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callsigns-haze · 14 days ago

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Beat me for the crown 1

Part 1 of 3

Pairing: Xaden Riorson x reader

Years after the war, Xaden and YN are raising their two children, Liam and Kaia, in Tyrrendor’s royal residence. While YN is away on a girls' trip that for some reason includes Ridoc, Liam—small for his age despite being heir—is relentlessly bullied and hides his injuries until a brutal second attack drives him, bloody and broken, into Xaden’s arms late at night

⚠️ Content Warning: This story contains themes of bullying, physical violence, drinking, anger, emotional distress, and injury involving a child.

The sun is golden through the gauzy curtains, casting a warm glow on the mess of dresses, boots, and accessories strewn across your bed. Your room—your room in the royal residence of Tyrrendor—is a chaotic masterpiece of controlled packing frenzy. You’re half-laughing, half-arguing with yourself as you debate whether or not you need the fourth pair of heeled boots (“I definitely might need them, what if we go somewhere fancy?”) when you hear it.

A low, drawn-out groan. Then a sigh that sounds borderline pained. Followed by the unmistakable thud of a heavy folder hitting your desk.

You glance over your shoulder.

Xaden Riorson, your husband, your partner through war and fire and revolution, the King of Tyrrendor and the father of your two terrifyingly clever children, is currently slumped at your desk like the world’s most exasperated bureaucrat. His hair—still that inky black, streaked now with a dignified silver near his temples—falls forward as he rubs his hand over his face, fingers dragging down with dramatic exhaustion.

“Everything alright, Your Majesty?” you tease, turning and leaning against the edge of the bed, arms crossed, hip cocked.

He doesn’t even lift his head. “If I have to read one more request for funds to renovate a statue of someone no one remembers, I’m going to set the entire treasury on fire.”

You grin, biting your lip to hide the laugh. “That would be… dramatic. Even for you.”

He lifts his head at that, those obsidian eyes locking on yours—and you see it, the smirk trying to fight its way past the grumpiness. But he loses that battle and lets his head fall back with another groan. “You’re abandoning me.”

“I’m going on a girls trip,” you remind him, tossing a bundle of socks into your bag. “It’s not abandonment if I warned you.”

“You didn’t warn me Ridoc was coming.”

“That’s fair,” you murmur, grabbing the list Mira sent this morning and tucking it into your satchel. “I didn’t know until twenty minutes ago.”

“He’s not a girl.”

“Technically, no. But Sloane insists he makes the best cocktails, and Violet wants him for target practice if we get bored, so…”

Xaden grumbles something that sounds suspiciously like I knew this was a mistake.

You walk over, slipping behind him and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He leans back immediately, head tilting into the curve of your neck with a tired sigh. “You’ll survive,” you murmur, pressing a kiss just below his ear. “You have Garrick to keep you sane, Sawyer to help you build forts with the kids, and Brennan for sarcasm. Plus our children—who are basically miniature yous. You’ll be fine. Oh and your cousin.”

“I miss you already,” he says dramatically, and you laugh into his neck.

“You're going to miss my ass in these shorts,” you say, voice low and teasing.

He growls, arms reaching back to pull you into his lap, the desk groaning in protest under the sudden shift of weight. “That too.”

You giggle, letting your forehead rest against his. “You’re insufferable when I leave.”

“Because I actually like you,” he says plainly, like it’s the simplest truth in the world. “And because Liam and Kaia are going to take full advantage of your absence to negotiate extra sweets and a later bedtime.”

“Use the look,” you whisper.

He smirks. “Which one?”

“The one you used on that Sage before you vaporized him.”

“Tempting.”

The door creaks open before you can respond, and a little voice pipes in: “Dad, Kaia says she’s Queen now and I have to listen to her forever.”

You and Xaden both blink. Liam, now twelve and shorter than most boys, stands in the doorway with his arms crossed, looking exactly like his father on a bad day.

From somewhere down the hall, Kaia yells: “BECAUSE I WAS BORN SECOND. I’M A MIRACLE.”

You glance at Xaden.

He sighs again. “Go on your trip,” he mutters. “Before I pack myself in your bag and come with you.”

You kiss his cheek and whisper, “You wouldn’t last five minutes with that many women.”

“You’re probably right.” He glances down the hall. “And neither will Ridoc.”

You both laugh.

And when you finally close your bag and sling it over your shoulder, you take one last look at your chaotic, wonderful little family—King Xaden surrounded by paperwork and pint-sized versions of himself, and all of them completely, utterly doomed without you for the weekend.

Perfect.

The moment Liam disappears from the doorway with a loud, exasperated sigh, you barely have time to adjust your bag strap before the unmistakable sound of bare feet pattering down the hall echoes like a storm brewing in the distance.

And then she appears.

Kaia Riorson barrels into the room like a force of nature, a blur of dark curls and swishing skirts, her arms already open wide as she launches herself directly at your legs.

“Mama!” she squeals, clutching your thighs like you’re about to disappear forever rather than leave for a weekend. “You weren’t going to leave without saying goodbye to me, were you?”

You bend down, brushing her wild curls back from her face. She’s the image of her father—onyx eyes with those telltale golden flecks, skin like warm bronze from days spent in the sun, and that sharp Riorson jaw she already uses to full effect in every argument, whether with her brother or the palace tutors.

And stars, is she already eight. Eight going on eighty.

“Of course not,” you say with a grin, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “How could I leave without a proper Kaia Riorson sendoff?”

She straightens at that, planting her tiny hands on her hips in a way that mirrors Xaden so perfectly it makes you bite back a laugh. “I left you a checklist on the dresser,” she announces with regal seriousness. “To ensure you remember your travel documents, your tonic for headaches—since Aunt Mira talks so much—and your good boots for hiking. And the backup ones.”

You glance over her shoulder to the edge of the dresser, and sure enough: a neatly folded parchment list written in tiny, careful script.

Xaden raises his brows from the desk, giving you a look that very plainly says She’s your child, and you smirk in response.

Kaia isn’t just clever—she’s terrifyingly bright, already reading at a level far beyond her age, soaking up history and politics with a kind of fierce hunger. It makes sense, you suppose. She's grown up in the aftermath of war and revolution, in the heart of a rebuilt kingdom, with a father who rules and a mother who would rather die than be ruled.

She’s got both your blood in her veins—and she burns like it.

“Did you also leave me a tactical escape route in case Ridoc tries to teach us dance moves again?” you ask, deadpan.

Kaia giggles. “Obviously. It’s on the back of the list. Plan Alpha-K.”

“I taught you too well,” you whisper, tugging her close and kissing her temple.

She melts into the hug for a second—just a second—before she pulls back with an almost wistful frown. “I wish I could come with you.”

“I know, baby.” You brush your thumb across her cheek. “But this is just for the girls. You’ve got a kingdom to help Dad rule while I’m gone.”

Her eyes light up at that. “Does that mean I get the crown?”

From the desk, Xaden cuts in dryly. “No.”

She spins around and marches over to him. “Why not? I already read the amendment to the Tyrrish Succession Treaty and everything. It doesn’t technically say heirs under ten can’t assume temporary authority—”

“I burned that amendment,” Xaden says with an arch of his brow. “You annotated it in red ink and included a doodle of yourself holding a sceptre.”

“It was artistic interpretation!”

You stifle your laughter as Xaden leans back in his chair, rubbing his temples with all the weariness of a man outnumbered by the brilliance—and persistence—of the women in his life.

Kaia pivots back to you. “Okay, fine. No crown. But if Dad falls asleep in a meeting again, I am declaring a National Dessert Day.”

You hold out a fist. She bumps it like the tiny revolutionary she is.

“Well, good,” she says primly. “Because as the acting Lady Regent while you're away, I need to be briefed on several things. First, the kitchen staff needs to understand that under no circumstances is Dad's allowed to cook. Not even toast. We all remember what happened last time.”

You press a hand over your mouth to hide your laugh, glancing over at Xaden, who’s watching from the desk with a raised brow and a wounded expression. “That fire was barely bigger than a candle,” he mutters.

Kaia ignores him entirely.

“Second,” she continues, tugging your hand and making you crouch so she can whisper in your ear like she’s sharing classified battle plans, “Liam keeps letting the palace boys bully him out of the courtyard when they spar. Just because he’s small doesn’t mean they should treat him like a baby. He’s the heir to Tyrrendor, and I keep telling him to act like it, but he says I’m bossy. Am I bossy?”

You smooth her hair, hiding your soft smile. “Only when you're right. Which, unfortunately for the rest of us, is often.”

Kaia beams, utterly pleased.

Then her arms are around your waist again, and her voice is soft in your side. “Be safe, Mama. And tell Aunt Violet I think her hair looks better short.”

You kiss the top of her head and breathe her in, letting yourself memorize the scent of wildflowers and parchment and sunshine that always seems to cling to her. “I will.”

She pulls back, brushing invisible dust off your traveling cloak. “I’ll watch over Liam,” she adds, more seriously now. “The kitchen boys were teasing him again. I’ll make them regret it.”

Your heart tightens.

Because Liam—twelve and bright and thoughtful—is still small for his age. Still soft around the edges. Still gentle in a world that hasn’t quite learned to stop testing him. He’s the heir to Tyrrendor, yes. But that doesn’t stop the older boys from pushing him around, doesn’t stop the whispers, the underestimation.

Kaia sees it. Feels it. And even if she’s younger, even if she’s half a head shorter, she’s got claws for him.

You crouch again, hand cupping her cheek. “Just make sure you don’t start a fire, okay?”

She grins. “Just a small one.”

Then she kisses your cheek, twirls on her heel, and dashes from the room with all the fury and elegance of the little queen she’s becoming.

And you’re left standing there with your bag over your shoulder, a half-packed bed behind you, and your husband watching you with that unreadable expression that still manages to stir heat low in your belly, even after all these years.

“You sure you want to leave me with her?” he mutters.

You flash him a grin. “I trust her more than you.”

“She’s eight.”

You shoulder your bag with a smirk. “And already running circles around you.”

From the hallway, you hear Liam mutter something about Kaia being “Queen of Overreacting,” followed by the sound of footsteps retreating quickly—probably realizing she’s within earshot.

“She just wants to protect him,” Xaden says behind you, voice low and warm, like the smell of the cedarwood soap he still insists on using. “Even if it comes out like a battle cry.”

You nod. It’s true. Liam may be the heir—the firstborn, the boy with the lineage and the weight of a crown already etched onto his shoulders—but he’s still small for his age. Sharp as a blade, sure, but not built for the kind of battlefield presence Xaden had at twelve. And he gets pushed around for it more often than he admits. Kaia, on the other hand, is half his size and twice as loud, and somehow convinced it’s her job to fight his battles and run the kingdom while you’re gone.

“She’ll take care of him,” you say softly, kissing the top of her head.

Kaia pulls back into the room, suddenly solemn. “I know I joke a lot,” she says, eyes wide and serious, “but I’ll be good, I promise. And I’ll take notes if anyone does anything especially stupid.”

“Please do.”

You stand and she wraps her arms around your waist one last time, squeezing tight before looking up at you with a grin that is all mischief and heart.

“Bring me back something expensive and shiny,” she says sweetly.

“Of course,” you laugh. “What kind of mother would I be if I didn’t?”

“A broke one,” Xaden mutters without looking up from his paperwork.

Kaia snickers and skips to the door, pausing only to give you a little wave. “Bye, Mama! Try not to kill Ridoc.”

“No promises!”

And then she’s gone, trailing chaos in her wake like a proper Riorson. You look back at your husband, who watches her go with a tired kind of fondness.

“She’s you,” you say.

“No,” he murmurs. “She’s you—just dressed in my temper.”

You laugh, heart full, and finally shoulder your bag with a sigh. The room feels quieter without Kaia’s whirlwind presence, but the warmth lingers.

And gods help Tyrrendor if she ever really does become Queen.

You cross the room slowly, giving yourself a moment to just look at him—at Xaden. Your husband. The King of Tyrrendor. The same boy who once stood beneath lightning-split skies and dared fate to take him first. Now he’s older, steady. His broad shoulders still carry the weight of too many things—battlefields, guilt, duty, your shared past—but there’s peace in the lines of his face now, etched beside the silver starting to dust the edges of his dark hair.

He groans softly and leans back in the chair, rubbing his temples like the stack of scrolls in front of him might catch fire if he so much as glances at them wrong.

You rest your hip on the edge of the desk, arms folded, teasing. “You know you’re allowed to delegate, Your Highness.”

He looks up, glancing at you over the tops of the papers. “I tried. Kaia told me my signature was unbalanced and revoked the parchment.”

You snort. “To be fair, she does have a decent eye for penmanship.”

“She’s eight,” he mutters.

“She’s Kaia,” you correct, sliding the paper off the top of the stack and reading it sideways. “Hmm. Budget request for a secondary aerial defence net over the west cliffs?”

“Yes, and apparently the only justification was ‘just in case.’” He groans again, slumping forward to rest his forehead on the desk. “I’m begging you. Take me with you.”

“Oh, absolutely not,” you laugh. “You’ll be fine. Garrick and Bodhi are here, Liam needs a confidence boost, and Kaia needs to be stopped before she rewrites the palace's entire line of succession.”

“I’m going to die,” he says into the desk.

You run your fingers through his hair, scratching lightly at the nape of his neck, and he hums like a man starved of touch—even after twelve years of marriage, two kids, and gods know how many war council meetings.

“Don’t you dare,” you murmur.

He turns his head just enough to look up at you with those dark, molten eyes. “I’ll miss you.”

Your heart tightens, just a little. “I’ll miss you too.”

And then, softer, teasing, “But not so much that I won’t enjoy having one night without someone barging into our bed because of a thunderstorm, a bad dream, or a heated debate about whether the moon is technically a weapon.”

He groans again, but this time it’s almost a laugh. “Liam started that argument.”

“And Kaia finished it.”

“With charts.”

You grin. “That’s our girl.”

He sits up slowly, taking your hand, pulling you between his knees so you’re close—so close—and the teasing fades from his eyes, replaced by that look. The one that says no matter how long it’s been, no matter how much life has shifted beneath your feet, you’ll always be it for him.

“Be careful,” he says, voice low and rough.

You lean down and kiss him—soft, slow, lingering like the promise of something waiting for you when you return.

“I always am,” you whisper.

He brushes his lips against yours once more before letting you go. “Tell Mira I said if she brings home another owl, I’m burning the aviary.”

“Noted.”

You sling the bag over your shoulder, give him one last wink, and turn toward the door.

Behind you, his voice is a low murmur, reverent and amused all at once. “You were always the dangerous one.”

You glance back, smiling. “Still am.”

And then you’re gone—out into the corridor, toward the echo of voices and laughter and friends waiting to whisk you away, just for a little while, from crowns and chaos and the most loving kind of madness that is your family.

And stars, you wouldn’t trade any of it for the world.

The halls of the Tyrrendor royal residence are quieter than usual—too quiet, which immediately tells you Kaia is either plotting something or Liam finally got her to leave him alone long enough to hide in the library. The soft echo of your boots against the marble floors is the only sound as you descend the wide staircase, the weight of your travel bag slung across your shoulder and the lingering warmth of Xaden’s kiss still pressed to your lips.

You adjust your grip and keep moving, the grand archways of the lower wing coming into view—and with them, voices. Familiar, chaotic, ridiculous voices.

“No, Ridoc, for the last time, you cannot come just because you say you identify as ‘emotionally feminine.’”

“That’s a legitimate excuse!” he protests. “Besides, you need someone to carry things. I’m very strong. Exceptionally strong. Just ask—”

“Absolutely not,” Mira says, cutting him off with that patented General tone that makes even grown riders snap to attention. “You’re here because Kaia invited you and you had the audacity to say yes.”

“She said I was essential to the operation,” Ridoc insists, arms spread like he’s appealing to a jury. “Her words, not mine.”

You turn the corner into the vestibule and laugh at the sight before you.

Rhiannon is perched on the edge of a chaise, hair braided back tight and face buried in the packing list she wrote for everyone two weeks ago. Maren and Cat are sorting through supplies, arguing about whether it’s “overkill” to bring five daggers each—spoiler: it’s not. Mira is checking a map and muttering about schedules. Sloane is sitting beside Violet on a bench, both of them sipping tea, looking serene in a way that only ever precedes absolute chaos. And Ridoc… well, Ridoc is standing in the center of it all with a satchel slung dramatically across his chest, already wearing tinted glasses like you’re going somewhere tropical instead of the Aretian coast.

“Sorry I’m late,” you announce as you walk in, and eight heads turn toward you like a synchronized squadron. Violet’s face lights up immediately.

“You’re never late,” she says, standing to hug you. “We were starting to worry Xaden locked you in a room and threw away the key.”

“He tried,” you murmur, grinning as you return her hug. “But Kaia overruled him.”

“I knew she was my favourite niece,” Rhiannon says brightly.

“She’s everyone’s favourite niece,” Mira sighs. “Including mine, and I’m not even biologically allowed to pick favourites or Leia would end me.”

You drop your bag by the others and stretch your arms with a groan. “She’s planning a full security audit while I’m gone. And apparently Xaden is forbidden from cooking.”

“Smart girl,” Maren nods.

Cat tosses you a piece of dried fruit. “We’re packed, provisioned, and Ridoc has agreed to carry all our bags.”

“Wait, what?” Ridoc sputters, but Violet just pats his shoulder as she passes.

“You’re emotionally feminine, remember?” she teases. “Lean into the nurturing energy.”

“You’re all going to miss me when I marry rich and leave you behind.”

“You say that every week,” Imogen mutters, grabbing her pack.

You laugh again, warmth blooming in your chest as you look around at this ridiculous, perfect group—your friends, your family. The war was years ago, the revolution even longer, but this? This is peace. This is yours.

“All right,” Mira says, rolling up the map and tucking it under her arm. “Let’s go before someone gets cold feet.”

“Or Xaden shows up shirtless in the hall and begs you to stay,” Cat grins.

“Don’t give him ideas,” you say, hoisting your bag. “He already tried that move twice.”

They laugh, and together, the eight of you head for the doors—toward the carriage, toward freedom, toward a weekend of laughter and stars and chaos. And, if Ridoc has anything to say about it, probably at least one spa day and a very expensive bottle of wine.

You don’t look back.

You’ll be home soon enough.

Tyrrendor Royal Residence, Evening

The fire crackles softly in the hearth, casting golden light over the rich stonework and high-vaulted ceilings of the reading chamber. The scent of burning cedar mixes with old pages and Fern’s faint, warm dog smell—a comfort all on its own.

Liam is sprawled across the couch, one arm slung over his face, a thick leather-bound history book open across his chest. The other arm is draped over the gangly mass of limbs and fur that is Fern, their shaggy, brown-footed Gordon Setter who has made herself very comfortable using the twelve-year-old as a full-body cushion. Her tail thumps against the cushion every time Liam shifts beneath her weight, a silent protest that he should stay still.

Kaia, eight years old going on eighty, is curled on the floor in front of the fireplace, her legs crossed, her posture absurdly perfect as she reads aloud quietly to herself from a diplomatic theory tome that probably should’ve bored her to sleep fifteen minutes ago. But Kaia doesn’t do boring. She does analysis, logic, and the occasional ruthless breakdown of someone’s psychological weaknesses—for fun.

