#gemstone cufflinks

[paulprestigegems]

DOLAN BULLOCK Sterling Silver Natural Cobalt Blue Sapphire Rectangle Cufflinks 0.40 Cts Vintage - a classy pair! PRICE: 75.00 LINK ↓

[sharkyswaters]

[preferredjewelers]

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[dreamescapeswriting]

Sometimes The Quietest Love Is The Loudest ~ KSM

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅WORD COUNT: 3.7K 

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅GENRE: established relationships, mafia au, arranged marriage, smut, breeding kink, MINORS DNI, thigh riding, make out, angry kiss, breeding, unproected sex - obviously - jealousy

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅PAIRING: Seungmin x Fem!Reader 

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - October 2024

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅MASTERLIST

Things between you and Seungmin were...rocky, to say the least. The two of you rarely got along with one another but you were forced together no matter the feelings you held for another person. You came out of the walk-in wardrobes to find Seungmin standing in front of the large mirror in the shared bedroom you had. Dressed in a sharp black suit as he stood before it, adjusting the cufflinks on his sleeves, his lip caught between his teeth as he struggled to do them alone.

He was always meticulous about his appearance, never one to leave a detail unchecked. The event tonight was important—some gathering of underworld allies - you were sure he'd told you about it but you probably only paid half attention to him. But it was the same thing it always was with Seungmin, a power play. He was expected to win...Seungmin always won.

A soft sound caught his attention forcing him to look up from his cufflinks, and he turned to see you approaching him slowly. Your dress flowed elegantly around you, your expression neutral but not as distant as usual, something that made him feel a little uneasy. Without saying a word, you stepped in front of him and gently reached for his tie, loosening it and then straightening it with deliberate care.

Seungmin stood still. Almost frozen in place as he watched you closely. He wasn't used to this...your touch, your closeness without the usual tension between you. It felt almost alien, but somehow… nice. For the first time since the arranged marriage had been forced upon you both, you weren’t cold or dismissive toward him. You were kind and caring over his suit and he didn't know if he should have checked you for some kind of alien tampering.

"Thanks," he murmured, his voice lower than intended as he searched your face for any clue to this change. It wasn't like the two of you did this thing a lot. Whenever you were around family the caring and kind side of you came out but right now it was just the two of you. Alone.

You glanced up at him briefly, your fingers still lingering on the tie, smoothing it into place, your teeth softly biting your lower lip. The silence between you was no longer filled with awkwardness but something softer, though unspoken.

"No problem," You whispered before finishing off the cufflinks he had previously been struggling with. Staring down at the diamonds which were the gemstone of the month the two of you had been married in. You did your best to ignore the flutter you were feeling in your chest.

This whole thing had started because your parents had decided the two of you MUST marry. That the mafia prince and Princess were going to have perfect babies and bring two crime families together. They hadn't cared that you'd been in love with another, that your heart belonged to somebody else but he wasn't a part of your world...You weren't allowed him.

Seungmin swallowed as he watched you closely, feeling a strange tug inside him. This was unexpected, this brief moment of peace with you... yet he enjoyed it. He craved this from you, this was all he'd ever wanted from the start, something harmonious that you could build a relationship on.

He knew that things between you weren't ideal but he'd wanted to make it so, he wanted to be the one you'd turned to for things and to become someone you could love...or at least stand to be around for longer than you were contractually obligated to be.

Before he could stop himself, the words slipped out, quieter than usual, as though he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer.

"Why can't you be like this with me all the time?" The question hung in the air, filled with vulnerability he never allowed himself to show. For a brief second, he regretted it, he wanted to kick himself for letting the words slip out. His eyes searched yours again, hoping for an answer he knew he couldn’t have. You were in love with someone else. He had always known that. God, you'd screamed it at him the day of your wedding but he wanted you...he wanted you to at least be calm and peaceful with him....Even friends, and no amount of formality, no perfect tie, would change it.

You blinked, caught off guard by the softness in his tone, you hadn't been expecting him to say anything. You opened your mouth as if to say something, but no words came out. But for Seungmin the silence was enough of an answer.

Seungmin’s expression shifted back to the familiar mask he wore in public. His eyes hardened, and the vulnerability vanished, replaced by the careful calculation of a mafia prince who couldn’t afford weakness.

"Never mind," he said, stepping away from you, the distance between you reappearing as quickly as it had faded. He smoothed down his suit jacket, straightened his posture, and glanced at the door.

"Guests are waiting." He grumbled, and without another word, he walked out of the room, leaving you standing there, the tie perfectly straight but the gap between you two still unresolved.

As the door clicked shut behind Seungmin, you stood alone in the quiet room, your fingers lingering in the air where his tie had been just moments ago. You sighed softly, the coolness of the room sinking in as you faced your reflection in the mirror. For so long, everyone around you had assumed you were still in love with him—the one who occupied your heart long before this marriage. And maybe, at one time, you had been. But now? Now things were different.

Your old boyfriend was a memory you couldn’t seem to escape from—the one everyone thought you pined for. And perhaps, in the early days of this forced marriage, you had clung to the idea of him. The idea of an escape from everything...It had been easier, and safer, to focus on what you had lost rather than deal with the reality of what you had gained. But somewhere along the way, without you even realizing it, Seungmin had started to slip into the cracks of your defences.

It wasn’t his words—because there was a rarity between you both. But his actions spoke louder than any of the silence between you. The way he made sure your coffee was brewed just how you liked it every morning, without fail - even when he was busy. How he brought home fresh flowers for no reason at all, sometimes setting them quietly on the dining table as if he didn’t want to make a big deal of it.

He wasn’t expressive with grand gestures or romantic declarations. But every weekend, when he could have easily buried himself in work, Seungmin made time for you. He would set aside the weight of his responsibilities, and his title as mafia prince, and simply… be there. And it wasn’t just about showing up—it was the intentionality of it. He always made sure your birthday was a day off for him, no matter how hectic things got. How he would mark your family’s special days on his calendar and never let work interfere.

These small, quiet acts of consideration had wormed their way into your heart, piece by piece. You couldn’t deny that part of you had grown used to him—maybe even more than that. Sometimes the quietest love is the loudest.

Maybe you weren’t the only one who had grown used to this life that you shared—this marriage between you. Maybe Seungmin felt something, too. You thought back to his question, the vulnerability that had slipped through for just a second. The way his eyes had practically burnt into the side of your head,

"Why can't you be like this with me all the time?"

Maybe, if you were honest with yourself, you didn’t hate the idea of trying. The doorbell went wrecking your mind before you straighten out your dress, ready to go and join your husband and the rest of his guests.

The evening had been a whirlwind of distractions, one after the other, keeping you and Seungmin apart. No matter how hard you tried, someone was always there—another conversation, another handshake, another person demanding his attention and leaving you with nothing. You’d spent the whole night stealing glances at him, your heart tightening each time he turned away, wondering if he even noticed. Wondering if he could feel how much you'd been staring at him all night. All you wanted was a moment alone, a chance to talk—really talk. To air all of it out. To tell him everything you'd been holding back.

When the opportunity finally came, it was almost a relief. The music slowed, and you caught his eye across the room, you knew your parents and guests were going to want to see you together and this was the perfect chance to talk alone with him. Without hesitation, you moved toward him, slipping through the crowd until you were finally by his side. You slid your glass into the waiter's hand and smiled up at Seungmin. He met you with a soft look, one that was reserved only for you in the midst of all the chaos.

"Shall we dance?" You asked, your voice low, intimate, as if the crowd had faded and it was just the two of you. Seungmin was completely shocked but nodded. Smiling more you began by taking his hand as he pulled you onto the dance floor. His touch was firm, and grounding, and the closeness between you felt different tonight. As his hand settled on your waist, pulling you just a bit closer, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of what you were about to say. This was the moment you’d been waiting for all night.

"I’ve been thinking," you started, your voice barely above a whisper as you looked up at him. The lights around you made his eyes look like they had a million stars dancing in them, your heart was racing from how close you were to him and you could barely breathe,

"You've been thinking..." He desperately urged you to continue. He would have had to be a blind man not to have noticed you watching him all night and he wanted to know why.

"Maybe we could—" Before you could finish, a voice cut through the music, freezing you in place. It was a voice you hadn't heard in a while but it still sent the same chills down your spine as it did all those years ago,

"Yn." You stiffened instantly, recognizing the voice behind you. Seungmin’s body tensed beside you, his eyes narrowing as he looked over your shoulder, you could tell by the dark look in his eyes who it was but your heart sank knowing he'd shown up here.

On the night you were finally going to tell Seungmin you wanted to make this work. That you wanted to try again. He was here.

Your old boyfriend - Kai - Malakai Rhodes.

"Please," he begged, stepping closer, his eyes filled with desperation you hadn’t seen in a long time but you stepped back, Seungmin moving with you.

"Just… just give me a moment to talk." He begged.b Seungmin’s grip on your waist tightened, his jaw clenching,

"We were in the middle of something, Yn...Tell me what it was you were thinking of," Seungmin begged, his eyes pleading with yours as you stared back at him, you could feel the heat of Seungmins jealousy radiating off him, though he remained composed. His eyes never left you, watching, waiting, as if daring you to say no.

"Seungmin-" He squeezed you softly and shook his head. Silently begging you not to do this. People were staring in your direction and they all knew who Kai was to you.

"Don't do this, people will talk," he whispered to you... But you couldn’t avoid it. You’d known this moment would come, eventually. You gently pulled away from Seungmin, giving him an apologetic look. His eyes flickered with hurt as he watched you willing to go to someone else but he didn’t stop you.

"I’ll be right back," you whispered, but you could tell by the way his jaw tightened that it didn’t ease the tension between you, standing up you pressed your lips to his cheek softly. Seungmin stood there, rooted in place as he watched you walk away with the man he’d always known was still a shadow in your heart. His chest tightened, anxiety blooming inside him as he watched you two speak. He couldn’t hear the words, but he didn’t need to. The way your ex-boyfriend leaned in close, the way his eyes pleaded with you, stirred a possessiveness in Seungmin that he’d never felt this strongly before. He hated how this man still had the power to pull you away, even for a moment.

Seungmin's fingers flexed at his side, restless, as jealousy churned in his gut. He couldn't hear anything, couldn’t know what was being said. All he could do was stand there, his thoughts spiralling. What if this was the moment you decided to leave? What if you were planning to leave him tonight? Was this you going to leave and make him look like a fool?

The conversation didn’t last long, but for Seungmin, every second dragged out like an eternity. When you finally turned back to him, his pulse quickened. You walked toward him, your expression conflicted as if you were about to explain, to say something that would make it all make sense.

Before you could utter a single word, Seungmin grabbed your wrist, pulling you close with an intensity that left no room for questions. His lips crashed against yours, fierce and wild, as if he needed to remind both of you who you belonged to. It wasn’t soft or gentle—it was desperate, claiming, a kiss that held all the words he didn’t know how to say.

He poured everything into that kiss—the jealousy, the fear, the anger—and you couldn’t help but respond, your hands finding their way to his chest as you melted into him. For a moment, the world faded again, just like on the dance floor, and all that existed was the two of you, tangled in a mess of unspoken emotions.

When he finally pulled back, his breathing ragged, he searched your face for something—an answer, a reassurance, anything. But he didn’t let go of you, his grip still firm, his forehead resting against yours.

"I don’t care what he said," Seungmin muttered, his voice low and possessive.

"You’re mine," he growled out before dragging you into the hall, your lips once again crashing against one another in a heated kiss. Everything the two of you had been holding back came out in this one kiss, your hands pushed into his hair and tugged softly on the strands.

Every kiss was wetter and needier than the one before as you moved your way up to your shared bedroom.

One minute you'd been standing in the hall the next you were pinned to the bedroom wall with his thigh between your legs.

"You're mine."He repeated, biting down softly on your leg and sucking on your exposed skin, and making his way down to your collarbone.

"Seungmin please," You beg, you weren't exactly sure what you were begging for, more kisses, more friction, just more. Your hips moved, grinding down against his thigh as you let out a loud moan of his name, you desperately chased your release as you rubbed your clit on his pants.

"No underwear? I should spank your ass raw." Seungmin whispered in your ear, smirking as you continued to grind down against him enjoying the way you were getting off when he'd barely even started on you yet.

"It ruined the dress," You whined making him chuckle softly as he shifted his leg a little,

"Look how pretty you are when you're needy for me, none of this talking back," He whispered in your ear as you continued to grind down against him,

"Don't stop," You begged, the words sounding more desperate than you had intended them to but you didn't really care. All you cared about was getting close to a release you'd been needing for months.

"Never, princess." He moans in your ear. You continued to grind against him, your release building and building as you rubbed needily and frantically against him.

"Come for me princess," He whispers in your ear, biting down on your ear lobe as your orgasm rips through you.

When you came down from the high you looked at Seungmin who was pointing over at the bed,

"Go. Dress off. Legs spread." He ordered, ripping off his tie all the while he kept his eyes on you.

You hadn't needed to be told twice, you stripped out of the gown and laid on the bed, your legs spread as he smirked down at you. His eyes were on your bare core as he slowly licked his lips,.

"You don't have to do that-"

"have to, no. Want to? Yes." He chuckled as he slowly sank down to his knees in front of you,

"Seungmin-"

"Do you want this pretty pussy eating out, princess?" he cocked his eyebrow at you. He wasn't expecting you to protest at this part but he wouldn't continue unless he had your full consent.

"Yes, but-"

"Do you enjoy being eaten out? Does it make you uncomfortable?" His fingers slowly tailed up your naked thigh sending a shiver through your body as you shook your head,

"What? N-no, but I know some guys don't-"

"Guys who don't eat their girl's cunt and make her cum at least twice before entering her are selfish and I will scrub their names from your memory." He growled before delving in. He surrounded your bud, sucking it into his mouth and making you buck off the bed,

"Jesus-"

"Just Seungmin," He groaned against you. His tongue darts out, tasting your sensitive skin as he continues to eat you out. It felt all-consuming as you cried out his name, not giving a shit about the guests you both had downstairs.

"S-Seungmin!" You cry out as he continues to taste every inch of you. Groaning against your clit, sucking and teasing every inch of you. His hands were over your thighs as he dragged you into his mouth, almost as if he couldn't get close enough. You moan loudly, completely under his control.

"Fuck, Seungmin." You whimpered as you ground your hips down to his face.

"Please let me cum," you begged as you dragged your nails through his hair, he growled getting rougher with you until you came around his tongue, crying his name out louder than the last time. Your body went limp against the mattress and a giant smile took over your face as you giggled looking up at your husband who was now stripping in front of you.

"You know what I'm going to do tonight?" He asks, tapping the head of his cock at your entrance, your eyes on each other as you bit your lip.

"What?"

"I'm fucking a baby into you, that way there's no doubt your mine." Seungmin watched as your cunt clenched around nothing and he chuckled to himself.

"You want that princess?" You nod needily at him as he slowly pushes into you, your moans filling the room as he fills you for the first time ever.

"Y-You're so big." You whimpered, your nails digging into his skin softly as he smirked.

"You're good for a man's ego, princess." He laughed softly before moaning as you clenched tightly around him. Slowly he began to pull out, only to push deeply back into you,

“Fuck, this pussy was made for me,” Seungmin groans breathlessly as he glides his calloused palms over your thighs and pushes your legs to your chest to whisper in your ear.

“I’m gonna fill you up, love. You want that, don’t you? Of course, you do... I’m going to fill you up with my cum and make you carry my fucking kid—” He grunts loudly as he nods his head/

"Seungmin!" You cry out, clenching around him and whimpering as you nod your head at him. Your fingers found their way into his hair and he began to kiss your neck and your collarbones leaving a trail over your chest.

"Scream for me princess, let everyone know that your Husband is the one making you cum for him." He growled at you, his jealousy taking over him as he continued to fuck into you roughly like it was his last day on earth.

“You’re a naughty little princess. I felt you clench around me when I said that,” he chuckles lowly and your cheeks heat up in sheer embarrassment, but you can’t stop the whine that left your throat,

"Wanna be yours forever," you moan out, looking at him so he knew you were being serious about all of this. That he was the only one for you now.

"yeah?" His hips stuttered ever-so-slightly and you could see him trying to figure out if this was the truth, you leant up, wrapping your legs around him tightly as he continued to thrust into your needy and waiting cunt.

"Make me yours, make me carry your babies, Seungmin." You beg, his hips desperately moving as he pounded into you, your pussy clenching around him as you came once again, your mouth falling open in ecstasy. That was all it took for him to fall with you, his cock twitching as he spills deep into you, your legs still locked around his hips as you let out a small whimper.

The two of you lay there, his cock still buried deep inside of you as you stared at the ceiling. You knew he was going to ask about your ex sooner or later and you wanted to tell him.

"So...about Kai." You said breathlessly.

"He was coming to say he was asking my permission to ask someone else to marry him," you finish, your eyes nervously finding Seungmins as he stared down at you,

"And I told him yes because I was falling for you." You whisper, barely finishing the words before Seungmin kissed you needily, his cock twitching inside of you as you giggled.

"Again?" You asked as he growled, kissing your neck.

"I told you, I was going to fuck a baby into you Mrs Kim." He moans, his thrusts sloopy at first but picking up.

You were in for a long and eventful night.

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[aventurineswife]

Hello, hello! How's your day going? Could I request Aventurine with a lover who loves making and gifting him jewelry and accessories?

Chained in Gold

Summary: Aventurine finds himself enamored with a lover who has a unique talent for crafting jewelry and accessories. As you gift him pieces that reflect his personality, Aventurine begins to realize that beneath the high-stakes games and carefully constructed charm, there’s something far more valuable at stake: his heart.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Fluff, Romantic Gestures, Jewelry-Making, Established Relationship, Vulnerable Aventurine, Banter, Tender Moments.

The sun filtered through the massive glass windows of the IPC headquarters, painting the dark wood and polished floors with golden light. Aventurine sat at his desk, lounging as if the towering pile of investment documents before him was no more stressful than a light breeze. His eyes scanned over a datapad, but his mind was elsewhere.

Specifically, it was on you.

You had shown up this morning in his office as you always did, bearing a little box wrapped in shimmering paper. Inside was a bracelet: delicate chains of gold intertwined with tiny gemstone chips that sparkled like stars. You had said it reminded you of him—his shine, his brilliance, his ability to make even chaos look beautiful.

And now that bracelet sat snugly on his wrist, hidden beneath the cuff of his blazer sleeve. No one would know it was there, but Aventurine could feel its weight.

The thought of you crafting it made his chest ache with an emotion he often buried under charm and strategy. It was vulnerability—a sensation far more dangerous than any bet he had ever placed.

That evening, you sat cross-legged in your little workspace, a tray of tools and half-finished designs spread out around you. Aventurine had slipped away from his work early and stood quietly in the doorway, watching as your fingers deftly threaded silver wire through a small emerald bead.

"Do you ever rest?" His smooth voice broke the silence, making you jump slightly.

You looked up, smiling as you placed the half-finished earring on the table. "Rest is overrated when inspiration strikes. Besides, I have a certain someone who keeps my creativity alive."

He chuckled, stepping into the room and inspecting the scattered pieces. The light glinted off the glasses perched on his nose, their rose-tinted lenses casting a faint glow over his cheekbones.

"You spoil me," he said, picking up a necklace draped with charms shaped like playing cards. "This one’s new, isn’t it? A touch of luck for your favorite gambler?"

"Luck and love," you teased, standing to face him. "But I don’t think you need the former when you’ve got the latter."

The words caught him off guard, his usual quick-witted responses faltering. You were one of the few who could do that—strip him of his carefully constructed layers and make him feel seen. He reached out, his gloved fingers brushing a stray hair from your face.

"You make me reckless," he murmured, his smile softer than usual. "And I think I like it."

A week later, Aventurine sat across from you at a bustling café. The world outside was cold and dreary, but here, the warmth from the drinks and the glow of your presence made it feel like summer.

You handed him another little box, your grin playful. "Go on, open it."

Inside was a set of cufflinks shaped like tiny roulette wheels. The craftsmanship was exquisite, the enamel shimmering in shades of black and red. He held one up, his lips quirking into a smile.

"Let me guess," he said, "you’re trying to rig my odds?"

"Only in your favor." you replied.

He leaned back, twirling one cufflink between his fingers. "You’re dangerous, you know. Giving me trinkets like this—it’s like you’re branding me as yours."

"Good." you shot back, sipping your drink with a wink.

For a moment, he said nothing, his gaze steady and intense. Then he reached across the table, his gloved hand covering yours.

