#i reached some sort of threshold

[anna-scribbles]

and what if he was happy!!!

[innitmarvellous]

Still getting notes on that fanfic post and idk...I sort of decided to look at this another way: even if I still post my stuff I'm sort of glad if not that many people look at it because some of that stuff is too silly for normal human consumption lmao

[rizaoftheowls]

My brain is just quitting out on me. I slept so much yesterday and I'm still in a stupor. I have so many urgent things to do but I can't even remember what they are

I just want to Stop for like two weeks minimum but capitalism doesn't work that way

[serpentandlily]

Lost in a Labyrinth - Azriel x Reader

Lost in a Labyrinth I - Azriel x Reader

Summary: Lonely and heartbroken after his near kiss with Elain, Azriel finds himself at the door to the most exclusive pleasure house in Hewn City, The Labyrinth, taking Rhysand’s cruel advice. What he expected to find was a pretty girl to warm a bed with him for a single night. But instead he finds something he never thought existed—his mate. A mate that is tangled up in something far more sinister than he could ever imagine. 

Warnings: smut (minors dni), reader is a prostitute

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Part I

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

“So you will leave Elain alone. If you need to fuck someone, go to a pleasure house and pay for it, but stay away from her.” 

Rhysand’s words had played over and over again in his head since the Winter Solstice, three months ago. Azriel wasn't sure why he was taking him up on his shitty advice now but by some will of his own, he was standing in the shadows of the alley across the street from The Labyrinth—Hewn City’s most exclusive brothel. 

Azriel only knew of this place because some of the high ranking nobles he spied on talked about it often. It was known for its secrecy, for making sure their clientele had confidentiality. There were far more pleasure houses that were known to the public, even one in Velaris, but the last thing Azriel wanted was word getting around that he had been seen visiting one. Partly because he liked keeping his love affairs secret, but mostly because he didn’t want to give that satisfaction to Rhysand. 

When his shadows came back with no reports of any sightings of faeries nearby, Azriel crossed the distance to The Labyrinth. He knocked five times on the plain looking, unassuming door, following the instructions he had overheard. 

A sliding peephole opened revealing a pair of dark eyes. “A bargain, Shadowsinger,” a male voice said through the door. “A copper for your eyes.”

“A silver for your tongue,” Azriel agreed. He felt a burning sensation behind his ear, the bargain tattoo forming. 

This was another thing he had learned from spying— the secret bargain that would grant you access to The Labyrinth. A bargain that he wouldn’t speak of the people and things he might see here so long as they kept their silence in regards to his identity. 

The door swung open a second later and the male guard ushered him in. The guard gave him a once over, his eyes stopping on the dagger sheathed on his thigh. 

“No weapons allowed, Shadowsinger,” the guard ordered. “Especially around the girls.”

Azriel wordlessly unsheathed Truth-teller and let his shadows take it away. He didn’t tell the guard that it was pointless, that he could summon it back at any time regardless of whatever wards they had set up around here—his shadows didn’t abide by the typical rules of magic. But the guard didn’t need to know that. 

The guard held out a gloved hand. “The entrance fee.”

Azriel reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pouch filled with coins. He set it in the guard’s palm without question. 

The guard gave him a dip of the head, satisfied, before gesturing for him to continue on. Azriel strided down the dim hallway. He could already smell various aphrodisiacs and drugs amongst the intoxicating scent of arousal in the air. It spurred him on, kept his feet moving on the dark red carpet, not allowing him the chance to second guess his decision to come here. 

He wasn’t sure what magic was at play, or if they specifically scented the hallway to further get their clients in the mood, but something was tugging him forward. 

He finally made it to the other end of the hallway, where a black door was awaiting him. He opened it slowly, cautiously and when no threat appeared, stepped through the threshold. The door opened up into a large foyer of sorts with a large candle chandelier hanging from the ceiling. 

Straight ahead was a grand staircase that led to the second floor. On both sides of the foyer were large double doors with masked guards standing in front of them, swords strapped to their backs.

Waiting for him in the center of the room was an older, High Fae female with generous curves, dressed decadently. A polite smile graced her pretty but aging face as she took him in. 

“Shadowsinger,” she greeted with a dip of the head, her hands clasped in front of her. “Welcome to The Labyrinth. My name is Lydia. I will be your point of contact during your time here. Please follow me, I will show you to the girls so you may make your selection.” 

This wasn’t the first time Azriel had visited a pleasure house. Gods, when they were younger, him, Rhysand and Cassian had gone to some together. Had even taken the same girl once. But this felt…different. The atmosphere was soft, sensual—not rowdy like the other brothels he had been to. 

He followed Lydia into the first set of double doors, which led down another long corridor with more doors lining the wall, all numbered. Until they reached the end where another set of double doors waited. As soon as Lydia pushed them open and gestured for him to continue, soft music crept through the air.

Azriel walked into a heavily perfumed room, dimly lit much like everywhere else in this place. Dark red, velvet settees and cushions lined the walls and floors. Silks hanging from the ceilings gave each space a bit of privacy. A bar was on the opposite wall, fully stocked with various alcohols. Males and females, alike, were milling about the room in various states of undress, some paired up on the couches and chairs. 

At the front of the room was a wall made entirely of glass that overlooked a courtyard. Hanging plants and flowered vines decorated the space. A large fountain bubbled in the middle of it. Girls in lingerie and silk robes sat on the stone benches and cushions on the floor, lingered near the fountain, danced to the soft music in corners of the courtyard—all giggling and chattering with each other.

“These are the girls in The Labyrinth,” Lydia explained. “If you would like to see our selection of males, let me know.” 

His eyes wandered over the girls, all so beautiful and unique. Every single type of fae was here—from nymphs to firelings to High Fae. But his gaze was drawn towards a lone figure in one of the second story alcoves. 

His breath was sucked from his lungs the minute his eyes fell on her. She was…she was so beautiful. The most beautiful female he had ever seen in his five hundred years of living. She was dressed in a light pink lingerie set, a sheer robe hanging over it with white fur trims. She was alone, resting an elbow on the stone railing with her chin plopped in her hand as she gazed out into the carved mountainside within Hewn City. 

He couldn’t rip his eyes away from her. 

“Are any of them suited to your tastes, Shadowsinger?” Lydia questioned from beside him, knocking him out of whatever spell he had been put under. 

“Her,” he answered, his voice a mere whisper, as he dipped his head towards the female he couldn’t help but stare at. 

Lydia murmured something to one of the masked servants walking around with trays of champagne flutes. A moment later, one returned and handed the female a slip of paper. She clicked her tongue at whatever she read. 

“Apologies, Shadowsinger,” she said, “But it looks like she’s already been chosen for tonight. Do any—”

“By who?” Azriel growled before he even realized, his shadows whirling around him. Lydia looked up at him with a stern look that accentuated all the fine lines on her face. 

“You know I can’t tell you that,” she chided. Azriel gave her a sheepish look, not knowing what had come over him. “It looks like any of the other girls are still up for the taking if you’d like to choose another?” 

But Azriel couldn’t stop staring at the girl in the pink. Couldn’t help but be mesmerized by her. None of the other girls caught his attention. He had come here looking for a quick, no strings attached, fuck but that desire, that need—it was like it had been sucked right out of him. 

“I…” he trailed off, suddenly reeling back into his body. Lydia was staring up at him expectedly but he took a step away. “N-no. I’m sorry. I should…I should go.” 

Not a second later, his shadows swirled around him, whisking him away. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Azriel wasn’t sure what drew him back to The Labyrinth the next night. Or the night after. Each time he came, he asked for that girl in pink, and each time, he was told she had already been booked for the night. It would’ve been easy to accompany Mor to Rita’s and find a plethora of females that would fuck him for free. But none of them would’ve been her. 

He wasn’t even sure why he was becoming so obsessed with a girl he’d never even talked to. Obsessed enough to travel to Hewn City, pay the copious entrance fee, just to leave when he was told she was still not available. 

But here he was. 

Again. 

Standing at the doors to The Labyrinth. 

It had become such a reoccurrence that Lydia would merely shake her head no at the sight of him, already knowing what he was there for. He was sure tonight would go more or less the same. But he was surprised when he caught sight of Lydia standing in the large, intricate foyer and she shook her head yes. 

“Well, Shadowsinger,” she said, “I admire your persistence. It seems it is your lucky day. The girl you’ve been waiting for is available. Please, continue on up the stairs and into The Labyrinth. She will be waiting for you behind the ninth door.” 

Azriel gave her a dip of the head before striding past her to the staircase. His shadows were swarming him—excited about something. He tuned them out, pushing open the black doors waiting for him at the top of the stairs. 

He paused for a second, feeling like he had suddenly been transported somewhere else. Instead of one long hallway like he’d been expecting, the doors opened to a maze of large pillars, multiple pathways lit by candles placed on the floor. 

He sent his shadows forward to scout the place and locate the ninth door that Lydia had mentioned. He followed their trail which led him to a red door with a number nine painted on it in a darker shade of red that looked suspiciously like blood. 

He let out the breath he had been holding as he wrapped his scarred fingers around the doorknob and slowly pushed it open. 

Slow, sultry music met his ears and the scent of pomegranates and cardamom flooded his senses. It was intoxicating, beckoning him forward. He softly shut the door behind him before he completely paused in his tracks as he turned to face the room. 

There, standing with her back to him, was the girl who had been utterly consuming his mind since he had first laid eyes on her. She was wearing a light pink nightgown that laced down her lower back. She was bent forward slightly, lighting a candle on a coffee table set up in front of a pair of red velvet couches. 

His eyes trailed over the room for a second, trying to gather his bearings. It was a large room, large enough to have a sitting area separate from the four-poster bed covered in silk and textured fabrics. Everything fit the same color scheme as the other rooms he’d been in, red and black. Lit only by candles, the soft lighting only added to the sultry atmosphere. 

Some smoke lingered in the air, making everything a bit more hazy. He recognized the scent as a popular aphrodisiac often used during parties with high nobility. His shadows seemed lulled by the music, drifting around him lazily as he stood in place. 

He stood frozen as she finally turned around and met his gaze. He had thought her beautiful that day he had seen her up on the balcony, but this close, well… beautiful was not strong enough of a word. She looked crafted for the Gods, a being not meant to walk alongside man. His breath was sucked right out of his lungs again, his eyes widened as his shadows reacted by lowering themselves onto the ground, leaving him bare. 

“There you are,” she purred, her voice as smooth as silk and honey. “I’ve heard you’ve been waiting for me.”

Azriel swallowed harshly, his throat bobbing with the motion. He watched her eyes track it, watched how her smirk slipped into a soft smile instead. He opened his mouth to speak, to say anything, but it was like no thoughts existed in his head except for an image of her. 

“A bit shy, are you?” She teased after he failed to speak, walking towards him and holding out a hand with well manicured nails. “That’s okay, my love, let me take care of you.” 

She grasped his hand in her much smaller one, not even flinching when her skin met contact with his brutal scars. He let her guide him to the couch and push him to sit, entranced by her very presence. She moved to the bar cart behind him, running a delicate hand over his shoulders as she did, before pouring two glasses of whiskey. 

She meandered back over to him, plopping on the couch next to him before handing him one of the glasses. She clinked her glass against his. “For the nerves, my love.”

Azriel wanted to tell her that he wasn’t nervous, but that would be a lie. He had no idea why he had been reduced to the shy teenage boy he had been in his youth but he couldn’t shake himself from the feeling. Her presence was overwhelming, intimidating. Like she somehow held his entire being in the palm of her hands. 

“Thank you,” he grunted out, his voice rough. He cleared his throat before downing his glass of whiskey in one go. She followed his lead, her smoky eyes never leaving his as she swallowed her whiskey. Beneath the exaggerated desire he found in them was a more calculating look, like she was trying to figure him out. 

A bit of the whiskey slipped out of the side of her mouth, dripping down her chin and neck to the crevice between her breasts. Azriel’s gaze followed it, his cock tightening in his pants as he wished to lick it off her gleaming skin. 

“Oops,” she giggled, swiping it up with a finger and sucking it into her mouth. “Would you like another glass?” 

He shook his head. He didn’t want to be drunk for this. He wanted to savor every second of his time with her, the girl who had been plaguing his thoughts night and day. 

“You seem tense, Shadowsinger,” she purred with a pout, making his eyes dip to her full, red painted lips. “I can fix that.” 

She reached forward and ran a slender hand up his chest and he nearly moaned at the feeling of her touching him. His hand latched onto hers, stopping it in its tracks. 

“What’s your name?” Azriel asked, finally speaking. He needed to know. Needed to taste the way it felt to say it on his tongue as much as he needed to taste her. 

“Serenity,” she replied with a coy smile. “But you can call me anything you like, my love.” 

His eyes searched hers. “That’s not your real name, is it?” 

“Of course not, darling,” she giggled. She leaned towards him, close enough that her breath fluttered over his ear. His cock twitched in his pants, his skin heated. “I think the real question is, what would you like me to call you, Shadowsinger?”

“Azriel,” he breathed out. “Just…just Azriel.” 

“Azriel,” she repeated in that voice of silk and honey. 

His eyes darted down to her lips again. He couldn’t help it, couldn’t help how turned on he felt. Was it the aphrodisiacs in the room? Or perhaps the whiskey had hit just right? He didn’t care. All he knew was he needed to have her. 

Azriel let go of her hand, letting her continue her travel up his chest until she grabbed the empty glass in his hand and set it down on the table in front of them. She made eye contact with him again, slowly moving to straddle him on the couch, wrapping her arms around his neck lightly. He bit back a groan as her weight fell on his hardening member.

“What is it you’re here for, Azriel?”

His brain couldn’t focus with her in his lap. Her eyes were so mesmerizing, her scent one he could get high off. His hands found her waist, the silk fabric of her nightgown so smooth against his rough skin. 

“You,” he whispered, honestly. Because that was the truth. He had seen her and knew he needed to have her. 

“I’m yours, Azriel,” she giggled. “Any way you want me.” 

If he were a better male, perhaps now would be the time he realized this might be a mistake. But he wasn’t a better male. He couldn’t be. Not when her body was pressed against his, not when she looked so beautiful staring up at him with her large, expressive eyes, and certainly not when his body was singing for her—hungering for her like she was the only sustenance he needed. 

So Azriel surged forward and kissed her. 

Lightning exploded, skittering over his skin, the moment his lips touched hers. He groaned at the feeling of their softness. She let out a small sigh as she kissed him back, melting in his lap, pressing herself closer to him. 

Azriel slid a hand up her exposed back until he grasped her by the back of the neck and tilted her head so he could deepen the kiss, finally taking control of the situation. His cock hardened painfully as she spread her legs further, allowing her heat to rub against him. 

He kissed her like a starved male, licking along her bottom lip, compelling her to part her lips for him. She let him consume her, let him slip his tongue into her mouth and taste her fully. 

So sweet. 

So divine. 

Azriel broke the kiss, letting her gasp for air. The scent of her arousal had his eyes rolling back in his head. Still holding her by the back of the neck, he twisted her head to the side and pressed his lips just below her ear before trailing down her jaw and to her delicate neck. 

She moaned, squirming in his lap and rubbing against his hard length, only spurring him on more. His other hand started working on unlacing her nightgown. His fingers fumbled over the ribbon, until finally, it came undone and fell, pooling at her waist. 

Azriel pulled back to look at her, now bare before him from the waist up. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly with her breathing, her eyes dilated and full of lust, her lips swollen. The perfect image of desire. 

“So beautiful,” he growled, before leaning forward and latching his mouth around her right nipple. She gasped, arching into his mouth as her hands fisted his hair. 

“Azriel,” she whimpered, pushing her hips down against his bulge. He growled again, thrusting his hips up to meet hers. 

His lips made a path back up to hers, taking her breasts in his palms as he kissed her deeply. She grinded down on his cock again, pulling a whine from the back of his throat that had her smiling against his lips. 

He wanted to take his time with her, wanting to draw this out as long as he could. But he knew he wouldn’t last. Not when the need to be in her was causing him to strain against his pants to the point of pain. 

Azriel stood, lifting her up with him with an arm under her ass and the other wrapped around her. He let his shadows swarm them, stepping out right in front of the bed. She was breathless as he dropped her onto the soft pillows and sheets, her hair fanning around her head like a halo. 

An Angel. 

That’s what she was. 

A godsdamn Angel. 

He couldn’t keep his hands off of her, running them down her body as he pulled her nightgown all the way off, leaving her entirely bare before her. She moved to sit up, reaching for the buttons of his shirt but he lightly grasped her throat in his hand and pushed her back down.

“How do you want me, Azriel?” She hummed, seductively, wrapping her hands around his wrist.

Azriel leaned down, running his nose along the column of her throat until his mouth was beside her ear. 

“First, I want you coming on my fingers,” he commanded, his voice husky with desire. “Then my tongue. And then my cock. Do you understand?”

She swallowed audibly, nodding her head. 

“Words, angel,” he smirked. “Use your words.” 

“Yes, Azriel, I understand,” she whimpered, the scent of her arousal peaking. 

He inhaled deeply before pulling away and dropping to his knees before her. She sat up on her elbows, letting out a small cry as he hooked his arms around her thighs and yanked her towards the end of the bed. 

Her sex was glistening with her want and Azriel groaned at the sight, unlacing his pants with one hand to relieve some pressure. He watched her as he dipped forward and ran his tongue up her slit, his eyes rolling back at the sweet taste of her. 

She tossed her head back with a moan, spreading her legs wider for him. Azriel didn’t waste any time. He sucked and licked at her clit with a hunger he’d never felt before, his cock twitching every time he drew out a moan or cry from her lips. 

True to his word, his finger swirled around her entrance, causing her hips to thrust closer and closer. He continued his ministrations as he slid a single finger inside of her, cursing as he felt how tight she was wrapped around him. 

“Azriel,” she cried out as he added a second finger before slowly thrusting in and out of her. “Fuck.” 

He continued to suck that spot that had her crying out, pure waves of euphoria crashing through her body. His fingers began to thrust inside of her faster and faster as her moans became more frequent.

“That’s it, angel,” he praised as she rutted against his fingers. “Fuck yourself with my fingers.” 

She whimpered, her movements frenzied as he latched his mouth back on her clit, sucking in rhythm with his fingers. One of her hands gripped his hair while the other fisted the sheets and she squirmed in pleasure until he pushed her over the edge. 

“Az…Azriel,” she cried, arching her back as flames licked their way through her body. “I’m gonna—”

Azriel didn’t stop, palming himself with his free hand as she orgasmed, pulsating around his fingers with a loud moan. He slipped his fingers out and replaced them with his tongue just in time to feel the aftershock ripple through her. 

She tried to pull his head away, but he didn’t relent. He needed her on his tongue, needed to fulfill the hunger inside of him. It wasn’t long before he had her screaming through her second orgasm, lapping at the wetness pooling between her thighs. Azriel didn’t let up as he rode out her orgasm with his tongue, not until her body was writhing in pleasure and she was begging him to stop. 

He stood, sticking one of the fingers covered in her juices into his mouth, eyes rolling back in his head as he groaned. “Gods, you taste so good.” 

He left her panting on the bed as he made quick work of ripping his clothes off. His eyes were black with lust, his shadows spilling all around him in his craze. Gods, he needed her so bad. Every piece of her. 

He climbed onto the bed, hovering over her and crashing his lips against hers. His tongue was still claiming her mouth as her hands roamed the muscles of his chest, sliding down to his cock. He groaned into her mouth as she ran her hand up and down his shaft. 

“Please,” she begged. 

“Please what, angel?” He nipped at her bottom lip. “What is it you want?” 

“Please fuck me, Azriel,” she whined. 

The noise that came out of his throat at her words was one he’d never made before. He sat back on his haunches, replacing her hand with his as he guided himself towards her entrance, rubbing up and down against the wetness that was waiting for him. 

Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as he slid himself inside of her slowly. She moaned as Azriel let out an animalistic growl at the feeling of her wrapped around him. It wasn’t until he was all the way in her when they both finally released a breath.

“Fuck,” he grunted, falling forward and peppering kisses along her throat. “You feel so good.”

She whimpered at his praise and felt him smirk against her neck before he started to finally move, pulling himself all the way out her before thrusting back in, faster this time. She cried out as he slammed into her.

Azriel set a punishing pace, thrusting into her again and again. His shadows seeped from him until nearly every crevice of the room was taken over by his darkness. 

Her nails raked down his back, between his wings as she let him take her. He claimed her mouth again, passionately swallowing each moan he pulled from her. Her hips began to meet his with each thrust, pushing him deeper and deeper inside of her. 

“Gods, Azriel,” she cried, squeezing around him as he hit that sweet spot inside her. 

“Are you going to come on my cock, angel?” he cooed. 

“Yes,” she mewled. “Yes, gods, yes.” 

“Good girl,” he growled, nipping at her throat with his canines. 

His words pushed her over the edge into the hot bliss of pleasure. She screamed his name as the lightning shot through her, her core pulsating with each strike.

“Fuck,” Azriel groaned. He rode out her orgasm and then his thrusts became harder, faster but sloppy with no rhythm as his own release slid up on him.

His tongue swirled around the base of her neck before an utterly feral growl ripped through him. And then he bit down on that spot. His canines ripped through the skin, sinking down into her flesh as he came, thrusting once, twice and one final time—burying himself in her. 

They both panted in silence for a moment, coming down from their highs before Azriel slowly slipped out of her with a small whimper. He pulled away from her and she smiled up at him, her eyes glazed with pleasure and satisfaction. 

And then something happened. Something he never thought would. Something he had only dreamed about but never wished for because he had thought it a waste of breath. 

A golden string of light unwound itself and shot across the darkness, all the way to the beautiful girl before him. 

The mating bond snapped. 

His mating bond.

Azriel let out a choked noise, rising fully. He stumbled back in shock, his eyes wide as he stared down at her. Her brows furrowed in confusion and she sat up. 

Fuck, his mate…

She was his mate.

His godsdamn mate. 

This couldn’t be happening. Not like this. Not after he had just paid her to have sex with him. Not after he had come here for a shameless fuck. She’d never want him now. Why would she? 

He hastily began picking up his discarded clothes and dressing himself. She did the same in her confusion, slipping her nightgown back on as she frowned at him. 

“What happened?” Her voice was meek as she hugged an arm around herself, looking at him. “Have I…have I done something wrong?”

“N-no,” he stuttered, not looking her in the eyes. Gods, she would hate him if he told her now. She would not want anything to do with him. “No, I’m sorry. I-I need to go.” 

“But you paid for the whole night,” she said, perplexed with a hint of insecurity. “Please, if I wasn’t good…if you didn’t enjoy it…I can do better, I swear it.” 

He finally looked at her, at his mate. His heart sank in his chest at her words. Fuck, he was making this worse. He couldn’t stand the sight of her looking at him like she’d done something wrong. She was perfect. She had been perfect. It was him who fucked up.

“No, no, don’t. It’s not you," Azriel tried to reassure her. “I…it’s me. I need to go. I’m so sorry.” 

“At least let me get you your money back,” she said, rubbing her arm. He felt sick to his stomach.

“No! No, please keep it,” he murmured, buttoning up his shirt as fast as he could. “I’m…I’m so sorry. This was a mistake.”

And then he disappeared in his shadows, her confused and hurt face the last thing he saw. 

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

a/n: so obvious this was entirely from Az's perspective but it will be reader y/n just in case it wasn't super obvious! Hope you guys enjoyed it! If you asked to be tagged but don't see your username, it wouldn't let me tag you for some reason :((

(also, now that the whole chapters out, if this isn't what you thought you were signing up for, no hard feelings if you asked to be removed from the taglist)

taglist: @itsswritten @impossibelle @lilah-asteria @heartless-tate @sheblogs @jesskidding3 @landofpetrichor @thecollegecowgirl @5onedirection5 @cherry-cin @fayeatheart @brieflyclassymortal @saltedcoffeescotch @glitterypirateduck @eyebagsanonymous @chxosangxl @daardyrnitta

[peachesofteal]

Light on - single mom/neighbor fic Simon Riley/female reader

Simon wakes up before you.

At first, he forgets. He blanks on the fact that you’re in his bed, curled up against his side, lips slightly parted and pressed against his bicep, a leg haphazardly thrown over his thigh.

When he realizes, he freezes. Turns his head just so, enough that he can see you, stare at where your lashes lay against your cheek, the exposed part of your shoulder, peeking out from your too big t shirt with a stretched out neck. The sun has just barely come up, peeking through the curtains, shining across the bed and the slope of your body, curves and lines all mapped out across his own sheets and blankets, his own pillow the one supporting your head.

He should feel bad. He knows. And he does, a bit. Feels awful that most of your stuff is ruined and the building manager is slow moving, taking his time getting a recovery team into your flat.

But he also feels grateful. Lucky. Stupefied. Here you are… in his bed.

You twitch, eyes moving in your sleep, and then your face burrows farther between him and the pillow, nose pressing against his skin, your hand curling up between his ribs and your chest, still blissfully drifting, soft puffs of air tickling across his arm.

On instinct, pulled along by some magnetic force, his fingers glance across your forehead, to your temple. You still don’t stir, and he strokes the pad of his thumb along the apple of your cheek, soft skin beneath him a marvel on its own. His girl. In his bed.

The baby monitor sparks alive. It’s crackly and cranky, fresh morning tears calling to you from the other room, and you wake instantly, blinking your eyes open, orienting yourself. You look exhausted, long night of trying to sort through your belongings catching up quick, and he can’t stand the idea of you dead on your feet.

“Morning.” You’re a little shy, hesitant, and it melts him, makes him want to pull you in tight, keep you in his arms forever.

“Morning.” You try to shake the stupor of sleep free, half moving to your elbows before he cups your shoulder. “I’ll get ‘er.” He murmurs.

“I can, it’s fine. She’ll need a clean nappy.” You tell him, half asleep again, and he leans down, brushing his lips onto your forehead.

“I know. Rest, sweetheart. I’ll bring her in.”

Emmaline is displeased for the first ten minutes she’s awake. Simon changes her, and manages to get her into a new onesie, remembering how you always get her fresh clothes first thing in the morning. He’s cautious, moving her legs and arms into sleeves and maneuvering her as carefully as he can, his touch gentle, supportive as he sits her up. She settles once he’s finished, babbling as he carries her back to bed.

“You’re talkative this mornin, huh sweet pea?” She reaches for him, little fingers stretching out across what he imagines must feel like a great distance, trying to pull at the mussed strands of his hair. “Alright, alright.” She wriggles, small smile on her face, revealing a barely there white ridge in her bottom gum, a tooth poking through. “Let’s say hi to mum. Want to see mama? And then we’ll get some breakfast. How’s that sound?”

“There she is.” You hum, reaching for her when he crosses the threshold of his bedroom. She goes without fuss, cuddling into your arms, and Simon’s breath hitches, heart stumbling in his chest at the two of you. “What is it?” You whisper, frowning, and as he shakes his head, you hold your hand out to him, beckoning him close, urging him back into the bed. “C’mere then?” He’s so weak for you, easily swayed by just the bat of your eyelashes, so sweet and pretty, his shining glimpse of sun in such a bleak life. He folds, sliding back in beside you, an arm above your head, his finger now in the grip of Emma’s hands, the digit being dragged to her teething mouth. You smile, at her, and then up to him, kissing her cheek with a loud smacking sound, the affection making her squeal with a delighted giggle. If he was standing, he thinks his knees would be weak. He thinks he might be on the floor at the sight, the reality, of what this is, what this is growing into, and he clears his throat, trying to chase away the emotion that knots in the back of his throat as he keeps his eyes locked on the two of you.

His girls. In his bed.

