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grimdarling69 · 2 months ago

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Another deaged Ellie and Dan, but Danny was reincarnated as Damian Wayne

Danny Damian because he was Damian now, wasn't he? He remembers now the Fentons, the GIW, Sam and Tucker, jazz. He wonders if they could have also followed him here. A part of him longs to see his fraid again, but are they his fraid still? He was a new person. Son of The Bat and Heir to the Demon Head. Something Dami he remembers reminding people of. If only Sam could see him now, he knows she'd love that. "Who's edgy now?" He can picture her saying. He can almost see Tucker laughing so hard he'd fall out of his seat.

Crack

The sharp sound of the thunder brings him to the present. He looked over at his clock, 3:00 A.M. The witching hour he can hear Ellie tell him with a mischievous smile on one of their flights around Amity Park. She loved to drag him and Dan sometimes Vlad if he was feeling friendly. Dan, his future evil self tormented by the deaths of all his family and friends, so hurt he got Vlad to rip his human half out so he didn't have to feel the pain. Ellie, his clone, created by Vlad to be the perfect son, too bad she was a daughter. Looking down at his stomach where their cores are now incubating, he couldn't help but wonder if Vlad had anything to do with this.

He shook his head as if that would rid himself of that thought. Vlad was a real fruitloop,but he would never purposefully endanger Dan or Ellie. Vlad, in his twisted and weird ways, did love them in his own ways like kidnapping and keeping him hostage to save Ellie. He had forgiven vlad for the desperate attempt to save his daughter, but incubating Ellie and Dan's cores would make him their father now, too. Ew, coparenting with Vlad does not sound like a fun time. He glanced down and lifted his shirt hesitantly. If he focused on his stomach, he could see a faint blue and red glow emanating from his stomach. Red, Vlads' color, he thought distantly. Hopefully, it didn't mean much. As if signaling him, the envelope they had carried with them to him fell off the bed carried to the floor by the slight breeze.

Lighting lumineating the bedroom, making the crisp white color shine for just a second. He tentatively reached down to grab it. He was being a baby. He was a trained assassin from birth, and his fear trained beaten out of him a long time ago. Some part of him whispered his father and Richard's teachings of being brave but not without fear.

He paused. Father would want to know everything. His past life, Ellie and Dan, the ghosts, being a halfa. He wouldn't understand, Richard would try to, but not even he could never really understand. He couldn't subject his babies to that. He couldn't live with the threat to being ripped apart molecule by molecule. His father's lack of emotional intelligence certainly would not help young halfas. He was fourteen again the age he was killed in his first life. The age he started facing ghosts from another dimension.

He started younger in this life. Killing younger, he learned to fight his whole life. Jazz would hate that. Jazz... he wondered if she was alright if she survived the attack... no, there's no time to think of that right now. He ripped open the envelope( like a band-aid, Richard would remind him), and he noticed Vlad's familiar fancy fruitloop writing immediately(he had fancy fruitloop writing now, instead of the chicken scratch Jazz chided him over). So he was right about one thing this had vlad all over it.

Dear Daniel,

Though I understand you might not be Daniel when this letter finds you. I have been reincarnated into another life as I believe you have as well. My new name is Alexander Luther. I own a corporation called Lexcorp. I unfortunately can not change the name according to my board. The idiot lot of them.

He snickered at that. His smile dropped immediately. Vlad was Lex Luthor, the archnemesis of Superman. Jon would most certainly not like this. He forced himself to read on before he spiraled further.

I regained my memories after an experiment went wrong. I know how original. My new incarnation was able to open a small portal that grew in size, and eventually, somehow Danielle and Dan fell through. The portal then exploded, and I regained my memories. Unfortunately, it destabilized their clone bodies. I couldn't grow working bodies in time, and eventually, I had to hope they could find you. I hoped somehow that the yeti doctor would have imparted some of his strange knowledge onto you that might save them.

Vlad, no Lex still wrong. Vlad was somewhat right about that. During one of his all things ghostly lessons from Frostbite, he told him of how in the old ages ghosts often incubated their ghostlings. A protective measure back when magic and spirits were more prevalent. He didn't really understand it back then, and he doesn't understand it much now, either. Apart from the fact he was doing it, he supposed. What if he did something wrong and he lost them? He doesn't think he could live out his half-life if he lost them again. He needed to get to Vlad, and quickly too so they could start building a new portal to the infinite realms.

If this letter finds you. Come find me immediately at these coordinates. I've gone deep underground to escape my new archnimesis's suoer senses. I've m started research on a new portal, but I'll need your endeneering skills. This world is severely lacking in ectoplasmic science and engineering. I am once again forced to start from scratch on my own. Once we get the portal open, you'll need to go straight to The Far Frozen.

It's as if he's reading my mind, I think jokingly.

P.s. One of my experiments may or not have regiven then my new DNA in an attempt to restabilize them.

Only Vlad.

Well, it looks like they actually were going to be coparenting after all. This was going to go great.

I sigh and lean my head back down on my pillow. He committed the cords to memory before lighting the letter on fire with the lighter he kept in his bedside drawer. Point to assassin training. Jason would be proud. He supposed he could stay for a month or so before leaving, which would give him enough time to get away or think of some kind of mission to give himself. He shoots up. Todd had died and came back. He was a revenant. He couldn't stick around if he were to visit he'd know something was wrong immediately even if he didn't understand it.

He sprung out of bed quickly, but quietly, his foot steps perfectly silent despite his rushed mood of packing a bag. He packed a few pairs of clothes and lots of hidden weapons, some snacks he kept hidden for that should keep him fed on his journey but leaving any sentimental things behind. He glanced longingly at his sketch pad, but Vlad was most likely under the water judging by the coordinates he was given. Who knows if it would survive.

He checked the pack, making sure he got all he needed. He promptly checked it again. Twice. After deeming it sufficient, he willed himself to open the door. He mentally cataloged everyone in the manor. Pennyworth was most likely still in Father's room, making sure he actually listened to his insructions. Richard and Todd in Bludhaven and Crime Alley, respectfully. Cain and Brown in Hong Kong. Thomas was sleeping after his dayshift.

Everyone accounted for except Drake. He was most likely using Pennyworth's attention on Father to work cases. He just had to take the risk. For his ghostlings, for himself, Vlad. He crept down the hallways. He was opening the grandfather clock in record time. He went slower this time. He would use his powers, but his father had supernatural wards of all kinds in the cave. Who knows what they did. He was also admittedly trying to save his little energy for his voyage on the open sea. Light snoring hit his ears as he peered around the corner.

Thank ancients.

Drake was sleeping at the batcomputer, still in his Red Robin suit sans mask surrounded by his poor choices. Empty coffee cups and files spread around. He would still need to be quiet, Drake was a light sleeper, as was everyone else in his family. He grabbed the keys to his bike quickly, sneaking by. If he wasn't ditching his bike at Gotham Bridge, he would have disabled his trackers. He checked the gas and made sure he could make it. That's when he made his first mistake.

Putting the gas jug back down, he accidently hit another of one of his siblings' tools to the floor. He tried catching it without success, but it fell anyway, the loud clang echoing. Mistake number two.

Shit.

"Huh? What's happening?" Drake arose sleepily rubbing his eyes.

He froze. Mistake number three.

"Damian? What are you doing down here?" His eyes landed on him, and he spoke confusedly with his voice heavy with sleep or lack thereof.

He panics. He's blaming the pregnancy hormones on this.

He runs.

"Damian!" Drake responded to his dead sprint with his own. "Stop!"

He reaches his bike, and he turns the keys and prays. Luckily, it comes to life. He fumbles with his helmet it would hide his tears he needed it. who knows if he'll ever get to see them again. He shoots off down the tunnel. Flicking the cave door open remotely.

Another bike rears to life behind him. "Damian wants going on?" Drakes voice echoes in his ears. He can almost taste the concern in it amplified by the helmet. He ignores it and accelerates. He ignores the returned acceleration behind him.

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

Tim has no clue what made Damian panic enough to run away. He quickly ran to his own bike while swearing. Damian is already gaining distance on him. After another attempt at getting Damian to calm down and talk, he calls the only person Damian would actually listen to.

He hopes Dick will forgive him for waking him at five o'clock in the morning on his day off.

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crushpunky · 10 days ago

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drew and actress!reader test how well they know each other

masterlist | actress!reader masterlist

this is based off the gq couples interviews. this one was a bit more difficult to write since there wasn't anything to go off of, but hopefully y'all enjoy it :)

Y/n sat in her chair, adjusting her hair to fall smoothly around her face with a calming, deep breath. Drew took his seat opposite her, smiling widely as a production assistant handed each of them a stack of cards. He wore an oversized knitted cardigan over a crisp white t-shirt paired with a pair of distressed jeans, his sharp features and messily styled hair tying the look together in a way that made y/n swoon.

“You ready?” Drew asked, raising his eyebrows slightly. With both of them preparing for the release of the newest season of Outer Banks as well as their respective upcoming projects, their agents suggested they do an interview together. Overjoyed at the offer, the two of them emphatically agreed to sit down with GQ for their Couples Quiz. It wasn’t the first time they had done interviews together, usually joined by the rest of the OBX cast, but this was the first time it had only been the two of them explicitly opening up and talking about their relationship.

“Of course,” Y/n returned his grin, crossing her legs as she glanced over towards the cameras. Since they went public with their relationship, they had never been especially secretive about it, talking about each other easily in passing as their partner or significant other. However, it was a bit nerve racking to be so open and talk so openly about the intricacies of their relationship.

“Alright, y/n you are clear to begin with the introduction…” one of the camera operators focused the lens on y/n, “now.”

“Hello, I am y/n y/ln and this is…” y/n gestured over to Drew, whose gaze still remained on her before he tore his eyes away and looked into the camera lens.

“Drew Starkey.” Drew said quickly, causing y/n to laugh and a smirk to creep upon Drew’s lips.

“And today we will be taking GQ’s Couples Quiz.” Y/n finished before turning to Drew once more. With a dramatic flare, Drew shuffled his cards and cleared his throat.

“First up, how many siblings do I have?” Drew said with a quirk of his brow.

“Oh that one’s easy,” y/n said, wiping a faux bead of sweat off her forehead, “you are the oldest of four. You have two sisters and a brother.”

“That is true, that is true.” Drew grinned before tossing the card behind his chair.

“Alright, my turn,” y/n straightened in her chair, “what was my first job?”

“Why a barista of course,” Drew said, “and an excellent one at that. This girl makes a fucking killer iced latte—”

“Joseph!” Y/n reddened at his swearing, Drew immediately clamping a hand over his mouth as the two of them laughed.

“Sorry GQ,” Drew chuckled, “but it’s true. She makes a very good iced latte.”

“But yes, you are correct. My first job was in a coffee shop.” Y/n said, resting the cards back in her lap.

“Next,” Drew began, “what was our first date? Ooh that’s kind of a hard one.”

Y/n nodded to herself, thinking back towards the beginning of their relationship. It was by no means a traditional beginning, the two of them already living with each other between seasons of OBX when COVID hit. It had been only a few months into quarantine when they could no longer deny the feelings they had for each other, eventually leading them to finally start dating after what felt like lifetimes of pining over each other.

“Yeah, it is,” y/n chewed on her bottom lip in thought, “I mean we were already living with each other when we started dating, so I think we might’ve skipped that step.”

Drew chuckled, “yeah I think you’re right. But I think we’ve made up for our lost dates, you think?”

“Oh yeah, five years of living with this one I think we’ve made up for it.” Y/n smiled, thinking back to all the nights they’d spent together, whether sitting on the couch watching a movie, out at a fancy restaurant, or tangled in the sheets in their shared home. Continuing on, y/n looked at the next card.

“Drew if you don’t get this one we might have a problem,” y/n said, to which Drew’s eyes widened as he leaned in intently.

“What is my favorite Taylor Swift song?” Y/n peered over the card, a wide grin creeping on her cheeks as she watched Drew let out an exhale of relief.

“I definitely know this one: Getaway Car,” Drew said with a shrug. Y/n turned to the camera, flashing a smile and tossing the note card back. Drew did a fist pump before relaxing back into his seat.

“He knows me so well,” Y/n said. “What’s your favorite Taylor song, Drewseph?”

“Ooh, that’s a good question…” Drew rubbed his fingers along his jaw in contemplation. “I think I’m going to say Daylight because that was what we played at our wedding.”

Y/n rolled her eyes in faux annoyance at Drew’s overly sentimental but oh-so-very-Drew answer before letting out a giggle. Drew playfully rolled his eyes in return, a wide smile still plastered across his face.

“Alright, alright, who is my favorite character in Outer Banks?” Drew asked, tapping the queue cards against his chin as he waited for y/n to respond.

“I know they probably wanted this to be some cute answer and say me, but it’s really not.” Y/n said, causing the crew behind the cameras to giggle.

“Yeaaahhh it’s not.” Drew shook his head with a laugh only causing the crew’s giggles to intensify.

“It’s Barry, Nick Cirillo. The true love of his life.” Y/n said, using her finger to mime a tear falling down her cheek with an exaggerated frown.

“No, don’t say that.” Drew tossed the card at her with a shake of his head. “Yes, Barry is my favorite character, but the love of my life is most definitely sitting right here in front of you folks.”

“Aww, Starkey you sap.” Y/n said, blowing Drew a quick kiss before grabbing another question card.

“Alright, back to the questions,” y/n began. “When did we first meet?”

Drew’s face immediately lit up at the memory, “oh I remember it very clearly.”

“Do you now?” Y/n chuckled, cocking her head as she listened to Drew’s words.

“Yes, it was right after I had gotten a call back for Outer Banks,” Drew said. “They invited me in for a chemistry read and I just remember coming in and seeing this… just, absolutely beautiful girl sitting with the directors and my stomach dropped. Then she came over to me and introduced herself and I thought I was going to pass out. I was so nervous, but I tried my best to play it cool and… yeah. Here we are.”

“There is no way that is true!” Y/n teased, laughing at Drew’s exaggerated gestures as he told his story. She certainly remembered the day fondly, but she didn’t detect any of Drew’s nervousness… Maybe because she herself was so overcome with nerves the second she saw him walk through the door it didn’t even occur to her that someone who looked like that could possibly feel the same way about her.

“It is!” Drew said, raising his hands in surrender. “I thought I was totally going to bomb the audition but once the camera started rolling everything just clicked… and I’ve been totally obsessed ever since.”

Y/n felt her cheeks warm up, moving to cover her face with one of the question cards.

“Ok, here is the final question, baby,” Drew continued, a mischievous grin on his lips as he watched y/n’s flustered expression.

“Oh no!” Y/n said, smoothing her hair down and taking a deep breath to calm the flutters in her stomach. Despite being together for nearly five years, and even getting married, Drew still managed to always make her weak in the knees and remind her just why she loved him so much.

“Where is my favorite place on Earth?” Drew asked.

“Oh, I think I know this one,” y/n said with a smile. “Charleston, South Carolina.”

“Yep. Best place, best people… it’s truly our home.” Drew grinned, putting the card down and resting his chin in his hand as he stared at y/n lovingly. Catching his gaze, y/n stood up before walking over to him, the two of them embracing each other as the cameras continued to roll. Once they pulled apart, Drew rose to his feet, the two of them turning towards the camera.

“Thank you, GQ!” Y/n waved, Drew placing a kiss to the top of her head before waving along, the two of them smiling ear to ear and practically radiating with a love that continued to grow stronger every day.

#drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey x actress!reader #actress!reader

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incognit0slut · 6 months ago

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REFLECTED BLISS

When you discover a mirror attached to the wall in your hotel room, Spencer decides to take full advantage of it.

Warnings: (18+ MDNI) afab reader, established relationship but they're being sneaky, fingering, guided masturbation (f), unprotected sex with a mirror involved, creampie, and spencer being spencer a.k.a he uses fun facts as dirty talk ~3.9k words A/n: Told myself to make this 'cute and sexy and less filthy' but… idk man, from a scale to 1 to 10 how filthy is this be honest Requested: Here

“Oh my god.”

“What? What is it?”

“Spence,” you urged, pulling him into the room. “You need to see this.”

He followed you, stepping further in, and his eyes widened as they landed on the wall opposite the bed—a wall that wasn't just a wall, but a vast, floor-to-ceiling mirror reflecting the entire room. “That’s… interesting.”

“Interesting?” You mocked before peaking your head out the door, making sure no one was in sight before clicking it shut. “It’s terrifying.”

His duffel bag hit the carpet floor. “You’re scared of a mirror?”

“No,” you responded, placing your own bag alongside his. “I’m scared of the idea of it. I mean, look at it—it’s like it sees everything.”

“It’s glass. It can’t actually see us.”

“Yeah, but still,” you said, crossing your arms defensively. “It’s placed right in front of the bed. Who would want to watch themselves sleeping?”

His eyes shifted back and forth between the mirror and the bed, the reflection capturing every detail of the room, including the bed’s plush pillows and crisp white sheets. “You know, I don’t think it’s used for sleeping.”

“What do you mean?”

His lips quirked up into an amused smile. “Think about it. Why would anyone want a mirror like this in front of their bed? It’s not for sleeping, it’s for... well, other activities.”

You felt your cheeks heat up as realization dawned. “Oh, you mean—that’s even worse!”

He laughed, closing the distance between you, his arms resting comfortably around your waist. “Actually, visual stimulation can significantly enhance sexual experiences. Mirrors can add a whole new level of excitement by engaging our sense of sight.”

Your face flushed even more. “I… did not know that.”

“Yeah, it’s all about the brain processing the stimuli.” He pulled you closer, his voice dropping to a softer, more intimate tone. “It can heighten our arousal and make the experience more intense.”

You could feel your heart hammering against your chest, knowing what he was trying to do. Every time he initiated something intimate, it never failed to fluster you. There was a time when Spencer was uncertain and hesitant about these aspects of your relationship. But the more you spent time together, sneaking into each other’s hotel rooms from time to time, the more his confidence grew.

Now, you could feel it in the way he was holding you, his arms wrapped securely around your waist. His touch was firm yet gentle, and the way he looked down at you, his eyes filled with warmth and a hint of mischief, was sending you into a frenzy. There was something different in his gaze—a new assurance, a quiet strength that made your pulse quicken.

He smiled down at you, a secretive, knowing smile as if he held a secret of his own, one that he was eager to share with you in these private moments. You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breathing.

“I guess that makes sense.”

His smile widened. “So, while the mirror might seem creepy at first, it actually has its perks.”

“Perks, huh?”

“Absolutely.”

You pulled back slightly, eyes narrowing at him. “Are you trying to convince me to have sex in front of the mirror?”

“Is it working?”

You couldn’t stop the laugh escaping your lips. “A little.”

He laughed along with you, the sound warm and infectious. “Can I convince you more?”

But before you could answer him, his lips were already down your neck, drawing a sigh from you. You tilted your head to grant him better access. His hands slid around your waist, pulling you closer until you could feel the steady beat of his heart against yours.

“I thought—” You let out a moan when he sucked a spot just below your ear. “I thought we agreed… no funny business tonight.”

“Was that really your plan when you begged me to stay with you?”

“I didn’t beg,” you defended. “You offered. I told you this town gave me the creeps and you said you’d sneak in my room to keep me company.”

His lips paused momentarily, hovering just over your pulse.

“You’re right, you didn’t beg,” he conceded with a soft chuckle, his breath tickling your skin. “But you have to admit, the offer was mutually beneficial.”

“Mutually beneficial? Is that what we’re calling it?”

“It’s accurate,” he murmured, drawing back to look at you. “And I seem to remember someone saying how much they appreciated the company... especially at night.”

You could feel the smile forming on your lips, even as you tried to maintain a semblance of indignation. “Well, maybe I did say that. But that doesn’t mean—”

His lips cut you off, soft and persuasive, making it impossible to continue as your protests melted away. The kiss deepened, driven by a mixture of long-held desire and the thrill of his hard body pressed against your soft frame.

“You make a pretty convincing argument,” you murmured against his lips, your earlier resolve softening.

He pulled away from you before taking your hand in his. “Come here.”

He led you gently towards the mirror, the expanse of glass revealing your intertwined figures in the softly lit room.

“Oh my god, we’re actually doing this?”

He positioned you in front of him. "Only if you're comfortable.”

You watched your reflections, the way his hands settled more firmly around your waist, how your bodies fit together so perfectly. Your gaze met him through the mirror.

“Convince me more.”

He smiled and wrapped his arms around you, fingers hovering above the buttons of your shirt.

“Well," he began. "Did you know that mirrors don't just reflect visuals? They can also amplify emotions.”

You watched him in the reflection, the depth of his clear, brown eyes pulling you deeper into the moment. "It's like being both the spectator and the participant," he continued, his fingers deftly beginning to unbutton your shirt with gentle precision. "It makes everything more real, more intimate.”

You found yourself nodding, drawn in by both his words and the tender yet confident way he handled you.

"So," he concluded as he folded back the fabric, revealing more of you to the cool air of the room and the warm glow of his gaze, "If we're talking about enhancing our senses, using a mirror could make every touch, every kiss, feel even more intense, don't you think?"

Words failed you; you were too overwhelmed by his presence, by the heat that radiated from his touch, so instead of speaking, you nodded again. He smiled, a slow, knowing curve of his lips that suggested he was aware of the effect he had on you.

"See?" he murmured, slipping your shirt off your shoulders. "Everything feels more alive, doesn't it?"

More than alive, your body was burning. You couldn't tear your eyes away from the mirror, where every movement and touch vividly reflected back at you. You leaned into him, letting the warmth of his body envelop you as his lips found the curve of your neck, planting soft, lingering kisses.

His fingers slid down the strap of your bra, the motion slow and tantalizing as his gaze traced the path. His other hand remained at your waist, holding you steady as if he knew how his actions were making your knees weak.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he urged when he caught you staring intently at your reflection.

"I'm thinking," you started. “That this mirror might be magic.”

His eyebrows raised slightly, amusement flickering through his gaze. "Oh?"

“It’s making my clothes disappear.”

He laughed, the sound rich and warm in the quiet room. “I thought maybe I had something to do with that.”

“Well… you do love a good magic trick.”

“I do love a good magic trick.”

You felt his fingers on your back before he unhooked the clasp of your bra. The fabric loosened, and you felt a flush of warmth that had little to do with the room's temperature. His hands slid from your back to your shoulders, gently pushing the straps down your arms, allowing the fabric to slip away gracefully.

“You’re so beautiful.”

You swallowed, trying to concentrate as his arms circled your waist before his fingers found the waistband of your pants.

“You’re… you’re pretty too.”

His chuckle was low and affectionate, his breath tickling your ear. "I'll take that as a compliment."

You felt his fingers undo the button of your pants, his movements slow, almost teasing, before he gently slid the zipper down. He gazed into your eyes through the mirror, seeking permission, and you found yourself nodding, your breath catching in your throat.

His hands shifted, not only guiding the fabric down your legs but also making sure your panties followed suit as he kneeled behind you. He let out a strained groan when he caught the evidence of your slick arousal clinging onto the fabric, momentarily pausing to kiss the back of your exposed thigh.

You were so pretty, so warm, so inviting. Spencer let his lips linger onto your skin while he pushed the last piece of clothing gently past your knees, allowing it to fall gracefully to the floor. He stood back up and led you both backward until the back of his knees met the edge of the bed.

With a smooth motion, he sat down, guiding you to sit between his spread legs. He carefully nudged your legs apart with his hand, and you couldn't resist looking away when you saw yourself in this position.

“No,” he said, his hand tracing along the column of your neck, coming to rest gently against your jaw before tilting your face toward the mirror. “I want you to watch.”

Hesitantly, your eyes met your reflection in the mirror. You could clearly see yourself, how exposed you were, how you seemed to look smaller compared to him with the way you were naked and the way he was still fully clothed.

His hands traced a path from your jaw down your neck, and he watched himself move over the swells of your breasts. He gave them both a firm squeeze, admiring how they looked in his hands, how your skin radiated beneath his own.

You gasped when his thumbs brushed your nipples. It seemed like it wasn’t much, but the sensation you were getting from it was making you wetter. Your nipples were so sensitive that you let out his name in an airy moan.

“Yes, baby?”

Your back arched instinctively. He knew what he was doing with his sweet, gentle voice and the way he was rolling your nipples in between his index and middle fingers.

You shifted your head to the side. “Can you kiss me?”

Of course he could, he’d probably give you anything you asked for. Spencer leaned forward, his lips met yours that melded with sweetness an intense longing. One of your hands found its way to his hair, pulling him closer as you kissed him with a clear desperation, but his hunger was unmatched.

He was kissing you as if he wanted to make sure he memorized every curve of your lip, the way your tongue felt, and how it felt good to get a moan out of you. You were moaning loudly, way too loud, and all he could do was swallow your moans—tongue exploring all over the inside of your mouth or press his lips hard against yours.

Finally breaking the kiss just enough to speak, he whispered against your lips. “Should I continue?”

You nodded as his other hand, which had been skillfully teasing your nipples traveled down, tracing the lines of your body, over your ribs, pausing at your hips. He gently guided your hips to shift slightly, adjusting the angle, spreading your legs further apart.

“Can you keep your eyes on the mirror for me?”

You fixed your gaze on the reflection and felt a surge of heat rush through you. A glistening sheen of your arousal coated your inner thighs, and it almost embarrassed you, but it seemed like he didn’t mind. His large hands moved down your thighs, his touch alternating between gentle brushes and firm grips, exploring the softness of your flesh.