"I’ve lived my life on the edge of losing everything," he said quietly. "But you... you make me think there’s something worth keeping."

Your cheeks flushed at the rare sincerity in his voice. "Then hold onto me." you whispered.

He didn’t need to say anything more. The look in his eyes—the same daring, confident glint he wore in the heat of high-stakes deals—said it all. Aventurine wasn’t a man to gamble on something unless he believed he could win. And with you by his side, he felt invincible.

[ghoulsbounty]

Can I request baby billy maybe reader Is a Virgin and he has plenty of skills he will help teach his innocent girl ?

Hidden Sins

Uncle Baby Billy Freeman x Fem!Reader

Warnings: smut (18+), oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, loss of virginity, p in v, fingering, dirty talk, corruption kink, slight cum play, innocent reader, takes place in a church (it used to be a sears, okay), description of a religious service, talk of religious beliefs/upbringing, manipulation, possessiveness, idolisation.

Word Count: 7.3K

A/N: I joined these two requests, I hope that's okay! I love writing for Baby Billy, he just oozes charm but has that slight edge of manipulation 🥵 Thank you for the kind words on A Fall From Grace, anon! I’d love to know what you all think to this, and feel free to send me more requests 💌

As the doors of the newest Gemstone Prayer Centre opened on Sunday morning, the congregation trickled in. There was a gentle murmur of voices as families, couples, and individuals made their way to their seats. The set lights created colourful patterns on the floor as they streamed through imitation stained-glass windows, giving a warm and inviting glow to the sanctuary, which was a recently renovated Sears in Locust Grove’s Eastland mall.

There was a comforting rhythm to the rituals performed as people settled into their seats. Some bowed their heads in silent prayer, while others leafed through their hymnals or exchanged hushed conversations with their neighbours. Children, dressed in their Sunday outfits, fidgeted beside their parents, their impatience to be let free into the mall barely contained. The musicians, positioned near the front, tuned their instruments and chatted quietly among themselves, their voices blending in harmonious laughter.

The keyboardist played a soft prelude, the gentle notes filling the space and creating an atmosphere of reverence and anticipation. Conversations gradually quieted as the music swelled, drawing the congregation’s attention towards the front of the church. The choir stood, their faces reflecting a mixture of concentration and serene joy as they prepared to lead the opening number, a soulful blend of rock and country.

At the pulpit, Baby Billy Freeman took his place, his persona commanding yet approachable. He adjusted the microphone, his warm hazel eyes scanning the room, acknowledging familiar faces with a nod and a smile. As the last notes of the prelude faded, a hush fell over the sanctuary. He cleared his throat, his melodic voice resonating with warmth and authority as he welcomed everyone to the service, setting the tone for the morning’s worship.

“Good morning, brothers and sisters,” he began, rich and melodious, filling the space with ease. “It is a blessing to see so many familiar faces, and I extend a heartfelt welcome to those who are visiting us for the first time. We gather here today, not just as individuals, but as a community of faith, bound by the love and grace of our Lord.”

Calls of “Amen” rang out through the room as he stepped away from the pulpit, moving to the front of the stage with a graceful confidence that commanded attention. He began weaving a story, his voice rising and falling with the rhythm of his words. You found yourself entranced, unable to take your eyes off his tall, lean frame. He oozed magnetic charm, from the way he adjusted the cufflinks on his impeccably tailored suit to the slick, groomed hair that crowned his head. This was a pastor who clearly appreciated the finer things in life, and it showed in every deliberate movement he made.

His story unfolded with the elegance of a master storyteller, each word chosen with care, each pause perfectly timed to draw the crowd deeper into his narrative. The light caught the fabric of his suit just right, highlighting its quality and fit, and you couldn’t help but admire the attention to detail in his appearance. It was evident that Baby Billy Freeman understood the power of presentation, using it to enhance the impact of his message, much like the Gemstone family did.

As he spoke, his eyes scanned the crowd, ensuring each person experienced a sense of direct connection as he addressed them. His hands moved gracefully, emphasizing points with a natural ease that came from years of practice and a deep understanding of his craft. The way he stood, the way he gestured, even the way he smiled—all of it contributed to the aura of a man who was not only confident in his message but also in his place at the front of the room.

When his eyes settled on you, it appeared time itself slowed. His gaze lingered, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he took you in, assessing you with a knowing look. The intensity of his eyes sent a jolt through you, igniting a heat that rocketed to your cheeks under his watchful scrutiny. Your fingers moved subconsciously to smooth the pleats of your dress over your lap, a nervous attempt to steady yourself against the flurry of emotions his intense stare provoked.

In that moment, it was as if the world had shrunk to just the two of you. The sanctuary, its audience and ambient murmurs, faded into the background, leaving only the charged connection between you and Baby Billy. His eyes, so penetrating and vivid, held you captive, conveying a silent message that was both thrilling and unnerving.

His smirk deepened, a small but deliberate acknowledgment of the influence he had on you. You felt exposed, as though he could see right through the façade of composure you tried to maintain. The room felt warmer, the air thicker, every sense heightened by the charged interaction. Your heart raced, and your breaths came quicker, shallow and uneven, as you struggled to regain control.

The folds of your dress became a focus for your hands, fingers trembling as they smoothed and re-smoothed the fabric in a futile attempt to calm your nerves. Nothing could lessen the impact of his gaze. His sermon and presence made you feel singled out and significant, as if he intended them solely for you.

His eyes moved on, continuing to scan his flock, but the spell he had cast remained. You were left feeling flustered, your cheeks still flushed, and an unfamiliar yet exhilarating sense of longing settling in your chest. The rest of the room came back into focus, the collective presence of the congregation reasserting itself, but the lasting effect of his stare lingered. You knew that something had shifted within you, a spark ignited by the magnetic pull of Baby Billy Freeman’s attention, leaving you both eager and apprehensive about the next encounter.

The moment came sooner than you expected when Judy Gemstone grabbed your hand and marched you toward the backroom after the service, her heels clipping briskly on the tiled floor as you hurried to keep up. Suspense and lingering incense from the church filled the air, adding a heady sense of urgency to Judy’s determined stride.

You had been friends with Judy long enough to recognize the signs—her set jaw, the tenacious glint in her eyes, and the way she moved with single-minded purpose. Judy was on a mission, and right now, that mission was to secure the coveted position of the lead vocalist of her uncle’s church. Almost tangibly, her passion fuelled her determination to prove her brothers wrong and show her father she could uphold the Gemstone reputation.

Like the rest of the Gemstones, Judy’s determination was a force of nature. Her drive to impress her family was relentless, and it often swept you up in its wake. You had long accepted your role as her loyal sidekick, accompanying her on various ventures and ambitions. Today was no different. She dragged you into the backroom of the church, her arm linked tightly through yours. Memories of similar situations flooded your mind, each one of her ideas more hare-brained than the last.

The backroom, a repurposed Sears storage room, was a hive of activity, with band members chatting animatedly and church staff tidying up after the service. The noise and movement seemed to part like the Red Sea before Judy, her appearance commanding immediate attention. You stayed close, your heart fluttering at the prospect of finally meeting Baby Billy Freeman.

The service wasn’t the first occasion you had laid eyes on him, but it was the first time you had done so in person. Your mother admired Amy-Leigh Gemstone for a long time. They became close friends, which likely led to your introduction into Judy’s social circle. She had keenly tracked Amy-Leigh’s ascent to fame, along with her brother, accumulating their albums and any related merchandise available.

Your family home was practically a museum dedicated to the siblings. Vivid posters of Baby Billy decorated the walls, providing a stark contrast to the otherwise subdued décor. Shelves brimmed with collectibles ranging from signed photographs to rare figurines, each item echoing your mother’s deep appreciation for the famed clogging pair. Items adorned with Baby Billy’s image, from coffee mugs to decorative pillows, filled the space, turning it into a veritable shrine.

After your own mother passed away, Amy-Leigh became like a second mother to you, and her eventual passing left a profound void in your life. The Gemstones embraced you, providing a modest home within their compound and a job assisting with their ministry. The day Eli announced Baby Billy’s appointment as head pastor of their new centre, you could hardly believe it. Years of fawning over the man on the poster, and finally you were going to be within proximity of him.

Judy’s heels clicked with authority as she approached the corner where her uncle stood, surrounded by a small group of admirers. His charismatic aura was unmistakable, even in this more casual setting. He was in the midst of a conversation, his laughter rich and inviting, but it cut off smoothly as he noticed Judy’s determined approach.

“Uncle Baby Billy,” Judy called out, her voice clear over the din. “We need to talk.”

He turned towards her, his eyes momentarily flicking to you, a spark of recognition lighting up his features. His smile broadened, that familiar smirk playing at the edges of his lips. Your pulse quickened as his gaze held yours for a beat longer than seemed necessary before he turned his full attention to Judy.

“Judy, my favourite niece,” he greeted, his voice warm and welcoming, though his eyes still held a mischievous glint. “What brings you here?”

Judy didn’t waste a moment. She launched into her pitch with the fervour of someone who had rehearsed every word, every inflection. She spoke of her vocal talents, her dedication to the church, and her deep desire to serve in a greater capacity. Her words were passionate and persuasive, painting a vivid picture of her as the ideal candidate for the lead vocalist role. All true for the moment, but her attentions were often fleeting.

As Judy presented her case, you couldn’t help but notice how Baby Billy listened intently. Yet, every so often, his eyes would dart back to you, a silent, lingering glance that made your skin heat. You busied yourself by nodding along to your friend’s speech, trying to appear composed despite the tumult of emotions within you.

Judy concluded her pitch with a confident smile. “So, Baby Billy, what do you say? Give me the chance to prove myself.”

Baby Billy leaned back, his expression thoughtful and appraising as he considered her request. His eyes flicked between Judy and you, a smile spreading across his face. “Well, Judy, you certainly make a compelling case,” he said, his tone measured. Then, his gaze settled on you, and his smile took on a warmer, more personal touch. “What about you, darlin’? Do you think my niece has the pipes to pull it off?”

You felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand under his attention, the depth of his gaze making your heart race. You noticed every detail—the slight arch of his brow, the glint of curiosity in his eyes, and the expectant look on Judy’s face. Your mind whirled, searching for the right words, knowing that this moment was crucial for your friend.

Clearing your throat, you straightened up, wrangling your fingers out of nervous habit. “Absolutely, Pastor Freeman,” you began, your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach. “Judy has an incredible voice and a passion for music, just like her mama.” A small, white lie. You would pray later.

Baby Billy smiled, his eyes never leaving yours as he seemed to weigh your words. The connection between you felt almost tangible, a silent communication that left you both exhilarated and unnerved. He nodded, his gaze shifting back to Judy.

“Well, it sounds like you’ve got quite the endorsement, Judy,” he said, his tone approving. “Let’s see what you’ve got. How about a little audition, just so’s its fair? Don’t want ol’ Baby Billy being accused of playing favourites, now.”

Judy beamed with excitement, her eyes sparkling with a readiness that lit up the room. “I’m ready, Uncle Baby Billy! I’ll blow the roof off this place,” she declared, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Just tell me where you want me!”

“Hold on there, speed racer,” he chuckled, raising a hand to temper her enthusiasm. “There’s a bit of preparation that needs to be done first.” He gestured toward a group of staff members who were exiting the backroom to continue the clean-up in the centre. “Why don’t you help tidy up while the band gets themselves ready on stage?” he suggested, handing her a mop from the trolley behind him with a playful smile.

Judy’s face fell for the briefest moment, a flicker of disappointment crossing her features. “Uh, no fuckin’ way,” she protested, holding the mop out to you. You took it from her, feeling the rough handle in your grip. “I’m the star, not the help.”

Baby Billy exhaled and caressed his forehead with his thumb as he glanced at her. “Now, Judy, we must exhibit grace in all our actions,” he murmured, retrieving the mop from your grasp and placing it in her hands. His fingertips grazed yours, sending a shock wave of energy through your nerves. “Amy-Leigh and I, we began by mopping the floors of the church halls where we would perform each Sunday.”

Judy looked down at the mop in her hands, her defiance wavering as she absorbed his words. “Those were humble beginnings,” he continued, his voice filled with a nostalgic warmth. “But it taught us the value of hard work and humility. We learned to appreciate every step of our journey, no matter how insignificant it seemed.”

Judy sighed, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. “Alright, Baby Billy,” she muttered, reluctantly accepting her fate. “But you owe me one for this.” She turned to you, jutting her head towards the door. “Let’s go.”

Baby Billy chuckled, a soft, reassuring sound that seemed to lighten the atmosphere. “Hold on a minute,” he patted Judy’s shoulder gently, his touch almost fatherly. His gaze then shifted to you, his eyes twinkling with both mischief and sincerity. “I have a different job for your friend here,” he said, his voice laden with a sense of importance. He turned fully towards you, his smile warm and inviting. “If you’ll accept.”

You felt the weight of his words, the air thick with anticipation as Judy’s eyes fell on you. Baby Billy’s influence was commanding. It made you feel both honoured and nervous.

You nodded, your voice barely audible, and uttered, “I’ll help.”

“Alright,” he grinned, slapping his hands together with enthusiasm. He instructed the band and the other employees to return to the main area as he carefully led Judy to the exit. “Make sure you give it a thorough cleaning, Judy. The Lord is always watchin’,” he remarked, nudging her through the door and shutting it on her objections.

Your throat dried as you watched him twist the lock, producing a thunderous click that reverberated throughout the silent room. The sound seemed to echo endlessly, amplifying the tension that had been steadily building. He redirected his attention to you, his expression warm and inviting, a reassuring smile playing on his lips. Yet, there was a glint of something darker in his eyes, a flicker of intent that sent a shiver down your spine.

“She’s got a lot of spirit, doesn’t she?” he said, his tone light as he stalked towards you. You nodded, feeling a lump form in your throat under his potent stare. “Always been so desperate to prove herself, our sweet Judy,” he continued. His eyes didn’t leave yours. He stopped just a step away from you. “What about you?” he asked, his voice dropping to a soft, almost tender whisper.

As you swallowed hard, the severity of his question hit you. The room felt suffocating as you struggled to calm your breathing. His eyes bore into yours, searching for something deeper, and you found it hard to think straight under his watch.

“What about me?” you gulped, your voice hardly steady.

He stepped closer, and instinctively, you took a step back. Your back hit the edge of the vanity, causing various lotions and potions to topple over, clattering onto the floor. Your fingers grasped at the table, the cool wood grounding you as you looked up into Baby Billy’s predatory gaze.

His eyes, fierce and unyielding, locked onto yours, making your heart pound against your chest. He was so close that you could feel the raw magnetism seeping from him, leaving you feeling both vulnerable and electrified.

“Are you desperate to prove yourself?” he asked, his finger lightly grazing your chin. He tilted it upwards, leaving you no choice but to look directly at him. The touch of his fingertip sent a pulse of arousal through you, making your pussy thrum. You squeezed your thighs together to ease the ache between them. His gaze was unrelenting, piercing through your defences and searching for the truth hidden within you.

“I-I don’t know,” you stammered, your voice breaking. It wasn’t true. Deep inside, you felt a magnetic pull toward the older man standing before you, a profound need to please him. You’d fantasized about this moment countless times over the years, your fingers teasing your most sensitive spots as you pictured him. You had writhed against your mattress, biting your lip to stifle his name from escaping them in a heated whisper. You’d wanted him for so many years.

“Don’t be shy now,” he said, a smirk tugging at his lips. His eyes glinted with amusement and something primal. “You certainly weren’t when you were giving me those eyes during the service.” His voice dripped with a teasing tone, each word deliberately slow, as if savouring the memory.

His words sent a flush of heat through your cheeks and you tried to look away, but his finger held your chin in place, keeping your gaze locked with his. You could feel the warmth radiating from his body, his presence overwhelming. The room seemed to shrink around you, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken tension and desire as you looked up at him, transfixed.

His thumb brushed lightly across your jaw, sending shivers down your spine. The scent of his cologne filled your senses, making it hard to think clearly. His eyes, a captivating blend of mischief and command, searched yours for any sign of resistance, but all he found was the raw vulnerability you tried to hide.

“You don’t have to hide from me,” he uttered, his voice a velvety whisper that seemed to wrap around you. “I see you, all of you.” The sincerity in his tone made your heart clench, any defiance melting away under the heat of his gaze.

He leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over your lips, teasing and tempting. The closeness was intoxicating, every nerve in your body alert to his presence. You could feel the strength in his grip, the subtle dominance that made you weak with craving. The atmosphere crackled with electricity, the promise of what could happen hanging heavily in the air.

“I saw the way you looked at me,” he continued, his voice low and intimate. “Like you were daring me to come over and do something about it.” His eyes smouldered with intent, and the smirk on his lips grew more pronounced. The weight of his gaze was almost too heavy to withstand, filled with challenge and promise that made your pulse quicken.

You struggled to react to his words, a haze of lust clouding your mind as he leaned in closer. The mixture of authority and need in his eyes was utterly mesmerizing, making it impossible to look away. Your entire being, every fibre in your body was alive with excitement.

“Tell me,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. “Do you want me to do something about it?” His question hung in the air, the weight of it pressing down on you as you struggled to find your voice.

Another sharp intake, the proximity and the raw emotion in his voice, leaving you vulnerable. “Yes,” you whispered, the admission sending a thrill through you.

A satisfied smile curved his lips as he pressed a soft, chaste kiss to your mouth. “Good,” he whispered back, his voice low and commanding. “Clothes off, angel.”

His words sent a shiver of anticipation through you, and you hesitantly glanced toward the door. Sensing your distraction, he gently tilted your chin back toward him, his eyes locking onto yours with a determined gaze.

“Don’t you worry about her,” he assured, his voice soft yet assertive, drawing your attention back to the moment. “You focus on me.”

“But you said that the Lord is always watching,” you reminded him, echoing the words he had spoken to Judy just moments before.

Raised in a devout Christian household, you had lived and worked with the Gemstones, always striving to be the virtuous, Christian woman your mother wanted you to be. A part of you knew that this was sinful, felt wrong, like a lamb being led to slaughter. Yet a larger part of you—the part that felt a fire ignited within, burning and aching for more of his touch—knew that your words were a hollow attempt to save face before you gave in.

He smiled, running his hands up and down your arms in a soothing gesture. “The Lord and I, we have a deal,” he said, his voice calm and reassuring. “Ain’t no one’s eyes on you but mine.”

His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, both comforting and thrilling. Taking a step forward, his hand made contact with your cheek, his thumb softly caressing your skin. “I bet you’ve tried so hard to be the good girl, to live up to everyone’s expectations,” he murmured. “But what about your own needs? What about what you want, hmm?”

Your heart pounded as his words took hold, resonating within you. The years of restraint, the hidden fantasies, all converged at this single moment. “I... I want this,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I’ve never been with a man before.”

His smile widened, a mix of triumph and tenderness. “Oh darlin’, I know that. I’ll be gentle,” he said, his voice a low, seductive murmur. His hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck, drawing you closer until your lips were almost touching. “Let me show you what it means to truly surrender.”

The last barrier within you crumbled, and with a shuddering breath, you closed the gap, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was both fervent and tender. You sighed into his mouth as his tongue licked against your own; the sensation sending waves of pleasure through you. You felt consumed by him. It was as if all your reservations had melted away, leaving only a deep, aching need for his touch. His hands roamed your body with a possessive tenderness, and you knew there was no turning back.

He released you, gave you an encouraging smile as his eyes flickered over your body. You hesitantly undressed, your fingers fumbling with the buttons and fabric. The room seemed to grow warmer with each piece of clothing that fell away, leaving your skin exposed to the cool air. His expression was a mix of appreciation and yearning, his eyes darkening with every inch of you revealed.

“That’s it,” he said when you were bare before him. He stepped closer, his fingers tracing a path down your chest, over the swell of your breast. The touch was exhilarating, sending waves of sensation through your body. “Beautiful,” he murmured, his eyes roaming over you with undisguised admiration. “A sight to behold.”

His hands moved to your hips, pulling you closer until your bodies pressed together. The feel of the rich fabric of his suit against your skin gave you goosebumps, and he slowly traced kisses down the expanse of your neck, over your collarbone, until he reached your breasts. He took one hardened nipple into his mouth, enclosing his lips around it as you gasped.

You grabbed hold of his shoulders for support as your legs weakened from the fiery touch of his tongue. His mouth worked skilfully, alternating between gentle sucking and flicking, setting your nerves on fire. His other hand caressed your side, his touch both reassuring and tantalizing.

