Just a taste. Just one. Please, ma’am, please.”

Smirking, you lightly slap his cheek twice. “You get three licks, honey.”

He can’t get his mouth on you fast enough. Felix wraps his lips around your glistening folds and runs his tongue up through your juices, collecting whatever he could on his tongue. 

You both moan at the same time at the sensation.

“One…” you moan out. 

Another lick pulls another moan. “Two!”

After the third lick, he swirls his tongue around your clit, making your knees feel weak. “Fuck! Three!”

You roughly grab his hair and yank his mouth away from you. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes half lidded. It looks like you took a puppy away from its bowl.

His full lips glisten with your arousal. 

“Sit back on the chair, hands to yourself.”

Felix reluctantly leans back in your chair, his cock at full mast and dripping with precum. His head is flushed red. He is painfully hard.

He rests both of his hands on the arm rests of the chair and keeps his lustful eyes on you.

A smirk pulls at your lips as you kick your panties off, heels staying on. 

You turn around and grab Felix’s cock tightly. His hands tighten around the armrests with a gasp.

“Remember what I said, Felix. No touching.”

“Yes,” he pants.

“Say it, then.” you demand, hovering your pussy over his cock. You both can feel the heat of each other radiating off. 

“No touchinggg—!” While he was talking you dropped down onto his length. 

Both of you moan out loud, your head kicks back at the delicious stretch. God, it’s been too fucking long since you’ve gotten laid. This job takes everything from you.

You roll your hips a few times, getting adjusted. With each movement, Felix lets out a noise: a whine, a grunt, a moan, a whimper, everything in between. He’s singing a chorus of pleasure in your ear. 

“We have to get a little closer to the desk, Felix.”

It takes every ounce of strength, but your voice comes out even and Felix clocks that it’s your professional voice. You feel his cock twitch inside you.

Slowly, he rolls the chair towards the desk and you immediately return to your work. You snap back to it so fast it makes Felix whimper again.

Your heat is wrapped around him in the fucking best way. There’s no way he’s alive right now. For months he’s touched himself thinking about what you looked like underneath all those professional clothes.

You’re always so uptight, what if you just let loose for once? What would it be like? 

Your pussy clenched down on him and Felix whines, throwing his head back. Oh, this was going to be torture.

Just until you finish verifying the calculation, that’s what you said. As soon as you verify the numbers, then you would let him have you.

“You just need to behave.” You told him.

How is he supposed to behave when you’re so fucking tight and wet around him? He can feel each breath you take. 

Besides the fact that you’re surrounding his cock, your naked thighs are right there on top of his. He wants to grab them so hard it’ll leave his fingerprints in your skin, maybe it’ll bruise in the shape of his handprint.

Felix can’t help his hips bucking at the thought.

You clench again and moan. “Felix,” you warn.

“S-Sorry.”

“Sorry, what?”

“Sorry, ma’am!” 

Oh, you love that. You absolutely throb around him. Huh.

The soft hairs on the back of your neck tickle against his nose, he can still smell the lotion that he rubbed into your shoulders. 

Felix is grabbing the armrests so tight his knuckles are turning white. His nails dig into the leather painfully.

He licks his lips nervously and he gets another taste of your arousal that was still on his skin. It makes his eyes roll back. 

You adjust on his lap. The movement of your heat around him makes his head spin. The drag of your hot, soaking wet walls over his length is the most consuming feeling he’s ever felt. 

“Fuck,” he murmurs under his breath. 

“Stop moving.”

A small sheen of sweat breaks out on his forehead.

Why no touching? Why couldn’t he snake his hand around and up your blouse? He could cup your tit and pinch and pull your nipples until you’re clenching around him so tight that he could scream. He could lick all the way up your neck and pull your earlobe into his mouth while he listens to you panting his name.

Why can’t he touch you? God, he just wants to touch you.

Here he was, living out his wildest wet dream, and he couldn't feel your soft, supple skin underneath his fingers.

Why can’t he turn your head and consume your lips with his own? Shove his tongue down your throat and suck on yours like it’s a piece of candy.

He should’ve taken his pants off. This way he would’ve been able to feel your juices drip down and soak his thighs. You’re so fucking wet he thinks he might die. 

Felix’s eyes travel to the desk. He could absolutely bend you over the top. He could pull your hair and make you scream. He could make you forget all about–

“Aha!” When you scream, he jumps in surprise. His hips buck up and your pussy clenches around him. You both moan.

“Did you get it?” he pants out. His voice sounds so much weaker than he wanted it to; he sounds like he just ran two miles.

“Yes! He used net earnings instead of gross in one formula! Oh I am going to kill him.”

Thank the fucking lord. You figured it out. You did it, can he please please please–

Felix must’ve started thrusting up into you before he could even register the movements. His mind is so cloudly with lust that he can barely think straight.

“Easy, Felix.” you whine out through moans. He can just tell you didn’t want him to stop either. “Let me just finalize the chart and then–”

Felix cries out and then slumps his head forward to rest between your shoulder blades. “Ma’am, please, I’ve been so good for you, haven’t I? Haven’t I been such a good boy for you, ma’am?”

You hum and roll your hips ever so slightly. Just this slight amount of movement drives Felix insane. He whimpers loudly and his legs begin to shake underneath you.

“You have been a good boy, Felix. Why don’t I give you a reward?”

“Please.”

“Why don’t you let those pretty little hands roam until I’m done?”

“Thank you!” he cries out with a hoarse voice.

Immediately, his hands fly to your thighs and he grips the flesh tightly. His nails dig into your skin and you cry out under your breath, your walls clamping down on him tightly.

“Can I use my mouth, ma’am? Please please please please–”

“Yesss…” you hissed at him.

Felix attaches his lips to your neck and begins to suck on the soft skin while his hands wander up your body.

One hand goes right under your shirt and pulls your bra down. Those magic fingers pinch your nipple.

Every reaction your body has envelopes him in the most amazing way. He can feel everything your body likes. He can feel how you like when he rubs around your nipple rather than pinching it. He can feel how much you love when he uses his thumb to play with your tit while his mouth bites at your neck and hit other hand teases your soaking wet folds.

“Felix…” you warn. It’s all empty, though. Your typing has completely stopped, work has been forgotten.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good, ma’am.” He moans when you tighten. “Let me make you feel good, ma’am. Let me be such a good secretary.”

With the gentlest of touches, Felix plays with your clit. Just with that soft touch, your body spasms around him.

“I can make your body sing, ma’am. Let me be of service to you.”

Another gentle pinch of your nipple. It’s going straight to his head how he can feel how much you’re fighting him.

“Don’t you want to cum around my cock, ma’am?”

You break. “Please.” you whine out.

It’s enough for him. 

Both of his arms tighten around your body, his feet plant firmly on the floor and he begins fucking up into you like his fucking life depends on it. 

He turns into something of a fucking animal with how he’s rutting his cock into your sopping wet heat. He thrusts so hard and so fast, you think he might go through you.

His teeth bare for a moment from the exertion, but he bites down where your shoulder meets your neck.

Your head throws back onto his shoulder. Felix grabs your entire tit to anchor his hold, his thumb brushing over the nipple over and over, each one sends a ripple of pleasure through you.

His other hand rubs harder at your clit, you clamp even tighter over him. Both of you grunt and groan. There is no silence in your office; is the music even playing anymore?

You turn your head to look at him. “Kiss me, Felix.”

He captures your lips without a second thought. It all feels so fucking deliciously good. He sucks on your tongue just like he always wanted to. 

Your mouths glide over one another sloppily, spit getting everywhere on your mouths.

With each thrust, each flick, each rub, your orgasm gets closer and closer. 

Felix shifts his hips a bit and hits your g-spot so hard you cry out into his mouth, he swallows the noise.

“You’re so fucking tight, ma’am. I can feel you clenching so hard. You’re close, aren’t you?”

All you’re able to do is nod. He’s stimulating you so much that you can’t find your voice. 

“Fuck!” he cries out, “Fuck fuck, give it to me, please. Please cum for me, ma’am.” His voice is so low, it's so hoarse from arousal.

A particularly hard thrust launches you over the edge, your orgasm seizes every inch of your body. Felix keeps going, fucking you right through your orgasm.

Deep, guttural moans come from his chest as your body begins to shake in overstimulation. His thrusts grow sloppy and uncoordinated as he gets closer to his own peak.

“Cumming, cumming, cumming!” he shouts and bites your neck again.

Felix spills within you, his hips sputter and he continues to talk through it. 

“So good, fuck, thank you, thank you. So fucking good, fuck, oh my god.”

The room begins to settle, both of your pants becoming softer than the music. Felix holds you close to his chest still, not letting you go.

Your eyes flicker to your desktop.

“... I’m only halfway done. Your cock isn’t going anywhere.”

[hazbinshusk]

day fourteen of salem's unofficial attempt at kinktober:

heat sex/breeding/touch starved/"knife" play (husk x reader)

a/n: it's my birthday; have some desperate, needy, heat-overcome husk.

knife play refers to husk being a little too forthright with his claws.

+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +

“Hey, honey, Charlie said you’d been stuck up here the last few days,” you say as you toss your key on top of the bureau and immediately begin to shed your clothes. You toe off your shoes, leaving them haphazardly on the floor as you turn towards the bed. “I’m sorry I was gone so long, I didn’t realise your—oh, baby…”

Husk is face down on the bed, the sheets torn and littered with feathers – both from his own wings and the pillows he’s managed to shred. He doesn’t seem to have even noticed your presence; a pathetic mewling sound escaping him as his hips move in a weak, disjointed rhythm against what’s left of the sheets.

He’d gone into heat not long after you’d left, and with you gone for a few days, he was left with this burning, aching need that he’d been unable to satiate on his own. Now, it breaks your heart to see where he’s managed to pull out fur in frustration, to see the limp line of his tail hanging off the side of the bed. You’d known this was a risk, you being gone during – once you and Husk had begun seeing each other, his heats had become more… focused on you. He couldn’t get through it without you.

“Baby, I’m so sorry,” you murmur as you approach the bed slowly. You notice Husk has some of your clothes balled up on the bed, his nose pressed deep into the fabric. You touch a hand to his shoulder carefully. “Husk…?”

The bartender jerks up under your touch as though you’ve sent an electric shock through him, his whole body shuddering. You watch his pupils dilate; his jaw almost slack. He looks… delirious, the closest you’ve seen to creature in a long time. “Doll…?”

“Hey,” you say softly. “I’m sorry, I’ve—”

“Please…” he whines. His hips are still thrusting weakly into the mattress, his voice breaking. “Please…”

“It’s okay, Husk,” you promise gently, gliding your hand slowly down his back, smoothing the mussed fur and frowning when more of it falls away with your touch. Husk groans deeply; he buries his head against your thigh. He shudders, full-bodied, and you realize the bartender has cum into the sheets from that simple touch. He’s never been this far gone before; you’d seen him so deep into his heat that he’s barely let you get through the door before he’s shoved you up against it. You’ve seen him so addled by it that he’s barely been able to talk outside of growling urges for you to take it, to have his kits. This… this is so much more concerning. “Oh, you really need this, don’t you, baby?”

He can’t make out anymore words; he just lets out this soft, cattish mewl that makes tears of pity burn in your eyes.

“Lay back,” you tell him, pushing gently on his shoulder. Husk is clinging to you, and his desperation to get you further undressed only makes it more difficult. His claws catch in the waistband of your underwear, and they leave tracks of red as he tears it away, the sharp point of them slicing into your skin. You hiss in pain but otherwise ignore it, gently forcing him to lay back against the mattress and straddling his lap.

Husk’s cock is hard and already leaking again with precum, the barbs standing rigid. You wrap your hand around it and he moans, thrusting up into your hand. You coo reassuringly to him as you stroke him slowly a few times, collecting his precum on your hand. You release him and slide you hand between your thighs, slickening yourself with his excitement.

Husk’s claws dig into your thighs as you lift yourself up over his lap, gripping the base of him and guiding his cock inside you.

The possessive growl that rips through the bartender’s throat as you sink down onto him is nothing even approaching human, and you feel a shiver of excitement roll up the middle of your back. You know he can’t handle slow, not while he’s like this, and you feel yourself ache with the way he stretches and fills you as you take up as urgent a pace as you can handle without foreplay.

Husk begins to purr as soon as you start to fuck him, clutching desperately at your thighs, your ass, your hips. You grasp at fistfuls of fur on his chest, and the purring doubles, a chainsaw rumble that you can feel reverberating under your fingers. It takes barely more than a minute before he presses his hips up into yours so hard he almost unseats you and cums again, choking on a moan.

It does nothing to ease the almost manic look in his eyes, the tension in his jaw, but feeling his cum fill you makes it all the easier to take the thick line of his cock.

“That’s it, Husk,” you murmur, stroking fingers through the fur of his neck. He whines, arching his neck to the side to give you better access. “That’s it. C’mon. I can take it, baby.”

You grind your hips down hard against his, your eyes rolling back for a moment as you feel his barbs tease against a sensitive spot inside you. Husk hisses softly, and you gasp as his claws carve into your thighs.

You swallow back the shock of pain, gritting your teeth as you begin to bounce yourself on his cock again.

“I can take it.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Husk pounds himself into you, your thighs aching with tension as he presses them down hard against your torso, your knees bent over his shoulders. He has his face buried in the curve of your neck; his hands braced on either side of you. You can’t even moan anymore – your voice is all but gone, hoarse with the pain in your throat.

There’s no doubt in your mind that the others in the hotel have heard you both, especially with the way Husk keeps growling, the way the sound of flesh meeting fur fill the room, but you can’t bring your mind together enough to care. You’ve been going so long that you can feel your hair and skin are damp with sweat, sheets and feathers sticking to your bare skin.