[zegrasdrysdale]

[ honeymoon avenue ] n. hischier

day 6 of kinktober (breeding kink w/ nico hischier)

paring : Nico Hischier x fem!reader

summary : Nico and his new wife celebrate the first night of their honeymoon

warning(s) : smut ! breeding kink, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), dirty talk

author’s note : better late than never ig

kinktober schedule

༺──────────────༻

It takes everything in her to not jump her new husband the moment they open the door to their suite at the hotel they're staying at for their week-long stay in Cancun while on their honeymoon. Nico tosses their suitcases and carry-ons into the room before he turns toward her.

Without warning, Nico leans down and picks her up bridal style. She gasps and wraps her arms around his neck. "Nico!" she giggles as he crosses the threshold into their suite. "That was not necessary."

"I just want to make sure my new wife gets the whole experience," he tells her as he sets her back down on her feet while a huge grin forms on her lips. She doesn't drop her arms though. She plays with the hair she can reach on the back of his neck.

Nico kicks the door shut behind him without his eyes leaving her. He studies her face like it'll be the last time he'll ever look at her. "You can take a picture," she teases. "It'll last longer."

"Just trying to get used to seeing you as my wife," Nico replies with a small smile. "Because you're my wife now. You wore white and I put a second ring on that finger. Said 'I do' in front of our family and friends then kissed you. We did the whole thing, and now you're my wife."

She giggles at Nico's words. "You're such a sap," she tells him.

"Mhm," he hums. His hands slide around her waist and he dips his head down so his forehead rests on hers. "All for you so you better not go telling my teammates because I'll never hear the end of it."

"I think they figured it out by the way you looked at me and danced with me when 'Little Things' was playing for our first dance," she tells him. Nico rolls his eyes with a smile. "Just preparing you for when we get back to Jersey and your teammates start messing with you."

He shifts his head to try and kiss her, but she holds him back for a second. "What?" he asks.

"I just want to shower off the travel," she explains. "I smell like plane and I don't exactly want to start our night wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt. I have something I packed especially for tonight that I wanna show you."

Nico smiles and nods. "I'll let you take your shower then," he tells her. "But after, I am not responsible for what happens when you come out of that shower. If you come out of the shower in some sort of clothing then I'll be buying you new whatever because I will get my hands on you as soon as you walk out of that bathroom. Full disclosure."

She laughs and grabs her carry-on that contains Nico's surprise. He sheds his jacket as she heads into the bathroom to wash and shave her body. She ties her hair up into a bun so she doesn’t have to wash then blow dry it and postpone their night even more. She quickly makes sure the water is at a comfortable temperature before getting in.

If she's going to do anything, it's make sure she looks good and feels soft for the first night of her honeymoon. She shaves every necessary part of her body and washes every crevice as quick as she can.

She made sure to get a lot of sleep on the plane from Switzerland to prepare for the night because she will not be getting any sleep tonight. Nico can, and will, go all night if she let him. He really does have the stamina of a hockey player, and she thinks she’ll let him go as long as he can.

Once the water gets cold, she gets out. She towel dries her entire body and lets her hair loose. She digs through the bag to pull out Nico's surprise.

It's a white, silky nightgown that falls just below her ass with thin straps on her shoulder. There's a lace trim on the plunging v-neck that matches the lacy white panties she pulls on underneath the nightgown. She puts on some mascara before she leaves the small room and goes back out into the main room.

Nico sits on the bed scrolling on his phone when she makes her way back into the room. She clears her throat to get his attention. He looks up and his eyes widen immediately. She gnaws on her bottom lip and takes short steps toward her new husband.

"You like it?" she asks as she does a little twirl to give Nico a full view of the set.

"It'll look better on the floor," he tells her. His comment earns a little smile from her.

She reaches the bed and crawls up to meet Nico. She climbs onto his lap and straddles his thighs. Her lips ghost the swell of his ear when she says, "Then take it off."

His hands slowly slide up the back of the nightgown. She feels goosebumps rise behind his fingers while she cups Nico's jaw. They share a quick eskimo kiss when she leans back a bit and meets his eyes. Then Nico surges forward to capture her lips in a deep kiss. She hums before she returns the kiss with the same passion.

Before she realizes she does it, she ruts her hips against his. Nico lets out a soft groan and grasps her waist. She keeps a slow pace at first before she gets needy and quickens her pace a bit.

Nico pushes the silky fabric over her head. She puts her arms above her head and breaks the kiss so he can pull it off. The nightgown hits the floor with a soft thud and Nico's lips are on her chest. She runs her fingers through his hair and hums. He's always been a tit kind of guy, and he loves hers. He pays some extra attention to them and she can’t help but smile as his tongue swirls around one nipple while he uses his fingers to play with the other. She can’t help but hum at the sensation.

She reaches down and slides her hands up the t-shirt he has on. Her fingers trace his toned stomach for a second before she starts to push the cotton fabric over his head. Nico pulls away from her breasts for a second to get the shirt over his head.

Her hips rut against his again and Nico grins at her. “So needy for me, liebling,” he mumbles.

“Always,” she tells him. “I always need you, Neeks. Now more than ever because it’s hot that I get to call you my husband and I have your last name.”

Nico tucks a piece of hair behind her ear and she leans onto his touch. “It’s hot that you have my last name,” he replies. “So hot. Makes me wanna fuck you full of my babies so they can also have my last name.”

They’ve talked about having kids, but they both wanted to wait until after they were married. Well, now they’re married and the idea of Nico giving her babies sounds like the best idea in the world.

“Fuck me full of your babies, Nico,” she tells him. “Fill me up and fuck me.” She drags a finger over his cheekbones and jaw.

“That what you want, liebling?” Nico asks as his fingers slip into her already ruined panties. “Want me to fill you up with my babies and stay inside you so my come keeps you filled?“

She hums at his words, which shoot straight to her core. “Please,” she sighs. “Please, Nico.”

He starts to pull off the lace she’s wearing and she gets on her knees so he can get it off of her. She kneels between his knees so she can pull off his jeans and boxers. His hard dick springs free and stands against his stomach.

This would be the time that one of them would reach for a condom, but instead Nico flips them over so he’s hovering over her and lines himself up with her entrance. She lets her knees fall to the side so Nico has full access to her.

He slowly pushes into her and she welcomes the familiar stretch. She gnaws on her bottom lip and stares up at her husband. Nico’s hair is on the longer side so it falls into his face. She pushes it back with her fingers and holds it in place. He kisses her wrist as he bottoms out inside her.

Nico lets her adjust for a second before he slowly starts to roll his hips. She lets out soft sighs and hums as he moves. He keeps a steady pace, and it drives her crazy with how slow he moves.

“Nico,” she whines. “Fuck me like you mean it.”

“We have all night, baby,” he reminds her. “Gonna take my time with you right now.”

Yeah, she’s not getting a wink of sleep tonight.

She tries to match Nico’s pace but he grasps her waist so she stops. He leans down and kisses the sweet spot right under her ear. “You’ll get what you want, liebling,” he mumbles. “Gonna fill that pretty pussy and fuck you til you’re full of my babies. You’d look so good with a swollen belly, baby.”

Her entire body shudders at his words. “Nico,” she sighs. “Please. Please, please.”

He grins and captures her begging lips in a deep kiss. He quickens his pace again but continues to move deeply into her. The bed creaks gently as his pace gets a little bit faster.

Her fingers curl in his hair and doesn’t let him get too far. She pulls him down so their chests are pressed together. Nico deepens the kiss and hooks one of her legs around his elbow so he can move even deeper into her.

“Oh, fuck!” she cries out against his lips. “Nico. Neeks.”

Nico smiles into the kiss that follows. “You can’t wait to be filled with my babies,” he mumbles between kisses. “You want to carry my kids, don’t you?”

“I do,” she says for the second time in 24 hours. “Fuck, Nico.”

He lifts himself up so he can move quickly.

Signs of a pending orgasm show themselves soon after. Her legs begin to shake and a knot forms in the pit of her stomach. Both of their breathing becomes labored as they both chase after their respective climaxes.

She ruts her hips against his, slowly working her way up to match his pace.

The room is filled with the sounds that pass their lips and the sound of the bed hitting the wall behind their heads.

Nico slows his pace but continues to move deep inside her. He hits her sweet spot and cries out, "Fuck! Nico. Oh my God. Don't stop."

"Wouldn't dream of it, liebling," Nico pants. "Come for me. I wanna feel you make a mess on my cock."

He keeps his pace and it's not long after when she clenches around his dick. Nico's name falls from her lips as her entire body shakes as she comes. Her vision whitens for a split second.

Despite being half out of it, she feels Nico fuck her through her orgasm. She feels when he comes deep inside her and she hums at the feeling. Nico slows down and his pace gets erratic as he comes down from his own orgasm.

She lays in bed while Nico goes to get a cloth to clean her up. She can't feel her legs, and finds just enough strength to lift her head up. She looks down between her legs to see Nico's come dripping out of her. The sight is nearly enough to rile her up again so she puts her head back down and lets out a soft sigh.

Nico gently cleans her up when he gets back with a cloth. She winces when he touches her already sensitive clit. "You okay?" Nico asks.

"Mhm," she hums. "Give me a second. That was definitely a nice way to start our honeymoon."

"There's a lot more where that came from."

"Oh, I'm aware," she giggles.

༺──────────────༻

MAIN HOCKEY

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[humanpurposes]

You Want This, You Need This

The only daughter of Rhaneyra Targaryen is firmly devoted to her mother's cause, and yet she finds her way through the passages of the Holdfast, to the bedchamber of a Prince she should hate // Main Masterlist

Aemond Targaryen x nameless female character (daughter of Rhaenyra)

Warnings: 18+, smut, enemies with benefits, hate sex, degrading, angst, Targcest (uncle and niece)

Words: 3.7k

A/n: Me making a poll then doing whatever I want 🫶

There’s no use in waiting for sleep to come to her, she’s too restless for sleep.

Her bedroom is full of alcoves and adjacent chambers, good for hiding and keeping the room cool during the summers. In one of the alcoves is a mural. If she presses a particular space on the wall with much force, she can push it to reveal an entrance into the hidden passageways of Maegor’s Holdfast. 

Light is lost beyond the threshold. A gentle but piercing breeze washes over her, through the thin and billowing fabric of her night shift. There’s always this lingering excitement when she opens the doorway. She equates it to the thrill of flying, cutting through the wind on dragonback. Only she’s not in the sky, she’s staring into darkness, daring herself to take a single step.

As children she and her brothers had found many of these hidden doors throughout the castle, the perfect sort of places to hide in when they were in trouble, the perfect place to eavesdrop and move through the keep undetected. When their mother found out she had discouraged them from venturing too far, lest they end up like the piles of bones left by rats and other rodents that had never found their way out. 

The paths within the walls are treacherous, but she knows some of the routes by heart. She knows how to head down to the kitchens, she even knows a way which leads past the dungeons, to a chamber which houses the skull of Blaerion, the Black Dread, out to a beach along the shore of the bay, out of reach by any other means.

There is one particular room she has in mind tonight.

She treads carefully, tracing her fingertips against the wall so that she does not lose her way. When she comes to a series of steps she takes even more caution. She counts twenty steps, then turns another corner and keeps walking until the stone underneath her fingers turns to wood. It is a door, one which appears as part of a panelled wall on the other side. She pushes it open, hoping he has left the latch undone, and he has.

The room’s warmth is a welcome sensation. She makes as little noise as possible as she enters and closes the door behind her. 

He’s sitting by the fire, turned away from where she stands, head lowered slightly and his silver hair spilling down the back of his chair. She almost always finds him like this, practising one of his self righteous rituals. He reads until the hearth and the candles have burned out because it enforces his own belief that he is a more dedicated son than Aegon, more intelligent and more worthy than the Velaryons– than her and her ilk. 

His shoulders stiffen as the soles of her slippers tap delicately against the floor, moving towards his bed. She imagines him frowning, or perhaps smiling to himself as he closes the book in his lap.

She perches at the edge of the mattress, pushing her shoes off and letting them fall to the floor. “That was quite the display in the training yard this morning,” she says in a clear voice.

Everything he does is agonisingly slow. He grips the arms of his chair as he rises, slots the book back onto a shelf, and finally turns to face her. He is dressed in a simple black shirt and the breeches he usually sleeps in. His hair is half tied, his leather patch secured around his head, over the space where his left eye should be, sliced out by her own brother’s hand.

The low light of the hearth casts shadows in the sharp edges of his face, the lines around his mouth, the curve of his lips, proud but restrained. His remaining eye is trained on her, glaring at her like a hunter approaches prey.

“You were there to watch your brother, I thought,” he says in that softly threatening voice of his. He comes close enough to loom over her, though just far enough that their legs do not touch. “Or did you find your eye wandering?”

Jace’s first mistake had been to go down to the yard early. Aemond was always there in the mornings after flying Vhagar, to train with Ser Criston Cole until noon. His next mistake had been to succumb to Aemond’s goading. Their uncle is never one to use violence at first, not like Aegon who would brawl with a gull if he thought it offensive enough. Aemond likes to use his words to tease and probe, to lure an opponent to action, and Jace almost always falls for it. The moment her brother had challenged Aemond to a sparring match she knew what the outcome would be. Jace was a promising fighter, but he simply could not match Aemond’s height, strength, speed or skill.

Her heart sank for her brother, but it couldn’t force her attention away from Aemond. He moved like a dancer, all fluidity and control, like he already had the entire performance planned out in his head. He toyed with Jace, kept his defence up, only to knock his sword from his hands and place his own blade at his throat in a sudden flash of silver and steel.

She’d had to bite the inside of her lip to stop herself from smirking.

“You humiliated him, before spectators,” she says.

Aemond frowns in mock sympathy, taking her chin between his finger and his thumb to tilt her gaze up. “I would do it a hundred times over, for my own pleasure if not for anything else.”

She tilts her head. “And what of my pleasure?”

He hums cryptically. The corners of his mouth flicker upwards. “Your pleasure is only my concern within the confines of this room.”

He’s looking at her like that again, like he wants to devour her.

He traces his fingers down her throat, her collar, the neckline of her shift. His touch is sparse but familiar, exploring the curves of her body through the fabric, patterns she’s felt before, spaces he already knows and seems to have mapped in his head.

He leans in closer, his other hand pressing into the bed, invading her space, infiltrating her senses with the scent of smoke and lavender. She could drown in it, the scent of him.

She shudders as he runs his nose over her neck, following the heat of his breath with a lingering kiss against the sensitive spot of her skin. “What is it you want from me tonight?” 

She has an idea in her mind, one she’s been toying with since she had seen the look of pride in his face in the yard.

“Lie down, on your back.”

He stands straight. Eye still fixed on her, he does as she says, making himself comfortable against the pillows. 

She draws out every movement, just as he likes to do to her. She straddles him, settling her hips against the growing hardness in his breeches. She rests her hands against his chest, runs her fingers over his skin and the patch of silver hair revealed when she pulls on his shirt.

His hands are on her immediately, running up her thighs, gripping at her waist, bringing up the hem of her shift and tutting as though it has caused him some personal insult in hiding her body from him. He pulls it over her head and surges up to kiss her, capturing her lips with the desperation of a man starved. His kisses are always like this, slow and consuming, pulling her in closer and closer like he expects her to try to escape, like the only air he wants exists in her lungs.

It’s fast and overwhelming, and at first she’s content to just let it happen, to let herself be carried away in the currents of his wants and not her own, but once she’s a little more settled, she pushes him back against the bed.

He stares up at her, blood rushing to his cheeks, lips parted and panting. For all the times she’s seen his stoic exterior at court, she thinks he looks best like this.

“I thought you were concerning yourself with my pleasure?” she says, not bothering to contain her smile.

“I thought you liked it when I take what I want,” he retorts.

“I want you to do as you’re told.”

He huffs a laugh, but his gaze softens and his tongue wets his lips, his eye roaming appreciatively over her bare body, until he stops at her small clothes. All it takes is a few gentle rocks of her hips before his jaw tightens and his fingers dig deeper into the flesh of her waist. She swears she feels his hips twitch beneath her, but he makes no move to take what he wants.

She leans back on her haunches as she drags his breeches below his hips. By the sight of him, hard and reddened at the tip, she knows he at least finds something about this arrangement appealing. 

She discards the rest of their clothing, his shirt, her small clothes, the leather eyepatch on his head. She pauses when she reaches for it, waiting for him to protest, but he doesn’t. He gives her a small nod and she slides it up to reveal the true extent of his scar, the twisted red flesh around the sapphire wedged in his socket.

She has seen it countless times before. She needs the reminder of who he is, how much he must hate her.

Now that they are both bare she resumes her position, pleasure like a flame licking up her spine as she traces circles over her centre. Aemond grinds himself against her, breathing with a strain in the back of his throat. The sound only makes the wanting feeling in her gut tighten. She can feel herself clenching over nothing, her body begging for more friction and the release it promises.

She feels she is wet enough to take him now, and her stomach drops in anticipation.

When he whispers her name, she knows she has him exactly where she wants him.

She closes her hand around his cock, giving it a few half-hearted strokes and lining it up to her entrance, only to hesitate. “I hear your mother is intending to invite Borros Baratheon to court,” she says.

Aemond catches his lip between his teeth, staring at the space where their bodies almost meet if she would only lower her hips.

“Might he bring one of his comely daughters? He has four, doesn’t he?”

Aemond huffs and meets her eye. His hands are still on her waist, his thumbs tracing circles over her belly. “Where did you hear this?”

She tries to pretend such a simple touch from him does not excite her or tempt her to relent. 

Daemon has spies in the Queen’s household, not that she knows the specifics. Her mother had discussed the matter with her, expressing concern for the Hightowers’ intentions. It has been decades since a Lord of Storm’s End has stepped foot in the Red Keep, and Daemon believes their rivals are trying to close ranks, amass allies outside of the capital. Perhaps such a deal may be sealed with a marriage pact.

“What,” she breathes, trying to smile, “that his daughters are comely? I can only assume, for I’ve never met them you see–”

In the blink of an eye she’s beneath him.

Aemond brings a single finger to her lips. “I thought we had agreed not to discuss political matters in private,” he says.

“I did not realise the matter was political–”

He cuts her off when he snakes his hand down her body and pushes his thumb against her pearl. She hisses, her hips bucking to meet his touch.

“Are you trying to bait me, niece? Hmm? Is that what you came here for?”

She shakes her head as he circles over her. For such minimal effort on his part, it sparks something frustratingly bright in her, back arching, warmth settling between her legs and beneath her skin.

“Is that really what you want me to be thinking about? Wondering which one of the Baratheon girls is the prettiest?”

His fingertips tease over her entrance, but he doesn’t push them inside, instead they’re replaced by the head of his cock. She presses her lips together, determined not to make any kind of noise he could take for weakness, for wanting, but she feels it all the same.

“Presently, I’m only thinking about what I can see, and what I see is a spoiled little Princess, laid out beneath me. Poor thing, she’s trying to look smug, but I’m not sure I’m convinced, not when I’m about to fuck her tight, little cunt.” 

Her pleading is mindless, falling from her lips as effortlessly as her breath. “Please… please… please…”

She wonders if it is her want or his own he eventually succumbs to. He pushes in slowly, delighted at the slight moan he elicits from her, sharing her air as she gasps at the pleasurable ache of being stretched out around him.

“I’ve heard rumours too, that Rhaenyra has been sending ravens to Highgarden,” he says as he starts to snap his hips against hers. “What business would your mother have with the Tyrells, I wonder?”

Rhaenyra has her own plans for a marriage pact, plans she’s known about for months. “What indeed?” she says, trying to smile as he ruts into her.

Aemond almost growls, burying his face into her neck. As his voice is harsher so are his thrusts. “My sister will sell you to a sickly little boy, is that it? Why would Rhaenyra want an alliance with the Reach?”

Because the King is little more than a breathing corpse and who knows how much life he has left in him. Because eventually, he will die, and they both know what will come next.

She’s always known her part in this, the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen. Her brothers may well fight in battles to defend their mother’s claim, but wars cannot be won without the necessary support. The Reach, The Riverlands, The Vale, The North, they must all be secured one way or another.

With his face hidden from hers she allows herself to admire the way his muscles move and flex under the smooth, pale skin of his arm. Since leaving childhood behind, he seems to have this idea of efficiency, with no tolerance for excess. His arms are slight, but defined where he trains with his sword each day, where he hauls himself onto Vhagar’s saddle and steers her around Blackwater Bay.

“It’s always been expected of me,” she says, tracing her hand over his skin, almost perfect, save for a few marks: a burn after an unfortunate encounter with Vermax when he was just a hatchling, a scar above his elbow where he fell from an apple tree, and crescent shaped indents from their last tryst. “I will do my duty.”

“Duty?” He stops, grabbing her by the neck so her breath hitches in her throat. He leans into her, pressing his forehead against hers, caging her between his body and the bed. She sees nothing but a single eye and a sapphire, nothing but contempt. “You’re the antithesis of it, crawling to your uncle’s bedchamber every night, begging to be fucked.”

Anger flares in her blood. She clamps her hand around his wrist and digs her nails into his skin, hoping it will mark him. “I have never begged for you,” she spits, teeth bared, lips grazing over his, “and I never shall…”

Her words fade on her tongue when he resumes a punishing pace, urging her closer to oblivion with every thrust.

“Oh there you go,” he coos, “that feels good, doesn’t it?” He’s on his knees now, one hand still on her throat, the other on her thigh, forcing her legs further apart, fingertips pressing painfully into her flesh.

She tries to pull away from his grip, pushing herself further into the bed amongst the pillows, but Aemond has always been stubborn and does not relent. She has nowhere to go, no other option but to take it.

“You’ll be sent off to some castle in a miserable corner of the world, live the dull life of a Lady. Your Lord husband will trade swords and shields for you like a brood mare and fuck his children into your belly each night.”

She feels her peak building within her, the weightlessness rising and rising, she can hardly take much more. “Do you believe I will think of you?” she says with a grin, “as he touches me, as he spills inside me…”

Aemond grunts, folding his chest over hers, brushing his lips over her cheek as he hisses, “wanton little whore. I am the one you seek out, and as long as you do, you are mine.”

It tears through her quickly, a spark that turns to flame, a piece of kindling caught alight, pleasure that reduces her simply to feeling, warmth and the absence of his weight on her body. She claws her nails into nothing, empty space where she expects to find his skin.

Aemond has pulled away from her, groaning as he comes, spilling over her stomach and thighs. She watches him, jaw slack, brows angled like he’s in agony. 

She basks in the numbness her peak leaves behind as he drags his shirt over her skin to clean the mess he’s made with a touch that is soft and slow. His eye trails along her body to her face. She sees nothing in him, not amusement or satisfaction, not hatred or remorse, and yet he comes to lay beside her, turning her onto her side, settling against her back and putting his arms around her.

She allows it, too used to the feeling of lying in his bed, too used to the scent of sweat and smoke and lavender. 

Aemond’s chambers are ruled by order, every book has its place on a shelf, he does not leave papers, clothes or used cups of wine lying around. The bedchamber lies on the south side of the castle, with a balcony overlooking the bay where two of them used to watch the ships leaving the harbour. She likes the intricate tapestries, scenes of Valryian mythology, and his fondness for the colour blue. Even if she cannot see most of it in the dark of night, the silence and stillness is comforting.

“Lord Corlys’ ship was attacked,” she mutters, placing her hand over his, where his palm against her stomach. “We cannot be sure if he even survived.”

“So I’ve heard,” Aemond says, “I’ve also heard Vaemond Velaryon intends to challenge the succession of Driftmark, should the unthinkable be true.

“And I assume the Queen and the Hand will support him in this endeavour.”

Aemond’s chest stills. “They will hear the petitions and pass their judgement,” he says, quietly but finally.

“Then the decision has already been made.”

Aemond’s breathing is deep, her hair fluttering against her cheek as he exhales. Her mother has a similar way of scolding her without uttering a single word, as if to say the answer should be obvious.

With a scoff she pushes his hand away and drags herself out of the bed. The cold air stings her skin and she makes short work of finding her night shift, discarded on the floor, and dressing herself.

“Lucerys has no claim to Driftmark,” Aemond says from the bed.

“And why is that?” she says shortly, grabbing her shoes from the foot of the bed.

He won’t say it, but the word is there, in the way he teases Jace, the way his family watch her and her brothers and stare at them across the throne room with nothing but disgust. It’s there in his indifference towards her beyond the walls of his bedchamber, avoiding eye contact, muttering under his breath, insults and backhanded compliments. But the last time he said it, it cost him his eye.

She turns to face him, a defiant glare through the darkness now that some of the candles have started to burn out. 

“Coward,” she whispers.

He does claim to disagree.

With her shoes on, she moves towards the hidden door without sparing him another glance.

But she hears a ruffle of fabric, his feet against the floor as he follows her. His hand closes around her arm, hard enough it feels as though it might leave a bruise. He turns her into him, placing her back and his palm against the panelled wall.

“Stay,” he says.

“Surely you would not want to sully yourself, sharing your bed with a bastard.”

“But it’s different with you.”

“How? How is it different?”

He cups her face in his hands, begging her for something but never saying it. He leans in gradually, kissing her firmly. It’s easy to follow his lead, to let him slip his tongue between her lips, let him pull and tug at her delicate flesh, to feel him and lose herself to him. It makes her weightless all over again.

Once it was easy to love Aemond. They found friendship easily as children, even when they bickered and argued, because they could always forgive each other.

Some time ago she realised that love has always been destined to fade away, like summer changing into autumn, winter snows melting away with the spring. There is no place for it amongst the animosity between their families, causes they were born to, that neither of them will ever forsake.

Aemond pulls away but stays close to her, a hand on her waist, the other on her cheek. “I want you to stay.”

“And what then? What do you think could ever become of us?” The one-eyed Prince and the bastard Princess.

Suddenly she hates the stillness of this room, the weight of his silence in her chest. 

Aemond’s hand slips from her cheek, his expression falling from pleading to indifference. 

She leaves him standing there, bare chested and breathless, with no light to catch in the cut edges of his sapphire. She fades back into the shadows of the passageway, amongst the cold and the dark and the bones.

The rot has set in. The King will die, and both the Blacks and the Greens will seek to claim his throne. The empty space between her and Aemond can only ever grow.

Tags (comment to be added)

General taglist: @jamespotterismydaddy @theoneeyedprince @tsujifreya

[capslocked]

KINKVEMBER DAY: 2

[prompt: mutual masturbation] male reader x jang wonyoung 4k words

If nothing else, Jang Wonyoung is a creature of habit.

Always orders her americano cold. Brown sugar and cinnamon cream cheese on her bagel. Walks three and a half steps behind her manager whenever they make their rounds: hair salon, corner pharmacy, the office, local record store. And for as long as she's been sharing your bed, she's insisted on that horrendous alarm clock from the late 90s that chirps the early-morning wakeup like a dying robot-parakeet.

All of it has worked for her so far, she’ll tell you. Which you find hard to argue with.

So - when she arrives home later than usual on an ordinary Thursday, she doubles down on routine. Where there's comfort in predictability. Coat on the third hook, boots below, fingers in her hair twisting to undo a messy bun, and a soft, delicate, "It's me," once she steps over the threshold.

“Hey,” you say to her, tilting your head. "You look, bedraggled."

"Well," and Wonyoung brushes aside the handful of her damp hair not stuck to her neck. There are faint marks just at her temple, in a faded half-circle, not unlike what would happen if your pillow wasn't comfortable. Or, you know. Some boyfriend that she's not supposed to have getting a hand tangled into all that long hair and pulling tight, like she tells him not to do. "That's probably true."

"Is it raining?"

"It was earlier." She eyes the spoonful of yogurt you're about to lick off, leaning back against the counter and tapping at the ceramic bowl. Frowns. "Is that one of the last blueberry ones. I take those for my lunch."

"I can always get more."