The door creaks open, letting in a gust of cooler air and the heavy sound of bootsteps.

“Evening, squirt,” Garrick says as he walks in first, nodding toward Liam with an easy grin and ruffling his dark hair as he passes. “Didn’t see you out in the courtyard this afternoon. Bunch of the other heirs were doing sparring drills.”

Bodhi trails behind, tossing a wrapped sweet into his mouth. “Yeah, I saw the Ironcrest boys working the heavy blades. You could’ve joined them, right?”

Xaden walks in last, tall and quiet and very, very still.

There’s no mistaking the flash of warning in his eyes, the subtle shift of muscle in his jaw. His gaze narrows—just slightly—but Garrick doesn’t miss it.

“Easy,” he mutters under his breath, lifting both hands in surrender.

“Liam’s got time,” Xaden says evenly, walking past and setting a stack of correspondence on the sideboard. “He’s ahead of his studies. There’s more than one way to prepare to lead.”

But Liam’s shoulders have already tensed beneath Fern. His face remains neutral, but there’s a flicker of something beneath it—shame, or maybe that low-grade anxiety he’s carried since he turned eleven and everyone started expecting him to be someone. To be Xaden Riorson’s son.

“Please,” Kaia mutters from the floor without even looking up, “he’s not training because he doesn’t want to get beaten up again.”

The room stills.

Xaden turns sharply. “Kaia—”

“He didn’t even tell anyone,” she continues, flipping a page like she’s reciting weather patterns. “They broke his ribs. A week ago. Brennan mended him before anyone else found out.”

“Shut up, Kaia!” Liam snaps, sitting up so fast Fern lets out a soft yip of surprise and scrambles off him.

Kaia finally looks up from her book. “Well, it’s true, and you shouldn’t be ashamed of it. They ganged up on you because you’re smaller and quiet and smarter than all of them combined, but you don’t have to be quiet—”

“I said shut up!” Liam’s voice cracks with the sharp edge of hurt that makes him sound younger than twelve. “Why do you always have to run your mouth?”

“Why do you always let them hurt you?” Kaia shoots back, rising to her feet, her cheeks flushed with rising anger. “You think hiding it makes you stronger? It makes you a coward!”

“Kaia,” Xaden barks, his tone edged with authority now. “Enough.”

But neither of them hears him. Not really. The fire snaps behind them like the tension in the room, and Liam’s fists are balled at his sides.

“I’m not a coward!” he yells. “You don’t know what it’s like—every time I go out there, they look at me like I’m some little kid who got lucky being born first. Like I didn’t earn anything!”

“You don’t try! You sit around with Fern and read while everyone else is out learning to fight! You let them walk all over you and then pretend it’s fine!”

“I hate you!”

“Good! I hate you more!”

Xaden moves, quick as lightning, stepping between them—but Liam’s already storming for the door, brushing past Garrick and Bodhi without a word.

“Liam!” Xaden calls, low and sharp. “Liam, stop—”

The door slams hard enough to rattle the sconces.

Kaia stands in the middle of the room, shoulders heaving, eyes brimming but defiant. “He always runs away. He always runs.”

Xaden rounds on her, but his voice is softer now. Not gentler—just lower. Controlled. Dangerous in a different way. “And that gives you permission to humiliate him? Publicly?”

She opens her mouth, but Garrick holds up a hand. “Let her sit with it, Xaden. Let both of them.”

Xaden’s jaw flexes. For a moment, he looks like he might snap the nearest chair in half.

Fern whines softly and pads toward the door where Liam disappeared, ears low.

Kaia stares at the fire again, her lower lip trembling now that the adrenaline is gone.

And Xaden—Xaden just sinks onto the couch, one hand over his face, like the weight of fatherhood and peace is somehow heavier than war ever was.

Xaden exhales slowly through his nose, the kind of measured breath that’s meant to calm, but does absolutely nothing to untangle the knot of rage and helplessness pulling tighter in his chest. He drops his hand from his face and looks at the flames instead, watching as they lick over the charred logs like they’re trying to burn through the tension still crackling in the room.

Fern whines again at the door, then pads back to sit beside the couch, pressing her head against his knee like she’s asking him to fix it—like she knows he can’t.

Garrick’s voice is the first to break the silence. “Kaia.”

She doesn’t look up from the fire. Her arms are crossed tight over her chest, jaw clenched, face blotchy from holding back the flood she’s too stubborn to release.

“What exactly happened?” Garrick asks, softer this time. Not as the General. As Uncle Garrick. “To Liam.”

Kaia’s throat bobs as she swallows, and for a second it looks like she might stay silent. But then she huffs out a breath and shakes her head. “He didn’t tell me,” she says. “Not really. I found out because I walked in on Brennan healing him in the north wing. I wasn’t supposed to see, and Brennan made me swear not to say anything, but—” She cuts off, her voice tightening. “He looked like he met Malek. His ribs were black and blue, and he couldn’t even breathe without flinching.”

Xaden stiffens. “Who?” The word is barely a growl, cold and low.

Kaia shrugs, finally turning toward them. “He wouldn’t say. But it happened in the training yards. The day they let the Ironcrest and Marhen boys spar. I guess they made a ring and kept pushing him in. Liam said it was a game—that it was ‘all in fun.’”

“Fucking hell,” Bodhi mutters, dragging a hand down his face. “They jumped him.”

“He’s small,” Kaia says quietly. “They know he’s the heir, but he doesn’t look like one. So they test him. He never fights back.”

“Because he’s trying to prove he’s better than them,” Garrick mutters, pacing toward the hearth. “Godsdammit.”

“I only brought it up because…” Kaia's voice falters again. “He just keeps shrinking, and no one’s saying anything. You always tell us that protecting people means seeing them, and he’s right there, hurting, and no one even notices!”

Xaden presses a hand against his mouth, the fury in his veins starting to lose its edge, replaced by something colder. He didn’t miss it. Not really. He saw the way Liam flinched last week when Fern jumped up on him too hard. The stiffness in his posture when he sat down for dinner. The way he always seemed to vanish around sparring hours. He just… didn’t push.

Because he wanted Liam to come to him. Because he thought maybe giving his son space was the better option than pressing into his pride. Because Xaden, for all his commanding presence and ruthless intellect, still found himself lost in the damn dark when it came to fatherhood.

“You did the right thing, telling us,” he says finally, voice rough.

Kaia blinks, surprised.

“I know you’re trying to protect him,” he adds. “But sometimes protecting someone means letting them be seen—even when they don’t want to be.”

Kaia swipes at her cheek with the back of her sleeve. “Do you think he’s okay?”

Xaden stands. His shadow stretches long and tall across the room. “No,” he says. “But I’m going to find him.”

And then, without waiting for anyone else to respond, he heads for the door, Fern trailing faithfully at his side, both of them moving into the night to find the boy who wears his eyes—and all of his weight.

The corridor to Liam’s wing is quiet, unusually so. The kind of quiet that seeps into the stone itself, amplifying every footstep until they echo like memories.

Xaden’s boots tread heavily down the long hall, Fern’s claws clicking beside him in a staccato rhythm, like she’s urging him forward. The guards posted at the entrance to the family quarters straighten when they see him, but he waves them off without a word. His jaw is tight. His brows drawn low. The air around him hums with restrained power, with the fury of a father who’s failed to see something he should have.

He reaches Liam’s door and lifts a fist to knock—firm but not loud. He doesn’t want to startle him. He just wants to talk.

“Liam,” he says, voice steady. “Open the door.”

Nothing. No shuffle of feet, no sound of movement. Just silence.

Fern whines softly and presses her nose to the seam beneath the door.

Xaden frowns, heart picking up pace. “Liam, I know you’re in there. Let me in, son.”

Still nothing.

He places a hand on the wood. “I’m not here to yell. I just want to talk.”

A beat.

Then—

“Go away!”

The words slam against the wood as hard as a spell-cast. Liam’s voice is cracked, frayed at the edges, too loud to hide the fact that it’s trembling.

“I’m not leaving,” Xaden says, jaw tightening.

“You should!” Liam yells from the other side. “I don’t want to talk to you! I don’t want to talk to anyone! Just go!”

Xaden’s stomach sinks. He leans his forehead against the door.

“Liam,” he murmurs.

“You didn’t see it,” his son screams. “You didn’t even notice! And now everyone’s looking at me like I’m some fragile little prince who can’t hold his own. And Kaia—Kaia told everyone!”

“I didn’t need her to,” Xaden says quietly. “I saw it, Liam. I saw it, and I should’ve asked. That’s on me.”

A choked sound breaks through the wood—half a sob, half a breath held too long.

Xaden closes his eyes. “You didn’t deserve what happened to you. You didn’t deserve to carry it alone.”

“Don’t—don’t say that like you know,” Liam shouts. “You’ve never been like me! You’re not small, or quiet, or scared! You’re the Rebellion’s Weapon. You’re you! And I’m just…” His voice fades. “I’m just nothing.”

Xaden’s heart twists, a raw, deep pain he hasn’t felt since the war, since holding someone he loved in his arms while the world fell apart.

“You are everything,” he says fiercely. “You are everything I ever hoped my son would be.”

“Then why do I feel like I disappoint you every time I walk in a room?”

Silence.

And then the soft sound of a quiet sob Liam doesn’t manage to swallow.

Fern whines again, pawing gently at the door.

“Liam,” Xaden says, low and aching. “Please. Let me in.”

But the lock stays bolted. And Liam’s voice returns, softer this time. Fragile. “I can’t. I don’t want you to see me like this.”

“I don’t care how you look. I care that you’re hurting.”

Another pause. Another breath.

“Just… just go,” Liam says again, his voice breaking. “Please, Dad. Just go.”

Xaden stands there a long time. Long enough that the fire torches down the hall begin to dim. Long enough that Fern lies down and rests her chin on her paws with a heavy sigh.

He presses his hand against the door once more, as if he could reach through it and wrap his arms around the boy on the other side. His son. His legacy. His heart.

“I’ll be right outside,” he says softly. “Whenever you’re ready.”

And then he sits. Right there on the cold stone floor. His back against the door. Guarding his son in silence—not as a king, not as a warrior. But as a father who refuses to walk away again.

Two hours.

That’s how long Xaden sits there, back pressed to the cold wooden door of his son’s room, knees drawn up, arms draped loosely across them as Fern sleeps beside him. The hallway has long since grown quiet. No servants pass. No guards linger nearby. Just the crackle of distant torches and the subtle tick of time bleeding out.

He’s not sure what he expected—maybe Liam cracking the door open just a sliver. Maybe one of those sigh-heavy reconciliations you read in books, or that one sob that leads to a father pulling his son into his chest and promising him he’s not alone.

But the door never opens.

Not even a shuffle of feet. Just the distant sound of a boy crying—quiet now, muffled behind the thick stone walls. Like Liam has pressed his face into his pillow and is trying to drown the sound in cotton.

And maybe that’s what breaks Xaden more than anything else.

He scrubs a hand over his face and leans his head back against the door, his neck stiff from the angle, his heart heavier than it’s been in years. Not even the revolution weighed this much, he thinks grimly. That war had a path. A purpose. This?

This is his son—his baby—hurting, and pushing him away, and he can’t do a godsdamn thing about it.

He closes his eyes. He’s not used to giving up. It’s not in his blood. But something in his chest tells him that staying now—forcing it—might do more damage than good.

So, with the weight of failure dragging on every limb, he exhales one long, shuddering breath and slowly rises to his feet.

Fern lifts her head, confused, tail twitching.

“I know, girl,” he murmurs, brushing his fingers behind her ears. “I hate it too.”

He turns back to the door, resting one palm flat against the wood. “I meant what I said,” he whispers. “I’m right here, whenever you’re ready.”

Then, before he can change his mind—or let the guilt devour him whole—he turns and walks away, the hem of his black tunic whispering against the stone, the shadows swallowing him up as he disappears down the hall.

Behind him, Fern hesitates for a beat longer… and then follows.

And in the silence that follows, only the sound of a quiet sniffle remains, buried deep within the locked room where a twelve-year-old boy curls up and quietly lets himself break.

Xaden’s steps are slow as he walks back through the winding halls of the residence, each footfall echoing too loud in the quiet. The kind of silence that hangs heavy with the things that weren’t said, the comfort he couldn’t give, the son he couldn’t reach.

His shoulders sag with the weight of it. The defeat.

He pushes open the double doors to the main sitting room, the warm glow of the hearth spilling across the stone floor like it’s trying to offer some semblance of peace. But peace feels far away tonight.

Garrick looks up from the armchair near the fire as the doors whisper shut behind Xaden. His expression is unreadable—not surprised, not judgmental. Just there. Steady in the way only Garrick ever is. His hands are steepled over his stomach, one boot propped over the other knee as he leans back in the deep brown leather, eyes tracking every exhausted line on Xaden’s face.

No one speaks at first.

And maybe that’s a kindness.

Bodhi sits on the long couch closest to the fire, slouched down far enough that the curve of his arm is a perfect cradle. Kaia is tucked into his side like a little shadow, her tiny hand fisted in the fabric of his shirt, dark curls falling over her brow. Her cheek is pressed against his chest, mouth slightly open in the deep, dreamless sleep of the utterly spent.

The flames catch in her onyx eyes—closed now—and make her look impossibly small.

Bodhi’s head lifts when Xaden enters, but he doesn’t move, careful not to disturb her. “She cried herself to sleep,” he says softly, voice a murmur meant not to wake her. “Kept saying she didn’t mean to make it worse.”

Xaden swallows hard.

“She was scared for him,” Bodhi adds after a moment. “Guess she didn’t know it’d hurt him more.”

“She’s eight,” Xaden murmurs, stepping further into the room, each word a sigh. “She shouldn’t be worrying about her brother breaking ribs in a training ring.”

Garrick shifts in his chair, his voice quiet but pointed. “And he shouldn’t be getting his ribs broken in the first place.”

Xaden glances at him, the tired lines around his mouth pulling tighter.

“He wouldn’t let me in,” he admits.

Bodhi’s brows draw together. “Still?”

Xaden nods once.

“I sat there for two hours,” he says, voice low. “He cried. I heard him crying. And he still told me to go.”

Garrick doesn’t say anything at first. He just looks at him with eyes that have known Xaden longer than almost anyone alive. Then, finally, he nods once toward the fire.

“Sit down,” he says simply. “You look like you just lost a battle.”

Xaden huffs a humourless breath. “Didn’t even get to draw my weapon.”

But he moves anyway, taking the seat across from Garrick, elbows on his knees, hands tangled together. The firelight catches on the silver threads at his temples, makes the weight of age and fatherhood look like armor he never asked to wear.

Fern settles beside the couch, curling beneath the table like even she’s exhausted.

The only sound for a long while is the crackle of firewood and the slow, steady breaths of Kaia sleeping against Bodhi’s side.

And in that room, dimly lit and warm, surrounded by people who love his children like their own, Xaden closes his eyes for a brief moment—and lets the ache in his chest bloom into something raw and wordless.

Because this isn’t war.

This is something far more delicate.

And gods, he doesn’t know how to win.

Part 2....

A/N: I was not intending it to get so long for it to turn into a mini series but here we areeeeeeeeee Comments, thoughts and reblogs would be really appreciated

Credit to @empyreanevents for the divider

#fourth wing #fourth wing x reader #iron flame x reader #xaden x reader #fourth wing xaden #xaden rirorson x you #xaden riorson x reader #xaden riorson #xaden riorson x y/n #xaden riorson fanfic

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pullupinarari · 3 months ago

Text

The Secret of Us [LH]

II. The Flame of Us

summary: a 5 chapter miniseries in which Lewis chooses you to coordinate one of his new projects, but the instant spark flicking between the two of you makes the professional lines grow a little blurry. do the both of you feel the same?

author’s note: the very much awaited chapter two is finally here! i'm not allowed to have any more horny hours after this one istg 😭 thank you girls for all the support you showed me on the first chapter of this plot that I love so much! hope you enjoy this 🩷

warnings: yall this is a big ass smut with very little plot ngl 😭 MINORS DNI!! p in v, protected AND unprotected sex cause i'm crazy, some hair pulling and a lot of filthiness. let me know if i'm missing something!

• masterlist

wc: 10 171 - English is not my first language! Feedback is always appreciated

After Lewis’ invitation, you are left confused, divided between a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’, your hands softly trembling as your brain tries to process his words.

Standing in the middle of your office, with your desk working as a wall between your bodies, your eyes are connected to his, while you’re both trying to read each other.

Lewis’ hand is tightening around the arm rest of your chair, an attempt to hold himself up so his knees won’t buckle at the suspense you’re creating, the silence diving in between your bodies being enough for his blood to rush with anxiety.

Please, Y/N. Don’t leave me here like this. I don’t know how much longer I can take it. I need an answer.

It’s like the four walls surrounding you are getting smaller and tighter as the minutes go by, making it harder for you to breathe while you continue thinking about his offer. A dinner out, with your company’s most important client, behind your boss’ back? It seems like the perfect plan to get you fired, honestly - and you’re not in the mood to lose your job, right now.

Your brain keeps telling you to decline his invitation, to please say no, for yours and everyone else’s sake. Don’t create a problem where everything is peaceful and nice. You like your job, your boss isn’t that bad, you have a good position at the company, and if nothing is going wrong, why would you actively try to find a fire to burn yourself in?

On the other hand, your heart - that stubborn little organ that always likes to play hard to get, but that somehow, has softened up so much at the sight of Lewis and the little moments you’ve shared - it’s the responsible one for all the doubts clouding in your mind, for the warmth erupting through your chest every time his name pops on your phone screen. And it’s the one telling you to accept it, to have dinner with the man in front of you, to enjoy some more alone time with him out of the cage that your office currently represents when you’re together.

Each emotion has a different weight on your shoulders, making you feel almost incapable of making a decision. You have given your all to this company, during the years that you’ve been working here - you have worked many extra hours, more than you were supposed to, even taking a series of work projects home, to finish in the middle of the night, losing all sleep so you could change projects overnight, just because the clients decided so.

And still, having met so many different people, no one has ever made you feel the way that Lewis does. No matter how wrong this might look, it definitely doesn’t feel wrong inside of you whenever he gets close to you, whenever you hug, when he leans over your chair so you can notice his perfume. And maybe you need to put yourself first for once, instead of continuously giving your all to your work and career. Where does your love life stand in the middle of all this, in the end?

Taking a deep breath, you finally decide to break the uncomfortable silence that felt enough to drown your bodies.

Fuck it. He’s right, it’s been time already. Give yourself a try, Y/N. - you think to yourself.

- I guess you win, Lewis. And I really do like Italian food. - a smile is attached to your words, feeling the weight of your choice already, scared of what can happen, but still confident about your decision.

Suddenly, the world stopped for Lewis, feeling that the most subtle glimpse of happiness has spread across his entire body, lifting away all the worries and anxious thoughts that were consuming him lately.

You said yes. You accepted his invitation, he is officially going to take you on a date. The man can’t even believe the words that just left your mouth, letting the widest of smiles finally show up in his face, as he leaves his place from behind your desk, walking over to meet your figure again.