The moment his fingers made contact with the slick wetness, sliding effortlessly through your folds and parting them, a sharp gasp escaped your lips. The image in the mirror was boldly erotic, and he continued with practiced movements as he pushed you further into a haze of pleasure.

“Look at how responsive you are,” he murmured, his fingers rolling over your clit. "Visual stimulation can greatly enhance the physical sensations. Watching yourself like this, seeing how much you enjoy it, can intensify everything you feel."

Your stomach churned with a violent delight as he began to put more pressure, rubbing your swollen nub in a circular motion. You gasped, focusing on your reflection–your head tilting back, your eyes fluttering shut before snapping open again. It was intensely arousing to see yourself in such a raw, unguarded state.

"Watching can make the pleasure more acute," he continued, guiding your hand down to feel where his fingers were at work. "Try it."

Your eyes met his in the mirror. “W-What?”

“Here,” he encouraged, taking hold of your hand before placing it at the center of your cunt. The warmth and wetness were startling, even more so because you were witnessing it unfold in the mirror. His fingers guided yours, teaching you the rhythm and pressure that had drawn those sharp gasps from your lips.

"Like this," he murmured, his own hand adjusting yours, showing you how to circle and press. Your breath hitched, seeing the flush spread across your chest and neck, the way his fingers moved above yours.

"It intensifies, doesn't it?"

Your head fell back to his chest. “Y-Yes.”

“Keep going,” he instructed, and you followed, playing with your clit with the right amount of pressure you desired. When his fingers traveled further down, his fingertips grazing your entrance, your jaw slacked open.

You whimpered as he began to sink his digits into your cunt, savoring the way you clenched around him. Your eyes rolled at the back of your head before you instinctively closed your eyes.

You felt his free hand gripping your jaw.

“Eyes on the mirror, Sweetheart.”

You obeyed, reopening your eyes. You settled to watch how his hand flexed as he began to slowly pump his finger in and out of your dripping cunt before adding another to stretch you out. You whined, your own fingers moving fast against your clit.

“Good,” he murmured, burying his face against the side of your neck, face nearly pressing into yours. His stubbled jaw scraped across your skin, causing you to shudder in pleasure. “Keep watching.”

You could barely think straight, your breaths coming in short gasps now, your focus split between the sensations rippling through your body and the erotic display in the mirror. His fingers curled inside you, finding that perfect angle to press against your most sensitive spot.

The room was quickly filled with the lewd sound as he kept a steady pace, fingers rutting into your tight hole, your slick inner walls clenching around him with each thrust. Your hips jerked against him again as a tiny moan escaped your lips.

"I love seeing you like this," he confessed. "Are you close?”

You struggled to answer, your breaths coming in quick, shallow gasps. But he felt the way you clenched around him, a clear sign of your approaching orgasm. His other hand traced a path from just below your breasts, gliding down over the smooth plane of your stomach. He paused, his palm resting just above where your own fingers were playing with your clit, and applied pressure there.

A shudder tore through you, the sensation bordering on overwhelming before a sharp, involuntary whimper escaped your lips. Your body shook as your orgasm washed over you in an intense wave.

The mirror captured it all—the way your head tossed back against his shoulder, your eyes squeezed shut, then snapped open to catch glimpses of his fingers thrusting into your throbbing cunt while his other hand pressed gently on your lower stomach.

Your own movements paused as you tried to catch your breath and Spencer held you, making sure you composed yourself even though his erection was digging into the swell of your ass, itching to be inside of you. Fortunately, he had patience—you, on the other hand, not so much.

You gripped onto his thigh, noting the fabric underneath your palm. “You’re wearing too much clothes.”

Spencer chuckled softly, his breath warm against your ear. "Am I now?"

"Definitely too much.”

"Maybe we should fix that," he suggested, shifting slightly to allow some space for you to turn in his arms. Your hands moved to the buttons of his shirt the moment you faced him, fingers itching to rid him of the unnecessary barrier.

He watched your every move with a slight smile playing on his lips. letting you push the fabric over his shoulder. “Better?”

"Getting there.”

You worked at the buckle of his belt before you unbuttoned his pants, urging him to lift his hips as you slid them off. "How about now?”

You reached out, your hands gliding up his now bare thighs.

"Almost. Still too much."

Spencer responded immediately, his hands removing the last piece of his clothing in a fluid motion. Then he was finally naked, and the sight of his cock, visibly aroused and gleaming slightly at the tip, drew a sharp intake of breath from you.

"Now we're talking," you breathed out, a satisfied grin spreading across your face.

His hands found their way to your waist, urging you to face the mirror again. “Get on your knees for me.”

“You’re really into this mirror thing, huh?"

“It’s hard not to,” he quipped, his hands gently guiding you into position as he settled behind you. "Don’t worry, all the attention is on you."

“Oh, really?” you responded, turning slightly to look up at him. "Or do you just like seeing how good you make me feel?”

“I do make you feel good, don’t I?”

“Cockiness does not suit you.”

“Mhm,” he hummed, gripping your hips with one hand and the other positioning himself right at your entrance. “Arch your back a little.”

You obliged, accentuating the curve of your body. “Like this?”

“Perfect.”

His hand on your hips adjusted you slightly, ensuring the angle was just right. You sucked in a sharp breath, feeling his cock brush past your folds and you both moaned as he pushed himself further into you. Once he was all the way in, pausing to take a breath, he slowly slid back out to give you an experimental thrust.

You whined at the sensation before adjusting your knees, spreading them further apart to give him better access. This new position deepened the angle, and when he thrust back into you, the pleasure intensified.

"Is this better?" He asked breathlessly, watching your expressions in the mirror for any sign of discomfort or pleasure.

You nodded. Your face felt hot, your mind was fogging up. The feeling of being filled was too good, but you wanted something more. Your hips, as if you had no control over them, started to grind against his.

Spencer groaned in pleasure, head going blank. His hands rested on your waist, pulling back to slide himself out before going back in slowly, meeting your movement. But he was treating you as if you were fragile, his thrusts were gentle, and despite how vocal you are with your little whimpers, it still wasn’t enough.

“Baby,” you gasped, pushing your hips back into his. “Can you—can you go faster?”

Spencer's response was immediate, his breath catching slightly at your request. His gaze met yours in the mirror, searching for any sign of hesitation, but when he saw none, he began to pick up the pace.

“Faster?” His hand tightened on your waist as he gave you a hard thrust, jolting you forward. “Or rougher?”

Both, you wanted both, but a breathless yes was the only thing that managed to slip out of your mouth. His grin was sharp, almost predatory. His movements became even more deliberate, each thrust gaining force and speed, driving into you with an intensity that matched the urgency in your voice.

“You like that?” he asked, voice rough with desire as he leaned closer, his breath hot against your skin.

"Yes, I—fuck," You blabbered. The pleasure was building, coiling tightly within you. “S-So good.”

Spencer’s other hand moved forward, finding your chin in the mirror and gently turning your face towards his. “Look at us.”

The reflection showed every detail—your wide eyes, his focused expression, the way your bodies moved together in a perfect rhythm. It was overwhelming, and even more intense when the hand on your waist slid around you, fingers brushing your clit.

You mewled, your back pressing against his chest. The visual of watching it all happen, of seeing how your bodies worked together, amplified everything. The combination of his thrusts and the relentless circles his fingers traced over your clit drove you closer to the edge.

"Spencer, I’m—" you started, breathless, the words catching in your throat as the building pressure within you neared its peak.

"I know," he replied. He could feel it too, the way your body clenched around him, and he was just about at his limit. “Me too… I’m so close.”

You felt every muscle in your body tighten, the coil in your stomach winding tighter and tighter. “Wanna feel you,” you gasped. “Cum… inside… me.”

Spencer’s response was a deep, guttural groan, his breaths growing even more labored. “Yeah? You want me to fill you up?”

“Please," you whispered, urgency lacing every syllable. “Want your cum in me.”

That did it. He just couldn’t say no to you.

His fingers moved rapidly on your clit as he drove into you. The combination of his deep, determined thrusts and the relentless stimulation of your clit overwhelmed your senses. The room was filled with the sounds of the rhythmic slap of skin against skin, and you could see in the mirror how each movement affected you.

Then, with a few more powerful thrusts, you felt him tense, a deep groan escaping him as he reached his climax. The hot rush of his release inside you was the final trigger your body needed. Your vision blurred, your mind blanked, and you surrendered to the intense wave of your own orgasm, crashing over you with a force that left you trembling and breathless.

Spencer continued to move gently, riding out the aftershocks of your climaxes together, his movements becoming slower, more soothing. As the waves of pleasure subsided, he wrapped his arms around you more tightly, pulling you back against his chest protectively. His breaths were slow and deep, calming against the back of your neck.

You were panting, tired yet blissful, and your eyes met his gaze in the mirror once again.

“How many couples do you think the mirror has witnessed?”

Spencer chuckled softly, his chest rumbling against your back. "More than we can imagine."

He then pulled out from you and a soft sigh escaped you as his hot release slipped from your cunt. Spencer noticed it too, which was why his hand went back between your thighs, his fingers pushing the white, warm liquid back into you.

“Oh my god,” you gasped. “What–you—” You stared at him with wide eyes. “You are filthy.”

“Don’t pretend you’re not enjoying this.”

You sighed, because he was right, more so you were enjoying it too much because his fingers continued thrusting into you and you found yourself pushing back against his hand.

“Spence…” You warned him, although it came out too breathless to make it sound like a real threat.

He grinned, clearly enjoying your response. “Do you want me to stop?”

You paused, pretending to think, but there was no real doubt as you quickly shook your head. Because how could you want him to stop when his touch was so intoxicating, when he was focused so intently on your pleasure more than ever before?

Your eyes drifted back toward the expansive mirror in front of you.

Maybe you should get one for your room.

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d3arapril · 2 days ago

Text

PUSH 2 START | p.b

pushin' on my buttons with no hesitation, gas me up give me motivation

pairing: paige bueckers x f!reader word count: 5.4k words of pure filth sorry not sorry warnings/tags: sexual content. VACATION PAIGE!!!, they get drunk and nasty FRRR, dom!paige, oral, fingering, strap usage (yes i finally wrote it), squirting, doggy, spanking, overstim - bro i could literally go on and on, just read it lol. (reminder - don't like it? don't read it)‼️ ᡣ𐭩 this idea quite literally came to me in a dream. this wasn't supposed to be full on smut but obviously i got carried away & ended up writing quite possibly the dirtiest thing i've ever written.... i listened to tyla's album on repeat whilst writing hence the random title. enjoy :D as always feedback & reblogs are appreciated x

“Think I have heatstroke.”

You roll your eyes from where you’re sat on the balcony, distracted from the half eaten packet of lays sat in your lap. You shift in your seat to crane your neck around to look at Paige through the glass doors, sun beaming down onto your skin.

“We were outside for like, half an hour.”

The Greek sun was no joke. You'd both decided to treat yourselves to a last minute vacation, frantically booking one of the nicest apartments you could both find a week prior to departure. Seven days on a Greek island was your idea of heaven and Paige had willingly agreed, claiming she needed some sun.

However, what she wasn't prepared for was the sun being the hottest thing she'd ever felt in her 23 years of being alive– her words.

The blonde groans from where she’s splayed out on the bed. The crisp, white sheets are a nice contrast against her newly tanned skin, body wrapped in a white fluffy towel.

You stand up from the chair, grimacing at the sting of your legs unsticking from the plastic. The packet of lays gets abandoned on the small table before you and your toes burn against the hot tile as you hop back into the bedroom, pulling the door shut behind you.

Paige doesn't flinch when she hears you come in, cheek smooshed against the sheets. She hums in the back of her throat when you scratch at her scalp as you pass her, her hair still slightly damp from the shower.

"You gonna make it to dinner, champ?"

A breath of a laugh leaves Paige as she pushes herself up with another groan, towel loosely tucked around her body. You're busy sorting through the selection of dresses you'd packed when you feel her wrap her arms around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder.

Her head juts towards the white dress hanging up in the closet. "Wear that one."

It's a fairly simple dress- plain white with a racer style neckline and ruffled skirt. You take it off the rail and hold it up in front of you, head tilting as you study it. "Really? It's kind of boring."

"Nah," Paige's hands rub up and down your sides, nose nudging against your cheek. "S'my favourite." She punctuates her sentence with a kiss to your jaw. It's seemingly innocent, but you know the girl well enough by now.

You slip out of her grip, dress in hand, before she can try anything, grabbing a pair of white strappy heels as you go.

"I'm gonna get ready in the bathroom," you're heading towards said room before she can stop you. "Reservation is at 8!"

You're sat on the couch, impatiently tapping a heel against the flooring. You tap against your phone screen to check the time for what felt like the hundredth time– you only had five minutes to get to the restaurant. Somehow, Paige always managed to take so long to get ready. You'd tried to get into the bedroom to see what was taking her so long but the door was locked so you were forced to sit and wait for her like her chauffeur.

You're scrolling through TikTok when you hear the lock click on the door. You huff, grabbing your bag from beside you. Standing up, you run a hand down your dress to flatten out any creases and when you look up Paige is stood in the doorway.

She's got her hair slicked back in her classic bun and she's wearing a white shirt with a simple black crop top underneath. The shorts she's wearing are black, too and she's wearing the Nike's you bought for her. She stands in silence, hands tucked into her pockets as she watches you take her all in.

You slink towards her, heels clicking against the tiles. You're aware you're probably staring at her like she's a piece of meat but you can't find it in you to car when she looks this good, plus it's not like she would complain.

"You're late," you hum, pulling her in by the belt loops. "What took you so long?"

She shrugs, opting to not respond. Instead, her hands reach out to rub down your back. "You look..." She pauses, leaning back. Her eyes start from your heels, trailing up your legs. Her gaze pauses on your chest for a second before meeting your eyes. "Really fucking good."

The pink of her tongue darts out to wet her lips as she takes your hand and holds it above your head. "Twirl for me."

You do as she says, giddily spinning in a circle for her. Her teeth pull at her bottom lip as she watches you, the vanilla from your perfume hitting her like some sort of pheromone. You drive her insane.

"You like?"

"You know I like. We're matching."

Before you can respond, the sudden dread of missing your reservation hits you and you're kicked into gear, eyes widening as you cast a glance at your phone in your hand.

"Fuck, we're late!"

You pull Paige by the wrist as you frantically leave the apartment, locking the door behind you and walking as fast as you could in your heels to the restaurant.

Alcohol in Europe is different to the alcohol in America– it's somehow much, much stronger.

You'd had an amazing dinner, followed by some amazing cocktails. What was supposed to only be one or two turned into arguably too many and before you knew it you were both stumbling back to the apartment.

The front door is opened and shut again faster than you can blink and you're pressed against it before your brain can catch up with you. Your head spins a little when you tilt it up to give Paige access to your neck, dazed smile spreading across your lips.

"Mmmm," Paige all but moans against your skin, licking a stripe up your neck. "Tastes good."

"Might be the alcohol." the words leave you lazily, slurred. Paige pulls back to look at you, eyes glazed over.

"Nah, s'all you."

You pull her in with a hand gripping the back of her neck, lips slotting against hers. It's hot, messy- her tongue slides against yours and you taste the alcohol on her breath. Ordinarily, you'd make a joke about her needing to brush her teeth but you're fully aware you're just as bad so you remain silent, just kiss her deeper and softly moan into her mouth.

When you part from each other you're both panting, string of spit separating the two of you. You lick your lips and it breaks, clinging to your bottom lip. Paige's thumb reaches up to wipe it away, pad of her thumb pressing against you. She just stares at you as she swipes the digit across slowly, smudging the remainder of your lip liner down your chin.

"So fucking fine," she murmurs, eyes trained on your lips. Your tongue darts out to lick at her thumb, smirk forming when she lets out a shaky breath. "You tryna kill me?"

"Maybe." you smirk at her, pushing at her shoulders until she stumbles back. You glide past her and head to the lounge, the blonde hot on your heels.

She catches you by the couch, arms caging you in from behind. You let her, of course. The cat and mouse game is usually fun but when you're this desperate, there are plenty other things you'd rather be doing.

"So many rooms to choose from," Paige whispers against the shell of your ear, "So many places to fuck you in."

Your knees almost give out and you're sure they would've if it wasn't for Paige holding you up, her chest pressed tight to your back.

"Could fuck you here," a flick of her head gestures to the couch.

Her hands find your chest, squeezing at your tits through the fabric of your dress. "Or on the counter, on the balcony."

You're abnormally quiet, nodding at whatever she says. She snickers, hands trailing down further until they reach the hem of your dress. Paige knows that when you're speechless, she's doing something right.

"You want that?"

"Yes."

"Which?"

"All of them."

She spins you around and you have to grab onto her to steady yourself. Her cheeks are all flushed and she's clearly just as drunk as you.

"Gonna let me?"

You feel like you're going to cry from how badly you want it.

You nod eagerly, gripping the fabric of her shirt. You want to rip it off of her, lick all over her tan lines and have your way with her but you let her have this one; you can tell she's in the mood to take control and you'd never be one to deny her of that.

She wrestles herself from your tight grip and flops down on the couch, legs spread and arms wide across the back cushions. You're still stood in your spot, hands now awkwardly by your sides as you wait for her to tell you what to do.

"Take it off."

You lean down to slip off your heels but she stops you with a cough.

"Keep 'em on, I meant your dress."

"But-"

"Off, c'mon."

You stand up straight again, gripping the hem of your dress and pulling it up and off your body. It's a bit of a struggle and you stumble around slightly but it eventually slides off of your head. It drops beside you and you're left in a simple matching white set.

Despite the alcohol coursing through your body, you still manage to feel shy under Paige's heavy gaze. She's still sat in the same position, eyes raking over your body.

"C'mere."

You toe towards her with careful steps, nothing but the sound of your heels clicking against the tile and both of your heavy breaths echoing throughout the room. You're standing between her legs, much like you were earlier, and she still doesn't move from her spot, fingers gripping at the cushions of the couch.

Paige’s gaze remains locked on yours, her lips curling into a smirk as she leans back further into the couch, making no move to close the distance between you. Her liquid confidence oozes with the weight of her stare and the longer she waits the more your heartbeat thuds in your ears.

“Closer." she murmurs, her voice low.

You inch forward until your shins hit the leather of the couch. You try to stop your hands from shaking, try to act like this is any other time you've been in this situation but there's something about having the entire space to yourself that makes this feel so different, so intense.

"Do you plan to do this all night, or?" your voice comes out quieter than you'd intended.

She lets out a laugh, arms reaching forward to pull you in by your hips. You fall into her lap, bracing yourself against her shoulders to soften the impact.

"I just like lookin' at you," Paige licks her lips, glossy eyes looking up at you. "So sexy, you know that?" Her left hand smooths up your torso, grips at the fat of your chest and squeezes.

You whimper pathetically at the contact, your hands moving from their spot on her shoulders to her hair. You mess with the hair ties and pull the bun free, fingers brushing through the blonde strands. Paige hisses when your nails scratch against her scalp, hips pushing upwards against your own.

Her right hand slides around your back and she pulls you down until your chests are pressed together. You kiss her, open mouthed and messy as your tongue laps at hers, grinding down against her. The rough metal of her zipper presses against you through the thin material of your underwear and you whimper against her mouth, eyebrows drawing together at the feeling.

Paige's left hand finds home on your ass, squeezing and guiding you to rock against her. You whimper into the kiss as she uses her hold on you to grind you down onto her harder, tongue pushing further into your mouth. You can feel the heat radiating off of her, can smell the scent of the shampoo she used in the shower this afternoon and taste the alcohol on her tongue. You're practically drunk on her let alone the alcohol, and she's definitely drunk on you, too.

You're so caught up in the moment you're not prepared for Paige to flip you around. You let out a small ah! as she does so, head spinning from the sudden movement. Your back is now against the cushions, leather sticking to your sweaty skin. The blonde slips down onto the tiles in front of you, now kneeling between your legs.

"Hold 'em." Paige's hands are at the backs of your knees, pushing them up until they're almost at your chest. The heels of your shoes knock together and it's a reminder that you're actually still wearing them. You do as she says, clammy hands gripped tight over hers. You watch with bated breath as she slips her hands from your grip, thumb coming to press against your clit through your panties. It's a soft touch but it's enough to make you gush again; what was once a thick white material now a glossy, sheer mess.

"Fuck," Paige breathes. She moves her thumb in small, gentle circles around the clothed area. Your head falls back against the cushion of the couch, mouth open in a silent moan. "This all for me?"

"Always," you murmur, licking your lips as you move your heavy head, eyes meeting hers. "It's yours."

"Yeah it is," Paige nods, her voice coming out strained. She moves to slide her hands up the backs of your thighs and hooks both thumbs into your panties, pulling them up and off your legs until they're hanging around your ankle, exposing your pussy. "So good." she purrs, leaning forward to press open mouthed kisses against you. You suck in a breath when her tongue laps up your slit, nails digging into the skin of your thighs.

She moves slowly at first, and for a moment you wonder if it's because of her own drunkenness, but the longer she goes on the more you're reminded of just how good she is at this. You feel like you're going to explode at the slightest touch, every stroke of her tongue against your clit sending shocks of pleasure through your entire body.

"Paige," you moan repeatedly, her name coming out like a prayer. She hums against you, hands pressing against the backs of your thighs to keep you spread open for her.

You gasp at the feeling of her warm, wet muscle pushing past your folds to languidly dip against your entrance. "Oh fuck, fuck- babe."

She's sloppy with it, a mixture of your juices and her spit dripping down between your ass and onto the couch. You'll scold her for doing this here tomorrow but right now it's your last concern.

Your toes curl when she shakes her head against you, tongue flicking against your clit. "Gonna make me cum," the words leave you as a sob, mouth hanging open. You feel the wetness between your thighs increase even more when you hear her moan, the vibrations shooting pleasure straight up your spine. "Feels so good."

Paige's fingers dig harder into the skin of your thighs as she continues to lap at you. She pushes her tongue into you again and then moves upwards, pressing sloppy kisses against your swollen clit.

"Yeah, right there, please-" you choke on your own words, the feeling of her nose brushing against your sensitive skin making you jolt. You can't stop the loud cry that leaves you as she sucks your clit back into her mouth, tongue massaging against it.

The room is spinning and your legs start to cramp from how hard your muscles are tensed, nails almost piercing into your skin when the chord in your stomach suddenly snaps. You're practically crying, eyes rolled back in your head when it hits you. Paige helps you ride it out, keeping you pressed to the couch whilst she drinks up your slick. You're trembling, stomach rippling from the intensity.

You expect Paige to pull away, lean up and give you a messy kiss like she normally would but instead she slides two fingers up and down your pussy, gathering your wetness on the tips before she's pushing them into you.

"Wait," you whimper, feet kicking in the air. "Babe, wait, I just- I'm-"

"You're good," she murmurs, lips brushing against the inside of your thigh as her fingers slowly pump in and out of you. "I got you, just relax."

You mewl, letting her have her way with you. She starts off slow, fingers curling up deep. The sound is obscene, with every flick of her fingers the wet sound fills the air but you feel no shame, if anything it just turns you on more.

Paige definitely feels you flood her fingers because she picks up the pace, thrusting her fingers deeper into you, curling them with each stroke. Your entire body is coated in sweat, droplets beading against your skin. Her other hand moves from its place on your thigh to spread you wider, opening you up to her even more.

It's all too much; the heat, the way you're spread open for her, the pressure building deep in your stomach. She adds a third finger and the stretch makes you sob, legs starting to shake in your grip.

"I can't," the words spill from you, incoherently. "Please, please I can't."

"Shhh," Paige coos, leaning down to kiss the back of your thigh. "You can, gonna make you cum again."

She curls her fingers and the tip of her middle finger brushes against that spot, her palm pressing down against your clit. The feeling is so intense and you can't do anything but whine, thighs shaking around her.

"So good to me," Paige breathes out, heart hammering in her chest. She watches the way your pussy clings to her fingers, the digits now glistening as she pulls them out of you before thrusting back in. "She loves me, hm?"

You nod feebly, tears slipping down your cheeks, head lolling against the cushions of the couch.

Paige is relentless, fucking her fingers into you with such force you can feel the pressure in your ass. Your legs are starting to burn and so are your hips and it feels like a balloon is being blown up in your stomach, pressure becoming harder to ignore with every pump of her fingers.

"M'gonna cum, fuck, Paige-"

You cum for the second time with a broken sob and you hear it before you feel it, the distant sound of a splash against the tiles below you followed by Paige's load groan. It hits you hard, legs quivering as you squirt around her fingers, the wetness coating the floor. She slips her fingers out quick enough for another gush to leave you, trickling down your ass and onto the leather.

She moans, watching it play out in front of her. It's the hottest thing she's ever seen, her fingers now rubbing against your clit in quick motions.

"Again, again."

"Fuck, I can't-"

"Again." she demands but the word leaves her like she's begging, voice a pitch higher.

It's embarrassing how fast the heat builds in your stomach again, and before you can stop it you're squirting all over again, pussy clenching against nothing as you cry out.

Paige leans down, tongue slipping between your folds to drink you up. You're sobbing, trying to get away from her but you can barely move.

"You're okay," Paige mumbles, soothing her hand down your quivering leg. "I got you, s'okay."

A moment passes, Paige's head resting against the back of your thigh as she strokes her soaked hand against the other. You drop your legs ungracefully, stretching your limbs and groaning when your hips and knees crack after being bent for so long.

