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pastafossa · 14 days ago

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"Love Leaves A Mark" (Matt Murdock x F!Reader, Fic, Pure Fluff)

I've been working on this for a bit to celebrate the release of our older Born Again!Era Matt, and happily I can say this one's now done, which means I can finish up another little oneshot I have and then get back around to The Red Thread's next chapter. This is written with TRT!Reader in mind, but I also tried to write it vaguely so it's easy enough to enjoy even if you haven't read that massive saga. Also if you'd like notifications when I post a new story, drabble, or chapter, you can follow my sideblog @pastaxandria and set it for notifications!

Ship: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Wordcount: 3.8k

Warnings for this fic: None that I know of, they're just being cute and in love as they grow old together. There ARE some vague physical changes described that are standard in aging but that feels pretty normal.

Fic Summary: You and Matt are growing older together, and you're both loving every second of it, including the physical changes that come with it.

“Did you get more toothpaste today?” you called sleepily, lifting one leg to idly scratch at your calf with your foot. You worked your toothbrush over to the other side of your mouth, wrinkling your nose at the taste. Nine years you’d been using your husband’s toothpaste and you’d never gotten used to the flavor, or lack thereof. You’d be damned if you didn’t use it regardless, though. “And Mini’s food?”

“Picked up both.” The low rumble of his voice was sleepy and distracted as it drifted out of the bedroom. Outside the little brownstone you both now called home, the snow continued to fall in thick, heavy flakes, muffling the roar of the wind and the few cars still out on the street despite the late hour and travel ban. You were grateful for that storm. In all the time you’d been with him you’d never had a problem with the Devil’s nightly rounds. Loving Matt meant loving Daredevil, too. But you still treasured evenings like these when he was able to stay in with you, your purring, cuddly husband happily playing the role of your favorite blanket. “I may have also stopped at the bookstore and gotten you something on the way home.”

You paused, shifting your gaze meaningfully toward the open bathroom doorway. You probed curiously at the psychic connection between you, a subtle attempt to discern what it was he’d picked up for you. All you got was a playful nudge back. He didn’t even have to try all that hard anymore, smoothly deflecting you with all the ease of swatting away a pillow.

“I don’t think so, sweetheart.” His voice was an amused whisper in your mind. “You’ll have to figure it out the old-fashioned way.”

You scrubbed faster at your teeth, grinning at his laugh in the other room.

“I don’t know how you have any gums left considering how often you do that,” he mused as you leaned down to rinse your mouth out. You quickly shoved your toothbrush back into the penguin-shaped toothbrush holder before flipping off the light and padding out of the bathroom.

“The benefits of genetic tampering,” you said dryly, joining him in the bedroom. He was already settled into bed, sitting up with his back against the headboard, a well-worn book beneath his hand. Down atop his blanket-covered feet, a large, round black void of fur had arranged itself into a perfect circle, no head or tail to be seen. Matt tipped his head as he tracked your eager circling of the room, the barest little smirk quirking his lips. You scanned around for anything new, hunting along the walls and the bookshelves that had managed to migrate their way into the bedroom once your shared office slash library had gotten too full. Books had a tendency to breed like rabbits between you and Matt. “Where?” “Your nightstand. I figured you’d probably want to dive in.”

You darted over towards your nightstand.

“No way,” you breathed, sitting down on your side of the bed and snatching up the first of the three new hardbacks he’d placed on your nightstand. “This one—I thought it was going to take another week at least before they released it. How did you…?” “I kept checking with Hanna every time I passed by her bookstore.” He cleared his throat as you flipped open your new copy of Dante’s Divine Comedy to a random page, the much-loved scent of new paper and ink filling your nose. “Eventually she took pity on me and finally let me buy this one early with cash. Although she wasn’t sure why you wanted this one when you have so many other translations already.”

“It’s Palma’s new translation,” you murmured distractedly, dragging your finger down the flowing lines of poetry, your eyes skimming rapidly over the page. You could already spot some of the changes. “I have the first translation he did of the Inferno, but this is the first time he’s done the entirety of the Divine Comedy, and he’s tweaked his previous translation. It’s supposed to mimic the rhyming scheme Dante created more closely. Not easy when you’re shifting it from Italian to English. Dad’s going to have kittens when he hears the Devil got me my copy before he got his.”

Even without looking at him, you could feel Matt’s smug satisfaction. “You should call him so I can hear him swear.” “Call him yourself if you want to rub it in.” You snorted in amusement at Matt’s neverending desire to goad your adoptive father Ciro, who admittedly had a habit of goading back. At the very least their jabs had become less hostile over the years, the two of them now closer to sparring partners than actual enemies. You leaned over to look at the other two books Matt had gotten you, your brows shooting up. “And you got me Emily Wilson’s translations of the Illiad and the Odyssey? You’re spoiling me, husband dearest.” “You said last month you were thinking about picking them both up. I figured I’d check if they were there.” There was a rustle of blankets behind you, and a slightly irritated, ‘mrrp?’, presumably as Matt adjusted his feet beneath the fuzzy black hole curled up atop them. “Consider it an early anniversary gift.” “Not that I’m not grateful, but you and I both know it’s January, dear.” You set Dante back down atop the stack of books before swiveling on the bed to face Matt. You started crawling across the mountain of blankets and silk sheets toward his grinning form. “Our anniversary is months away.” “The anniversary of our first kiss, then.” His smile only grew wider when you reached him and threw your leg over him to sit astride his waist. It was something he welcomed as he always did, his hands setting aside his book immediately in favor of you. He slid his palms warmly up and down the fleece covering your thighs, pausing here and there to knead at the muscle just because he could. It never seemed to matter that he’d touched you a thousand times before. He treated every moment like this as if it were the first. “A few hardbacks are the least you deserve.” “Lines like that make me want to marry you.” You sighed, draping your arms comfortably over his broad shoulders, lifting one hand to idly card your fingers through his dark hair. He hummed beneath your touch, tilting his head openly into the fond drag of your fingers like a big cat. “Buying a woman hardbacks? In this economy? Put a ring on me, Mr. Murdock.”

“Now Mrs. Murdock, how would your husband feel about you saying things like that?” His voice was a playful purr, words thick and glutted thanks to the drag of your nails. You were pretty sure his eyes had rolled back behind his closed eyes. “He’d, mmm, hunt me down until his dying breath if I laid so much as a finger on you. As for me, my wife is… not inclined to let me go gently.”

“You’re goddamn right I’m not.” You sprawled out against his chest, dipping your head. He met you halfway, touching his lips to yours. You gave him a warm, lazy kiss, faint traces of copper and cinnamon passed from his smiling mouth to yours. The familiar taste of him, the softness of his skin, the sweet warmth of his breath in your mouth soothed you in a way little else could, and you drew him deep into you on a slow inhale, humming against his lips. His chest rumbled contentedly beneath you in response, his hands sliding up from your thighs to squeeze and rub affectionately your hips. “And don’t you ever forget it.”

“Never,” he murmured against your mouth, chasing after you to steal another kiss when you tried to lift your head. You ran your fingers through his hair again, sighing at the soft, playful brush of his tongue against your lips, giving it a mischievous nip of your own that made him rumble another pleased noise beneath you. His voice dropped further, all lazy warmth and possessive hunger, shades of the Devil coloring the edges like a painter’s brush. “Mm, my wife, all mine.” “Your wife,” you agreed fondly. “One who’s cut people before and will happily do it again if it keeps you safe.”

“Your services are very much appreciated.”

“They should be since I fully intend to sit in a pair of rocking chairs with you one day in our old age.” You brought your hand around to scratch your fingers lightly through the coarseness of his beard, making him groan breathlessly in delight, his back arching just a little beneath you. He’d been letting his beard grow in for the past week or so. You were unsure if it was by choice or if it was simply that he’d felt too busy to take the time to shave. It had been a while since you’d last seen him with a full beard, though, a few years at least. And to your pleasant surprise, there were a few changes. Your fingers petted curiously over the small patches of silver scattered around. “I’ve even kept you alive long enough that you’ve got grey here in your beard now. That’s new.” His brows rose in surprise, his eyes fluttering open where they’d fallen closed. “Really?”

“Yup. It’s very handsome.” You stroked at the prickly grey strands before your hands slid back and up to his temples, tracing the few strands of grey there just as affectionately. His cheeks had even turned the tiniest bit pink at your praise. “Some here, too. Just a little at your temples. You gonna be my silver fox, Matt?” “I guess so. That’s what I get for letting you pet all the color out over nine years.” He heaved a great sigh beneath you as if his care sheet instructions didn’t specify he get at least ten minutes of petting each day, without which he would wilt away. “You made me look old.” “Oh please. You don’t look old. You look human.” Your fingers left his hair so you could poke him pointedly in the chest. He threw you a wounded look, all furrowed brow and big sad eyes that you weren’t falling for even a little. “Also, you gave yourself those grey hairs, thank you very much. You’re the most stressed man I’ve ever met. Half of what you put yourself through would have turned anyone else’s hair white by now.”

“Fine. I’ll admit that I may have done… a few things that were somewhat stress—” “Got a building dropped on you. Fought Nobu in tissue paper. Got shot in the head. Used a neti pot to snort some fucking rusty tap water full of amoebas and tiny shrimp—”

“That last one still really bothers you, doesn’t it?”

“You have no idea. One day I’m going to kiss you and taste brain shrimp, I just know it.”

He snorted. “You say that like I don’t have my own list of all the things you’ve done that have almost given me a heart attack.”

“Alright, so my list is also… a bit long.” You tilted your head, watching his eyes shift absently around. After so many years with you, he was no longer self-conscious about letting you watch his eyes this closely, much to your delight. In the low light of the bedroom, his eyes were a soft, dark brown rather than the green or grey they could shift to during the day. Beautiful as always, especially with the little crinkles at the corners of his eyes, lines that now seemed permanent even when he wasn’t smiling. You brushed your thumb over a few of those lines, your playful tone falling away into something more serious. “What if I like it, though? These parts of you that are getting older? Like these laugh lines.”

He furrowed his brow pitifully. “Now you’re telling me I’m wrinkly, too?”

“Oh, fuck you!” you huffed, his body shaking beneath you as he laughed. “You know that’s not what I meant. Stop deflecting, I’m serious.”

“I’m know you are, even if you’re telling me I’m a grey, grizzled, wrinkled husk.” He groaned theatrically, rolling his head back. “You should just bury me if I’m that old.”

“Not a chance. Not when I love everything I’m seeing. Like these…”

You leaned in and planted a kiss on the laugh lines in question, feeling them grow deeper under your lips as he smiled.

“And these…”

Another kiss, this time against one of the grey patches in his beard, making him sigh.

“...and goddamn do I love all this, too,” you murmured, sitting back so you could drag your hands hungrily down the front of him. There was no part of him you didn’t love, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t just a little obsessed with the dark hair now edging up past his shirt collar—so much of it now that he’d finally given up on shaving his chest and let it all grow back—and the slightly thicker lines of his abdomen and hips, both of them a touch softer than they had been almost a decade ago when you’d first met him. You’d know; you’d been laying on him almost every night for most of that decade, barring a few rough patches and business trips.

“Mrs. Murdock,” he breathed in feigned shock, as if he wasn’t aware of exactly how much you enjoyed both his chest hair and the whole of his body from top to bottom, “are you insinuating something about me?” “You mean like insinuating I’m the reason you now eat regularly and aren’t so dehydrated that I can practically draw a map of your veins by sight?” You squeezed at the meat of his abdomen and hips greedily, your voice growing smug as you kneaded at him. Your touch made him chuckle and squirm beneath you, only drawing more protests from the cat trying to sleep on top of his feet. “Yes. Yes, I am. You’re welcome for the health, by the way. You’re aging like a fine wine, husband dearest. And it makes me happy.”

His face softened at that, one hand leaving your hips to lay against your sternum. “If your heart wasn’t beating so steadily, I’d say you were just trying to flatter me,” he mused. “But… me getting older really is making you happy, isn’t it?”

“It is. I…”

You paused for a moment, struggling to put into words what you were feeling. His hand at your hip edged up under your shirt until he could rub his thumb soothingly at your skin, content to wait while you figured out how to say what you wanted to say.

“I think it’s that… there was a time when I wasn’t sure if you’d live long enough for me to see you grow old with me.” You cupped his face in your hands, treasuring the way his eyes fell slowly closed and he leaned into your touch so openly, so easily. It had taken so much work to get him here, where he felt comfortable accepting your love and your affection, but it had been worth every ounce of effort. You traced over his laugh lines again with your thumbs before skipping down to the faint smile lines at the corners of his mouth, a mouth that pursed to kiss your thumb when you swept one over his lips. “But you did. I’m getting to see it. That’s special to me. I want to see that… that you’re still alive, that you’re living long enough for these things to happen. I want to see all these little grey hairs, and wrinkles, and the way your body has gotten a bit softer, because every little piece of you that gets older represents a moment I didn’t know if I’d get with you.”

He drew in a shaky breath before his eyes fluttered slowly open again. And in the dark of his eyes there was such a reverent joy, such a bone-deep love filling their depths that it almost took your breath away. You’d never tire of seeing it, even if you both lived for another fifty, another hundred, another thousand years, joined in this lifetime and in whatever came next. Religion had nothing on being loved fully, wholly by Matt.

“I could say the same thing about you,” he breathed, his hand at your sternum sliding up to cradle your neck, thumb sweeping gently over the thin skin above your pulse. He pressed just a little, just enough to tug your skin back and forth. A moment later, he tugged you in until he could feather a kiss against your pulse where his thumb had been, lingering there as you nuzzled into his dark hair. “And spots like right here.”

“What’s changed there?”

“The texture of your skin. How much it moves when I touch it. I like to think,” he whispered against your throat, “that your skin’s a little looser here now, more worn in, because I’ve stroked at it so much that I’ve changed you permanently. It’s a sign of just how much I’ve touched you, how many times you’ve trusted me and let me put my hands here. It’s never mattered to you how scarred those hands were, how covered in blood. You let my love leave a mark.”

He tightened his other hand against your hip next, taking hold of the curves that had changed as you’d journeyed through the years with him. “And you’re softer now, too, just like me.” From there he smoothed his hand affectionately upwards over your ribs and up past your breasts, mapping over all of the places your body had begun to show your age like his: stretchmarks and small wrinkles where once skin had been smooth and tight, scars from old battles now faded and ragged with time. The journey his hand took was made with reverence, tender and heavy with intent, his smile so very soft and almost… wondrous. “I may not be able to see you, but I can feel you growing old with me, too, sweetheart. More curves, a few wrinkles. It’s like I can feel your body sinking deeper and deeper into a life with me.”

“That’s what happens when love winds up being your gravity.” You leaned in to kiss his forehead lines. “A decade of being drawn in by you.”

“Mhm. And up here.” He shifted his hand at your throat to cup your face like you had his, his thumb tracing the corners of your eyes. “Laugh lines. Because our life’s made you laugh so much that it changed you. They weren’t there the first time I put my hands here. But they are now. Signs of how happy you are with me. And there are more every year, because you… love me enough to stay.”

“Hey, my Devil-Man,” you whispered, tilting his head up until your forehead could meet yours. He didn’t bother to hide the vulnerability in his eyes, this old wound of his. It was mostly mended now, when it came to you, but sometimes that furrowed scar inside his heart still made him ache. “Do you need me to remind you again? I’m not going anywhere, husband of mine. There’s nowhere you’ll go that I won’t follow.”

“I know.” His eyes fluttered as you stroked at his skin. His arms left your face until he could wind them tighter around you, pulling you in tight against him until his every breath became yours. That seemed to settle him some, the weight of you against his chest, especially when you dropped your head to his shoulder, nuzzling in against his neck. “That’s… that’s just it. With me, you see… moments you didn’t think you’d have because you didn’t think I’d make it. And I didn’t think I’d have this with you, either. A home, wrinkles, greying hair. Not because I didn’t think you’d live long enough, but… but because I never thought I’d find someone who could love me enough to stay this long. To love me this long. Long enough that I could feel you grow old with me.”

“Loving you has never been a chore, Matt.” You breathed in the scent of his skin, soap and the faint copper of blood, traces of cinnamon and just him. It was a scent you knew better than your own. You lifted your hand to run your knuckles down his cheek, tracking your way through his greying beard, hoping that your touch would help your words sink in. He slid his hands up under the back of your shirt to drag his palms smoothly down your back, comforting himself with the feel of your skin as he tilted his head, listening to your heartbeat. It wasn’t because he thought you were lying, that much you knew. But he’d told you once he found the truth soothing when hearing something that might make him feel otherwise vulnerable. Something like this, this old wound of his, absolutely qualified. “And it never will be, no matter what comes at us. If you need me to remind you of that every day, I will. I’ll tell you that over and over again, until the day we die and get buried in matching coffins.”

“The same coffin,” he said quietly, tipping his head to nuzzle at your temple. “There’s a reason we took ‘Till death do we part’ out of our vows. No parting, even in death.”

“Do they even sell double coffins? If so, I’m down.” “Even if they don’t, I’ll tell Foggy to make sure I end up in yours with you.” “I think I should end up in yours.” “Why?” “Because everyone will just assume your coffin’s extra heavy due to your goddamn audacity.” He burst out laughing beneath you, his body shaking and almost throwing you off him entirely. “I’m just saying,” you continued, trying not to grin as he choked out more laughter, “you live your life in a very particular way, man without fear. ‘Christ, why is his coffin so heavy?’ And our friends can just say, ‘well, you know, it’s Matt Murdock’ and it’ll explain everything. No one will notice me shoved in underneath you so you can lay on top of me forever.”

“It’s a date,” he said, still huffing in amusement. A pointed paw tapped at your back before starting a walk up your spine. “Speaking of which, looks like someone’s eager to get in on the cuddling.” “Behold, offer to cuddle and both Matts will appear,” you snorted as roughly twenty pounds of scarred black cat trod his way stubbornly up and onto your shoulder, rasping out an indignant meow that sounded like he’d been smoking a pack a day for the past seven years, because how dare the two of you do this without inviting him. “I’m about to be sandwiched, I think. Hello, Mini-Matt.”

Sure enough, Matt’s smaller clone enthusiastically rammed his head against your temple, making you grunt, before doing the same to Matt’s chin. He was already purring like an old motorcycle engine in a request to get in on what seemed like a nice, cozy cuddle pile, as if Matt would ever turn the cat down. Sure enough, Matt leaned in, planting a kiss to Mini’s big fuzzy forehead before turning and laying a much gentler kiss on yours as Mini draped himself over your shoulder, stretching one paw out to pat Matt's face. “Something tells me you don’t mind, though.”

“Not even a little.”

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azrielslightintheshadows · 1 year ago

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Best mistake

Azriel x Reader

Summary; Reader doesn't quite understand how mating bonds work.

Warnings; Mentions of sex

Masterlist

Velaris was always beautiful during the day, but during the night? It was a sight of dreams, if you really think about it; that’s one of the reasons it is called court of dreams. Because of this you decided that tonight’s dinner party should be held in the main balcony of the house of wind where the view was spectacular. Thankfully Feyre and Nesta volunteered to help you, otherwise you wouldn’t have made it. You were so lucky that Nesta preferred the bookstore you worked at, because if she didn’t you wouldn’t have met the inner circle, they wouldn’t become your family too and most importantly you wouldn’t have met him. The night court’s shadowsinger-your mate. Technically he wasn’t your mate-mate yet if that’s a thing, but you were making progress. You knew you had to accept him as your mate but with everything going on -the recent war, the reconstruction of Velaris and his missions- it was nearly impossible to find a free day -or several (wink wink)- for the mating ceremony. You still had no clue how you would accept him but the idea of asking anyone filled you with embarrassment. You are a fae for crying out loud shouldn’t you know this already?

You and Feyre were preparing the meals, everything was perfect until you noticed that you both forgot about Azriel’s request; apple pie. You whipped your head in Feyre’s direction to inform her, but she was gone, probably bickering with Nesta for something irrelevant. You shook your head and started making the apple pie. You knew that the house was enchanted, and it could make the food -weird- yet you wanted the dinner to be special and full of love thus you made all the food.

Everything was set and by the beating sound of wings you knew that Cassian, Azriel and Rhysand were approaching the house. You took your apron off and headed to the balcony. Just a moment before the males landed, black smoke filled the air and Mor, Elain and Amren fell into the balcony. You laughed at their panting knowing that they were probably racing the boys here.

Strong arms engulfed you from behind and the musky scent of cedar and whiskey had you shivering. His face rested in your neck where he left a soft kiss.

“Hello angel” his voice melodic and soft like the finest velvet.

You just leaned back enjoying his Illyrian warmth and closing your eyes.

“Enough I’m starving” Cassian exclaimed earning a growl from your mate.

Soon everyone was devouring your food, complimenting you. After everyone was finished, you and Feyre walked back inside to get the desserts, you picked a plate and filled it with apple pie keeping the rest in the kitchen in case Azriel wanted more, after all you made it for him. As soon as Feyre had moved the desserts to the table you picked the plate and walked back outside, taking a seat next to Azriel you placed it in front of him without interrupting his conversation with Rhysand. He was briefing him about his last mission, so lost in the discussion that he didn’t notice your movement. Cassian did though and leaned back in his chair a smirk forming on his face. You lifted your eyebrow and he just shrugged pulling his gaze from you.

Azriel stopped talking and picked up his fork taking a piece of the apple pie, he chewed and a low moan left his mouth.

“This is amazing” he said, already picking a second piece.

“Really? I made it for you” you smiled excitedly.

Silence.

Everyone’s head whipped towards you. Azriel gulped, his eyes wide.

“What?” You asked. Fear filled your body.

Rhysand was standing up slowly as to not provoke the shadowsinger.

“Y/n don’t you know that this is how you accept the mating bond?” Feyre spoke her gaze fixed on Azriel. You gave her a confused look. “Offering food.” She specified.

“But we made all the food and we’ve done it again before” your voice barely above a whisper.

“Did you make the apple pie specifically for Azriel?” Cassian asked the smirk never leaving his face and his eyes filled with amusement. He knew.

You nodded.

“There you have it. You just accepted the bond and sent your mate into a sexual frenzy” he boomed. Your jaw almost touched the ground.

“You saw me leaving the plate there…you knew… why didn’t you tell me?” You shouted.

“I wouldn’t be able to enjoy this” he leaned back more and placed his hands behind his head.