You can feel Husk’s cum leaking out of you with every thrust, dripping down over your ass and onto the bedding beneath you. He buries his teeth in your shoulder as he cums again, and the sound you make is raw and painful, and you bring your hand between your thighs desperately.

“Fuck, doll, I missed you,” he groans against your skin, lips grazing the side of your throat. You turn your head and he kisses you, the taste of your blood staining his lips. Still, you wrap an arm around his neck and slide your tongue into his mouth, thighs quaking as the attention you give your clit builds inside you. “I missed you so much.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” you murmur in a husky voice, clutching at the fur behind his ear. His purrs grow louder when you run your fingers through it, your nails scratching at the base of his ear. “Show me how much you needed me, okay? Show me what you need.”

“Need to fill you up,” he growls desperately. He pistons his hips into yours, hard enough that your cunt aches with the force of it. “Need you full of my kits and fuck… gonna fill you up, sweetness, gonna fill you so fuckin’ full of my kits…”

“Yes, Husk,” you whimper, letting your head fall back against the ruined pillows. “Fill me up, baby. I wanna have your kits so bad…”

“Gonna be so beautiful with my kits in you,” he pants, his tail lashing behind him. His wings spread wide, loose feathers floating down from them. He stumbles on his words as you cum again and tighten around him, his hips beginning to lose their rhythm. “Gonna be so fuckin’… fuck, I need you to…”

Husk moans your name as you feel him cum inside you again, collapsing on top of you with a choking sob. You unhook your legs from his shoulders slowly, wincing as pain flares through the stiff muscles. You run your fingers through the fur at the base of his neck, a small, tired smile touching your lips as you feel him pepper soft kisses over your chest. His wings fall to rest limply by his sides, the feathers tickling against your legs.

“Missed you,” he repeats in a barely-there whisper, his breath tickling against your skin. “Fuck, I missed you…”

“I know, baby,” you murmur, still petting him in a soothing rhythm. “I’m sorry I was gone so long.”

He lets out a soft growl as his lips find the bite marks he’s left in your shoulder, leans back enough to turn his head and see the scratches on your thigh and hip bone. “Shit, baby, I’m—”

“Don’t,” you admonish, drawing him back against your chest. “Couldn’t help it.”

“I shouldn’t—”

“It’s fine, Husk,” you promise, leaning up to brush your lips over his. You feel him relax slightly to it, and you begin stroking fingers through his fur again. “I’m okay.”

“’m sorry.”

“I know,” you say simply. You feel his half-hard cock twitch inside you, and you sigh, closing your eyes. “Just… rest. I have a feeling you’re not quite over the urges just yet.”

Husk reburies his face against your throat, his lips pressed to your skin. “Love you, doll.”

“Love you, Husk.”

[dreamwavesexploringreality]

TOGETHER

Requested: Chishiya post-Borderlands, taking care of a depressed wife

Chishiya x reader Post-Borderlands.

TW: Mention of depression, mental health symptoms, apathy, emotional detachment, intrusive thoughts, anxiety, reference to past trauma, social isolation, lack of appetite.

A few weeks had passed since her return to the real world.

“The real world,” Y/N thought repeatedly while lying in bed. “Is this really real?” Since her return to routine, Y/N felt as if she was walking unsteadily on a fragile sheet of ice that might crack at any moment. To anyone, it might seem that all that time in Borderlands had been nothing more than a very vivid dream. It was something she couldn’t explain to anyone and, even if she wanted to, the words didn’t seem real in her own language; it felt as if she were speaking another language every time she tried to give verbal form to everything that had happened. That’s why she chose to remain silent; it was easier and much more comfortable than starting a pointless babble that would lead nowhere.

On the other hand, Y/N had always been fascinated by the way her husband handled things. She had seen him calm and stoic in life-or-death situations, and now, back in the real world, nothing had changed. Chishiya was still the same as always, as if nothing had happened in the past days, weeks, months… As if they hadn’t been on the brink of death repeatedly, hadn’t witnessed bloody massacres and losses. “How does he do it?” she wondered.

So the hours passed, and the days drew to dusk, and she remained there, motionless in her bed, staring at a fixed point on the wall until her husband came home from work.

“Have you been lying there all day?” A voice jolted her from her daydream, making her startle. She didn’t like being caught off guard. “Side effects of Borderlands,” she thought.

Y/N nodded as she watched her husband undo his tie.

“Have you eaten?” Chishiya asked again.

Y/N shook her head. She hadn’t eaten, but Chishiya already knew that. Every morning, he would get up early, leaving his wife asleep, and prepare breakfast for both of them. He would leave with his coffee in hand and place another steaming cup on the table, and, as usual, Chishiya would return from work to find the cup exactly where he had left it, with all its contents untouched.

Chishiya never mentioned it to Y/N, hoping that if she got out of bed and found the cup as a surprise, it might motivate her to start a new day. But the days passed, and none seemed new to her. Chishiya would arrive, see the full cup, discard its contents, and slowly head to his room to find her once more lost in staring at a fixed point on the wall, absorbed in her thoughts, dead to the world.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Chishiya said as he rummaged through his work bag. He pulled out a few neatly folded papers and placed them on the bed before heading to the bathroom without looking back at the girl lying there. He wouldn’t say it out loud, but it hurt him. It hurt him deeply to see her like this, to see the once joyful, active, and lively girl slowly fading away, and he feared never being able to bring her back, losing her, and not having done enough to prevent it.

When Y/N heard the bathroom door close, she turned her gaze to the carefully folded papers on the bed. She knew her husband well enough to understand he hadn’t left them by accident. She reached out and picked them up, feeling their smooth and delicate texture. She unfolded them with reluctance, something trivial to any other person but monumental to her. As she laid the pages flat on her lap, she read the first line carefully: “Clinical Assessment of Depression Symptoms.” Y/N held the paper with both hands while her eyes raced to understand the document. It was written in medical jargon, something she would have asked Chishiya about under different circumstances, and he, with feigned annoyance, would have explained. But this time, her husband had left the papers there for her; she had to decipher the message, and it wasn’t too difficult.

Inside the bathroom, the water stopped running, and Y/N knew Chishiya would emerge any moment. For some inexplicable reason, she felt embarrassed that her husband might catch her with the papers in hand, so she folded them again and placed them back on the bed.

As expected, Chishiya took no more than 3 minutes to come out, and when he did, he cast a fleeting glance at the papers, which, judging by their placement, had been read.

“We don’t have food at home. I’m going to the supermarket in 10 minutes if you want to come,” the man said without looking at her, while rummaging through the closet for something to wear.

Y/N had been with Chishiya long enough to know that every word he spoke was meticulously considered and calculated, so it wasn’t hard for her to recall the text she had just read: “It is proven that walking at least 20 minutes a day improves mental health.” A sigh escaped her lips. The last thing she wanted at that moment was to get out of bed and get ready to go out, and when she was about to refuse, as she had every other time, an alarm seemed to go off in her mind, an alarm she had silenced for a long time that was now screaming for fresh air.

With no strength to respond and feeling unconvinced, Y/N nodded.

Chishiya had to wait on the sofa for more than 10 minutes before leaving the house, but he did so with a faint smile. He could be a cold and calculating man, but it was undeniable that he cared for her, even if he didn’t know how to show it, or did so in his own way.

When Y/N was ready, the man looked her up and down, hoping to see the familiar spark in her eyes. It wasn’t there. He still saw her lost gaze and pale complexion, and his heart ached seeing her look toward the door with distrust. Chishiya opened it with a loud creak that made the girl flinch. A flood of stimuli began to invade the house: the streetlights, the squeal of car wheels, a distant horn, and the chatter of people on the street. Y/N had grown accustomed to the absolute stillness of her dormant mind, and at that moment, the noise was overwhelming, so overpowering that the part of her brain demanding fresh air seemed to shut down, and she saw no reason to leave the comfort of her space. Her indecision must have been glaringly obvious, as all alarms went off in Chishiya’s mind, who remained calm by the door. Without a word, the man extended his arm toward the trembling, pale, and apathetic figure that was his wife. Y/N fixed her gaze on his open hand, and for a moment, the idea of touching Chishiya seemed appealing, letting a wave of nostalgia wash over her. That brief moment was enough for her to reach out and entwine her fingers with his, like a small child afraid to cross the street, and a shiver ran down her spine at the long-forgotten familiar touch.

Neither spoke as they crossed the threshold and Chishiya closed the door behind them. A bitter sensation lodged itself in the girl’s throat as she felt the door seal behind her, and the street she had known for years suddenly seemed more intimidating than ever, with the tall buildings towering over her, threatening to collapse at any moment, cars speeding away, and passersby moving briskly in all directions. For a moment, she remembered it all. All of it. And she felt her heart pound fiercely in her chest, and her eyes moisten with tears that threatened to spill at any moment. Her breathing caught in her throat, and the world seemed to close in around her.

Suddenly, a brief but strong squeeze of her hand pulled her out of her trance. Still breathing heavily, heart racing, and eyes full of tears, she looked at her husband. Chishiya was looking at her with calm resolve, as calm as he could be while his brain screamed at him to hug her and take her back to the comfort of her bed, but he was a doctor and understood clinically and analytically the chemical reactions occurring in his wife’s brain, plunging her into the deepest darkness. Summoning his courage, the man donned a serene, impassive, and even mask to hide his fears and worries, and with one last squeeze of her hand, a thousand unspoken words echoing behind, they both set out on their journey. Together.

© 2024 [@dreamwavesexploringreality]

---

Hey everyone! 🌟 I hope you enjoyed reading this story! 😊 I really put my heart into capturing Chishiya’s character and how he might support his wife through her depression after Borderlands.

It’s kind of heartwarming to imagine him being a steady rock when things get tough, don’t you think? 💖✨

[luna-the-moth]

Mirror sex with Azul? Baby boy needs to learn to love himself 💜

AGREED. Sweet and soft sex has me so so weak and this kickstarted up a lot of worms in my head ,, , so i wrote a fic LOL. this was so lovely to write anon i lowkey felt possessed writing it ashdifu

18+ // gn! softdom! reader // sub! Azul with stretch marks and chub // body dysmorphia // self-directed fatphobia on Azul’s end // mirror sex // body worship // praise // eating (azul's) cum // handjob // “angelfish” used to refer to reader

WC: 1.3k

“In addition, it’s said to have a slimming effect that reduces the appearance of one’s, ah, excess,” Azul muses, thumbing through a catalog. “It seems like a good investment, does it not?”

You pause, turning to face him. 

“...your body isn’t ugly, Azul.”

“I didn’t say it was,” he retorts, the playfulness in his voice strained. 

“You didn’t say it explicitly, you mean,” you reply, taking the catalog from his hand and setting it down on the table gently but firmly, your other hand moving to cup his chin in your hand. He swallows and averts his gaze, hands settling on your waist, butterfly-light. 

“Apologies, Angelfish.”

You soften at that, running a thumb over his cheek before kissing him, drawing a finger down the front of his collar before lightly tugging at the first button. His grasp around your waist tightens.

“Let me know if you want me to stop at any point, ok?” 

He nods, a blush creeping up his cheeks and ears. You kiss him on the neck, smiling. 

Limbs entangled, the two of you stumble to the corner of the bed in front of a full-length mirror handcrafted in the Coral Sea. You let go for a moment to turn him around, spreading your legs, allowing him to settle against your chest. His body trembles, fingers grasped tight around the silk sheets underneath him as his head rests tentatively against your shoulder. His eyes are shut, unwilling, unable to look ahead and see what’s reflected.

His silk nightshirt is half unbuttoned, your hands having run up underneath them to play with his nipples. They pebble underneath your touch, and he whines as you tease and tug at them slightly, writhing in your grasp. Rubbing soothing circles over the soft fat of his thighs, you press a kiss to his earlobe.

“Are you comfortable, ‘Zul?”

“Yes,” he whines, one of his hands blindly reaching out to the back of your head. 

“Good.” You leave a gentle bite on his shoulder, running your tongue over it in apology as he lets out a shaky moan. The sight in the mirror makes you smirk, and you gently grasp his chin in your hand, turning him towards his reflection. 

“Look at yourself, Azul.”

Teary eyes snap open to meet your own in the mirror and he gasps.

Azul is a vision. His hair, meticulously styled, has loosened and become undone, the silky strands laying carelessly across his forehead. A hickey blooms across his collarbone, complemented by the pinkness of his blush. A faint trail of drool gleams from the corner of his lip.

But what stands out to him is well, him.

Azul took great pride in having maintained his figure, having come far from the “crybaby tako” of his youth, but he seldom took the time to look at the physical reminders of his former self. His usual attire gave him a slimming effect, at least to others. Nevertheless, there’s still a bit of chub on him— particularly on his thighs and stomach— despite his attempts to render it nonexistent. Lighting strikes of stark white run across his skin, and he whimpers as he realizes that you’re tracing them with your free hand.

He wanted to turn his head in embarrassment, in shame, yet he can’t quite look away. You’re looking at him from over his shoulder, the expression on your face nothing less than fond. 

“You’re being so good for me, Azul,” you purr, lavishing the side of his neck with kisses. “Do you see how beautiful you are?” A faint whine leaves his lips. He begins to squirm, but you shush him quietly, placing a soothing hand on his chest. 

“When I tell you I love you, I mean all of you. That includes these,” you bring a hand over his to trail over his stretch marks, “and these,” your other hand moves to gently hold his rolls, squishing the soft fat with emphasis. Your lips settle on his shoulder in a kiss. 