“You’re so sensitive,” he mumbled into you, his voice thick with want. His hand moved to your other breast, his thumb brushing over the nipple, eliciting another gasp from you. He switched his attention, giving your other nipple the same devoted attention, his mouth and hand working in perfect harmony.

Your body responded to his touch, arching into him as the pleasure built. The contrast of the soft fabric of his suit and the firmness of his body against your bare skin heightened every sensation. You could sense the power in his shoulders under your grip, grounding you as he continued his exploration.

He left your nipple with a suctioned pop, lifting you until you perched on the vanity table. His mouth was back on you, kisses trailing lower over your breasts, down your stomach as his hands guided you to lean against the mirror. He knelt between your legs, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. His fingers grazed your thighs as he paused. Looking up at you, a devious grin spreading across his lips.

“Wouldn’t deny an old man a taste, would you?” he asked, low and teasing as he parted your legs wider.

You held back a moan, the longing building as his hands caressed your thighs, spreading them apart. The cool surface of the mirror against your back contrasted with the heat of his breath on your skin, making every feeling more intense. His eyes never left yours, the connection between you pulsating.

“No,” you whispered, your voice trembling with desire. “I wouldn’t.”

His smile widened, a look of triumph and hunger in his eyes. “Good girl,” he murmured, his hands sliding round to grip your thighs firmly, your mind reeling from his praise.

He leaned in, his mouth descending to your core, and you mewled his name as the flat of his tongue dragged through your wet slit. He moved skilfully, exploring every inch of you, his hands holding you open as he flicked and swirled his tongue over your sensitive flesh. When his lips wrapped around your clit and he began sucking gently on the bundle of nerves, you couldn’t suppress the whine that escaped your lips.

One of your hands left the vanity, slipped into his perfect hair, tugging and pulling him closer, desperate to feel more of the intense, foreign sensation. He groaned in response; the vibration adding another layer of pleasure as he continued his ministrations, his tongue dancing over your most sensitive spots with precision and care.

Your hips bucked against him when you felt his tongue dipping into your tight hole. He laughed, his grip on your thighs tightening as he held you to the table and fucked your cunt with his tongue. His strong nose brushed against your sensitive clit, and you cried out, fighting against his hold to grind against him, desperate for more friction.

“Baby Billy, it feels s-so good,” you moaned, your voice trembling with pleasure.

With his finger prodding at your entrance, your grip on his hair tightened and your back arched, while his lips encased your clit again, sucking with fervour as you adjusted to the stretch of his finger.

As he stared at you greedily, he pulled back to witness his finger sliding into you, wet with your juices. “Oh, you sweet thing,” he cooed, his voice dripping with lust, adding to the growing tightness of the coil within you. Your eyes widened as you felt another finger prod experimentally at your hole, swirling through your arousal before pushing in to join the first. You gasped at the stretch, then broke into a cry when he curled them against you, hitting a spot that had your vision spotting.

With precision, he twisted and thrust his fingers, never taking his eyes off your face as he watched your reactions. “That’s it,” he murmured, his voice a mix of encouragement and dominance. “Let me see how good it feels.”

Your pleasure built to an almost unbearable peak. His fingers moved faster, curling and stroking the sensitive spot inside you with expert skill as the rings that adorned them stretched you deliciously, the chill of them a shock against your dripping heat. The wet sounds of your arousal and your increasingly frantic moans echoed throughout the room.

“Please,” you begged, your voice breaking. “Don’t stop.”

He smirked, relishing the impact he had on you, and the sight of him so dishevelled—hair unkempt and face glistening from your juices—had you grasping at him, pulling him up toward you for another heated kiss. You rocked your hips harder as he continued to fuck his fingers into you, the taste of yourself on his lips adding to the sinful pleasure.

His mouth swallowed your moans, the kiss deep and hungry, your tongues tangling as you revelled in the shared intensity. His fingers moved relentlessly, curling and thrusting with expert precision, hitting that perfect spot inside you over and over as he thumbed your clit.

The room seemed to spin as the pleasure built, your body tightening around his fingers. His free hand roamed your body, caressing and gripping your curves, adding to the sensation of overload. Every touch, every thrust, pushed you towards the brink.

“You like this, don’t you?” he murmured against your lips. “Feel how wet you are, letting Baby Billy do such unholy things to you.”

You nodded, unable to form coherent words, your breath coming in ragged gasps. The rhythm of his fingers was driving you wild, the coil inside you tightening to the breaking point.

A choked sob escaped you as your muscles clenched around his fingers, your body convulsing with pleasure as the tension finally broke. He held you through it, fingers never stopping their assault, drawing out every shudder and gasp. You slowly came back down, eyes bleary and body quivering around him. He looked down at the mess between your thighs where his fingers were slowly retracting from your cunt. His eyes shone with a satisfied gleam.

“That��s a good girl,” he murmured, his voice filled with admiration. His fingers glistened with your arousal as he brought them to his lips, tasting you once more with a low, appreciative moan. “You’re nice and ready for me now,” he grinned, pushing between your legs to grind his clothed arousal against you.

He groaned, his hands gripping your hips, guiding you to move against him. “Feel that?” he asked, his voice a low growl. “That’s what you’ve done to me.” His eyes locked on yours. The intensity in them makes even more heat pool between your thighs.

The friction of his hard length against your slick folds sent shivers through your body, your hips rocking against him to seek more. His grip tightened, controlling your movements as he pressed harder against you, the fabric of his pants only heightening the sensation.

“You want this, don’t you?” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. “Tell me how much you want it now.”

You reacted to his command, a moan escaping your lips as you ground against him with more urgency. “I want it,” you uttered, your voice quivering with longing. “Please, Baby Billy. I need you.”

His grin widened, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes as he watched you writhe against him. “Oh angel,” he sighed, his voice rough with lust. “You’re gonna get exactly what you need.”

He pulled back just enough to unzip his pants, freeing his aching cock. The sight made your mouth water—thick and long, with a slight curve and beads of pre-cum glistening on his swollen, red tip. He stroked himself, spreading the slickness over his length, and you watched, mesmerized. A sudden curiosity flooded you, imagining the weight and taste of him on your tongue.

“See something you like?“ he teased, his voice a sultry, enticing rumble. His eyes clouded with desire as he watched your reaction, enjoying the effect he had on you. He stepped closer, his hand still working his shaft slowly, as if to give you a show. His eyes flicked to the door, then back to you, his expression deep in thought. “Ain’t enough time for that now, but you best believe I’ll be puttin’ that mouth to good use next time.”

Before you had time to contemplate his words, Baby Billy grabbed at your thighs, wrapping them around his waist as he positioned himself at your entrance. The weeping head of his cock teased through your slick folds, sending shivers up your spine. His eyes snapped to yours when he heard the whimper fall from your lips, an almost sadistic grin spreading across his face.

Whispering softly, he brushed his lips teasingly against yours, and said, “Once I’m finished with you, you’ll belong to me, understand?”

With a slow, deliberate thrust, he entered you. The stretch was an exquisite blend of pleasure and pain, making your vision blur and chest heave as you clung to him. Driven wild by the sensation of your tight, wet heat, he let out a guttural moan as he pushed himself deeper.

“Good Lord, you feel so fuckin’ good,” he groaned, his voice thick with passion. His firm hands held onto your hips tightly, bringing you closer as he filled you entirely. The overwhelming force of the moment left you breathless, your body trembling with each inch he claimed.

He paused for a moment, letting you adjust to the fullness, his eyes hardened with possessiveness as they locked onto yours. “Look at you,” he murmured. “Made just for me.”

His words made you keen, your mind empty except for the thought of Baby Billy and his cock consuming you. Pleas tumbled from your lips, urging him to move, begging him to fill you, and he groaned as he snapped his hips, setting a slow and deliberate pace so that you could feel every ridge of his cock as he moved within you.

“That’s it,” he groaned, his eyes fluttering shut briefly at the tightness of you around him, fingers digging into your hips as he fucked into you. “Take all of me. I know you can.”

As the sparks of pain subsided, overwhelming surges of pleasure took over. The vanity and mirror slammed loudly against the wall as he rocked your hips to meet his, matching his rhythm perfectly. You were so absorbed in him you didn’t care about the door just a few feet away, separating your friend — his kin — from possibly hearing the illicit act you were engaged in.

With your back arching into him, you pleaded for more, as his lips wrapped around your nipple again, eliciting a desperate whine from you. “Faster, please.”

With a growl, he responded, grazing your sensitive bud with his teeth, causing you to sharply inhale. His muffled curse vibrated against your skin as he picked up the pace, pounding into you with deep, powerful strokes that reached new depths, pushing you closer to the edge. Your nails dug into his shoulders, crinkling the fabric of his expensive suit.

“I knew you weren’t as innocent as you seemed,” he mumbled against your skin, his voice dripping with raw desire. “Can’t get enough of Baby Billy, can you?”

His breath was hot and heavy against your chest, each word making your spine tingle. His grip on your hips tightened, pulling you closer as he thrust deeper, the intensity of his movements mirroring the hunger in his voice.

“It’s like music to my ears, hearing you beg,” he murmured, delivering a final flick of his tongue over your nipple before straightening to meet your gaze. “My new favourite song.”

The sincerity in his eyes made your heart race even faster, the connection between you electrifying. He held your gaze with an intensity that left you breathless, his hips never faltering in their relentless rhythm. Every thrust, every touch, was a symphony of pleasure that built and built, pushing you both closer to the edge.

As you teetered on the brink of another orgasm, your breaths came in ragged gasps, and your muscles spasmed. One of Baby Billy’s hands left your thighs, snaking between you to trace wet circles over your swollen clit. You bucked into his hand, his touch sending jolts of pleasure through your body, as he looked down at you with pride.

“That’s it. Sing for me, angel,” he commanded.

As your body convulsed around him, a broken cry ripped from your throat. Your thighs shook and you gripped him tighter, riding out your earth-shattering ecstasy, every muscle tightening as you clutched desperately at him. He watched you with a primal hunger, his eyes dark and filled with greed, captivated by the sight of you falling apart on his cock.

Your walls clenched rhythmically around him, drawing a gasping moan from his lips. The sensation was too much for him to handle, and his thrusts became sloppy and erratic, each movement driven by pure instinct. His hands gripped your hips with bruising force, trying to maintain some semblance of control as the pleasure overwhelmed him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his voice heavy with need. “You got me feelin’ some kind of way, angel. Something wicked.”

His words had you spiralling, your orgasm continuing to crash over you like a tidal wave. Your garbled cry cut short as he captured your lips with his and you moaned into his mouth, riding out the rest of your climax with desperate ruts of your hips, clinging to him for dear life.

His kiss was deep and consuming, his tongue exploring your mouth as if he couldn’t get enough of you. He held you tight, grounding you both as he bucked at a frenzied pace, chasing his own release. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, the faltering rhythm of his thrusts echoing in the heated air. Your lips tore from his, head dropped back against the mirror, eyes half-closed, as you surrendered to Baby Billy’s insistent need.

He used your cunt for his own amusement, his thick girth splitting you open and filling you. Every thrust sent waves of pleasure and pain through your body, the intensity almost too much to bear. You breathed in shallow, erratic gulps, mingling with his groans of pleasure.

“You gonna let Baby Billy finish inside of you?” he grunted as you felt the powerful contraction of his muscles under your fingers. “Go back out there with my cum filling you, let everyone know who owns you now.”

His words, steeped in raw, possessive control, gave you goosebumps. The heat between you was almost unbearable, and the thought of being so intimately claimed ignited a fire within you. You could barely manage a nod, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment, your breath coming in shallow gasps.

“Yes,” you managed, your voice trembling with need. “F-fill me.”

His eyes shone at your words, lighting up with pride. You felt him pulse and throb inside you, and with a final, deep thrust, he buried himself to the hilt. His body shuddered as he found his release, the hot spurts of his cum flooding you, mingling with your own arousal to create an intoxicating warmth. You milked him for every drop of his seed, drawing out every ounce of pleasure.

Your body, wrecked and trembling, collapsed against his as you sobbed into the crook of his neck. A combination of fulfilment and exhaustion washed over you, your breathing slowly adjusting to a calmer rhythm. His gentle touch roamed your spine in soothing strokes, grounding you as you both basked in the afterglow. The surrounding air seemed to hum with the energy of your passion, the scent of sweat and sex lingering, creating a heady, intimate atmosphere.

With his breath still uneven against your skin, he pressed a tender kiss to your temple. “That was a job well done,” he murmured, his voice prideful despite his jest. He groaned as he pulled himself from your swollen cunt, eyes shining at the sight of you leaking with his load. You whimpered at the emptiness, a pout forming on your lips as he tucked himself away, but then he pushed two digits into you, stuffing your pussy almost full again.

“Keep it all in there,” he said, his eyes flicking to you as he twisted his fingers. The squelch of his load being forced back inside of you filled the room, an erotic sound that made your mouth water. “I wasn’t lying. Baby Billy wants you out there, front and centre.”

The intensity in his gaze, coupled with the sensation of his fingers pushing his cum deeper inside you, had you shaking again. Each movement was deliberate, ensuring you felt every bit of his claim on you. The thought of stepping out, filled with his essence, ignited a mix of thrill and arousal within you.

He finally withdrew his fingers, leaving you with a lingering sense of fullness. “Now, let’s get you dressed,” he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He helped you to your feet, steadying you as you adjusted to standing. The rush of reality hit you as you caught sight of yourself in the mirror—marks from his mouth adorned your breasts, and bruises from his fingers dotted your thighs. You looked spent, yet there was a radiant glow to your skin that hadn’t been there before.

You watched in the mirror as Baby Billy adjusted his suit, fixing his hair until it was back in almost perfect condition. He dabbed at the sweat that had formed on his brow with his handkerchief, his focus intent on readying himself. The sight of him, composed and immaculate, made you suddenly aware of your own state. You felt uncomfortably exposed and quickly retrieved your clothes from the floor.

Your body ached as you dressed, each movement a reminder of what you’d just done. Your muscles throbbed from the recent exertion, and as you put on your clothes, the thoughts that had been repressed by passion now surged through your mind. The reality of your sin with the pastor drowned you in a wave of guilt and confusion.

You wanted to regret it, to tell yourself that you would pray for forgiveness, but you knew it wasn’t true. You’d wanted him so much, was willing to throw all caution to the wind and give yourself so freely to him. Now, he seemed so distant from you, and maybe that felt worse than anything. The desire that had driven you to this moment still simmered under the surface, a raw and undeniable truth.

As you finished dressing, you caught your reflection in the mirror. The marks on your body, the glow in your skin, all told the story of what had transpired. You felt a complex mix of emotions—shame, guilt, satisfaction, and a strange sense of pride.

Baby Billy turned to you, his eyes softening as he took in your appearance. “You alright?” he asked, his voice gentle, a stark contrast to the intensity of moments before.

With a nod, you managed a slight smile. “Yeah, I think so.”

Drawing nearer, he lightly brushed his thumb against your cheek. “No one else needs to know what happened here.”

You took a deep breath, fully absorbing the impact of his words. The secret you now shared felt like a heavy burden, one you couldn’t speak of to anyone. The fear that this might be your last moment with him gnawed at you, prompting you to ask softly, “Will I see you again?”

He smiled, a teasing glint in his eye, as he leaned in to place a gentle, lingering kiss on your lips. When he pulled back, he lightly tapped his finger over your bottom lip, his touch both tender and possessive.

“Oh darlin’,” he drawled, his voice low and filled with promise, “didn’t I already tell you I’d be puttin’ this mouth to good use one day?” 

The way he said it sent a chill through you, the intimacy of his words and the light touch on your lip igniting a spark within you. His eyes held yours, the playful glint mixing with something deeper, a reassurance that this moment was far from the last.

As he stepped back, his hand trailed from your lip to your chin, lifting it slightly. His gaze softened, the teasing replaced with genuine affection as he murmured, “this isn’t the last you’ll see of Baby Billy.”

[cosmowgyral]

Falling into Sin with the Black Tiger ~ Gilbert's 4th Birthday

▪︎ Chapter 3

This is a fan translation so please don't expect it to be 100% accurate. Creative liberties have been taken. All content belongs to Cybird. Reblogs are appreciated. Hope you enjoy!

It’s your birthday---and Obsidian castle is eerily quiet.

The only thing celebrating Gilbert’s birthday was the starlight from the canopy up above. No one else even mentioned his birthday.

The tension of thoroughly avoiding the topic that is off-limits is eating away at me as well, but I mustered my spirit to shake them off and energetically proceeded with the preparations from the morning.

Emma: Lies….

Gilbert: Thank you for the food. Everything was delicious.

(Today’s meal was enough to easily feed 30 people…enough to host a party.)

Extra large salad with ham, cheese and vegetables; meat pies served on a platter; a huge amount of creamy pasta and a large number of dry fruits….

Even though I prepared several other items to fill our stomachs, Gilbert consumed nearly 80% of everything.

(I was already full after eating only 20% of it.)

Emma: I’m glad you had a lot to eat.

Gilbert: That’s how delicious your cooking is.

Gilbert: By the way, little rabbit, I think it’s about time.

(…Maybe I got too nervous waiting for the right time.)

Emma: Well then…

Emma: Happy birthday, Gilbert.

I stood up and gave him the present I was hiding under the table.

Gilbert: Heehee, thank you. I wonder what you got me.

Gilbert: I was curious because you didn’t buy anything back then.

(This is the tensest moment.)

After receiving it, Gilbert immediately unwrapped the gift and carefully opened the small box.

Gilbert: I see….

Placed on top of a velvet cloth are cufflinks that were made directly by a craftsman at a jewellery store.

The method of taking gemstones purchased from a jeweller to a workshop to have a one-of-a-kind piece made is apparently not uncommon in mineral-rich countries.

Gilbert: This is your colour.

Emma: You understood?

Gilbert: Of course. You were the first person who came to mind when I saw this.

(I chose a colour I often wear, but he noticed it right away.)

Emma: That day, when we were looking at jewels, I was actually watching you the entire time.

Gilbert: Yeah, I knew.

Emma: Our eyes met many times.

Gilbert: But, it helped you think of a gift, didn’t it?

Emma: Yes. You have always been interested in me, not in gemstones.

Emma: I chose a piece of jewellery that represents me.

(It’s neither a rhodolite garnet nor obsidian.)

(I wanted to give my own colour, not a nation’s.)

(…..It’s a little embarrassing though.)

Gilbert: This is the best thing to please me. I love this gem.

It wasn’t just flattery; his blood-red eye gazed at the gem with affection.

(I’m glad that it made you happy.)

Gilbert: Hey, Emma. Will you put it on for me?

Gilbert took out the pair of cufflinks and handed them out to me.

I immediately tried to attach it with Gilbert’s shirt cuffs but it was harder than I thought.

Emma: I need some tips.

(I know how to put it on, but it doesn’t stay in place….)

(Oh I get it, how about this?)

Emma: There, done—

When I looked up after being satisfied with my result, Gilbert gently pulled my head close and made a soft sound.

Gilbert: Thank you.

Emma: Y..you’re welcome.

Gilbert: Hehe, your face is bright red.

Emma: …..It’s the usual.

Gilbert: Is that so? That’s because you love me as much as I love you.

The affectionate gaze that was directed at the gem, now shifted to me. It was unclear who started the second kiss.

(I wonder if this will also be a gift for Gilbert.)

He holds me by the waist and invites me onto his lap.

As our breaths intertwined, his cold hands started to unbutton my blouse, but I didn’t stop him.

Gilbert: Shouldn’t you say something like “at least in your room”?

Emma: Do whatever you want on your birthday, Gil.

Gilbert: Really? Then I won’t hesitate….

….....

(I asked him to do whatever he wants….)

Gilbert: Hurray, little rabbit.

Emma:…I..can’t move anymore.

( He made love to me in the dining room, then again upon returning to his room, and again when we took a bath together…)

Eventually, fatigue pinned me down to the black sheets.

Gilbert: So you’ll sleep naked?

Emma: …I want to wear clothes.

Gilbert: Right?

(I need to muster all my strength.)

Gilbert had carried me from the bathroom to the bed, and I somehow managed to sit up.

As directed, I raise my hands and Gilbert covered me with a black negligee.

Gilbert: Heehee, even when lazy you are cute.

Even the slightest touch of a kiss on my hair makes my tormented body react sensitively.

Gilbert seemed to be in a good mood and more satisfied than usual.

(Even though I get embarrassed from just thinking about it….)

Emma: Gil, did you have a good time today?

Gilbert: Of course. It’s just….

