#i’ve been thinking about this for so long

[charliemwrites]

Hiiiii! So I’m not super thrilled with this but I’ve been having a time of it at work so I worked on this when I could 🙃

Not sure if there will be a second part yet tbh we’ll see!

Edit: almost forgot to add that the gorgeous divider below is by @gildui they have some absolutely beautiful cod themed dividers.

Carrion

Reader comes back Wrong

Content: implied/referenced torture, injury, suicide reference/implicated “pact” (by background character), lack of wound care

The breakup was bad.

Not in the top 3 of Simon’s worst nightmare-inducing memories - but likely top 5. He certainly wakes up chest aching and eyes burning often enough for it to be a solid contender. He’s haunted by tears that dripped like acid and the cracks in your voice deafening him.

On bad days, he thinks he can still see you shuffling down the halls, eyes sunken and red-rimmed, dark circles and chapped lips. Anger giving way to resignation giving way to pain and sadness. The rest of the team tight-lipped and wincing, no sides taken, shoulders and ears offered equally in commiseration.

Your misery wanted no company, though.

You didn’t tell Simon that you were leaving. Gaz let slip over a subdued but obligatory game of cards, you’d be gone for a long time - loaned out to Laswell.

Simon didn’t go to see you off. Didn’t ask why you were leaving or accuse you of being too immature to be on a team with him. He didn’t wish you good luck, stay safe with the rest of the team on the tarmac at 0-dark when you took off.

He should have.

Price says you’ll be gone for six months. Just six. It’s better this way, he reminds them when Johnny balks. His eyes are on Simon, though, when he adds that you need to get your head on straight, and you weren’t able to do it with them.

So. Six months.

Simon stops expecting you on his left. Stops smelling your shampoo lingering on bits of clothes he pretended not to notice you steal. He still dreams about you begging him not to push you away.

183 days come and go.

On day 184, Laswell sends word - your temporary team likes you quite a bit. They want you to stay on for one more month… one more mission… one more…

Six months turns to ten.

312 days since you left; since you were home.

The team hasn’t stopped leaving a space for you at their tables, right between Gaz and Price. You miss your own birthday. Laswell says she’ll pass along well wishes.

The situation changes. A target resurfaces. All hands on deck, including yours.

374 days. Twelve months and some change.

They don’t spend the holidays with you, but there’s a stack of presents waiting in Price’s office. Your mugs have collected dust in the back of the rec room cabinet.

Laswell says you’re still deployed on one last mission, return TBD. Soon, though.

487 days. Still TBD. Soon. Really. Just some loose ends to tie up.

561 days. There was some trouble during exfil but you’re alright. Just a bit of recovery.

You’re coming home.

590 days. You’ll land at 0700 tomorrow.

It’s been 591 days since Simon last saw you. Since any of them last saw you.

Laswell has come to deliver you personally, a kind of apology for keeping you away so long. She’s the first off the transport and you’re right behind her.

Your hair is shorter. Much, much shorter. There’s a new patch on your jacket - memento from your temporary team, Simon figures.

Apart from that, you look… almost exactly how you did when you left. Dark circles under your eyes, mouth drawn and tight. There’s invisible weight compressing your shoulders, urging them in and down. But you’re there again. Just the way he remembers.

(Why are you the way he remembers?)

“Long time, no see,” Gaz calls, reaching for you.

There’s half a beat, you blink. Hesitate.

Then you grin and reach back.

“Missed my pretty face, did you?” you reply.

Johnny laughs and brings you in for a hug. You twitch hug him back, patting his shoulder as you pull away.

“Good to have you back, Sergeant,” Price says, shaking your hand.

You turn to Simon, nod in greeting, expression pleasant. “Ghost.”

So that’s how it’ll be? Alright.

“Sergeant.”

That night, you go out for drinks with the team and Laswell. Simon goes along to show there are no hard feelings.

(Not that you seem to need reassurance. It’s not even that you’re not looking at him. You are. Whenever he speaks, the rare times he does, or if he shifts in his seat. Your gaze doesn’t linger or jerk away, you treat him like you do Johnny and Gaz and Price.)

When Johnny mixes up your usual for Price’s, you don’t even seem to notice. But Simon does.

“When did you start drinking whiskey?” he wonders.

You used to swear you’d never like it, claiming it tasted like boot polish and the “Boys Club” wasn’t worth the indigestion it gave you.

“Someone from my other team,” you say by way of explanation.

You don’t ask for another whiskey. Laswell gets the rest of your drinks for that night.

Simon turns into the rec room two days later and finds you already there. There’s only the light above the sink on, and you’re staring at the steady drip, drip, drip from the faucet. A cup of black coffee cools in your hand. You’re already wearing gloves.

“Sugar’s in the left now,” he calls.

Your head twitches, something pops in your neck.

“Oh, thanks,” you chirp, turning for the cabinet. “Sleep okay, LT?”

“‘Bout as well as I ever do,” he replies gruffly, sidling up next to you for the kettle.

You hum. There’s a yellow packet in your hand. (Didn’t you used to like the blue one?)

“I get that,” you sympathize.

He snorts. Since when?

“Do you?”

When he glances down, you’re not looking at him. Instead, you’re trying (and failing) to get the sink to stop dripping.

“You know that’s been broken for ages,” he says.

At least as long as the 141 has been around. You tried to fix it once when you first joined up, too, with no luck.

“Right,” you say. A little too quickly, a little too agreeably. “Well, anyway, enjoy your tea, Lieutenant.”

You leave the packet of sugar behind. Unopened.

You’re back and it’s like it used to be - not just before you left, but before the breakup. Before there was ever anything to break up.

Your time away seems to have given you whatever space from Simon you were hoping for, because you act like there was never anything at all.

He’s half expecting, dreading, that you’ll pull him aside at some point. Ask for a word after dinner, or swing by his room before bed. Talk about the break up now that cooler heads prevail and 19 months have sanded down the rough feelings. Seek closure, maybe.

But you don’t. The weeks pass until a month has gone and you never exchange more than easy pleasantries with Simon. You give him space, give him privacy. Things you never used to give him much of before, for better or worse.

You fool around with Gaz and Johnny, trade quips with Price, and follow Simon’s orders. Train recruits. Write reports.

You’re back, better than ever.

So why does it feel like Simon’s still waiting for you to return?

You’re always dressed now, head to toe. Day or night, rain or shine. From the neck down you’re in full sleeves, long pants, boots and gloves.

It doesn’t occur to anyone until you’re sweating through your compression shirt in the gym. Wipe your shiny forehead for the dozenth time before Johnny says, “why not just take it off?”

“It’s not that bad,” you laugh, waving him off.

When you lie down to bench press, Simon notes the bottom of your shirt tucked tight into your waistband. He exchanges a glance with Johnny - he’s seen it too.

You used to dress in shorts and sports bras during exercise, a towel over your shoulder. In the common room, you’d mill in tank-tops and boxers. Even used to trot down the hall swaddled in a towel or robe, mumbling that you forgot a razor or some other toiletry before showering.

“What, did ye get an embarrassing tattoo or somethin’?” Johnny asks finally.

You blink at him, expression bemused. “A tattoo? Why do you think I have a tattoo?”

“Yer covered up like a nun on Sunday. It cannae be comfortable.”

You snort. “Just because you’re allergic to clothes, MacTavish…”

“Allergic?! Wha’s tha’ s’posed t’mean?!”

Gaz barks a laugh. You grin and continue your workout.

Simon tries not to be disturbed by the name “MacTavish” coming off your tongue for the first time since you met.

It’s your first mission since you’ve been back. You have new gear, a new handgun. Something’s been carved into the side of the barrel in Cyrillic, Simon can’t read it. A new callsign.

(“What kind of a name is Carry-on?” Johnny teases, but he doesn’t quite hide the unease in his eyes.

You snort and lace your boots tighter. The edge of you sleeve inches up, revealing the curve of a glossy scar that wasn’t there before.

“You’re one to talk Mister Maybelline.”)

Someone painted an upside down cross on the temple of your helmet with their finger. You thumb it before stuffing it over your head.

“You ready for this?” Gaz asks, knocking his knee into yours. The two of you have been paired together for this mission. (Was it Simon’s imagination, or did you look annoyed that you would have a partner?)

“Always,” you reply.

Simon doesn’t hear what happens, but Gaz looks shellshocked when you haul him into the helicopter during exfil. You shake him a bit once everything is secure and the bird’s in the air.

“Garrick,” you shout, “c’mon, where did he get you?”

It takes him a second but he blinks, offers his arm for your inspection. You move with a speed even Simon is impressed by, tearing into the nearby med kit almost viciously. Gaz is patched up in record time and you sit back with blood on your hands, barely even seem to notice as you wipe them carelessly on your pants.

(You used to be more squeamish, weren’t you? You used to be the last one they asked for medical care because seeing your teammates in pain made you nauseous.)

“What about you?” Gaz asks after a small eternity.

You yawn. “What about me?”

“You got nicked too, didn’t you?”

Simon takes a second look at you and now that Gaz mentions it, you’re soaked in blood. Wet patches on your vest, your pants, dripping down your boots. It takes him a moment to notice the tear in your thigh, shredded flesh visible when you rock with the wind turbulence.

“Did I?” you wonder, glancing down like you only just noticed it.

Johnny curses, reaches for you - but you wave him off.

“It’s just a scratch,” you reply. “Barely even feel it, no worries.”

Then why is it still bleeding?

When the team lands, you hop off the heli without so much as a wince. Droplets of blood lead all the way back to your room.

(When Simon asks Nikolai about the hand-etching on your gun, he says the word means “promise.”)

In the after-action report, your callsign isn’t “Carry-On.” It’s Carrion.

Laswell takes you off the mission two months later, a joint assignment with KorTac. They send three operators to work with TF141 - Stiletto, Konig, and Nikto.

On the transport to infil, Simon notices the Russian inspecting his handgun in a seat separated from the rest of the squad. He recognizes the Cyrillic carved into the barrel this time: Promise.

It’s an eerie, creeping suspicion. An anxious fog rolling in.

It’s not one single thing that trips an alarm in Simon’s head, but a steady collation of oddities over months. A single arhythmic beat, a note off key. Just once or twice, but over and over until he can’t notice anything else.

You act just like yourself except for all the minute ways you don’t.

You smile big and wide, sunshine bright, when they make a good joke. Your laugh is still the same, bubbling up in your throat, head thrown back. You smell the same when you pass Simon in the hall, shampoo and soap that’s haunted him for a year and a half.

It’s insidiously subtle; he can’t pinpoint what it is for the longest time. Your mannerisms are almost too practiced, the cadence of your voice too measured. A missing turn of phrase you often used, replaced by something unfamiliar.

Simon dismisses it as guilt-laden paranoia. The two of you ended on bad terms with a year and half worth of space between. He’s hardly one to gauge what’s normal for you anymore.

And besides, the few times someone else has noticed at those tiny yet all-too-obvious inconsistencies, you shrug it off as something you picked up while away.

But he catches Johnny’s brows furrow one afternoon as you light up a cig (after swearing for years that you’d never pick up the habit) and Simon knows he’s beginning to see it too.

“You ever notice,” Gaz begins slowly. You’re the only one missing from the rec room this evening, retired with a drawn-out yawn. “That Carrion always mentions being away, but never talks about it?”

Simon stills. Johnny’s eyes fly to Price, who’s grimly tapping at his crossword puzzle.

“The file’s redacted,” he says. He’s seen it too then, tried to investigate for himself.

“That’s normal for a mission like that,” Simon reasons carefully.

“I don’t mean the mission,” Price says. “I mean Carrion’s file.”

“This is a good movie,” you mumble from the armchair you’ve stolen from Price. “What’s it called?”

Simon exchanges glances with the rest of the team. No one points out that this is (used to be?) your favorite.

Price looks into the team you were loaned out to. All were KIA or remain MIA. All but one. His file has been scrubbed too, the only documents readable are discharge orders and a PMC contract, both associated with the callsign “Nikto.”

They’re running out of time.

Less than 36 hours on the clock with only one lead, and it’s a zealot with a suicide pact. Price and Laswell both took a crack at him with nothing to show for it. Even Ghost has gotten hardly anything and he’s running out of nails. With time, he might get something useful, but they don’t have much of that left.

In the anteroom looking into interrogation, you’ve been observing through the one-way glass with your hands in your pockets, head tilted, expression serene.

Price and Laswell are discussing strategy, contingencies. Gaz and Johnny are throwing in their two cents, but Simon… Simon is watching you.

Like medical, torture used to be your Achilles. You were trained like the rest of the team, but there was never any need for you to step into the room yourself. Hell, you were a last resort even for observation or emergency resuscitation. No one blamed you for having a weak stomach for information extraction.

But today, you glance over your shoulder and make eye contact with Laswell.

“I’ll handle it,” you say with an air of finality.

The room goes silent. Price opens his mouth, but it’s Laswell that speaks, voice hard with resignation.

“Do it.”

You don’t blink. “Yes, ma’am.”

You walk out the door without a backwards glance, shoulders loose but each step steady and purposeful.

“What the hell is going on, Kate?” Price demands.

Kate sighs, looks away as you enter the interrogation room.

“Let’s do this outside. It won’t take long to get that intel.”

The only thing she’s able to share is that you and your team were captured. For a long time. And then you’re already stepping out of the interrogation room, wiping your bloodied hands off on an old rag.

There’s an unusual glint in your eye, an unnatural stillness in your expression.

“Got what we need,” you announce cheerfully.

[emchante]

okay okayy from your prompt list would you consider using “ghosting their lips against yours before pulling back with a smug smirk, making you chase them desperately” and “pulling them closer by their belt” with franco?

crossing the line - f.c

masterlist | requesting rules

prompts: “ghosting their lips against yours before pulling back with a smirk” + “pulling them closer by the belt”

summary: after a long day together, you and franco relax in his apartment. there’s been an unspoken attraction between you both, and it finally bubbles over.

WARNINGS: nothing extreme or nsfw, gentle teasing and a make-out.

w.c. 1.2k+

a/n hii all! here’s a little franco blurb as a treat (esp for @yauchfilms !!) this is my first time writing for him, so i hope you all enjoy. more franco will definitely be on the way. let me know your thoughts via asks/anons, comments or reblogs. <3

it had been a long day. you were currently with franco, lounging in his apartment as what seemed to be indie music hummed softly from his speaker. the lights were dim, casting a warm glow throughout the room that helped bring the more relaxed vibe you were both going for.

it felt comfortable, natural— just the two of you winding down together like you usually did after a packed day. but today, it felt different.

in fact lately, there had been an undercurrent of something else.

it was in the way he looks at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention, or in the way he let his hands linger a little longer than considered friendly when he brushes past you. something unspoken, something that’s been quietly building between you both, as if waiting for a spark to set it off.

you weren’t certain about it all, though. it was no secret amongst your social group that you were infatuated with the boy. you feared your own feelings were deluding you, maybe making things up in your mind and justifying it because you had felt the same way.

“you’re staring at me,” franco murmured, interrupting your train of thought. you noticed how his lips quirked up into a smirk at your reaction, and you shook your head with a small smile.

he wasn’t wrong, you were staring at him while deep in thought. it was hard not to though, you felt the need to study his face and the way the light casted shadows upon it.

you wouldn’t admit it to him, though.

you scoffed and rolled your eyes at him, allowing the words to fall freely from your lips. “please, i’ve had to see it long enough today,” referring to the fact you’d been glued to each others sides the full day. “you wish.”

franco chuckled, leaning back against the sofa, as he stretched his arm in that casual, teasing way of his. “well, maybe i do.”

it was only a few seconds before you felt his hand on your shoulder, pulling you closer towards him. you didn’t object of course, allowing yourself to be moved farther into him.

his words hung between the both of you, heavier than you expected them to. it was very franco of him to drop small hints like these, leaving you second guessing yourself as usual. but this time, he didn’t pull back. instead, he continued to state into your eyes, an almost.. challenging glint within them. you felt the heat rising to your cheeks, a flutter of anticipation mixed with nerves.

you furrowed your brows at him, biting the inside of your cheek to steady yourself before you spoke up. “don’t start something you’re not going to finish, franco.”

“oh?” he raised his brows, tilting his head lightly to the side and you could see the playful spark light up in his expression. franco leaned in closer, beginning to close the distance between you, his face inches from yours. his voice dropped to a whisper as he murmured, “what if i do, corazona?”

your heart was pounding, each beat echoing in your chest as his breath mingled with your own. the closeness along with the term of endearment.. it was beginning to get a little too much. your eyes widened slightly as you watched his gaze flick to your lips before he licked his own, moving his eyes to peer back to yours.

you could barely breathe normally, so much so that the rhythm had become more labored subconsciously as you got caught up in your mind.

you began to lean in, eyes beginning to close as you got ready to settle into the kiss— but it never even happened.

franco had pulled back, smirk painted across his face as mischief lit up his gaze. the teasing lingered in the air, his retreat sparking more frustration within you. he looked so pleased with himself, and you knew he was, the chuckles and comments about the moment were enough to let you know. however, with your frustration came something else— adrenaline.

before you had time to think about it your hand was reaching forward, and you grabbed franco by the belt. your fingers curled into the fabric as you pulled him towards you, and it completely wiped the smirk off of his face. it was now franco with the widened eyes and shocked expression, which in turn made you smirk.

there was no time for teasing or dwelling on it though, as you moved your hands up to grab onto his shirt collar before pulling him down to meet your lips.

franco melted into the kiss instantly, moving his from from your shoulder as his hand moved to your face and cupped your cheek. the kiss was soft at first, tentative, like you were both savoring the taste of the moment, this leap of friendship into something more.

the restraint didn’t last long, though.

the months of tension, the quiet looks, the playful banter— it rushed forward all at once, sweeping you both up as the kiss deepened. it slow and intense, every touch adding to the moment. franco’s free hand slid around your waist to your back, pulling you right onto his lap.

you pulled away from the kiss momentarily, resting your forehead against his own. funnily enough, it was franco who was now chasing your lips. he cursed under this breath as he opened his eyes, a small smile on his face.

one of your hands made its way up into franco’s hair, combing your fingers through the back of it as you both sat in silence for a moment longer.

“it was about time,” franco muttered, swallowing thickly as a small chuckle escaped his lips. you rolled your eyes, shaking your head as you sighed at him.

you didn’t bother entertaining his teasing, simply muttering a “shut up” before your lips were back onto his. this kiss became heated much faster than anticipated. you tugged in franco’s hair, which caused a small moan to escape him before his tongue swiped along your bottom lip.

he moved his hand from your face to join his other at your waist for a few moments, before they trailed down to your ass. you pulled back the tiniest bit, muttering “watch yourself” before you leaned back in to continue.

your kisses were hungry, a rhythm of urgency and need, franco’s mouth hot and insistent against yours. you angled your face to continue deepening the kiss, as one of your hands moved to his jaw, holding it tightly.

after a few more moments of the heated makeout, you both pulled back— breathless with swollen lips. you licked your lips as you breathed heavily, trying to steady it back into its normal pace.

franco stared at you in slight awe at what had just happened, he had never expected you would be the one to finally initiate it. it was something he could get used to, though. and he didn’t have to dream about it for long.

within 30 minutes, you were both back in the frenzy of kissing each other like it was vital, like you’d lose each other if you stopped.

[eupheme]

okay but someone (you !!!) should write a cute little oneshot of that tik tok trend where you call logan your boyfriend (even though he’s your husband) and he is just not!!! happy!!! and all pouty about it !!!

ORRRRR (if not maybe both 👀) one where Logan is your boyfriend and you call him your husband and he just melts and is so happy to be around you and in your presence

everything you do is amazing!!! 💖💖💖

ooh hi hi anon! I’ve seen this trend and it’s so cute to think about Logan being like ‼️ about it - I did a little drabble for each scenario! I hope you like them! 💖 (and ahh, thank you so much!)

little games | logan howlett x f!reader

800 words | logan pov, fluff, possessive thoughts

After another long shift, your smile is all he needs.

Unable to help the tired curve of his lips as he hears your voice - the “hi honey” that you coo, from where you lean against the kitchen counter.

Phone tucked against your ear, a notebook and colorful pens splayed out in front of you.

“Sound goods, Saturday is great. Listen, I gotta go-,” Your attention pulls from him, though his eyes linger as he crouches - working on the laces of his boots.

Standing, just as he hears the rest of your goodbye.

“-my husband just got home.”

He almost trips.

Warmth floods through him, a cock of his head as he wonders if he misheard.

But his senses always had been keen.

“Mhmm.” You hum - as he slowly crosses the room. Coming up behind you, arms wrapping around your waist just as you wrap up your call.

Unable to help the tilt of his head - pressing his lips against your neck. Inhaling you, that pretty layer of scents that now linger in his home.

Something stirs, as he lets his mind run free.

“Yep,” You squirm, your hand layering over his, “See you then. Bye!”

He only gives you just enough space to twist yourself around. Still pinning you against the counter, his eyes darkened.

“Hi.” You smile, tipping your lips up to his, “Missed you.”

It’s murmured back, just as his mouth presses to yours. Sweet, when his tongue licks against your lip, his hands slipping up to cradle your jaw.

Letting himself imagine, for just a minute. Still quiet, when you pull away - the mark between his brow deepening.

Never one to beat around the bush, the words slipping before he can think too much about it.

“Called me your husband.” He husks, “You know that?”

He should catch that you’re not caught off-guard. That there’s almost a guilty flicker in your eye, before you’re inhaling a breath.

Head tilting to match his. His eyes dropping to where your tongue peeks out to wet your lip.

“Sorry, baby. Must have slipped up,” You shrug, shyly, “Did it bother you?”

