#embarrassing moment ensues

[lunar-eclipse-cos]

The mental unwellness continues. Have another sketch.

They were playing twister. Verity fell.

They're silly.

They're so silly

I love them

[vaguely-concerned]

I've been picking mostly only the essential flirt options with lucanis in the romance so far (I've personally found the dynamic much more natural and mutual when you do that, more like forming a solid friendship slowly and inevitably becoming something else and less like you keep pushing on him and getting little back b/c he seemingly just gets overwhelmed and goes into freeze instead), and I think rye is a pretty hard person to read at the best of times even though he's been Down Real Bad from pretty early on and their chemistry as people is naturally really good. so the way the almost-kiss plays out in this playthrough feels a lot like it has the added layer of lucanis realizing that no but for sure rook is flirting and not just being kind or a good friend* it IS actually happening it's not just wishful/fearful thinking!!! and then uh. maybe going a bit too hard a bit too fast in all the excitement at that revelation haha

*in lucanis' defense he has seemingly literally never had a friend who wasn't his cousin-brother before, under those circumstances I suppose some confusion is extremely natural if not outright expected lmao

[foxy-eva]

Send Nudes

Summary: Chaos ensues after you accidentally send Spencer a nude pic

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader 

Category: Smut

Content Warnings: (18+, minors DNI) dub-con (Spencer receives an unsolicited nude pic), embarrassment, awkwardness, tension, heavy kissing, male masturbation, oral (fem receiving), handjob, protected penetrative sex

Author's Note: I wrote this for @imagining-in-the-margins Wrong Recipient Challenge!

Word count: 3.2k

Masterlist

Panic. Embarrassment. Shame. 

It was hard to describe what you felt when you stared at your phone, realizing that you had just sent Spencer Reid a nude picture of yourself. 

It was a mistake, of course – right when you wanted to send him a screenshot of an article, you stumbled over the mess in your apartment and selected the wrong picture. Frozen in place, you watched in horror as the read receipt showed up instantly. 

Spencer had just seen your naked body light up on the screen of his phone. 

A picture he never asked for and probably didn't want to see. It wasn’t a bad photo, some might even call it aesthetically pleasing. But you had never intended for anyone else to see it. It was just a way for you to make yourself feel good about your body. 

You contemplated your options. Burning your phone, moving across the country and changing your identity sounded intriguing but difficult to arrange. Instead you decided to text Spencer, hoping that soon you’d both be able to laugh about the embarrassing thing you just did. 

“I am so sorry about that. I really didn't mean to send that! Can you please delete the pic and forget about it?” 

You didn't get a response. Spencer was never great at texting but you had really hoped to hear back from him. It was hard to tell if he felt just as embarrassed or maybe even offended – you certainly wouldn't want to receive unsolicited nude pics either. 

You had barely gotten any sleep when you walked into work the next morning. Worst case scenarios had plagued your mind all night – from another painful workplace sexual harassment seminar to maybe even losing your job over your mishap – you had no idea what would expect you today. 

Everything seemed normal when you got to your desk, except for the fact that your favorite coworker didn't even look at you when you walked by him. Spencer usually liked sitting beside you in the conference room and also on the jet, but he did neither of those things that day. 

“Wow you really must have pissed Reid off, huh?” Luke whispered when he sat down beside you on the plane. 

“Did he say anything to you?” you wanted to know. 

“No, he didn't. What did you do? Spill coffee over his favorite chess board?” he teased. 

“Oh it’s so much worse than that,” you whined while heat rushed to your face. 

Emily decided to discuss the case before Luke could ask more questions. Spencer avoided you for the next couple of hours until you decided you both had suffered enough. 

A quiet moment in the coffee kitchen of the police precinct seemed good enough to approach him.

“Hey Spencer,” you said and noticed how he almost jumped at the sound of your voice. 

“H…hi,” he mumbled, his eyes fixated on the floor.

Stepping closer, he finally looked at you for the first time that day. The rosy shade spreading over his cheeks was impossible to ignore. 

“I’m very sorry about the… you know. I didn't mean to send it but I understand if you feel offended by it,” you sincerely told him. 

“I’m not… offended.”

You took a deep breath before you continued talking, “All I want to say is… if you want to discuss this incident with Emily or even HR, I would understand. I never wanted to make you uncomfortable in any way.” 

“No, it’s okay, really,” he lied. “We can just forget about it.” 

Spencer Reid was good at many things. Lying, however, definitely wasn’t his strong suit. You decided to drop the subject for now, aware that talking more about it would probably not make him less uncomfortable. 

The tension between you two was palpable for the rest of the workday. When you stepped into your hotel room that night, you were relieved to finally have a couple of walls between the two of you. 

If this thing didn't resolve soon, you’d have to talk to Emily about it eventually. But there was still hope that it wouldn't come to that. The embarrassment about your mishap was already bad enough as is.

The three knocks on your hotel door startled you. With your heart beating uncomfortably fast, you walked over to the door to find Spencer on the other side. 

He walked into your room without saying a word. Then he began slowly pacing up and down your room, still silent. He looked at you for a second but his sight fell to the floor immediately after that. 

“I uh…” he began before taking a deep breath. “I lied to you earlier.”

“About what?” you wanted to clarify. “Wanting to go to HR?” 

He shook his head. “I said that we can just forget about it but I don’t think I can do that.” 

Your heart felt heavy at his words. His discomfort pained you and you wished nothing more than to be able to take it back. “I’m so sorry Spencer.”

“I deleted the image off my phone but…” he paused to finally look at you. The expression written over his face was hard to read. What you didn't find was the discomfort you expected. Instead he looked… cocky?

He continued, “...it seems like it’s burned into my brain. And I can’t help but wonder, was it really an accident?”

“What?! Of course!” you squeaked. “Believe me, I would never want to send you a picture like that unprompted.”

That was when you saw a subtle smirk on his face. “Interesting choice of words.” 

You thought about it for a moment. Had you really just implied that you would want to send him nudes if he’d ask you to? 

“That's not what I meant,” you tried to brush it off. “And please don’t give me a lecture about Freudian slips.”

His presence filled the room and you felt like you couldn't take deep enough breaths to satiate your need for oxygen. His demeanor was so different from what you were used to and you had trouble wrapping your head around it.

His next question was even more surprising. “Who did you take this picture for?” 

The undertone in his voice was unsettling and you started feeling defensive. “I don’t see how that's any of your business but just for the record, I took it for myself. I do that occasionally to make myself feel good about my body.” 

It seemed as if he was content, almost relieved with your answer. You scanned his body language again and replayed his words in your head. Then it hit you all at once. Spencer was not here to scold you for what you did. 

He was jealous. And he wanted to make sure no one else got to see your picture. 

A grin formed on your face as you realized that you could play this game too.

Your tone was laced with a certain playfulness when you asked, “What did you do after you saw the picture?”

The change of your demeanor seemed to take Spencer by surprise. “I just told you, I deleted it.” 

“I don't think that's all you did.” He audibly gulped and you noticed his cheeks taking on a reddish color. Stepping closer to him, you whispered, “Did you touch yourself, Spencer?”

A shaky breath left his mouth before he confessed, “Yes.”

“Naughty boy,” You teased him. “You really liked that image, hm?” 

Nodding, he took a step forward until there was barely any space between the two of you. “I can't stop thinking about you.”

His words boosted your confidence. “I know I look great in that pic. But I think I would look even better in this lighting right here, don’t you think?” 

Before you could bring to action what you had insinuated, you felt Spencer's hands cupping your face to pull you into a kiss. The surprised gasp escaping your throat was muffled by his lips against yours. 

He kissed you with a fervor that knocked the air out of your lungs. Weakness rushed to your knees and you had to hold onto him to not tumble back. One hand pawed at his shirt while the other one held onto his shoulder. His lips felt soft yet firm against yours. 

When his tongue begged for entrance, you let it. As he deepened the kiss, you could feel heat rushing through body. A few moments ago you really thought you’d have the upper hand in this game you were playing but now realized you were just as pathetic as he was. 

Maybe sending him that image was a Freudian slip of some kind. Or maybe it was just some odd plan the universe had to bring you together. Either way, you were grateful for how things turned out. 

Your hands became curious as they wandered over Spencer’s body. The tingling in your fingertips could only be soothed by feeling his skin underneath them, so they quickly began unbuttoning his shirt. Spencer showed a similar interest in feeling more of you by the way his fingers dropped down to the hem of your shirt. 

Piece after piece both of your clothes fell to the floor, only ever breaking the kiss for as long as necessary. When you stood completely bare in front of one another, you dared to press your body against his to feel him. 

It was impossible to tell who moaned first when his length pressed against your stomach. With a firm grip on his shoulders, you moved him back until his legs made contact with the edge of the bed. You pushed down until he sat on the mattress, staring up at you with a curiosity in his eyes that made your heart jump. 

As you stepped back, his tongue darted out of his mouth to lick over his lips and you wondered if he thought about tasting you. To your surprise, he managed to not break eye contact until you challenged him, “Go on, take a look.”

His sight scanned your body, lingering on your breasts for a second before moving further down, taking everything in. You couldn’t hold back from looking at him, too. A rosy color had spread all over his cheeks and chest and when you dared to drop your eyes to his cock, you noticed how it twitched slightly against his thigh. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he cooed when your eyes met again. 

“Better than the image?” you teased, smirking at him. 

He only nodded before looking at your body again. It was like he was mesmerized, as if a miracle had just unfolded right before him. It became obvious that he was ready to worship you if you’d let him. But first, you had something else in your mind. 

“Show me exactly what you did when you saw my picture,” you told him. 

He raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “Wh… what?” 

“Don’t be shy now,” you snickered. “Come on, I wanna see how pretty you think I am.” 

The sweet smile on your face seemed to encourage him enough to let his right hand move towards his hardness. It was as if he needed reassurance when he found your eyes and you nodded.

He wrapped his fingers around his cock, giving himself a squeeze and you watched as precum spilled over the tip. Slowly, he began moving his fist up and down his length, swiping his thumb over the head each time he got to the top. The groan that slipped from his lips could only be described as absolutely sinful. 

You couldn’t deny how much the sight in front of you turned you on. Spencer was so incredibly beautiful and the thought that your body had the ability to make him feral like that drove you insane. 

Arousal gathered at your entrance the longer you watched him. This show was no longer enough for you, you needed more. Your hands found the curve of your chest, gently kneading them before your fingers began toying with your hardened peaks. Spencer’s eyes were fixated on your hands, his mouth hanging wide open and unabashedly moaning at the sight while accelerating the pace of his hand. 

Then suddenly, he stopped and got up from bed. Desperation was written all over his face when he looked at you. 

“Please,” he begged as he stepped closer. “I need to touch you.” 

It was everything you wanted right then, too. 

“I’m all yours, Spencer.” 

His mouth was on yours in an instant and he didn’t waste any time to move you over to the bed to push you onto the mattress. He followed quickly, towering over you as he kissed down your neck, making you moan in anticipation of what would follow. 

He moved further down your body, kissing and nipping on the tender flesh of your breasts before focusing his attention on your nipples. The sensation was almost unbearable and you could feel how your arousal began coating the insides of your thighs. 

Spencer smiled against your skin when he noticed you rocking your hips against his leg every so slightly. His confidence grew as he realized that you wanted him just as much as he wanted you. 

“Needy,” he chuckled as he kissed down your stomach. “That’s cute.” 

Right then you couldn’t care less about being in charge, you just wanted to be taken care of. When his lips brushed over your inner thigh, you opened your legs further to give him better access. He lay down between your legs and didn’t waste any time before he began leaving feather light kisses against your folds. 

You watched as he licked his own lips, tasting your essence on them before he found your eyes. 

“You’re so wet,” he teased and let a finger move along your slit. “Is that all for me?” 

He expected a witty response, like you telling him to bring his mouth to good use for once. So it took him by surprise when you simply sighed, “Yes.” 

There was no more game to play. No more back and forth of who was in charge. It was just the two of you, equally as desperate to finally do what you both had been dreaming of for weeks.

“Good,” Spencer whispered, his hot breath tickling your core, before he finally granted you some relief. 

His tongue moved through your folds, collecting your taste before he focussed on your most sensitive spot. He experimented with different motions for a few moments, paying attention to your reactions until he found what you enjoyed the most. Your hand flew to his hair, your fingers intertwining with his curls to hinder him from moving away – even though he had no intention to do so, anyway. 

With one arm wrapped around your thigh he hindered you from bucking uncontrollably against his face while his other hand found your entrance, letting two fingers slip into you with ease. He moved with great precision, adjusting the angle and the pace according to your reactions, bringing you closer to your breaking point with every second passing. 

The sounds of your pleasure filled the room as you began dancing along the brink of euphoria. With just a few more skillful motions, he pushed you over it. Your walls pulsed around his fingers while your entire body shook. He worked you through your orgasm before he lay back down beside you, placing a gentle kiss against your lips. 

You were still panting when you found his eyes. The warm amber of his irises was almost completely swallowed by his pupils, the lust visible in his eyes contradicting the saccharine smile he showed you. 

“You okay?” he breathed as he wrapped one arm around your waist. 

“Yeah,” you confirmed while one of your hands moved down his body. 

Tentatively, you let your fingertips brush along his length, feeling his velvety skin under your touch. “Now what are we gonna do with you?” you purred as you wrapped your fingers tightly around him, making him gasp. 

With a torturously slow pace, you moved along his cock. “Tell me, Spencer. What do you want?” 

“I uhm…,” he audibly swallowed. “I have a condom in my pocket.” 

The fact that he brought a condom to your hotel room when he came over early amused you. He never had any intention of just talking to you. 

“So, you want to fuck me?” 

“Yes,” he admitted unabashedly. “If you want that, too, of course.”

With a nod you confirmed that that was exactly what you wanted as well. Right after you let go of him, he grabbed his pants from the floor to take out the foil wrapper. You watched as he ripped it open and carefully rolled down the condom. 

Then, he kneeled down between your legs, taking a moment to admire the beauty of the woman in front of him. 

“Come here,” you cooed and he leaned over you without hesitation. 

Reaching between your bodies, you guided him to your entrance. He closed his eyes when he slowly entered you, relishing the sensation of stretching you open inch by inch. When he was fully inside you, he kissed you before he began moving with slow thrusts.

Wrapping your legs around his hips, you brought him even closer. When he was sure that you could take it, he accelerated his pace, fucking you against the mattress until you were sure you would lose your mind. 

Spencer’s body began trembling and he suddenly stopped moving. 

“Sorry, I’m really close,” he whined and tried to pull out slightly. 

“Don’t stop,” you pleaded as you kept him in place with your legs around him. “Please, I need it.”

One of your hands moved down to where your bodies were joined to desperately draw circles around your little nub, making you clench hard around his hardness. 

“Fuck,” he whimpered as he began moving again. “I can’t, ah–” 

With just a few more deep thrusts Spencer came, his cock twitching inside you as his whole body shook. It was enough to throw you over edge too, entering a state of pure bliss together with him. After you had both come down from your high, you welcomed him inside your embrace, your fingertips gently dancing over his back as he caught his breath. 

For the sake of getting cleaned up you separated for a few moments, only to lay back down together soon after. A shaky breath fell from Spencer’s lips and caught your attention. 

“So…,” he began talking but didn’t continue. 

You propped yourself up on one elbow to find his eyes. “Yeah?”

“I wanted to ask if maybe–” 

“You want me to send you that pic again?” you interrupted him with a grin on your face. 

“No,” he laughed. “I mean… that’s not what I wanted to say.”

Still in a teasing mood, you snickered, “But you would like to see that pic again?”

“You know what,” he chuckled as he lifted the blanket to get a peek at your naked body. “I think I actually prefer this.”

“Good,” you chirped. “If you want to see more of me you’ll have to take me on a date though.”

Placing a soft kiss on your lips, he whispered, “Deal.”

Thank you for reading! Please like, reblog and leave a comment to show your support and help me stay motivated to write more stories!

Taglist: @adoredfromafar @grumpyy-bearr @frickin-bats @pleasantwitchgarden @cynbx @xserenax-13 @alexxavicry @samuel-de-champagne-problems @evvy96 @reidsbookclub @lover-of-books-and-tea @sebs-oxygen @nomajdetective @kobaltdragon @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @castiels-majestic-wings

[champagnefountains]

LUCIFER MAGNE - H.H.

CHAPTER II - Prompt: Lucifer continuing to wear his wedding ring despite being in a relationship with you.

Previous chapter: [x] Word Count: 3.4k+ words (unedited). Genre/other tags: Angst with some fluff. Jealousy. Fem pronouns used. Warnings: Swearing. Self-deprecation. Manipulation (on Alastor's part).

It had been nearly over a week since you and Lucifer last talked – it had also been a week since Lucifer was last seen around in the hotel. Angel, being the gossiper he was, relayed everything that had transpired between you two to the others the following day. Seeing the sensitive and sad shell of a person you were left in, everyone remained cautious and had started walking on eggshells around you. Of course, you were quick to pick up on that, as embarrassing as it all was (minus Alastor, who continued on with his usual theatrics and mischief). 

Charlie in particular was the most concerned out of them all, since this was her dad we were talking about. She knew with certainty that he was confining himself in the castle to distract himself from what happened – likely something involving his rubber-ducky obsession – instead of facing the problem head on. It was his pride that sometimes got in the way of his better judgement.

Not only that, but Charlie clearly saw the massive toll it took on you. If you weren’t distracting yourself with work or doing something related to the hotel, you would lock yourself away in your room, only coming out to quickly grab a bite to eat from the kitchen. Charlie even made efforts to strike many conversations with you from time to time, but was either excused or was only given one-worded responses. She knew not to take your dismissive behaviour to heart, but she couldn’t help but fret over you.  

So it came as an absolute surprise when out of nowhere, Charlie received a call from her father. She messily scrambled for her phone on her desk, fumbling and nearly dropping it in the process before violently tapping on the small screen. “H-Hello?! Dad, hey!” She answers a bit too enthusiastically while nervously combing her hair with a free hand. “Uh, hey Charlie!” Lucifer stiffly greets from the other line, “I just…um, thought I’d give a call to, uh, see how everyone’s going at the hotel!” The Princess noted how much hoarser his voice was than usual, but decided not to comment on it aloud. 

“Well, y’know how it is! It’s been busy and lively as always–everyone’s been working really hard and all,” she answers vaguely, nervously chuckling. “Err, yeah! Right. That’s a–that’s a relief to hear. Yep,” he hums. There was a brief, awkward pause that ensued soon after, the both of them not knowing what to say next. The whole exchange was becoming increasingly painful that Charlie resisted the urge to pull her hair. She then clears her throat. “H-How about you, dad? What’ve you been up to? You’ve been gone for a couple or so days,” Charlie finally musters, “are…are you doing alright?” 

“Me? Oh yeah, psh! I just got, erm…a lot of things going on at the moment. It’s not so easy being the big boss of hell after all! Got a lot of important things to do! Plus, I’ve got heaps of paperwork to do for the hotel. You should know how tedious that is,” He says, adding an exaggerated groan. 

The princess furrows her brows. “Oh, that’s…strange. ’Cause I could’ve sworn you left all the papers here…y’know, the ones you told me to revise over?” Charlie replies, side-eyeing the said documents stacked neatly on her desk. A startled yelp escapes his throat. “O-Oh...did I?” He stammers.

Charlie couldn’t help but wince at the evident panic that began to set in as she listened to her father make incomprehensible noises from the other line. It was a poor attempt in reasoning, which ultimately became useless in the end. Lucifer let out a long sigh, caught red-handed. “Oh, who the hell am I kidding? You guys probably already know what happened–which by the way, Charlie, you shouldn’t be lying to me about!” He pointedly remarks. 

“I-I’m sorry, dad! It’s just…I’m really worried about you,” she reasons, before shortly adding, “...The both of you.” 

There was a small pause. “...How is she, by the way?” He then asks quietly. Charlie nervously tugs her bottom lip with her fangs. “Well, she’s keeping herself busy. Constantly, as a matter of fact. And I know she’s trying hard to convince us all that she’s holding up okay, but…she doesn’t look too good, dad. She seems really upset.”

A shaky exhale sounded from his end. “I…I really am hopeless, aren’t I?” He mumbles defeatedly. Even though she couldn’t see him, she could picture him burying his face in his hands. The image caused Charlie’s eyes to soften. “Dad, no. It’s not too late. You still have a chance to make things right,” Charlie gently encourages through the speaker, “you just need to talk to each other–”

Suddenly, from the corner of her eye, a bright, blazing portal manifests from thin air – from it, emerges Lucifer himself who appeared extremely dishevelled, effectively catching Charlie off guard. 

“But, hun, y-you don’t understand! I messed up big time!” He exclaims, tugging on his unkempt hair as he aimlessly paced around her office. “I-I mean, look at me! I’m a fucking mess and a coward! Why would she ever think to take me back after what I did!?” He chuckles humourlessly, shaking his head in disbelief, “I-It’s like no matter how many times I try to redeem and convince myself that everything’s finally going right in my life, I just continue to fuck myself over and over again. And it’s just– ugh! It’s pathetic! I’m fucking pathetic!” 

Charlie’s chest tightened considerably as she watched her father self-destruct before her. Strands of his golden hair were sticking out here and there, his dress-shirt tousled, and his eyes were glossed over and red, from both a lack of sleep and crying. He looked utterly devastated. Chucking her phone away, she immediately sped towards and enveloped Lucifer in her arms, who immediately broke down into heavy sobs. Seeing him like this brought tears to her own eyes, but she firmly told herself to be the stronger person in this situation, for his sake. 

“Hey, hey. Dad, listen to me, okay? Everyone deserves a second chance. You of all people should know–you were the one who taught me that, remember?” Charlie rubbed his back soothingly, trying to ease the jumpiness of his shoulders. “And that also applies to you. I…I know you’ve been through a lot, especially with mum…” She couldn’t help the way her frown deepened as she spoke, “...and I miss her too. I miss her a lot. But…I think it’s finally time for you to move on. It’s been years, dad. You deserve to be happy and you’re allowed to be in love again.” 

“[Name]’s an amazing person, and there’s no doubt about that. She’s proved that more than many times already. I’m certain that once things ease over and you guys finally talk things through, everything will turn out okay; she’s very understanding and kind like that. You’ll both be okay.” Charlie gently pulls Lucifer away and with the sleeve of her blazer, she wipes his damp, reddened cheeks. “I know for a fact that she loves and cares about you deeply – we can all see it as clear as day. You…you love her too, don’t you, dad?” 