"That sobered me up." you whisper, heavy eyelids threatening to close. "Did they put viagra in your drink?"

Paige stifles a laugh, her own knees cracking when she stands up. She holds out a hand you to help you up and you take it with a shaky one of your own. You grimace at the feeling of the wet leather sticking to your bare skin, standing up.

"You ruined the couch."

"Says the one who squirted like a fucking firehose." Paige's hand comes up to push the hair from her face, a bead of sweat dripping down her temple. "S'not my fault I do that to you."

You groan, pushing at her shoulder. "Shut up."

Paige laughs and drops her hands to your hips, walking you backwards towards the bedroom. You stumble a little, bambi-like legs struggling in your heels.

"Get on the bed."

You're pushed backwards onto the bed, bouncing slightly when you hit the sheets. Your chest is heaving, heart still thumping wildly in your chest. Paige is climbing over you, caging you in with her arms and legs. Her lips ghost the shell of your ear,

"Still gotta fuck you in here."

She ducks down and connects your lips, teeth knocking against yours as she does so. Her hips grind down against yours and your hands snake under the fabric of her shirt, pushing it off her shoulders. Paige pulls back to shrug it off of her and throw it blindly behind her, reaching back to pull her crop top off in one fluid movement. She's braless, tan lines from her bikini top prominent against her now tanned skin. The sight alone makes you moan.

You both shimmy up the bed, lips still connected, and when the back of your head hits the pillow Paige's lips are on your neck. You sigh, hand smoothing down her back. Her skin is damp and so is yours, the smell of sex filling the air.

"Please, babe," you whimper, fingers pulling at the waistband of her shorts. Paige hums, sitting up to push them down her legs and kick them off.

"Hmm," she murmurs, fingers sliding over your cheek, thumb resting against your bottom lip. You part your lips, tongue swiping out to lick the pad of her thumb. "You gonna do something for me?"

"Anything."

Wordlessly, Paige pulls off her boxers with practiced ease and begins crawling over you. Her hand rests against the headboard as she steadies herself, the other reaching down to cup her pussy. You lick your lips, eyes flickering between hers and her cunt.

"Please," the word is soft, leaving you breathlessly. "I wanna taste you, please."

"Yeah?" she tilts her head, the pad of her index finger sliding up and down her slit. You watch her gather her wetness and then bring it up to her clit, circling the bud. "Wanna make me cum?"

"Please, please." you grip at her thighs, nails digging into her skin. Paige moans at the feeling, her own hand now moving faster against herself. "Wanna make you feel good."

Paige's hand leaves her pussy and she hovers above you, holding onto the headboard. You lift your head and stick your tongue out, eager for her to sit on you. You whine when she hovers her pussy just above your mouth, tongue swiping out to lick against her folds.

"Fuck, yeah," Paige moans, head dropping forward. Her left hand grips the headboard whilst her right holds onto her pussy, spreading herself open for you. "Yeah, good girl."

The praise goes straight to your core and you moan, tongue darting out again. She's finally sat on your face and your head falls back against the pillow, licking at her cunt like a woman starved.

She starts grinding against your tongue, the slick sounds filling the air. You're making a mess of yourself, saliva dribbling down your chin as you lap at her, tongue dipping inside her.

"S'good," Paige pants, grip against the headboard tightening. "Yeah, like that-oh fuck."

Your tongue flicks against her clit, your thighs squeezing together as a you feel your pussy gush just from making her feel good. She's so warm and wet and tastes so good and you can't get enough, tongue lapping at her clit in quick, harsh motions.

"Keep- fuck- keep doing that," her head drops forward and her hips cant, her movements becoming sloppy as she chases her high. "Right there, yes-"

Her legs start shaking, the muscles quivering under your touch and her hand reaches down, smoothing against your hair. Her hips move erratically, chasing her orgasm.

"Oh fuck, m'gonna cum." she pants, a bead of sweat rolling down the valley of her breasts. "Keep- yeah, yeah-"

Paige cries out with a broken moan, her orgasm washing over her. She's shaking all over, groaning as you keep lapping at her clit. You drink her up, moaning against her pussy.

"Please," she begs, her voice high pitched. "Fuck, I can't."

She's cut off by her own sob, eyes rolling back in her head. The room is filled with her moans, the sound bouncing off the walls and mixing with the obscene sounds coming from where your mouth is.

Paige is squirming on top of you, the sensation of overstimulation sending waves of pleasure through her body. Two can play at that game, you think.

"So good to me," Paige manages to choke out between moans, teeth gritted. "My fucking girl, s'so good."

You're drunk off of her, her words of encouragement only spurring you on. You roll your tongue against her clit, nails pressing down harder into her skin. Paige fights against your grip, hips lifting up as she pants heavily, forehead pressed against the wall.

She shakily moves her hips backwards and away from your mouth, now sitting across your hips. You're breathing just as heavily, the room spinning around you. Your chest is heaving and your eyes are half lidded as you stare up at her, lips red and puffy.

"You're so hot," you mumble, eyes drifting across her chest. The words leaving you before you can even process them.

Paige snickers, running a hand through her hair. "I know."

"So fucking annoying."

"You love it."

And well, she's not wrong. You reach up, cupping her tits and giving them a firm squeeze. Her hands reach up to cover yours, leaning into your grip.

"You want it?"

It takes a moment for your brain to catch up and figure out what she's referring to but when she gestures down to her crotch with a nod of her head, the cogs turn into place.

Paige spots the excitement in your eyes because she sniggers, tongue kissing her teeth. "'Course you do."

She clambers off of you, slight wobble in her legs as she does so. The moonlight dances through the room and you can see the sweat beading against her back, muscles rippling when she digs through her suitcase.

When she turns back she's got the harness briefs dangling from her fingers, skin coloured dildo fisted in the other hand. She wiggles her eyebrows at you and you roll your eyes back at her, urging her to get on with it.

She stands at the end of the bed, slipping the boxers over her feet and up her legs. She fits the dildo into place, bottom lip pulled between her teeth in concentration when she fumbles slightly.

You watch her with bated breath, squeezing at your covered tits mindlessly.

"Keep that on," Paige mumbles, nodding towards your bra. She crawls onto the bed, stopping at your feet. "Turn over for me."

You flip over with a groan, using what little strength you had left to keep your chest flat to the mattress, ass high in the air. Just how you know she liked it.

She affirms your thoughts with a soft moan at the sight of you, moving further up the bed. You feel the plastic brush up against you and it makes your thighs twitch, ass jutting up higher for her touch.

Her hands smooth against your ass, squeezing at the fat of it when you back up against her again. "Someone's impatient."

"C'mon." you urge, shaking your ass just enough to get her to fold. It works, of course, because she moans again- deeper this time. She grips the base of the dildo and slides it between your folds, blunt head nudging your clit. You're still soaking wet, the plastic glistening before she's even put it in you.

"Damn," the word leaves Paige automatically, pupils blown out as she admires your mess. "Ask me nicely and I'll put it in."

You groan against the sheets, fits gripping the cotton tightly. "Please, Paigey."

The nickname gets you a harsh slap to the ass, the impact stinging your skin. You suck in a breath through your teeth but the smirk grows across your lips despite it all.

"Fuck me Paigey, please."

"Shut the fuck up."

She slides in with one smooth motion, intrusion bringing your brows up to your hairline. It stings slightly but the familiar is welcomed, comforting almost.

"Gonna fuck you now," Paige's hands smooth down your back, coming to rest at the base of your spine. "Gonna make you fucking cry."

You strain your neck against the bed to get a peek at her and you're not sure you've ever seen her this wound up before- her eyes are wide, a red flush travelling across her chest and up to her cheeks. She's fucked.

Her hips draw back and then slam back into you, the sound of skin on skin deafening you. She's unforgiving, nails digging into your skin as she uses your hips as leverage to fuck into you. She's grunting with each thrust, bottom lip trapped between her teeth.

"Yeah, yeah-" you whine, eyes screwed shut as the blonde ruins you. You can just about hear how wet you are over the sound of her skin smacking against yours, the recognisable squelch of your pussy getting louder when she grants you with another slap to the ass. "You fuck me so go-ood."

"Yeah?" Paige breathes out, slapping your ass again. Her hand tingles from the force but she ignores it, slapping your other ass cheek with the same hand. "Whose pussy is this? Hm?"

You can barely respond, body jostling against the sheets.

"Is it mine, baby?"

You nod against the sheets, helpless.

Another slap.

"Tell me."

"It's yours!" you cry out, fingers practically ripping holes into the sheets. "Yoursyoursyours-"

"Fuck yeah it is."

She pistons in and out of you at an ungodly speed and it makes you dizzy- so dizzy you don't even feel your orgasm approaching until you're on the edge, threatening to tip over.

"Cumming!" is all you can let out, the word caught in your chest as your spine curls inwards, heels kicking up against your girlfriend. It hits you like a truck, legs spasming and arms stretching out against the sheets as you cream against Paige. You see spots in your vision, eyes crossing as the pleasure consumes you. You feel everything, and then all of a sudden- nothing.

"You good princess?"

You crack an eye open to see Paige laying beside you, propped up on an elbow. She's gently stroking your cheek with her thumb, hair now pulled up into a messy bun atop of her head.

"Did I die?"

She snickers, leaning across to press a kiss to your forehead. "I killed that pussy, maybe."

You release the sheets that's still gripped in your hand to shove the blonde back but she just sticks her tongue out at you, reaching behind her for a glass of water left on the bedside drawer.

"Drink some, you need it."

She holds it to your mouth and you chug it down, dry throat welcoming the fluid. "I seriously passed out?"

"Eh," Paige shrugs, rubbing down your back. "You were conscious, just about."

"Wow," you roll onto your front, ache between your thighs making itself evident. "You did a number on me."

"Same again tomorrow?"

Your palm smooshes against her face, pushing her away with a laugh.

"Your turn tomorrow, Bueckers."

#well this really is something!#paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers fluff #my writing #lowkey rushed the end because i just wanted to get this out lol #but enjoy nonetheless

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itstheghostofmypast · 7 days ago

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A Goodfella's Moondance

Mafia AU Choi San x Reader

Summary: He waited for her to waltz into his arms, and she did. He felt her jitter and shiver under his touch, much like how he did the same on her love. He had found someone to love and cherish, someone who kept his fragile morality in check, someone who he could call a lover, a wife, a weakness.

Genre: Hurt Comfort

Rating: PG- 13

Word Count: 2.4 K

Est. Read Time: 12 min

Warnings: Blood, kidnapping, murder, guns.

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels @illusionnet

Song: Moondance by Micheal Bublé

“Do you feel better?” His soft whisper gently pulled her back to consciousness, back to the comfort of the warm, soft, cotton that they were cocooned within, succumbing to the sleep that lay heavy in their bones.

“Mhmmm…”

Ever so slowly, her body turned to the other side, her back that was once pressed against his warm chest, grazing the subtle cotton of one of the many blankets he had heaped upon them in his frenzy of bringing her some form of comfort, trying to suppress the jitters that rocked through her even though she said she was fine. Hands pressed against his chest, vibrating with each beat of his ever loving heart, her head tilted up on her pillow, meeting his tender gaze, eying the small smile that only she got to see, that too behind closed doors.

“Good.”

With that hanging above them, the man wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into him, forcing her to become one with him, though he could tell by the way her arms had looped around his slender waist, his action was more than welcome.

Little did he know this side of his, this gentleness, this care, this attentiveness was what had her losing her grasp on the bitter reality of the world, perhaps that's why last night she was unable to figure out how the guy asking her for directions was actually going to kidnap her.

One moment a man approaches her while she sat at the bus stop, after her lover had texted her how he would be unable to pick her up from the hospital tonight, also canceling their date because of some ‘Urgent Business.’ The next thing she knew was how she woke up in the trunk of the man who had approached her at the bus stop, asking her the directions to the hospital as he had to go see is sick wife- sue her for being a caring person, nurse or not, it's not like she wasn't going to help him.

The fallacy of rationality lies within situations such as these, while he had taught her a variety of methods of escaping, a contractual instruction enforced by Park Seonghwa himself, in the heat of the moment she had forgotten it all, her core memory allowing her to do no more than to whimper out his name, “San.”

It wasn't till she had felt the car stop that her anxiety morphed into aggression kicking against the roof of the truck, while she tried to move her tied hands, removing the blindfold to look around, only to freeze when the trunk opened, staring up at the man in horror.

“Well, aren't you in a lot of trouble, missy.” The fox featured man smiled at her, one that had her let out a relieved sigh, though she tried to ignore the splatted red across his face, dripping down his chin and onto his crisp white shirt, which was evident when he helped her out, pulling her closer to have her sit on the closed trunk, “You okay?”

She could only nod at the fact that, physically, perhaps she was, but she wouldn't be so sure about her mental status, never had this happened before and truly, for the first time in her life had she felt afraid and alone, a feeling her husband had long rid off from her mind, body and soul.

“Good, because San isn't, he's furio-”

The loud bang cut him off, for a split second his eyes flickered to the man who was standing across the car, in front of it, staring at something, or someone on the ground, before moving back to the shivering woman. With a loud sigh he shrugged off his coat and draped it over her shaking shoulders, and called out, “YAH! DID YOU REMOVE YOUR SILENCER?”

The taller man grunted in response, pushing up his glasses, not bothered by the spots of blood staining the glass, in fact the red calmed him down a bit, a reminder of him punishing the bastard who thought this woman was an easy target.

Wooyoung watched his friend walk over to them, fully aware of how San had removed the silencer on purpose, wanting everyone in the vicinity and the perpetrator to know what happens when you try to come into his personal life.

With a nod he motioned for Wooyoung to sit in the car, disposing the body wasn't part of the plan, Seonghwa had agreed when San had requested to “let me make an example out of him”, so much so that the husband of the woman who was shaking like a leaf currently, had also brought his infamous bat with him, which only reminded his friends of how this was personal was him.

With each gloved hand placed on either side of her on the trunk, he looked down at her, she peaked up at him through her lashes, unsure of what he was going to say or do, perhaps he would be upset with her, disappointed by how she was unable to fend for herself even though he had prepared her for a situation like this, his friends had prepared her for a situation like this. At the end of the day, they were from two different worlds, she would heal people and well he would…what if tonight he finally realised that and-

“I'm sorry.”

Taking off his gloves he placed them beside her before pulling out a pocket knife from his breast pocket, flicking it open as he began to work on the ropes around her wrists. He frowned at the roughness of the threads, mumbling things like, “This may bruise”, “The f*cker didn't need to tighten them so much.”, “Wish I could kill him all over again.”

Once he was done, he tossed the rope aside, gently taking her scratched wrists in his hands, before lifting her wrist up to his lips as he placed a tender kiss on the reddened skin, repeating the motion of love with her other one before looking at her with a somber flare in his eyes, “I'm sorry, I'll be more careful next time.” He should have been more careful, he should have ensured she was safe, it was his job to keep her safe. And he stood there, in blood and tears, seeking her forgiveness, unaware of how the woman was falling even more for her gentle giant of a husband.

“Seonghwa said you can't leave the house without protection anymore.” He mumbled, the bass in his sleep lusted voice making her squeeze him closer, not that he would mind.

His own hand had begun to aimlessly trail down her spine, only to slide back up to complete the cycle, thinking to himself a moment before he continued, “Hongjoong has assigned a few men…though I'll be around you whenever I'm free. The shipment is late anyway, and he's having Yunho and Mingi deal with it, so I'm all yours for the coming few days.”

“Okay…”

San blinked at her hushed response, it was evident she was elsewhere, or she was still a bit too shaken to respond coherently. Either way, with the gun stashed beneath his pillow and his lover in his arms to protect, he began to formulate a way of protecting her 24/7. Naturally, he couldn't always be there himself nor could his brothers. How much did he trust his men? What if he got her a personal gun or a-

“Sannie?”

His train of thought derailed at her calling, pulling back a bit to glance down at the only reason why he hadn't tipped off the cliff of his primitive instincts, hand pressing flat against her back as he nodded, “Yes, dove?”

“Can you sing for me?”

Could he sing? Of course he could. Did he sing often? No, not really. In fact, she was the newest addition to the only other people who knew his secret, that the right hand man of Ateez, the cold blooded killer trained and raised by Park Seonghwa himself could harmonise with the very same angels that stood at the gates of Heaven, waiting to reject his entrance.

“What would you like to hear?”

Giving her a small smile he slowly pulled away, sitting up and resting his back against the cushioned headrest of the king sized bed, picking up his glasses from the nightstand and placing them on the bridge of his nose. He turned to glance at her, admiring the way she looked up at him with awe, it was truly a blessing to have an angel such as herself admire a creature like him, willing to bathe in the simmering blood of his brutality, willing to swallow the bitter truth of his existence, willing to embrace the carcass in which once his humanity once flourished.

“Umm…” slipping the covers off herself she sat up, tugging at the strings of his hoodie that she wore, slowly moving closer and straddling him, looking up at him with a blush ever so subtle, “Moondance?”

A hearty laugh broke past his pout, the bass of his laughter bouncing off the cold walls of the room, blocking out the soft chippers of the early birds outside. If she was being honest, she's sure everyone who was trying to sleep could hear him right now, considering everyone did retire to their rooms after she had come home; have Jongho check her vitals, watch her husband get verbally abused by Hongjoong for being careless, have Seonghwa make her promise to never use public transport again, give Yeosang the entire details of the night so he could ‘take care of the mother company’, eye Yunho who took her husband aside to give him a pep talk after his sulking and be force fed by Mingi who insisted that “You burn more calories being kidnapped than an hour on a treadmill”, all the while having Wooyoung make dinner and yell at them for being noisy- ironic.

“What's so funny?” She asked, her hands cupping his face before she slipped off his glasses, frowning at the blood splattered on the glass, why didn't he clean this off. And just like that she tilted to her side, reaching over to grab a tissue from the nightstand, feeling him quickly grab her by the waist so she wouldn't fall over.

“Careful there, dove.” He mumbled pulling her back up onto him, watching her try to clean off the dried blood, trying to hold back the urge to crush her with his love, “It's fine- oh.”

“It's not, dirty glasses stress the eyes,” cutting him off she gently slipped the glasses back onto the face of the owner, giving him a smile before getting comfortable on him, wrapping her arms around his neck as she placed her head on the crook of his neck, taking a deep breath, the lingering memories having her latch onto him for comfort.

San watched her go about as she pleased, much like how she often did, not that he'd ever mind. Once she was settled, nestled against him, he wrapped his arms around her waist, leaning his against the headboard as he sighed. It was evident that last night had taken a toll on her, but what he learnt from experience was that eventually you get over it, become numb to the bitter memory, usually with the help of a distraction or a friend or two. It was never his intention for her to feel this way, in fact, from the moment he had left his heart in her hands at the ER, he had decided to keep her safe, even before she chose to accept his invitation of love, he had decided to keep her safe from all the grotesque wonders he had been blessed to bear witness to since his childhood. Though at the very moment he wondered if that was even worth it, if dragging her into his life was worth it, ruining her chances of living a mundane, peaceful-

“Are you this slow when Seonghwa asks you for something too?”

Her snarky remark caught him off guard, trying to get a better look at her but she just giggled and buried her face in his neck, the only form of compensation given to him was the tender press of her lips against his pulse, only to have it increase two folds.

San's arms squeezed her, earning a contented sigh from his wife, much to his pleasure as he stared out the window, watching the pale winter sun cast a chalky hue among the cloudy scapes of the sky. Taking a deep breath he whispered into the still of their room,

Well, it's a marvelous night for a moondance

With the stars up above in your eyes.

A fantabulous night to make romance

'Neath the cover of October skies

Knowing nothing more mattered to him at this point but the woman that clung onto him, her heart beating with his, waltzing through harmony.

And all the leaves on the trees are falling

To the sound of the breezes that blow

You know I'm tryin' to please to the calling

Of your heartstrings that play soft and low

He felt her hold tighten, mumbling something that he couldn't make out, but the way her body fell lax against him assured him it was some form of positive affirmation. Indeed it was, for before tumbling back into the depths of slumber, swaying in the melody of her husband's voice she had whispered, “Thank you, my love.”

You know the night's magic seems to whisper and hush

You know the soft moonlight seems to shine in your blush

He wondered if she was as smitten for him as he was for her- it amazed him how she'd tell him that she knew he'd always protect her, when the fact of the matter was that it was indeed her who was protecting him, from the insanity of the world that had bruised and battered him inside and out, from the wrath of Park Seonghwa who wanted to end him for choosing to start an affair with a civilian, as pure and naive as her and from himself, the one that he too feared, knowing that if that Choi San was to resurface, only she could stop him. It was fine though, he was going to protect her from the cold, from nature and man. It's what a dutiful goodfella does, what a dutiful husband does.

Can I just have one more moondance with you, my love?

Can I just make some more romance with a-you, my love?

Taglist: @edenesth @skteezcursed @mlysalt @the-kpop-simp @spooo00oky @bunnyluvr25

@s-h-y-a @ateezwonderland

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aangelinakii · 2 months ago

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THE FROZEN SECTION.

— cold aisle, warm touch.

summary : you're about to find out that your tired boyfriend is a lot more affectionate than he is normally. and he probably won't even remember by the morning!

note : also realising this is quite similar to another fic i read, can't remember who by but just clarifying this wasn't inspired by theirs and anything overly-similar was just coincidence :)

maybe it was inhumane to drag jason back out the house after he'd just come back from patrol, and flopping down on the couch beside you was the first thing he did once he'd shut the window, but you had no food in the fridge!

late night cravings weren't unheard of, but they become a lot less easy to manage when your cupboards are deprived.

"hey, jason?" your voice was soft as you lingered above him, leaning down to brush his thick black hair from his eyes.

beneath your touch, he sighed, one eye blinking open blearily. he gave a hum, tired and croaky. as you removed your hand from his head, he brought one of his own, gloves still envolping his palm, to rub at his eyes.

as he parted two of his fingers to peer up at you between them, you crouched down to his level, having put on a hoodie and a pair of white linen pants, to speak to him. "i know you're tired, but i'm heading down to the store. wanna come?"

jason stayed silent for a few moments, the lid over his eye blinking from beneath the shadow of his hand, before nodding, and pushing himself up from the sofa.

"yeah, one sec," he grunted as he shuffled into the bedroom, peeling off his gloves as he did so, and stuffing them into one of the pockets of his tactical pants.

you lingered in the doorway, watching as jason lazily tugged off his upper half, discarding his jacket to the ground, along witb his bullet-proof top. for just a small space of time, you were able to intently take in his strong frame.

he stepped up to the clothes drawer and rummaged through the folded t-shirts and hoodies for something to quickly tug over his head.

deciding to give him some privacy, especially after a night that seemed rather jam-packed, you stepped back out into the rest of your shared flat to make sure you had your things together.

you lingered by the front door, keys jingling, when jason reappeared, bleary-eyed and messy-haired, heavy boots clumping along the floorboards.

the walk to the all-night grocery shop was quiet, and you had that pang in your stomach of guilt — but you knew jason, as tired as he appeared on the outside, wouldn't rather anything else. and your thoughts were confirmed when he slung a lazy arm over your shoulders.

he was a heavy man, you knew, consisting of muscle and gunpowder, but you really felt it as you walked along the pavement, shifting a fraction of his weight across the line of your shoulders.

what a tired guy; let's get home quick, and he can get tucked up in bed.

as soon as you stepped into the bright store — too white for this time of night — jason seemed to cling to you, large hands unwavering upon the round of your shoulder or the settle of your waist. it was unlike him, especially somewhere so... public, despite the darkness outside the store doors.

he stuck to you like a koala joey as you stepped through the aisles, filling your basket, with fresh fruit punnets and bread, and crisp packets and cereal boxes.

next down on your list: ice cream, the flavours you and jason most like to snack on when it's either too hot to go outside, or when a film is in need of watching.

all around, the air chilled as you set foot in the frozen section, and jason's once-soft grip on your waist tightened, and his body moved closer to yours, an attempt at conserving heat, you suppose.

but when you stopped in front of one of the ice cream freezers, and slid open the door, jason's brick wall of a body pressed into you from behind, muscles unwavering from beneath his thick hoodie as they wrapped around you.

impossible to keep in, you let out a chuckle. "i know, i know." his chin came down softly upon your shoulder. "i just want to get you your caramel swirl and then we can head back, okay?"

jason gave a hum from behind.

content, you moved to reach into the freezer, but squeaked as you found your arms unable to do so.

when you looked down, crease forming in your eyebrow, jason had wrapped his arms around your front, muscles straining ever so slightly to keep yours in place.

maybe he just hadn't realised. and so you reached out again.

"jason!" you laughed, not doing much to struggle from beneath his hold, strong, but not menacing; playful, in fact.

in your ear he let out a sleepy chuckle. "sorry." and he pressed a soft, short kiss to the button of your jaw, grasp slackening as you reached out to grab the carton of caramel swirl you know jason could finish in half a second.

"just wanna be in bed," he mumbled again, voice muffled against the nape of your neck.

"i know, i know." you dropped the carton into the metal basket hanging from your elbow, and slid the freezer door shut again.

letting out a content sigh, warmth erupting in your chest, you turned around to peer up at jason, meet the cosy green of his eyes beneath lowered lids. pressing yourself up to your toes for just a moment, you left a sweet kiss on the corner of his mouth, barely grazing his lips.

"can we pay now?" he smiled, eyes brightening at the contact, the hand on your hip fidgeting with the fabric of your trousers.