The name curls in his chest, slipping around his ribs. Only adding to the flicker of desire, the soft warmth that’s settled beneath his skin.

“No.” He husks.

Dipping to kiss you again. Hips pressing flush, the curving ridge of his jeans indicating exactly how it made him feel.

“Not when it’s you saying it.”

Logan never really minds meeting the people you grew friendly with.

You attract them in a way he never did. Picking up the names of everyone in the apartment complex long before he does. The couple that live on the floor above. The old man and his dog three doors down.

Your hand patting his chest, as you stop to chat with an older woman at the base of the stairs.

“You remember Logan, right?” You ask her, “My boyfriend.”

And suddenly, he minds. Head whipping towards you so quickly his neck almost cracks.

Eyebrow arching as the women - Gladys - coos over them, the words petering out to white noise as he frowns.

“Husband.” Logan cuts in, gruffly - the gold glinting off his finger as he reaches out to shake her hand.

You giggle. Gladys only exclaims - and it’s all he can do to keep his jaw from clenching so hard his teeth crack.

A hand at your back, already guiding you towards the apartment before your goodbyes are finished. Backing you against the door the second it’s shut, as you blink up at him.

“Tryin’ to be cute?” He asks - and he can hear the edge in his voice, “Another one of your little games?”

Knows he hit the nail on the head when your teeth sink into your lip. Biting back a smile, as your voice pitches up.

“What do you mean?”

He huffs. Hands flattening against the wood - seeing how your eyes go wide as he leans in.

“Calling me your boyfriend.” Logan grits out, “When we both know how fucking eager you were to take my name.”

How wet it makes you, when he has you beneath him. Fingers entwined, a matching ring around yours.

There’s hunger in your eyes. His lips ghosting against yours - pulling away just as you lean to kiss him.

“Uh-uh.” His head shakes, “What am I?”

You pout, but he only hums - expectant. Possessive.

Logan’s voice dropping low.

“Come on, baby.” He coaxes, “Lemme hear you say it.”

Your scent blooms sweet, and he almost groans. Lets your lips press against his this time, your answer breathed out.

“My husband.”

“That’s my girl.” He smirks.

Kissing you soundly, then.

Already imaging how the cool press of his ring will feel when he’s got three fingers buried deep inside you.

Maybe then you won’t ‘forget’.

[yvesette]

BUZZCUT. | ── [ j.jh ]

── ⭒ staring .ᐟ ౨ৎ  jaehyun x afab!reader

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀　 　₊　˙　✃ ⋆　 † ⠀๋⠀₊ -

SUMMARY: ── in a bittersweet farewell, the night before your close childhood friend jaehyun leaves for military service you both take a walk along the han river as well as navigate your complicated feelings for each other.

GENRE: friends to lovers, SMUT (18+, mdni), angst, fluff, idol!jaehyun CW/TAGS: dom!jaehyun, sub!reader, oral (f receiving), fingering, piv sex, spanking, hair pulling, reader is refered to as a girl, praising, bigdick!jaehyun WORDS | 6.8k A/N | this is in honor of jaehyun's enlistment - enjoy !!

‪　 ゛ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ♡ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 𓈒 ◌ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

── the night is cool against your skin, a gentle breeze wrapping around you as you walk down the narrow streets, winding your way toward the river. your steps are deliberate, even though your heart thunders against your chest. you’re thinking too much, and you know it, letting each thought flicker and fold over the last like waves, endless and unknowable, churning somewhere deep inside you.

it’s been a long time, you think. a long time since you first saw him, all easy smiles and casual charm. a long time since you first felt that jolt of something you didn’t yet have a name for but that, in hindsight, you recognize as love. you’ve never told him, not once—not in all these years of close calls and almosts, of lingering touches and moments that you always held on to longer than you should have.

you inhale deeply, trying to slow the pace of your thoughts, but each step closer only winds you tighter. the han river glimmers faintly in the distance, a line of silver beneath the night sky. and there, by the water’s edge, is jaehyun. he’s leaning against the railing, looking out at the river, his face partially shadowed but somehow softer, framed by the quiet of the night. the sight of him, so familiar yet distant, almost pulls you to a stop.

there’s something about him tonight—a weight you hadn’t noticed before. it’s as if he, too, is looking to hold on to everything here, everything he’s about to leave behind. and yet, he doesn’t turn to look at you until you’re almost right next to him, his gaze steady as he catches your eye.

“you made it,” he says, that soft, reassuring warmth in his voice. his smile, though, is smaller than usual, like there’s something unsaid between you both, lingering just below the surface.

“i made it,” you answer, and you try to keep your tone light, but it comes out quiet, touched by an edge you didn’t mean to reveal. you’ve imagined this moment—this last chance to see him—over and over in your head, each version of it different. and yet, standing here now, everything you thought you might say seems to slip through your fingers.

he watches you carefully, that subtle intensity in his gaze, as if he’s trying to memorize the way you look, standing there in the glow of the distant city lights.

he clears his throat, breaking the silence as you both start walking along the path that follows the river's edge. “how’ve you been?” he asks, giving you a sidelong glance. it’s a simple question, and yet the softness of his tone makes it feel like he’s asking for something more, like he’s trying to make up for all the times he’s missed out on in the last few months.

you smile, shrugging lightly. “same old, same old. work, school—nothing too exciting. but you, mr. idol, you’ve been busy.” jaehyun chuckles, the sound low and warm, as he brushes his hair back with one hand. “yeah, i guess that’s one way to put it.” he looks down at his shoes for a moment before meeting your gaze again. “we were doing concerts. that’s why i’ve been, you know… hard to reach.”

you nod, already knowing. his life has been moving at a different pace—one that has taken him across oceans, into arenas filled with fans chanting his name. it’s a reality you’ve grown used to, but still, there’s a tiny ache whenever you remember how separate his world can sometimes feel from yours. but tonight, it’s as if none of that matters. tonight, he’s here, and there’s only the two of you.

“still can’t believe that’s real,” you say, nudging him lightly with your shoulder. “remember when you wouldn’t even sing in front of me?”

jaehyun laughs, shaking his head. “i was terrible back then. don’t lie to me.”

“no, i’m serious!” you grin, holding up your hands in mock surrender. “all those late nights, trying to get you to sing while we were ‘studying’ for exams. it was tragic—”

“oh, come on, it wasn’t that bad,” he interrupts, nudging you back with a smile that’s both embarrassed and pleased. “you’re making me sound hopeless.”

“hopeless? maybe a little,” you tease, watching his face light up in a way that feels achingly familiar, like something you want to freeze in time. “but i guess you’ve come a long way, huh?”

he nods, a soft hum in his voice. “feels like forever ago, though. remember the first time we stayed out all night? trying to find that coffee shop you swore was ‘just around the corner’?”

you laugh, covering your mouth at the memory. “and we got so lost! i was ready to give up, but you…” you trail off, looking at him with that same warmth, thinking of the way he had insisted on keeping on, even when you both had practically wandered into the outskirts of the city.

“i wasn’t about to let you down,” he finishes, a hint of pride in his voice.

the two of you continue walking, memories spilling out as naturally as the river flowing beside you. nights spent at convenience stores with cheap ramyeon and cola; that one time he convinced you to go to karaoke and made up for years of not singing; all the secrets you whispered between laughter and yawns, half-asleep in the early morning light.

and yet, despite the familiarity, tonight is different. the laughter dies down quicker, and each memory feels like a bittersweet treasure, something you’re both afraid to hold too tightly for fear it will slip away. you’re acutely aware of every step, every glance, every brush of his shoulder against yours. it’s all slipping through your fingers, each second a reminder that you’re both on the brink of a sort-of goodbye.

the quiet stretches out between you as you walk, and though his hand rests loosely in his pocket, jaehyun’s other hand rises to press his fingertips to his mouth, lost in thought. his gaze wanders out over the river, his usual warmth dimming, replaced by something heavier. it lingers in the air around him, that tension, that uncertainty—like the night itself is waiting to exhale.

“honestly… i don’t know what to expect.” his voice is lower now, almost a whisper that the wind could easily snatch away. “everyone says you just get through it. that it’s over before you know it. but…” he trails off, his words floating into the dark like something fragile and fleeting. “it’s strange, thinking that life just… pauses. for two years.”

you walk a few more paces, silent, each step a reminder of time slipping by too fast. you look at him out of the corner of your eye, trying to hold onto the image: the faint furrow of his brow, the set of his jaw, that expression he wears when he’s trying to seem brave but doesn’t quite manage it. and your own heart twists at the sight of him—of jaehyun, here with you, with all the things you’ve never said pressing against your chest. but you push it down, that ache, until it’s tucked somewhere deep inside you. instead, you reach out, letting your hand rest on his arm, feeling the warmth of him under your fingertips.

“you’ll be okay yuno,” you say quietly, feeling the words reverberate through you, anchoring you to this moment. “you’ve always found a way to be.”

he looks at you then, really looks at you, like he’s seeing something for the first time. there’s a hint of disbelief in his eyes, almost as if he wants to question what you’ve just said, even using his real name - to pick it apart. but he doesn’t. he just nods, a faint, grateful smile tracing his lips.

“sometimes i think you believe in me more than i do,” he murmurs. “like you’ve always known something i haven’t.”

you want to say something to that, to answer, to reach through all these walls of silence that have built up between you over the years, but you don’t. instead, you only look back at him, holding your smile steady, letting the quiet carry all the things you can’t say.

after a moment, you find a bench tucked away at the edge of the path, overlooking the river’s glimmering surface. the world around you fades into the background, and for a brief moment, it’s just the two of you, suspended in this fragile stillness. as you sit, jaehyun turns toward you, his fingers brushing against yours before he takes your hand fully, squeezing it gently.

“i don’t know what i’d do without you,” he admits, his voice steady but low, a hint of vulnerability hidden beneath the surface.

your heart races at the contact, warmth spreading through you like a soft glow. you’re on the verge of confessing everything—the weight of your feelings that you’ve kept hidden, the love that has thrived in the silence between you. but you hold back, unwilling to add any more emotional weight to a goodbye that’s already too heavy. instead, you meet his gaze, trying to capture this moment, every detail of him etched in your mind—his soft features, the way his eyes reflect the shimmering river, the gentle press of his hand against yours.

jaehyun clears his throat, breaking the quiet between you. “it’s getting cold,” he says, his voice soft, almost reluctant. “i’ll walk you home.”

you nod, and without another word, you both stand, falling into step beside each other. the silence between you now is thick, layered with the things neither of you have said, and each step you take feels heavier, like the night itself is pressing down, reminding you that this is the last time—for a good while—that you’ll have him beside you like this.

the streets are emptier now, just the distant glow of streetlights casting long shadows as you walk side by side. you can feel the tension building, each step drawing you closer to the inevitable. your hand brushes his once, and though neither of you speaks, there’s a quiet comfort in that brief, familiar contact. when you finally reach your apartment, you stop, and jaehyun does too. he stands there, looking at you with an expression you can’t quite read—something mingling with the sadness in his eyes, a softness, a question, maybe. and he hesitates, his hand hovering just beside yours as if he wants to reach for you, as if he’s searching for something in your face that he’s not sure he’ll find.

jaehyun’s gaze flickers, lingering on you as if he’s committing every detail to memory. he rubs the back of his neck, breaking eye contact for a second before looking back at you.

“so…” he begins, his voice barely above a whisper, carrying the weight of all the unspoken words between you. “guess this is it, huh?” you force a smile, nodding even though it feels like your chest is tightening. “yeah. tomorrow.”

he bites his lip, his eyes searching yours, like he’s waiting for you to say something, anything to make this moment last longer. “it’s just… i don’t know. doesn’t feel real yet.”

you swallow, the words caught in your throat. “it doesn’t,” you reply softly, your voice barely steady. “we’ll still call and text all the time…and if you want we can hang out every other weekend or something.”

jaehyun’s expression softens, the corners of his mouth twitching into a small, sad smile. “you’ve been there for everything,” he says, his voice quiet, almost as if he’s admitting a secret. “since we were kids. it’s hard to think of… going through something without you around.”

your heart races at his words, and you force yourself to hold his gaze, even though every instinct tells you to look away, to hide what you’re feeling. “i’ll still be here,” you say, and the promise feels fragile, yet unbreakable, hanging in the space between you.

he lets out a small breath, his hand lifting as if on instinct, brushing your cheek, his fingers barely grazing your skin. “i know you will.” his voice catches, and for a moment, you see something raw in his eyes—a tenderness that feels almost too much to bear.

you stand there, suspended in the silence that follows, the weight of everything unsaid filling the space between you. and before you can second-guess yourself, before you can think of all the reasons not to, you close the distance, pressing your lips to his. his hand slips around to the back of your neck, gentle but firm, as if grounding you both in this moment, and he kisses you back, slow and unhurried, like he, too, is trying to capture everything he feels in this one breath, this one touch. the kiss starts softly, a gentle brush of lips that feels almost tentative, as if you’re both testing the waters of this new territory. but as the world around you fades, that initial hesitation melts away. the warmth of his hand cradling your neck sends a shiver down your spine, igniting something deep within you that has long been simmering beneath the surface.

jaehyun's lips are sweet, tinged with the warmth of honey and a hint of smoky undertones from the cigarette he smoked earlier. his lips move against yours with increasing urgency, a mix of longing and a bittersweet awareness that time is slipping away. you lean into him, feeling the solid weight of him against you, and it’s as if every memory, every unspoken word, pours into that moment—every shared glance, every moment of laughter—colliding in time.

jaehyun deepens the kiss, tilting his head slightly, and you feel his breath against your skin, warm and inviting, igniting a fire that spreads through you. it’s a heady mix of sweetness and heat, and you find yourself responding instinctively, matching his intensity, losing yourself in the sensation of him.

your heart races as you feel his fingers slide into your hair, pulling you closer, anchoring you to him as if he fears letting go. the world around you blurs, the distant sounds of the city fading into a dull hum, leaving only the two of you, caught in this fragile moment that feels both infinite and fleeting.

breathless, you pull away just enough to rest your forehead against his, the warmth of his skin lingering. your eyes meet, and in that charged silence, a shared understanding pulses between you—fragile yet undeniable. with a shaky breath, you fumble for your keys, the metal cool against your palm as you unlock the door, hands trembling. jaehyun steps in behind you, his presence a comforting weight, solid and unwavering in the dim light.

the moment the door closes, he's there, pulling you close again. his lips find yours in the dim light of your apartment, urgent and needy. you melt into him, your fingers tangling in his hair as he walks you backwards toward the couch. the familiar scent of his cologne envelops you, a heady mix of leather and lillies that makes your head spin. your legs hit the edge of the couch, and jaehyun gently lowers you onto the soft cushions. he follows, his body a comforting weight above you as he settles on top of you.

“god, i’ll miss this,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb along your jaw. then, without another word, he kisses down your neck, his lips trailing warmth that ignites every nerve in your body. you gasp softly, feeling the heat radiate from him, his touch igniting a fire deep within you.

“jaehyun…” you breathe, your voice a mixture of longing and urgency. “i wanna remember this.”

his kisses trail back to your lips, deepening as he pours everything he feels into the moment, as if to make sure you both carry it with you, etched into your hearts. “are you sure?” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin, “that you want this.”

you nod, your eyes locked with his. "i promise," you whisper back, “i’ve thought about this for so long.”

jaehyun’s eyes soften, a blend of tenderness and desire flickering within their depths. he shifts slightly, fingers finding the hem of his shirt, and you hold your breath as he pulls it over his head, revealing the smooth contours of his chest and abs. the dim light from the street outside casts shadows that accentuate every curve, transforming him into a living, breathing sculpture.

without thinking, your hands reach out, tracing the lines of his torso as if drawn by an invisible thread. his skin is warm beneath your fingertips, a tangible warmth that makes your heart race. you marvel at the firmness of his abdomen, the subtle ridges etched from countless hours of dance practice and grueling workouts.

a soft hitch escapes jaehyun’s breath at your touch, his gaze darkening with desire as he watches you explore. hesitantly, you reach for the hem of your sweater. jaehyun's eyes follow your movements as you slowly pull it up and over your head, revealing the delicate lace of your bra underneath. the cool air of the apartment raises goosebumps on your skin.

jaehyun's gaze is reverent as he takes in the sight of you. his fingertips ghost along your collarbone, tracing a feather-light path down to the swell of your breasts. you shiver at his touch.

“is this okay?” he asks softly, his hands hovering at the clasp of your bra, the question hanging in the air like a fragile promise. you nod, unable to find your voice, the weight of his gaze anchoring you as he leans closer, a whisper of breath brushing against your skin.

with gentle fingers, jaehyun unhooks your bra, his touch reverent as he slides the straps down your shoulders. the fabric falls away, revealing your breasts to his gaze. his eyes darken with desire as he takes in the sight of you, vulnerable yet unafraid beneath him.

"so fucking pretty," he murmurs, voice husky with emotion. he lowers his head, pressing a soft kiss to the curve of your neck. his lips trail downward, leaving a path of warmth across your collarbone. when he reaches your breast, he pauses, his breath hot against your skin. then his mouth closes around your nipple, drawing a gasp from your lips.

his tongue swirls patterns as he sucks gently, sending sparks of pleasure through your body. one hand cups your other breast, thumb brushing over the sensitive peak. you arch into him, a gasp escaping your lips. one of his hands kneads your other breast as he lavishes attention on the first. the dual sensations make your head spin. jaehyun releases your tit with a soft pop, his eyes meeting yours as he begins to trail kisses down your body. his lips brush against your sternum, then trace a path down the center of your abdomen. each touch is feather-light yet charged, sending shivers cascading through you.

he takes his time, mapping the landscape of your skin with worshipful attention. his tongue dips into the hollow of your navel, eliciting a soft gasp. you feel the curve of his smile against your skin as he continues lower, his teeth lightly scraping your sensitive flesh.

jaehyun's fingers trace along the waistband of your skirt, his touch light as a whisper. he looks up at you, eyes dark with desire but still seeking permission. "can i take this off?" he asks softly, his voice low and loving.

you nod, breath catching in your throat as he slowly unzips your skirt. he slides it down your legs, his hands caressing your thighs as he goes. the cool air raises goosebumps on your newly exposed skin.

jaehyun's gaze travels over you reverently, taking in every curve and dip of your body. his fingers ghost along the lace edge of your panties, barely touching. "you're so beautiful," he murmurs, “let me take care of you baby.”

he presses a kiss to your inner thigh, just above your knee. then another, slightly higher. his lips trail a path of fire up your limbs and when he reaches the edge of your panties, he pauses, looking up at you with dark, desire-filled eyes. "god, you're so wet," he murmurs, his voice low and cursing. "fucking soaked, all for me.."

his fingers trace along the damp lace, barely ghosting over your most sensitive areas. even that faint touch sends sparks of pleasure coursing through you. you squirm slightly, desperate for more contact and whimper.

"such pretty noises," he purrs. "i wonder how you'll sound when i really touch you."

"please," you whimper, not even caring how needy you sound.

a slow smile spreads across jaehyun's face. "please what?" he asks, his tone commanding. "tell me what you want, baby."

"touch me," you gasp. "please, i need you to touch me."

your breath catches as he hooks his fingers under the waistband of your panties. with agonizing slowness, he slides them down your legs, his touch leaving trails of fire in its wake. the fabric clings to your damp skin as he peels it away, exposing you fully to his hungry gaze.

jaehyun's eyes roam over you, drinking in every detail. his hands caress your thigh, “perfect fucking pussy, better than i ever imagined..” he praises, before his tongue finally makes contact with your folds, you gasp at the sensation. he starts with long, slow licks, savoring your taste as he explores every inch. his hands grip your thighs, holding you steady as he works.

jaehyun's tongue swirls around your clit before sucking gently, sending waves of pleasure through you. he alternates between broad strokes and focused attention, building your arousal steadily higher. you thread your fingers through his hair, guiding him where you need him most.

jaehyun holds your trembling thighs firmly apart, his strong hands steady and warm against your skin. his touch is gentle yet insistent, opening you up to his hungry gaze. jaehyun's tongue delves deeper, parting your folds and exploring every sensitive ridge and valley. he hums softly against you, the vibrations sending shivers through your core. his fingers dig into the soft flesh of your thighs, anchoring you as pleasure builds within you.

you feel the heat of his breath against your most intimate places as he works, alternating between broad strokes of his tongue and focused attention on your clit. each pass sends sparks of sensation coursing through you. your hips begin to rock involuntarily, seeking more friction.

"such a good girl," jaehyun murmurs against you, his voice low and husky. "i love how you taste."

he slides one finger inside you, curling it upwards as his tongue continues to lavish attention on your clit. the dual sensations make you gasp, your back arching off the couch and you curse.

jaehyun slides one hand up your body to cup your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers. the added stimulation heightens every sensation, making you gasp and writhe beneath him. your fingers tangle in his hair, holding him close as your hips begin to move of their own accord.

you arch your back, grinding against his mouth as the tension mounts. soft whimpers and gasps fall from your lips, growing more desperate as you climb higher. jaehyun redoubles his efforts, sucking your clit between his lips as he slides another finger inside you. the dual stimulation has you seeing stars. his fingers curl, finding that perfect spot inside you as his tongue lashes your clit. you cry out, your hips bucking against his face as the first waves of orgasm crash over you. jaehyun doesn’t stop, only slows his efforts as you come down from your high. after you catch your breath, he moves his head from your thighs and moves up over you to kiss you.

jaehyun's lips meet yours in a deep, sensual kiss that is almost like a thank-you from you. you taste yourself on his tongue - tangy and sweet with a hint of musk. as he presses his body closer, you feel the hard length of his cock through his sweatpants, hot and insistent against your thigh. the thin fabric does little to conceal his arousal. the heat of him sears into your skin, igniting a fresh wave of desire low in your belly. your hands roam over the planes of his back, tracing the lean muscles there. his skin is fever-warm, and you pull back from kissing him to look down at the print of him through his pants. you make eye contact, and there’s a question hanging in the air along with the heavy breathing of you both.

you break the beat of silence, “i want to,” you say, giving him the permission that he needed.

jaehyun pulls away slightly, his eyes still locked on yours, the heat of the moment lingering in the air. with a quick, decisive movement, he gets up from the couch, the dim light casting soft shadows over his form.