For a brief moment’s contemplation, Lucifer suddenly recalled the times you spent together, from your initial meeting to now. He had always thought you were a strong and independent soul, with the way you carried yourself. You just had something about you that naturally drew in those around you, including himself. When Lucifer got to know you in a deeper level, he was enthralled by how kind and understanding you were – you were always there to listen to his many tales and endless nonsense; you would always seem genuinely interested in his rubber-duck-esque inventions, offering some input and critiquing his creations; and you would always be so, so supportive of all his plans and ideas, no matter how extraordinary they all seemed.

If he hadn't known any better, Lucifer would've thought you were an actual angel. You were the saviour that wore off the darkness in troubling times, and the one who pulled him out of the void that Lilith had left him in. That and more, as you continuously gave him a real reason to remain hopeful. You were proof personified, that he was able to open his heart once more, and to love again.

“I-I do, I really do,” Lucifer affirms in a heartbeat. Charlie smiles warmly, relieved by his answer, “then that’s all you need to say.” At that moment, Lucifer's chest swelled in overwhelming pride for his daughter, knowing that despite not being as present in her life until recently, she grew up to be the good and strong-willed person he had hoped for.

“O-Oh, jeez. Since when did you grow up so big? I should be the one comforting you,” He tearfully jokes, sniffling whilst returning her smile, “but thank you, Charlie. Really. I’m…I-I really am grateful to call you my daughter.” The two royalties then shared a heart-felt moment and a bone-crushing hug, with the King's heart being filled with a new-found determination. Because, just as he always says: The show must go on. 

Earlier on:

On the other side of the building, you were drowning yourself in your own self-despair as you overlooked the balcony by the front entrance of the hotel. Your eyes lazily scanned the new hotel patrons below, who were engaging in some trust exercises led by Vaggie, who came in to cover you just moments ago. Every once in a while, you couldn’t help but glance at your phone, silently hoping to receive some sort of notification from Lucifer, or even an inkling of his whereabouts. But you received nothing, which only fuelled your growing anxiety.

You felt awful leaving the way you did that night, especially after dumping so much onto Lucifer. You felt like you were being completely selfish, and had cornered him into making a big decision. And because of that, your relationship was on the line. You let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing angrily at your face.

Little did you know however, that you had some company lurking nearby, watching you in silent amusement. 

“Now, don’t you look as miserable as ever?” Alastor mockingly chimes in, stepping out from the shadows to make his presence known and joins you by the balcony. You roll your eyes at the deer-demon before turning your head the other direction. “Yeah, and what about it?” You scoff, leaning in to rest your arms against the rails, “Can’t you go bother someone else, Alastor? I’m certainly not in the mood right now.”  

“Why, I wouldn’t be a good hotelier if I left a dear co-worker of mine so down in the slumps!” To your dismay, Alastor reappears in front of you, obstructing your field of view, "And might I add, it's not healthy for you to be all cooped up in your room all the time – stay there any longer, and it can do silly, little things to your head!" He emphasises his point as he spins a finger in a circular motion by his temple. You shot him an irritated look, slowly growing fed up by his prodding. 

"Listen, I don't need you telling me what I should and shouldn't do. I’m more than capable of deciding that on my own,” you growl, straightening up to cross your arms firmly against your chest. “Hm...no, I don’t think so!” Alastor hums, shaking his head disapprovingly, “The unfortunate affair that took place in your courtship with the King has left you in such a vulnerable, and problematic state. And I’m sure you’ve taken note of how everyone’s been acting around you – constantly walking on their tiptoes in fear of setting you off on a hissy-fit. You’ve caused them to worry a lot about you, dear. Poor ol’ Charlie, especially.” 

You open your mouth to retort back, but nothing came out. A strong pang of guilt struck you as his words began to sink in. Seeing this, Alastor’s grin widened a faction as he stepped forward and levelled himself with you, now facing you eye-to-eye. “And as the executive producer of this fine establishment, might I critique that your behaviour is affecting our team’s morale and performance…and we mustn’t have that now, should we? Especially not since we’ve all been more preoccupied recently with our guests!” He…had a fair point, as much as you didn’t want to admit it.

“I…I’m sorry. I didn’t…know…” Your voice began to trail off, shoulders slumping in realisation of how selfish and contemptuous you’ve been acting this whole week. You recalled the fretful expressions of your friends and your dismissive attitude towards them. “I-I didn’t mean to make everyone worry…” you quietly say. Alastor’s words only made you feel immensely worse about the whole situation, leaving you sniffling on the spot. 

“Now, now. As long as you realise your mistakes, then you shall be forgiven,” he coos, softly patting the tuft of your head. At that, you couldn’t help but send a doubtful glance his way. “W-wait a minute…why do you care all of a sudden? What exactly are you playing at?” You suspiciously question as you rub at your eyes. 

“Oh, how you wound me, dear! Why must you always question any act of kindness I display? Is it really that hard to believe?” He adverts, evidently feigning hurt. You deadpan. “Yes, it is,” you reply almost instantly. Alastor chortles at your bluntness, “Haha! You’re quite a work of art, aren't you, dear? Now, let’s go out for a walk, shall we?” 

Before you could’ve processed what he had said, Alastor had already spun you around, pulling you with him as you both headed down a flight of stairs. “Wha–Alastor, where are we–where the heck are you taking me?” You asked, trying to keep up with his long strides so as to not trip down the stairs. “Hm? Did I not already specify? It looks like your brooding has impacted your hearing, dear. That’s a shame,” he slyly comments, now dragging you towards the entrance, “We’re both going for a walk around town, it’ll help clear that cloudy head of yours!” 

“Hold on-Stop! Just what makes you think I’d agree to go out with you?” You shoot back, retracting your arm from his hold and stopping metres behind him. Alastor sharply turns around and pulls out a wrinkled, yellow piece of paper out of thin air. Your eyes dart towards the sheet, seeing a familiar hand-writing across the page. 

“Why, I just knew you were going to question me – you're so predictable. But might I add, we’re not going out without purpose! No, no! Our lovely Charlie has composed a list and requested we fetch a couple items in town!” Stepping forward, you swiftly snatched the paper from his clawed hand and briefly scanned the list, noting that it largely consisted of decorations and party items. “She wanted to organise a heart-warming celebration for the wayward souls here who have accomplished some milestones on their journey to redemption! An anniversary ceremony of sorts, if you will,” Alastor explains, lightly patting the non-existing dust off of his suit.

“But couldn’t you just…I don’t know, teleport the things here?” You blatantly ask, raising a brow at him. You knew he was more than capable of doing such minuscule tasks within a span of seconds. “And waste such a beautiful day outside? Now, why would I even consider doing that?” Alastor states matter-of-factly, “And like I said, the short trip will help clear your troubled mind! Consider it a gesture of compassion from yours truly.” 

There was clearly something off about all this but you couldn’t see any reason for an ulterior motive. It was just…simply a manager looking out for the well-being of his work-colleagues, as uncharacteristic and off-putting as it sounded out loud. Already exhausted, you couldn’t bring it in yourself to question his actions any further.

“You’re really not going to take ‘no’ for an answer, are you?” You ask. Seeing the way Alastor’s grin widened had you sighing in defeat. “Shall we then?” Alastor questions, offering an arm out to you. Rolling your eyes, you loop one of your arms through and follow him out the hotel. ‘A small walk wouldn’t hurt…’ you think to yourself as the doors shut behind you. 

Currently:

Lucifer tiredly dragged himself to his designated room in the hotel, to rest for a while and take a much needed bath as per Charlie’s advice. He gave himself a lengthy pep-talk in front of the mirror as he brushed his teeth, deciding to approach you tonight to finally talk and clear things out. Yes, he was absolutely terrified about the possibility of things going south during the confrontation, but he didn’t think he could handle another second being without you. And he needed to make that loud and clear. 

After putting on an outfit and neatly slicking his hair back, Lucifer looked at his reflection once more in the bedside mirror, inspecting himself up and down to flatten any remaining creases of his clothing. But it wasn't until his gaze landed on his left hand that he tensed up. Peering down, he brought his hand into view to inspect the very wedding band that caused it all. With a shaky sigh, Lucifer slowly pulled the ring off of his finger. He took a moment to examine it, eyes filled with sentiment before kneeling down to open his bedside drawer, where its designated ring-box sat. The moment he encased the ring in its box and locked it away in his drawer, it felt like a breath of fresh air. To his own surprise, Lucifer found himself tearfully laughing – he felt...genuinely happy. Proud, even. It was at this very moment that he felt like he was finally ready to move forward.

After patting the stray tears away from his face, Lucifer slowly made his way down to the front lobby. There, Charlie and Vaggie were talking amongst themselves by the lounge area, whilst Angel and Cherri chuckled away by the bar, with Husk tending to their beverages. The King didn’t give an inkling of care as to where Alastor had gone, and he was certain that Nifty was hiding somewhere in the small crevices of the hotel, cleaning away. All in all, there was no sight of you whatsoever, visibly disappointing him. 

Seeing his approaching form, Charlie waved his father over towards them. “Hey, dad. Are you feeling a bit better now?” She asks with a comforting smile. “Yeah, totally. Thanks, dear,” he says, patting her shoulder affectionately before turning his attention towards her partner. “Hey! How’s it going, Maggie? I’ve heard you’ve been working real hard lately, huh? Good on yah!” He commends, playfully nudging the said demon. “Oh, um…it’s–it’s Vaggie, sir. And uh, thanks,” she nervously chuckles, rubbing her arm. “Mhm, yeah…that’s–that’s great,” Lucifer distractedly hums, all the while scanning around the room. Noticing this, Vaggie shared a worried look with Charlie. 

“Erm, dad, she’s not here at the moment if that’s what you’re wondering,” Charlie starts, alerting her father. “Oh? Well, is she up in one of the guest rooms?” Lucifer asked, gesturing upstairs with a thumb. To his confusion, Charlie appeared somewhat nervous, her hands fidgeting with her suit. “Uh, no, she’s actually not in the hotel at the moment,” Vaggie steps in, “she’s been out doing a couple of errands for us.” Lucifer raised a brow at the slight edginess in her tone, eyes darting back and forth between the two girls. “...Um, alright. What the heck is going on right now?" He asks, pointing an accusatory finger at them both, "You guys are acting sketchy as fuck. Are you...are you guys hiding something from me?" He narrows his eyes. Charlie sucks in a breath, brows pinching together, “Well...dad, t-the thing is–” 

“She’s out with Smiles right now!” Angel suddenly intervened, calling out from the other side of the room, and causing Charlie to cower and duck behind Vaggie. Lucifer felt his shoulders grow rigid. “She’s…what now?” He dangerously asks, glaring at the arachnid. Before Lucifer trudged towards the direction of the bar, the front doors of the hotel abruptly flew open. He felt the vein in his neck nearly burst at the sound of your laughter interlacing itself with that god-awful, irritating radio feedback. What a wild coincidence.

As Lucifer turned around, his eyes nearly flew out of his head as he saw how close you were with Alastor, arms basically locked together. The radio-demon was quick to meet eyes with the King, and out of spite, Alastor flashed him the biggest shit-eating grin he's ever seen.

“Oh, fuck no!”

Chapter III - Finale [x]

Thank you for reading!

[sunboki]

— MR. FIREFIGHTER.

Christopher Bahng x fem. reader

TROPE. firefighter! au, neighbors! au, coincidences, power outage.. hehe

WARNINGS. cursing? chan being a firefighter bc HELLO

AUG'S NOTES. hi hi, ya’ll wanted more firefighter! chris? me too i gotcha

In a neighborhood like yours, power outages were common. But of course, with your luck just moving here, nobody paid any mind telling you.

Perhaps that’s the best explanation as to how you ended up at a strangers doorstep, your phone’s flashlight making the entire experience look a thousand times more pathetic the longer you shifted from foot to foot.

You’d been plugging in your charger, only for your entire bedroom to fall pitch black. Initially, you assumed it was simply a broker malfunction, leading to—after carefully hobbling out to the garage—a multitude of failed attempts to ensue.

About halfway from leaving does the front door open, and upon turning around are you met with a sight pitifully breathtaking.

Blond, messy hair rests atop a well sculpted face, masculine features on tanned skin, dark chocolate eyes belonging to that of the finest sweets.

“Hello?” He asks, voice thick with an accent you deem Australian.

“Oh yeah uh, the.. the power?” Winding your index around haphazardly, the man looks you up and down (an action that shouldn’t have brought such blood to your face), glancing around and wetting his lips before inviting you inside.

Sure, he may be a serial killer, but if that man strangled you, you’re not sure you’d be too upset. Shameless, but who disagreed?

Without a word nor greeting, he slinks into a small kitchen area, leaving you to curiously investigate your surroundings. You note the huge, beige boots by the doorway, the firefighter’s hat lingering on a coat hook.

And he’s a firefighter? Good fuck have mercy.

“‘Happens a lot,” The frustratingly attractive stranger grumbles as you enter the living area, candle-light illuminating the plushness of his lips. It takes you a moment to register he’s talking, too busy reigning yourself into a sane headspace.

He hands you a small mug of tea that’s warm to the touch, beckoning you to take a seat.

“And by the looks of it,” He laughs a low, bemused laugh. “You didn’t know that…?”

“Y/n, it’s Y/n.” You introduce, sipping the steaming beverage carefully.

“Scared?”

“Mm, little bit.” Truthfully answering, you scorn your bashfulness, hating how the way he’s merely looking at you disorients every sensible article of your brain.

Reaching forward, he fondly pats your head, eyes crinkling in the corners when smiling.

Just then you abandon all hope of remaining civilized.

“There’s nothin’ to be scared of, just light some candles ‘n wait it out. Plus, it’s good sleeping conditions.”

If he keeps talking you’re certain you’ll dig a human sized hole and bury yourself in it, because of course you had to knock on his door, him who you’ve become smitten with without even knowing his name.

Before you can apologize for likely waking him up, he interjects.

“But be careful with candles. ‘Don’t wanna start a fire.”

Recalling his firefighter status, you raise your brows, leaning back into the cushions.

“You’d save me, right Mr. Firefighter?”

Momentarily, surprise etches his face.

He grins.

“Nah I’d—”

You smack his arm and he laughs—a kind of laugh that makes the entire room burst alight.

“Of course I would. And It’s Chan by the way, but you can call me Chris.”

Already getting comfortable with conversation, you rest your chin upon your hand, studying.

His mannerisms (as much as his looks could kill) are rather adorable. They’re nervous, fiddling opposed to the career he chose.

A man with a deadly duality.

Charming.

“Oh? Nickname privileges?” You mischievously pique, witnessing that shyness once more.

He covers his face with his hands, dissolving into the couch, evidently embarrassed. The urge to continue becoming irresistible.

“Say, Chris, are you flirting with me?”

Peering through his fingers, Chris’ lips pull tug upward slightly, seeming to mirror your sly attitude.

“I don’t know, am I?”

Perhaps it’s your imagination, but his voice seriously just lowered a pitch and all ability to bite back has turned to dust. And now you can certainly say your feelings are justified, especially from his eyes. Brown hues boring into you, sending your heart a thundering mess.

No, no no, don’t say that. That’s not fair.

As if on cue the lights flash awake and you spring up from your place, attempting to hide the flush of your cheeks.

Barely making it out the door before Chris pulls you back around, his hand loosely grasps your wrist, stuffing a piece of paper into your palm adorning that same stupid smile you’re effortlessly falling in love with.

Inside his number is written, and more than ever you feel like a teenage girl passing notes to her boyfriend in class.

“Just in case,” He claimed, clearing his throat as if that would magically cure his noticeably pink ears.

Take it back, you’re both teenage losers fighting to see who cracks first. Nervous wrecks, red faces.

“In case my house burns down?”

“That’s a plus, yep.”

“You’re awful.”

Chris, walking you up to your door despite being a mere foot away, giggles his delight, bidding you good night. But seconds before he turns around it’s your turn to be spontaneous, and you press a soft kiss to his cheek prior to racing inside, shutting the door as quickly as possible.

Oh my god. Oh my god.

Covering your mouth with your hands in order to suppress the utter squeal threatening to break your lungs, you feel seconds from physically imploding — ignorant to the fact that outside the door, Chris is currently doing the same thing.

sunboki, may 2022 ©

[feyascorner]

jealousy looks good on you

summary. Astarion realizes you're jealous after a night out at the tavern where he must gather information from another. And him being him, teasing ensues.

warnings. fluff, idk just two idiots doing idiotic things, Tav here is good oriented, sorry to evil tav players,,,

pairing. Astarion x GN!reader

a/n. I love morons in love,,

You were not jealous. Especially not of that damned elf practically hanging off from his arm.

You'd encountered devils, walking brains, even the greatest of beasts during your adventures, yet not once have you felt nothing but utter annoyance. Like an obnoxious fly circling your head insistently no matter how much you swatted at it.

You'd never considered yourself possessive of your dearest companion. Sure, you were protective of him at times, but so were you with the rest of your group, especially knowing what each person had gone through in their lives. And while being lovers might've given an extra kick to that boundary, by no means were you excessively watching him like a hawk.

But now here you were, not watching him, but her.

Information, you remind yourself. You'd nearly forgotten why he was even tolerating her behavior in the first place, because even if he was flirtacious by nature, his tendencies narrowed down towards only you after your conversation at Moonrise. You knew he dreaded this as much as you, but the information that woman had was a must—and Astarion had insisted he could help out.

You were sincerely regretting even entertaining the idea now.

She has her chest pressed flush to the toned muscles of his arm, making sure he’s aware of what qualities she has to offer. With a bat of her lashes, she lets out a shrill laughter when he mumbles something, playfully hitting his chest as if it's the funniest thing in the world.

You’ll show her something really fucking funny at this rate—

Patience, you remind yourself. Breathe. In and out. This is unlike the qualities of a hero trying to save the city. Shooting an arrow at the woman would do nothing but cause panic. Why did you even want to get so violent in the first place? A little minor bump in the road shouldn't make you this angry, should it?

You seriously don't want to watch anymore—especially when he leans toward her to whisper something in her ear and she lets out that rage-inducing giggle again—so you down the rest of your alcohol and run a hand down your face.

You don't notice his eyes glancing at you every few moments, too busy calming your nerves.

A few minutes later, you hear the scrape of his chair pushing back and a rush of relief floods you when you see him stand, face content in a way that tells you the mission was successful. You thank the Gods above because any more of this and you certainly would've committed some sort of crime-

The woman takes his hand, shaking her head before giving him a sly smile. The breaths you took earlier seem to have no effect the second she motions towards the door, her fingers still wrapped around his hand like a death sentence.

You should trust him, you think.

He's had more experience in this than anyone else.

You can't see his expression, but the second you see hers drop, you're suddenly moving across the entire tavern. He whips around when he hears your steps and the relief on his face almost calms you. Almost.

“Hello, dear,” you accentuate. And though your eyes are trained on his, you're more focused on the woman from your side view. “Ready to leave? Sorry I had to catch up with a friend earlier.”

He raises a brow for a moment, and you suspect it’s because you were never supposed to even be in the plan. You suddenly feel hot under his gaze and look away, embarrassed to have let your emotions alter the mission so much—but he seems more than pleased. In fact, the bastard grins.

“Yes, my love,” he snickers, snatching his arm away from the woman and looping the other around the waist. “Let us hurry. I cannot stand another moment being unable to ravage you under such—prying eyes.”

Somehow, your face gets hotter.

Before the woman can respond (though you doubt she even wanted to), he's leading you out the tavern into the cold air of the streets for a much needed breather on your part. You're almost certain you won't be going to that tavern for a while.

“‘My dear’?” he mimics, his lips stretching wider. “I’d believed I was the one with pet names in our relationship. You'd seemed quite adamant on calling me by my given name after all. Had a change of heart?”

Your voice is a mumble as you retort. “Must be the alcohol.”

“Really? Because if I didn't know any better, and I do,” he stops the two of you around the corner of the building in an isolated spot, forcing you to meet his eyes. “I’d think you were jealous back there, darling.”

“I was just worried about you,” you blurt in a hurry. “Otherwise I wouldn't have butt in and—”

“Oh, my sweet sweet love,” he laughs. “I could feel you glaring from across the building. And I'm sure I could've sworn to see you slam your goblet a few times. No need to be ashamed. Jealousy is quite normal, and I'm more than flattered.”

“I’m not—” you begin, but her face flashes in your mind again. The way she'd touched his arms, his chest, and you knew she'd never know him the way you do. But it didn't quell the annoyance flickering in your chest. He raises a brow expectantly for your answer, and you quietly lift your hand to his arm, dusting it off.

Dusting her off.

And finally, you accept it. “I’m going to burn those clothes.”

He snorts. “I’m sure there's more romantic ways of getting me naked, but this’ll have to do for now.”

“I will. Then I’ll bury the ashes somewhere.”

“Charming.”

You look at him, disappointed—not in him, but yourself. Before you can drown in your own thoughts, he lifts his fingers to caress your face, smiling. “There really was no need to be jealous, darling.”

“I know,” you mutter. “I just—seeing her practically begging for your attention pissed me off.”

“And there's the difference between you and her. If it's worth even comparing at all,” he says, planting a peck to your forehead. “She begs a hopeless cause while I beg for you.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “You don't need to beg me for attention.”

“I’m aware. I know how much you're fond of me and my gorgeous eyelashes.” You sigh at this. “But I must admit that a selfish part of me is a bit pleased by your reaction to that vile woman.”

“Why? This feels horrible.”

“Well, now you get a taste of what I want to do when I see you with that damned cleric,” he groans at the thought. “Yes, I am aware you two are the giddiest of friends, but whenever she puts her hands all over you for the sake of healing—”

You burst into a fit of laughter. “How else is she supposed to help?”

“I’m sure she can heal you from a safe distance away. Preferably twelve feet. Maybe more.”

Wordlessly, you calm your smile and press your lips to his, your fingers running through white curls. He holds you like you’re made of glass, gently.

The kiss is soft, even as you finally pull away. “Stupid vampire.”

“Silly darling.”

You don't complain when he pulls you closer for one last kiss.