Your gaze turned to Azriel who was shaking and then you felt it too. Every feeling was million times stronger, his scent filling all of your senses making you clench your thighs, a faint smell of your arousal leaving your body.

Azriel lifted his gaze on you, his eyes filled with darkness and dominance.

“Do you want this?” His voice feral and possessive.

“Yes” you breathed.

In an instant you were in his arms, his wings flaring behind him.

“Don’t come to the cabin” he growled to the others and with that you were on the sky, a yelp leaving your lips.

He glanced at you and then you decided.

This was the best mistake you’ve ever made.

Requests are open.

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dollfacefantasy · 1 year ago

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Let Them See

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: leon teases you while you're at the bookstore. on the way home, he has to pull over to deal with it.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, oral (m receiving), daddy kink, praise/degradation, dubcon elements (reader is scared of being caught), thigh fucking, he cums inside, car sex, road head, teasing in public, crying, sub space (forgive me if i'm using that incorrectly)

word count: 4.9k

a/n: i feel absolutely depraved. thank you to @sleepyluxe for the idea. this does reference my other fic, but it's not important to the plot. just if you read that one, this is like a little sequel! if you sent me a request, i am working on it, please be patient with me. i hope everyone enjoys. special smooches to everyone who reblogs and comments and sends me asks :) you don't know how much it means to me <3

tags: @dwkfan @tosuckmyweenis @pupthepokemonenthusiast @sleepyluxe @petitecolibri @death-paint @luniaxi @bizzarethirst lmk if you would like to be added to the list!

You gaze out the window of the car, looking around at the beautiful day outside the glass. You softly hum along to the song playing on the radio as Leon’s fingers rub tiny circles on your inner thigh. You occasionally look over at him to watch him drive, your eyes full of all the love in the world. Your boyfriend finally had some time off, and he was spending it with you.

The entire day so far consisted of the two of you going around and just doing whatever you wanted. Just having fun together. Now, you were on the way to the bookstore. You had no shopping agenda, it was just another stop on your series of activities.

He pulls the car into a parking space near the shop and shuts it off. He squeezes your thigh once more before leaning over to kiss your cheek.

“You ready, sweetheart?” he asks while stroking your face softly.

You nod and lean in for one more sweet kiss.

The two of you exit the car and head towards the store. Your hand finds his immediately, interlacing your fingers together. You lean your head against his shoulder as the automatic doors glide apart to let you in. His expression softens when you display your need to be close, and he kisses the crown of your head.

You wander the aisles together, looking through different sections and pointing out different things you’d read or wanted to read. Eventually, you end up in the romance section. Leon shifts his position to stand behind you and watch from over your shoulder. His arms circle your form, encasing you against his chest while he nuzzles the side of your head and kisses your cheek a few times.

You smile and turn your head slightly to give him a small kiss as you read the synopsis of the book in your hand. You guessed he had missed you lately since he’d been working so much. He was usually pretty attached to you right after coming home, and you never minded because why would you? If he needed extra affection, you would never deny him that.

Your intuition was half-correct because your boyfriend had missed you and did want to be in physical contact with you constantly right now, but the reason behind his current touchiness was a different type of longing.

He was so pent up from being away from you. A couple of days before he left for his last mission you had let it slip that you wanted to call him Daddy, and he had been feeling wild ever since. Sure, he’d fucked you until you couldn’t walk prior to him leaving and spent nearly all of last night inside of you, but it wasn’t enough. He craved you so deeply. He could feel every cell in his body yearning for you.

In his time away, it felt as if images of you clouded his mind in every waking moment. If he wasn’t actively fighting for his life, but even in those moments too sometimes, he was thinking of you. Your blissed out, flushed face, and your soft parted lips spilling entrancing sounds of pleasure. The way he could nearly see a physical change once you heard him praise you or remind you to be good for Daddy haunted him each minute he was across the globe from you.

It was like a new part of you had been unlocked to him. A side of you that looked at him with such reverence that he almost couldn’t stand it. He loved every facet of your personality, but this piece of you that wanted nothing more than to love him and be taken care of drove him up the wall.

He takes a deep breath while peppering the side of your neck with gentle kisses, inhaling your scent. He lets out a hum next to your ear, quiet enough so only you can hear, but in a tone to let you know what he desires.

Despite his hinting, you just smile again and give him another chaste kiss. You were still too focused on that book for his liking. He watches you flip through the pages and scan different passages. He is disinterested for the most part until a certain section of words catches his eye.

“His manhood glides into her sopping heat,” he reads with a low chuckle. He gives you another peck on your temple. “This what you read when I’m gone, honey? So dirty, but I guess I should’ve known.”

“Oh, shut up,” you say with a roll of your eyes. You gently jab your elbow back into his abdomen.

That makes him smile and hold you even tighter against his broad front. His hands slowly rub either side of your body while his warm breath is blowing over your neck.

“No, it’s ok, baby. I know you’re insatiable. You gotta take care of yourself somehow when I’m not there,” he says quietly against your skin.

“Leon,” you say in a warning tone. It wasn’t so much what he was saying that was starting to get you hot. It was the low rumble of his voice, his lips brushing your throat, and his thick biceps locked around you like boa constrictors.

“I can just see it. You in bed, book in one hand, the other down your shorts, those fingers playing with your pretty, aching pussy. Hips bucking while you bite your lip,” he breathes, “But it’s probably not enough, is it? No, I’ve got you trained so well, baby girl. I know you can’t cum without Daddy’s help. I bet you call out for me when I’m not there, wishing it was me buried between those cute legs instead of your hand.”

“Leon,” you say, trying to speak in a warning tone, but it comes out as a soft whine. Your cheeks felt hot and your head a little dizzy.

“Leon?” he mocks, “That’s not who you were crying for last night, sweetheart.”

“Daddy,” you correct yourself quietly, turning your head to look into his eyes. His lips curl further into a predatory grin.

“That’s it. Good girl,” he coos and kisses your nose, “Daddy’s girl is so smart, remembering things like that. Good to know you keep some of that mind after I fuck it dumb all night.”

The way he taunts you makes it feel like your knees are going to buckle. You try to plead with him through your eyes. The aisle you were in was empty and towards the back of the store, but your mind was running rampant with thoughts of someone else catching the words that left his mouth.

“What’s that look for, princess?” he laughs in a hushed tone, “I thought you loved when I talked like that.”

“What if someone hears?” you ask softly.

“Oh, baby,” he coos, “Are you afraid of someone seeing how pathetic you are for Daddy?”

Heat bunches in your lower abdomen making you shift a little. You nod.

“Scared of someone seeing how you rub those gorgeous thighs together? How you can’t meet anyone’s eyes? How you have to hold Daddy’s hand to feel ok?” he whispers before nipping at your earlobe, “And all just from a few words.”

Your breath hitches and you fight to keep the whimper blossoming in your throat inside. “We’ll get in trouble,” you say, your voice shaking.

“Aw, my sweet girl doesn’t want to get in trouble?” he teases, “Baby, we’re just talking. If you can just keep yourself under control, we’ll be fine. I know it’s hard for you though. You hear Daddy, and you become such a needy little slut.”

Your head hangs forward a bit. You stare at the ground trying not to let yourself lose it in public. You were slipping into that state of mind where all you wanted was to be good for him. You wanted to just drop to your knees and have him pet your head while you sucked him off.

He knows what’s going through your mind. He can read you like no other. One of his hands slides down to your stomach to gently caress you there. The book you were holding was long forgotten, and Leon smiles wide as you push it back onto the shelf.

“I mean, even if someone did hear me, it wouldn’t be that bad, would it? It’s not like they’re seeing you when we’re alone. When you’re whining and crying for my cock like a bitch in heat,” he rasps.

“Daddy, stop,” you whimper. You felt hot and achy with need. You just wanted him to hold you and fuck you until you couldn’t think, but you were stuck in the middle of this store with bright lights and people walking around and nowhere to be alone.

“Do you really want me to stop, angel?” he asks, “I know you love this. I know you love feeling all shy and needing me to make it better. I think deep down you want everyone to know what a whore you are for me. You want ‘em to know how I own you.”

You bite your lip. You were getting so turned on, you felt like you could cry. The mix of shame and arousal swirls inside your head and pushes all other thoughts out. It was just you and Leon right now, no one else mattered. Being seen like this was becoming less of a worry to you.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he says with a smirk, “I know you love it. I bet you if I put my hand down your pants right now, you’d soak my fingers. I just know you’re dripping from being reminded how pathetic you are for me.”

You turn around in his hold to hide your face against his chest. Your arms wrap around his body so that you’re as close as possible. If someone else saw you now, they might just think you were having a bad day and Leon was comforting you in earnest.

Your display of submission amuses him. His face is smug. He rubs your back and cradles your head.

“Aw, baby, are you gonna cry? Is this too much for you, sweetheart? Are you embarrassed I can get you this desperate from my voice alone?” he croons.

“Yes,” you say. Your tone is desperate, both for him and to leave the store.

“But why are you embarrassed, honey? You like being claimed, don’t you?” he coos and tilts your head up by your chin, taking in your flustered expression, “Yeah, you like when people see us, and they know that you’re mine just from one look. So what is there to be embarrassed about, babydoll?”

“I like it… but… I just… because-” you struggle to articulate yourself as you gaze into his piercing eyes and he begins rubbing his knuckles along your jawline.

“Because you don’t want anyone else knowing? No one else can see how much you like being controlled because it’s shameful, isn’t it? It’s humiliating to admit that you like me controlling everything, from the number of times you cum at night down to the clothes you wear when you wake up in the morning. No one else should know the infinite amount of vile, disgusting things you would do if I just asked you to,” he whispers and kisses your hairline.

He swipes his thumb across your lips slowly as he talks. When he’s done, he sticks the digit between your lips. You gently suck on it, maintaining eye contact with him all the while.

His eyebrows raise, indicating how pleased he is with you. “I really do have you perfectly trained. You don’t even think about it anymore. You feel any part of me in your mouth and you know to start sucking like a good little slut.” He pulls his thumb back out and smears your saliva over your lips.

“Can we just leave?” you ask softly, your eyes casting down again, “Please.”

“What? You don’t want to buy anything? You know I’ll pay,” he teases, knowing that shopping couldn’t be further from your mind right now.

“Please Daddy,” you whisper and look at him desperately. You were so soaked it would be uncomfortable if you stood there for any longer.

He presses a tender kiss to your lips, deciding to give you a break. “Yeah, beautiful. We can leave. I don’t think you could focus enough to read anything right now even if you wanted to.”

He takes you under his arm and starts to guide you out of the store. You keep your arms around him as you lean into his side.

“That’s my girl. My good girl,” he whispers and kisses the top of your head while the two of you walk through the exit, “You just need Daddy right now, don’t you baby?”

“Mhm,” you hum quietly as you make your way through the parking lot.

When you reach the car, Leon opens the door for you and helps you inside. He then quickly goes around to the other side of the car and gets in the driver's seat. He wastes no time turning it on and getting it into gear. The car whips out of the parking space and out to the road.

Your eyes continuously dart over to him. The urge to hop over the center console and into his lap was all-consuming. He briefly glances at you with a knowing look.

You take that as a signal and slowly reach across the car. Your hand lands at the top of his thigh and slides over his lap to palm him through his jeans. He was already half-hard from tormenting you in the store.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asks teasingly.

You tentatively pop the button of his jeans open and tug the zipper down. Your eyes are silently begging while your fingers begin massaging the outline of his length over his boxers.

“Just need to feel it. Please,” you say as your fingertips continue their miniscule movements.

He shakes his head and lets out a laugh while adjusting in his seat to give you better access. “You need it, do you?”

You nod and maneuver your hand into his underwear for direct contact. Your fingers wrap around him, feeling the heat of it pulsing in your grasp. Your content with that for a while, but soon you want more.

“Daddy, can I please suck your cock?” you ask.

Hearing your soft and sweet voice ask for something so vulgar made his dick twitch with need for you, but he tried to keep his reaction casual.

“Look at you, asking like a good girl,” he teases, “Can’t wait until we get home? Did Daddy get you too worked up?”

“Yes,” you say timidly, “I just… I need it.”

“It’s ok, you don’t have to explain,” he says, “You can suck me off, my love. Just be good, so we don’t crash.”

You nod quickly, happy he wasn’t going to torment you on the way home too. After unbuckling your seatbelt, you shift and lean over to his seat to put your head in his lap. He splays a protective hand across your back as you get in position. Without hesitation, you get to task and pull him out of his boxers.

You lick the bulging head a few times, but then wrap your lips around it and sink down. You flatten your tongue against the shaft, feeling the veins as you lower your head. He groans and tightens his grip on the steering wheel. His other hand rubs your back in small strokes.

“There you go, angel,” he says, “Fuck, I could never say no to your mouth.”

You suck gently before bobbing your head slowly up and down. One of your hands cups his balls and kneads them carefully. The noises of the blowjob sound through the car’s enclosed space. Leon fights the instinct to buck into your throat. Your mouth was just so warm and wet and soft. Absolute heaven. It was hard for him to focus on the road in this condition.

It was easy for you to focus on giving him head though. You work your mouth over him, paying attention to all his favorite spots and taking him as deep as you can. You rest your nose against his pelvis as you hold him in your throat. His thighs tense and the car jerks a little when he accidentally pushes on the brakes too hard.

“Jesus fuck, baby. Ease up a little,” he grunts. His hand on your back coasts up to your neck and caresses the base of your skull.

Not long after he says this, you pull off to catch your breath. While you take your break, you purse your lips and spit a fat glob of saliva onto his cock. It drips onto the head and then slides the rest of the way down to where your fist is now gripping him. You start jerking him and spreading your drool around his shaft.

You press sloppy, wet kisses to his tip. Some of his precum coats your lips before you open your mouth and bring him inside again. You make muted gagging noises while you try to get him deep again.

He wants so badly to watch you, to see that adorable dedicated look on your face and your eyes tearing up as you choke yourself. It’s driving him crazy having to watch the street ahead of him. He can also feel the simmering build up of release which he doesn’t want to do so soon or while he’s driving. His hips twitch more while he white-knuckles the wheel.

“Babe, calm down,” he hisses pointlessly. You’re wrapped up in your own little world right now, “If you don’t quit it, I’m gonna cum and then you’re not gonna get to have any fun when we get home.”

You sort of register that comment, but you were absolutely fixated on getting him to blow his load down your throat so you don’t stop.

He realizes instantly that you’re not going to let up. He makes a split second decision to pull a sharp turn onto a less busy road. He steers the car off of the asphalt and off road a little bit. Once there’s substantial distance between your vehicle and the road, he throws it in park and yanks you up by your hair.

“When I tell you to do something, it’s not a request,” he states simply.

It takes a lot in him to keep up the serious persona and not smile at your face right now. You looked fucked out even though you hadn’t even come close to the main event yet. Saliva covers your lips and chin while your eyes project a dazed mix of arousal and guilt.

“But Daddy, I just wanted to make you feel good,” you say.

“Liar. I know you just wanted some cum down your throat cause you’re a greedy little slut, baby,” he chides, “Also, is it your job to ‘try’ whatever you want?”

You shake your head and look down like a puppy who’s been caught being bad. “I’m sorry Daddy,” you say softly.

“What is your job?” he asks, ignoring your apology.

“To be a good girl and listen to Daddy.”

“Hm, so you do remember. You’re not stupid then, just deliberately disobedient,” he says.

You open your mouth to dispute that but decide against arguing and shut it again. The way you were shrinking in on yourself made him want to ruin you even more.

“Good, at least it looks like you’re learning. I’ll have to remind you of the rest though,” he says and finally lets go of your hair, “Get your ass in the backseat.”

“But Daddy-” you start, about to repeat your fears from earlier about being seen.

“Enough with this ‘but Daddy’ shit. You wanna act like a whore, that’s how I’ll treat you,” he says, “Be grateful for the privacy you get. You’re lucky I didn’t just stop the car and fuck you in the middle of the street.”

Your inner thighs were slick with your arousal by this point. You could feel it when you began crawling past your seat to the back of the car. Leon slaps your ass as you make your way there, causing you to yelp.

He simply gets out of the car and enters the backseat through the door. He sits next to you and looks at you expectantly.

“What are you waiting for?” he asks, “Do you really need me to guide your every move? I know that’s not true because you just showed me it wasn’t.”

“I’m sorry Daddy,” you say again as you begin removing your clothes. You peel your top off and shimmy out of your pants.

“I know you are, baby. But I still have to teach you your lesson. You have to learn that Daddy knows best,” he says while taking off his own clothing.

You scoot closer to try and assist him, but he manages on his own and flips you over, pinning you to the seats. One hand is locked on the flesh of your hip while the other holds your head down against the leather. He’s kneeling behind you, hunched over due to his stature in the limited space.

He teases up and down your folds with the angry red tip of his cock, still leaking precum from the close call a few minutes ago. Your body yearns to be filled, but you keep quiet and try to appear patient.

“Do you even deserve my cock?” he asks as he bumps your clit. You would nod, but his hold on your head is strong. “I mean really, maybe I should be focused on training some patience into you. Teach you take what I give you and not vie for more.”

“Daddy, I’m sorry,” you whimper.

“I know, babydoll, that’s only the tenth time you’ve said that,” he mocks as he slides up and down through your slick, “But I can really show you what sorry is. Maybe I’ve been too lenient with you. What if, right now, I fuck your thighs? You keep those pretty legs together, nice and tight for me to use like a fleshlight.”

He pushes your thighs together like he described and begins slowly thrusting himself between them. He quietly grunts and kneads your ass.

“Please Daddy, no, I’m so-”

“Ah ah, don’t interrupt,” he tuts, not stopping his hips, “You’d probably still get off on it. You’re so whipped for me you’d probably cum if I smiled at you right.”

You stay silent. You knew he was teasing, but it might have been true. He knew all your buttons and just how to push them.

“Yeah, you know I’m right. My poor baby. You can’t help it. You don’t know any better, do you?”

“No…” you say quietly before your bottom lip juts out into a pout. The idea of him not fucking you properly while you were possibly the most horny you’d been in your life was deeply upsetting.

“No, you don’t,” he agrees in a condescending tone, “You just love Daddy so much. It’s not your fault your body is addicted to me. You don’t choose for your cunt to soak through your panties just from hearing my voice, do you? It just happens. Your heart knows it belongs to me.”

He speaks as if he’s comforting you which makes it feel so much worse and so much better at the same time. Your eyes water, the mix of emotion being a lot for you to handle in this state.

“It doesn’t care how pathetic you act because of it. All it knows is that you need your Daddy,” he says, his voice husky. He pulls away from the junction of your thighs and nudges your legs apart with his knees. He positions his cock at your entrance. “That’s why I’ll give you a pass, baby. You’re not a bad girl. You just need me to keep you in line sometimes.”

His grip has weakened enough that you’re able to nod. “Thank you Daddy,” you choke out as he pushes all the way inside in one go. You were so wet that he had no problem bottoming out immediately.

“Good girl,” he praises through gritted teeth and a clenched jaw, “So fucking wet, Christ.”

Everything felt right now that he was inside of you. The relief crashed on you like a wave. A couple tears leak from your eyes and your body shudders.

He starts pushing himself in and out, his head tilts back as he does. You clutch the edge of the bench while your eyes flutter. You felt like you were up in the clouds. The feeling of him twitching against your walls as he slid in and out was total euphoria. It was a little much to feel this way from a few strokes, but like he said, you couldn’t control it.

You bounce your hips back against his and he smacks it. You can tell from the sting that there will probably be a handprint on the skin. He lets you fuck yourself on it for a little while before he takes over again. He stares down to where the two of you connect, unable to tear his eyes from how your cunt sucks in his cock, your wetness gathering around the spot where your bodies link.

You whimper and cry as he picks up speed, pistoning into you. Your cheek feels numb from being squished on the cushion. Leon notices and leans down closer to you. It wasn’t unusual for you to get emotional during sex but seeing it always made his protective urges flare up. He wraps his thick arm around your neck from behind, putting you into a loving headlock. He lays some messy kisses on the side of your temple.

“I love my needy girl so much. You know that right?” he whispers while sensually rolling his hips against your ass, “I wouldn’t want you to be any other way. My sweet girl, so sensitive. I love you baby.”

“I love you too,” you cry. You lean into his kisses and lift one of your hands to rest it on his forearm.

Knowing you’re ok, he resumes his harsher thrusts, pulling you by your neck closer to him. He growls into your ear and nuzzles the side of your head.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, babe. Can’t last in this tight pussy, squeezing me like a fucking anaconda,” he moans.

You bite your lip and grip his arm tighter as you feel your own peak rising within.

“Where do you want it, baby girl?” he grunts in your ear.

“Inside, Daddy. Please,” you whine.

He chuckles and gives you one more kiss on the head for saying please.

“I don’t even know why I ask anymore. Course you want it in your pussy. Even though you look so cute with Daddy’s cum all over your face, no thoughts in that pretty little head. Just happy you got some attention.”

“I like it inside,” you defend before gasping.

“I know you do, angel,” he says, his voice strained as the ecstasy begins to bubble over, “I like it too. Stuffing you full of me. A little reminder of who owns you once we’re finished.”

You nod as best you can in the headlock before your body seizes and jerks. Your orgasm rips through you, making you shake and moan through tears. You claw at his arm with both hands now, brokenly whimpering for Daddy over and over.

He can’t take it anymore. The sight beneath him mixed with the bliss of your cunt fluttering around him, it breaks the resolve inside him. He snaps his hips against you roughly and tightens his arm around you. He growls and grabs the leather seats so hard you think he might rip a chunk out.

He pumps into you repeatedly, draining himself in the warm embrace of your velvety walls. You can feel the thick white ropes filling you up as the sweaty skin of his abdomen rubs against your back.

His hips spasm as he finishes. He rests on top of you for a moment afterwards, panting to catch his breath. He kisses your neck gently and then moves to your ear.

“My beautiful, perfect girl,” he whispers, “So good for me, baby, like always.”

He gets off of you so you can sit up. Once you do, he gently holds your jaw and wipes away any leftover tears and saliva on your face. He leans in and gives you a soft kiss.

“So pretty,” he mumbles against your lips.

The two of you dress in the backseat, pulling your clothes on haphazardly so you can actually go home. This time you get out of the backseat through the door and hop back in the passenger seat. You laugh when you see Leon stretching outside of the driver's door.