- Are you being serious? - he whispers, almost afraid of breaking the bright bubble that you got him into, right now. His fingers are careful when reaching for your face, gently caressing your cheek, making you blush while you nod your head ‘yes’ at him. - Yeah? - he confirms again, earning another nod from you, laced with a loving giggle escaping your lips as he keeps insisting.

- Italian it is, then. Saturday night? I’ll pick you up - Lewis tells you, his chocolate eyes melting into yours as he continuously gets lost in them, leaving him to fight the urge to taste your lips while he’s still caressing your skin. - I guess we got ourselves a deal, Hamilton - you smile at him, defying the tone by calling him by his last name instead of the first, as you usually did. And somehow, the way you refer to him always makes his eyes darken a little more, his heart feeling hot in his chest, making him gulp, desperate to restrain himself from showing you how badly he wants you.

Instead, he just nods at you, with a different sparkle covering his eyes now, a fulfilled smile on the man’s features - already wishing for time to pass by faster, eager to see you outside the four walls of your office.

Inside of your minds, it feels like Saturday takes a while to arrive. Both yearning for the day to finally be here so you could go out together, getting to know the versions of the other that are forced to be kept away when you’re surrounded by a professional environment.

The weekend finally comes, and while some shy rays of sun are trying to wake you up, the ping on your phone, indicating that you just received a new message, it’s what really pulls you out of your slumber.

Lewis’ name pops on the screen, and there’s a tingling feeling growing in your belly already, a blush spreading on your cheeks, as if it’s the first time that he texts you.

‘Good morning, Y/N. I know we’re out of office hours, but I had to email you some important info from the suppliers, about the new pieces we were planning on doing. Please take a look if you can. By the way, wear something fancy tonight. I can’t wait to see you - I already know you’ll look stunning.’ - the text reads, and it amazes you how this man has the ability to make your face burn, stealing a giggle from you even with just a message.

Sighing softly, you reply back with a simple ‘got it. I’ll check the email asap’ - ignoring his compliment, not wanting to give into his ego that much already. Working on some tasks you had to get done for work, time passed by a little faster, until it’s almost time to get ready for your date with Lewis.

It’s almost impossible not to feel nervous, and that goes to the both of you. While your heart is racing in your chest, your hands softly trembling when you zip the dress you had chosen for tonight, Lewis is still diving inside his closet. The man who is constantly seen in public events, always causing different reactions with his outfits, is now feeling the pressure to look his absolute best, just for your eyes to see - the most important ones for him.

At 8 pm sharp, your doorbell rings - just as you had agreed. Applying some perfume, you gather your jacket and purse, taking a deep breath before opening the front door of your house.

Once you do, your eyes fall on Lewis - sharing an anxious smile with you, while slowly eyeing your figure from top to bottom, his gaze burning you already, as he needs to refrain from biting his lip at the sight in front of him.

If he could have it his way, he would forget all about the dinner reservation that he prepared for the two of you, dying to just dive into your lips, tasting your flavour, finally allowing his hands to freely roam through your silhouette.

But tonight is about more than just that, it’s about the opportunity to get to know more of you, the secret sides of your personality that you can’t show him during office hours, so the man forces himself to take a deep breath, regaining his senses and trying not to drool at the sight of you - something that he has been forced to do in every single meeting with you, as well.

- Absolutely stunning, as always, Miss Y/N - the man finally speaks, reaching for your hand to kiss your knuckles like a true gentleman.

His silliness always makes a smile appear in your features, mentally cursing yourself as you feel your cheeks growing red already. Oh boy, you already know this is going to be a long night.

- You don’t look too bad yourself, Sir Hamilton - there you go again, playing with his mind with the damn ‘Sir’ title, that always seems to fall from your lips in the most sultry way that Lewis has ever heard.

Both of your insides are already catching fire just at the strong presence of your auras colliding, trying to meet once and for all, only to be interrupted by your will to keep your composures, not letting the little devils on your shoulders to win just yet.

Opening his arm just a little so you can intertwine your arm with his, the man shows you a wink.

- Ready to go? The restaurant awaits for your gracious presence - both of you laugh in unison at Lewis’ words, who’s slowly feeling some of the anxiety leaving his body for good, growing confident and comfortable the more he makes you laugh with his jokes.

You knew that the man would bring his up game tonight, but you never expected to have an entire balcony just for yourselves, allowing your eyes to admire the best view of the entire city, while having dinner at one of the most prestigious Italian restaurants in London.

Your job allows you to live a comfortable life, to travel around the world, to eat at some of the best restaurants there are, but that’s not the most important part of life for you. And tonight, it’s like you don’t even know how to act.

Sitting at your table, you look around, noticing every detail of your surroundings. The small, romantic candles that are strategically positioned on the table and throughout the entire space you’re staying in.

Lewis sees your eyes wandering around the balcony, admiring the place he booked for the two of you. However, he feels like he’s losing you, craving your attention already, wanting to feel your eyes on him again. So, his fingers gently travel through the table, meeting yours in a soft, deliberate movement.

Grounding you for a second, bringing you back to reality, to the person in front of you, he finally catches your gaze, giving you a soft smile as his fingers keep touching yours, a small gesture that you are soon to reciprocate, feeling how warm his skin feels when compared to yours, how the night seems to grow quiet while you’re focused in the other’s touch.

- Hey, you - Lewis says, his tone low and soft, almost slow, as if his brain is trying to decipher the best way to kick off this evening. - Hey - you giggle softly, feeling shy when compared to the magnitude of the space surrounding you. - There was no need for all this, Lewis. I would’ve been just as happy to have McDonald’s inside your car, parked somewhere where we could see the sunset. - you say, truthfully, feeling slightly out of place at all the fanciness surrounding you.

You are a simple girl, above all. And Lewis knows it. Throughout these last weeks, he learned how you don’t really care about fame, power, and fancy restaurants. He learned that you would rather have breakfast at your favorite small bakery, next to your house, instead of having a breakfast typical of five star hotels. How the scones he would bring you, would absolutely make your entire day when you were stressed, desperate to go home and find one of your books, cooking your favorite meal just to make you feel a bit more sane.

He knows that you would be fine with a nice pasta or even just a pizza, better even if you would ask for it in takeaway, eating it with your pajamas on, while watching your favorite show in his company. And that’s one of the infinite things that he loves about you already. But tonight is a special night for the two of you, so he decided to do something different - realizing that you really deserve something as special as you are, in his eyes.

- I know - he giggles at your idea. - Maybe we can do that on our next date, how about that?

The tips of your fingers are still intertwining, moving to caress the other’s skin from time to time, even when the waiter puts the dishes in front of you two. It’s a comfortable, small touch, that carries all the meaning of how badly you don’t want to let go of one another.

- Already thinking about a second date, Hamilton? You don’t even know if you’ll survive this one, yet - you joke, an eyebrow raised at him in a provocative tone, smirking at the way he loses his composure at your wittiness.

You might be joking, but Lewis knows that you’re right. He feels himself on the verge of losing his sanity just by the way your hands are connected, he needs to force his brain to stay in this moment, and refusing to picture where this night might take you two, feeling like he could run out of air if he gets to feel more than just your hand in his.

- You’re right, Miss. But I plan on making it out alive, I plan on both of us enjoying tonight as much as possible without killing each other in the process. And maybe we can repeat these sorts of events, no? Amongst other things… - he cracks a bit, feeling his cheeks growing a bit warmer as well, trying to disguise it with a sip on his cup of wine.

You might repeat it, if tonight feels worth the second part to everything that’s playing in your mind so far. It’s like your fingers are tingling to get Lewis out of the jacket that’s safely covering his tattoos, his toned chest, the strong arms that you just picture wrapped around you, while his plump lips are attached to your neck - making a devilish grin appear in your face the more you pay attention to your thoughts while looking at the man in front of you.

The way you two get along so well, as if you’ve been friends for years, amazes you. How the conversation seems to flow so effortlessly, laughs, giggles and blushing cheeks erupting between your figures, making the night seem warmer, cozier, away from all the pressure that once was felt in the pit of your stomachs.

It’s like the world outside doesn’t exist. As if you don’t have to worry about your work duties, about you and Lewis being business partners, your brain not even thinking about your boss and how he would completely lose his mind if he found out that you and Lewis Hamilton are out on a date, on this Saturday night. Tonight, none of that matters to you.

As time passes by, the touches between your frames start longing for more, the tips of your digits touching, slowly become completely intertwined fingers, trying to feed yourselves off the small crumbs of warmth you can get from the other, when the table insists on distancing your bodies.

Once you two had finished your dishes, Lewis decides to get up, stretching his hand for you to take, carefully welcoming your body closer to his, finally savouring your proximity without a table in between your figures.

There’s not an ounce of shyness pooling in your body anymore, not after feeling so comfortable around the man in front of you - so, you take the first step, gluing your shape to his, until he is wrapping his arms around you, your hands gently caressing his chest through his buttoned up shirt.

Your eyes don’t leave each other’s features, even with the most breathtaking view of London in front of you - Lewis is everything you want to look at, engraving all his details in you, in the same way he keeps focusing all his attention in you, an enamoured smile splattered all over his face, his hands softly rubbing your back, as if you are the most precious thing he has ever touched.

- This view is gorgeous - he says, smiling even wider when the sparkle in your gaze matches his. - It sure is - you agree, making the man lose it a bit more as he feels the intensity growing between your shadows, to the point of becoming absolutely unbearable.

There they are: the butterflies, flying from your stomach into the air, surrounding you and Lewis, creating an invisible string that just seems to pull your bodies together more and more, as if that was possible - wishing you could melt your skin into his, at this point.

One of the man’s hands leaves your back, finding its place on your cheek, putting a strand of hair behind your ear, giving him more access to your details, carefully touching you, seeing the way you’re suppressing a smile out of embarrassment.

Burning in desire for each other, you both reach for the other’s lips, almost at the same time, finally giving in to all the building tension on your bodies, that just continued growing for weeks on end.

With Lewis’ hand safely cupping your face, one of your hands reaches for the man’s neck, both of you holding the other as close as humanly possible, your lips finally savouring each other - getting to taste the sweet cherry that both of you have been craving for so long, dreaming of it to the point of almost driving you insane.

And now, it’s definitely driving you wild. Your tongues finally meet, clashing together as you explore the other’s mouth, the adventure feeling so new yet so familiar, as if you had known each other’s body for so long, from daydreaming about this moment so much.

The world completely stopped now. Everything went silent, and it’s just you and Lewis living this fiery moment between your souls, sharing all the emotions and sensations travelling through your bodies with one another.

Neither of you wants to break the kiss, insisting on remaining connected, even if you’re running out of breath - searching for oxygen in the other, breathing each other’s warmth and passion.

But once you’re forced to distance your mouths, desperate to catch some air, your lips still long on his skin, caressing his cheek lovingly, as your foreheads remain glued, your noses touching, maintaining the typical eye contact that you two are used to already.

There’s a moment of silence, but neither of you needs to say anything: your bodies, your connection speaks for yourselves, and the infatuated smiles on both your faces aligns with the soft eyes, caring touches as you try to come even closer to each other, Lewis reaching out to hold you safely in his arms again.

It definitely doesn’t feel real. After dreaming about it for so many weeks, it finally happened - your lips finally met, in an ardent, burning reunion that held all the desperation travelling between your bodies since the first time you saw each other, after all the times where your mouths threatened to kiss on their own will.

Lewis is in awe, completely in love with you, without a doubt that you are everything that he wants, everything he needs, giving him all the feelings he wants to keep close to his heart, sensing the way they make his heart beat faster, the type of adrenaline that he only finds when he’s near you.

Without enough words to describe this moment, the man reaches to catch your lips in his again, giving you another long kiss, showing you how badly he wanted this to happen, how many times he pictured this moment, and how perfect it is in reality, way better than any dream he could have while being alone in between the sheets of his cold bed.

- Your lips are sweeter than any scone we could have at your office - he jokes, after pecking your lips a few more times.

This is the type of intimacy that you never had with anyone else in your life - the type of connection that you can feel in your soul, reaching the darkest corners of your insides, not leaving one single part of you unnoticed, seeing you in your entirety.

Breaking the tension between your bodies, you feel yourself relaxing as you wrap your arms around his neck now, allowing a chuckle to escape your lips as you roll your eyes playfully at his words.

- You’re such a prick - you complement his inside joke, seeing the way he feels comfortable to laugh out loud now, feeling his shoulders shake under your touch, his giggles being enough to make flowers erupt inside of you, leading to new butterflies to appear. - Yeah, but you seem to like it quite a lot - he whispers teasingly, capturing your lips in his again, in a sloppy yet hungry kiss, trying his best to hold all the impatience running through him at the anticipation of having more of you.

But he can only do so much, so Lewis’ hands slowly travel down your waist, testing the waters at the way you react when he reaches for your bum, gently rubbing it while you are one who looks for his mouth now, growing needier for him just as much. He smirks into the kiss, hearing the almost unnoticeable little hums that you let out as his hands continue touching your backside, grabbing your ass hungrily as he deepens the kiss again - showing you how he can’t wait to get out of here.

However, he still has some remarks to make. Admiring the figure in front of him, his eyes land on the navy blue dress that you carefully choose for tonight, one that hugs your body perfectly, leaving very little to his imagination, but one that desperately leaves him wanting more and more from this date.

- You look divine in this dress, darlin’ - he says sweetly, with a hint of seductiveness in his tone, while his hands are still dedicated to your ass, through the fabric of your outfit.

You know, that’s why you picked it for this date. You were sure that it would drive Lewis mad, and you can’t control the knowing smirk that shows up on your features when he compliments you. And finally, you decide to play your last card:

- What if I told you that I only chose it so you could take it off? - you seductively whisper in his ear, reaching to bite his ear lobe, chanting victory in your head as you notice the way he physically reacts to your words: gulping, his hands tighten the hold on your bum, unable to hold himself back from landing a cheeky little slap on your left ass cheek, before growing serious and asking you “what are we waiting for, then?”

With fire in your eyes, you leave the restaurant, hand in hand with the man whose perfume keeps igniting a burning desire inside of you, making it almost impossible for you to keep track of everything that’s happening around you.

The atmosphere between you two could set everything ablaze inside the car, as you steal glances at each other’s features, silly smiles showing from time to time, mixed with soft, teasing giggles that can be heard from time to time - while you notice the way Lewis is gripping the steering wheel harder, the more your hand insists on travelling through his leg, your lips ghosting on the skin of his neck, making him desperately loosen up the tie that was keeping his outfit and composure all together.

It feels like the car ride back to his place is taking forever, especially in his mind, having you teasing him during the entire time, exploding with anticipation as he finally gets to park his car inside the garage.

The sync you two share could be felt from miles away, so you are both fast to leave the car, your bodies meeting again as Lewis holds you closer to him one more time, your lips hungry for the other’s, almost as if you can’t breathe without the air he brings to your lungs, anymore.

When his hand snakes around your neck, bringing your face closer so he can deepen the kiss, it’s like everything else stops, existing in this moment just the two of you, in a deserted world that’s just inhabited by the two hungry souls inside of your bodies.

Sloppily walking to the door, the man can barely pick the right key, struggling to leave your lips untouched, untasted by his own, longing to be close to you as soon as he needs to break the kiss, even for just a second.

Closing the door behind you, it’s like both of you can feel the weight of all the invisible ties that were once holding you down, leaving your figures. Finally, in between four safe walls that allow the two of you to do everything you want, without any pressure, masks, disguises, having the freedom to be honest with yourselves, with your dreams, needs and desires.

With your back pressed against the door, your mouths connect again, the passion emanating from your lips, so strongly that it can be felt through each goosebump showing in your skin, your touch making electricity running in Lewis’ veins.

Growing impatient, the man picks you up, his toned arms holding your shape like it’s nothing, his mouth exploring down the skin of your neck while you’re sighing lightly, biting your own lip when realizing how lucky you got tonight.

His jacket falls to the floor just before he starts carrying you to his room, your fingers playing with the tie that’s still loosely hanging around his neck, smirking at him, both anticipating the following moments.

Once your feet feel the floor again, you pull him by the tie, connecting your bodies as your fingers start to untie the buttons of his shirt, reading him between the fire mirroring his gaze on you.

He’s enticed by you, by your touch, by the way you seem to make the most powerful wave crash in his body, soul, while seeming to calm him down at the same time, your soft skin soothing all his nerves, wanting to feel more of you, delving himself in the depths of everything you are, everything that you mean to him.

Once his upper body is in full display for you, your eyes take a second to admire the sight, your hand shamelessly reaching to feel his muscles, to travel between every crevice of his abs, holding yourself to his biceps as if you are on the verge of losing your balance, due to his presence.

Reaching for you, his hands land on your hips, taking a moment to appreciate you, your beauty, your intensity, the fact that you are, finally, here with him. The tip of his nose nudges yours gently, making a smile appear in both of your faces, and the sparkle in his eyes is noticeable as he shares a loving gaze with you.

Connecting your lips once more, he quickly distances your mouth, dedicating himself to the skin of your neck, using all his endless time on you, not wanting to rush this moment, wanting to properly taste you, savour the sweetness of your skin, warming himself through you, sharing the connection that’s bonding you together.

You lean your head back slowly, silently giving him more access to your skin, humming and whining quietly when he finds your sweet spot - your soft sounds giving him the hint, that he happily takes, committing some more minutes to the places that make your back arch, the warmth of his tongue being enough to make you spiral just by feeling him licking the favourite places of your skin.

His left hand is carefully cupping your face, moving your neck gently as he switches the places he wants to focus on, while his right one is still safely holding your hip, keeping you in place so he can explore your collarbone, landing open mouth, wet yet soft, sweet kisses everywhere he can reach - your shoulder, the part of your chest that your cleavage allows his lips to reach.

Your hands softly touch his muscles, noticing how they seem to tense the more he grows desperate to get you out of your dress, ready to destroy the barrier that the fabric keeps representing between your bodies, craving to see you in your entirety, anxious to show you just how badly he wants you, needs you.

Finally, his hands roam your back, reaching for the zip of your dress, slowly undoing it in a matter of seconds - looking at the excited expression in your face that you can’t seem to hide.

Tonight is all about you, for him. He wants to make the most of it, for both of you, hoping he will be able to show you everything you make him feel, how you hold the power to make his heart pump blood faster into his veins, making him weak at the knees everything your hand touches his.

As his hands slowly slide the dress down your body, his lips follow the movement, landing countless amounts of the softest kisses he possibly can give to the bits of skin that he’s slowly unveiling for his eyes, his fingers feeling every curve of your shape that soon comes into full display for the man.

You feel the warmth of his mouth in between your breasts, down your stomach, one of your hands reaching for his braids, caressing his scalp as he continues dedicated to your skin, to the point of getting on his knees once the dress completely falls to the floor.

He looks up at you, his big, chocolate, sweet eyes focused on your face, trading glances as he continues to land kisses on your upper thigh, your hip, his fingers caressing your legs, feeling addicted to how soft you feel to the touch, how your perfume seems to make him feel even more obsessed with you.

Getting up and undoing his pants, letting them fall to the floor as well, he finally meets your body without barriers, your figures gluing to each other again as soon as your mouths touch again, your hands diving in the other’s shape, discovering every corner of the body that you both have been dreaming about incessantly.