[02zhoonie]

i testify this lovin’

18+ MDNI !!

guitarist! park jongseong (jay) x fem! reader smut

(can be read as idol!jay too)

you watch your boyfriend play the electric guitar. he’s hot. antics ensue.

cw: fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, semi (?) public sex (they’re in a soundproof music studio in a company building do with that what you will), slight sub!reader/dom!jay

word count: 2.4k

a/n: this was supposed to be a drabble i don’t know how this became longer than that. how dare jongseong drop that tiktok video on us on a random tuesday morning does he know his effect??? shout out to my love @fakeuwus for inspiring me and also fueling my delusional tendencies ?? i feel insane. anyway please do enjoy this !!

NOT PROOFREAD

your boyfriend jongseong was practicing on his new electric guitar for the past hour and though you enjoyed the music he played, you couldn’t help but start to get restless. it was getting stuffy in the small studio he had in his company’s building and it also didn’t help that he looked incredibly attractive like this. he is handsome on a daily basis - something you find yourself having to indoctrinate in him whenever his self doubt comes into play, but there was just something about him being so fixated on playing the guitar that made you so… horny

maybe it was the way a pout was formed on his lips as he usually did when he concentrated hard on doing something. or the way his thighs were spread to accommodate the length and size of the guitar. his outfit choice today was simple but his hair being unstyled and bare face just added to the appeal. and it was definitely the way his skillful fingers plucked and strummed on the strings as the sound filled the room. even the song that he chose to focus on seemed to be suggestive as well. you couldn’t help but to squirm while imagining all the things you wanted to do with him in this very moment. so much so that you didn’t realise that the song had stopped playing on loop and your boyfriend was trying to get your attention.

“baby? are you with me?” jongseong let out a soft chuckle after you finally noticed that he was taking a break. you nod slowly after snapping out of your daydreams, cheeks getting warm as you register what you’d just been doing. hopefully your boyfriend wouldn’t have been able to tell.

“tired?”

“no jjongie, just got distracted for a moment.”

“ah,” a smirk graces his lips. shit. “c’mere then, i wanna teach you something.”

he pats on his lap invitingly, and you can’t help but oblige, getting up from your spot on the sofa to join him where he was sitting, not before taking a quick sneak at his thick thighs. you make yourself comfortable between his legs, leaning back against the warmth of his chest. after pecking the top of your head, jongseong adjusts his guitar and brings your smaller hands to clutch the fret board.

“gonna teach you how to play a chord ‘mkay” he utters from behind you and feeling his hot breath against the nape of your neck. you feel the stickiness start to gather between your thighs as he does something as simple as gently moving your fingers to press down on the strings. it’s quite embarrassing to admit how worked up you’re getting by his actions, his other arm looping around your waist to keep the base of the guitar steady.

“relax, baby,” he laughs at you again, “your fingers are so stiff.”

“there’s a reason why i don’t play instruments, jay.” you roll your eyes though he can’t see, trying to deflect away from the fact that really your awkwardness stems from his presence overwhelming all of your senses at this very moment and you could barely focus on holding your hands still much less relaxing them. jongseong steals a quick kiss against your cheek, muttering a short apology knowing you were getting tired of his teasing, and continues on to properly explain what he was teaching you in detail.

“so this is a g chord,” he says after placing your fingers in an almost triangle like shape across the board. “it’s one of the most basic chords and almost every pop song has at least one in it.”

“can you hold it there for me baby?” your boyfriend asks before removing his hand from your wrist and placing it on your thigh instead, dangerously close to where your panties were slick with your wetness. his hand that was previously around your waist, moves to the bridge of his guitar and strums once. “and it sounds like this.”

“did i hold it right?”

“yes, you did so good for me baby. that’s my girl.” he moves in to place an open-mouthed kiss against your neck and that’s when you know it’s game over. he knows.

“mmm, jjongie!” you squeal as he moves down to suck on that sweet spot between where your neck ends and your shoulder begins. your cunt clenches and you pray to every god out there that your panties are not drenched through to the leather seat cover.

“wanna tell me what you were so distracted by, baby?” slowly manoeuvring the guitar away from the two of you and safely onto the stand, one of his hands crawls up your torso to play with your nipple through the fabric of your t-shirt, drawing circles around them and sending tingles straight down your spine. your voice is strained as you are barely able to force out a response, his lips traveling down to your clavicle as he paws at your shirt collar.

“your lips” you let out a gasp as both his hands now have found their way under your shirt and grab at your boobs.

“mhmm.”

“your thighs” he pulls you ever so close to him, his large hard bulge pressing against the small of your back.

“‘s that all baby? you know, you were staring so hard.”

“your h-hands,” you stutter as he sucks harder on your neck, pulling the flesh between his teeth to leave a pretty purple mark there. he hums in satisfaction at your answer as his fingers trail down to the waistband of your sweatpants but pausing before going any further down. a whine leaves your lips at this.

“what about my hands baby?” he inquires with a curious lilt to his tone, though he already has an inkling of what you would say.

“looked like they would make me feel so good” you admit, biting down hard on your bottom lip. feeling yourself grow impatient as your boyfriend continues to drag out his teasing even more, you pull him by the wrist and all but shove his hand down your pants. “please jjongie, if you don’t touch me now, i feel like i’m going to explode.”

as the wetness that has pooled at your cunt reaches his fingertips, you just know that there’s a smug look on his face as he realises his effect on you. beginning to toy with your clit using his thumb, his index sweeps up and down your folds almost slipping in your entrance.

“all i did was play the guitar but my baby’s already this wet and needy for me.” oh he definitely has that smug look on his face.

without warning his finger plunges into you and the squelching noise echoes as he expertly moves it in and out of you. you mewl loudly after finally finally getting the contact you so desperately craved but cut yourself after remembering where you were.

“it’s okay, make all the noise you want, these walls are soundproof.” jongseong assures you as he realises you were muffling yourself. “i wanna hear you, pretty.”

soon enough he adds another finger into the mix, pushing deeper within your walls, easily finding the spot that makes your back arch and moan his name repeatedly. there was something so confident and assured about the way he was fingering you that sent you to seventh heaven. normally he was good, knowing all your pleasure points and hitting them just right but this was good. as if the ego boost from you had allowed him to push into you deeper and stronger. you feel your high start to approach at an embarrassingly fast pace and he knows it too with the way your pussy starts gripping his fingers like crazy, bending the tips of them to press against the most sensitive parts.

“‘m so close, jjongie.”

“i know baby, can you take one more? wanna stretch you out some more.”

you let out a noise of approval, too blissed out to gather a proper response as he presses his third finger into you, giving your walls a delicious stretch. the feeling of being so full of his fingers makes you cry out and jongseong has his lips against your shoulder, eyebrows furrowed and little pants falling out of his mouth as he tries so intensely to bring you to your high.

“cum on my fingers baby, i wanna see you make a mess on them”

and with that your orgasm washes over you, collapsing against his chest with heavy breaths as he lets you calm down a bit in his arms, before pulling his fingers out and adjusting you so that you are now straddling his lap. his hand is coated in your arousal as he brings them to his lips and licks them clean. there’s also a damp patch on your sweatpants as well as on his loose jeans where you came. holding his jaw in your hands, you join his lips messily with yours, giving him a long wet kiss, not caring that you can taste your juices on his lips and he lets out a (cute) noise of surprise.

“so. they lived up to your expectations then?” he asks with a quiet laugh after you separate, but it was more of a statement than a question at this point. you let out another miffed whine at his words burying your head in his neck and steadily grinding against the bulge in his pants.

“just shut up and fuck me already.” you demand, losing all sense of politeness in your tone as your patience and neediness for his cock overrides everything else.

“what happened to my sweet, shy princess who got horny just from watching me play my electric?” he starts to hook his arms under your thighs and carry you over to the couch. “has she lost all her manners? wants me to just fuck her here in my studio?” he attempts to sound stern but he can’t keep the amusement out of his voice. if he knew this would have had that much of an effect on you, he would have invited you over to watch him play a long time ago.

“sorry jjongie, just fed up of waiting.” you pout as he lays your back gently on the cushions, pulling your sweats and panties off in one motion. undoing the button of his jeans and finally being able to release his cock out from his boxers, the tip red and pulsing, he climbs his way so that he’s hovering over you on the sofa, grabbing one of your legs and wrapping it around his hips.

“it’s okay baby, i’ve always dreamed of taking you on this couch.” he has the biggest shit eating grin on his face as he says this, recalling the lonely late nights in this room that he spent finishing up his work. now having you laid out beneath him, it was almost like he was fulfilling one of his biggest fantasies. he lines up his cock at your entrance, looking back at you for your go ahead. 

“take me then” 

you didn’t have to tell him twice. 

jongseong presses into you, letting out a loud groan as your walls basically swallow his cock whole. it takes a little while for you to adjust to his size though having been fucked by him many times, he’s still the biggest you have ever had and it drives you crazy how full he makes you feel. 

“fucked my fingers into you and you’re still so tight for me?” he grunts when he’s able to push all the way into you, touching that crevice behind your cervix that has you clawing his back. “god, you’re a fucking dream.” 

you tap on his shoulder as a sign for him to start moving and your boyfriend begins pounding you into the sofa cushions with no mercy. incoherent babbles were the only things leaving your mouth. your little ah’s and um’s and calls of his name, only drove him to go deeper with his thrusts. 

he gets down on his elbows to steal your breath away with a kiss, body moving rhythmically to fulfill your needs. there’s not enough words in your vernacular to describe the pleasure that comes from the repeated ramming of his dick into all the right places in your pussy. 

“wan’ more” you finally muster after so long of being breathless, “wan’ you deeper jjongie, please” 

it’s in the way he immediately proceeds to put your legs over his shoulders and practically folds you into half, that you know you don’t have to say much for him to know and do exactly as you want. (and that’s princess treatment from park jongseong for you.) his eyes are half-lidded as he continues his motions and it’s a sight to behold, the beads of sweat running down his temple, glistening against his tanned skin. 

“love it when you give me your body like this” he murmurs between breaths as they grow heavier with his physical exertion. “mine to hold, mine to fuck and mine to fill with my cum”

“mmm, please” you beg at his words, the idea of white cum spilling down your thighs making your eyes roll back in excitement. 

“please, what baby? fill you up?” 

you nod your head so violently, jongseong is starting to get afraid you’d get vertigo from it. with a hand on one of your ankles and the other supporting his weight, he starts plunging in you harder, gritting his teeth as your walls tighten around his cock and the pleasure becomes immeasurable.

“i will baby, i'll fill you up so good i promise. you just gotta be a good girl and come with me, okay” 

“i will jjongie, i’ll be good for you.” 

that’s enough for him to release his load into you, and as the first spurt of warm cum starts to fill you up and his thrusts become more sporadic, you reach your second high of the night, squeezing his cock for every last drop. 

after gently removing your legs from his shoulders, your boyfriend collapses against you, not wanting to pull out just yet, the two of you squashed in that sofa. he plays with strands of your hair, smiling as the two of you catch your breaths. 

“so,” he says after a beat, “you think guitar players are sexy huh?” 

“JONGSEONG!” you yell, the warmth returning to your cheeks as you try and inevitably fail to hide your face away from him. 

“nothing to be shy about baby, i’ll just make a mental note for later.”

[thesummerpetrichor]

𝓘 𝓷𝓮𝓮𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾, 𝓘 𝓫𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾:

𝒪𝒻𝒻 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑅𝒶𝒸𝑒𝓈

Javier Peña x afab!fem!reader

Summary: Its been five months since you started sleeping together, and you're having second thoughts about your "relationship" with Javier. But what does it matter to him? he hasn't even kissed you yet. 🍒 Continuation of “Off to the Races” and “Your Face is Shameless” but can be read alone.

Warnings: 18+ Only Minors DNI you will be blocked. Mentions of DEA, thicc age gap [Javi is in his 40s reader is in her early 20s], mentions of anxiety, major angst, situationship, guilt, unrequited love, self loathing, kissing [they did it!], Javier is emotionally unavailable, petnames, major dom/sub dynamic [dd/lg ish vibes], mean!Javi then soft!dom!Javi, degradation, dumbification, minor objectification, major size kink [Javi is bigger than and can lift reader], praise kink [finally some good girl action], daddy kink, choking, pussy pronouns, finger sucking, oral [f receiving], unprotected P in V [ do better!!]. Let me know if i missed anything 🫶

Word count: 5.4K

A/N: Hello!! I'm back!! thought it would be fitting to revisit these two post hiatus. Sorry in advance for the emotional torture that is about to ensue, but I couldn't help myself. Big thank you to @pixelsandothernonsense for being a big supporter of these two and fuelling their return on the blog time and time again. Lotsa plot, lotsa porn– as always. Hope you enjoy, nasties. Mwah

🍒Off to the races 🍒Your face is shameless 🍒Masterlist

You wanted it to be easy but it’s difficult. You wanted it to be over, but it was not. 

While Colombia seemed to be all fun and games at first sight, the longer you remained stuck in the American embassy’s city centre building the more you longed for home. 

Your research was hitting a roadblock, and things were hard. Funding was running out, and your professors were running away. Better jobs, better prospects. But your degree was the least cause for your troubles. 

You were smart. You were controlled. You didn’t know what you were thinking when you got yourself involved with Javier Peña. It seemed fun at the moment- fooling around, messing with a man double your age and four times more qualified. Trying to wrangle his true intentions out from under his furrowed brow and frown. 

Looking back you felt stupid. Embarrassed. A little ashamed of what you had become. How you let him treat you. 

He used you like a walking sex doll. Didn’t give you one look afterwards. Maybe a pat on the back but somehow that was more insulting. He had never kissed you. And there you were, fixing your makeup in the office bathroom after an evening under his desk had ruined it. 

It had been five months since the first time he'd bent you over his desk but you were only half way through your trip. Five more months seemed too long to bear. It made you sick. 

You glanced at yourself in the mirror. You looked tired, and sleepy and your clothes weren’t crisp as usual. You felt a little bit like the tissue you’d just dabbed against your cheek. A little flimsy and a little dirty. A little used, perhaps. 

It felt a little worse knowing it was all your doing. You weren’t expecting a man like Javier to change. Objectively, it wasn’t possible. But you still asked for more. For him to use and then forget about you. You wanted to leave. You wished he’d never seen this side of you. Frankly you wished you hadn’t either. 

Because you were smart and funny and interesting and could talk about all sorts of things. You liked music and books and movies and trying new food. But he’d never seen you that way. He never would. 

You hadn’t spoken to him once. Not about anything that wasn’t strictly utilitarian. Especially not after he started fucking you. It was far too awkward and far too intimate. 

For him. 

Your feelings flip flopped every day, from the casualty of the affair seeming rather appealing, to it making your chest ache. And yet you couldn’t seem to help yourself, unable to understand not only what this thing you had going on with Agent Peña was, but why you couldn't seem to stop. 

Five months camping out in the office and you hadn’t missed a single day. No matter how bad the hurt in your chest you rolled out of bed and reminded yourself of why you were where you were. It worked. It hurt, but it worked. 

But after five months it seemed like getting out of bed was suddenly impossible one morning and you thought it best to stay home. You got a few calls. One from Fiestl and Van Ness. Connie Murphy sent Steve over with soup when she heard you weren’t feeling well. 

No news from Javi Peña. 

You slept most of the day. With your computer shut and materials put away. You didn’t want to think about it. You fixed yourself dinner- instant noodles, and headed to bed once again. 

You thought it was temporary but the excruciating pain only lingered and carried you on to another day confined to the four walls of your bedroom. 

It was a bad idea- ignoring your work for as long as you did. You should have known that you wouldn’t be able to put it on the back burner- considering the neurosis surrounding your work, the fact you took a two day break was impressive. It wasn’t long before your anxiety was eating away at you, an impending deadline hanging over your head and reminding you the world didn't care about your little pity party. 

Stupid as it was, you found yourself crossing the street at the witching hour of 23:00- clad in the soft cotton dress you forced yourself into earlier that evening. The friday night had persuaded everyone out of the office, and you weren’t surprised when you found the top floor of the embassy building cold and empty. 

You were glad, and perhaps it was the only way you could stomach being there– alone. 

Your desk was exactly how you’d left it a couple of days ago- your books piled in one corner, papers thrown all over the place. It was disorganised and untidy– very unlike you. You swallowed a lump in your throat as you began to sort things out, a feeling of complete exhaustion and defeat threatening to force you into your office chair. You glanced over at Javier’s office, signs he was out for the week prompting the slight relaxation of your shoulders. 

When you finally sat down to get to work, your eyes couldn't help but flutter shut every few moments, the screen of your computer zoning in and out of your vision every now and then. The words seemed to escape you, four lines on your document all you could manage before you were pressing your forehead against the wood of your desk. 

After spending the past two days sleeping somehow all you wanted to do was climb right back into bed. 

Music, surely that would help! Or at least you thought, to no avail, a whole album played once, yet you could only manage another paragraph. Turns out burnout was real.. and it had decided now was the best time to get you. But you weren’t ready to pack up and banish yourself to your studio apartment just yet. So you upped the volume, and sat up just a little bit straighter in your chair, and got back to work. 

Something about the loneliness of working in that drab, white, characterless office was especially miserable. So miserable in fact it was almost comforting, it was so miserable it was funny. It wasn't long before you were sitting completely straight in that sad, uncomfortable office chair, laughing at yourself with a mixture of exhaustion and disbelief. You were stupid, and acted silly, and had all these big feelings, but what did it matter? It was diabolical; the capacity Javier had for ruining your life, but soon enough you’d be out of here and one day you’d probably be laughing at the whole ordeal. 

It was exhausting, but what could you do? The words came just a little bit easier from that point, and you felt yourself accept defeat and immersed yourself in your paper. At the end of the day you couldn’t control how he felt about you- you just had to take it or leave it. Not everything is that deep, you rolled your eyes at yourself, but you knew truthfully the lack of his care and affection was more than a little sting. You decided you were better off defining the “relationship” for yourself, and maybe showing a little bit more restraint. Who said everything had to be that serious, maybe you should've taken a page out of Javier’s book! 

Yes that was it, not everything was that serious, was it?

You really wished you’d had the foresight to gauge the stupidity of trying to drown out your surroundings in a public space in the middle of the night. Sure, no external threat could get you inside the excessively secure embassy building, but what did that mean when the real threat to your sanity was the DEA attache. 

Truth be told, you'd have jumped in fear if anyone had tapped their fingers on your computer screen, but when Javier rounded your desk with a raised brow and waved his hand in front of your computer, you were particularly startled. 

“The hell are you doing here?” 

Any other time you’d probably met him with a snappy reply, something to get him going, maybe rile him up enough till he was pressing your face against your papers and fucking you from the back. You wished you could have given him that response that day, but you were so completely out of yourself, you settled for a shrug and a normal “trying to finish this section”. 

“That why you disappeared these past two days?”

“I wish.. probably would have been done by now.” His brows kit, somewhat confused and just noticing your tired, puffy eyes now that he was closer. 

“When’s it due.” he leaned to sit on your table , and traced your features with his fingers. You felt your eyes flutter shut as the tip of his index ran along the bridge of your nose, and feared your new policy was at risk of being thrown right out of the window at his attention. Sighing, you leaned into his touch. Unhappy, but unable to resist it. “Next week.”

He pitched your damp cheeks between his fingers, gently shaking your head from side to side. “You've got time.” 

You hummed and took a moment to look up at him- yellow table lamp doing his golden features all sorts of favours, ones that he didn't even need to begin with if you were being honest.The weight of his hand, the roughness of his skin against yours had a soft sigh escaping your lips. 

Javier's hand moved slowly, almost hesitantly, to the back of your neck, and he gently guided you to stand. Your legs felt weak, but you helped yourself up long enough to watch him rise beside you, stepping closer. He stepped around you, positioning himself between yourself and the chair, his breath warm against your ear. 

"Sit," he murmured, his voice low and commanding. His hand moved to the back of your neck again, this time pulling you down onto his lap. The gesture was possessive, not tender. 

You obeyed, lowering yourself onto him,  your legs on either side of his waist, dangling off the seat. Javier's hands rested on your waist momentarily, heavy and harsh, before drifting lower to your hips, pulling you further into his lap till you could feel his bulge swell against you. You felt yourself get wet, he lifted your hips and then pulled you back down against him, allowing you the slight relief of the friction as you felt yourself embarrassingly throb against him. 

The proximity was suffocating, his scent—cigarettes, and aftershave. He leaned closer, and for a moment, in your delusion, you thought he might kiss you. Instead his fingers squeezed around your throat, breath fanning your lips. “You want to be daddy’s good girl, dontch’ya?” his voice was low, and biting, and you knew you were in for it, for avoiding him, when he tightened his grip at your lack of answer. 

Slick pooled in your panties, and he let you press your hot core against him, undoubtedly able to feel how easily he could unravel you. You shifted your gaze up at the ceiling to avoid his own. 

You squeaked out a feeble “yes”, already delirious. “Then why the fuck, did you think you could disappear without telling me?” He reached for the string that held together the top of your dress, rather aggressively tugging it undone, watching as it unravelled and revealed the soft cotton of your lingerie. “Busy” you whined when traced your skin with his pointer finger, palm coming to squeeze at your breast and then pull your bra aside. 

“Not looking too busy now, are ya?” your nipple pebbled under his palm, his hot breath fanning against your skin as he trailed open mouth kisses along your neck. You whimpered, reaching to tangle your fingers in Javier’s hair. Surprisingly, he let you tug on his locks, allowing you to ground yourself as he sucked your nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around your bud. He came up to nip at your jaw and you whimpered  a soft “M’ sorry”. 

“What was that?” Javier rolled his eyes and growled in your ear, grazing your earlobe with his teeth, and pinching the flesh of your thighs, prompting you to speak up. And speak up you did, heat seeping into your panties at his tone and words. He didn’t respond to you, just hummed his assent and pulled you harder against him. 

His hands found the backs of your thighs, hoisting you up and into his arms. You wrapped your legs around him and his big arms crossed under you to support your weight. Continuing to kiss along your neck he plopped you on the table, but you couldn’t lie, you much preferred being carried so gently in his hold. Thank god the desk had been cleared– giving him enough room to push you back against it. You didn't really want to unwrap your legs from around him, but he grunted disapprovingly before prying your legs from his waist. Your heart jumped as he took a seat on your dingy rolly chair, his large palms lifting your legs by your calves till your feet were planted on his thighs. You propped yourself up on your elbows. 