“You ok there, buddy?” you tease when he gets back in.

He smiles, raises his eyebrows, and starts the car up.

“I’m buddy now? Are you over Daddy?” he says, “This is the thanks I get for working hard to please you.”

“Thank you Daddy,” you say overly-sweet, leaning over to kiss his cheek as he pulls back onto the road.

“You wanna play around, but I’m not the one who was crying that ten minutes ago when she thought she wouldn’t get any dick,” he laughs.

“Oh, shut up, Leon!” you say and roll your eyes.

“It’s Leon right now, but I bet you when we’re home in five minutes, I’ll have you begging for Daddy again,” he says and smirks.

You smile and look away, knowing that he’s totally right.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #resident evil imagines #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy imagine #resident evil smut #smut #ch: leon kennedy 💌

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demonicbaby666 · 5 months ago

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iii. Take Out with a Side of Make-out

Feelings are Fatal Masterlist | Masterlists | iv

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Jennifer Jareau x fem!Reader

Words: 5.4k+

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, there's literally no warnings for this chapter though...

When you woke, it was to an empty apartment. Your quiet movements to lounge were of no importance because she was gone. JJ was gone. The only mark left of another having inhabited the space was a lonely, loosely folded blanket on the couch that sent a cold shiver up your spine. You walked forward and took the material into your hands, cradling it between your arms and chest as though you could trick yourself into believing it was the woman who marked its fibres with her scent.

The question of JJ’s whereabouts or sudden departure remained unanswered as you scoured the room for clues. There was no note, no remnants of a coffee made before her leave, nothing but a few strands of golden hair that glinted off the sofa and pillows in the morning light. Still, you stood there for a few more minutes. Eyes closed, mind racing, you breathed in the last bit of JJ you had left held precious in your grasp.

You allowed self-pity to settle into each slow step leading back to your room, praying your floorboards would turn to quicksand and put you out of your misery. The door creaked open, the hinges crying to be oiled and reminding you of yet another task you had left unchecked. Beside your bed was your phone, a beckon of hope for your worrisome mind that you ran to in desperate hopes an explanation lay waiting in a grey bubble.

With a single tap, the black screen lit up. You scrolled through everything unimportant without an ounce of remorse. So brutal in your search for answers, you ignored even Garcia, her clump of twenty-odd messages moving up and up till they disappeared entirely. She could wait till later to hear about the so-called ‘hot date’ and how he turned out to be a grimy creep.

With every passing icon, hope dwindled. The last notification stared at you with its time stamp so ancient that all it read was yesterday. In a late ditch effort, you clicked the text chain with JJ, thinking things could slip between the cracks when it came to faulty technology; you’d dropped your phone once or twice, surely that was enough to dislodge a wire or two. The chat was desolate of new messages.

The dread you felt that Sunday set the tone for the upcoming week, which was entirely bleak.

Work was work, and managing an independent bookstore had its good moments. Informing your colleague a friend of hers, or what turned out to be a friend of a friend of a friend of hers, attempted to spike you was not one of them. The only consolation to the awkward encounter was the consoling hug you received, which, for all intents and purposes, filled the gaping space in your chest that yearned for some form of physical intimacy on that first Monday back.

Police reports were filed, and comfort was found in the awaiting punishment your date would face, but it was hollow and sapless. Each dying day, when the sun took its rest, you still stood in front of your mirror and noted the toll life without solace took on you. The dark circles under your eyes had worsened, taking on the appearance of bruises a person would sustain in a fighting ring. The fullness of your face was no more. Your cheeks looked gaunt and hollow. There was no colour to your face, no life force spare to light up your eyes after days of endless sorrow. The longer you looked, the more you realised you had fallen victim to a situation that was of your own making.

There was little news on JJ. When a text finally came through on a bleak Wednesday, it was direct and uninformative.

‘How are you?’

The reprieve from your anxieties was short-lived, and you scolded yourself for thinking JJ owed you anything when she disappeared out of thin air the moment the question of how she was doing was posed.

That’s when the anger came. The blinking cursor mocked you with its potential. Endless texts filled with barbed remarks and pointed accusations were written, deleted, and edited until only the worst of the worst were left. It tore at your chest to read the message back and come face to face with the literate poison you had conjured. The words were sour on your tongue, and your voice was broken between sobs of a pained acknowledgement as you read. There is nothing hurt people do better than share their hurt, but that would not be you. You would not inflict damage upon the person you knew you would always love. No message was sent that day or the following.

Time moved, and you clung to each new day's possibilities. Maybe if you gave JJ the space she appeared to need, she’d find her way back to you, but no matter how hard you fought to find hope and happiness where there wasn’t any, every passing hour you lived and breathed remained a quiet torment. Despair followed you like a shadow you couldn’t shuck, and for the first time since you parted ways with JJ, you considered the elicit relationship between you was coming to its inevitable end.

The thought plagued you throughout the week till Thursday and Friday came and left, leaving you empty and tired, ready for Saturday’s promise of a day you could spend under your bedsheets utterly and tragically alone.

The stages of grief had run their course, and you found yourself at the finale.

There’s a misconception that when you find acceptance, it’s freeing and beautiful; tranquillity sheds beams of light over all the gloom and loss, like the sun peaking through a winter forest, thawing frostbitten earth. This contrived interpretation does not paint the harsh reality of acceptance. The hole cut through your chest did not feel less hollow; if anything, it was more prominent, leaving an imprint on your past, present and future. Songs, places and faces were draped in black garments, polluted by the faint air of heartache and neglect.

Acceptance was the sword at the end of a fight that found your throat and put you out of your misery. Acceptance was realising in the death of your old self, you’d strive to be someone better in the next. Acceptance was knowing that you wouldn’t be victim to your circumstances anymore, that you’d carry your pain like armour, wear it proudly as you built your walls back up and never let anyone bulldoze them again. There would be no cracks in the foundations this time, JJ would not sneak her way into your heart, and the parts of her that remained would be snuffed out.

So Saturday became the closing of a chapter, and Sunday began anew with the shrill of your phone waking you up at 7 am. Not quite how you expected the day to start, but you tried to avoid taking the abrupt start to the day as a bad omen.

It was an easy decision to silence the call and reclaim the morning as your own. The first step—going back to sleep.

The second call came through three hours later, and you couldn’t excuse ignoring it under the guise of self-care when sleeping past 10 am was bordering on excessive for someone who went to bed before the sun had fully left the sky the night before. Begrudgingly, you threw an arm over the side of your bed, violently clambering until your hand landed over the vibrating device. Too familiar with the screen layout, your finger pressed the general location of the answer icon as you brought the phone to your ear.

“Hello,” you mumbled, too tired to acknowledge the gruffness of your voice, though you could feel the greeting grate against your throat like sandpaper.

“Shit. Did I wake you up?”

Of course, it was her. Out of everyone who could’ve called to be greeted by your crackled, prepubescent morning lilt, it had to be JJ.

Shooting up, suddenly very awake, you gripped the phone tighter and cleared your throat.

“I had to get up anyway,” you stated blankly.

“Oh.” She was off-put. You could hear it in her scattered tone. It was unknown whether it was from your lack of enthusiasm or the reason for her calling.

There was only silence for a beat, and you could hear the thoughts churning inside JJ’s head from the other side of the phone speaker. The responsibility to fill the silence was not yours. You weren’t the one to call, and you wouldn’t be the one to encourage JJ to speak now that she had suddenly re-founded her interest in you.

“You still there?” she asked, sounding nervous enough for you almost to abandon your indifference to the unknown subject matter of the call. Almost.

“Yes,” you replied, seemingly unbothered despite feeling the exact opposite. “Just waiting.”

There came a sigh, and you steeled yourself to remain calm for what was to follow. No one’s heart ought to be beating as fast as yours was at 10 am.

“I’m sorry. I know I’ve been MIA this week. Work has been hectic, and I’ve had a lot going on, but I should’ve checked in more.”

“Yes, you should have.” There was another bout of silence, then a drawn-out breath shared by you and JJ. You knew for this conversation to lead anywhere, you needed to give leeway. But you were hurt and still harboured anger towards JJ, enough to leave her sitting in the static atmosphere for a few more seconds.

“You’re right.” She finally relented, sounding surer than she had been in the last few minutes. There was a bit of shuffling coming from JJ’s end of the call before everything stilled. “I was stupid and blindsided by unimportant things when my attention should have been on you. I should have called. I should have come over and comforted you and kept you safe after everything that happened. There are so many things I should have said and done, but I’m calling now and asking for just a fraction of forgiveness. Let me make it up to you.”

“And how do you plan on doing that?” you asked, waves of curiously eroding the shores of lasting anger.

“There’s this thing…”

“Oh well, that changes everything. A thing. Why didn’t you say that earlier? That makes everything okay then.” You were sure she could hear the roll of your eyes in your bit-off tone.

“My mom’s coming to town next week and I’m being forced to host a luncheon, or what a normal person would call a barbeque.” She paused momentarily, taking a deep breath before rushing through the rest of her request. “I thought you could come along as my date so I could avoid all the badgerings over my lack of love life.”

“Let me get this right,” you began with a humourless laugh. “To make up for not being there when I needed you, you want me to do you a favour by pretending to be your date so your family and friends don’t pester you?”

“It doesn't sound so great when you say it like that.”

“Probably because it isn’t,” you stated matter of factly, the amusement peeking through the cracks of your tone.

“Free food.”

“Not happening.”

“Good company.”

“I'm assuming you’re dubbing yourself the so-called good company?”

“You like my company!” JJ feigned offence so well that you couldn’t help but laugh.

“I tolerate it at best,” you stated, failing to hold back a smile. “It’s still a hard no.”

“I’ll pick you up and drop you back home.”

This particular clause in the imaginary contract piqued your interest. For reasons unknown, the image of JJ being at your beck and call, wanting your company at her side so badly she’d go out of her way to make it happen, elicited a fuzzy feeling in your chest. A week away from her was good. It was the breathing space you needed to realise things had to change. And as unconventional as it may be, perhaps this was the opportunity to enforce the change you strived for.

“Will you at least consider it?”

“Fine,” you dramatically sighed, dropping your body back on your bed and looking at the barren ceiling.

The conversation came to a natural close after JJ graced you with more details of her week, this time holding little back. She asked question after question, making it silently known your morning would be hers. Your allotted time to make coffee and sip on it also belonged to her, and try as you might have, though you tried little, there was nothing to be done about the rather annoying fact you quite clearly did crave JJ’s company after going so long without it. So you allowed time to spill through your fingers and words to flow from your mouth. It didn't sting or hurt when it was time to part ways. You didn’t yearn for anything more. It was nice: being content with the mediocre.

The following week, you hoped for more of the same. Finally, you were happy to settle for normal, but the week presented nothing of the sort. First, the box of chocolates came, waiting for you outside your apartment on Monday evening. Innocent enough. Then came the bouquet of flowers the following Tuesday that you discovered within the walls of your apartment, sitting idly and beautifully on your kitchen counter. You pondered on the time JJ must have set aside to hand deliver the array of thalictrums, tulips and gardenias, wanting so badly to place meaning to the gift that was left to coerce you into agreeing to accompany JJ next weekend.

Buds took root in the soil of your heart, and ever-present weeds of affection sprouted. Thwacking away at the blooms, knowing the conditions were no longer suitable for sustaining a garden of pathetic hope, you placed the second gift JJ bestowed upon you in a cream vase you found locked away under your sink.

Placed by the window, the sun bled colour through petals like stained glass the following Wednesday morning, a bright sight to gape at whilst mindlessly stirring milk into coffee.

That evening, as you swept through the doors of your apartment, you fiddled with a parcel left in your mailbox. It was no bigger than your palm, neatly wrapped in Kraft paper. Attached was a note written for Saturday. The handwriting gave away who had sent the gift but did nothing to alleviate the boding curiosity running rampant in your belly.

Under the brown coverings was a black box, its contents half unmasked from the lid taking the brunt end of your less than gentle treatment. It was a bracelet. A dainty thing comprised of thin gold chains looped together and delicately placed opposite the clasp was a single tiny diamond. It was perfect. It was too much.

Pulling your phone out, clicking JJ’s contact highlighted under favourites, you listened to the rings chime by your ear. You reached her voicemail, and having been unprepared to leave a strongly worded message, you hung up, navigating your way to your text chain, only to be greeted by three dots.

17:30 (JJ) - On a case. But no, I’m not returning it. I’m not taking it back. You’re keeping it, and if you choose to come with me on Saturday (which you should), you’ll wear it.

17:31 - It’s too much, JJ.

17:31 (JJ) - No, it’s not. If anything, it’s not enough.

17:32 - I’m hiding it in your bag next time I see you.

17:33 (JJ) - Can you accept the gift like a normal person and say thank you?

17:34 - No.

17:35 (JJ) - The bracelet stays with you. You deserve to be spoiled. So, suck it up cause I’ve got to go.

And just like that, you were alone. A sappy smile in place, standing in your kitchen gazing at your pretty flowers and your pretty bracelet. It was right about then that you realised how utterly fucked you were. There wasn’t a force on earth strong enough to hold you back from attending Saturday’s luncheon as JJ’s honorary date.

Questions of motives and intentions sprouted fast in your mind like pockets of unruly weeds. Doubt reared its head, peeking through the cracks of cheap blinders fabricated on broken dreams. Once upon a time, you may have tricked yourself into believing your own delusions. JJ felt the same way you did. That’s why she called you at ungodly hours for pleasure and only that. JJ searched for opportunity after opportunity to be in your company, and that’s why she ignored you for a whole week. You really had been blinded by love.

You greeted the petulant childlike dreams with the fortification of your guard. There would be no more longing, pining, or losing yourself in a make-believe future you thought you could see through the rose-tinted lenses of JJ’s unreadable gaze. There would be no mistake about it, when Saturday arrived, you would play your part, and you would do no more than that.

By Thursday evening, you were convinced the gifts had stopped. Sluggishly trailing upstairs after a tiresome day and unlocking your apartment, nothing awaited you. It was both a relief and a hard-to-admit disappointment. Surely, through some type of psychic link, JJ must have known she’d swayed your better judgment and swindled you into agreeing to her terms.

Of course, no such thing existed, and the blonde was very much still on the train of buying her way back into your heart. You discovered this when sitting down, scrolling through the endless list of restaurants on delivery apps. The options were vast, and your indecisive mind was too worn out to take on the challenge of picking which cuisine spoke most to your palette, let alone what you wanted off the menu if you ever managed to dwindle the options down to one.

Your fridge was barren, and the contents of your cupboards were mainly noodles and dried foods that didn’t sound all that appetising, given that you’d have to find the energy to move to the kitchen and engage in making something. So, after thirty minutes of idle scrolling and scornful glances at your kitchen, you gave up, choosing to sit in the glum of adulthood and responsibility.

At that precise moment of defeat, a buzzing rang from beside your door. You weren’t expecting anyone and most friends knew the code to let themselves in so they wouldn’t ring up. Maybe they had the wrong apartment?

Another buzz.

Huffing, you stood and walked over to the intercom. The quality on the screen was grainy, but you saw the delivery driver clear enough, hands filled with bags of food as a motorcycle sat idly behind him.

“I think you might have the wrong apartment,” you said, ignoring the pang of hunger that shot through your belly. “I can buzz you in, though.”

He held a receipt up to his face, scanning it momentarily. “Second floor. Apartment five?”

“Yes.”

“Well then, this stuff is for you,” he declared, motioning to the bags he had in hand.

“Come on up,” you sighed, admitting defeat.

When the food arrived, you apologised to the delivery driver, realising he was carrying not one, not two, but three bags filled with containers of food. The waiting time, plus the journey up flights of stairs, can’t have been enjoyable, and you felt bad for only being able to offer a sympathetic smile as consolation. The guilt reduced once your eyes landed on the receipt and you discovered two things. One: JJ was indeed the one to send the surplus of food. And two: she’d left a hefty tip that more than made up for the inconvenience.

Aware the blonde may still be busy on a case you didn’t bother calling.

18:40- You know I can’t eat all of this, right?

18:46 (JJ) - Is that an invitation to come and help?

18:47- Are you going to make me ask, or would you rather I not fit into the dress I’ve picked for this Saturday?

18:47 (JJ)- On my way!

18:56 (JJ)- Wait… WAS THAT A YES TO COMING?

19:00- Yes, Jennifer Jareau, I’ll be your date for your family BBQ.

19:04 (JJ)- You know I only like it when you use my full name when your mid orgasm ):

19:05- If you crash whilst texting and driving, then you’ll be lucky if you ever get to see me again, let alone touch me.

19:09 (JJ)- Texting + driving = no sex. Noted.

19:10- I’m eating all the spring rolls. You don’t deserve any.

Not even ten minutes later, JJ barged in, reaffirming your theories regarding texting and driving. Additionally, it led you to believe she’d picked up speeding as a habit outside of work. You were about ready to scold her when you turned to the door to see the blonde in a bit of a state. Her eyes were bulging, scouring around the kitchen, paying no mind to her hands as she yanked the keys out the door and came scurrying towards you, panicked.

“Please tell me you didn’t.”

You dropped the breath you had been holding, rolling your eyes. “The spring rolls, as well as everything else, are untouched,” you said, hiding your smile with the turn of your head. “Stop being dramatic and help me plate all this food.”

Satisfied, JJ made her way to the counter, eyeing its contents like a hawk ready to strike. To her credit, she followed the orders, picking noodles up with chopsticks and plopping a healthy amount on each plate, divvying curried meats and sides between you. There was a reprimand on the tip of your tongue, watching rolls of crispy filo pastry piled one after the other, the distribution system far from fair. Any feelings of injustice died at the sight of JJ’s smile.

“Happy?” you asked, sidling up to her, wanting so badly to kiss the corner of her lips, where her cheery smile sank ever so slightly into her cheek.

“Yup,” she answered, popping the p at the end of her sentence as she grinned, handing you your plate. “Couch?”

“Sure.” You took your food and padded over to the living room, settling comfortably into plush pillows.

There were nearly twenty shows you could list that had safely made it into the category of ‘background noise’, and you settled for throwing one of them on, happy to chat with JJ rather than get sucked into a fantasy world.

It was the right choice because as soon as the blonde came to join you, her mouth would not close, safe from when she politely cut her sentences short to shovel food into her mouth. She was animated like this—talking about her work, friends, family, and anything really. Warmth pooled in your stomach, seeping into your bloodstream and circulating your body till all you knew was comfort. This was home. The couch, noodles, light conversation and JJ. It was all the epitome of belonging.

The light from the TV abruptly dimmed. An ‘Are you still watching?’ message appeared on the screen, bathing empty glasses, plates and take-out boxes that had migrated from the kitchen to your coffee table in a tinted red glow.

At the exact same moment, your and JJ’s eyes landed on the screen and then shot back to one another. Laughter rumbled through your chests at the sore sight of guilty lopsided smiles. It seemed you both had lost track of time, too focused on idle chatter.

Once the excitement had died down, JJ moved to stand. “I don’t think we ever were watching,” she muttered, shooting you a mischievous smirk as she walked towards the door.

“You know,” you drawled, eyeing JJ speculatively. “I hear it’s usually good manners to say goodbye to the host before you leave.”

She glanced back, mouth set in a firm line, giving you a specific look that translated directly to ‘Are you serious?’ and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“I’m getting something from my bag if you must know.” And she did just that. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out a black box similar to the one you received on Wednesday, only this one was slightly bigger and flatter.

“I’ve already agreed to Saturday JJ. I don't need any more bribes.”

“That’s not-” she cut herself off, shaking her head and returning to the couch. “Just open it already,” she ordered, plopping beside you. Despite her carefree persona, there was no mistaking the nervousness to JJ as she bit at the side of her mouth, waiting for you to take the proffered gift.

“Alright, alright.” You raised both hands with a grin, surrendering and taking the box from her hand, hoping to dispel some of her anxieties. “No need to get feisty.”

She continued to fidget, your teasing going right over her head as you drew your eyes away from her ringing fingers to the lid of the black box. It bore the same mark as the one you’d previously received, a local jeweller by the looks of it, but not one you recognised.

The lid came off with a pop of trapped air, and underneath lay a familiar sight. You recognised the gold chain, simple and elegant, but where a single gem was placed on your bracelet, on this necklace, lay a cluster of small diamonds, all circling a polished ruby.

“JJ, it’s-” you gasped.

“I swear if you say too much again,” she rushed to say.

“Actually,” you went on, straightening your neck to face the blonde. “I was going to say beautiful.”

Her face lit up. A bright smile pulled at the contours of her cheeks as her eyes fixed solely on you.

“Yes, it is.”

A shy smile blossomed over your lips, and your cheeks flushed with the distinct impression she wasn’t talking about the necklace anymore. Tension grew heated in the silence, leaving you breathless as you darted your attention back to the little box in your hand, thumbing over the golden chain.

“Let me?” JJ asked, and you watched as her fingers slithered into view beside your own.

Cautiously looking up at her, seeing hope beam so openly over her features, you nodded.

She took care in taking the necklace from its home, running the chain through her fingers as she pulled it through two divots puncturing velvet. She let the chain hang between her fingers, holding it up and waiting patiently for you to turn.

“Oh, right,” you muttered, shifting your position so you had one leg tucked under the other, your back facing JJ.

There was some shuffling behind you before you felt the warm press of JJ’s chest against your shoulder blades, her fingers tickling your neck as she swept your hair aside. Fighting to keep composure, you swallowed down the beginnings of a whimper.

Appearing to be in no rush, JJ brought both hands around your head and rested her palms over your collarbones. You shivered as the cold metal fell against your heated skin, failing to ignore the way JJ had paused to let the small gem dangle between your breasts.

Her warm breath grazed your neck, and you could feel the tip of her nose press against the underside of your ear. Arousal bubbled low in your stomach, fizzling beneath the fluttering butterflies that had claimed your body as their play place, and a week without JJ’s touch suddenly started feeling a lot more like years. You craved her kisses, her hands, her tongue keeping you vocal from between your legs. The memories were coming waves, pulling you backwards both physically and metaphorically to JJ.

Finally, the necklace was dragged along your chest, and JJ leaned back to clasp it shut. The brief reprieve from the mounting traction you felt towards the woman behind you was, unfortunately, short-lived, and it wasn't long before the soft pad of fingers grazed the line of your jaw. The touch was light and easy to dissuade if you so chose. You could push against the angling of your head and remain an unwilling participant in this nefarious scheme JJ was conjuring up.