"Uh-huh." She drops her phone, keys, and spare change from her pockets into the large wicker bowl that lives near the end of the hall, by the closet and coat hooks. She has a sort of despondent energy about her when she comes into the kitchen. Less a look, more of a stance. A rub at her shoulder, this back and forth in her neck like she's working out a kink.

And because she looks tired and her hair is damp and she isn't busy kissing you right away, that's when you reach out. Let a finger slide across her skin, under her collar, pull aside the cotton.

"I'm going to go take a shower."

"Mind if I join you? You could use a hand." You end up holding hers in your own for a moment. Just, looking. "If you want."

There's something unidentifiable in her stare. She might have gone on believing nothing was different if not for the length of that pause - you, and the warmth from your body and the warmth of your hands on her shoulders, sliding into her neck, then-

She rises up on her toes and presses a light, almost shy kiss into your chin. And, well, if she had the strength to reach anywhere more than that, she'd let her fingertips find and curl around the smooth curve of your ear and say, very softly - barely audible - "take your clothes off. I'm already soaking wet. If you don't help, I'll run out of hot water before the conditioner's worked its way through."

But it's not for tonight; she's tired, wants it simple, maybe. Maybe wants to leave it for a better day.

"I just want to get cleaned up. It's been a long day."

"Fine by me." You point your spoon at her. "That's what it's for."

“Such a fucking gentleman," she murmurs, patting a palm at the front of your chest.

You smile first, playful - just this side of annoying - the exact thing she's kicking herself months later for having fallen for. And with another spoonful of yogurt, "you know me."

In your defense, Wonyoung has always had the cutest reaction to it. The quirk that she tries to keep from forming in the corner of her mouth, small and contained, like if you asked her about her day, she'd play it off. Let a sentence out with no punctuation. Which she often does: she's been fine, and that's the full length of her response.

But later, when she climbs into bed - when her face is in your hands and her lips are brushing past your cheek - when her hair smells like peach shampoo, and your chin is tucked into the nape of her neck, just the beginning of all the ways you plan to spoil her, you have to tease. Always, "I thought we weren't fucking until tomorrow, or was that a lie?"

A little bit of distance to keep your mind on track, and not thinking about her spread out under you, wide-eyes, and saying: yes.

You’re propped up against the headboard. You were reading, or watching tv. It doesn’t matter which when Wonyoung straddles your legs and drags her hand up your chest. Up and under her nightgown, the silky, thin, light blue material, until she has the collar cupped in her fist and her knees straddling your thigh. "Am I not allowed to change my mind?"

"No. Not allowed." Your breath catches. Because she is gorgeous, especially like this: tired, and pretty, and sweet, and thinking, deeply and meticulously and with great consideration, of climbing into your lap and asking if you'd help. If she'd be distracting enough - if she had the words to entice you into staying very close, without actually promising anything, because this, what she's wearing, how it's so tight to her form and how it is easily torn or bunched aside when she reaches down with both hands and starts to fiddle with the fabric at her waist, near her navel - is all entirely purposeful.

Wonyoung raises her eyebrow in question - silently: an exception, maybe, for me?

The way you're talking her up with both hands at the very smallest dip between her ribs and the bones jutting out above her hips, thumbs rubbing into the sensitive places along her thighs - pressing, a steady rhythm.

"Do you want it bad, princess?"

"Stop." Wonyoung wrinkles her nose at that and glares. But she knows better than anyone else. She lives in that contradiction, visible as it plays across her face when her back arcs and arches. When her breathing does this slow and deep in and out and you've leaned in with just enough pressure to make it feel good, in your kiss, a soft tug, a bite. A slow laving tongue leaving lazy patterns across her skin.

"Just want to make sure," you insist. Then, the question is being murmured against her chest. Then it's being whispered into the crook of her neck - which earns the single most content of sounds:

"A little, yeah, you ass."

"My mouth? My fingers? Or are you looking for something more... involved?"

"Maybe I'm looking," she says, pulling a curtain of glossy black hair back over her ear, "for you to figure that out."

"Aren’t you coy." You grab at her hair again - the second time today, for the second-worst of reasons. To tilt her head and gaze up at her like you're willing to live in the space beneath her. "We'd start slow?" you ask, and with a press of your open mouth against her collarbone, she brings her arms around you.

"Very slowly," Wonyoung says. She has one hand curling through bedsheets to feel if you're anywhere near as hard as she is wet. Her touch is fleeting, barely a whisper. "We don't have to rush it. Maybe we could do that thing."

You laugh out loud, and the vibration of it alone, coursing through your chest, your waist, up between her legs, has Wonyoung wanting. "That could mean anything at this point."

Wonyoung just looks down at you, fingernails grazing over your stomach, your chest, as she peels your shirt up over your head and tosses it aside the bed. And then, the idea, "get your phone."

"Hm. I'm going to say something that might come off as a little... something, but I mean it in the most respectful way." It's not a far reach, to where yours is charging on the nightstand. You're tapping in the passcode to your lockscreen when you spell it out for the girl in your lap: "you're low-key kind of a freak."

Wonyoung closes her eyes. Smiles. Her hair is spilling over one shoulder, some strewn across her chest, where she cups the underside of her breasts and sits her elbows into your shoulders and wriggles her ass a little lower in your lap. Until the tips of her hair are brushing the space below her belly-button, teasing-soft at the warm, pliant flesh.

"Pot." She bites into her lip, just slightly. "Meet kettle."

It doesn't take long to find what she's looking for; twitter's full of it. A video of her that'd gone viral. Or not quite viral, but circulated - bounced from account to account, thousands and thousands of hits - the shot by shot of the choreo that sees her bending over at the waist, touching her fingertips to the hem of a plaid-checked skirt, with this perfect posture, straight up through the hips to arch the back and lift and turn her shoulders at the right angle, so there's no mistake she's looking straight at the camera.

“You look good here,” you remark, scrolling a little further. She's grown so used to it that she doesn't even look.

Instead, it's her fingers that do the talking: moving a little faster. Touching a little deeper and harder over the gray cloth of her underwear. She runs a circle over the spot that has her rubbing her hips forward, breath shaky, back in your ear. "I always look good, don't I?"

"Obviously."

Her jaw falls into the crook of your neck. There's no escaping it: this heat, and she sighs. Mumbled and warm. This is the worst thing, she mutters - like you can't feel how incredibly hard it's getting to see her touch herself and act all shy, so the words are half-concentrating on her own breath, the other half focused, hazy. In her face. In her chest.

So, again. Wonyoung swallows a sigh. Breathes and runs her touch along the edges. That spot and where the wet has started to soak through the fabric, her thighs rubbing and sliding and finding new pressure.

“Here’s a particularly nasty one," you tell her.

Wonyoung turns her mouth into your neck, lips leaving these kisses while she presses down her fingers and rides. Hard, heavy strokes where her hand moves quicker with a sharp huff to her inhale. You click open another thread - another snapshot of that tight little ass of hers, the smooth skin over the dip of her hips, and the long curve of her back-

"Read it."

And with the music all distorted and choppy through tinny phone speakers, you say: "some guy can't decide if he'd like to spank you or pull your hair."

"Uh-huh." You feel her chin dig in where it's placed itself, over the flat of your shoulder.

"Then there's an awful lot here about how much the commenter wants to rail you. They get pretty vulgar." You look up from the screen and raise an eyebrow, the words coming into place, "Wonyoung has grown up so well," and the next part is so easy, "this little cocktease has been begging me to drain my balls for her for too long. I have to fucking oblige."

"God." She slips a finger into her panties to rub at her pussy - you know because the contact is audible, wet - and she drags a palm up and down, pressing in hard. Her lips part over a shaky punched out breath - this hot, wet puff of air - when she drags her mouth over the smooth skin of your collarbone. Where she feels at liberty to bite a hickey into the taut line of your neck, and draw her mouth, open and hot, up into your jaw. "Cocktease, huh?"

"Always the impression you leave." And with one, long, indulgent swipe, and a pinch on the wet material that's plastered itself, sheer and transparent and a beautiful outline to your cock, you glance to see Wonyoung smiling. That one that's all cheekbones. All teeth. All sort of sly.

"Can you," and there's not even an attempt, not even a sliver of an ounce of thought toward trying to hide the ache in her voice.

(You're there before she has to ask.)

“The concept of ‘Baddie’ does suit her, I think,” you start to read, “no one would believe it, but Wonyoung is the perfect little slut. Grade A baddie. Capital 'b'. She keeps teasing us with that tight, toned body and her slutty expressions. Someone’s ruining her on the regular. Not a doubt in my mind. A piece of ass that fine doesn’t go a week without it.”

"I do like when they talk about you," Wonyoung purrs out, and her hand slips down your chest. A touch, always warm and heavy and searching and all your fault lands right at your waist. On the bone that juts out at her thumb and forefinger. Which is exactly where she'd start palming you over your underwear, but with something close and confident in her eye, this mischievous idea taking shape in her gaze. You can't deny it: she has something dangerous in store.

"About how they think I am."

And when you place your hand back at her hairline, trailing her neck, her shoulder, Wonyoung sighs. From the top of her chest.

"What else does it say?" She breathes out a desperate exhale. This low-slung sort of groan. She looks hungry, and so unafraid to be. Eyes all smoldering. Hips all wriggling. Pushing a rhythm with those desperate grinds over your leg. The mess, in the softest sense, of her mouth, panting against the smooth line of your jaw. And voice, hoarse, murmuring something about: "how are they planning to ruin me?"

"Princess, you-"

Wonyoung angles her hips just that inch. A moan, just at the barest amount of friction, barely a grind, her soaked pussy rubbing against the flesh of your upper thigh, that feels like an earthquake hitting your throat. That makes your eyes flutter closed for just one second and groan, your whole chest singing for her.

You swallow hard. "How can anyone go on calling this innocent-"

Wonyoung’s fingers slip past the elastic, your cock springing free against her thigh and bobbing gently. "Play along," she tells you, this hint of command, and maybe a tease - playful and familiar. "I don't want to be the only one ruining their underwear." She smiles like she has plans, and it's downright infuriating in the best way.

“In the song, she even calls herself a ‘pretty little risky baddie’ and means that whatever happens, happens. She’s announcing that she’s not on birth control and that she knows all she’s good for is getting fucked and used and bred like a toy.”

“And?” she asks, the fingers between her legs fluttering out tiny circles of respite - moving fast, faster - 

It takes more than a couple seconds, because your breath halts in your throat the moment your fist finds the blood pulsing through your cock, joining her in slow, full-length, smooth motions, watching, always. Seeing her, all the way: with every slow and steady roll of her hips that moves her slick-covered-panties along your skin. The expression in the hooded eyes, this flash of her pink tongue and the way it curls over the seam of her plush-soft lip. That subtle shift in the arch of her back and the clenching muscle up her arm and leg-

Watching is where you find yourself at: all the way, everywhere. The tremble in the flex of her spine to the sound she makes from her throat at the same time. When Wonyoung moves closer. How you breathe, ragged, but eager. You're both all nerves, the damp heat building up the soft and quiet parts of the both of you and neither of you are bothered about the sweat sticking the shirt to her skin - this wet heat, a daze, a smell in the air that has Wonyoung rocking and rotating on your lap.

"I would start," you continue reading, paraphrasing slightly the unhinged words of someone typing one-handed, and your voice comes out odd, thick. "-start with my cock forced into that little throat, she'd look so perfect with her eyes watering while she gags on my cum, the filthy sounds she would be making. She'd beg for more like the slutty princess she is-"

Wonyoung shifts her weight, and lets out this moan.

"-I'm not convinced Wonyoung would even be satiated by being railed in her pretty little pussy until she's crying. Wouldn't be enough if she only choked on it while cum dripped down her chin, leaving those little dollops along the edges, slipping and glazing on her tongue. Probably wants the messiest, hottest load. No condom. Lying flat. Clenching. Could you imagine, bare? Wanting to be used for real, want us filling her so badly she'd barely even be able to move, or think, or process anything except how much of an overstimulated slut she would be: helpless. Soaking."

And you look at her as you stroke - the same tempo. Pre-cum leaking from the flushed head. Making a show of it. Watching her lips drop into something slack-jawed. This isn't even the filthiest thought she's ever heard - the roughest fantasy brought to life she's ever imagined - and yet.

"They go on for a long time about breeding you."

Wonyoung manages this incoherent half-word - a word of want, more of the kind of fucking she'd be receiving with her knees and palms to a mattress, her throat dry and face sticky with cum and tears and sweat. You know her body and what she likes, and this:

"-I would fuck her while she screams, her fingers tearing at the bedsheets and her vision so blurry and brain all fogged over, only able to respond in pained moans and deep-seated need-"

Her throat bobs.

You don't need to turn the phone over to find the end. Wonyoung lets it fall faceup onto the bedspread as she pulls your wrist toward the heat between her legs, all messy and slick. "Touch me," she's murmuring, guiding your hand lower until you have the thin strip of fabric tenting just off her lips and you press a digit inside, another - until Wonyoung clenches all around you - until she brings her wet fingers to your own ache, the hot length of your cock, pumping up and down, a stroke. Until she licks them, and places her forehead into the center of your collarbone, mumbling this broken, "Just... put-your-fucking-hands-" and her next breath, like a sharp and sudden wind.

When she’s this worked up, it doesn't take long: Wonyoung arches, slow and sinful, her shoulders curving down to present her chest, to make her small breasts and pert, hardened nipples visible even through the cotton of her shirt, her lips falling open - you slip two fingers to the base, then three. Plunging them in quick and ruthless, Wonyoung bucking into the heel of your hand, fucking her pussy on you so her thighs are slick, squelch after squelch-

“Fuck,” she whispers, this long note of exasperation, right into your cheek, and the intensity and urgency has her fucking her hips up to meet the thrust of your fingers, working her cunt like it's made for pleasure alone, and your cock-

The base of your throat burns. “Yeah,” you tell her, “just like that. Jerk that cock just like that, Wonyoung.”

Both of you are there, cumming into each other's hands, in the dimmed lights of your bedroom, heaving short, wet, sinful breaths into each other's mouths, because it's become one: her eyes and yours, blown wide. Her thighs shaking, your hips stuttering.

You roll and curl and spread your digits, holding Wonyoung's ass into her strokes. Tug the strap aside to hook a thumb in and press into her hot skin and warm muscle, driving further, deeper. Harder and firmer - pressing down, fast and vicious until she's making a series of sounds, whine-like and so soft.

"With me," she chokes out, swallowing down on the noise that falls out of her chest as fingers continue to slide around you like a vice. Her palm on you with so much pressure. "Fuck. I want you to cum."

It hits you - at first, not even particularly surprising, the rush of blood through your head.

"I wanna see it," she demands in a small, not particularly loud voice, so shy and small as the backs of her feet scramble for a hold on the mattress and she comes so hard - again, a sigh. "-feel your cum all over my knuckles, baby, cum on my-"

As to whether you or Wonyoung release first, tension coiled like a spring - well, it's anyone's guess.

"Wony-" Your mouth is open, eyes clenched tight, when Wonyoung bites a kiss down on your lip. All-consuming is the only way to describe the kind of desperation in her noises. It's everything, the sound and feeling, her wanting, her needing. All that wet heat - your stomach tightening, then slack, muscles stiffened up and falling loose as your grip becomes too tight, too heavy around the girl whose fist you're fucking and jerking and riding through this white-hot-blinding-orgasm, her wrist buckling to let you use her.

It's all that cum, lathering Wonyoung's palm, the space between her fingers, wrist and your shaft, slipping, easy. A whole puddle.

It's a few, careful strokes of her thumb and she's holding you up through that oversensitive high, forcing all that cum onto her belly, the hem of her nightshirt, all sorts of slick and messy. "Fuck, shit-" your hand still over her hot cunt, while hers just lays her weight over you, her lithe, slender body landing like it had lost any preference for form, for structure.

"Ugh," Wonyoung finally manages to get out.

"God." You collapse, leaning into the headboard behind you. With Wonyoung wrapped over your chest. Into your arm. Around your waist and mouth buried somewhere into the sweep of your neck: exhausted, entirely.

When she comes around, she does, however, make it an effort to use her tongue. Teasing along your jaw. A slip. And that makes you wonder.

"Messy," she says, wiping the back of her hand on your thigh, because where else should the proof end up.

"Ah."

She bites in, then tugs - lips on yours, until you lean up and wrap around the middle of her back, down into her hair and her hips. Because this part of her has never had a preference: to be treated either with the kind of affection and reverence afforded to an object of worship, or manhandled like someone, someone, no doubt has their fingers on her the instant she turns her ass this way or that.

"I could," she says, eyes unfocused and foggy - licking over the swell of her lip, "use a hand cleaning this up."

"Shower?"

“Mhmm.” Wonyoung slides her long legs off you, and in a look that's all too intentional, turns to move away and slip her nightshirt up, and-

Oh.

Right over her head. Then she tosses it aside like it's nothing. Wears the same sort of look that someone who hadn't had your fingers buried between their legs might. "Or, a bath sounds nice, if I’m allowed to change my mind."

"Say less, princess."

[girlokwhatever]

you belong to me,, pt.2

paige bueckers x fem!reader

part one

the ride back to paige’s dorm was tense to say the least. paige’s grip on the steering wheel was tight, her pale white knuckles telling you all you need to know. she’s not looking at you, which makes you pout from your position in the passenger seat. not even a little glance. you can’t tell if she’s mad, disappointed, upset, horny, or all four. you notice she keeps clenching and unclenching her jaw but her eyes never leave the road.

its deafeningly quiet in the car, only the occasional sounds of a bump on the road and your heavy breathing. she looks so good right now and you wish she’d give you some attention before you resort to grinding yourself into the seat.

when the two of you had left the party she pressed you between herself and the car, gripped your chin and told you you were hers only. she slotted her thigh between yours and into your mini skirt, applying pressure to your core.

“aw baby, can feel your heat through my pants”

she got you in the car and now, its nothing from her. but you’re finally to the dorm building parking lot and you couldn’t be any quicker to get out of the car. sliding off of the seat and into the cool air, you grab your girlfriend’s arm as she pushes you towards the building.

her hand started on your lower back but now rests on your ass while you unlock the door. it’s taking you a moment; you’re fumbling the keys and can’t seem to twist it right. paige’s hands roam from your ass to your waist and then she rests them comfortably under your shirt. she’s strumming her fingers against your ribs and you feel them slowly inch up.

you’re losing yourself in her, get a grip girl.

“too fucked by that guy at the party to open the door, huh?” you’re shaking your head no with a fever and your eyebrows are knitted together, but she’s taking the keys out of your hands and opening the door herself.

once it’s open, she’s pushing you through the threshold. you turn to look at her but before you do, her hands are throwing the keys somewhere so they can find a home on your hips instead. now she’s guiding you to her room and onto the bed, the fluffy purple comforter engulfing you.

you want her, bad.

she’s bent down to help you take your heels off, soft hands handling you just the way she wants. once they’re off, her hands slide up your bare legs and the goosebumps begin to rise.

“please, p”

she doesn’t answer you as she stands to hover over your smaller frame, watching the way your legs encircle her waist, trying so hard to pull her in.

paige is pulling your shirt over your head, hands roaming your chest as soon as it’s gone. it takes all her willpower not to give into your silent pleas and circle her tongue around your hardening nipples, so pretty and perky just for her.

“thinkin about that guy baby? the one from the party?” she questions you, enjoying watching you shaking your head and reach out for her. she lets you pull her down, propping herself up on each side of your head.

“baby please, only want you. ‘m yours p”

“yeah you are. but i gotta make sure you remember that next time you let another guy touch you. gonna make you remember.” she’s sucking sweet spots on your neck now, knowing all the places that make you squirm. you’re whimpering in her ear and she’s losing composure, barely managing to hang on.

your girlfriend notices the way you rub your legs together, chasing any sort of friction you can. she’s wedging her leg between yours and your eyes roll back, working yourself on her sweatpants and you swear you’re so fucking close-

“paige please!”

she’s never heard you willingly beg so much just for her attention. she decides to take it easy on you since she knows you didn’t really do anything wrong, just the ass fuck face from the party.

paige pulls your nipple into her mouth, gently sucking and massaging with her tongue. her sweatpants grow damp from your slick seeping through your underwear and it only spurs her on. she paws at your other breast, rolling your nipple between her fingers and cupping her hand full of it.

“paige, m’gonna cum- so close” and just like that she’s pulling away and you feel like you’re on fire. your denied orgasm burns through you and you can’t even believe it– she’s never done that before.

“what-“

“take your clothes off.”

you stare at her in disbelief as you slowly stand up, pulling off the rest of your clothes. she’s watching you the way predators watch their pray and it you can’t help but grow shy under her gaze. you didn’t notice the spot you made on her pants until now and your face glows with embarrassment.

you don’t get another second to think about it though; she’s moving towards you and pulling you on top of her lap while she sits.

“do i not make you feel good enough baby? had to go get yourself off on my leg. guess you don’t want my help anymore,”

her thumb brushes over your clit and you’re practically shaking on top of her, gripping her shoulders for dear life. her thumb glides over your wetness and back onto your clit but she quickly pulls away again. you think you’ll explode if she keeps going like this.

“i do want your help p, i need it. please paigey,” she was right, you’ve never begged like this before. you’ll do anything she wants, you’ll take anything she gives.

“yeah? how much?” her lips are gliding down your neck and her thumb traces the slowest figure eights on your clit. she can feel the heat radiating off of you, feels you throbbing for her.

“more than anything.”

you’re holding her arm now, fingernails dug deep. she’s looking right at you and you’re almost certain you’re going to fade away in this moment. she feels your arousal leak out and drip onto her hand. she swears she’s seconds away from burying her hand inside your warmth.

“not that other guy?”

you almost cry at the mention of him. if he hadn’t been such a weirdo, your girlfriend would’ve surely fucked your brain out by now. “no, not him.”

“that’s right baby, you belong to me.”

“i belong to you, paige.” all in a second, you’re on your back and she’s between your legs licking a line where you need her most.

her tongue circled your clit and sucked it into her mouth like she’ll starve if she doesn’t. you almost scream at the relief of having her between your legs. one hand is wrapped around your thigh and her other hand prods at your entrance, dipping into your arousal and sinking into you.

her finger itself is enough to fill you and is definitely enough to make you finish, but she quickly adds another. her mouth is making obscene noises and her fingers are curling against your g-spot.

you almost feel like your body is levitating off the bed and you think your back might break from how arched it is. your hands find a home in paige’s hair, pulling it away from her face.

your ears are ringing and you think you hear her praising how good you taste but you’re not sure. when she adds a third finger, curling it just the way you like, your legs shake and paige knows you’re close. she releases your clit from her mouth, nudging you with her nose before flattening her tongue and placing it on your throbbing bundle of nerves.

your toes tingle and your head spins, fingertips grasping for release. you’re so close, that fuzzy feeling consuming you until all you can feel is your girlfriend and her fingers thrusting into you.

“paige- right there, pleasepleaseplease, gonna cum”

“you got it baby, look so pretty right now. want you to cum on my face”

her hand tightens around your thigh and her fingers work faster in you. your clit is buried deep in her mouth and her tongue feels so good.

before you really even register it, you’re moaning her name and coming with a force so powerful you could pass away. both of you are breathless and definitely sweating, but she’s so fixated on you. her fingers are still deep in you and she’s slowly thrusting them while she places kisses on your clit and your thighs.

when she finally pulls her fingers out, they’re glistening with your cum.

“bet that guy from the party would kill to taste you”

she’s sucking your slick off her fingers with a smirk and leaning back up to your face for a kiss. it’s loving and sensual like she didn’t just fuck you, but you taste yourself on her lips and remember your situation.

you’re still recovering from your first orgasm when she circles your clit with her middle finger. it makes you whimper and you’re trying to move up the bed away from the stimulation– but it’s no use. paige has a strong grip around you and she’s pulling you closer to her. your jaw goes slack when she pushes two fingers back into you, scissoring you open. she’s pulling your thighs further apart for better access and you feel every single ministration.

her pace is slow and gentle but she’s pushing her fingers so deep you have to screw your eyes shut.

paige knows you’re sensitive and she knows what she’s doing to do, so of course when she asks to taste you again you have to say yes. her slow pace makes your brain melt and you’re subconsciously opening your legs further for her.

she’s still splitting you in two when her tongue finds your bud again, so needy and waiting for her. she gives you kitty licks, watching to see how you react. it’s almost too much for you, pushing her head back a bit but she’s persistent and surging forward.

she speeds her pace up, making sure to reach that spongy part of you that makes you crumble beneath her. her tongue is roaming your clit at an angle and speed that makes you cry out and within seconds you’re coming on her face again. your legs wrap around her head and for a second she can’t breathe but she thinks you look and sound so beautiful right now that if it killed her, she wouldn’t mind.

you feel your legs twitch when she touches you and she decides to give you a minute before going again. she stands to her full height, admiring you for all you are.

your chest rises and falls perfectly and suddenly she wants her face in your chest again, but she refrains. she knows you’re spent for awhile now. either way, she’d be more than happy to just lay here with you forever.

“baby?”

“paige?” she tugs you on top of her when she lays down. pushing all your hairs away from your face, she notices your smile and thinks she might melt. she remembers to thank God for sending you her way tonight when she prays.

“i’ll smile more at your friends when we go out if it means you won’t leave again at a party.” you chuckle, soft and sweet, and nod at her proposal.

“deal.”

“and tell everyone that even looks at you that you belong to me, alright?” part of her is joking, but she’s also serious and you know that. you’re ok with her request if it gets you in her bed like this.

“ok p, i belong to you.”

✩˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚

IDK IF THIS IS GOOD OR NOT

LMK I GUESS!!

(first time writing something like this tbh so idk what i’m doing!! 😀)

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 10

part 1 | part 9 | ao3

cw: recreational drinking

When they get to Eddie’s trailer, Steve’s mom is sitting on the couch, eyes unblinking as she watches the TV.

There’s just static on the screen.

“Steve?” she slurs when she finally realizes they’re there. Sways a little when she stands. There’s a dreamy quality to her voice, a blank look on her tired face: agreeable but distant, a smudge of campfire smoke curling far over the trees.

Double-dosed her pills again. Jesus Christ.

“Oh, Stevie, baby, it was just awful.” She reaches out for him, and he wishes he could find comfort in the way she cups his elbows with delicate hands. Wishes he could lean into her touch and offer comfort in return, but her tone is so dull and mild that bile rises in his throat. Chemical calm bullshit, and Steve has had enough.

“Ma, just…” he sighs, shrugging her off. Scrubs a hand over his face. Too young and too old for this. “Just go home, okay?” The street is quiet again, all the neighbors tucked back in their houses now that the show has run its course. He doesn’t think anyone will notice her stumbling across the road. “Get some rest. I’ll be over in a bit.”

“Sure, baby.” He leads her to the door, and she turns there on the threshold, eyes glassy and unfocused; looks through him like he’s a ghost. Then her gaze shifts around the room — the hats, the mugs, the clutter; the lived-in explosion of color that Steve’s annoyed he likes so much — like she’s just seeing it all for the first time, and absently, she murmurs, “This place is dreadful, isn’t it?”

“Mom.”

“Hmm?” she asks, but she’s already drifting out the door.

Steve’s face is on fire. He stands there for a moment, just staring dumbly out into the dark. What the hell is wrong with her??

Behind him, Eddie snorts. "Oh, she’s on the good shit, huh?”

Steve whips his head around. Eddie’s eyes are full of mirth, his dimple peeking out, and it startles a laugh out of Steve. He thinks maybe he’d take offense if he weren't so busy being mortified.

But also, like.

It is a little funny.

Or maybe it’s so unfunny that it circles back around.

“Jesus, man,” he huffs, “Sorry. I don’t— I don’t know why she…”

“S’fine,” Eddie says with a casual flick of his wrist. Seems like he means it. He rocks back on his heels, hands in his back pockets, just sort of eyeing Steve up. Assessing. Running his tongue over his lips. They're big, for a guy's. “…You want a beer?”