“condom?” he asks.

“it’s in my bedside table,” you reply, watching him as he nods and strides toward the bedroom.

as he disappears from view, the atmosphere shifts. you stare up at the ceiling, feeling the room spin slightly, an unexpected loneliness settling in without his presence. the faint sounds of the city outside filter in, but they feel distant and hollow compared to the warmth he brought just moments before.

a part of you aches for him, for that connection you’ve both been dancing around for so long. time stretches as you wait, heart pounding in your chest, your thoughts swirling with anticipation and uncertainty.

finally, he returns, the confident smile back on his lips, and in his hand is the small foil wrapper. the moment he steps into the light, the heaviness in the air dissipates, replaced by a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins. you sit up as he slips down his sweatpants and boxers.

as jaehyun's sweatpants fall away, your breath catches in your throat. his cock springs free, thick and hard, jutting proudly from a nest of dark curls. your eyes widen, taking in the impressive sight before you. he's long - longer than you expected - and girthy, the shaft curved slightly upward. the head is flushed a deep pink, a bead of precum glistening at the tip. the sight of him, fully aroused and wanting you, sends a fresh wave of heat through your core.

you swallow hard, a mix of desire and nervousness fluttering in your stomach as he gives it a few pumps, wrapping his veiny hands around his length and then slipping the condom on.

you lay back against the arm of the couch, heart pounding as jaehyun moves over you. his eyes are dark with desire as he positions himself between your spread legs. you feel exposed yet safe under his gaze.

jaehyun braces one hand beside your head, using the other to guide his cock to your entrance. the latex-covered tip brushes against your sensitive folds, making you gasp. he runs it up and down your slit, coating himself in your wetness. when he reaches your clit, he circles it slowly, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through you.

jaehyun's eyes lock with yours, his gaze intense and full of longing. the air between you is charged, buzzed with anticipation. he runs the tip of his cock along your folds once more, coating himself in your slick heat.

"god, you're so wet for me," he murmurs, his voice rough. "such a good fucking girl, all ready to take my cock.”

his praise sends a shiver down your spine, arousal pooling low in your belly. your breath catches in your throat as he begins to push forward, stretching you slowly inch by delicious inch. you gasp at the fullness, your body adjusting to accommodate his impressive girth. he moves with careful control, giving you time to adjust. when he's fully sheathed inside you, he pauses, letting you adjust to his size. his breath is ragged against your neck, his body trembling slightly with the effort of holding still. his breath ghosts over your skin as he leans in close, his lips brushing against your ear. "that's it, baby," he praises, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "take me in. you're doing so well."

you whimper softly, rocking your hips to encourage him to move. jaehyun takes the hint, slowly withdrawing before thrusting back in. he sets a steady rhythm, each stroke long and deep.

"fuck, you're so tight," he groans, his voice low and husky in your ear. "such a perfect little pussy, taking my cock just right."

jaehyun's thrusts become faster and more urgent, his hips snapping against yours with each movement. your bodies move together in a perfect rhythm, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.

"yuno," you moan, your hands gripping onto his shoulders as he pounds into you, “feels so good, oh my god.” he leans down to capture your lips in a hungry kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth as he continues to move inside you.

jaehyun's thrusts grow more powerful, driving deep into your core with each movement. the couch creaks softly beneath you as he picks up the pace. you feel every inch of him sliding in and out, the delicious friction sending waves of pleasure through your body.

his hands grip your hips tightly, angling you to hit that perfect spot inside. you cry out as he brushes against it, sparks of sensation radiating outward. jaehyun groans in response, the sound low and primal.

you can feel the tension building in your lower belly, a coiling heat that threatens to consume you. jaehyun must sense it too, because he redoubles his efforts. his hips snap against yours forcefully, driving into you with renewed vigor.

just as you're teetering on the edge, jaehyun slows his movements, pulling almost all the way out before sinking back in torturously slowly. you whimper at the change of pace, your body aching for more. he repeats the motion several times, drawing out each thrust until you're writhing beneath him.

"please," you gasp, "i need more."

jaehyun kisses you deeply before pulling out completely. "turn around for me, baby," he murmurs, his voice insistent. you listen, adjusting your position until you’re on your hands and knees and he’s behind you.

jaehyun's hands grip your hips firmly as he positions himself behind you. you feel the blunt head of his cock pressing against your entrance, teasing you. he runs it along your slick folds, coating himself in your arousal.

the anticipation builds as he lines himself up, the tip just barely breaching you. before you can respond, jaehyun snaps his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt in one powerful thrust. you cry out at the sudden fullness, your fingers gripping the couch cushions tightly. he gives you only a moment to adjust before pulling back and slamming in again.

jaehyun sets a punishing pace, his hips pistoning against you. the new angle allows him to hit spots deep inside that make you see stars. jaehyun's hands grip your hips tightly as he pounds into you from behind, his movements growing more frenzied. the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, punctuated by your breathless moans and his low grunts.

"god, you feel so fucking good," he groans, his voice rough with desire. "my perfect baby, s-so fucking tight."

his praise sends shivers down your spine, arousal pooling low in your belly. you arch your back, pushing your hips back to meet his thrusts. the new angle allows him to hit even deeper, brushing against that spot inside you that makes you see stars. suddenly, jaehyun's hand comes down on your ass with a sharp crack. the sting blooms across your skin, quickly followed by a wave of heat. you arch your back, changing the angle slightly, and cry out as he hits that perfect spot deep inside you. jaehyun notices your reaction and adjusts his movements to hit that same spot with each thrust.

jaehyun's hand slides up your back, fingers tangling in your hair. he grips it firmly, tugging your head back as he continues to thrust into you. the slight pain mingles with pleasure, heightening every sensation. you gasp at the new angle, feeling him even deeper inside you.

"that's it, baby," he growls, his voice low and husky. "take it all for me." his hips snap against yours with renewed vigor, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. the couch creaks beneath you, the sound barely audible over your breathless moans and the slap of skin on skin.

jaehyun's grip on your hair tightens, pulling your head back further. “gonna c-come,” you manage to get out. the arch in your spine deepens, changing the angle just enough to hit that perfect spot inside you with every stroke.

“be a good fucking girl and come for me baby,” he says, leaning against your ear. stars explode behind your eyes as waves of pleasure crash over and you scream his name. jaehyun's grunts become more urgent as he continues to thrust into you, riding out your orgasm. he can feel you clenching tightly around him, milking him for all he's worth. with a loud groan, he follows you over the edge, his hips stuttering as he empties himself inside you.

jaehyun carefully pulls out, both of you wincing slightly at the loss of contact. he sits up, running a hand through his tousled hair as he catches his breath. the dim light from the street outside casts a soft glow on his skin, highlighting the sheen of sweat on his chest.

with a quiet grunt, he stands and makes his way to the small trash can beside the couch. you watch the play of muscles in his back and legs as he moves, admiring the lean strength of his body. he removes the condom and ties it off before tossing it in the bin.

jaehyun turns back to you, a soft smile playing on his lips. his hair is a mess, sticking up in wild tufts where you ran your fingers through it. he ruffles it absently, making it even more chaotic. you run a hand through his hair and scowl playfully when you feel how sweaty he is.

"gross," you tease, wiping your hand on his shirt. "you're all sticky."

jaehyun's smile widens, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "you weren't complaining a few minutes ago," he quips, his voice low, “and say goodbye to my hair - i’m shaving it tomorrow.”

you feel a blush creep up your neck, remembering the heated moments that led to his current disheveled state, and then a sadness rushes over you - that he’s leaving tomorrow. jaehyun notices your reaction and chuckles softly, pulling you closer. his arms wrap around your waist, and you can feel the warmth radiating from his body as he grabs a blanket from the other side of the couch and places it over you both.

"what's on your mind, beautiful?" he murmurs, his breath tickling your ear. you hesitate, not wanting to ruin the moment with your woeful thoughts.

"it's nothing," you reply, forcing a smile. but jaehyun knows you too well. his fingers gently tilt your chin up, brown eyes searching yours.

"tell me," he insists softly.

you sigh, your defenses crumbling under his gaze. "i just… i can’t believe you’re leaving tomorrow. it feels too soon."

his expression shifts, the teasing glimmer fading as he brushes a thumb across your cheek. "yeah, i get it. it’s not easy."

"but what if things change?" you murmur, your heart tightening at the thought.

jaehyun raises an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "change? as in me forgetting you? not a chance. you think i could forget the girl who drove me crazy for all these years?"

you roll your eyes, but there’s a flutter of anticipation in your stomach. "well, you’re going to be busy with training and everything else."

he leans closer, his breath warm against your skin. "busy? sure. but you think i’ll be able to focus when all i can think about is you? not a chance."

your heart skips a beat, and you can’t help but tease back. "is that your way of saying you’ll miss me?"

jaehyun chuckles softly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "it’s my way of saying you better miss me too. because i’m about to confess something."

you lean in, curiosity piqued. "what’s that?"

jaehyun's expression shifts, becoming more serious as he searches your eyes. "i’m in love with you. like, really in love with you. i think about you all the time—when i'm practicing, when i'm on stage, even when i'm just hanging out with the guys. it’s like you're always there in the back of my mind."

your breath catches, the weight of his words settling around you. "but… why didn’t you say anything before?"

he runs a hand through his hair, a nervous habit you’ve come to know well. "i didn’t want to ruin what we have. i thought maybe it was better to keep it as friends. but now? i want to try things with you. i want to see where this goes."

the confession hangs in the air between you, charged with possibility. you can feel your pulse quickening, excitement mingling with uncertainty. "and what if it doesn’t work out? the timing of this is just-"

jaehyun shakes his head, his brow furrowing slightly. "i don’t care about timing. what matters is how i feel, and i can’t let that go without saying something. i want you in my life, no matter how far apart we are."

you raise an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at your lips. "you make it sound so easy. you do realize i’m not just some object you can claim when you feel like it, right?"

he chuckles, leaning closer, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "oh, i’m fully aware. that’s why i’m trying to make my move before someone else scoops you up."

you laugh lightly, shaking your head. "good luck with that. i’m pretty sure no one else would bother trying."

"yeah? you think i’m the only one?" he teases, raising an eyebrow. "you must have a whole line of admirers waiting."

"right, because i’m just so irresistible," you reply, a smirk on your lips. "but let’s be real. you’re the only one who’s actually putting in the work."

jaehyun’s smile fades just a little as he leans back, studying you. "look, i know this isn’t easy. but i don’t want to just be some random fling. i want to be in your life, no matter where we are."

you take a breath, weighing his words. "and if things get complicated? you know they will."

he shrugs, unfazed. "shit’s always complicated. but i’d rather deal with that than let this slip away. you’re worth the trouble."

you meet his gaze, feeling the sincerity behind his words. "okay, i get it. but don’t think i’m going to make this easy for you."

he smirks, the challenge evident in his eyes. "i wouldn’t want it any other way."

-

the morning light filters in through the window, casting a soft glow on the cluttered room, and you find yourself perched on a stool, an electric razor in your hand, staring at jaehyun’s reflection in the bathroom mirror. he sits in a chair, a towel draped around his shoulders, looking slightly apprehensive but oddly amused by the situation.

“are you sure you want to do this?” he asks, a teasing lilt in his voice that doesn’t quite mask the tension beneath. you grip the razor tighter, suddenly aware of how little you know about haircuts.

“i kinda have to,” jaehyun replies, a hint of seriousness creeping into his tone, “no long hair.”

you nod and take a deep breath, bringing the razor closer. with a gentle buzz, the razor hums to life, and you press it against his scalp. the sound is oddly satisfying, a gentle roar that fills the small space, and you watch as a tuft of hair falls away, landing softly on the towel draped around his shoulders.

“oh my god!” you squeal, barely able to contain your dumbfoundedness. you can’t help but laugh at the sight of jaehyun’s shocked expression, a blend of surprise and amusement. you can’t stop the laughter bubbling up as you buzz away the rest of his hair, the once dark locks falling in tufts around him. each pass of the razor reveals more of his scalp, and soon he’s left with a clean, smooth surface that glints in the morning light.

jaehyun tilts his head, a teasing grin spreading across his face. “so, how do i look? sexy?”

the question hangs in the air, and without thinking, you lean in and press a soft kiss to his lips, the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips sending a rush of warmth through you. his surprise melts into a smile, and you pull away slightly, a grin still playing on your lips as you meet his gaze.

　　 　˳ 　 　౨౿　　⁺　　༄　　　༝　 　 end.

copywrite @yvesette 2024

[fierceawakening]

It depends on what liberalism means exactly. I don’t know how old you are or whether you’re in the US, but I’m in my 40s and USian, and for most of my life “liberal” was how you said leftist in any sense, which is part of why o ask what people mean by it. Popular T shirt during the W years was DAMN right I’m a LIBERAL.

(“I’m a liberal” might have meant “I’m not a communist.” I can’t tell from your replies here whether you are one, but if you are and are disliking that I’m not, that’s a bit less baffling but we’re probably at an impasse. I know people whose close family members were slaughtered by Mao, so “we can try this again and it’ll work” wouldn’t likely sway me without a lot of clear argument for how we keep it from degenerating into that.)

So yeah that word doesn’t have negative connotations for me. I’m pretty sure the word people use now for what we meant then is “progressive,” but I could not quite be one of those depending on where the cutoff is which is why I keep… asking… where the cutoff is?

There’s also “liberalism” in a different sense which refers I *think* to Enlightenment thought in general. It’s been many long years since i studied enlightenment thinkers, and back when I did I was an older teenager and hadn’t done much questioning of a lot of things. But the primary thing that struck me when I read people like Kant, Locke, etc. was that they had a vision of everyone being fundamentally equal in worth, and things like race or religion as incidental, kind of like the cherries on a sundae.

This is both good and bad, or at least that’s where I eventually landed with all that.

The good part is that sometimes aggregating everyone helps get rid of bias in the way things are run. Think about women gaining the vote, or poll taxes being struck down so black people could vote. We’re all fundamentally the same. We all fundamentally should get the same say.

(Donald Trump in the US is currently threatening this. Many if not most people consider that a five alarm fire. If he gets to dismantle or corrode this, people will suffer greatly. A lot of people, in my not so humble opinion, will die.)

The bad part is that sometimes there’s a broad history of discrimination and repression. When that’s the case, sometimes recalibrating the measurements to zero everything out doesn’t do enough. Societal histories reverberate, and undoing the damage is hard, long term, and careful work.

Acknowledgement of this is often the difference between “liberals” in the sense of “progressives” and “conservatives,” who tend to think traditions are important and worth preserving even if they create inequalities (and, as they get more openly fascist, may value these traditions precisely BECAUSE they create inequalities.)

So if the question is “do I think that lasting inequality needs to be addressed in social policy,” yes? But I’d think most left leaning people believe that?

Most feminists I’ve met do too I think. I guess we could say there are a few people out there who are a blend of conservatism (or libertarianism?) and feminism, like Wendy McElroy, but I’d be inclined to just say libertarians at that point.

So once again: which definition of liberalism are we using here? *Who* are we insulting?

But yeah if you’re asking in the US politics sense I’d call myself progressive, though the old term was “liberal” and that feels less weird.

Mostly in agreement with Bernie and AOC?

…So now I’ve made a long effortpost explaining my politics in detail. Are you willing to do the same, or are you just going to keep insulting me while not opening your own beliefs to scrutiny as well?

[Tiktok user Clairrorism]

[solxamber]

Desperate Confessions with: Riddle Rosehearts , Leona Kingscholar

Riddle Rosehearts

It’s almost dark when you finally step out of the library. The entire campus is steeped in the quiet warmth of the setting sun, casting long shadows and filling the air with a golden glow. You spot Riddle just a few paces away, standing by the ivy-laden wall, seemingly waiting for you. His usual composure is absent, replaced by an odd stillness in his posture, a tension that you can feel even from here.

"Riddle?" you ask, concern coloring your voice as you approach him. He turns, and for a moment, he doesn’t seem like himself. His face is flushed, his gaze intense, almost… desperate.

“You’re here,” he says quietly, almost in relief, though the softness of his words belies a turmoil simmering beneath. "I didn’t expect you to come out this late."

You tilt your head, trying to read the unspoken thoughts in his expression, but he doesn’t give you a chance. “I… need to tell you something.” His voice is tight, as though he’s struggling against himself to form the words. His hands are clenched at his sides, and he looks as if he’s trying to steady his breathing. “It’s—it’s been too much lately, and I don’t think I can keep pretending I’m…unaffected by you."

For a moment, he closes his eyes, and when he opens them again, they hold a vulnerability you’ve rarely seen. "You’ve haunted my thoughts, day and night. Every time I see you, I—I’m left wondering if I’ll be able to speak without… without feeling like my heart will burst. I feel like I’m losing control of myself whenever you’re near.”

His cheeks flush deeper, but he doesn’t look away. "I’m embarrassed by it. This—this lack of control.” His voice breaks, just a bit, and you can hear the self-criticism beneath his words. “I’ve spent my whole life restraining myself, and then you—” He takes a shaky breath. “You come into my life, and suddenly… I can’t.”

Your chest tightens at the rawness of his confession, at the deep-seated need he’s barely holding back. Before you can stop yourself, you close the gap between you, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him close.

Riddle’s breath catches, but he doesn’t pull away. His eyes are wide, a hint of disbelief mingling with hope as he gazes at you, unspoken words trembling on his lips. And in that moment, you realize that there’s no need for more words.

You surge forward, capturing his lips in a fierce, unrestrained kiss. It’s hard, almost desperate, and every ounce of feeling he’s kept bottled up seems to crash over both of you at once. Riddle’s arms wrap around you, and he clings to you as if he’s afraid you’ll vanish.

He kisses you back with the same intensity, almost a little shyly at first, but it quickly deepens into something far more passionate. His hand slips up to cup the side of your face, and you can feel his fingers tremble ever so slightly as he pulls you closer, kissing you like he’s wanted to for far too long.

When you finally part, both of you are breathless, your foreheads resting together as you catch your breath. Riddle’s eyes are shining, his lips swollen from the kiss, his face flushed.

He looks at you with a kind of wonder, like he’s still not entirely certain this is real, and then, almost shyly, he whispers, “I didn’t… I didn’t know it could feel like this.” His voice is soft, reverent, as if he’s savoring each word, the remnants of his vulnerability lingering.

Leona Kingscholar

It sneaks up on Leona, this feeling he doesn't know what to name. At first, he thinks it's just irritation—that persistent gnawing that comes with your endless presence. You’re always around, talking, laughing, pulling him into things he swears he doesn’t care about. He assumes it’s only a matter of time before he finally snaps. But then you’re not there one day, and the world feels off-kilter.

He spends that entire afternoon restless, eyes flickering toward every entrance as if expecting you to walk through it. But you don’t. The gardens are too quiet, his naps too still, and he’s left with a strange emptiness that he can’t shake off.

The next day, you’re there again, and the weight lifts. He scowls when he catches himself relaxing, brushing it off, but it keeps happening. Days pass, and it’s clear—he misses you. This realization grates on him, bothers him in a way nothing else has. How could he, Leona Kingscholar, find himself so wrapped up in someone else?

Then, today, he’s back in his usual spot in the garden, the shade cooling his skin as he lounges, pretending to nap. He can hear your footsteps before he sees you, and he opens one eye as you approach, carrying a basket of food, smiling that soft, familiar smile of yours.

"Thought you’d like something to eat," you say, setting the basket down with that easy grace of yours that makes his chest ache.

And that’s it. That ache in his chest spills over, and he can’t hold it back anymore. It all comes rushing out, like a dam breaking.

"Why?" he says, his voice rougher than he intended. "Why do you keep coming here, even when I’ve given you every reason not to?" He’s sitting up now, leaning toward you, the intensity in his eyes making you blink.

He huffs, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. "I thought you were a nuisance at first. Always hanging around, always in my space." His voice drops lower, rougher, almost as if he’s frustrated with himself. "But the truth is… I’m the one who’s a mess without you. You leave, and everything just… feels wrong."

There’s a pause, and he looks down, jaw clenched, hands clenched in his lap. "I don’t know what you’ve done to me, but I don’t care anymore. All I know is… I want you here. Always." He raises his gaze to yours, the desperation flickering in his eyes a vulnerability that catches even him off guard.

Your heart swells, and as his words sink in, a smile breaks across your face. Tears well up in your eyes, unbidden, but you can’t help it. Before you know it, you’re leaning in, cupping his face, and pressing your lips to his in a kiss that’s as gentle as it is profound. The warmth of him, the rough texture of his skin against yours, grounds you, and you kiss him deeply, tasting the intensity of his feelings, the rawness he’s bared just for you.

As you pull back, his thumb brushes across your cheek, catching a stray tear. He leans forward, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips, his own lips brushing lightly against the salt of your tears. "Even that," he murmurs, his voice a soft rumble, "even the taste of you like this… I want it all."

And you hold him close, feeling his steady heartbeat beneath your palm, realizing that this is where you both belong.