#aangelinakii #dc #dc comics #dc imagines #dc reactions #dc headcanons #dc universe #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd reactions #jason todd fluff #jason todd imagines #jason todd headcanons

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meowmeowriley · 1 month ago

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Ghost wants a dog. He's thought about it for a while, done some research, put out feelers. He's allowed to have a dog where he live, has a house to himself not five minutes from base. Waste of space, he used to think, but space enough for a dog.

He needs a big dog. He's a big lad. When some people think "big dog" they're thinking of a German Shepherd Good dogs, he's sure. But only 40 kilos, max. He needs something bigger, he thinks.

At first, he thought he'd like himself a Rottweiler. Hefty. Big bodied and boisterous. Easily trainable if you've got the time and the grit, both he figured he had in spades, so long as he wasn't on an op. But then he read about tail docking and, well... he couldn't bring himself to think about it any more. Those poor puppies, he thinks.

He goes home with Soap, visiting the MacTavish farm. They're friends, he wants to see the sheep, he tells Soap. Tells himself. He won't admit that he just wants to spend more time with Johnny.

The MacTavish's have Border Collies to herd their sheep. Practical. Cute, he likes the pups, but much too small for him. Not to mention intelligence to rival the rookies he had to whip into shape on base and tripple their energy. He wasn't sure he'd want to deal with that.

But while out, on their way into town, he saw it. A huge dog standing amongst someone else's flock, head heald high and nose in the wind. Soap knew the farmer from his childhood, drove them up the lane when he caught Ghost staring. Due to his staring, Ghost had missed the sign they passed, though Soap didn't. 'Pyrenees puppies 4 sale' it read.

The farmer smiled when he noticed John, the boy who left the fields to play soldier and came back a man. John introduced him as Lieutenant 'Ghost' Riley. Ghost rolled his eyes and stuck out his hand. "Simon. Saw your dog in the field, never saw one like it. Wanted to know more." A short introduction, straight to the point.

The response was the opposite. The farmer gave him what felt like his life's story. Took what seemed to Ghost to be a year before he got to telling him about the dog, a Great Pyrenees, apparently. A large bodied, heavy white coated livestock guardian breed. He had two, the one in the field was the sire, the dam was in the barn. As he spoke, he lead the two men towards that very barn.

The farmer entered first, to separate the mother from the pups, for their protection, he said. In the barn was a sight that melted the hardened Lieutenant into a puddle of goo: a litter of snow white, fluffy puppies. Huge puppies. Sticks and hay and debris were stuck all over their fluffy bodies, Simon picked out what he could from the pups as they wallered and slobbered all over him.

Soap took over speaking to the farmer as Ghost slowly accepted that he would never again have crisp black clothes. That everything in his future would be covered in white fluff. The life expectancy of his washer and dryer had just been halved, he suspected.

The farmer explained their personality: that females tended to be more protective, they'd be a home body, not exactly a jogging companion. Loyal but brutish, often misconstrued as lazy. The beast out in the field with the flock would lay about and let the sheep climb all over him, wouldn't even bother to get up if someone hopped the fence like. But if he heard a sound he didn't like, or saw another dog or a predator in the field, he'd let loose a bark that'd freeze a man's blood, and hunt the perceived threat down come hell or high water. "And you should see her in action," the farmer laughed and shook his head. "Almost killed the male over getting too close to his own pups. Protective to a fault. 'S why I had to turn her out, you see."

Ghost saw an oversized cotton ball trip over it's own feet as it tried to get to his fingers because it needed to be pet. It was the only one without any tan or grey patch. Ghost saw his future best friend.

The farmer started to explain that these pups ought to be sent off to other farms, they wouldn't do as family dogs, but John walked him out of the barn. Explained that the man they'd left behind had no family to speak of, needed something other than work to focus on, and if anyone were able to handle the instincts and behavioral issues of a livestock guardian without livestock, it'd be Simon. The farmer agreed, so long as he made sure to choose a male, for safety reasons.

The two drove off another twenty minutes later, after Simon had listened with rapt attention to the farmer detailing everything about what the pups had been through up to that point, and what he'd need to do moving forward to make sure his little guy was happy and healthy, Ghost holding young Spirit to his chest.

From that point on all of Ghost's belongings had long white fur and drool on them, courtesy of his personal polar bear.

On the day of their wedding their ring bearer was their own pseudo-bear, and nobody left the venue without drool or fur on their clothes.

#ramblings #a love letter to my own pyrenees #call of duty #modern warfare #ghoap #ghostsoap #soapghost #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish

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lanadelreyscokewhor3 · 3 months ago

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TOUGH- P.B PARKER

Pairing- Dilf! Cowboy! Peter Parker x Innocent! Fem! Reader

Word Count: 6.5k

Summary: Your school girl crush on your employer, Mr. Parker grows as you spend more time with him helping out around his farm, and soon he wants you to meet his friends for a night out at the local dive bar (to simply show you off :) )

Warnings: SMUT, consentual bondage, daddy kink, mentions of sexual activities, sexual implications, flirting, use of drugs, drinks and guns, slight dumbification kink, praise kink, breeding kink, peter just grabbing ur body/ feeling you up, teasing, swearing, age gap ofc (reader mid 20s, peter 40s) peter really just takes pride and care of his girl, making sure she is safe and satsified :)

" life's gonna do what it does, sure as the good lord's up above, i'm cut like a diamond shinin' in the rough.. tough"- tough, lana del rey & quavo

part two to save a horse, ride a cowboy - but no need to read to understand this fic <3

It wasn't the caw of the rooster that woke you this morning.

It was the feeling of a large, solid bicep that curled, caging your body in against another. His skin was warm to the touch, faint red farmers tan poking out at you as you snuggled deeper into the crisp,cool white linen sheets.

You felt Peters bare chest against your backside, the steady rise and fall of his chest soothing as you fought back sleep. The hands on his beside clock ticked, the minutes seeming to spin by faster then your eyes could follow as they fluttered open and shut.

Mornings like these were the best mornings you could've asked for.

They were rare, but they were precious.

The odd night you had managed to sneak out to visit Peter, which ended up with him taking care of you, from the beginning of the night to the ends of the morning.

It wasn't the cool morning breeze that slithered through the opened window that made you shiver, but the thought of Peter.

He had been teaching you how to ride, not horses- but him.

“Fuck darlin’ youre taking me so good. I know, I know-” he would coo as you whimpered, his cock stretching you out as he guided your hips to sink down onto him- to take him all.

“You’re doing such a good job honey, such a good job. You’re daddy's lil cowgirl aren't you? Learning how to ride me like a good girl.”

It made you squirm. Especially when after a while, he’d grow tired of your slower, gentler movements, gripping your hips and pounding up into you so hard you nearly fell off the couch if he hadn't been holding you.

You felt something poking out at your ass between the sheets, and you wiggled your body slightly, getting a low murmur from the sleepy older man beside you.

It was still early, and you knew your father wouldn't be awake any time soon, especially if he had been drinking. But you had cattle to tend to, and pigs to feed.

“Mr Parker…” you whispered, his arm still caging you in tightly.

“Mmm” he mumbled, eyes opening lazily, blinking slowly against the rising sun. “You’re not trying to escape from me, are ya?” he teased, pulling you in even closer, his morning wood flush against your ass, prodding at your lower back.

“I really don't want to leave sir I swear-”

“I’m joking sweet girl, I know. You have some calving happening don't you?”

You nodded.

I’ve been staying by them for most of the time when I’m not here. I like to think sometimes they like the company.” you smiled softly as he planted a kiss on the top of your head, then another.

“They most definitely enjoy it sweetheart. Especially yours. You're just such a sweet girl.” he hummed, large, calloused hands sliding under the sheets, down, down past your arms, slipping to give your ass a little squeeze before slipping up your little tank top to cup your breasts.

“Am I?” you asked, squirming in his grasp as his fingers toyed with you- a cat with its dinner, circling your hardened nipples.

“The sweetest. I just wanna keep you here baby, all the time, in this little bed so I can fill you up.”

You giggled, mind slipping from your duties for the day. His presence alone had your brain turning foggy, it was a miracle you could even think for yourself before he woke up.

But now? You were a goner.

“And why can’t you?”

He sighed, pinching the hardened bud between a thumb and finger. “Responsibilities honey. We both got them, and you're an independent girl.”

“I want you to take care of me though.” you pouted, giving him puppy dog eyes that drove him wild.

His tousled hair was soft between your fingers, his stubble harsher across his cheekbones. “Soon I will be sweetheart. I’ll make you my sweet lil cowgirl.”

You laughed as he kissed you all over, smothering you deeper into the pillows, his musky cologne engulfing you, lingering long after he had made his way to the bathroom, the sink handles cranking.

Cold water spewed out, captured in the same tender hands that had just cradled you as he rinsed his face. You called out for him, already missing his warmth, leaving him to stop dead in his tracks. You were fanned out on the bed- his bed, your body unfolding from under the sheets like an origami swan.

You lounged, eyes shut, your little shirt sliding further and further up your torso, tempting him. Before he could help himself, he grabbed his film camera that permanently was stationed on his old wooden dresser, the one his mother’s mother had before her, and so on.

Soon it would be covered in photos of you. His secret collection, a guilty pleasure of his favourite enigma that struck him down to his bones. You were a diamond in the rough in his life. You had consumed him, night and day. The way your voice sounded so sweet calling his name drove him to insanity.

The gentleness, the tenderness..

He needed to capture it.

“Mr. Parke- hey!” you protested as the shutter flickered a flash darting out between your heavy eyelids.

“You better not do anything with that, I look a mess.”

He snorted. “Was that a threat honey?” he asked, coy.

“Maybe.”

“Maybe hm?”

You shrieked as he set the camera down, taking a long stride before he was on top of you, caging you in as his hands pinned your wrists beside your head.

“You’re so beautiful my sweet… my beautiful, beautiful girl.” he murmured, eliciting a sigh as his forehead brushed yours, scruff grazing your neck as he inched closer to breath in the sweet scent of your perfume- always lingering on your skin.

You wiggled under him, attempting to free yourself from his grasp, and failing. It turned him on more then he cared to admit, to see you under him, almost helpless.

“Mr. Parker…”

“You know to call me Peter, sweetheart. You know what that name does to me.” He kissed your neck, once, twice and a third time.

“I should go… as much as I don’t want to…” you sighed, eyes darting over towards the ticking clock, hands seeming to move quicker and quicker as the minutes passed.

Your father would be awake soon, if not now, and that frightened you. If he woke up and found your bed empty…

“Come with me to the bar tonight. Please doll, I wanna show you off to all my friends, just to show them you’re mine.” he pleaded, seeming to make time stop completely, as you fell under his spell.

The way he was looking at you, yearning. Begging. You couldn't refuse. You didn't want to refuse.

“What time?” you asked softly, as he dipped his head back down to meet yours, a smile forming on his lips.

"Ten. I’ll pick you up at the house.”

You bit your lip. “You- you can’t. Father won’t-”

He nodded slowly, remembering how difficult your father could be.He would never allow it. Especially not with your employer. Though he was much… much more than that.

“I’ll sneak out again. Father will never find out, I’ve done it so many times, I can run out past the gate through the field…”

“Wait. Sweetheart, you need to be careful. I know you’ve done it so many times, and I hate making you do that, and putting you in danger-”

“You’re not making me do anything Mr. P- Peter.” you whispered as his lips brushed against yours. They tasted minty, the two cushions softly caressing yours, gente enough to feel as if they were a whisper.

“You don't know what's out there. So promise me you’ll be careful, I’ll be there at ten on the dot. Leave when you have to, no earlier and please, please bring a sweater darlin, it’s gonna be oh so chilly…” he trailed off and you smiled brightly with anticipation, cheeks hurting from the repetitive movement.

His forehead met yours again, a silent promise of reassurance.

It was sweet he cared for you this deeply. It made butterflies churn in your stomach like twisters, made your toes curl in excitement so tightly you feared they'd all stick together.

A drug you could never get enough of. A hope you were chasing, that this could work past the summer months that you meant more to him then you realised.

He was introducing you to his friends, that was a start. A huge start.

“I will. Promise.”

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

Mr. Parker was many things. One of those things was timely.

And truthful.

Not a minute past ten and his pickup was parked on the side of the road, nothing but red brake lights under the stars as guidance as you descended the old wooden fence on the other side of the field.

You had been pacing in anticipation all day, hardly able to stomach anything but crackers and cherries from the trees in the back. Braiding your hair just to unbraid it, to braid it again.

Peter had let you off for the day, he never really worked you- but of course your father didn't know that. So you were alone with your thoughts as you did your daily chores around the farm, tending to the sheep and cattle as the dogs nipped at your heels before darting after one another.

You didn't know where your father was when you got home. Asleep, you assumed. Or in town, to flirt with the general store owner. It didn't matter to you, what mattered was he was gone until he wasn't.

Dinner was quiet, not that you minded, just the sound of forks and knives scrapping fine china as the lanterns flickered in the dining room.

You were too focused on the night ahead, and what to expect. Or if you should be expecting anything.

No more than a quiet goodnight was said as you each tucked bodies behind wooden doors, and you wasted no time tugging on a little white lace dress, doing your hair the way you knew Peter liked the most.

You pumped the squeeze ball of your perfume, the little tassels brushing your skin and making you shiver as the scent hit your neck. The cool breeze slithered through your opened window, the curtains lashing out like branches in a storm that threatened to topple over the house.

Peter was right, it was cold. Colder than it should be for a summer night.

Normally it was stifling hot, the night time only allowing the temperature to drop just slightly. It had plummeted tonight.

You shrugged on a little cardigan over your shoulders, before slipping out the window, crawling down the large oak tree that lingered beside your house, threatening to topple over.

Now you found yourself here, whipping open the passenger door, laughing as the wind storm picked up, seeming to nearly topple you off balance.

The tires revved against the loose dirt road, gravel flying with the dust in the distance as you sped past your house. You felt like a teenager again, the way you were sneaking out, spending your night driving in cars with boys. Though they never treated you well- until Peter came along.

But he was a man you reminded yourself as you leaned your head back against the headrest, his large, veiny hand sliding over to rest on your thigh, thumb tracing little circles.

“You made it out okay?” he asked reassuringly, fawning over you as his eyes flickered from the road over to your body. Checking for scratches and gashes.

“Easy peasy.”

The radio hummed softly as his headlights flickered, and you listened to the sound of the turning signal as you gazed over at him. He was so beautiful in this light, it made your heart get stuck in your throat.

His soft locks blowing in the wind, the faded yellow beams in front of him illuminating his chiselled jaw, teeth tugging down on his bottom lip in concentration.

He was so soft in the night light, so gentle. Yet he remained possessive in such a comforting way, his hand tightening on your thigh as he turned a corner, or hit a bump.

“Are you warm enough darlin?” he asked, drinking in your little dress, and the shawl that did next to nothing to hide your shivers. You looked down, noticing your nipples had hardened on their own accord through the flimsy lace, from the chill wind or Peter's hands feeling you up- you couldn't tell.

“You’re gonna need a better jacket honey. You're a silly girl for thinking that would cover ya.”

You dipped your head and felt your cheeks heat as his teasing. You liked when he teased you. “Yes Mr. Parker.” you nodded, slipping your hand down to intertwine with his at your upper thigh.

He pulled a joint from his pocket, using his knees to steer the wheel as you endlessly grabbed the lighter from the dash and lit it for him. Smoke puffed out, trailing out the cracked opened window as he exhaled, like so many nights before.

It was routine at this point, lighting his smokes. He always shared with you, whether it was letting you have a hit, or by puffing the smoke into your mouth as he kissed you, simply intoxicating you.

“I’m nervous.” you stated bluntly as the truck rolled closer into the outskirts of town, where the local bar was. “Honey, you have no reason to be nervous, promise. They already love you.”

“They know me?” you asked.

“ ‘Course they do. Some of em might even try to snag you from me. You’re such a pretty lil thing they’ll want you all to themselves.”

You giggled at his claims, redeeming them false. Your nerves seem to grow as you pull into the parking lot, hands twisting at his fingers as if they were fidget toys. It was busy, though you didn't expect anything else for a Friday night.

The night was still young, and the party showed no sign of stopping anytime soon, people trickling in and out of the swinging wooden doors. Neon lights illuminated outside were bright, candy coloured-inticing you inside.

Before you could unlatch your seatbelt, Peter slid his hand to roughly hold your chin, huffing smoke between your lips as he kissed you harshly, teeth clashing against yours.

You barely had time to catch a breath as he gripped you tightly, holding you captive with his lips. They were swollen by the time he was done with you.

“Don't even think about reaching for that door handle sweets.” he whispered, winking as he slipped outside, cheeks tinged with pink as he took one last puff, before tossing the burnt end and crushed it with his boot.

The door was opened on your side, his hand holding yours as he guided you down from the high truck bed, steading you as you lept and swayed against him.

“My darlin’…” he murmured to himself as he took you in again, the heat of his stare sending shivers down your spine. The puff of weed made your head feel fuzzy, and you felt the heat between your thighs grow warmer as he lapped you up- like a dog begging for water.

A gentle tug broke you from your pink, doe eyed trance, and you mindlessly followed him inside, pushing past the little wooden doors.

Soft lights illuminated the room in a way that still felt dark and grungy, people in cowboy boots perched up on bar stools, or bent over with a pool cue. Some old country song trickled out of the speakers perched around the room, and your nose was overwhelmed with the scent of whisky and smoke.

You followed Peter towards the back of the bar, a group full of older looking men drinking beer over a hand of cards tossed on the table. Each of their eyes darted over towards the pair of you, one of them in the front smirking in satisfaction.

“So this is the pretty lady, is it Parker?” the man in the front asked, sliding out of the booth to tower over you, just as Peter always did.

“Bucky Barnes.” he smiled, hand sticking out to firmly grasp yours. You drank in his ocean blue eyes, the little tufts of grey in his beard, scattered like salt and pepper.

“It’s nice to meet you Mr. Barnes.” you nodded.

“Please hun, call me Bucky. No need for that formal silliness.”

“That's what I’ve told her. She’s just too polite I guess.” Peter laughed, his hand slipping down to your lower back, guiding you into the booth, atop his lap as you were introduced to his other buddies.

They were all extremely friendly, all having mini conversations amongst themselves while they sipped on their drinks, or smoked their cigarettes. Each of their hands were warm when you shook them, firm grapes from across the cluttered table.

Your attention was soon directed back to Peter, and a waitress who had so graciously appeared. “Darlin? What did ya want to drink?”

“Just a rum and coke for me please.” you smiled.

“One bill please.” Peter said before she disappeared back off into the bustling crowd.

“I can pay for my own Mr. Parker.” you frowned, annoyed with yourself for not thinking of saying that sooner. “I’m sure you can sweetheart. But I don't really care. Let me take care of you, okay?” he murmured in your ear, hitching his knee up so you had no choice but to slide back on his denim jeans, back against him fully to keep your balance.

“But-”

”No, no buts. You just enjoy this night okay? Are you doing okay, it’s not too loud in here?” he asked softly, whispering quiet enough not even Bucky, who sat next to you could hear what he said.

“I’m good. Do your friends like me, d’ya think?” you asked timidly, wanting his approval. “Oh darlin they love you. They wouldn't shut up about meeting you, they just wanted to see how pretty and smart you were in person. My words aren't enough I suppose.” he smiled, brushing a kiss just behind your ear as the server returned, two drinks in hand.

You thanked her, taking a sip from your staw, twirling around the ice cubes in the glass as they clinked against the side. Before you knew it, you were down three drinks, laughing so hard at jokes spewed from the other end of the table your sides started to ache.

A hand tugged you up to the dance floor, Bucky twirled you around in circles before dipping you down towards the floor. A smile never left your face, the room starting to slightly spin on its own accord, and you saw Peter eyeing the pair of you across the bar like a hawk, his cool stare never leaving the back of Bucky's head.

He had offered to show you around up towards the north, a place you hadn’t visited much but wished you had. “I’ll show you around.” he smiled when you asked about it, dipping you low again.

”When?”

“Whenever you're ready, call on me.” he winked in response.

By the time you had to call it quits to save your wobbly legs, you heard Bucky snicker at Peter, slapping his chest before heading back towards the group.

Oh relax Parker I wasn't trying to steal your girl, just woo her a lil.

He didn't seem to like that one very much.

“Can- can we step outside for a sec?” you asked, stumbling towards his strong, lean arms that encased you once more- a warm hug you very much needed.

“You need some fresh air darlin? It gets so loud, I know…” he trailed off, quite literally sweeping you off your feet into his arms. You curled in against his chest, feeling the sway of each long stride across the wooden floors, the crowd parting like the red sea as he passed them by, all of them gawking.

You didn't blame them. He was beautiful.

“Shh, shh” he murmured as you started to claw at his t-shirt, twisting it in circles to keep yourself steady. “I wanna shoot bottles.” you stated as the cool air hit your skin, and you instinctively curled into his warmth.

“You wanna shoot bottles now, do ya? Do you even know how to shoot a gun?” he asked, laughing. You slid down to your feet, looking up at the night sky, the stars twinkling dimly from under the rolling clouds.

“Course I don't. But you teach me.”

You heard some guys around the corner of the building laughing with their friends, the sound of cans clinking as they fell from bullet wounds. You had never shot a gun before- not really ever needing to, but you saw some of Peter's collection tucked away in one of his older storage buildings on the property.

They were vintage, slightly rusted but still in decent working condition you assumed. Peter had never shot a gun in front of you before, but you knew that he knew how. Your father had mentioned hunting trips with him back when they were kids.

Surely he couldn’t be that rusty.

“I’d teach ya eh? How do you know that I can shoot, pretty?”

You shrugged, trotting over to where the men had been previously, their guns leaned against the building.

“I’ve seen your guns.”

“Those are old. Real old, from my granddad. Brass ‘38s.” he said. “I still trust you to show me how.” you stated, toying with the barrel of a bb gun, swinging it back and forth.

“This isn’t smart while you’re drunk.”

“Not drunk.”

“So drunk.”

You huffed, picking up the gun anyways. “That’s why you show me so we don’t do anything stupid.”

“With you I always want to be stupid.” You smiled softly, pretending to aim the gun at him, mocking the sound of bullets flying through the air.

“Now you’re being stupid darlin. Don’t aim that at anyone, that’s the first rule. Though I don’t expect you to know that right now, in your condition.”

“You should show me Mr. Parker, so I can defend myself.” your voice was high, extra girly as you toyed with the weapon, feeling flirty to high hell. He chuckled, running a hand through his hair as he slid up behind you, hands wrapped around your waist as he leaned down.

“Stay around me forever and you’ll never have to defend yourself baby. You’ll never have to do anything again.”

You giggled, cheeks warming from the alcohol rushing through your blood at his remarks. He was so silly. You thought, but you wished life could be that simple.

You wanted to wake up next to him every morning, to the feeling of him deep inside, pumping his seed into you- breeding you. You wanted to fuck like rabbits, for him to stuff you full over and over again until you were dripping.

You wanted him to kiss you all over before serving you breakfast in bed, tending to your every need while you lay in his bed, legs spread.

Jesus Christ your thoughts were dangerous when you were intoxicated.

What did they say again, drunk words were sober thoughts?

“You gotta turn off the safety first sweetheart.” Peter murmured in your ear, his warm breath tickling your ear. You heard a soft click, and he guided your arms into position, hands closing over yours.

“Now look through that little eyepiece and aim towards that can there.”

You squinted, trying your very best to focus on the only can standing up on the nearby fence. It took you a few seconds, but finally you had steadied yourself with his guidance. Your finger hovered.

“And.. shoot.” he whispered, finger tightening around yours, the gun going off with a loud bang! The can crumpled in on itself quickly, the aluminium falling from its place. You squealed with delight.

“That's my girl!” he smirked, clicking the safety back on as you drunkenly wobbled into him, wanting to take the toy away before you hurt yourself.

“Did I do good?” you asked, knowing he did most of the work- but still wanting his praise anyways. “So good darlin, you’re such a good girl, y’know that?” he asked, slowly backing you up against the cold siding, caging you in his arms.

The gun was long forgotten, tossed somewhere on the ground. The way his eyes sparkled drove you wild, a hint of mischief but still a maturity- a gentleness eying you down, soaking you in.

Your breath seemed to get caught in your chest as you tilted your head up against the wall to meet his gaze fully. He was so tall, so big… and he smelt amazing.

God, you wanted to blurt all of this out loud. You couldn't keep your composure anymore… it was next to impossible around him. You melted like ice cream on a hot summer's day whenever you were in his mere prescience.

“I want you to fuck me.” you stated plainly, his eyes widening- a coy smirk forming on his face. “Is that so?”

“Yes, Mr. Parker, I really want you to fuck me. Please.”

Well he damn near fell to his knees at your sweet tone, and your puppy dog eyes as you begged. He could never say no to his baby, but he also knew the two of you couldn't do anything out in public like that.

At least not all the things he wanted to do to you.

But it didn't mean he couldn't edge you on a little more until you squirmed for him with want.

“Was that what you were so distracted with earlier? You thinkin about stuff?”

You nodded. “I was thinking about you breeding me, and filling me all up until I’mall sticky, and so tingly I can barely feel anything. And I was thinking about you pumping into me and hurting me in such a good way.” you confessed.

If he was only slightly hard before, he was rock solid now.

Fuck.

“Sweetheart fuck-.. I- I’m so much older then you-"

"Not by that much.” you insisted, hand slipping down to rub in between his legs, cupping his bulge between your smaller fingers as he suppressed a moan.