“Fuck.” That sounds so nice. “Yeah. Please.”

“Have a seat.”

Steve takes the offer when Eddie nods at the couch, too tired to do the whole song and dance of ‘oh heavens no, I couldn’t possibly impose.’ Who’s got the energy for that?

The couch is old. His skull thuds against the un-cushioned back when he sinks down into it, but he’s too tired to care. Worn out as the lumpy springs under his ass, the frayed fabric beneath his arm. A wave of exhaustion rattles his bones, reverberates in his teeth. He thinks he could sleep for sixteen years.

Eddie clears his throat when he comes back with the beers, a sudden cautiousness about him as he hands Steve an unopened can like Steve might claw him in return.

"Sit down," Steve rolls his eyes. "I'm not gonna bite."

Eddie makes a strangled noise. The springs bounce as he plops onto the seat beside Steve, sitting sideways with one leg up on the couch between them, his arm resting on the back. "So, ah...." He gives a wavering chuckle; pulls a lock of hair across his face to hide himself. "Is this the part where I formally apologize for trying to knife you?"

Ugh. No the fuck it isn't. Steve’s too drained for it, absolutely at capacity for more serious shit this evening, thanks; and besides that, it was...

Whatever. It's old news.

Instead of giving a real answer he reaches into his pocket, snicks his own knife open and pretends to brandish it at Eddie, asking, "Eye for an eye?"

Eddie's eyes go huge. "Dude, what the fuck??"

"Just fucking with you," Steve laughs, lifting the can up to his mouth. "But there; now we're even. Shoulda seen your face."

“Ah—!” Eddie’s jaw drops in offense. “Ex-cuse you!”

God, of course he’s more dramatic than all the kids combined.

Steve jabs the knife into his beer, pops the top and starts to chug, throat working as he gulps the whole thing down in four big sips. It tastes like frothy, bitter piss, but it's cold and it soothes the scratch in his throat.

Eddie lets out a low whistle. "Well, goddamn, Harrington."

"Is that supposed to impress me?" "You're not?"

Steve grins and wipes his mouth.

—

They get drunk pretty fast (Eddie refused to be upstaged in his own house, so one shot-gunned beer became two became four), and somewhere along the line the conversations get weird; hilarious and dumb. Saying shit just to say it, chipping away at the ice wall between them with bare fingernails.

Eddie hollers some shit like: "What are you even talking about?" and his arms fling out wide, almost spilling his beer. "The deep sea is so much scarier than the mountains!"

"Are you joking?" Steve throws back. "The mountains have, like, giant cats and shit! Birds of prey with wingspans the size of your van."

"Yeah, and the deep sea has eldritch monsters that live in volcano vents and hunt with no eyes and eat their young for fun or whatever the fuck. You ever heard of an anglerfish? Or a phantom anglerfish? Tell me that shit isn't right out of a Lovecraft story."

"A what story?"

"How am I the one who hasn’t graduated yet?"

Then later:

“Dude, Batman? Seriously?”

“He’s the world’s greatest detective!”

“He’s a greasy little weirdo. You only like him because of your whole…” Steve gestures at his tattoos.

“Whatever, Spiderfan.”

And later still:

"Okay, okay, okay. Fuck, marry, kill... Shit. Y’know this would really be easier in a town where so many people hadn’t died."

Steve grimaces at himself; expects Eddie to call him out. It’s too insensitive, too soon.

Eddie just cracks a grin and suggests, "Fuck, marry, revive?"

—

They talk for a long time. Eddie's kind of charming when he's not being a dick. A nice smile, deep laugh lines. Steve can almost see why the kids are so obsessed with him. He's never met someone so animated; feels like he's talking to a Saturday morning cartoon. The conversation mellows out after a while, and he doesn't realize he's dozed off until Eddie shakes him awake.

"Hey, man," he says, voice just above a whisper. "I'm going to bed. You're welcome to crash on the couch, but, uh,” he scratches the back of his neck, “I mean, your back is probably gonna hate you for it."

Steve rubs his fists against his eyelids and blinks himself awake. Feels jittery and weird, yanked out of the start of a bad dream. When he looks up he sees that he’s got his shoes up on the couch; and there’s dried drool on his chin, and all at once he feels embarrassed, off-balance and panicked like he missed the last step down a steep flight of stairs. Of course he's overstayed his welcome. He's being fucking rude. "My bad," he mutters as he jumps up off the couch. Stands up way too fast, makes his vision tilt and swirl. "I'll get out of your hair."

Eddie reaches for his arm. "Dude,” he says, “you're fine. You can stay if you want.”

Steve moves out of his hold. “Nah, get some sleep; I’ll see ya around.”

Eddie frowns at him, a little furrow between his brows, and somehow Steve feels like he’s in the wrong, like Eddie isn’t the one who just kicked him out.

Like maybe Steve’s just running away for a second time in one night. Always back and away, this guy.

Who's the fucking coward now?

—

part 11

y'all know the drill, tagging whoever commented on yesterday's installment provided your tumblr settings let me <;3 @thealwithnoname @violetsteve @manda-panda-monium @stuftzombie @bronwenmarie @aliea82 @slowandsteddie @acedorerryn @anne-bennett-cosplayer @ahsokatanoss @steveshairspray @hallucinatedjosten @estrellami-1 @ppunkpuppyy @stevesbipanic @silver-snaffles @yourmom-isgay @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @zombiecreatures @im-a-disgrace-to-humanity @faery-god @hotluncheddie @runninriot @a-little-unsteddie @teatimeeverybody @newtstabber @pearynice @hellion-child @cuips-not-cute @steddieas-shegoes @steves-strapcollection @loguine-linguine @griefabyss69

[kaybreezy3000]

The Boy A Five Hargreeves / Female Reader Insert

Created for an Anon request (rated mature for explicit sexual content)

Warnings: 18-yr old Five, Lots of Smut, Five being soft and also not, CIA setting but with none of the other things happening from season 4

Anonymous asked:

will you do one or just some scenes with Five being soft with a girl he's falling for? Like first kiss stuff or other more intimate things between them? Or any stuff with him letting his guard down for someone for the first time- not with Lila please. Explicit or not explicit. Anything like this. Ty:⁠-⁠*

(For those of you who are awesome and have read all my stuff before this little smut filled story, you might notice some similarities in this one to some things my 16-year-old version of Five went through in 'Number Five and the Girl.' No worries this is much different, but I thought I'd mention it because so much of what I've written already could have filled this request, so I borrowed some ideas from hot little moments I'd sort of done before to add some fun to this Five's adventure.)

Note~This quarter end treat is broken into 5 parts of smutty progression-Your Welcome😂

The Boy

Part One: The Push

Like you had been for the last two months since Five had been assigned as your mentor and you started training with him, there you were, attached at the hip.

Walking down the hall towards your room at the CIA training facility, instead of him treating you to his endless cold glares and his usual lines of belittling bullshit, Five didn’t seem to mind as much that he’d been paired with you. Today, he seemed more than okay with it as indicated by the way he had been eyeing you up like he wanted to do much more than spar with you while the other recruits made jokes about you kicking his ass.

After asking him if he’d like to come back to your room so you could change into something warmer and then go get something to eat together somewhere better than the CIA building’s cafeteria, like he’d never done before, Five followed you, but then he was hesitating at the threshold of your room.

Playing the gentlemen and your superior, you could tell that he wasn't going to budge, so you reached out and pulled him in, shutting the door behind him. Five Hargreeves was not the type to be led by anyone, and before this he had been acting like he loathed you, so him giving in so easily was very surprising, but also very encouraging.

You felt the tension building between you all day. On the outside, Five seemed calm and in control like always, but his eyes gave him away. The way he looked at you told you a much different story when it came to him wanting to keep things strictly professional.

Feeling braver, you started thinking.

Earlier, Five and the other agents were talking about how most altercations aren’t the type where you get to stand and face each other, and even worse, during the fight, you usually both end up on the ground where things get dirty. They all said you needed to practice more realistic scenarios, but Five, as your assigned partner, didn’t seem too keen on putting his hands on you in any way that may have been considered too rough. He also didn’t want to let anyone else touch you.

Finally giving in, to your shock, as Five braced himself behind you, directing you to get out of his chokehold, his embrace was more like that of a lover than an attacker. His soft breaths tickled your ear from behind as they cascaded down your neck. When he ordered you to drop to your knees, your mind going all sorts of places other than where it should have been, you did as you were told, throwing all your weight back into him.

Falling back, your body landing on top of him, he started laughing at you, and his laughter was almost just as alarming as his dimpled smile that had been charming you anytime that he had been willing to grace you with it.

You had just crushed him, almost elbowing him in the dick, but the thing worrying you wasn’t his nuts. You were falling for him.

On your walk back to the dorms, giving Five a hard time, you said, “Why not start practicing more realistic takedowns? Why are you handling me with kid gloves?”

Five gave you one of his adorable side smirks as he leaned in, whispering in your ear, “I can be harder on you if you really want, but I’d prefer to do that without an audience of assholes.”

Hmmm? You were alone now?

Five was looking around, taking in the general chaos that was the room you’d been sharing with one of the other trainees. His eyes stopped on your bed.

“Sorry. It’s really messy in here,” you said.

Five looked back up. “No, it’s not bad. Don’t apologize. You should have seen the messes my siblings made of things in the house I grew up in. This is nothing.” 

“Didn’t you say you had five brothers and one sister? That’s a lot of male mess going on. Where was it you said you grew up again?”

Five didn’t answer. Instead, he sucked in his lower lip, wetting it as he looked around again. He glanced over at the few things you were allowed to keep with you while in training. He swallowed. He was staring at you so intently. He was so hard to read sometimes, and this was definitely one of those times.

He seemed nervous and now you were too.

He cleared his throat as his lips turned up again. “I like working with you," he said, casually tucking his hands in his pockets. "A lot actually."

Five had no idea how handsome he was with those animated expressions of his, or how cute he was, awkwardly flirting with you. Not wanting to break the magical moment, you decided to flirt back.

“So, you wanted to see how I handle a little groundwork, but in private?” you dangled while raising both your eyebrows.

He shrugged his shoulders, tilting his head to the side. “It’s not a bad idea if you want to be able to defend yourself.”

Again, there was an air of the usual superiority in his tone that was so irritatingly him.

You scrunched your nose. “I think I can defend myself decent already, Mr. Perfect. I’m warning you now, I know how to get down and dirty. You are the one that’s the closeted softy.” You came forward, backing him closer to your bed as you moved your hand down his arm, your fingers brushing the underside of his left wrist.

Five visibly tensed, as if you’d touched him in a painful way, but there was no sign outwardly why that was. As you were looking down at the flawless patch of skin that seemed to be bothering him, he suddenly came back to himself. “You're allowed to believe that Mr. Softy crap, but it doesn’t mean you’re right,” he taunted, smiling back at you innocently.

Without warning, you pulled him closer. With a quick spin, you twisted his arm behind him, throwing all your weight into it, pushing Five on your bed.

He landed on your blankets face down, and you quickly leaped on top of him, pinning his arms behind his back to restrict his movement before he could retaliate.

“Impressive,” he huffed, laughing as he lay there, pretending to be vanquished.

Your victory didn’t last long, despite your best efforts. Five effortlessly ripped his arms free of your hold. Then he sprang up from the bed, sweeping you up with him before nailing you down on the mattress.

In one swift motion, he had you pinned with your arms above your head. He lay over you, forcing your legs wide with his knees.

“You always need to be alert," he scolded. "Things can change in the blink of an eye. If you let your guard down, you may find yourself in a position you don't want to be in."

The way he was schooling you, you knew he was genuinely trying to teach you something, but you were also surer than ever that he was testing you in a way that had nothing to do with your training.

“Oh, I don’t know about not wanting to be in this situation..." You gave him a playful wink, one you knew would fluster him. "The view isn't too bad down here. For all you know, I may have wanted to be in this position. Maybe it was all part of my master plan. Did you ever think of that, smarty pants?” 

Five’s cool smile melted into something feral looking.

All at once he secured both your wrists in one of his hands. Then he painstakingly slowly ran the fingers of his other hand down the sensitive underside of your exposed left arm.

“Oh FFffff! Five! Ss-stop that's, please sto-” you laughed and gasped, wriggling like a manic as you tried to escape.

He didn’t relent. His eyes darkened as he looked down at you. You had nothing on, but your cropped workout top and equally tight spandex shorts and he was in his usual gym clothes of athletic shorts and a black t-shirt. You’d been training together like that for hours, but now your lack of normal skin covering clothing was making this feel much different than if you’d been sitting together, with him helping you study while he was dressed in his signature three-piece suit and you in your more female version of business attire.

You were in your bed of all places, and that look in his eyes, and the feeling of him pressing himself on you the way he was!

He looked so unbelievably hot and there you were laughing so hard you could hardly breathe. “Seriously, that tickles!”

“Awww,” he drawled, while looking fake sorry for you. “Ever hear that saying, you reap what you sow? I felt you trying to get a rise out of me with those evil girl talons of yours. You made me look like a fucking idiot today on the mats when you dug your fingers into my ribs, and you know damn well what you were doing had nothing to do with self-defense.”

Your frantic pleas to make him stop only seemed to spur him on more, because after that, his hand danced along the length of your exposed side, then down your quivering stomach.

“Five Hargreeves…I think they are right, you don’t fight fair,” you accused in between breathless panting.

“Doesn’t matter if you fight fair. It only matters if you win.” The sultry tenor of Five’s voice as he leaned down, humming against your skin, only furthered your inability to think.

To add to your shock, he began peppering kisses along your shoulder, then up your neck.

Five was not affectionate. He was dangerously smart, aloof, and even scary sometimes, but with that maneuver, he’d just proved that there was more to him than the closed off, emotionless person he projected himself to be.

His gentle fingers trailed across your abdomen, sending shivers through your entire body. Perhaps feeling you struggling to hold yourself together, or maybe just because he was an arrogant shit, Five suddenly had to bury his loud burst of laughter into your neck, and with it, he let his nose brush against your skin in such a loving way it made you squirm all over again.

“Doesn’t really seem to bother you…me not fighting fair and all,” he breathed. He smiled against your neck as he brought his lips back down to your shoulder.

You were sure he said something else after that, but for the life of you, you couldn’t concentrate enough to register what it was, not when his teeth were lightly nipping at the bottom of your ear and his fingers were moving back up, his thumb grazing over the mounded fabric of your top.

As he let out the quietest moan from the feel of your breasts under his hand, you couldn’t help it either when your body reactively rocked up against him.

As soon as you did that, Five abruptly pulled back from his onslaught of kisses, his hand lowering as he attempted to shift himself so he wasn’t lying on top of you as much. He looked down, his expression unreadable as he sucked in a breath, as if needing the extra air to voice what was on his mind, but instead of coming out with it, he grimaced and looked away, seeming to think better of it. 

Your faces were still so close, so you rose up on your shoulders as much as he’d let you, clearing the gap. You quietly said his name, wishing he would just look at you again. It sounded like a plea, and it was.

Five’s lips collided with yours. He released your hands, while at the same time pivoting his weight on both his forearms so he could control how much of his weight he was pressing into you.

His kiss was urgent, and wild, and beautifully sloppy. 

He was becoming more and more agitated the more he let himself explore your mouth with his trembling lips. His breathing was becoming heavier, and you could tell he wanted to move his hips into your pelvis more than he was already rocking and digging them.

It must have felt so good to him as is though, because he was getting hard, and the young man, who for the last few months was never the type to show any sign of vulnerability, actually whimpered, and holy fuck was that hot.

Shocked by his own verbal moment of weakness, Five pulled away again, but just as fast, you placed both your hands on the sides of his face and steered him back. Kissing him softly, you let your tongue run along his lower lip.

He shut his eyes. His expression looked so pained. “We shouldn’t be doing this,” he whispered. “If you knew all the horrible things I have done, you wouldn’t look up to me the way you do.” He opened his eyes. “On top of all that, I am way too old for you.”

Sure… Okay. All this had to be because Five was just worried that he was your mentor and that this kind of relationship wasn’t something your superiors would be okay with. That made sense but…

You smiled, then said, “Oh my God, Five! Who says I look up to you? And I am older than you, you self-absorbed jerk, who apparently never bothered to read my bio.” 

With that and his exceptionally sour expression that followed, you started laughing at him, and about the entire situation because you were older. Only by a year, but really…

What was he talking about?

Five opened his mouth a few times while trying to figure out a retort, so you came at him before he could, pulling his bottom lip with your teeth with kittenish feistiness, and that seemed to rattle him like nothing else had so far, and it sent him coming back at you like a man being torn apart from the inside out.

After that, Five started to let his tongue and teeth explore more freely and it was clear that was something he had wanted to do, only like all of this, he hadn’t been sure of it being okay until you’d made the first move.

He always smelled good. You knew that before, but wow. Five tasted like what you'd think comfort would taste like if it had a taste; like the warmth of good coffee mixed with an old-fashioned dinner mint. He was the embodiment of pleasure, and his lean body was built to move in more ways than you’d seen him work it while in the gym when beating the shit out of the other much larger agents.

Having your hands free to do as they wished, you dropped them both down under Five as he lifted up just a little.

You let the tips of your fingers drift down the length of his tight stomach muscles, moving them with a feather-light touch. You inched them along slower and slower after you passed over his navel, going up under his shirt, following the thin trail of dark hair that led from there, down into his shorts.

Five's hands clenched in the sheets at your sides. Every muscle in his abdomen shuddered under your touch, quivering in anticipation as you played with the dangling strings that were meant to keep his shorts around his waist.

He pulled away from your kiss to catch his breath, burrowing his face against the side of your neck. “Holy Shit…” he breathed, in between his wet kisses. His body dropped lower, his torso falling flush against the heat between your legs for just a moment before he quickly readjusted his hips on the mattress next to you.

Before he could fully right himself by pulling back up on his elbows and roll away from you completely, you brought your hand back up to his neck, your fingers lacing through his incredibly soft hair. "It felt good. Don’t stop," you whispered.

Looking utterly broken; he began kissing your neck, moving upwards again as he simultaneously started to move his shaft against the side of your leg.

Five nipped at your ear harder than he had been before and the sensation had you digging your nails across his back, and that seemed to excite him even more. In a frenzy, he started to run his tongue along, first the shell of your ear, then anywhere he could get at.

That boy was good, and not just with a gun while at the shooting range. The ache between your legs was becoming more intense with each shameless thing he did to you.

When Five satisfied himself with marking your neck, he moved to your collarbone. It felt like he was studying every inch of you with his mouth, gauging your reactions as he went. He first kissed, then licked, then sucked gently along the rolling plains of your rapidly rising and falling chest. It felt so amazing that you had to dig your feet into the bed to contain yourself.

"Fuck," he groaned as he threw his leg over yours and repositioned himself fully on top of you.

You whined as his hardened length nudged between your legs, then cruelly moved away. Thankfully, the sound of your discontent seemed to make Five bolder, and he did it again, then moved his mouth lower, applying kisses along the edges of your workout top, playfully pulling it up with his teeth.

Your toes curled as you squirmed under him.

You were both oblivious to the world going on around you when suddenly you pulled your attention away from him because you thought you heard something. Five must have heard it too because all at once he stopped what he was doing. His entire body froze.

“Ahem,” coughed a voice from over Five's shoulder.

You leaned up, peering over him. Even before seeing her, you knew who it was.

“Hey…” you weakly offered your roommate. 

She was already smiling like a total goofball, and her expression grew bigger and happier as she took in the extent of your blushing state and that of your equally turned-on partner in crime.  

She mouthed, “Is that who I think it is?”

The slow shake of your head confirmed her suspicions. She cleared her throat obnoxiously, then said, “It’s about time you guys got past all your staring at each other with those disgusting puppy dog eyes.”

With his face still buried against your neck, Five let out the tiniest sound, like that of the sad little puppy she’d just compared him to, then he growled, “You have no idea what you are talking about because I have never looked at anyone like that.”

“Er, whatever you say… So, ah…sorry guys. I will just, ah…go,” your friend said as she jerked her finger and thumb back towards the hall, but she was still dawdling, enjoying the site of Five, laying there still as could be, trying so hard to pretend he wasn’t just busted while trying to dry fuck you like you were both horny teenagers that were still in high school.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” Five groaned, as he started moving off of you.

Your roommate was leaving at that point, but hearing Five's frustrated oration, she turned back around, shooting you a huge cat just ate the canary grin before quietly shutting the door behind her.

Next to you, Five tipped his head back as he stared up at the ceiling. It looked like he was praying it would fall on him.

He sighed exasperatedly. “Can’t I ever get a break?”

It was obvious Five was upset about getting walked in on because this could mean his job, but you also knew that he had to be upset because he’d just totally been cock-blocked, and if he hadn't been, you weren’t sure what would have happened or how far things would have gone. 

Thinking of the impressively engorged package he was dealing with in his gym shorts, you rolled over, facing him, your lower lip pouty. “Ah, yeah… So....that sucked,” you said, stating the obvious as you tried to suppress your giggle.

Five just stared at you and groaned again. By the look on his face, you were pretty sure he was ready to die, and you weren’t about to let that happen, so you were about to suggest a different kind of sucking, but first you thought you should address his other big concern.

“Hey, don’t worry," you said, laying your hand on his tensed forearm. "I swear she won’t say anything. She already knew I had a huge crush on you. Lots of girls here would die to be in my shoes because that would mean they would get to enjoy your scowls and contemptuous comments like I do.” You tried a reassuring smile, getting serious. “Really, she’s trustworthy.”

What you said seemed to help. At least it brought a smile back to Five’s tightly pursed lips.

“You are full of shit,” he shot back, not believing you, but about which part, you weren’t sure. “But I suppose it doesn’t matter,” he continued before you could insist that you weren’t lying about any of it. “If she says anything, I am done, but at least I got to hump you for three minutes, so that was totally worth throwing away five years of my hard work to get myself in this pathetically lame position that I’ve waited a lifetime to totally fuck up.”

He threw a hand over his face, then back into his chocolatey mess of hair.

Somehow, Five managed to sound both irritated, but also so funny, which was just one of the many things that made you like him so much. The light in his eyes was coming back and he hadn’t tried to touch you again. It was obvious your little moment with him was over, and he was doing his best to calm himself down, but something else seemed off.

You frowned, but you weren’t mad at all because you mostly understood why he’d said all that. You’d feel awful if he was let go because of you. Everyone knew that Five was amazing at his job. He was a bona fide genius the CIA had found at a very young age while he was crushing his studies to get through his PhD. His being a fully contracted agent in the CIA at so young was unheard of.

Compared to him, you were only there as an intern and had years ahead of you to actually get hired and prove yourself the way he already had.

Once you managed to control your brain again, you finally responded, and stopped staring at him like you wanted to be devoured by his perfect mouth.

You took your hand off his arm, then quietly said, “I suppose you’d rather not get lunch with me now?”

His eyes narrowed and he cocked his head in that way of his. “I suppose, it would be better if we didn’t,” he said with eyebrows furrowed slightly, indicating he was upset about something, but if it was about getting busted and potentially losing his job or something more, you couldn’t tell.

“That’s it then…? That is unless you want to stay," you offered, then purposely glanced at your bedding still bunched to his crotch. "You could show me a few more moves?” 

After a few seconds, Five cleared his throat and grinned, making your heart skip a beat. “We better not do that,” he said, then he looked away. “You go first. I just need a minute. I’ll lock your door on the way out.”

“Okay,” you replied, your heart sinking through the floorboards.

"Okay," he agreed.

He lay there on his side, head propped up on his arm, you threw on a baggy sweatshirt and some jogging pants. After covering yourself, you turned. “See you later?”

“Sure,” he said, still staring off as if you weren’t even there.

Chapter Two: 

Five Said No, But Morning Glory Says Yes

Right on que, Five woke up with his dick harder than an oak.

He was lying there on the couch in his office, having fallen asleep while working late. Back when he’d started at the CIA, not even done with college yet, he often did this, but that usually involved drinking too much then passing out.

That kind of behavior was nothing new for him, but he hadn’t done that in a while. Relieved that he didn’t have the brain throbbing start of a hangover nagging at him, he kept his eyes closed tight, like he could get his dick to go back to sleep if he willed it.

He tried to ignore it, he really did, but thanks to his physical age and the power of young guy hormones raging, his increasingly bothersome boner alarm proved impossible to turn off.

Taking a long, tired breath, then letting it out slowly, Five started mentally preparing himself for another wake and whack session to add to his already impressive record.

He couldn’t remember what he’d been dreaming about, only that you were together, and you were touching him down there or maybe he was touching you down there. Whatever it had been about, it didn’t matter, because once again, Five had woken up before he’d got off, and was ready to send forth his load into an innocent piece of clothing, only he wasn’t at home, so he’d have to find something else nearby to catch his mess instead. Anything would do, even destroying the shitty plastic tree someone had put on the floor next to his couch.

“Fuck that Ficus,” he breathed. 

His hand flexed, ready to spring into action and get this over with, and in doing so, it rubbed along skin that was not his own. To his shock, his arm was laying over something warm and alive, and that had him immediately realizing the pressure pressed up against his hard-on was not from the couch cushion or one of the pillows.

Five never would have admitted it unless he happened to be using it for his job as a cover story while trying to fit in with other lunatics, but like so often, he was having trouble differentiating between reality and fantasy.

Seeing as how he’d woken up on more than a couple of occasions unsure if his dreams or nightmares were real or not, he couldn’t blame himself for being confused, not entirely, not when the main player in his fantasies other than Dolores was right there squeezed in next to him.

His eyes abruptly focused, taking in his surroundings, confirming what he already should have known. You had both fallen asleep while he was helping you study for your next round of exams, and there you were with him, lying on the couch in the darkness of his quiet office.

He had no idea how he ended up cuddled next to you the way he was, and even though Five had thought about it about a hundred million times since the incident in your room, things hadn’t started back up the way they had that day. He believed it was for the best, and he’d said as much, and you’d respected it, but that didn’t mean it had been easy for him.

Just being around you, doing nothing even remotely flirtatious or sexual in nature was making the tornado of butterflies in his stomach worse each day that he fought to stomp them into submission. There was no denying that, or the perpetual case of blue balls he had from watching you sashay around him in your short skirts and blouses with the top few buttons undone as if daring him to dive into your cleavage again.

He had already touched those perky pleasure pillows, and he liked doing it way too much. Five liked everything about you. The way you challenged him even when he was being an insufferable jerk. The way you laughed.

Even more than all of that. Five loved the way you smiled at him like you didn’t smile for anyone else.

Being around you made him forget all the bad things that had happened, if even for just a while.

It didn’t matter. What he’d done was a mistake. Nobody could ever really care about him if they knew the truth, and you sure as hell wouldn’t believe him. You’d think he was crazy. He’d be fired and maybe even forced into psychiatric care.

It was better this way, but so much for his plan to shut this down, and so much for being good and keeping his hands off when you considered the situation he was in now. In hindsight, looking at the out-of-control horn-ball he had become in the last few weeks, Five knew that he should have scheduled a well-defined whack-off time as a part of his daily routine, then maybe this shit wouldn’t happen when he wasn’t expecting it.

When did I become such a perverted degenerate? he silently asked himself.

He remembered you reading, leaning back after a while, kicking your heels off. Sitting a few feet away, looking over a briefing Derek had given him earlier that day, Five waited for you to finish your review so he could quiz you again. He felt himself starting to doze off.

He remembered how comfortable he was with you there.

He just wanted to stay like that with you a little longer, with the smell of you filling his lungs, with you touching his things.

He vaguely recalled trying to keep his eyes open and noticing that you looked very tired too.

Now there he was with his hand in an area on you that normally he wouldn’t have dared let it venture. It was starting to come back to him each minute he was conscious, and he was almost certain that when he started to wake up, he was grinding his morning monster on your butt, and his hand was touching you between your legs in a very inappropriate way.