Masterlist

[astrow1zar6]

Venus in the houses Observations 1-7

Venus in the 1st house: I feel like this placement is very lucky & unlucky at the same time. It bestows you with beauty, and financial security and a charming personality but I feel like these people have a hard time appreciating it. They can be very harsh critics on themselves especially when it comes to their looks. These are the girls you always see looking at their reflection thru everything to make sure nothings messed up but in your head you think “this girls perfect how can she be so anxious about her looks”. Looks are very big to them which is why many people consider them superficial. They tend to like to surround themselves with attractive people or people with a lot of clout, they despise ugly. I also notice they can be very envious of others who attract more attention then them they love attractive people but can also be threatened by other attractive people its odd.

Venus in 2nd house: I’ve seen a lot that have amazing artistic ability’s. They usually make the most money when they are being creative or making something beautiful such as ceramics, jewelry, drawings, sculptures ect. They have very charming business personalities when can make them earn a lot faster than most. They tend to have very smooth voices as well. They can convince you to do anything just by using their voice. (Which is why this is considered a sugar baby placement, it’s hard for people to say no to them). This placement is in its home in the 2nd house so these people generally have it pretty easy. They may find love a little later in life tho however when they are financially stable but they are usually patient enough to wait for the right one. On the flip side if afflicted they tend to spend their money as quickly as they got it usually on stupid shit like Grubhub (they are big foodies) or shopping. They can also be very greedy with their money and possessions and become jealous of others who have more money/ are more attractive than themselves. But overall these people give Princess vibes.

Venus in 3rd house: people with this placement remind me of fairies. They are so chatty and fun loving they can make any conversation interesting easily. They have this lightness about them that puts people at ease. In relationships they tend to have partners that are like their best friend ( maybe a little too much like best friends). Sometimes I’ve seen their relationships lack seriousness and depth which can cause their partner to feel like they are just dating a buddy. But on a good note they are usually able to share everything with their partners and their relationships are usually very fun. When afflicted they can be prone to gossiping and being overly chatty which can become obnoxious. They can also be overly flirtatious while single and in a relationship. ESPECIALLY drunk these people will flirt with everyone breathing when they are intoxicated lol.

Venus in 4th house: I’ve noticed try to find partners that give them a feeling of home. I haven’t met a lot of people with this placement but what I’ve noticed in the ones I have met was that they give this big mommy energy. They crave to take care of someone and also for someone to take care of them. However these people can get really clingy and dependent when they are comfortable. It usually takes them a long time however to trust someone enough to be with them. But once they feel safe enough they are extremely loyal. They love the idea of starting a family and long for children. They usually make great mothers. Their mother could’ve been the ultimate caregiver growing up & grew up with many precious family traditions (unless afflicted) the traits of the mother rubbed off a lot on the native. I also notice they tend to look more like their mothers than fathers.

Venus in the 5th house: when I hear this placement I think of Cupid and Valentine’s Day lol no really tho these people love the art of love and seduction. They live for it. These people can get a little too carried away in love however which can cause them to have multiple crushes and talk to multiple people at once. This isn’t considered the most loyal placement (unless something in their chart says other wise). These people have amazing rizz which I’ve stated in other posts but it’s true a lot of people get jealous by how easy it is for them to woo people. I notice they can be love addicts and can’t be without someone to boost their ego. These people can also have very pretty children or they can have a lot of girls. (If one of your parents has this placement your probably blessed in the looks department) people with this placement are usually very physically attractive themselves.

Venus in 6th house: I’ve only met one person with this placement so my description may not be as detailed as the others but I’ve seen it gives a very workaholic vibe to the person. Most of their social interactions and romantic interactions usually happen in the workplace. These people can be extremely timid in social matters however which can make others kinda look over them☹️ they aren’t the most romantic but they are very sensual and the types where if they love you they will spend every day with you. They can also be extremely helpful to their partners (they are big on acts of service) and can usually remain loyal to the same person for a long time. Theirs a certain modesty and naturalness about them that’s very mesmerizing. In the early years they could’ve struggled a lot romantically. Could’ve had a lot of one sided loves. This also can make the native not notice their beauty they could dress down or overly modest because they aren’t comfortable with being seen as “sexy” or “attractive”. This placement is generally a rough spot for Venus to be in but it worked thru it can be fulfilling it just takes a lot of self love training.

Venus in the 7th house: LOVE romantic attention. Even for people they aren’t into like that (similar to Venus in 5th) they get a big ego boost when they find out others have a crush on them. These are the types to believe everyone is in love with them.. and lowkey… they’re right lol. Venus is at home in the 7th house as well so it usually makes them very attractive to the opposite sex naturally. A lot of men really want to commit to these women even if they aren’t seen as conventionally attractive they usually have a “wifey” type of vibe that makes men weak. It’s incredible really how magnetic these people are. They can have good luck in marriage and usually attract very wealthy attractive spouses. If afflicted however they will go through a lot of unstable relationships until they learn how to love themselves properly. This can also cause someone to be very codependent on others. They have a hard time living alone and can act really dysfunctional when they don’t have love in their lives. They need to learn to be more independent and self assured. ( if they have their Venus in Aries or Aquarius they can be more independent).

[flipppyflopp]

Sebcroc joins Playful Land…sort of 🐊🎪

Since I drew Sebcroc meeting Rollo last year, I think it was only right to draw him meeting Fellow Honest this year even though Sebek is not in this Halloween event. Sebek attempts to follow Lilia, but Fellow Honest is not about to let some crocodile foil his carefully laid plans, so he quickly shuts Sebcroc down while maintaining his playful facade…for the most part.

I hope you all enjoy this silly comic! You will be seeing Sebcroc again soon as this Book 7 update for the English server means I can finally do a comic I’ve been waiting to do for a long time :) Meanwhile, my twst oc’s birthday is coming up super fast so I’m going to work on that for now, so look forward to that!

[tryan-a-bex]

I didn’t want to go. There had to be another way, and I was spending all my free time in the library trying to find it, but then they ran out of hero-types and figured, since I’d been working on the problem, they should send me.

They put a gun in my hand, taught me the basics about how to aim and fire (they didn’t think I’d need to deal with reloading), and sent me out. Honestly, I was quaking in my boots. How much was it going to hurt to be destroyed with extreme prejudice by a reality-bending god? I wasn’t brave, I just wanted to go home to a peaceful city instead of one that was being controlled by men fear-mongering about a vengeful god. I don’t really have any pain tolerance to speak of, that’s why I went into scribing instead of child-bearing, those mothers are way more badass than anyone gives them credit for.

Anyway, I found the god, it wasn’t hiding. It didn’t attack me, but I had a job and I wasn’t allowed to come home without doing it, so I reached around a tree, tried to stop my hand from shaking too badly, fired off a shot, and then closed my eyes and waited for the worst.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you just shot me! Oh my god, it hurts! It hurts so much!”

What the actual hell? I peeked out from behind my tree. The god was sitting there crying, holding into its arm and trying to wipe tears away at the same time. Poor thing.

“It’s not that bad,” I said, coming out from behind the tree. “There’s no blood coming out from under your hand, so it must just be a scratch.”

“Do you think so? Could you take a look at it for me?” I swear, the god sounded like my friend Matt who’s as much of a wuss as I am. I went up to it and held out my hand.

It put its hand trustingly in mind and I took a look at the tear in its sleeve just above the elbow. Just a scratch, not even a bead of blood. I’ve had worse papercuts. Good thing I have such bad aim.

“It stings, doesn’t it?” I said sympathetically. The god nodded and covered it again with its other hand.

“Don’t worry, it’ll be fine again soon. And I promise not to hurt you anymore.”

“Really?” The poor thing sounded so plaintive.

“Were all those heroes really scary for you?” I asked.

“Oh, no, not really,” the god admitted, eyes downcast.

“But?” How could I be scary, and not those powerful heroes who were instantly destroyed? Wait, why was I still alive? “Why haven’t you destroyed me?”

The god looked up at me with pleading eyes. “I reflect those near me. I used to have devoted priests who I cared for, and they kept me kind. Then the vizier sent men to kill them all, but when I’m surrounded by evil men intent on killing, well. Let’s just say they didn’t last long. Nor did the heroes, with their thoughts of destruction. You were afraid of pain, and then filled with compassion, so I am too. I like myself much better this way. Thank you.”

I sat down. “Let’s talk.”

You've been sent out to defeat a powerful, reality bending god. All have died horrifically trying. And here you are in front of the crying god as they complain about how you just shot them.

[wandaslovey]

𝓈𝓉𝑜𝓁𝑒𝓃 𝑔𝑒𝓉𝒶𝓌𝒶𝓎

➺ mom’s bsf!wanda x fem!reader

wc ~ 2.7k

a/n: this was the fic most voted for from my poll like two weeks ago :,) hope y’all enjoy!<3

a/n: i’m also currently writing a super dark/toxic wanda fic, so stay tuned for that loves 😙

*not proofread*

cw: established relationship, fluffy fluff, a (slightly) embarrassing conversation, shy/embarrassed reader but she still has a bit of a ‘tude

∴.·:*¨¨*:·. ☙.·:*¨ ¨*:·.♡ .·:*¨ ¨*:·. ❧.·:*¨ ¨*:·.∴

you hear the faint sound of birds chirping, some of the morning sunlight showing behind your closed eyelids, indicating you had slept in a bit. you hum sleepily, still feeling groggy from your “long night.”

it was a long night in the best way. tangled limbs, whispered words of affection and uninhibited love took place between you and wanda over the course of the evening and throughout the night. it was the first time the two of you had ever been in a setting where there was no need to look over your shoulder to see if someone would find the two of you out. there was no need to be rushed, quiet or secretive. it was simply just the two of you existing in your own little blissful bubble.

you rub the remaining sleep from your eyes, sitting up in bed just as you notice wanda entering the bedroom, two mugs of coffee in hand.

“good morning, sunshine,” she greets you with a warm smile—one you’ve only seen her give you specifically. she walks over to the bed and sits at the edge, handing you your mug. you sit up and take it from her, your two hands holding it carefully as to not spill on the white sheets.

“thank you, wands” you smile gratefully, eagerly tipping the mug towards your lips to take a sip. your coffee always tasted better when she made it and you had no idea why since she made it the same way you did.

“how’d you sleep, honey?” she scoots a little closer to you, affectionately running her hand down your arm. she rests it on your knee which you then rest your hand atop of hers, interlacing your fingers together. you were both so addicted to the others’ touch—wanting to constantly be connected in some way.

“really good. i don’t think i’ve slept so peacefully in a long time,” you reach over and set your mug down on the nightstand next to the bed.

you take note of the fact that there was just a simple lamp and a coaster on the nightstand. just like you, wanda was more of a minimalist and you could see evidence of that fact everywhere you looked in this cozy cabin of hers. it was quite spacious, decorated tastefully with little personal touches of her here and there.

as you marvel at the space of the bedroom for the first time (you hadn’t been paying much attention when you’d first arrived), your eyes fall back to wanda again. she was already looking at you, seeming to have been watching you glance around the room.

“i love this place. it’s so homey and warm,” you smile as you tell her, your eyes wandering around the room again.

“i love it here too. i’ve been renting it out to people for awhile now. i was worried at first that having strangers track in and out of here would come back to bite me, but it’s still in near perfect condition.” you nod your head thoughtfully as she speaks, a short bout of silence falling over the two of you before she speaks again.

“y/n?” the way she says your name has your attention immediately, her tone indicative of a change in the subject.

“yeah?” you look at her a little warily, though you could still sense the lighthearted energy in the air. you knew the topic wouldn’t be so serious yet you found that butterflies started fluttering in your tummy in anticipation.

“i want to talk about something that happened last night.” the expression on her face gave little away as just a hint of a smile touched the corner of her lips, her green eyes dancing with something indiscernible behind them.

you remain silent as she pauses, wanting her to continue without interruption.

“it was something you said. something you said quite a few times actually..” she continues to be vague, but you could see the growing roguish expression on her face. immediately you wrack your brain for what you might have said last night. there wasn’t much talking at all that you remember. after arriving early in the evening to the cabin, you were practically falling into bed as soon as you were both through the door. the two of you had been equally eager to love each other without the nosy presence of your mom, friends or neighbors. it certainly wasn’t the first time the two of you had sex, but it was the first time where it wasn’t so secretive.

your brow furrows as you think harder. did you say something when your mind was fogged up in a lust filled haze?

suddenly, the butterflies that had been in your stomach went from fluttering to swarming. your heart beat faster in your chest as it dawned on you what you might have said while you were in a fuzzy headspace.

wanda watches the realization bloom on your face, the color on your cheeks now a lovely pink shade. it didn’t go unnoticed by her that you stopped breathing for a moment.

you weren’t sure what to say—what to do. was she disgusted? disturbed? weirded out?

she breaks you out of your own thoughts, her hand tucking some hair behind your ear and her thumb stroking across your cheekbone. you only blush harder under her affection, the uneasy feeling in your stomach still not settled as she had yet to speak another word.

“you know what i’m talking about, don’t you baby?” she didn’t need to ask the question—your face was answer enough, but she couldn’t help herself. she loved getting you all flustered and you usually made it so easy. you begin to fidget with your hands, twisting one of your rings around your finger. you clear your throat, preparing to face the music.

“umm… did i.. did i call you… mommy?” you cringe lightly as you speak the last word—not because it disgusted you, but because you worried it disgusted her. you were avoiding her gaze like the plague, your eyes fixated on your hands that were in your lap.

wanda reaches out, gently grasping your chin with her thumb and forefinger to tilt your head up. her gaze made your cheeks burn impossibly hotter, but you found that there was no trace of disgust on her face. “you did,” she states simply, a touch of an amused smile on her lips.

“is that something you’re into? some sort of mommy kink?” she gently prods, wanting to fully understand the inner workings of your mind.

you wanted to tell wanda everything. the two of you had grown so close over the last year. you had been attracted to your mother’s best friend for years. you never dreamed she would return your affections until one day she finally boldly proclaimed how she felt about you. from then on, things hadn’t exactly been smooth sailing, but your forbidden relationship still blossomed. you confided in each other about everything. well—everything but this.

your eyes flick back and forth between her eyes, and you can see the sincerity of her curiosity. you knew she wouldn’t judge you, so you decided it was silly to keep it a secret any longer.

“yes. i mean, i’ve always had a thing for older women… hot older women.” you joke lightly, your eyes dancing with amusement before you continue. “it’s just, well, you know my mom. she’s not exactly maternal. she’s great in her own way, but i just crave being coddled and loved - two things she was never great at doing. while my mom instilled the necessity of being independent and strong, i never had a space to be vulnerable or depend on somebody. she never really gave me rules, so there was little i couldn’t do. because of that, now i crave structure and discipline where i never had it growing up. having a mommy kink can mean a lot of different things to different people, but the way i look at it… the way i look at you, i see a nurturing, confident, beautiful woman who does love and coddle me—quite a bit, i might add.” you laugh lightly at your half-hearted jab and then continue.

“so yes, to me, you perfectly encapsulate someone whom i’d wanna call mommy—to obey, love and cherish.”

as soon as you start talking, explaining what this all meant to you, you couldn’t stop. you yearned to have her understand and to grasp onto this concept that you saw her as the safest space in the whole world.

you watch her take everything in, her expression always thoughtful. a warm smile grew on her face, a light growing within her eyes. “oh, sweetheart, come here.” she reaches her arm across your body, pulling you into her. you straddle her, easily settling into the comforting space of her lap. she wraps her arms tightly around your smaller frame, resting her cheek against your head as you nuzzle your face into her neck.

“you’re so precious, you know that? my precious girl.” she hums into your ear before kissing your hair. she rocks the both of you gently from side to side as you embrace, her perfume with hints of pears, fig leaves and sap filling your nose.

“you know something, baby?” she loosens her hold on you, gently grasping your hips to pull you back so she can look into your pretty eyes. “i like it when you call me mommy,” her voice drops an octave, her eyes twinkling, and she smirks at your reaction. your cheeks flush and you smile a bit bashfully, your head tilting into your shoulder. “you do?” you ask, suddenly feeling a little shy again under her intense gaze.

“mhmm, i do honey love. mmmm, you’re just too damn cute for your own good.” her hands come up to cradle your face, as she leans closer to you. you think she means to kiss you, but instead she tilts your head up, her lips kissing along your jaw in search of a certain spot on your neck. wanda knew your body like the back of her hand. she knew what spots drove you crazy and which ones made you yearn for more.

“wanda.. quit that!” you whine softly, catching on to her drift. there were certain spots on your neck that if she kissed or nipped just right, it tickled more than anything else.

wanda hums against your skin, licking at the spot as you try half heartedly to push her away. her arms wrap around you again, holding you firmly in place. “no, i don’t think i will,” she purrs and then chuckles darkly next to your ear as she feels you struggling more earnestly. deciding to up the ante, one of her hands starts to dig into your side, your ticklish ribs falling victim to her game. you squeak and squirm against her, attempting to slide off her lap but she’s having none of it. in one swift movement, she all but swings you around until your back hits the mattress. she quickly climbs atop of you, her legs straddling your hips. “you can make this all stop now you know, if you say something for me..” her voice was taunting as she wiggles her fingers just above your body.

“what??” you demand, hoping to halt this attack before it really begins. you were really ticklish. your nerves were already alight with anticipation as you watch her hands ever so slowly slip under your sleep shirt. your belly clenches as her fingernails lightly scratch their way up your torso.

“give me a minute to think of something, hmm? you’re just so cute all pliant and eager to appease me right now,” she bites her lip, unsuccessfully masking her grin. she spiders her fingers down your sides and you arch your back, a soft squeal sounding in the back of your throat. you refused to give her the reaction she was looking for. her persistence in trying to get you to squirm and giggle under her only brought out your stubborn attitude. you press your lips together, trying to will the ticklishness out of your body. her eyes burn into yours as she senses your obstinance. her eyes crinkle as she smiles, excited at the mere aspect of trying to get you to crack a small laugh.

she traces one finger down your stomach before she gathers both of your wrists in her one hand, holding them above your head. given your unwillingness to let her see that she was getting to you, you allow her to entrap your hands without struggle. she hums as her finger traces down the slope of your nose and past your lips. you snap at her, your teeth clacking and she chuckles warmly at the action.

“c’mon, you know you wanna laugh for me… just the tiniest little snicker or a small tittle..” her voice was warm like honey, which would have been comforting if you were in a different situation. one of her hands tickles at your tummy, her other one digging into your ribs. unable to contain your reaction now, you giggle gleefully. the light sound was satisfying as it hit wanda’s ears. you looked so adorable, all squirmy and helpless under her.

“oh my, that looks like it really tickles.” she laughs with you, her body moving around with yours as you attempt to shake and buck her off.

your brain was becoming a scrambled, fuzzy mess the more your body struggled against her. your desperation grew with each ticking second. no matter how you thrashed or wriggled around, it didn’t help your predicament. wanda knew just where to get you, spurred on by your reactions.

“wand-mommy! please! stop! stop!” you yelp, your wrists rubbing together and twisting in her grasp as you try in vain to pull your arms down.

wanda gasps playfully, her fingers slowing down. “what was that? i couldn’t hear you..” you groan, the feeling of helplessness continuing to wash over you in waves. “please..please stop!” you whine, quieter more reluctant giggles falling in between your words.

“oh darling, you know i can’t understand you when you giggle so much. say that again?” her grin was sinfully amused. you wished you could smack the smug expression right off her perfect face. “mommy please-please stop!” you try again, figuring she wanted you to pull the mommy card once more.

she hums again, sounding pleased. she could see your face starting to turn red from all the laughter and so she decided to show you some mercy, her hands finally halting their ticklish actions. “okay, okay, i’m done malysh.” she murmurs, her hand that was imprisoning your wrists loosening. she leans down, placing sweet kisses along your face. you clutch at her shirt, your legs wrapping around her body, wanting to feel closer to her. she smiles to herself at your clinginess, her lips pausing as they place one final kiss against your jaw.

“i’m sorry dorogoya.. i knew you were ticklish but i didn’t know you were that ticklish,” she muses, tucking some hair behind your ear. your cheeks heat in delicate embarrassment and you take advantage of your freed hands now by smacking her arm.

“hey, be nice to your mommy. you know if you act up, i’ll just have to punish you..” you gasp softly, the prospect of her punishing you instantly sets a flame in your lower belly. she leans closer to you, pecking your lips. “hmm you like that idea, don’t you?” you feel her grin against your lips. you nod, your eager eyes set on hers. she takes mental note of your reaction, finding that she herself was excited at the idea of punishing you.

“something tells me you’ll have earned a punishment or two before our little weekend is over,” she purrs, imagining the various ways you may choose to act up in the next couple of days. “i have to admit, mommy’s a little excited to find out just how bratty you can be.”

you raise your eyebrows, a small smirk forming on your lips. “you’re probably gonna wish you didn’t just say that…”

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader, Johnny "Soap" Mactavish x Fem!reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, John Mactavish, Reader

Summary: Friends and coworkers, Sgt. Mactavish and Lt. Riley have one thing in common: how much they want you, though one is less vocal about it. During a night out, you think you've secured one lover, but suddenly you are leaving out of the bar with both as all that intense attraction comes to a head.

Word Count: 8.8k

Warnings:

“Aye, would you look a’ that,” the Scottish sergeant nudges the silent and skull-masked lieutenant at his elbow, nodding towards the subject that has caused his sudden outburst. “She decided ta come after all.”

Two sets of eyes lock to the door as a familiar face steps foot inside that dingy little hole in the wall bar right outside the base, the one that the boys happen to frequent quite regularly whenever downtime is available. Tonight is one of those nights where most of the squad is here, ready to let loose for the first time in months and though you don’t always feel the need to imbibe with your teammates, tonight…tonight just feels different.