“You’re so naughty baby. D’you think about this all the time?”

“All the time. I wish you could fuck me now.”

He clucked his tongue, shaking his head. Your nipples were so hard they strained the fabric, begging to be touched by him.

“Such a dirty mouth my lil cowgirl. You gonna let daddy fuck you hard tonight?” he breathed, hand slipping down to cup your breast. Yesss. You wanted to hiss, pleasure seeping over your body.

“Mhmm. Whenever.. Whenever you w-want.” you giggled, his hands slipping down to your thighs, hosting you up to his height- your legs wrapped around his solid middle.

He kissed your neck, teeth nipping the skin as he sucked, leaving little marks that scattered across your skin. Before he could go much further, a presence lingered from the parking lot, a man leaning against a wooden post- watching you.

He whistled sharply, causing you to whip your head in shock. “Lovebirds! If you’re gonna fuck- at least invite the rest of us!” Bucky called from the sidelines.

“You couldn’t even get it up old man!” you shouted, Peter bursting out laughing against your collarbone. Steve appeared, whistling at your remark.

“Oh she got you good Buck. Low blow cowgirl.” he laughed, clapping Bucky's back, a feline grin on your face as you walked towards the pair, adjusting your shoulder strap that had slipped down in your little rendezvous.

They definitely knew you were not wearing a bra, if they didn’t know before. Oh well, not your problem.

“If you want a ride, I’d watch your tongue sweetheart.”

You laughed, stumbling over to Peter’s truck. “We’re gonna leave that here and get it tomorrow darlin. Mr. Barnes is gonna give us a ride home.” Peter whistled at you, smacking Bucky upside the head at his remarks.

“Mkay…”

“There’s not enough seats, so the pretty lady is on Parker’s lap. Unless she wants to be on mine-“ he looked over at you, winking. “I’ll make sure to hit all the bumps.”

“You pervert.” Peter snarled- walking him again. “I’m joking, I’m joking!” Bucky laughed.

“Don’t listen to him doll, he’s being stupid. He doesn’t mean any of it.” Peter murmured to you, as he guided you from his truck down to Buckys, Steve already claiming shotgun, while Sam and Tony were in the back, leaving one spot open for you and Peter.

Great. For your sake, he hoped Bucky did hit all the bumps.

It was stuffed in the vehicle, arms touching as if you were sardines in a can. But you didn’t mind being on Peter's lap. He rolled the window down, allowing the cool air to slither into the back, cooling your skin.

The other men talked about whatever while Bucky's headlights flickered on as he slowly backed out of the parking lot- but all you could focus on was Peter. He was still hard under you, you could feel his bulge through his jeans, straining against his zipper.

Your dress fanned out, leaving nothing but your underwear to rub against the denim, which was now damp. You clenched your fists, fighting back moans as Bucky sped down the road, hitting massive potholes that nearly sent your head through the roof.

You caught a glint in his eye as he looked back at you from the rear view, knowing damn well he was doing it on purpose.

“Hold on tight.” was all he said as he continued on- and you squirmed against Peter's groin.

“You keep doing that, you’re gonna regret it.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

Peter grumbled to himself, hands tightening their grip on your thighs as Bucky hit more bumps. He clenched his teeth, hissing as he rubbed against your panties, feeling the wetness drip down your thighs.

The weed had heightened everything tremendously; he seriously thought he would cum in his pants.

That’s some shit the guys her age would do- those immature pieces of shit. The thought alone made him hold you a little tighter, savouring the smell of your perfume and shampoo.

You felt delicious on him. He wanted you on his lap constantly. He just wished no one else was in the truck.

You laughed at something Steve said, as Bucky put his turn signal on, gravel rumbling under the tires as he turned down Peter's driveway.

Oh thank god.

“Thank you so, so much for the ride Mr. Barnes. It was so lovely to meet all of you.” you smiled, waving timidly as Peter opened the door, allowing you to slip off his lap and jump down to the ground, holding his hand for balance.

Peter grimly nodded, cursing your sweetness towards Bucky, that motherfucker. Bucky winked as Peter tried to subtly hide his boner as he stood- and failed.

“No problem sweetheart, just glad you’re home safe. Don’t forget my offer okay- you come around anytime and I’ll show ya around with Steve.” he nodded, and you said the rest of your goodbyes, waving to everyone before Peter slammed the door shut.

The tires squealed as Bucky put the gas to the floor, leaving nothing but dust in his wake. “They were really nice Mr. Parker. I think they liked me.” you smiled, skipping over to the front porch steps.

“Yeah, a little too much.” he muttered under his breath, catching up to you in quick, long strides. You squealed as he picked you up with ease from behind, draping you over his shoulder and carried you up the steps, unlocking the front door.

“Put me down!” you whined, letting out a yelp as he smacked your ass.

“Shh. And stop your squirming, you’re not going anywhere sweetheart.” he huffed, kicking the door shut behind you, tossing his keys on the counter.

The lights were soft and dim as he carried you up the stairs, past the closed doors to the one left open.

His bedroom.

You continued to squirm- defying his orders and you felt that sting again, the loud smack! echoing through the room as you whimpered.

You bounced down on the bed, wide eyed as you scooted back towards the headboard, legs splayed open. Watching as his hand cupped your cheek, thumb stroking your cheek mindlessly.

“You still want me t’fuck you honey?” he asked softly.

You nodded. “Use your words baby. Tell me what you want.”

“I’d like you to fuck me Mr. Parker. Please.” you added quickly. His thumb brushed over your parted lips and you opened them quickly, allowing him access- your tongue swirling around his digit as his hand forced you to look up at him.

“You’re sure?”

You nodded quickly.

“I wanna be so gentle with you darlin. You’re so sweet and soft… I just wanna be so delicate.” he sighed softly. “Fuck….”

He didn’t say he was still a little pissed at Bucky for his aimless flirting- not that it was your fault of course. Didn’t mean he didn’t want to be possessive though. He was mature enough he knew you belonged to him- he didn’t need that reassurance.

But he had to make sure you knew.

“That's okay.” you whispered, drool trickling off his thumb as he pulled it away, smearing it across your cheek. He chuckled lowly.

“You’re so good to me baby. Do you think we could try something a bit different tonight?” he asked, and you nodded.

Anxiety and excitement quelled in your chest as he started to unbuckle his belt, and unzip his jeans. You pulled off your little scrap of fabric you called a dress, instinctively covering yourself. It was a habit you tried to break- but you couldn't help it.

“No no, baby, show me.” Peter insisted, hands removing yours to reveal yourself to him. The heat in his gaze sent shivers down your spine, leaving you firmly planted in the sheets.

“You’re so beautiful. The gods write poems about your beauty, my sweet girl.” he cooed, grabbing your wrists, holding them out in front of you, planting a kiss on your forehead.

Grabbing the belt, he started to wrap them around your wrists. “Is this okay?” he looked at your face for reassurance, finding it in your gentle eyes as you smiled.

“Will it hurt?” you asked meekly.

“No, no honey I would never hurt you. You know that right?” he sat down on the bed next to you, stroking your skin in soft, calming circles.

“I know Mr. Parker.”

You knew he was your savouir. He would never- could never harm you. You trusted him with your life.

He kissed you again, the belt jangling as it was bound around your wrists. You wiggled your fingers, though unable to move your hands- helplessly bound before him.

And you had never felt so safe.

“That too tight for ya darlin?”

You shook your head.

“No Mr. Parker.”

He smirked, fingers finding there way down to brush your inner thighs, tugging at the fabric that covered where he wanted you the most. You wiggled, moaning as he teased you, his touches soft yet electric.

“Shh baby, thats it. Daddys gonna take such good care of you. I’ve got ya.” he whispered, tugging off your thong, throwing it somewhere to the floor, watching your back arch and bow off the mattress from his quick brush of his finger along your slit.

“Awh baby she’s so wet f’me. I’ve barely even touched ya, sweet thing.” he cooed, and you whined softly as he toyed with you.

“Please-“

“Please what? Hmm? Use your big girl words.”

Jesus fucking Christ.

“Please fuck me, please. Please.” you begged, squirming.

“Such naughty language. Tsk tsk” he clucked his tongue, prying your legs wide open as you fought to keep your knees together.

“You want me to do what you said earlier? You want to be full?”

You nodded.

“You can’t waste any baby. No leaking, okay? Need my baby stuffed.” he smirked, lifting your legs up, draping them over his buff shoulders.

“Do you want gentle?”

You shook your head.

“Are you sure?”

You nodded.

“Whatever my sweet girl wants.” he smiled, brushing his cock through your soaked folds, tapping your clit with the head lightly. You didn’t know how much more teasing you could take.

“Mr. Park- OH!” you cried out as he slid home, his happy trail brushing your clit. He wasted no time, lifting your thighs up so half your body was off the bed, getting the deepest angle he could as his hips began to snap into yours.

You couldn’t help but cry out, words becoming mindless babbles as he pistoned into you, hitting a certain spot that had you seeing stars. “Yeah that’s it baby. Taking me so good, you’re such a good girl.” he cooed, admiring as your arms lifted, hands over your head in the restraints as you attempted to claw onto the headboard, failing miserably.

“Aww poor thing. You got nowhere to go, do you? Stuck here just taking daddy’s cock. You’re so fucking tight jesus christ…” he trailed off, lost in his head as you squeezed him tighter, nothing but the sounds of the slapping of his balls on your skin, the sounds of your strangled noises and moans.

He couldn’t get enough of them, he never wanted them to end. Your legs began to slip from their position, turning to jello and he wasted no time quickly flipping you around with ease slipping right back in.

You moaned at the new position, as he hit a different spot- slapping your ass gently. “Atta girl. Cmon baby, make yourself feel good. Or d’ya need me to do it for ya since you’re so fuzzy?”

You mumbled something unintelligible into the pillow that sounded like “Please”, and he didn’t bother trying to make sense of it as he gripped your hips harder.

“M’so closeeee…” you hissed, clenching him tighter.

“You gonna cream on my cock? Yeah? Cream on my cock baby, atta girl darlin.” he growled possessively as you came with a sharp cry, soaking his cock.

He always let you cum first. Always. He wouldn’t be a gentleman if he didn’t. You were his princess, he wanted you to feel so good you wouldn’t even be able to remember your name.

Peter showered you in praise, rubbing your back soothingly as your legs shook from your orgasm, toes curling against the sheets.

“You’re okay sweetheart. Shhh that’s it. Good girl baby.” He flipped you back over, wanting nothing more than to see your pretty face. It was one of the things that got him off the most, seeing your eyes roll back in your head, your mouth let out those pretty noises while it rounded to an o shape.

Your chest rose quickly, up and down as you managed to catch your breath, head fuzzy.

“You okay honey?” he asked gently, forehead creasing in concern as he soothed you.

He always took such good care of you. Somehow that turned you on even more.

“M’so good.” you mumbled, meeting his soft smile.

“Well good. Cause I’m not done with ya yet darlin. Spread those legs again baby.”

763 notes · View notes

cressidagrey · 3 months ago

Text

The Witching Hour - Chapter 1 - Nesta

Summary:

5 Times members of the Inner Circle get absolutely terrified by Azriel's...whatever she is, and 1 (of many) times Azriel thinks that his witch was the best thing that ever happened to him.

Warnings:

Nightmares, mention of the blood rite, friends with benefits sort of relationship, stabbing (in the past), magical mental health care (sorta)

(super pretty dividers by @cafekitsune)

The night air was crisp, but not cold, a welcome reprieve from the summer heat.

But none of this was calming down Nesta's racing heart, even when she stamped down the panic that rose in her chest.

She shielded the bond from it as well as she could, not wanting to wake up Cassian...again.

Nesta didn't know what it was but...but somehow the nightmares that involved the Blood Rite were...worse than even the ones that involved her father dying...the ones that involved that gods-forsaken cauldron.

Somehow the Blood Rite...somehow that was leaving her in a state of panic that nothing could touch. Not even Cassian. And he tried. Her mate did try.

She tried to. She tried everything...making herself so busy with training and work that she should fall into bed with pure exhaustion...sleeping with Cassian and hoping that maybe the pleasure of that would wipe away the nightmares…

Nothing worked.

Nothing helped. Each time she closed her eyes, the same images would invade her mind. The endless days of battle, the gruelling journey through the mountains, the horrors of the Blood Rite...they all appeared with a sickening vividness that made it seem like she wasn't just experiencing a mere nightmare, but actually reliving those horrible days.

It made her throw up and want to cry...want to roll herself together in a miserable little ball because she didn't know what else to do anymore

The panic rose in her chest, making her heart pound in her ears. She was getting desperate, desperately searching for a way to make the nightmares stop. She was considering sleeping outside, on the balcony in the night air, just for a change of scenery.

It seemed ridiculous, but...but at this point...at this point, she'd try anything.

She took a shaking breath, her hand gripping the balcony railing tighter, her knuckles turning white. The night air, usually so calming, was doing little to ease the tightness in her chest.

She was contemplating going back inside and trying to sleep again...just closing her eyes and hoping that maybe this time she would experience something different...when suddenly, she heard the flapping of wings...

Nesta turned her head towards the sound, her senses on high alert. The wings sounded large, powerful, and...familiar.

Sure enough, a few seconds later, Azriel appeared before her, slipping over the balcony railing, shadows swirling around his shoulders. "Nesta," he greeted her calmly, giving her a slow nod...like it was totally normal for him to appear on her balcony in the middle of the night.

"You weren't there at dinner," she blurted out because she hadn't seen him since this morning.

"I had a late dinner with an old friend," Azriel answered. Azriel's response made sense, even if the notion of a "late dinner" with an old friend sounded strange to Nesta. But then again, who was she to judge? Azriel spent most of his time being the Spymaster of the Night Court, so she supposed it shouldn't surprise her that he had...odd friends.

"Oh," was all she could manage in response.

"I didn't know you had friends." She immediately regretted her words but Azriel just chuckled.

"Just the one," he promised her, as he leaned against the railing next to her. She caught a sense clinging to him that she couldn't place.

She eyed him carefully, her eyes taking in the mysterious shadow clinging to him. It was a scent that she couldn't quite place, but it was oddly...familiar, too.

Azriel chuckled again, his voice still as calm and steady as ever.

"Just the one," he repeated. "An old friend, from a long time ago."

"Can't sleep?" He asked quietly, his voice a deep rumble.

She gave a slight nod, not looking at Azriel. The nightmares were the one thing she didn't want to discuss with him or anyone for that matter. She didn't want them to know how weak she was, how she still couldn't get a rein on her emotions and her thoughts. She didn't want them to think any more of her as a fragile, broken thing than they already did.

The thought of it, it made her sick.

But...but she had a feeling that Azriel wouldn't judge her, or look at her in that way. Maybe she could...maybe she could ask for help. Or at least...let him know that something was wrong.

She swallowed hard and then said, her voice hardly more than a whisper: "No, I can't...I can't sleep. The...the nightmares."

Azriel gave a nod as if he already knew. His voice was still that same calm and steady as he said, "The Blood Rite?"

Nesta gave another nod. How had he guessed so easily? But then again...it wasn't that hard to guess. The nightmares hadn't started until after that event.

But at least these days she didn't wake up with her entire room engulfed in silver flames anymore. She took a shaking breath, fighting to keep her emotions in check. She wasn't a child. She shouldn't be affected by this. She shouldn't be this much of a mess...

"I am surprised you didn't wake up Cassian when you got up," Azriel said suddenly.

Nesta’s eyes widened a little bit at that. Was she that obvious? Did she look that shake? She had hoped she'd done a better job of putting up a mask in front of the others.

"I didn't want to bother him," she replied quietly. "Let him sleep...I wake him often enough."

"He's your mate," Azriel said evenly. "He would want to be there for you."

His words were like a punch to the gut. She knew that her mate would want to be there for her, and would want to help her. Hell, he probably would already be here, holding her, comforting her...if he knew how bad the nightmares were.

But...but she didn't want to burden him like that. She couldn't keep burdening him...

"He tries to comfort me and then he gets no sleep as well. And I will not be the reason why he has a moment of inattentiveness that ends up costing his life, just because I can't control myself," Nesta hissed.

Her voice was bitter as she spoke. She hated admitting it, saying it out loud...but it was true. She was a burden. She was holding Cassian back, making him waste his nights trying to soothe her instead of getting the rest and preparation he needed for a mission.

She couldn't keep doing that to him. She just...she just couldn't.

A silence fell between them then, her words hanging in the air. She didn't know what Azriel was thinking, what was going on in his head. But he didn't try and refute her words, which only further confirmed the terrible thoughts swirling in her mind.

Another beat of silence, as Nesta let the terrible, awful thoughts swirl through her head.

Then, quietly, as if he had read her mind. "You are not a burden," Azriel said.

Another beat of silence, as she let the terrible, awful thoughts swirl through her head.

Then, quietly, as if he had read her mind. "You are not a burden," Azriel said.

"You are not a burden," he repeated, his voice even. "You are anything but."

She didn't reply, just continued staring out over the railing, her hands gripping the cold stone until her knuckles turned white. She was a burden, she knew that. And she didn't know why he was lying to her, trying to convince her otherwise.

"I have nightmares too," Azriel said suddenly.

Her eyes widened and she jerked her head around to look at him. Wait, what? Azriel had nightmares?

Her mouth opened, an astonished question on her lips, but Azriel didn't give her the chance to ask. He continued in the same even tone as if it was no big deal: "And many of them are about the Blood Rite too."

Her mind was reeling at his confession. Azriel had nightmares about the Blood Rite? The strong, mysterious warrior, the Shadowsinger, the Spymaster of the Night Court?

She couldn't even process the words. And he said it so casually, so nonchalantly as if he was merely discussing the weather and not admitting to being tormented by such horrible, painful nightmares.

"Even now, 500 years after it happened."

His voice was still emotionless, still so calm and steady, even as he admitted that.

It was unfathomable. How...how did he manage to survive through 500 years of these nightmares? She barely could make it a week…

She couldn't even fathom what it would be like, to have those memories torment her for 500 years and counting. To have no hope of them ever stopping.

A silence fell between them, her mind reeling at Azriel's confession. She was about to ask something, to say something...when he suddenly spoke again.

"You want them to stop? The nightmares?" He asked, his voice quiet, yet with a hint of command in it. A hint of that darkness within him, the shadows that swirled around him like an ever-present cloak.

Her eyes widened, a shiver running down her spine at the command in his voice. She gave a slow nod, not trusting her voice to speak.

Somehow...somehow the shadows around him seemed to swirl and dance a little faster, seeming almost excited at her nodded response.

She would give everything for these nightmares to stop

Her voice was a mere whisper, but the honesty in it seemed to resonate like an echo in the night's silence.

She would give anything to stop reliving those memories, to stop seeing those images, to stop...to stop feeling this pain. Anything, she'd give anything for that respite.

Azriel continued to regard her with those dark eyes, those shadows whirling around him. A part of her wondered, for a moment, just what the shadows were thinking. Did they know what Azriel was about to offer, what he was going to say? Was that why they seemed so excited, so anxious…

"Then let's go." He said that so easily as he held out his hand for her and Nesta took it.

In a heartbeat, she'd taken his hand, her slender fingers closing around his. His grip was warm, strong, and...and it felt oddly steadying. Like an anchor to the ground.

The shadows engulfed them in a swirling vortex of darkness. For a moment, her heart thundered in her chest, a brief moment of panic at the feeling of being lost amid the shadows, at being so far from the ground.

But then...then the shadows seemed to shift, Azriel's firm grip on her hand the only anchor to reality, to the ground.

A moment later, the shadows faded away, and she found herself standing in a street in Velaris.

"I thought you couldn't winnow at the House of Wind," she said weakly.

"No winnowing. Shadow Walking," Azriel corrected her absentmindedly.

What? She had no clue what even was the difference.

"I am only wearing my nightgown," she hissed at him a moment later.

For the first time since they'd left the balcony, Azriel turned towards her, his eyes taking in her appearance, raking over her form.

His dark eyes scanned over her frame, her pale nightgown and slippered feet. For a moment, she felt self-conscious, almost shrinking back from that gaze...but then a smirk curled his lips.

"Don't worry, she won't care," he said drily. "She's seen a lot worse. And a lot more."

“It’s the middle of the night!” she protested next.

“It’s a full moon. She’s pretty much nocturnal during this time of the month,” he waved her off.

What kind of friend was this even?!

"Who is she?" Nesta demanded as Azriel led her to a door that was looking...harmless.

"Just a friend," Azriel said simply, his step not faltering as he led her towards the unassuming door.

It looked ordinary, so much so that a passerby would never guess that there was anything special behind it.

He didn't elaborate on the mysterious "she" who was behind the door...and Nesta had a feeling that he wouldn't, not until the moment she would see his friend for herself.

Her heart was pounding in her chest as they approached the door, a mixture of curiosity and trepidation swirling within her.

Azriel was being infuriatingly coy about everything. He wouldn't tell her who they were visiting, how he knew this person, or why this person could help her.

All she could do was follow him towards the unassuming door, her nightgown swishing around her ankles.

When they reached the door, Azriel gave her a slight smirk, as if silently saying, "Ready to find out?"

Nesta shot him a glare back, her eyes narrowing. If he was trying to drive her crazy, he was doing a good job of it.

She had about 5 different insults on the tip of her tongue, but before she had a chance to voice any of them, Azriel pushed open the door, revealing a...darkly elegant interior.

Her breath caught as she stepped across the threshold, her eyes scanning over the elegant yet dark interior of the shop.

Dark tapestries hung on the walls, illuminated by the dim light of the numerous candles scattered throughout. The scent of various herbs and spices filled the air, mingling with the lingering scent of something...stronger. There was a...mysterious energy to the place, a sense of something ancient and powerful.

And then, Nesta came eye to eye with a pitch black...something. Golden eyes with slitted pupils watched her from the darkness and she froze. Like a cat, it stared at her. But for a cat, it was...too big. Too tall. It would at least reach Azriel's waist.

Her heart quickened at the sight of the...thing, watching her with its unblinking golden eyes. It was like a cat, but wrong, far too big to be a house cat. She was frozen, her body tense as she held the gaze of the feline creature before her.

She was about to whisper to Azriel what the hell this thing was if he could explain this...but it was Azriel who broke the silence.

"Hello, Bella," Azriel said, his voice smooth and even.

His words sent a small shock through her, her eyes widening as she stared between the strange cat creature and Azriel. Bella? This creature was named Bella.

Azriel continued, as if oblivious to her shock, "I hope you don't mind me bringing some company this late at night."

The feline creature...Bella...huffed in response, seeming to look at Azriel with those golden eyes, as if silently judging him.

For a moment, Nesta was convinced that the creature would attack them, throw them out of the house, but then...

Suddenly, Bella turned her golden gaze back to her, those feline eyes seeming to scan her from head to toe.

And then it moved.

Bella moved with a fluid, almost graceful motion, its jet-black fur rippling as it stepped out of the shadows, its golden eyes still on Nesta.

It was a cat. A massive cat. A huge cat. Big enough that it would reach Azriel’s waist. Bella yawned, showing a mouth filled with razor-sharp teeth. Nesta thought she was going to faint

The cat-like creature circled her, its movements slow and deliberate. Her heart was still thundering in her chest, her eyes wide as she followed Bella's every movement, half prepared to flee if the creature attacked.

Nesta tried to remain steady, to keep her breathing even, but her heart was racing, drumming against her chest.

Bella continued circling her, those golden eyes never leaving her form for a second. It was like the creature was studying her, silently judging her, and it made her feel...uncomfortable.

"Oh, she likes you," a female voice said. "Did you bring us a toy, Shadowsinger?"

The new voice startled her, and her head jerked to the side just in time to see a woman moving into the room, stepping out of the shadows near the back of the room.

The woman was…utterly gorgeous, with green eyes and long red hair cascading down her back.

Her eyes widened as she took in the woman before her, her body covered in a gold satin nightgown that clung to her curves and left very little to the imagination.

The woman -who could only be called a Goddess - smirked and was amused as she took in Nesta, her eyes scanning over her from head to toe in the same manner as Bella had.

She was clearly taking in every detail, her gaze sharp and unwavering, as if evaluating every bit of her appearance and body.

"I am not a toy," Nesta bristled.

"Of course not," the woman said with a smile, her voice smooth and silky. "But you are very pretty."

The compliment sounded more like a statement, like the woman was judging a painting or a piece of jewellery. Her words were not rude...but they didn't hold much kindness, either, more like simple facts.

And they didn't do anything to soothe that flicker of envy that had arisen in Nesta at the sight of the other woman's beauty.

"We are in need of your services, Cate," Azriel said at that moment. Cate. Such a normal name...for such a woman. Her ears were pointed but...Nesta would have bet anything that she wasn't High Fae. She wasn't sure what she was but she wasn't...

Her eyes darted to Azriel, who had stepped up next to her, his gaze on the woman - Cate, it seemed she was called - with an expectant look.

"Services?" Cate repeated with a raised brow, her eyes flickering between them, before a smirk curled at the corner of her mouth. "And what sort of services can I render you, Shadowsinger?"

Her mind was spinning to try to make sense of the exchange, of that subtle… undercurrent of something that lay just beneath the words.

It was almost like there was a conversation happening she wasn't privy to, like they were speaking in a language she didn't understand.

She glanced at Azriel, trying to read his expression, but he was giving nothing away.

Cate's smirk widened as she took in both of them, her green eyes scanning over them with that sharpness that made Nesta feel more self-conscious of her own plain nightgown.