Gilbert: The only thing that’s been bothering me is that I haven’t been able to answer the question you asked me.

(“What do you want to do?” - I haven’t heard the answer from Gilbert yet.)

Gilbert: I want to ask you, Emma. Do you have any ideas?

Emma: ..Let’s see…

Emma: Do you remember the happiest moment of your life?

Gilbert: What about it?

Emma: The memories that remain most vividly in your heart might be the ones closest to what you really want to do.

Emma: Do you have anything in mind, Gil?

Gilbert lowered his eyes and remained silent.

Although his birthday was nearing its end, I watched over him quietly, not wanting to give up until the very end.

Gilbert: In the dance hall….

Gilbert: That was the first time I heard your feelings.

(….!)

Gilbert: The moment you cried for me is the one I remember the most.

Gilbert: And then, I danced with you. I guess it was a celebratory dance.

Gilbert: I still can’t forget your smile at that time.

Emma: I remember it too.

(I can still vividly picture Gilbert’s smile at that time.)

Gilbert: Emma….I’ve decided.

Gilbert: I want to dance with you again.

*skips to the ballroom*

The footsteps of two people echo in the dance hall where the stars in the sky shine like a chandelier.

It has been a while since I last intertwined my fingers with Gilbert and danced together.

Gilbert: You said earlier that you couldn’t move.

Emma: My happiness got the better of me.

Gilbert: Aren’t I just being selfish?

Emma: That selfishness makes me happy.

(Because I want you, who always sits on the throne as a great villain for the sake of others, to feel happiness even if it’s just for a second.)

Even if there are countless piles of corpses behind, I will continue to commit sins over and over again without hesitation.

Emma: By the way, is this the correct step?

Gilbert: You’re doing it right. You’re better than me.

Emma: I tend to get carried away when you praise me.

Gilbert:  Heehee, feel free to get carried away.

Gilbert: The more you laugh, the more vivid your memories will be.

Gilbert: If you do that, you’ll surely find a lot of things you would want to do, right?

Emma: In a few years, a selfish villain might be born.

Gilbert: That would be a problem.

Gilbert: You either listen to my requests, or you will be forced to.

Emma: But I feel like…

Emma: The request will surely be filled with a lot of love for me.

(Even at this very moment)

The gentleness of Gilbert’s touch, the warmth of his smile, and every word he says to me….

The love that oozes out from every corner naturally brings a smile to my cheeks.

Gilbert: You’re right. I love every moment I spend with you.

Gilbert: I hope you feel the same.

He tightens the grip between our intertwined fingers.

My warmth melted, and I felt a slight heat in Gilbert’s palm.

Gilbert: I’ll always be a bad guy. I don’t even know when or where I’ll lose my life.

Gilbert: I don’t know how many more birthdays I’ll be able to celebrate like this….

Gilbert: Celebrate me, so you would never have regrets. Make it so that it becomes an unforgettable birthday for you.

(….It’s fine if I’m hated or despised.)

(If this is how Gilbert can express so many of his whims…)

Gilbert: Let’s fall deeper, and become great villains together, shall we?

[Chapter 2] [Masterlist] [His POV]

[moraxsthrone]

TITLE — spoiled

PAIRING — dom!sugarbaby!zhongli x sub!sugarmama!f!reader

WC — 4.6k

WARNINGS — nsfw. MDNI. modern au. soft dom/sub dynamic. oral (m. & f. rcv'ing). deepthroat/facefucking. overstim. squirting. creampie.

NOTES — i always said that when (not if) zhongli came home, i would spoil him rotten. i went from having no zhongli to having him at C2 lvl 90 + staff of homa + a 2pc/2pc tenacity/noblesse set, and him being in the top 21% of zl hybrid builds on the NA server, hitting 100k+ dmg...all in less than a month. i've been good to him and he's been soooooo good to me so i wanted to write this as a celebratory, homecoming gift for my long-awaited, highly spoiled geo daddy. thanks to @crystalflygeo for the idea and inspiration! i hope i did it justice! <3

the knock comes so gently you wouldn't have heard it had you not been expecting it.

“come in,” you say, finishing the last piece of paperwork and setting your pen down on your big oak desk.

the heavy door creaks open, zhongli striding in before closing the door behind himself.

“working late again, my lady?” the young man muses with a subtle smile, looking dapper in his favorite armani suit that’s been perfectly tailored to the lean musculature of his frame.

a leaden sigh escapes your lips. “yes, but fortunately i’ve just finished. your timing is impeccable, my dear sir,” you say with a playful lilt while leaning back in your chair. “i presume i’m not the only one since someone else must’ve let you in.”

“your receptionist was just leaving as i arrived.”

“well, now that you’re here, to what do i owe the pleasure?”

“i wanted to thank you again for the handsome topaz cufflinks you procured for me yesterday at that fancy boutique-” he says in his unhurried baritone, fidgeting with one of them. zhongli sounds so commanding without even trying, making your loins stir with want. you’ve taken great pleasure in spoiling him since meeting him a couple months ago, buying him everything he’s had an eye for, as well as a lot of things he hasn’t even asked for…

“i knew you’d appreciate them, what with your exquisite taste…” you interject, admiring the way the dark orange gemstones bring out his eyes. “besides, the color becomes you.”

he smiles back, making him look more boyish. “only someone with a discerning eye for quality and beauty such as yourself would even take me to places that sell such high caliber merchandise.” he walks towards you, leaning against the front of your desk mere inches from where your arm rests. “but i want you to know that i appreciate the little things just as much, if not more so. something as simple as say…” his voice trails for a moment, “...indulging me in afternoon tea means a lot to me.”

“oh? but your company is no small thing, zhongli. i enjoy lavishing you with gifts, of course. but you give me your time and conversation in return, and that is far more valuable to me than any gift i could bestow upon you…”

“you sure?” 

your brow crinkles at his hinting tone. “what do you mean?”

he reaches out with his gloved hand, delicately cupping your jaw as his boyish smile fades. “you’re a very busy lady. your time and attention are in high demand. and yet you decide to give what little of it you have over to me. your time is far more valuable than anything you could possibly buy me, and that’s something for which i could never repay you…”

you raise your eyebrows at him in sincerity. “zhongli. as i’ve already stated, your company is more than enough-”

"my lady," he reaches for your hand and brings your dainty knuckles to his lips. “...if i may?”

your mouth drops open in surprise. though you certainly wouldn’t be opposed to it, you’ve never so much as alluded to the prospect of an intimate relationship with him. you’re beautiful. powerful. but also - as he’s pointed out - very busy, leaving you precious little time for meeting a suitable mate, let alone courting one. so just spending time with zhongli - listening to his captivating stories, admiring his handsome face, hearing his spell-binding voice - has been more than worth any amount of money you could spend on him.

“zhongli, w-what…?” you give into the gentle tug of his hand, standing from your chair to face him. with your hand still in his, he cups your cheek with the other while bringing his lips dangerously close to yours. “zhongli, wait,” you say, catching your breath in your throat before he can take it away. “you don’t owe me anything…”

“perhaps not, my lady,” he says, his thumb stroking your burning cheek. “but i would quite like to give you something anyway.” your eyes search his as he speaks, his gaze so comfortably heavy. “you’re beautiful,” he says, breath fanning across your lips. “you’ve been exceedingly generous to me…and i want to give you what i feel is owed to you…”

“but zhongli,” you try, your voice so small and shaky with desire, “i’ve already said you don’t owe m-”

“forgive my insolence,” he interrupts, not sounding sorry at all, “but allow me to put it this way: i’m going to give you what you deserve.”

his thumb grazes your lower lip, only to trail down the column of your pretty neck as his lips finally and mercifully claim yours. and you give yourself permission to kiss him back. how could you not? of course you’ve never expected anything from him, but you’d be lying if you said you’d never fantasized about kissing him, touching him.

zhongli is incredibly intelligent and knowledgeable, devastatingly handsome, and his voice alone is enough to make your panties wet every time you hear it. in spite of the fact that you’ve been providing for him, it is he who seems to hold some unspoken power over you.

breaking from the kiss, you look up into his amber eyes. “wh-what i deserve?”

without a word he turns you around, your butt now pressing against the edge of your desk.

“by now you must think i’m a weak man…”

you shake your head. “no. i don’t think that at all-”

he places his fingers over your lips. “ah-ah. i wasn’t finished speaking, my lady.”

your eyes widen, filling with lust and desire at his insistent tone. yes. you need this. and he knows it. zhongli isn’t just giving you what you want or deserve; he’s giving you what you need.

“but-”

before you can utter another sound, zhongli spins you around until your hips are pressing against the edge of your desk. you feel his hips press against your bottom, gasping quietly at the unmistakable hard bulge pressing against you.

“zhongli?”

he grinds against you, the force causing the edge of your desk to dig into your hip bones.

“you can feel me, can’t you?” he whispers, his wet lips grazing the edge of your ear. “i’ve wanted you like this all along. does that come as a surprise to you, my lady?”

before you can formulate a response, zhongli’s hands - now naked and warm after having removed his gloves - are running along your bare skin under your pencil skirt until it’s bunched up below your ass cheeks. one of his hands slips between your legs, spreading them apart to slowly make his way up until he feels the moisture between them. 

“it would seem you’ve thought about this before as well,” he deduces, eliciting an affirmative hum from you as a response.

his other hand gently pushes your hair aside to expose the back of your neck and you feel the heat of his breath there as his soft lips ghost over your goosebumped skin.

“you must get so tired of having so much responsibility on you,” he mutters. “wouldn’t it be nice to relinquish control every once in a while?”

his voice alone is enough to easily seduce you. with a small nod, your eyes flutter closed as you fight the chill that wants to run down your spine. “y-yes, zhongli, it’s…” your breath hitches when his thumb brushes your lace-covered clit, “...exhausting sometimes.”

a deep chuckle forms in his throat as he peppers light kisses along the back of your bare neck, pushing the ruffle trim top of your dress off one of your shoulders to expose more of your soft skin.

“then allow me.” grasping the back zipper between his fingers, he pulls it down, taking his precious time undressing you from your collar to your tailbone. “if at any point you want me to stop, just say 'lapis'," he whispers and you agree.

he pushes the sleeves over and off of your arms before unfastening your bra. everything falls to the floor, the expensive material pooling around your feet. having rendered you naked save for your panties and designer heels, he stands back a bit and tells you to turn around and face him. feeling a bit self-conscious, you cover your breasts and bite your lower lip nervously as you follow his order.

“tut-tut.” zhongli shakes his head in mild disapproval. “uncover yourself. i want to see every inch of your gorgeous body.”

you lower your arms, exposing your creamy breasts with pretty, budded nipples and zhongli’s amber eyes seem to glow with arousal. he takes his time looking you up and down, licking his lips, drinking in your form as his hard cock strains against his slacks. 

kissing you as he comes in close again, pulling you in with his hands on your ass to let the clothed head of his cock rub against your panty-clad pussy. you gasp and he grips his own cock through his pants and rubs the head over your hidden clit.

reaching for one of your hands, he places it on his clothed erection, sending a jolt of arousal to your core. “touch me,” he says. "i know you want to."

you nod, giving his girth a tentative squeeze through his expensive slacks. a quiet groan escapes zhongli’s throat as he pushes himself into your hand, watching you with hooded eyes as you palm him. even through the dark virgin wool you can feel that his cock is thick and hot, and you can’t help but clench as you imagine how it would feel to be taken and filled by him.

“get on your knees,” he commands and you obey, putting you at eye level with the wet spot that has formed where his cockhead is pressing against his slacks. “take my cock out.” 

you can hardly believe this is happening. not five minutes ago, you were having an innocent conversation with your platonic sugarbaby. now you’re on your knees, seconds away from freeing his cock and tasting his precum - something you’ve wanted since first laying eyes on him but never thought would become a reality.

your well-manicured hands reach for his belt, unfastening it before opening his pants to free his impressive dick. it’s so pretty - thick and pale with a bulbous tip flushed dark pink and a couple of fat veins running the length of him. you lick your lips and wrap your hand around his silky shaft, so warm and hard. without thinking, you open your mouth to lick his swollen cockhead but he reaches down and stops you with a finger to your chin.

“did you ask for permission to suck my cock?”

his authoritative tone has you soaking through your panties, your own slick coating your inner thighs. “n-no, sir.” zhongli is pleasantly surprised at how effortlessly you’ve stepped into your submissive role. “may i please suck your cock, mister zhongli?” you ask, making his member twitch in your hand.

he gives you a kind, crooked smile. “yes, of course, little one.”

his salty flavor has you clenching around nothing when you drag your tongue from the underside of his cockhead to his slit. you give it a little kiss before swirling your wet muscle around it. “mmm~ you taste so good, mister zhongli…want more.”

“such a greedy slut,” he rasps with a crooked grin. “tell you what - i’ll give you a mouthful of my flavor, but you have to earn it.” he runs his fingers through your hair. “suck my cock well enough and i’ll let you drink as much of my cum as you can handle.”

his words have you eagerly wrapping your lips tightly around him, slowly taking him all the way to the back of your throat to make yourself salivate more. pumping your fist along what you can’t fit in your mouth, pretty soon the room is filled with wet, sucking noises along with the occasional grunt and muffled gag.

with your hand still jerking him, you pull off him with a gasp.

“did i say you could stop?” he rasps, fingers tightening in your hair.

“no, sir.” you barely get the words out before you quickly suck him in again. never before have you enjoyed sucking a cock so much as zhongli’s.

as he watches you bob on him like a cock-hungry whore, zhongli takes off his waistcoat and begins to unbutton the tailored shirt you bought him a couple of weeks ago. he works it off until he’s naked from the waist up. it’s difficult to fully appreciate the sculpt of his perfect body from this angle, but you can make out his chiseled chest and mouth-watering abs, causing you to whimper on his length.

he pets your hair and praises you before resting both his hands on top of your head. he guides your pace slowly at first, working himself deeper, pressing into your throat as he rocks his hips until he’s fucking your mouth. you’re gagging on him, a string of spit and precum hanging from your chin.

“look at me while you’re sucking my dick, little one,” he says, voice still commanding but heavy with lust.

you obey, looking up at him while he admires the way your pretty lips stretch around his wide shaft, traces of your lipstick mixing with your saliva on his skin. it’s hard to see him through the tears that prick at your eyes, but your slick is dripping from your panties onto the floor below. as your fingernails dig slightly into the flesh of his toned thighs, you swear you could cum with his cockhead deep in your throat. 

the way your tears dot your eyelashes makes him suck air through his teeth. “nnfuck~ do you have any idea how pretty you look choking on my cock like this, little one?” zhongli’s hips are rocking steadily, his tight balls touching your chin with every thrust. “such a good fucking girl…are you ready for your reward?”

all you can do is moan, the vibration sending him over the edge. with his fingers tangled in your hair, he presses his patch of black hair against the tip of your nose. fighting to keep his eyes focused on you, zhongli groans loudly, releasing his orgasm down your raw, well-deserved throat.

he pulls out of your mouth, leaving you sputtering and gasping for air. but you’ve loved every second of it. even when he’s forceful, zhongli has a grace about him that’s difficult to describe. but you sense it, you know it when you’re with him like this. “th- *gasp* thank you, m-mister zhongli. thank you f- *cough* for your cum.”

“you did so well, little one,” he groans, tenderly rubbing his thumb over your tear-streaked cheek. collecting some stray semen from your chin, he pushes his thumb between your lips and you suck on it, moaning at the feeling of more of his creamy fluid coating your tongue. “you earned every drop, so don’t waste it.”

your willingness to please, your gratitude, your pliability…they all endear you to him. you may spend your money on him, but he slips into the role of your doting dominant just as seamlessly. he wants to take care of you. to dominate you and reduce you to a babbling mess underneath him, but he wants to care for you and make sure you know you’re safe even more so.

he helps you to your feet before backing you up against your desk. he picks you up, semi-hard cock bouncing with his movements, and sets your ass down on the documents you’d just finished when he came into your office.

“zh-zhongli, the paperwork-”

“my dear, the paperwork should be the least of your concerns right now, but if you must know,” he huffs, pulling your drenched panties down and off your legs, “those documents are as good as ruined…”

before you can protest he curls his hands behind your knees and yanks your ass to the edge of your desk, important forms dragging along beneath you, some fluttering to the floor. now you’re naked, save for your louboutins. zhongli clasps his hands around your ankles and lifts them in the air before bringing his lips to one of them and blazing a long, slow trail along the inside of your leg. 

“but don’t you worry…” he mutters between kisses to your skin, his lust-darkened eyes looking right into yours, “your work will be the last thing on your mind by the time i’m done with you.”

his words, his voice, his gaze…it’s all too much and you shudder under his touch, breathing his name. your hands find his dark brown hair, the long ponytail hanging over his shoulder and tickling your electrified skin as he sucks a bruise into your inner thigh.

zhongli’s hands glide down the length of your legs, spreading them to expose your wet, swollen lips. “your pussy is stunning, my lady. even more beautiful than it smells.” he pushes your knees further back, his softened cock twitching back to life as he watches your folds open for him. he breathes you in, groaning at the pink tip of your hard bud peeking out from between your inner lips. “i’ve been dying to taste you…

“ohhh~” you keen, back arching when you feel the heat of his breath on your neglected sex. “mister zhongli…please~”

“please what?” he grumbles, dark amber eyes peering up at you from between your legs.

“p-please…” you plead, voice meek and submissive, “please lick me…”

without taking his eyes off you, he sticks his tongue out and licks a slow, wide strip over your puffy lips. your hips jolt at the tender sensualilty of his warm, silky muscle touching you where you need him most.

“your flavor…” he moans quietly, “delectable.” he teases his tongue around your hard pearl, swiping slowly between your inner labia to taste more of you. “sweeter and more intoxicating than any wine i’ve had the pleasure of rolling over my tongue…”

already you’re cooing for him and he can’t help but want to hear what other sounds he might be able to pull from you, never mind how much he’s dying to devour you. he swirls his tongue around your tiny, pink erection before wrapping his lips around it and sucking it in against his tongue. immediately your back arches off the desk as you gasp his name, shoving your sex deeper into his mouth. zhongli’s brows furrow as he sucks you in harder with a deep growl. his graceful hands are pushing on the backs of your thighs, pressing you further open to dip his tongue inside your tight hole.

“gahahhh~” you cry out, his nose nudging your throbbing clit as he fucks you with his wet muscle.

he lifts his face from your pussy, glistening with the mixture of your arousal and his spit. you open your eyes but before you can whine in protest, he kisses you, and you moan at the taste of your pussy on his tongue as he presses two expert fingers inside you. you cry into his mouth, the pad of his thumb massaging your clit.

he pulls away, a string of your juices and his saliva connecting your lips. “such a good girl for me,” zhongli pants, drunk on your pussy. he slips his naked shoulders under your thighs, his free hand pushing up over your tummy and ribs to cup your breast and gently squeeze your pebbled nipple. “i think it’s time for another reward, hm?” all you can muster is a pitiful whimper in response as his fingertips find your sweet spot. “but you have to promise to cum for me, little one,” he breathes.

“y-yes, sir…” you all but sing for him, “please, mister zhongli…promise…i promise i'll cum for you~”

a dark smile tugs at his lips as he lowers his mouth to your cunt, sucking your clit into his warm, wet mouth once again. his fingers work you over nicely, tugging vigorously against your g-spot as he rubs his flexed tongue over your hard, pink tip. your orgasm builds slowly, deep in your bones and outward intensely as your fingers curl in his hair and you buck your hips against his face.

“fuck, oh god~” you cry out, only for him to latch on tighter, determined to suck you all the way off and drink down every last drop of your orgasm.

his waiting mouth is filled with your essence as his blunt fingertips dig into the plush of your hips. he drinks you down as best he can as you gush for him, but a fair amount of your liquid escapes his mouth and drips lewdly from his chin. slowly he pulls away, sliding his fingers out of your still-clenching pussy. you’re still too drunk on your high to notice yet, but his cock is in his hand, hard and leaking again. 

“so good…” he drawls, standing and sliding his dark pink cockhead between your wet, slippery folds.

you flinch at the contact. you want it - more than anything - but you’re so sensitive and his swollen tip is driving you mad as it bounces over your poor little clit.

zhongli huffs, his cock momentarily catching on your hole before sliding between your pussy lips again. he knows how overstimmed you must be but he’s too needy to care about that right now. he’s wanted to slip his cock into you for far too long and now that his shaft is sliding between your slippery folds he can’t hold back any longer. 

how many nights and mornings has he thought of you while fucking his own hand until he soiled his sheets with his hot sticky semen? how many afternoons has he returned to his office after enjoying a kettle of tea with you, only to lock his door and pull his cock out of his trousers before jacking off while moaning your name under his breath. too many times he has tried to be quiet while biting his lower lip and whimpering quietly as he filled his own hand with his thick, white cum until it dripped between his fingers onto the wooden floor below.

he leans over you, one hand planted on your desk and the other still guiding his cock, massaging your swollen clit with his thick tip. 