His touch is absolutely lethal. Neck kisser, hips grabber, travelling through your body with just a one way ticket - not planning on coming back after touching heaven with his bare hands.

No heels, no dress, you’re just in your skin, just like Lewis, having the thin fabric of your underwear separating your cores, but feeling how ready he is for you when he finally lays you on the bed, softly grazing his bulge on your center, groaning in between the fight that your tongues keep enduring - opening your legs wider for the man that’s still trying to refrain from moving too much, wanting to enjoy each second of having you all to himself.

Still, you probably feel even more impatient than him, eager to finally get what you came here for, so your nails softly graze the skin on his back, reaching for the band of his boxers, letting him know how badly you want to feel him.

- Eager, aren’t we? - he jokes lightly, his teeth biting your bottom lip gently, hearing the needy whines erupting from your body as you give him puppy eyes. - As if you don’t want me just as much, Sir - fuck, maybe you should stop playing with his head. But maybe you are way too determined to end this night with a victory, desperate to feel him, all the details of his body, wanting to forget about life and all the problems clouding your mind for a moment, while he is making you moan out of pleasure.

He chuckles slightly at your provocation, ready to completely lose control, so he can finally show you how you have been playing with fire all this time - more than prepared for his flames to connect with yours, burning you two together as you allow your figures to be consumed by the insatiable blaze of pleasure erupting between you.

But if that’s what you want, that’s what you’ll get. Lewis wants to give you everything you ask him for, willing to run around the entire world to grant all your wishes - just so he can reciprocate the immense feelings and sensations that you create on his body and mind.

And if he was feeling a bit nervous in the early evening, right before dinner, now the heat running through his veins makes him feel like he’s being completely electrified by your silhouette, your gaze, your touch - and oh girl, you have no idea what you’re in for, tonight.

His hand lazily travels down your body, reaching for your panties, his fingers teasingly playing with the band, while his lips finally wrap around one of your nipples, his tongue caressing it until goosebumps are dressing your skin again.

Your sounds are soft, sweet - traveling to Lewis’ mind, making him feel even weaker than he already is, wanting nothing more than to continue to listen to your moans and whines throughout the entire night.

Ignoring the band of your underwear, he decides to give in to your pleas - but just a little bit, as his digits slowly start to rub you through the fabric that’s still covering your core. And still, you feel your entire body being set on fire, by the pressure that he strategically applies when reaching your bundle of nerves, his lips still sucking on your right nipple as if the man’s life depends on it.

His fingers feel how wet you are by now, how ready you are to take him - all of him, wanting his body to possess yours, to cloud your mind until you even forget about your own name. The thoughts travelling through his mind, mixed with the sensations of your wetness, your fingers slightly pulling on his braids, your whines, begging him to touch you more, to give you more, to finally give his all to you, are enough to drive him absolutely wild.

Lewis is naturally a dominant man, so the more you open your legs for him, your own fingers trying to grab the band of your panties, desperate to get rid of them, he is the one holding your wrists gently, taking your breath away with another kiss to your lips - while his hands finally reach for your underwear, ripping the fabric apart so you don’t even have to worry about sliding them down your legs.

His action makes a smirk appear in your face, wrapping your lips around his tongue, sucking it lightly as your hand pulls his face even closer to yours - silently letting him know how you like it rough, how you had waited long enough for this moment, how you’re done with the teasing, your fingers reaching for the shape of his hard dick in his boxers, reminding him how he needs to get rid of those, as well.

Grunting in your mouth, he gets the hint, using all his strength to abandon your figure on the mattress, feeling his skin growing colder as he finally gets up, moving to grab a condom from the bedside table, sharing a teasing, intense gaze with you as his own underwear leaves his body, now.

His dick looks painfully hard, making drool form in your mouth at the sight, seeing how his hand safely wraps around his member, hissing as he touches himself lightly. Biting his lip, his eyes never leave yours, both losing your minds at a distance, showing just how needy you two are feeling for your bodies to finally merge together.

Putting on the condom, Lewis meets you on the bed again with a different side of him showing, now. He wants you, all of you, and he wants to give you everything you wish for this moment, forgetting about the hours, the fact that tomorrow will arrive either way - focusing only on this night with you, putting to the side all the different thoughts about an entire life with you, for once.

He collects some of your wetness with his tip for some seconds, your foreheads touching as your eyes speak for yourselves, your lips savouring the other’s as he gently pushed himself inside of you.

Both breathing out the air that you were holding in out of anticipation, Lewis’ arms wrap around your figure, bear hugging you so he can feel you closer, while you’re wrapping your legs tighter around the man’s waist.

Giving you a moment to adjust to his size, his lips are quick to adorn your entire face with kisses, wanting to make it as pleasurable and easy for you as possible, in need to feel your body melting with his, so you can feel as carefree as you can.

With your lips meeting again, the makeout session between your bodies grows hotter and needier, letting him know that he can move, that he desperately needs to move, as your arms snake around his neck, touching his hair, nails grazing on the skin of his shoulders.

Feeling your warmth and sliding into your wetness is enough for Lewis to let out the hungry man inside of him escape. Starting off slow, he really wants to take his time with you, but the more you groan in his ear, pulling on his braids, the more he feels you are growing needier for more action, more friction, encouraging him to move until sparks are flying from your frames.

Focusing on the feeling of his hard dick pressing your walls, to the point of making you see stars, you beg him for more, definitely not wanting him to take it slow with you, not wanting to feel like you are making love in this night that reeks of desperate sex, made to solutionate the heat erupting from the both of you, nothing else.

The more Lewis picks up his pace, the more your sounds grow audible, echoing through the four walls surrounding your bodies, his mouth attached to the sweetest spot on your neck - licking it, sucking on it until purple bruises are showing up on your skin, making him smirk to himself at the sight, the closest he will ever be to mark you as his.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he fucks you rougher, feeling the way his cock keeps hitting your favourite spot, your moans mixing with the sound of your skin clapping, your hips meeting as you try to move your waist, taking him the best you can.

Pumping pleasure into your veins, Lewis can’t hold back his own whines and groans, feeling your nails scratching their way down his back, your walls wrapping around him tightly, driving the man absolutely insane as he hides his face in the crook of your neck - only for you to pull him by the braids, connecting your lips in a hot kiss again, your tongues playing with each other until saliva is dripping down your chins.

It’s hot, sensual, needy, loud, rough, and you don’t know how much more you can take, feeling a bubble slowly growing in the pit of your stomach, as he keeps hitting your g-spot effortlessly, making sure you won’t forget about tonight.

In the middle of his rough, accelerated thrusts, he still takes some time to kiss your cheeks softly, to compliment you, letting you know how good you feel, how you are taking him so well - words that you don’t pay enough attention to reply to.

You feel yourself on the verge of hitting your climax, growing desperate at the way he keeps moving inside of you - fast, rough, desperate, almost writing his name on your skin, as his lips keep sucking bruises on your chest, his hands travelling through your figure sensually.

Even if your mind is turning blank already, your pussy throbbing and clenching around his dick, you still try to use all your strength to cut it off, to distance his body from yours, noticing how Lewis immediately stops his movements once he feels your hands on his chest, slightly pushing him away - leaving him with furrowed eyebrows, a confused look on his face.

- Did I do something wrong? - he immediately asks, only to be shushed with your index finger touching his lips.

A sultry smirk is covering your features, taking control of the situation now, as you roll Lewis’ body over, so he can lay on his back. Kissing his entire chest, that’s moving up and down as the man tries to catch his breath, you soon find the path back to his mouth, licking his lips softly, only to be met with his hunger once again - his tongue meeting yours halfway.

He’s enticed by your actions, curious to see what move you’ll put out now, and your movements definitely surprise him.

Your hand reaches for his dick, wiggling your eyebrows at him once you slowly start to remove the condom from his member - seeing how his eyes widen, his voice calling your name softly yet sternly, trying to catch your attention, so you won’t do it.

Shushing his troubled mind with another kiss, you let him know that it’s okay, that you have everything under control - winking at the man in front of you, your fingers working to finally release his cock from the condom wrapped around it.

Now, you are in control, and you feel the most powerful ever when you move to straddle Lewis - only to see him biting his lip again at the view, his hands travelling up and down your sides, stopping at your boobs so he can pay some attention to them, massaging them until he feels you melting at his touch again.

But the melting doesn’t last long. You were so close to your orgasm, but this isn’t how you want tonight to end - in a bear hug, kissing Lewis as you reach your highs, acting like a couple all along. You. Are. Not. Making. Love.

Turning your back to him, you work your magic, moving so you can slowly connect with him again, sinking down on his dick in a reverse cowgirl moment. You can’t see it, but Lewis is biting his lip again at the sight of your ass in full display for him, feeling his hands touching your ass cheeks before you start moving.

But this isn’t your first rodeo, and Lewis needs to understand that. Leaning your body so you can hold yourself to his ankles, you start moving your hips up and down, in a seesaw movement that has the man whimpering under your figure in minutes.

Feeling each other raw only makes your bodies feel hotter, his member diving in your ocean, feeling each inch of your wetness dripping down his shaft the more you bounce on him, sensing how incredibly warm and tight you are for him - leaving him to hold your hips strongly as he admires your silhouette getting all the pleasure from his body, as the man meets your movements, thrusting up inside your needy cunt, harder and faster by the minute.

On the other hand, you don’t know how you are keeping it together, being left completely speechless at the way Lewis manages to fuck you so good from this new angle you just found, making stars cloud your brain, not being able to say anything besides the filthy, loud moans leaving your throat right now, as you feel every vein of his hard dick moving in your walls, so fast and rough that you know that he is engraving every detail of his dick inside of your pussy, at this point.

But this is what you wanted all along, and you can’t hide the victorious smile on your face - that you are happy that Lewis can’t see, right now. Your brain keeps cheering at the way you seem to have him wrapped around your finger, having him doing everything you want, allowing you to use him for your pleasure - something that you plan on keeping up.

For you, this isn’t making love, for Lewis, it’s exactly the opposite: if love is fire, you definitely have a lot of flame - especially to set him alight. And that’s how, minutes later, you are whining at the way the tip of his dick purposely hits your g-spot again, feeling so full of his cock that you never want him to stop, this sensation to end, feeding all your dreams and wildest fantasies with him, now.

You beg him not to stop, and the man’s hand travels up your spine, making you shiver, only for his fingers to intertwine with your hair, making you arch your back in his direction, his other hand on your hip, almost trying to hold you in place as you continuously sink on his cock, drenching him with your juices as you feel the bubble in your stomach almost bursting.

- Touch yourself, baby girl. You wanted me to be rough? Here you go. Now do as I say - his thick, hoarse voice says, entering your ears and travelling through your veins almost with immediate control over your movements, hearing him moan as he notices your hand snaking between your legs.

Your fingers feel your wetness as soon as you reach for your clit, touching yourself in a way that you know so well now, feeling so familiar yet so new as you try to focus on your movements while Lewis’ dick is still buried deep inside of you, not letting you stop for a second.

Still, you circle your fingers around your pearl, rubbing the juices that are dripping out of your cunt on it, your digits almost escaping your favourite spot to touch at how wet you are, now.

Your loud moans suddenly disappear, leaving you with just small, needy whimpers to escape from time to time as you focus on your pleasure, on touching yourself as your body starts clenching again, your muscles growing stiff as you can see your release so close already, chasing it the more you rub your clit, as if your life depends on it.

With a final, deep thrust coming from him, you final hit your high, hearing Lewis moaning behind you as he continues buried inside of your pulsing cunt, emptying inside of you - just how you wanted, exactly how you begged him to do some seconds ago, feeling his cock twitching in between your walls, the more he milks his seed inside of you.

Regaining your breaths, soon you’re leaving your place on top of him, realizing how his arms are already open, waiting for you to join him. The sight makes a genuine smile appear in your face, lying your head in his chest as you both sigh, your body focusing on the way his arms immediately wrap around your figure, his lips kissing your sweaty forehead, his gentle eyes looking at you as if you are the purest thing he has ever seen - even after all the filthiness that filled this room for the last hour or so.

The space surrounding you two is comfortable, almost as if it was meant to be, leaving very little space for words, both of you focusing on the other’s gentle touch instead, and the way you just made each other feel. And the soft warmth erupting from his shape is enough to put you to sleep in minutes, especially after feeling your body so tired and sore from the latest activities that took place in today’s agenda.

Waking up to soft kisses landing on your forehead, some fingers gently playing with your hair, you open your eyes to an adorable Lewis, who's looking down at you with a loving smile plastered all over his face, whispering a soft ‘morning, darlin’ to you.

Last night exceeded all his expectations. To him, it was way more than just sex - it was the common share of the connection that makes your bodies merge into one, taking each other to heaven and back in a matter of minutes, leaving him to feel some butterflies tingling in his stomach just as he reminds himself of how it feels to kiss your sweet lips, how his hands seem to belong glued to your silhouette, travelling through your body during sex, and rubbing your back softly, playing with your hair right after, so he can make you feel loved and desired.

He has been awake for a while now, admiring your peaceful figure while his mind came up with ideas to surprise you. The man wanted to get up, go to your favourite bakery to grab the infamous scones you always share, and maybe even pick some flowers on the way home, so he could see your shy smile on your sleepy features, like he has been dreaming about for so long.

But, the way you looked so beautiful, so safe and protected to rest on his chest, made him give in to his plans, forgetting about pastries and flowers, acting selfish one more time so he could enjoy every second of having you nestled in him, feeling you so close to the point of even thinking about tattooing your moles in his veins.

Smiling back at him, your lips connect for the first time this morning, making sparkles appear one more time - something that you would pray it wouldn’t happen again. But, shrugging it off, your hand caresses his cheek softly, as you take a deep breath before lying further more into his chest, wanting to feel him closer too.

Last night was incredible - of course it was. Lewis touched you in ways that no other guy ever did, changing your perspective of desire, neediness, showing how a man acts if he really wants you.

You know you are not the one for him, you could never be. To be honest, you just wanted to be one of his girls, even for one night, so you could kill the fire erupting between your bodies, finally getting a taste of each other.

But, as you wake up, the feeling of cuddling him, of being safely wrapped in his eyes, makes your heart shift a little more.

- Never thought you were the cuddle type - you break the silence, a curious smile on your face as you notice his eyebrows furrowing almost in a comical manner. - Oh, baby girl, there’s a lot of things that you don’t know about me yet - he chuckles, kissing your temple as his words make you stare at the horizon for a second. - Yet? - you can’t stop your mouth, the question escaping your lips before you could even process it.

But instead of considering your reaction weird, he just gives you an honest smile before replying.

- Uhum. I plan on seeing you again, and again, and again - he states confidently, landing a soft kiss on your lips in between each repeated word, sealing his promise.

Leaving your lips, his mouth is slowly starting to travel down your body again, his eyes shining as he looks up at you while he kisses your chest, moving to the skin of your stomach in seconds.

As much as you want this, there’s a bitter voice in the back of your head, taking you out of the transe that Lewis’ touch always gets you in, forcing you to interrupt his loving actions.

- You know we shouldn’t do this - you say insecurely, your voice small when compared to the way he makes you feel so powerful and important to him.

He is fast to stop his actions, moving his body to be by your side again, noticing how your eyes look big and even somewhat scared in your face. He knows what’s in your mind: if your boss finds out about any of this, your job will be on the line, and you don’t want to flush your career down the drain because of a man.

Still, he tries to lighten up the mood, nudging the tip of his nose with yours gently, until he sees a small smile threatening to appear on the corners of your lips.

- Shouldn’t we? This feels pretty right to me - he says, kissing your lips with a light aura surrounding him, almost as if he can send some of that tranquility to you. - But we are business partners, Lewis… - you try to argue, only to be met with a rejecting look on his face, shaking his head ‘no’ at what you’re trying to imply. - Stop. - I’m not doing anything - you try to reason with him, only for him to wrap his arms tighter around your figure, nestling you in his chest again. - You’re trying to find excuses for what we did. Stop. Nobody cares if we’re business partners, please stop thinking about how your boss won’t be happy if he finds out about us. This happened because we both want each other - he says, in between sultry kisses to your lips.

And just like that, he shushes away all your fears, wrapping you in a soft, easy bubble of love. Soon enough, his arms are picking you up from the bed in bridal style, walking over to the bathroom so you two can have a shower.

It’s weird, but soothing - the way he makes you feel, how you two are so comfortable around each other, even while being naked without having sex, seeing how he hugs you from behind as the water dripping on your skins warms both of your bodies.

- Thank god it’s sunday and I get to have you all to myself - he says in your ear, kissing your shoulder softly, never wanting to let go of you.

Yeah, thank god for the F1 breaks and weekends without work, that help you relax in the comfort of Lewis’ arms, almost making you believe that you could get used to this on a daily basis.

The shower is filled with laughs, gentle touches, loving kisses, lots of music playing in the background, making you forget about how this man almost drove you to insanity due to the way he touched your body last night - definitely leaving marks on your figure that will forbid you from forgetting about him for some days.

Still, his touch is as soft as ever when he’s rubbing your back, your belly, your legs, insisting on kissing your features nonstop, voicing out loud how you’re the most gorgeous woman he has ever seen, making you blush while you try to cover your pink cheeks from him.

- I’m going to go get dressed, baby. Take your time, okay? I don’t want you to rush - Lewis informs you, pecking your lips once more before leaving the shower, with a different plan in mind.

You stay there for a bit more, hoping the warm water can help you soothe the sore sensation in between your legs - and also leaving you with some time alone to think about everything that happened, and how the pet name he just used made a tingling sensation erupt through your entire body. Maybe you like this, maybe you could really get used to this, to see him more, to have more soft moments by his side, besides the sex scenes that you still envision to have with him.

Putting on a tracksuit, Lewis leaves his house for some minutes, trying to make his plan work now. Rushing, the man goes to the closest bakery, buying some scones, cookies, croissants and a bit of everything that he can see on display, really - not knowing if you are craving something different for breakfast today.

The man wanted to stick to his initial plan, but the line at the bakery was longer than he expected, and he starts growing scared that you might have left the shower already. So, on the way back home, he picks a small flower from one of his neighbours’ neatly kept vase.

Stepping out of the shower, you call Lewis’ name, only to be met with silence. Walking around the house, you find it weird that it’s empty, you being the only soul inside of the space right now. There’s a hint of disappointment hitting your heart right now, you can’t lie. You don’t know why he left, why he would leave you alone at his own place, but maybe this is just a sign that you can’t get used to this on a daily basis.

“It was a fun night, and that’s all it was” - you think to yourself, moving to put your dress from last night back on, a frown on your face as you gather your belongings, getting ready to leave this house as well.

As you are searching for your purse in the living room, not knowing where you put it in the middle of all the events that took place last night, the front door swings open, startling you as you are met with Lewis’ figure again.

His eyes grow a bit when he sees you in your dress again, his eyebrows furrowing before speaking.

- Are you leaving, love? - he asks quietly, almost as if the thought of spending the day away from you is making him sad already. - Well, you left as well, so I thought it was a hint for me to go - you try to explain, stuttering a bit at how nervous his presence is making you feel again, and you can’t quite figure out why.

Surprised by your words, he walks over to you.