Javier's eyes caught sight of your untied shoelace, a small hazard in the midst of your hurried night. As usual, without a word, he leaned down, fingers deftly working to tie the lace in a swift, fluid motion, securing the bow with a final, firm tug, patting the top of your shoe before returning to the task at hand. 

His eyes were hungry like they always were, deep brown, alluring, the only readable emotion in them- lust. Those large palms parted your knees, making space for you between them. A tingle ran up your spine when he brushed the tips of his fingers against the inside of your thigh, dragging them along your skin till he was toying with the hem of your panties. He shifted forward in the chair, meeting your eyes as he planted a kiss on your calf, and then hoisted your legs up on his shoulders. 

Javier took a moment to admire you, letting his rough hands roam under your skirt. You always wondered what those hands were doing; how they wrapped around his gun when he ran out of the office with it, how small they made the cigarette he was smoking look. You watched him grab, and hold, and type from across your desk when he hadn’t fucked you in a day or two, imagined those hands grabbing at your flesh and wrapping around your throat. You imagined him pumping his fingers in and out your pussy with your own hands between your legs in the middle of the night- unable to go mere days without him fucking you, salivating at the thought of those hands wrapped around his thick cock, wondering if he too couldn’t go without your touch. 

Lost in your thoughts you shuddered when you felt him drag his tongue up the cut of your slit, the already moist fabric of your panties sticking to your skin as he nudged your clit with his nose. Your head fell back involuntarily, and you felt your arms ache as you continued to struggle to hold yourself up on your elbows. Seemingly, he had decided that day he wasn’t going to make you work for it- you looked like you were working far too much already. 

“Look at me.” Javier sharply instructed from between your legs. Nipping the inside of your right thigh till you yelped in his hold. You weren't going to last very long at the sight of him, eyes glancing up at you as his mouth ghosted over your soaked pussy. You watched intently as his fingers pulled your panties aside, softly grazing your swollen flesh in a way that had you pulling your lip between your teeth to contain the pornographic moan that threatened to spill from your mouth and alert the security guard across the hall. 

Your leg twitched on his shoulder as he licked a long, firm stripe up your aching pussy. Both your eyes fluttered shut as his tongue softly explored your folds. The sight of Javier between your legs was enough to send you over the edge, one that would live in your head for a very long time. 

You struggled to hold his eyes with your own when he licked at your entrance, increasing his pace ever so slightly before he was softly sucking your clit into his mouth. Letting yourself lean back against the table you reached to continue to tangle your fingers in his hair, hoping he'd let you have his fluffy locks in your hold. Turns out you were lucky the first time, because as was more common, Javier reminded you of his “no grabbing at daddy” attitude by grasping your hand in his. 

“No grabbin at daddy, babygirl” he murmured against your wetness and you shivered. His fingers engulfed yours, stroking your skin and moving your hands to your chest. His large palm covered yours and squeezed your fingers around your breasts. You moaned, and arched your back against the table up into both your palms as his tongue achingly slipped inside you. 

The feel of his mouth against you was more than perfect, the way he expertly ate you out till you were wiggling your hips against his face, his nose nudging your clit as he fucked you with his tongue. Slow and soft then faster and rough, just how he knew you liked it. 

He seemed to be enjoying the feeling of you just as much,  groaning against your wet cunt everytime you twitched and shuddered against him, the taste of you prompting him only to bury himself deeper between your thighs, pull and grab at your hips, hold you close against him as your chest rose and fell. 

Javier lashed his tongue at your entrance, then plunged it into your slick cunt. You felt your core tighten, and you knew you couldn’t hold on much longer. “Please…” barely able to complete your sentence you squealed when he circled your clit with his tongue. You could feel him grin against the inside of your thigh, and you reached for his hands on your hips to tug at his fingers feebly. 

Making out the sound of his chuckle over your heavy breathing you whined, and then proceeded to melt in his hold when he responded with a rather gentle, yet delayed and somewhat playfully annoyed “You can come for daddy, babygirl.” 

The grip of your fingers on his tightened, and you sighed, finally letting go as Javier worked between your legs. Your cunt clamped down on his tongue as he finished you off, licking you through your orgasm and holding your hips down as you shook and squirmed above him. 

He kissed along your seam gently as you caught your breath, your breath hitching when he pushed two fingers in your still sensitive cunt to gently stroke your walls. He stifled a groan. You looked down between your legs as he withdrew those fingers and began to stand up. “She so fuckin wet for me, hmm?” He rubbed slow, soft circles on your clit, not caring to watch you intently for any giveaway that would instruct him on the perfect rhythm. He already knew what you liked- he didn’t need to bother. “Slutty little pussy achin’ to be fucked… after all these days, aint she?” 

He took a second to get a good look at you as he moved closer between your legs, and you propped yourself back up on your elbows and wrapped your legs around his waist to pull him in. 

“My good little slut” 

Bringing his fingers to your lips he urged them open, pushing in and watching you suck gently on his digits. You shivered at the taste of your own arousal. As always you felt a little fuzzy when he did something like that– letting your eyes droop until he nudged you to release them with a pop. He ran those fingers across your lips, watching you struggle to keep your eyes on him as his hand drifted downwards to wrap swiftly around your neck.  “That's better isn't it?” he pressed his clothed cock against your bare, swollen pussy, your panties surely on the verge of ripping the way they’d been pulled aside. Javier seemed to be thinking along the same lines as you, because in a moment he reached for them and urgently dragged them down your hips, unwrapping himself from your hold and holding your ankles in one hand as the other slid your panties all the way off of you. 

When you whined at the loss of his body against yours he tutted, raising his eyebrows at you in warning. 

He then grabbed your thigh with his hand once again, squeezing it and holding it in place against his waist. You heard the jingle of his belt as he undid it. A rough edge on said belt scraped against your skin, but it was difficult to pay attention to it when you felt him reach between your bodies to tease your dripping slit with his length. 

It was sad to admit, but nothing took the weight of your shoulders much like the feeling of his hard cock sliding against your wet pussy, head bumping your clit till you were shivering and then notching at your entrance. You heard him mutter a strained curse under his breath at the feeling of your cunt sucking him in. Javier didn't waste much time, as much as he seemed to enjoy the sight of you deliriously wiggling your hips under him. 

He leaned down and traced the curve of your jaw with the bridge of his nose, breathing in your scent as he pushed in– slowly and gently. Much slower and gentler than he had ever been before. Your legs tightened around him, hips lifting pathetically as you felt him stretch you open. It had been far too long since you’d had him inside you. 

“Such a good little girl..” His hips snapped towards yours. 

“Aren’t ya?” It was an out of body experience, so overwhelming and dizzying you could almost see yourself in the act. Your brain couldn’t comprehend that tone and that gentleness as is, forget when Javier’s cock dragged deliciously against your aching walls. 

Your elbows caved from under you, letting you fall completely back against your little desk. Your head went to fall back soon after, but Javier had managed to snake his hand behind your neck– cradling your head and shielding it from the hard wooden table. Instinctively, you buried your nose in the collar of his dress shirt. He let you seek respite, palm holding you against his warm body, and pressed a kiss to the nape of your neck. 

Your skin felt like pins and needles, little sparks bounced off your exposed waist and prompted you to wiggle your hips away from him at the intensity of the sensations. “Nah uh” yanking you back in his direction Javier squeezed your hips in his hands, refusing to let you escape the death grip he had on your body, pulling you towards him with every deep, slow, thrust. 

“Silly little thing” He laughed against your lips, so close they brushed against you. You couldn’t help it when your mouth fell slack against his. He took your bottom lip between his teeth. He released it as your walls clenched around him, brows knitting at the feel of your warm, soft cunt around his cock. 

“Mine aren’t ya? Daddy’s good little slut?” Unable to catch hold of anything on the table, your hands flew to his shirt, your fingers twisting the fabric as you gripped it as tightly as you could. He let you pull him towards you, one hand sneaking between your bodies to grab and squeeze at your breast. 

“Then you’re gonna take it like I give it to ya?” You tried to nod, head lulling side to side and mouth hanging open, desperate noises leaving your lips. When your back arched against the table he  pulled you into his chest, letting you wrap your legs around his waist so tightly you felt the leather of his belt cut into your soft skin. 

Eventually he picked up his pace, and you could make out the sound of your pens clattering to the ground as your back moved relentlessly against the desk. The dim grey flood light above you came in and out of your focus, the heat that swelled up inside you hindering your ability to concentrate on absolutely anything.  “Getting all cock drunk on me..” Anything but him. Yet another orgasm stirred in your tummy, your entire body hot and tingling with overwhelm. “There’s my good girl”. 

He pulled you into him with every thrust, his hard length throbbing inside of you. “Just how I like ya’– no thoughts in that head’ve yours.” Your bare chest pressed against his soft shirt, but you longed to feel the heat of his body against your skin. 

“Can't think ‘bout anything but daddy can you?” he managed to laugh, his thick cock dragging against your wet walls in a way that had your mouth falling open in a gasp. “Just daddy, ain't that right?” As usual he grabbed at every part of you he could, hands seeking purchase on any exposed skin. 

He grazed your earlobe with his teeth as he spoke. “Poor baby, going dumb on daddy.” All you could do was whine. “Can’t hear ya..” you whimpered again, strained and hasty “yes”s leaving your mouth at record speed as the tension in your core threatened to burst. 

“S’ how it should be” your dress made it easy for you to slide along the surface of the table as he fucked into your tight, wet heat, railing you as you twitched around him. You struggled to form a broken “daddy” between your lips. 

“Stupid little girl can’t do anything but be daddy’s little sexdoll hmm?” you shook your head, but he grabbed your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger and squeezed. “‘S okay babylove, s’ how daddy likes ya best” he shook your face gently, “when ya ain't runnin that smart mouth of yours.” 

He grunted and sighs above you, seemingly lost in his own pleasure, not bothering for the first time to make you beg. It was as if the two days you spent apart had him prioritising other things. “Better this way isn’t it, nothin you gotta worry that pretty head about…” you felt your cunt squeeze him. “Not when daddy’s fuckin’ ya’” 

You could tell he was close by the way his thick cock throbbed against your slick walls, the way his Texan accent came through just a little more than it usually did. Your thighs quivered against his waist as the heat continued to pool in your belly. 

You knew he was close when he straightened up again, hands wrapping firmly around your throat as he angled his hips to hit that sweet spot inside you over and over. “C’mon baby, be a good girl and come for daddy” he tightened his grip, thumb reaching up to swipe gently at your slack lips. 

You felt your pussy clench around his cock, finally letting go as you writhed under him. You heard him groan over the ringing in your ears, your own eyes rolling back as your orgasm rolled over you in waves. You gushed around him, your own release prompting his. 

Watching his brows knit as his thrusts got sloppy might have well sent you on a second release, aftershocks making your hips wiggle against his palms as he squeezed them, his cock throbbing inside you before he erupted with a shudder. A string of strained curses escaped his mouth, chest rising and falling rapidly as he rode out his high. 

You laid there, the heat from your exertion slowly dissipating. You felt Javier pull out, his spend trickling down your thighs, and slide your panties back up over your legs. A heaviness tugged at your limbs and made your eyelids droop. Every muscle felt loose, languid, as if all the tension and energy had been drawn out, leaving behind only a deep, satisfying fatigue. 

Javier put his hands on your waist and lifted you off the table, you returned to your habitual silence, this time albeit far more satiated than before. You were dizzy, feeling like a small ghost floating in front of him, engulfed by his towering form. The world around you began to fade, sounds muffling and blurring into an indistinct background hum.

Every blink became slower, your vision narrowing to slits before closing entirely. You let yourself drift into that warm state between sleep and wakefulness, the exhaustion of the week catching up to you in more ways than one, uncaring of the sense that Javier’s eyes had been lingering. You felt him trace the bridge of your nose, reducing any prospects of you actually getting off that desk. 

He fixed your lingerie and tied the bow of your dress back up, one hand returning to stroke your cheek. His other arm came to support your back as it wrapped around you, pulling you towards him. You looked up to find him watching you, with an expression you couldn’t bother to decipher at the moment. 

You couldn’t help but fall into his chest as he stood above you, his arms reaching behind you as he packed your things in your work bag. You felt your eyes flutter shut again, complete exhaustion taking over your weak form. He placed a kiss to your temple, lifting you off the table once and into his hold once again. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, locking securely at the ankles. His hands gripped your thighs firmly, fingers digging into your flesh.

You felt cold again suddenly, and Javier readjusted his arms to hold you with his right while his left rubbed along your shoulders to warm up your skin, prickled with goosebumps. 

Your head rested against his shoulder, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek a comforting, rhythmic lull. You nuzzled deeper into the curve of his neck, tilting your head till your nose was brushing the cut of his jaw. 

Javier shifted slightly, and you could feel the subtle change in his posture as he leaned towards you, and his face came level with yours– you could feel the heat radiating from his skin, a stark contrast to the cool air around you. His hand cradled your cheek. 

With your eyes still closed you felt his lips press gently against yours, so pillowy and soft you barely registered them. He tasted how you’d imagined so many times before– cigarettes, and whiskey. Melting into his touch your hands moved to ball the fabric of his shirt gently in your fist. His lips moved against your’s with a carefulness you couldn’t really understand, but the fact that they were at all was enough. Exhaustion aside, you had a feeling the triviality of the whole ordeal, its comfort and normality seemed expected. And just as quickly as it began, it was over.

Perhaps it had always meant a lot more to you, than it did to him. 

The hand that was cupping your cheek pinched it and then snaked around your waist to help you find your footing on the ground, the same hand coming down to slap your ass as he pushed you towards the door. 

In usual Javier fashion he checked his phone, uninterestedly murmuring a soft “you can start again tomorrow” as you stood in the elevator. He let you lean against him, his palm coming down to pat your head momentarily before it was back to sorting the files in his hands.  You looked up at him, his mind now completely diverted to whatever he had come to collect in the office in the first place, so unbothered by what seemed to transpire between the two of you. 

Perhaps nothing really did. 

You wished his words gave you some motivation, but it was turning out to be really difficult to want to be anything more than his dumb, silly, little girl. 

Who else is gonna put up with me this way?

I need you, I breathe you, I'll never leave you!

They would rue the day I was alone, without you

You're lyin' with your gold chain on

Cigar hangin' from your lips, I said, "Hon'"

"You never looked so beautiful as you do now, my man"

sakjdlakd I'm sorry I just can't let them be happy lmao. Hope you enjoyed this, and let me know what you think. Thank you to everyone who reblogs and comments on my content, you keep me writing. Dividers and banners by @/sardika 🐝✨💗

[readychilledwine]

hello helloooo! I’m back with another fic idea if it interests you ✨so little Nyx is old enough to go to school maybe like kindergarten-ish age? And one day the IC is eating dinner and Nyx is like “I have a mate!” And obviously he doesn’t but still Rhys and Feyre are like WTF and then read his little bby mind and find out he’s just infatuated with his teacher. (Nyx gave her a cookie that he baked with the help of Elain which she ate and now he thinks they’re mates bc he’s too young to understand that that’s not how it works) and then during a school carnival or gathering or cute kindergarten level graduation the IC attends with Nyx and ofc Azriel is there. He doesn’t even know who Nyx’s teacher is but then he sees Nyx dragging a young female over to him where he introduces her to him, proudly saying “this is my mate!” And she just laughs but then the bond snaps for her and Azriel. And then fluff ensues from there with everyone trying to explain to Nyx that she’s not his mate and that she’s Azriel’s to which he takes forever to understand. He keeps trying to give her treats and flowers so that they’ll somehow be mates. Azriel becomes public enemy #1 in Nyx’s eyes because he stole her from him. And then fast forward to when Nyx is older, maybe finally with a mate of his own and they tell him the story at his wedding and he’s so embarrassed about it. could def see this as an OC fic but x reader works just as well!

Infatuation

I love writing little baby Nyx 🥺🥺🥺

Warnings - Nyx being a bit of a menace to society *well Az*

Nyx was beaming. Bouncing as he ate his dinner, little wings flapping every so often.

It wasn't unusual. Being surrounded by this much love, this much joy, this much devotion had made the little heir the happiest of babies, then a happy toddler, and now a happy 5 year old.

He picked up his little cup, sucking on the straw and took a big drink as Rhysand and Feyre shared a look. He set it back down with a satisfied lip smack and went back to his mashed potatoes.

"Alright, I'll bite," Cassian put his knife down. "What happened at school today?"

"I met my mate," Rhysand's face dropped at his son's little confession. "And she's perfect, and nice, and prettier than mommy."

Feyre hid her laugher behind a mask of concern before gently digging into Nyx's head.

There, as Nyx thought about his mate, was Miss Arianna, legs crossed as she read to them on the floor. Her black hair was tied up in two buns with pieces framing her face. She had a big smile on her lips as she read in different voices from the children's book.

Feyre and Rhys, despite their status, sat on a waiting list to have Nyx in her lessons. She was highly sought after, her students were all advanced for their little ages, and she allowed time in their schedules for naps. Something many teachers felt was unnecessary.

Rhys had loved you the moment he made the choice to ignore his morals and enter your mind during their interview.

You didn't care who they were.

You didn't care about their status.

You cared about the faelings.

You took children from every walk of life in Velaris. The poor, the rich, high fae, low fae. It didn't matter to you.

Rhys and Feyre both shared a look and chuckled. "And who is your mate, Nyx?"

He sighed with a dreamy look in his eyes, mind now flashing to you comforting him after he got hurt at recess, "Miss Arianna. I gave her a cookie, and we shared it, so I'm a taken male now."

Nesta had her hand over her mouth, eyes sparkling. "Well," Cassian started before a slap came to his thigh, warning him to let Rhys and Feyre take care of this gently. "You did better than Auntie Ness. She offered me a stale biscuit."

"Your mom made me a can of soup. Worse can of soup I've ever had. Lucien, what did Elain give you?"

Lucien smirked and leaned back, hand on Elain's pregnant stomach. "A five course meal with dessert."

They were all hoping Nyx would understand the implications of what they were saying, but the far-off look and content sigh told them he didn't.

A few weeks later, the inner circle and all of their partners and mates were at the school's end of the year celebration.

The grass had been packed with games, little events for the children, vendors charging nothing for sweets and foods at the kindness and generosity of the High Lord and Lady.

Nyx had long abandoned his family. Opting to run and play with his friends. Cassian and Nesta stood with their daughter, looking over the schools information sheets and the application to join Miss Arianna's class for next year.

"Mommy!" Feyre turned at the voice, beginning to laugh as Nyx dragged his teacher behind him. "Mommy! You were supposed to be behind me!" The heir tapped his foot, Miss Arianna looking away as she hid her smile at his little antics. "I had to bring her all the way over here!"

Arianna and Feyre held eye contact both of their eyes sparkling and knowing where this was going. "Mommy, this is my wife and mate, Miss Arianna," he pulled her to Mor and Emerie first. "This is my Auntie Mor and her wife Emerie." He didn't wait before ripping her to Amren and Varian. "Aunite Amren and Varian. You'll like Auntie Amren. She's real smart." She was pulled to Rhys next. The two adults shook their heads, smiling. "This is daddy. You can call him.... uh. Daddy?" He pulled her to Cassian and Nesta. "Auntie Ness and Uncle Cass," he looked around brow knit in confusion. "Where's Uncle Az and Clarissa?"

Rhys patted his head. "Ris wanted cotton candy, so Az took her to get cotton candy. Why don't you go play too? Then we can talk to your wife."

They watched as Nyx ran off. Clearly not looking to play but trying to find his missing uncle. "I tried telling him, but he's so attached to the idea of us spending the rest of our lives together that he doesn't fully understand."

They all laughed. "We tried too. He told us that we didn't understand."

"Strange. He said to me that the bond didn't snap right away for you either, High Lady, so he'd find the Suriel to tell me, and I'd feel it after that."

A soft pout came to Feyre's lips. "He doesn't understand why you won't be their teacher next year."

Arianna's face fell, the fine features morphing into sadness and longing. "I introduced them to Alexios and even had him sit and answer questions during round up day. I can talk to him. I'm so sorry. I wish I could keep them until higher level learning. We just-"

Feyre hugged her, stopping the unneeded apology. "We know. Cassian and Nesta were hoping to get Clarissa in your class."

"And we were hoping to hire you for private tutoring," Rhys, like his son, was not ready to let Her go. He had spent countless nights looking for ways to keep Nyx in her classes. "We would pay you well."

"That wouldn't be necessary," she turned to Cassian and Nesta, a big smile on her face. "Would you like to see my room? I'll have a different theme next year, but it will give you an idea of my environment."

"Lead the way," Cassian held Nesta close. Watching the two females interact, inserting questions as they walked into her classroom.

The Inner Circle all went to find food and place to eat, enjoying the small screams of joy and laughter around them. "She's really pretty," Emerie started slowly. "Maybe we should hook her up with Azriel. He hasn't dated since Gwyn."

Varian visibly flinched at the mentioned of Gwyn. "Does he still hate Tarquin?"

"Yes," they all answered together.

Azriel joined them seconds later. He was carrying Risa and holding Nyx's hand. "She crashed. Where's Cass? I'm going to take her home?"

Rhys motioned towards the schoolhouse, pulling Nyx to him and telling him to sit and eat. "Arianna offered them a tour of the classroom. A quiet place out of the sun might perk our niece back up, too."

Azriel nodded, carrying the small illyrian into the school house and following his shadows. He could hear melodic laughter and Cassian's loud voice, pausing at the doorway as his niece stirred and snuggled back into him, whispering for daddy. "He's right here, princess."

Nesta motioned for Azriel to join her. His jaw dropped at the sight of the classroom. It was a domed open glass ceiling, but the second it he entered, it began filtering light. "It knows she's sleeping," that voice had his shadows dancing. "I enchanted my room for my students so they're always in a comfortable environment. Never too bright, hot, or cold."

The room was filled with toys and exotic stuffed animals for snuggling. It was decorated like a rain forest from the continent, and an occasional call of something wild could be heard. "I suppose you enchanted all of this too?"

Azriel didn't look her direction, a look of shock and amazement going Nesta's way. Lady Death nodded eagerly, her eyes almost watering. She'd be heartbroken if Clarissa wasn't here next year, Azriel realized.

"Is this the little potential enrollee?" She walked over to Azriel, and nothing else was heard in the room. They didn't hear Cassian or Nesta respond, they no longer heard the soft sounds of animals and birds calling in the distance.