Azriel, meanwhile, remained as stoic, his features betraying nothing of his thoughts. He seemed to be waiting...but waiting for what, exactly?

The silence seemed to stretch on between them, the tension so heavy that Nesta could almost feel it pressing against her skin.

But then Cate moved, the silky fabric of her nightgown flowing around her as she took a few steps towards Azriel. Her eyes were still on Nesta, a smirk still on her lips as she purred out, "Why don't you tell me what services you require?" The woman's voice was low, almost sultry, and her eyes...her eyes were still on Nesta, studying her still.

Azriel's face remained expressionless as he spoke, his voice calm as he said, "She is in need of your help. She's been having nightmares. Bad ones. The same ones, over and over."

Cate's face changed into a look of understanding, a flicker of sympathy in her eyes as she took in the information. Her eyes flickered towards Nesta before returning to Azriel.

"The same nightmare," she repeated, her voice now thoughtful, before adding, "Every time?"

Azriel gave a grave nod, his voice steady as he replied, "Yes. Every night."

Cate's eyes widened just a fraction, her face taking on that thoughtful expression again, as if contemplating the information.

The woman suddenly moved towards a small table on the side, gesturing with a, "Sit. I'll make us some tea." Cate's words caught her off guard, her eyes widening a fraction…At that moment, Bella the cat walked over to her and rubbed herself against her legs.

Nesta froze for a moment, half expecting the creature to bite her. Instead, the cat merely purred as it rubbed its head against her shin. She glanced at Azriel questioningly, but he only shrugged in response, seemingly well used to the cat’s…usual antics.

She took the hint, stepping over to the nearest chair and hesitantly taking a seat.

The room was so still, the only sound was the soft rustle of Cate's nightgown as she moved to prepare the tea, the occasional purring of the cat…now letting itself be pet by Azriel, leaning its massive head against his thigh.

Azriel relaxed. She had never seen him that relaxed before. The shadows were swirling around Bella, the cat lazily swiping at them and that was that.

Nesta, on the other hand, was anything but relaxed.

"What is she?" Nesta hissed at Azriel.

Azriel's expression remained unchanging, his gaze fixed on Cate as she moved about the room, preparing the tea. "Cate?" He repeated, not looking at her. "She's a witch."

Nesta's eyebrows shot up at the revelation. A witch?

A witch. The one time she had been confronted with the idea of a witch had been in Illyria. Devlon had been terrified at the idea of Nesta being a witch.

Her mind immediately flashed back to her time in that cold, wretched camp.

Devlon, the sneering face of the war-camp lord. The memory of that small village, the whispered conversations…She couldn't help but remember the fear in Devlon's eyes when he confronted her about the rumours about her being a witch. He'd almost looked terrified like the mere thought of a witch was enough to frighten him.

And here in front of her, a witch stood before her, preparing to make her tea. She tried to keep her nerves in check, but her heart was hammering furiously.

Cate set the tea set down on the table in front of them, her movements graceful and fluid, like every move was a performance.

"Don't worry, I haven't eaten anyone in centuries," Cate quipped as she brought the tea to the table. "You can ask Azriel."

Cate's words startled her, a jolt of...fear mixed with surprise rushing through her at the woman's casual mention of potentially eating someone.

Slowly, Nesta turned back to Cate, trying to control the pounding of her heart in her chest. "You...haven't eaten anyone. In centuries," she repeated, unable to keep the disbelief out of her voice.

Cate gave her a smile that was full of teeth as if she knew exactly what effect her words were having on her. She seemed to find the whole thing amusing, her green eyes sparkling with humour, as if she was enjoying the fact that she was frightening her.

Azriel started laughing.

Nesta turned towards him quickly, utterly bewildered by the sound.

He was laughing. Azriel was laughing, his eyes sparkling with...amusement at the look on her face.

"She's joking," he said, his voice laced with humour. “A poor sense of humour, but still a joke.”

"You tend to like my sense of humour," Cate quipped, seating herself, a smile playing around her mouth. "I have never eaten another fae or faeries, I promise you, Nesta Archeron," she said easily.

Cate's words should have reassured her, but still, there was something about her that made her feel...unsettled. Cate moved with the grace of a predator, her every gesture full of a...confidence, a power, that was hard to ignore.

"How do you know my name?" she demanded.

Cate's smile grew wider at the sound of her question, her green eyes lighting up with amusement.

"Azriel told me, of course," she said, her voice smooth and silky.

Her gaze flicked over to Azriel, who was still watching the interaction with those calm hazel eyes.

It was...annoying. He was just watching them, like this was all some sort of game to him. Was it all just...a game?

Nesta couldn't help but feel a flicker of irritation at the thought. And at the fact that he seemed perfectly relaxed while she felt like she was ready to jump out of her skin

Cate noticed the irritation on her face and her smile grew wider, a spark of mischief in her eyes as she took in her expression.

"You're annoyed, aren't you?" Cate said smoothly, her voice full of amusement. "Annoyed that Azriel hasn't told you more about me, hasn't warned you about the 'scary witch'."

She couldn't help but flinch at the accuracy of Cate's words. She was annoyed. Annoyed that Azriel had brought her here without properly preparing her, without telling her more about the woman she was about to meet. It all felt...like a power play.

"It's not about you, it's about that mate of yours," Cate said with a shrug. "The General and I have had a rather...tumultuous past."

"With that, she means that she has once stabbed Cassian on general principle," Azriel jumped in with some amusement. "He has never forgiven her."

She felt her eyes widen in surprise, not just at the revelation that Cate had stabbed Cassian, but at the casual way Azriel mentioned it.

And yet, somehow, she suspected there was a lot more to the story than that...and that there was also a lot left unsaid between the two of them.

Cate rolled her eyes at Azriel's comment, her voice full of dry humour. "Cassian has always been one for holding a grudge, hasn't he?"

Her gaze flicked between the two of them, her mind swirling with questions...and curiosity.

There was a history here, between the two of them. A history filled with, it seemed, a whole lot of tension and...probably a lot of violence. And yet, they still seemed friendly. Even close, in a way.

Nesta was dying to know more, to dig deeper into the complexities of their relationship, but they were both being so...cryptic, answering some questions while conveniently ignoring others.

"Now," Cate spoke, her voice soft, "How long, exactly, have you been having these nightmares, Nesta?"

Her attention snapped back to Cate at her question, the mention of the nightmares sending a pang of anxiety through her.

She swallowed, trying to keep her voice steady as she answered, "A few months, now."

Cate's face grew serious at her reply, the amusement and mischief in her demeanour fading away, replaced by a look of concern. She leaned back in her chair, studying Nesta intently like she was trying to discern something from her expression.

"A few months," she repeated thoughtfully. "And they're every night?"

She gave a small nod, her heart rate picking up at the intensity of Cate's gaze. She didn't like how perceptive those green eyes were, how it felt like the woman was able to see straight through her, straight into her mind.

"They get...worse, every time," she muttered, her voice low. "Louder, more vivid."

She could feel Azriel's eyes on her as she spoke, the weight of his gaze heavy on her skin. But she didn't look at him, too focused on Cate, on the witch studying her so intently.

"The Dreamcatcher Spell," Azriel said, his voice even. "Can you cast that on her?"

Cate's eyes flicked to Azriel for a moment, a flicker of some undefinable emotion passing over her face before her gaze returned to Nesta. She took in the Shadowsinger's request, considering it for a moment.

Finally, she nodded, her voice calm and cool as she replied, "I can. Yes."

Her heart skipped a beat at Cate's confirmation, a mixture of anticipation and...fear stirring inside her. The Dreamcatcher Spell. She had no idea what that was, what it would do. But Azriel seemed to trust Cate.

"What..." she began, faltering briefly before steadying her voice. "What exactly does that spell do?"

Cate's expression was calm as she replied, "It's meant to help with vivid, recurring nightmares." Her eyes, though...her eyes seemed to hold a flicker of something else, something that made her stomach twist. "It won't help you get rid of the nightmares altogether, but it will...ease them, a little. Blurr them around the edges. Make it possible for you to go back to sleep...it blunts the emotions attached to these memories."

Her breaths came out a little faster at Cate's explanation, her heart rate increasing at the thought of...having the nightmares be eased, even a little. It sounded...too good to be true, almost.

She glanced at Azriel, whose expression was unreadable, before turning back to Cate. "And...there's no drawbacks? Nothing I should be worried about?" Cate gave her a shrug, the corners of her lips turning up in a small smile.

"Do you really think Azriel would trust me with his sister's mind if he hadn't had me cast the same spell over him dozens of times?"

His sister? He claimed her as his sister?

Her head snapped towards him, but Azriel just inclined his head.

Azriel trusted her The Shadowsinger, who was always so careful, who was so skilled at maintaining his secrets, trusted this...strange witch enough to let her cast spells on his mind?

"There's nothing to be worried about. The worst side effect could be a headache," Cate continued. "And that would be from an unskilled witch."

Her eyes flickered back to Cate, her mind still struggling to sort through the implications of all this. Azriel really did trust the woman and...

She wanted to believe her. Wanted to trust Cate's words, and believe that there were no dangers or side effects.

But a small part of her mind was still sceptical, wary of letting someone—a witch even—mess with her mind.

"How much does it cost?"

Cate's smile widened at her question, a hint of sharp teeth visible as she leaned back in her chair, her hands coming to rest on the armrests.

"You are wary about letting me mess with your mind, aren't you?" she said smoothly, her voice full of humour. "You're thinking, 'What's the price I'll have to pay for this?'"

She swallowed, forcing herself to keep her voice steady as she asked again, "How much?"

Cate's smile grew into a full-fledged grin as she leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with mirth.

"I'm not going to take your firstborn if that's what you're worried about," she said, her voice still amused. "I don't want gold or jewels or anything of the sort."

Her shoulders relaxed a fraction at Cate's words, her anxiety receding slightly at the reassurance that she wouldn't have to pay anything like those things. But she still couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more...a catch.

"Then...what?" she asked, her voice still a little wary.

Cate's expression didn't change as she leaned back in her chair, her eyes flickering over to Azriel for a moment before returning to Nesta.

"You don't need to worry about that," she finally said, her voice calm. "Azriel and I…We've...done each other a few favours, over the years.""

Her heart leapt into her throat at Cate's words, her mind swirling with more questions. Favours? Azriel had asked favours of the witch? What kinds of favours?

"That's all?" Nesta insisted, her eyes narrowing a fraction. It didn't sound like that was, in fact, all. The way Cate kept looking at Azriel, the way she said they had done each other ‘favours'...

It sounded like there was a lot more to that than she was being told.

Nesta shot Azriel a look, her eyes narrowing at his seemingly relaxed demeanour. He was being so...unfazed by all of this. So calm, while she was the apprehensive one. He really didn't seem concerned about her letting Cate cast the spell.

Nesta let out a breath, letting her eyes focus back on Cate.

She also hadn’t expected to be led into a chalk circle in the middle of Cate’s living room…or for her to light the candles with a wave of her hand…

Nesta watched in complete befuddlement, her eyes wide as Cate began to chant. The language sounded...foreign, guttural, the words flowing out in a steady rhythm.

She had expected...something different. She had no idea what, but it wasn't this.

Her breathing was uneven, her heart pounding in her chest, the sound almost drowning out the strange language.

And then it was done.

Nesta watched as Cate finished her chant, the final words reverberating through the air like a spell. For a moment, the room was utterly quiet.

And then...nothing happened.

She stared at Cate, waiting for...something, anything. But the witch just kneeled there, peering at her through half-lidded eyes.

"That's it?" Nesta asked, her voice coming out hoarse and a little shaky. "It's...done?"

Cate gave her a small smile, not saying anything, just watching her with that intense green gaze of hers.

She shifted a little in her position, feeling strangely...naked under the woman's stare.

"That's it," Cate agreed. "What did you think was going to happen?"

She swallowed, feeling a little foolish for her question. She didn't really know what she was expecting. Something flashy, maybe. Or some...sign, some kind of indication that the spell worked.

"I don't know," she admitted, her voice a little sheepish. "I suppose I thought...it would be more dramatic, somehow."

Cate let out a chuckle at her words, the sound rich and amused. "That's what everyone expects," she said. "Some grand gesture, some great wave of magic."

She lifted her hand, a small flicker of green magic dancing over her fingertips. "The truth is," she continued, "most spells are not as interesting as people think they are."

"Most?" she repeated, her voice curious. "So some are?"

Cate's lips curled into a small, sharp smile at her question, her eyes sparkling with humour.

"Oh, some definitely can be," she said, her voice laced with amusement. "It depends on the witch, really. Some love to show off. Others...prefer the subtle approach."

"Don't let her fool you, she loves to show off," Azriel said drily.

"Only for you, shadowsinger," Cate shot back, flirtation clear in her voice. And then, somehow the last thing Nesta had expected…The last thing was for her to gain her feet, cross the room and kiss Azriel. Right on the mouth.

She could only watch in stunned silence as the kiss deepened, as the Shadowsinger's hands came up to caress Cate's face, to pull her closer.

It was so...unbelievable. So unreal. But also...so...hot.

She kinda wished Cassian was there.

The thoughts swirled in her mind, her body heating up just from watching them. Watching Azriel lean in to kiss this dangerous, gorgeous witch with effortless grace like he'd done it a thousand times.

And then, just as suddenly as it had started, the kiss ended. Azriel stepped back, his cheeks flushed and his breathing slightly uneven.

Cate, on the other hand, looked completely unflustered, her hair still perfectly arranged, her expression unruffled. She simply smiled at him, a secretive, intimate smile, before turning back to Nesta.

For a moment, all Nesta could do was sit there, utterly gobsmacked, her mouth still hanging open slightly.

Finally, she found her voice, forcing out, "Uh...How...long has that...?"

Because, judging by the casual intimacy between them, this...relationship, or whatever it was, definitely wasn’t new.

Cate let out a small laugh at her question, her eyes sparkling with humour.

The look in her eyes was almost...predatory, as she added, "We've been… friends… for a very long time, haven't we, shadowsinger?"

At her words, Azriel's cheeks darkened, his ears turning slightly red as he let out a grunt of assent.

Nesta’s eyes darted to Azriel, taking in his flushed cheeks and averted gaze, the way he shifted his weight slightly, as if uncomfortable. It was so rare to see him off-balance, so rare to see him anything but completely composed.

And it was all Cate's fault. This witch somehow had the Shadowsinger flustered and blushing like a schoolboy.

"We've had...quite the history," Cate continued, her voice smooth and velvety.

Her words were cryptic, and somehow also laced with innuendo, as if there was a whole world behind them, a world full of…memories.

Nesta couldn’t help but wonder just how...intimate their 'history' was.

"Now, if the nightmares persist, have Azriel bring you back to me. Otherwise, you should be nightmare-free for the next few months,” Cate said easily.

She nodded numbly, her mind still trying to process the implications of all this.

Nightmare-free for the next few months. That was good. That was...incredible, actually.

But her mind was still swirling with so many other things…mainly Azriel and Cate and this...history of theirs that she knew nothing about.

"And…" she began, faltering slightly as she tried to gather her thoughts. "If I...do need to come back..."

Nesta trailed off, her eyes flickering to Azriel as she thought of what she was about to say. It felt intrusive, and yet she couldn’t help herself from asking, “What are your…rates?”

Cate raised an eyebrow at the question, tilting her head as a small smile curled her lips.

"My rates?" she repeated, amusement clear in her voice. "Well, that depends on the…service, I suppose. Some things can be done for a few gold coins."

The look in her eyes, in Azriel’s eyes, said some things couldn’t be bought.

Her mind was still trying to process the implications of that, when Cate spoke again, her voice now completely free of amusement. "But some things...can’t."

Azriel visibly stiffened at her words, his eyes flickering to the witch, a silent communication passing between the two of them.

"Some things," Cate reiterated, her eyes fixed on Azriel, "can only be paid for in... favours."

Nesta was getting the distinct feeling that she was intruding on some unspoken conversation between them, on some agreement, maybe, that she knew nothing about.

"What kind of… favours?" she asked, glancing between Azriel and Cate, her mind swimming with possibilities.

Cate smiled a sharp, predatory smile, her eyes flickering to Azriel before returning to her.

"That," she said, her voice now dripping with sweet condescension, "Is for Azriel to explain, should he choose. Though I’m sure you’ve gathered some idea of what such favours could entail by now."

Azriel rolled his eyes. Nesta stifled a small laugh at Azriel's reaction, his eye roll speaking volumes. It was clear that he was used to Cate's taunting, used to her...provocation.

"Good Night, Cate," he said drily and the witch laughed as they left the house.

"See you soon, Shadowsinger!" she sing-songed in response.

The night air outside was cool and crisp, a stark contrast to the warm intimacy of the cottage.

Nesta took a deep breath, trying to clear her head off the whirlwind thoughts that had been running through it.

The kiss between Cate and Azriel, their history, their…agreements.

It was all so…unexpected. So strange and…intriguing.

"I thought you were in love with Mor," she finally settled on saying.

Azriel shot her a look at her words, a mix of irritation and...amusement, perhaps.

"I am," he replied, his voice gruff. "But Cate and I…" He paused, his expression becoming contemplative as he chose his next words carefully. "Cate and I have...history. It's...complicated."

"And Elain?" Nesta asked, crossing her arms. Whatever had been going on between Azriel and her younger sister…before it had come to a screeching halt sometimes around Winter Solstice.

Azriel's face shuttered slightly at the mention of Elain, his jaw tightening. "Elain…" he began, his voice hoarse as he looked away. "That's…over. It was a mistake, really." His voice was rough, almost...ashamed as if the memory of his involvement with her sister pained him

"Elain has a mate," Azriel said carefully. "It has been made very clear to me that I have no right to interfere with that." The way he said these words made Nesta wonder who exactly had done that.

There was a hint of bitterness in his voice as he spoke, a resentment that he quickly masked with a brusque "It doesn’t matter."

But, it did. It mattered to him, that much was obvious from the tightness of his expression, from the tenseness of his shoulders.

She could guess who had made that clear to him.

Feyre must have found out about it – or, perhaps, Rhysand. And they must have intervened.

She swallowed. It made her uneasy, though she understood why Azriel had…pulled back from that. Unless Elain finally outright turned Lucien down…getting in the middle of that was just begging for a fallout.

“And you and Cate?” she asked hesitantly.

Azriel’s expression softened slightly, his shoulders relaxing a fraction.

"Cate and I..." he repeated, his voice hoarse. "We have...a history, as she said. An agreement, you could call it."

He let out a huff of breath, almost like a sigh.

"We're...friends," he finally said, his voice firm, though there was an edge in it that suggested there was more to it than that

“Cate…Cate makes it very clear what she wants from me,” Azriel said quietly. “When we happen to be in the same place, every few years, we…spend time together. We aren’t beholden to each other in any way. She takes other lovers and so do I,” he said with a shrug.

Azriel’s words were quiet, spoken matter-of-factly, as if he were simply stating a fact. But there was an undertone of something deeper there, hints of…feeling, maybe.

It was so rare to see Azriel openly talk about this stuff, to lay bare even a portion of his personal life.

“Cate has never been scared of me. I appreciate that.”

He said that like he held that so precious. That little fact.

Nesta could just stare at him.

"It’s...nice," he said quietly. "Being with someone who doesn't...shy away. She’s much scarier than I am after all,” he quipped, a small smile on his far too handsome face.

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel x oc #my writing #azriel fanfic #azriel fanfiction #The Witching Hour

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thetxtdevil · 1 month ago

Text

This blog has become a thought dump page and you're going to deal with it

Ok ok ok,,, listennnn Fox Hybrid!Yeonjun

mdni - some smutty stuff, hybrids duh, biting duh, mating DUH

Its cliché but my mind is thinking, stray wild fox starved and lonely somehow how finds himself in the edges of a town, your town ofc. Just as he peeps through the trees he sees you on your daily walks and oh my does he think you're beautiful and *ahem* scrumptious. Fox!Yeonjun takes a few days to work up the courage to step out of the woods to finally stalk towards you, I mean, meet you.

You're walking and right when you were about to put your earbuds in you hear foot steps behind you. You turn around thinking someone is there but there is no one. You shake your head at your curiosity to turn back around to bump into the fox.

Dirty, is the only thing you can think of, you're frightened but god he’s dirty af. His orange hair is more of a brown dusty color, clothes ripped and not his size, but his eyes, his big brown yet predatory eyes have you melting. He needs a home. That night you bathed him and Yeonjun was basically purring to you.

And thats how you ended up with a fox hybrid in your house. Well, sorta, see foxes are independent, so Yeonjun liked to escape your cozy home and go back into the wild. Adaptable and very observant it wasn't hard to find his way back to you. He'd come every other day bringing back meat he hunted for, you two cook a meal together, and ofc another bath only from you bc he says he doesn't know how to do it himself :))

By the end of winter your seasonal depression is itching to go back outside for your walks. You hoped to see your handsome fox as it had been some time since you've seen jjun. You watch as the spots of snow melts into the green grass, the wind was brisk but bearable, crisp to breathe in. While walking you jolt, a tickle on your skin when you feel something brush against you. You look to your left to get a flash of a white tip of an orange tail, looking to your right you see Yeonjun, your handsome fox. He was very vocal today, talking about everything and anything, even singing a few times. He liked how you had evident heart eyes every time he sang.

You two end up back at your house ready to do your usual, give him a bath. But something felt different, usually jjun would be jumping off the walls for his special treatment but this time he was right next to you, holding your hand leading you to your bathtub. Bending down to turn the faucet on, you could sense the fox right behind you. Straightening your posture you're not surprised to feel his arms around your waist as he tends to be cuddly, but you are surprised by his abundant neck kisses and the hardon poking your back. One thing leads to another and now you're both naked and in the bathtub.

Yes, you knew all the times Yeonjun creeped on you before he introduced himself, you're not dumb, but you never felt unsafe with him. The fox is gorgeous, a flirt, a smooth talker, but he had a playful and caring nature that made you feel like he was another home at home. So his need for mating you felt natural, good even. Letting him leave a bunch of love bites all over your skin as you ride him. You two giggling at the waves of the bath water, but all giggles were put aside when you stroke his fluffy orange tail awakening his feral side, having him thrust up into you so much that the water floods the whole bathroom floor. Your hands in his hair then reaches up to his pointy ears holding them for dear life. Panting, moaning, overwhelmed by his force, yet you take time to admire Yeonjun's pretty features as they contort by the feeling of you.

And yeah so, after that you had to clean each other up again. Yeonjun becomes very protective after mating you. Never leaving your side, gets a little frustrated when your don't go to bed right away. Fox!Yeonjun just wants to stay up on guard as you get your beauty sleep. And foxes tend to have one mate for life, but you don't need to know that....

A nuisance,

TxT's Devil

taglist: @naoristerling, @inkigayocamman

#txt devil #txt hard thoughts #txt hard hours #txt imagines #txt x reader #txt smut #txt x you #txt x y/n #yeonjun smut #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun x you #yeonjun x y/n #choi yeonjun x reader #yeonjun imagines #yeonjun hard thoughts #yeonjun hard hours #hybrid!txt

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inesbaby21 · 5 months ago

Note

Caitlin clark and a feminine reader who's her gay awakening. She and the reader are like really good friends at first, and then it slowly turns into something more. Maybe she gets jealous when she sees you hang out with another player like paige or Kate.

"You've got it badddd"- Caitlin Clark

3rd person P.O.V

Don't get me wrong, you and Caitlin had always been close- even when you decided that staying in Iowa wasn't the choice for you. While you had no open regrets you missed the late night conversations with Cait, often talking about how you wanted your hair done next- or maybe which pair of jeans would go best with the new shoes you had ordered.

Being friends with someone who was so comfortable, and open with their femininity was something new to caitlin- almost scary. She was so used to the girls on her team not putting in effort to match the accent of their tees to their new shoes, or waking up an extra hour early to do their makeup because "it made them feel pretty" (you were always pretty to her, especially when you were focused on making a shot- oh and no doubt when you let out a snort from laughing too hard, ultimately causing you to laugh even harder from the embarrassment.)

So, why exactly did it take Caitlin until her junior year of COLLEGE- and subsequently the year you decided that maybe switching your Uconn to be closer to your older (adoptive) sister would be best for you to admit to herself that maybe (definitely) she likes you more than a friend? Why did it take her until the same pink luggage you had arrived with almost two years ago had been packed- and placed neatly in the white car with pink interior that she knew all too well for her to finally gain the courage to admit the feelings she had felt for you for years?

The same feelings that made her want to play a little too hard at the USA basketball tournament- even though she didn't know exactly who you were. That didn't matter though, you stood out like a sore thumb- a small red skirt, crisp white tee with words that read along the lines of "written by lana del something" adorn with red lettering- with makeup soft, and light giving you an almost angelic look.

Don't get even get me started on how unfocused she was that entire game- staring at the shot clock, and then you, and then the clock again. Fumbling the ball- and forgetting to use her pivot when she got a rebound. These little things caused to her ultimately get benched, finding her spot next to Paige as Hailey subbed her out for that quarter- she and Paige talked, about nothing too serious until Caitlin mentioned being distracted by not her nerves.. but by someone sitting in the stands with a ridiculously large ipad.

"No fucking way Caitlin" Paige said a little too loud for the girls liking as she shushed her out of fear of the coaches hearing.

"What? I'm just saying she's really pretty- and from the way she's been at all of the games this week I think she may be one of the girls sister or something" Caitlin said completely oblivious to the fact that the girl she had been almost studying for a week was Paige's younger sister- the same girl who she would spend the next 3 1/2 years yearning after too scared to make the first move.