A faint sob wrenches itself from his chest and he turns his head towards you, tears beginning to trace the skin of his cheek. You raise your head and your lips meet his own tenderly, willing for your love and adoration of him to be transferred through your kiss. 

 The hand that had been stroking his stretch marks goes to the waistband of his underwear behind his pants, tugging the soft fabric downwards. He acquiesces to your silent request and raises his hips, letting the clothing slip to the floor. He shudders in pleasure as your nails drag lightly over his skin, reaching up to touch your chest.

You pull away with a hum. 

“Not tonight. I want the focus to be on you.”

He feels himself ache at your words. In the back of his mind he knows he’ll want to pay back the favor— he’s never quite gotten used to ones not meant to be returned— but all he can do in the moment is let out a faint moan of your name and bury his head in your shoulder, frustrated in his desire. 

You laugh at that, carefully prying him off of you with a few kisses as bribery. Facing the mirror again, Azul’s head goes fuzzy seeing his cock erect in want, pearls of pre-cum dripping off of the head. One of your hands has gone to idly tease his chest, rolling a nipple in between dexterous fingers as you watch his reaction. He gasps as your free hand wraps around him, your thumb circling the blushing red head of his cock.

Azul arches his back and whines as the fabric of his partially undone nightshirt brushes against his sensitive skin, his head leaning back against your shoulder. Your fingers have moved to wrap against his cock fully, running up and down his length as his hips stutter, and you press a kiss to his sweating forehead. Leaning back against the bed with one hand to stabilize yourself, you slowly grind against Azul’s backside, silk pressing against skin.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” you groan, throwing your head back for a moment as you bask in the feeling of his cock moving back and forth in your hand, the softness of his skin, and his panting breaths against your neck as he struggles to speak coherently. A sudden grasp on your thighs pulls you out of your reverie, and you look to see a visage as lovely as the Fairest Queen.

Azul’s flushed face meets your own, his skin shiny in sweat as he looks at you, eyes wide and pleading. His mouth is parted, pink tongue hanging out ever so slightly as drool turns his lips and chin glossy. He’s so, so beautiful. 

“Please…” He begs, nails scratching against your thighs.

You kiss him, then, moving to tighten your hold around his cock for a moment and the faint jerking motions of his hips stutter, his entire body shuddering in pleasure as he lets out whines of your name against your lips. The motions of your hand continue steadily, and you continue until he begins to hiss in overstimulation, hands clumsily batting your arm in protest. 

Once his breaths have evened out and his body has practically melted in pleasure, you reach the hand now covered in his spend up to your lips. It shimmers faintly in the dim lighting of Azul’s bedroom, and you clean it off of your fingers with relish, narrowing your eyes playfully at Azul when you catch him watching. 

“Let's get you cleaned up then, yeah?” You hum, gently petting his hair with your uncovered hand. He whines at that, burrowing his face into your neck, arms going to drape themselves around your shoulders. A petulant “no,” is murmured faintly against your skin, and you huff a laugh before holding him even closer to you. 

Cleaning up could wait, then. 

a/n: reblogs and comments appreciated <3 lmk if you would like to hear more!

[clockwayswrites]

Seeking Sleep

A little one shot Jason character study type thing. Implied sexual content. References to past (temporary) character death.

Danny Fenton/Jason Todd

WC: 767

-

These days, he had trouble sleeping.

It was the price, he supposed, for coming back from the dead. Waking up buried in the ground, in a grave, in a coffin— it left scars.

Scars. They were a funny thing, scars. (Funny as a or b; forehand or backhand.) He had been riddled with them before he came back; marked by his father, by the streets, by muggers and dealers and villains. Marked by Gotham and all of her horrible beauty.

The Pits had washed all those away.

All those marks erased like he had never lived them— bore them— accomplished them; erased like they were nothing. Now they were etched only, painfully, on his mind. His mind was still a canvas full of scars. Those scars caught and pulled and unraveled… and were all the worse when he wasn’t awake to hold himself together.

He learned a lot, those first few months back in Gotham, about what woke him up from sleep and into a panicked terror.

He couldn’t sleep on his back. He couldn’t fall asleep on his back, but worse was waking up with a choked off breath when he rolled over in his sleep.

He couldn’t sleep on silky sheets; the feel was too much like the satin insides of a coffin. (He couldn’t even wear anything silky anymore.)

He couldn’t sleep in total darkness.

Even as he struggled to find ways to deal with soothing the scars of his mind (pillows at his back, linen sheets, the hall light on), he couldn’t admit the way they pulled at him. He made excuses. The pillows are more comfortable. Linen lasts longer. Light means it’s quicker if he has to rush out for an emergency. He knew he was lying to himself, but he couldn’t admit it.

He certainly couldn't admit it to anyone else.

As nervous as Jason was to bare his heart like that to someone, it took a long time to get to the point of needing excuses. But then there was Danny. And Danny… Jason orbited Danny like a planet around a star. Falling into each other’s arms and beds was almost inevitable. The bed was the problem. Danny’s sheets where silky smooth microfiber.

(Anything is better than ‘I died. I died and I came back wrong.’)

Jason tried to get them to go to his place more often then not. When he couldn’t guide them that way, he simply didn’t stay in bed long. He had an early morning, a family thing, work to finish up, wanted to get home before the rain— each reason felt more transparent than the last.

Each reason made that furrow between Danny’s brow deepen, and Jason hated that. He hated being the cause.

There wasn’t always a good excuse. That night they had tried a new restaurant close to Danny’s place— his home and bed were right there. Danny tugged Jason down, and Jason rolled them over so that he could touch the sheets as little as possible—

Oh.

“New sheets?”

They were linen- just rough enough under Jason’s braced hands that the touch didn’t make him shudder.

Danny simply hummed and pulled Jason into a searing kiss as he wrapped a leg around him. Who was Jason to fight that pull? Not a good enough man, that was for certain, so he let Danny pull him down down down— until he was all Jason thought about.

Later, Jason still wasn’t much encouraged to get his mind working. He watched through lidded eyes as Danny tossed the dirty washcloth back into the bathroom. But the other didn’t come back to bed.

“Danny?”

He was was fiddling with something over on the small table in front of the window.

There was a click.

Then the bedroom filled with projected stars and swirling galaxies. Jason’s breath caught in his throat.

“I can…” Danny shifted nervously when Jason glanced at him a long moment later. “I can turn it off if you don’t like it. I just thought…”

Jason cleared his throat. “No, it’s perfect. Come to bed.”

Danny smiled that small, crooked smile that Jason loved so much and did as he was told. The projection of stars played over Danny’s bare skin as he crossed the room.

Jason wanted to map the spots of light with his mouth.

He settled for kissing the scattering of freckles on Danny’s shoulder blade. Jason didn’t resist the pleased sigh slipping past his lips as Danny tucked in against him.

That night, with the room drenched in starlight and his arms around his own little star, Jason slept soundly.

[mind-empty-just-fictional-people]

Another Classic Rock Fan

masterlist

summary : a broken jukebox leads dean to a woman who’s so much like him that she sweeps him off his feet.

pairing : (earlier seasons) dean winchester x female reader

rating: R for language, sexual themes (?)

word count : 1.7k

warnings: language, implied sex/nudity, violence

gif source

“Son of a bitch!” You muttered, hitting the side of the jukebox, as if that would suddenly fix the (clearly half-a-century-old) machine in front of you.

“I tried that ten minutes ago sweetheart, it doesn’t do much,” A man’s voice said behind you.

“Well, maybe you didn't hit it right!” You exclaimed, hitting it again but in a different spot.

“What song are you trying to play?” He asked.

“AC/DC, You Shook Me All Night Long. And, before you say anything; if you want a shot at getting in my pants tonight don’t you dare disrespect that band,” You replied before you finally turned around to look at the man. “Or any of the classics, while you're at it.” He was taller than you, with brown hair and light brown eyes that stared down at you. The room was dark, but you could see a smirk form on his full lips when he saw your face.

“Hey, I wouldn’t dream of it!” He held up his hands in defense. “I’m an AC/DC fan myself.”

“Favorite song?” You quizzed, narrowing your gaze.

“Trick question, they’re all great,” He shrugged a little.

“Correct,” You nodded. “List some songs though.”

“Thunderstruck, Sin City, Girls Got Rhythm, Let There Be Rock; should I keep going?”

“No, I believe you're a fan,” You laughed, letting your guard down a little.

“So baby,” He smirked, “what’s the going price?”

Your smile disappeared and you stared daggers at him. “Go to hell!” You exclaimed before you brushed past him, intentionally bumping into his shoulder as you did so.

“Wait- That’s- Shit,” He stuttered, regretting what he said.

You turned around, a childish smile now on your face as you looked up at him; “Shot Down In Flames, nice job. You really thought I didn’t get the reference?”

“I really thought,” He laughed lightly. “Let me buy you a drink?”

“Sure,” You turned back around and he followed you to the counter. You could feel him staring down at your ass and you smirked a little; you wore your jeans that accented that feature for a reason.

“I’m Dean, by the way,” He smiled when the two of you sat down. “What’re you drinking?”

“I’m Y/n, and just a beer’s fine.”

“So, is there a reason you’re alone at a bar on a Thursday night?” He asked, motioning the bartender toward you. He then ordered two beers.

“I’m in town for work, don’t really know anyone here,” You shrugged and took a sip of the beer.

“Me too, actually,” Dean responded.

“Really? What kinda work?”

“Law enforcement.”

“Would not take you for a cop,” You nodded in response.

“So, who got you into AC/DC?” He asked, wanting to change the subject.

“My mom traveled for work so my little sister and I were stuck in the car a lot. My mom loved classic rock. It’s all she ever played for us, really.”

“No way! My dad was the same way! Traveled for work, loved the classics, played ‘em for me and my little brother all the time!” He exclaimed, both of you smiling widely.

The two of you talked about nothing in particular for another twenty or so minutes, Dean making the occasional flirty joke about taking you to his motel room.

**

“Oh my god!” Sam exclaimed, covering his eyes in a hurry.

“Sam, what the hell! Knock!” Dean huffed back as you hurried to cover yourself with the sheets. Dean stood up, still wearing boxers, and you sat up in the bed.

“Wait, you’re Sam?” You furrowed your brows. “And you’re Dean. The Impala in the parking lot…shit. You’re not- You’re not the Winchesters, right?”

“How’d you know that?” Dean asked.

You covered your face with your hands and groaned; “Oh my god! You must be working the case here! The four women drained of blood?”

“Yeah, how’d you know that?” Dean repeated, his voice now raised a little.

“Calm down, I’m a hunter,” You sighed. “I’m here working the case too, it’s clearly a vampire!”

“You’re a hunter?” Dean affirmed.

“What, you didn’t see the anti-possession tattoo?”

“No, I definitely did,” He smirked.

You looked up at him, a smirk finding its way onto your lips as well. You stood up, holding the sheet like a towel wrapped around you. “So, why don’t we work the case together?” You said, placing an open hand on his heaving chest.

He took your face in his hands and replied, “Of course,” before he kissed you.

Sam cleared his throat obnoxiously before he exclaimed; “Four dead bodies? Possible vampire nest? Impending doom? Any of this ringing a bell?”

“Sammy-” Dean started.

“Come back in about fifteen minutes, okay?” You told the taller man and then kissed Dean again. Sam got out of the room in a hurry so as not to see what the quickly escalating situation would become.

**

“I’m Agent Jovi, this is my partner Agent Sambora,” Sam and Dean flashed their badges as you did the same.

“And I’m Agent Paula Stanley,” You added to Dean’s introduction. Dean looked at you as if with awe as you simply continued with the conversation. “Could you take us to the bodies, please?”

“Right this way,” The doctor replied. You followed him to the morgue, Dean’s eyes glued to your ass as you walked away.

“Dean?” Sam interrupted his train of thought.

“What?” Dean exclaimed, clearly out of sorts and still very distracted.

“God, you are a mess!” Sam joked, Dean just looked at him with confusion. “C’mon, you’re practically drooling over this girl!” He laughed lightly.

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“Well, she- She’s just-” Dean scratched the back of his head. “Yeah, I got nothing.”

“Dude, it’s okay. Just, ask her out after the case, please? We’ve got lives to save,” He patted Dean’s shoulder before they both walked into the morgue as the doctor walked out.

“Hey, does this girl look familiar?” You scrunched your eyebrows and looked at the newest vampire kill; the fifth vampire kill.

“No, does she look familiar to you?” Sam asked. He took a look at the toe tag, “Silvia Mortenson?”

“Oh my god, she was at the bar last night! I’m sure of it!”

“Did you see her leave with anyone?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, uh this man; he struck out with me,” You inhaled sharply, “so he went to talk to her.”

“That’s when you went for the jukebox,” Dean nodded.

“Yeah- Wait, were you watching me?” You questioned, a slight teasing tone in your voice.

“I may have had my eyes on the ridiculously hot woman in the Kiss tank top,” He smirked.

“So, we know who it is. Now what, we watch him, see who he leaves with, and follow them?” Sam interrupted.

“Or, we do the smart thing,” You shrugged. The brothers looked at you with confusion. “Use me as bait, duh! I lure him out, let him take me to the nest, you two follow me and we take them down from the inside.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Dean shook his head. “That’s not happening.”

“Why not?” You asked.

“Uh, where do I start?” Dean scoffed. You slightly tilted your head, confused. “It’s way too dangerous! You could die!”

“We’re hunters, Dean; danger and death are kinda in the job description.”

“Well, yeah, but…” Dean trailed off, trying to think of a way to keep you out of immediate danger.

“Yep, we’re doing this,” You nodded.