It was like everything in Azriel's life fell onto a new axis.

Arianna was his mate. The female he'd spent forever looking for.

And his nephew was obsessed with her.

Arianna spoke first, "We can't tell Nyx."

Azriel nodded. "I'll get banished to Mother knows where if we do."

Cassian looked between them before smiling, "Did you just secure my daughter's spot in her class? What kind of Aunt wouldn't teach her niece?"

Nesta smacked him hard, smiling from ear to ear. "Have dinner with us tonight? We share one of Rhys' and Feyre's houses with Azriel. He could fly you up for dinner, and we could all get to know each other."

"Only if you want that," Azriel nodded the second the sentence left her lips. "As, am I allowed to be blunt now?" They all nodded. "I was going to take her regardless," she turned to Nesta. "Morrigan scares me. It's why I took Nyx, too."

Arianna held Azriel's hand tight as they walked to the Riverhouse.

They had spent the summer getting to know each other. Going to coffee, to dinner, on long walks along the Sindra. It had taken all of a month for the two of them to decide this was serious, and they both wanted to move forward with the bond.

But that meant telling Nyx, who was still very much infatuated with her.

Azriel sighed as he grabbed the handle, "Ready?"

She nodded, hand stick folded delicately on his bicep. "Only if you are."

Azriel pushed the door to the lavish home open, smiling at Rhys and Feyre, who were waiting for them. They, Cassian, Nesta, and Azriel, had all decided the best way to do this was over a full family dinner.

"Uncle Az!" The shadoesinger stiffened. He had thought they would at least get to the table before the little heir appeared, but the Mother must have had other plans.

He came bounding into the room before stopping at the doorway with a loud gasp.

Azriel had never felt more like chopped liver as Nyx ran to his mate, hugging her legs. "Uncle Az brought my wife to dinner, Daddy!"

Rhysand scratched the stubble he had allowed to grow out due to his days being spent caring for Nyx as Feyre sat the throne. "We should all go sit on the couch, buddy. We need to talk about something."

Arianna allowed Nyx to pull her with him, looking back at Azriel with tears in her eyes.

He had discovered during their time together she had a Cauldron gift, one that had never been trained and just thought of as a personality trait. Arianna was an empath. She felt the emotions of others so deeply and could manipulate them if she tried.

It explained why she was so attached to children and them to her.

It also made her very useful in stressful situations. "Just breathe," Azriel mouthed as they all followed.

"Oh shit," Nesta whispered quietly. "We're doing this now?"

Rhys nodded. His eyes were already lining with silver as he sat across from Nyx with Azriel on one side and Feyre on the other.

The room was very quiet until Azriel spoke. "Nyx, Miss Arianna and I really need to tell you something, and we need you to try to stay calm." The shadowsinger sent a silent prayer to whatever Gods would listen and watched as one of his shadows held Arianna's free hand.

"Miss Arianna is my mate. I asked her to marry me."

The heir's face morphed into a little look of betrayal, his eyes starting to water as Rhysand and him held eye contact. "She's my mate, though."

Nyx looked at Feyre, hoping for support before looking back to a defeated Rhys. "I'm sorry, buddy, but She's Uncle Azriel's mate. Do you remember me telling you about the thread that connects me to Mommy?"

The heir cuddled closer into Arianna, glaring hard towards Azriel. "Why are you so mean?"

Feyre gasped at the question, immediately grabbing Azriel's hand. "Nyx!"

"He's trying to steal my wife!"

Arianna was in tears. The heirs emotions were overwhelming. She took over the conversation, blocking everyone from Nyx by taking both hands and sitting on the coffee table. "Nyx, honey, I'm so sorry, but Az and I are mates," they all felt the small tinge of magic shift. "I know this is hard for you. Your feelings are so valid, and it's difficult when you feel something this deeply to let go of that notion. It's hard processing such big emotions."

She wiped one of his tears. "Your mate is out there, hun. And she's wonderful, kind, smart, and closer in age than I am to you. You two will have so much more in common, and you will find joy and happiness in her that you never will in me."

"But she won't be you," Nyx sobbed heavily. "We're supposed to spend forever together."

She smiled softly. "And we will. You will always have me in your life. We will always be friends."

He glared towards Azriel, and Arianna turned his little head towards her. "You are hurting his feelings. Uncle Az loves you. We've spent a lot of time talking about how to handle this because he knew it would upset you, and it hurts his heart to see you so sad. You don't want to hurt Az. I can see if in your little face."

Nyx still glared at Az. "What if you two break up?"

"You'll be the first to know, bud," Azriel said softly.

"Good."

"Good," Azriel repeated.

"Fine."

"Fine," the heir smiled as his Uncle teased him.

It was then that Nyx decided to dive on Azriel, the Illyrian coming out of them as he started a tickle fight. "She was mine first!"

Azriel was laughing, holding the smiling boy close to him and allowing him to win. "And now she can be our. We can make her go places with us, bug her while we fight with our training swords, do pranks."

The heir stopped, that dimpled smile coming back out. "Prankies?"

Arianna's face fell as everyone started laughing. "Wait. What?"

Azriel smiled at her, sending her his love as Nyx whispered in his ear.

"We good?" She mouthed to him. He nodded, holding Nyx close. She stood to go comfort Rhys and Feyre, only for a shadow to trip her. "AZRIEL!"

The heir and shadowsinger ran off laughing as the other couples watched Arianna with shared grins, "Don't worry, sweetness," Cassian helped her up. "They're just getting started."

.General tag list:@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager

[hwanchaesong]

Of glasses and performances

a/n: writing this realquick for my pookie @yzzyhee really just a drabble buT IT'S THE THOUGHT THAT COUNTS. kind of inspired by this post lmao ✌🏼💀 also hee looks so fucking good in specs tffff literally writing this before i sleep so yeah, pls ignore any mistakes

warnings & genre: idolbf!hee, afab!reader, smut smut smut, public sex, p in v raw etc etc lmao minors dni!!! not proofread ‼️(hee fucking u into oblivion backstage after seeing u in the crowd at his group's concert)

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

You saw it. You fucking saw it.

Fighting for the front stage section of their concert is one thing. Obtaining the sexiest outfit to wear is the second thing. But seeing your oh so charming boyfriend up on the platform, performing his heart out and suddenly making eye-contact with him is just... doing things to you.

The blinding lights are not a hindrance for you to truly witness how majestic Lee Heeseung is.

Him in that black outfit, styled hair and that glasses is so fucking flawless. Then you watch him squat near the edge of the stage, his hazel orbs scanning the crowd and he makes eye-contact with you.

Time seemed to have stopped when you noticed a certain glint in his eyes, dark irises scanning your figure and you saw how he tried to hide his smirk, masking it as an expression befitting of their performance.

But you know that once you're hidden from the public, chaos will ensue.

And your instincts are always right.

Once the concert was over, you headed backstage but you were blocked by Heeseung, no words were needed as he dragged you near an empty hallway, making sure that no one is around before he does what he wants.

Pinning your wrists above your head with only one hand, he leans down and lets his breath fan all over your face as his other free hand settles itself on your hips, dangerously creeping inside your scanty dress, "Didn't think you'd wear an outfit that exposes too much skin, baby."

You examine his poorly wiped face, still sweaty probably because he hurried his way out to meet you in the middle instead of making himself more presentable, keen on keeping you alone for himself.

No worries though, he's attractive and gorgeous just the same. The messiness of his appearance just adds to the tingling that you're currently feeling.

"Well," you inclined your head to match the level of his lips, "can't blame me for wanting to look pretty for my very hardworking boyfriend."

That was the end of your short conversation with him, which you believe is the foreplay as you have now found yourself in a rather mind and body bending situation in public.

Hoisted and back flattened against the cemented, cold wall and your lovely dress is bunched up your waist. Panties ripped off and is now currently stashed in your boyfriend's pocket, which you assume he'll use in the future to relieve some frustrations when he's not with you.

Your moans reverberate across the abandoned hallway, music in Heeseung's ears as it triggers him to do more.

Faster, harder, and harsher.

The loud squelching of where the two of you are connected should have been embarrassing for you, but no fucks are given since Heeseung is already giving you all the fucking that you desire.

His thrusts are wild, relentless and undoubtedly, heavenly. The sole reason for each plunge is to send you into utopia.

You can feel his thick cock dragging on your insides, striking your cervix every time he goes in deep, the pulsating vein on the side of his length scratches your drench walls quite wonderfully, causing you to get wetter, probably creating a huge disarray down there.

One particular languid stroke had your back arching on the wall, legs wrapping securely around Heeseung's hips as he hit a delicate, spongy spot inside you.

Jackpot, he thinks, as your insides cling tighter to him like you do at the moment.

A string of curses left him when your nails rake at his nape, gently playing with his hair, eliciting a groan from him as the sensation is feathery yet sensual, a weakness of him that only you can bring out.

"Fuck baby," he rasps, concentrating at the sounds that you're making while he continuously rams into you, "you feel so fucking good. All for me yeah?"

You mewled his name desperately, the knot in your lower belly is getting ready to be snapped, "Yes Hee. I'm yours, all yours f-fuck, you own all of me."

Ah, the things you do to him. If you tried sitting in his brain then you'd be shocked by the images and thoughts that are filled with you, you, and you.

Some are fluffy but most are nasty though you are sure to love it. Of course you will, you're down bad for him just as he is for you.

He wasn't giving you any time to catch your breath as he wasted no time in kissing you, searing and hot, shoving his tongue down your throat that you couldn't help but to submit to him without much of a fight.

His tongue clashes with yours before exploring your mouth, the rhythm of the make-out session matches his pace perfectly, only detaching from you when the need for oxygen arises, leaving you gasping and flushed when a string of saliva

His bruising grip on your thighs loosened a bit as he used his left hand to slide the top of your dress, revealing your tits to him. He watches it bounce along with his thrusts for a solid minute before leaning down to capture a nipple.

Tongue flatting and hardening around your bud, circling and sucking while teasing a bit of nibbles, further adding onto the pleasure that you're receiving.

"A-ah! Heeseung, I-I'm-!" closing your eyes in rapture, tilting your head to the side to give access to your lover when he scoots his face in the crook of your neck, embellishing you with purple and blue spots.

"Close?" he whispers, licking the newly painted marks in his canvas called your skin. His peppery smooches snakes up, reaching your ears as he delicately bites your lobe, "Come for me then, baby. Don't hold back."

You moan loudly, one more. One more push and you're gone.

His palm traces the goosebumps on your thigh, and there it is, his deft fingers playing with your clit is all it took for you to gush all over him. A satisfied smirk on his kissable lips shows itself, then it turns into a sly one when he didn't slow down despite your pleading.

Begging him to take it easier since your high took a toll on your sensitivity, thus the overwhelming rapture that had you shaking in his arms.

He laughs menacingly at your futile requests, giving you a sham apology sealed with a kiss. He then murmurs against your lips, "Didn't you tell me that you're mine?"

You nod your head weakly, and that might be a mistake but at the end of this night, you'll realize that mistakes are options that you just haven't chosen. And not all mistakes are bad.

"Then take what I give you, baby. I haven't cum yet, square up until I'm done with you."

[wholoveseggs]

I looooved Stains! Thank you so much for that and all you do for our mental health in these turbulent times.

Here's another request for your very long list of requests :) Reader and the Mikaelson family are very close friends. She used to have a little fling with Klaus maybe, best friends with Rebekah and so on. Elijah is always shy and Rebekah and Reader are trying to set him up after realizing he's been a monk since his last relationship ended. Elijah is failing hard at all the set-up attempts because he is madly in love with Reader. Eventually, smut ensues :)

Inevitable

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Elijah Mikaelson x f!Reader} A playful night of banter leads to Elijah's siblings setting him up on a dating app, but the only match he wants is you...

♡♡ Ahhh!!! Thank you so much, @originals23, for this amazing request! I’ve been stuck in a bit of a writing slump lately (I even scrapped my New Year’s fic... I’m so sorry, I just wasn’t happy with it). But your ideas always light a spark of inspiration for me! Thank you, and I hope you enjoy this! ♡♡

6.9k words - Warnings: smutt, dating apps, drinking, mutual pining, Elijah in a vesttt (hot & underrated), teasing, kissing, oral (m!receiving), super sappy and romantic, mild jealousy, Kol being such a little shit, Klaus being Klaus, Rebekah always trying her best, Elijah being shy and sweet, && some good old-fashioned Mikaelson bullying...

@starkleila @lydia1369sworld @notleylaaa @vampiresluv

@myanmy @xflowerbombxo @maryvibess @always-and-forever-daydreaming

@spnaquakindgdom @amournoir @meeom @damienmorton @wickedmuse

@cs-please @complicatedandconfusing-25 @youcanhavemybuckanyday @akala6670229 @yeaiamme2

@itsjulzandmydiamonds @witch-of-letters @elijahstwink @rosecentury

@amanda08319 @starshipcookie @li-da-savage @veggie-eggrolls @spideybv28

@sunkissedebony97 @idk00sblog @savannaounana @sekaishell @b1tchy

@loving-and-dreaming @fancycassie-stayfancy @hcqwxrtss123 @iamawkwardandshy @ziayamikaelson

@absolutemarveltrash @darkened-writer @nina6708 @evasmlp

@madeinmyownmind-blog @lovelyy-moonlight @blacknightrises @poppet05 @sweetieseven

@xoxo-shy @nova-j @decaffeinatedparadisepost @fandom-princess-forevermore @theotherworld97

@origshipfan @cocoabliss @eternalnoble @darth-laeka

@sleepmusicland @chaoticfanpeach @prettyinpinkandblack @brunettebri @aerangi

From the moment Kol walked in with a giant bottle of scotch, you knew that tonight was going to be a late one. Rebekah had called you, inviting you over for a drink and some girl time. But Kol and Klaus decided to insert themselves into the mix. You weren’t complaining; the company was good. The Mikaelsons were your closest friends, having met them years ago. Klaus had been a brief fling, but the friendship was what truly stuck.

The playful atmosphere was infectious as you all sat around the living room, laughter bubbling at some joke Klaus made. Kol poured drinks with dramatic flair, teasing Klaus about his awkward blunders with his crush, Camille. Klaus’s glare didn’t faze his younger brother in the slightest.

"I hardly think you have any room to speak. What is the state of your love life? It seems quite nonexistent," Klaus shot back, his tone laced with mock indignation.

Kol, unfazed, chuckled and took a long swig of his drink, shaking his head. "I'd like to think it is quite thriving, thank you very much," he retorted, settling onto the couch. He leaned back smugly before adding, "In fact, I had a date yesterday."

The rest of you murmured in surprise, exchanging knowing looks.

"With who?" you asked, curiosity getting the better of you as you sat next to Rebekah. She arched an eyebrow at you, clearly already anticipating Kol’s response.

"This pretty little-" Kol began with a grin, only to be cut off by his sister’s wicked smirk.

"Witch," Rebekah finished for him, and Kol’s laugh was one of agreement rather than embarrassment.

"I suppose I have a type," he admitted with an exaggerated shrug, unbothered by the teasing. His gaze flicked to you, eyes gleaming mischievously. "What about you, love?"

The sudden attention caught you mid-sip, and you glanced at him with a raised brow. "What about me?" you asked, setting your glass down and wiping the excess liquid off your lips.

Kol’s wicked grin widened. "We all know Niklaus has thoroughly disappointed you, so I’m sure you’ve found someone more worthy to keep your bed warm."

Klaus scoffed loudly before you could respond. "Hardly disappointing. We had a grand time," he insisted, smirking at you with a glint of pride.

This time, your playful grin faltered for just a second. The memory of your fleeting fling with Klaus still lingered, though it was far behind you. While the chemistry between you and Klaus had fizzled into camaraderie, you couldn’t help the pang of something unspoken when your thoughts drifted elsewhere…toward another Mikaelson.

You shrugged, masking your thoughts with a casual smile. "Nik did just fine. Better than most of the men I find myself with," you quipped, winking at Klaus. His dimples deepened in a smug grin, clearly satisfied with your answer.

Kol, never one to let a moment slide, laughed heartily. "Those dating apps not doing you any favors, darling?" he taunted, causing you and Rebekah to share a knowing chuckle.

"Here, Kol, see for yourself," you replied, tossing him your phone with a grin that was a mix of challenge and resignation. Kol’s eyes lit up with delight as he caught it effortlessly.

He immediately began swiping through your dating app, his expression shifting between mock horror and glee. Rebekah leaned over his shoulder, giggling at the profiles and messages he unearthed.

"Men these days," Kol lamented dramatically, "back in my day, we wrote poems and courted properly. This is far too impersonal."

You raised an eyebrow, unable to resist. "Is that how you charm all the young witches? With poetry?"

Kol grinned, unabashed. "Oh, I hardly need to do any charming. They fall over themselves for me. It’s quite endearing."

"You are such a womanizer," Rebekah pointed out, shaking her head at Kol. Klaus, surprisingly, nodded in agreement, raising his glass to emphasize the point.

"You know who isn’t?" Kol mused, still swiping through the dating app on your phone. "Elijah."

The mention of Elijah caught your attention, and your curiosity piqued. "When was the last time he was in a relationship?" you asked, genuinely intrigued. You tried to recall, but nothing serious came to mind. Elijah had always seemed… reserved in that regard.

Before Kol or Rebekah could answer, they glanced behind you, their faces lighting up with amusement. You followed their gaze and felt your stomach do a little flip. Elijah had appeared, clad in a crisp white button-down and a tailored vest that seemed to fit him too perfectly for your peace of mind.

He greeted everyone with a polite smile before effortlessly slipping into the seat beside you. As he leaned over and stole your glass, his proximity made your pulse quicken. He took a sip, closing his eyes briefly as if savoring the taste, and then turned his attention to you. 

"It has been a while," he replied smoothly, finally answering your question. "Why do you ask?"

For a moment, you were distracted. Not just by his words, but by the way his shirt hugged his frame and the way his sleeves were rolled up just enough to reveal strong forearms. You realized he was waiting for an answer, and heat rushed to your cheeks.

"I-I… we were wondering when you were going to get back out there," you stammered, your usual composure faltering under his steady gaze. Elijah had a way of doing that, making you nervous in the most exhilarating way.

"It has been a while," he admitted, his voice calm and measured as he shrugged. His siblings, however, were far less composed, their expressions brimming with mischief. "What?" Elijah asked, his tone tinged with suspicion.

"How long? Weeks? Months?" Kol asked, his grin widening. Then, raising his eyebrows with mock disbelief, he added, "Years?"

"None of your business," Elijah replied, a small but unmistakable smile tugging at his lips. His usual composure didn’t falter, but there was a flicker of exasperated fondness in his tone.

"Oh, it's definitely years," Klaus exclaimed with a bark of laughter. "That is quite a long time. I am shocked you have not gone mad." He took a long sip of his drink, smirking over the rim of his glass.

Elijah rolled his eyes, brushing off their jabs with practiced ease. "It hasn’t been that long," he insisted, though his siblings’ skepticism was palpable.

"Sure, sure," Rebekah teased, sharing a conspiratorial glance with Kol. You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head at their antics. The Mikaelson siblings were relentless when it came to teasing each other.

"I have an idea," Rebekah said suddenly, a devilish glint in her eye. "Let’s make you a dating profile." Before Elijah could protest, she was already reaching for his phone.

"You are not putting me on a dating website," Elijah said firmly, his brow furrowing as he attempted to grab his phone back. Rebekah, ever the quick one, held it just out of his reach, sticking her tongue out like a mischievous child.

"I think it’s a great idea," Klaus chimed in with a smirk. "You could use the release. Perhaps it will even help dislodge the stick in your ass." His laugh echoed through the room as Elijah retaliated by tossing a throw pillow at him.

Rebekah ignored the commotion and began typing on Elijah’s phone. "Let’s see… what should your bio say?" she mused aloud. Kol leaned over her shoulder, already snickering as he threw out suggestions.

"How about, 'Hi, my name is Elijah Mikaelson: your next regret. I specialize in brooding, being a bore, and eating pus-'" Kol’s suggestion was abruptly cut off by Rebekah’s sharp interruption.

"Too far, Kol!" she scolded, though she could barely suppress her own laughter.

Elijah shook his head, his expression a mix of amusement and annoyance.

Klaus, having recovered from his own laughter, chimed in, "You forgot, 'Hi, I’m Elijah. Chivalry isn’t dead because I refuse to let it die. Unfortunately, the same can’t be said for anyone who crosses my family.'"

For a moment, Elijah gave him the sternest of looks, but then his lips betrayed him, curving into a reluctant smile. You caught the faint crinkle at the corners of his eyes, and it made your heart skip a beat.

"I do just fine without any of this nonsense," he said, gesturing to the phones.

Kol was quick to retort, "Well, clearly that’s not the case if it’s been years since you’ve been laid," his cheeky grin earning a round of laughter from everyone except Elijah.

"Let’s see here," Kol continued, unabashed. "What are you into?"

"You know the answer to that, Kol. It'll be something boring like books and classical music," Rebekah quipped, not even glancing up from the phone as she continued crafting Elijah’s profile.

"Those things aren't boring," you interjected, your tone firmer than you intended. You glanced at Elijah, catching the way his gaze softened in response. He offered you a small, grateful smile, the kind that made your stomach flutter despite yourself.

"Okay, I'm almost done," Rebekah announced, clearly pleased with herself as her fingers danced over the screen. A triumphant grin spread across her face. "There we go! Your profile is all set," she said, tossing his phone back to him.

Elijah caught it effortlessly, letting out a resigned sigh. "This is ridiculous," he muttered, though he dutifully swiped through the profiles, his brows furrowing slightly as he took in the absurdity of it all.

You leaned over his shoulder, your curiosity getting the better of you. His proximity sent a wave of warmth coursing through you, but you focused on the screen. "Look, you’ve got a message already!" you exclaimed, pointing out the flashing notification.

"Oh, please no," he said with a weary shake of his head, clearly dreading whatever awaited him.

"Read it aloud," Rebekah urged, pouring herself another generous glass of scotch, her eyes alight with amusement.

"What’s the point? He’s going to turn them down anyway," Klaus drawled, swirling his drink lazily.

"I’m curious as to what she’s going to say," Kol added, his grin positively wicked as he leaned in for a better look.