"Caitlin" the Blonde said- dropping her voice an octave and sitting up straight. "That's my fucking sister you dimwit" she said lightly shoving the now pale girl sitting beside her as she laughed at the expression on the girls face.

"Oh my gosh- I.. I-I'm so sorry, I take all of that back" The brunette began to ramble scared by the sudden change of atmosphere. Not paying the panicking girl any attention Paige began to laugh as the entire situation was nothing short of hilarious to her- and honestly she started shed a few tears before her attention was called back to the game as she was subbed in.

This experience was one of many that occurred until you and Caitlin finally crossed paths in college. It was no secret that you had many offers from many different schools, and that ultimately when you committed to Iowa that there was bound to be a bit of sibling rivalry as both of you were very competitive. It was alsooo noted how much time you spent with the girls on the team with you- now don't get me wrong Caitlin couldn't exactly be jealous when you and Molly Davis began to hang out with one another outside of practice. But something in her snapped when you sad been elbowed in the face by an opponent while getting a rebound, and as she rushed to make sure you were okay the girl nudged her slightly backwards as she helped you up herself l- glaring at Caitlin on the court seemingly forgetting that there were cameras everywhere.

Fast forward to now. She had spent months upset with you- leaving you confused and ultimately hurt as you spent time attempting to figure out what exactly you did wrong. Was it the overwhelmingly positive attitude? The almost sickening pink bedroom decor (you had offered to tone your side of the room down too many times to count. ) Maybe it was the idea of you getting too close to molly, and then when you had sprung the news of you transferring to Uconn as a last resort to getting more playing time- and being able to showcase your talent like promised.

Whatever the reason was, it had Caitlin Clark avoiding you like the plague for months, ignoring the small talk you made when she was in your shared dorm- if she was even there. She began to spend the night with Kate as she had no roommate, and if she wasn't with Kate she was simply out all night.. and who were you to judge her- she was constantly put under stress to play her best, practice like it was a game, and most importantly to not let herself get too involved with anything relationship related.

That last reason alone was why she found herself with a ridiculously heavy, pink gift basket in hand as she marched towards the white car- just as nervous as the USA youth tournament that ultimately changed her life. She spent about a week writing the letter confessing her feelings- and with the help of Molly (ironic right ..) she picked out things that she knew you would not only like, but that help some form of value to you.

"Y/N/N" The girl yelled half heartedly- more sad about your departure, than nervous about giving you the note.

"Hey Caity" You said back with a bright smile- a smile that matched your bubbly voice. Caitlin would never understand why you couldn't hold grudges, even after icing you out for months- ignoring every attempt you gave to communicate, and borderline moving out you still had the heart to forgive her- and sometimes she wondered why it was so easy for you to forgive.

As you close the trunk of the SUV, you walked towards the nervous girl- taking the gift from her hands and giving her a tight hug around the neck, as her hands find their place along your waistline. The two of you stayed like that for a while until she pulled away to get a good look at your face. Caitlin could tell you really didn't want to leave Iowa, but your sister needing support as she was injured, and if you wanted any shot at potentially getting drafted you needed to have more playing time- more time to show how much you've grown as a player, more time to show who you were- to make a name for YOURSELF. These things combined together left you with no choice but to transfer, and why not transfer to a school where your sister already resided with her girlfriend? Why not transfer to a team full of love, and support with multiple great coaches?

Transferring was the best option for you, and Caitlin tried to understand that. Even if it meant potentially losing you, but deep down something inside of her told her that the distance would only bring the two of you closer- it would only feed the growing feeling from both parties, that it would only heal the wound that had opened as a consequence of pushing one another away. As you pulled away from the girl completely- you stared at the basket full of goodies.

"Oh Cait- You didn't have to get me anything"- You said tearing up, it was a thought out gift that obviously took some planning- and the price didn't matter to you as it was something that she had taken time to put together for you. "No, No I wanted to Y/N/N" she girl said with a bright smile "I wrote you a letter that I think you should really read"

As you carefully pull the letter out of its envelope, your eyes skim over the beautifully written piece of card stock- pink ink neatly written on the thick piece of paper as your begin to smile ear to ear. With no other words you drop the letter into the baby pink basket- leaning up and kissed the taller girl passionately, and as you pulled away breathless you began to mutter something along the lines of "Actually the shirt said written by Lana Del Rey" giggling as you began to think back to the day you set your eyes on the girl.

A/N-I'm sorry about being inactive everyone! i have band camp soooo i've been super busy and will be for the next few weeks! Also, im getting to my request/drafs bear with me 🙏🏾. ALSO please ignore my grammar issues, i didnt proof read it all the way- and im also playing around with the plot ngl. butttt i love you guys! and thank you for 120 followers! 💕❤️

tags; @cosmopretty

#caitlin clark x reader #kate martin x reader #iowa wbb #indiana fever #emily engstler x reader #ice brady x reader #kk arnold x reader #nika muhl x reader #uconn huskies #uconn wbb #ines bettencourt #jana el alfy

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moonchildstyles · 9 months ago

Note

rosemary harry deserves to get his dick sucked! there! i said it!

wordcount: 6.4k+

—————

"'S okay, Rosie. We're almost inside."

Keeping his little cat tucked to his chest, Harry fumbled with the small peach tinted key on his ring. His still damp hair had begun to curl dry under the crisp morning air, his kitten surely feeling the same chill. Finally pushing open the door and stepping over the threshold, Harry did his best to stay as quiet as possible since (Y/N) was no doubt sleeping through her morning off.

Placing Rosemary on the ground, she tottered right past him and into the kitchen where (Y/N) had set up a small station of food and water for her since she visited so often. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he watched her tail flick behind her, lagging behind as he locked the front door. Kicking off his shoes under her foyer table, he hiked his duffle full of extra clothes higher up his shoulder before moving out of the small alcove housing her front door.

He intended to head straight for (Y/N)'s bedroom, eager to curl up with her and spend a quiet morning at her side after his long night, though he stopped in his tracks as he passed by what he had thought would be an empty living room.

Curled up on the plush green suede of her couch, (Y/N) was bundled in a knitted white blanket with tired eyes and a mug of something warm in her hands.

"Hi," she smiled at him, features lighting up some as she took him in.

"Hi, peach," he crooned, dropping his bag on her foyer table before stepping towards her with a pout on his lips, "I told y'not to wake up early for me—'s your day off."

"I know," she smiled, unperturbed by his gentle scolding, "But I wanted to see you—and Rosie. I also wanted to have breakfast with you, so."

Harry's shoulders dropped, the tense set to his bones settling as he listened to her. He could never be upset with her, not even for a second—especially not for something he would do for her. He missed her very much over the night, so he couldn't say he was very disappointed in getting to see her smiling face this early.

"We'll take a nap after we're done eating, then," he decided, nodding his head as if to set the plans in stone, "Thank you, peach."

Stretching from her spot on the couch, she left the blanket a puddle on the couch with her mug still warming her hands. "Of course," she smiled at him, "I have everything already in the kitchen, so we can just eat then lay down."

As much as he loved cooking with her, the idea of having warm food ready for him had his chest warming. He'd do the dishes today, he decided, his small thank you to her.

Taking her hand in his, Harry followed after his peach into her small kitchen. Still sitting at her mat, Rosemary was cleaning her small bowl of food as if she were starved (and she wasn't. Harry had even given her a scoop of her favorite wet food while he showered, so she shouldn't be this hungry).

"Hi, cutie," (Y/N) cooed to the cat, dropping to a crouch beside her while Harry went ahead without her.

Already doled out and portioned was their simple breakfast of fluffy eggs and hashbrowns with plenty of cheese atop them. Peeking at the sink to see a couple of pans and utensils sitting inside the basin, Harry decided he would let her get to sleep then he would be taking care of that for her.

"Everything looks alright?" (Y/N) asked, standing to the full of her height with Rosie circling her feet with a twitching tail.

"Looks really good, love," Harry commended, an easy smile touching his lips, dimples dotting his cheeks.

Harry led the charge this time, heading towards her living room where he intended to cuddle up with her and share warmth under her blanket. Rosemary had followed them out, picking her own spot on a folded blanket on (Y/N)'s armchair she chose every time over the plush bed by the television. Settling on the cushions, Harry draped the knitted blanket around his and (Y/N)'s shoulders as she sunk into his side.

"How was work?" she asked, taking the first bite of her cheesy eggs.

"It was alright. Long," he sighed, exhausted just thinking about the hours he spent at the grocery store. He had been thinking about switching to days since everything settled down, but he didn't like the idea of leaving behind the overnight crew he was beginning to grow comfortable with. Plus, he still wasn't that big a fan of strangers, so he wasn't too into the idea of being surrounded by them all shift long. "'M thinking about picking up one of Theo's shifts next week."

(Y/N)'s lips slanted into a precursory frown. "If you don't want to, you don't have to, H. You've been working a lot, lately."

He shrugged, picking up a bite of his hashbrowns. "I know, but I want to save as much as I can before I move. The apartment I was looking at, the rent went up another hundred per month again."

A beat of silence settled between them for a moment. "You know," (Y/N) started, the tone of her voice familiar enough that Harry knew exactly where she was going, "You don't have to find a new place if you don't want to—you can just come here, instead. It's not like we haven't pretty much lived together already."

Peeking up at her, he caught (Y/N)'s theatrical smile, big and bright on her features as her own form of small persuasion. She always gave him that look when she brought up this subject.

"I know," he said, the same thing he always started with, "Let me think about it, peach."

A part of him wanted to see if he could cut it by himself without using the methods he was used to, but, as (Y/N) had reminded him once, he'd done this whole thing by himself for a very long time—and his shortcuts often made things harder on himself than he cared to admit. He didn't have to be alone anymore, he had her.

(There was also a whole thing he was still fighting off, the feeling of being a burden on her and taking things that shouldn't be given. That was also something he was trying to work on, even if a bit fruitlessly).

"What did y'do this morning while y'waited?" Harry asked, attempting to steer the conversation elsewhere.

Swallowing down a bite of her breakfast, (Y/N) shrugged. "I started some laundry, but I was too tired to fold everything so I just made breakfast and then sat down. I had the weirdest dreams last night, though."

"Yeah?" Harry smiled, looking at her with raised brows, "What were they?"

With that, (Y/N) launched into a vivid description of her latest dreamscape. Harry listened intently to every turn her story took, forgetting about his food at points in favor of listening to what she had to say. It wasn't necessarily the nonsensical dream that had him so entertained, it was the way she told it. He still reveled in learning her mannerisms, the gestures that made her who she was. There was always something new he could glean just by listening to her.

Before long, empty plates sat before them and the knitted blanket draped over their shoulders had morphed into a cocoon. Harry curled (Y/N) into his lap, draping her legs over his thighs with his arm wrapped around her back to keep her tucked into his side. She talked to him about the shift she'd had the night before and the book she had finally ordered, and any little thing Harry could get out of her. (Y/N) didn't mind doing the talking, more than happy to have him be her listener, though he was still learning that it was okay to have a listener, too.

The sun was beginning to paint the sky a warm orange over the horizon by the time (Y/N) settled into Harry's chest, her head on his shoulder. The blanket was warm around their forms, reflecting heat back. Harry had it tucked up high under (Y/N)'s chin, allowing her to melt back into the sleep-sodden state he'd found her in.

A companionable silence settled over them, leaving Harry's own eyes to shutter in contentment. Huddled under the fleecey blanket, sharing warmth with her, he allowed his hands to wander over her pliant form.

His hand on her back made spanning circles over the planes, the pads of his fingers skimming the bumps of her spine and cradle of her ribs. She was still awake, that much he could tell, but her breathing was an even pace he could feel both under his hand and the puffs against his shoulder. Skating over her form, his hand landed on the curve of her waist, reuniting with the familiar softness with denting fingertips.

Without meaning to, his subtle squeeze had (Y/N) jumping in his lap, a huff of laughter pluming from her lips.

"Sorry," Harry murmured, dropping an apologetic kiss to the top of her head.

(Y/N) snuggled closer in response, his mistake forgiven. Leaving his hand still on her waist, he instead focused on the span of thigh under his left hand.

He had previously pressed his palm into her hip when she had swung her legs into his lap, though now he grazed his touch over the plush of her thigh. Despite the chill in the air and the handful of times she complained about the cold while snuggling into bed, she still couldn't seem to ditch her sleep shorts, leaving a length of her bare skin on display. He worked a soothing circuit over the skin, the blunt of his nails dragging along here and there as he felt goosebumps prickle over the surface.

She keened into his touch, pressing her body that much closer to his own. The soft contours that made up her form reflected against the hard angles of his own, sharing their warmth under the knitted blanket. All night he had missed this.

The last time he had seen her was two mornings ago, just before she had left for her shift at the bakery. It was a quick goodbye, Harry blinking awake just enough to catch her lips in a quick kiss before she was telling him she'd see him later and that she loved him. He didn't sleep much after that, barely dozing in and out of restless dreams before he deigned himself into properly waking and heading home to ready for his own shift. He had missed her, missed the warmth of her touch, the caress of her voice, the wisp of her presence.

To have her now was both exhilarating and relieving. He wanted to stay awake so he didn't miss a single second with her, even if it meant only watching her sleep. But seeing her so relaxed and feeling her melt against him comforted him into his own contented state, as if tonight would be the night he would float away on his own pleasant dreams.

Harry kept running his hands over her body, soothing himself with the plush of her skin and the line of her form. Maybe it was the feel of her warmth, the safety under the quilt with her, or even the feel of the huffs of her breath against his neck, but before he even realized, he felt a stirring in his lap. Under the pillows of her thighs, his cock was much more awake than the rest of him, suddenly piquing to attention with her as his target.

Folding his bottom lip between his teeth, Harry attempted to shift under her in hopes of concealing the stray effect her presence was having on him (truly, he couldn't be too surprised. He'd gone years without any kind of physical relationship with anyone other than himself, and now he felt like a teenager again, aching every time he caught a whiff of her attention). He was sure her cuddling was not something she expected to entice him, especially given how close she was to edging on falling asleep in his arms.

In an attempt to keep himself in check, he stilled his wandering hands, keeping them stationary on the outside of her knee and the safety of her waist. He would hate for her to think he was taking advantage of their position when this was supposed to be a tender morning together after she went out of her way to welcome him home.

Shifting his hips, he tried to gently remove his lower half from the warm body without disturbing her, or landing in an awkward position.

"Where are you going?" (Y/N) grumbled when his movement didn't stop, her arms clinging to his neck.

Harry figured he might be more intoxicated than he thought when just the glaze of her voice was enough to have the muscles in his thighs tensing. His mind immediately went to a different place, remembering all of the breathless words he'd heard wrapped in that voice and the many he still wanted to hear.

"Nowhere, jus'—" he strained, finding a less than comfortable position with his tailbone low on the cushion and his back stretched long, "getting comfortable."

"Oh," she sounded, waking some as she peeked her head up, "I can move if you need me to."

Before Harry had a chance to stop her, tightening his hold on her, she was shifting herself on his lap following the way he was sprawling out. Soon enough, he could feel the plush of her thighs brushing against the familiar hardness in his lap, something that had her stopping in her own movement for a breath.

He loosened his hold on her then, allowing her space if she wanted off of him. "Peach," he started after a beat, sighing out the pet name.

Popping out of her hiding place against his neck, (Y/N) looked to him with still sleepy eyes though they were definitely brighter than he would have guessed given how close to sleep she had been.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Blinking, Harry matched her eye contact. She looked to him with a pair of pinched brows and a clear gaze, no hesitancy behind her perplexing question.

That was not the kind of reaction he had thought he would garner. Extra information was not one of the routes he saw this conversation needing.

"I—" he started, cutting himself off a syllable later, "We... We're cuddling, peach. I didn't want to ruin the morning. You're too tired, anyway."

As she listened, Harry got a view of the soft smile that took over her features, lighting up the sleepy corners of her eyes.

"I'm not too tired for you," she crooned, her voice quiet for just the two of them. Dipping her head down, (Y/N) pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth, the tip of her nose skimming his cheek. "You worked hard last night—you deserve something nice."

A heavy blink weighed down his eyelids as he lent into her kiss, cock stirring in his lap. Was he always this easy to get turned on? Or was it just (Y/N) who knew how to push all of his buttons so perfectly?

Dropping his head back against the backing couch cushion, Harry allowed (Y/N) to shower him in her kisses, his mouth in a soft gape. He could feel her gentle smile with every planted kiss against his skin, touching down his neck and over his cheeks and nose. Every bit of his skin she could reach was warmed with her kiss.

One of her hands on his shoulder drifted down, grazing over the blocks of muscle that made up his chest and abdomen, she trailed down until she hit his lap and the bulge that rested between his thighs. His lungs stunted at the soft pressure she applied.

"(Y/N)," he started, voice strained as he blinked his eyes open to match hers, "Y'really don't have to. I know you're tired."

Canting her head, she chanced a glance down towards his lap before she floated her hand away to sit on the middle of his abdomen. "I'm okay, though," she reminded him, looking more awake every time she insisted, "But, if you're too tired, we can go to my room and cuddle instead."

Folding his bottom lip between his teeth, Harry scanned his eyes over her features. There was no way he was going to turn her down in favor of sleeping, especially if she was offering so earnestly.

"'M awake, if you are," he murmured, matching her eyes with his own intensity.

Her smile was too cute, Harry decided, for a moment like this—negotiating over sex. "I think I'm a little too tired for everything, but I've been wanting to do something else for you if it's alright."

Harry's head swirled with whatever this something else was that she had in mind. "Whatever y'want to do, peach. I'll take anything y'want to give me."

(Y/N) dropped a short kiss on his lips, looking a bit too excited before she began slipping down his body with a chirped Good! falling from her lips.

Instinctively, Harry wanted to curl his fingers around her body, keep her where she was against his chest, where she was keeping him warm. Still, he refrained, allowing her to coast down his form until she was settled on the floor between his legs, her knees tucked underneath her with the blanket draped around her shoulders (sneaky thing took the blanket with her before he even had a chance to notice).

His heart thumping in his chest, Harry took in the sight of her on her knees before him. Her eyes suddenly appeared wider, lashes fuller, cheeks warmer. He's never seen her like this before, never had the privilege of having her knelt before him though he had a muscle-squeezing idea of where this may be going.

Spreading his thighs that much more, (Y/N) shuffled between them until she was fit against the edge of the couch with his knees on either side of her. Reaching out, he passed a hand through her hair.

"You're so pretty, peach. You know that?" he murmured, affection dripping from his tender words.

She turned bashful under his praise, resting her head on the inside of his thigh as she gazed up at him. "Thank you," she told him through a small smile, "Is it okay if I try this? I know we've never really talked about it, but I've been thinking about it a lot lately."

Attempting to not get sidetracked over the idea of (Y/N) thinking about having his cock in her mouth—a lot, too—, he kept his focus on the way she looked up at him. A lopsided smile quirked up the corner of his lip.

"You think I would ever say no to that, peach? Or you, for that matter?"

A plume of laughter fell from her lips. From how close she was, with her head pillowed against his leg, Harry could feel that puff against his sweats. He wondered if she felt the way his muscles squeezed under her cheek.

"Just wanted to check, that's all," she prattled, lifting her head from his thigh with her hands reaching towards the waist of his sweats.

With Harry's help lifting his hips, she was able to hook her fingers in the band of his sweats and briefs, pulling the pair down until they rested on the mid of his thighs and his cock had bobbed against his stomach. A shiver tickled his spine now that he was exposed to the chilly air of her home, though he doubted that was the same reason as to why goosebumps touched his skin.

When (Y/N) took him into her hand a moment later, her eyes trained on his ruddy, leaking cock while his own eyes fought against a fluttery blink, Harry's breath hitched. The hand that had been gently petting back her hair turned a hair firmer, reaching to gather the strands on the back of her neck.

"I wish you had told me earlier you were feeling like this," she spoke without lifting her eyes from her hand, "I would have helped you instead of almost falling asleep."

He wasn't even sure if she was intending to be as sexy as she sounded then, his breath stuttering at the feel of her hand pumping around his length with her voice swirling around him.

"'M sorry, love," he sighed, "Thought y'would be too tired."

She shrugged as if this was nothing, Harry having to bite back a smile as he watched on. "I don't mind. I'd rather suck you off than go to sleep, honestly."

At that, there was no way he could pull back the shuddering moan that tumbled from his mouth. A string of precum pearled at his tip only to be wiped away by (Y/N) as she collected it to help slick her strokes.

Nails grazing her scalp, he tipped his head as he watched his love admire his cock the way he admired her. "You're so good to me, peach. 'M so lucky, you know?"

A brilliant smile on her face, she glanced up at him with a frame of fluttering lashes around her eyes. "You deserve it, honey."

There was something else he was going to say, most likely another praise about how perfect she was for no other reason than he loved her and she had his prick in her hand, but that all went down the drain as soon as she lent forward and pressed her lips to the crown. Her lips were warm and soft, slick with the precum gathering on his tip.

It was the way she fluttered her eyes closed, her lips puckered and sweet, looking just the way she did when she kissed him, that had him almost melting into the cushions. She was kissing on his cock the way she did his lips—with affection and something all too soft for an act like this.

He could only watch breathlessly as she held his shaft in a snug fist, tipping her chin and tilting her head with every smeared kiss along his head. If this was already making his stomach jump and lungs squeeze, he feared to think just how long he'd last once she gave him more than a few kisses.

With hooded eyes, (Y/N) blinked up at him just before he felt the tip of her tongue gliding out from between her lips. The fan of her breath rolled across his sensitive skin, chilling the newly slicked path from her tongue had his blood pounding through his veins. His hand gripping her hair pulsed, subconsciously keeping her right where she was.

"Fuck," he breathed, feeling a flush creep up his chest and along the column of his throat.

Though he felt her hand pulse around his length, she didn't let him distract her. Instead, the swift licks she gave graduated to long laves when she shifted to drag the flat of her tongue along the underside of his cock. A sheen of spit covered her lips and sparkled on her chin with every lick as Harry's breathing labored above her.

His eyes followed her every move with his bottom lip trapped between his teeth as she began pumping her fist across his now slick length once more before she pursed her lips against his tip. His chest constricted when he saw a string of saliva drop from her lips, sliding down the ridge of his tip, though his breath was cut off when she took him into her mouth.

With her hand still working his shaft, she sucked on his head. Her tongue swirled around the sensitive ridge, Harry's hips bucking against her mouth without permission.

"S-Sorry," he breathed out when he saw her rear back.

"It's okay—just wasn't ready," she murmured through a thick throat. Drawing her eyes away from where her hand was pumping over his length in the absence of her mouth, she told him, "You can—um—do it again, if you want. I'll be expecting it now, so."

There was a part of him that wanted to fawn over her nervous delivery; how sweet could she be with the taste of him on her tongue and kisses warming his cock? It was hardly fair to feel a flutter in his chest when he was already hard over her.

The rest of him, though, was definitively stuck on the fact that she had invited him to lift his hips into her face. She hadn't been ready before, but she was now and didn't have a single qualm about him pressing into her mouth the same way he sunk into her pussy.

His hand in her hair traveled through the strands until he landed on the back of her neck, his palm becoming a cuff pressed against the nape.

"You're alright with that, love?" he pressed, his hand clenching when she gave a particularly tight drag of her hand over his length. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't," she assured him, "I trust you."

He wanted to say more but there was nothing left for him to choke out when she dipped her head down and took him back into her mouth. Her lips were split wide around his tip as she inched more of him down before stopping with a short gag. When she found her stopping point, she dragged her tongue around the underside, outlining the strong vein that roped around his length. She bobbed her head some, taking his tip to the back of her throat in a teasing squeeze over and over. Whatever she couldn't reach was taken care of by her hand, her fingers tight around his girth.

"Jes—fuck—Peach," he choked out, his hand on the back of her neck a heavy weight as he watched his wet dream play out in front of him.

She kept her focus on her task, ignoring his calling of her pet name, with her free hand coming to rest on his thigh. The blunt of her nails pressed into the flesh, becoming points of clarity against the rushing in his ears.

Her earlier suggestion rang in his head. She had shown him her limits—just how far she was able to take him down before she would need to rear back and breathe, and the pacing that felt comfortable for her.

He could be careful. He could take care of her, and give himself what he wanted. Give himself what he had dreamt of more than once in the middle of the night.

With her so close to him, it wasn't hard to solidify his grip on the back of her neck. She paused when she felt the weight, curling her mouth around his leaking tip. All it took was a watery glance up at him through her lashes when Harry allowed a moment of his inhibitions to drift.

Keeping her steady over his lap, he pushed his hips upwards, his cock sinking into her mouth in one fluid motion. The channel of her throat tightened as he pulled her head to meet him halfway, telling him when to stop before she would gag around him. The silky warmth had him shuddering in his spot, his free hand now fisting the throw pillow at his side.

"Shit, (Y/N)," he panted, his mouth in an open gape as he watched her sink over him. Her hand on his thigh was warm and piercing.

Rearing back, Harry found a rhythm as he thrusted his hips forward into her mouth once more. Her tongue skated around his length with her hand clumsily pumping where he didn't dare to push her. With her lips stretched around him, her saliva began to drop down his cock, landing in the thatch of hair at his base. The band of his low sweatpants shifted against his balls, an unexpected jolt hitting his stomach every time he pulled away from her mouth.