“you’ve been so good to me,” he groans, lust-blown amber eyes looking down at you with fire in them. “you’ve given me everything i’ve wanted and more…” the underside of his hard shaft is gliding noisily between your folds.

“y-you deserve the whole world, zhongli,” you breathe, looking into his eyes. “i adore you…” his eyes soften at your proclamation. he stops moving his hips and kisses you, soft and tender, his tongue rolling slowly around yours before pulling away just enough to look at your beautiful face again, your eyes so full of desire and affection for him. “and i you. please-” he breathes, eyes narrowing and his hips moving again, slowly. “…let me take care of you.” both of your breaths hitch when his cockhead finally presses against your hole and stretches you open.

“nnhh~fuck, zhongli…so good~” you keen, your mouth falling open at the feeling of the soft pop of your pussy as it surrenders to his meaty tip pushing past it, deeper into your wet heat.

“ahh~” he gasps deeply, “y-you…” his head falls to your neck as he works himself in and out, a little deeper each time, “you feel -mmff- perfect~” your warm, soft walls welcome him, yield to him, sucking him in hard as you moan for him.

zhongli's cock is slick and glistening with your need. his hands hold your hips in place as he plunges into you harder, his fingertips dimpling your plush skin. your nose is buried in his hair, breathing in his masculine scent and his deep grunts as he flicks his tongue over your nipple while his naked hips clap against your ass. he rises, yanking your ass to the edge of the desk and holds you there with his hands over your thighs as he drives his length - hard and thick and wet - into your heat. your lover maintains eye contact with you as he puts your ankles on his shoulders, his hands around your hips to hold you in place when he begins thrusting harder.

fueled by your cries of pleasure, zhongli fucks you right. he takes care of you just like he said he would. you can feel the pressure of your everyday obligations lifting from your shoulders with every groan that falls from his lips, every slap of wet skin that fills the walls of your office, every whimper of his name and every growl of yours as he makes you forget that you ever needed to be in charge of anything. zhongli is in control now, pressing his lips to the inside of your ankle while those burning amber eyes stay trained on you. 

you trust him, beyond pleased to finally see this side of him. you had always suspected there was a latent dominant in him, but for him to finally take charge like this - of the situation, of you, of your body - you give it all over to him freely. and you’re rewarded deeply. so relaxed your tits are bouncing, your eyes fluttering and crossing as you feel another orgasm building deep within your core.

zhongli leans forward, holding your legs fast against his chest with one arm while anchoring himself with the other. the pad of his thumb is rubbing your clit, his lips are parted, eyes hooded, his moans mixing with yours as he fucks you so thoroughly and you cry out, “ohh…hnn…ZHONGLI~”, thighs trembling, cumming so hard you spray a little against his taut, sweaty belly, still flexing as he fucks you through your orgasm. 

“oh fuck, so beautiful…” he pants, eyes drawn to the space where your bodies meet, beads of your spend trickling down his abs. your cream coats the base of his cock, glistening in his dark brown patch of hair. he quickly lowers your legs, letting you wrap them around his waist, needing to feel him close as he ruts out the last of himself into you. 

you’re still mindlessly whispering his name against his cheek as his grunts turn into quiet whimpers and his moans become gasps. “nnfuck…get ready to take my cum, little one.” 

you’re fucked out beyond bliss but you manage to breathe out a “yesss…please give me your cum, mister zhongli. need you to fill me up with your hot seed…please, please, please~”

your words send him over the edge, hips plunging hard against you before stilling as his cock throbs inside you to spill the hot, sticky contents of his balls into your readied, welcoming cervix. his thrusts slow and jerk as he fills you completely. 

“want you to take all of me,” he confesses against your cheek, eyes closed and brow furrowed. his hips jerk against you, the last of his sperm spilling from his slit. “want you to have it all. you deserve it.” 

— BONUS ENDING (because i'm a dork and i love zhongli’s quirky sense of humor):

when he’s ready, zhongli pulls his wet, softening cock out and watches with deep satisfaction as his semen leaks from your still-clenching hole to form a thick, creamy puddle on your officially disheveled documents. he laughs under his breath. “looks like this one has my signature now as well.”

zhongli m.list

— please consider reblogging if you're 18+ and enjoyed this. i worked really hard on it. <3

[asterias-record-shop]

—𓆩[cufflinks (s.r.)]𓆪—

𓆩[main masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪 𓆩[join the taglist!]𓆪

𓆩♡𓆪 CHARACTER - Husband! Spencer Reid x Wife! BAU Profiler! Fem! Reader

𓆩♡𓆪 TYPE - fluff, angst

𓆩♡𓆪 WORD COUNT - 1.4K

𓆩♡𓆪 SUMMARY - Spencer and a wedding ring never fit to you. The idea of marriage fit perfectly with him, but the idea of a band around his finger? No way. Instead, you both settled on cufflinks, both engraved with your initials and the latitude and longitude lines of where you both tied the knot. It wasn’t obvious though, not until a serial killer pointed it out.

𓆩♡𓆪 STORY WARNINGS - Cursing & foul language || mentions of sexual assault – not specific – please be wary || Y/F/I means your first initial idek || killer threatens Spencer through you || Spencer gets violent and angry || I think that’s it, let me know if you think any should be added!! ||

You didn’t have a problem with Spencer not wearing a ring, not one bit. He was always extremely open about how he rejected other women, always saying, ‘I’m married.’ to anyone who ever said anything to him. Besides, whoever paid enough attention could see how much he not only stared at you, but the way his hand would graze your waist when he went around you to write or pin something on the board.

At home or in public that was extremely far from the world of the BAU, he would wear a ring, the gold one engraved with the same thing – your initials, the lines of latitude and longitude, and as a bonus because it didn’t fit on the cufflinks, a line from your favorite poem engraved on the inner band.

On yours, besides the white gold band and your favorite gemstone encircled with diamonds, it had his favorite poem line engraved in the inner band as well. It was a later addition to your wedding ring, after your five year anniversary where he stole it and got it engraved for you.

This case though was different.

The killer was easily seen as misogynistic, especially in the way that he killed the women he did, specifically targeting married women and killing them after sexually assaulting them and leaving them in their bed before their husband woke up, or if he was gone.

This posed only one question – who was going to interview him?

There were different ways to go about this, you and JJ could go in as strong married women and tease him, or Matt and Spencer could go in as married men.

“JJ, Y/N – get ready to go in,” Emily says, inhaling as she stared at the man staring mindlessly at the two way glass. “We need to find out where Lucy is.”

“Got it,” you say, rubbing your wedding ring as you look over at JJ. “Ready?”

“Always,” she smiled, offering her hand for a fist bump before Spencer shook his head.

“I’ll go in.”

“What?” Emily paused, shaking her head. “No, you’re not-”

Spencer walked in before she could say anything else, quickly ordering Matt to follow him in as Spencer sat down in front of Ryan, the man they profiled to have been murdering these women after he killed his wife who cheated on him with his best friend, and best man at their wedding. Ryan’s eyes catch on Spencer who sat down in front of him, Matt standing and leaning against the two sided mirror.

“It was Agent Reid, correct-”

“Dr. Dr. Reid,” Spencer corrected, quickly fixing his cufflinks as Ryan’s eyes flashed to Matt and he smiled.

“My apologies. Dr. Reid. So, I see why they sent this… man in here, that shiny silver band on his finger, trying to intimidate me,” he moved to look at Reid. “But you… you don’t show obvious signs of being married.”

Spencer doesn’t break eye contact or move, that he could tell at least. “I’m not.”

Ryan smiles. “What’s her name?”

“Who’s name?”

“Your wife’s.”

“I don’t have a wife.”

“I don’t know if she’d like you rejecting the fact that you're married,” Ryan mocked him, copying his straightened form and interlacing his fingers. “Is she an agent?”

“How did it feel when your wife cheated on you with your best friend?” Reid’s question made Ryan’s face flash, Matt straightening slightly. “Must’ve hurt.”

“Not really.”

“Oh no? It didn’t hurt you enough to kill not only her but also your best friend and five other women who you thought resembled her? Women who were faithful to their husbands?” Reid leaned forward. “Unlike yours?”

Ryan swallowed. “None of them were faithful.”

“How so?” Matt finally spoke, Ryan smiling slightly.

“Does her name start with… Y/F/I?” Ryan tilted his head. “Was R the original first letter of her last name or did you change it?”

Reid tried not to react. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not married.”

“Is she an agent?”

“I’m not married.”

“Was she that H/C agent? She looks like my ex, I saw it the moment she came in busting down that door. It was kind of hot,” Ryan smirked, leaning forward. “Is she like that in bed, Dr. Reid? Or is she more submissive? You don’t look like the kind of guy that takes control, but damn would it be nice to see her beg-”

“The only thing that you’re going to hear begging is your own voice in prison when every man in there is passing you around like a toy,” Reid responded, tilting his head slightly. “Do you know where rapists stand on the totem pole, don’t you? And where you’re going… you’re going to be one of their bitches.”

Ryan’s smile falters as Reid smiles, tilting his head. “Where’s Lucy?”

“Who’s Lucy? I’m focused on that wifey of yours.”

“Could it be where you and your wife got married?” Reid asked, watching as Ryan’s eye twitched. That wasn’t hard.

Matt was already walking out as Spencer started to stand, Ryan leaning back in his chair. “Is your wife faithful, Dr. Reid?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Reid responded, glaring. He knew you were faithful, going on being married almost eight years, sticking it out when he was arrested and through worse things like his addiction. “Those who cheat aren’t built for a relationship.”

“If she cheated, wouldn’t you kill her?!” Ryan sat up, attempting to force his wrists out of the handcuffs. “They were all cheaters, all of them!”

“My wife would never cheat.” Reid finally let the facade crack, slamming his hands down onto the desk. “Just because a woman cheated on a stupid, narcissistic, misogynistic man like you!”

“I should’ve hunted her first,” Ryan snarled, glaring up at Reid as he laughed. “Shoulda gone for the pretty wife of Dr. Reid-”

Reid’s actions were quick, his hand flying forward to slam Ryan’s face into the metal table, repeatedly bashing him into the table before Alvez came running in, wrapping his arms around Reid’s waist and dragging him out of the room.

“Reid, Reid!” You rushed forward, quickly running forward to cup his face. “Spence, baby, calm down. Calm down.”

It was as though you snapped him out of a trance, his body going stiff as your hands softly held his face, thumbs softly rubbing along his skin as you looked back at Luke. “Thank you, Luke.”

Luke let him go as you quickly hold Spencer’s shoulder, pushing your hands down his arms to hold his hands and pull him to one of the private rooms, cupping his face as he immediately leaned into your chest. He inhaled sharply as he kissed your neck. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry, sweetheart, I am so so sorry. I hated… I hated thinking of you with him… him touching you, anyone touching you other than me.”

“No one will,” you whisper back, pulling away to cup his face once again and press a firm kiss to his lips. “I’m yours, Spencer Reid. Forever and always, no matter what. You see this ring? I’m yours.”

He inhaled, nodding as he leaned forward to kiss you softly, humming. “I think… I want a ring instead of cufflinks.”

His words make you giggle, shaking your head. “You sure? I can get you more cufflinks.”

He laughed slightly, nodding. “Okay. I like cufflinks.”

“Then cufflinks you shall have, my love. And I’ll add something to that ring you have at home, too.”

He smiled, nodding as he leaned down and pressed a firm kiss to your lips. “I’ll hold you to that, Mrs. Reid.”

You giggled, nodding as you pressed another kiss to his lips. “You better.”

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© asterias-record-shop

[lilbabypanda-blog2]

Two sides of a Gem (part 3)

Part2

Aventurine x (stoneheart)reader

The corridors of the IPC Headquarters were dim and silent at this late hour, illuminated only by faint strips of pale blue lights lining the walls. Ruby walked with his usual mechanical precision, his steps producing no sound against the polished floor. The crimson gemstone cufflink gleamed faintly from his glove as he moved, a subtle but poignant reminder of Y/N's quiet affection.

Ruby’s destination was a secured observation deck—a rarely visited spot overlooking the sprawling void of space. It was quiet here, isolated. Just the faint hum of the station's systems and the stars beyond.

The IPC Headquarters observation deck stretched wide and quiet, a glass expanse offering an unobstructed view of the endless void beyond. The faint hum of machinery filled the space, accompanied by the gentle flicker of distant stars. Ruby stood near the reinforced glass, motionless and composed as always. The faint glow from his crimson eyes illuminated the sharp lines of his faceplate, casting faint reflections on the glass.

His gloved hand rested lightly on his coat, fingers brushing against the faint outline of the cufflink Y/N had given him. It wasn’t often Ruby found himself lingering, but tonight felt different—still and heavy, the weight of unspoken plans pressing against him like the cold vacuum of space.

The quiet was soon broken by Aventurine's voice, his presence heralded by the soft echo of polished boots against metal flooring.

“Ruby, Ruby, Ruby. Always lurking in the shadows, aren’t you? You know, it’s hard to sneak up on someone when they never leave this spot.”

Ruby didn’t turn, his gaze locked on the stars. “Observation improves efficiency.”

Aventurine strolled forward, his coat sweeping behind him like a gambler entering a high-stakes poker table. His mismatched magenta and cyan eyes flicked toward Ruby, curiosity glinting in their depths.

“You know, friend, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re… brooding.” Aventurine leaned casually against the railing, folding his arms across his chest. “Or maybe you’re just contemplating the endless void of existence. Deep stuff.”

Ruby remained silent, his posture unchanging. Aventurine let the silence stretch, his grin softening as he shifted his weight.

“Alright, I’ll bite,” Aventurine continued. “You thought about the Penacony Project, Ruby?”

The faintest tilt of Ruby’s head signaled his attention, though he didn’t turn. “Classified information. Clearance restricted.”

Aventurine clicked his tongue, shaking his head with mock disappointment. “Come on, we both know you’ve got access to files that would make even Jade raise an eyebrow. But hey, let’s skip the bureaucracy—straight to the pitch, yeah?”

Finally, Ruby turned his head slightly, enough for Aventurine to catch the faint gleam of his crimson eyes reflecting in the glass. “Clarify.”

Aventurine pushed himself off the railing, taking a slow step forward. His voice lowered slightly, no longer carrying the airy confidence of before.

“Look, Ruby, this Penacony thing—it’s gonna be big. Bigger than either of us. And from what I’ve managed to piece together between locked files and vague chatter, it’s dangerous. Real dangerous. Which means I’m going to be there.”

He pointed at himself with a confident smirk, then gestured toward Ruby.

“And you? You should be there too. Think about it—me, you, a grandiose operation in the midst of floating casinos and shadowy politics. We’d make a hell of a team.”

Ruby’s red eyes flickered faintly, unreadable as ever. His reply was precise, sharp, and final.

“Request denied.”

Aventurine froze mid-gesture, blinking as if Ruby had just slapped a royal flush out of his hand. “Denied? Just like that? No counteroffer, no cryptic ‘maybe later’? Nothing?”

Ruby turned fully this time, his cold crimson gaze locking onto Aventurine’s mismatched eyes. “You are ill-prepared for Penacony. The risks outweigh the benefits.”

For a moment, Aventurine’s cocky facade cracked. His lips pressed into a thin line, and the spark of frustration flared briefly in his vibrant eyes.

“You don’t think I’m good enough?” he said quietly, his tone sharp, wounded even.

“Your proficiency is adequate,” Ruby said flatly. “But inadequate for Penacony.”

The words hung heavy between them, and Aventurine let out a quiet breath, looking away for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, laced with an honesty he rarely let show.

“You know, Ruby… you’re different. You’re not like the others around here. Most of them, they play their parts—smile when they’re told, follow orders like clockwork—but you… there’s something more to you. I can feel it.”

Ruby didn’t reply. His crimson eyes remained locked on Aventurine, unreadable, unyielding.

“And maybe… maybe I thought if I could get you on board with this, I’d have someone watching my back out there. Someone I can count on.”

Aventurine’s mismatched eyes softened slightly as he studied Ruby’s rigid figure.

“But I get it. You’ve got your orders. You’ve got your path. And someone like me?” He forced a smirk back onto his face. “Well, I’ll just have to roll the dice and hope I don’t lose too much when the house wins.”

The silence stretched again, heavy and unbroken. Aventurine turned back toward the railing, his head tilted upward as he gazed out into the void.

“You know, Ruby… if you ever change your mind, there’ll always be a spot open for you at my table.”

Ruby watched him for a long moment before speaking, his voice quieter this time, almost… softer.

“You will not be alone.”

Aventurine turned his head slightly, catching Ruby’s faint reflection in the glass. His smirk returned, though smaller, more genuine this time.

“Yeah? I’ll hold you to that, friend.”

Aventurine pushed away from the railing and turned, his boots clicking softly as he walked toward the exit.

Ruby remained motionless, staring after him until the gambler disappeared into the shadows of the corridor.

For a long moment, the observation deck was silent once more. Ruby turned his head back toward the stars, his crimson eyes faintly reflecting the void beyond.

Beneath his glove, the cufflink Y/N had given him pressed lightly against his wrist—a reminder, a tether, and perhaps, a fragment of something he couldn’t fully name.

The silence of the observation deck swallowed the faint hum of the IPC systems, leaving Ruby alone with the vast, unfeeling stars. Aventurine’s footsteps had long faded into the distance, but his words lingered in the air, sharp and persistent, like glass shards embedded deep in synthetic flesh.

"You’ve got your orders. You’ve got your path."

Ruby’s crimson eyes stared unblinking at the void, but his focus had shifted inward, to a single, undeniable truth: Y/N was going to Penacony. Alone.

His gloved fingers twitched slightly against his coat, the faint pressure of the cufflink grounding him. Y/N’s voice echoed in his mind from their last conversation.

"I’ll be fine, Ruby. This is something I have to handle myself. You just need to hold things together while I’m away."

But fine wasn’t a guarantee, not in a place like Penacony. The data he had delivered to Opal painted a fragmented but ominous picture—alliances dangling by threads, threats hidden behind gilded masks, and the sharp scent of betrayal thick in the air.

And yet… she was going. Without him.

His mechanical body, designed to function without fatigue, felt heavy in this moment. Heavy with thoughts he wasn’t programmed to process, feelings he wasn’t designed to have.

"You will not be alone."

The words he had spoken to Aventurine echoed back at him. It was a truth he could offer Aventurine without hesitation, but for Y/N… he couldn’t be there. He couldn’t protect her.

Ruby’s shoulders tensed faintly, almost imperceptibly. It wasn’t fear—not exactly. It was an algorithm grinding against the limits of its programming, a mechanical body trying to process something deeply human.

He couldn’t stop her. He couldn’t follow her. All he could do was… wait.

Wait for updates. Wait for communication. Wait for her to return.

But what if she didn’t?

A faint spark flickered deep within his crimson gaze, something fragile and sharp, and before he could let the thought spiral any further, he raised a gloved hand to his ear, opening a private channel.

“Y/N.”

Her reply came swiftly, her voice clear and warm despite the distance. “I’m here, Ruby. What’s wrong?”

There was a brief pause before he spoke. “Your plan for Penacony… the risks are substantial.”

She sighed softly on the other end. “I know they are, Ruby. But that’s exactly why I have to go myself. No one else can handle this—not the way it needs to be done.”

Ruby’s head dipped slightly, shadows casting faint lines across his sharp features. “I should accompany you.”

“Ruby…” Y/N’s voice softened, and Ruby could picture her expression—the way her brows would knit together just slightly, the way her eyes would glimmer with warmth and something he could only describe as fondness. “You have your role here. You’re my eyes and ears within the IPC, and you’re doing it perfectly. I need you to keep holding everything together while I’m away.”

“I am capable of fulfilling both tasks.”

Her soft chuckle filtered through the line. “You’re not as good at splitting your focus as you think you are.”

There was silence for a moment, and then Y/N spoke again, quieter this time.

“Ruby… do you trust me?”

“Yes.” The answer was immediate, unflinching.

“Then trust me to come back to you.”

Those words lingered in the space between them, weighty and final. Ruby’s fingers flexed faintly at his sides, and after a pause, he spoke again.