- A hint? Baby, I went to get us breakfast! - he shows you the bag from the bakery. - Got us scones, of course, some croissants, cookies, and a bunch of other things because I didn’t know what you wanted - now it’s his turn to give you a nervous smile, handing you the small purple flower that he picked for you. - And this is for you.

How does he have this incessant power in himself to soften up your stone cold heart so much? To the point of almost feeling small tears tingling in your eyes, forcing you to push them away as you take the flower from his hand, smiling like a teenager, feeling the damn crimson painting your cheeks one more time.

His fingers caress your cheek lovingly, almost afraid of seeing you run away if he gets too close. But still, he lets his feelings show, doing what his heart keeps begging him to do.

- Please don’t go, baby. We don’t have much time just to ourselves outside your office, and today it’s sunday… Unless you don’t want to spend the day with me and you really want to leave, of course - he is rambling, his eyes looking into yours, reading you as another smile erupts from your face, taking action to kiss his lips. - I was really craving a croissant and a coffee - you joke, noticing the relieved sigh that escapes his body, sharing another enamoured smile with you. - Choose a t-shirt from my closet, love. I’ll set the table.

It’s been a while since you’ve had such a nice, carefree, light sunday, feeling safe enough to be wrapped in someone’s arms as you share scones and kisses, cuddling up on the sofa while watching silly movies and sharing funny life stories in the middle of it.

And in between all the worries that show up from time to time, there’s still something that erupts inside of you - something stronger than all the intrusive thoughts that might try to ruin your moments with Lewis. Something that shows you how much you enjoy the time spent by his side, in a way that you never thought you would.

It even leaves you to believe that, in a parallel world, if things maintain this level of intensity between you two, you might even allow yourself to open up a little more to the man that’s right in front of you - cooking dinner as he shamelessly dances and sings to his playlist, making the most genuines smiles erupt from your figure, ones that you definitely hadn’t seen in a long, long time.

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inlovewithpandora · 3 months ago

Text

ੈ✩‧₊˚ — Summers In Pandora ᝰ Day 31 - Body Worship/Praising

Artists — Ao’nung x fem!Metkayina!reader

Lyrics — Tonight Ao’nung wants nothing more than to dive between your pretty thighs but after a long day of duties you’re exhausted. His desire for you burns so hot that he offers to do all the work so you can be his pretty pillow princess.

Music Advisory — SMUT [ mature audiences only!], aged up!Ao’nung, fluff, established relationship [mates], needy!Ao’nung, [implied] pleasure dom!Ao’nung, soft!Ao’nung, oral sex + fingering [fem receiving], double stimulation, face fucking, hair pulling, aftercare, allusions to male masturbation, lots of compliments and praise ᝰ this fic does contain aged!up character smut so if you don’t like that type of content please don’t interact and continue scrolling!!

Duration — 2.7k words

Index — Tsakarem - Tsahìk-in-training・Sayrìp - Handsome・ Syulang - Flower・Yawne - Love

Words from Artist — This was my first time writing smut for Ao’nung and it was really fun! This idea was originally supposed to be for Kinkmas 2023 but I never finished it so I decided to put a spin on it and make it fit this prompt. As always feel free to comment and reblog, I love reading y’all reactions! I hope you enjoy!!

Current Platforms — event m.list・main m.list・event taglist ・prompt list

Today there was a cold wind blowing throughout the village and it was causing a draft in your home. When the cold breeze kept gliding across your skin you could feel yourself shivering so you decided to start a fire and gather around it so it would warm up yourself and your home. When you start the fire you can immediately feel the heat emitting from it and it's already eliminating the cold air that's constantly flowing inside.

Ao’nung is next to you during the whole process and he watches you in awe, loving how you always take charge and make things happen. You've always been the type of woman to get things done no matter what it requires, you never wait around for a man to assist you and that’s one of the main reasons Ao’nung wanted you as a mate, he absolutely loves that quality about you so by watching you in your element he can’t help but feel a little turned on.

After a while both you find yourselves laying down a few inches away from the fire, your head laying on his chest and arm wrapped around his torso while his hand is resting on your thigh. The night is going perfectly just like you wanted, after the long day you’ve had all you want is to lay with your mate until you drift off to sleep. You can feel your eyes growing heavy so you allow them to close, happily letting sleep take over your body but that plan is interrupted when you feel Ao’nung’s hand travel from your thigh to your ass, squeezing it gently before rubbing it in a circular motion. You already know what he's implying by his actions, you know your mate very well. When he starts rubbing against the flesh of your ass, moving your hair out the way to place soft kisses on your neck, and teasing his fingers around the strings that are holding your loincloth together you know he wants sex.

When you feel his other hand inching toward your bra top you grab his wrist and stop him. “Not right now, baby. I’m tired and I just want to sleep.” From completing your numerous duties around the clan and also having to do your Tsakarem training with Ronal which took several hours, drained all the energy you had stored for the day. If this was a normal day and you had a good amount of energy you would of course engage in the marital act with Ao’nung but tonight you’re just too worn out. “Just let me take a nap and then I’ll do whatever you want, okay?”

Everything you just said basically went in one ear and out the other. Ao’nung doesn’t want to wait, he wants you now. He wants the sweet taste of your arousal on his tongue now, he wants to hear your sweet moans now, he wants to feel your hands gripping his hair as he devoured your heat now, he can’t wait until you wake up from your nap. “I’ll do all the work, all I want is you to lay back and look pretty for me. How does that sound syulang?” Ao’nung practically worships the ground you walk on, whether it’s publicly or privately, he always lets you know how grateful he is to have you, how beautiful you are, and how sexy your body is.

To him this is you’re world and he’s just lucky enough to live in it. Ao’nung is willing to do whatever it takes to see you squirm underneath his touch, he doesn’t want you to feel like you need to please him because by allowing him to pleasure you is enough for him, he could cum from simply knowing he’s satisfied you to the best of his abilities.

When you hear Ao’nung’s offer all you can do is let out a little laugh, you can tell he really wants to dive between your thighs. His eagerness is definitely turning you on, knowing that your mate is craving you without even having to do anything sexual is starting to make a pool of slick form between your legs. At first you were going to brush him off but now his horniness is rubbing off on you so you decide to cave and allow him to have his way with you. “That sounds perfect, sayrìp.”

The words barely have time to settle in Ao’nung’s mind before he pulls you in for a lustful kiss, swirling his tongue around your mouth while gripping your chin, moving his hand down and wrapping it gently around your neck. When Ao’nung can’t contain himself any longer he moves his hands down your body, using his mighty strength to rip off both articles of your clothing, revealing your round perky breasts and the mound of your sweet pussy.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that? Your body is so perfect, made just for me.” Ao’nung whispers as his eyes scan your body in awe, wondering how Eywa found him such a gorgeous and perfect mate. He feels like your body is carved and sculpted just for him, just for his hands to touch, for his eyes to see, and for his body to be pressed against. It isn’t long before his head is between your thighs, the sweet smell of your arousal making him feel like a man possessed as he runs his tongue over your slit, spreading you open in a swift manner before lapping up your juices so the sweetness of your arousal can dance on his tongue. His tongue finds its way to your clit, sucking on your precious pearl which makes you squirm within seconds.

Ao’nung continues swirling his tongue around your clit, giving it a deep kiss while it throbs against his palate, making a breathy moan from you fill the air. It’s a continuous process: flick, lick, suck, all the motions that’ll bring you great pleasure which is exactly what your mate wants. You can feel him spreading your juices on your inner thighs and his saliva running down your folds, making the flat of his tongue caress every pleasure point. After a while he comes up for air, wanting to savor your delicious taste and amazing scent. “Eywa, woman you taste good.” Ao’nung groans, his chest heaving as he catches his breath which makes you giggle because you’re ultimately doing the same before he continues feasting on you.

Once his lungs feel replenished he lowers his head between your thighs again, causing your breath to hitch in your throat at the unexpected feeling of his tongue swirling around the entrance of your pussy. After teasing you for a few moments, enjoying the desperate whines from you filling his ears while making it seem like he would place his tongue inside but only circling around the outer edge, he finally gives you what you want, intruding your hole and pushing his tongue inside.

“Oh, fuck,” You can feel your legs instinctively spread to make more your room for Ao’nung’s head that’s now moving in multiple directions, and your hips thrust upward wanting to feel him as much as possible. Your hands make their way to the top of his head, tangling your fingers in his curly hair as you grind against his face, practically suffocating your poor mate but he’s so drunk off your pussy he doesn’t give a damn.

With each stroke of his tongue he can feel you opening more and more for him, your warm slick leaking out and sliding down his tongue while the access drips down his chin and travels down his neck. Seeing how you’re reacting to him, tightening your grip in his hair, rutting against his face like an animal, and how you’re so eager to cum all over his face makes him want to ram his cock inside you until your eyes are puffy with tears, seeing your arousal stick to his pelvis as he thrusts inside you until he’s filled you to the brim with his warm seed.

The lewd thoughts he’s conjured up in his mind makes him moan into your heat, pressing his tongue further into you as he uses his hand to gently rub circles against your clit for added stimulation and double pleasure. Every small spasm and tiny twitch that ripples through you, Ao’nung call feel. Any movement you make, any warning tremor your body makes that you’re about to cum he reads loud and clear, wanting to make sure when you cum, you cum hard.

“Mmm! Don’t fucking stop!” And with that the Metkayinan goes into overdrive, his mouth, tongue, and fingers begin to work tirelessly, switching between slurping up every single drop of your sweet juices and swirling around your clit, smothering himself by stuffing his nose into your mound to reach the depths of you and fill his nostrils with your intoxicating aroma. Right now he doesn’t even care about his aching jaw, throbbing cock, or lack of oxygen, all he wants to do is please the woman he’s been blessed with.

Ao’nung slips two of his fingers into your wetness with ease and curls them just right, causing his fingertips to press against your sweet spot. His thick fingers stretch you out beautifully, and that paired with his controlled strokes, powerful sucks and long licks of his mouth, he coaxes you over the edge, bringing forth an ecstasy that only he can give your body. A sharp gasp leaves your lips, your grasp tightening the strands of his hair as your thighs snap close around his head, not allowing him any movement other than continuing to devour your heat.

Your orgasm almost takes you out, it makes you shake, your muscles spasm and twitch uncontrollably as your back arches off the mat underneath you and soon it turns into complete bliss. His fingers continue their relentless pace of pumping in and out of you, lengthening your orgasm while he gently kisses and sucks on your clit until your body slowly goes limp from the incredible pleasure he’s inflicting on you.

Ao’nung’s hand wraps around your thigh, gently tapping your supple skin, silently telling you to untangle yourself from him which you do in an instant, unwrapping your legs from around his shoulders and allowing him to sit up properly. When your eyes look up at him he’s glistening in your slick. His chin, lips, and nose are covered in your juices, making your cheeks heat up from the sight. When your eyes trail down his body you notice the outline of his hardened cock straining against the woven material of his loincloth, making your mouth water at how enlarged it looks and the blots of pre-cum you can see soaking through.

You blink up at Ao'nung, still feeling the warm tingles of aftershocks in your body as he starts to clean you with careful, practiced strokes. The damp cloth is soothing against your oversensitive skin, his touch so light it feels like a whisper. His soft hums of approval and the quiet murmurs of praise in your native tongue send shivers down your spine. "You are perfection, syulang," he murmurs, his deep voice like a soothing balm. "You have given me all I need tonight. Just seeing you like this... it is enough."

Your hairless brows knit together, lips parting as you glance down at the evidence of his own arousal, still taut against the fabric of his loincloth. The woven material struggles to contain him and his cock is practically growing in size by the minute. Your mate is anything but sated, and you know it. “But Ao’nung,” you protest while propping yourself up by your forearms, your voice slightly hoarse as you try to speak. “you haven’t—”

Ao’nung’s hand pauses, the damp cloth resting on your thigh as he takes a moment to study your face and the expression it holds. The slight flush in your cheeks, the way your chest rises and falls as you catch your breath, and the glazed-over look in your eyes tell him everything he needs to know. “You’re exhausted, y/n,” he murmurs, his voice laced with special tenderness that’s strictly reserved for you. He gently brushes a stray strand of hair away from your damp forehead, his fingers lingering against your temple. “I pushed you enough tonight. You’ve done more than enough for me.”

“But yawne—”

He shakes his head firmly, though his touch remains soft as he resumes cleaning you with the damp cloth. “No, syulang. You need to rest. It doesn’t feel right to make you do more when I can see how tired you are.” His gaze flickers to your trembling thighs and then back to face that clearly shows how sleepy you are. “I’ll be fine. Just go to sleep.”

As his wife you feel like it is your duty to sexually gratify your husband no matter what so the idea of leaving him unsatisfied sits uneasily in your mind. You reach for his wrist, stopping him mid-movement. “It doesn’t feel right to leave you like this,” you tell him, your voice firm despite the fatigue threatening to pull you under. “You’re my mate. I need to take care of you too.”

Ao’nung’s lips quirk into a faint, affectionate smile. “Stubborn, as always,” he mutters under his breath, though his tone is filled with nothing but adoration. “You’ve already taken care of me. Watching you cum for me is all I needed.”

Still, you persist, your hand tightening slightly around his wrist, wanting him to just give in already and allow you to reciprocate the pleasure he gave you. “Well, It doesn’t feel like enough.”

Ao’nung lets out a low chuckle at how persistent you are and how you’re fighting sleep just so you can return the favor, which makes him just fall deeper in love with you. His free hand comes up to cup your cheek, forcing you to meet his gaze. “It’s enough for me,” he says softly, his thumb brushing along your cheekbone. ��I would much rather you rest than push yourself when I know you’re already spent.”

You open your mouth to argue again, but Ao’nung leans forward, pressing a firm kiss to your forehead that causes you to silence your words before you can make them audible. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll take care of it myself if I need to.” He doesn’t mind jerking off to flashbacks of you trembling under his touch, imagining your warmth wrapped around his cock, and running his thumb over his oozing tip and imagining it as your tongue, if it means his mate can get some well deserved rest.

“Ao’nung, just let me—”

“Shh,” he murmurs, his fingers sliding down to your shoulder, guiding you gently to lie back down so you can finally get sleep. “Close your eyes. You’ve done more than enough for me tonight.”

A part of you wants to push and continue fighting him on the idea of letting him handle his hardened cock alone but the weight of exhaustion finally takes over, your body sinking into the soft mat and you allow your mate to win this time. Ao’nung pulls the blanket over you, his hands lingering to make sure you’re fully covered and comfortable.

As your eyelids grow heavy, you hear him whisper in your ear one last time, his voice low and soothing as he lightly strokes your hair, something he knows helps calm your mind and body. “Sleep, my beautiful mate. You’re all I’ll ever need.” As the words leave his lips he settles beside you, his presence warm and protective as you drift off into a dream state. For now he’s here to make sure your night is peaceful and your sleep is without interruption but later tonight, when you’re hours into your much needed rest, he’ll be in the other room stroking his cock to the thought of your exquisite beauty and gorgeous physique.

Fanbase — @eme1hyst @o-kingston @erenjaegerwifee @Kaydoux @biaaaaaaaa1 @hikotaru @thisaintredwine @lexieeeeeeeei @that-gurl25 @simpingforbelphegor @Peanut713521 @anemonelovesfiction @jakesullyfatjuicypeen @makaylalovessmut @lustforlana4 @Anita @pandoraslxna @iris-xoxo-juhu @domineezy @hc-geralt-23 @ikeyniofthetayrangi @aonungmyaddiction @savagemickey03 @buble787635 @normspellmann @em-x0 @sliqeramx @lexasaurs634 @deadgirlrin @lina @merlinbtch @sussybaka10 @galactict3a @shima @rae @bigdikzaddy @roseblushpink1 @3xclusive_kylani @Bubble787635 @casualmilkshakecupcake @ninaa @atomicslimetoadstudent @shmaptainbonky @moonstidalwaves @jayy-24 @emilymikado

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skzstannie · 23 days ago

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"If only they knew"

SKZ -> Seungmin x fem!reader

genre: frenemies to lovers, slight angst and a little bit of crack (simply because I just can't help myself) wc: ~2,600 cw: none :)

summary: Seungmin never thought his sorry attempt at flirting would crack your shell; if only he knew.

A/N: 2 fics in a row is kinda crazy for me. Go give my Yunho fic a read if you haven't already! Appreciate you guys!

Masterlist | Happy Scrolling!

"Seungmin... I'm giving you three seconds to move your ass over before I freak the fuck out."

"But I'm comfortable right here." You gawk at him, eyes narrowing in annoyance. You see the smirk that forms on his face, and you know from prior experience that means game on.

You turn facing forward again, acting nonchalant. When just enough time has past, and the storm has calmed, you forcefully shove his shoulder, pushing him clear off the bench.

"Come on guys, do we really always have to do this? It's getting old," Chan comments from where he's sat across from you.

Your friend group is currently sat at a large picnic table outside on your university campus. When it's a nice day such as this one, you all prefer to be outside rather than all cramped together in your school's lunch court.

"Yea, Y/n, maybe you should try being nice to me for once, ya know? Pick on someone your own size; I think the ant I just crushed would be a more suitable match for you," Seungmin snarks back, standing up from the ground, brushing the dirt and grass from his backside.

Immediately you lunge at him once again, only to be pulled back by Lee Know who's sat on your other side.

"Okayyy, I think we should go for a nice walk, hmm? How does that sound?" He grabs your arm, pulling slightly.

"Sure, right after I pound his face in," you say, wrenching your arm out of the tight grip Lee Know has on you. Before you get very far, Hyunjin springs up from the other end of the table and grabs your hand, leading you in the opposite direction of Seungmin.

You turn back once more, wanting to finish what you started, but Lee Know is right behind you. He pushes you forward, preventing you from going back. "Walk," he says sternly. You huff but do as he says anyway, knowing you need to calm down before facing everyone, specifically the ant squasher, again.

"I just don't understand," you start, throwing your hands up in the air, "Was he just born with a personal vendetta against me? Or did he have a dream where I offended his entire ancestry? I just don't get why it's always me; I'm always his target," you vent.

"I don't really get it either, none of us do," Hyunjin agrees, walking beside you. Lee Know flanks your other side, and you guys continue to walk towards the trail that leads around your campus.

This is pretty much a weekly occurrence at this point, emotionally cooling off walking these sidewalks. The scenery is beautiful, and you like being able to appreciate the nature walks your school has to offer, you just wish it were under different circumstances.

"I think he just likes your reactions the most. That, and I don't think he's as scared of you," Lee Know comments.

"What's there not to be scared of? I can be scary!" You tell them.

"What have you ever done that was remotely scary?" Hyunjin snorts, only adding more fuel to your fire.

"Oh really? What about that time I hid in your dorm with that Scream mask on and scared you so bad that you peed your pants? If you weren't scared, I guess I need a better definition," you sass back, nudging him slightly.

"That was one time!" He whines back.

"And we're never letting you forget it," Lee Know chuckles, the memory playing clear as day in his head. "But I have to agree, he knows that he can get away with pretty much anything with you."

"Well, if you guys would've let me give him a good knuckle sandwich back there, maybe he'd think differently."

"It's not worth it. Every time he gets a reaction out of you, he wins. He gets what he wants. That simple." Hyunjin points out.