"She’s really pretty," you observed, noting the woman’s profile picture. Your tone was meant to sound detached, but a trace of something else…envy?..slipped through. Elijah let out a heavy sigh, his finger hovering over the message before finally opening it.

His cheeks turned a faint shade of pink as he read the text, his usually composed expression betraying a flicker of embarrassment. "You can’t be serious," he murmured, his voice low as he kept his eyes fixed on the screen.

From your angle, you caught enough of the message to know it was... bold. The woman wasn’t shy about what she wanted, and she was eager to meet him later that night. Your chest tightened, an unwelcome pang of jealousy sparking before you quickly brushed it aside.

"Oh, I’m dying to know what it says," Rebekah pressed, leaning closer in her attempt to sneak a look. "What’s her name?"

"Amanda," Elijah muttered, still scrolling through the message as if hoping it would suddenly become more tasteful.

"I bet it’s kinky," Kol teased, his voice dripping with mischief. His grin only widened when Elijah shot him a sharp glare.

"I will not dignify that with a response," Elijah said, slipping his phone back into his pocket with a firm finality. "Besides, I have no desire to go out tonight," he added, finishing his drink in a single, graceful motion.

"Oh, come on," you found yourself saying, nudging him lightly. "She’s gorgeous and looks like a lot of fun. Just meet up with her."

The words felt foreign as they left your lips, like they belonged to someone else entirely. Why were you encouraging him? Perhaps it was the alcohol clouding your judgment, or maybe it was a feeble attempt to appear unaffected. But deep down, the idea of him spending the night with another woman gnawed at you.

"As much as I appreciate the effort, I have no interest," Elijah said, his tone firm but calm. He poured himself another glass of scotch, his movements graceful and unhurried. "Besides, I've never been one for one-night stands."

"Why not? You should live a little," Rebekah mused, her gaze flickering between you two as if sensing the unspoken tension.

"It's not that I don’t enjoy life," Elijah countered, his voice steady. "I simply choose not to act on every impulse."

"So, you've never had a fling? Just for the hell of it?" you asked, genuinely surprised. The thought of someone as composed as Elijah letting go of his control intrigued you.

"I highly recommend it," Klaus interjected, a smirk tugging at his lips as he gave you a knowing look.

You quickly averted your eyes, heat creeping up your neck. You didn’t want Klaus to think his past fling with you still lingered in your mind. Clearing your throat, you forced a casual tone. "Well, it’s just not healthy to go without some kind of release. That’s all I’m saying."

Elijah’s lips curved upward, his expression almost teasing. "I’ve been alive for centuries. I think I’ll manage," he replied, taking a deliberate sip of his drink.

"Alright, alright, well, we tried," Rebekah said with a laugh, effectively steering the conversation elsewhere. Yet, as the banter continued around you, you found it impossible to focus.

Your mind was spinning, refusing to let go of the idea of Elijah… with someone else. You tried to dismiss the thought, but instead, it spiraled into something entirely different. Unbidden, an image of him shirtless, his composure unraveling, flooded your thoughts. The heat that crept up your cheeks was undeniable now.

You attempted to shake it off, but every glance in his direction seemed to pull you deeper. The way his tongue flicked to catch the remnants of scotch on his lips, the slow bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed, the way his sleeves were rolled just high enough to reveal strong, lean forearms. It was all maddeningly distracting.

But what captivated you most was his smile. Those faint creases around his eyes when he smiled. That smile that was both rare and disarming…made him impossibly handsome. It wasn’t just the smile itself; it was the way it softened his otherwise sharp, controlled features. Those creases hinted at warmth beneath his stoic exterior, and every time you saw them, your heart fluttered.

"(Y/N)?" Rebekah’s voice jolted you out of your thoughts.

"Huh? What?" you asked, blinking rapidly as you looked around the room.

"You’re flushed. Are you alright?" Rebekah asked, concern furrowing her brow.

"I think I’ve had a bit too much," you said quickly, forcing a nervous laugh.

You reached for your phone, desperate for a distraction. Scrolling through your notifications, you tried to focus on something, anything, that wasn’t Elijah. But when you opened the dating app, you froze.

There it was: Elijah’s profile. Rebekah had chosen a group photo for him, zooming in on his face, because the man had never taken a single selfie in his life. He looked effortlessly perfect, dressed in a three-piece suit, his hair slicked back, dimples on display, and his eyes warm yet piercing. Without thinking, your thumb swiped right.

The realization hit you like a freight train when Elijah’s phone buzzed almost immediately. He ignored it at first, leaving it face down on the table as he continued chatting with his siblings. Panic bubbled in your chest. Had you really just… matched with him? With him sitting right next to you? 

Your hands were clammy, your heart racing as another buzz sounded. Elijah reached for his phone casually, swiping it open. His brows furrowed slightly as he read the notification, his expression shifting from confusion to stillness. Then, as if in slow motion, a small smile crept across his face. Those familiar creases at the corners of his eyes deepened, and your breath caught in your throat.

"Well, what does it say?" Kol asked, clearly reveling in the suspense.

Elijah didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he slid his phone into his pocket. His eyes met yours, and that small smile widened into something warmer, something that made your chest tighten and your pulse quicken. "Looks like I might have some fun after all," he murmured, his voice low and velvety.

Your heart skipped a beat, and a rush of heat coursed through you. Despite yourself, you couldn’t hide the grin that tugged at your lips. What had you done? And why did his reaction make you feel so… giddy?

"What? Who messaged you?" Rebekah asked.

"It’s nothing," he said dismissively, finishing his drink with a calmness that belied the electricity sparking between you.

"Oh, come on, just tell us!" Klaus pressed, a smug smile tugging at his lips. "Did you receive some nudes?"

Kol chuckled, leaning forward eagerly. "Please say yes."

Elijah rolled his eyes, his expression a mix of exasperation and fond amusement. "No, I did not," he replied, his tone calm but laced with dry humor. The corner of his mouth curved upward ever so slightly.

"You are impossible," Rebekah huffed, crossing her arms. Her annoyance at being left in the dark was clear.

Elijah straightened, adjusting his sleeves with characteristic precision. "This has been fun, but I have to go. Some of us actually have work to do tomorrow," he said smoothly, rising to his feet.

Rebekah rolled her eyes, muttering something under her breath as he moved to leave.

"Goodnight," Elijah called, his voice steady as he glanced at each of his siblings. When his gaze finally settled on you, the rest of the room seemed to fade into the background. That magical smile returned, his features softening as his eyes lingered on yours. Your stomach flipped, a warmth spreading through your chest.

"Goodnight," you managed, your voice barely above a whisper. There was a tightness in your chest, an anticipation that left you breathless. He lingered a moment longer, his eyes holding yours as if trying to convey something unspoken. Then, with a faint smile and a slight tilt of his head, he turned and disappeared upstairs.

One by one, the remaining Mikaelson siblings retired to their rooms until only you and Klaus were left. The silence between you was comfortable, broken only by the occasional clink of glasses as you both sipped on scotch.

"So," Klaus began, his voice soft as he broke the silence. "Want to go up to my room?" His tone was casual, but there was something thoughtful in his gaze as he regarded you.

You couldn’t deny the pull of his charm or the familiarity between you. It would have been so easy. To let yourself fall into old patterns, to escape into the comfort of his arms and forget everything else. But tonight, something was different.

"Not tonight," you replied with a sad smile, brushing the back of his hand affectionately. "Cami wouldn’t be very happy with you," you teased gently, hoping to lighten the moment.

"Fair enough," he relented, though a flicker of disappointment crossed his features. After a pause, his lips curved into a wry grin. "I guess Elijah wouldn’t approve either."

You blinked, startled by the mention. Before you could respond, Klaus continued, his voice quieter this time. "If there was ever anyone worthy of my brother, it’s you. You two deserve each other," he mused, his tone tinged with an unreadable emotion.

The sincerity in his words left you momentarily stunned. "Thanks," you murmured, your voice soft, unsure of what else to say.

Klaus chuckled, draining the last of his drink. "Now, get out of here," he said, his tone turning playful. "And tell my brother I said hello."

His wink was mischievous, and you couldn’t help but laugh. Just as you stood to leave, your phone buzzed in your hand. Glancing down, you saw a message from Elijah. Your breath caught.

Klaus leaned over with unabashed curiosity, catching a glimpse of the screen. His brows lifted, a smirk spreading across his face. "He’s not wasting any time," he quipped, earning an eye roll and a glare from you.

"Shut up," you muttered, though a smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. As you turned to leave, a wave of nervous anticipation washed over you. You had no idea what awaited you upstairs, but the thought of seeing Elijah in private sent a shiver of excitement through your body.

"Goodnight," you called over your shoulder, already halfway out the door.

"Good luck," Klaus called back, his laughter following you as you ascended the staircase.

The walk to Elijah’s room was a blur. Your pulse quickened with every step, your mind racing with possibilities. When you finally reached his door, your knuckles felt shaky as you knocked. The moments that followed felt endless until the door opened, revealing him.

Elijah stood there, his hair slightly disheveled, his sleeves rolled up to his forearms. He looked less composed than usual but no less striking. His gaze flickered over you, a faint smile curving his lips.

"Hey," you managed, your voice catching in your throat.

"Hey," he replied, his voice low and warm. His eyes roamed over you, his appreciation evident, and for a moment, the space between you seemed to disappear.

"So," he began, his voice steady, his eyes searching yours. "Did you get my message?"

Your heart fluttered, each beat reverberating in your chest. "Yes," you murmured, suddenly breathless under the weight of his gaze.

He tilted his head slightly, his lips curving into a faint smile, his eyes never leaving yours. "And?" he prompted, his tone soft but teasing.

"And... I'm here," you said, your voice trembling, the words escaping more unsteadily than you intended.

That smile deepened, his eyes twinkling with amusement and something far more intense. "Would you like to come in?" he asked, gesturing inside.

You nodded, unable to find your voice, your pulse hammering in your ears. He stepped aside, his gaze still locked on yours as you crossed the threshold. The door clicked shut behind you, and suddenly, the air between you felt heavier, charged. The tension was almost tangible, a magnetic pull keeping you rooted to the spot as he moved closer.

The silence stretched, the tingling warmth of his presence washing over you. For a moment, you were paralyzed by indecision. Should you kiss him? Was he about to kiss you?

Then, as if reading your thoughts, his lips met yours. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, his hands coming up to cradle your face with a tenderness that made your knees weak. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, desperate to close the gap between you.

He broke the kiss first, his breathing uneven, his dark eyes fixed on yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. "I have to admit, I’m surprised," he murmured, his voice low.

You blinked, trying to focus despite the lingering sensation of his lips on yours. "About what?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

"You. This. Everything," he said, his expression softening, though his gaze remained searching. "I thought you only had eyes for Niklaus," he teased gently, though there was something deeper in his tone, as if he was testing the waters.

You hesitated, hyper-aware of how close you were standing. The heat radiating off his body, the faint scent of his cologne, the brush of his breath against your skin. "It wasn’t anything serious," you said quietly, your words tentative but honest.

His thumb brushed along your jawline, the gesture achingly tender. "So, you're single then," he murmured, his voice dipping lower, the sound a mix of relief and desire.

"Yes," you breathed, the word barely audible.

"Good," he whispered, his lips ghosting over yours, so close you could feel the warmth of his breath. "Because I have no intention of sharing you."

The possessive edge in his tone sent a thrill down your spine, igniting something deep within you. Before you could respond, his lips were on yours again, this time with more urgency. The kiss was deeper, hungrier, his tongue parting your lips and exploring, tasting you in a way that made your knees buckle.

You groaned softly, the sound muffled by his mouth, and began fumbling with the buttons on his vest, desperate to remove the barriers between you. He smiled against your lips, his hands sliding down your back to cup your ass, pulling you against him with a boldness that surprised you.

You had expected his gentlemanly demeanor to carry over, but his touch was insistent, his movements deliberate and confident. His grip tightened, and before you knew it, he had lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively.

Your heart pounded as he carried you to the bed, the world narrowing to the feel of his body pressed against yours and the heat building between you. When he laid you down gently, his weight above you, the realization hit. You wanted this. Every moment, every touch, every kiss.

This was happening.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as he trailed kisses along your jawline and down the sensitive column of your neck. You continued to fumble with the buttons on his vest, the task made more difficult by his mouth, which was now exploring the sensitive skin below your ear.

"Impatient, aren't we?" he whispered, his lips grazing the shell of your ear, the sound making your skin tingle.

"Maybe a little," you gasped, arching your hips into his as he bit down gently, his tongue soothing the mark immediately after.

You felt his weight shift as he shrugged off his vest, the sound of fabric falling to the floor making your heart race even faster. His hands were everywhere, firm yet gentle. As though he couldn’t decide whether to savor or devour you.

His hands slid down your sides, tracing the curve of your waist and settling on your hips. His grip tightened, pulling you flush against him, and you couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped you at the contact. Every move, every touch seemed to stoke the fire between you, the heat building to an unbearable intensity.

You tugged at the collar of his shirt, urging him to remove it, the need for his bare skin against yours overwhelming. With a low chuckle, he pulled away long enough to comply, discarding the shirt onto the growing pile of clothing.

You had always suspected he was hiding an impressive physique underneath his suit, but the sight of him still managed to catch you off guard. Toned muscles, smooth skin, those broad shoulders… and those arms. God, his arms.

You traced the outline of his bicep appreciatively, your fingers moving upward to follow the lines of his collarbone. He watched you explore, the way your eyes moved over his chest, following the faint trail of dark hair leading to his abdomen. A hint of a smirk pulled at his lips, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on you.

You felt your cheeks go warm, and you reached down and pulled your dress up and over your head in one fluid motion. It was his turn to blush, the look on his face shifting from amusement to unmistakable desire. His gaze trailed over you, taking in the sight of your newly exposed skin, his eyes darkening with need.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered, dipping his head to plant kisses along your collarbone, his lips brushing against the tops of your breasts.

He shifted his weight, rolling you both onto your sides. His hand lifting your thigh and hooking your leg around his hip, and his fingertips grazed the soft skin on the inside. Your eyes met his, and the heat pooling between your legs was impossible to ignore.

His fingers gently grazed the edge of your panties, the fabric already soaked through with need. He let out a soft groan at the discovery, his thumb moving steadily over the little nub of nerves through the thin cotton.

A sharp intake of breath was all you could manage as his deft fingers continued their torture. He was drawing patterns against the fabric, sending jolts of pleasure through your body with every stroke. Your hips rocked against him, your hands pressed into his chest, nails digging into his skin.

He hummed softly, a hint of amusement in the sound. He was enjoying this. Seeing you squirm beneath him, reduced to a mess of desire. Your eyes met his, and his gaze was filled with a mix of fondness and lust.

"Don't tease," you managed, your voice hoarse with need.

"As you wish," he murmured, slipping his hand inside your panties.

He was nothing like Klaus, who was rough and urgent, taking what he wanted and giving just enough to leave you wanting more. No, Elijah was a different beast entirely.

You felt his fingers trace your entrance, slick and ready for him, before finally easing inside. He groaned, a sound so low and primal it made your toes curl. You arched into his hand, the feeling of his thick fingers filling you completely.

"'Lijah," you gasped, your words trailing off into a breathless moan as he began moving inside you with deep, slow strokes.

He continued his unhurried pace, smiling as he watched you squirm and pant beside him. His thumb returned to circle your clit, the combination exquisite. He seemed to know exactly how you liked it. How much pressure to apply, when to quicken the pace, when to slow down. All you could do was cling to him, your head spinning as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through your body.

You felt the familiar pressure building, and you closed your eyes, lost in the sensation. His free hand cupped your cheek, tilting your chin up. Your eyes fluttered open to meet his, dark and intense.

"Eyes on me," he whispered, his voice commanding but tender.

You couldn't look away, caught in his spell, as your release began to crest. You felt him increase the pressure, the rhythmic stroking of his fingers pushing you over the edge. A sharp cry left your lips as the tension snapped, ripples of pleasure spreading through your body.

Your fingers curled into his skin, nails leaving crescent-shaped marks on his shoulder. He looked down at the marks, a small, satisfied smile curving his lips.

You kissed him slowly, lazily, your body still humming with pleasure. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer, his erection pressing against your thigh, a silent plea.

You reached between you, cupping his length through his pants, he let out a soft hiss, watching you through hooded eyes, his breath coming in shallow gasps. His pupils were dilated, his cheeks flushed.

"Let me take care of you now," you whispered, palming his length.

He nodded, his lips parting in anticipation as you reached for his belt. You made quick work of it, freeing his erection from its confines.

You hummed appreciatively, admiring the way he filled your palm, so hard and smooth. With your other hand you pushed on his chest, guiding him to lie flat, his head on the pillow.

Your heart thudded as you positioned yourself over him, taking in the sight of him, laid out before you. His eyes were filled with anticipation and need, his expression almost boyish. He looked almost... innocent? Nervous? It was hard to read.

With a wicked grin, you bent down and wrapped your lips around him, sucking gently. A guttural moan tore from his throat, his hands finding their way into your hair. He didn't push, but held on as if his life depended on it.

You swirled your tongue around the tip, teasing and tasting. You took him further, relaxing your throat to accommodate his length. You moaned around him, the vibration eliciting a gasp from him.

You pressed a hand into his hips, keeping him steady, as your head bobbed up and down. Your other hand stroked the base of his shaft, coaxing him further, deeper. His hips jerked, trying to gain leverage, but your grip was firm.

His breathing was ragged, his chest rising and falling in short bursts. You had never seen him so disheveled, so undone. It was a heady feeling. Knowing that you were responsible for making the most refined man you had ever known fall apart.

You continued working him, using every trick you knew, drawing him closer and closer to the edge. He was murmuring things, his words tumbling out in a string of barely coherent compliments.

You hummed, enjoying his incoherence, the way his fingers tugged at your hair. The pressure was building, his breath becoming shorter and shallower. He was so close, you could taste it. You pulled back slightly, your tongue swirling around the tip once more.

He let out a low groan, his hips stilling as he spilled into your mouth. You swallowed him greedily, savoring the taste of him, the sounds he made.

You looked up at him, taking in the sight of his parted lips, the sheen of sweat covering his forehead. He looked beautiful. Wild and untamed. And completely yours.

The realization washed over you, sending a jolt of something unfamiliar through your body. Before you could examine it, he was pulling you underneath him, taking back control. His lips found yours, kissing you deeply, his hands sliding under your hips, pressing you closer.

The two of you just kissed for awhile, unhurried, enjoying the feel of each other. Your fingers explored his body, learning every dip and curve, committing him to memory.

"I must confess, it actually has been years," he said suddenly, breaking the silence. His words were spoken into the crook of your neck, his voice slightly muffled.

You couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up, his confession so unexpected.

"It's alright, I won't tell anyone," you teased, carding your fingers through his hair.

He leaned back, his eyes shining with amusement. "That would be preferable," he agreed, planting a kiss on the underside of your jaw.

"The wait was worth it," he whispered, his voice low and full of promise.

You couldn't stop the blush that crept up your neck, his words sending a fresh wave of heat through your body. He had that effect on you. Making you feel things you had never experienced before. He was so commanding yet tender. So confident, yet vulnerable.

You tugged him closer, wanting to be engulfed by his scent, his warmth. He obliged, slowly parting your legs with his knee, his erection pressing into the apex of your thighs.

He leaned down, his lips ghosting over yours, his breath warm against your cheek. "Is this okay?" he whispered, his question genuine.

You nodded, not used to the way he was taking his time. You had never had someone take such care, treating your body like something delicate, precious. It was an odd feeling, and you found yourself craving it, eager to see what he would do next.

He brushed his nose against yours, a tender gesture, his hands lifting your thighs, pressing them against your stomach. You could feel his hard length against you, but he remained still, his gaze searching yours.

You realized he was waiting for an invitation. "Please," you breathed, unable to say more, your mind too focused on the feel of him, the heat building inside you.

His fingers gripped the back of your thighs, the pressure enough to bruise, as he eased into you slowly. Your eyes fluttered shut, his thickness stretching you, filling you completely. You moaned, your fingers digging into his biceps.

He began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate, each one sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. He set a perfect rhythm, his hips rolling against yours in a way that left you breathless.

Your hips rose to meet his, colliding in perfect harmony, his breath warm against your cheek. He murmured words of encouragement, his voice hoarse and low. Your name escaped his lips in a breathless gasp, the sound almost a prayer.

You could feel his love, his admiration, in every touch, every kiss, every stroke. It wasn't just sex. It was Elijah pouring every ounce of his devotion into you. You understood why he wasn't a man for one-night stands. He couldn't separate the act from the emotion. And for some reason, you couldn't either. Not with him.

His hands slid to your hips, steadying your movements as he slowed his thrusts, savoring the way you fit together. "Perfect," he breathed, his lips grazing the side of your neck, his breath hot on your skin.

"Elijah," you whimpered, his name escaping in a gasp.

He was unraveling you, piece by piece, every thrust bringing you closer to the edge. You could feel the pressure building, the familiar heat pooling deep inside you. You closed your eyes, your fingers curling into his skin as the first waves of your orgasm washed over you.

"That’s it," Elijah whispered, his voice like velvet against your ear, low and intimate.

Your body trembled, a moan escaping your lips as the waves of pleasure crashed over you, your body tensing, then relaxing. He rode you through it, his own release following yours, he groaned, his forehead resting against yours.

For a moment, the world around you faded away, your thoughts only of him. You breathed each other in, the two of you still joined, hearts racing.

When the fog cleared, and reality came rushing back, all you could think about was the way his skin felt against yours. His body, warm and solid above you. You had never had sex like that before. It was intense, almost spiritual. You couldn't explain it, but there was something different about him. Something you had never experienced with anyone else.

"Well, that was..." you trailed off, looking up at him through your lashes.

He met your gaze, a hint of amusement in his expression. "Indeed," he murmured, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

You let out a soft giggle, your cheeks warming under the weight of his stare. You snuggled into his chest, his strong arm wrapping around you, holding you close.

You stayed like that for a while, enjoying the feel of his bare skin against yours. Your fingers absently traced patterns along his chest, his heartbeat steady and strong. You had never felt more content, more at ease.

"You're welcome to stay," he whispered, his lips brushing against the top of your head.

You hummed in agreement, letting him pull the blankets around you. You couldn't remember the last time you had felt so comfortable. So safe.