Instead, you closed your eyes and allowed JJ to guide your face to hers.

The air was thick, and silence rang through the room, disrupted only by your bated breath and hastening heartbeat. A kiss ghosted over your parted lips. All it would take to bridge the gap between you was one minute move forward.

She smelt like beef and bean sprouts and burning desire, but you knew the taste of lips only promised regret.

With one long exhale, you pulled away.

“I should put the food away,” you announced, leaning forward to grab the plates and cutlery off the coffee table. Standing and moving to the kitchen, you didn't look back, too focused on berating yourself between stilled breaths.

You’d been in your apartment long enough to know the water always ran cold for a few seconds before eventually shifting to a temperature sufficient to clean your dishes. However, this didn’t stop you from plunging your hands under the icy waters. It was a needed relief, and the pull back to reality was instant, allowing you to see the mistake you’d almost made. Still, the feel of JJ’s lips haunted you.

Her presence was felt more than ever as she appeared behind you, and you hoped, for the umpteenth time, that your better judgment would emerge victorious in the fight against clouded lust. But your restraint was pulled taut and on the brink of snapping. You knew if JJ pushed, you’d break.

For someone consumed by thoughts of another, you paid little mind to the person in question, leaving yourself vulnerable and ripe for the taking.

The tap spluttered, and a messy display of steaming water burst through the faucet. The shock pulled you from your anxieties, though another surprise awaited you when JJ crept up closer behind you, sliding her hands around your waist and resting them over your belly.

“I can help,” she whispered hotly into your ear.

Your full-bodied shiver left JJ feeling emboldened. Her fingers toyed with the hem of your shirt. Her wicked smirk pressed against your neck. And her chest pressed firm against your back, locking you in place with the edge of the sink cutting into your hips.

The trail of her fingers against your stomach was scorching, never settling on one spot long before moving to another. Too lost in the sensations coaxing your body into a state of relaxation, you scarcely reacted to JJ flipping you around and settling your thighs over the soft curve of the sink.

Her tongue slid into your mouth with a sense of urgency as she savoured the taste of you with languid strokes, moans vibrating from her chest and tunnelling down into your throat.

You held both hands to JJ’s chest, applying enough pressure to push her away, maintaining it to prevent her from getting close again. You couldn’t do this. Not again. “It’s late, and we’ve both got to get up early for work tomorrow.”

Even if this was for the best, it was hard not to leave caution to the wind, take JJ’s hand and guide her straight to her bedroom, especially when she looked so much like a kicked puppy with the pout she was sporting.

“I’ll see you Saturday,” you said with a sorrowful smile, jumping down and ushering her towards the door. “And JJ?”

She turned instantly, looking half-ready to run back into your apartment before her smile faltered, “Yes?”

“Thank you for tonight.” You dug your chin into your chest, peering down at your newly acquired necklace. “And this, and the food, and the flowers,” you tried hard not to choke on your own words, “and well, everything.”

“I’d do anything for you.”

There was so much sincerity in the way JJ had said it. It left no space for doubt. The only problem was that she seemed pained by the admission, so much so her eyes looked glassy and far off.

You wanted to ask her what she meant, why she seemed so saddened by her own words, but by the time you found your voice, she was gone.

Taglist: @sincerestlove @hot4milfs @chestnutninny @theoneforhobbies @lez-talk1 @obsessedwjill @wastdstime @hopelesslyfallenninlove @luna7-7 @fanficreadinglesbian @ara-a-bird @blueredg52 @blkmxrvel @allofphii @coffee-is-my-oxygen @marinawolf @iheartdilfssss @spencerreidsknee @adainesfroggieboggy | Click here to be added to the series taglist

#jennifer jareau x reader #jennifer jareau x you #jennifer jareau smut #jennifer jareau angst #criminal minds x reader #jennifer jareau imagine #jennifer jareau #jennifer jareau fanfiction #criminal minds #cm #Jennifer jareau x y/n #criminal minds fanfiction

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sex-storytime · 2 months ago

Text

A New Dynamic

The urge is building. My marriage… once strong and vibrant… has become a gilded cage. Release is inevitable. The little sex starved whore inside is waking up.

I want to have an affair. I want to lose myself in a torrid, illicit, filthy encounter with a handsome stranger. Wait. No. Make that a string of handsome strangers.

I will find these strangers in any number of places...

...Behind the counter at Starbucks. He will whip me into a frenzy, using his fingers like stir-sticks, to whip my clit into a thick, creamy treat while sucking on the stiff peaks that my excited nipples have become.

...At the airport, as I prepare for my flight to exotic, far-off destinations. He will coax me into the back room, where he will force me to strip as he ambulates in circles around me, surveying my gooseflesh-covered skin and my pink areolas, which are puckered from nerves and the coolness of the room. He will glove himself, per airport protocol, before plunging his fingers into my slit, wiggling them until my juices run down my trembling thighs.

...At the bookstore, as I sit reclined reading from a collection of erotic works by female writers. A mature gentleman approaches me from behind, wordlessly rubbing my shoulders until I melt into the soft fabric of the chair. He will run his fingers through my hair, down over my shoulders until his hand comes to rest in mine and lead me to the stock room, where he will undress me without speaking. He bends me over the wheeled cart full of new arrivals, and slips his ample erection into my moist, aching pussy.

My husband is a good man. He is handsome, intelligent, funny and loving. He is kind and passionate. He pays attention to me. He respects me. He compliments me. I am not missing anything. I have everything that any woman would want in a mate. Yet I crave something more, something primal, something deeper.

I don't want to fall in love again. I don't want to make new friends. I just want to be penetrated. Tenderly at times. Vigorously at times. Violently at times. I want to make love with a stranger. I want to fuck a stranger, maybe both in the same encounter.

My would-be lover lurks around every corner. I see his thick dark hair and ebony eyes in a passing Mercedes, talking on his cell phone while he drives to his high-powered job in a tall skyscraper somewhere. I see his smooth bald head, ebony skin and piercing green eyes, sagging blue jeans and tight-fitting tee on the corner in front of the athletic field, basketball tucked loosely under his muscular arm. I see his dirty blonde hair, pulled back into a pony-tail, small gold hoop earring piercing his left earlobe, tattoos littering his biceps, giving me come-on looks from the artist studio above the deli as I walk by each afternoon.

I see her brown locks, tousled carelessly in an impossibly sexy, just-rolled-out-of-bed, look. Yes. Some of my fantasies include women. She barely notices me as I scan the shelves in the bookstore, pretending to look for some new masterpiece to devour. But I notice her. The curve of her breast, the smoothness of her ass. She is the masterpiece I'd really love to devour, or rather, that which I would have devour me.

I always imagine my lovers seducing me. I am the object of great desire in each of my fantasies. Perhaps this is my way of compensating for low self-esteem. It doesn't matter. If I analyse the reasons for my fantasies, they cease to be sexy. They cease to excite me. I want them to drive me wild. I want to be inspired and transported by them. I want to be able to imagine a wild, reckless encounter with the man who poured my driveway, the man who cleans my pool and with my boss. I want to touch myself as I imagine these encounters, reveling in the mad, mad wetness that is oozing from pussy.

I am splayed out on my bed now, imagining my boss. He is an older man; moderately muscular who possesses a larger than life personality. He is married to a glamorous though vacuous young woman and exudes great power in the work place. I imagine that he might like to spread his influence over me physically as well. He and I are working late in our respective offices one night. Our offices are in a lower level suite that is locked to the general public after hours. As I am lost in concentration at my desk, he peeks his head around the corner. I feel his eyes on me before he even speaks.

"How about dinner? My treat?" he asks in his beautiful baritone voice.

"Sounds great. What did you have in mind?" I reply, pushing my trendy, dark-rimmed glasses back through my hair until they come to rest atop my head.

"Ming Dynasty makes a great beef and broccoli, and they deliver," he says. I readily agree and he retreats to his office to place the call.

"And there's one more thing," he adds, returning to my office with a bottle of champagne. "I closed the deal this afternoon..." His face radiates with a level of glee that I've not seen there before, but even in that moment, the power and confidence that emanate from him make me quiver.

He takes the bottle into his hands and pries out the stopper using both thumbs. The bottle erupts like an excited cock, splashing a bit of its sweet bubbly cum onto my blouse. My erect nipples are readily apparent in the sheer push-up bra that I am suddenly thankful I'd chosen today. His eyes fly open wide, half apologetically and half excitedly. He's nearly speechless, stammering to make an apology, as his eyes remain locked on my tits. He feels a tingle in his groin and is instantly aware that soon he'll be fully erect, with no way to hide it.

"It's okay. Really. No problem," I offer with a slightly awkward giggle, as I move my trembling fingers up to undo the soggy blouse, which buttons up the back. "I should...um...," I shrug, as I continue to undo the buttons.

"Oh, right.," he says. "I should get..." he motions over his shoulder toward his own office.

"Sir..." I call after him and he halts, hopefully, in his tracks. "Could you help me with these? I can't reach the middle buttons," though I haven't tried all that hard.

Wordlessly, he approaches me and I turn my back toward him, resting my fingertips on my desk. I can feel him trembling as he fumbles with the three buttons in the center of my back. As each button falls open, they reveal more of my flawless, honey-colored skin. I can feel his fingers running along the center of my spine now, from the nape of my neck to the valley at the small of my back. As he descends, he gives my bra a slight snap. I draw in a deep breath and hold it, anticipating his next move as I bite my lower lip.

He presses up behind me now, as I jut my ass out toward him. I can feel his throbbing prick dancing against it, as if knocking on my door, praying to be let in. I flex my ass cheeks to provide the right amount of resistance. He moans slightly and pushes harder. His hands reach down to the hem of my skirt, slowing raising it. The wait is agonizing. I am desperate to be fucked by him now, but he is teasing me, or maybe just exercising caution, maybe control, waiting to see how far I'll actually let him go. I can feel the scratch of the lamb's wool skirt as it slides along my stockinged middle thigh, my upper thigh, inching closer to my hips.

I lean onto my elbows, pushing my ass harder against him and standing on my tip toes so that his cock is now nestled snugly into my ass crack. It pulses and bounces, struggling against his trousers. I can feel my wet desire seeping into my cotton panties. I reach down with my right hand and feel it soaking through the fabric. It's as if I am not wearing any panties at all. I can smell my sex—engorged, anxious. I stroke my clit gently at first, and then with a growing urgency, moaning and panting as I enjoy my own touch and the feel of my swelling between my fingers.

His hands are on my hips now, stabilizing himself, riding a wave of illicit pleasure. As his wave subsides, he slaps my ass, making it sting and tingle. I love it. I cry out. He's in control of me now, dominating me sexually like he dominates me professionally, but I don't mind. I want to be dominated. I imagine the prying eyes of our coworkers watching us, feeding my exhibitionist desires. My blouse has fallen over my shoulders and I let it float to the floor. I reach up to unclasp my bra, letting my tits sway before me, my nipples dancing lightly across the cool laminate desktop. They respond by becoming painfully erect. He reaches around, taking a breast in each hand, and squeezes them, tugging at the nipples until I am overcome with a mixture of pleasure and pain. I squeal.

His left hand leaves my left breast exposed, as he leans back and fumbles with his belt and trousers. He pulls his cock from his boxers and presses it against my ass again, slipping it into the rear of my panties. I can feel it wedging itself along my crack. His precum dots the rear of my cotton panties. I can barely stand it. My sex is aching more than I can ever remember it aching before. He yanks at my panties, then my stockings, pulling them down to my knees. Gravity does the rest, and I step out of them. A pearly white strand of desire is stretched along my inner thigh. He reaches between my legs and feels it there, running his finger through it and into his mouth, licking my sweet, fragrant juices from his hand and savoring them, as if he were quenching an intolerable thirst.

I stand upright now, turning my head and shoulders just enough for him to find my lips. He presses his lips to mine and I can taste myself on his mouth. My tongue hungrily traces his lips just before I bite his lower lip and use it to pull him toward me. I bend forward onto the desk again, wiggling my ass slightly to focus his attention back on his cock and my sweet wetness. It works. His hand reaches back between his legs and he pushes the head of his swollen cock against my slit, separating my lips as he presses into me, violating me forcefully. He moves slowly, deliberately, making me rabid with anticipation.

"God, Sir, please!" I groan. "Fuck me. Please...fuck me." My words escape on a hoarse whisper, but they are not lost on him. He hears every word and obeys me. He slams into me violently, repeatedly, making me gasp, screech, and claw at the smooth desktop, searching for a way to gain leverage as he rips into me. The muscles in my thighs and calves are tight and burning, as I am still on my tip-toes. My ass and thighs begin to quiver under the weight of my impending orgasm. He is grunting now, fucking me like an animal, like he's been starving for sexual contact and is releasing all of his pent-up desire on me. I am in charge now. I have become the boss. And then he releases it into me...squirting copious amounts of viscous fluid into my tense pussy. He fills me to capacity and his thick semen begins to seep out around his now waning erection, dripping onto the carpet between my legs.

He pulls out of me, smacking my ass again in somewhat condescending fashion. Yes. He's still my boss. I remember now. But the fact that he fucked me in my office has introduced a new dynamic into our working relationship. I have a level of power over him that I didn't have before this night. It's a position I'll relish, and though I'm not likely to ever need to exert it, we'll both always know it's there.

#lovers #fucking #A New Dynamic #her perspective #her pov #sextacy #Affair #Illicit sex

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lexirosewrites · 2 months ago

Note

this is a No Upside Down AU & Not Nancy Wheeler Friendly bc I needed drama

O!Steve is a prolific knitter, his grandma Harrington taught him a thing or 2 but when she passed away she left him all of her unused yarn & knitting needles & without his grandma to guide him thru knitting mistakes he ends up finding a knitting circle tht meets weekly at the Hawkins Public Library made up of knitters of all sorts of genders & ages

It's at this group tht he learns abt The Sweater Curse, for those unfamiliar its a superstition within the knitting/crochet community tht if u begin making a sweater for a significant other the relationship will end before the project can b finished or shortly after the project is finished, so widespread is this superstition tht many won't make anything for their partner till after the 2 r married

Steve learns this but then he starts dating A!Nancy & he feels so in love, so he learns everything he can abt her like her favorite colors or favorite material to wear etc. all in the effort to make a sweater for her for their approaching one yr anniversary,

Only to b blindsided when one day a beta he only knew in passing from Nancy's work, Jonathan Byers, comes to him at his own work when he's locking up the used bookstore to tell him tht Nancy has been cheating on him w Jonathan for several months now & tht Jonathan didn't know the two were together bc Nancy always brushed Jonathan's questions off & tht Jonathan had only learned they were together tht morning & he came by to tell Steve bc Jonathan thinks Steve should know if he doesn't already & tht Jonathan will b ending things w Nancy tht night... Steve cries but thanks Jonathan & accepts the comforting hug the other offers & then........ then Steve & Jonathan hatch a poorly thought out plan

When Nancy gets to Jonathan's apartment tht night Steve is sitting on the couch unraveling the project he'd undertaken for Nancy while Jonathan cooks him & Steve dinner, Jonathan hands Nancy the small bag of things she'd "forgotten" in his apartment & tht he won't say anything at work unless she makes this a problem, then Steve hands Nancy three much bigger bags full of the half-assed courting gifts she'd given him & everything he'd encouraged/allowed her to keep at his own place & tht he wasn't interested in hearing anything she had to say, the 2 then tell Nancy she should leave & she does but not without getting a snide remark out abt Steve being clingy & Jonathan being oblivious

Steve cries after she's left & Jonathan does too but they lean on the other & eat the food Jonathan made them & begin a friendship

A friendship tht slowly morphs into something more & leads to a kiss on Steve's couch almost half a year later & when Steve's heat approaches after the kiss he asks Jonathan to join him & it's full of so much care & Jonathan tells Steve he loves him the day after his heat cools & Steve says it back, they end up exchanging mating bites 3 years later & Steve makes Jonathan a sweater of his favorite colors & the softest cotton yarn & Jonathan is ecstatic to receive it especially when he unfolds it & a positive pregnancy test tumbles out onto his lap

🥰 my stonathan agenda has shown itself

awwwwww🥺 way back when ST first came out, I used to indulge in a stonathan fic or two! then it became harringrove and suddenly it was steddie, but i still love all the Barbies I’ve smashed into (literally) Steve🤭

#slick sunday #omegaverse stonathan #stonathan #omega steve harrington #beta jonathan byers #a/b/o #omegaverse #my asks #anon asks #mpreg #cw mpreg #tw mpreg

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samuel-de-champagne-problems · 1 year ago

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Testing One, Two, Three (S.R. Smut +18)

Summary: (Spencer Reid x Fem Reader) Spencer comes home, after a long week of being away, with a bag full of (sexy) surprises.

Content Warnings: Sex toy use, praise kink, dirty talk, mutual self pleasure, coming undone, overstimulation, very light submissive (Reader) dominant (Spencer) dynamics, talk of anal sex & pegging

Word Count: 3.3K

Note: This is one that I have had saved in my drafts for a very long time! And I just had the inspiration to finish it a couple days ago.

Testing One, Two, Three

It wasn’t strange for Spencer to make trips to the grocery store, to the used bookstore, or the pharmacy before making his way back to Y/N’s storybook Tudor home after work.

This evening proved to be not unlike the others. Spencer, driving his powder blue Volvo pulls into Y/N’s driveway. She watches from the windows as he takes out his satchel, his overnight bag, and other large black shopping bags. It didn’t look like it was from the grocery store and their local bookstore didn’t give customers plastic bags. Curious, Y/N unlocks the door for Spencer, deciding to meet him at her front stoop instead of in the kitchen or the hallway like normal.

“Hey there, love,” Spencer says, the nickname brushing off his lips with ease. He looks tired and worn down. Y/N thinks that traveling through two different time zones and not getting enough sleep is a way to do that to a person, but she decides she’ll keep that to herself and just usher Spencer to bed earlier tonight.

“Oh, Spence. I really missed you,” she confesses, breathing in his familiar scent. It's a little different. He smells like cheap hotel shampoo and stale coffee, not like his usual minty and green tea body wash and expensive coffee beans.

Spencer sighs into her neck, swaying slightly as he holds Y/N in his arms on her front stoop. His bags, even the mysterious black on, lay neglected on the ground by their feet.

“I know, Y/N. I know, sweetheart,” he reassures, rubbing his hand up and down her back in a comforting gesture. “I got you something. Well, really it’s for us. But for you, mostly I suppose,”

“You’re acting clingy and squirrely,” she assesses, leaning back to look at Spencer’s unreadable face. He simply shrugs, as if to say you’ll find out when you find out.

“I need caffeine,” Spencer remarks, as he insists on carrying all the bags into the house by himself, “And something comfy to wear. I’ve been in this shirt for the last two days. There was a break in the case 41 hours in and we couldn’t break for the hotel. It was too out of the way,”

“Oh my poor boy,” Y/N exclaims, helping Spencer shed his cardigan and standing with him as he takes his shoes off, “What about a nice hot shower and then some leftovers. I made chickpea curry last night. We have leftover rice and garlic naan, too,” she offers.

Spencer, offering his thanks, grabs at his tie. His shoulders tense with exhaustion and something unreadable. He’s not usually mysterious. Usually, Spencer’s nothing but an open book.

“You alright?” Y/N asks, doling out the portion of chickpeas and rice on the delicately decorated plates she received for her 25th birthday.

“Fine,” Spencer says, clipped and detached.

So unlike him.

“Hmm. Well how was work? Anything interesting happen?” Y/N asks, attempting to spark conversation with her boyfriend. They’ve only been dating for a solid five months; enough time for whatever it was to have run its course. If Y/N didn’t know any better than she should expect herself to be circling the drain tonight along with dishes that would certainly be neglected for a pint of Java Chip.

“Fine,” Spencer says, nodding thanks for the plate of food. He shovels in a couple bites, seemingly uninterested in continuing the conversation.

So unlike him.

Usually, Spencer would be clamoring to talk to her. It wasn’t too long ago that they spent long nights sharing a bottle of red and talking about everything from books to movies to the meaning of life.

“Alright, Spencer. Cut the crap. Are you breaking up with me? Because if you are–?”

Shock washes over Spencer’s face. And he doesn’t wear it well. He does a spit take and it’s nearly as foolish as it looks like in movies. Spencer’s eyes grow about three sizes bigger.

“What? Break up with you? God, no,” he stammers, the sentiment clear although his efforts lacked clarity.

“Okay.” Y/N says, tossing Spencer a napkin to mop up his mess of curry and water. “Good to know. But why are you acting so….squirrely?”

Shifting in his seat, Spencer attempts to remain calm. His eyes, a honey brown with a cool brown rim, flit to the mysterious bag he brought in from his car. It was as if she could hear the whirring of the gears clicking into place. She follows his gaze to the bag.

“You bought something. Something that you’re either nervous about or embarrassed? So it can’t be books. And it’s not something innocuous like a throw blanket or pie dish. And judging by your breathing growing heavy, it’s something….salacious.”

Spencer’s thin upper lip twitches with delight. He hums, neither confirming nor denying her claims. His eyes flicker with playfulness, a contrast to moments ago when Spencer’s eyes flooded with fear and shock.

“You’re smart.” Spencer concludes, smiling with knives. He stands to presumably grab the black bag that has caused so much intrigue. “Should have been a profiler with a mind like yours.”

“I’ll stick to what I know.” Y/N tells him, her interest in the bag only growing

when Spencer places it in front of her on the table. “Let me guess, we’re at the stage in our relationship where you can buy me sexy underwear without it looking like you’re sleaze,”

Chortling, Spencer blushes profusely. His feeble attempts at hiding the bag's contents fail miserably as they only pique Y/N’s interest. His eyes are wide with wonder and anticipation in the kitchen light.

“It’s not lingerie.”

“Alright, well whatever it is, Spencer I’m sure I’ll love it. You’re being so jumpy, it’s making me think you’ve got some really kinky sex toy in here,” she says, reaching her hand into the bag to finally examine its contents. She’s good at reading faces. From the old man who reads French Literature on the Metro to the young barista at the local coffee shop, Y/N, like even Spencer admitted, is pretty well versed at reading people. Which is why, for a split second she reads pure terror in Spencer’s eyes.