“Fuck, she does look a sweet thing tonight, doesn’t she, L.T.?” Sgt. Mactavish says with an unsubtle lick of his lip just before he takes another big swig of his lager, his eyesight lingering a bit too long on your legs, risking him getting caught. 

How is he supposed to look away when that dangerously short denim skirt and tight little top you’ve decided to wear leaves barely anything to the imagination, that gorgeous figure of yours on display for any hungry beast to devour with his gaze?  

“Settle the fuck down there sergeant,” Lt. Riley shoots back with a lilt of agitation, his sight narrowing with the furrowing of his brow under his black balaclava as he stares pointedly at the younger officer, “ya know the fuckin’ rules about fraternization. Ya really gonna risk it all on a recruit?”

A snort exits out of the scot’s nose as he sets his glass back on the tabletop with just the foam from his beer pooled at the bottom. “Ye sayin’ ye wouldn’t try an get a piece ‘a that if ye had tha chance?” he snickers out the question as the lieutenant raises the bottom of his mask before grabbing his own glass, ready to bring it to his lips. “Guess all the times I’ve caught ye lookin’ musta been my imagination then.”

Lt. Riley pauses with his cup half raised. “Drop it while you’re ahead, Johnny,” the command is firm and he continues on with his drink, hiding behind the disguise of his stoic demeanor to convince the sergeant that he isn’t gnawing at the bit to get another glimpse of your curves in that revealing little outfit as now you’ve given him so much silky flesh for his eyes to devour. He has to bite his tongue hard to keep himself from losing it. 

“Rules be damned, ye know you’d hit if ye had tha chance,” the sergeant whispers under his breath as he waves over the waitress to order another round for himself. “ ‘sides, they’re more guidelines anyways.”

The lieutenant is never going to admit it out loud to the cocky sergeant, but he hates how right he is with his statement. There is something about you he yearns for, that draws his eyes constantly, that keeps him filled with fantasies enough to fuel each one of his late night wank sessions for months and months now. He’s becoming insatiable even though he’s better at keeping a straight face, but inside he is burning just to get a piece of you. Too bad there is no way in hell he’d ever get the chance… right? 

You can feel eyes on you from the moment you enter the establishment, though at first you aren’t sure where they are coming from until you pass by the table where a couple of officers sit on your way to the bartender and you hear the distinct sound of choking. From the corner of your eye you can see Sgt. Mactavish sputtering into his glass, coughing up the beer that’s gone down the wrong way as the lieutenant next to him smacks his bicep and you have to speed up to hide the smile spreading across your mouth.

Drink secured and in hand you cross over to one of the tables sequestered by your company as a small group of privates wave you over and you take a seat, still keeping an eye on a couple of specific officers. This isn’t the first time you’ve noticed certain behaviors from them whenever you are around; at this point it’s almost obvious that they are taken with you, though they still pretend that they are hiding it well.

You like that attention, almost crave it. It’s a strange little game that you can’t help wanting to play with them, but more than that you want it to lead to something. Just a night, one night, to know at least one of them biblically; that’s all you want.  

Every once in a while as you sit there drinking and joining in bits of cheerful conversation, you’re sure you catch them stealing quick glances your way while the other is distracted. You start to wonder: what would it take for either of them to ever risk breaking the rules just to have a little something with you? 

You study them for a while and the two have really been putting them back. All that liquor has to be lessening their inhibitions, evident by the way they start getting sloppy with their glances. Now, instead of sneaking peeks in your direction, they are lingering a bit too long and if you time it right you just might catch them in the act.

The later it gets and the more liquor that snakes its way down your throat, the more bold it makes you and soon you’re thinking about ways you can put that question to the test. You’re not shy by any means, but you know when to play your cards and when to hold your hand and right now you think it’s the perfect time to go all in. If you can just get either one of them alone and make a move, maybe that would be enough to have them give you what you want: a night as their plaything.

Sure enough, not even a few minutes later you lock eyes with the sergeant. It’s only for a moment before he quickly diverts his gaze, but not before you pop off a sly little grin that you know he can see. There’s a reason behind your smile that you know he is able to read. In that split second that your eyes connected, even in the dimly lit bar, it felt like he was trying to undress you with his gaze and now he knows that he’s been caught red handed.

Oh yeah, this is your moment and you are going to take it...but how? 

How are you meant to make your move if neither has been on their own for long enough for you to get close? It’s like they are purposely making it more difficult for you than it has to be… at least that is until you watch Sgt Mactavish quickly stand to his feet, finish the last swig off his new glass, and take off in the direction of the restroom. No clearer sign could be given; this is the only chance you’re going to get and you know you have to take your shot.

It’s now or never. 

Abandoning your drink, you wait a couple minutes before slipping out of your seat and away from your table to make a beeline straight behind your target. The closer you get the harder your heart pounds in your chest. What is your plan once you corner him? There isn’t one, not now that you’re closing in on your goal. This could all blow up in your face, but at least you have to try; the punishment will be worth it.

Closer and closer the door gets until you are on it. Heartbeat in your ears you slowly and quietly open the door and peek your head inside. Your eyes clock only a singular pair of feet and with a quick glance behind you at the rest of the bar, you open it fully and step inside. With the handle still in your hand, you back yourself into the door to softly close it and engage the lock. 

The sound of flushing and the zipping of a fly makes you lose focus before you can finish making sure you won’t be disturbed as the sergeant comes out to see you standing there completely out of the blue.

“Did ye get lost lass?” the scottish sergeant questions playfully as he crosses the small room to the sink.

There’s only silence, his question is left unanswered as you decide that this is the time for action, not words. He isn’t aware that you’ve made your way over to him until it’s too late and you have your hand pressed firmly right to the middle of his taut chest, pushing him back into the wall right next to the sink as you move in close.

“What’s all this about, hmm?” he asks curiously, trying to keep calm under your touch.

You look up into his face, a gleam in your eye that he can’t ignore. “You know what this is sergeant,” you smirk, teeth looking more like fangs ready to sink into his skin, “or do you think I’m oblivious to how you’ve been looking at me?”

Subtle isn’t your strong suit when the liquor starts rushing through your system and right now you are using that to your benefit. Bright blue eyes stared back into your own, a spark as if from a match igniting within them that shimmer through the irises as he stares back at you. 

“Been wonderin’ if ye would pick up on that,” he says as he smirks right back at you, not trying to hide anything now that he has been read to filth. “It’s been gettin’ harder and harder to be coy when yer ‘round.” 

What is he supposed to say again? There is something he should be telling you right now, but he can’t remember as your body presses into his. No, that’s not entirely true. He knows what he needs to say he just desperately doesn’t want to say it, not now when his hands are getting their first real feel of all these curves he’s been dreaming of having under his touch for so long.

But he has to speak up, if only to cover his ass later.

“We shouldn’t, ye know the rules and…” he hesitates with a shuddered breath as his fingertips connect with a bit of skin along your hip and you promptly cut him off.

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” you say.

The movement of his hands stops and he looks into your face. “Yer serious?” he questions with a lick of his lips, his jaw shifting as he impatiently waits for you to reply.

You can’t help but smirk. “As a fucking heart attack, sir,” you murmur as you lean yourself into his hands so that he has no choice but to keep them on you. “I know what the rules say, but I don’t care, not tonight. I want you, so what the hell are you gonna do about it, hmm?”

You take his hand in yours and bring it up to your breast, placing the palm directly over your shirt and closing his fingers around the tissue. Watching his hand closely you can see it twitch as if he is struggling with himself on whether he should remove it or keep it there and maybe do something more. 

You look back up into his eyes. “Gonna let this opportunity pass you by sergeant?” you ask, laying the seductive tone on thick for good measure. “I thought you were a man of opportunity.”

Well goddamn you don’t have to tell him twice. The blood racing violently through his veins makes his temperature spike as he grabs you by the waist to spin you round so that your backside rests against the edge of the small sink. He stares at you silently and you fear that you may have overstepped, but then his gaze shifts. 

“Ye best know what yer askin’ for,” he says.

“I do,” you respond. “So are you going to keep standing there, or…?”

Without another word he picks you up with little effort, his biceps straining against the sleeves of his t-shirt, and sets you on the countertop next to the sink. Your legs are already open, but he parts them further with his hip so that he can slip himself between them, hiking up your skirt so that it sits on your waist and leaves your panty-covered pussy exposed. Immediately his hand harshly catches you by the back of the head, making you gasp in response to his roughness.

My, he is an eager boy, all ready to play.

He stares at you, chest heaving pronouncedly up and down as he feels like he can’t take a full breath, the focus somewhere else in his body now. You are caught up in the moment of peering back into those baby blues as they gaze back at you with an intensity that makes your heart pound faster. 

Is it getting hotter in here or is it just you? You can’t tell. The haze overtakes you and the next thing you see is his face leaning in silently and suddenly your mouths are connected together, instantly breaking that tension in the best fucking way possible: with a moist, sticky embrace that has left little room for breathing.

His grip in your hair is strong, holding your head in place so there is nowhere for you to turn and you are forced to accept the brunt of his need on your lips until you can feel them burn the harder he presses. There is stubble along his jaw that pricks your cheeks and the skin around your mouth, adding another layer of sensations to the mix already working on your lips. The taste of the cheap beer that he had just chugged is still on his breath, crisp and hoppy and it hits your tongue with its sharp bite, but it does little to deter you from taking every ounce of his embrace.

Your own hands run up the back of his neck through the cropped bits of hair around his mohawk. The feeling of your fingers against the short hairs make that cocky bastard shiver before melting into you and you sigh into his mouth at the delicious reaction. Is it that easy to make him fold? Oh, you are going to use that against him in the future.  

Strong fingertips bore themselves into your hip, pulling your pelvis more flush against his and fuck if there isn’t something hard already pressing back against your sex; it does feel good to your inebriated brain to rub your barely clothed pussy against the bulge forming through his jeans.

“Shit, ye tryin’ to make me blow right here? Haven’t even gotten to the fun part yet,” he says playfully with a hiss against your parted lips.

Your hips roll into him again. “Guess you better get me the fuck outta here quick sergeant,” you shoot back, “cause I’m not stopping. Gotta itch that needs to be scratched something terrible.”

Catching your bottom lip, he pulls it out of that mischievous smile it is currently contorted into and sucks it between his teeth to give it a nip. “Ye are full of surprises, lass.”

“You have no fucking idea,” you whisper onto his mouth before you are back on him in another flurry of heated, frantic kisses that make you lose track of everything outside of his mouth.

“Ehem.”

At some point the bathroom door had opened and closed, though neither you nor the sergeant had taken notice of the prominent squeak of the hinges. Both of your heads unlock and turn towards the sound of the familiar voice where the imposing figure of the lieutenant takes up the entire frame, his arms crossed over his chest as he stares back at the mess you two have already become. 

Your heartbeat pounds in your ears as anxiety sets, making you momentarily forget what you know and fear that this is going to ruin everything for you…until you see it. There is a sparkle you detect in those dark eyes, the same one you’ve seen before. Even with his stoic posture, you know that this isn’t a reprimand that’s coming and it makes you feel at ease.

“L.t.” the Scottish sergeant greets him. “I… I mean we…” 

Lt. Riley doesn’t say a word as the man still between your legs struggles to come up with some explanation for what the lieutenant has just walked in on and as he does you notice that the masked officer isn’t paying him any mind, instead he is staring straight at you. You are full of fire tonight now that you have a bit of liquid courage in you and that makes you prepared to do whatever you need to to get what you want. Instead of letting the sergeant flounder on, you interject.  

“See something you like, lieutenant?” you ask as you keep your eyes locked to him. 

Sgt. Mactavish turns his attention back to you, surprised by your attitude. “What?” you ask him with a chuckle. “Did you not know that the lieutenant here looks at me the same way you do? Or has he been able to fool you?”

Pushing back the sergeant so that you can get to your feet and straightening your skirt back down to at least cover your ass, you make your way over to the other officer currently present in the small space. Those striking amber eyes never leave yours as he looks down at you through the space in his balaclava; this is the closest you have ever been to this beast of a man, but instead of being intimidated at all by his impressive size, you are only thinking about climbing him like a tree.

What’s happening? 

Before you can stop yourself, you blurt out the thought that had just burrowed its way into the front of your brain without even thinking. “You know…there’s enough of me to go around if you want,” you say. 

That strong jaw shifts beneath his mask; is that a smirk you can nearly make out through the fabric? “Is that so?” he questions curiously, that low, gravely tone sending a shiver down your spine. “What makes ya think I want anythin’?”

You chuckle again. “Fine, then tell me I’m wrong, but I can’t help wondering why you would follow us in here,” you push back. “To piss? I doubt it; you haven’t even tried to move from this spot. To catch us?”

You pause, but he doesn’t interject. “I don’t think that’s it either,” you say with a smirk.

Lt. Riley knows you can be strong willed when you want to be, he’s seen it time and again during training and in the field, but now that it is directed at him it is something else… something that is making him weak the longer you talk. 

“Well?” you ask, not letting yourself back down. “Are you going to fess up?”

Several seconds of heavy silence permeate the space and yet the lieutenant still doesn’t speak, not even to confirm or deny your suspicions which already speaks enough as is.  

“That’s what I thought,” you answer yourself with a shake of your head.

Taking a step towards him and extending your pointer finger you poke the tip directly into his sternum as you look up at him through heavy-lidded eyelashes. Even from that one pressure point you can feel how fast his heart is pounding and fuck does that feel like some sort of accomplishment in itself.

“Don’t think you’re any slicker than Sgt. Mactavish over there,” you say under your breath. “I can feel your gaze lingering on me all the time, lieutenant, and I’m certain it’s not because I’ve done anything wrong. Are you going to try and deny that? Come on, sir, tell me I’m wrong.”

Standing back, Mactavish watches from the sidelines as you put that massive man into his place and fuck does that make his heart skip a beat. Strong-willed women are the Scots one weakness, someone to push back when he shoves and give him a run for his money. Just the way you were kissing him seconds ago he knows he would be absolutely knackered come the morning and he desperately wants to get out of here to get started on that as soon as possible. Goddamn, if he gets any harder he is gonna rip through the zipper of his jeans.

You push the lieutenant some more. “So, how about you stop undressing me with your eyes and just do it for real,” you challenge. “Or is your hand enough to keep you satisfied?”

“Watch your tongue, luv,” he says. 

The lieutenant is struggling to find the words to tell you off, but presented with something he desperately wants they simply won’t come to him. So there he stands, silently staring as he comes to terms with the fact that he is throwing caution to the wind and taking what he wants. The only thing that has him hesitant is the fact that you were just wrapped around Johnny.

Sensing that delay you turn your attention back to the only other person in the room with an idea even more insane than actually trying to approach one of them in the first place, but opportunity keeps knocking and you are going to keep answering. 

“What do you think, sergeant? Think we could have another join in with our fun?”  

If it will get him a chance to have you, Mactavish is willing to do anything, even if it means he has to share. It’s not like it’s with some stranger; LT is a friend, his colleague, a blood brother. Actually now that the idea is presented before him, he has to admit that it doesn’t sound half bad. He wants to fuck you, but maybe he wouldn’t mind watching you be fucked too.

“I can share,” the sergeant says with a smirk. “What ‘bout ye, LT?”

Turning your attention back to the lieutenant with a smug grin on your face, you wait for his answer. Lt. Riley shakes his head and follows it with a defeated sigh; this is a terrible fucking idea, but god damn is he in it now. That tension that has steadily been building since you got in close finally comes to a head and the need to take you is overwhelming. All that yearning he has done from afar makes his hands tingle at the thought that they can now be filled with you. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” he growls as he gives himself over to his desires and wrenches that god-forsaken mask above his lips urgently, an arm snaking its way quickly around your waist as he turns you both around and shoves you into the wall directly to his right. Instantly his firm, bulky body is pressed tightly into your curves as he lifts your head by the chin and meets your lips with a feverish intensity that sends your fucking head spiraling.

He is pressed in hard, his kiss even more greedy and desperate than the sergeants had been as he steals every bit of your mouth with his own over and over again, rough and desperate being the signature left on your lips until they are on fire from the friction and you can’t breathe.

“Do ya even know how much I’ve fuckin’ wanted to do this?” he groans into your mouth, the feral lust in his words palpable on your tongue. “Since the moment ya arrived I’ve been fuckin’ chompin’ at tha bit to get at ya. Now that I have ya, I’m gonna get my fuckin’ fill, pretty girl.”

One of his large hands slips down into the back of your skirt so he can fill his palm with as much of your ass as he can hold, pulling your hips forward so that he can grind himself against you. You can feel his cock growing hard the longer he is pressed to you; it’s throbbing on your bare thigh as his assault on your mouth makes it impossible to even think of pulling away.

If it had only been one or the other you would have gladly fucked them right here in this filthy bar bathroom, but there is no way to take full advantage of this opportunity presented to you in such a tight space; you all need to go somewhere that will allow everyone to easily get involved in the screw-fest that is about to happen.

“Who’s room’s closest?” you murmur through his kisses burning across your lips as a damp heat gathers between your thighs. “We need to go.”

There is another warm body at your elbow now, moving in against you as the sergeant nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, his lips desperately trying to make purchase with your warm, silky skin; he was getting lonely waiting for Simon to finish getting that first bit of contact and he needs more. 

Fuck, is it good to be you right now stuck in the middle of this lust-filled sandwich.

“That’d be me, sweet,” the sergeant groans into your ear, finally answering the question that you had almost forgotten you’d asked.

You break away from the lieutenant long enough to give Mactavish a proper kiss for giving you what you wanted, a little treat for being good before you put the question to the lieutenant. “Are we going or not?” you ask him, hand reaching up to outline his strong jaw with your fingertips.

The touch from your fingertips makes his skin burn under the contact and he is ready to drag you out this instant. “Johnny, let’s go,” he agrees and you all quickly exit the bathroom as inconspicuous as possible, which with the way your cheeks are now flushed bright red and the two men stalking behind you tug at the crotches of their pants is a feat in itself, but somehow you manage… you think anyway.

The moment you are all outside the heat-packed bare and into the cooler night air, the change in temperature seems to fuel your giddiness. No matter where you turn there is a hand or an arm around you somewhere, pulses racing violently that can be felt through all the touches of skin to skin like a drumbeat to make you all walk faster until finally the base comes into view.

But amongst the flirty touches there is a bit of secrecy that the two men share between them, whispers that you can’t quite make out as they keep you preoccupied and you leave it be as you can’t be bothered to care what they keep murmuring about to each other.

You've barely clambered your way inside Mactavish’s room before the tension of the moment can no longer be kept restrained. The door is flung shut with a bang and your body is immediately pinned to it, each man claiming a side of you, desperately exploring every inch of your curves through your clothes as they move in closer. Your needy bodies grind against one another like animals in heat, rubbing and touching, greedy hands roaming until you three are nothing more than a tangled mess of hot, glistening skin covered by a thin layer of fabric.

Lt. Riley is the one to take the lead as his fingers dart to your skirt, lacing them into the waistband and ripping the small piece of jean fabric down off your hips until it crumples to the floor at your feet. You flash him a smile as you pull his mask up and off his head so that nothing restricts you from getting at his lips. You barely have time to register the coif of dark blonde hair and stark features that get revealed to you as you are immediately standing taller on the balls of your feet to bind your mouths together in a kiss that sets his soul on fire. 

A pair of rough, weathered hands glide across all this new skin available to their touch, capturing as much as they can hold, playfully flirting across your lower abdomen and the seams of your panties that still cling to your form for the moment before they too find their way onto the ground. 

Not one to miss out, the sergeant's hands splay up under the bottom of your shirt with fingers that have a need to feel even more skin. You release the brown-eyed lieutenant and lick your lips to get the last of his taste off with your tongue before turning to the other and that spunky scot darts in before you can take a full enough breath to fill your lungs. 

The back of your head bounces off the door as he aggressively takes your mouth as if it is his property, only pulling from your lips long enough to jerk your top and bra up and over your head in one smooth motion, throwing them both to the ground behind him before he dives back in. 

Your wrist is in the lieutenant's grasp now as he forcefully tugs at it, bringing it into place over the massive bulge tenting the crotch of his jeans. The stiff peak meets your touch and bobs in rhythm to match the pounding of his heartbeat and you rub the swell before cupping your palm up against it. His bassy groan fills your head as his lips descend onto your neck in feverish fashion and you undo the clasp on his pants, rip down the zipper, and shove your hand inside the recesses of his clothing to massage him through his underwear.

With your only free hand you loop your fingers around the clasp of Mactavish's own pair of denim and using feeling alone you tug and pry until you are able to unhook the button. He leans his hips into your hand to help and soon the pants are barely clinging around him so that the slightest movement will cause them to fall.

"Open your legs," you hear that heavy British accent as the lieutenant whispers the husky words into your ear from his place just under your jaw as your mouth still dances with the other officer.

There is pressure over your lower abdomen and you adjust your stance so that the gap in your legs is wider. That heavy mitt slides down past the hem of your panties and straight inside, descending right to your petals that he is pleased to find already a good bit damp.

His thick finger teases around your silken lips, tantalizing your body with anticipation before he finally parts through the barrier and drags that thick digit up the length, gathering as much of your wetness on it as he can before he goes in search of that bundle of nerves he knows is somewhere close. A smile forms on his mouth when you buck against his hand as he lands the pad of his middle finger right on it and presses down.

"There she is," he groans and begins to roll his finger around the organ with a soft and steady touch till he has it throbbing.