It wasn’t just a dream; he had been really doing that, maybe?

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Way to go, fucking creep, he mentally yelled.

He had no right to, but Five had you spooned to him like you were his, and if you were awake, you were definitely able to feel his predicament, and also what he had been doing to you.

He shifted his weight, moving just a little, trying to give you some space and maybe if it was not too late, also try to save some face.

Just as he began to pull his arm off, you started stretching your legs, your feet twisting around his.

“Is it morning already?” you complained.

The smell of your hair filled Five’s lungs again and the pressure from you pushing back against him had his eyes popping wide.

If he had his powers still, he would have blinked away the second he’d realized where he was. That wasn’t an option anymore, but the instinct to do it was still eating at him like a spark that kept trying to burst into a flame but couldn’t.

Five was panicking; he didn’t know what to do.

You shifted again, trying to move back, but he found he had nowhere to go. He was trapped between you and the back of the couch.

“I… Ah… It’s not morning yet. I’m sorry I woke you. I must have fallen asleep," Five stammered as he tried to sit up, using the arm under his small couch pillow to push himself up. "I’m going to just-"

You captured his hand as it started slipping over your hip. You pulled him back down and he found himself falling around you again, entrapped in the exact same position.

“You’re so warm, and your office is so cold. Please don’t go yet. I like you as my blanket,” you whined while pushing back, your firm curves warm against his even warmer erection.

Five went ram rod still at the same time you did.

“I am so sorry,” he quickly tried to say, but stopped at that because he found he had no words that would explain what he’d done. Instead, he forced out the pillow from under his head and then buried his face in it, hiding from his shame like a total jackass.

The clock on his wall ticked for what felt like an eternity, neither of you saying a word. You were clearly upset, weirded out, or God help him…Five didn’t know anymore.

Finally breaking the silence, you said, “Five, stop that. You don’t need to be sorry.”

Even though he was still under his shield, Five could tell by your tone that you were trying to console him. Of course, you were the one taking the highroad. Here he was the one almost 42 years older than you and you were the one being mature.

He took a deep breath, trying to clear his head, knowing he had to say something, but still not sure what would make the situation better.

“And to think," he started, "I was worried about what my boss would think if someone here found out about us and talked. It turns out I was worried about the wrong thing. This is so much more awkward than that." He groaned into his shame pillow.

Five felt you move, your hands landing on the throw pillow, forcing him to let go. When he finally had the courage to open his eyes, he was met with yours, and even though it was dark, he could tell you weren’t mad. You had turned your body towards him, your fingers already playing with the ends of hair at the nape of his neck.

Five felt like he was going to die, sure that he would if you didn’t stop touching him like that.

He was thinking about using his arm to cover his face instead of expiring. It was his only option since you’d thrown his pillow out of reach, but then he realized he may have needed more than just his arm to cover him because he could feel everything from his forehead to his chin burning bright red with humiliation. 

You grinned in that way he knew meant you were trying to hold back a laugh. “You know, Five... Nobody is talking doom and gloom about this other than you, and why do you think this is awkward?”

“Oh, I don’t know… because of Morning Glory here,” he joked, gesturing down to where the small throw blanket you had pulled with you had thankfully covered the area below his waist, but it didn’t really matter because he knew, and you knew, that he was still sporting a nice sized tent for the second time you’d been alone with him in a week.

You took claim of his hand, pressing a kiss to his knuckles, keeping your smile on for him. “Yeah…I don’t really think you can blame that all on it being morning. Unless that clock is wrong. It's not even midnight.”

You moved closer, and all at once, Five felt you press against the villain in his pants, and he let out a little puff of airy agitation in response.

“And this isn’t awkward. It’s flattering," you furthered, your sexy smile melting into something a bit silly as you added, “A healthy sexual appetite is nothing to be embarrassed about."

Your intentionally nerdy, sex ed teacher tone had somehow managed to sound even sexier than when you normally teased him, and holy fuck did Five love getting lectured by you like that.

The dirty old man in him that was thinking about spanking you for trying to steal his role as the teacher didn’t know what to say. You were obviously trying to make him feel better for his little predicament, but he still felt like a creep. Getting morning wood while sleeping next to an extremely hot girl that was way out of your league was one thing, but touching her in her sleep, like that… 

What the hell was wrong with me? That was not normal! Five privately scolded himself.

“I need to-" He didn’t finish, instead, Five swiftly pushed himself up, and as discreetly as possible made sure ‘woody’ was tucked down against his leg.

He started getting up, and you moved out of his way. He swung his legs to the floor and was about to stand, but he didn’t get any further than that because you quickly turned and swung a leg over his lap, your knees landing on either side of his torso, in effect, preventing his escape as your skirt flared out, covering his lap.

“Hey, not so fast. I am not mad at you, Five. I fell asleep too, so it’s not your fault. Maybe it happened again for a reason. I knew you were dreaming a few minutes ago, so don’t be freaked out about this or what happened the other day. It’s ok, I promise.”

Your fingers moved along his scalp, playing with his hair again. The look on your face was so sincere, but then it quickly changed to something more pensive and playful as you slowly licked your lip then continued. “And just so you know, even if you weren’t dreaming, I would have been ok with what you were doing. You can touch me however and whenever you want. I thought I made that known the other day. You were the one that said no more, not me.”

The more perplexed Five looked, the more devilish you looked. Your fingers dug in as they fell to his shoulders, pulling his dress shirt even tighter in your grip.

You leaned in and whispered in his ear. “I am so wet for you right now. I am more than ok with how that clever mind of yours works, but the question is, are you, and do you want me to stop trying to convince you how much I want you?”

The things you were saying and your soft breaths on his skin were making Five’s hands shake.

“Don’t stop,” he breathed, just as your lips brushed against his cheek and you began kissing him.

Both of Five’s hands latched on to your hips so fast it was like he wasn’t in command of his own body anymore. He felt like he needed something to hold on to, to ground himself, and his hole punch filled morals weren’t working.

It was so much all at once, with real lips on his, and you on his lap and the warmth of your sex so close to his painfully hard cock. Instead of thinking about how 'wet' you said you were, Five tried to distract himself by focusing on your mouth as it moved against his. You obediently opened for him as he urgently searched your lips with the tip of his tongue, pushing for entry. The second you gave, Five darted it inside, feeling the sweet, candy-like warmth that he was coming to know was simply the taste of you.

Beside himself already, Five moaned into your mouth.

Your tongue met his more excitedly after that, and you both pushed each other for more, hardly coming up for air.

You felt so good. What you were doing to him felt so good; it was like he was in another world, with nothing but the two of you.

It was like it was with Dolores, only not at all. That was survival. She was hard and cold. You were soft and warm. She was him, and you were…fuck.

Dolores knew him. You didn’t.

Like before, Five knew this was wrong, but his hands slipped behind you anyway, pulling you closer as his hips rocked underneath you.

In moments of desperation, Five had held Dolores in his lap like this, and done the same thing, only this was so much different. He could have lost himself completely in the feeling of you and been a very happy man, but his brain kept trying to reboot and intrude.

Even as his cock was getting a nice little ride, his brain was yelling at him to stop. 'Here you go again! This is so fucked-up, and this is obviously not going to help with your not so little problem, and what the hell are you doing? You’re going to ruin this for both of you!'

He pulled away, his breath coming way too fast.

“We shouldn’t do this… I…I can’t-” he whispered, but he couldn’t help it as he let his lips mark a path along your jaw, trying to repress his agonized growl with his kisses.

You weren’t buying it, and he wasn't doing a good job selling it. Seeing where your hips were, it was obvious he was more than capable of doing this.

You softly laughed, your breath brushing his skin as your hands explored, first unbuttoning his fitted vest, then untucking his shirt, making his entire body quake with the simplest of touch as your fingers crawled up, exposing him, one small button at a time. 

Not used to being touched like that, Five pulled back, dropping his head as he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to regain some composure. You weren’t having that either. You continued to caress his heated skin with your fingers moving dangerously close to his waistband.

Unlike him, your intentions were very clear as usual, but your voice came out raspy and sweet and questioning anyway, in total contrast to how you were so self-confidently seducing him. “Five?”

He hesitantly opened his eyes and looked up at you. Your cheeks were flushed, and your lips swollen from his kisses, your eyes full of worry.

“Why are you scared?” A crease appeared between your brows. “What you were doing was perfect and I want you to touch me like that. I wanted you to touch me all night,” you said, practically moaning your words.

Five was so fucking hard; it was almost more than he could take. All rational thought was gone.

When he came back up to meet you again, claiming your lips, you were ready and willing, tugging him closer with his loosened tie. Not satisfied with his state of undress, or with how you were so successfully dominating him, you quickly undid the knot and whipped the length of silk through his collar, throwing it over his head. You traced your nails down his torso with one hand and laced your fingers through his hair with the other.

Five met your advances, letting his hands float under your blouse, exploring the softness of your skin. When his fingers grazed just below your breasts, he stopped.

“Is this ok?” he asked with his mouth still brushing against your lips.

“Yes. God yes,” you whispered as you dropped your head back, moving yourself against him as he risked letting a finger glide over the lacey fabric of your bra. After a few more tentative touches, you made a soft whining sound. Five looked up, and the look you were giving him was so needy that it could have only matched his own. “They way you touch me…it’s like nobody else has ever touched me. Everything is different with you, Five. I don’t know why but it is,” you breathed.

Relinquishing his hold on your curvy hips, Five slid his hand up your back, proudly only fumbling a few seconds to get the clasp on your bra unhooked.

You let the fabric pull away from you so his fingers could slide under and caress your breasts.

Five leaned in, placing his other hand back on your ass as he buried his face against your neck. He wasn’t brave enough to take off your shirt the way you’d done to him, but this was plenty awe-inspiring anyway.  He relished your body’s reactions to him and the smell of your skin as he lay gentle kisses below your ear. 

Talking to himself in the way he’d spent a lifetime doing and couldn’t seem to break away from, Five asked, Why on earth have I been tormenting myself about this?

He had no answer to that, and Dolores, being not at all on his mind, didn’t chime in and give him any help like she normally did in his times of distress.

Five trailed kisses along your jaw and over your quietly gasping lips as you rocked your body against his cock. He continued to massage your breasts, stopping to feel your nipples as they grew harder, all seemingly because of his tender touch.

You moaned sweetly, letting him know you liked how it felt as he rolled the taut nubs between his fingers. Musing again, Five smiled while thinking that the only thing that would be better would be having his way with your tits.

Instead of doing that, he kissed your lips again. The hand Five had on the curve of your waist instinctively pulled you right up against him as his hips jut into yours. The sensation sent him careening, and he had to squeeze his eyes closed and think about something else or Chernobyl number two was going to happen in his pants.

The friction he had thought would help ease things, unfortunately only made it worse. His dick was so hard, it was throbbing in complaint as it lay trapped under his remaining layers of clothes. He could hardly breathe, and even more embarrassing, Five had just let out an animalistically guttural sound that had filled the entire office.

He would have been mortified that he’d done that, but when he opened his eyes, all he saw was your hooded eyes gazing back with no hint of judgment.

He didn’t even realize you had moved your hand from his chest until you were touching him, your palm cupping him tightly through his pants. Five swallowed hard, trying with everything he had not to move as you rubbed along his thigh where his dick had been trapped.

“Fuck-” he croaked out, then bit the inside of his cheek in an effort to be quieter in case there happened to be anyone else in the office working late.

“Do you want me to stop?” you asked.

“Please no,” he begged with his lips grazing your cheek.

You increased the pressure, and Five tried to pump himself up into your hand in response.

“Good, because I don’t want to," you said, then you leaned in, purring more assurances as you kissed along his throat and pulled at the top of his waistband with your other hand, loosening the inner clasp so you could zip his fly down and let your hand slide in.

As you very carefully pulled him free, positioning his erection up between you, Five cried out at the feel of you manhandling him. He had touched himself like that so many times, but with you doing it, it felt millions of times more extreme. His hand that had been toying with your breasts lost all function, other than to fall to his side, fisting the bottom of your skirt.

Your skin against his hard flesh had him seeing stars as you explored, running your palm down and up his entire length.

After getting more acquainted with what you were working with, you ran a finger over the tip of Five’s cock, doing that move to his glans, over and over. That of course made it harder for Five to think and breathe. You spread the wetness that had gathered there, smearing it under your tightened fingers, and by the time your hand wrapped around him even firmer, and you started to really move, the muscles in Five’s legs were quivering and flexing uncontrollably.

As you started jerking him off, feeling like he was having an outer body experience, Five dropped his head back, pinching his eyes closed.

He wasn’t thinking at all anymore. If you'd asked him his name, he wouldn't have been able to tell you.

“Harder-" he begged through clenched teeth.

Your hand obediently tightened.

There was nothing but the sound of wet skin, and sex, and the feeling that he wasn’t in control of any of it for the first time-ever.

Fuck. He was going to come already.

“Plea-” he desperately breathed, gazing up at your determined eyes. You sped up without him having to find the coherent words to ask for it, and he couldn’t help himself as he bucked, moving you with him as his hips repeatedly met your hand. “I am gonna cum-" he warned, but you didn’t stop.

His breath hitched, and his eyes closed again as his forehead fell against your chest.

Falling apart like he’d never done for anyone, Five began to spill.

“Fuuuuuuuuck!” he moaned, the ‘F’s’ repeating as spurts of his seed rocked his body.

Your hand slowed in pace with his erratic thrusts, but your fingers stayed around him as he rode out the final spasms of his release.

Five dropped his head back on the couch, totally drained.

You let go and slid your hand back up, letting the waistband of his briefs snap back in place when once you had him properly tucked in.

Now that it was done, Five wanted to fold in on himself and hide, to run, to…

He didn’t even know what he wanted to do. He could feel all his normal anxieties seeping back in way too quickly even though that had been unbelievable, and you were unbelievable and fuck...

When Five risked opening his eyes, he realized you had grabbed some tissues from the box on the side table and managed to catch his mess, so at least he didn’t make a total fool of himself in that way, or defile CIA property by splatter painting their stupid decorative plant. That would have been just great, blasting jizz all over that, or over himself and you in the wake of his inability to show even the slightest bit of restraint.

Someone was thinking; and it sure as hell wasn’t him.

“I am sorry,” he said, looking up at you regretfully.

You had been beaming at him happily, and to that, your face scrunched in confusion. “Why are you sorry now?”

How does one say sorry for that… Five wondered, then came up with an answer.

‘Ah…because I just blew my wad in your hand, and because I did it so fast, and because I didn’t do anything for you...and I shouldn’t be doing any of this anyway because of more reasons than I can count, and I can count really fucking high!'

Five couldn't bring myself to say all that. It wasn’t that he knew how to do the same thing for you exactly, but still, he knew he was supposed to reciprocate, and he’d watched plenty of porn over the years, so he could have at least tried.

Holy hell, he felt stupid.

“Oh no... There you go again. Five. When you get that look, I know it’s not good. For a guy that normally seems like you have the world by the balls, you worry way too much,” you said.

The urge to do something was there, but then you started to run your fingers through his hair again and Five couldn’t help the extremely relaxed feeling it was giving him, especially after what had just happened. He wanted to give himself over to it, and just like that, he did. He simply let go, letting himself feel every soft touch of your hand.

It felt like love, or what he imagined real love felt like.

He would have been completely at peace with the world at that point, but Five still couldn’t completely shake the idea that he’d messed up and that he never should have started fucking with you like this to begin with.

He dreamily gazed up at you, still not sure what to say. “That was... Fuck," he idiodically huffed, then tried again. "That felt so good. I’m sorry I didn’t-"

You cut him off with your pointer finger to his lips.

“Stop, Five. Just hush it with the apologies. If you’re worried about me, don’t be.” Your frown melted into a curious looking little smirk. “You looked like you couldn’t take much more, and watching you, like that... Let’s just say that was very satisfying and I am very glad you liked it. I may not have reached the same level of pleasure as you, but I enjoyed myself plenty." You tipped your head to the side, as if considering something.

“You’re not pissed about any of this?” he asked.

“No, absolutely not.” You gave him a sexy grin. “If you’re really worried about it, why don’t we make a deal? Next time we play around, you can call all the shots, and I’ll keep my hands to myself. I’m sure you’ll think of a way to repay me with that vivid imagination of yours.”

Biting your lip, you waited for him to respond.

Five was almost certain that you'd just given him an open invitation to touch you like he had been doing when he woke up and thinking about doing that had his now semi hard dick twinging with renewed excitement.

If he didn’t stop imagining that, then he would be fighting another massive boner, and the whole thing would start all over again. Hating himself for not being stronger than this, the voice in his head sang, Earth to Five… Do you even have a brain anymore or do you only think with your dick?

“Ok,” he agreed, breaking the silence with nothing more than a one-word answer.

He really, really did want to redeem himself, but he also needed to settle down because he could hear the wheels of Frank the janitor’s cleaning cart coming down the hall outside his door.

Knock, knock, knock…

“Shit,” Five cursed, shifting you off of him as he quickly started righting himself, zipping his fly, then quickly trying to button at least most of his shirt.

Frank tapped again as he was scrambling to pick up all the cummed on wads of tissue laying around on the floor. “You okay in there?” the older man called. “I came past earlier but…but I thought it might be better if I came back.”

“Just a minute,” Five called out, his eyes darting around the dimly lit office, seeing his tie laying over by his desk and your dress shoes laying at the other end of the couch. Your hair looked like you’d been rolling around in the hay with him, minus the hay. Realizing that his hair probably looked worse, Five also remembered struggling to keep quiet, but failing horribly. “Fuck,” he cursed, turning around, his vest flying open as he frantically tore his hands back through his messed-up man mane, only making his less than tidy cut look even worse.

As you calmly picked up your stack of books and the case files Five had kindly let you use for your essays, frowning, he looked back at you from his reflection in the small mirror hanging by the door. The way he looked only made your hardly stifled giggles even louder.

Nice going boner boy. Very smooth and so fucking tactful! he thought, while rolling his eyes at himself.

Coming up behind him, you leaned in and kissed his cheek, quieting his troubled thoughts as if you held some kind of otherworldly magic over him.

Five shut his eyes, again letting you make all the moves. He cleared his throat, then he opened the door, doing his best to offer Franke a curt-looking smile and wave him inside, so he could do his thing.

“Evening, Frank.”

The white-haired janitor looked from Five to you, his mustache quirking just a little.

Hand pushing deep in his front pockets, Five moved aside, coming out into the hall, letting the older looking man and you move past. “Before tomorrow, make sure you read over the notes I gave you on the importance of situational awareness, or there’s no way you’re going to pass,” Five called after you, trying to sound as pompously dick-ish as he normally would.

Turning back, you flipped him the bird.

Five smiled.

Watching you disappear down the hall, he promised himself this was the last time he was going to let you get the upper hand.

If he was doing this, which he evidently was, then he was going to start showing you exactly who he was. Then, maybe you’d get that he wasn’t who he appeared to be, and you’d do what he wasn’t strong enough to do, which was walk away and end this.

Part Two:  Five Said No, But Morning Glory Says Yes

Right on que, Five woke up with his dick harder than an oak.

He was lying there on the couch in his office, having fallen asleep while working late. Back when he’d started at the CIA, not even done with college yet, he often did this, but that usually involved drinking too much then passing out.

That kind of behavior was nothing new for him, but he hadn’t done that in a while. Relieved that he didn’t have the brain throbbing start of a hangover nagging at him, he kept his eyes closed tight, like he could get his dick to go back to sleep if he willed it.

He tried to ignore it, he really did, but thanks to his physical age and the power of youthful hormones raging, his increasingly bothersome boner alarm proved impossible to turn off.

Taking a long, tired breath, then letting it out slowly, Five started mentally preparing himself for another wake and whack session to add to his already impressive record.

He couldn’t remember what he’d been dreaming about, only that you were together, and you were touching him down there or maybe he was touching you down there. Whatever it had been about, it didn’t matter, because once again, Five had woken up before he’d got off, and was ready to send forth his load into an innocent and unsuspecting piece of clothing, only he wasn’t at home, so he’d have to find something else nearby to catch his mess instead. Anything would do, even destroying the shitty plastic tree someone had put on the floor next to his couch.

“Fuck that Ficus,” he breathed. 

His hand flexed, ready to spring into action and get this over with, and in doing so, it rubbed along skin that was not his own. To his shock, his arm was laying over something warm and alive, and that had him immediately realizing the pressure pressed up against his hard-on was not from the couch cushion or one of the pillows.

Five never would have admitted it unless he happened to be using it for his job as a cover story while trying to fit in with other lunatics, but like so often, he was having trouble differentiating between reality and fantasy.

Seeing as how he’d woken up on more than a couple of occasions unsure if his dreams or nightmares were real or not, he couldn’t blame himself for being confused, not entirely, not when the main player in his fantasies was right there squeezed in next to him.

His eyes abruptly focused, taking in his surroundings, confirming what he already should have known. You had both fallen asleep while he was helping you study for your next round of exams, and there you were with him, lying on the couch in the darkness of his quiet office.

He had no idea how he ended up cuddled next to you the way he was, and even though Five had thought about it about a hundred million times since the incident in your room, things hadn’t started back up the way they had that day, and he believed it was for the best, and he’d said as much and you’d respected it, but that didn’t mean it had been easy for him.

Just being around you, doing nothing even remotely flirtatious or sexual in nature was making the tornado of butterflies in his stomach worse each day that he fought to stomp them into submission. There was no denying that, or the perpetual case of blue balls he had from watching you sashay around him in your short skirts and blouses with the top few buttons undone as if daring him to dive into your cleavage again.

He had already touched those perky pillows and he liked doing it way too much. Five liked everything about you. The way you challenged him even when he was being an insufferable jerk. The way you laughed.

Even more than all of that. Five loved the way you smiled at him like you didn’t smile for anyone else.

Being around you made him forget all the bad things, if even for just a while.

It didn’t matter. What he’d done was a mistake. Nobody could ever really care about him if they knew the truth, and you sure as hell wouldn’t believe him. You’d think he was crazy. He’d be fired and maybe even forced into psychiatric care.

It was better this way, but so much for his plan to shut this down, and so much for being good and keeping his hands off when you considered the situation he was in now. In hindsight, looking at the out-of-control horn-ball he had become in the last few weeks, Five knew that he should have scheduled a well-defined whack-off time as a part of his daily routine, then maybe this shit wouldn’t happen when he wasn’t expecting it.

That thought got him asking himself the question, When did I become such a perverted degenerate?

He remembered you reading, leaning back after a while, kicking your heels off. Sitting a few feet away, reading over a briefing Derek had given him earlier that day, Five waited for you to finish your review so he could quiz you again. He felt himself starting to doze off. He remembered how comfortable he was with you there with him. He just wanted to stay like that with you a little longer, with the smell of you filling his lungs, touching his things. He vaguely recalled trying to keep his eyes open and noticing that you looked very tired too.

Now there you were, his arm wrapped around you, laying over your hip, and his hand was in an area that normally he wouldn’t have dared let it venture. It was starting to come back to him each minute he was conscious, and he was almost certain that when he started to wake up, he was grinding his morning monster on your butt, and his hand was touching you between your legs in a very inappropriate way.

It wasn’t just a dream; he had been really doing that, or he was pretty sure he was.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Way to go, fucking creep, he mentally yelled at himself.

He had no right to, but Five had you spooned into him like you were his, and if you were awake, you were definitely able to feel his predicament, and also what he had been doing to you.

He shifted his weight, moving just a little, trying to give you some space and maybe if it was not too late, also try to save some face.

Just as he began to pull his arm off, you started stretching your legs, your feet twisting around his.

“Is it morning already?” you complained.

The smell of your hair filled Five’s lungs again and the pressure from you pushing back against him had his eyes popping wide.

If he had his powers still, he would have blinked away the second he’d realized where he was. That wasn’t an option anymore, but the instinct to do it was still eating at him like the ghost of a spark that kept trying to burst into a flame but couldn’t.

Five was panicking; he didn’t know what to do.

You shifted again, trying to move back, but he found he had nowhere to go. He was trapped between you and the back of the couch.

“I… Ah… It’s not morning yet. I’m sorry I woke you. I must have fallen asleep," Five stammered as he tried to sit up, using the arm under his small couch pillow to push himself up. "I’m going to just-"

You captured his hand as it started slipping over your hip. You pulled him back down and he found himself falling around you again, entrapped in the exact same position.

“You’re so warm, and your office is so cold. Please don’t go yet. I like you as my blanket,” you whined while pushing back, your firm curves warm against his even warmer erection.

Five went ram rod still at the same time you did.

“I am so sorry,” he quickly tried to say, but stopped at that because he found he had no other words that would explain what he’d done. Instead, he forced out the pillow from under his head and then buried his face in it, hiding from his shame like a total jackass.

The clock on his wall ticked for felt like an eternity, neither of you saying a word. You were clearly upset, weirded out, or god help him…Five didn’t know anymore.

Finally breaking the silence, you said, “Five, stop that. You don’t need to be sorry.”

Even though he was still under his shield, Five could tell by your tone that you were trying to console him. Of course, you were the one taking the highroad. Here he was the one almost 42 years older than you and you were the one being mature.

He took a deep breath, trying to clear his head, knowing he had to say something, but still not sure what would make the situation better.

“And to think," he started, "I was worried about what my boss would think if someone here found out about us and talked. It turns out I was worried about the wrong thing. This is so much more awkward and damning than that." He groaned into his shame pillow.

Five felt you move, your hands landing on the throw pillow, forcing him to let go. When he finally had the courage to open his eyes, he was met with yours, and even though it was dark, he could tell you weren’t mad. You had turned your body towards him, and your fingers were already playing with the ends of his hair at the nape of his neck.

Five felt like he was going to die, sure that he would if you didn’t stop touching him like that.

He was thinking about using his arm to cover his face instead of expiring. It was his only option since you’d thrown his pillow out of reach, but then he realized he may have needed more than just his arm to cover him because he could feel everything from his forehead to his chin burning bright red with humiliation. 

You grinned at him in that way he knew meant you were trying to hold back a laugh. “You know, Five... Nobody is talking doom and gloom about this other than you, and why do you think this is awkward?”

“Oh, I don’t know… because of Morning Glory here,” he joked, gesturing down to where the small throw blanket you had pulled with you had thankfully covered the area below his waist, but it didn’t really matter because he knew, and you knew, that he was still sporting a nice sized tent for the second time you’d been alone with him in a week.

You took claim of his hand, pressing a kiss to his knuckles, keeping your devil-may-care grin on your rosy lips. “Yeah…I don’t really think you can blame that all on it being morning. Unless that clock is wrong, it’s not even midnight.”

You very purposefully moved closer, and all at once, Five felt you press against the villain in his pants with your thigh and he accidentally let out a little puff of airy agitation in response.

“And this isn’t awkward. It’s flattering," you furthered, your sexy smile melting into something a bit silly as you added, “A healthy sexual appetite is nothing to be embarrassed about."

Your intentionally nerdy, sex ed teacher tone had somehow managed to sound even sexier than when you normally teased him, and holy fuck did Five love getting lectured by you you like that.

The dirty old man in him that was thinking about spanking you for trying to steal his role as the teacher didn’t know what to say. You were obviously trying to make him feel better for his little predicament, but he still felt like a creep. Getting morning wood while sleeping next to an extremely hot girl that was way out of your league was one thing, but touching her in her sleep, like that… 

 What the hell was wrong with me? That was not normal! Five privately scolded himself.

“I need to-" He didn’t finish, instead, Five swiftly pushed himself up, and as discreetly as possible made sure ‘woody’ was tucked down against his leg.

He started getting up, and you moved out of his way. He swung his legs to the floor and was about to stand, but he didn’t get any further than that because you quickly turned and swung a leg over his lap, your knees landing on either side of his torso, in effect ambushing him, and preventing his escape as your skirt flared out, covering his lap.