“Oh shit,” she says, turning the box in her hand and reading the label. “You bought me a wand?” Her voice goes up an octave as if she’s just realizing what she’s holding in her hands.

Spencer, now thoroughly, embarrassed, covers his face with his hand. His cheeks are tinged a lovely pink and he peeks through his fingers, apparently still eager. “Will you kill me if I say that’s not the only thing in there?”

“Spencer Reid!” she shouts, slapping his hands on the table with glee and excitement. It was the very thought of Spencer Reid in a sex shop that sent both shivers down her spine, like an electric shock and shock waves of laughter through her system. “You went into a sex shop.”

“Yes, Y/N,” Spencer contends, his tone playful enough, “But please continue your teasing. We’ll see how cocky you’ll be when you’re on the receiving end of 5000 RPMS. And that’s the lowest setting,”

“Is that a threat?” Y/N asks, leaning in closer to Spencer. Her cleavage is eye level to Spencer’s line of vision. His eyes dart there to the bag and back to her eyes.

He shakes his head. “A promise. Continue,” Spencer instructs, pointing towards the bag. She listens, fishing her hand in the large bag.

“That’s a clitoral stimulator.” Spencer explains, “The website I got recommendations from says that it simulates oral sex. It has eleven settings,” he continues, watching as Y/N’s eyes grow big at the thought of the toy in her hands.

“Hmm, eleven?” she muses, putting it down next to the menacing looking hitachi wand.

“Another one? Spencer, how much money did you spend on toys?” she says aghast as she takes out yet another item from the bag.

“It’s a Lush vibrator.” Spencer explains, waving off Y/N’s concerns for his wallet. “It’s actually connected to my phone. That means I can control it, even when we’re apart. Which, considering how much we’re apart, just might come in handy.”

“This must have cost a lot of money.” Y/N speculates, staring at the three presents facing her on the countertop. “You really didn’t have to. You really shouldn’t–”

“Y/N,” Spencer says, her name sounding deadly in his breathy timber, “It’s my job to make sure you’re satisfied. And I thought it would be a little fun to bring in some…reinforcements.”

“That’s certainly more forward thinking than my last boyfriend. He was under the assumption that toys stole his thunder. But between you and me, and like every other woman he slept with, it’s probably because he hardly ever made me finish.”

“Really?” Spencer says, looking shocked. “And he was still insecure about bringing toys into the bedroom?”

Laughing, Y/N tosses her head back in a chortle. There was something endearing about Spencer’s genuine shock.

Spencer, looking half bemused and half proud, shifts in his seat. “So are we going to test them out or what?”

Twenty minutes later, they were both in her bed. Y/N, on her back, with her feet planted firmly on the bed, watches as Spencer studies her carefully. Sweat pools in her cleavage and she grabs the sheets, needing something to grip as yet another wave of pleasure washes over her body. He had already coaxed an orgasm out of her with the clitoral stimulator.

Spencer, fully dressed, holds the wand against her. He has a notebook to her left with small scribbles of notes detailing how fast she’s edged with each different toy. His scribbles, messy and disorganized at best, grow increasingly illegible. Spencer’s creases his brow, a sign of his intense determination, and is fuzzy as Y/N gazes down at him. She watches his look of stoic concentration, something that she finds entirely too attractive. But considering he plans on bringing her to climax time and time again tonight, she’ll give into her flights of fancy.

“Think you like this one.” Spencer comments. He switches the wand to his less dominant, but still skillful hand to make notes on the pad. A self-satisfied smirk grows on his face, a sign that he’s enjoying this more than he’s letting on.

“It’s really good.” she says, her voice betraying her already limited resolve. Spencer’s fingers lie casually on her thighs, searing marks into her legs that vaporize her skin. When he touches her it’s like her limb liquifies and her skin melts. She wants his fingerprints to sear into her skin, finally becoming part of her.

“Yeah,” Spencer asks, a sarcastic smirk playing on the corner of his mouth, “Tell me more, sweetheart. Tell me how good it feels.”

Spencer’s words are punctuated by the head of the toy rolling against her clit. He never keeps it in one place longer than a couple of seconds, either not wanting to overstimulate her too soon or to keep her on her toes longer for him.

“It feels so…good. Better than it used to. Before I had you,” she stammers, the words clunky in her mouth as she concentrates on Spencer’s deft hand at her core and his warm lips against her neck.

“That’s right, sweetheart. Before you had me to keep you nice and full, you had to use things like this. But I’m gone too often for you. I need to know my sweet girl is taken care of. So we’re going to test all of these toys out tonight. Till you’re drippy little mess, begging for me to finally fuck you.”

Spencer’s sloppy kisses climb the slope of Y/N’s neck. He leaves whisper-wishes into the nooks of her skin, each one filled with promises and love. It’s a stark contrast; the sweet kisses to his hand that holds the vibrator: the bane of her undoing.

“You know Hitachi wands are excellent for clitoral stimulation. This one has only one vibration pattern, but eight different speeds. Now that sounds like a challenge. And one that I’d like to break.”

Y/N’s brow furrows as she gazes at Spencer with a deep concentration. He breathes against her neck, a trail full of wet kisses plotting their revenge against her sensitive skin. Spencer’s fingers hold the wand deftly as he concentrates the sensation against her clit. Y/N’s feet move up the bed, dragging the crocheted blanket with them.

“Holy shit, Spence!” Y/N curses, her breath bated as the wand’s vibrations kick up a couple of levels.

“That’s my girl. You like the fourth setting. Remember that, baby,” Spencer says, his lips curved into a proud smile as Y/N’s hips jut upwards in tandem with the toy, “Just like that, Y/N. I can tell you’re close. Give me another. One’s not enough for my greedy girl. And who am I to deny such a pretty face and a wet pussy. It’s all mine after all.”

She feels the wand leave her clit and venture up to her stomach. Y/N’s muscles react like falling dominos at the sensation. She tenses as the vibrations shoot up and fry her nerves. Spencer licks his lips at the sight of her arousal sticking to her bare torso. He carefully dances the wand up to her nipples, watching with glee as they pebble even further in response to the vibrations.

“One day I’ll give you an orgasm from just playing with these nipples. I’ll lick and kiss and suck on them till you’re dripping and begging for my cock to fill you up.”

“Jesus, Spencer.” Y/N pants, her hips buckling as her climax reached its peak. “Can I come, please? Please let me come again? I need it so fucking bad, baby.” Her tongue peaks out from her lips, wetting the surface as Spencer peered up at her. She grabs his collar to drag him up for a kiss just as she finally teetered off the edge, yet again.

Spencer separates from the kiss, his lips puffy and red from Y/N’s frantic mouth. He smiles, gently caressing her head in a gesture that was entirely too sweet for their current situation. She feels Spencer’s erection in his pants; it had to be almost painful by now.

“What was that two or three?” Y/N asks, a self-satisfied smirk plaguing her face. “I think we might set a record or something.”

“That was two.” Spencer corrects. He takes more notes in his little notebook. “Of at least four or five. Depending on how much you beg later.” He slips off the bed and fishes through the bag. “Now, I think I have an idea for which I’d like to try next.”

A bright pink silicone dildo with a flared based, freshly washed, lays in between them on the bed. Y/N raises her eyes in surprise.

“Most men wouldn’t be too thrilled to have something other than their penis fuck their girlfriends, you know.”

Spencer shrugs. “Yeah, but there’s a lot that we can do with it.” He claims, “Like double penetration or even, uh,” He blushes and stumbles over his next comment, “And pegging.”

Y/N grins as an overwhelming sense of arousal washed over her. “Oh,” she says, skimming her fingers around Spencer’s neck. His skin is ridiculously soft, “we are so tabling that one for later. I would love to see you a mess for me instead.”

Spencer grins. “Fuck, that’s good, Y/N. So good.” He kissed her forehead. “I wanna watch you ride it. Like you would my cock.”

Y/N nods, as Spencer shifts on the bed, allowing for her to assume a crouched position. She looks at Spencer, his eyes laden with lust and love. He sits, legs spread in an attempt to accommodate his hardened erection in the old arm chair. He looks too good to be true, his cheeks are tinged with a blush, the dances that line between innocence and corruption. His notebook is forgotten, as he needs the entirety of his attention focused on the sight before him.

“Good girl.” Spencer mutters, his hands resting on his thighs, but they twitch restlessly. It was as if he needs to physically hold himself back from ravishing Y/N at the sight of her crouched on her bed ready to fuck herself with a dildo her purchased for her. “Lower yourself on the toy. Give yourself an inch into your sweet little cunt.”

His voice is deep, yet soft as he guided her pleasure expertly. She groans as the toy breaches her cunt, the full sensation is welcomed after the last hour of the wand and clit stimulator.

“Don’t you wish it was your cock fucking my cunt, Spencer?” Y/N asks, her right hand wrapped around the flared base of the toy and the other holding herself up. Her abdominal muscles stunned with strain as her body remained in a crouched position, but the promise of release goaded her on. “You’re so hard, baby. I can see it from here. Don’t you want to touch yourself?”

Spencer bites his lip. He nods as his hands undo his belt and his hips lift up enough so he can shimmy his pants and underwear to his knees. He wraps a hand around his cock, hard and glistening with arousal, and rubs upward with a tight fist. Spencer’s teeth dig into his bottom lip as he continues to watch Y/N lower herself onto the toy.

“Give yourself another inch, sweetheart.” Spencer instructs as he fucked his fist. He swipes his thumb over the tip of his cock. “Fuck I wish it was your mouth or your pussy on my dick.”

“God, you have the prettiest cock.” Y/N pants, the toy filling her up more and more as she sinks lower onto the base. “But now that we have this toy, maybe you can fuck my ass? I know you’d like that, baby.”

“Dirty girl,” Spencer praises, a smile covering his face as Y/N’s thighs quiver, “Tell me does that toy fill you up nicely? I had to pick out the best one for my girl.”

“Yes, yes,” Y/N answers, her voice rough and raw, “So good….I feel so full.” The pink dildo filled her cunt.

“Good. Good.” Spencer says, his hand moving up and down his cock at a hastened pace. “Show me how you’ll ride it when I’m not here to fuck you, baby. Show me how you’ll fuck that tight cunt.”

Spencer’s words provide the encouragement for Y/N to hoist herself up and down on the dildo. She would've laid flat on her back, a position that would have been easier on her thighs and core, but the angle she’s able to reach makes the suffering all worth it.

“Fuck…so good, Spencer. But I don’t think I can come from just this…it’s not…it’s not enough for me.” Y/N explains. Spencer knows that. He understands the science behind the female orgasm enough to know that many women are unable to reach climax from vaginal penetration only.

“I know, sweet girl. Don’t you worry.” He promises. “Bring your fingers to your clit

and give yourself some nice tight circles.”

She listens. Her fingers draw tight circles around her clit. Y/N bites her lip as she feels her pleasure build and build. “So good. So good.”

“I know, I know. Grind against the heel of your hand. You go wild when I do that, love. Like a little fucking minx. You can’t get enough.”

The tension builds in her stomach as she grinds against the heel of her hand. Cursing, Spencer watches with lust-laden eyes as Y/N writhes on the bed. Sweat forms against her brow as her feet dig into the mattress and her thighs burn in exhaustion. Until she finally feels that familiar burst of pleasure release.

“Fuck, fuck,” She curses, so caught up in her own pleasure the room seemed to spin around her. “I–I…Spencer, I’m coming.”

Her release washes over her as she slumps down into the bed, finally spent with all her energy expended. She can barely hear Spencer shuffle over, nearly tripping over his feet since his pants remained gathered around his ankles.

“Holy shit.” Spencer curses. “That was the most sensual thing I’ve ever seen.” He looks at her with half awe and half love. He pulls his underwear back up and kicks his pants off as he sits on the bed. “Are you alright, babe?”

Y/N groans, her cunt is raw with overstimulation and it is like every single nerve in her body is lit on fire in the best way possible. She offers Spencer a weak thumbs up that morphed into an equally weak fist bump. He obliged and gave Y/N a sweet forehead kiss in return.

“So toys are a plus for us,” Spencer muses. He adjusts the pillows on the bed and helps Y/N sit up in a more comfortable position. “Thank you for this. I really enjoyed it. And I’m, you know, glad you’ll be occupied when I’m gone.”

Y/N’s face flushes as a warmth resembling love covers her entire being. “I should be the one thanking you,” she counters, “Wait…I didn’t get you off.” She says, sitting up and then failing as her tired body gave out.

“That’s a problem you already took care of,” Spencer protests, gesturing to his stained underwear. “I had already come untouched by the time you told me to touch myself. You put on quite the show, sweetheart.”

She raises her eyes in disbelief as Spencer chuckles and kisses her cheek. “I’m glad you found that equally pleasurable. I don't think I’ve ever come as hard as I just did. And I doubt it’ll ever happen again.” She rises from the bed, with the help of Spencer. He grabs her waist as they make their way into her bathroom.

“Is that a challenge?” Spencer says, with a cocky smirk

“Fuck yeah it is,” Y/N said, “but I think I need like three weeks to recover.”

Thank you for reading! Please remember, I appreciate you reading, reflagging, and commenting on all of my fics. I love your feedback and appreciate your support & community more than you'll ever know.

Tag List (I don't want to bother anyone, so just tagging people I mainly interact with)

@reidsbookclub @foxy-eva @reid-ingandweeping @boldlyvoid

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds smut

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f14fun · 7 months ago

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pages and podiums (!author x op81) - chapter 1

synopsis: in which case y/n, an author hosts a signing and a read-out-loud of the final installment of her book series in new york city. oscar, lost in the big city, stumbles by the bookstore and is immediately intrigued by her (and her books).

prose (3.3K words) ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ profile | masterlist | next ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

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There was nothing I liked to do more than write stories.

Well, reading them came in a close second, but being able to tell a heartfelt tale coming from the inner depths of my heart, and sharing that emotion with an audience really, is the best thing that could ever happen to me.

That's how I found myself newly graduated from New York University, sitting in a relatively popular bookstore, sat in the corner of the shop with my books surrounding me. The bookstore was a quaint little gem nestled in the heart of Greenwich Village, its walls lined with shelves brimming with literary treasures.

The warm, inviting atmosphere was a stark contrast to the bustling city outside. My table, adorned with a modest sign displaying my name and the title of my latest book, was strategically placed near the large bay windows, allowing the soft afternoon sunlight to spill in and create a cozy nook.

As I arranged my books, carefully stacking them in neat piles, I couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment and anticipation. This bookstore had been a frequent haunt during my university years, a place where I sought refuge and inspiration amidst the chaos of assignments and deadlines. Now, returning as an author, it felt like a full-circle moment—a dream realized in the most poetic of settings.

I was hosting a book-signing and read-out-loud for the last installment of my book series.

It was quite early in the afternoon, but never too early in the Big Apple. As it neared one o'clock, I was lost in the tranquility of it all. The shop had quieted to a dull lull.

It was lunch hour, and people were busy munching away on salads, sipping their lattes and iced-coffees, and eating finger-held pastries.

The clinking of silverware against porcelain plates created a rhythmic background hum, punctuated by the occasional burst of laughter or murmur of conversation. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the sweet scent of pastries, creating an intoxicating blend that seemed to energize the entire space. Some patrons sat alone, engrossed in their books or typing away on laptops, while others gathered in small groups, their animated discussions adding to the lively ambiance.

The bookstore café, with its rustic wooden tables and vintage chairs, was a popular spot for locals and tourists alike, a perfect retreat from the frenetic pace of the city outside. Sunlight streamed through the large windows, casting a warm glow on the faces of the patrons and illuminating the colorful spines of the books on display. It was a picture of serene contentment, a snapshot of everyday life unfolding in the heart of the city.

It was a sleepy time too, everyone tired from the consumption of their lunches. It was a relaxing time, and I was glad to have the time to myself, which contrasted the terribly-busy morning I had. Signing books and talking to fans nonstop from eight to twelve.

But I was eternally grateful for them.

Without them, I would quite literally be homeless on the scary streets of New York City. Their compassion and appreciation for my work kept me writing.

I was interrupted from my moment of solitude when I heard the bookstore door suddenly swing open. It was quite an ordeal as well, as the rusty, copper door hinges squeaked loudly when opened, disrupting the ambiance of the shop. Heads turned briefly toward the entrance, curiosity piqued by the unexpected noise. A gust of cool air rushed in, carrying with it the faint scent of rain from the gathering clouds outside.

From where I was sitting, adjacent to the door, I spotted the new customer. Or at least, he was an unsuspecting customer.

Standing awkwardly with his two feet pointing in opposite directions and his nervous hands fiddling with each other, I could tell that he looked inexplicably lost. With a bewildered look on his face, he looked like the opposite of a native New Yorker.

He stood in the doorway for what felt like a minute, inquisitively grappling with his new surroundings. His eyes darted from shelf to shelf, taking in the rows of books with a mixture of awe and apprehension.

He wore a slightly rumpled graphic t-shirt and shorts, his brown, mousy, tousled hair suggesting a hurried departure from wherever he had come. The contrast between his uneasy demeanor and the bookstore's cozy, relaxed atmosphere was almost palpable.

As he lingered by the entrance, other patrons glanced up briefly before returning to their books and conversations. The young man seemed to be in his own world, oblivious to the mild interest he was generating.

His fingers tapped nervously against his leg, and I noticed he kept glancing at a slip of paper he held, as if seeking reassurance from whatever was written there.

The longer he stood there, the more out of place he seemed, like a character from a different story who had wandered into the wrong book.

Finally, he took a tentative step forward, then another, moving slowly into the bookstore’s warm embrace. His eyes continued to scan the room, perhaps searching for a familiar face or a sign that would guide him to his destination.

There was something almost endearing about his uncertainty, a raw vulnerability that made him stand out in this city of confident strides and determined gazes.

From my vantage point, I watched him with a blend of amusement and empathy. I remembered the feeling of being out of place, the hesitance before taking a plunge into the unknown.

It was a moment of silent kinship, two strangers connected by the shared experience of navigating the unpredictable terrain of life in the city.

He was sort of cute, in an awkward way. His tousled hair gave him a boyish charm, as if he had just rolled out of bed and rushed to get here. He had some sort of a crooked smile, one side of his lip lifting higher than the other. He was tall, with a lanky frame that made his awkwardness even more pronounced. His long legs seemed to have a mind of their own, fidgeting and shifting as he stood in the doorway, adding to his endearing clumsiness.

The way he towered over the small tables and chairs made him look slightly out of place, like a gentle giant in a world built for smaller people. Despite his height, there was nothing intimidating about him. Instead, his gangly limbs and hesitant movements gave him an almost childlike innocence.

His eyes, bright and inquisitive, roamed the room with a mixture of awe and uncertainty. There was a spark of intelligence in them, hinting at a thoughtful mind behind the awkward exterior.

He was different, a moment of slowness. Different from the fast, bustling energy and the fast-paced life the city offered. As I continued to observe him, our eyes met. It was a fleeting moment, but there was something in his gaze that beckoned him to cross the room to meet me.

With a deep breath, he finally took a step forward, his tall frame weaving through the tables and chairs with cautious determination. As he drew closer, his awkwardness seemed to melt away, replaced by a quiet confidence.

“Hi,” he said, his voice carrying a rich, unmistakable Australian accent. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m a bit lost.”

I blinked, caught off guard by the accent and the admission. “Lost? In a bookstore or New York City?” I asked with a playful smile. “Because either way, that’s quite the adventure for an Australian.”

Oscar chuckled, his crooked smile widening. “Both, actually. My phone’s dead, and I’ve been wandering around for a while." Oscar’s voice cracked slightly as he spoke, and a faint blush spread across his cheeks. He cleared his throat awkwardly, looking slightly embarrassed." I’m just visiting for work, and I think I’ve wandered a bit too far.”

“Well, welcome to the Big Apple, Oscar. I’m Y/N,” I said, extending my hand.

He took it with a firm shake, his eyes brightening as he glanced around the bookstore. “Nice to meet you, Y/N. So, any tips for a lost Aussie in the city?”

I enjoyed the nice handshake, noticing how his hand seemed to slot perfectly with mine, the warmth of his palm against mine sending a faint shiver up my arm. I blushed slightly, a feeling of unexpected warmth spreading through me as I glanced down at the table where a loose slip of paper lay forgotten.

Gathering my bearings, I leaned in with mock seriousness. “Well, first tip—don’t trust the pigeons. They might look innocent, but they’re secretly plotting world domination.”

Oscar laughed, a genuine sound that filled the space between us. “Noted. And here I thought they were just after my lunch.”

“You’ve got to watch out for those New York pigeons,” I continued with a grin. “They’re a sneaky bunch.”

Oscar leaned closer, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Do they have a vendetta against Australians too?”

I chuckled, remembering a particularly humorous incident. “Well, let’s just say they’re equal opportunity offenders. Once, on my way to NYU, one of them decided my freshly washed hair was the perfect target.”

Oscar burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the bookstore and drawing curious glances from nearby patrons. “That’s terrible! But I have to admit, I can’t help but laugh imagining that.”

“It was a memorable day, to say the least,” I replied, joining in his laughter. “I learned a valuable lesson about looking up in the city.”

“Well, consider me warned,” Oscar said, wiping a tear of mirth from his eye. “I’ll keep an eye out for those feathered troublemakers.”

I grinned mischievously. “If you see them starting to organize, run. Or carry a loaf of bread as a peace offering.”

Oscar chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ll keep that in mind. But if I end up covered in bird droppings, I’ll know who to blame.”

“You’re setting me up for failure,” he added with a playful glint in his eye. “They’ll definitely target me now.”

I couldn’t help but give him a sly grin. “Consider it a rite of passage in New York City. Once you’ve dodged a pigeon or two, you’re officially a local.”

Oscar chuckled at my remark, his eyes lingering on mine with a warmth that made my cheeks flush. “So, Y/N,” Oscar began, his tone suddenly more serious, “since my phone’s dead and all, do you mind if I stick around and keep you company? You seem like you know your way around here.”

I raised an eyebrow playfully. “Are you asking for a tour guide or just trying to charm your way into free coffee?”

He flashed a sheepish grin. “Can’t it be both?”

I chuckled, enjoying his easygoing nature. “Alright, Aussie. You’ve got yourself a deal. But fair warning—I give terrible directions.”

“Good thing I’m not in a hurry,” he replied with a wink, his attempt at flirting more endearing than smooth.