“Understood.”

“Good.” Y/N’s voice was lighter now, carrying the faintest trace of a smile. “Besides, I’ve got a secret weapon waiting for me here—a little gift from Aventurine’s favorite stone-faced friend. Isn’t that right?”

Ruby hesitated. “The gift was adequate.”

Y/N laughed softly. “More than adequate, Ruby. You did well.”

The channel closed with a faint click, leaving Ruby standing in the quiet solitude of the observation deck once again.

For a long moment, he remained motionless, his crimson eyes reflecting the vastness of space. He could still hear her voice in his head, still feel the weight of her words.

"Then trust me to come back to you."

And he would. He would trust her, follow her orders, and hold everything together in her absence.

But the weight in his chest—the tight, unyielding knot of algorithms tangled with something unquantifiable—would remain until she returned.

Ruby turned away from the glass, his coat sweeping behind him as he walked toward the exit, his footsteps silent against the polished floor.

Somewhere in the distance, the IPC’s gears continued to turn, conspiracies brewed in gilded shadows, and Penacony loomed closer with every passing moment.

But Ruby’s focus, sharp and unwavering, was locked on one thing: Y/N’s safe return.

And until then, he would wait.

--------

The soft chime of the disconnected call lingered in the air as Y/N leaned back in her seat, her eyes fixed on the faint reflection of her face in the terminal screen. Ruby’s steady, composed voice still echoed in her mind, carrying with it a weight she couldn’t shake.

A gentle knock came from the doorway, followed by the familiar swish of the door sliding open.

Himeko stepped inside, her crimson coat catching the faint glow of the console lights. In her hands was a porcelain cup filled with steaming tea. Without a word, she walked over and set it down in front of Y/N, her golden eyes carrying a quiet understanding.

“Long-distance calls always have a way of leaving a chill behind,” Himeko said softly, her voice carrying the warmth of someone who had seen this kind of moment many times before.

Y/N glanced at the tea, then back at Himeko. “He’s worried.”

Himeko offered a faint smile as she leaned casually against the edge of the table. “As he should be. Penacony is a gilded stage with far too many shadows behind the curtains.”

Y/N picked up the cup, her fingers brushing against the warm porcelain. The faint steam curled between them, filling the silence.

[therandomartmaker]

Poison the wine, the steak, or perhaps, the knife.

All the better to stab your enemies with, no?

tumblr’s going to nerf all the details i put in (the scales on the tattoo. The scales on the not-real voldie arms. the steak that’s been approved by 2 different people in looking like a steak. the hand-shaded chain. the choker gemstone. the scales on the snake cufflinks. so so much work. it took 10 fuckin hours to make this. It wasn’t meant to take this long. And it sure as hell wasn’t meant to be nerfed by fuckin tumblr)

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[sharkyswaters]

[lis-likes-fics]

Sweet as Sugar

Pairings: Agent Whiskey x Reader Word Count: 11.3k Warnings: NSFW, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, pining, cunnilingus, blowjob, slight dirty talk, slight praise kink, cowboy rule, swearing (this is basic smut, I think), Whiskey’s a little confused but he’s got the spirit... A/N: I have a writer’s block toward the end of writing this, so what should have only take about a week took, like, a month. Hopefully, I’m back to writing again but I will make no promises bc it’s too gloomy outside for any good serotonin boost to write with. Thank you and enjoy this peace offering bc Pedro Pascal had found a way into my brain!

The mall was bustling with people, men and women coming and going, passing through to look at all the booths and tables showing off all the different organizations to one another as the convention continued on through the day. It was not just any convention, either. Secret services from all over the world, interconnected and soon-to-be, gathered that day to listen and learn and hopefully form closer partnerships to other companies. The entire building was rented out for this function.

Agents continued to pass by the big booth decorated with rhinestones and flowers, which advocated an elegant simplicity to represent the business they ran. Displayed on either side of the booth were two dresses: one a simple, yet fashionable wedding dress with intricate detailing sewed into every stitch, the other, a woman’s business suit with a flower pin carved from what looked like sapphires. Along the table were pieces of jewelry—watches, bracelets, rings, necklaces, just samples of what the company had to offer—and pamphlets of what exactly it was the business they were running.

And displayed proudly on the sign over their booth was a symbol, a renaissance style ‘Q’ that twisted and curved in classic cursive.

You sighed as you ran your hands along the sleeves of your blazer, your fingers grazing the cufflink on your wrist that matched the symbol of your agency. You had been standing behind your booth with one of three of your coworkers for about an hour now, waning the daylight in shifts between handling the booth and exploring the convention for food or company that was not the women running your station.

You looked over your watch as you awaited the return of your colleagues so you could switch off again, so you could leave the confines of advertising your business. Your outfit—a delicate gold satin button down that loosely tucked into your perfectly tailored white dress pants, which flowed along your legs and matched with white blazer to create your formal attire suit—was a perfect representation of your agency: distinguished and efficient. Your partner, though she wore silver and blue, stood beside you to match.

You smiled and shifted the clubmaster frames sitting at the edge of your nose as Pearl and Jasper returned, both women sending you nods and smiles as they took your places behind the booth for your switch. “We found the Kings just that way,” Jasper said, pointing in the direction they’d just come from before shifting the cloud of coiled black hair away from her face and securing it in a poofy ponytail. She then slipped her hands back into the pockets of her dark red suit, glancing back at Pearl as she spoke.

“They’ve got a nice booth. We might have some competition,” she quipped, smirking as smoothed her fingers over the thin chain of her necklace.

Opal, your own partner, laughed and shook her head. “Don’t we always have competition with the Kings?” she retorted, playful as she turned to walk with you. You agreed with her joke and headed in the direction Jasper had pointed in.

On the way, a pair of eyes spotted you and you offered a large grin. One of the agencies you partner with were the Amadoda Amafulege, the Flagsmen. They were a company set in Africa who you counted on for certain resources: information, jewels or gemstones, fabrics. They were reliable friends.

You and Opal approached them with wide grins, pointing them in the direction of your own booths to greet Jasper and Pearl. The interaction was short but warm hearted, and you were off again before you could be sidetracked by some other business you happen to work with. You both continued on walking, greeting physical bodies and holographic forms with waves and nods.

The large sign of the Kingsman symbol sat atop a booth as two well-dressed gentlemen with glasses stood behind their booth. One of them spotted the both of you, recognizing the likewise fashion choices as you came closer. Opal grinned, a mix of amusement and adoration in her tone at the company which both allied and competed with your own. “The famed Kingsman.”

The younger one smiled, offering a nod to you both. “Hello,” he greeted. When you finally stood in front of their booth, he reached out and handed each of you a pamphlet. You glanced over it, disinterested in absorbing information you already know. Both agents held their hands out for you. “Agent Galahad. This is Agent Merlin.”

The older man, Merlin, gave a courteous nod, “Pleasure to meet you.”

You nodded, shaking his hand confidently. “Back at you,” you responded. “We didn’t know if you’d be coming.”

Merlin gave a nod, smiling with a slight chuckle at your words. The Kingsman had not shown up to the last convention, business had gotten in the way and they were greatly missed. “We pulled some strings.”

You looked over their table at a few gadgets, some disguised as ties or watches, and then looked over at the two suits they chose to display similarly to your own booth. “Good to have the famous Galahad and Merlin,” you said, “and with a good booth.”

Your tone offered your impressed attitude toward their well-decorated station. Some of the booths here had not offered a lot of effort, simply their symbols on a sign and some pamphlets and gadgets on their tables. Plain. Boring.

“Some of these are severely lacking,” Opal said, practically reading your mind. She ran a hand through her hair, pushing the black curls out of her face so she could see as she offered her smile. “You’d think a secret service could put together a decent booth.”

Galahad extended a hand with his suggestion, "You should stop by the Statesman. You'd probably be impressed."

"We'll keep it in mind," you agreed, picking up one of the fancy watches on display. You examined it, the Kingsman symbol hiding under the glass, the gold lining on the band, the knobs and secret accesses embedded inside.

Merlin smiled, "In the meantime, we shall take a stop by yours."

Opal nodded, "Down by the Krispy Kreme. Can't miss it."

Your thumb pressed against the button on the side meant to wind the hour hand. It obeyed, pushing down and revealing a hologram of the Kingsman symbol once more.

"Very nice toy," you commented, pushing the button again to make the symbol retreat.

Merlin hummed, "You haven't found the kill button yet."

You shook your head, still examining the watch. "No, I have. You've got the poison dart here–" you tapped the near-invisible button on the side, "and the tranq dart here," you tapped the button next to it.

They raised their brows at you, impressed. "You've got them too close together, you should separate them a little more," you suggested. "Wouldn't want someone trying to knock an important target out and end up killing them instead."

The agents glanced at each other under Opal's watching gaze and your diverted one as you set the watch back down. Galahad nodded, "Right."

"Opal," you said as you turned to your partner. She hummed and you held your hand out.

"Oh, yes," she mumbled, lifting the lapel of her jacket to reach into a pocket. She handed it to you for you to present to both Kingsman. The box was lengthwise, a thin, golden thing housing a watch made by your agency.

"This is for Galahad—Harry—sent by our boss. She was hoping for us to run into you today. You'll give it?" You said, handing it over to the two.

"Of course," Merlin said, peeking inside of the box with a nod.

The two of you left again to go look at some other booths, or to find food. They sent you off with the directions to the Statesman, waving and wishing you farewell.

As you walked next to Opal, you recounted the booths you'd seen and the ones you hadn't on the way. You motioned toward the restaurant in the distance, smiling at the waft of good food as you got closer to it. You would all have to stop and eat there later today.

Your thoughts came to a halt when you heard someone's voice speaking to you, an unfamiliar voice that had you turning your head at the two figures approaching you.

"Hey there, sugar."

The voice had a Southern twang, smiling and confident as the owner slowed to stand in front of you. "Here we go," Opal mumbled beside you with an amused grin.

He was a handsome man, charming in the right ways. The black hat on his head accompanied his accent and his outfit, a suit that screamed professional cowboy. The mustache above his lip was kept and clean, and he wore it well, along with the glasses on the bridge of his nose.

He looked at you with his dark eyes, his tongue poking out to lick his bottom lip as he smirked. "How lucky am I to see a beauty like you in a place like this?"

There was a woman next to him with short dark brown hair mostly shielded by her own western hat, her skin shades lighter as her own glasses sat at the bridge of her nose. She held her hand out, "Hi, I'm Ginger Ale. This is Whiskey."

"Nice to meet you," you greeted her warmly, taking in the sight of her with a look that could only be described as an evaluation.

You turned to Whiskey, raising an amused brow as you held your hand to shake his. He grabbed it gingerly, bending at the waist to press a kiss to your knuckles.

"How do you do?" he winked, holding onto your hand a little longer before letting you go.

Opal chuckled, "He's cute."

He smiled at her, satisfied with her assessment as he grinned at her like some excited pup.

You tilted your head, nodding slowly. "Yeah… In a flirty toddler kind of way." His demeanor did not shift, your words were no dagger to his ego. "Just want to pinch his cheeks and pat his head," you chuckled, half-reaching like you would actually do it.

You might, his skin looked soft and you want to see his hair underneath his hat.

He winked again, licking his bottom lip, "You can do whatever you want, sugar," he quipped.

You chuckled. Cute.

"You think so?" you asked, tilting your head as you pitched your voice a few octaves to sound as sweet as the nickname he kept calling you.

He shifted so he was standing beside you, careful with his arm in case you didn't want to be touched. Thoughtful. He walked a little with you, leaving Opal and Ginger to stand next to one another and watch him guide you a few feet away.

"I know so," he chuckled. "What's your name?" He said "your" in that way only cowboys can say it: that slurred 'u' that made the 'r' slightly bleed into the last word.

You licked your bottom lip, offering a teasing gaze as you looked at him through your lashes. "Why don't you guess it?" You turned to him, setting your hands on his chest and playing with his tie.

He seemed charmed, entranced by your little gestures and looks. "Probably something pretty like that necklace," he smirked, motioning to your chest as his fingers brushed the golden locket around your neck, resting just between your breasts.

You took it in your hands, stroking the sides. "You like my necklace?"

"It's beautiful," he agreed, staring back at you with a gaze that matched the lovestruck puppy vibe he'd given you earlier. "Just like you," he grabbed your hand and kissed your knuckles once more.

"You wanna take a look inside?"

"I'd be delighted," he breathed, leaning forward just a little as his face huddled closer to you. You offered a tiny giggle as you undid the clasp, slowly opening the locket as you built the suspense of what could possibly be presented inside.

A bright light flashed quickly into Whiskey's eyes, there one second and gone before a full one could pass. Whiskey's hands rushed to his face as he made a slight groan, and he stumbled backward. You reached forward, pressing a hand to his chest, and watched him fall to the ground.

He made little sounds of discomfort, laying on his back as he brought his hands away and blinked rapidly. He stared in no clear direction, looking around blankly for…something.

Opal chuckled from her spot, Ginger stared with a mix of amusement and concern, and you just looked down at him with a smile as he tried to see.

You approached him, bending at the hips and looking down at him with a smile. You brushed some hair out of your face.

"This is my partner, Opal," you gestured toward her, though you knew he could not see. Your necklace had a device within it that temporarily blinded those on the unfortunate end of it—temporarily.

You pressed a hand to your chest, "My name is Diamond," you reached out and picked up his hat, which had fallen off his head. "Agents of the Queensmaiden."

You brushed the fabric of the hat, setting it over his face before straightening your back. You looked at Ginger Ale as you rejoined Opal's side. "Nice to meet you, Ginger."

She smiled and dipped her hat at you once, waving. "You, too. Feel free to stop by the Statesman."

You nodded, looping your arm with your partner's, paying the blind agent no mind as he struggled to his feet. "We were just headed there!" you smiled, amazed at the turn of events as you pointed it out. "We'll stop by later…when he can see again."

You turned with Opal, looking over your shoulder and grinning gently. "Bye, Whiskey," you giggled before taking your leave.

Whiskey reached out hastily, grabbing a hold of Ginger, just to make sure she was still there. The way she could have rolled her eyes and shook her head as a dopey smile spread over his lips. He motioned in the direction he thought you walked out in, sighing dreamily.

"I need her."

This time, Ginger did roll her eyes and shake her head. She took his outstretched hand and started pulling him back to the booth. "Come on, lover boy."

~

You did visit the Statesman’s booth—where you met Scotch and Tequila—but did so while Whiskey was away. You wanted to tease him, make him anticipate your arrival for you not to appear and leave him wanting more.

As the night waned, the booths were taken down to make room for the afterparty that had already begun. You were standing at one of the tall, narrow tables with Opal and Tequila, enjoying the music playing in the background as people mingled through the night.

As you laughed at a sarcastic comment made by Tequila, you heard the familiarly smooth voice of his colleague fill the space between you and couldn’t fight your smile.

“I see you’ve met my associate,” he announced himself, sidling up next to you as he leaned on the table. The look on his face held no defeat or upset, he was just as smiling as before as he took in the sight of you, once again entranced.

You chuckled, looking him up and down as you watched each other. “Oh,” you smiled, “so you can see again…”

He laughed heartily at that, amusement seeping into the sound and painting your stomach with butterflies, a light, airy feeling that bounced off the bones of your ribcage. He clasped his hands together, motioning with his head toward your chest, where your golden locket still lay idly by.

“Very nifty gadget, that necklace of yours,” Whiskey smiled, his eyes never leaving yours for long.

You picked it up, tracing your thumb along it like you had done before in a slight tease. “I’d like to think so. I designed it,” you confessed, setting it back down and looking at him, your head tilted up as you straightened your spine with pride. He tilted his head to the side, his grin deepening at your clear genius.

Tequila and Opal shared a look as they took in the interaction, chuckling lightly. “I’ll go ahead and step away now,” he said, doing just that and glancing back at your partner standing by his side.

She nodded her agreement, holding her hand out to the offered crook of his arm. “And I’ll join you.” She walked away with him, shaking her head and smiling as she left to go hang out with her own new plaything—of sorts.

Whiskey’s eyes looked you up and down as he thought over something for a moment before he simply spoke again. “Can I buy you a drink, sweetness?” he offered, holding his own arm out for you as Tequila had done.

You considered him, raising a brow. “I’m still sweet, huh?”

He flashed his teeth with his next grin, dipping his head down in a nod as a gesture with his hat. “Like sugar,” he hummed.

You sighed. “Okay.” Your arm looped through his own, and he smiled triumphantly as he gently tucked you into his side. You gave him a similar gaze to the one you’d given him before he ended up walking around blindly for an hour: your head tilted down as you looked up at him through your lashes, your smile soft, and your eyes teasing—the perfect demonstration of the less eloquently put “fuck me eyes”. “Lead the way, Whiskey.”

He walked you to the bar that had opened earlier on for the convention. The liquor was all top shelf stuff—they wouldn’t dare give low-quality alcohol to these highly respectable representatives of these agencies. He made sure you were sitting comfortably on your stool before he took his seat next to you—a true gentleman.

A bartender came down to the pair of you and smiled, waiting for your orders. “Scotch, neat,” you nodded, adding a “thank you” on the end as you looked away, anywhere but Whiskey while your eyes examined the many options behind the bartender.

“Actually,” Whiskey held his finger up, “I want you to try something.” You looked at him, narrowing your eyes teasingly at what he could be doing now. He turned to the bartender, pulling his hat off and setting it to the side to reveal the neatly kept hair underneath it. “Kentucky Statesman, whiskey,” he nodded.

They nodded back before stepping away to grab the bottle. You looked at him with a smirk as he gazed back at you, self-satisfied before you’d even tried the liquor he’d suggested. The bartender returned with the bottle of the amber liquid, showing off the label to ensure it was the correct one. When Whiskey nodded, they grabbed two glasses from under the bar and set it on the table, pouring the appropriate amount into each one.

You picked up the glass as it was given to you, swishing it around and examining it. You picked up the bottle in your other hand and looked at the label as you brought the lip of the glass to your nose to smell the heady scent of liquor. “Whiskey from Whiskey, huh?” you quipped, still only sampling the scent.

He laughed, sitting back with his glass in his hand, refusing to take a sip until you had. “Give it a taste.”

You smiled suspiciously, bringing the glass to your lips and sniffing it once more before finally tasting it. A sigh escaped you as whiskey lingered on your tongue before burning delightfully down your throat. It was magnificent, like liquid gold.

"Oh my god," you whispered under your breath, closing your eyes and shaking your head.

He smiled proudly, "Good, right?"

You looked at him, composing yourself once more as you straightened your back and too-slowly set your glass back down. You let out a long, calculated breath and just nodded too hard. "It's…It's good, yeah."

He finally drank from his own glass, hiding his chuckle as he beamed. "Go on," he said as he set his glass back down. "Have some more. On the house."

You looked at him, raising a brow. "I thought you were buying me a drink," you pointed out, taking another generous gulp.

He leaned back, motioning widely to the large selection of fine liquor. "Be my guest, get whatever you want."

You inhaled the intoxicating scent of the drink already in hand, your eyelids fluttering for a split second before you just shook your head. "I suppose I'll settle for this," you told him, sipping your drink and setting it down again.

Whiskey grabbed the bottle and refilled your glass. You looked up at him, narrowing your eyes playfully and smirking. "Are you trying to get me drunk?"

He shook his head, "Of course not. Just tryna show you the plus side of a Statesman." He set the bottle down and winked at you.

You scoffed, anything but annoyed. "What, think I'll find you?" you swirled your drink around. "We'll hook up over some good liquor?"

His laugh was nearly explosive as he shook his head, seemingly amused in the deepest degree. "Oh, no," he said. "I intend to do more than simply 'hookin' up' with you."

You hummed your response, examining him for far too long and looking away before his dark gaze could override your self-restraint. You crossed your legs, turning your body to face away from him again.

"So," he breathed, "tell me about the Queensmaiden."

You took in a long breath and blew it out to think, reaching out and grabbing his hat discarded on the table. Feeling the fabric under your fingers, you tilted your head. "What do you want to know?"

He shrugged, "Where did it come from?"

"Well," you began, "It was formed some time after Kingsman, 1952, by a man named Bobby Gold." They way you said it, with reverence and sass, Whiskey's lips twitched in a smile. "He's like… in his late eighties now, looking good." You shook your head to get back on track. "He founded the Queensmaiden to be an all-women agency, picked a protégé to take his place and run it after he stepped down."