“Hey, not so fast. I am not mad at you, Five. I fell asleep too, so it’s not your fault. Maybe it happened again for a reason. I knew you were dreaming a few minutes ago, so don’t be freaked out about this or what happened the other day. It’s ok, I promise.”

Your fingers moved along his scalp, playing with his hair again. The look on your face was so sincere, but then it quickly changed to something more pensive and playful as you slowly licked your lip then continued. “And just so you know, even if you weren’t dreaming, I would have been ok with what you were doing. You can touch me however and whenever you want. I thought I made that known the other day. You were the one that said no more, not me.”

The more perplexed Five looked, the more devilish you looked. Your fingers dug in as they fell to his shoulders, pulling his shirt even tighter in your grip.

You leaned in and whispered in his ear. “I am so wet for you right now, I am more than ok with how that clever mind of yours works, but the question is, are you, and do you want me to stop trying to convince you how much I want you?”

The things you were saying and your soft breaths on his skin were making Five’s hands shake.

“Don’t stop,” he breathed, just as your lips brushed against his cheek and you began kissing him..

Both of Five’s hands latched on to your hips so fast it was like he wasn’t in command of his own body anymore. He felt like he needed something to hold on to, to ground himself, and his hole punch filled morals weren’t working.

It was so much all at once, with real lips on his, and you on his lap and the warmth of your sex so close to his painfully hard cock. Instead of thinking about how 'wet' you said you were, Five tried to distract himself by focusing on your mouth as it moved against his. You obediently opened for him as he urgently searched your lips with the tip of his tongue, pushing for entry. The second you gave, Five darted it inside, feeling the sweet, candy-like warmth that he was coming to know was simply the taste of you.

Beside himself already, Five moaned into your mouth.

Your tongue met his more excitedly after that, and you both pushed each other for more, hardly coming up for air.

You felt so good. What you were doing to him felt so good; it was like he was in another world, with nothing but the two of you.

It was like it was with Dolores, only not at all. That was survival. She was hard and cold. You were soft and warm, and she was him, and you were…fuck.

Dolores knew him. You didn’t.

Like before, Five knew this was wrong, but his hands slipped behind you anyway, pulling you closer as his hips rocked underneath you.

In moments of desperation, Five had held Dolores in his lap like this so many times, and done the same thing, only this was so much different. He could have lost himself completely in the feeling of you and been a very happy man, but his brain kept trying to reboot and intrude.

Even as his cock was getting a nice little ride, his brain was yelling at him to stop. 'Here you go again! This is so fucked-up, and this is obviously not going to help with your not so little problem, and what the hell are you doing? You’re going to ruin this for both of you!'

He pulled away, his breath coming way too fast.

“We shouldn’t do this… I…I can’t-” he whispered, but he couldn’t help it as he let his lips trail along your jaw, trying to repress his agonized growl.

You weren’t buying it, and he wasn't doing a good job selling it. Seeing where your hips were, it was obvious he was more than capable of doing this.

You softly laughed, your breath brushing his skin as your hands explored, first unbuttoning his fitted vest, then untucking his dress shirt, making his entire body quake with the simplest of touch as your fingers crawled up, exposing him, one small button at a time. 

Not used to being touched like that, Five pulled back, dropping his head as he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to regain some composure. You weren’t having that either. You continued to caress his heated skin with your fingers moving dangerously close to his waistband.

Unlike him, your intentions were very clear as usual, but your voice came out raspy and sweet and questioning anyway, in total contrast to how you were so self-confidently seducing him. “Five?”

He hesitantly opened his eyes and looked up at you. Your cheeks were flushed, and your lips swollen from his kisses, your eyes full of worry.

“Why are you scared?” A crease appeared between your brows. “What you were doing was perfect and I want you to touch me. I wanted you to touch me all night,” you said, practically moaning your words.

Five was so fucking hard; it was almost more than he could take. All rational thought was gone.

When he came back up to meet you again, claiming your lips, you were ready and willing, tugging him closer with his loosened tie. Not satisfied with his state of undress, or with how you were so successfully dominating him, you quickly undid the knot and whipped the length of silk through his collar, throwing it over his head. You traced your nails down his torso with one hand and laced your fingers through his hair with the other.

Five met your advances, letting his hands float under your blouse, exploring the softness of your skin. When his fingers grazed just below your breasts, he stopped.

“Is this ok?” he asked with his mouth still brushing against your lips.

“Yes. God yes,” you whispered as you dropped your head back, moving yourself against him as he risked letting a finger glide over the lacey fabric of your bra. After a few more tentative touches, you made a soft whining sound. Five looked up, and the look you were giving him was so needy that it could have only matched his own. “They way you touch me…it’s like nobody else has ever touched me. Everything is different with you, Five. I don’t know why but it is,” you breathed.

Relinquishing his hold on your curvy hips, Five slid his hand up your back, proudly only fumbling a few seconds to get the clasp on your bra unhooked.

You let the fabric pull away from you so his fingers could slide under and caress your breasts.

Five leaned in, placing his other hand back on your ass as he buried his face against your neck. He wasn’t brave enough to take off your shirt the way you’d done to him, but this was plenty awe-inspiring anyway.  He relished your body’s reactions to him and the smell of your skin as he lay gentle kisses below your ear. 

Talking to himself in the way he’d spent a lifetime doing and couldn’t seem to break away from, Five asked, Why on earth have I been tormenting myself about this?

He had no answer to that, and Dolores, being not at all on his mind, didn’t chime in and give him any help like she normally did in his times of distress.

Five trailed kisses along your jaw and over your quietly gasping lips as you rocked your body against his cock. He continued to massage your breasts, stopping to feel your nipples as they grew harder, all seemingly because of his tender touch.

You moaned sweetly, letting him know you liked how it felt as he rolled the taut nubs between his fingers. Musing again, Five smiled while thinking that the only thing that would be better would be having your tits in his mouth.

Instead of doing that, he kissed your lips again. The hand Five had on the curve of your waist instinctively pulled you right up against him as his hips jut into yours. The sensation sent him careening, and he had to squeeze his eyes closed and think about something else or Chernobyl number two was going to happen in his pants.

The friction he had thought would help ease things, unfortunately only made it worse. His dick was so hard, it was throbbing in complaint as it lay trapped under his remaining layers of clothes. He could hardly breathe, and even more embarrassing, Five had just let out an animalistically guttural sound that had filled the entire office.

He would have been mortified that he’d done that, but when he opened his eyes, all he saw was your hooded eyes gazing back with no hint of judgment.

He didn’t even realize you had moved your hand from his chest until you were touching him, your palm cupping him tightly through his pants. Five swallowed hard, trying with everything he had not to move as you rubbed along his thigh where his dick had been trapped.

“Fuck-” he croaked out, then bit the inside of his cheek in an effort to be quieter in case there happened to be anyone else in the office working late.

“Do you want me to stop?” you asked.

“Please no,” he begged with his lips grazing your cheek.

You increased the pressure, and Five tried to pump himself up into your hand in response.

“Good, because I don’t want to stop," you said, then you leaned in, purring more assurances as you kissed along his throat and pulled at the top of his waistband with your other hand, loosening the inner clasp so you could zip his fly down and let your hand slide in.

As you very carefully pulled him free, positioning his erection up between you, Five cried out at the feel of you manhandling him. He had touched himself like that so many times, but with you doing it, it felt millions of times more extreme. His hand that had been toying with your breasts lost all function, other than to fall to his side, fisting the bottom of your skirt.

Your skin against his hard flesh had him seeing stars as you explored, running your palm down and up his entire length.

After getting more acquainted with what you were working with, you ran a finger over the tip of Five’s cock, doing that move over and over. That of course made it harder for Five to think and breathe. You spread the wetness that had gathered there, smearing it under your tightened fingers, and by the time your hand wrapped around him even firmer, and you started to really move, the muscles in Five’s legs were quivering and flexing uncontrollably.

As you started jerking him off, feeling like he was having an outer body experience, Five dropped his head back, pinching his eyes closed.

He wasn’t thinking at all anymore. If you'd asked him his name, he wouldn't have been able to tell you.

“Harder-" he begged through clenched teeth.

Your hand obediently tightened.

There was nothing but the sound of wet skin, and sex, and the feeling that he wasn’t in control of any of it for the first time-ever.

Fuck. He was going to come already.

“Plea-” he desperately breathed, gazing up at your determined eyes. You sped up without him having to find the coherent words to ask for it, and he couldn’t help himself as he bucked, moving you with him as his hips repeatedly met your hand. “I am gonna cum-" he warned, but you didn’t stop.

His breath hitched, and his eyes closed again as his forehead fell against your chest.

Falling apart like he’d never done for anyone, Five began to spill.

“Fuuuuuuuuck!” he moaned, the ‘F’s’ repeating as spurts of his seed rocked his body.

Your hand slowed in pace with his erratic thrusts, but your fingers stayed around him as he rode out the final spasms of his release.

Five dropped his head back on the couch, totally drained.

You let go and slid your hand back up, letting the waistband of his briefs snap back in place when once you had him properly tucked in.

Now that it was done, Five wanted to fold in on himself and hide, to run, to…

He didn’t even know what he wanted to do. He could feel all his normal anxieties seeping back in way too quickly even though that had been unbelievable, and you were unbelievable and fuck...

When Five risked opening his eyes, he realized you had grabbed some tissues from the box on the side table and managed to catch his mess, so at least he didn’t make a total fool of himself in that way, or defile CIA property by splatter painting their stupid decorative plant. That would have been just great, blasting jizz all over that, or over himself and you in the wake of his inability to show even the slightest bit of restraint.

Someone was thinking; and it sure as hell wasn’t him.

“I am sorry,” he said, looking up at you regretfully.

You had been beaming at him happily, and to that, your face scrunched in confusion. “Why are you sorry now?”

How does one say sorry for that…Five wondered, then came up with an answer.

‘Ah…because I just blew my wad in your hand, and because I did it so fast, and because I didn’t do anything for you...and I shouldn’t be doing any of this anyway because of more reasons than I can count, and I can count really fucking high!'

Five couldn't bring myself to say all that. It wasn’t that he knew how to do the same thing for you exactly, but still, he knew he was supposed to reciprocate, and he’d watched plenty of porn over the years, so he could have at least tried.

Holy hell, he felt stupid.

“Oh no... There you go again. Five. When you get that look, I know it’s not good. For a guy that normally seems like you have the world by the balls, you worry way too much,” you said.

The urge to do something was there, but then you started to run your fingers through his hair again and Five couldn’t help the extremely relaxed feeling it was giving him, especially after what had just happened. He wanted to give himself over to it, and just like that, he did. He simply let go, letting himself feel every soft touch of your hand.

It felt like love, or what he imagined real love felt like.

He would have been completely at peace with the world at that point, but Five still couldn’t completely shake the idea that he’d messed up and that he never should have started fucking with you to begin with.

He dreamily gazed up at you, still not sure what to say. “That was... Fuck," he idiodically huffed, then tried again. "That felt so good. I’m sorry I didn’t-"

You cut him off with your pointer finger to his lips.

“Stop, Five. Just hush it with the apologies. If you’re worried about me, don’t be.” Your frown melted into a curious looking little smirk. “You looked like you couldn’t take much more, and watching you, like that... Let’s just say that was very satisfying and I am very glad you liked it. I may not have reached the same level of pleasure as you, but I enjoyed myself plenty." You tipped your head to the side, as if considering something.

“You’re not pissed about any of this?” he asked.

“No, absolutely not.” You gave him a sexy grin. “If you’re really worried about it, why don’t we make a deal? Next time we play around, you can call all the shots, and I’ll keep my hands to myself. I’m sure you’ll think of a way to repay me with that vivid imagination of yours.”

Biting your lip, you waited for him to respond.

Five was almost certain that you'd just given him an open invitation to touch you like he had been doing when he woke up, and thinking about doing that had his now semi hard dick twinging with renewed excitement.

If he didn’t stop imagining that, then he would be fighting another massive boner, and the whole thing would start all over again. Hating himself for not being stronger than this, the voice in his head sang, Earth to Five… Do you even have a brain anymore or do you only think with your dick?

“Ok,” he agreed, breaking the silence with nothing more than a one-word answer.

He really, really did want to redeem himself, but he also needed to settle down because he could hear the wheels of Frank the janitor’s cleaning cart coming down the hall outside his door.

Knock, knock, knock…

“Shit,” Five cursed, shifting you off of him as he quickly started righting himself, zipping his fly, then quickly trying to button at least most of his shirt.

Frank tapped again as he was scrambling to pick up all the cummed on wads of tissue laying around on the floor. “You okay in there?” the older man called. “I came past earlier but….but I thought it might be better if I came back.”

“Just a minute,” Five called out, his eyes darting around the dimly lit office, seeing his tie laying over by his desk and your dress shoes laying at the other end of the couch. Your hair looked like you’d been rolling around in the hay with him, minus the hay. Realizing that his hair probably looked worse, Five also remembered struggling to keep quiet, but failing horribly. “Fuck,” he cursed, turning around, his vest flying open as he frantically tore his hands back through his messed-up man mane, only making his less than tidy cut look even worse.

As you calmly picked up your stack of books and the case files Five had kindly let you use for your essays, frowning, he looked back at you from his reflection in the small mirror hanging by the door. The way he looked only made your hardly stifled giggles even louder.

Nice going boner boy. Very smooth and so fucking tactful! he silently fumed while rolling his eyes at himself.

Coming up behind him, you leaned in and kissed his cheek, quieting his troubled thoughts as if you held some kind of otherworldly magic over him.

Five shut his eyes, again letting you make all the moves for him. He cleared his throat, then he opened the door, doing his best to offer Franke a curt-looking smile and wave him inside, so he could do his thing.

“Evening, Frank.”

The white-haired janitor looked from Five to you, his mustache quirking just a little.

Hand pushing deep in his front pockets, Five moved aside, coming out into the hall, letting the older looking man and you move past. “Make sure you read over the notes I gave you on the importance of situational awareness before tomorrow, or there’s no way you’re going to pass,” Five called after you, trying to sound as pompously dick-ish as he normally would.

Turning back, you flipped him the bird.

Five smiled.

Watching you disappear down the hall, he promised himself this was the last time he was going to let you get him.

If he was doing this, which he evidently was, then he was going to start showing you exactly who he was. Then, maybe you’d get that he wasn’t who he appeared to be, and you’d do what he wasn’t strong enough to do, which was walk away from this.

Part Three: Closeted Softy

One second you and Five were heading down the hall, making your way to the conference room where, in an hour, he was going to be delivering a class to other trainees on interrogation tactics, then the next, your head was spinning from how quickly Five had latched on to you and swung you around, pushing you inside a maintenance closet.

It was dark, but not completely because the light seeping in from under the door filled enough of the cramped space for you to see that a jug of industrial cleaner was sitting on a shelf, inches from your face.

Something behind Five jingled, like a set of keys or something else metal.The points of his dress shoes nudged against the tips of your toes as he moved in closer, pressing you against the wall, so you couldn’t get away. You started to open your mouth, but before you knew it, he crashed his lips into yours, silencing you.

As he pinned you in his embrace with his strong fingers digging into your hips, his kiss quickly grew deeper and more desperate, making your heart beat faster and faster. Then, suddenly, he broke away, peering at you with his striking green eyes full of the devil.

“My turn,” he said, his smile exposing more of his charmingly boyish dimple in the dim light.

His warm fingers started sliding up the length of your arms, an unexpected coldness tickling your skin as he went, bringing your hands together. The weight of his body pushing against you, Five recaptured your lips with his again, then he pinched his fingers around the metal rings he’d just sneakily slipped around your wrists, tightening the handcuffs that you had no idea he’d had with him.

“Five, wha-"

As soon as he had you strung up, the chain of the cuffs hung up on one of the hooks above your head that would normally be used to hang a mop or broom, Five’s hands moved down, pushing you into the wall even tighter. "No hands, remember,” he mumbled in way of explanation before biting down on your earlobe, his teeth stinging your flesh as he suddenly pinched your nipples through the fabric of your blouse.

You gasped in shock, feeling Five's breathily laughed sigh of happiness over it, then you felt his velvety whisper. "Was that good?"

“I think you know it was,” you breathed as you squirmed in frustration, wanting to touch him, to run your fingers along the lines of his handsome face, then down his lean frame, but able to do none of that as he peered at you through the darkness with a lopsided grin.

Five's eyes smoldered, the soft green glint in them nonexistent. Lowering his head, he started softly licking one of your nipples through your shirt, his saliva wetting the fabric so there’d be no way you could hide it when the door reopened.

“You regretting doing this with me yet?” he asked when he pulled away.

All you could do was let out the most pathetic sounding whimper, so he did it again, only this time smiling against your peeked flesh before he bit down, making your body crane up against his. That’s when he reached down between you, and started palming himself.

Five jerked his chin to the side and slowly swallowed, his Adam's apple moving accordingly while your eyes drank in the sexiness of his nervous tick.

All at once, abandoning his own need, his hands were sliding up your skirt, moving between your legs. His breath hitched as soon as he felt the heat of your desire for him wetting your satin underwear.

A growl crept up from inside Five’s throat as he pushed the garment aside, slipping it down your legs where it got trapped at your ankles, further proving how helpless you were. At the feel of his hand sliding down, you squirmed over the new sensation, but instead of giving you what you wanted, Five paused, letting the wetness of your arousal paint the tips of his fingers.

“Oh fuck, I fucking love this,” he breathed as if transfixed. That breathless declaration, along with the gentle movement of his fingers, softly and carefully stroking, hit you hard. You reactively clenched your thighs together as fresh wetness spilled between your legs.

You whimpered as he cursed again, and his finger started sliding a little harder.

You bucked against his hand because it felt so good. Equally moved, Five feverishly started kissing you, but his hand remained, lodged between your legs.

Trying to chase the gloriously erotic feeling he was giving you by feeling more of him, you tried to push closer to him, but he wouldn’t let you, dodging it by moving himself back out of your reach.

“MMmmmmfff!" you cried, breathlessly breaking away from his mouth. "Yes, Five, there!” you urged and panted, then you had to hold your breath because that was way too loud and his finger was moving just right against your clit and…”Ahhh-ah-Ffffiiiiiivvveeee!”

Standing there, his silhouette in his black suit only making him look all the more sinister, Five smiled so sweetly. “That’s it, say my fucking name.”

“Fffffuuu- Five, yeeeeeesssss,” you moaned, when his index finger moved harder and faster.

Your breathing was becoming more labored, and your heart was beating so fast it felt like it might explode. Your body was moving of its own accord, your hips helplessly wiggling against his hand. Unable to control himself, Five started to thrust himself against your leg. “Tell me you want me to fuck you,” he growled as your body rammed back against the wall from the momentum of his attack.

His index finger pushed through your folds, flirting with entering you before sliding back upwards, pressing into your clit with just the right pressure. The handcuffs dug into your skin as your back arched off the wall while he licked at your earlobe in long hot hungry swipes.

“Say it!”

“I want you to fuck me! Please, Five!”

Only furthering his claim on you, and proving none of this was in your control, Five bit down hard and sucked at the skin on your shoulder as his finger flew around your nub, gliding faster and faster in a semi-circle like motion, pushing upwards, then down with no mercy. 

You bucked and thrashed. “Yes, like that,” you frantically begged.

Five slowed his pace to a stop, denying you. 

He lifted his head, looking up at you appraisingly, then he slowly slipped his finger inside you. As it disappeared, your walls involuntarily clenched around it, and looking diabolically thrilled, Five moved his digit deeper inside you.

You moaned, so broken and quiet that it finally seemed to bring a little of that familiar light of worry to his eyes. “Does it hurt?” he quietly asked.

Lost in the feeling of him inside you, you shook your head.

Once your tightness could be felt along the whole length of his finger and his palm was pressed up against you, Five began to slowly move in and out to the same pace as his thumb swirling around your clit.

“Oh my god, Five,” you gasped, as your whole body struggled against his.

“Does this feel good?” he asked, determined to keep you talking as he angled his finger up, letting it drag, making you bucked up, proving that was a move worth repeating.

“Ff-fuck. Ff-feels so good,” your words trailed off as you pinched your eyes shut.

“Say that you are nothing but a little prick tease and all you want is my cock, or I’m leaving you in here and not coming back,” Five demanded, his voice sounding so low and cold.

You didn’t understand. You said nothing.

“Do it!” Five angrily hissed.

“I’m a prick tease and I want your cock,” you obediently cried.

Five pulled out of your warmth, then gently buried his middle finger and index fingers together inside you, doing it so slowly.

Watching you intently, Five gradually increased the pace and angle of both fingers. He moved them in and out, again and again, the soft wet rhythmic sound of him moving inside you, and your panting for more, driving his wrist harder and faster. Unable to stop himself, he pushed his mouth against yours, fighting to be inside you even more than he was, but soon his own breathing became too unsteady, and he was forced to pull away for air.

“Fi-ve....I am almost there… Plea-se don’t st-op!” Your teeth pierced the bottom of your lip as you closed your eyes.

“Look at me,” he demanded, and just like that you did. You were covered in a sheen of sweat, about to double if the cuffs hadn’t been holding you up and he looked like something dark had consumed him, something terrifying.

“Please…let me go so I want to touch you,” you said as you gasped and bucked against his hand, your wetness warmly slipping against his palm as his long fingers felt like they were touching your soul.

“Do this for me, like this, and it will be over,” Five lovingly urged, and that change in how he’d spoke to you and what he’d said confused you even more.

"Five!" you cried as his fingers abruptly changed pace again, violently slamming in and out of you.

Your legs all at once tightened around his hand and your insides began to clench around him. Your entire body tensed, then shuddered. You weren’t breathing at all for moments on end. When you did, it was strained, but Five’s fingers kept going at it hard, letting you ride out every moment of the orgasm he’d forced out of you. 

When the clinching sensation around his fingers gradually began to slow to where he could no longer feel it, Five finally stopped moving them. You went limp against him, breathing heavily as he let you drop your head to his shoulder. 

As he held you, you were letting out shaky noises of contentment, and you were sure by the way his hand trembled as he ran it up and down our back that he wasn’t feeling very steady either. You felt like you could cry it was all so much, but then, adding to your dismay, that was when Five pried himself away and you heard the sound of him starting to open his pants.

Opening your eyes, your entire body still pulsing in time to your frantic heartbeat, you were treated with faintest glint Five’s heartbreakingly infectious pale green eyes that never seemed to cease in their infinite power over you, that, and his long, hard dick in his hand as he slowly and methodically stroked it like a man that knew exactly what he was doing and didn’t care at all that he was killing you.

“You are so fucking beautiful,” he said while peering at you, still strung up, locked to the wall, unable to get away unless you screamed, ending all this madness of this for both of you.

Coming forward, the ends of Five's hair tickled your heated cheeks, his erection coming all the way to the height of your navel as he whispered in your ear, “Don’t worry. We’re almost done.”

Moving back so you could see all of it, his leisured motions as he massaged his cock, Five ran his hooked index finger round the tip, carefully spreading the moisture dripping out of him down his entire length, then he began to work himself in earnest, sliding his hand effortlessly over his shaft.

Just looking at him doing that made your insides throb all over again. Tiny shivers of satisfaction danced up your spine as a low growl resonated deep in Five’s throat.

The way he was looking at you as he pleasured himself spoke of so much without him uttering a word. There was a flicker in his eyes, something pained.

His breathing was becoming more labored as he gave himself over to the feel of his hand.

His thighs were tensed, holding him upright as the expensive wool fabric of his dress pants slouched to his knees. He was so beautiful.

“I’m- I'm almost there," he gasped. 

He came at you, whipping aside your skirt with his free hand, just in time for the milky white burst of cum that started to spill out of him. It spurt out, up onto your stomach, and between your legs, dripping down your thighs as he shuddered and grasped, erratically jerking his hand at his sensitive tip with the final jolts of his release.

When Five felt the final waves of tension in him ease to an end, he let go of his cock, but not before giving the thickly engorged length one final pump, that made his eyes fall shut.

Stumbling forward, he collapsed into you, shuddering all over again.

“Holy fuck,” he breathed while shakily wiping his forehead with his forearm.

“You can say that again,” you agreed as his face nuzzled against your neck.

Looking out of it, Five glanced down between you. Even in the darkness he could see what he’d done, his release glistening all over your body and clothes.

“That was not exactly what I meant to do to you,” he apologized, as he immediately reached over to the shelf, swiping a roll of paper down so he could start cleaning his cooling seed off your stomach and even some that had flung up between your breasts, leaving chalky stains on your black blouse that there was no way his efforts could remedy.

As Five attempted to erase the visible evidence of what he’d done, to you, his expression appeared to be a mixture of fascination and shame, and before seeing that look on one face, you weren’t even sure those two emotions could happen at the same time, but with Five, you were starting to realize anything was possible.

Throwing the soiled towels to the floor, he silently reached up, releasing you from your restraints. Still not letting you go, his warm fingers rubbed your wrists, so tenderly as he lowered your arms and pressed a soft kiss to your temple, everything about his behavior so unlike his urgent kisses and crazed demands from before. 

It felt so good to be worried over by him like that. He pulled you firmly against him, his chin resting on your shoulder. The hold he had on you felt possessive but also is heartbreakingly desperate as you both took in the uncertain afterglow of something neither of you could put to words.

After a few minutes, you tried to push away enough to look him in the eye, but the moment you did, Five turned away from you and popped the door open.

“Five, what’s wrong?”

Not answering you, he stepped out, then he stopped a few feet from the door and looked down at his shoes, with his dark hair falling over his face.

“Five, wait,” you snapped at him when he started to walk away again.

Mid-step, his hands clenched at his sides. “No. Go back to your room and change, then go straight upstairs and tell them you need to be transferred to another office,” he quietly said, then walked away.

Part Four: Not Five’s Dolores

You did go straight to your room like Five had told you to do, but you didn’t go upstairs and request a transfer. You ended up being late for the session Five was leading, thanks to having to change, and fix your tear-streaked makeup, and pull your head together enough to face him, but as it turned out, as the other trainees filled out of the conference room an hour later, he wasn’t even in there with them.

He'd bailed and another agent had led the class.

Over the next week, Five was nowhere to be seen, which meant you had no mentor and had to buddy up with your roommate and hers, a middle-aged guy who was not at all as easy on the eyes as Five, but at least he hadn’t ruined you. That was about the best thing you could say about Barry Carponelli and his questionable shirt stains paired with the oppressive smell of stale cigarettes that always seemed to be wafting off him.

Five did not smell like that. Five was…

Five was an asshole.

After another training session, sparring with Agent Smelly, you slung your gym bag over your shoulder, ready to be done with all of it.

“Hey, kid,” Barry called after you. You turned. “You know, before I came down here to teach you girls how to do more than those pansy ass moves Five is always doing in here with you, I heard someone say that smug little prick was finally back. If I took that many days off, I’d be fired. I have no idea why they put up with him. You’re better off without him,” he said, then plucked a smoke out of his pack and strolled past, leaving you filled with renewed purpose.

This wasn’t over until you said it was. Fuck Five.

Racing up the stairs to the admin offices, you went straight to Five’s door, just as his assistant Derek was coming out. “Is Five available,” you asked.

“No. He just left for the day,” the small statured blonde male answered, looking at you curiously. “Do you need me to leave him a message?”

“No,” you quickly replied, glancing at Five’s office door. “I think I left one of my notebooks in there the other day. Do you mind if I go in and look for it?”

“Go ahead,” Derek said, opening Five’s office door wide, making it clear he’d be keeping an eye on you.

Politely nodding your thanks, you went in, heading for the couch, but as soon as you heard Five’s assistant getting distracted by someone else, you darted for the desk.