The need the action produces rushes through your limbs like liquid fire and immediately you pry down the sergeant's pants, a bit of a struggle with only one hand at your disposal, to expose his skin tight boxer briefs that leave nothing much to the imagination as the jeans fall to his ankles. A moan is hummed into your mouth as you find your way past the waistband and wrap those soft fingers around his throbbing shaft. 

Jesus, both of these boys are packing.

He has to release your lips so he can breathe as the intensity catches him by surprise and his body convulses slightly. "Christ, I've been fantasizin' 'bout that soft hand bein’ wrapped 'round my cock," Mactavish moans, his mouth ghosting around your face as your head is dragged back to the other side to reconnect mouths with the lieutenant. The poor sergeant is too absorbed in the ecstasy of your strokes to bridge the gap between his lips and your flesh just yet. 

He is struggling to speak as the pressure from your hand compressing as your stroke makes him lose even more of the little bit of sanity he has left. "Better than I coulda imagined. Yer a natural, lass." 

The scot’s hands know exactly what to do even though his mind is still reeling from that initial contact and when he looks down, he catches himself pawing desperately at your breasts, cupping them in his hands to massage the mounds, enjoying the weight in his palms as he teases the nipples until they are hard. 

The men unintentionally work in tandem as you do the same to them and with your body being stimulated so thoroughly you are quickly becoming putty in their hands with a mess gathering between your thighs that the lieutenant can feel slowly dripping down his fingers. Good, you are going to need everything to be nice and primed for what they have secretly planned. All that whispering they had shared on the walk back had been for a reason, a plot that they came up with on the spot on how to share their treat for the night. 

Why should you have to choose who to start with and who to leave out? No, there's no need; brothers in arms share everything after all - everything- and you don’t have to be no exception. You wanted to go home with them both and that is how they’d like you to take them. The lieutenant taps the sergeant’s arm so that he is forced to break away and a knowing glance is shared between them. 

"I think our sweet thing needs a bit more, yeah?" Lt. Riley asks his partner in mischief as he pulls away from your lips and Sgt. Mactavish nods. 

The sergeant turns his sight back to you and you meet his gaze with an intoxicated, doe-eyed look that makes his heart skip a beat. God, you look stunning as a mess like this and he wants to make it worse. 

"We're just gettin' started," he breathes into your face.

"Come 'ere, pretty girl," the lieutenant beckons as he again seizes your wrist in his grasp and draws you over to the bed, his pants slipping off his hips as he moves and he steps out of them so that when he reaches the mattress he only has his shirt and boxers to remove. 

As a mass of naked, bulked-out muscle now, he sits down and situates himself before spinning you around by your hips, ripping off your soaked panties, and pulling you down so that you are forced to be seated in his lap. His cock prods its way through your thighs so you have to open them, veins throbbing from being so engorged. 

Your eyes lock to it through your lap. "I need you inside me," you moan, positioning your hips so you can try and grind against it. "Please, I’ve waited so long for this."

"Mmm, I like tha way ya beg, sweetheart," the lieutenant praises as his fingertips drift across your throat to feel how quick your pulse races under his touch. "I can't fuckin' say no ta that. Let's fix that ache."

Reaching between your thighs, he grabs a hold of his cock and grips it firmly at the base. His other arm secures you around the waist to his taut chest so that he can lean you both back and align the head with your entrance. You can feel the delicious way it prods right at the hole and your body trembles as you wait impatiently for him to thrust it in, your heart beating out of your ribcage. 

That first bit of penetration as the head of his cock slides in stretches you out so fast that you cry out with a jolt, but that arm around you keeps you from slipping. You continue to whine as he thrusts the rest in until he has you sitting on his thighs completely inside your tight cunt, pulsating. His lips gingerly pepper the side of your head with kisses until your muscles relax and your body finally accepts his girth.

“How’s tha’ princess?” he growls low in your ear with his warm breath trickling down your neck to make goosebumps raise along your skin. 

You nod your head up and down in short bursts as you fight with your tongue to recall how speech works. Fuck, you can feel his pulse as his cock throbs as if it has its own heartbeat.

“Ya feel so fuckin’ good,” Lt. Riley grunts as he grabs onto your waist to guide your body so you slowly start to bob up and down on him.   

It’s a good thing he sets the rhythm for you as you can barely focus on anything as the feeling of your superior stretching you out mixes with the adrenaline rush making you lightheaded, but through that haze you glimpse Sgt. Mactavish and beckon him forward so you can tug down his boxers and release his cock while he flings his shirt up and off his head.

Lt. Riley grabs onto your thighs and holds both of them gripped tight in his large hands, spreading them wide so that Mactavish can easily make his way in between them. The hair-speckled muscles of his abdomen shift along your bare spine as he leans you both back again so that the man before you has better access, both of you needing to be at the right angle to accomplish what is about to come.

"Think ye can take more, angel?" the Scot says with a mischievous grin plastered to his lips as his fist strokes along his cock to coat the shaft in the bit of precum that has dribbled out of the tip. 

There is warmth at the side of your head right at the edge of your ear, a shuddered breath that makes your pupils dilate and your own breathing gets caught in your throat. "Ya wanna have us both in ya, dontcha sweetheart?" the lieutenant growls, the heat from his breath brushing over your cheek as his fingers squeeze around the meat of your legs. "Fillin' ya full, givin' ya everythin' ya could ever want: both 'a us at the same time in this sweet, little pussy."

You pause as you try to think, but all you come up with is that you have never needed anything more than to have both of these men at once. Lt. Riley, however, takes your silence the only way he can, that you are having second thoughts.

“If ya don’t want it luv, jus’ say tha word,” he says. “It ain’t gonna hurt our feelin’s ta take turns. Do ya wanna stop?”

You can sense how close his lips are to your ear and it makes it hard to get the words out so you shake your head instead.

“Ya want us both?” he asks for clarification and you nod. 

He has to be absolutely sure. "Need ya ta say it, luv," he groans as he tenses his glutes, causing his cock to pulse inside you till it pushes you to moan out loud. "Look at your sergeant an say it."

You refocus your sight on the buff, naked man before you who is hungrily stroking himself to the sight gifted to him. The blue of his eyes shift in the dim light, a sparkle that you can't help but smile at as you swallow to find your voice. "I can take more," you say without breaking eye contact with the short-haired sergeant. "I want you inside me too, sir."

"Good girl, good fuckin' girl," the lieutenant praises in that gruff voice before placing another kiss to the side of your head. 

"Such a good little lass for us," Mactavish adds as he steps himself into the gap that’s been so generously created for him. His hands glide over your inner thighs, up and down the tender flesh a few times as if he's adoring it with his fingertips before he grabs back onto himself to align the tip of his cock at your opening just above the lieutenant's that is already stuffing you. 

Leaning his head forward, Lt. Riley's lips gently connect with your feverish shoulder at the nape of your neck and delicate bites are soon ascending up your throat. "Gonna need ya ta breathe, alright?" he says softly with his mouth still lingering just below your jaw. "Jus' breathe, sweetheart. We’ll make it fit."

Your eyes flutter closed as you succumb to the overwhelming ecstasy coursing through you at everything that is happening, but a firm hand under your chin brings you back into the room and your eyes back onto your second lover. 

"Eh, eyes on me, doll," the sergeant says as he holds your face up to gaze into his. "Wanna look inta those pretty things when I enter ye."

The lieutenant's lips rest against your throat as you feel that firm second tip begin to press harder at the top of your entrance, making you wrap your thighs around the sergeant’s hips. You breathe in through your nose deeply as he slowly sinks it in to rest just the head inside the threshold. The glazed over look in your eyes as you take him in is enough to almost send him reeling over the edge. His chest heaves with each breath as his head falls limp, muscles contracting as he pauses to give you all a moment to adjust.

Your whimpers mix with Mactavish's deep grunt and Lt. Riley's satisfied hum to fill the small room with the most unique music these four walls have ever heard. The pain of the intense stretch gradually eases after a moment and now that pleasure has taken its place you beg for the scot to keep going.

He smiles hungrily."Almost there, lass. Jus’ a bit more.”.

"Fuckin’ look at ya. You're doin' so well, sweetheart," Lt. Riley moans more of his praises as the sharp edge of his teeth drag across your neck, doing everything he can with what he has available to him to make sure your body stays in a state of pure bliss. 

Mactavish's fingers dig into your hips as he thrusts again, this time all the way till he reaches the base of his member and you buck backwards, but the lieutenant has you secure in his arms so that you don’t go anywhere. 

"Tha's it, pretty girl, tha’s it," he mutters sweetly as he lifts his head to find your cheek, nuzzling against it while placing sweet kisses along the surface. Your face is burning and he can feel it against his mouth.

"God, ye are a marvel," Mactavish adds with a hiss trailing the end of his sentence. "A fuckin' dream."

All the undivided attention, all the stimulation and heightened sensations of pain and pleasure has you in a daze of ecstasy so powerful that your head is spinning, drunk off all that intensity and they have to take control as you can only manage to take what they give. 

Rotating your shoulders and turning your head with a bit of effort you find the lieutenant's face and before he can even think you immediately move in for the kill, connecting your lips with force. His hands compress around your thighs the harder you go in so that he can meet you with the same intensity. Your mouths dance together for a few more minutes before you wrench your face away only to have your hands reach out to find their place at the back of the sergeant's neck to pull him into a kiss just as heated. 

No one gets left behind tonight. 

Lt. Riley takes the opportunity of your distraction and rolls his hips to start thrusting, wanting to take you by surprise and it does. The whine you release into Mactavish's mouth is his evidence that he's done just that.

"Fuck," the sergeant exclaims in a burst as he too feels the effects of the lieutenant's movements and instinctually bucks his hips into you, causing you to whine louder. 

Your head falls back against your superior's firm shoulder, your arms raising up to wrap around his neck to help you hold on as the two men begin to drive themselves deeper and deeper into your sopping wet pussy, stretching your tight hole to capacity. Your breasts bounce in rhythm, your body forced to move with the strength of their combined thrusts as eyes are locked onto the delicious sight of your body taking them. 

Lt. Riley’s hands are still preoccupied with your thighs, but one of Mactavish’s is free and he uses it to cup around the plump bit of tissue to massage the nipple between his thumb and forefinger for the second time; the man just can’t keep off them. “Ye don’t know how much I’ve wanted te get at these juicy things,” he groans at the feeling of your soft skin filling his palm. “That’s why I was always makin’ ye run laps just te see ‘em bounce.”

You knew that’s what it was, why he always seemed to single you out in training when you swore up and down that you didn’t do anything wrong. So this had been a long time coming, a desire that had been long held.

“Knew the moment ya stepped on base, ya were gonna be trouble for me,” the man behind you pants, wanting to add his own two cents. “Told myself not ta look, rules and all, but fuckin’ hell sweetheart, how could I not? Ya got in my head fuckin’ quick. An’ with that strong, bull-headed attitude to match; christ, you are a deadly thing, luv.”  

They find their rhythm in tandem, keeping pace with one another to get every benefit of slipping through all that slick, all parties working to that one collective end of everyone cumming like a three-headed monster of ecstasy. Thrust after thrust, bodies stimulated from adrenaline, you all are drawn even closer to that most satisfying end.

“You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good, sweet girl,” your lieutenant praises and the sound of his voice is almost enough to make you break. “You gonna cum for us, yeah? Need ya ta cum.”

You swallow, your mouth dry from hanging open as it’s too much to hold in all those delicious moans. “Close,” you mumble into the small space created by your bodies, but all this friction is working a little too well for your lovers.  

The sergeant is the first to break. “Shit, gonna fuckin’ come,” he groans as his abs strain, the pressure in the base of his stomach almost at its peak. Fuck, it’s just too satisfying to last any longer. 

The other isn’t too far off either. “Ya ready for it?” Lt. Riley says, his breathing shaky and uneven. 

You nod your head, a little disappointed that you aren’t fully there yet, but you know it can’t be helped. “Good girl,” he moans. 

The sergeant pulls out first and you take his cock into your hand, tightly holding onto the shaft to stroke it towards your breasts as the lieutenant stays in to keep going. Lt. Riley is so close he can feel that tightening in the pit of his stomach about to snap and with a few more ragged thrusts he too pulls out to be met immediately with your hand that keeps up the stimulation. Having both of their cocks in each one of your hands, you stroke them furiously.

Finally the moment of no return is reached and the Scottish sergeant is the first to go, the stringy spurts of milky white cum hitting your chest to gather between your breasts as he shudders in your hand. Through his grunts and moans of pleasure as you stroke his cock of everything, your lieutenant blows too and the warm fluid shoots up between your thighs to cover your lower abdomen. You don’t stop your work until your hands are forcibly removed and only then do you finally let them go.

But even though they are finished, they aren’t done with you yet- oh no, you are going to cum if it’s the last thing Lt. Riley does.

You are taken by surprise as there is suddenly a finger circling your clit and you moan into your throat. “Did ya think it was over? Can’t let ya not get yours, luv,” your superior whispers into your ear. “Want ya ta come for me, sweet. Come on my fingers.”

The two middle fingers on his hand are immediately shoved into your dripping hole and he curls them again and again over your G spot with a steady touch until he has your thighs quivering. Not one to be outdone by his superior, Sgt. Mactavish falls to his knees and leans in, his heated, panting mouth advancing to just above the lieutenant’s fingers so that his tongue can lap at your clit.

Lt. Riley can feel your swollen walls as they start to flutter around his digits, your hips bucking wildly over Mactavish’s face as you stroke your fingers through the hair of his mohawk. The lieutenant needs you to come, he needs to feel that you’ve gotten yours; you’re not leaving here unsatisfied as long as he’s around. A few more curls of his fingers and strokes of your clit and you go silent as that tightening in your belly is pulled completely taunt and all at once snaps. 

“Tha’s it,” your superior says amusedly as you let out a cry and your walls clamp down around his fingers, “good girl. Ride it all tha way out for me, luv. All tha way. Fuck…there ya go.”

You grind your hips into his hand and against the sergeant’s features until you can’t go anymore and settle back against Lt. Riley’s hot chest in contented exhaustion. The lieutenant’s fingers lay resting inside you as Sgt. Mactavish pulls back from your pussy, face dripping and accentuated with a smile before he wipes the contents away onto the back of his hand.

The sergeant looks so pleased with himself. “Been a while since a pretty thing’s ridden my face,” he says. “God, I missed tha’.” 

The lieutenant lets you ride each balmy wave of ecstasy that washes over you to its end before the fingers inside you are pulled out and he brings them to his mouth to lick them clean as Sgt. Mactavish tilts your chin up and leans in to leave you with a breathless kiss on your raw lips for a job well done. He is more gentle this time, more sweet, and you swear you can feel his mouth turn up into a smile against your own that you can’t help matching. 

The break in the kiss is slow and as he pulls away he strokes your cheek with the backs of his fingers. “Ye were brilliant lass,” he says, punctuating it with one last peck on your lips as he moves back. 

The lieutenant helps you off of his lap and sets you carefully down onto the bed beside him, making sure you’re steady before letting you go as the sergeant steps off somewhere into his room. You don’t pay much attention as your sight is focused on your superior, taking him in without the hindrance of his mask as he stares back at you.

“Ya really did so fuckin’ good, pretty girl,” he praises, admiring all that visible heat in your cheeks that he is partly responsible for. “But I knew ya would.”

He leans in to place a grateful kiss to your parched lips and you graciously accept it, letting your lips linger for as long as possible. Just as the kiss is broken, though, the squeak of metal is heard followed by the sound of rushing water and you both turn to the source to find Mactavish standing naked against the doorframe of his bathroom.

“Comin’?” the sergeant calls out.

Lt. Riley immediately goes to stand and offers you his hand. “C’mon, we need ta get ya cleaned up, sweetheart. We made a bit of a mess,” he says as he helps you onto your feet and guides you by a hand placed to the small of your back over to the shower and the warm water waiting to coat all of you. You stare up questioningly into his face as you go, but he just smirks as if he’s guessed what you are thinking. 

“Don’t ya worry, night’s still young and we ain’t gonna be done for a long while yet.”

[camillelespanayesbtch]

Seven Devils All Around Me (18+)

Summary: It isn't your fault you like the feeling of power, the sensation was addictive, and although it never worked out well for those around you, it certainly worked well for you. You weren't to blame that people seldom survived attacking you, it was their fault after all. But you can only run for so long before your misdeeds catch up to you, and where will you be left after? It's dangerous to walk certain paths alone as a young witch.

Content: Eventual smut, graphic depictions of murder and violence, character death, power imbalance, manipulation, addiction, grief, discussion of sexual violence (r receiving) (I will add more as I think of them)

Word Count: 4690

Agatha Harkness x fem!reader

Chapter One

You hum to yourself as you follow the marks you carved into the trees, a hidden path you had created that left those who follow you believing you were the perfect victim, blissfully unaware of the danger that followed you. You could hear the boys talking among themselves, their gleeful snickering as they think about all the things they could do to you now that they had you alone and unaware. Like most evenings, the forest was a cacophony of sound, there wasn’t an inch of space where there was silence, every crevasse had sound, even the ants clicked to one another to inform the other of the crumbs of bread that were left abandoned on the floor of the community hall that hosted giants. The leaves crunch underfoot, small twigs snapping as you step on them, continuing to hum the tune until you come to a clearing in the forest.

There was a space where no leaves were, a perfect circle that had been made over years of the same trick, black as the night sky is dark. “Look boys,” Douglas says with a grin, “She’s made a spot for fucking, just for us.” He moves closer to you, the others surrounding you as well, all of them giving each other encouraging looks. They didn’t believe the stories about boys going missing because every coven had tales like that, even the girls were told tales about their powers being taken when lured to walk the witch’s road, but everyone believed that it was just the danger of the road and not one of their own doing it. “I wonder if her tits are as big as her top makes them look,” Douglas says, advancing on you quickly, his hands twitching by his side as he thinks about tearing your shirt from your body.

“I’ve seen them through her window when she changes,” Clint says, “They’re small, no bigger than a handful, but at least they’re perky.” He cracks his knuckles, his eyes glinting dangerously. This wasn’t his first time taking what he wanted, and it wouldn’t be his last, just like the other boys he was with- if he sees something he wants, he takes it. His mother did raise him to be respectful towards women, especially those in the coven, but she always spoke about you as being the exception. You were the freak of the group, the one people whispered about, warned the kids to stay away from least you corrupt them. So, really, what he and his friends were about to do wasn’t a bad thing, it was deserved. “We should take pictures and add them to the wall.”

“We should take pictures and add them to the wall,” you mimic, turning to face them. “Didn’t anyone tell you not to keep trophies? Or was that too much for your tiny little boy-brains to comprehend?” You run your fingers through your hair, letting out a sigh as you shake a few knots loose. You were hungry, and these boys would be enough to last you a few weeks. Sure, they weren’t as powerful as the elders, too jumped up on the testosterone coursing through their bodies to focus on mastering the craft, instead relying on brute force to get things done. “Didn’t mommy teach you better? Or even your fathers? No, I suppose not. No, daddy left you boys behind, didn’t he? Went off to go fuck some young maiden the next town over,” you make a vulgar gesture, thrusting your hips before laughing when you see the group clench their fists in anger. “Oh no, did I hurt your feelings? What’re you gonna do? Blast me?”

It would only take one. It only ever takes one, but they didn’t know that. Of course they didn’t know that they barely knew how to groom themselves let alone see the signs of a trap, to even see that sometimes there is truth in the tales they have been told since childhood. You mightn’t have believed the ones about the Purple Witch, but you wouldn’t deny that there is something alluring about her. The ability to take someone’s powers? You wondered what it felt like, if it was as addictive as watching people burn, using their own powers to cause their deaths. “Lucas and Clint, hold her down,” Douglas orders, his eyes burning into yours.

The two boys he orders raise their hands, their magic shooting from their hands and wrapping around your wrists. They both were smirking until they see the lopsided grin on your face, a darkness settling into your eyes. You breathe in deep through your nose, tilting your head back up to the sky as your eyes drift shut, feeling the warmth starting to spread through your body and bloom out from your palms, “Oh boys,” you exhale. “Silly, stupid, little boys.” Your head rolls forward and you open your eyes to look at them, a fire burning in your eyes that makes them take a step back. “Didn’t you hear the stories? Didn’t your mother tell you not to go into the woods at night?”

“She’s just- She’s just bluffing,” Douglas stutters, “She’s just trying to scare us.” He puffs his chest out in false bravado before moving closer to you, his hands coming up to tear the front of your blouse open, but he hisses in pain, pulling his hands back. Your body had grown hot to the touch, as though he had just put his hands over the hot embers of a campfire, “What trickery is this?”

“You haven’t figured it out, have you?” You yank your hands free of Clint and Lucas’ magic, grabbing a handful of Douglas’ shirt, and pulling him so his body was against yours, a feral grin spreading across your face. “Smell that?” You lean in, taking a deep breath as the scent of burning fabric starts to fill the air, “Maybe you can feel it. It’s getting hot, isn’t it? I wonder if I’ll see eyes explode this time like popcorn.” You stare at him intensely, your hands glowing like magma as you start to cook him from the inside out, feeling his energy seeping out of him and into you. You let out a content sigh a the sensation, watching as his eyes go wide, his skin turning a deep red before starting to melt from his muscles and bones. He cries out in agony, trying to get away from you, to put the fire out inside of him but it was of no use, and soon he falls to the ground, his body quickly going up in flames. “Now,” you smile and turn to look at the other boys who were looking on in horror, “Who’s next?”