**

“I’d like to take you up on that drink now,” You smirked, sitting next to the vampire. He had offered to buy you a beer the previous night, but you turned him down.

“What, you're not leaving with Leather Jacket again?” He replied, gesturing to Dean, who sat at the other end of the bar.

“Well, I’m not one to kiss and tell, but let’s just say I want a real man to rock my world tonight.”

**

He led you back to his motel where four other vampires were waiting. Sam and Dean rushed in after you, but you had already beheaded two of them. Sam got one, while Dean got the other. You walked up to the last one, the one you had followed here.

“And just so we’re clear, this man,” You pointed at Dean, keeping the machete in your hand ready, “is amazing in bed!” And you chopped the vamp’s head off. You turned to Sam and Dean, all three of you splattered with blood. “What?” You asked, seeing the shocked and confused looks on their faces.

“Gotta say, that’s the craziest way a woman has ever complimented me,” Dean smirked.

“Just setting the record straight,” You shrugged, smiling.

**

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Sam exclaimed when Dean walked into the room.

“I’m here to pack up before we hit the road?” He furrowed his brows before Sam rolled his eyes.

“So where’s Y/n, then?”

“She’s got her own room, second floor, why?”

“Did you get her number?”

“No…?”

“Are you an idiot?”

“Can you just get to the fuckin’ point?”

“Go ask her out before she leaves!” Sam exclaimed, seeing the gears in Dean’s head slowly turning before he left the room.

**

“Can I ask you something?” Dean said, standing outside your motel room.

“Sure,” You shrugged a little. You opened the door further so he could go inside.

“Why’d you say that? To the vampire, I mean.”

“About you being good in bed?” He nodded. “Well, when I was flirting with him at the bar I had to lie and say you weren’t good in bed, so I figured I’d set the record straight before killing him.”

“Oh!” He let out a bit of a laugh. “I guess that makes sense.”

“Can I ask you something?” You asked. “What are you doing here? I thought the famous Dean Winchester was all about lovin’ and leavin’.”

“That’s what I’m famous for?”

“Well, that and you know, all the incredible hunter stuff.”

“I- I’m here to ask for your number.”

“Hunter phone, or personal?” You asked. (It was pretty common for hunters to have at least two phones - one for hunter contacts and one for friends/family.)

“Personal, is what I was hoping for.”

“Okay,” You smiled.

[deliasbabe]

I'll Travel Far Beyond the Path of Reason (Take Me Back to Eden)- Cordelia Goode x Reader- Part 2

Part 1

Sorry I forgot about this fic, but I didn't want to make you wait a whole year for part 2, so I split it into 4 parts.

Word Count: 4.2k+

Warnings: Language, referrenced drugging, references to violence, PTSD

When you woke up the next morning, you were in her bed, her hair ticking your nose and your face pressed against her neck, safely tucked up against her body. You felt the tears begin to well up again, squeezing your eyes shut in order to quell them, but soon they were dripping on her neck, and she ran her hands through your hair on instinct, nose nuzzling the top of your head, lulling you back to sleep.

The next time your eyes opened, you were alone, but the sheets were still warm, hearing the shower as you drifted in and out of sleep, gradually coming back to the present. When the water stopped, you sat up, rubbing at your eyes as the door opened. Cordelia walked out, drying her hair with a towel as she smiled at you, “Well good morning.”

“Morning.” You grumbled, the supreme snickering at your half-awake state, “What?”

She smiled again, shaking her head as she walked over to the dresser, shuffling in a drawer for some clothes, “Nothing.”

“Doesn’t seem like nothing.” You mumbled, feeling the sandpaper in your throat and turning towards the nightstand in search of water. You spotted a full glass, reaching towards it, only to see your knuckles bandaged in white gauze. You stared at them for a moment, perplexed, before consciousness fully returned and you were reminded of the previous night’s events.

You looked at your girlfriend, only to see her staring back at you, her once smiling features now etched with concern, and you pulled back, leaving the water still perched on the nightstand as your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. You crossed your legs, fiddling with your hands in your lap as you counted the threads in the sheets, and you heard your lover sigh, her steps light as she grabbed the forgotten glass and pushed it into your hands, “Drink it.”

She watched you in the mirror as she pulled on her clothes, lip trapped between her teeth as she tugged at the dry skin. The second the glass was empty she collected it, depositing it back on the table as you mumbled out an apology, eyes still trained on the white cloth beneath you.

“You have nothing to be sorry about.” She replied, the bed dipping as she sat on the edge and reached for you. The second her fingertips brushed your skin you shifted away; the relief you felt the night prior now seeded with doubt. While your greatest attribute had always been your own self-awareness, it also made you keenly aware of the mechanics behind what pushed this reunification, or what forced it.

Choice had always been extremely important to you. You never wanted to be the person that backed someone into a corner with only one way out. Cordelia hadn’t spoken to you for weeks, couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as you for more than a few moments, yet there she was, looking at you so tenderly. But that wasn’t adoration in her eyes, it was fear, fear that you were so fragile that if she didn’t handle you with caution, you would break into a million pieces. She kissed you and held you last night merely to quell the storm, to stop you from the path of destruction you were surely on. Not because she wanted it, not because she wanted you.

You bit the inside of your cheek, willing to do anything to get out of the no doubt embarrassing conversation you were sure to have. You shook your head, mumbling something about needing to get up and get the day started, untangling your legs and trying to find your footing.  Cordelia grabbed your ankle, anchoring you to the bed as she shook her head, her other hand searching for yours and running her thumb over the back to soothe you, “That can wait, we need to talk.”

You nodded, pulling your hand from her grasp and using it as leverage to cross your ankles beneath you, pushing you further up on the bed and just out of reach. There was a beat of silence, a shaky breath, and then she spoke, “I’m worried about you. You really scared me last night.”

Your eyes darted up to hers, “I wouldn’t have hurt you.”

“I know.” Cordelia soothed, “That’s not why I was scared. I was scared for you.”

You shook your head, gave an excuse, tried to downplay, “I just don’t like being confined.”

Cordelia stared back at you, her eyes looking up and down your form like she was doing some kind calculation, tallying up every movement. You looked away, seeing her blonde hair shake in your peripheral vision. “The girls told me you were doing fine.” She mumbled, her tone puzzled, “A few hiccups, but mostly fine.”

You looked back at her, dumbfounded, but she seemed to be looking right through you. You weren’t sure if they were lying to her or if they were just blind, but whatever you were, it certainly wasn’t fine. Her brow furrowed as she tried to comprehend it, tongue running between her lips before she bit down, seemingly deciding the first option was the most likely, shaking her head, “I should have known better.”

“I’ll- I’ll be fine, you don’t have to worry about me.” You stuttered, feeling defensive, “I’m sorry for scaring you, but really, it’s not that big of a deal.”

Cordelia tilted her head in bewilderment, looking you over as you chose to stare out the window. She didn’t get it, last night you were begging for her to talk to you, now you were doing everything you could to shut down any form of conversation. It wasn’t like you. You were never one to stay trapped inside your head. In fact, most times, she had to be the one to stop you from blurting out every single thought that crossed your mind. While at times it drove her crazy, it was also one of the things she loved most about you. When it came to the important things, there was no guess work, your heart was on your sleeve always.

She felt the guilt lodge in her throat, knowing this was largely her own doing. You had tried to talk to her, tried for weeks, and each time she shut you down. She wasn’t ready, so she pushed you away, and now your silence was a habit she didn’t know if she could break. A stray tear fell down her cheek and she was quick to wipe it away as you turned around, not wanting you to see it and shut down even further.

You fixated on a point, eyebrows creasing, and Cordelia followed your line of sight, spotting your numerous suitcases by the door. She snickered, “It was actually pretty easy to move all your stuff in here, since you already packed it for us.” You looked over at her questioningly, and she elaborated, “You’ll be staying in here, with me.”

It shouldn’t have been a surprise, you had already had the discussion before your fight, had decided to move all your things into her room over break, since you were already there every night. It made sense at the time, but a lot had changed since then. You had wanted it to happen, but not like this.

“You don’t have to do that.” You argued, shaking your head, “I didn’t mean to put you in this position.”

“What position?” She asked, prompting you when you threw her a look. She stared at you, eyebrows raised and tongue pushing against her cheek, and that look you knew. It was the same look she always gave when the two of you were bickering and she already knew she was going to win, but she wanted to push you and extract every single argument first. She was playing with you, wanting you to show your hand before she showed hers, all the while knowing you were going to lose.

You let out an inaudible grunt, shaking your head as you explained, “I know the way I acted last night wasn’t ok. It wasn’t fair and I don’t want you to feel forced to…”

You stuttered, you couldn’t say it, but Cordelia was right there, prompting you once again, “Forced to do what?”

You shook your head, unable to face the fear, and stared down at your hands. If you said it and she agreed, you would be devastated, but if you said it and she denied it, then you wouldn’t believe her. If you said it out loud, you would be forcing her hand once again. It was too soon.

But there she was, tipping your chin up and forcing you to stare in her sparkling eyes. There was a mischievous glint in them, her lips curled into a teasing smile, “Forced to do what?”

The words caught in your throat and you moved to clear it, obviously flustered, and Cordelia’s gaze softened, but not before she glanced at your lips. She shifted closer, and you knew what was coming next. You tried to pull back, but the grip on your chin tightened, so you spit out, “We can go back to the way things were.”

You saw the hurt flash across her features as her fingers fell from your face, hands moving to tuck her bangs behind her ears as her eyes cast down. When she looked back at you, her face was painfully neutral, and you couldn’t help but flash back to those weeks you spent in this bed. “Is that what you want?” She asked, not meeting your eyes.

You shook your head, sputtering on your words for a moment before managing to squeak out, “I told you I wasn’t going to force you.”

Cordelia was quiet for a moment, trying to piece together what you were saying, “You think you’re forcing me… to care about you? To want to be with you?”

You sighed, “I cornered you-”

Cordelia cut in, “The girls cornered both of us, you were just as clueless as I was.”

You shook your head, “That’s not what I’m saying…”

“Then what are you saying?” Cordelia asked, obviously searching for some kind of clarity, but to be honest you didn’t really understand it yourself, at least not well enough to put into a comprehendible context.

“You didn’t talk to me for a month, you didn’t even want to be in the same room as me.” You argued, “You made yourself pretty clear.”

“That was a mistake,” Cordelia sighed, rubbing at her temples and shaking her head as she sniffled back tears, “But I never stopped caring about you.”

“Caring about me and wanting to be with me are two completely different things.” You pointed out, Cordelia sighing as she stood.

“Stay here.” She ordered, shooting you a stern look before she walked out of the room, returning a few moments later with a binder and handing it over to you.

“What is this?” You asked, glancing up at her as you flipped through the pages, not understanding what the pages of text meant.

“The knife we pulled from you had an engraving in it, a crest.” Cordelia explained, “It traced back to a group of witch hunters that has been around since before my mother was supreme, a group we thought had been eliminated, Delphi Trust.”

“Your ex’s family?” You asked, Cordelia nodding.

“I called in a favor with the FBI, got some information…” Cordelia said, swallowing thickly, “It wasn’t random, they didn’t just find you. It was a targeted hit. They went after you because you were close to me. They had been following us for months, and I handed you right to them.”

“You didn’t know…” You began, but your girlfriend silenced you, pointing to the binder.

You scanned over the pages again, names and photos and addresses. You flipped through the pages, Cordelia speaking as you did, “I thought the protection spell would be enough to protect you, and it did, but it wasn’t enough.”

You stopped, looked up, “You put a protection spell on me?”

Cordelia waved you off, motioning for you to keep reading, flipping the pages to find pages upon pages of arrest warrants, “I didn’t want to tell you until it was all done. I didn’t want you to worry…”

You flipped and flipped and flipped, there had to be at least 200 of them. With the sheer amount, it should have taken months to compile this much research. You processed for a moment, trying to put together what all of this meant, “You got them all?”

Cordelia shook her head, “I still don’t know. From what we could figure out, all of the smaller groups that have popped up were started by them.” Another head shake, “We got as many as we could find, but not all the arrests have been made yet.”

“You did all this… in a month… for me?” You asked, Cordelia nodding hesitantly, “When did you sleep?”

“I wanted you to feel safe.” Cordelia said, beginning to rant as she dodged the question, “When they told me you left, I was so worried, I just stood by the door for days and…”

You vaulted off the bed then, darting across the room and crushing your lips to the supreme’s. She squealed in surprise, eyes going wide before fluttering shut, one hand snaking behind your back, the other tangling in your hair and tugging you closer. The kiss was delicate and soft and so, so different than the desperate one you had shared the night previous. When you parted, Cordelia rested her forehead against yours, but instead of tears, she was smiling and laughing lightly, her breath fanning out over your face.

“I love you…” She breathed, stroking your face and staring at you with adoring eyes, “So much.”

“I love you, too.” You said, beginning to chuckle, “But you’re an idiot.”

You squealed when Cordelia pinched at your ribs, jumping back, but she nodded regardless, “I guess I deserve that.”

“You guess?” You scoffed, Cordelia biting her lip, her gaze drifting to the floor as the guilt was plastered clear on her features. You sighed, heading back towards the bed and climbing under the covers, “Come here.”

She quirked a brow, “I thought you wanted to get up?”

“Yea,” You said sarcastically, “That was when I was trying to avoid talking about my feelings. Now I demand cuddles.”

Cordelia laughed but complied, crawling up the bed and into your arms. You sat there for a moment, trying to savor the feeling, before you felt a question crawling out of the back of your throat, “Last night, what did you do to me?”

Cordelia went still for a moment before flipping onto her stomach, gazing at you as she ran her fingers through your hair, “I needed to see everything. I didn’t want you to lie to me.”