The soft buzzing of his phone pulled you both back to reality, a reminder that the world outside still existed. Elijah sighed, the sound half-amused, half-irritated.

"Who is it?" you asked, the question partially muffled by his chest.

"It doesn't matter," he replied, his voice soft and reassuring.

You lifted your head, looking at the screen, and noticed all the messages notifications from the dating app. You chuckled.

"Someone is popular," you said, teasing him lightly.

He shrugged, a sheepish look on his face. You reached out and opened a message from one of his many suitors, a blonde woman who was unafraid to get right to the point.

‘My place? ;)’, the message read, along with a very provocative picture.

"I don't understand why people think sending a photo like that is appropriate," Elijah mused, his tone indignant.

You burst out laughing, the thought of Elijah, in all his old-fashioned glory, unable to comprehend the dating app culture, was too much.

"Oh come on, don't tell me you didn't expect this," you teased, poking him gently in the ribs.

He caught your hand, bringing it up to his lips, the gesture so intimate, you could feel your cheeks flush.

"I'm aware of what dating apps are for, I'm just not interested in the kind of attention she's offering," he replied, his eyes meeting yours, the warmth in his gaze making your heart race.

"It's not all bad, you know," you said, a hint of mischief in your voice. "It worked for us," you pointed out.

He arched an eyebrow, his expression thoughtful. "I suppose you're right," he conceded, his lips curving into a small smile. "But we would have ended up here regardless," he added, his confidence unwavering.

"Is that so?" you replied, trying to hide the way your heart was hammering against your chest.

"Yes," he said simply, the certainty in his voice leaving no room for doubt.

"And why is that?" you pressed, enjoying the way he was looking at you, his gaze full of adoration.

“This,” he murmured, his voice low and steady, “was always meant to happen. You and I… we’re inevitable.”

You smiled softly, your fingers brushing along his jawline. “Inevitable,” you repeated, the word tasting like a promise on your tongue. Whatever doubts or fears you had melted away in the warmth of his gaze, the quiet certainty that seemed to anchor you to this moment. As his arms tightened around you, pulling you closer, you realized that this was exactly where you were meant to be.

Wrapped in his embrace, your future unfolding one shared heartbeat at a time.

[officialundertakersmoocher]

may i pls request a scenario with violet and afab reader where he’s drawing them nude and then smut ensues?

An Artistic Craving

yall i am so sorry for the extended break, and I hope this meets your expectations 😭

Warnings: NSFW, Nudity, +18, Slightly OOC

• • •

"Stay still, okay?"

"But, Vi, it's so embarrassing..." You attempt to cover your assets which have been shamefully exposed to his eyes in the dimly lit study room.

"Don't think of it that way... It's just a study." You tried not to ask many questions, after all, he was more versed in the arts than you were.

It was lucky that you two happened to catch this moment alone, unchaperoned. Vi, actually very uncharacteristically, was the one to insist that he needed you as a model to finish this study to complete a project he was working on for his upcoming art exam.

After all, you two had been seeing each other for a long time now and were not only comfortable enough to do such a thing, but you also just happened to owe him a favor.

This is how you ended up in such a position for your lover, spewn on a dark purple couch in a private study room near the Purple House dorms. You knew that Gregory was too shy to say so, but there are many books on campus filled with similar references free for his use. He just wanted to spend time with you in an intimate setting such as this one.

You caught him stealing glances at you every once in a while, and he could sense your growing discomfort from staying still for so long.

He left his sketchbook behind momentarily to kneel down beside you and suddenly the room felt more quiet. Your eyes locked as he gently adjusts the position of your hand, placing it under your head in a graceful fashion.

He tilts his head and he brushes a strand of hair away from your face as if to get a better view.

He tried to back away to retreat to his seat, but was caught by your hand pulling him back. He sat confused for a moment but could tell your eyes were asking him to stay.

You move yourself upwards to face him and pull him into a kiss. His lips are soft and welcoming and he eventually moves to grab your waist.

You slowly move him onto the couch with you, straddling his waist. He begins to become shy from this now suddenly risqué moment and pulls away from your lips.

"Love, I don't know if we should..." You could feel the deep heat resonating from his cheeks, so you asked him softly, "Would you like me to stop...?"

"Please no..."

You just barely hear him mutter this, but his hot breath on your neck shows you how desperate he has become.

Before you know it, there are clothes being dragged away and thrown about the room, never finding the motivation to tear your lips apart from one another. You both are stuck in an agonizing dance, waiting for the moment that you both can be as close as you desire.

The room has reached a stillness as the dim candlelight bounces off of skin, and hot breath stills in the air. You are both frozen in time, taking in the moment for the first time now, and as you do, you notice that you've never really seen your lover in such a passionate way as this.

In this position, he's kneeling his body over yours and bowing his head in a shy manor. From the silence you hear him speak softly, asking, "Is this what you want, for sure?" And you have seemingly been too caught up in your own thoughts to notice the lingering question prodding in-between your thighs. You suddenly feel a harsh flush invading your cheeks and a needy wetness in the very same place that he finds his attention.

You turn your head to avoid the embarrassment of facing him as you answer his looming question.

Your voice shakes more than you intended it to, more out of anticipation than anything else. "Yes, of course, p-please keep going, my love-"

However, he catches you off guard by lowing his head down to your thighs. His proximity meant you could feel his breath tickle your skin and it invigorated you.

He softly grazed your folds with his fingers, and slowly exploring your body until he reached the most sensitive parts of you. The moment he grazed your clit, you couldn't help but let out a soft moan, which is exactly what pushed him to continue despite feeling his own uncertainty.

He follows the sounds of your sweet moans, touching you and exploring your body in ways that neither of you have experienced before. Before long you find yourself growing more in need of his touch, pulling his hands and guiding him to kiss you. You both are grasping for each others touch and cursing into the silence of this empty room when the tension reaches an all-time high. You find yourself guiding his cock lower as a sign that you are ready (or maybe as a sign that you can't wait much longer now).

He follows your lead, pushing himself slowly across your folds, letting out a sigh as he feels the warmth of your pussy against his skin. He has one hand behind your head as a comforting act as he slowly guides himself between your thighs. He watches your expression change to a grimace of pain, almost stopping himself, but instead he caresses your face in an attempt to sooth your pain. You start to adjust yourself and whisper for him to keep going, and after a few moments the pain starts to replace itself with great pleasure.

You can't help the moans that escape your lips as you grasp onto him, likely leaving scratch marks on his upper back.

However, he doesn't mind this one bit. He can only focus on this heavenly feeling that seemed to blur his vision and tingle at his senses. The pleasure became overwhelming before you could comprehend it and it feels like heaven.

The sounds that filled the room should have alerted the others of the acts you both were sharing tonight, and maybe, just maybe, you should have been more worried, but neither of you could have the gut to care. Not tonight, not when it just feels so good and your vision had started bleeding white as your bodies worked in tandem with one another. 

It felt like hours before you had found yourselves cuddling under a stray blanket, skin-to-skin and feeling on top of the world. There was peace settled in the air and you held each other and shared this perfect moment.

"Did you enjoy it?" Violet asked timidly while he stroked stray pieces of hair out of your face.

"Oh course, Darling. I've never felt closer to you than how we were tonight." You looked at him so softly and left a soft peck on his lips.

"Well, thats good, because... I didn't really get to finish my painting. We may have to do this again tomorrow night..." He wouldn't meet your eyes, but you knew that if you could see them, they would have a glint of excitement in them that you only see when he looks at you.

"Well, I suppose we would have to then- For your studies, of course."

• Epilogue • Tea Time •

"So, It couldn't have been just me who heard some oddly bizarre noises coming from the art studio on the west end last night..." Edgar mused to the other prefects as he took a mischievous sip.

"Oh, how I wonder what that could have possibly been coming from..." The sound of a breaking pencil could be heard only if he listened so intently.

"Oh, I heard it, alright." Greenhill pipped in, sounding more than mildly annoyed as he completed his afternoon stretch. "Some people really need to be more considerate of the fact that some of us need to study at such late hours."

"Well, maybe some people should consider that not everyone wants to hear the sound of your 2 hour long training routine at 12am either..." Bluewer rolled his eyes, obviously not knowing what the others were exactly referring to.

"Well, In just thinking that maybe when the professors discover a certain pair of undergarments left in said art studio on the west end, they may have to cancel class this morning. If you know what I mean..." Edgar takes an extended sip of his tea and watched as Gregory excuses himself, dropping his sketchbook and seemingly headed towards the west end.

"Well, that answers that." Edgar mutters with a smirk.

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Linger

Pairing: Michael Gavey x f!reader Warnings: Angst, smut, tarot. Word count: ~4k

Summary: A chance encounter with a free spirited girl on a fresher's week night out leaves Michael frustrated, but is quickly forgotten by him. That is until he keeps running into her, and a battle of wills ensues.

Author's note: A (belated) birthday gift for @hoosbandewan - happy birthday, Erin! No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

Michael tutted as he flipped open his copy of Matrix Mathematics; a card had slipped from beneath the dog eared cover of the well used secondhand textbook, and fluttered to the carpet tiles beneath the table.

He sighed, pushing back the wooden chair he was sitting upon in the library, and leaned forward, retrieving the offending article from the floor. Flipping it over between dexterous fingers, he scowled upon seeing what it was. It was not the lurid yellow background, nor the floral smock that the figure upon it was wearing that offended him, however; it was the words in bold, black text across the bottom - The Fool - the term brought unpleasant memories of Fresher’s Week flooding back.

It had been the night of the welcome dinner, and Michael had been feeling hopefully optimistic. He had met a literature student named Oliver, and they had made arrangements to meet up in the common area of the Brasenose for a drink afterwards. It didn’t matter to Michael that Oliver was his intellectual inferior - mathematics was obviously the superior of the two subjects - he was just excited to have made a friend. It would be nice to have a conversation with someone that went beyond the realm of discussing which items to buy from the shop - the unwelcome dynamic between him and the girl staying in the room opposite him, who suffered from agoraphobia. He had unwittingly fallen into the position of getting supplies for her, as her condition left her too afraid to leave her room. She was the only person, besides his tutors and lecturers, that he had spoken to since arriving at Oxford. Oliver would surely change all of that, and it filled him with excited anticipation. 

The common area of the Brasenose had been bustling with other students, all shouting to be heard over the thumping bass of a song, the only lyrics of which Michael was able to decipher were “sexy back” - not his cup of tea at all. He stood taller than most of the people gathered, so was able to search through the crowd for the much shorter Oliver with ease. He couldn’t see him, though craning his neck, he noticed a throng of people hanging around one of the sofas in the far corner.

Pushing through the press of bodies, and narrowly avoiding the sticky, sweet contents of a large bottle of WKD Blue, slopping onto the carpet as it was passed around, he slowly approached the sofa and was able to see what was causing all of the commotion.

A girl wearing a purple scarf as a headband, dressed in a floaty skirt, had cards spread out upon a coffee table, the crowd gathered around were all trying to get a better look, with occasional shouts of “do me next!”

She’d looked up as she’d seen Michael approach, and a lazy smile had spread across her face - she was pretty, but prettier when she did this - it lit her face up in a way that was bright as pure sunshine.

“Alright, Specs?” she’d asked casually, “you want a reading?”

Before he could answer, she had slid the card that had come to live in his textbook across the table. Michael had felt his skin grow hot with humiliation at the words “The Fool” and he’d snatched it up, turning and shoving his way back through the crowd. It was more than apparent that Oliver had decided not to bother meeting him, and he didn’t need some stupid hippy girl’s theatrical mocking to confirm how he felt in that moment - he was a fool, but it was embarrassing to have that made a spectacle of in front of people who were so far beneath him. Vapid cunts.

Michael sneered at the memory, half tempted to simply throw the card away, but in the end decided to use it to keep his place within the textbook. There was no use in throwing away a free bookmark.

The night that Oliver hadn’t shown up became a repeating pattern - more often than not, Michael would make plans with him, and end up waiting for over an hour, before giving up and going back to his room. Most people would have sworn off the friendship long ago, however, he was lonely, and Oliver did show up sometimes; often enough to inspire hope in Michael that he might not be stood up again. He always ended up bitterly disappointed.

It had been half an hour since Michael had arrived at the Lamb and Flag, and Oliver had yet to make an appearance, his agreement to meet Michael for a quick pint during a free period clearly forgotten. He sat in a far corner, Matrix Mathematics open upon the sticky table in front of him, though he wasn’t actually reading any of it; his gaze was continuously drawn to the door, waiting to see if his friend would walk through it. He was beginning to wish he hadn’t walked here so briskly from the library, as Oliver was clearly in no hurry.

He sighed, lifted his glass to his lips and tipped back the bitter remnants of his now flat Carlsberg in a thick swallow. Fingers brushed against his as he was about to pick up the ‘Fool’ card to place it back in his textbook, startling him. He froze, eyes focused upon the chipped green nail varnish adorning the nails of the dainty hand that covered his own. Slowly, he lifted his eyes, looking up into the familiar face of the girl from the Brasenose, who had given him the very same card they were both now touching.

From this close up, he could see she had a nose ring. A green scarf now served as her headband, and she wore a pair of peacock feather earrings. She was every bit as pretty as he remembered.

“We meet again, Specs,” she said, that familiar lazy grin lighting up her features, as she sat down on the bar stool opposite him, “this is mine though.”

She slid the card out from beneath his fingers, holding it up as if to make her point.

Michael cleared his throat, finally finding his voice. “My name’s Michael, not Specs,” he replied defensively, “and you gave that to me.”

She laughed, a breezy, effortless sound that made her earrings dance with the slight movement of her head, before giving her own name, and correcting him. “You stole it. You aren’t supposed to keep the cards from a tarot reading. You snatched this up and left before I could even start yours. Haven’t had a full deck since – until now.”

Michael watched silently as she slipped the tarot card into the tote bag she had slung over her shoulder, before dropping his gaze to his textbook to make a mental note of his page number - seventy-four - since he had now inconveniently lost his bookmark.

“Quite an elaborate way to take the piss, I’ll give you that,” he said bitterly, closing his textbook and stuffing it into his rucksack.

“What d’you mean?”

He sighed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his index finger, and fixed her with an accusatory stare. “You were trying to call me a fool.”

She laughed again, and this time the sound of it grated upon Michael, he felt like she was making fun of him yet again. He felt his skin grow heated with annoyance, his brows pinching together as his eyes narrowed.

Seeing his expression, her laughter faded and she took a deep breath before speaking, her tone one of reassurance. “That’s not what the card means at all. If you’d just let me finish the reading, I could–”

“No,” he cut her off dismissively, “it’s a load of bollocks. I don’t believe in any of it.”

“And yet one little card was enough to make you so angry,” she said teasingly, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, come on, one reading won’t hurt. Looks as though you’ve been stood up anyway, so it’ll give you something to do.”

His skin blazed hot once more, a potent blend of humiliation and anger turning his cheeks pink as he shot to his feet, snatching up his rucksack. “I haven’t been fucking stood up,” he snapped, storming away, ignoring her as she called after him.

She was right though, he had been stood up, and it stung to have someone else acknowledge it. How had she managed to catch him again at such a low point?

As Christmas had approached, pigeonholes had filled up with invitations from Felix Catton, who would be hosting a festive themed party within his college, spread out across the common area and the rooms of a few close friends, before they inevitably descended upon the pubs of Oxford. Almost everybody was invited - everybody except Michael and Oliver, it seemed. It didn’t bother Michael, he had no interest in fraternising with the spoiled elite, all wielding their parents’ wealth in exchange for good grades. At least Oliver would be free.

However, despite having made plans to go for a beer at the Eagle and Child, Oliver had once again failed to turn up, and Michael’s texts to ask if he was still coming had gone unanswered. As he’d walked back towards the Brasenose, feeling dejected, the muffled sounds of Christmas music and laughter emanating from the party inside had soured his mood further.

“Alright, Specs?” a familiar voice called out, causing him to turn towards the girl he’d walked away from in the Lamb and Flag a few weeks ago.

“Sorry…I mean, Michael,” she corrected herself, pushing off of the bench she’d been seated upon, and crossing the lawn towards him.

She wore a faux fur trimmed jacket that she held closed with her fingerless gloved hands. Her hair was free of its usual scarf, falling loose around her shoulders as the glow of the lamplight above shone down upon it.

He was surprised she even wanted to speak to him, considering how he had left things the last time they’d spoken. He shuffled from foot to foot in an attempt to mask his discomfort, stuffing his hands in his coat pockets to stave off the chill that nipped at them incessantly. “Surprised you’re not at the party,” he said, attempting to sound nonchalant as he nodded towards the Brasenose.

She huffed, a slight smile playing upon her lips as she looked towards the building then back at him. “NFI,” she stated matter of factly, “not fucking invited.”

Michael was unable to mask his surprise at her admission, his eyebrows raised as he studied her, trying to decipher if she was being genuine. “Really?”

“Yeah,” she said with a slight shrug, “my appeal kind of wore off after Fresher’s Week, they all just think I’m a weirdo now.”

“Fucking losers,” Michael muttered, the words puffing out in a white cloud against the frigid air.

She giggled, her eyes sparkling even in the gloom of the lamplit lawn. “Maybe we can be weird together?”

“You think I’m weird?” He asked, stiffening as he could feel himself becoming defensive at the perceived insult.

“All the best people are,” she said with a grin, reaching out to playfully touch his arm.

He blinked rapidly, not knowing what to say. He was at a loss, thoroughly unused to anyone, let alone a girl, attempting to converse with him like this.

“New beginnings, having faith in the future, being inexperienced, not knowing what to expect, having beginner's luck, improvisation and believing in the universe,” she rattled off, as she clutched her coat closed once more.

“What?” Michael asked incredulously, his brow furrowed as he wondered if perhaps she was drunk.

“Those are the interpretations of the Fool card I pulled for you. Impossible for me to say which of those applies to you, considering you won’t let me give you a full reading.”

“Oh…right,” he felt his face flush at the reminder, the sudden warmth stinging against the chill of the air. “Not sure any of those apply to me.”

“Maybe they could,” she said, her eyes meeting his as she stepped closer, “to new beginnings?”

Before he could respond, she had closed the gap, her hands grasping the front of his coat as she’d leaned up and pressed her lips to his.

Michael froze, not quite able to comprehend what was suddenly happening. The scent of her filled his nostrils, heady and sweet, it reminded him of the incense his aunt was so fond of burning. Instinctively, his lips began to move against hers - soft and supple and slightly coconutty. As his eyes fluttered closed, his head spun, his hands reached out tentatively to rest upon her waist.

She grinned up at him as they broke for air, both panting softly.

“What did you do that for?” He asked breathlessly.

“Just wanted to see what it would be like. I wouldn’t mind doing it again. Here,” she reached out, grabbing his arm, pushing his sleeve up, before fishing an eyeliner pencil from her pocket and scrawling her phone number on the inside of his forearm. “In case you’d ever like to do it again too. Text me.”

“Where are you going?” He called after her, looking from his arm to her retreating form.

She smiled at him over her shoulder. “To bed, and you’re NFI. At least not this time.”

At least not this time.

Her words echoed in Michael’s mind, making his pulse race and his cock twitch in his cargo trousers. She was the antithesis of everything Michael believed; she was spiritual, chaotic and he didn’t know the first thing about her, yet he found himself drawn to her all the same.

His thoughts were filled with her as he made his way back up to his room, excitement fluttering in his stomach at the thought of putting her number into his phone and being able to text her. So distracted, it never even occurred to him to be careful when removing his coat as he stepped inside, the sleeve dragging over his forearm as he tugged it off.

Fuck.

His heart sank as he turned his arm slowly, attempting to delay the inevitable as he revealed the smear of black across his skin, what were once numbers were no longer legible. He had no way to contact her, he didn’t even know what she was reading. He only knew her first name, and that wouldn’t be enough to track her down.

Fuck.

He slumped down onto his bed, not bothering to undress or climb under the covers, allowing misery and hopelessness to drag him into unconsciousness.

As the weeks passed, despite the eyeliner on his arm having long been washed away, she never left his mind. He looked for her in every crowd, but never saw her. Oliver’s flakiness grew worse, which served only to make Michael feel more isolated. He had allowed his chance for romance to slip through his fingers, and his attempts at forging a friendship were failing too.

Having finally coaxed Oliver out for a drink at the Bull, Michael had gone to the toilet, only to find their table empty when he’d returned. Looking across the pub, he’d seen Oliver sitting with Felix Catton and his friends. He’d completely blanked Michael as he’d waved to him, and he had left the pub with his head bowed in dejection, vowing silently to make no further attempts at friendship with Oliver Quick. If he wanted to be a bootlicker, then Michael wouldn’t stick around to watch. He’d rather be friendless than humiliated.

He had kept his head bowed as he’d walked away from the pub in long strides, so he failed to notice the person walking in the opposite direction to him. Colliding with them, he had stumbled backwards, falling into a sitting position upon the hard pavement.

Great, as if this night couldn’t get any fucking worse, he thought.

Then he had looked up to see that it had been her he had walked into and his eyes widened in disbelief momentarily, before he had seen how flustered and upset she looked.

He scrambled to his feet, straightening his glasses. “Are you alright?” He’d asked, reaching for her, but allowing his hand to drop as she’d moved away from him.

“I’m fine,” she said hurriedly, continuing on her way.

“Wait,” he called after her, “you’re not fine.”

“You never text me,” she said, turning around slowly to face him, the movement encumbered by the guitar case strapped to her back.

His expression softened and he stepped towards her, his tone apologetic. “I wanted to. I would have, but I lost your number.”

“I wrote it on your arm!”

“It smudged…”

“Right…”

He studied her face, she looked on the verge of tears, her eyes big and glassy, as her bottom lip trembled slightly. A surge of acrid guilt filled his chest. “I’m sorry it upset you so much.”

“It’s not just that,” she said, her shoulders sagging as she sighed, “I played an open mic tonight and I got booed.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah, turns out Linger by The Cranberries is considered a bummer for a Friday night.”

“If it’s any consolation, my night’s been pretty shit too,” he confessed.

“Why’s that?” She asked, cocking her head.

“My mate ditched me for Felix fucking Catton,” he spat, failing to keep the bitterness from his voice.

She nodded in understanding. “Oliver, yeah? I always got a bad vibe from him.”

Vibes weren’t a social currency that Michael dealt in, but he failed to find fault in her logic. Oliver was bad news.