You turned to him with a boastful smirk, "She's the first Diamond—was the first Diamond, she retired. I knew her, worked with her when I first joined. I got her name, promoted from Quartz."

He nodded, deeply invested in the way you spoke as you played with his hat, made of sturdy, soft fabric. "Fascinatin'," he smiled.

You nodded. "Gold ran a really popular jewelry business of the same name, had a younger sister who ran a tailor shop for women's clothing with her husband. He founded it, she later partnered as co-founder. Now we're a boutique found in most countries…all over the world." You shrugged your shoulder so nonchalantly, like your boast wasn't a real boast. "It's very efficient, dare I say, more efficient than the Kingsman itself."

He snorted, "Don't tell them that."

You leaned forward, too close within his space, "They probably already know." You sidled up closer to him, a clear flirt as you smiled. You raised his hat to him and set it atop your own head.

Whiskey's eyes darkened as he watched you down his nose. "You know…" he said slowly, "there's this rule where I come from… Wear the hat, ride the cowboy."

You licked your bottom lip as your eyes flicked up and down his face. "Oh, I'm well aware." His hand reached out and grazed your arm, daring to bring you closer before you pulled away from him again with a sweet smile. "What about Statesman?"

It took a beat for him to recover before he was shaking his head. "Not as glamorous," he sighed thickly. "Agency in the south full of cowboys and rascals."

You traced the rim of your glass with your finger, picking it up again and bringing it to your lips. "Well, I love me a nice cowboy," you said as you looked at him over your cup.

"Lucky for me, huh?"

"We'll see." You took a sip from your glass.

Suddenly, the music which had been in the background shifted into something else. Country music blared through the speakers and caught the attention of everyone in the area. Some excitedly stood to go join the small group ready who may have recognized the music, but one look at the jukebox provided by one of the agencies here proved that it was, indeed, a southerner who'd started the music.

Tequila stood there with his hat on his head as he smiled, one hand held out and grasping Opal's hand as he spun her into his chest. He glanced up at Whiskey and nodded once before hopping off to the large space cleared to dance.

He was the one to determine what dance was being done as he twirled Opal around into a half amateur-half professional swing dance. People joined in with their partners and allowed themselves to be swept away into more amateur dancing—a dance Whiskey suddenly seemed confident to prove himself in.

"C'mon, I've never missed a swing," he smiled excitedly.

He took your hand and pulled you to the floor before you could protest. He swung you, making you stumble into his chest as you breathed quickly. "I've never swing danced before," you confessed.

He looked you dead in the eye, his own sparkling with excitement and hints of giddiness. "Just follow me," he breathed, his kissable lips forming the words in a way that made it impossible to deny him this.

You sighed, "You better know what you're doing."

He smirked, this one more sly than the last. "Trust me, sugar," he leaned in. "I know what I'm doin'."

You tilted your head, standing up a little more and placing your hands in his. Once you were situated, you smiled and let out a breath of courage. "Well," you whispered, "show me how a real cowboy does it."

Whiskey beamed before he pulled you into the music, quick steps and swinging arm making it impossible to keep up. He twirled you out, he twirled you back in, he switched you to one side and swung you to the other. He spun you under his arm and into his chest. Just when you thought he might slow down, he dipped and held you in his arms with heavy breaths.

He caught the hat as it fell from your head, lingering there and staring at your lips. You stared into the depths of his gaze, catching your breath as they mingled between you in soft puffs of air. He slowly straightened his spine, standing you up and setting the hat atop your head once more, admiring its place there.

You smiled, leaning forward oh-so slowly. His eyes fluttered until they were closed. He looked so calm, so gentle and pretty. You pulled his hat from your head and put it back on him, lingering there a moment before pulling out of his arms and missing his warmth.

He felt you leave and refused to watch you leave him behind. When he opened his eyes again, you were gone. When he turned his head to a mystified Tequila, Opal was gone.

A breath poured from his lips as he couldn't help but smile. He smiled at your charm, at the way you left him starstruck, at the way he'd slipped his number in your pocket in the hopes you called him, finding him again and leaving him with a little more closure as he looked down at his boots and shook his head.

"Fuck me," he cursed, chuckling to himself.

~

That was the last he saw of you for months, the last you saw of him for months.

You hated how much you thought about him—his puppy-like flirtations, his darkened gaze, his fascination, and the way he moved you like a tornado on the dance floor. You stared at the crumpled up piece of paper with his number scrawled on it all the time, considering, thinking, wanting to call.

But you never did. Never once did you pick up the phone and dial his number. Never once did you talk about him to your colleagues or your partners—not even with Opal, who was totally smitten with her own cowboy.

You missed him, but you were determined not to.

But that didn't mean a crossing of paths would hinder a good reunion.

You smiled at the receptionist at the front desk, who granted you a smile of his own with the tilt of his head. Walking up to the desk, you adjusted the purse on your arm and spoke. “Hello, I’m here for an appointment with Mr. Sullivan. I’m his three o’clock.”

He hummed, “I wasn’t aware Mr. Sullivan was taking appointments today. Name?” he asked, turning to his computer.

“Davis. We made an appointment together over the phone,” you stated in a sickly sweet voice. “Oh, I hope I marked the right day.”

He looked at you and just smiled, shaking his head. “No worries. I don’t see you in the database, but I’ll just give him a quick call to confirm. Alright?”

You nodded, thanking him kindly as you wiped your hands down your light suit. He picked up the phone and dialed the number to his boss’ office, giving you another large grin. When the phone was picked up, he began to explain the situation, and his reaction was full of wide eyes and stutters. “Yes, sir,” he answered, setting the phone back down.

He looked back at you regretfully. “I’m sorry, but Mr. Sullivan will not be taking any appointments today. You are welcome to reschedule, if you’d like.”

“Of course,” you nodded.

“Great.” He reached down under the desk to grab some papers before wincing. “I’ll have to go make some copies. If you’ll excuse me.”

“Not a problem.”

He disappeared behind a door behind the desk and you sighed, turning anyway to go up to the elevator on your right. As you were walking, you noticed a group of men walking down the hall, dressed in black with shades over their eyes. Security guards. You straightened your spine and merely kept walking. You were just at the elevator when you heard shots firing behind you. You groaned loudly and ducked for cover. Their gunfire was loud and thunderous, making couch stuffing and wood splinters fly through the air as you hid behind a desk behind a sofa in the cushy lobby.

You cursed under your breath as you dug through your purse. “No, no, no,” you mumbled as you selected which weapon you would use. You dug out a little silver disc and smiled. “Yes,” you declared as you pulled a little pin out of the side.

You threw it behind you where the guards were still shooting, and ducked down, waiting for a blow that never came as the gunshots continued. “Talc!” you yelled, shaking your head at the newbie in the weapons department and one of her faulty weapons making its way into your arsenal.

You huffed as you looked behind you before you suddenly heard a body drop. You looked over and your eyes widened in shock and surprise. Hiding behind a couch a little farther away from your own was a person who definitely was not on their side. He locked eyes with you, and your expressions became mirrors of the other.

“Diamond?” “Whiskey?”

The simultaneous ringing of your names only escalated the confusion as you stared at one another. “What are you doing here?” he questioned in as low a whisper he could manage to ensure you still heard him, holding a sleek, golden gun tight in his grip as he paid no mind to the small cavalry currently shooting at you.

“I’m on a fucking mission. What are you doing here?” you countered.

He shrugged, “On a fuckin’ mission.”

Shit. “Shit,” you huffed. You thought for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest. “What’s your objective?”

Whiskey pressed his gun to his temple, tilting it up as a gesture of his assassination attempt. You let out a breath of relief, pulling a drive with the Queensmaiden symbol on the side from out of your bra and showing it off to him. He sighed as well.

“Cover me?” you asked.

He smiled and nodded, sending you a flirty wink. “You got it, sugar.”

You grinned and counted down for him before ducking out of your cover and rushing to the elevator closest to you. Whiskey stood, grasping his gun as he shot. You pressed the elevator door button and glanced over your shoulder, gripping your gun tight as you waited impatiently for the elevator to open.

When you heard the ding, you had half a second to celebrate as a loud shot came too close to you. You looked down at the elevator button, flashing and sparking as it sat destroyed in the wall.

You pried the door open and shouted Whiskey's name over your shoulder as he retreated back. You got inside, jamming the button closed without missing a beat or waiting for him to get through.

The doors were already closing when he finally slipped through, a bullet missing him by an inch. In the safety of the elevator, you let out a breath and calmed.

There was silence, besides the breaths blowing through the space of the elevator. Whiskey looked at you as you raised your hand, looking at the clock face of your watch.

"You never called," he accused, looking at you with a raised brow and a look on his face that wasn't mad, but not entirely giddy with joy.

You shrugged, still not looking at him. "Been busy."

He chuckled, "With what?"

You missed his voice, that smooth Southern lilt that could lull you to gentle sleep or drive you insane with desire. With the adrenaline pumping through your veins, it was the latter.

"My job," you laughed, pressing a button on your watch as a hologram arose from it, circling the Queensmaiden symbol.

You turned to him, granting him a smile. You were more happy to see him than you should have been. "Did you miss me, lover boy?" you winked. "Tequila says you did."

He scoffed, shaking his head. "You've been talking with Tequila?"

You smirked, nodding. "Of course," you told him, swiping the hologram aside to pull up some files off of some computer. "He's with Opal. They hooked up after the convention."

He sighed longingly, leaning on one leg as he set his gun back in his holster. "And to think," he breathed. "That coulda been us."

You snorted, "Don't get ahead of yourself, cowboy."

You tapped away from the files you'd been scrolling through, pulling up some surveillance footage. There was a hall through the camera, one full of guards with more numbers than the ones downstairs.

"Aww," you muttered. "We have a whole welcome party waiting for us." You turned him with a grin, swiping away the hologram and returning your hand to your side.

He reached behind his back as he smiled. "How sweet."

Whipping his jacket to the side, he grabbed some sort of fancy handle, intricately detailed with gold and silver. You nodded, impressed as you looked at its design.

"Nice," you commented. You opened your jacket, sliding it off your arms and reaching behind you to grab a hold of a handle of your own. It was blue, a shining color that sparkled as Whiskey's eyes scanned over it.

The elevator dinged and you stood beside Whiskey with a smile. The sea of guards on the other side watched you with stern faces, ready for the inevitable fight as they stared down two people who didn't stand a chance.

"Well, howdy, fellas," Whiskey greeted, tipping his hat.

You tilted your head and smiled, "How do you do?" You pressed a small button on one end and the handle began to unfold, expanding into a dagger on one end of a strong rope and a heavy hammer-like weapon on the other.

At the sight of the weapon, the fight began. With drawn guns and angry glares, the guards were quick with their guns as they cornered you in the elevator.

The handle in Whiskey's hand extended into a lasso—a silver whip that he swung out into the small army. It wrapped around the gun of the man in the front of the group, holding on tight as he pulled it taut and sent him falling forward.

You took your rope dart and began swinging it, smacking a bullet out of the way as it hurdled toward you. You threw it and Whiskey watched, amazed, as it wrapped around some man's neck and the dagger embedded itself into his chest. You pulled it, and he spun around to the floor.

The other guards were distracted long enough for the both of you to retreat from the elevator and into the fight.

Ropes flew through the air, daggers pierced bodies, and electricity had them writhing in pain before dropping to the floor. Whiskey's rope wrapped around someone's neck as he pulled him in, punching him hard in the face and sending him to the floor.

He heard a pained yell behind him and turned to see some man falling to the floor with a blue knife in his back. You stepped forward, setting your foot on his back and pulling the dart out.

"That's cool," he said, admiring your weapon of choice.

You smiled, pulling a gun and shooting someone coming toward Whiskey from behind. "Thank you. It's made of sapphires."

"Oo," he smiled. "Duck." You did so, dipping down as he raised his own gun and shot another man aiming his gun at you.

He looked down at you, knelt on one knee in front of him, tightly gripping your rope tight. "What an interestin' position we've found ourselves in."

You scoffed, standing up too close to him. "Keep it in your pants, hotshot."

You turned on your heel, returning to the fight as the few guards who were left brandished their guns. The last of them were easy to take out, and you did. As you swung your rope at the last man standing you noticed a different rope do the same.

You turned your head to Whiskey as he smiled at you. "Looks like we made a connection."

You rolled your eyes. "Shut up." You grabbed your gun and raised it to the man, shooting him instantly and collecting your rope as he dropped to the floor.

You walked over to the body, bending down and wiping the blood from your blade before stepping over him and toward the grand office door down the hall. Whiskey was more than happy to follow you.

You take a card you'd snatched from one of the bodies and swipe it along the reader, the door sliding open to allow you inside. As soon as you crossed the threshold, you heard the sound of a gun click.

You both looked up at Mr. Sullivan pointing his gun at you, dressed in an expensive suit with hands that trembled only slightly with fear for his life. You sighed, looking back at him. "Well, you caught us," you said as you stood beside Whiskey. "Props."

"Question is…" Whiskey added, "who're you gonna shoot?"

Sullivan tilted his head. There was no amusement in his face, but he gave you a look that said "really?". He motioned between the two of you and raised a brow. "You've got some rope. I've got a gun. I can shoot both of you."

Whiskey nodded, agreeing with his logic. "Well, you caught us fair and square," he sighed dramatically. Then he smirked, "Pull the trigger."

Sullivan didn't like how calm you both were. He was holding a gun to your face, and you were telling him to pull the trigger. Why the fuck would you tell him to pull the trigger if he had the upper hand? Were you suicidal?

"There's just one little thing," you spoke, shifting on your side. "You brought a gun to a knife fight."

Sullivan missed the way you passed your rope dart to Whiskey, who took it with too much excitement and, with a few mighty swings, threw it at the unsuspecting boss. The rope wrapped around his neck, and he dropped his gun to grab it and force it away to no avail. The dagger came back around after its loops, and he had no time to process as it lodged in his chest.

Whiskey smirked before he pulled roughly on the rope, spinning the man round, unwinding him like a yo-yo. The dagger yanked from his chest and Whiskey caught it as it flung back. Mr. Sullivan dropped to the floor, choking on his own blood as it spilled from his wound.

You walked past him dismissively, stepping up to his desk and grabbing your drive. Sticking it in the computer, you began typing away as Whiskey admired your weapon.

"I needa get me one of these," he muttered.

"I've got plenty. I'll send you one," you suggested.

He looked up at you, his eyes glittering, "Really?"

"Why not?" You shrugged your shoulders. Leaned over the desk, you watched the loading bar slowly climb toward completion before you were able to withdraw the drive and stuff it in your pocket.

You grabbed a butterscotch from the bowl on his desk, helping yourself as you walked back over to Whiskey. You smiled at him and tilted your head. You hold your hand out to him, making a grabby motion.

"Can I have it back?" you asked.

He tilted his head up, smiling down at you with narrowed eyes. "Maybe."

"Maybe?" you questioned.

"Can I get something in return?"

You sighed and thought for a moment, continuing to smile at him as you returned your hand to your hip. "What do you want?"

He shrugged, pretending to think. "How about a pretty please?" he smirked, his eyes dark and inviting, his voice quiet and deep.

"You want me to say please?" you asked, standing too close as your eyes flickered to his lips for half a second.

Again, he shrugged, but his smile became more wicked. "A kiss on the cheek might suffice."

You chuckled deeply, standing on your toes as you leaned forward. You got closer, closer, and closer still until your breaths mingled. You shifted to his cheek, turning your head just enough so your lips nearly brushed his ear as you whispered to him. "You're going to have to try harder than that."

You took the rope from his grip and backed away from him, watching him watch you with lidded eyes. You backed toward a private elevator in the office, pressing a button on the wall as the doors opened. You looked toward the door you came in and smiled. "You've got company."

You stepped back into the elevator and the doors closed, shielding you from him as you waved.

Whiskey stood in the office, looking toward the door that was currently being beaten against by his visitors. Smiling and shaking his head, he laughed heartily. "Clever."

You stepped out onto the roof, taking the drive from your pocket and tossing it to the ground. You pulled your gun and shot at it once, destroying it entirely as you made your way to the jet waiting for you. You boarded it, climbing into the pilot's seat as you started it up and left.

As you flew away from the building, you glanced back at it and smiled when you saw a figure climbing up the side of the building to the roof. He looked over his shoulder at you, and you could make out the distinct sight of him waving his arm at you. Not to grab your attention, but to say hello.

You saluted him before departing for a second time.

~

Your next encounter with him was not so far in the future. In fact, it was later on that night.

You walked into the large house you were staying in after a long day out. Between your mission, your flights, and everything in between, you were about ready to pour yourself a drink and go to sleep early.

The house was owned by the Queensmaiden, a mission house for meetings or get-togethers or just a place for agents to crash after long days on missions. Since your trip today was done alone, your partner back at home serving as your tech that day, you were in this big empty home alone. You didn't mind much, it was a lot of space, you could turn on the stereo as loud as you want, there was plenty of expensive booze. You were all set for the night.

As you walked through the loud house, which was filled with the classic voice of Frank Sinatra, you made your way to the open bar. As you poured yourself a drink, you glanced at the label with a smile. Statesman whiskey.

"So you did like it."

You didn't turn around, but you smiled at the smooth tone of your cowboy behind you. You grabbed a second glass and poured him his own. You set the bottle down, picked up both cups, and walked over to him with a smile.

"It's alright."

You stopped in front of him, making a bad habit of standing too close. Passing the glass over, you looked up at him through your lashes. He wasn't wearing his hat, giving you a view of his tousled hair. Likewise, he was stripped down to a white button down with the sleeves rolled up, his shirt still tucked in his pants fastened with his belt. His tie was gone, and the top buttons of the shirt were undone. He saluted his glass to you, and you gladly clinked them together in a quiet cheer before taking a sip, your eyes never parting from his.

"You know," he sighed. "This disappearing act of yours is starting to get a little old, Diamond."

You shrugged a shoulder, "I can spice it up if you want."

He simply shook his head, "I think I'd rather pick a different act. It would put us in much different positions."

"Oh?" You smiled, reluctantly turning on your heel and stepping away from him. "What positions did you have in mind?"

You lounged on the couch, kicking off your shoes. You looked back at him with one hand on your glass and the other under your chin as you rested your head on the back of the couch.

He sighed once again, his whole body moving with him as he looked at you in that way that reminded you of a lovesick pup. He set his hands on his hips, leaning on the side as he contemplated.

"You never called."

His words from earlier pricked your heart in a special kind of way this time. You sighed and just shook your head, "No, I didn't."

The song playing through the speakers in the house faded out to welcome another. Sinatra's "I'm a Fool to Want You" was sharp in your mind.

You set your glass down and looked up at Whiskey again. You reached your hand out to him, wiggling your fingers in the hope that he'll hold your hand.

He did, and you smiled.

"I did miss you," you confessed.

That offered him some solace. "Honest?"

"Honest." He sighed, stepping closer. You sat up, settling on your knees as he still towered over you. He looked at you for a long time before suddenly smiling. He bent down, wrapping his arms around your body and surprising you as he hoisted you up, spinning you over the couch and setting you on your feet. You held onto him, laughing as he pulled you close to his chest. He slid his hand into your own, entwining your fingers as his other hand rested on the small of your back.

"Dance with me?" he asked.

You tilted your head, "Do I have a choice?"

He laughed and just shook his head. "No."

You laughed. He took a side step, swaying you in time with the gentle rock of the music. It was slow and steady, filled with too much emotion than should have been allowed for a couple who had only met once a few months prior. You rested your head on his chest, your eyes closed as you blew out a long breath.

His voice rumbled in his chest as he spoke, low and quiet. "How lucky am I to see a beauty like you in a place like this?" he smiled.

You chuckled, recalling those words from when you first met. "Am I still allowed to do whatever I want?" you asked, looking up at him.

He spun you out, twirling you before spinning you back in, your back pressing against his chest. He leaned down to your ear. "Never revoked the privilege."

You twisted your neck to see him, smiling at his face so close to yours. You leaned forward, your lips ghosting over his own as you considered it. For a moment, you considered it.

You swerved to hover your lips near his ear, "Catch me."

You stepped away from him, walking backwards as your eyes stayed glued to his. You watched him with the same dark, teasing eyes as you had used before. The naughty look on your face, the proximity at which you once stood, the tingling of your lips never grazing his but teasing him with the possibility of such a sacred union…the thought of never sealing that fate with you and leaving once again for another wild goose chase where he never knew if he would see you again due to the dangers of the lives you both lived. They were possibilities that made his heart ache in ways it shouldn't have.