I smiled warmly at his playful remark, enjoying the easy flow of our conversation. "You're welcome to stay," I said, gesturing to the empty chair beside me.

Oscar nodded gratefully and smoothly slid over a chair, positioning himself directly in front of me. As he settled in, I couldn't help but notice how his earlier awkwardness seemed to melt away, replaced by a relaxed confidence that was inviting yet unassuming.

Sitting face to face with Oscar, making direct eye contact, I suddenly felt a shift in our interaction. It wasn't just a casual meeting anymore; it felt like a moment frozen in time, a bookstore date where we were the main characters in a story unfolding between the shelves of books.

His brown eyes met mine, and in that instant, I felt a sense of peace and comfort wash over me, as if I had found a familiar place where I belonged. We continued to hold each other’s gaze, sharing unspoken sentiments that seemed to weave between us like a silent conversation.

Unexpectedly, Oscar's smile turned cheeky, a playful glint dancing in his eyes as if he was having an internal dialogue with himself. He was the first to break eye contact, his cheeks tinted with a soft blush that crept up from his neck.

Despite his attempt to maintain composure, his bashfulness was endearing, adding a charming vulnerability to his confident demeanor. I couldn't help but find it incredibly endearing.

I watched as he glanced down briefly, a small smile playing on his lips as he collected himself. His gaze returned to mine, now tinged with a mixture of amusement and newfound self-awareness. It was a moment of mutual recognition, a subtle acknowledgment of the connection that had begun to blossom between us.

I smiled softly, realizing that despite the bustling surroundings, I felt completely at ease with Oscar beside me. It was as if we had stumbled upon a quiet sanctuary amidst the chaos of the city, where our shared laughter and exchanged stories were the only things that mattered in that moment.

Oscar leaned in slightly, his smile still playful. "You know, Y/N," he began, his voice carrying a hint of flirtation, "there's something about this bookstore that feels like it's hiding a secret or two. What do you think?"

I chuckled softly, intrigued by his observation. "Maybe it's where all the lost plot twists end up," I replied, meeting his gaze with a playful glint in my eye. "Or perhaps it's a portal to a parallel universe of unfinished stories."

He grinned, clearly enjoying the banter. "A bookstore as a gateway to alternate dimensions? Now that's a plot twist I can get behind."

"Who knows," I mused, leaning back slightly in my chair. "Maybe we're characters in someone else's story right now, and they're wondering how our plotline will unfold."

Oscar nodded thoughtfully. "You know, as much as I enjoy pondering these ideas, sometimes it leads me down a path of existential dread. The vastness of the universe and our place in it—it can be daunting."

I nodded in understanding, recognizing the weight of his words. "It's a lot to wrap your head around, especially when you start thinking about multiverses and infinite possibilities."

"Yeah," he admitted, running a hand through his hair. "I try not to dwell on it too much. That's why I appreciate stories—they provide a narrative structure that helps make sense of it all, even if it's just for a moment."

"That's true," I agreed, feeling a deeper connection as our conversation touched on deeper themes. "Stories give us a way to explore those big questions in a way that feels manageable, contained within their own worlds."

Oscar smiled gratefully. "Exactly. They offer us glimpses into different perspectives and allow us to navigate through complex ideas in a way that's both enlightening and comforting."

I leaned forward slightly, intrigued by his introspective nature. "Do you ever wonder who you'd be in a parallel universe? What job you'd have?"

He chuckled softly. "Sometimes. It's a fun thought experiment, imagining different versions of myself in alternate realities."

Curious, I asked, "So, what do you do in this universe?"

He leaned back, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Guess."

I considered for a moment, trying to match his playful demeanor. "Acupuncturist?"

"Nope," he replied, shaking his head with a smirk. "Is that the best that you can come up with?" He said, teasing me.

"Quantum physicist?" I guessed, trying to make each guess more outlandish than the previous one.

"Not quite," he chuckled. "Do I really seem like the type to be in that job?" he asked.

"To be honest..." I trailed off, "Not really, no," I said quietly. Laughing at my honest response, he gestured with his hands, prompting me to guess again.

"Funeral director?" I ventured, this was literally a shot in the dark. If such a happy man was in such a depressing career I would immediately be so disappointed and sad.

"Getting warmer, but no," he teased. "Again, do you really peg me to be the type of person who would be a funeral director?" He asked again.

"No! I'm just guessing the most outlandish and random jobs," I held up my hands in mock frustration, pretending to surrender.

"Yeah I can tell, some of these jobs are quite random," he smirked. "But to be fair, my actual job is way more random than what you think it is, I genuinely bet you could not guess it," He provoked me again.

"Please do not tell me you work at a car dealership," I sighed in exasperation. Those people were the worst types of people to deal with as they keep pressuring innocent customers. God, I hoped Oscar wasn't that.

Oscar's face suddenly lit up. Shit, if that was his actual job...

"Close but no," Oscar's smile widened.

"What do you mean close but no?!" I got louder, the competitive spirit in me arising, "That's so vague"

"Okay, to give you a hint, it has something to do with cars," he said calmly. Ahh, that was much better, I see what he meant.

"Are you a tire technician?" I asked.

"Nope," he replied, popping the p.

"An auto-instructor?"

"Wrong, again."

"A diesel technician?"

"Loud, incorrect buzzer."

"That one guy that tests the car for quality issues... the quality control engineer!"

"Not it!"

"You're joking... right. I've guessed all that I know, and I really do not know much about cars in general, just tell me what it is, I give up," I said, finally exasperated as I went through all possible options of what Oscar did for a living.

Oscar leaned forward again, his smile widening. "I drive for McLaren Formula One."

My eyes widened in surprise, momentarily stunned by his revelation. "Seriously? Formula One? I would never have guessed that!"

He laughed at me, momentarily erupting into a guffaw at my blatant shock. "That is literally the most random job relating to cars, and it's motorsport, not just cars. I would have never guessed that, really!" I continued, still surprised.

"That's not fair, you shouldn't have made me guess. I didn't know you were famous," I said, teasing him lightly.

He grinned, clearly enjoying my reaction. "I guess I don't fit the typical stereotype, do I?"

I shook my head, still processing the unexpected twist in our conversation. "Definitely not. That's amazing, though. How did you get into that?"

Oscar leaned back, folding his arms with a playful air. "Well, it all started with a love for speed and a bit of luck. I've been racing since I was a kid, and somehow, it led me here."

"Impressive," I replied with a smile. "You must have some incredible stories from the track."

He nodded, his eyes lighting up with enthusiasm. "Plenty. It's a world of its own, filled with highs and lows, victories and near misses."

"I can imagine," I said, genuinely intrigued. "It sounds like a thrilling life."

"It has its moments," he agreed, his tone turning thoughtful. "But enough about me. I want to hear more about you. What's your story, Y/N?"

And so, as the afternoon sunlight filtered through the bookstore windows, we continued to share stories and laughter, each revelation deepening our connection. Eventually, as the conversation naturally drifted to an end, Oscar leaned forward with a gentle smile.

"You know, Y/N," he began, his voice warm and sincere, "I've had a great time getting to know you today. Would you like to grab dinner with me later? Earlier I saw this dinner place on Google Maps that had splendid reviews."

Surprised yet pleasantly flustered by his invitation, I couldn't help but smile. "I'd love to," I replied, feeling a rush of excitement at the prospect of continuing our conversation beyond the cozy confines of the bookstore.

And with that simple agreement, like a chapter in a novel, our first chapter closed, leaving us both eager to see where our story would lead next.

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────────────��─

author's note:

ty guys for reading this fic! 😍🫶🏾

(part TWO coming soon, comment if you want to be added to the taglist <3)

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sarawritestories · 9 months ago

Text

Umbrella

Rhysand x Fem Reader

A/N I got splashed twice; First by a truck driving through a puddle and then a car did it later on my walk to the train a few days ago, so I needed to put my feelings somewhere.

Summary: You didn't want to leave the comfort of your bed. But the shop needed to be opened. You didn't expect the rain or a speeding cart to run through a large puddle drenching you. Your High Lord finds you on the verge of tears he makes sure to brighten your gloomy day.

Content warning: mild cursing, slight feelings of failure and insecurity

One drop became two, then in a blink of an eye, the sky opened and unleashed a downpour that had you not had your umbrella would have had you drenched in seconds. You knew you shouldn't have left the warmth of your bed or your mate this morning. But the bookshop wasn't going to open itself.

Cassian had offered to fly you to work, but you insisted on walking. Something you enjoyed doing for centuries. He had insisted you bring the umbrella despite the sun rising and a few clouds in view. To appease him, you did, and you were thankful for listening to the general, though you would deny if anyone asked.

The wind whipping against your face made it difficult to walk, this being a more violent storm than Velaris had seen in a while. You stood at the corner of the city about to cross when a cart at full speed barreled down the road. You saw the wheel collide with the deep puddle, watched the water become airborne over your head, and the cold water colliding violently against your body. Your mouth fell open, umbrella still upright as you kept moving, not fully comprehending the events that took place.

By the time you reached your shop, the cold water had seeped through your clothes and provided you with a chill you couldn't escape from. This was not how you wanted to start your day. You swallowed down the tears that kept threatening to fall as you opened the door to your bookstore. Making a beeline to the hearth to start a fire. In hopes you could at least dry the sweater you wore. You held on to hope that the rain would bring in customers who want to cozy up with a book on the gloomy day.

☂️☂️☂️

The hours ticked by as the rain continued to pattern against the windows behind you. The store was quiet, not one person wandered in, either for shelter or to shop. You leaned your head on the counter. The feeling that had been bubbling to the surface for months beginning to consume you:

Failure

Rhysand insisted he buy you this store. "Darling, let me help you make your dreams a reality," he had said as he handed the keys to you and closed your fingers around them. "Go on, my Little Dreamer. Let's go see your new store."

Guilt creeps up to your throat. Your grand opening consisted of the Inner Circle. Azriel bought a few books for himself and one he thought Nesta would enjoy. You hadn't had the heart to tell him that she had that book already.

Rhys was beaming as he looked at the tomes amongst Aisles. His fingers grazing amongst the titles. You could see pride as he wandered every aisle.

A look you now dreaded every time you walked into a family dinner and someone asked you about your shop. You always danced around the answer.

Ding

Your head perked up as the bell from the door chimed, pulling you from your spiraling thoughts. Familiar black hair and and tan skin was shaking off his umbrella before leaning it against the side of the wall. Rhysand's smile bloomed on his face causing butterflies to flutter in your stomach. Even after all these years his beauty still took your breath away. "Hello, Darling." He smiled walked around the counter and pulling you close. His brows furrowed as he noticed your damp clothes. "You're drenched, Love." He turned and noticed the clothes in front of the fireplace, facing you once more his thumb began to idly swipe against your hip.

You sighed, and averted his gaze, "I was splashed by a cart on the way here." You shifted under his touch, "I didn't have enough time to react."

Rhysand hummed, and you glanced over at him and noticed him staring out the window. He smirked, "Close the shop." It wasn't a question.

"Excuse me?" You tilted your head as his violet eyes met yours stars twinkling in his eyes and something, playful.

"Close the shop. Your mate wants to spend the day with you." You opened your mouth and he kissed the corner of your mouth, "No one is right now and all the stores around are closing early today."

You tugged the bottom of your lip behind your teeth. Debating whether or not you could afford to have the store closed. Rhys' eyes turned pleading and he even jutted out his bottom lip that sealed that swayed you. "Okay."

Rhys smiled and slid his hands, to yours. "Great!" And he pulled you away from your counter and headed out side leaving behind his umbrella. You were quick to grab opening it as Rhys ran to the middle of the street releasing your hands. His arms spread out against "Rhysand, what are you doing?" You shrieked as he began to laugh. "You're getting soaked!"

"I can't let you be alone in being soaked to the bone can I?" He lifted his head to the sky and smiled as the water coated the male's skin. You watched him in awe and wondered how often he did this when you didn't noticed, especially after returning from being with Amarantha. His violet eyes bright and twinkling, "Come dance with me." He held out his hand and slightly bowed.

You shook your head, "I should get back inside."

Darling, Rhysand spoke in your mind, Are you really going to deny your High Lord a dance with his Lady? He quirked a brow and you rolled your eyes.

You're insufferable. You thought to him as you closed the Umbrella and ran to him. The minute you were within his reach he lifted you up off the ground and you began to laugh. Once he put you down he gripped your waist, his hands lacing with yours the two of you began to sway. No words needed to be said he just held you and began to dance in the middle of the street. The two of you began to laugh and he spun you out, and when he spun you back, his chest pressing against your back, he kissed your cheek. He held you close and your eyes closed leaning your head against your shoulder. You didn't mind as the rain trickled against your skin.

You're a vision, My Love. Rhysand spoke in your mind. You hummed and Rhys continued to lead into more dances until exhaustion befell on both of you.

☂️☂️☂️

Rhys had brought you some dry clothes as if he suspected you needed them. You smiled as you found he packed his sweater that was your favorite to wear with some shorts. Rhys was sitting by the fire in the book store when you walked in with dry clothes, clean thanks to Rhys' magic. "Feel better?" he asked as you crawled into his lap.

"Always with you, My Love." You paused and threaded your fingers through his hair. He purred at the touch closing his eyes as you continued. "I thought you and Cassian were heading to Windhaven for meetings."

"Devlon cancelled, he didn't want the rain and the wind to mess up his hair." Rhysand joked as he creaked his eyes open.

I frowned and straightened my posture, "Rhysand."

Rhysand opened his eyes and his hand rubbing your back in a soothing manner. "You are more important, Darling."

You shook your head, pushing away as far as his arms would let you, which was not far at all. "Rhysand, you shouldn't have. I got wet. You're High Lord you have responsibilities. I'm-

"My mate," he finished, leaning up to kiss your nose. "You come first. You will always come first." He gripped your hand, placing it over your heart, "Especially when she opened up the bond, and her sadness was so palpable I fell to my knees in agonizing pain. Then Azriel told me that his shadows witnessed what happened. You needed me. I'm here." And that was the end of it. He wasn't willing to budge his priorities, not when it came to you.

You leaned back into his embrace head on his shoulder as he leaned his own on top of yours. The two of you sat in silence. "It wasn't just about the rain today, was it?" His voice was soft and gentle."

"No, it wasn't." Your voice laced with exhaustion.

He kissed your head. "We'll talk about it more in the morning. Right now, I want you to sleep. I'll be here when you wake." He kissed the side of your head as your eyes drooped closed. "I love you, Darling."

You yawned, "And I you, Rhys."

A few weeks later ☂️

The sun illuminated the store, and you were grateful as swarms of people were scouring for books, looking for new adventures to take. You and Rhysand talked for hours on what was needed to turn business around and turned out his frequent visits helped. Everyone wanted to shop where the High Lord did.You took a minute from helping a customer to smile, down one of the Aisles Rhysand stood an apron around his hips helping a customer find a book. His eyes glittered, and his smile brought her customers at ease. He insisted that if he was coming to the shop, he would be on the floor assisting but never missed a chance to glance your way with a playful wink.

You were a lucky female to have a caring, loving, and passionate Mate. Your best friend. Your High Lord.

And he loved his wonderful, beautiful, brilliant Book Shop owner.

Fin.

#acotar fanfiction #acotar #rhysand x reader #rhysand #rhysand fanfic #rhysand fluff #rhysand x you #rhysand is the most handsome high lord #high lord of the night court #Spotify #rhysand acotar #rhys acotar #rhys x reader #rhys darby #Rhys fluff

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charliehoennam · 9 months ago

Text

hero's homestead

A/N: just a lil blurb I've had stuck on my mind and had to frigging get out since watching Road House

Pairing: Elwood Dalton x f!reader

Warnings: physical injuries, jealousy, kissing, mentions of grief and death

SHARING IS CARING, SO PLEASE REBLOG

Growing up in Glass Key made your face quite familiar around these parts. Everyone knew you, not because you were popular or from a rich family. Lord knows you wish you were.

But because the island was just so small, like a little fishbowl with too many sharks circling around their prey, everyone knew each other around here. However, the small island was full of a strong sense of community.

Your friendship with Charlie started while you were in high school. You were just a freshman and Charlie was six when Stephen and his wife would very often ask you to baby-sit.

Saying no to them was nearly impossible. Not only did they pay you well, but they always offered you a ride home and made you sure you had dinner before leaving. They really treated you like you were part of the family and helping one another in the community was just so normal.

They always treated you with welcoming kindness and respect so, if there was anything you could do to help them, you did it. Aside from baby-sitting Charlie, this included working at their book store.

You were around there most of the time. If you weren't at home or at school, you were at Glass Books.

As you got older, you started to spend less and less time there in order to focus on your own personal and professional life.

That didn't mean you were never around anymore. You still made your frequent stop to buy the new read of the week.

"Why don't you just get all the books you want for the month, so you don't have to keep coming back?" Charlie questioned genuinely curious.

"Nah, I like coming here. I like the service. And besides, you'd miss me too much, kid" you chuckled watching the young teenage ring your book up at the register.

When Stephen told you about his wife's illness, it really took you by surprise. She could've easily been voted the happiest woman of Glass Key. The aura she possessed could make the dullest room become the brightest. Her sense of humor would have even the most no-nonsense person cracking a smile. She was an amazing woman and a motherly figure to most.

The entire community mourned her loss. The blue sky and the tropical environment wasn't enough to brighten the day for your neighborhood's residents. The heavy rains that followed that entire week led you to believe that even the island was weeping for her absence.

Between medical expenses, funeral costs and a growing teenager, Stephen had to learn to be a single father quite fast. And that meant working a full-time job to make end's meet.

He asked you to help out with the store and you happily agreed. Glass Books was his wife's dream. She loved spending her days there, in the cozy little bookstore she'd built with the love of her life.

Although you know Stephen has a lot on his plate, you can't help but wonder if he wants to avoid the store and her memory altogether.

You refused to accept money for it, knowing the shop didn't make so much money. Even so, Stephen would still transfer you a small amount whenever he could and would often bring you breakfast, lunch or dinner because he felt it was the least he could do.

All you wanted to do was help.

He was more than grateful, especially when he saw how you could make Charlie laugh by putting on music and dancing in the middle of the store with her.

He could see her slipping into a dark place after the death of her mother. Dealing with his own pain, he did his best. But, you were the best friend she needed. A feminine figure she could go to talk about more embarrassing situations or just to get her mind off of the loss.

Gradually, it seemed like their small family was beginning to heal. Although the loss was a still a fresh wound, and Stephen would often find Charlie clutching a small portrait of her mother asleep in bed, they were managing to keep the pain at bay.

You understand how important this store to them. It represents so much more than being just a simple local book store. It represents her.

The store was just as special to you as it was to Charlie and Stephen.

It had always been your refuge, but now, it was always the place where you met him.

Charlie, with her overly friendly nature that she inherited from her mother, struck up a conversation with the then stranger just outside the bookstore.

Her overprotective father was soon outside within seconds. Although the friendly streak ran deep within him too, he knew these parts were full of men with bad intentions.

Once he realized the stranger wasn't from around, he felt a little more at ease.

Although you remained inside the shop, you could overhear their conversation as you inched towards the door and opened it to stand in the doorway, eyeing the stranger with caution.

Stephen was surprised to know he'd come out of town to work at the Road House. To be honest, neither of you expected him to last very long. At that place, security never does.

The bouncer turnover never ceased with the riots that broke out there almost every night. So, you didn't bother getting your hopes up.

However, Dalton kept coming back. Every other day, he came in with the excuse of using the computer or buying a book just to strike up a conversation with you and lay down his flirtatious charm.

Charlie was the first to notice he would always come around when you were there and, if you weren't, he'd always make sure to ask when you were.

She had quite a bit of fun poking fun at you, telling you he had a crush on you or mocking the unconscious change in your voice you had when talking to him.

It didn't long take for feelings to develop between you and him. There was no doubt in either of you. Although unspoken, the magnetic attraction was undeniably present.

Some of those talks were deep and you felt you could confide in him to share things you hadn't shared with anyone at all. He, in turn, told you about the night on the train tracks and how the last fight he had in the ring haunted him every night.

There was no denying the bond you were forming. However, the rumors that were spreading around the island about the closeness between Ellie and him made you hesitant to make the first move.

When you casually brought it up into conversation, he shook his head and told you it wasn't anything serious and that she'd took him on a date once. You wanted to ask him if he had feelings for her, but that would be too much.

"So what's the deal with you and Dalton?" Charlie curiously asked, having picked up on the constant courtship that you two refused to act on.

"There is no deal. We're just friends. Hardly that."

"I may be young, but I'm no fool. I know there's something going on between you two."

"Sorry to disappoint you, kid, but there isn't. Besides, I hear he's got a sort of a girlfriend" you replied without looking up at her from the book in your hand.

You were both sat in fold-out beach chairs placed in front of the store, enjoying a couple of white cherry slushies, hoping the ice cold drink could soothe the hot, humid weather.

"How do you have a 'sort of girlfriend'? Either she is or isn't."

"Those things are complicated. I guess they're getting to know each other," you shrugged wishing you could avoid the topic.

"Like you guys are?"

"There is nothing going on. Sure, he's cute and funny and all, but he's seeing someone else. He's not interested in me, Charlie."

"So, you are interested in him?"

"It doesn't matter if I am. She's a doctor, she's smart and she's really pretty and drives a nice car. I know I don't stand a chance, so I'd rather not get my hopes up," you rambled, failing to read anything on the page you were stuck on. "Can we please drop this now?"

"Oh my god," she smirked staring at you. "You're jealous."

You scoffed at her ridiculous accusation and shook your head as you closed the book and set it in your lap.

"I am not jealous. I do not get jealous."

"Yes, you are! You totally are!"

"I am not! I just don't want to talk about this anymore, alright? So can we drop it?"

"Alright, alright. Sorry I brought it up."

She couldn't stop smiling as you opened your book to continue reading. Although you weren't her parents, her mind couldn't stop thinking of a way to parent-trap you into getting together.

However, her plans were brought to a halt when Brandt's lackeys invaded the shop just a few days later.

You tried your best to stand your ground and defend the shop along with Stephen. He told you to leave, but you refused.

After the beatdown you both received unwillingly, a fire had been set and the cruel men left. The adrenaline that surged through your bodies was enough to numb the pain in order to get you both quickly back on your feet to put out the fire.

Between the blood loss and the resurfacing pain, the billowing smoke got stronger and stronger. The flames became too strong too quickly and had engulfed the entire wall across the front counter.