“I’ll walk you back,” he said, eager to change the subject. He fell into step beside her as they began to walk. “So, you play guitar. Are you reading music?”

She nodded. “Yeah, I’d like to be a music therapist one day, or perhaps teach music to underprivileged kids. I just think learning an instrument is something that should be accessible to everyone, you know?”

He looked at her in quiet admiration. When they had first met, he had expected her to be studying something pointless like history of art, he had grossly misjudged her.

“So, you’re on the mathematics course?” She asked.

“How’d you know?” He looked at her quizzically.

“My tarot cards told me.”

He turned his face towards her as they continued to walk, narrowing his eyes as he stared at her, his nose wrinkled in derision.

She stared back with eyes filled with mischief, before huffing out the laugh she’d been struggling to hold back. “I’m fucking with you. I saw your textbook that day in the pub.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever understand you,” he admitted, as they came to a stop outside of Christchurch college.

“People are people, Michael, they aren’t mathematical equations.”

“What do you mean?”

“Not everybody needs to be understood completely, and that’s fine. You want to come up?”

He blinked rapidly, taken aback by the invitation. “To your room?”

“Well, that is what I meant, but we could try the roof, if you’d prefer?”

“God, you’re fucking infuriating,” he muttered with a slight smile, pulling open the door to the building and gesturing for her to go in first.

Her room was exactly as Michael had imagined it would be; colourful textile hangings adorned the walls, there was a dreamcatcher above the bed and a scent that hung in the air, similar to the one he’d smelled the night they kissed, that suggested she regularly burned incense.

He watched as she lifted the strap of her guitar case over her head, before carefully depositing it in the corner. She kicked off her boots, and sat down upon the small double bed, leaning back against the headboard.

She patted the space beside her and Michael hesitated, realising how out of place he was in her world. What was he even doing here? His lips parted as he stared at her with uncertainty, quickly glancing around the room again before he spoke.

“Why did you kiss me?” He asked quietly, rooted to the spot where he stood.

She looked at him thoughtfully, fingers playing idly with the ends of her long hair. “I wanted to,” she answered casually.

“But why?” He repeated, beginning to feel exasperated.

“You have kind eyes, and you’re not like anyone else I’ve ever met. Now will you sit down? You’re making the room look untidy.”

Michael relented, somewhat placated by her answer and sat on the edge of the bed as he pulled off his walking shoes, before stretching out beside her.

He clasped his fingers together over his stomach, not daring to look at her as his mind raced with thoughts. Would she try to kiss him again? Why had she invited him up?

“Not knowing what to expect,” he finally said, a thoughtful musing almost to himself, “I think that’s the meaning I’d take away from that card, especially when it comes to you.”

“You remembered,” she uttered quietly.

He turned his head to look at her and their noses almost brushed as he did, the silver of her nose ring pressed gently against his flesh. Her eyes shone with affection, a soft smile upon her face as she looked at him. Without thinking, he reached up, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, the gesture a silent admission of “of course I did”.

“I still think it’s bollocks though,” he whispered as he leaned in.

“Whatever you say,” she murmured, tentatively brushing her lips against his.

He tangled his fingers into her hair, as their mouths moved together, his breath hitching as her tongue licked at his bottom lip. He groaned as the kiss deepened further, the sticky sound of their saliva driving him to involuntarily move his hips against hers as she shifted beneath him.

As their lips parted, she trailed hot, open mouthed kisses along his jaw, and down his neck, pausing to suck at his pulse point. He screwed his eyes shut in pleasure, his fingers tightening in her hair as his other hand gripped the bedspread with such intensity his knuckles turned white.

He ground against her with reckless abandon, and she bucked her hips back, hooking a leg over his hip, her clothed core rubbing against his throbbing erection with such delicious friction that it made white hot sparks of ecstasy dance along his spine.

She pulled his face back to hers, moaning softly into his mouth as their kisses intensified, the sound of it shot straight through his body, the telltale tightening of his balls signalling what was to come. He was desperate to hold off, to not embarrass himself from a simple heated kiss, but as she tugged at his hair, nipping at his lip as she rolled her hips, he knew he was done for.

He held her tightly to him, groaning as his mind went blank, aching pulsations of rapture made his cock twitch as he spilled himself into his boxers. He pulled back, wide eyed and panting, the moment he was lucid enough to, uttering apologies.

“Fuck…I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to…I’ve never–”

She raised a hand, gently cupping his heated cheek, silencing him. “It’s okay,” she soothed, “new beginnings, remember? No need to be embarrassed.”

He stared down at her, her eyes were glossy and filled with sincerity, lips shiny from their kisses and slightly parted. She looked utterly radiant, and though he didn’t believe all of the things that she did, it was difficult not to believe in her. Perhaps there was some truth to being a fool after all.

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More Michael fics

[foxy-eva]

Date? Date!

Summary: Reader asks Spencer if he wants a date (the food item). Miscommunication ensues. 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader

Category: Fluff

Content Warnings: food mentions, miscommunication, awkwardness 

Word count: 700

Masterlist

Early into your career at the FBI you learned how important it was to take good care of yourself. Long and irregular work hours made it difficult to nourish your body, so you made it a habit to always pack some healthy snacks.

Recently you discovered your love for dates - a fruit packed with fiber and potassium while satiating your sweet tooth. 

You grabbed a small container from your bag while your eyes landed on your favorite coworker. Months ago you noticed that his main source of energy was coffee and refined sugar, so without thinking too much about it, you decided to offer him an alternative. 

“Date?” You asked once Spencer found your eyes. 

“Wh…what?” He muttered. “You’re asking me… just like that?” 

His reaction was a little confusing but it wasn't the first time that the brilliant Dr. Spencer Reid left you a bit puzzled. 

"Yeah, of course! I think it’ll be good for you!” You chirped to encourage him. 

“You think?” His mouth stayed agape after those words made it past his lips. 

You raised your eyebrows at him and withdrew your offer, “You obviously don’t have to. You can just say no.”

“No, no, it’s not that! I just.. I have never been… I mean… I have never really… had a date?” He muttered.

“Really? That's hard to believe.” You couldn't hide the surprised tone in your voice. Dates were pretty popular, you had never met anyone who hadn’t tried one.

“It’s true…,” he mumbled.  

“Maybe it’s time for you to try it!” 

"I... have thought about it. A lot actually." Spencer whispered while his eyes dropped to the floor. "With you specifically"

At this point you definitely couldn't hide your confusion anymore. You took one date out of the plastic container to look at it before you said, "You have thought about eating dates with me?" 

When your eyes met his again you noticed the color draining from his face. The already pale doctor suddenly looked like he had seen a ghost. 

“You uhm… you… of course… you were talking about dates,” he stammered.

“Yes? What were you tal–” You stopped mid sentence when you realized. 

Oh.

Oh.

Spencer must have thought you were asking him out. 

Now his reaction made a lot more sense. 

Before you could say anything, Spencer quickly got up to leave the room. You could only imagine how embarrassed he must have been right then. Your heart began aching at the thought of hurting the person you cared so deeply about. 

The truth was that you were hoping for him to ask you out for months now. It was hard to tell if he actually liked you too, so you never had the courage to ask him yourself. 

It seemed like the cat was out of the bag now and it was your chance to finally ask him out for real. 

“Spencer!” You called out his name as you ran after him. “Wait, please!”

To your surprise he slowed down, coming to a halt right before he reached the elevators. 

“I just want to go catch some air,” he explained with a fake smile on his face. 

“Please don’t be embarrassed,” you said with a soft voice. “It was just a little misunderstanding.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I know. It’s fine, really!” He lied while pressing the button of the elevators. 

“It’s true that I was just offering you a date, but…” you paused for a moment, noticing his eyes getting bigger. 

You almost got lost in the warm amber that were his irises. It was hard to actually speak the words you so clearly wanted to say. But you knew it was now or never. 

“... But I would really like to go out with you. On an actual date,” you confessed. 

The features of Spencer's face suddenly softened and it seemed like relief washed over him. 

“You do?” He wanted to make sure. 

“Yeah, I really do,” you confirmed.

A wide smile appeared on his face. “I would really like that, too. Maybe we could go out for dinner someday.”

“Dinner sounds a lot better than just eating dates together,” you laughed. 

Please like, reblog and leave a comment! I need your lovely words to stay motivated to write more stories.

Taglist: @nomajdetective @reidsbookclub @gspenc @samuel-de-champagne-problems @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @malindacath @reidselle @alexxavicry @frickin-bats @spencersprettyslut @sebs-oxygen @happymangospot @cynbx @hotchandspencearedilfs @emiliaserpe @thenerdthatwrites @velvetthunder93 @saturnstringz @missabsey @guacam011y @hugyourlungs @reiderwriter @enamoradax @hales-17 @cham9ions @loaksulluyswife @ecneremili @xserenax-13 @grumpyy-bearr @luredwithpretzels @castiels-majestic-wings @super-nerd22 @pleasantwitchgarden @yeonalie @r-3dlips @evvy96 @torigorie @meyaareads @luvdella @luvley2k @bunnylovesani

[zoofzoofxx]

“OH MY GOD THAT’S JOOST KLEIN!”

(Pt. 2)

Pairing - Joost Klein x fem!reader

Summary - Following an attempt to ignore Joost and act as though nothing had happened, you both meet on a rainy day while waiting for the bus. He offers you a ride but first takes you out for a dinner and shows you the beauty of Amsterdam at night.

Genre- fluff, maybe little bit of angst.

Mentions - @dozcan123 , @multifilmfan & @mrschandlerbing

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About three months back, something went down with Joost Klein. We chatted at first, but then I got busy, and Joost wouldn't quit trying to get in touch. I brushed off his messages until I finally blocked his number. After that, he stopped trying to reach out on other social platforms. I felt a bit guilty, but I figured he probably moved on. Sometimes I thought about unblocking him and telling him how I felt, but when I saw he was into Eurovision, I hesitated. 3 weeks ago, he dropped a track called Europapa, and it blew up. The song brought back memories of Joost, making me consider going to Eurovision with my sister. Lost in thought, a message from my best friend Zofia interrupted me, signaling her arrival. We decided to grab a drink and catch up, with Zofia's unexpected entrance and our trip to a nearby bar helping clear my head.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 3 hours later ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

I checked my bus app to see when my bus will arrive. I still had 35 minutes left but the walk wasn’t short so basically I already should be on my way. I escorted my best friend to her place; she was completely wasted, and so was I. It was the usual routine - she'd get super drunk, I'd have to take her home, and then make sure I got back to my flat safely at night. I glanced at my friend before asking if she could at least get ready for bed and sleep. She agreed, closed the door, leaving me alone. I turned on maps to find the nearest bus stop direction, and just as I did, a few raindrops fell on my screen, signaling the impending rain. And sure enough, it started pouring. I began to run, and as I was about to cross the street, a car came speeding towards me, honking loudly, nearly hitting me. Shocked, I turned around, not knowing what to do. The car was already gone, so I tried to forget the scary moment and went to sit on the bench at the bus stop just a few steps away. Sitting there, rain pouring down on me as there was no roof over the bench, I stared at the ground, hoping the bus would arrive soon, even though I still had 10 more minutes to wait in the cold rain.

“Y/n?” A low male voice with a pronounced Dutch accent addressed me. I turned looked up to find a recognizable individual standing directly in front of me. I was taken aback by the sight of him drenched from head to toe, standing there as confused as I was.

"Joost?" I uttered, rising to my feet and adjusting my coat. An extended pause ensued, with neither of us certain of how to initiate this dialogue.

"It was you crossing the street? Please be more cautious next time," he began, causing my eyes to widen in surprise.

"I apologize." I glanced aside and then back at him. He appeared altered. His hair had brightened notably, nearly reaching a platinum blond tone. His demeanor was grave. It seemed like he wasn't content to see me, and frankly, I wasn't excited either.

"How are you?" Were the only words that escaped my lips.

"I'm good. Have you been drinking?" He inquired, moving a bit closer, though there was still a noticeable gap between us. I caught a whiff of his cologne once more. It was the same scent from three months back when he assisted me in zipping up my jacket.

"Tipsy, not drunk," I corrected him, settling back onto the bench, which was once again damp. I glanced down at my shoes, feeling embarrassed.

"I can catch a whiff of the alcohol from here," he remarked, and I simply pouted, unsure of how to respond. He moved closer and settled beside me. Our shoulders brushed together. In a sudden impulse, I rested my head on his shoulder, shutting my eyes and relishing the moment. It dawned on me how much I had missed Joost.

"Y/n, do you want a lift?" Joost interrupted my thoughts. I hesitated a lot, unsure if I should say yes or no.

"Sure." I say standing up. He stood up as well, and I just followed him. It was a 1-minute walk until we arrived at the car I almost got hit by. I sat in the passenger seat and inhaled the scent, Joost's specific cologne mixed with cigarettes. I yawned, leaning on the window. He started his car, and we drove through the city. There was complete silence between us until there was a loud growl. I covered my stomach with my arm and started to daydream about what I would eat when I arrived home.

“What are you doing?” I inquired as Joost made a sudden right turn.

“I’m starving, do you like McDonalds?” He asked and I furrowed my brows.

"I suppose so, but I've got some food at home, so I'll decline," I replied, earning a chuckle from the blonde guy.

"Ha, that's totally a classic mom move: 'We've got food at home,'" he mimicked, leading to a moment of silence as we both pondered our next words.

"It's on me." He stated, breaking the silence as he parked his car in the parking lot and switched it off.

"Please," he uttered, casting me those identical pleading eyes as during our initial encounter. Exhaling deeply, I release my seatbelt and unlatch the car door.

"Macdonalds around midnight just hits differently," Joost remarked as he savored his first bite of the Big Mac.

"Would you like some?" He inquired, flashing me a comforting smile.

"Thanks, but I'm good," I replied, smiling back, enjoying my chicken nuggets. I noticed Joost eyeing them, so I pushed the box towards him and nodded, signaling he could give them a try.

"May I?" He inquired, gazing at me. He looked very handsome. His beautiful blue eyes peered through his thick-framed glasses. He wore a Burberry scarf around his neck. His sharp jawline was what made him truly attractive.

"Sure," I replied, looking down, aware that I was blushing intensely.

"You know I've never tasted chicken nuggets," he remarks as he takes one, slyly snatching the sauce I was using. He sampled the nugget while I indulged in some French fries that I also relished. I glanced out the window; it was entirely dim outside. Then I shifted my gaze back to Joost.

"Why did you block my number?" He inquired out of the blue. I sat upright, unable to provide a response to his query.

"I was occupied," I replied curtly, feeling a bit anxious that this conversation might escalate. He simply nodded, unsure of what to say. After a moment of contemplation, he finally broke the silence.

"Occupied with someone?" He inquired, prompting me to tilt my head slightly. I needed a moment to ponder and craft a thoughtful response. I wasn't preoccupied with anyone. I was simply engrossed in self-care, focusing on my mental well-being, striving to improve my life even just a little. My daily routine felt monotonous - waking up, having breakfast, heading to work, eating dinner, sleeping, and repeating the cycle. I grew weary of this routine. I longed for my parents, my younger sister, and the carefree days of childhood.

“No.” I replied dryly, as I took my final sips of coke. Joost had already pushed the box back, but I nudged it back to signal that he can have the last nuggets. He accepted the food, pondering his response before blurting out something foolish.

“So you were occupied with…?” He prompted me to complete the sentence. I simply sighed in response.

"My mental health," I respond, causing his eyebrows to shoot up in surprise.

"You could have informed me that you were having a tough time. I would have been there to support you," he says, gazing at me with concern.

"I just needed some time to myself," I say, hoping to end this conversation.

"You know, I felt foolish when you blocked me. You could have simply mentioned you weren't interested in me, and I would have backed off," he says, sitting upright, with a hint of remorse in his eyes as he gazes at my hands. I was fidgeting with my sleeve.

"Feeling tense?" He asks, taking hold of my hand. I wanted to say no, but deep down, I knew I could only answer yes.

"No. Not really." I respond, attempting to avoid the eye contact he's seeking.

"Do you desire any more food?" He inquired, and I simply shook my head to decline.

"Let’s go then." He suggests, gently patting my back. We exited the building together.

"I can walk home from here," I say, glancing at him. He was tall and had a very masculine appearance.

"Can I accompany you home?" He questioned, and unsure if it was a wise choice, I sensed it might be our last meeting for a long time, or possibly never again. Nevertheless, I nodded, and he grinned. We began walking towards my house.

"I like your scarf," I mentioned, breaking the silence. He didn't say anything but gently removed it and wrapped it around my head.

"It looks much more flattering on you," he remarks with a smile, reaching out to grasp my shoulder, drawing me closer to him. Suddenly, he makes a wrong turn.

"That's not the route to my place," I mention, furrowing my brows. I was nearly sober.

"I know. There's a spot I'd like to take you to," he mentions as we reach the bridge. The wind was strong, messing up Joost's hair. He tried to fix it quickly, but it didn't really work. I couldn't help but laugh, and he rolled his eyes, clicking his tongue in response.

"Hey, what's so funny?" he says playfully, giving me a gentle push.

"Nothing," I uttered as he drew me closer once more, and I simply relished the moment. It dawned on me that I was thoroughly enjoying the time with the tall Dutch gentleman. A quiet interval ensued until we reached a bridge. It was truly a sight to behold, and I couldn't resist capturing it in a photograph. Stepping back, I ensured Joost was also in the frame. He glanced at me, posed with a smile, and shaped a heart with his fingers.

"Aww, adorable!" I say with a smile, and he approached without a word. I tucked my phone away, and Joost simply embraced me. No words. No sounds. Just two individuals embracing at the bridge. Two hearts beating in unison.

"I deeply yearned for you," is the only utterance he managed.

"I missed you as well," I reply softly, maintaining the embrace. We linger in the moment before eventually deciding to head back home as the chill of the evening sets in.

"When do you plan to depart for Sweden?" I inquire purely out of interest.

"My manager mentioned they're counting on me to be at the hotel tomorrow," I respond, nodding in understanding.

"Are you not keen on joining me?" He inquired. He had already asked me this question during our meal.

"I'd be happy to join, but I need to find a way to make some money," I respond, to which he pouts in disappointment.

"I comprehend. Please inform me if your decision changes," he states, and I offer a smile. Upon reaching my residence, we bid our final farewells. He mentioned I could keep the scarf but requested something in return. As I lacked valuable items, he noticed my bag and a small keychain, a fluffy pink heart. He inquired about exchanging it, to which I happily agreed, asking if he desired anything else, but he declined. We shared a parting hug, and he mentioned he would text me. After he left, I unblocked his number but never received a message from him again.

A/n - guys I’m so sorry this is so shitty 😭 I feel like I made so much grammar mistakes. English isn’t my native language so if you see any mistakes please contact me 😘 BY THE WAY I DONT KNOW IF YALL NOTICED BUT Y/N’S BEST FRIEND IS ACTUALLY ME 😍😍😍😍😍THANK YOU SO MICH FOR 60 FOLLOWERS ILY! leave a comment behind please it gives me a lot of motivation ✌🏻 I’m actually thinking if I should make a part 3 but idk lmk 😊 PEACE OUT 😇✌🏻LUV U GUYS 🥰❗️💋💋💋💋💋

[3rdgymbros]

━ 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬, 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬, 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 !

— pairing; floyd leech x ramshackle! reader.

— summary; you serenade floyd (terribly), but he loves it, and the ensuing chaos.

— notes; please donate to my kofi if you like my work. and know that i am mentally smooching everyone who reblogs my stuff.

❋ It’s a quiet night at Night Raven College, and the students are all getting ready for bed.

❋ Well, everyone except for you.

❋ And Grim.

❋ And Ace.

❋ And Deuce.

❋ The four of you are currently clustered outside the Octavinelle dorm, and you’re holding onto a bouquet of roses (stolen from the Heartslabyul gardens) with a white-knuckled grip, trying to psych yourself up into confessing to Floyd and just getting it over with.

❋ It’s not working.

❋ You’re this close to chickening out and leaving, but Grim isn’t about to leave after all his “hard work”.

❋ In between a series of deafening yowls, Grim loudly professes your love for Floyd, and Ace and Deuce take that as their cue to play. Ace drums on some borrowed pots and pans with a ladle and a spatula, and Deuce awkwardly attempts to strum a guitar he borrowed from Cater.

❋ A light is flicked on in one of the dorm rooms, and who should open the window but none other than Floyd Leech. He’s uncaring of the late hour, if the wild, sharp grin on his face is anything to go by.

❋ “Shrimpy! Are you confessing your undying love? Do it louder! I want everyone to hear!”

❋ His encouragement only makes the “band” double down on their serenade, much to the horror of anyone sane in the dorm.

❋ Such as Jade.

❋ Who currently shares a room with Floyd.

❋ Groaning at the rude awakening, Jade buries his head into his pillow, muttering about the late hour and how he needs his rest (not to mention a better roommate). He’s already plotting to make excessively loud noises in their room tomorrow at the crack of dawn as payback.

❋ As the sound of horrendous singing continues and the noise reaches new, ridiculous levels, a frazzled-looking Azul finally bursts out of his dorm room in his pyjamas, complete with a black, feathery robe and plush octopus slippers. The pitter-patter of his feet is quick, and his nostrils flare in exasperation as he takes in the chaos before him.

❋ “WHAT is going on here?! Do you have any idea what time it is?!” His glasses are slightly askew, and he’s clearly on the verge of losing it. “CEASE THIS RUCKUS AT ONCE, OR I WILL BAN YOU ALL FROM THE MOSTRO LOUNGE FOR LIFE!”

❋ All of you are quick to scramble away before Azul can make good on his threat.

❋ Meanwhile, Floyd sneaks out of his dorm to meet you, and he catches up before you can go too far. For a moment, his grin softens as he steps closer, eyes glinting when you present him with the stolen roses.

❋ “This was your idea, huh?” He teases, his voice uncharacteristically sweet, and a genuine fondness in his gaze. “Heehee! You look so cute when you're embarrassed, Shrimpy! Next time I’ll serenade you ~”

❋ Floyd’s true to his word; he shows up at Ramshackle in the dead of night the very next day, strumming wildly on a lute he has absolutely no idea how to play.

❋ Which is probably just as well, considering that Azul and Jade have banned you from entering Octavinelle after 10 p.m.