Pulling on the drawers, you realized most were locked. “Shit,” you quietly cursed, looking around the clean surface of Five’s workspace, but then you saw it. Sticking out from under a paperweight that was shaped like an umbrella that had been turned backwards by the wind, you saw a piece of mail. It was personal. It was a bill with Five’s address on it.

You smiled. “Found you, you bastard.”

A few hours later, just before sunset, you were in a shady neighborhood that was not at all where you’d expected Five to live based on his job and his outward appearance being that of someone that looked like they had much higher standards than the rundown building you were standing in front of.

Going inside wasn’t much better. Since the elevator was broken, you had to step over countless piles of trash in the fire escape stairwell on your way up the fifth floor.

By the time you had gotten to his door, you were second guessing yourself.

Raising your hand to knock, you finally came to your senses. Confronting Five would do nothing to change what had happened. First thing in the morning, you would put in your transfer paperwork.

Then, just as you were lowering your hand and turning to leave, a tall curly-haired guy, several years older than you, or more, opened the door. He looked as startled as you, his eyes crinkling in the corners as he looked you up and down.

“Tell them, I am not coming, and stop coming over without calling first! I told you I am fine!” Five yelled from somewhere in the apartment.

Saying nothing, the stranger looking back at you as he stood there wearing the strangest poncho made of bubble wrap, lifted a finger to his lips, silently motioning for you not to say anything, then he came out.

Once he’d shut the door, he said, “Hi. I am Klaus, Five’s brother. And you are?”

You said your name, and just as fast, his eyes lit up. “Right… I thought maybe it was you…” He grinned. “So…” He pulled his lips to the side. “I suppose you were here to tell off that angry little shit rat in there?”

“I was, but I changed my mind.”

“Since I’ve heard all about you, and I’m sure Five has told you all about me and the rest of his wonderful family, and your plans have changed, and it looks like neither of us have shit to do now, would you like to join me for a stroll to this really nice smoothie place a few blocks away? It’s got the best add-ins, like lemongrass and all sorts of other healthy crap that really boosts the old immune system and keeps the reaper away.”

Five told you nothing about Klaus and almost nothing about his personal life that didn’t relate directly back to his work at the CIA. He’d used you to get his rocks off and that was that, but you didn’t say that because something told you this peculiar Klaus guy already knew that his brother was a first class asshole..

Opening your mouth to decline, Klaus must have seen it coming, so he stuck out his bottom lip. “Pretty please… This neighborhood is scary, and I walked all the way over here to check in on that grumpy old man child and he’s being such a dick head, and I know something’s up with him other than his normal lonely mopey thing, but like always, he won’t talk about it. He’s always shutting us out and I know he likes you and something happened and-"

Taking a risk, you cut Klaus off. “You know what, I am in the mood from some anti-grim reaper juice.”

Giving you a toothy smile because he’d totally got you, the next thing you knew, you were being escorted down the street by Klaus Hargreeves, with him babbling on and on about things that seemed so far out there that they should have been part of a science fiction comic book rather than about what it was like growing up as part of something he called, The Umbrella Academy.

Hours later, after confirming Klaus was not on hallucinogenic drugs, or drunk, or just plain out of his mind, you had heard an earful and then some. After everything Five’s brother had told you, about them all being born with superpowers, their horrible alien father who adopted them, their  lives going to shit, to them all being stripped of their pasts and powers and left to fend for themselves in this new timeline, you didn’t know what to think.

It was clear that Klaus believed all of it. And he was very interested to hear your version about what had happened between you and Five, and when he did, like you’d suspected, he was not at all surprised by it.

“You’re the only one he’s ever done any of that with, and I mean like the only one, other than his plastic woman relationship thing. Five is not the bad person he thinks he is,” Klaus said, just before parting ways. “He’s just been through hell and back, over and over, and sometimes, I think he gets stuck not knowing how to move on from all that, you know…”

You didn’t know. You didn’t know what to think about any of this. What he’d said happened to Five was so bad, it was on another level of awful and unbelievable. Nobody would be okay after that, no matter how strong they were.

Piecing together the strange things Five had said to you, things like him being older than he looked, and that he’d done unredeemable things, it made sense now, but still…

Wow.

You did your best to act normal and not too weirded out. You liked Klaus. Klaus was the kind of person that was hard not to like, but it was hard not to be very weirded out.

Saying goodbye after you’d made sure Klaus was only a few blocks from his sister’s house, well out of the dangerous area of town that Five lived in, you were left alone again with your thoughts going haywire.

It was late, almost past midnight. Not even thinking about where you were heading, soon you were back, looking up at Five’s building.

Questioning your sanity, you lightly tapped on his door.

He didn’t come.

You knocked again, only louder.

A whole minute later and after several more knocks, startled and swaying as he flung his door open, Five blinked his eyes rapidly at you as if trying to clear his vision.

You looked down at the half-drained liquor bottle in his hand and the fuzzy dog slippers he had on his feet. To match his look of disheveled drunkenness, Five was wearing nothing but a dark blue bathrobe that came to just below his knees.  

“This was a very bad idea,” you said, under your breath, already turning to go.

Five’s voice cracked as he said your name. “…Please come back. I didn’t mean to-”

He wiped at his eyes.

Five took a small, very defeated looking breath. “I tried to leave you alone, but I just..”

“You just what?” you asked, coming back when he didn’t finish, stopping right in front of him with your fingers tapping at your hips.

Five held your accusing stare but just barely. “I just… I don’t deserve you and you could do a million times better than me.”

“Why because you’re a 63-year-old, ex-temporal assassin who’s stuck inside the body of an eighteen-year-old asshole who’s got his panties in a twist because he can’t teleport anymore?”

Forcing himself to stand up straighter even though it was clear that he was a drunk mess, Five swallowed, his face looking entirely serious. “Actually, we don’t call it teleporting. It’s called blinking, and you’re right, I can’t do that anymore, and if I wore panties, yes, they’d be in a twist about it.”

“Teleporting! Blinking! Five! What the hell difference does it make when I just walked into the twilight zone!”

Eyes wide, Five reached out, pulling you inside his apartment.

It was small, dimly lit, the furniture minimal. You could see almost all of it in just one quick glance. An outdated, beat-up kitchen on one side, two reading chairs next to an overflowing bookshelf made up his clean, but tiny living area. There was a bedroom door filled with darkness off to your left. Everything was old and used, but cozy looking. It was exactly the kind of unassuming hideaway you would have expected the extremely traumatized person Klaus had told you about would feel safe.

It was the embodiment of Five: the old man who’d cared about everyone else, but had given up on himself, and the innocent boy who’d been used and abused, who would never be able to stop fighting and hoping for a chance at something better.

“Do you believe it? Everything Klaus told you?” Five asked, looking at you with glossy eyes.

“I do.”

“Then why are you here?”

Pointing to the chair you were pretty sure Five had been sitting in based on the way the other looked like nobody ever sat in it, you let out a loud exhale. “Sit,” you ordered.

Five turned and stumbled back to his chair, dropping down in it clumsily, where he proceeded to almost spill his liquor, then slumped like a sad child that had just been told to go sit in the corner.

Coming over, kneeling in front of him, Five tried to put his legs together before you could position your body in a way that prevented it, but he didn’t move at all fast enough.

“Not this is how it’s going to go,” you said, gripping his knees. “I’m going to ask you something and you’re going to tell me the truth. Do you understand?”

Five nodded.

“Do you have feelings for me?” you asked.

“Yes.”

“What kind?” you countered.

“The kind that I shouldn’t have.”

You shook your head and spread his knees farther apart, making his terry cloth robe spread, exposing the snow-white skin of his inner thighs. “Elaborate,” you pushed. From what you could tell, Five wasn’t wearing any panties, just like he’d said. He wasn’t wearing anything.

The line between his eyes deepened as he answered you. “I have the kind of feelings for you that make me wish I was someone you could love.”

Slowly, you started moving your hands from his knees, heading under his robe, stopping just shy of the danger zone. “You don’t get to decide how I feel about you, Five. I can think for myself, but if you decide to push me away, that’s on you.”

Again, he nodded.

“I like you, Five and that means the you that I thought I knew but then decided to fuck things up and make me cry my eyes out.” You smiled even though that made him look even more miserable. “And I like that frisky old man in you that you’ve been trying and failing to keep hidden. Both are good men even if they act like jerk offs sometimes.”

A tear slipped down Five’s reddened cheek.

“You say you don’t deserve it, but I think, from what I’ve heard, you deserve the world, Five Hargreeeves.”

Five looked down at his lap, holding his breath.

Very carefully, your hand moved over him, gathering the silky length of flesh descended between his legs, lovingly fondling him.

“You need to realize that it doesn’t matter what you’ve done, or what you’ve lost. You’re still worthy of love, and even if you weren’t and all that crazy shit your brother told me turned up to be some kind of dream I’d had in a moment of insanity while wallowing over you as I drank a delicious smoothie, I’d still want you. Even if you looked like the white-haired man grumping around up there in your head, I’d want you because under it all, you are sweet and kind and too smart for your own good and all kinds of scary sexy and I like all of that.”

As you relished in the feel of him getting hard, Five looked utterly defenseless even though you knew that was far from the truth. His tear-filled gaze was lazy and appreciative as he gazed at you, lying your heart out to him as you stroked his ego and his cock.

“Do you still want me?” you asked.

“Yes,” he replied.

You brushed aside the rest of Five’s bunched-up, funny old man robe, then came forward, resting your forearms on his warm thighs. Your hand tightened around his cock and kept moving as you looked up at him, his eyes looking droopy as his head rolled to one side.

“You don’t have to do-” Five started, but before he could finish what he was going to say, you were nuzzling him, your face at the crook of his leg and torso, tenderly kissing him there before you slowed your hand to a stop and licked the length of his dick, from the base to the tip, like it was the best thing you’d ever had in her face.

Five shivered.

Without hesitation, you started to suck, slowly running your tongue around and around the drip of translucent fluid that had already started leaking out of him.

“Mmmmm,” you hummed as you tasted him, the smooth pattern of your mouth moving over him, making Five grasp at his armrests as he tried and failed to bite back a broken moan.

Your contented humming continued as you let your tongue spread the wetness so you could push your mouth down, taking in more of him. Feeling the vibrations from your throat, Five’s head dropped back against his chair. He reached down with his left hand, shakily brushing your hair to the side so he could watch you sucking him off.

When your mouth met your fingers, you stopped working downward and began to move your head back up, never letting up with your tight lips or your tongue as it pressed along his length.

“Oh shit, that feels good!” Five whispered, his fingers moving through your hair as he very tentatively placed his hand on the back of your head. More soft curses came out of him on quickening breaths as you buried your nose in the small tuft of dark hair between his legs, taking him until your nose hit his pubic bone.

Gripping you tighter, holding you there and finding no resistance, Five deliriously questioned, “Are you sure this is okay?”

The second he let up, your head bobbed, your mouth making the most perfectly erotic squelching sounds as tears started to run down your red cheeks. Still, you didn’t stop.

The sight of him breaking you, but not, and you letting him do it, and the feeling of you loving him like this even at his lowest, sent what was left of Five’s restraint out the door.

Straining not to push you too much, Five’s hips started rocking upwards as you latched on to his upper leg with your other hand, supporting yourself as he pushed his cock deep, sending himself down your throat each time he rolled and fucked his body up into your mouth.

He was the one mostly dictating the speed and depth of each thrust, and the act was brutally degrading, but you didn't seem to care. Even the sound of you forcing your breaths through your nose was a turn on, and Five had to force myself not to say the string of dirty praises he had running through his head.

“I’m so... cl-close,” he stammered instead, in-between hardly contained grunts of the word fuck while forcing your head down and up again.

With his heels digging into the floor for leverage to lift him with each jerk of his hips, something in Five felt like it was shattering.

He took you all the way to the hilt again, holding you there until you started gagging and digging your nails into his leg. Then he did it again, and again.

Overwhelmed by what he was doing and how sick it was of him that he wanted to feel and see you struggle like that, in between thrusts, he let out sob like cries of thank you, and please, and fuck, and with those desperate words helplessly coming out of him, that deep seated feeling in his stomach that followed was impossible to ignore.

“I’m gonna come,” Five wept as he fisted your hair and frantically pumped himself in and out of your mouth as he began to ejaculate down your throat.

He kept incoherently moaning as his hips thrust in angry bursts of momentum.

When his body was done and his shudders had ceased, dizzy enough that the room felt like it was spinning, Five finally let go of you and you fell back on your heels, whipping at the line drool that had dripped from your mouth. You looked up at him, your nose a little runny and your eyes still wet, but somehow you still managed to smile for him and that broke Five even more.

Reaching out, Five ran his thumb across your cheek, collecting a remaining tear before his hand flopped to his side again. “I am so sorry for everything,” he whispered.

“I know,” you whispered back as you covered him back up, pulling his robe around him like he was helpless, which he was. When you walked to his bedroom and he didn’t follow because he was physically incapable at that moment, Five didn’t get to see your smile, but as you looked around in the dark at his boyishly blue quilt and saw the small, worn stuffed animal puppy dog lying on his bed, you knew once again that you weren’t wrong about him.

Snatching up a blanket that was neatly folded and placed by his pillow, you came back out, laying it over him.

Leaning in, you brushed Five’s hair from his forehead before you kissed his cooling skin, then you tiptoed away again. Turning back as you placed your hand on the doorknob, you saw him sleepily watching you, clearly wanting to say something, but like so often, not being able to find the right words.

“Goodnight, Five,” you said, then you left.

Part Five: Perfectly Wrong

The next day, the second you entered his office, Five rushed to the door, locking it, then he grabbed you by the waist, tugging you closer. “Where the hell have you been, I have been losing my mind up here,” he declared while lowering his head to yours, bringing your faces within a whisper's length. 

“I have been working, that’s why I’m here, remember?” You laughed then said, “I wasn’t scheduled to meet with you until afternoon.” You looked at the clock then smiled. “Which is right now.”

Five didn’t look satisfied with that, so you kissed him, then pulled away, leaving him cutely puckering at air with his dark lashes fanning his cheeks so handsomely.

“For a man that once could control time, you seem very confused about how it works,” you teased.

“No shit. If that isn’t the understatement of the year,” he smarted back while giving you an adorable smirk. “I am impatient, impossible to deal with, and so horny for you that they should lock me up to protect you. All that made me think you’d changed your mind about me, that or I’d dreamed you coming to my apartment last night to tell me off, but then, instead, I ended up getting the first blow job of my long pathetic life and finished that mind blowing experience by getting tucked into my recliner like the big baby invalid I am.”

“I didn’t change my mind about you, and you didn’t dream that. I still like you, and our totally taboo, mentor fucking with his student, scandalizing age gapped, dirty talking, panty wetting, dry humping, cry fest of a relationship we have. Speaking of my training and it being your job to see to it that I succeed, I can’t quite understand how things work around here as they relate to my future and what they expect out of me as a fully sworn in agent.”

“Oh...? You read the 3000 page mission statement, but you still need my help figuring that out?” Five offered back, playing along.

You leaned in and whispered hotly in his ear. “I do. Will you help me?” 

“I’d do anything for you,” Five breathed back, nudging your nose with his to make you smile as he peered at you through the strands of his hair that had just fallen in his face.

“Maybe you could lay it all out for me, right here on the top of your desk? Show me how you navigate all these complicated protocols and endless hours of typing up boring intelligence reports. With all the talking and writing up briefings, your fingers and mouth must get so tired. I know mine do. What then? What other tools do you have on you to get you through those super hard, long days?”

Five tipped you back on his desk, his hands moving down your back to support you until you were resting on your elbows. “As a fully sworn in agent, I steer myself around any obstacles in my way, ruthlessly and rudely ignoring anything and anyone that dares to get in my way.” He pushed the bulge forming in his pants between your legs. “When it comes to protocols, I throw them out the window and do what I want because I have never been good at following anyone’s rules but my own. And when I get tired of talking and my fingers get fatigued from all the typing, I say fuck it and really start breaking the rules and let my dick do the talking for me, proving why it was a very bad idea to make me your mentor and that I’m a huge pervert. Would you like me to elaborate on that?”

“Yes,” you said, burying your fingers in Five’s hair, using it as an anchor to draw his mouth to yours as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders while trapping him with your legs around his waist.

Sliding his hands under your bottom, Five pulled you closer to his need, brushing his face at your neck as he sucked on and kissed, his warm breaths tickling your skin.

“Tell me what you want. I mean it, I’d do anything for you,” Five insisted, all teasing aside, speaking into your skin as you gripped his firm backside and fooled around with his hair in that way he loved.

“Because you're a bad boy and I am a very bad girl, I want you to break all the rules with me right now,” you whispered. 

Five let go of your hips where his hands had been rhythmically tugging you against him.

“Jeez-us, fuck you are trouble,” he breathlessly hissed as you reached down and started undoing his pants.

Five couldn’t contain his groan as you pulled his dick out and started to rub him. You flashed him your teeth as you smiled, enjoying yourself immensely as he careened into your grasp.

Giving you the hardest look he could muster considering what you were doing to him, Five pulled your hands away, guiding them both back behind you so he could press them down on his desk, under the pressure of his palms.

“Leave them here,” he sternly ordered, though there was no holding back his amused smile.

You nodded while sucking in your bottom lip as you coyly looked up at him from underneath your lashes.

Once Five was sure you were going to stay put, he let go of your hands, then he pressed himself closer to you again while bracing you from behind with one hand, bringing the other between your legs, yanking your panties aside.

As his fingers slid inside you, you dropped your head back, watching him with narrowed eyes.

“You’re really all in?” he asked, knowing you were, only wanting to hear you say it again.

“Yes, Five. I want all of you,” you begged, as you looked down at his cock, then up at him distraughtly.

Gripping himself, Five slipped his fingers out of you, replacing them with the softness of skin on skin and the warm, girthy head of his cock, gliding it back and forth as he wet himself at your entrance, then prodded and rubbed against your clit, back and forth.

“Fuck me, you're amazing,” Five cursed, unable to contain it when he finally felt what it was like to do this with his bare cock slicked against a body that was warm and forgiving.

He rocked himself against you, marveling over the simple pleasure of it, and he could have probably been held rapt forever by just that, but you’d said you wanted it all, and fuck..so did he.

“Are we okay like this?” he asked, meaning without protection.

“Yes, please…fuck yes!" you moaned, and he swore the look on your face could have killed a lesser man.

Getting the go ahead, Five ran his cock through your folds again, making sure he was wet enough to enter you. Then, carefully, drawing it out with a slow steady motion, he started pushing himself into you. Your warm walls clenched around his rounded tip, fighting it, but you didn't tell him to stop, so he moved inside deeper, whimpering because it felt so good to finally feel what this was like.

With Five’s thick cock opening you wider than it seemed possible, you threw your head back, panting his name and assurances to keep going, forcing your body to accept him. Feeling your tightness quivering around his length, unable to contain himself any longer, Five slowly started to move in and out, watching your face carefully for any signs of pain.

Once it was clear that he wasn’t hurting you, he smiled darkly, then very lowly warned, "Be quiet, or I’ll give you a reason to get really loud and then we both will have to start looking for new jobs.” 

Immediately going faster, his hips thwacking against you harder and harder, Five leaned forward over you again, kissing the exposed area of your neck and upper shoulder. 

When you let out a loud gasp, his hand flew over your mouth, then he increased the pace and angle of hips, rolling them in and out, fucking to a softer rhythm that felt so fucking good and made him look even more like he was the God of fuck he was.

“You are so fucking tight. This feels so…fuck,” he breathed before whipping his head back, trying to get his hair out of his eyes. As if he wasn’t doing you just fine already, hoisting your legs up a little more, Five pulled himself out a little, attentively working his tip in a way that pushed upwards, increasing the pressure building inside you in a way that made your head rolled back on your shoulders and your legs around his waist go limp.

“Oh, fuck, Five, yes, like that,” you cried out from under his hand.

“I fucking love you so much,” he moaned back, his eyes on yours as he bore down on you.

His dick pumping back and forth inside you even faster, Five’s brain took a second or two to catch up to what he’d just said. Breaking out in a sweat, his hand coming off your mouth, letting you breathe, he suddenly looked horrified, but that was only until you began to wildly thrust yourself back against him, using your ankles by digging them into his back.

Your fingernails tore into his back through his vest and dress shirt as he pushed his tongue against yours.

Slipping farther and farther into subspace every time his cock barred inside you, the more intense the lightning storm inside him got. His thoughts had grown hazy, and all Five knew was he was in heaven. 

He was slamming into you, harder and harder, and all you could do was hold on, keeping yourself locked to him as you clung to the sides of his desk. You felt that sweet aching pressure down in your lower abdomen. Your back arched. You felt your heart pounding between your legs as Five began to come violently cum, his cock throbbing inside of you as he fell into stuttering movements, having been totally taken off guard by the intensity with how hard the height of his pleasure hit him.

The scent of his cum in the air, of sweat gathering on your bodies and the sound of your heavy breathing, the sounds of your lover’s kisses returning to your lips, urgent, insistent, desperate….

It was perfect.

Five didn’t stop working his hips, pulling his cock in and out of you. Bringing his hand between your legs, all it took was the slightest touch of his fingers getting into the game and a few more pumps of his hips, making his cum drizzle hotly out of you onto his desk and you were falling apart, your body trembling through your equally intense release.

Slowing to a stop, Five smiled into your neck, slowly kissing you as he ran his hand down your side. He didn’t want to pull away, but he also didn’t want to force you to stay like that, spread out with him heedlessly leaning between your legs. On top of that, he could hear Derek talking just outside his door.

After a moment more of proudly grinning over what had just happened, he pulled away.

“Are you sure about me?” he asked, uncertain, yet playing it like a joke, not so brazen and sure of himself when you weren’t withering against him.

“I am sure, and that was, holy fucking wow, Five,” you praised, as you reached out, tenderly brushing back a piece of his hair that had stuck to his forehead.

Five’s ego was quickly restored. You always knew exactly what he needed, when he needed it. It was as if you understood him better than he understood himself and you were ok with who he was even when he wasn’t.

“You are making this way too easy for me,” he pointed out. 

“I ah… I should probably go,” you said as you grinned at him, momentarily distracted as he looked down at your legs dangling around his. He was so fucking hot.

“Shoot,” he laughed, rolling his eyes to his ceiling, then back to yours. “I meant to show you that my mouth is good for more than delivering sarcastically slights and even better clever commentary. Maybe there’s still time,” he teased, hands moving under your legs as he lowered himself, about to throw your legs over his shoulders and bury his face between the mess he’d made between your legs.

Derek knocked on the door.

“Fuck,” he laughed, jumping up, swinging your legs together, whipping you upright like you weighed nothing. His jaw pumped in agitation but that didn’t change his massive smile. “As much as I hate it, we really need to save that lesson for another time. Not that I care if I get fired, it’s just…You know,” he rambled, racing to zip up his pants and tuck his shirt back in.

“Another time then,” you chirped as you scooted off his desk, your heels landing softly on the floor.

As Five went to the door, unlocking it, before Derek tried to open it and come in, you came up behind him, hugging him from behind, your cheek falling against his as he tried to turn back. “I love you too, Five,” you whispered, then let him go just as the door started to open.

Stepping past Derek, you looked over your shoulder at Five, and said, “Thanks again for helping me, ahh…with figuring all that out.”

“Anytime. That’s what I am here for,” Five replied, his hand running over his mouth to hide his wicked grin.

As Derek looked at him in question, clearly aware that something was up, totally smitten, Five took the file he was handing him, but his eyes remained glued to you.

“It looks like those few days off did you some good. Are you feeling better?” Derek questioned, as he looked over at the papers pushed off of Five’s desk that were now laying on the floor. He smiled. 

“Yes, much better,” Five breathed, coming to his senses, but only after you’d turned the corner, blowing him a secret kiss.

For the first time in his life, Five knew what it was like to feel the love he’d always longed for, and it was all because of you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~As always, thanks for reading. Let me know if you liked this. ❤️~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[violetsiren90]

today is so depressing and scary and I was wondering if I could request some binnie gurt and comfort with the couple from the light in your eyes? ty in advance and take care ❤‍🩹

Pairing: Changbin/Reader (gender not mentioned, but this does reference the Light of Your Eyes couple)

Genre: drabble; established relationship; hurt/comfort

Summary: Sometimes everything is wrong...everything but him.

Content warnings: PG for content, but all my work is 18+ (minors, DNI); descriptions of feelings of deep unhappiness; implied dissociation; emotional catharsis; tears; hugs and being HELD 🥺❤

Word Count: ~500

Author's Note: Here you are, Anon! Today is indeed bleak, and I hope this helps even a tiny bit. Please take care of yourself, my friend.

Precious readers and moots: If any of you find yourself feeling hurt, despondent, and unsafe and need someone to turn to, please feel free to message me or send me an ask. Don't let anyone or anything induce you to doubt that you are so incredibly deserving of being seen and held.

You, each and every one of you, are so loved and worthy of it. 🧜💜

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

It’s not raining - in fact, there’s not a cloud in the sky. The autumn air is crisp and clear and the leaves hang brightly and decadently on the branches of the trees as you stand at your own front door. You can feel your features tugging downward in dejection, your body aching and shivering with the deep sort of unhappiness that feels like a chill as you hesitate to take your misery over the threshold.

It's not raining, but it should be. Pouring. Thunder rumbling somewhere afar as you stand in the torrent. Then at least it would feel right, and maybe you would feel like you belonged in that body, standing in that place instead of whatever this is - with the sunshine and the calls of the migrating geese.

Your lip trembles and your heart hammers with the adrenaline of anger and pain...

And then you remember.

He’d asked you not to do this to yourself, said that he wanted it. To share it.

So you curse at the sun and the gentle breeze and turn your key in the lock.

“Bin?” You call instantly, desperately, kicking off your shoes and tossing away your bag.

“Bin!” You drop your coat in the hall as your legs carry you with stumbling steps to his home studio.

When you open the door, he’s already halfway out of his chair with his headphones around his neck, dark lovely eyes wide behind his black-rimmed glasses, and when you reach for him he sinks back down and pulls you over his lap.

Strong arms circle your waist as his head tilts against yours where you press your face into the crook of his neck.

One of his hands splays over your back as he rubs it in wide, soothing circles. He doesn’t ask you what’s wrong, that will come later. Right now he holds you.

Some wrongs can’t be righted. Not by you. Life can be terribly unfair. It can be downright cruel. But you can be afraid and angry and confused and sad…and in his arms.

Releasing a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding, your tears silently begin to fall.

He kisses into your hair.

His body is sturdy and soft and you breathe in cologne and detergent and the scent of his skin and you feel his chest expand and contract, silently beckoning your own to match its steady pace where you're pressed against him.

His presence washes over you and draws you in - deeper, softer. Safer.

Safe. Held. Of nothing required.

One of your hands slides up to tangle your fingers in the dark curls at the back of his head.

And then you’re not wishing for rain anymore. The warmth and peace feel like they belong to you - to your body, to your soul - even in your grief.

“I love you,” comes his gentle, deep murmur.

Not in placation, but in promise.

When you find your words again you’ll whisper those three in return, as you always do. But until then, and in every moment hideous or lovely thereafter, you’ll reach for Changbin, and he will hold you.

-Fin-

[yandere-wishes]

A thought for you, Diluc meeting his darling when they were knights together when they were younger but when his dad dies and he leaves but only comes back to see his darling is now a high ranking offical and he panics, what if she gets hurt? She isn’t cut out for this sort of thing. So now he is torn, he can’t let her get hurt but it’s not like he can just pull her out of the knights, can he?

He plays hero in the dark.

Maybe cause the dark obscures beauty and beauty is the last thing he needs right now.

Maybe he's a bit too scared to see too clearly.

Besides everything looks better in the dark.

Diluc doesn't thrive in order, he prefers solitude. The quiet of the estate away from town. The calm of the tavern during closing hours.