Light-headed and dizzy, Stephen tried to save whatever he could from the store. As you rushed back and forth, you realized that the fire had grown too much and swallowed the front entrance.

The heat of it shattered the glass windows. The open air only fueled the fire more. Coughing from the heavy smoke, both you and Stephen got down on the floor to avoid the unbreathable air and attempted to crawl to the back exit.

Everything went dark after that and melded into one huge blur.

You don't remember when you actually blacked out, but you do remember feeling relieved once you heard the fire department's arrival.

The time you spent in the hospital was short - only a couple of days - but it was enough to make you reflect on your life.

An overwhelming sense of regret washed over you as you thought about Dalton.

You'd only known each other for a few weeks, but what if you could've had something special? What if Charlie's jokes were true and he actually ended up to be your soulmate?

She could be wrong too, but the fact that you could've died and never found out if you ever really did stand a chance ate at your mind.

You hadn't fully realized the extent of your attachment until a couple days later.

You show up at the store with a limp from the beatdown you'd received a couple days ago.

Stephan tries to assure you they're fine, that you need to rest and recover, but you argue that you'll go insane if you stay at home with nothing to do, high on pain meds.

Helping the owners clean and salvage whatever they can, Charlie casually mentions that Dalton and left her and her father a suitcase full of money to rebuild the store before he got on a greyhound bus destined to leave Glass Key.

The same regret you'd felt in the hospital strikes you again and secretly consumes you.

You try to play it off and instruct her to not to tell anyone about the money. You barely understand what she said after that. All you can think about for the rest of that morning is that he left and didn't even say goodbye.

When Charlie and her father invite you to get some lunch with them, you politely refuse, opting to stay back and keep yourself busy. You lie and tell them you had a big breakfast beforehand just so they won't worry.

You promised you wouldn't get your hopes up. You knew better than that. Bouncers never last at the Road House. You know this just as well as any of the other residents of Glass Key.

He's gone now.

You just want to be alone for a bit to process it.

The door opens and the bell above it rings as you sweep away at the shattered glass, forcing you to look back over your shoulder.

The sight you see has you frozen in surprise.

His face is impossible to forget. You could never forget those big blue doe eyes, even with the dark skin that circles his right eye.

You groan lightly at the shooting pain from your broken rib as you straighten and turn to face him, holding the broom by your side as you stand next to it.

Dalton closes the glassless door behind him as he greets you with a silent but friendly smile until the cut on your lip and the black eye remind him of the damage he caused.

He doesn't look too different from you. His eye is still a little swollen but mostly black now, his lip busted and the stitches on his eyebrow are all evidence that business has been handled at the Road House.

"So, the Glass Key hero returns" you smile at him, ignoring the sting on your bottom lip. "Charlie said you were riding off into the sunset. You forget something?"

"I'm not a hero and, no, I didn't" he starts, looking around the burned down shop trying to swallow his guilt.

"Changed your mind?"

"Someone kinda changed it for me, actually. A very wise person told me that heroes don't always have to ride off into the sunset. They can stay and make a homestead instead."

Joy bursts within you like fireworks on new years. You try to fight back the smile that creeps onto you lips.

"Thought you weren't a hero."

"I'm not."

You nod biting the inside of your cheek to mask your excitement. You take the second broom that Charlie had been using earlier and left leaning against the wall by the front door.

"This homestead could use a hand" you smile and offer him the broom.

He takes it with a happy grin, feeling finally accepted as if he finally found somewhere he belongs.

"There's, uh, one more thing" he says in a soft voice.

His hand raises to your chin, tilting your head up as he cranes his neck to kiss you in the most tender of ways.

Unable to forget about Ellie, you place a hand on his chest and gently push to stop the kiss.

Dalton's face contorts with confusion. He doesn't notice the breath he's holding, anxiety settling in as he fears that you'll ask him to stop. Maybe he got the wrong signals and you don't like him that way. He'd respect it, if that's the case, but it doesn't mean his heart won't be crushed.

"I thought you were seeing Ellie?"

He blinks slightly surprised. That's not what he had expected to hear, but it makes him kind of happy that you're not asking him to stop.

"She took me on a date and we kissed, but that was it."

"So, you are dating her?"

"What, are you jealous?"

"Why does everyone keep saying that? I'm not jealous."

"You sound a little jealous" he smirks.

"I'm not. I just... I don't wanna get my hopes up."

"I'm not dating her," he says gently stroking your bruised cheek. "I told her there's someone else for me, someone that I really wanna date."

He gazes into your eyes as you smile up at him and let him continue his kiss. You let his lips linger on yours and smile when you feel them stretch into a grin.

The cuts on your mouths hurt, but neither of you bother to pull away.

His kiss gradually intensifies. His tongue flicks over your bottom lip, politely asking for entrance. His free hand reaches for your waist as the other sets against your cheek, leaving the broom tucked in his arm.

You let his tongue slip past your defenses. The gentle way his hand cradles your face has you holding onto his strong forearm and the other broom for balance as the room spins around you from his vertiginous kiss.

Your chest presses against his as you moan softly into his mouth. It takes him every ounce of his self-control to not pin you against the wall.

The bell rings again, alerting you both of another's presence so you quickly pull apart, trying to quickly compose yourselves. Your eyes shoot to the door along with Dalton's.

You realize who it is, so he shyly lets his eyes wander around what's left of the store and sweeps the ashy floor.

"Hope I'm not interrupting anything," Charlie smirks sipping her juice from a straw as she stands in the doorway.

"No, no," you reply nervously as heat pools in your cheeks. "Dalton and I were just, uh, cleaning up."

"Cleaning what? The floor or each other's throats?"

Dalton snickers at her candor, glancing at you until she continues.

"Good to see you're back though. And if you ask me, it's about time."

#elwood dalton #elwood dalton x reader #elwood dalton x you #elwood dalton x y/n #elwood dalton fic #elwood dalton imagine #elwood dalton fanfiction #jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal imagine #jake gyllenhaal fanfic #jake gyllenhaal fanfiction #jake gyllenhaal fic #road house

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haartemis · 2 months ago

Note

Song: Summer - The Carters

Player Mbappé

🥰

"ky" you murmur. "wake up"

he's napping on the lounge chair, mouth slightly agape, sunglasses skewed atop his nose. its adorable, almost too tender a sight for you to disturb.

you’d just come back from a dip in the water, skin cool and slick with salt water. still the heat of the day lingers, seeping into everything. him especially. his chest rises and falls steadily, tanned golden brown and sculpted and far too inviting.

you can't help it, you nudge his cheek until he stirs.

"all you do is sleep" you tease. "you're like my grandma"

he hums and shifts slightly, decidedly ignoring the jab. you can see through his glasses his eyes are level with your legs. he reaches out, glides his hands up your thighs until he reaches your hips. touchy touchy touchy. that's how he is whenever its just you two, and that's the case this time; the beach is completely deserted.

"nice view to wake up to" he grins, voice low and rough from sleep. he sends you a lazy smile, sand imprint still on his cheek.

suddenly he grabs your leg and tugs so forcefully you tumble on top of him on the lounge chair with a yelp. you're skin to skin now, his warm and sticky with sweat and yours damp and cold from the ocean water. a strap of your bikini top has slipped down your shoulder, leaving one boob slightly exposed. the sensation of your nipple pressed against his chest sends an electric zap through you. he feels it too, you can tell. neither of you make a move to adjust the strap.

"had a dream you know" he says, one hand wrapped around your waist while the other slides down to pinch your ass. you squirm, laughing softly against his neck.

"hmm?" your voice comes out muffled as you nuzzle face further into the crook of his neck. you start pressing soft kisses there, teeth grazing the skin once or twice. there's a delay in his response, his breath hitching.

"yeah" he chuckles after a couple moments. "ousmane owned a bookstore, which is weird because he never reads and I-"

you lift yourself just enough to position yourself over him, straddling his lap, crotch against crotch, teasing smile your lips. "ky, respectfully, i don't want to think about ousmane dembele right now"

he laughs, his chest rumbling beneath you, and the sound squeezes your heart. "fair enough," he says, his hands settling firmly on your hips. his thumbs draw slow, lazy circles on your skin.

the sky above you's turned a beautiful burnt orange. you both watch silently as the sun dips lower into the horizon, the sound of the waves crashing gently adding to the beautiful scenery. you're flooded with a rush of emotion just then. love for the beautiful sunset in front of you, for the man you're with, and for the way he makes everything feel vibrant, alive.

you turn back to kylian and gently tug off his glasses so you can see his eyes. they're tired but warm. fully focused on you. soft, satisfied smile on his face. its nice to see him like this after the long, exhausting season he's had.

“ky,” you murmur again, softer this time.

he just lifts his hand to cradle your face. his thumb brushes along your cheekbone, his touch achingly tender, and then he’s pulling you closer.

when your lips meet, its slow and tender. like you're savoring every second. a warm, melting feeling at the pit of your stomach, spreading throughout your whole body. all these years together and its still there. the pull, the ache. the way he can intoxicate you with his scent, the hard lines of his sculpted body, basically everything.

you tilt your head, opening yourself to him fully, and he takes the invitation with a low hum. you kiss and kiss, until you can't ignore the aching in between your legs.

when you part, just enough to catch your breath, his forehead presses lightly against yours. his breaths are shallow, warm against your skin, and his eyes are dark and raw and full of wanting.

as if he can see the same wanting in you, his fingers move to waistband of your bikini bottoms. but you stop him with a gentle hand.

"no" you murmur, giving him a soft peck on the lips. "i want you inside"

he doesn't need to be told twice. the both of you get up and pack your things quickly. you laugh on the walk back to the villa, wrapped around a different type of summer heat. the kind that's intense, full of desire.

#kylian mbappe imagine #kylian mbappe x reader #kylian mbappe x y/n #kylian mbappe fanfic

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 5 months ago

Text

Mystery of love

Previously / Next chapter

a/n I’m sorry for the wait, I hope that people who wanted to see this will see this. 🤍

summary: when two lost souls meet at their mutual friend’s party sparks fly, the question is if whatever they feel can actually bloom into something more? But that’s the mystery of love.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“What are you looking at, Dolores?”, you hitched the box full of books higher as you walked by the elderly lady who had been staring through the shop window for a handful of minutes, making it hard for you to miss. “There’s a car,” she mused, pointing ever so slightly. “Across the street. Been there for—”, she glanced down at her watch, “Two hours, twenty-seven… eight minutes.”

“Maybe it’s one of your book club members,” you shrugged, huffing as you pushed on the double-decked boxes with your hip. “Sure,” she let out a low chuckle, “the boy looks your age. I doubt he’s interested in us old farts.” You quickly turned back, eyes searching for the car Dolores was referring to. And as always, it was with a blink of an eye that you saw him. The window was down, and he was on his phone. “I’ll be right back,” you muttered beneath your breath. “And don’t lift anything,” you warned her, pointing a finger at her before slipping into the chilly autumn breeze.

You crossed the street carelessly, jogging toward the familiar black car. “We had a deal,” you tapped against the side frame, making Noah jolt slightly. “To my defense, I didn’t set foot in the bookstore, and that was the main rule you had,” Noah smiled at you, leaning back into his seat.“Do I need a restraining order against you?”, you crossed your arms over your chest, watching him for a moment. The dark circles beneath his eyes had not been this visible the last time you saw each other. He looked ashen and drained.

“Technically, this is public property, and my rights are being violated. I can’t pursue reading,” Noah cut into your train of thought, making you roll your eyes. You glanced back toward the shop, snickering slightly at the sight of Dolores with her face practically pressed to the window, watching you two. “Well, are you up for an eventful evening?”, you turned back to Noah, who was already ushering you to stand aside so he could step out. “Do I need to be scared?”, he asked, throwing you that innocent smile of his. “Nope,” you chirped, pulling out the ‘o’ into a light song before flashing him a daring look.

That’s how Noah found himself lining up chairs and moving around boxes. A handful of elderly women offered him food and fussed over how skinny he was. “You don’t feed him enough, Y/n,” one of the book club members, at least that’s what Noah had gathered, said, shaking her head as she glanced at you. “He’s a big boy; he can feed himself, Mrs. Radler,” you chirped over your shoulder with a smile. Yet there was a sense of ease here. The pace of the place seemed slower.

“Do you mind?”, Noah quickly turned to the side, seeing Dolores, who had been over the moon excited to greet him, turning a jar of peanut butter in her slightly trembling hands. “Not one bit,” swiftly undoing the lid, Noah set it on the little side counter. “And knives?”, Dolores simply pointed toward the drawer, and he knew she was watching him, assessing him in her way.

“She’s good, you know, our Y/n,” Dolores started, letting her gaze drift towards the main shop floor, where you fussed over everyone with equal amounts of love and care. It was fascinating. Not to mention the first time Noah saw you smile for real. Not that slight forced smile out of obligation, but a genuine, full-hearted smile.

“I don’t doubt it one bit, ma’am,” Noah smiled, moving to spread peanut butter on yet another piece of toast. “She’s all prickly on the outside, but you give her time,” Dolores mused, spooning jam onto the half-made sandwiches. “You look like you need a bit of Y/n in your life, son.” Noah chuckled, “I doubt she wants to…”, “Oh, she does. You might just be what she’s been looking for too,” Dolores cut in, tapping Noah on the back. “Bring these out for me; don’t trust these hands one bit,” she pointed to the tray before reaching for her cane.

You watched him, handing out sandwiches before the reading began. A polite smile on his face, hair pulled up in a messy bun. His cheeks grew slightly pink at the scandalized looks on some of the women’s faces when they noticed his tattoos. But he stayed. Not a single complaint. Not a single frown. He could have turned on his heel and gone. Nothing was holding him here. But no, Noah was here, making you wonder how a person you barely knew could find ways to get involved in things you loved while your ex could not. “So, let’s not forget to take our blood pressure pills, ladies,” you clapped softly. Glancing over the room one more time to make sure that everything was in the right order, you added, “The girl on the evening shift will close up after you, so don’t worry about anything. Just enjoy yourselves.”

Noah watched you cross the street toward him for the second time tonight. However, this time, he knew he wasn’t going to get scolded. You quickly slipped into the passenger seat with a sigh. While he could tell that you enjoyed your job, it no doubt took a toll on you.

“So, are we thinking unhealthy food, or do you want to risk food poisoning if I cook?” Noah threw you a look, making you chuckle slightly. “Takeout, my place. I have a pie for dessert we could eat,” you glanced at him, glad to see that flicker of excitement. One that hadn’t been there this morning. “Cheeky you, inviting me over the second time around,” Noah mused. “Yep, nope,” you moved for the door, but Noah quickly locked it. A slight silence fell before you turned towards him once more. “Why did you stay?”, you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. Noah looked straight ahead, the streetlights glistening in his eyes. There was something in the way he thought of his answer, the way he was picking the words in his head, that frightened you.

“No, changed my mind. Don’t answer that,” you waved your hand in front of you. Noah’s eyes fell on you then, a light smile on his face. “You’re scared my answer might make your heart skip a beat?” he nodded your way, making you cross your arms over your chest. But this time, you didn’t find it in you to deflect. “Maybe,” you admitted. You could feel the slight surprise radiating off him before a slight smug smile spread across his face as he started the car.

“He’s cool,” Noah said, running his fingers through Marsh’s fur, making the blind cat nudge against his palm. Empty plates littered the table, ones Noah had offered to wash up, but you had simply waved him off. “He also hates people, but it seems that you are the exception,” you mused, your head resting in your palm as you watched them. Once again, you found yourself enjoying the feeling of having someone around. Of having Noah around.

“Now that’s a compliment,” Noah blew out a breath, scratching behind Marsh’s ear, sending the cat into a purring fit. “We have quite a few pets in the house,” Noah pointed out, pulling the cat onto his lap. “So, a professional pet whisperer,” you hummed, making Noah snicker, “Something like that.” And then there he would go. One minute a smile, the next empty eyes as he stared at the pet in front of him. You told yourself you didn’t care. It wasn’t your business. But it haunted you, a strange need to comfort him.

“Emmy said that the upcoming months will be hard for you all,” you muttered, making Noah snap his head toward you. The expression on his face was almost panicked, making you quickly add, “Well, she mostly cried about Matt leaving but…” Noah frowned slightly. “Yeah… I guess,” he muttered. “We don’t have to talk about it if you…” you started, only to be met by Noah shaking his head. “No, no, it’s just… I haven’t voiced it out loud but…” He let out a deep sigh. “I’m thinking about canceling the rest of the tour.” Now it was your turn to stare, and as stupid as it was, all you could muster was a quiet, “Oh…”

Noah let out an almost bitter laugh as he dragged his palms over his face. “Good job on not giving away that you knew us,” he grunted between his fingers. “I didn’t, and I don’t,” you clipped in, sitting up. “I haven’t googled any of you. I don’t care. I’m sorry if that’s upsetting,” you shrugged. He turned to you slowly, his head resting on the headrest of the sofa. “You’re probably used to girls falling on their knees for that fact alone,” it was a bitter blow on your part, and from the way Noah clenched his jaw, you knew that you had been wrong. “Doesn’t mean that I like it,” Noah sighed, looking down at Marsh again.

You felt guilty in a way. It seemed like all your interactions with him always ended with you pulling claws. “Thank you for helping today,” you muttered, hoping to get him talking again. “I liked it. It was fun,” Noah admitted. “Different from… well, from my weeks as of late,” and the light scowl spoke volumes. “Well, if you enjoyed it, you can pop by anytime,” the words slipped the words slipped past your lips before you even thought them over. “Dolores will be delighted to see the handsome boy in black,” you glanced back at him.“Never take granny's love for granted,” Noah nodded before glancing at his watch. “I should probably go.”

“Stay, it’s late,” you breathed, a hint of panic in your voice as you reached for him. “Better not,” and there it was—the same slashing disappointment as his words hit you, making you pull back. It was the disappointment in your eyes that did it. “I would love to, but I don’t sleep that well,” Noah muttered, reaching for your hand, fingers trying to carefully intertwine with yours.“What do you mean?”, Your words were barely a whisper as you laid your hand on the sofa, both of you facing each other.

“Just… hard to explain,” Noah whispered, his tired eyes soaking you in. It terrified you, the idea of him driving now, in his current state. “Okay, well I also sleep poorly, so we can watch old movies and just, I don’t know…” you offered, hoping he would cave in. There was a war zone in his head, you could feel it, yet he still nodded ever so slightly. “Okay?” you asked just to make sure.“Yeah,” Noah muttered, finally fully settling his palm against yours and giving your hand a slight squeeze.

#noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian imagine #noah sebastian x you #noah bad omens x reader #noah bad omens imagine #noah bad omens fanfiction #bad omens x reader #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens imagine #bad omens x you

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mika-no-sekai-blog · 3 months ago

Text

Unforgettable (first kiss)

Azriel x OC

Word count: +5500

Summary: Who would think that a family dinner could turn into a reunion with female from the bookstore? However, certain members of his family treat her poorly and she ends up running away. Azriel can't forget her though and wants to see her again

Warnings: some cursing, IC having some issues and behaving unpleasantly

@azrielappreciationweek Day 5: No need for poetry Kinda part 2 of Unforgivable (sins), but can be read separately Dividers by @tsunami-of-tears

Azriel landed on lawn near entrance of the River House. It was already dark, but night was warm and smelled of cool river that flew behind the house and sweet magnolia. The smell of roast meat and apple pie wafted from the open kitchen window, reminding him that he hadn't eaten from the morning, and mixed with the smell of coming summer.

Trying to look at least a bit presentable, he ran his fingers through thick dark hair, brushing it back. The shadows already informed him that there's an unknown face in the house. He was exhausted and not in mood to meet someone new, but he already promised he would come for the dinner and the game night his family had every Friday.

Sighing heavily, he slipped into the building like a ghost, unnoticed. Everyone seemed to be already gathered in the dinning room, sounds of conversation and laughter echoed in otherwise quiet house. A paper bag from his favourite bookstore left in the entrance hall immediately caught his attention. As a spymaster he couldn't help it and peeked in. The familiar covers of books he had read, aroused his interest. Azriel assumed that the bag had to belong to the guest because his family usually didn't leave their stuff by doors. This piqued his interest in the mysterious newcomer.

He checked his face in the mirror, correcting his posture and glamouring the dark circles under his eyes. If possible, he wanted to avoid any questions about his wellbeing or comments full of worry. He already felt like shit and didn't want to dwell on it. He suddenly noticed the absence of his usual companions who loved to inform him about any insignificant details. Looking down the hallway, he found them peeking into the dinning room, pushing each other to get a better view.

He just rolled his eyes and got ready for the welcoming and his least favourite part - introduction.

His long legs quietly carried him to the threshold of the room. Everyone was already seated around the big table that buckled under the delicious-looking dishes, undoubtedly the work of the middle Archeron sister who smiling sat next to her mate. Azriel frowned at the sight. Nobody told him that Lucien was invited, too.

Rhysand, sitting at the head of the table, noticed him as first.

"Ah, finally here," he greeted him with his usual cocky grin. "We've been waiting for you."

"You could have started without me," Azriel retorted and quickly walked over to the only empty seat. He hated to be in the center of attention.

"When did you return? I didn't hear you go to your room," Cassian bawled from the other side of table.

"I found what I looked for this morning, but I had work to do in Hewn City." He didn't need to add more details. His friends already knew what kind of job he did there. Azriel's insides twisted at the memory, but he buried that feeling deep inside where no one could see it.

"By the way, Helion thanks you for the help," he turned to Rhysand who only nodded.

"I'll write him later. How did it go?"

Before Azriel could say anything, Feyre sighed at Rhys' side. "Boys, could you forget about the work at least for a moment? We have a guest tonight."

"Sure, Feyre darling," Rhys smiled at her and caressed her cheek. "I'm sorry. We'll discuss the details later."

"Azriel, let me introduce you my friend from Rainbow and fellow artist, Blaire. She came from Autumn court not so long ago and currently, she's slowly settling in our city and her new life."

Azriel looked to his left, in the direction Feyre showed. To his shame, he was in such hurry to get rid of all the prying eyes that he hadn't noticed that the unknown female sat right beside him.

He tried to smile down at small female with long dark brown hair. "Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you, too, Azriel," she looked up at him with a shy but kind smile. He blinked in surprise. It was the same female he just met in the bookstore.