He just shook his head, deciding then and there that he wouldn't let you have another swift get away, wouldn't let you slip through his fingers with nothing to remember you by but the ghost breaths against the shell of his ear where you exhaled your secrets. "Not this time."

He took a few long strides toward you, taking you in his arms and crashing his lips down upon yours. You gasped into his mouth, melting instantly into him as your legs turned to jelly. He held you close to him, supporting your neck with one large hand as he consumed you in a passionate embrace.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down and swaying gently as you finally kissed the cowboy you'd been craving for months. He bent down, wrapping his arms under you and lifting you to wrap your legs around his waist. He held you up with strong arms, walking you back until he was pushing you up against a wall.

When he pulled from the kiss, heavy, hot breaths were exchanged between the two of you. His hands roamed your body, drinking you in desperately. His mouth pressed against your neck, his tongue darting out to lick along your thumping pulse. You moaned, feeling the heat between your legs igniting with a fire.

His name fell from your lips as he nibbled on your neck. Your fingers tangled in his hair and you pulled on his messy strands.

He rolled his hips into yours, pulling a shaky breath out of you. Your leg tightened around him, bringing him closer as you mirrored his own movement from before, drawing out your pleasure with grinding hips and breathless sighs. He groaned as one of his hands gripped your waist to stop you.

Whiskey unwrapped your legs from him as he set you back down on your feet. When he sank to his knees, it was with a maddening amount of eye contact that he didn’t dare break. His hands smoothed along your sides, rounding to the front to undo the clasp of your slacks. He moved torturously slow as he pulled the slacks down your legs, revealing more and more skin to him as he went along. Your eyes fluttered when you felt his lips on your thigh.

You stepped out of the pant legs when they finally pooled around your ankle. Whiskey leaned forward to press a kiss to the inside of your thigh, his tongue darting out to taste the skin before taking it between his teeth in a gentle nibble. You stifled a moan at the feeling, watching his dark eyes drink you in.

When he finally fingered the waistband of your panties, he pulled them down in one swift tug to reveal yourself to him. He licked his lips and you bit down on your own. “Look at that,” he praised. “So pretty.” He looked up at you with a cocky smirk, holding the back of your leg up and setting it atop his shoulder.

He leaned forward and your lips parted so delicately when his tongue darted out to lick you. Your breath hitched, halting in your throat as his hot tongue delved between your folds. Like a fire, the warmth spread through your body as you melted into him. Your hips jerked, seeking his mouth.

His lips wrapped around your pussy, tasting you with an intoxicated moan. When he sucked on your clit, your breath trembled and a whimper managed to weave its way through your vocal chords. His talented tongue glided through your folds before retreating as he pulled back from you to look at your pretty face.

You looked down, whining lightly at him as he stared at you with eyes that glittered with praise. His hand trickled up your side before dipping between your thighs and into your warmth. “You taste sweet as sugar, sugar.”

You had to fight through your eye roll as you enjoyed the sweet stretch of his thick fingers inside of you. “You have very skilled hands,” you nearly stuttered. Your eyes fluttered as he curled the length of his fingers.

“Why, thank you, sweetheart,” he dipped his head as though he was still wearing his hat. He pushed his fingers in deeper, adding a third as he coaxed you toward a sweeter release. He was a lot gentler than you expected, treating you like a fragile lover. It warmed your heart, so used to the less patient lovers of one-night stands long since.

The sharp dig of dull nails into the flesh of your thigh contrasted with the prior feathery fingertips on your sides. You were breathless and needy, aching for him all over. With those same fingers still buried deep inside of you, he leaned forward and sucked on your throbbing clit.

The shocks of pleasure creeping up on you sparked along your skin—your fingertips, the very ends of prickly flesh. Your fingers gripped and tangled in his hair. Your hips stuttered forward, searching for his mouth in a desperate attempt to push yourself over the edge.

But he was doing it first, crooking his fingers in the perfect way here and digging the tip of his tongue into that sensitive bundle of nerves there as your pitch climbed higher and higher with the anticipation of a climbing buildup. The rubber band inside your belly snapped and your mouth dropped. What were supposed to be rises of whiny moans were just a symphony of shuddering breaths, arrhythmic and impassioned.

He was right there to ease you through the shocks, encouraging you with his tongue back down to the tingles that covered the expanse of exposed skin.

When he pulled away, his lips were still occupied with your body, pressing hungry kisses to your thighs and lower belly with a fervor that made you tug harder on his curling locks of hair.

He looked up at you with kiss-swollen lips, smiling like an idiot in love—no, not love. This was just lust. That's all. That was it. It didn't matter if that spark in your chest only pumped through your veins when he looked at you like that.

You smiled at him, breathless. "Take me to bed."

"Don't have to tell me twice."

He tightened his grip around your waist before he stood, tossing you over his shoulder and holding you with one arm. You yelped, dissolving into giggles as he carried you through the house and through the winding halls toward the bedroom.

On the way, you smiled as you passed by his hat sitting on a table along the walls. Reaching you, you had just barely grabbed it with your fingertips as you held it to your head.

He pushed the door open to reveal the room: a king-sized bed with golden sheets, a mini chandelier reflecting diamonds all over the expensive room, paintings and frames and shelves probably hiding more tools and gadgets than there are choices of liquor behind the bar in the main room.

He kicked the door closed behind him, admiring the room with a hum and a nod of his head before plopping you down onto the bed. You fell with a bounce, chuckling again as you held onto his hat. He smiled, watching you put it on your head and look at him with eyes that expressed far too much to be an innocent one-night stand.

Part of Whiskey hoped it was more than an innocent one-night stand.

So did you.

But if it was, he would rock your world. He stared down at you with darkened eyes, undoing his shirt and tossing it somewhere in the room. The rest of his clothes followed after until he was in nothing but his boxers. Then he did the same to you, except he didn't stop until you were bare before him, left in nothing but your expensive necklace and earrings to admire the way you still looked like the perfect reflection of the woman of his dreams. He left the hat. You looked perfect in it.

"Not fair," you complained with a grin. "I'm stripped bare, and you're still dressed."

You leaned up on your elbows, sitting up until you were situated on your knees as you leaned forward. You smiled up at him, hooking your finger in the band of his boxers to pull him forward. "Your turn."

He set his hand on your cheeks and nearly melted at the way you leaned into his warm palm, your eyes fluttering shut as a gentle breath blew through you. He shifted his hand so he pinched your chin, lifting your face to see better. "You're so fuckin' beautiful, sweetness."

"Oh, yeah?" you chuckled. "Prove it to me."

He leaned forward, bending down to your face and connecting your lips again. He licked into your mouth, tasting the remnants of whiskey on your tongue. You moaned, melting against him. You pulled away, your hand still hooked around his waistband. You tugged them down, ridding him of the meaningless article of clothing to reveal him to you.

Fuck, he was beautiful. Flushed tipped, thick, and throbbing. As you reached out and stroked your fist over his cock, he twitched in your hand and groaned. You bit your lip, leaning forward and giggling when his hat on your head bumped into his stomach.

He chuckled at you, tilting it up so he could see your face and you could move. You smiled at him before going back to his leaking slit. You leaned forward and licked him, flattening your tongue along his head to taste him. You moaned again, leaning forward to take a longer lick along the length of him. He breathed a curse under his breath, watching you lick him up as you worked your tongue along him.

His hand came to rest on the back of your neck, easing you forward without actually moving you. Your lips wrapped around him, slick and warm as you took him in your mouth. His head tilted back before he looked down again to see you, not wanting to miss a second of it.

"Fuck," he breathed, hips twitching. You smiled around him, working him deeper in your throat with the intent of taking the whole of him. "Fuck, you're amazing. How did I get so lucky?"

You whimpered, laving your tongue along the underside of his cock where the vein was throbbing. "You like that?" he asked. "You like when I tell you how fuckin' perfect you are?"

You nodded as best you could, wrapping a hand on the back of his thigh to pull him in some more. "You're so goddamn perfect," he promised. "Makin' me feel special like this. D'you feel special?"

You just moaned your response, suckling around him and pulling a rough moan from him. After a moment, he pulled you away, setting his hands on either side of your neck as he caught his breath. He looked down at you, smiling and pulling you forward to kiss you again. The way he kissed you this time was so much different than before, so much softer, slower, with more meaning behind it than there ever should have been. Fuck, you were drunk on it, craving his lips more and more with an impossible desperation, even while he was still kissing you.

He eased forward, moving you until you were laying on your back. His lips slipped on and off of yours, down to your neck as he buried his face there and suckled on the skin.

He settled himself between your legs, grinding down on you as you moaned into each other's mouths. You grasped his bicep, squeezing it tight as you stopped him. "Wait," you breathed.

He stopped immediately, looking down at you with a face etched in concern. "What? What's wrong?"

You smiled, "Wear the hat, ride the cowboy." Your hands flattened on his chest and you pushed him back with a huff, flipping him around so he lay on his back as you straddled him.

He smiled at you, setting his hands on your hips. "You scared me for a second there," he said, his thumbs stroking circles along your skin.

You hovered over him with shaky thighs. "Scared you weren't gonna get your cock wet tonight?" you chuckled.

He just shook his head, "Scared I hurt you."

Your breaths filled the rooms as your body slowed to a stop, staring at him. Your heart leapt and you allowed yourself, just for a moment, to succumb to its calling to him.

"You could never hurt me, Whiskey," you promised.

You only allowed him a moment to let it sink in before you were grabbing his cock in your warm palm, stroking him a couple times before guiding him to your soaked pussy. Sinking down on him, both your eyes shut as your breaths puffed into the air.

"Fuck," you moaned. You braced yourself on his shoulders, helping them guide you as you slowly rolled your hips atop his. His hands gripped your waist, blunt nails digging into skin and creating little crescent dents.

The sensations were amazing. His cock stroked along your velvet walls and sparked a desperate pleasure within you that had you forgetting about the little tingles of pain at adjusting to his length. You brought him deeper, your bodies connected indefinitely as you began your slow movements.

Your breath caught in your throat as you felt the blossom of pleasure deep within you. You leaned back, placing a hand on the hat to keep it there as you rolled your hips, faster and faster, chasing the euphoria you craved.

"Look at you," he groaned. "Fuckin' ridin' me like a true cowgirl."

"Lucky for you, huh?" you smirked, breaking off into a whimper as the blunt head of his cock brushed against a sweet spot inside you.

He nodded, "Lucky for me."

You rode him, and you rode him hard, ignoring the ache in your hips and your legs from the continuous motion, ignoring the breathlessness shocking your throat at all the air you were taking in, ignoring the pounding in your chest at the way he stared at you: lips kiss-swollen, eyes sparkling, hands gripping. It was so much, too much, you craved this man more than you'd ever craved anything before in your life.

"Whiskey," you moaned, stifled moans tearing from your throat as his name spilled from your lips. "Fuck, Whiskey, you feel so good."

He hummed. "Take what you need from me, sugar. Take what you want." You leaned forward, holding yourself up with your hands on his shoulders. You were desperate, fucking yourself on him like it was your last time. When his thumb brushed your clit, a guttural moan ripped at your throat and your hips jerked. "That's it, sweetness. That's it."

He was just as breathless as you, guiding your hips with one hand and circling your clit with the other. "Shit," you sighed. "More. Fuck, Whiskey, I'm almost there."

"C'mon, sugar," he urged you. "Cum for me, Diamond."

You didn't care to hold back, you couldn't. You came with a shout, dropping forward onto him and burying your face in his neck. You moaned into his neck, pitchy and breathless as you came apart on top of him. Your hand tangled in his hair, he held tightly to your hips.

Your cunt clenched around him, squeezing and spasming and bringing him to the edge as his release tumbled after yours. One of his hands flew to your hair, holding you there as his fingers carded through.

Your hips canted a couple more times, milking the last ounces of pleasure you could get before you fell against his chest. He held you as you both slowly floated down from your highs, falling into the other's embrace as you came to.

The stillness that followed was like something out of a dream. The air was heavy with the smell of sex, but light with the breaths blowing from the both of you. Every inch of your body tingled, your fingertips felt like pop rocks, your skin prickled with a mix of warm and cold. Whiskey's heartbeat resounded through you, grounding you as you traced your fingers over his chest.

You could feel his hand stroking through your hair, rubbing gently into the back of your neck and making you feel like putty. You could stay like this forever, resting atop him and feeling the life he breathed into you from his chest.

"Jack."

You took in a small breath, leaning up and shifting yourself so he slipped out of you. You sighed a little before looking up at him with a lovesick grin. "Hmm?"

He looked at you, smiling right back as he chuckled lightly. "My real name is Jack."

You smiled and shook your head, burying your face in his chest as you chuckled. "Jack Daniels?" you joked, recalling the name brand Whiskey.

The way he chuckled made you look up at him. "Yes, actually."

You looked at him, smiling so wide your face hurt. "Seriously? Your name is Jack Daniels?"

He nodded, "Yep."

You shook your head, laying your head back on his chest and reaching clumsily over to grab his hat, which had fallen off your head. You set it over your face, shielding you from the light shining from the chandelier.

You sighed slowly, tracing patterns into his skin. You whispered your own name to him, glancing up at him and then back out to the little lion figurine on the small stand against the wall on the other side of the room. It was bronze, standing proudly with one paw perched up and his mouth dropped in a mighty roar.

Whiskey smiled, stroking his hand down your back and then back up to your hair. "You've got a beautiful name, sugar."

You smiled slowly. "Sweet as sugar?"

He nodded, "Sweeter."

You leaned up, your face inches apart. "You're gonna get a cavity if you have any more of me," you kissed his lips, long and slow and wanting more.

"The sacrifices we make…" he replied, chuckling deep in his chest as he kissed you again.

Pedro Pascal taglist: ... Tag yourself here...

[metfell]

Entirely self indulgent headcanon I have is that with all the mining and smithing Ranboo does, over the years tubbo just ends up absolutely dripped the fuck out in jewelry. There’s precious stones and metals all over their house. Tubbo doesn’t wear cufflinks but when he does there’s a thousand different choices because Ranboo just makes gifts Constantly and all of them are so fucking shiny. Michael’s buttons are inlaid with gemstones and when he goes to kindergarten one of the aides has a small heart attack because this toddler has the wealth of a small nation just decorating him and whoever picks said toddler up is even More decked out???? Who are these people????

awwww thats so awesome sorry i forgot abt the headcanon asks i didnt answer yet; this is so good i love it

[velarisbynight]

A Fracture In The Glass

Azriel x Eris

a/n: I believe both of them more than capable of handling alcohol, but for the purpose of this little drabble, Eris can hardly tolerate the scent before he’s losing his inhibitions a little. 

word count: 1k ~

~~~~~~~~

“What’s wrong with you?” Azriel murmurs into his drink, just loud enough for the male at his side to be able to hear. Under normal circumstances, that is. 

As the situation unfolds however, the Shadowsinger swiftly realises Eris’ hearing is somewhat compromised. Not only that, but the way his deft fingers wrap around the slim neck of the glass, just a bit lower than usual…the way the lordling’s eyes flit across the crowd, more restless than he’s accustomed to—certainly not long enough to be taking on information from the fae he’s examining. 

A shadow subtly zips up the Heirling’s neck, and amber eyes widen marginally before his head is turning sharply to face the Spymaster at his side who’s already watching him suspiciously. Slim, fiery brows narrow on the Shadowsinger, lips turning down in displeasure as his gaze dances over the male’s finery…it’s unusual but not unwelcome to see Azriel dressed so exquisitely. The clean cut of white linen beneath the ink black of his outer garments, the twinkle of golden cufflinks inset with an orange gemstone…probably citrine, judging by the tonal shift beneath the lighting. 

Eris finds he approves of the golden-orange, in place of the usual silver and blue. Likes it, even. 

He raises a narrow brow with disinterest, but Azriel can pick out the small spark of irritation in the male’s gaze at being touched so casually. The Spymaster finds himself having to resist the tug at the corners of his mouth, choosing to keep his expression neutral. 

“Are you drunk?” Azriel murmurs, hiding his mouth from any secret observers by again raising his glass to obscure what he’s saying. A glint of amusement however is surely showing in his eyes as he looks at Eris whose only reaction is the slight colour that rises to the crest of his cheeks, his expression otherwise neutral, if a little indignant. “I am not drunk,” he replies, irritation showing in the clipped tone of his response.

Azriel hums, clearly not believing the male but taking a sip from his drink to hide the slight smile pulling at his mouth. It’s surprisingly difficult to keep his emotions under wraps whenever the Heirling’s around, a new hurdle he has to tackle but one he finds himself mildly enjoying. To his pleasure however, Eris seems to take the action as a subtle challenge, drinking from his own glass lightly as if to prove he can handle what’s in his glass, and neither wants nor cares for the Spymaster’s nosey observations. 

“Keep your assumptions to yourself, Shadowsinger. You should be paying attention to more important matters,” Eris mutters, a slight tint colouring the tips of his ears, the gold piercings twinkling in the light and a small kernel of respect brightens in Azriel’s chest. Even such a small body modification, Beron surely hadn’t approved of the move—it was something Eris had done from himself to keep himself under his own control. 

“There are no more important matters,” Azriel replies smoothly, keeping his intonation steady. “This party is so dull I find you to be the most interesting subject.” Hazel eyes slide to look at the male sidelong, watching through his peripherals to observe the reaction. Sure enough, the slight colour on his cheeks deepens, slim brows narrowing in feigned distaste as Eris shoots a mild glare at the Shadowsinger. 

“So bored you would resort to flattery? I’m disappointed in your concentration,” Eris remarks, glancing down at his drink before seemingly deciding against another sip, and the Shadowsinger bites back on another tug at the corners of his mouth. “It’s no strike against my concentration,” Azriel counters, this time shifting  his body towards the Heirling, meeting his amber eyes over the rim of the twinkling glass. “I think you’ll find I’ve been applying a more than appropriate amount of my attention. Enough to know you were right not to take another drink.” 

Eris’s glare deepens but he makes no effort to disprove the statement, his jaw working slightly as he shifts his gaze to scan the crowd. Amusement flickers in the back of Azriel’s mind as the lordling blatantly ignores him, instead choosing to cast his attention in a similar direction, scanning for any faces that might prove to be troubling, but he’s pulled from his self-assigned task as Eris’s body flinches slightly in his peripherals. By the time Azriel has shifted to glance at the male he’s turned away—not far enough however to hide the embarrassed tint on his cheeks, nor how the flush deepens and the back of his hand covers his lips as he hiccups again.

A beat passes before Eris is resentfully making his way past the Shadowsinger, pushing the glass into his chest as the Heirling heads to one of the private balconies wearing an expression that warns any fae considering approaching him to keep their distance. Azriel allows a few minutes to pass before selecting a similar path that will lead him after the lordling. 

Eris is alone on the balcony, leaning slightly on the marble banister that overlooks the woodland present in the view. Thanks to the palace’s low build, the view isn’t as high as either would like, but it’s better than being locked underground. After the fall of the High Queen, Eris found his tolerance for subterranean courts  had plummeted, finding them to be too claustrophobic, even if he knows the exits are nearby and accessible. 

“I don’t want to hear a single word of it,” Eris mutters as he feels Azriel’s approach, and the Spymaster presses his lips together to keep his amusement under wraps. “I wasn’t going to say anything,” he replies, walking forward as silently as he’d entered, pausing at Eris’ side, “but since you mentioned it…” 

Eris glances at him hotly, mouth tight with displeasure, brows narrowed in warning to not continue, but all Azriel sees is the flush on his cheeks, pale skin coloured in a way that has him pleased—it’s unusual to have such a clear read on the male. Not that it’s a bad thing, perhaps he should consider trying to lightly ply the male with alcohol more frequently—not to get him drunk, but enough to have his emotions a little more in the open. So he can observe those reactions of his. 

“Remind me to verbally flay you after tonight,” Eris mutters, returning his gaze ahead, pointedly averting his attention from the male at his side. 

“Why would I need to remind you if you’re sober,” Azriel counters mildly.

Eris’ jaw shifts, a muscle feathering briefly as he realises his error. 

For the first time that night, the Shadowsinger allows a smile to curve his mouth, joining the Heirling in his observation of the lands. “You don’t have to worry,” Azriel murmurs, doing nothing to conceal his amusement, “I won’t tell anyone the cunning fae lord, next in line for the Autumn throne, can’t hold his liquor.” 

“Good,” Eris replies, a sharp glint in his eyes as he glances at the male. “No one would believe you, anyway.” 

“I can be persuasive.” 

A beat passes, then Eris turns back toward the open woodland. “I know.”