“I wouldn’t have lied to you.” You stated, “I would have told you everything.”

Cordelia gave you a soft smile, a knowing look in her eyes, “You would have told me what you knew to be true.”

You stared back, obviously confused, “What does that mean?”

Cordelia arched a brow, obviously testing you, “Tell me about your nightmares.”

You shook your head, “I’m not having nightmares.” Cordelia stared back at you with a victorious smirk, like you somehow just answered your own question, “I’m not, seriously.”

“You haven’t been sleeping.” Cordelia sighed.

“I’ve been sleeping like a rock.” You shot back.

“No, you haven’t.” Cordelia said, “You just think you have.”

“What does that even mean?” You exclaimed, looking for Cordelia to finally give you some sort of explanation, “I was sleeping all the time. I spent days just sleeping.”

Now it was Cordelia’s turn to look back at you in disbelief, “You really don’t remember any of it?”

You threw up your hands, “Obviously not.”

Cordelia shook her head, finally pulling away from you and sitting up on the bed, “What do you remember?”

“From which point?” You asked.

Cordelia didn’t know, she didn’t know what you knew, “Start from the beginning. When do you remember waking up?”

You shook your head, “I asked you how long I was out for and you said four days.”

Cordelia’s eyes went wide in recognition, before narrowing again, “That’s the first thing you remember?” You nodded, forehead creasing as you waited for her to explain, “That makes sense.”

“How does that make sense?” You asked.

“I was confused when you asked me…” Cordelia began, stopping and shaking her head before explaining, “That wasn’t the first time you woke up.”

You tilted your head, “So when was it?”

“The day after.” Cordelia said, “You woke up screaming about… hands? Or someone holding you down?” Recognition must have flashed across your features, the supreme nodding her head before she continued, “I tried to calm you down, but you just kept fighting me. We had to give you a sedative because you ripped your stitches open.”

You could tell from the look on her face that it pained her, and you regretted ever asking her to elaborate, but she continued, “It didn’t work well. Even when you were awake, you weren’t really there, but you also wouldn’t sleep for more than an hour at a time. When you woke up, you would just scream, and nothing seemed to help.”

You watched a tear drip down her cheek, your thumb quickly raising to brush it away. “Delia…” You tried, “You don’t have to…”

Cordelia gave you a sad smile, shaking her head, “We switched to a different sedative after that, and I guess that’s when you actually woke up.”

You thought that was the end of it, nodding as you tried to pull her back to you, but she was stiff. “Delia,” You tried, “It’s fine. I haven’t had a nightmare since then, so the new medication must have worked.”

Cordelia eyed you, obviously thinking you were joking, but you remained serious. “You don’t remember any of it, do you?” She asked, her eyes full of concern once again.

“Remember what?” You asked, laughing under your breath, “There’s nothing to remember. Every time you gave me those meds, I was knocked out cold.”

The look on Cordelia’s face was enough to pull you into a seated position, eyes searching hers as she looked right through you. Your brows furrowed as you watched her fish through her mind and replay every memory, adding context she hadn’t even bothered to give you yet. “You don’t remember any of it.” She whispered, “Oh my god.”

“Care to clue me in?” You asked, trying to stave off the uneasy feeling that had begun swirling in your gut.

Cordelia met your eyes again, schooling her features as she cleared her throat, “You weren’t sleeping, at least not for more than a few hours. I was up with you all night.”

You shook your head, but Cordelia continued, “We figured out if I gave you the medication right before dinner, you would sleep until the sun was down, and you wouldn’t go back to sleep until sunrise.”

You stared at your girlfriend, perplexed, “Why don’t I remember that?”

“It must have been the medication.” Cordelia said, shaking her head, “Some sort of twilight phase or memory loss?”

You sniffled, trying to keep the tears at bay. It felt stupid to cry over something like this, something that really didn’t amount to anything, but you couldn’t help feeling like your own body had betrayed you. “You were there?” You asked, “All night?”

Cordelia nodded, hand reaching up to brush away the tears that had started to fall against your own will, “Of course I was.” Cordelia watched your face crumple, eyes tracking back and forth as she tried to think of why, her own face dropping at the realization.

When you were screaming about how she wasn’t there, she had assumed you meant the attack. It made the most logical sense. After all, she left you stranded on the other side of town, it was only natural that you would blame her. But if what you said was true, if you had no recollection after you were given the sedative, then it would seem that she wasn’t there at all.

“I’m so sorry.” Cordelia choked out, “I thought…”

You wiped at your eyes, clearing your throat as you attempted to school your features, “It’s not your fault.”

Cordelia shook her head, swiping at her own face, “Is that why you fought me?”

You nodded, feigning a chuckle, “I thought you were drugging me, so we didn’t have to talk.”

“No,” Cordelia said firmly, her voice cracking, “Oh god, no.”

“Then why didn’t you talk to me?” You cried, “It was weeks, Cordelia.”

The way Cordelia looked at you made you feel like you had truly lost your mind, like you were stuck in some delusion that she couldn’t figure out how to break. She reached for your hands, but you pulled them away, feeling a pressure build up inside your chest, but as quickly as it had come, it was gone. It was difficult to face the idea that everything that had happened in the past few weeks had been your minds own fabrication, it’s futile attempt to fill in the gaps, but it was true. She wasn’t looking at you like that to hurt you, the delusion wasn’t fabricated, it was real.

Cordelia’s mouth moved against empty words, trying but failing to offer you any sort of explanation, and you shook your head, “I need to see it.”

“What?” Cordelia asked.

“I need to see it.” You repeated, “I need to do whatever you did to me.”

“I don’t think…” Cordelia began, but you cut her off.

 “Obviously, there’s something I’m missing. Please.” You pleaded.

 “I’ll tell you anything you want to know.” Cordelia reassured, reaching for your hands, but you pulled away.

You shook your head, “I need to see it.”

You could see the hurt in her eyes, then the deliberation. As much as you tried to force the issue, truly she had all the power. You needed her for it to work, her mind, her abilities. She could easily tell you no, and it would be over, but you knew her too well. Telling you no had always been her weak spot; it was how you managed to worm your way into her heart in the first place. She always swore she would never develop feelings for one of her girls, had stuck to the rule hard and fast. When she realized she cared for you more than the others, she did her best to avoid any interaction, hoping the feeling would dissipate, but when she backed off you pushed forward, and eventually, she broke.

“I’ll have to make a spell.” Cordelia finally said, you nodding in return, “There’s no guarantee it will work, but I’ll try.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, feeling yourself physically deflate, “Thank you.”

You could see the hesitance still clear on her features, her unsure eyes and the way she was chewing on her bottom lip, but she pushed it aside and offered you a small smile, opening her arms, “Now, come here.”

You crawled across the bed, practically throwing yourself into her lap, drawing a giggle out of her as her arms enveloped you. You buried your head in her chest as she pressed kisses to your hairline, her arms tightening around you and squeezing as she rocked back and forth slightly, whispering, “My beautiful girl.”

You looked up at her, only to see her eyes glassy. “Hey,” You whispered, bringing your hand to her cheek, “I’m right here. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Cordelia said, shaking her head and pressing another kiss to yours, “I just… I thought I wasn’t going to get to do this again.”

“Me too.” You whispered, nuzzling into her neck, mostly to hide the fact that you also were on the verge of tears. You knew what she was referring to, the doubt and uncertainty that had plagued you for the past month, but not once did you stop to consider that she was feeling it as well, and while you still weren’t entirely sure what transpired in the past month, you did know your girlfriend.

As much as she tried to put on a brave face in front of the girls, you knew how sensitive she truly was, how she took every little hiccup to heart. You were the one who was there when that tough resolve crumbled, and every inadequacy she felt she had, came to the surface. She felt she was at fault if one of the girls so much as skinned their knee, so you could only imagine what was running through her mind when you came back with a knife wound.

“I thought you hated me.” She admitted, gripping you tighter when she felt you trying to pull away, but you were only doing that so you could look at her properly.

“I could never hate you.” You said, cupping her face with both hands, “Not in a million years. The only thing I could even think about was making it home to you.”

Cordelia pressed her eyes closed, her entire face tensing as she was desperately trying not to cry, but a few tears slipped down her cheeks regardless, and you were quick to kiss them away, pressing a final kiss on the tip of her nose, causing her eyes to flutter back open. “I love you.” She breathed, pressing her forehead to yours, “So damn much.”

“I love you, too.”

[ghost-proofbaby]

Hi Ghosty!

Can I please have a blueberry summers solstice with Robin where her and the reader go on vacation with Robins parents but Robin still isn’t out to them yet so she makes the reader pretend to just be her “good friend” (sort of like the movie happiest season, but in the summer)

Thank you ily ♥️

giaa!!! thank you so much for your request, love <3 happiest season absolutely wrecked me at times because i've definitely had to endure a situation where i was the "good friend". naturally, this ending is sickly sweet and possibly unrealistic idk but... it's the kind of ending robin deserves <3

happiest summer

warnings: hurt/comfort, fear of coming out, the vaguest of vague mentions of past homophobia, and plenty of passing references to smut (none actually detailed), fem!reader. not edited. minors dni.

wc: 5.3k+

come enjoy a sweet summer treat with me <3

Things could be worse. Things could be so, so much worse. 

It’s a mantra you have to repeat to yourself over and over the entire drive. A reassurance you try to express through squeezes of your girlfriend’s hand that cradles yours in the center console. A useless, pathetic reminder that can’t seem to really drill into your head as reality draws in closer.

Things could be worse, but that didn’t mean that this didn’t royally suck. 

When Robin first introduced the idea of going on vacation with her parents, you’d been overjoyed. Bursting at the seams with all your excitement and immediate visions of spending quality time with your girlfriend’s family. A chance to make a good impression, a step in the right path towards the future. You hadn’t understood her blanched face as you’d agreed and immediately began rambling about it all – you hadn’t let her finish the entire proposition. 

You were to go on vacation with Robin’s family, as her good friend. 

Not as her girlfriend of several years that she’d met freshman year of college in the library, not as the woman she literally lives in a shared apartment with. You were to be introduced as nothing more than a best friend. An entire departure and erasure of the last four years, all for a weekend of supposed bliss with a family that didn’t even know the true Robin. 

“You okay, babe?” Robin asks with a soft returning squeeze from her own hand, quickly bringing you back down to Earth. 

You don’t really know if you’re okay. You’d probably need a dictionary definition of what it meant to be okay laid out in front of you, then several drinks, and then several Advils to take the edge off of your current headache before you could even ponder the question properly. 

But you’re not about to burden the girl next to you with all your heavy feelings, choosing to lug them over your back as your own to carry before you smile sweetly just to lie right between your teeth, “Never been better.” 

You have been better. You’d been so much better just this morning, when you’d woken up with Robin’s head between your thighs and her saccharine smile looking up at you from beneath the sheets. Before the world and this entire trip had been barrelling at you in full force. 

But it’s fine. Things could be worse. 

“I’m so excited for you to meet my folks,” Robin gushes as she takes her exit, sparing a quick glance in your direction, “I just know they’re going to love you. My dad makes the best scotcheroo bars, and- oh! Oh my God, did I ever mention how my mom is obsessed with puzzles? She probably brought at least twenty with her. I know it’s not the most exciting thing but if we at least try to do one with her for one of the nights, I just know she’ll be so happy, but also I understand if that sounds super fucking borin-”

“Robs,” you interrupt, leaning forward to look at her properly just as the car rolls to a pause at a red light, “I would love to do a puzzle with your mom. And I can’t wait to try your dad’s scotcheroos,” you bring her hand clutched in yours to your lip, and you take the time to let your lips brush across her knuckles, trying to savor the gesture while you still can, “I don’t care what we do this weekend, I’m just happy to be here. With you.”

She looks pretty like this. Eyes focused on you as her lashes flutter, a blush spreading across her cheeks as her lips are agape, watching you press each little peck across her skin. Hair still a bit messy from earlier during the drive when the two of you had the windows down, screaming along to Abba as she blazed down Highway 37. 

Your lips twitch with a smile as you remember the way she didn’t even have her license when you met her, and you have to fully press your mouth to her hand to hide it.

“I’m happy to be here with you, too,” she whispers, voice edged with rasp as she refuses to take her eyes off of you. 

Whenever she looks at you this way, it’s hard to not feel invincible. All the choking anxiety of the last hour’s drive finally tampers down with a sea of blue gazing at you with enough love to drown anyone, and resolve takes its place.

You could handle this. It was just one weekend at a lake house with her parents, playing pretend until the hours finally trickled by and you could return back home, immediately dropping the mask to love on your girlfriend in all the ways she deserves. To drown in blue eyes and honey lips until you were nothing but decay. It could all be worth it, whatever may be awaiting you for the next thirty six hours, when you could come back home with her.

It’s fine. 

—

“Oh, aren’t you darling?”

“We’ve heard so much about you!”

“You’ve always been such a good friend to our Robin.”

Maybe, just maybe, you overestimated yourself.

The weekend was exactly what Robin had prepared you for. Her parents adored you, the family dog gave you sanctuary in any moments you’d felt the slightest bit awkward, and the view of the lake had been certainly to die for. You’ve had your fill of the best damn scotcheroos you’d ever tasted, you’d completed three puzzles with her mother, and you've seen more baby photos of Robin in the last two hours than you’ve seen of the woman herself as she helps her mom wash dishes in the kitchen. There’s a permanent musk of the lake lingering on your skin, covered with the chemicals of sunscreen reapplied religiously and sweetness of iced tea dripping down your chins after you made each other laugh too hard. 