“You’re a monster,” Clint says, clenching his fists, “He didn’t even do anything to you! We were just playing!” He was quick to attack you, seemingly forgetting what he had just witnessed you do to his friend. You eagerly drink his energy up, your body glowing like a reactor before his body turns into barbecue. He claws at his clothes, trying to remove the flaming fabric from his body as he writhes on the ground, his screams drowning out the music of songbirds. You wonder if the woods would muffle the sound so it didn’t carry to the houses that lived along the edge of it, that the neighbors wouldn’t have their windows open to let the warm spring breeze in. Then again, if you didn’t want them to hear, you simply shouldn’t be doing what you are, but you couldn’t help yourself, could you? You enjoy it too much. You enjoy luring men into the woods, using their own powers to burn them alive as some sort of penance for all the women burned before you because their power was seen as a threat.

You take a few breaths to calm yourself, looking at your hands, they were turning black, tendrils creeping up your forearm and tickling your inner-elbow. This happened every time, the only evidence of your crimes. They were easy to hide though, you wore long-sleeves, and had a pair of gloves that your mother gave you to protect you from the judgmental gaze of your coven. Your mother wasn’t consciously aware of what you were doing, thinking you were just going into the woods to practice your craft, but she couldn’t deny it was suspicious that boys kept going missing whenever you did.

The remaining boys fall quickly, you wave your hands, letting out a hot blast of fire that turns their remains to ash. You knew the rain would disperse the ashes, returning them to the earth and helping to keep the forest alive, although your circle never grew back- the grass has remained dead and black for years. You were in your twenties now, and you had been doing this since you were sixteen. You do the buttons back up on your blouse then pull your sleeves down, doing the cuff buttons up so the sleeves wouldn’t go out of place. You flick your hair from your face, a smile settling on your features as you start to head back, humming to yourself once more.

As you walk, you stop occasionally to pick some flowers for your mom, making a bouquet for her. Your father wasn’t around to do this for her, not that he had done such thoughtful things when he was alive, that had always been your thing. You loved making your mom smile because it meant she wasn’t worrying about anything which had become her normal. If she wasn’t worrying about you getting in trouble, she was worrying about the coven being run out of town, and if she wasn’t worrying about that, she was worrying about taxes which only seemed to go up every year. It’s not that you couldn’t afford the taxes, she had been around for centuries, she had more than enough money to cover them, but it was still an unnecessary stress in her life that she simply did not need. If you could get away with it, you would burn the tax collector alive, maybe even roast him over a fire like you would toast a marshmallow.

“You can’t help yourself, can you?” A familiar voice asks, disappointment evident in her tone. “I tell them- I tell them every meeting that it isn’t you, that my daughter would never bring harm to her coven, and every time you go out and prove me wrong.”

You look up from the flowers you were examining, your features falling, “Mama… I- They attacked me,” you explain. “I was just coming here to practice, like you always want me to. And they followed me, taunting me, telling me all the horrible things they were going to do to me.” You turn your head slightly, just enough to see the open area out the corner of your eye that was a few hundred feet away by now before looking back at your mom. You try to smile, holding the sad looking bouquet out for her, “I picked you flowers. Your favorites. I know you like having fresh flowers in the house because you like when the bees-“

“Enough,” she cuts you off, “Enough,” she repeats, softer this time. She walks closer to you, a sadness on her face as she gently takes your free hand in hers- your skin was like charcoal, and still hot to the touch like the furnace in winter. Her heart aches painfully in her chest, why was her only child like this? Had she done something wrong? Those questions hurt her; how could she think so poorly of you? She loves you dearly, she would do anything for you, absolutely anything for you, why couldn’t you do this one thing for her? Her touch was soft, cooling your burning skin as she runs her fingers over it, your skin slowly turning back to your normal shade. She turns your hand over so your palm was facing her, running her finger in a circle on your palm, a small smile tugging on her lips, “Round and round the garden,” she whispers, “Went the teddy bear, one step,” she walks her finger up your forearm, healing as she goes, “two step,” another step onto your bicep, “Tickle you under there,” she says and gently tickles your underarm, a soft giggle escaping her. “You used to squeal whenever I did that to you as a toddler.”

You can’t help the quiet giggle you let out, unaware of the tears spilling from your eyes, “Mama,” you whisper back, “I’m not a little kid anymore.” She gives your arm a squeeze at that, looking pained by the reminder. You rest your hand over hers, looking remorseful immediately, “I know- I know I’m still your little girl. You still make my boo boo’s better.” You look down at your hands, they were no longer black as tar, and you could see the blue and purple of your veins on the backs of them instead of a deep red that glowed against the black. You felt a knot form in your stomach, “They’re gonna kill me, aren’t they, mama?” You ask her quietly, a waver in your voice. “For what I’ve done- They’re gonna burn me.”

Your mom blinks back tears but it was futile, the salty liquid running down her cheeks, “When they find out,” she replies softly, “Yes. They will.” She raises her hand to tenderly stroke your cheek, and as always, you lean into her touch. Her thumb brushes against your rosy skin, wiping away any tear that dared to fall. She didn’t know how long you would both have together, whether she could wash your hair and braid flowers into it, or whether now was the only time you two would get. “Why couldn’t you stop?”

“I can’t help it, mama, you know that,” you answer, your eyes closing as you relax into her touch. Her hands never caused the same pain and suffering that yours have, they have always healed and protected. There was never a moment where she didn’t help someone, where she turned them away when they showed up to the door pleading for her to make their sick child better. There was always a spare bed for the child or adult to recover, your mother watching over them during the night to ensure their condition didn’t worsen. You. You had always been the one to hurt, to harm, to inflict suffering and pain. Your mother, try as she might to get you to do things for the betterment of the coven such as burning the fields to return the nutrients to the earth, or helping start the bonfires for when there was a community barbecue, even trying to get you to take out the wolves that threatened the farm animals, but it never satiated you.

It wasn’t until you turned sixteen did it become a problem, but she brushed it off because you had been terribly bullied, she kept brushing it off when the first group of boys went missing. She had moved you both after that, found another coven. Six months of peace before it happened again. Every time, you would come home with blackened skin and a bouquet of flowers. She never had to worry about running out of dried flowers for her potions, the basement was full of them, your peace offerings to her. You always were so sincere in your apologies, and she believed you every time, why wouldn’t she? “They deserved it,” you add, “They were going to hurt me.”

“Not every single boy was out to hurt you, surely, sweetheart. What about Tommy? He was always so kind to you, he tutored you. You were friends.”

Tommy had been your friend two moves ago, you two had bonded over being excluded from most of the college class you were enrolled in, even the lecturer refused to acknowledge you in class. You both were good students, handing your assignments in on time and not once even asking for an extension. You thought you were just friends, you told him you only liked women, and he told you he was okay with it. You had gone over to his house one afternoon to study for an upcoming exam, the two of you were in his room on his bed reading notes when he had asked you if you’d ever kissed anyone before. The question made your skin crawl, “No,” you had answered, “I haven’t.” He got this look in his eyes at that answer, his hand had come up to turn your head to face him before he leaned in to kiss you, his tongue forced its way into your mouth, pocking and prodding your throat. You had frozen; your eyes wide as he assaulted you. It wasn’t until he had pulled back did the anger kick in. You don’t really remember much of what happened, only running out of the house as the fire department showed up to extinguish the flames, two of the firefighters checking over you for injuries. You had told your mother what happened, what he did, and she had brushed it off, saying it was just how it was done- nobody needed to ask for permission to kiss, it was spontaneous. You had cried in your room that night, you didn’t understand why your mom didn’t see why it was wrong of him to do that to you. She knew you liked women, why on earth would you ever want some man to kiss you?

“We- You know what he did to me, mama. He hurt me. He hurt me,” you tell her, more tears falling onto your cheeks, “He knew I didn’t like him like that. Every single one of them deserved it.” That wasn’t true, there had been a couple of groups you took out because you enjoyed the thrill of it, the screams, the feeling of power that filled your system. Even thinking about it now made you giddy, your pupils dilating as though a drug was coursing its way through your system. “You have to believe me, mama, please.”

Her hand falls from your face, “We should head back. You need a shower, and I’d like to braid your hair.” Her voice was cold, the older woman turning her back on you, not even taking the flowers from your hand. She usually hummed with you, the same song she sang to you as a child, but tonight the only sound was the owls hooting in the forest. You wipe your eyes on your sleeve, holding the flowers close to you as you follow along behind her. You hum quietly to yourself, looking up into the trees to see the glowing eyes of birds watching you. There was something comforting about them being so attentive, like they were looking out for the inhabitants that called the woods their home, even as they swoop on the mice that scamper across the leafy floor. It was the balance of things, and even as they eat the mice, they too would return to the earth and continue the cycle anew.

When you get home, your mother sits on a chair and has you sit on the floor between her legs as she starts to braid your hair, her fingers working deftly. She carefully takes the dried flowers and works them into your hair, willing the protection to keep you safe when the leaders come knocking. Only now does she hum, the strands of gold that hold the flowers in place starting to glow. She new deep down this day would come, that moving towns, cities, states would only get you so far because the tales that were told about a witch of destruction would catch up to you, that one coven was going to be smart enough to figure things out and realize it is one of their own. “You’ve always had such beautiful hair,” she murmurs, adding another flower to the braid and tying it into place, “Ever since you left my body, you had a mop of hair on your head. Whenever you woke in the morning, your hair was all over the place, and it would take so much water to tame it.”

“I’ve seen the photos,” you reply with a giggle, your eyes closed as you relax, enjoying the calming sensation of your mom braiding your hair. There had been times she had yelled at you for not brushing your hair, threatening to cut it all off if you didn’t want to take care of it. She had always apologized afterwards though, blaming her anger on something that had been said in a coven meeting as she carefully brushed the knots and tangles from your hair. “How long do we have?”

Your mother doesn’t look up from your hair, the wards she had set around the house were starting to crumble, only meant to slow them down, “Not long, my dear,” she picks the hairtie up and ties the braid off, securing a crystal in with it. “There,” she says, running her hand lightly over her work before you turn to look at her, your eyes holding the light of a thousand flames, “My beautiful girl. If you survive, you know you must never return.” Her hand caresses your cheek, her eyes held the river of life which you always loved looking into because you could feel the cool refreshing water wash over you, keeping you calm.

“I can’t leave you behind, mama. I can’t- I promised you that I would look after you,” you rest your hand over hers, they were the perfect balance. It always made you laugh how whenever her hands were cold, yours were burning hot, and on the rare occasion hers were warm, yours were colder than the glacier high in the mountains. You didn’t want to leave her behind, she would be an outcast unless she participated in your execution which she was unlikely to do because despite everything you have put her through, she still loves you and you knew there was nothing stronger than a mother’s love. “I can’t go without you.”

“You have to, sweetheart. You must find your own path, in a coven that will understand you,” she pulls back from you when the front door flies open, standing up she calls out to them. “She’s in here!”  She looks at you, pain visible in her eyes, “She killed them! I saw it with my own eyes. No daughter of mine shall harm our coven.”

You felt your spirit break, unable to realize she was doing this for a reason, to keep herself safe, to keep you safe from seeing her harmed. “Mama-“ You start, struggling against the witches as they bind you with their magic, “Mama, please,” you beg, “Please don’t let them do this to me. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean to do it, mama.” The women haul you to your feet, the magic tightening around your wrists behind your back, cutting off the circulation to your hands.

“I saw the look in your eyes, Yn. You enjoyed it.” She follows the other women out of the house, the path to the stake lined with other members of the coven holding burning torches. “I’ll bind her to the stake,” your mother tells the women, “To make up for what I have done. I have let this coven down too many times before, I won’t let it happen again.” Her magic felt different this time as it wraps itself around you, your hands pulled taut behind the stake, the cold no longer soothing, instead it felt icy, the frost burning your skin. She couldn’t look you in the eyes, she didn’t want you to see how much this was hurting her, and she didn’t want to see how betrayed you looked as she prepared to watch her daughter burn.

“I never thought I’d see the day, Theodora,” the elder-witch comments, “Preparing to burn your own flesh and blood after so long of defending her. Had this evening turned out differently, you would be on that stake along with her, there is no doubt about that.” She gestures for the others to surround you, a group of six women all part of the higher counsel, and every single one of them deeming you guilty. There was no room in their coven for someone like you, someone so dangerous, someone without remorse. Were they unbiased in their judgement? Four of them were not, all having lost a son to you. The other two had daughters, but even they feared that one day your hatred would spread to women. Although whenever their daughters had caught a glimpse of you, their cheeks turned as red as a rose, and a carefree giggle escaped them which they thought was arguably worse. “Get into position, Theodora. It’s time.”

“Mama please,” you beg, “Please. I didn’t mean to. I can’t control it. Please.” You look at her, desperate for her to believe you one last time, “Please, mama. Tell them. Tell them that I didn’t know what I was doing. That I didn’t mean to. That they hurt me too.”

Your mother wanted to stroke your cheek one last time, to wipe your tears away but she couldn’t do that, not anymore. She breathes you in, inhaling the floral scent of the shampoo you used before stepping down from the platform and joining the other women encircling you. “I should have let you burn the first time,” is all she says.

The elder-witch gives a nod, everyone raising their hands in preparation, “Begin!” She commands, their powers shooting out of their hands and hitting you full force, a pained scream tearing itself from your throat. It felt like your insides were being roasted, your skin prickling from the heat. It was agony, you had never felt anything like this before and you wanted it to stop.

“Please!” You scream, your head falling back against the stake, “Stop! I can’t-“ You could feel that familiar sensation starting to build in your stomach, and it wouldn’t be long until it broke free. “Mama- Mama run!” Your face was wet with tears, your head tipping forward, your eyes making contact with your mom’s. She couldn’t run, you both knew this, but you hoped this last time she would break the rules for you. The binding around your wrist starts falter, the women behind you noticing it.

“Elder- Her bindings! She’s going to break free!” One of them exclaims yet she does not stop her attack on you, none of them do because they hoped that if they continued, you would finally burn.

The elder-witch encourages them to push through it, “She is glowing! We are close! Keep going!” Your mother knew what was about to happen, finally she meets your eyes, mouthing an apology to you before the blast happens, all the women letting out agonizing screams as the fall to the ground ablaze. You slump somewhat against the wooden stake, your hair blowing in the draft created from the fires, your skin flush a deep red and your hands glowing brighter than the sun. You didn’t want to hurt them. You didn’t mean to, you begged for them not to do this. You warned them you couldn’t control it. You were going to wallow in that feeling until you remembered your mother. You look around frantically, counting the bodies: seven. Your mother-

“Mama-“ You jump down from the pedestal and rush over to where she had last been, sinking to your knees as you desperately try and put out the flames. She was unrecognizable, her skin blackened and burned. “Mama, I’m sorry,” you sob, cradling her burnt body close to you. She was the only person to look out for you, the only one to have stood by your side, and you had repaid her by killing her. Your tears drip from your chin and onto her corpse, the tears evaporating before they even touch her skin. You look down at her, “I’m sorry.”

[demigod-shenanigans]

Also not thinking about how Jason’s earliest memory is his mom abandoning him. Promising to come back for him and never doing so. Jason built his entire life around the fact that people lie and promises are broken (I’ve got that quote somewhere, it’s from early BoO when they’re dealing with Beryl’s mania)

But Leo—Leo whose whole thing is that he’s flighty and never stays and has been running away for half his life—asked Jason to trust him and told him he had a plan. And of course Jason trusts him. As long as he’s known Leo, what has he been able to do except trust him?

What can he do except want to believe against all odds that he’s finally found someone who will come back for him?

100% not thinking about how Jason spent months looking for Leo after the explosion and never stopped believing he was out there while knowing full well that NOBODY looked for him when he went missing from Camp Jupiter.

[azmageddon]

Silence (Part Two)

Pairing: Azriel x Cassian’s twin!healer! reader

Summary: It’s your turn to find the silence deafening.

Warnings: Short section of spiciness, but definitely not smutty. Also, you can pry the angst from my cold, dead, hands. Give me all the angst. Also painfully inaccurate to the original storyline.

A/n: Sorry it took so long! I’m obsessed with making everything perfect. Enjoy! Let me know what you think and what else you want to see.

“I have one for you too, Y/N.”

You looked up from where you were leaning against the wall at the back of Rhys’s office. Everyone’s eyes were on you and you could have sworn that Azriel, who was leaning against the wall next to you, had stopped breathing all together.

“Me?” you asked, confused.

Rhys only nodded, holding the invitation out further in his outstretched hand. You shuffled your way forward, Mor and Amren stepping aside to give you space. When you finally reached his desk and gripped the letter, you gave it a swift tug, but Rhys didnt let go. The two of you stood there for a moment, hands attached to the letter in a quiet tug-of-war over his desk. You caught eyes with the High Lord. They seemed to say be careful before he finally released the envelope.

Worry hummed across the bond, mixing with yours and sitting in the pit of your stomach. Turning back toward your spot in the back of the room, you risked a quick glance up to Azriel and saw concern plain on his face.

“Watch your face,” you reminded him in his mind and he quickly returned to his stoic, unreadable expression. “Wouldn’t want to blow our secret over a silly invitation, would you?” You tried to keep the conversation light and carefree, but it was difficult when dread had crept into your mind. If Azriel felt your nervousness, he didn't acknowledge it.

“You know,” he replied, “I’ve been rethinking keeping this a secret. Don’t you think it’s time they knew?”

“But it’s so much fun sneaking around.”

You could feel Azriel’s metaphorical eye roll through the bond and suppressed a chuckle while you took your place back against the wall. “I just thought it would be nice after keeping it a secret for nearly 400 years. But we can talk about this later. Open the letter so I can read it, too.”

You did as he asked, slipping your finger under the delicate fold of the envelope and pulling at the wax seal until it released with a pop. Slipping the invitation nestled inside, you turned it around so as to read the looped cursive sprawled in fluorescent gold ink across the page. You felt Azriel shuffle closer to get a better opportunity to read over your shoulder.

Y/N,

It is with great pleasure that we request your presence at the Masquerade Ball hosted by her majesty, Queen Amarantha of Under the Mountain. Please kindly reply within a fortnight. Punctuality is of the utmost importance.

“I don’t like the look of this,” came the voice of your mate in your head.

***

“How do I look?”

Azriel’s eyes snapped up from the book he was reading and instantly dragged themselves across your body. A groan from deep in his chest vibrated through the room and you were hit with a wave of arousal across the bond.

“Down boy,” you teased, stepping toward the vanity at the corner of the room to touch up your makeup. You felt Azriel’s eyes glued to you as you moved. Your dress, dark and revealing, was something Rhys insisted you wore to the party. You were used to outfits like this, the fabric accentuating your full hips and showing off your years and years of hard training. It reached up over the curve of your breasts and plummeted, reaching nearly low enough to expose your belly button. The Night Court demanded respect from those outside the bubble that was Velaris, and your High Lord chose to express the Inner Circle’s blind confidence through dress.

“Gods, if I knew you were going to wear that I would have argued with Rhys more to let me accompany you two.”

You sat at the vanity and reapplied your lipstick. From over your bare left shoulder came a lone tendril of Azriel’s shadows. It snaked along the curve of your collarbone and circled around your neck a few times before settling itself snuggly around your throat like the most priceless of necklaces.

A shiver went through you as the shadow gave a gentle squeeze. “Honestly, I’m surprised he didn’t insist on you and Cassian to join us. You’d have thought he would use this opportunity to show off the strength of the Night Court to the other courts.”

Quiet as his shadows himself, Azriel’s large fingers slowly replaced the wisp of temporary jewelry. It dissipated at its master’s touch, and his hand gently, but firmly, tilted your head back so as to give him better access to the pulse point currently beating wildly at your neck. His lips brushed over the shell of your ear and you let out a soft moan.

“I’d like to see you out of that dress,” he whispered against your skin.

Your throat bobbed as you swallowed hard at his words. A quick nip at your skin had you gasping out a response. “I can’t,” you managed. “Rhys will be here any second.”

Azriel trailed a rough calloused finger along the membrane of your wing and you felt a flush of desire and pleasure run through your body. The need for him flowed through your veins and it seeped deep into your bones. He could tell your willpower was faltering. Every emotion and neediness that you felt was pouring through the bond into his own soul.

“So tell him you’re not ready yet. I won’t take long.” Another nip at your skin, this time at the cleavage of your breast, had you nearly giving in. Your eyes fluttered closed and your chest heaved as he peppered kisses along your neck. But before you could utter another word, there was a knock at the door.

“Y/N?” came the voice of your High Lord. “Are you ready?”

Knowing neither of you could actually delay your departure, you sprung apart. Jumping up so quickly, you felt your chair tipping backward, only to be caught by one of Azriel’s shadows.

“One minute!” You called through the door and turned back to your mate.

“You have to go,” you whispered in a rush, quickly grabbing your bag from the bed and your shoes from their place beside the closet. “You’re not supposed to be in here!”

In your frantic dash across the room to retrieve your items, Azriel gripped your shoulders, halting you. His lips crashed into yours, passionate, hungry, and hurried. It left you breathless and you gasped for air as he pulled back, traces of your lipstick staining his own lips.

“Later, Shadowsinger,” you whispered as you reached up on tiptoe to place your lips against his again, more gently this time.

“I’ll meet you at the exit to say goodbye with the others,” he said into your mind and, stepping into a swirl of mist and shadow, he was gone.

***

“Az, the Autumn brothers are here.” Across the bond, you felt Azriel perk up. He must have been focused on something, perhaps reading a report or reviewing paperwork for his next mission. But at the sound of your voice in his head, you could feel his attention shifting to your gossip.

“Did they dress up?” he asked. “Please tell me Eris came as something ridiculous. Like a chicken or something.”

“Gods, no.” You suppressed a smile and glanced over at the heir to Autumn Court. The only costume he wore was his flaming red hair and permanent scowl on his face.