A stream of moans, grumbling whines, and calls of her name permeated her living room. Through the cracks in her curtains, sunlight spilled into (Y/N)'s home, rays catching the blanket huddled form that was her sitting between his legs. Stray hairs haloing her head were highlighted by the sunlight, plating them in gold through his rose-colored lenses.

With the way he was fucking into her throat, rearing his hips back once he hit the seal only to sink his length inside once more, it felt entirely out of place to feel especially sentimental gazing down at her. Maybe it was the long night of work, the buttery morning, or the fact that this was the first time he'd been sucked off in years, but had he ever been more in love?

If the slick of her mouth and writhing of her tongue wasn't enough, when a delicate moan slipped out of her throat and vibrated around his prick, Harry could feel the spiral hiding behind his abs tighten into something unbearable.

"Fuck—I'm—You're," he stammered, the pacing of his hips beginning to falter with a pinch appearing between his brows and his throat growing thick, "'M gonna cum, peach—shit."

The peek he saw of her eyes through her lashes was one he wouldn't forget. There was a wet sheen to her gaze from the amount of times he prodded at her boundaries, pushing the tip of his cock just that much further into her throat. Her lips were slicked with spit, the very corner of her mouth sporting a pearly dot of his precum, with her skin warm on the back of her neck. His hips stuttered thinking about the fact that he had been the one to get her like that this morning.

Her hand pumped the remainder of his length quickened, the fist tight. She stroked over him in tandem with the pacing of his hips, meeting him halfway. His breaths were nothing more than uneven puffs falling from strained lungs.

"C-Can I cum in your mouth, peach?" he panted, the words rushing out before he had any real thought behind them, "Or do y'want me to st—"

Before he had a chance to finish she let out a delicate moan, her lips tight around the stretch of his girth. Her choice was clear, seeing as she didn't stop him from pushing through her pursed lips or drawing away against the weight of his hand.

Though it felt a bit pathetic, just how easy he was, that was somehow all he needed before he felt the first surge of release. His hips stuttered, (Y/N)'s own hand struggling in her pacing when the first rope hit the back of her throat. He felt his muscles tense, his abdomen hard and his thigh bunched tight under her hand. His mouth was in a gape as he fought to keep his eyes open with every pulse of his cock leaking more cum into the back of her throat.

He wanted to watch as he came into her mouth, he wanted to see her face. His hand on the back of her neck loosened as he felt into the moment. He swore there was a haze that drifted through her home at that moment. There was nothing but static touching his skin—and (Y/N).

By the time the cloudy haze and the electricity faded, Harry's muscles unclenched as he sank back into the couch. (Y/N)'s mouth was still warm around his cock, though her grip had fallen away in the fray. His eyelids felt heavy as he gazed at her, luxuriated in the feel of her cleaning him up as the final ropes fell from his tip.

When it all became too much, Harry feeling too sensitive for any more, he used that grip on the back of her neck to draw her away from him. She went pliantly wherever he wanted her, disconnecting from his cock with a soft pop and a lingering string of saliva that evenly bowed and broke to land on her chin.

Harry's hand on her neck shifted to trail through her hair, a decidedly gentler touch than what he was sure he was giving her in the heat of the moment. He pet back the errant strands, displaying her face for him in the rising sunshine. Once again, he couldn't be sure if it was the way the light fell on her face, the soft set of her features, or the fact he had just orgasmed harder than he knew could happen before eight a.m., but he'd never seen anything so pretty.

Her eyes glimmered with stray tears, her skin warm and dewy with sweat. Her lips were swollen and slick, her hair a little bit of a mess thanks to him. If he wasn't already spent, growing limp, he would have had to take her again if for no other reason than to show her just how beautiful he thought she was.

"C'mere, peach," he murmured, his voice sunken in his throat, "Let me kiss you."

Though she didn't waste any time crawling back into his lap, (Y/N) took a moment to pull his pants back up his thighs and tuck his sensitive cock away before she was straddling his hips. Opening his arms, (Y/N) fell into his chest with her own arms looping around his neck.

It was an affection hug he pulled her into first, his face burrowing into her neck with his nose skimming her hairline. He pulled in her scent in a thick inhale, pulsing his arms around her. The blanket she had stolen in the first place was now draped around their snuggled position once more, layering around them as if there was any more privacy to be had in the middle of her empty house.

She was the first to begin drawing away, but Harry caught her lips before she had a chance to utter anything through her perfect, perfect, perfect mouth (maybe he hadn't come down completely, just yet). He pressed a soft kiss to her top lip before he took it between his two, getting a taste of her lips when he parted his own. He didn't mind that he could still taste the traces of himself, too caught up in the fact that she wanted that taste of him in the first place. The pads of his fingers pressed into the small of her back, keeping her cuddled to his chest as he tilted his head and tipped his chin this way and that.

"I love you," he breathed against her mouth, parting just far enough away for the words to slip through.

A gentle laugh dripped from her lips coloring his own though he didn't interrupt his kissing. "I can't imagine why you'd be saying that right now, after what just happened."

He knew she was teasing, attempting to play with him some after their intimacy, but he didn't have it in him to go along. "I mean it," he insisted, sounding a touch more desperate than he meant to let on, "I love you so much. Everything about you."

Pulling far enough away to rest her forehead on his, Harry was forced to blink his eyes open and keep himself from following after her kiss. Her gaze was soft, a fond depth swimming in her irises.

"Harry," she started, the pillows of her lips grazing against his own, "I love you, too. Don't sound so sad."

"'M not sad," he answered in a rush, "'M happy—so happy. You're so perfect, and 'm so lucky, and I love you."

That fondness in her eyes landed on her lips, stretching them into a soft smile that Harry wanted to get a full view of but didn't want to draw any further away to see. "I love you, too," she declared, granting mercy on him and tipping her chin to press a single kiss to his waiting mouth, "You're perfect, and I'm the lucky one."

There was the immediate instinct to argue with her, remind her of who he was before her, but he refrained. It was something he was working on—accepting her love and kind words—, and he didn't want to ruin the moment by denying her feelings for him.

"Thank you," he answered simply, giving a loving kiss to the full of her lips as a way to seal his.

(Y/N) reciprocated with a press of her own, surely aware of what was going on in his head. Pulling away from him, she began crawling out of his lap despite the hold he had around her middle. "You're welcome," she smiled, a hint of pride in the corners, "I think—if you're not too awake now—that we should nap for the rest of the morning. In my room, too, so we can actually cuddle."

Scanning over her features now, he could still see that sleep tinge to her face; a slight crease to her eyes and the sloping of her shoulders. She had been the one half asleep in the first place, and she ended up being the one that did the most work in the end—she deserved to sleep her morning away.

Plus, he still needed to do her dishes while she slept. Especially after what she just did for him.

"That sounds really nice, peach," he settled on, allowing her a glimpse at his dimples when he gazed up at her.

Muttering a quiet, chittering C'mon, then, Harry gave her his hand to drag him back to her bedroom. The throw blanket she had claimed for herself trailed behind her as he followed. The smile on his face had no plans of slipping away as he watched her pad towards her bedroom, socked feet and her blanket covered body too cute for her own good.

A quiet pattering sounded behind him. Harry felt his chest plummet towards his stomach before he even chanced a look over his shoulder.

Reluctantly, he turned his head just to see Rosemary following after them on her quiet feet. Her tail flicked high in the air, her ears at attention as she looked up at him with her moon eyes.

God, he really hoped she hadn't just seen what happened.

—————

anon ur right he does deserve this!!! thank u for requesting!!! thank u to everyone for reading and so sorry for any mistakes! if you have any ideas of your own please send them in!

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pseudowho · 5 months ago

Text

Professor Higuruma: Part One, Star-Crossed

Leaving your job behind to study Law, you fall into the gravity of Professor Higuruma Hiromi. Soon, you find yourselves entwined in an affair so deep and alluring, you cannot see where Hiromi ends and you begin.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, smut from Part One, age-gap relationship (20s to 40s), 'thread of fate', tw- leaving an emotionally neglectful relationship, tw- alcohol use, wet dreams and daydreams

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The bottle would not draft his timetable, and as such, it remained corked. Hiromi's thirst extended past wine and warm bodies, to something altogether more elusive; an alleviation of his crippling loneliness-- that which ground him down to dirt.

Hiromi sat on his sofa, picking up the claret, rolling it in his hands, putting it down, running his fingers through his hair, clenching white knuckles against jittering thighs.

The week had been long. His Department was undergoing fresh demands for classes and time and curriculums and more, that Hiromi had not the staff to facilitate. With the new term about to start, and fewer professors than ever, Hiromi felt like the wick in the middle of a candle burning at both ends.

From the heated sneers that set to flame in the room around him, Hiromi wasn't the only one already balancing on a knife edge. He felt the frost crisp the earth around Nanami Kento, his Literature department already at the end of their tether.

If the rampant deep-seated loathing for the world in which he lived didn't kill him first, the stress would. The loneliness would. The drink would. The pressure would. The late nights would. The loneliness the loneliness the loneliness the loneliness--

Hiromi threw his bottle and responsibilities to the sofa. Too touch-starved for solitude, but too burned out for company, Hiromi grabbed his jacket and keys, and headed for his favourite bar.

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See you later? At the bar across the street.

Let me know when you'll be here.

Are you still coming?

Not dressed up, sorry. On your way?

Got you a drink. See you soon?

???

The Spring evening was too crisp for such chilly rejection. The sun had seemed hopeful, earlier in the day, and you hadn't brought a jacket. You felt the bite upon your exposed arms, a nipping punishment for your optimism. Whether he was here, or not, made no great difference; he had not given you his jacket in a long time.

He would come, you reassured yourself. You'd buy him his favourite drink, and he'd arrive late, all I'm so sorry baby, you know how it is, c'mere, I'll warm you up, with twinkles in his eyes like you'd hung his stars and his hand in yours and the life you had lived and shit don't cry you stupid bitch pull yourself together.

You scurried into the bar, embraced by your own arms, before ordering his favourite drink and yours, as if a summoning ritual. The bar had a happy thrum, warm with love and life, and you saw cherry blossoms drift across the torch lit balcony. It beckoned you. You remained, waiting for your spell to work, with your eyes on the door.

The torches dwindled. A barman went to refill them with oil. Your fiancé had not arrived. The ice in his drink had almost melted, and you sank into a sigh that shredded down to the very core of you. The first time you saw the man in the black suit, arriving on a thundercloud, and sitting a few barstools down from you, you registered him only briefly, past the knife in your gut.

Then, a pair of coal-dark eyes met yours. The torches on the balcony reignited with a whoomph, setting drifting blossoms to pink-spark ember on the Tokyo backdrop. Your breath caught halfway, the scent of smoky petals and spiced cologne on the sides of your tongue. The barest clink of ice cubes settling in the glass, cracked through the moment that time had paused.

The man in the suit opened his mouth, offering only the other half of the breath he had stolen. His hangdog eyes were so curiously expressive. A smile wrinkled his nose. You stumbled across yourself, pressing your fiancé's undrunk drink across the bar to the black-suit man.

"Would you like this? It's in need of appreciation." The black-suit man laughed, a breathy rumble.

"Is it indeed?" He took the glass with long fingers, and you followed the trail of a trickle of the glass's condensation, dripping down his finger's inner length, to pool at the junction between. "Will it taste bitter in the mouth of someone for whom it was not intended?"

You smiled, your eyes narrowing in tease. "It is a gift."

"Oh!" He uttered, laced with small joy. "Then it will be sweet." He took a sip, a vermouth-honeyed tongue darting across his lips with an appreciative hum. "Yes, quite. Welcome, little drink. There is joy to be found amongst the unwanted." You laughed, and Hiromi felt a curious yank upon his finger. He had fallen into your company, and could not get back up.

"I must be old," he laughed again, swiping commas of grey-streaked Inky hair from his temples, "because I've forgotten my manners. I'm sorry for pressing conversation upon you. Thank you for the drink."

You shook your head, without the appropriate words to express how a stranger had warmed you more in moments than you had been in years. Your black-suit man bowed his head, standing, and turning away before pausing. Fate rolled a dice.

"The balcony looks lovely. And, empty." Hovering on one footstep, his gait then steadied, and brogued black shoes clipped across the polished floor. You felt something fine and golden tug within your chest, as torchlight rolled across the black-suit man's disappearing shoulders. Another diceroll raised Fate's eyebrows.

You stood, hesitating between the balcony and the bar. The barman buried a scoop into some ice, watching two strangers interact with an oddly burgeoning certainty. He never interfered. Fate flipped a coin; how readily the stars did align.

"He likes red wine." The barman offered, nodding between your stuttering gape, and the void the black-suit man left in the doorway. You frowned, biting your bottom lip, unaware that your path had been decided before the words left your mouth.

"Then I like red wine, too." The barman smiled. He reached to a row of dusty wine racks above his head, pulling out a bottle with a glassy clink.

"Do you trust me?" The barman asked, placing the bottle before you with a muted thud. You felt a bubble of joy up your nose.

"I do, actually." You replied, awash with certainty as you paid, took two glasses, and headed towards the balcony. As you walked through the doorway, and firelight uncovered the gems hidden within your hair and eyes, your black-suit man smiled, and gestured to the rattan sofa opposite him.

As you sat, strangely comfortable under his gaze, in your state of plain dress, your black-suit man smiled over at you. He looked awkward for a moment, not trusting himself in his own shoes.

"...all this and I wasn't actually prepared for company." You both laughed. Your black-suit man watched you with a glimmer in his eyes, fingers plaited and clasped under his nose, leaning forwards on propped elbows. You struggled to open the wine. He huffed through his nose, your fingers brushing as you handed the bottle over with a scoff.

The man's eyes narrowed as the bottle opened with a brittle schtick; "Loosened it for me--" you laughed again, pinching your nose bridge, "--no no I mean it, I'm really very weak--" You rolled in your laughter together, with him babbling smiling reassurance, while he poured your wine.

"I have one condition to this rendezvous-- please can we not talk about work?" He groaned, clinking your two glasses together in his own hands before passing one to you, still warmed by fading laughter.

"Absolutely. I promise. No work talk."

He was older than you, by an uncertain amount, though you were no girl. You leaned on one palm, in easy silence as you smelled the petal-burst flames. He watched the aurora cast upon your cheeks, feeling his chest fill in a way he couldn't describe.

"...Hiromi." He offered. "My name's Hiromi."

"And it suits you. Should I remain a great mystery?" You gasped, melodramatic with one hand over your mouth.

"Appalling manners!" Hiromi shot. "You owe me a name."

"I gave you a drink! And a bottle of wine."

"Bullshit."

"I don't owe you a thing, in fact--"

The evening trailed away, all warm banter, easy laughter and lingering looks. The conversation grew sloppier, uninhibited, lubricated by wine, of which the bottles nestled, one, two, two and a half. Hiromi had laughed, as deep and rich and mature as the grapes, positively Dionysian, his laughter dying on his lips to catch you mid-shiver. He huffed into his glass, the scent of fermentation rolling back over his own face.

"Here." He dropped, lackadaisical as he sloped past on the way to the bathroom. You blushed to feel his jacket nestle, warm and homely, around your shoulders. He did not appreciate the enormity of the gesture, to you, as he walked away. On his return, you appeared muted, holding onto his jacket around with with two chilly hands. Hiromi felt a stutter in his chest, and sat down beside you.

"...are you alright?" He whispered, soft under the torchlight. Your head drooped onto his shoulder, your neck softened by wine, and he puffed his surprise, short and sharp across your cheek.

"I've had such a lovely time." You sniffed, feeling the clock tick far too late, and you had a busy day ahead, with the start of your new course, and you had to get home and prepare your mind for the beginning of a new life and--

"It...doesn't have to be over." Hiromi intoned, and your belly clenched as his voice rumbled through your core. Your head turned on his shoulder, your nose brushing his. Hiromi spoke again, stroking your nose with his until your eyes fluttered closed, having never felt more certain of anything in his life. "I...I've never done this, but...come home with me, just tonight, and--"

Your phone rang, shrill and piercing and you cried out, jolting away from Hiromi's touch. He chased your lips, his face twisting in a pain you didn't see, as you looked down at your phone screen, slurring.

"Shit...my fiancé..."

Hiromi's belly tumbled, sick with disappointment-- with something altogether more possessive-- and feeling that yank upon his finger, more insistent as he spoke, low and slow.

"Your...fiancé?" The words tasted rotten. Hiromi felt sick, bitter with the sudden loss, hobbled by the brutality of having gained the stars and lost them all at once. He watched you swallow, watched the flash of a wound reopening, piecing the puzzle together so fast now.

"The one who stood you up?" Hiromi toned, venomous with the injustice of the theft. You mistook the direction of his anger, and looked up, your face tight with apology. Hiromi shook his head, raising a hand. Your phone stopped ringing. A few moments passed before your phone buzzed. You read a message as Hiromi stood, turning on the spot, his hands cupped over his nose and mouth.

"You...shouldn't worry. I assume he's coming to pick you up, and I...thank you for such a lovely evening, it's been--"

You laughed without humour, eyes brimming with tears. You shook your head, and nodded, and shook your head again. Hiromi watched you, uncertain.

"I'll walk myself home. He's gone to bed." Hiromi paused, then scoffed.

"You're not walking home alone. Not a chance. Not like this."

He extended a hand to you. You took it, as if tied by the fingers. He held you, like this, all the way home to your cold bed.

You took each others' breath with you as you parted at the door. Hiromi was sure that his loneliness would not kill him first; the drink would not kill him first; the stress would not kill him first; the late nights would not kill him first; the pressure would not kill him first. Being taken to great heights, and then dropped in a dizzying fall, would.

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"Thank you for inviting me in." You whispered, smiling against the shell of his ear. In his bed, soft and open against his body, Hiromi sighed into your touch, your fingernails trailing across his scalp as he groaned. His cock throbbed, thick with promise.

"Couldn't leave you out there, naked." He mumbled against your lips, reaching under the covers to feel you and meeting only the cloth resistance of the mattress, but you were there because he could taste the wine on you, and you were opening yourself to him, he knew somehow.

"You're the one who undressed me." You said, your voice above him, but he was climbing above you, bracketing you to the bed while your voice whispered all around him. Hiromi felt his cock grasped, bucking forwards into the warmth and softness of it, chasing warmer and softer, and he begged you.

"Please you...never told me your name...let me in please, please--" He couldn't see your face with his eyes closed in this odd black moonlight, somehow within you and outside of you all at once. One more rock of his hips seated him within you, plush walls pillowy and smooth and all for him.

He groaned, low and desperate, rocking his cock inside you and he longed for you to welcome him with your arms, but any time he tried to draw them round him they flopped, useless, absent, so he urged you with his hips rutting faster, to pleasure you into holding him. Was it you crying out, or him? He couldn't tell, his pleasure mounting, pulsing through him in waves and why wasn't he trying to stop himself, he hadn't done anything for you--

Hiromi woke with a gasp, his pillow clutched between taut arms as he fucked involuntarily into the mattress, groaning into the mess of cum spurting between his sheets and belly. Hiromi's voice cracked, still lost in his dream, still spilling himself inside you in his mind. The blissful contractions of his cock dizzied him, surely the wettest dream he'd ever had.

Coming back to earth, Hiromi panted, face down in his pillow and a pool of his own sticky seed. His phone alarm rang. He groaned, feeling the catastrophic disappointment of the night before wash over him anew. Seeing the date on his phone in fumbling hands, sent another groan through him, and he buried his hooked nose in the pillow.

The new academic year began today.

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"Higuruma." More statement than question, Hiromi accepted Nanami Kento's proffered coffee as if being reminded of his own name. Hiromi took it, weary and silent, slouched at his desk beneath the crushing weight of having been scooped out in the middle.

Kento sat in Hiromi's visitor chair, regarding Hiromi with cool impassivity. He read the usefulness of any comments he could make, and set them aside for business.

"How do you plan on handling your evening classes? The high-school ones." Hiromi scoffed.

"Nanami, it is 8am on the first day of term, you cannot surely have a plan--"

"We'll offer assistant wages to one or two new First Years." Nanami said, before continuing, sniping and bitter. "If we must lose our Graduate Professors, and if we must host the accessibility courses ourselves, then at least the First Years can gain some income and some experience through teaching."

Hiromi rested his cheek on one palm. He stared Kento down.

"That...that's not a bad idea, actually, Nanami. I shall use that, I think." Kento and Hiromi inclined coffees and heads to each other, an easy camaraderie. Kento let the silence hang as Hiromi scribbled in his diary.

"I don't actually know how we'll do it, Nanami." Hiromi groaned, his face in his hands. "They make staffing cuts as if I can knit a new professor to take some of these classes. How much more 'self-directed learning' can I give these students? It's barbaric. They're being bled dry for this degree, and for what? So they can teach themselves? Shit."

Kento did not disagree, frosty again as the University Chancellors' departmental meeting montaged before his eyes.

"They're paying for a library, and the pleasure of our limited company." Kento sneered, as bitter as his coffee dregs. Hiromi sighed, trying to rub the alcohol away with his fingertips on his temples. Kento's eyes narrowed in cool regard, again.

"Home, or bar?" Hiromi grumbled, steepling his fingertips across his nose.

"Am I so fucking transparent?"

The faintest quirk lifted the corner of Kento's lips. He awaited an answer. Hiromi's head swam with the memory of you, interspersed with the false memories from the dream of being nestled between your thighs, and he felt his cock twitch. Hiromi shook himself out of it, sitting up and shaking his hands out with a huff.

"Bar, if you must know. It was...a late one." Kento hummed again. Hiromi did not elaborate.

"You should try harder to rest, before a work day. It is...irresponsible of you." Hiromi glowered over at Kento, Hiromi's junior by a good few years, quacking after him.

"Yes mother." Kento scowled.

"I could report you." Stony silence. Two chuckles in the office.

"No. You won't do that. You're my best friend."

"I don't have friends--"

"Shush."

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You recalled taking a day off work, on your fiancé's first day at University. You ironed his shirt the night before. You made him lunch, with notes and flourishes. You enjoyed a hot breakfast together, brimming over like the coffee pot about his future, while you worked to support him, and then your future, while he worked to support you. You had opened your arms to release him, and closed them around him on his return.

And god, you had worked, gruelling long hours for three gruelling long years, but despite the great chasm he had dug between you, you had brimmed over again when he landed his new job. A lucrative career. More than enough to pave your way, while he worked to secure your future--

He stayed in bed as your alarm went off. He accepted your affectionate nuzzles, before rolling away into the embrace of bed. Your fingers closed around nothing. You ate cereal. You packed your bag. You bubbled, low and alone. You wondered if he'd mind you slipping a banknote out of his wallet for your lunch. Your belly clenched with anxiety, and you packed a microwave meal instead.

You rocked, rhythmic with the clatter-back-and-forth of the train. Your eyes closed. Your music was soft. Though, not as soft as those coal-soft eyes, the gentle, brushing aquiline nose against yours, of the night before. Not as soft as the bittersweet ache of loss, of failing to know him better. The ghost of his touch soothed the stinging guilt, of wishing you had spent the night in his arms, instead.

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Hiromi was early to his first class, his nerves too frayed and electric to be anything other than hypervigilant. The lecture hall stretched up around him, an amphitheatre where he would slowly watch the soul and enthusiasm be sucked out of those wishing to learn Law.

He had held some optimism, years prior, that his own fractured soul (from years of systemic self-abuse in the Criminal Defense system) could be soothed by teaching the next generation of lawyers, solicitors, and barristers.

Alas, second to idealism, feckless optimism had oft been Hiromi's failing. Alas, the decaying state of education and academia could provide no such balm to his soul while it crumbled itself, and expected its professors to use their bodies and bones to prop up the teetering institution. The grind was different, but just as potent. Hiromi felt the crushing responsibility of leading his department through this storm, and wondered how many would remain on the ship once the rain cleared from his vision.

He resigned himself to filling his chalice with the immeasurable optimism of the fresh and uninitiated. Though under-subscribed compared to prior years, he was still excited to receive his first batch of students for the term. He hoped their passion could bounce off of him, and multiply, exponential.

While preparing his slides for the day, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows, Hiromi heard the steady fill of the lecture theatre behind him.

He could not shake the ghost of your head upon his shoulder. He could not shake the taste of your skin from his dreams. He could not shake his regret, for not shaking you by the shoulders and insisting you deserved better, instead of delivering you back to the bed of a man who didn't appreciate the treasure within his grasp.

"I'll be with you in a moment!" Hiromi called behind him, waving one white-sleeved arm in a vague gesture. "Please be seated! I shan't be long."

The chatter crescendoed behind Hiromi, and he turned, clapping his hands together and affecting a smile and speech, gazing into the sea of new faces.

"Good morning everyone! Welcome to your first class. I'm delighted you have all chosen to study the Law-- it means the flow of the insane into our noble professions remains, as ever, consistent." A few smattered laughs from the audience. Hiromi grabbed his clicker, a slide slow flicking onto the great screen behind him.

"My name is Professor Higuruma, and while I will only be teaching you Case Law this year, today we shall talk about what to expect from your course, and--and..."

Oh, god. Those eyes, that haunted him. The body he had made love to while he slept. The shock, mirrored in your own eyes back at him, a participant in his new audience.

Hiromi's arm and mouth drooped, with the tug of the fine gold thread that you, too, felt. The night you had almost shared together passed across two pairs of distant, breathless lips. You felt every pulse, every nerve, every fibre of yourself skip a beat.

How readily had the stars aligned.

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Part Two, Interpretation, coming soon!

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