It’s almost picture perfect. If you close your eyes, it’s almost exactly as you’d always dreamed it.

Except you haven’t held Robin’s hand in two days. You haven’t had her lips pressed to yours in forty-eight hours, sticky from all the fresh fruit her mother’s been keeping on the counter for everyone. You haven’t been able to count the freckles across her chest as she strides over to you in her bikini, smiling brighter than the sun as droplets of the lake water shimmers across her skin. 

It’s almost perfect, if perfect was a world in which you never knew the taste and touch of Robin Buckley. 

There’s a gaping wound, an empty space at every table for every dinner at dusk, that you can’t ignore. No amount of polite conversation can fill it, no amount of private smiles from Robin across the room can bandage it. It demands to be seen; it cries out at every opportunity. When your hand twitched as you sat next to Robin on the couch to enjoy a movie, you’d felt it. When you’d had to bite your lip until it bled to avoid kissing her as she’d broken the surface of the lake in front of you the second afternoon during a much needed swim to cool off, you’d felt it. 

Your bones and skin don’t just ache from the sun. Every atom in your body has been lit aflame, yearning for the girl who’s never felt further away. 

“My mom was talking about taking a nature walk today,” Robin says as she sits on the edge of her bed to lace up her shoes. The two of you don’t even share a bed. Each night is ended in separate twin beds, on opposite sides of the room. More than just an ocean between you, “But it’s gonna be a hike – please dress for a hike. Every year she tries to trick me and say it’s just going to just be some casual bird watching, but then we end up walking uphill for a mile straight, and it’s miserable. Did you pack those boots like I warned you to?” 

There’s a space there, too. An empty hole in the shape of the babe that would have slipped out so naturally if the two of you were back home. 

You swallow the lump in your throat, “You already know you’re the only bird I wanna watch, Robin.”  

You can’t even say the joke as loudly or proudly as you’d wanted to. It has to be nothing more than a whisper, words that get lost between the thin wooden planks making up the walls separating you and your friend from her parents. 

You want to scream. You want to throw a tantrum. You want to kiss your girlfriend. You want to soothe the ache. 

You’d highly, sorely overestimated yourself with this trip. 

She still throws her head back in a cackle, though, eyes squinted so cutely and soft pink lips wide open as it echoes around the room. Around the cavern in your chest, “Shut up. You should ask my mom about all my potential names, though. I think every single one was a bird and she’d probably point them out the entire hike if you asked her t-”

“I’m actually not feeling that good,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself. You swear that the room is spinning, and you tell yourself it’s just from the sweltering heat outside leaking in, “I… Maybe I shouldn’t go on the walk with you guys. Stay back, lay down for a while.” 

Robin deflates right before your eyes. You almost wish you could take the words back. 

“What?” 

The broken whisper widens the cavern inside, new prickles of hurt forming as you watch yourself disappoint the one person in the world you can’t imagine ever letting down. The person who always makes you want to strive to be better, the girl who’s always been your number one supporter. Your closest confidant, your shoulder to lean on when times got rough. The first person you’d greeted every morning of the last four years, and the last person you see before you’d close your eyes at night. 

Your mind had been flooded with the what-ifs since the night before. Robin had been indulging her parents in the story of how you two met, but the memory had been something shaved. Something blurry and foggy with the vaguest unfamiliarity. Details forgone, chunks bitten out to make it all easier to chew for them. 

You’d met in the library. She’d asked for help with a class neither of you can even remember now. She’d assumed you were the safest bet, the assigned textbook having been spread out on the table in front of you amongst pages of notes, but couldn’t have been more wrong. You were even more clueless than her on the subject.

And she tells the story as it was for that part. The beginning matches your memory perfectly. There’s extra bits missing, like the way you’d stuttered like a fool when she’d first approached you because you’d never seen someone make a button shirt look so damn good. Or how you’d nearly jumped out of your skin when she’d abruptly taken the seat next to you, nearly scorned by her knee bumping yours as your heart raced with the panic of oh, God, a cute girl is next to me. A cute girl is touching me. I’m going to do something stupid – this will never end well. But the Devil’s in the details, and you don’t mind those vacant bits. 

But then she continues on with more of your shared story. More of the novel of you two, the one you held so sacred, spine worn and pages crinkled from how many times your hands chose to flip through the pages with such tender touches. 

You’d asked for her number to arrange study dates, not because you’d fumbled over yourself as you’d tried to ask her to get coffee with you sometime the second week of knowing her. Intentions always clear once you’d found out she was like you – no room for friendly connotations when you’d just said it was a date. No studying involved when you’d spent the entire time sipping on lattes staring at her lips until she’d nervously asked if she could kiss you at the end. 

You’re roommates because both of you realized how terrible the dorm situations were – not because you’d both gotten scolded one too many times for spending the night at the other's place, sleeping far better when curled up together than you did alone. Roommates, not giddy lovers who had nearly broken their shared bed the first night in their not-yet-unpacked apartment by jumping on it before collapsing into one another. Childish laughter and kisses that involved more teeth than appropriate all because neither of you could stop giggling. 

You had watched in real time as Robin had written right over your history, dark blue pen inking over words written in the softest cursive, as if it had never even happened.

You knew she’d have to lie. You knew she couldn’t tell the truth. But it still hurt.

“I just think the heat’s getting to me,” you croak out, falling back onto your mattress, vision going blurry. It’s the heat – it has to be. It can’t possibly be tears, even if it all clears when you blink a few times. The burn in your throat and corneas alike were just from the layer of sweat on your skin, not from all the emotions clawing at you from the inside out, “I’ll be fine, I promise. I’ve got Buster to keep me company.”

The moment they left, you weren’t going to be bothering the family dog. 

You were going to cry, and scream, and clutch your chest as you clung to the reminder that it was all fake. 

Come Monday, you’d be back in your apartment with just Robin, and that dreadful blue ink marking the page would be erased. 

She wasn’t burning it all down on purpose. She wasn’t scarring you intentionally. She was simply just doing what she had to do – she was putting up whatever act to continue to involve you in her life as you’d both craved. It didn’t matter if you’d always wished for it to be entirely different from your current situation, where she proudly introduced you as her girlfriend and would spare you salty kisses on a lake’s dock without any fear. She was doing what she could. She was offering you the best she was capable of, and you couldn’t lose sight of that. 

“Do you think you have heat stroke?” her eyes go wide as she stands, already walking towards you. 

Half of you wants her to just hold you, the other half wants to keep her six feet away from you at the risk of being injured any further with reality. 

“Exhaustion, not stroke,” you weakly smile, taking the most subtle of shuffles back on the bed, making a compromise on whether you’d keep her close or far. The effort of distance, but not enough to stop her before she sits on the edge of your bed. The lonely sheets and family quilt that hadn’t been keeping you quite as warm at night as she did. “Seriously, Robs, it’s fine. Go with your parents, maybe see if your dad will take a bunch of photos of the birds with that fancy camera he’s got. I’m goo-”

“You’re not good,” she interrupts, a look in her eyes that pierces right through you. You’re a terrible actor, “You- What’s really wrong? Is everything okay?” 

No. It’s not okay. I miss you. You’re right in front of me, and I miss you so fucking badly, it hurts to breathe.

“I told you,” you try to laugh, “It’s just the hea-”

“Please stop lying to me.”

More gaps, more spaces. This is the part where she would have reached out already to hold you. This is the part where she takes your hand in hers and lets her thumb sweep over your knuckles in the smallest and most erratic of swipes, somehow still managing to be entirely soothing. 

She doesn’t. She can’t. The doors don’t have locks, and you won’t ask her to risk it. 

“I’m not lying-” you start, but Robin is getting up off the bed in an instant. Fast enough to scare you, and fast enough to make you reach out to grab onto her. 

She’s out of reach before your hand even makes a fist. Your first decisive move of this entire trip to try and touch her, try to hold her in your palm once more, and she’s nothing more than smoke and mirrors as she races out the door of the bedroom. 

It’s fitting. The air between the gaps in your fingers currently feel exactly as tangible as she’s felt this entire weekend. 

The tears can’t be stopped once you’re left alone. They don’t come about dramatically, they don’t slip out between gasping breaths and wretched sobs. Silent and salty, they slip down your cheeks effortlessly between small hiccups. Anyone on the other side of the door left open no more than an inch wouldn’t even hear you, notice you. 

You love her. You love her so loudly, it’s deafening. You love her the way they love in all the movies, when the cameras will pine to the hopeless fools who scream from rooftops about the one they cherish most. You love her the way they love in all the novels, endless words for endless oceans you’ll brave just for one glance from her. You love her the way they do in all the photographs, in all the stories passed down for generations, in all the songs wailing over the radio static. 

Four years. Four long and wonderful years that should have built the strongest of pillars to survive this one small bump in the road, but you’re crumbling at a faster rate than you’d ever thought possible. 

You can’t even blame her – you don’t even want to. 

When she finally comes back into the room, the storm has nearly passed. The clouds have rolled through, all the tears have fallen, and you try and see with some clarity between every single sniffle. 

“I told my parents to go ahead without us…” she says, the last word falling off into an inaudible whisper when she catches sight of you. 

Pink eyes, wet cheeks, broken heart. A heart not even broken at her hand, despite her having clear ownership of it. 

She takes one deep breath, sharp and sudden, and you think she’s about to bombard you with questions once more. But then the breath is held for a few seconds – one, two, three, you count them – before she blows it back out and drags her feet over to the other bed. Away from you. Separate from you entirely, so far out of reach that everything threatens to begin to burn again. 

She can’t love you the way she normally does. Not here, not behind curtains and restrictions. Not under the watchful gaze of oblivious parents. 

You won’t even argue that her parents have been so kind, that she should be able to come out to them. It’s a line you refuse to cross. You’ve both witnessed it throughout your individual lives; everyone can play nice so easily until they know the truth. 

You’d even shared your own handful of horror stories about your own family and friends with her. Probably scared her even worse when it came to the thought of finally coming out to her parents. Probably damned you to never be loved out loud as you were crying for, because now she knew of the risk that always existed, and it all felt a bit hopeless. 

Thanksgiving afternoons spent snacking on whatever sweet treat her father had made as you all watched the parade on the TV. Christmas mornings spent in your childhood home. Grocery shopping on a Sunday night with her hand in yours. 

They all felt intangible. She felt intangible. 

It’s not until you can hear the quiet thud of the front door of the house shutting that you’re reminded that she’s still there. You’ve curled up on the head of the bed, knees to your chin, trying to bury all your sniffling into the skin rather than risk anyone hearing. You didn’t want her parents to see you like this; you didn’t want to have to explain. You couldn’t explain. 

She’s perched on the other bed in a far less comfortable position. Her spine straight as a rod, almost appearing to be hovering over the carefully folded covers. Seconds pass in silence as you both hold your breaths, waiting on entirely different things. 

You’re waiting for the final fracture – a bereavement that if you couldn’t have handled all this, you never should have come.

And she’s waiting on something entirely different. 

Safety. 

Once it’s been long enough that her parents are safely out of reach, she’s barrelling straight for you. No hesitation, no hiding, no friendliness. 

One moment, you’re entirely alone, body growing cold on the bed. And the next, her arms are around you and her perfume is wrapping you up as your nose is buried in her neck. 

“I’m sorry,” she gushes out despite the two of you being entirely alone for the time being, “I’m so fucking sorry, baby. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

She’d known what was wrong the entire time. You didn’t need to say it.

The gaps begin to fill in slowly. The baby lands somewhere deep within your chest, the squeeze in which she holds you to her own body convincing you she might believe she could simply slip you between her ribs entirely. Every kiss you feel her feverishly pressing to your forehead and temple repetitively balms it all over – all the burning, all the yearning, all the hollow aches you’ve tried to ignore the entire vacation. 

She can’t love you as loud as you had cried for in front of her parents, but she can right now. 

She can feel all that humid air surrounding you two with murmurs of soft I love yous and more unnecessary apologies. She can hold you until the hurt subsides. She can run those damn vapid sweeps over your shoulder until you’re leaning entirely into her, leeching off of all the comfort you can selfishly. 

You don’t sob like you thought you might have if this happened. You just enjoy it. 

You let yourself relish the feeling of being in Robin Buckley’s arms, because you don’t blame her. You love her. Loud enough for both of you, whenever she’ll allow it. 

“Don’t be sorry,” you mumble, mouth muffled by the skin of her shoulder you’re still pressed tightly against, “God, Robs, it’s not your fault, I just-”

“It is my fault. I should have already told them by now. I shouldn’t be introducing you as my fucking friend, when you- You’re… you’re so much more than that,” she’s crying. You can hear it in her voice, and in an instant, the roles become reversed. You pull back just in time to get your own arms around her shoulder, her face hitting your chests hard enough you wince. Not because it hurt you, but out of fear it hurt her, “I can’t even tell you how much I hate it. I hate not getting to just grab your hand when we were out on the porch with them last night, and I hated not getting to cuddle during the movie, and I really hate not getting to sleep with you at night. Jesus, that part has fucking sucked. I don’t- I can’t-”

You cut off all her rambling as you smooth her hair down, pressing your nose into the crown of her head for just a second, a soft shush falling from your lips. 

“I need you to listen to me,” you hold a steady voice. The storm had already come and passed; a certain determination had already taken hold of you. “Very, very carefully.”

Slowly, the two of you unfurl from each other, looking one another in the eye. Her hand stays in yours though, thumb moving jaggedly until you finally rearrange the two appendages so that you can be the one doing the soothing. Strong, smooth sweeps. Steady and unfaltering. Determined. 