“Actually,” you continued across the bond, “It looks like Rhys and I aren’t the only ones who refused to dress up. In fact, the only ones who have costumes are the Spring Court.”

Amarantha was saying something, servants coming around to pass out wine in goblets that rivaled the finery of Rhy’s own private collection. You took one without thinking but hesitated before taking a sip. You recalled the words toast and finest wine coming from your hosts lips at some point. When your High Lord, who hadn’t left your side all night, didn’t drink from his yet, you followed his lead.

You barely paid attention all night, anyway. One arm constantly linked into your High Lord’s, you had to play the part of the mysterious, ruthless, second-in-command of the Night Court. Not many outside of Velaris knew much about you, except that you were an exceptional healer and twin the Night Court General. You played the role Rhys had expected you to, and Gods, did you play it well. Not a male in the room could take their eyes off of you, with your long flowing hair, curvy, yet muscular, body, and strong, unclipped Illyrian wings.

But frequently, you found your thoughts drifting back to your mate and the strong fingers you had wrapped around your throat a few hours ago. You hoped they would find their home there again upon your return to The House of Wind later tonight.

A wave of arousal hit you that wasn’t entirely your own and you realized Azriel must be having the same thoughts.

“Having fun without me, Shadowsinger?”

“Just remembering you in that dress,” came Azriel’s voice, low and sultry. “And all the ways I could take it off of you later.” You nearly choked on the breath you took. Rhys cast you a look out of the side of his eye, but you ignored it because Azriel was still speaking.

“Or maybe you can leave the dress on. It doesn’t offer much coverage, anyway.” His voice was growing darker, deeper, and more sensual with every word. “Or maybe the heels. Just the heels.”

You shook your head to clear it, attempting to focus on whatever Amarantha was saying in her toast. Wealth… happiness… friendship… blah blah blah. You ignored her sentences, picking up only on a few words. You did manage to make out her command to drink! before you caught eyes with Rhys. They portrayed something you couldn’t quite read. Sadness? Regret? You must have missed a part of her speech that was important.

Deciding to ask him about it later, you took a swig of your glass along with all the others in the chamber. The wine was sweet, thick like honey, and coated your throat on its way down. In fact, you felt it coating your entire body like a warm blanket. It worked its way into your bones and after a few moments of warmth, you felt the feeling turn to ice.

Icy tendrils shot through your limbs and you ruffled your wings to try and dispel the feeling. But it only became stronger and stronger until finally you felt a deep, soul crushing, emptiness. Quick as it began, the feeling was gone, and with it, the hum of the bond in your chest.

“Azriel?” you called to him. But no response came. Panic seized you and you clutched at your chest with your free hand, your other wrapping tighter around the arm of your High Lord. He was turning toward you now, saying something, but you ignored him. In fact, the entire chamber had erupted into chaos. Voices were all around you, angry and yelling. But the one voice you called for again and longed to hear was silent.

You didn’t know what it felt like to have a bond that was closed. You only knew that this was far, far worse.

“Y/N.” The sound of your name jolted you from your panicked soul searching. You looked up, catching eyes with the High Lord.

“Azriel,” you whispered out loud to him.

“What?” He asked, hands on either one of your shoulders, steadying you.

“Azriel,” you repeated to him. “He’s my mate.” The truth came tumbling out of you. The secret the two of you had kept for 400 years suddenly seemed foolish.

Rhys shook his head, not understanding your words. “Your mate?” He asked, confused. “For how long? Does he know?”

You nodded, tears suddenly filling your eyes. You pushed against the golden thread that tethered the two of you together, but it only ended in darkness. “We’ve been mates for nearly 400 years. We’ve kept it a secret for… oh Gods, Rhys, what has she done?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but quickly snapped it closed. He looked over your shoulder and you whirled, finding Amarantha standing there.

“Oh, my dears,” she began, her voice scraping across your ears like nails against stone. “The two of you are just lovely, aren’t you?”

[dduane]

I just read the part where Kirk experiences the Enterprise's point of view in The Wounded Sky to someone else, where she sees the crew as children she is training up to the Great Desire of exploration for exploration's sake, especially Jim. His reaction, essentially: "That was really pretty. ....And then he blows her up."

I hadn't thought about that before! I checked the copyright date, and it looks like The Wounded Sky came out a year before The Search for Spock, so you were writing without knowing that sacrifice would eventually happen.

How did you feel about that? Do you wish that writing decision had been made differently? (If, as a Trek writer, you're allowed to comment on other Trek writers' choices!)

You know, I tend not to think a whole lot about such issues. First of all, because (in the long run) it gets you nowhere in particular that's useful. And secondly, because it's not a thing that, as a Trek writer in any medium except film, you have the slightest power to change.

Now, at this end of time I think we can safely say that no one's going to hire me on to write a Trek film. And also that no one at that end of the creative spectrum is going to pay the slightest attention to anything I say, either. Both of those situations are just What's So, and neither of them bothers me. (Since I have universes of my own to manage at the moment, and that's where my attention properly lies.) So as regards my opinions about other writers' work, I'm pretty much off the hook.

If I had been on screenwriting duty for that film, would there be things I'd have wanted to do differently? Hell yeah. From the premise up. But the important thing here is: would those things necessarily have worked better on the screen / with the audience? Impossible to tell. And speaking as someone repeatedly given permission to work in someone's universe, the main thing to be aware of is the expectation that your chief responsibility is to do what best serves the characters and the IP of which they're part. (There's a post over at Out of Ambit with a lot more of my thoughts on the subject:)

The other thing to remember is that, though I've worn the Canonical Hat in my time, novel work is by definition non-canonical. Doing it, you are at all times working with the understanding that the licensor rarely views your work as anything better than a corporate side hustle—a way for the IP to make some cash on the side—and will ignore you and the stuff you've created unless given pressing reasons to do otherwise. (Such as when they might make some unexpected money off it... at which point you remind yourself as forcibly as necessary that what you did is Work For Hire; they own it, lock, stock and barrel, and you should not realistically expect to be given any credit.)

And, if you understand the rules and enjoy the work enough, all of this is okay. The reward is not in making a lot of money doing it, or even in having aspects of your work openly assumed into canon. The reward lies in being allowed to contribute to a given universe in public (and, yeah, getting paid for it by the licensor). It's not payback: it's payforward. And you're left an astonishing amount of freedom to bring your vision to that universe. (Sometimes... as one colleague has McCoy say... you have to be "very, very careful" to get away with it. But it can be done.)

The truth is that even in the 1980s, I was sharing this level of playing-in-a-universe with a goodish cohort of editors and writers: a big roomful at least. Now I'm sharing it (retroactively speaking) with hundreds of them. With the best will in the world, even in the 80's the licensors (as regarded film) couldn't have realistically polled/listened to all of us regarding our creative opinions about the screenplay end of things. As for what that'd look like nowadays... I'll leave you to your own deductions. 😏

Anyway, thanks for the question. It's always nice to know that there are people who want to know what you think. 😊

[thewolvesofthenorth]

Chapter Four

Chapter Four of Man of Honor

Series Masterlist ❖ Main Masterlist ❖ House Of The Dragon Masterlist

Rating: 18+ Word Count: ~3k Summary: Cregan has a much needed conversation with Arra and Sara shares some news. Meanwhile, you contemplate what the future could hold. Warnings: Angst angst angst, language, fluff, slow burn, pining

⟸ Previous Chapter ❖ Next Chapter ⟹

Cregan put his head in his hands and let out a heavy sigh.

Why must the gods torment me?

Since waking from his dream, he had sat in bed, staring at the ceiling.

Why?

He was perplexed by the images he had seen.

The words he had heard.

The feelings that had been evoked in him.

He had dreamed of you.

Of having you.

Of loving you.

But it would not be so.

Why must they taunt me in this way?

He had made a mistake, and the dream had given him a glimpse of what he could never have.

Cregan sighed again, then stood up and got dressed. As he looked out his window at the dimly lit sky, a feeling of unease filled his heart. Making his way to the stables, he noticed a dark figure crossing the courtyard toward the kitchens.

He watched as the figure stopped and slowly turned, his grey eyes meeting yours. He sucked in a breath as you turned and shook your head, hastily making your way to the kitchens where you would surely find his sister breaking fast.

Cregan watched you disappear through the doorway before turning and continuing his walk to the stables. It had been some time since he had ridden through the Wolfswood, and he felt it would do him some good. As he arrived at the stables, he spotted an unexpected figure.

Arra.

“Good morrow,” he greeted politely, approaching his horse and stroking its back.

Arra turned at the sound of his voice and smiled, patting her own horse.

“Good morrow, Lord Stark,” she replied. “I thought I was alone in being awake at such an unearthly hour.”

“I thought the same,” Cregan responded, watching her place a saddle on her horse. He walked over to his own saddle, picked it up, and ran a hand down the leather.

“May I inquire as to why?” Arra asked. Cregan turned, setting the saddle atop his horse and fastening it a bit more roughly than intended, causing the stallion to let out a huff.

“I could not sleep, and it has been too long since I’ve ridden through the Wolfswood.”

“It is unfortunate that sleep eludes you, my lord,” Arra said sincerely. “Would you be opposed to me accompanying you? It has been quite a while since we last rode together.”

Cregan inwardly cringed at her words, knowing that he had been avoiding her due to his inner conflict about you, and he had hoped that she had not noticed.

“Nothing would please me more, my lady,” he spoke with a smile. Arra returned his smile and swung her leg up to mount her horse, and Cregan did the same.

“Shall we, my lord?”

“Lead the way.”

The two rode out of Winterfell. As they crossed through the South Gate and turned toward the Wolfswood, Cregan took in a deep breath. The cold wind stinging his cheeks provided a strange sense of comfort, and he closed his eyes, savoring the near silence around them, the steady beat of hooves the only sound he heard. As they crossed the tree line into the forest, Cregan slowed his pace to a trot, and Arra fell into place beside him.

“May I speak freely?” Arra asked, her voice breaking the silence and drawing Cregan from his thoughts. He had nearly forgotten she was there and chastised himself for it.

“Of course,” he answered, turning to meet her gaze.

“What ails you?” she asked, her concern evident. “It has been some time since we last rode together. One might think you are avoiding me.” Cregan bit his lip, trying to think of an excuse that might satisfy her.

“You need not answer if you do not wish to discuss it,” she continued, sensing his discomfort. “I am merely curious. Have I done something to offend you, my lord?”

“No,” Cregan finally replied. “You have not offended me, my lady. There are just… some matters that have arisen and drawn my attention more than I anticipated.”

“I apologize for my behavior,” he added. “It was not my intent to cause you distress with my actions.” Arra shook her head at his words.

“There is no need,” she stated. “I understand that you have more pressing concerns to tend to as the Warden of the North, and you have much on your shoulders.” Cregan offered her a smile, not knowing how to respond.

She is too kind.

“However, as your betrothed, I feel I am owed an explanation regarding your behavior.”

Cregan’s throat grew dry as she spoke. She was right; they were betrothed, and he knew he should do what was right and tell her the truth, even if he wasn’t sure what that truth was. The weight of his unspoken feelings pressed heavily on him.

“I apologize, my lady,” he finally said, anxiety twisting in his stomach. “I have not been forthcoming, and as my betrothed, you should know the truth.” Cregan looked down at his hands, reins clenched tightly in his fists.

“Please know it is nothing you have done, or are lacking,” he began, uncertain how she would react. “But I have realized that another may hold my affection.”

“I see,” she replied. Cregan looked over at her as she pulled her horse to a stop. “However, we are betrothed, and it is my duty to uphold that oath.”

“Does this person know of your fondness for them? And do they return such fondness?” Cregan shook his head.

I doubt she feels anything but hate for me at the moment

More likely, she would wish to see my head on a pike.

“I do not completely understand my feelings,” he admitted, “but regardless, I do not intend to forsake my duty.”

“I do not think it fair that you set aside your feelings, my lord,” Arra responded. “If this person were to return them, would it not be more prudent to pledge yourself to them?”

“My lady, Starks do not forget their oaths. I have made mine to you, your family, and the North.” As Cregan spoke, bile rose in his throat, knowing he had already broken an oath to you. “In time, I’m sure feelings may grow between us instead.”

You are an idiot.

“Perhaps, but perhaps not,” she countered. “In any case, I would like for us to be completely honest with each other from now on. Should things change between you and whoever holds your affection, I hope you will tell me so as not to make a fool of us both.”

“Of course, my lady,” Cregan agreed, nodding.

She truly is too kind.

“I am glad to have gotten some clarity from you, my lord,” Arra said, looking up at the now fully lit sky. “Shall we return?” Cregan nodded and they nudged their horses forward to return to Winterfell.

Upon their return to Winterfell, the two parted ways—Arra heading to the Guest House and Cregan setting off to find Sara. He needed to speak with her and perhaps gain more advice, especially after the conversation he had just had with Arra.

Cregan’s first stop was the kitchens, knowing his sister loved experimenting with new recipes, but she was nowhere to be found. His next destination was the library, yet that too proved fruitless. Finally, he made his way to the Glass Gardens, where he found her tending to various fruits, carefully picking the ripe ones and placing them into her basket.

“Cregan!” Sara greeted him with a warm smile when she caught sight of her brother. “What brings you here?”

“I wanted to speak with you,” he replied.

“Yes, I gathered,” she retorted, rolling her eyes at his lack of subtlety. “What is it?”

“I spoke with Arra,” he began, and Sara raised an eyebrow.

“And?”

“She asked why I have been avoiding her.”

“It seems that has become your latest talent, brother,” she quipped. Cregan shot her a glare and shook his head, refusing to let her get under his skin. “But go on.”

“I spoke of my feelings,” he admitted, “and apologized for my behavior.”

“Oh? And what feelings might those be?” Sara asked, curious of what he had told the noblewoman.

“I told her that I may hold affection for another,” he confessed.

His words took Sara by surprise.

“And what were her thoughts on the matter?”

“She was unexpectedly understanding,” he replied. “And –“

“And?”

“I did not say who it was I held feelings for, but it seems she supports them regardless,” he said.

Sara hummed thoughtfully at his admission.

“In support of your feelings?”

“Yes.”

“In what manner?”

“She said she did not think it fair for me to set aside my feelings for the sake of duty.”

“Well, she is not mistaken.”

“Do you think I don’t know this?”

“No, but you have been quite stupid as of late,” Sara responded. “And you have also made it abundantly clear that you will chose duty above all else.”

“I know,” Cregan said softly. “And now I am unsure of what to do.”

“What is it you mean?”

“I have a duty to uphold, but I also cannot deny what my heart feels.”

“Best you come to a decision on that, and soon,” Sara warned.

“For what reason?”

“For the reason that she may be thinking of her future,” his sister spoke, “one with someone else. One without you.”

Cregan’s heart clenched at what his sister’s warning.

Could it be?

Were you truly considering marriage to another?

You absently stared at the ceiling as hot water swirled around you, licking your skin with its heat. After your conversation with Sara, you had gone to the library to reflect on she had said and began to write a list of suitors who had made their intentions known to you over the years. The more you wrote, the more daunting the idea of finding a husband and leaving Winterfell became. You compiled over a dozen names, many of them belonging to men you had never met, much less heard of, though a few familiar ones stood out.

Manderly.

Bracken.

Lannister.

Glover.

Blackwood.

Dustin.

Royce.

Baratheon.

Mooton.

Bolton.

Hightower.

Tully.

Arryn.

Tyrell.

Frey.

Reed.

Hornwood.

Cerwyn.

The last one piqued your interest. Over the years, you hadn’t paid much attention to who your suitors were, often brushing them off without even looking at their names. So, seeing the name of Cregan’s best friend on your list struck you as strange, though not entirely out of the realm of possibility. After all, the three of you had grown up together, with Castle Cerwyn only half a day’s ride from Winterfell, and you were all around the same age.

You were certain that Lord Cerwyn faced just as much pressure as Cregan when it came to marriage and producing an heir, so it shouldn’t have surprised you that he might consider you as a match. Yet, you couldn’t help but feel confused, given that he was well aware of your predicament regarding Cregan.

You bit your lip, recalling the last time you’d seen Lord Cerwyn and the conversation that followed. It had been several moons ago, when he came to join Cregan on a hunt. By then, Arra had been in Winterfell for some time, and Cregan spent all his time with her, prompting you to keep your distance. Still, you had run into Lord Cerwyn in the kennels on the morning of the hunt, and the two of you had spoken about why he hadn’t seen you around as often.

- FLASHBACK -

The crunching of footsteps pulled you from your thoughts, and you looked up to see Lord Cerwyn entering the kennels, a surprised expression crossing his face as he took in the sight of you sitting on the ground, the head of a large hound resting in your lap.

“My lady,” he greeted, bowing his head politely. “I did not expect to find you here. And at this hour.”

“I often come here to think. Either here or the godswood,” you replied with a small smile. “It has been some time since we last saw each other, Lord Cerwyn.”

“Indeed, it has,” he agreed. “How do you fare?”

Unsure how to answer, you drew in a breath and looked down at your hands, running your fingers over the hound’s ears to maintain your composure.

“I have seen better days,” you admitted with a sigh. “And you?”

“I’ve been well,” he replied, noticing the shift in your demeanor. “What troubles you?”

“Nothing of importance,” you deflected. You knew each other well enough to recognize when the other was lying, so you tried to dodge his questioning—especially since he was Cregan’s best friend.

“My lady, we’ve been friends since we were children. Please, don’t lie to me,” he insisted, sitting beside you on the ground. “Does it have anything to do with your absence around Winterfell?”

Damn.

You groaned, turning to look at him. “Nothing eludes you, does it?”

“Few things do. Now, tell me, are you avoiding a certain nobleman?”

“I’m not avoiding anyone,” you snapped a little too quickly.

“Ah, so you are,” he retorted with a chuckle. “And does this nobleman happen to be tall, with dark hair and strikingly good looks?”

“I’m not avoiding you if that is what you’re asking.”

“I wasn’t talking about me, my lady. Though it does warm the heart to know you find me so handsome.”

“Shut up,” you bit back, rolling your eyes at your friend’s teasing. You knew exactly who he meant, and he knew that too.

“I only jest,” he said with a grin. “But it seems you’re avoiding our dear Lord of Winterfell. Now, why would that be?”

“I already told you—I’m not avoiding anyone.”

“You and I both know that’s a lie.”

“It’s not.”

“Then why haven’t I seen you and Cregan together? Not once have I seen you around him. In fact, you always seem to vanish whenever he appears.” You silently scratched the dog’s ear in response.

“Does a Lady Norrey have something to do with it?”

“No,” you mumbled, and he nudged your shoulder. “Maybe.”

“Tell me.”

“It does not matter.”

“It does.”

“I – I don’t – I don’t want to talk about it,” you muttered, gently pushing the hound’s head off your lap. Lord Cerwyn placed a hand over yours and gave it a light squeeze.

“I know.”

“What?”

“I know,” he repeated. “About your feelings.”

“I don’t know what you mea – “

“I know how you feel about Cregan,” he said. “I know you love him.”

“I don’t,” you huffed.

“You do,” he insisted. “Everyone sees it.”

“No, they don’t,” you argued. “Because it’s not true.”

“Yes, it is, and yes, they do.”

“I don’t lo –“

“Don’t lie to me,” he interrupted. “And please don’t lie to yourself.” You glared at him.

“I’m not lying to myself,” you growled.

“Yes, you are,” he said, chastising you. “We both know it.”

You crossed your arms and let out a frustrated huff.

“Fine,” you conceded. “But it means nothing.”

Lord Cerwyn shook his head.

“It does to you.”

“Yes, well,” you said, standing and brushing dirt from your clothes, “it doesn’t mean anything to him. And nothing can be done about it.”

“You don’t know that,” your friend countered, rising to his feet.

“Yes, I do,” you replied with a hint of annoyance. “If it mattered to him, he wouldn’t have pledged himself to her.” Before he could respond, a stableboy appeared at the entrance of the kennels, pausing when he saw you and the young lord.

“Apologies, my lord, my lady,” he said. “Lord Stark asked me to fetch the hounds for the hunt. My lord, your horse is also saddled and waiting at the gate.”

Lord Cerwyn nodded, and the two of you left the kennels as the stableboy went to gather the hounds. Once outside, you stopped and turned to your companion.

“Lord Cerwyn, it was a good to see you,” you said, “I pray that your hunt is successful.”

“Thank you, my lady,” he replied, leaning in to place a light kiss on your cheek. “Until next time.”

You gave him a smile before turning toward the library, his gaze lingering on you as he headed in the opposite direction toward Hunter’s Gate, where his horse awaited.

- END FLASHBACK -

If you had glanced behind you that day, you would have seen Cregan sitting astride his horse by the gate, waiting for his friend.

If you had taken a moment to turn and look, you would have caught Cerwyn smirking as he watched his best friend watching you, a glint of jealousy in the Warden’s eyes.

You sighed, absentmindedly dipping your fingers into the water as you reflected on the memory—and on Cerwyn’s name appearing among the suitors on your list.

There could be worse choices.

Like a Lannister.

Or a Bolton.

Besides, Cerwyn and I already know each other.

And he knows how I feel about Cregan.

So why would he want to court me?

Then again, it might not be so bad.

Maybe I could even grow to love him one day.

But how would Cregan feel?

You groaned; even when thinking of your future with another man, you still thought of Cregan and his feelings.

Fuck his feelings.

Like Sara said, I need to start thinking about myself.

You shook your head and stood up, grabbing your robe as you stepped out of the water. Retrieving a hairbrush, you padded over to a chair by the fire, took a seat, and began to brush your hair.

At least I have some time before I have to make a decision.

Little did you know, the next few months would hold more changes than you anticipated.

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