As the three of you round the last building you pass on your walk, the commons come back into view, and you see the rest of your friends, sans Seungmin, Chan, and Jeongin, still sat at your usual spot.

Lee Know and Hyunjin continue to conversate beside you, but you zone out, thinking if only they knew.

~ ~ ~

"You could be a little nicer to her, ya know," Chan says, pulling into the driveway of the dorms.

"Why would I do that when I can annoy her?"

"Because one of these times you're gonna go too far and she's gonna hate you. Is that really what you want?" He questions, putting the car in park to really get a good look at him.

It's silent for a moment, before Chan speaks up again. "What is it with her? Has she done something to you that the rest of us don't know about? Please enlighten me, let me in on the secret, because me and the rest of the guys are honestly so lost."

"He likes her."

Chan whips his head around to the backseat where Jeongin is casually scrolling along on his phone.

"That's bullshit," Seungmin counters immediately. Chan turns back to Seungmin, and if it wasn't for the blush starting to adorn his cheeks, he might've actually believed.

"Tell me this is a joke. Tell me you don't treat her like complete shit just because you have a crush on her? What, am I living a real life middle school TV drama?" He exasperates, eyebrows raised to the sky.

"Well sorry that some of us don't know how to properly express our feelings; we weren't all born with perfect genes like you, Chan," Seungmin retorts, reaching for the door handle.

"Oh no you don't." Chan's quick to hit the child lock, forcing him to stay right where he is. "I'm not expecting you to be a perfect flirt, but at least treat her with some decency! The girl's never going to get the hint if you keep treating her the way you do."

"That's the point. I don't want her to get the hint."

"What? Why?" He questions.

"Because he doesn't think she would ever like him back," Jeongin once again speaks up from the backseat.

"Shut the fuck up," Seungmin says, quickly reaching into the backseat to do who knows what to Jeongin.

"Hey! Enough!" Chan yells, grabbing him by the shoulder and turning him back around. "Why do you think that?"

"Have you seen the way she acts when I'm around?"

"It's because you're a raging asshole! Not because of who you really are," Chan argues, his voice becoming sincere. "Treat her nicely and see what happens. You're not stuck in whatever loop you've created; break this cycle. She really isn't one to hold grudges, which you should be really thankful for right about now."

"There's no way she'd ever see me as anyone other than the annoying guy who hangs out with the rest of her friends," Seungmin huffs as he stares at his fidgeting hands resting in his lap.

"Now you know that's a lie. Even though she wants to bash your skull in 50% of the time, she still considers you her friend. That I am positive of," Chan reassures him. "And don't worry about anything else."

"And why is that?"

"Because, we're gonna figure out how to get you two together"

~ ~ ~

"I just don't know what to do, Yuna," you say to your friend on the phone. You're sat on your bed, doing homework and drinking a coffee from the shop on campus.

You share a dorm with Hyunjin, Lee Know, and Jisung, but you know none of them are home at the moment. They're all either busy with work or should be in class. Carelessly, you left your door open ajar. Just wide enough for a wandering Lee Know, who just happened to skip class that afternoon, to pick up on the conversation.

Now, he wouldn't normally be one to eavesdrop on your conversations, especially when it's with one of your girlfriends, however, when it's about their resident devil puppy, he just can't help himself.

It's quiet for a moment before you speak up again, and Lee Know has to practically pick his jaw up off the floor.

"Of course not, I could never tell any of them, especially Seungmin, that I like him. The rest of the guys would probably think I had some mild case of Stockholm Syndrome, and Seungmin would laugh in my face so hard he'd probably give himself a hernia."

As much as he wants to barge into your room, grab you by the shoulders and shake you for keeping this vital information from him, he keeps his cool and saunters away from your door with the newfound tip.

~ ~ ~

"Guess what?" Lee Know and Chan say at the same time, both sitting down for their first lecture of the day.

"You can go first," Chan says, digging through his backpack to grab his laptop.

"Y/n likes Seungmin."

Chan chokes on his own spit with how fast he turns his head. He coughs for a moment, Lee Know dramatically patting him on the back. Finally, he gets his bearings back and he takes a deep breath.

"Seungmin likes Y/n, too."

"No fucking way! These two idiots. Why can't they just act like normal people and flirt properly," Lee Know says, laughing at the ridiculous situation.

"I don't know, but we've gotta find a way to get them together."

"How? Y/n doesn't even know I know! I overheard her talking on the phone," he admits.

"Jeongin told me on the way home from lunch yesterday. Apparently the little sneak has known for a while but using it as blackmail against Seungmin."

"Sounds about right," Lee Know laughs, "We'll tell the rest of the guys, though, someone's sure to be able to come up with a plan between the 7 of us."

Chan sends him a look of confusion. "Have you met our friends?"

"Believe me, I have, but I have faith in them. We're all sick and tired of their constant bickering, it's time for a real change around here."

~ ~ ~

"And then she said..." you start, walking down the hallway with Lee Know.

Lee Know distractedly nods, waiting for the signal from Changbin down the hall. Seconds later, Changbin gives him a discrete thumbs up, and the plan commences.

"Hey, there's Changbin! Let's go say- Hey!" you yell as you're pushed into the janitor's closet just to the left. Lee Know makes sure you're all the way in before slamming the door right in your face.

"What's the big idea?" you yell, banging your fists on the door.

"They're not gonna let you out."

You let out a startled screech, quickly turning around to come face to face with Seungmin. "What the hell is this? What are you doing in here?" you ask.

"I don't know, but I've already tried to escape twice, and both times I was caught and dragged right back in here by Chan or Changbin, they're like fucking watchdogs or something." He rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans casually up against the concrete wall.

"What are we supposed to do in here? Let us out!" You cry out, once again banging your fists against the door.

"Confess your love for each other then we'll let you go," you hear Lee Know say, his voice coming through muffled through the door.

Your eyes widen in shock, not expecting him to say that at all. Defensively, you whip back around to face Seungmin, hoping your blush doesn't give you away. "I don't know what he's talking about."

Seungmin, feeling cornered, agrees, "Me neither. Definitely no idea what he's referring to."

You turn to look at the wall to your right, suddenly feeling embarrassed of the hot red complexion coating your cheeks and neck.

Seconds turn into minutes, and you realize it's never felt this awkward between the two of you. Yes, you may fight... a lot. The constant bickering that flows between the two of you is noisy, never letting a quiet moment pass. You decide it's uncomfortable, the silence thats encompassing the closet, but the thought of confessing trumps any feelings of discomfort.

"I don't hear any kissing in there!" You hear Jisung yell from the outside. "Yah, hurry this up! I wanna go eat lunch." That would be Jeongin.

"We're just gonna sit in silence until you let us out! We're not playing into whatever fantasies you weirdos have running through your heads!" Seungmin yells back, sliding his back down the wall until he hits the floor. You do the same, moving into the corner away from the door, scared that someone will barge in.

Again, you sit in silence. Seungmin has pulled out his phone, and you've done the same at this point. Suddenly, the door whips open, revealing an impatient looking Lee Know.

"That's it," he says determinedly, "I've had enough."

He stomps over to you, taking your hands and pulling you to your feet.

He pulls you in front of him and holds you in place, his hands resting on your arms.

"Oh Seungmin," he says, his voice a ridiculous high pitch, "I've liked you since forever, and even though you're an asshole I still have a massive crush on you," he finishes. You're stunned to say the least, your jaw dropping to the floor at the confession Lee Know just made.

You turn around, prepared to slap him, but he moves quickly, clearing his throat as he makes his way over to Seungmin. He yanks him off the floor, much less gently than he treated you, and starts again. "Oh Y/n," he says, his voice comically deep, "I like you too, will you be my girlfriend?"

He steps out from behind Seungmin and bows, as if expecting applause for his outrageous performance. "Ok, now that the hard part's out of the way, please continue." He nonchalantly leaves the closet, and the door slams closed behind him.

You're left speechless, staring at the floor. Tears build up in your lashes, realizing your biggest secret, one you've been holding onto for years, was just spilled in front of the one who mattered most. It's stupid really, crying over something as silly as this. But for all the emotional turmoil you've gone through over this, you had always hoped it'd have a greater outcome than this. Being rejected in a janitor's closet is not exactly at the top of your list for things to accomplish in life.

Seungmin, hating the way you're upset, takes initiative and steps towards you.

The tears fall freely as embarrassment continues to color your face. "Honestly," you sniffle, bringing your sleeve up to swipe at your cheeks, "Go ahead and make fun of me now. Get it over with; I can take it."

Your words fly right over his head, as the only thing going through his mind are the ridiculous words that came out of Lee Know's mouth. Could it be true?

His shoes come into your view, and you feel his warm hands gently cup your jaw. He lifts your head, and you make eye contact with him for the first time since you were forced into the closet.

"Is that true?" He asks, the sincerest look adorning his eyes.

You hesitate, scared for what he'll do, of what he'll say. "I suppose it depends," you decide on. "Was what he said true about you?"

"It was, actually," he admits, using his thumbs to wipe the remainder of the stray tears that fell down your face. "I was just never mature enough to admit it myself."

"Well, in that case," your hands come up to grab onto his wrists, "I suppose that it is true."

It's quiet now, the only sound being the soft breaths escaping from both of your mouths.

You watch as his eyes shift down to your lips, tracing over the features of your face.

"Can I kiss you?" He whispers, his hands still softly cupping your jaw.

"Please," you respond. With that, he leans in, and your eyes close as your lips connect with his. You move in sync, and it's better than you could've imagined.

It's short and sweet, but it gets the point across. He likes you back.

"I just want you to know," he starts once you've separated a bit. His hands have moved down to rest around your waist now, yours resting on his chest, "I'm still gonna tease you."

"I wouldn't want it any other way," you say before crashing your lips against his once again, savoring the feeling.

#stray kids #skz #seungmin #kim seungmin #skz seungmin #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #seungmin x reader #kim seungmin x reader #stray kids imagine #stray kids oneshot #skz imagine #skz oneshot

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the-oblivious-writer · 1 year ago

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Get Her Back!

Clarisse La Rue x Daughter of Athena!Reader

One-shot

Summary: You and Clarisse have always had a reputation for the rollercoaster you both called your relationship. While on another one of your "breaks," you decide you want to mess with her

Warning(s): Swearing, Clarisse & r are hella toxic, jealousy (on both ends but mostly jealous!Clarisse), making out (nothing more is hinted at, just Clarisse & r kissing like the problematic girlfriends they are), & arguing

Notes: Wooo this one got a bit heated before I knew it. Hope you enjoy

You and Clarisse La Rue… how does one sum up your relationship with the Ares kid? You and her were known for being on and off, arguing almost as much as you made out. You were both in a toxic, heated, yet passionate, relationship.

Oh, how you loved each other.

You met Clarisse the first summer you got to camp. It didn’t take long for you to discover what you had gotten yourself into. She argued with you about everything, she had an ego and a temper and a wandering eye; you couldn’t help but be attracted to her, even when she was so obviously lying about her height.

The first time you left Clarisse was in the spring, that was when your current dynamic truly started. You lasted about a week before you were back in her arms, forgetting how you threw all her stolen clothes out your cabin’s window just a few nights before.

You were currently going through another one of your breaks with Clarisse while you laid down on your bed, reading as you tried to ignore another little lecture from your friend.

“All I’m saying is that I don’t understand why you stay with her, you know? The second my boyfriend did me wrong, I kicked his ass out the door. For good,” he said, sitting at the end of your bed.

“That’s because you didn’t have what me and Clarisse have,” you responded, looking up at him from your book. He shrugged, mumbling, “Whatever.”

“Do you love or hate her? I honestly can’t tell anymore. One second, she’s the worst human being to ever exist but then the next, she’s the love of your life, the woman you’re gonna marry.”

“I guess it’s up and down,” you replied in a nonchalant tone before looking back at your book.

He lightly chuckled, shaking his head a bit as he said, “I need to learn when to give up trying to figure you out.”

—

Later that night was the bonfire. You didn’t really feel like attending but your friend had basically begged you to go. Just five minutes in, and he was already flirting with a girl from cabin ten. You were staring off into the fire, red solo cup in your hand, when you suddenly heard somebody sit next to you. You turned your head to see a dark haired boy, looking at you with a smile as he spoke.

“Hey gorgeous, I’m Steve. I think I’ve seen you around before. Athena cabin, right?” He asked, his eyes never pulling from you. You didn’t feel like entertaining him. You weren’t stupid, you knew he was flirting with you. But thoughts of not reciprocating his flirtatious attitude quickly disappear when you see Clarisse watching from the corner of your eyes.

All night you had to watch Clarisse cuddle up with someone who wasn’t you. And all night you refused to give her the attention you knew she was hoping to get out of it, your pride and stubbornness wouldn’t allow you to. So when you finally get the chance for that sweet revenge, you don't hesitate.

You looked at the boy next to you, putting on a sweet smile and placing a hand on his knee. “Yeah, cabin six. What about you?” You slightly tilted your head, looking at him as if he was the most interesting person on earth.

“Hermes cabin,” he responded. He suddenly grew a bit shy under touch, but welcomed it nevertheless. “Hey do you uh… wanna get out of here? I know this cool spot I could show you.” You knew what that was code for; do you want to make out?

“Sure, sounds good,” you winked at him before getting up. He held his hand out for you, which you took as you both began to walk away from the fire. Clarisse's eyes were on you the whole time, clenching her jaw as she watched you walk with him hand in hand. She ignored her siblings’ confused looks as she walked over to you before you and Steve could go any further.

“I think she’s good here,” she said—not asked.

“Um, I think she can make her own decisions. She’s a big girl, if she wants to go, she can go,” he responded.

“I don’t know who you think you are, but she’s not leaving with you.” She glared at the boy with storms in her eyes, her fists balled up. By now your hands were separated from the boy’s, watching the entertaining scene in front of you with a knowing look on your face.

“Excuse me–” Before he could get himself into any more trouble, you walked to Clarisse’s side—she instantly put her hand on your lower back.

“Listen it was nice meeting you Steve, but she’s right; I should really get going; it’s getting kinda late.” You gave him a fake apologetic look. “Maybe I’ll see you around some other time?” You managed to get out as Clarisse was practically dragging you away.

“What’s your problem?” You said to her when you both finally made it to the cabin—her cabin.

“My problem? What’s yours! You know Steve is a douchebag, we were literally laughing about it last week,” Clarisse let out with an aggravated tone.

“Why do you care so much? Shouldn’t you be thrilled that somebody else is stuck with my high maintenance ass!” She only rolled eyes, shaking her head. “Yeah, you really think I wouldn’t bring that up!” You dryly laughed.

“Oh my Gods,” she mumbled before continuing. “You are the most frustrating woman I have ever met!”

“And you’re the most hot-tempered woman I have ever met!” You shouted back, throwing your hands up as you stepped closer to her. “You’re a hot-headed asshole!”

“Well it’s better than being a stubborn know-it-all!” She took a step towards you; your faces were now no more than inches apart. You both stole a glance at the other’s lip before a moment of silence. Suddenly, your lips connected. She was firmly gripping your waist while one of your hands found itself in her hair as the other held the back of her neck.

“I fucking hate you,” you mumbled breathless against her lips. She pushed you up against the cabin door; Gods, you didn’t even care that you were still outside and anybody could just walk by.

“I fucking hate you too.” Her kissing was hungry, passionate. Blood was rushing through veins, your cheeks were warm, and butterflies had erupted in your stomach. You could feel Clarisse feeling for the door's handle for a few seconds before you reached behind you to turn it.

You both went inside, Clarisse kicking the door shut. You could feel her warm touch as her hand grazed the skin of your lower back. She walked you backwards toward her bed, never daring to pull away.

“Fuck, I love you,” you let out as Clarisse moved down to your neck.

“I love you too, don’t you forget it,” she murmurs against you.

Clarisse La Rue may have been narcissistic, stubborn, hot-headed, and pretentious, but you were your mother’s daughter, so maybe you could fix her.

-----------

A/N: she could abuse me, beat the dog-shit outta me, cheat on me, hit me with her car

#clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse x reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse larue x reader #clarisse la rue #dior goodjohn #pjo fanfic #pjo x reader #heros of olympus

2K notes · View notes

hwalovs · 3 months ago

Text

Absolution, My Fine Friend (M)

Pairing; Priest! Jayce x Fem!Reader Word Count; 4.9k Warnings; Porn Without Plot (kind of), mutual masturbation, finger sucking, drooling (Jayce), he gets talked through it, misuse of the confessional, trying not to get caught, paper eating, misuse of a bible, blasphemy, religious kink, corruption kink.

Summary; Father Talis has done his best to forget the sin that permeates his office, taking refuge in the confessional. Maybe, by listening to other ask to be forgiven, Father Talis himself can earn his absolution.

First Sin; Temptation Second Sin; Absolution (currently here)

A/N; this can be read on its own, i think, but part one was a hit in my books and i couldn't stop thinking about Father Jayce and reader. Theres also a little someone on ao3 who sent the most amazing comment and I got a fire ignited under my ass so now we're here. Again, this is dedicated to my babies on discord, all of them. This wouldn't be here without them. Anywho, enjoy!

THIS IS NOT EDITED!

DO NOT COPY, REPOST ON OTHER SITES, OR TRANSLATE MY WORK WITHOUT PERMISSION!

Absolution; Formal release from guilt, obligation, or punishment.

It’s customary for the Priest to wait in the confessional, sitting in the small box for the small door on the other side to open, a person to come sit down, and confess to him their sins. From there, he would listen, give advice, and pray with them before sending them on their way. It was something he had done multiple times before, finding comfort in the enclosed space. His own body heat would keep him warm, heating the small space rather quickly. Taking off his rosary, he could drag the small chain through his fingers, playing with the beads. He would think of prayers, roll a bead between the pads of his fingers, grip the small cross and lightly kiss it. He would do this for hours, sometimes someone would arrive, sometimes there would be no one.

The sun was shining brightly through the small lattice on the door in front of him, directly in his eyesight, blinding him. Gold light filtered through stained glass, casting an array of colorful rays across the pews and patrons. Eyes clenched shut, he sits taller while leaning his head back against the wood, sighing. There was an imaginary clock in his mind, constantly ticking away, bringing a faux comfort. He could hear the slight commotion of people still in the church, talking to loved ones and neighbors who were all smiles and high off of the worship he held. He needed something more to keep him distracted, the LED clock in the confessional was silent, unlike the clock in his bedroom. Its ticking filled his mind now, his foot tapping the ground along with it.

Arms moving, he moves the slowly sliding bible back into its place on his lap, the book small enough to sit idly on his thigh. It rocks back and forth in time with the bouncing of his foot, the movement bringing yet another distraction.

He wished to go back to his room, sit at his desk in his office- no, the desk in his bedroom. He hadn’t sat at the desk in his office for eight days, two hours- his eyes crack open to peek at the small LED clock in the corner of the confessional- and forty-five minutes. He prayed for the strength to sit at the mahogany desk, to write correspondence to other churches, and send letters to the people who gracefully sent donations.

Yet, perhaps he didn’t pray hard enough, didn’t kneel at the side of his bed long enough. Didn’t sit in this small box long enough. Perhaps, God has turned his nose up at him, forsaken him from the greatness of being forgiven. Even now, your ghost had its claws wrapped around his heart like a vice, whispering obscenities into his ear while he was alone. You were the one who led him down this path, and now he searched for the bright light of God with his eyes closed.