“You can’t love me loudly when they’re around,” you say very carefully, blinking when tears threaten to break free once more. It’s hard enough to look into her eyes and see all her own heartbreak existing – saying what you’re about to say might damn well destroy you both. “And that’s okay, alright? It sucks, and it’s terrible, but it just is. You don’t need to come out to them until you’re ready. I will never, ever put you on the spot like that, understood?” She nods, drinking in every word carefully, even as she squeezes your hand just a little tighter, “I just missed you. I missed kissing, and cuddling, and just… just being able to love you as loud as normal. That’s normal.”

You give pause, offering some space for her to respond, but the words that come out her mouth are the last thing you wanted to hear. 

“I thought you were going to break up with me.” 

Your heart drops, shatters on the wooden floor below, shards flying out to mingle with all the dust and dirt alike. 

“What?” you breathe out, nearly laughing. The thought that you could ever break up with the woman in front of you is almost comical, “Oh my God, baby. Darling. No, holy fuck. You think it’s that easy to get rid of me?” 

In all of it, all of your storms and all of your turmoil, the last thing you’d thought of was breaking up with Robin. If anything, you’d been more scared of her breaking up with you. 

She wetly laughs, and you can’t help your hand from coming up to cup her cheek, swiping away her tears faster than they could fall, “I don’t think I’d consider anything about this weekend easy.”

“It hasn’t been,” you immediately agree, “It really, really hasn’t been. Hardest weekend of my life, scout’s honor. But you know what it comes down to?” 

The softest of pauses, the largest of silences to fill with the love you have screaming inside you for her. The floorboards know, not so much as creaking. The trees know, carrying themselves with the breeze to tap on the window pane just for a glimpse. Even the cicadas know, falling eerily silent. 

She’s looking at you with ocean eyes, and you’re drowning in the best way. Finding home on her shores once more. 

“I would die for you in secret,” you say plainly, “And that means I can also love you in secret, if you need me to.”

You’d let the entire world smother you alive if it meant you still ended your days with Robin Buckley in your arms. 

A tough pill to swallow, but she’s worth it. For every midnight impromptu baking session that has occurred between you two, in which she’d end up with flour all over her face and eventually in her hair when your fingers tangled up in it as she finally kissed you. For every scrunch of her nose in the beginning of your relationship, when you were still learning how she took her coffee and she’d power through cups far too bitter for her just to spend the morning with you. For every night spent tangled up in the sheets, your name falling from her lips in a prayer as you’d drink in every aspect as you could, happy to die with her thighs framing your face as though you may belong in the Louvre. 

Robin is worth it. You can swallow your pride, you can handle the hurt. 

“I don’t want you to have to love me in secret,” she confesses, almost sheepish, beginning to play with your fingers in her lap, “I’m tired of being asked if I’ve found any boys that catch my eye on campus when I’m unlocking the front door of our apartment, our home. I don’t want them acting all shocked when I announce I’m bringing you on family vacations instead of a boyfriend. I just… I think I’m ready.” 

You can’t squeeze her hand tight enough, “You’re ready to tell them?” 

Just for confirmation. Just to not get ahead of yourself. 

“Yeah,” she nods, small smile, “Yeah, I think I a-”

She doesn’t finish the sentence before you’re pressing forward to kiss her. Hard, soft, short, long. It’s a myriad of kisses that you can’t distinguish the exact pattern of. You just want her lips on yours, her hands creeping up to tangle in your hair as you nearly rip her shirt, tugging her close as can be. Even when she can’t keep kissing you back, mouth breaking out into a broad smile, you want it all. 

And even when there’s a sudden clearing of a throat from the doorway, you still want it all. 

You jump apart, fear racing through your veins when you look up to see Robin’s mother standing there.

She saw the two of you. Kissing. Clinging to one another. She fucking saw you. 

It doesn’t matter if Robin had just claimed she was ready, she surely hadn’t meant it like this. Every terrible outcome had yet to be calculated. The two of you hadn’t had the discussions of what to do in worst case scenarios. Robin hadn’t mentally prepared for this – you hadn’t mentally prepared for this. 

“Mom!” Robin shouts, looking about ready to cry once more, absolutely petrified, “I- It’s not- I didn’t-” 

It’s not what it looks like. 

That’s what she was trying to say, and you were about to open your mouth to offer all the possible support you could, but Mrs. Buckley cuts you both off. 

“Your dad decided he wasn’t up for a hike today,” she says as though she hadn’t witnessed anything. Looking entirely unaffected, save for the slightest twitch of a smile, “We did find a cute squirrel that he took a photo of, if you girls want to see. Most darnedest thing – too adorable, honestly.”

Your brain genuinely short-circuits. You glance at Robin, and she’s just as stunned as you. 

“We were talking about putting on a movie, if you want to join us,” her words are becoming more careful, more calculated. Finally, as she turns to walk back out the door, one nicely manicured hand resting on the frame, she pauses to drop the other shoe, “We could always skip the movie, though, if you’re ready to finally tell us all about your lovely girlfriend, Robin. I’d love to hear all about what you’ve actually been up to at college, dear, and I’m sure your father would, too. Only if you’re ready, of course.”

The words aren’t rude, aren’t judgmental, aren’t harsh. Every worst case scenario flies out the window as Robin’s mother offers the sweetest smile you’ve seen from her yet. Like she knows she’s finally looking at her actual daughter. As if she’d just simply been waiting this whole time for this moment. 

Best case scenario. 

Only if you’re ready. 

You look at Robin, and she’s never looked more ready in her life, hand finding yours once more. 

“I- Okay,” she says with a slow-spreading smile, “Yeah, me and my girlfriend will be right out, mom.” 

Not a friend. Not a roommate. Finally, finally, you’re hers once more. Wholly and entirely, this time. 

“Perfect,” Mrs. Buckley claps her hands, seeming genuinely excited, “I’ll break out your dad’s leftover scotcheroos. See you girls in five.” 

A breath of fresh air leaves your lungs once you’re alone with Robin once more, and she’s already climbing out of the bed, hand holding yours in order to drag you to stand with her. 

“C’mon,” she laughs, and you can’t help but giggle as well, “Let’s go eat some scotcheroos with my parents, girlfriend.”

Screaming from the top of the rooftops. Pages turning, blue ink fading to black, pressed along with the same care as it always has been. Roaring, deafening, loud. 

All her love and pride is palpable as you say, “After you, babe.”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Sensei, you've got a real amazing taste in fashion. Have you ever considered making your own line? If you did, what do you think your fashion line would look like?

Fun fact about me, I saw Cruella (2021) before the original 101 Dalmatians. (I heard from a fried that Cruella is nowhere near as good as the OG or the 1996 live action adaptation 😅)

For this post, I pulled many fashion references from the costume designer of the 2021 film.

If he doesn’t scare you, no evil thing will.

“I’m flattered, pup.” Crewel adjusted his lapels, beaming proudly. Every pore on him oozed confidence. “My skills are nothing to scoff at—how keen of you to recognize them.

“Before teaching at Night Raven College, I worked as a designer at a high end fashion brand. I left the industry soon to could create my own full collection, but were I to be granted the opportunity to…”

Crewel shifted, producing a blank sheet and a fountain pen. The nib glided easily onto the paper, forming graceful outlines of bodies.

“Vintage roots,” he murmured, “with a dash of danger and rebellion. Something classic yet defiant, something that will challenge convention.”

With a red pen, he draped cloth over his imaginary models. You watched, fascinated, as a multitude of designs unfurled before your very eyes.

A brilliantly bloody ballgown, a leather jacket paired with sequined motocross trousers, a billowing skirt of patchwork, a vest with miniature carriages and horses affixed to the shoulder pads, a color-blocked double-breasted peacoat—one side dark, the other light with spots. Black and white, slashed with red as an accent. Each look true to Crewel’s spirit.

Pretty, powerful, and pointed, like a sharp weapon poised to strike.

“They’re beautiful,” you said faintly, feeling as though speaking any louder would send the papers scattering. “It’s a shame you didn’t have the chance to make these. These would sell so well.”

Crewel looked down at his work, considering them. “Hmm, perhaps I’ll assemble them if the mood strikes.“

“Will we get to see you modeling your own clothes?” you asked eagerly.

“That depends.” He tilted his head. “Would you care to try my pieces for yourself?”

“Me?!” you squeaked. “R-Really?!”

“You had expressed an interest in them,” he pointed out coolly. “Was I wrong to assume? If that is the case, then I’m certain Schoenheit would…”

“I-I’ll do i!! Please let me, sensei!!”

“Hah! That’s what I like to hear.” Crewel shuffled his papers, then used the sheaf to lightly tap on your cranium. “Then I’ll summon you when the garments are ready. I hope you’ll wear them well.”

“Y-Yessir! I won’t disappoint you!”

“Good.” His mouth lifted into a lopsided grin. “I have high hopes for you.”

[lotusbxtch]

and I lost you [TS drabble challenge]

Here's my entry into @beskarandblasters's Taylor Swift Drabble Challenge! I got Maroon and Joel. Get ready for Angst City®️! (Divider by @saradika-graphics)

Song: Maroon (Midnights) Pedro boy: Joel Miller

Pairing: Joel Miller x ex!f!Reader (written in Joel's POV) Word Count: 686 Warnings/tags: post-outbreak, Joel's POV, no use of y/n, unspecified age gap, alcohol consumption, infidelity, aaaaangst, heavy reference to Taylor Swift lyrics, not beta'd

Joel lay awake in his bed, shifting his position for the umpteenth time while his memories play over and over in his head. No matter how he wraps his flannel sheets around himself, the bed is never as warm as it is when you were in it with him. But that’s all gone to shit now that he’s lost you.

He knows he’s made a fool of himself. Knows that he’s failed you. You - beautiful, charming, the only one to slip past his defenses, the walls he put up around himself to keep out everything, even the good. He let you into his home and his heart, let you fill it with laughter. He remembers how you told him stories about your college days before the outbreak, about your vinyl shelf full of records, of nights where you woke up on the floor in the late morning after too much cheap rose wine. He told you stories about Sarah, whom he never talked about to anyone besides you and Tommy. Her prowess at soccer, how she would help out their elderly neighbors, the watch she got fixed for him for his birthday - the day before his world ended. He felt safe with you, and you with him. You chose him, and he chose you.

He doesn’t know when it started. But you’d been frustrated with Tommy’s reliance on Joel for border patrol; you felt that he was putting himself in unnecessary amounts of danger. Arguments started cropping up, and more than once you’d left the house to stay at Tommy and Maria’s after particularly bad fights. On more than one of those occasions, he’d trudged to the Tipsy Bison to drown his sorrows and avoid his feelings. And on one of those nights, he let temptation win out.

She was one of Maria’s friends, older than you were, closer to Joel’s age. She’d always blatantly flirted with him, despite him mentioning you and everyone knowing you and Joel were together. She was one of those women who liked challenges, who wanted to play games. She didn’t like that Joel resisted all of her advances, so she waited until he was at his weakest to pounce. Too many whiskeys in, Joel had let her drag him behind the bar. Had let her kiss him, his lips barely moving back against hers in response. She promised she could make him feel better than you did, that he didn’t need a girl like you, he needed a woman - despite you being more of a woman than she could even dream of. He didn’t stop her when she kissed down his neck, when she left marks along his collarbone - ones he knew you’d notice. He was just so mad at you for being right about the patrol shifts, but he felt guilty saying no to Tommy after all this time apart from him. His awful defense mechanisms figured that if you had left the house, it meant you didn’t want him or need him, and he wanted to forget.

But he was so wrong. When he stumbled back to the house, he didn’t expect you to be there. Didn’t think you’d be sipping red wine at the counter, waiting for him. So when he entered the living room, his button-up disheveled, the darkening hickey across his collarbone clear as day, you looked shell-shocked, then distraught, then more angry than you’d ever been before. You took the glass you’d been drinking out of and flung the contents at him, the burgundy splashing onto his t-shirt and face. You said nothing as you stormed out of the house, but right before you slammed the door, he heard the most heart-wrenching sob begin to wrack your chest as you held your head in your hands. 

He felt like his heart had been strangled, but he knew everything was his fault. He deserved the full weight of the hurt he made you endure. Laying awake with your memory over him, he realized what a real fucking legacy his betrayal was to leave to you, the one he chose, the one who had chosen him.

[cemeteryspider]

Obsessions

Short-Lived Queen Maeve x Homelander's Sibling! Reader

Warnings: Heavy Sibling x Sibling implications. HL is gross and has an odd obsession with himself which will be a part of the story a little bit going forward. There will be nothing explicit but for reference Reader-Insert is of age and I'm thinking mid-twenties and Homelander is a little bit older since I'm pretty sure his age is never stated in the show. If you are looking for a Homelander x Reader THIS IS NOT IT!!!

Summary: This was the day you decided that you were done being Homelander's pet, and wanted something more than the gilded cage he provided you. Based on the Marina and The Diamonds song Obsessions.

Trigger Warnings: Abuse, Violence, Sexual Content, Mental Health Issues, Controlling Relationships, Gross Sibling Relationship

Word Count: 1.9k

Sitting up in silk sheets, high up in Vought Tower looking out into the city somehow made you feel vulnerable. As if you couldn't fly or laser your way out of most situations that life threw at you. The rest could be solved with tight clothes and flashing your white teeth at the nearest camera or the person with the deepest pockets.

Still standing near the full glass window, you felt the cool glass pane under your fingertips, imagining the dizzying free-fall to the concrete below. Sometimes you fantasized about what hitting the ground would feel like, but mostly you stood far away from the window. Waiting for the day you weren’t scared to fall.