The solitude is safe.

Away from fickle lovers and family secrets.

He sees you in the dead of day. Standing outside the tavern with your brigade. Dressed in that loathsome armor with the sun's rays bouncing off the silver metal.

Gleaming.

Bright.

A beacon of hope in every way.

Diluc swallows his anger, his astound. There really shouldn't be room for surprise, it was to be expected. You had trained with him, fought alongside him. Captain is the lowest rank you should have by now

Still, you are not ready for such duty, such burdens.

You must taste experience, bite it, and let the crumbs mar the corners of your lips. You can not simply know by hearing tales of others' endeavors. They are as pointlessly purposeful as the stars. Distant lights you can never understand.

And Diluc refuses to see you as anything more than the little girl who'd drag him to the lake to hunt turtles.

Jejune in every way.

Diluc is not careless, he is not reckless.

The young boy who used to rush headfirst into everything be it battles or turtle hunts, died the same night his father did. The man born of his ashes, is scrupulous, vigilant. He calculates every mistake before attacking.

He lets you see him in the dark. Masked vigilante stalking the streets while you do your patrols. He leads you through the streets, weaving through the nooks and crannies of the cramped port city.

He wonders if this is how the turtles by the lake felt all so many years ago.

"Halt" You're voice holds authority now, no longer airy and melodic. It makes him discomfited.

He leaps past the high walls of the city, disappearing amongst the threes. He sees you cease at the threshold of the bridge. Defeat painted across your tender lips.

The game has ended.

At least for tonight.

He plays hero in the dark.

Dancing as he blocks your attacks.

Metal sings metal as sword and claymore clash.

The nostalgia seeps through no matter how hard he struggles, the familiar hyms of weapons clashing. Your taut frown of concentration. He's drowning in his crush again.

But is such a fickle thing really capable of throttling a man such as he?

Maybe this is truly love?

It's a sparse moment. He's too caught up in you, how tall you've gotten, how astute your stance has become. You've grown. But he still hears your sweet voice ringing across the north winds.

He doesn't notice the hilt of your sword until it's pounded against his skull. Since when have you learned such dirty tricks? His head buzzes on impact, the mask clashing violently on the ground.

The night is still.

But the beating of his heart is far too loud.

"Dily?

You're sword falls, face torn between shock and laughter. "You're the Darknight hero?"

He doesn't answer right away. He lets you laugh and ponder. Lets you come up with your own answers. He's about to interject. Throw some comment about being on opposite sides. But you beat him to the punchline. "Well, I guess I still got to take you in..."

"That's unfortunate, I can't say I'm particularly fond of being arrested by a Favonius knight."

"Captain" You correct and the pride flashing across your face makes him burn in anger. No, no you're not.

You approach him, carless and intrepid. Plucky steps as you reach for the cuffs on your belt. Diluc can't help but roll his eyes. Really? Has being made a captain taught you nothing?

Shouldn't you be more jaded? Wry of any potential threats.

Well, he guesses it must be hard to think of the boy who talks to his pet turtle as a threat.

The blaze from his vision washes over you, painting the night into a faux dawn. The fire melts through your body, peeling the flesh of your arm.

The Darknight hero stands tall amidst the inferno. Eyes aflame with the delicate sight of you.

Diluc licks the embers from his fingers as you cradle your burnt hand.

He didn't mean to do this, but he needs to stun you, he needs you to submit. Gingerly he picks you up, cradling your body close. He can't wait to get you home and burn away that dreaded armor. To dress you in soft silks and precious jewels.

"You're really not cut out for this knight thing. But it's fine I'll keep you safe"

He's only met with soft whimpers as he scales the back walls and dashes towards the winery.

Diluc plays hero in the dark.

And he still believes that.

Even as he opens the door to his mansion.

With you sobbing from pain in his arms.

He is a hero.

And heroes are meant to keep people safe.

Especially helpless little girls who try to play knight.

[ghost-proofbaby]

It's summer for you, winter for me. Warm me up with strawberry fluff! As always, my muse, your muse, the one and only, Eddie.

Midsummer's night, because I don't have a lot to inspire you with. I'm thinking something cute but weird? Maybe some human body softness where Eddie is a bit of a freak and we love him for it. And we're told our bodies are lovely, even when they're doing weird shit.

I lalalove youuuuu. xo Rhi

RHI!!!! <3 i adore you. thank you for this prompt - i had far too many ideas for it, but ended up on settling for this one, which coincidentally feels like the most subtle of them all? either way, it definitely turned out being the softest. give me an eddie munson who just wants to sniff me like a dog. this definitely got a bit long but i hope you enjoy, my dear <3

the smell of you

warnings: weirdos in love? idk. i have a skewed sense of what is actually weird i think. mentions of death and coffins jokingly. eddie 'manhandles' reader sort of. not edited.

wc: 2.2k+

come enjoy a sweet summer treat with me <3

“Eddie?”

The entire apartment is quiet – too quiet – as you drop your keys into the old crystal bowl on the counter. The clink resonates through the air, louder than the soft murmur of the stereo static you can hear from down the hall. 

“You dead?” you call out again, slipping off your running shoes and tossing down your headphones onto the counter as well now, “Do I need to call the coroner?” 

Your tone is lilted, teasing with airiness as you continue to wander deeper into the apartment and head straight for the room you know Eddie has to be in. Like the waves pulled by the moon, there’s an incessant string tied around one end of your soul that connects you to his, and you follow it all the way down the hallway. The bedroom door is wide open, and you can hear his mumbled yell of a response without clarity before you even cross the threshold. 

You wouldn’t have even needed him to verbally respond to find him in this tiny apartment. You two could get separated on the streets of a bustling city, of a buzzing New York sidewalk, and you still wouldn’t properly lose him. It’s more than just soul ties and his gravity that keeps you pulled to him. 

Something unspoken. Something homely. 

“Sorry, what was that?” you hum as you spy him face-down in the bed, pillow muting him by the mouthful, “Say it one more time, and this time not into the pillow.” 

When he finally properly turns over, he’s a vision. Sleep lines folded into his skin and a bit of drool in the corner of his mouth, eyes squinting in irritation not at you but the sunlight flooding in through the bedroom window. Messy hair, messy shirt, messy everything. A kind of mess you just want to collapse into currently, curling up in all that he is from the day’s exhaustion. 

He’d mentioned wanting to take a nap before you’d left for the gym. Something about the summer heat draining him, trailing off as he’d rambled about how he’d probably thrive as a vampire. 

“I said,” he huffs, sitting up, the frizz of his hair becoming a makeshift halo, “If you call the coroner, request the comfiest coffin possible.”

“Why do you need a comfy coffin if you’re already dead?” 

“You dare deny me of being buried in tempurpedic memory foam? In my hour of need?” 

You roll your eyes as you huff out a little laugh, forcing yourself to turn away from him long enough to strip out of your socks. But just as you reach down for the pieces of clothing, you catch sight of the source of that stereo static flooding the room. 

Your shared record player, spinning a blood red pressing of one of your more recent vinyl purchases. The album has been played through, but the player no longer had an automatic stop mechanism, probably from years of use. 

The center of the record is probably scratched, and Eddie knows it, from how sheepish he looks when you glance over your shoulder at him. 

“Speaking of death,” you walk over quickly, purposefully, before carefully lifting the needle and cutting the static finally, “Care to explain why you’re burning scratches into my Momento Mori vinyl?” 

“I’m sorry,” he quickly apologizes, nearly flinging himself off the bed as he scooches quickly to the end, clearly fully awake now, “I put it on and thought I’d just lay down for a quick second, but then the bed was so comfy, and I thought it wouldn’t hurt to take a quick nap, and then…” he trails off, looking up at you through his lashes with big eyes already pleading for forgiveness, “I’ll buy you a new one. Swear it.” 

It’s impossible to be mad at him when he’s looking like this, inhumanely soft and easily forgiven, “You’re lucky you’re cute, or you really would be dead.” 

He doesn’t respond with words, but instead the outstretch of his hands, fingers flexing as he beckons to you. The needle rests on its perch, the vinyl left behind to gather dust for a few extra moments, as you go straight to him. 

When his palms slip beneath your old t-shirt and meet your skin, they’re pleasantly warm. 

“You were right,” you admit as his knees spread, delegating even more room for you to stand in front of him as your hand wanders to cradle the side of his face, fingers tangling in sweaty curls from his rest. Your thumb mimics his on your own skin instinctively, tracing a large arch right up over his cheekbone, “It’s hot as balls outside.” 

“Told you so,” he murmurs, smiling softly in satisfaction as he leans lazily into your touch. 

“You did,” you agree quietly, half-entranced by his relaxed face, no sight of pride in the room currently. 

He resembles a cat as he continues to preen under your gentle hand, and you almost expect him to start purring right before you find the strength to pull away, removing his hands from where they'd wandered to your lower back. 

One swipe of his finger along your sweaty spine, and you’d remembered what your original intentions had been immediately upon getting home. 

“Wai- Where are you going?” he’s seemingly brought back down to Earth the moment he loses the pattern your thumb had been tracing, the press of your fingertips into his scalp. When he reaches back out to latch onto you again, you take a step back, “Get back here-”

“I need to shower,” you laugh, shaking your head and smacking his hands away as he continues to barter, “I’m all sweaty and smelly, let me go clean up and then we can nap togeth-” 

“You can shower after we nap,” he nearly whines, finally catching your shirt between his fingers and tugging, uncaring for if he stretches the fabric. A small price to pay to have you close to him, “C’mon, sweetheart. I know you’re just as exhausted as I am.” 

You swear you meant to take another step backwards, but somehow, you end up back between his knees, “Did you not hear me, Munson? I stink.”

“Good.” 

He doesn’t give you any time to react – in an instant, he’s throwing his face forward, burying it against your stomach as you let out a gasp and immediately try to pry him away with far too gentle of hands in his hair. 

“Eddie!”

If it were anyone else, you’d probably be mortified. But Eddie just takes a dramatic deep breath in, nose buried just shy of your belly button, and when his shoulders start to shake with muted laughter, you can’t stop the smile from breaking. Your fingers are still twisted in his hair, still pulling back in an attempt to get him away from you, but he’s resilient. 

And all your faux resistance is weak in comparison. Soon enough, you’re back to melting into him. 

Only once you’re relaxed once more, no sign of trying to pull away again any time soon as his hands once more evade the space beneath your shirt to wander up and down your sticky skin without a care in the world, does he lift his face away from you long enough to breathe and speak, “I’ll have you know – I love your stink.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious.” 

“You’re an idiot.” 

“I’m your idiot.” 

The game of banter is cut short when he goes back to pressing his nose into your clothes that surely can’t smell good. No amount of deodorant or perfume could erase that underlying stench of sweat. Hell, the shirt is still a bit moist from it all: from the walk to the gym, from your workout itself, from the walk home. It’d been through the ringer, and you’re back to tugging him away from you. 

“I refuse to believe you like how gross I smell right now,” you reinforce, eyes darting towards the bathroom connected to your master bedroom, “I promise I’ll be quick with the shower.” 

“Baby,” he fights back, wrapping his arms around you securely, no intention of losing this battle, “You remember that time we went to the fair, and you were complaining about how you were sweating, so I tried to lick your face?” 

Your nose scrunches quickly at the memory, “I do, unfortunately.”

“You really think I’d be willing to lick the sweat off your body but be afraid of you smelling a little bad while we cuddle?” his shoulders drop as he looks up at you, head tilted, almost as if amused with the conversation, “What kind of man do you take me for?” 

“The kind that gets off on annoying me.” 

His jaw drops, putting on a fake look of offense before he dramatically throws himself back onto the bed, laying flat as he makes a fist to mimic stabbing his chest, “You wound me.”

You’ve heard those words a thousand times in a hundred different ridiculous voices. You’ve seen this scene enough to have it mesmerized at this point, down to the over-exaggerated pout of his lips and the lingering of the fist against his sternum. 

You never grow tired of it. You never will. 

“Need me to kiss it better?” you joke as you prop a knee up on the bed, following the same script as always. 

And he hits his queue perfectly when he lifts his head eagerly at the expected response, wiggling his brows a bit. “Absolutely. Doctor’s orders, in fact.” 

“Great,” you see an opportunity, and take it, “I’ll get right to it, after my showe-” 

You don’t even get the final syllable of the word off your tongue before he’s clenching his thighs around your own, knees pressing hard before he wraps his legs the rest of the way around your waist to pull you in. A squeak of surprise leaves your lips as you begin to fall forward, but Eddie is quick to break the fall with ease. Catching you with his eager hands, maneuvering for you to half drop to the mattress while some of you still lands atop of him. 

He has you right where he wants you, turning his head to be face to face with you, noses nearly brushing, “Unfortunately, the doc said you have to kiss it better now, or else you’ll be comfy coffin shopping.” 

“A fatal wound?” you gasp, nearly mocking him. It doesn’t offend him – if anything, his boyish grin only grows wider, “First, I’m smelly-”

“Again, I like when you’re smelly.”

“-And then I inflict a fatal wound upon my lover? Oh, how dare I.”

Slowly, all your insecurity of how you currently smell is simply fading. The entire ordeal has become an art of childlike, whimsical jokes – and Eddie is an artist. A professional at the dance, locked and loaded with his incomparable skill set equipped for disarming you this way. The ability to make someone feel loved, imperfections and weirdness aside. 

He likes you, even when you claim you don’t smell your best. And you like him, even when his hair is tangled beyond recognition and one of his socks is half-hanging off his foot from a nap.

You like him when he’s embarrassing you in public, tongue chasing after you with the threat of licking your sweat away, and he likes you when all you can do in response is a weak palm to his chest (that isn’t even making an effort to push him away) as you giggle relentlessly. 

You like each other on the good days, the bad days, the weird days. 

Disarmed entirely, you don’t even notice when his face conveniently slots itself far too close to your armpit as you two scooch further up into the bed. You’re more occupied with the way your legs tangle up, toeing each other’s socks off properly as he slings a heavy arm across your torso. 

“We’re gonna have to wash the sheets,” you mumble, exhaustion catching up as the two of you finally settle. 

He hums absentmindedly, nuzzling into your skin a bit further as he makes himself comfortable. “And wash away your sweet, sweet stink? I don’t think so, sweetheart.” 

“Oh, fuck off,” you laugh, unbothered as your fingers start to trail up and down his back over the t-shirt, smoothing out wrinkles along the way, “I’m serious. We need to change them soon anyways, I think I got crumbs in the bed the other night with those crackers.” 

“Bury me in the crumbs of all your midnight snacks,” he almost slurs, clearly drifting back off. 

You snort in response, relaxing and letting your own eyes shut. Matching all your deep breaths with his own, a million different last words crossing your mind to whisper to the boy you’re sure is once again asleep. 

I love you.

I adore you. 

I would like to spend the rest of my life with you, if you’ll have me. 

And maybe some of those unspoken thoughts slip out without you realizing, because he squeezes you just a little bit tighter, presses his face just a little bit deeper into your skin as his scruff tickles you. 

The only actual thought you can know for certain that you say, though, is, “Do you think they actually make coffins with memory foam inside?” 

To your surprise, even despite the almost-snores that had been escaping him, he answers in a heartbeat. 

“Oh, definitely. We’ll order two.”

[yaekiss]

since your normal requests are still open （＾ω＾） i absolutely NEED to go next door to my darling kaeya!!! he can’t just be so devoted and adoringly obsessive without being rewarded! after that little show of a picture he sent, can’t quite be satisfied until i ravage him the way we know he wants </3

𝑹𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅

꩜ Room Content: Dom! GN! Reader x Yan! Sub! Kaeya, no gendered terms for reader, Kaeya calls you "my heart", unhealthy and obsessive relationship from Kaeya, unhealthy attachment from reader, stalking (from Kaeya), mentions of biting and marking (Kaeya receiving), handjob (Kaeya receiving), lmk if I missed out anything ! ꩜ A/N: This is a (long overdue) sequel to this love letter from a previous event (now closed!) Sigh I really meant to finish this a lot earlier, first it was supposed to be your birthday present then when that date passed by, a v-day gift of sorts,,,,, But it's here now!! Hope it's kind of what you were looking to read @pulpbeing !

The whole walk over to the next room, regardless of how short it was, you were barely cognizant. It was hard to be, when mere minutes ago, it was revealed to you that your lover was some sort of obsessive stalker. (Yet, why does your heart still hammer so hard in your chest?)

Each step draws you closer and closer to Kaeya, and before you even register it, you’ve reached the door to his room. It's the very last one in the hallway. The room opposite his is vacant.

Your blood thrums under the skin of your fingers as you reach out to the smooth cold handle on the door, as if the mere act of crossing that threshold could shatter everything at once.

And to your surprise, the door swings open without any resistance.

The second your foot pads onto the carpet of his room and the door locks behind you, the atmosphere turns electric as a singular starry eye bores into you from where Kaeya is lounging on the bed.

And there he is. Draped in the same lacy white lingerie in the scandalous photograph he sent to you. As if the sight in the picture wasn’t stunning enough already, the sight of your lover before you outright steals the breath from your lungs. 

Adorned in naught by the gauzy fabric, you drag your gaze down from his face, to the crimson-stained trail left from that trickle of wine from his lips. The sheerness of the lingerie leaves nothing to the imagination with the way it snugly hugs his figure. The curve of his chest, his slender yet toned physique, stark white garter belt against the flesh of his thighs.

It's all ridiculously tantalising to you. And he knows it.

“No need to just stand by my door, my heart. You can do more than just gawk at me, you know?” Kaeya all but purrs out to you from where he’s seated, his one eye squinting as he grins.

Somehow, your body has already betrayed your warring thoughts within because when you next blink, you’ve crossed over to the bed, the mattress dipping as you take your seat beside him. His grin grows more blinding at this and he squeezes in closer to you, until your thighs are touching. 

“So the cat’s out of the bag, and now you know I’ve been tailing after you in Fontaine like some lovesick dog off a leash,” he sighs noncommittally, as if he didn’t just admit to stalking you.

He fixes you with a gaze, “How exactly does it make you feel?”

“Is it fear?”

The silence grows when you don’t respond, as if you know in a deep twisted part of your mind, that despite this, Kaeya would never harm a single hair on your head.

“Or is it desire?”

And it’s at this, that your heart thumps. 

The kiss is messy, more tongue and spit than anything else but you can’t be bothered when you’re busy removing the lingerie still on him. He melts into you as your hands wind around his frame, unravelling and undressing him from the flimsy layers of white lace that dare to separate him from you. When you watch the pure white tumble from him, perhaps he’s not the only one whose desires drive them wild.

A breathy moan leaves him as you leave bite mark after bite mark across the expanse of his neck. The feeling of your teeth pressed against his skin, the pressure and force behind it threatening to break past the surface. You’re kind enough to grant him one last hickey prior to pulling back and briefly admiring your handiwork.

Hands trailing down his side, you graze your fingertips over his hips before you settle a palm against his length. Just before he can roll himself up to rut against your hand, your other hand grips the side of his hip, stilling him as a protesting noise slips past his lips.

“You’ll move when I say you can. You can do that for me, yes?” 

Docile, he nods and simply watches on as your hand wraps itself around him. You can tell by the way he’s fisting the bedsheets that he’s holding himself back, resisting the urge to fuck into your hand. Aided by the precum drooling from his tip, you glide your hand slowly up and down, marvelling at the way his breath hitches and eyes screw shut whenever you twist your grip exactly where you know he likes it.

It doesn’t take long before you can tell he’s reaching his limit. His breathing grows clipped and ragged and his groans and whines become increasingly needy. Every time his hips jerk involuntarily, your hand stills, prompting him to plead pitifully for you to continue. He makes quite the sorry sight before you, and your heart twinges with the need to watch him come undone.

Deciding you’ve toyed with him enough for now, you lean in, whispering, “Go on, let me see how you reward yourself.”

His pulse jackrabbits as you lave your tongue along his jugular, panting out broken “thank you”s at your generosity while he frantically chases his release, rutting into your hand. A quick twist and he’s spilling over, crumpling in on himself as he moans unabashedly at the pleasure you’ve shown to him. He has his chin hooking over your shoulder and arms wrapping around you, pulling you into a tight hug whilst riding out his high, his chest heaving as he catches his breath.

Suddenly, your world tilts when Kaeya pulls you down onto the bed, you lie atop him, trapped in his embrace.

And coy as he is, he slithers next to your ear and whispers breathlessly, “It’s alright, you can have your way with me,” you can feel his heart pound from beneath you, your pulse matching his.

“There’s no one next door anyways.”

Thanks for reading! Consider supporting me on kofi if you enjoyed this or check out my other works hehe ♡

[gunnerfc]

(Un)Stuck | Alexia Putellas x Barça!Reader (18+)

Summary: Part 2 to Stuck found here -> “Stuck Part 1”

Warnings: bottom reader, top alexia, strap on use (r receiving), a tad bit of oral (r receiving), nipple sucking, degrading, hate fucking i guess lol, a little angsty at the end

WC: 1.5K

AN: could not for the life of me come up with a better title 😵‍💫

You let Alexia guide you down the familiar hallway towards her door at the end, thoughts clouded with thoughts of the midfielder. When you reached her door, you watched your captain struggle to unlock her door, clearly affected by your presence. You smirked to yourself, enjoying that despite breaking up, you could still drive Alexia crazy.

After what felt like forever, the blonde threw her door open, pulling you through the threshold with her. Alexia kicked the door closed with her foot and you were roughly pushed against the surface. Alexia’s lips found the side of your neck, leaving deep kisses along your skin that would later turn into bruise-like marks. Her hands fell to your waist, keeping you pressed against the front door while yours tangled in her blonde hair.

“You’re so stubborn,” the midfielder huffed as she pulled away from your neck. Her tone might have sounded annoyed but you knew she was enjoying it.

“You used to like that about me,” you smirk up at the captain, your hips rolling against her despite her tight grip.

Alexia rolled her eyes at your words before her lips met yours in a deep kiss. Your mouth moved against hers as your hips continued moving. Alexia’s lips against yours drew a low moan from the both of you, the familiar feeling of your ex-girlfriend was not something you could easily forget.

With your lips still locked, you let Alexia blindly guide you to her bedroom, a room that you used to spend countless nights in before the abrupt breakup. You felt the end of the large bed against the back of your legs before you pushed down, Alexia’s lips never leaving yours. Laying on the bed made it easier to grind against the midfield as you searched for some sort of release. 

Alexia pulled back, a string of saliva connecting the two of you. Your ex-girlfriend quickly rid the two of you of your clothes, her eyes scanning up and down your naked form. Seeing you like this wasn't new to her, but something about you being angry at her made the experience hotter than any other time you had sex.

Her lips found your neck again, leaving small nips on your skin as you threw your head back against the pillows. Your breathing was heavy as her hands roamed your body, ignoring every part of you that needed to feel her. The lack of relief was starting to affect you as low whines fell from your lips.

“Ale- please,” you moaned, your voice starting to become hoarse. “Please fuck me,” you whined, needing the blonde to finally give in and touch you where you needed her.

Alexia pulled away from you completely before standing up to get something from her dresser. You whined loudly at the loss of complete contact, your eyes following the blonde the entire time. You watched as she pulled your favorite strap on from a bottom drawer, your eyes rolling back slightly knowing just how well Alexia can use the toy. 

Alexia quickly fastened the toy around her hips before rejoining you on the bed. The blonde gave you a quick kiss before her lips trailed down your neck toward your chest. She took one of your hardened nipples in her mouth, lightly sucking on the bud. A loud moan fell from your mouth at the feeling, thrilled that she was finally doing something. Alexia took her time before she pulled back and did the same with your other nipple.

You moved one of your hands to tangle in her hair, pressing her close to your body. After giving your chest enough attention, Alexia left harsh kisses down your torso every so often sucking softly to leave a mark. When she finally reached your dripping core, the blonde blew lightly against you causing your back to arch at the cool sensation. 

Alexia smirked at the sight of you dripping when she’d barely done anything. She tilted her head down slightly to slowly lick up towards your clit before pulling back all the way and sat up on her knees. The feeling of her tongue against you had your eyes tightly shut as your hips rolled against nothing. 

“You look so desperate, amor,” the blonde smirked, a sarcastic laugh echoing off the walls. 

If you weren’t desperate for her to fuck you, you would have told her to go fuck herself but you needed her. Ever since the breakup, no one you hooked up with could make you cum the way Alexia could. But you weren’t going to tell her that, you were still pissed that she wouldn’t tell you why she broke up with you in the first place.

You couldn't form an actual response other than desperate moans, which didn’t help your case. Alexia laughed to herself at your state as she ran the tip of the strap-on through your soaked folds. Alexia pushed the strap-on further into you, not letting you readjust to the size as her hands moved your legs to wrap around her waist. Her hands held tightly on your hips as she started slowly thrusting into you as you rolled your hips to meet her thrusts. 

One of your hands gripped tightly to cover underneath you while the other gripped one of Alexia’s wrists. Your head was thrown back as loud moans escaped your lips. “Faster, Ale, p-please,” was as you could get out in between moans, hoping the blonde would listen. 

Alexia took pity on you, she knew you well enough to know exactly what you needed. The captain’s hips sped up as she fucked you, the sound of her skin hitting yours joined your moans in filling the room. Your volume grew as her hips angled slightly to thrust deeper, bringing you closer to the edge with each thrust.

The midfielder knew the telltale signs of when you were about to cum but she wasn't ready to let you just yet. Her hips slowed slightly as she removed one of your legs from her waist to push it toward your chest, stretching you out in the process. A loud moan fell from your lips as she kept thrusting into you with this new angle, hitting that familiar spot. 

Alexia could feel how wet she was herself at the sight of you, loving how well you took her. One of her favorite sights was watching you as you cum around her strap and she was determined to give you one of the best orgasms ever.

With the new position, Alexia’s hips sped back up as she thrusts hard into you. The bed rocked back and forth, the headboard hitting the wall in a rhythm. Not that you truly cared at the moment, but you were glad Alexia’s apartment was the last one on the hall and that there was no one on the other side. The sound of your moans mixed with the sounds of Alexia fucking you spurred her on, her hips snapping against yours harshly. 

In a broken voice, you begged her to let you cum as you felt the coil in your lower stomach tighten. Alexia could feel herself close to her release as she stared down at you, watching as your back arched and your hips moved in time with hers.

“Ven por mí (come for me),” Alexia groaned, as her hips faltered slightly. That was all you needed before you let go, cumming all over her strap. Alexia didn’t slow her hips at all as you came, needing to find her own release. You whined at the overstimulation but Alexia came soon after you. 

The blonde’s hips came to a stop before slowly pulling out of you. A small groan escaped your lips at the loss of contact and Alexia quickly stripped herself of the toy before tossing it somewhere to be picked up later. She left light kisses all over your body as you both calmed down before moving off of you and to one side of the bed. 

You took a minute to collect your thoughts, your original anger still present in your mind. You sat up quickly and moved to gather your clothes. “Where are you going,” confusion laced Alexia’s words as you watched you get dressed. 

“Away from you,” You snapped, the pleasure and enjoyment you felt mere minutes ago gone as you finished getting dressed. You finally made eye contact with Alexia and you could see the hurt look in her eye but considering she refused to tell you why she broke up with you and has given you the cold shoulder ever since, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. 

“Y/n/n…” Alexia started but you cut her off. “No, you don’t get to call me that anymore,” you felt your heart breaking all over again, this moment felt like the true end to your relationship with the Barcelona captain, and that hurt. 

You didn’t give her a chance to respond before you made your way out of her apartment and down the hall toward the elevator. You felt your eyes water as you waited for the elevator to reach the floor you were on, fighting with yourself to not go back to Alexia. If she wanted to explain herself to fix things with you, she was going to have to make the first move. You were done with trying to get her to tell you the truth.