Guilt eats away at the fibers of his soul, rips him apart late at night when the image of you appears in his mind, a giggling smile on your lips as they skim across his throat. Your hands were so warm, though, dragging across his body without condescendence. He would wake up and find himself sweating profusely in his cold room the next morning, breathing heavily as his hands grip the blanket. With shaking legs, he would sit up and rip the drawer of his night stand open, glare at the blue rosary that was tied tightly around a small bible, and grab his new one.

He would drop to his knees, heart racing, and pray until the sweat on his back dried.

Even now, he thinks he can sense you in this enclosed space with him. Your scent lingering in the air around him, permeating his clothes no matter how many times he changes or washes them.

Hands gripping his rosary, he hopes the metal cross cuts into his skin. Maybe then, if he sacrificed his blood, God would see he was punished long enough. Maybe then, he could be forgiven. Your face appears in his mind, and his teeth clench. How could you do this to him? Reduce him to nothing but the filth that lines the pristine floors?

Jayce startles when the door on the other side opens, his breath quick as he shifts in place. Clearing his throat, he waits for the person on the other side to get comfortable, their throat clearing. It's silent then, both Jayce and the newcomer getting comfortable with each other. Jayce’s eyes clenched shut, your scent washing over him with newfound strength, the hair on the back of his neck stands and as if he was struck with lightning-

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.”

Your voice.

His heart shakes, muscles tight and his breath short. Immediately, he thinks he can zone in on your breathing, so calm and quiet. Eyes cracking open, his head tilts to the lattice, and he can see your lips curved into a smirk. It's sickening, how the sight of you can make him feel so electric. You ignite something deep within him, akin to a lighter held under a sparkler. His stomach clenches, and his leg stalls its bounce. Fingers gripping his rosary, the sudden weight of the bible in his lap taunts him.

“I’ve never confessed before, could you guide me?”

“I-” his voice squeaked out, and he snapped his jaw shut. Swallowing, Jayce looks back to his lap, gazing at the rosary. Was it just him, or did it suddenly look like the blue one he cast aside? Was the small figure of Jesus gazing with accusatory eyes? Did he know what was reeling in his mind at the sight of you?

“Father?”

His eyes shut tight, head falling towards his chest, shoulders hunched, robes tight over his shoulders, “I listen to your confession.”

It took a lot of strength to force his voice into a steady cadence. The small box seemed to be a little too small, he seemed too big to be in here. What once was comfort, was now torment. Your voice filled his side, bouncing off the wood and surrounding him.

“I give you advice, and you’ll- um,” he shifts in his spot, refusing to meet your gaze through the lattice, “You’ll be on your way.”

“Are you alright, Father?” You’re smiling, he just knows it. He can see your face behind his eyelids, how bright your gaze is, how your pupils are dilating at the sight of him so unkept.

Nodding his head, he takes one more deep breath. He couldn’t let you see him like this, he was supposed to push what happened between you to the back of his mind. Forget it, even. He was praying to God for forgiveness, and by letting you entrap his senses, he would be pushed back to step one.

“What was that?” Taunting, you hum, “I didn’t quite hear you.”

Shivering, he lifts his head and finally gazes through the lattice, meeting your sharp eyes. They’re encapsulating, looking at him with knowing. You can see him for what he truly is, a man of sin.

Yet, it was your fault he was like this, why he swallows a whine and lets his mouth open to answer. If he were to put on a strong front, you would understand why he couldn’t progress in this sinful back and forth. Couldn’t let you torment him with your pretty words, or your addicting touch.

“I’m here to listen to your confession, please just-” voice trailing off, his hands grip the rosary for comfort, but all he finds is the sharp edges of the cross.

You chuckle, head leaning against the wood, raising your hand to tap your forehead, chest, and each shoulder.

“In the name of the Father, Son, and The Holy Spirit. My confession, Father, is that I cannot stop thinking about you.”

Jayce smiles, gaze locked onto his rosary, “That’s normal- I’m your Priest-”

“No, Father,” voice quiet. serious, you shift closer to the lattice, “I think of you when my fingers are inside me, I wish they were yours-”

Muscles tight, Jayce says the first thing that comes to mind, “that was a mistake-”

“Was it? You seemed to enjoy yourself a lot, Father.”

“Temptation is a powerful thing, but you must find it in yourself to resist.”

There’s silence on the other side, your gaze assessing him. Humming, you let your head swing to the side, your own fingers rubbing across the tops of your thighs absentmindedly.

“How can I resist, Father?”

Finally, his lungs allow air in. He breathes deeply, ignoring his shaking hands. He ignores the fire in his gut, how his thighs clench together, and recites words from the book still resting in his lap, “Asks for guidance out of temptation, and for the strength to use the Word of God as a weapon.”

“Ah,” you sigh, “the Word of God as a weapon? Do you really think that’ll save me?”

There's a teasing tilt to your tone, and Jayce ignores it. Voice closer, you whisper through the lattice, “have you been saved, father?”

“I ask for forgiveness, just as you are now,” he whispers in return. Hands shaking, he lets his fingers return to fidgeting with the rosary beads. His mouth waters, wanting you to drop it into his mouth-

No, he cannot think of that. He was a holy man. Faithful to his God.

“So, you’ve confessed?”

Nodding, he bites his cheek, his skin burning, “I- I have.”

“Liar.”

White hot fear runs through his veins, and his hands unknowingly release the rosary. It clatters to the ground between his feet, and his eyes meet yours. They narrowed, disappointingly pointed his way; All of a sudden, he felt the roles reversed.

“No-”

“How often do you think of me, Jayce?”

Heart racing, his hands grip the tops of his thighs, feel the muscles beneath tighten.

His chest heaves, and his legs clench together. Pushing back that licking flame that ignited between his legs, all because of your voice. It's sticky-sweet like honey, drowning him in molasses that clogs his senses. He can feel his cock twitch, wanting your touch instead of his.

Head leaning back against the wood, he can feel a droplet of sweat run down the back of his neck, soaking into the roman collar. His shaking hands move to grip his bible, fingers sliding between the pages to seek any form of strength. He can hear it rip under the pressure of his grip, yet how else would he ground himself? His mind races, feeling your eyes staring at him through the lattice

“Does your God know you think of me as much as you do him?”

Jayces’ shuddering breath is loud, eyebrows furrowed as he wills his racing heart to calm. He must not give in. This must be another test for him, he thinks. This was God's way of seeing if he was worthy of forgiveness.

Yet, you seemed so genuine, even if you sounded teasing.

“What do you tell yourself at night? Maybe I could speak the same, so I can forget about you.”

A whine, and Jayce thinks he doesn't want you to forget him. He couldn’t forget you, no matter what he did, what he said, or tried. Stomach turning, he can see your waiting eyes, how you won’t change the subject until he gives in.

“If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just and will forgive us of our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.”

“Ah,” you nod your head once, “Do you want to be forgiven, though?”

He’s silent, clenching his teeth, “Of course.”

You sigh, and with a low voice you talk with a harsh tone, “then why are you still speaking to me?”

“I-” voice stuck in his throat, Jayce knows he’s had the opportunity to steer the conversation back, to not engage you in such sinful conversation. Yet, he craved it. To be told what to do, to be on his knees between your knees instead of the altar.

“Oh,” you say, Jayce freezing. Had you read him so easily?

“Oh, you’re liking this, aren’t you?”

Whining, his thighs clench. You laugh, and it makes his chest seize. Cock jumping in his robes, Jayce refuses to touch himself. There were people outside, they would hear-

“I’m liking this too,” you whisper, and he can hear the first button pop from your pants. Shoulders tense, his breathing turns rapid.

“You’ve plagued my mind everyday, Jayce, its tormenting-”

A zipper, and Jayce can feel his thighs shake. His fingers curl against the pages, and he clenches his eyes shut. You were taunting him, you wouldn’t touch yourself now, in the confessional of all places.

“You-” he whines, “you’ve been tormenting me-”

“Good,” a sigh, and he wishes to be in the small space with you, to tear down this wall to see your form in all its glory, “should we pray together, Father? Beg together for forgiveness?”

Shivering, he pushes his head further against the wood, swallowing with a dry throat.

“Lord God, in your goodness have mercy on me: do not look on my sins, but take away all my guilt. Create in me a clean heart and renew within me an upright spirit-”

Your voice starts immediately after his, repeating his words, breathy and soft. The fire, slowly swelling in his stomach, licks and burns at his chest at the sound of your sweet voice wrapping around each syllable of the prayer. He sets the bible in the small space beside him, sliding his free hands across his torso.

He moves, fingers undoing the buttons of his robes. With a shaking grip, he slowly pushes it to the side, the air wrapping around his thighs. Cock jumping, Jayce whines softly. His hands rest on the inside of his thighs, his cock radiating heat under his boxers. Chest shuddering, his back slouches, legs spreading.

“forgive all my sins, renew your love in my heart, help me to live in perfect unity with my fellow Christians that I may proclaim your saving power to all the world.”

Tone shaking, he barely opens his eyes to find you already looking at him. Your own eyes were half lidded, chest heaving as your mouth opened to copy him once more. He can barely see you, but he can make out how your shirt was pulled up on your tummy, your pants undone, your hand hidden under the fabric. Your back was arching, neck exposed to the light that seeps in.

He can’t help himself, his hands grip his cock over his boxers, hips jumping into the contact. Jayce growls, rough and gravely as he grips the base of his clothed cock.

“Jayce,” you whimper, and he moans. You sounded so heavenly, his mind reeling at the cadence.

“Do you think we’ll be forgiven?” You ask, smirking. He shakes his head, and watches as your gaze shifts to the ceiling. Eyes closing, your eyebrows furrow as you lose yourself in your own pleasure. Jayce whimpers, wanting to be the one giving you that pleasure, he wants you to be above him, using him, punishing him for being so sinful.

“Keep talking, Jayce, be a good boy.”

“Hnng- I-” he chokes, snapping his gaze to his lap. There was a rapidly growing wet patch at the tip of his cock, he grips the top of his boxers, pulling the elastic away to push it down his thighs. The fabric is tight against his skin, straining. With his cock finally free, he softly trails the tips of his shaking fingers along the shaft. Twitching, he presses his finger into the beads of pre that seeps from the tip.

“Tell me another prayer, Father,” it's harsh now, how your eyes glare at him. He bites his cheek, sparing a glance to the bible next to him, searching his mind for anything to say. All he could think of, though, was you.

“Therefore, confess your sins to- to one another and pray for one another-” he sighs, tears gathering on his waterline as he finally grips his cock tightly. His thumb swipes across the tip, and he moves his wrist once, slowly pumping his cock from top to base, and back up again, its uncoordinated, sloppy, “that you may be healed. The p- hnn- prayer of a righteous person has great power as it- it is working.”

“I want to taste you, Jayce,” you whisper. He hips jerk, and his eyes snap to the lattice separating you both. You’re so much closer, and when he leans close to look closer, he can see your pants pushed down your thighs. The soft skin of your thighs looked so inviting, spread as far as the restricting clothing will allow, your fingers circling your pulsing clit as your other hand grips onto the edge of the seat.

“You can’t,” he whimpers, much louder than he intended. He wanted nothing more than for your mouth to taste him, replace his shaking hand and bring him to euphoria once more.

“I can,” you reply with a hiss, “the gap is wide enough, let me taste you.”

Jayce furrows his eyebrows, his focus turning to how big the gap actually was, it was small enough that at a glance you wouldn't be able to decipher what was on the other side. Yet, if you looked close enough, you’d be able to tell what was what. His hand leaves his cock, gathering his sticky pre onto the pad of his middle finger, and slowly raises it to the gap in the lattice. His chest shudders as he watches you move, meeting your lips on the other side.

His moan is loud, reverberating in the space as your wet tongue wraps around his finger. You're sucking hard, teeth grazing his skin, the breath escaping your nose warm on his already scorching skin.

Your mouth is gone just as quickly as it wrapped around his digit, your tongue swiping across your bottom lip as your hand drips deeper on your cunt, no doubt pushing them inside.

“You’re an angel,” you whisper, and Jayce’s back arches slightly. His hand retracts from the lattice, immediately running the spit coated skin across his lower lip before sucking his own finger. He could taste you, the candy you ate, the coffee you drank, and he could taste himself. A tangy saltiness that lingers in the back of his throat.

He almost sobs, drool dripping down to coat his palm. When he pulls his finger away, his hands are replaced onto his cock, now glistening with the collection of his and your spit. He doesn’t realize that he’s gasping for air, his legs shaking, the choked sound of a whimper pushing from his throat.

“Be quiet, Jayce.”

Licking his lips, he clenches his thighs shut, pushing his head back against the wood. His cock was throbbing in his grip, and when he slowly rubbed his thumb across the tip, he moaned.

“I-” he swallows, throat suddenly too dry, “I can’t, I’m sorry-”

You sigh, and he can feel his stomach clench, “grab your Bible, show it to me.”

“What?-”

“Show me your Bible, now,” you hiss, and his hand leaves his cock to grab the leather-bound book. Raising it, he refuses to look at the gold writing across the front.

“Good boy, open it up for me, any page will do.”

Dropping it from your gaze, he lets the binding fall to any page, heaving as his eyes blearily look over the page. The text was so small, mixing together in a conglomeration of sentences and prayer he could no longer read. All he could think of was you you you you-

“Rip out a page, and put it in your mouth.”

Freezing, Jayce finds it hard to breathe. Rip out a page? That’s blasphemous.

“Since you love to recite God's words so much, why don't you eat them so no one can hear what's rightfully mine?”

Jayce can’t, he simply can’t. By doing this, he would never be forgiven-

Yet, would you forgive him if he refused?

You can sense his racing mind, your voice a calm beacon in the rough waves of a storm, “Tell me another prayer, Father- One more, just for me.”

Jayce breathes deeply, calming himself, “You are my refuge and strength; no matter what happens, I trust You and will not be afraid.”

“Good boy,” you coo, “do as you're told, Jayce.”

Mind over matter, Jayce forces his unwilling hands to rip a page, bringing it slowly to his lips. The pages were thin, and when he pushed it against his tongue, his spit immediately soaked through it. The ink was slowly seeping from the paper, bitter against his tongue. He looks at you, teeth chewing down onto the paper to keep it in place.

Smirking, you tilt your head, “another.”

He rips multiple pages at once, pushing them between his teeth to meet the other.

You scoff, “such a good boy, doing what you’re told. Yet, you can’t follow your own God’s teachings.”

He can do nothing but whimper around the pages, his hand dropping the bible to the ground to grab back onto his cock, jerking his wrist to the sound of your voice.

“You would do anything I ask, wouldn’t you?” You taunt, your own hand picking up its pace. Sweat shines on your forehead, lips glistening with spit as you shift in your spot, your other hand joining the one on your cunt. Whimpering, you push your own fingers inside, the other still circling your swollen and throbbing clit.

“How far would you go for me, I wonder?” A sigh, and your eyes close. Smiling at the thoughts that race through your mind, “would you leave the priesthood for me?”

His head nods before he even realizes it, your head snapping to watch him, smile widening.

With the small semblance of clarity in his mind remaining, Jayce thinks of the forgiveness he’s been begging to receive for weeks.

It’s always been you, he realizes. You’re the one he seeks forgiveness from, you’re the one who he prays to each night. Not the God whose teachings he no longer follows. Not the God who judges him for feeling emotions only you can bring him. You would forgive him, you wouldn’t judge him for his actions. He would do anything for you, he thinks. If you asked him, he would be yours- he was yours from the moment you sat on his desk.

His pleasure washes over him in waves, no longer held back by guilt. He allows his hand to squeeze, feels the bite of pleasure in his thighs.

Your whine makes his hand jerk faster, that sweet noise the only thing that he seeks out in the night. Breathing heavily, he bites down on the pages still lodged in his mouth. Some were becoming too soggy, the ink transferring onto his tongue.

“I’m so wet, Father-” you sigh, and he can hear your fingers run through your sloppy folds. It’s pathetic, how his hips rise off the seat to chase after it. He wanted to see, wanted to taste you-

“Do you want a taste? I bet you do.” He whines, tongue pressing against paper and you laugh. It's quiet, airy as you release a breathy moan. His eyes strain to watch your mouth drop open, your fingers pressing against your tongue. Eyes watering, he clenches them shut and leans his head forwards against the lattice, the wood cool against his scorching skin.

Your fingers trail down your chin, chest heaving, and you push your hand back through your folds. Your soft skin glows in the light, blue’s and pink’s coloring you Holy as your glistening fingers come back into view. Instead of raising to your lips, they slowly close in on the small openings of the lattice. Your other fingers were still inside you, he realizes, you were halting your own pleasure just to tease him.

“Why don’t you taste what I give? Rather than your God,” you taunt, glint in your eyes. Without hesitation he lets the soggy paper drop from his mouth, drool pouring from behind. Down his chin, soaking his beard. Bits of paper remain on his lips, the bitter taste of ink left behind. He can faintly hear the paper hit the floor, a wet smack, and he runs his tongue across his lip. He didn’t want anything to dilute your taste, not even his own spit.

The tips of your fingers appear on his side, and he surges forwards to meet them. His tongue touches soft skin, lips pressed against wood. You push further into his mouth, your slick coating his taste buds. It washes away the taste of paper and ink, his body shivering as his hand grips tight onto his cock. It pulses, begging for your touch instead of his.

“I wonder what God would think, you forsaking his word for such sin.”

He whines, tongue parting your middle and ring finger to taste the slick between, feeling you press down onto his tongue, sliding as far as the lattice will allow. You almost hit the back of his throat, and he pushes harder against the wood, wanting you as deep as possible.

“Fucking-” you hiss, retracting your finger and quickly licking across the tips before pushing them back between your folds. The sloppy-slick sounds louder than before, his hand trying to catch up to your rapid pace.

There's a fire growing inside him, quick and unrelenting as his hand sloppily jerks his cock. His thighs twitch, toes curling in his shoes as his lungs beg for more air. Although he was gasping, he felt like he wasn’t getting enough air.

“Don’t you fucking cum yet,” your voice growls, and he sobs. Pressure behind his eyes, scalding tears on his cheeks, his tongue searching for your taste that lingers.

“Jayce-”

“Please- I-” he whispers, hearing the horrifying sound of heels against the floor outside of the confessional. Could they hear what was happening inside? Hear how their priest was touching himself, committing a sin he was no longer guilty about?

His hand falters, cold humiliation creeping over his shoulders.

“Ignore them, puppy-” your voice borders a whisper, “keep going- tell me another prayer.”

He looks to you, sniffling lightly as his hand resumes its previous pace. Nodding your own head, you encourage him. There was a gathering heat in his gut, embers collection to prepare a large bonfire. Your gaze threw wood onto it, flames catching quickly. His thighs felt gooey, his mind blank, but he wills himself to think of any prayer, just for you.

“To all those- those that repent of in this wise- Oh, hnn- and look to J-Jesus- Christ for their salvation. F-fuck- I declare- that the absolution of sins is effected- please, oh fuck- In the name of the F-father- and of the son, oh- hnng ‘m gonna- Wait-”

“You can finish father, come on-”

“Mm- and- i can’t- h-hold-” he begs, your voice pushing him impossibly closer.