But like usual you walked into the bathroom and shoved your toothbrush around your mouth trying to get rid of the gross morning breath. This was the part of your life Vought and your brother tried so hard to scrub from the public's view. The part that made you feel human. Brushing the grossness from your mouth in the morning, picking at the skin around your fingernails, your bleeding and cracked lips from years of biting. All private, photoshopped, and covered in a thick layer of make-up.

When you inspected your face in the mirror you found tear tracks running down your face. Gently you wiped one with your finger and inspected it. Many things baffled you about being a superhero. Mostly it was the thought that you could give hope to so many people but you couldn't pull yourself out of your own despair. Still you rinse your mouth and splashed your face with freezing cold water, trying your hardest to clear your mind.

Then the door to your room clicked open as you stepped out of the bathroom. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, readying yourself for the day,”'Hey John, what are we doing today?"

You turned to see your older brother looking at you. He was already dressed in his suit. Some things never change after all, "Well a meeting with the rest of The Seven, training, a new movie we have to go over the details of and I don't know maybe we fly around and go get some dinner."

He always had your schedule memorized. You didn't even need to think about talking to Ashley because he was wholly concerned with where you were at all times. You used to be the same way. After all, the lab was so structured when you and he were there, and you were never far apart whether it be rooms separated only by a wall, which never did anything with the two of you having super hearing, or being burned alive together and watching the other regenerate one painful skin cell at a time.

Always together. Halves of the same coin. That's what they always told you and now what he tells you every chance he gets. Roughly, he grabs your arm and pulls you close, his breath hot against your face. This was his way of showing his power over you, and you didn’t show fear. You simply stared him down.

"I've gotta get dressed, John," You tried not to fight him. It always ended up worse when you tried to fight him.

He let you go and your feet hit the ground with a rough thump. You hadn't even noticed they weren't on the ground.

You changed into your suit, nearly identical to Homelander's in every way shape and form. Except you refused to have a cape on your suit. You didn't want to be like him in any way now but this was the only modification you were allowed to make without serious repercussions from your brother.

He was facing away from you but the fact he could turn, and that you could do nothing about it gave him power.

"Come on, sweetheart," He held his hand out for you to take and you did with an almost imperceptible sneer. He pulled you into a tight hug. You could hear him sniffing your hair while his hands found your waist.

You could feel tears welling in your eyes but you quickly blinked them away with one lingering thought. What a creep.

~~~

The conference room was not nearly any better than your room, that was except Maeve was on the other side of Homelander quietly looking over at you. Making eye contact was difficult with her because when you did, you were sure she was looking directly into your soul.

It wasn't that she knew what you were going through but that she could empathize with you. She was Homelander's girlfriend to the public after all. She was no stranger to the gross comments or too tight grips when you get close to saying something wrong or too personal.

You zoned out of the meeting. It was always the same thing with this group of complete idiots. You could feel The Deep's eyes on you, Noir was doing, well whatever he was doing, A-Train grew impatient next to you, Maeve tried to speak her opinion, while Homelander took over the conversation, and you sat there. Thinking.

Who would join you if you started fighting Homelander right now? Maeve, definitely. The Deep, would probably be too shocked to do anything. A-Train would probably be in that boat too, but may eventually step in to your aid. Noir might knock you out after one hit on him.

Another thought... Where would you go if you left? California, maybe, you always wanted to learn how to surf. Ireland, the rain might suit you well. Antarctica would be ideal. You doubt he would look for you there. A small smile crossed your lips and you thought about living in a romanticized version of Antarctica. An igloo perhaps. You would befriend penguins and do absolutely nothing. See no one, no cameras, no fake saves, just you and the endless snow, white in all directions like a visual static.

"...What do you think about that, Y/n?" The Homelander looked at you expectantly. You had no clue what any of this was pertaining to, just that Maeve was smiling and nodding her head.

"Absolutely, I agree and I can't wait." You gave the most generic answer you could muster along with a fake smile.

He smiled back, seemingly satisfied with the response you gave, "Starlight is going to be here tomorrow and you all will be on your best behavior. Make her feel welcome if you see her, we will have another meeting the day after tomorrow to introduce her to the team."

He stood up and clapped his hands, "Alright let's go, save the world people."

You got up trying your best to get out before, "Y/n... a minute please," his smile was that of a predator waiting for its prey to stop and smell the flowers.

"I'll catch up Maeve," She shot you a worried look but you waved her off, you would find her soon enough.

Once the room was vacated his smile snapped off his face, and he quickly stalked his way over to you, "Are you trying to embarass me in front of the team."

His hand found its way around your throat and squeezed, "I mean you're off in your own little dream world. Doing what exactly, you have everything. Adoring fans, a stylist at your beck and call, anyone you want at your fingertips, and most of all you have me."

Then his grip loosened and he looked sad. A wolf in sheep's clothing you had to say, "Is this not enough for you. Am I..."

You kicked him hard and he stumbled back as he landed on the ground, "Get off of me, John. Get a grip."

You nearly ran out of the room when Ashley opened it, clearly not aware of the unscheduled sibling meeting going on in the room.

~~~

"I think this should be a story about love persevering," John said extravagantly talking to the writers after taking his time to cool down, "Maybe a fight against an evil set of twins trying to I don't know this seems like a job for the two of you."

He gestured to the writers and they started jotting down ideas on their notepads, sometimes exchanging ideas with each other and writing some more. You were just staring at the wall across from you thinking about how easy it would be to laser a hole in it.

"I was also thinking," He drew the attention back to him, "Maybe I could save, Y/n, you know carry them off into the sunset."

Your eye twitched and you saw the writers glancing nervously at each other out of the corner of your eye.

"Well, sir, that's a bit..."

"Well you know..."

"What? Kind of what?" John asked and you could almost feel the heat rolling off of him.

"Creepy, John. It's creepy." You said glaring up at him from your seat on Ashley's leather couch.

He scoffed a little, "Well that's not the way I meant it."

"No John, all you ever think about is sick ideas involving me and you, and I'm sick of this!" You gestured around the room as the writers were sneaking out of the room. Ashley came between the two of you.

"Okay, I'm sure he did not mean it in that way. Why don't we cool down and come back to this script later, okay?" She was stepping on eggshells, and you knew you couldn't get her involved in this.

You may not like each other, but there was a tentative sort of mutual respect between the two of you. So you left. The two of you were making her nervous and you couldn't let her get hurt in whatever storm was brewing between you and your brother.

~~~

You didn't feel like doing anything for the rest of the day so you just went back up to your bedroom and laid on the bed staring at the ceiling. You played your favorite game, pretending that you didn't exist and you were just a particle floating in your room. Observing the world impartially and without any thought in particular.

That was until Maeve found you, unmoving. Just staring a hole into your ceiling. So she sat you up and shoved a water bottle to your lips and told you to drink. It was filled with Vodka, which you happily accepted. By no means were the two of you drunk, but it may have played a part in the following actions.

One minute you were talking about how stupid The Deep's facial hair was, the next her lips were on yours, and then you didn't have clothes on. It was a fast progression but not an unenjoyable one. You couldn't remember the last time you had felt so comfortable with a person, but then you realized it was never. You were a science experiment. Tested on with no remorse and shoved into playing the part of the hero.

So you savored each moment her lips were on you. Every time her tongue entered your mouth. Every touch she gave you. Every hair pull and every ounce of pleasure you tried to engrain in your memory.

The next morning when you slid yourself out of Maeve's arms and towards the window you didn't think of falling, but instead you thought of flying far far away from here. Even better taking down Homelander and spitting in his eye.

This was your second wind or maybe it was your third wind by now but that didn't matter. You had a purpose, and you had every intention of living up to it.

[quinloki]

Impromptu One-Shot go go

Thank @thus-spoke-lo and the go ahead I got from this ask

also, idk how to let them know, but shout out to Lo's anon who kicked this whole sweet series of thoughts off.

Trafalgar Law x afab!Reader - no pronouns used for reader

Summary: Your captain has a secret love of shibari and you discover this while tidying his room. He also seems to have a secret love of you, too.

CW: Fantasizing about being tied up and teased, offers being made, references of afab genitalia. 18+, I didn't edit this, good luck to all of us.

1,323 words

You loved your captain, much as the rest of the crew did, but at some point you realized your specific feelings toward him weren’t the same as the others. There was devotion there, sure. Loyalty in excess. You trusted him to make the best choices he could, and lead you and the others on a successful campaign.

To you, it didn’t even matter what that end goal was. You knew he’d get you all there.

But your devotion was romantic, your feelings passionate, your heart was full of desires that had nothing to do with him being your captain. You wanted to tell him, but you felt so far beneath him you weren’t even sure if you should.

Perhaps you should leave. Put in a resignation of sorts and stay at the next island, where ever it was.

Trying to shake the morose thoughts you entered into the Captain’s Quarters. He was out – gone on errands and you wanted to make use of the time to clean and tidy his room for him. He didn’t forbid anyone from doing so, but he never let anyone do it while he was in the room, so now was your only chance to do him this small favor.

You put maps and charts back where they belonged, tucked books away, organized notes, dusted and got some good deep cleaning in. It was productive, and you were happy with the end result. Once you were done you decided to strip the bedding and get it switched out. You don’t know the last time he did it himself, but regardless, now he wouldn’t have to worry about it for a while.

Pulling the fitted sheet up lifted the mattress enough to expose some books tucked away underneath. You paused, knowing full well what most of the boys tucked away under their mattresses. These didn’t look to be rags or trashy magazines though, they were full on books. Smiling, because it was so like your captain to get caught up in reading that he’d just tuck the book under the mattress, you lift it up enough to find a few books laid out neatly.

It was nearly a whole other bookshelf.

 Picking up the nearest one you turned to the spine to read the title. Advanced Shibari: What Knot To Do.

You could feel the blood rushing into your face, and the moment of embarrassment that you had stumbled upon something so personal. Curiosity compelled you forward, a tightness in your chest, caught between wanting to know more about the captain, and wondering if he had anyone in mind for his fantasies already.

The diagrams and illustrations were certainly more functional than recreational. The book covered safety again and again, and went over how to make certain knots from different angles. As functional as the images and words were, you couldn’t help the heat that was building up inside you.

How would that rope feel against your skin? Do the knots shift and press against the tender part of your body as effectively as the books says? You could imagine it so clearly; ropes and skin wet with steam and sweat, hair matted against your body, struggling beneath your captain’s gaze. Trying uselessly to maintain some sort of composure while his rope work causes you to come undone.

Needy and greedy, begging and whimpering and wanting nothing more than for him to rail you into oblivion. No worries about your position, or his, or anything else.

Turning another page the one beyond it pops up more than you expected, so you turn to it. Placed between the pages is a picture of you. All other details of the image are cut away, it’s just you with a smile on your face. You’re not wearing the boiler uniform, you’re in beachwear. It must’ve been taken on a summer island while the crew was relaxing.

The image itself doesn’t impact you as much as the additional lines drawn on it. A rope pattern is drawn over your figure, not too dissimilar from some of the patterns found in the book. Your earlier imaginings about how the rope would feel against your skin wash over you a second time. The sensation is stronger this time, and your hand wanders over your own body for a moment, as you begin to really feel the rough rope and knots against your skin.

Your thighs shift, rubbing against the parts of you that want more than rope to touch them. You bend a little, trying not to just undo your uniform and masturbate right there in the middle of someone else’s room. You can feel your pussy throb, and the idea of his fingers slipping into your wet, hot, trembling cunt, forcing orgasm after orgasm out of you while you writhe uselessly against the ropes and knots-.

A frustrated, and horny, moan escapes you and you stamp your foot in frustration before flipping through the book more. You should just tuck it away. You’re already a hot mess, and you need to get the bedding to the laundry room before heading to your own to take care of your frustrations.

There’s not just one picture of you, there are several. All with different rope patterns drawn on, some with notations and concerns. There was no denying that the captain fantasized about tying you up. No one else’s picture was in the first book, or the second one you picked up and flipped through.

When you flipped to the end of the third book you paused. You could feel someone right next to you. You hadn’t heard or noticed anyone, but now he was right there. You didn’t have to look, you knew it was your captain. No one else on the crew could sneak up on you so completely.

“… Sorry.” You say it very quietly, putting the book back under the mattress. You try to turn toward him, but you can’t bring yourself to face him. You don’t want to see disappointment on his face, and you don’t want him to see the shameful need on yours.

You should be angry, you think, for the pictures and what he did, but they’d been tucked away. Private. Personal. Not for you or anyone else. Tidying wasn’t an excuse for your actions.

“Sorry for snooping,” he begins, and you flinch at the implication. “Or are you apologizing for getting turned on?”

“Huh-I – I’m not…” You try to deny it, but the knowing look on his face is enough to stop your protests. “I-I’ll leave.” You stammer, looking away, wanting to be anywhere but where you are – caught between wanting him, and being deeply embarrassed. Not just about snooping, but about the realization that at the minimum, your captain found you as attractive as you did him.

He puts his arm out to stop you. It’s not the action that stops you, it’s the coil of rope in his hand. You let out an involuntary gasp, covering your mouth and taking a step back. You’re effectively trapped with a bookcase behind you and the bed beside you, Law in front of you.

“You were certainly into that book before you found the pictures.” He says in a voice that’s low and dangerous. It sends a shiver down your back that isn’t unpleasant, but you don’t know what to do with it. “The way you moved and moaned when you saw the pictures though, you really wanted to see them become reality, didn’t you?”

He leans down to speak softly into your ear, and you can see the door to his room closing at the same time. “Will you beg me to touch you, the way you were touching yourself earlier, if I tie you up properly, I wonder?”

His breath rolls over your neck, and you can feel the rope groan as his grip on it tightens. “Or will you beg me to touch you even better?”