"Do you know each other?" Feyre's smile grew, noticing their surprised faces.

"Yes-.. Well, no," he mumbled.

"We met by chance in the bookstore today. I wasn't paying attention, tripped and bumped into him, yet he was so kind that he helped me gather the books that I dropped," Blaire explained. A lovely blush spread on her cheeks. "Again, I'm really sorry for that," she turned to him.

"No, it was my mistake. I was taking too much space in the aisle. I apologise."

"Interesting," Rhysand and Cassian said at the same time, watching the two of them with all-knowing grins.

Assholes, Azriel mouthed.

The shadows peeked from beneath the table, interested in the newcomer. Blaire noticed the movement and looked down. Azriel carefully watched her reaction, expecting her to freak out as most of people did when they found out the shadows could move on their own.

"Hey there," she whispered, eyeing them with interest. The shadows vibrated at the greeting and flew closer, curiously swirling around her, touching her arms, legs and hair. Blaire giggled, hiding it in her palm.

"My apologies," Azriel mumbled. "They are very curious beings and don't really respect personal space. Not even mine."

"It's okay," she answered, her fingers playing with cool tendrils.

Azriel's corners of the mouth twitched in a small genuine smile. Her reaction was refreshing. He finally relaxed into the chair, a bit stretching out his wings that he had held rigidly tugged to his back whole the time.

The dinner went smoothly, the light conversation over the meal was very pleasant and interesting. Azriel found himself listening carefully whenever someone asked something Blaire, eager to learn more about her. He'd like to blame it on an occupational disease, but it was just his natural interest in an attractive female.

He was so busy keeping an eye on her that he didn't even notice the cold glare Mor was sending their way all the evening. She didn't speak much nor ate, yet her glass needed to be refilled quite often.

After eating delicious meal everyone walked over to the sitting room were the conversation continued. However, it was Friday and as every Friday his friends took out their usual favourite games.

Bat boys sat down around small round table with cards and cheered by the females, they played as passionately and ruthlessly as only they could. Azriel got completely carried away by the game and his excessive competitiveness, and for a moment he forgot about everything that bothered him. He really enjoyed it.

After losing several times, Cassian grumbling gave the game up, wanting to play something he couldn't lose at. And so he took out the bottle.

The whole group gathered on sofas in front of the fireplace. This time everyone played. Well, almost everyone. Elain and Lucien moved to the corner of the room, quietly talking about something. Azriel watched them for a while, ire twisting his guts. He emptied his glass in one go.

"Easy," Rhysand whispered as he refilled his glass.

Azriel narrowed eyes at him. If he could, he would rather leave than to torture himself like this. When his gaze again moved to the couple, he couldn't see them anymore. Instead, Blaire with her soft smile sat opposite him, obscuring the view. In the heat of the game, he had almost forgotten she was there. She was quite quiet most of the time, looking rather shy, mostly talking only with Feyre. She didn't look like really wanting to play this kind of game, but Feyre had convinced her.

Cassian, seated next to his mate, spun the empty wine bottle and took a big gulp from his glass.

"Okay, guys, let's play," he growled, clapping his hands. This was his favourite game ever since Azriel knew him.

The bottle stopped, pointing to Mor who seemed to be already quite drunken, swaying from side to side even while sitting.

"Truth or dare?" Cassian grinned. Hot topics were his speciality and reason why he liked this game so much.

"Truth," Mor drank gulp of wine.

"Great! So.. are you dating someone now?"

Mor frowned at him, pouting. That was something she visibly didn't want to answer. For a moment, her eyes fell to Azriel sitting next to Cassian and something inside him stirred.

It wasn't so long since she finally told him that he had no chance with her as she prefered females. He accepted it more calmly than he actually felt and made peace with it. Though, it was hard get over the feelings and hopes he held on for so long. All the pain and longing that tortured him for centuries, was still there. A bit duller than months ago, but still too fresh. He wondered what was so bad about him, what he had done to be undeserving of love. Seeing so many happy couples around him, he wanted nothing more but to have someone who would accept his heart and return the feelings sincerely.

Holding breath, he looked down at his feet and emptied another glass. He didn't want to think about that now.

"I want dare then," Mor announced at last.

"So kiss Cassian," Amren barked before Cassian could open his mouth. Her silver eyes were at Nesta, cold and cruel.

Azriel in disbelief gaped at small female. His mate was literally sitting next to him, yet she dared Mor of all people to kiss him. By the murderous angry gazes two females were exchanging, Azriel could easily guess that they were again at each other's throat because of something that had happened while he was on the mission.

Blaire was eyeing them all in confusion. He felt sorry for her. This definitely wasn't the best first impression. He wouldn't be surprised if she never accepted invitation to dinner again. Feyre seemed to be of the very same opinion. She excused herself and went to the kitchen to prepare desserts, glaring at those four fools.

"Fine," Mor stood up on unsteady legs.

Cassian obviously hadn't noticed the mood in the room and grinning jumped up. Azriel turned away, not wanting to witness the kiss, neither Nesta's reaction. Despite everything, he liked Nesta. She earned his respect and he considered her his good friend. This was a real blow below the belt that she didn't deserve.

Next, Mor spun the bottle. Azriel watched it, his jaw clenched. He wished that the bottle fell off the table and broke into pieces to end this stupid game. Instead, it stopped, pointing to Blaire who nervously winced.

Mor raised a brow at her.

"Truth or dare?" Cassian asked excitedly. He was apparently the only one enjoying this.

"Well," she cleared her throat shyly. "The truth."

Mor grinned drunkenly. The shiver ran down Azriel's spine at the sight, already sensing some really unpleasant question coming.

"How many males have you slept with?"

Azriel froze on the spot. That really wasn't question for a female who just flet from Autumn Court and from the ridiculous rules she had to follow her entire life, and they all knew it very well, including Morrigan.

Blaire paled and then blushed, her soft green eyes wide open.

"You don't have to answer, dear," Rhysand assured her gently. "We all know that giving such questions to guests is inappropriate, right?" He turned his violet gaze to his cousin, the anger radiating from him. Even though he was quiet ever since the game had started, Azriel felt his cold rage rising like a tide with every minute.

"Oh, Rhys, don't spoil the game," Cassian sighed. "You can choose dare instead." He winked at fiercely blushing Blaire. She hesitantly nodded.

Morrigan gritted her teeth. Her drunken gaze jumped from Blaire to Azriel who couldn't take his eyes off of the female, ready to protect her if necessary.

"Kiss him," she pointed at Azriel.

Azriel's eyes shot to his ex long-term love interest in disbelief. It was as eyes-opening situation as a punch to the guts and he couldn't believe he hadn't noticed sooner what kind of person she was in real. How could he fall in love with someone so cruel who played with people and their feelings like with chess pieces? It shocked him so much that he hardly heard when Blaire excused herself and went looking for toilet.

Rhysand waited until she left out of earshot. "What. The. Fuck. Is wrong with all of you today?!"

The room fell silent, no one dared to even breath.

"She's Feyre's friend. What does she think about us now? Did you listen when Feyre warned you that she's from Autumn Court? That she had to run away from her home, so she could start to live anew and on her own terms? That girl has serious trauma. And you?! You really disappointed me today."

"You are right, Rhys," Cassian mumbled, scratching his beard. "Playing this game was really stupid idea. I'm sorry."

"Don't expect me to apologise. I have nothing to be sorry for," Morrigan grunted.

Azriel saw red for a second. He had enough for tonight. "Unbelievable," he growled. "I'm off."

With that he stood up and before anyone could say a word, he left.

Blaire was on verge of crying. She needed time to breath it out.

She really loved Feyre and was so grateful for everything she had done for her ever since Blaire came to this Court. When Feyre invited her to the dinner at her house to meet her family, Blaire was hesitant at first. However, sitting at the table she was glad she accepted the invitation. The dinner was delicious and Feyre's family seemed to be so nice and kind.

When the mysterious and handsome male who was so kind to her at bookstore, appeared on threshold.. well.. She was really excited. He was gloomy and looked kind of dangerous, but he radiated a strange aura of calm and peace that attracted her. He hadn't spoken much during the dinner, but she felt good sitting beside him.

The game evening hadn't started so bad too. It was kind of exciting to watch three males play cards. They were so serious about it that it was funny. Azriel seemed to completely relax during the game and she could secretly watch him. He was so interesting person. She already thought so when they briefly talked in the bookstore and now even more after getting to know him little better.

However, when they started to play the other game, they all changed all of sudden. Kissing male who was mated, was quite unthinkable for Blaire, as well as accepting such kiss. At that moment she wasn't sure what to think about them.

And when they asked her that question.. It was really uncomfortable and she felt as if she did something bad and somehow offended the blonde. The kiss dare was the last straw and she needed to leave.

Blaire was walking down the hallway, completely lost. Feyre showed her direction to the toilet when she arrived, but she was upset now and must have mistaken somewhere along the way. She turned the corner and got yet to another hallway with several doors. She wasn't sure what to do, so she tried the first doors on the left.

The room was dark, but she could make out an outlines of a large bed. She panicked and was about to again close the doors when she noticed shelves full of books. She hesitated. At last, she decided that it couldn't hurt if she took a look. She turned on lamp in the corner of the room and closed the doors.

The room faintly smelled of cedar and night-chilled mist. It was quite pleasant and calming scent. Her eyes wandered over the countless spines of the books, until she found one that caught her attention. It was the book she had bought earlier and now it was waiting for her in the bag at foyer. She couldn't resist and started reading.

She was so immersed in the story that she didn't hear the doors opened and closed.

"That one is good."

Blaire was startled, almost dropping the book. She pivoted and was met with piercing hazel eyes that in the soft light of the lamp looked golden-brown, like warm honey.

"I-I'm sorry.. I was looking for toilet.." she stuttered.

"And instead you found my room," Azriel smirked and one lovely dimple appeared. "What do you say to that?"

She gaped at him in terror. He was so tall that it was intimidating. He was leaning against the frame of door, hands crossed on his broad chest, a few dark strands falling to his eyes. His expression was unreadable.

When she didn't answer, he nodded to the book in her hands. "Do you like it?"

Ashamed she looked down at the book and then back up at him. "Y-yes, it's interesting."

Azriel just smiled and stepped closer. The smell of cedar and night-chilled mist became stronger. Blaire inhaled deeply, completely enchanted. He was too handsome and charming.

Head slightly tilted to the side, Azriel watched her carefully, searching her face. An enormous wings behind him rustled softly. His chest was heaving with quick breaths, full lips lightly parted.

Something cold brushed against her back and hands, snapping her out of the trance. "I-I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gone inside and touched your things. It was really rude of me."

"I don't mind," he chuckled.

His long fingers wrapped around the book, gently touching hers. When she didn't pull away, they travelled to her wrist, thumbs drawing circles over her pulse points. Holding her gaze, he slowly bent down. His hot breath fanned over her face.

Gods, he was so handsome. Blaire's heart was hammering in her chest, her body shivering with pleasure. Combination of his look and personality should be illegal. She was drawn to him like a flower to the sun. At this moment, she would gladly allow him to do to her whatever he wanted. Just him standing so close to her, touching her hands, made her feel more alive than ever. The enchantment changed into sweet pain that grew between her thighs.

"Are we still playing?" he asked with lips mere inches from hers, his voice hoarse.

Blaire blinked once, then twice. She suddenly sobered up. Realizing how much she was leaning into him, pushing him to the wall, she blushed. As if it wasn't enough that she invaded his private bedroom and touched his stuff.

"I'm so sorry," ashamed she ran away, leaving heaving Azriel with book in hand behind.

Blaire seemed to leave the house in haste that night. He didn't know whether she told her something, but when Feyre learnt how Morrigan treated her friend, she was mad. Azriel hoped she would mention her friend or try to bring her over one more time. Though, after what had happened last time, she most likely wouldn't come again.

Azriel couldn't forget that short moment in his room that he shared with Blaire. He was so close to kissing her. Her sweet scent lingered in his bedroom for days and he stayed there until it completely faded away. Then he returned to the House of Wind instantly feeling sorry for his choice. After the game night, everything was messed up and atmosphere in the House was suffocating at best.

Week passed without Blaire's name being mentioned again. Azriel grew restless. He still could feel her soft skin and rapid pulse. And those eyes and smile. He wanted to see her again even if only to apologise for scaring her away. That night he really hoped he could at least kiss her and ask her out. After all, mentioning that stupid game was bad idea. Maybe if he didn't, she wouldn't run from him and things would be different now.

She seemed to be attracted to him, too. No doubt there was a spark between them. He clearly felt it. He needed to meet her again to find out whether the spark could become a flame.

After thinking it over and over again, he decided to visit Feyre in her studio.

It was nice, sunny day and Rainbow was just as vivid as always. A pleasant melody flowed through the street, artists pulled out their easels and painted on the street. The sounds of laughter could be heard from everywhere, children ran among the people on a walk.

Azriel landed in front of Feyre's studio and after looking around for a while, he entered. She immediately looked up from her newest project and smiled.

"Oh, it's you. Everything alright?"

"Yeah, I suppose," he mumbled, not sure how to turn the conversation to the reason of his visit. He had prepared a speech, imagining the whole situation, but now when he was standing in front of her, it didn't seem to be such a brilliant idea as he originally thought. He felt awkward.

"Hmm, Az, I meant to say this sooner," Feyre put down the brush and wiping her hands, she fully turned to him. "I want to thank you for.. the way you treated Blaire before. You were probably the only one who bothered to behave normally and she said that she is glad she could meet you. She seems to like especially the chat about books, you two had, even though I'm not sure when it happened."

Azriel was stunned. Blaire really mentioned him? He'd like to know what exactly she said about him.

"Uhm, that was nothing," he shrugged. "I'm glad I met her, too.."

He felt the heat slowly spreading to his cheeks and turned around, pretending that he admired the paintings on the wall.

Feyre watched him with a small smile. "You like her, right? I noticed it during the dinner."

Azriel froze on the spot.

"No.. What?! I mean, yeah.. No!" he babbled, blushing more and more. He bit on his tongue and took a deep breath. When he calmed down he tried it again. "What I mean is that she is quite interesting and I'd like to talk to her again if I had the chance."

"I see," Feyre chuckled. "You seem to be a bit flustered today. Maybe a cup of tea in some nice cafe would make you feel better."

Azriel pivoted, brows raised. When he saw her expression, he understood.

"Maybe I should give it a try," he smirked. He bid her a goodbye and went out, blending in with the crowd on the street.

There was one lovely cafe at the opposite end of the street. It was in a quite quiet neighbourhood and one of the places Azriel liked to visit from time to time.

As soon as he opened the door, staff greeted him with smile and immediately prepared the tea he usually drank there. He took the cup and looked around. The inside of the cafe was spacious and cosy with tables set far enough apart that he didn't have to pay attention when walking between them. As usual, there were some customers, but it wasn't crowded. One of many reasons he liked this shop.

In the opposite corner he spotted the person he was looking for. Without hesitation he headed to her table.

Blaire was seated on chair facing the window, immersed in the book he recognised right away. The steam rose from the cup placed on the table in front of her, sweet scent of fruit tea surrounding her.

"We meet again," he murmured with genuine smile.

Her green eyes shot up to him, surprised.

"I- Nice to see you again," she blushed and made space for him.

He sat down, noting her progress with the book. "Have you already gotten to the part where he finally tells her the truth?"

She shook her head. "What kind of truth is it?"

"I won't spoil the surprise," he snorted.

"How cruel of you," she sipped from her cup of tea, hiding the blush in steam.

"I hoped to see you again," he watched her carefully. "I wanted to apologise."

"It's strange," she bit on her bottom lip. "I wanted to apologise to you, too. You know.. For invading your privacy and.." She hid her face behind the veil of her long hair.

Azriel reached out and taking her chin between fingers made her look at him. He wanted to see her face properly. "Don't. I quite liked that part."

Her eyes widened.

"Ever since I met you, I can't get you out of my head, Blaire," he purred lowly, watching with pleasure as she shivered and closed her eyes when he said her name. That was exactly the reaction he hoped for. He licked his lips. "There's a place I'd like to show you. Would you go with me?"

She considered his offer for a moment and then nodded. He helped her put her things to the bag and holding her hand led her from the shop. As soon as the narrow alley widened into a street, he picked her up and dashed to the sky.

Blaire couldn't believe what just happened.

After her shameful behaviour and run from his room, she was convinced that Azriel didn't want to even hear about her again. The day she came to terms with the thought that she would probably never meet him again, he appeared in her favourite cafe and came to her table. It was unbelievable.

Hearing him utter her name for the first time in the deep voice of his shattered her soul into pieces, and her heart melted into a puddle. She had no reason to believe him, they basically spoke only very briefly, but she knew he wouldn't hurt her. He wasn't like males of Autumn Court. He didn't treat her like a nuisance, like someone inferior. His calm and quiet nature was like a balm, the promise of peace. That was why she agreed to go with him so easily.

Flying with him was another exciting experience. Despite of keeping her so close, he carried her with respect. He wasn't trying to touch her in any inappropriate way, yet he held her firmly all the time. Being scared of heights, Blaire spent most of it with her face buried in his shoulder. However, his comments on the changing surrounding were too tempting and she dared to look down once or twice.

When they landed he put her down, steadying her until he was sure that she could stand on her own. Blaire looked around. They were in the middle of a forest, no living creature and no buildings in the sight. She swallowed hard, starting to doubt her decision.

Azriel just chuckled, walking down the path. "This way."

She followed him, biting on her bottom lip nervously. "Where are you taking me to?"

"You'll see soon." He seemed to be in quite a good mood. He even started to hum some nice melody lowly.

They walked for few minutes when the trees finally parted and they found themselves on the shore of a mountain lake, surrounded by tall trees and high mountains. A gentle breeze lightly caressed the surface of the otherwise calm lake, creating small waves. The sky above them was clear, the most most beautiful shade of blue with a few fluffy clouds flying high above their heads. The fresh air filled Blaire's lungs while the singing of the birds and rustling of leaves in the treetops caressed her senses.

And in the middle of that stood Azriel with his wings slightly stretched out, tall, powerful and unearthly beautiful. The light breeze was playing with strands of his dark hair and hem of his T-shirt. His face was calm and posture relaxed, his eyes shone like liquid gold. The shadows that followed him on every step, were dancing around his ankles, calling her closer.

Blaire wished she had paper and pencil with her to capture this unique moment.

"Here we are," Azriel smiled brightly. "This is my favourite place. When I feel bad and need to think about things in peace, I like to come here." He looked at her out of the corner of the eye, waiting for her reaction.

However, Blaire was stunned, completely speechless. She could only stand there, admiring the view. Her eyes lingered on small details, committing them to the memory, so she would be able to draw this later.

"You don't like it?" he hid his face, turning away.

Blaire opened mouth, looking for the right words and her lost voice. "I love it. It's so.. perfect."

Azriel breathed out in relief and walking to the lake, he took off his shirt and then even shoes and trousers.

Blaire knew that she shouldn't gaze at him, but she couldn't take her eyes off of him. His body was a masterpiece, showing off even the muscles she didn't know that existed. Dark lines of tattoos swirled around his shoulders, curling across his chest and back, creating complex patterns. She wondered what's the meaning of them.

Meanwhile Azriel plunged into the water and began swimming toward the middle of the lake.

"Why don't you join me?" he called back. "Water isn't so cold. It's refreshing."

Blaire blushed, wrapping arms around her chest.

"I-I don't have a swimwear with me," she called.

Azriel stopped and turned to her, thinking. "You can use my T-shirt if you want. I won't look, I promise."

Blaire looked down at clothes he left on the grass. To be honest, she wanted to swim with him even though she wasn't a good swimmer. It took her only a moment to decide.

"Fine, so.. don't look, please."

He smiled and turned his back to her. She picked up his T-shirt and quickly changed. There were cuts on the back for his wings and overall it was so big that it looked like a dress on her, falling all the way down to her knees.

"Done," she called shyly.

Azriel again turned to her, swimming closer. His eyes little darkened as he took her form in.

"It suits you better than me. You should keep it," one corner of his mouth stretched into one-sided smile. "Come."

Blaire carefully stepped into water and slightly trembled when cool liquid licked her ankles. "It's a bit cold."

"Only at the beginning. Once you dip in and start to move, it's fine."

Slowly she swam closer to him, hardly holding her head above surface.

"I'm not good swimmer," she admitted, when he grabbed her elbows, helping her.

"It's easy. Try to lay down on the water. I'm here, no worry."

Hesitantly, she did as he said, his big warm palms under her back and thighs.

"That's it. And now relax and let yourself be carried away."

"How?"

"Don't think about it much. Just.. let it happen."

Blaire took deep breath and relaxed, clearing her mind. Before she knew it, she was floating in the water.

"See? Easy," Azriel smiled, gently caressing her cheek.

Blaire opened eyes just to find him holding both hands up. She panicked and dipped below the surface for a moment.

"Carefully," he again grabbed her elbows, pulling her closer.

They gazed at each other, their bodies slightly touching under the water.

"Thank you," Blaire breathed out, mesmerized by his dimly shining eyes.

"I did nothing," his cheeks turned pink, his gaze switching between her eyes and mouth.

Hesitantly he pulled her even closer and she welcomed it. Their chests were brushing with every breath, the wet thin fabric creating no barrier between them. Blaire rested her hands on his shoulders, lightly holding on him and his warm palms slid down to her hips. Now there was only an inch between their lips, the tension growing.

"If you don't want it, say something or I.."

"Kiss me already," she whispered out of breath.

His plush lips crashed into hers. Azriel stayed like that for a single heartbeat and then with a small moan he started to move. His kiss was sweet and gentle, but Blaire didn't want him to be gentle. Entwining fingers with his silky dark strands, she lightly pulled on them. A growl vibrated through his chest and he submitted, deepening the kiss. He tugged her to his strong chest and she moaned when their hard and soft parts met. The moment her lips parted, he lashed forward. His tongue slipped into her mouth, exploring and caressing. He kissed her hungrily, his hands sliding up and down her body, caressing and squeezing.

She didn't notice that she was unknowingly pushing him under the water, but he didn't seem to mind it at slightest, not until they both ran out of air. Heaving they emerged, splashing the water all around.

"That.. was interesting," Azriel panted.

"Yeah, very," Blaire agreed still out of breath.

"But maybe it would be better without the water next time."

"Definitely," she agreed and they started to laugh.