“And of the Holy Spirit, Amen-”

Fire under his skin, and he feels his release begin. A raging fire in his gut, spreading to his thighs and chest. It tingles so intensely, and his hand clamps over his mouth, biting onto his palm to muffle his strained moan. Blinding white explodes behind his eyes, and he can faintly hear your cooing voice talking him through it. He wanted to hold your hand through this intensity, wanted your calming embrace rather than the prayer that was seared into his mind. God could no longer provide comfort, for you had burned him away to make space for your own presence.

He can hear your own whines, choked moans as you, no doubt, go through your own orgasm. You bite down on your cheek to keep yourself silent, hips canting into your hands to chase that pleasure. Jayce tries to watch, but his hands feel his thighs, and can't think of anything else but the euphoria he was feeling.

Heavy breathing is what he hears when he comes back, his hands and skin covered in his own sticky release, cock still throbbing and red, yet too sensitive to continue. His abs hurt, his arm was slowly relaxing from the cramping that occurred. Licking his lips, he brings his hand closer to his mouth, tempted to taste the opaque liquid that coats him.

Feeling your eyes on him, he looks over, you’re waiting on the other side of the lattice. With shaking hands, he raises his tired arm, slides his finger through the lattice, and feels your tongue wrap around the digit slowly. Heart in his ears, he makes circles on your tongue, feeling the muscle move and chase after the cum, a smile slowly stretching across his face.

Your hand appears, your own shining fingers pushing through the gaps in the lattice, and Jayce wills his lethargic body to move to wrap his own lips around your fingers. His cock twitches at the taste of your own cum, his tongue licking away the sweet-tart taste. Your face was so close, he could feel the breath from your nose against his cheek, your body heat seeping through in the slightest. When he pulls away for air, he opens his mouth to speak.

A voice beats him to it, though, older and questioning.

“Father?”

Ice cold fear, and he tilts his head to stare at the door ahead.

#arcane x reader #smut #arcane smut #hwawrites #jayce talis #jayce talis x reader #jayce x reader #jayce talis smut #priest jayce talis #misuse of a confessional #arcane jayce #arcane imagine #jayce imagine #arcane

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midnightwriter21 · 1 year ago

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can we have the first meet soulmate thing for sorcerer! reader please?? w gojo only

jjk hcs: satoru meeting sorcerer!soulmate!reader

characters: satoru gojo x reader, megumi (mentioned), yuji (mentioned), nobara (mentioned)

warnings: u kill a cursed spirit, possible injury but not rly, mature language (reader cusses gojo out lmfao), the kids & reader lowkey bullying gojo lol, gojo is kinda suggestive at the end

AN: soulmate au where the first words your soulmate says to you are tattooed somewhere on your body!! read the non-sorcerer version HERE

SATORU GOJO

being called in as back up for a mission involving a 2nd grade cursed spirit was not on ur to-do list today

but guess where you are!!

an empty mall!!

an empty mall where you’re currently watching 3 teenagers run around like headless chickens

the curse is ugly… as most of them are but..

this one is NASTY looking

several different colored eyeballs sticking out of various places on its body

it’s oozing some sort of greenish brown liquid

and the smell

dear lord it’s bad

the poor pink haired kid is simultaneously holding his nose and trying to fight the curse with one hand

and it’s main attack seems to be the ability to spit that greenish brown liquid at whoever it’s attacking, rendering them immobile

almost like a glue trap for mice

the curse backs the three kids into a corner and prepares to spit that sticky liquid at them

and that’s when you decide to make your entrance

jumping from the second floor of the mall, in front of the kids, and drawing your weapon

you block the attack and jump towards the curse

severing it’s head and therefore exorcising it in one quick movement

you sheathe your weapon and turn to the kids, “why the hell are you three taking on a 2nd grade mission?”

the pink haired boy from earlier explains, “our sensei was supposed to be with us but when we split up he went to the food court… and uhhh… we haven’t seen him since.”

you give the kids a sour look, “your sensei must be a complete moron”

all at once the kids agree

“he is” -the girl with the hammer

“yeah, pretty much” -the boy with the black spikey hair

“i mean.. kinda, sometimes” -the pink haired boy

you sit the kids down on a bench so that you can check over them and access any possible wounds

mama bear mode activated.

you ask the boy, who you now know as megumi, to get in touch with his sensei

when his sensei answers the phone, megumi explains that the curse has been exorcised

but before he can explain about your presence, you snatch the phone from him and let out a string of expletives directed towards the man on the other end

“you must be a fucking idiot huh? your kids could’ve died taking on a 2nd grade alone and you’re off being an irresponsible jackass somewhere-“

before you can continue you hear the dial tone

he hung up on you

without even saying a word

nearly growling in anger you shove the phone back to megumi and move over to yuji

you take his hands in yours and begin to wrap his hands in bandages saying, “you know, if you keep punching through walls you’re going to end up really hurting your knuckles”

as you wrap his hands you’re not really paying attention to your surroundings, so the smug voice coming from behind spooks you a little…

“it’s good that a pretty little thing like you came to the rescue or else my kids could’ve died since i was off being an irresponsible jackass”

he’s throwing your own words back in your face

whipping your head around fast enough to give yourself whiplash, you prepare to launch into another ass chewing

but your words get stuck in your throat when you’re met with a tall, blindfolded, white haired man

a man known to everyone in the jujutsu world

Satoru Gojo

in response to your stunned silence he lets out a chuckle, “what? cat got your tongue, pretty?”

his mocking snaps you back into reality as you fire back, “no, i’m just surprised on how someone like you can be such a complete and utter dumbass!”

“awww cmon is that the way you’re supposed to talk to your soulmate?” he smirks down at you

you give him a confused look before it hits you

his first words to you from earlier…

“it’s good that a pretty little thing like you came to the rescue or else my kids could’ve died since i was off being an irresponsible jackass”

those exact words are printed on your back underneath your shoulder blade in neat handwriting

looking up at him with wide eyes, you watch as he turns his back to you, pulling off his uniform jackets and lifting up his shirt

ignoring the faint gagging sounds from his students

and there it is, printed in the exact same spot as yours, in your handwriting

“you must be a fucking idiot huh? your kids could’ve died taking on a 2nd grade alone and you’re off being an irresponsible jackass somewhere-“

“no. fucking. way.” you say in disbelief as he turns back to face you

“you have a dirty mouth, sweetheart,” he leans in and whispers softly in your ear, “can’t wait to see just how dirty it can get,” he leans back and says in his normal voice, “but we’ll save that for later!”

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contrarianwitt · 4 months ago

Text

thoughts while rereading tdt: part 3

kavinsky i swear stop your goddamn yearning

adam being happy blue is saying the word girlfriend to him when she is actively questioning their relationship king i’m glad you’re focusing on the positives but i don’t think it’s a good thing

blue baby i love you but maybe don’t call adam’s best friend to pick you up when you just broke up and adam’s currently sleeping on your couch. that’s a bit messy

THE FACT THAT GANSEY PULLS HIMSELF OUT OF THE CAR AFTER THE “JANE IN THIS LIGHT” COMMENT THE SAME WAY HE DID AT THE SUBSTANCE PARTY. GANSEY ON FIRE.

ughhhh the most iconic bluesey scene ever!! “and now we never talk about it” my ass. you survive and live happy and so do adam and ronan

k there’s no way gansey doesn’t know ronan is gay considering he clocked kavinsky “needing to come to terms with his sexuality”before ronan did. like wdym ronan you’re just now wondering if kavinsky is gay? what the hell did you think all that was for

the gray man is the step father who stepped up bc yes! offer to kill gansey just because he didn’t want to talk to blue

kavinsky is such a well written character oh my god i didn’t like him the first time i read the series but he’s so interesting and his end is so tragic

“ronan’s second secret was adam parrish” is actually one of the greatest lines ever.

you can really see that maura is blues mother when she immediately disappears to find artemus right after her situationship left. i love the sargent’s but timing is not their strong suit

part 1. part 2.

bllb

#sorry not sorry that half of these are bluesey they’re always on my mind #rereading trc #the raven cycle #blue sargent #richard gansey #adam parrish #ronan lynch #joseph kavinsky

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fanaticsnail · 11 months ago

Note

Oh snail, i know you already have a long list of WIPs (i can't wait to read them) and your Inbox is probably already full with requests, so i understand if its not in the cards right now.

I was just wondering what the kid-pirates would do, or how they would react if ther precious doc-reader is the one that was injured badly or was very sick. Especialy how Killer would react after that romantic tention between them (i need more of that 😩). I don't have a particular song in mind, because the seires already has a vibe to it, hope thats okay.

I wish you a wonderful day/night/evening! 💕Sooo looking forward to your next work, whatever it may be 🐢

I love you for this prompt, @daydreamer-in-training. Thank you!

Sit your ass down, would ya, Doc?

Hey Doc Masterlist here

Word Count: 2,000+

Synopsis: You've taken care of your crew and nursed them back to health from their flus... but now it's your turn. The Kid-Pirates do their best to take care of the worlds worst patient, their doctor: you.

Themes: platonic!kid-pirates, eustass kid x gn!reader, swearing, illness, comforting, taking medication, kid is a bit of a dom, doc is a bit of a bra, you're the kid-pirate doctor: the crew calls you 'doc'.

Notes: I am currently struggling with the flu myself, and this was simply too cute to not write about. Thank you for your ask, it's been fun to write about!

Tag List: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @sinning-23 @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @since-im-already-here @sordidmusings @nerium-lil

“Hey, Doc? Did we need any more petroleum jelly from the-...?” the fire breather called beside you, hating when you turned to face him, “...-Shit, Doc. You look like absolute balls today.”

Rolling your swollen, glassy and red eyes at him, you draw another tissue from your counter and sneeze into it. The silky tissue felt like sandpaper over your leaky nose, the skin splitting surrounding your nostrils and leaving small stains of red on the pale paper.

“Always so full of compliments and kindness, Heat,” you huff out, your voice sounding hoarse and cracking along with every word. Heat cringed, recoiling away from you with eyes narrowed in sympathy. You attempt to breathe through your blocked nose, no air passing through the dual nostrils.

Treating the crew for the past two weeks, and nursing them to health in recovering from the flu, had finally caught up with you. You felt both cold and hot at the same time, your skin both dry and sticky with sweat. Mind swelling and cracking behind the tense throbbing throughout your brain caused a dull ache ringing in your ears and fogging your mind.

“I-... I’m just saying, Doc,” he reiterated in defense of himself, “You don’t look too good. Maybe you ought to sit out from the in-land trip to restock. Stay home on the Victoria Punk?” Heat suggested with a soft smile and a subtle shrug.

“What?” you grunted out a cough, “And leave you lot to restock my clinic for me? Not fucking like-...” coughing into another tissue, your glassy eyes pricked at the corners and began to spill out and down your cheeks, “...-likely.”

Heat’s smile fled from his face, his lip downturning in sympathy. He shook his head and extended his hand out to you, gesturing you to follow him out through the door towards the deck. You attempt to sniff back another intake of air to reopen your nose to no avail. Following on, you trudge somberly towards the top deck where the crew were all waiting to step foot onto the pier.

Without drawing attention to yourself, your eyes squinted lazily to compensate for the pain the sun caused your mind. With each achy step, you attempted to bite back the ache your body was going through. Barely aware of your surroundings, you gesture in the medicinal remedy booths at town square for herbs, ointments and aromatic fragrances.

As you reached into your pocket to pull out your small folder of Berry, a large right forearm reached over your shoulder and paid the vendor before you could. Rolling your eyes, you turn to look at the scowling grimace of your captain, Eustass Kid, baring his rage down at you. Attempting to roll your eyes at him again, you clenched them tightly shut instead as the world became far too bright to process.

“Captain,” you acknowledge him with a clumsy nod, fighting the urge to not to fall over with the vertigo overcoming you. He growled at you immediately, gesturing to Wire beside him to gather the supplies and walk back to the ship.

“You’re a real fuckin’ idiot, aren’t ya, Doc?” he spat, scolding you with his heavy growl. You laughed at him, shaking your swirling head and beginning to walk beside him. Your overexertion and sleep deprivation caught up with you as you tripped over an uneven divot in the rocky path.

“I'm not into degradation, Cap,” you respond in a half-joking hum, your eyes feeling heavy and weighted, “Not my kink. Might be yours, though, considering the amount of times I yell at you to hold you accountable.” That comment earnt you another low growl from your captain, his face turning a few shades darker than his hair.

He turned to face you at his side, his lips curling as if to speak. As he opened his lips, he was lost for words as you fell into him, bracing yourself against him to steady your walk. He caught you in his right arm, bringing his face down towards you and brows knitting with concern. Turning towards Wire, he cocked his chin to the side to usher him on towards the ship.

With no further warning, Kid dipped at the knees and hoisted you up into his chest beneath your thighs. He curled his bicep and hooked your head beneath his chin and cradled you firmly into him. Under usual circumstances, you would’ve fought this tooth and nail.

You do not enjoy being manhandled by the crew, especially by your captain. While you enjoy the embrace once in a while with your more sensitive crewmates, particularly Bubblegum, the Captain has only ever been this close to you when he’s sparring with you.

“C’mon Doc, I'll get you seen to,” he grunted down at your position curled into his chest, “I’ve-... And the-...” his words trailed off, the fever raising your temperature higher and prompting you to seek out sleep against his pectoral.

Voices and words fade in and out of your ears, a slow drawl and murmurs of several of your crewmates swelling around your assumed resting spot for the day. The room wasn’t physically moving, even though your vertigo suggested it was.

“When was the last time Doc’s had a day off?” you recognised the feminine voice of Quincy in the room beside you. Several grunts and incessant babbling reverberated around the room, prompting you to flutter your eyelashes open and push through the pain.

“Doc!” you cringed as a body almost flew into your bed, sitting on the plush sheets beside you, “You’re awake! I’m so happy to see you’re up!” You wince, slowly waving Bubblegum away, swatting at his zig-zagged head.

“Off, off,” you shooed him, wincing as you shrugged your duvet off your thighs and swung your legs over the side of the bed. As you began to wobble to your feet, the booming voice of your captain called over the chatter of the room,

“Sit your ass down, would ya, Doc?” he growled, striding over in intentional steps and giving you a shove from his right hand in the middle of your chest, “The medics here said you need a week in bed to rest. Sit down.” You growled at him, doing your best to gather the strength to growl at him.

“If I’ve been prescribed ‘rest’,” you began, gesturing to the crewmates surrounding your current room, “Why the fuck are you all here?” Several sheepish mutters surround the room, a few members pinching the scruffs of their necks, a few more wringing their hands in front of their waists.

Your captain clapped his hand on your shoulder, pushing you to lay back down and wrangling you into your bedsheets. Refusing to go down without a fight this time, you wriggled in his grip and fought both the fever and the strong arm of your captain.

“For fucks sake, Doc!” Kid yelled at you, pushing and shoving you down into the very comfortable and unfamiliar bed in front of the crew. “Just lay down and rest, damn it! Go back to sleep.” You wriggled harder.

“No!” you yelled defiantly, kicking off the duvet and fighting each and every time your captain attempted to shove you into your bed. Kid looked around to the crew, angled his chin sharply to wordlessly order them to leave the room. As they left, Kid turned back towards you and crawled up onto the bed.

“You are more of a pain in the ass than that fucking bullet to the buttcheek,” he growled, climbing over you and baring down his weight onto your smaller frame. Straddling your thighs, he placed his knees on your open palms and successfully pinned you beneath him. He pressed his forearm over your chest and gave you a firm shove to force you to lay down. You had no choice but to thump your head back into the plush pillow behind your head.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you clench your jaw and growl behind your lips. The rumble in your throat hurt the raw swell in your jugular, but you pushed past it to air your frustrations at him regardless. The chuckle from your captain above you only served to propel your anger to rise higher.

“Yeah, yeah. Growl and groan all you want,” he scoffed at you, pinning your chest with his bicep while reaching his hand between you and gathering the blankets in his fist. Slowly raising it up, he continued his place straddling your thighs until he thought you would no longer fight him.

“Why are you doing this, Captain?” you snarl at him, finally opening your eyes to gaze up into his eyes. He smirked at you in response, pressing his palm to your forehead and clicking his tongue at the temperature.

“Because,” he leaned over to the bedside, taking two small spherical tablets into his hand, “We love you, Doc.” He leaned back over you, gesturing with his chin for you to part your lips. You take a moment to snarl at him before complying, parting your lips and allowing him to place the bitter tablets on your tongue.

He leaned back over to the bedside, finding a glass of water and bringing it down to your lips. Tilting the glass slowly as it brushed with your bottom lip, he carefully fed you a sip of water to take the pills with. Placing the glass back over on the table, he drew his attention to the small amount of water seeping from the corner of your lip.

“Now, be a good Doctor and get loved on, idiot,” he softly huffed, his voice low and husky as he leaned forward. He used the pad of his thumb to gently collect the spill of water from the corner of your lips. Your eyes never ceased its glare up at him. He grinned tauntingly down at you, arching his brow and ensuring you swallowed the tablets.

“Get off, Captain,” you growled at him, bucking your hips up in an attempt to remove him from your body. He cackled his rumbled laugh down at you in response, shaking his head.

“You gonna get up again if I do?” he asked, leaning down and caressing your cheek in a gentle stroke. His eyes held nothing but mischievous mockery, but his hand felt like it was gently coaxing you to comply with what he asked.

“No, I’ll behave,” you snarled at him. His laugh was genuine this time, low and gentle. Slowly backing off you, he slid off your body before adjusting the sheets and smoothing them over.

“Good,” he nodded, beginning to leave the room by the door off to the side of the room. Halting at the door, he fought with himself for a moment before looking at you over his shoulder and uttering, “I’ll-… I’ll get Kil to check on you in a few hours. Get some rest, okay?”

What he said next was something you weren’t expecting to come from his lips. In all the time you served with him, he only ever called you ‘Doc’, or ‘Doctor.’ You were your title, and you appreciated that about the crew. You were Doc, only ever Doc. But what he said changed all that.

After he uttered the word “okay,” it was immediately followed by your name. Waiting a few moments, you responded in a cadence just above a whisper.

“I’ll be right where you left me, Kid,” you replied with a soft smile back at him. He closed his eyes, offering you a reflection of your smile in return before it grew back into its usual mischievous face.

“Good,” he again offered you, scrunching his nose up at you and looking up through his red eyelashes at you, “Otherwise I would’ve gotten your doting daddy to come coddle his whiny baby.” Your eyes went wide, your jaw clenching and your eyebrows shot up to your hairline.

Eustass Kid just laughed in response, exiting the room and giving you both the time and space you needed to recover. Your recovery was not only the flu, but of the second hand embarrassment that Killer must’ve relayed to Kid what he’d said to you in the consultation room. Either that, or you left the shell of your Den-Den accidentally activated from when you spoke with your captain earlier in the day.

Either way, you pouted as you did as you were told and huffed back into your bed and went to sleep: the paracetamol activating and stilling your swelling head and masking the undertones of pain in your body.

#one piece #x reader #ask snail #snail answers #eustass kid #kid pirates #op kid #kid x reader #op kid x reader #one piece x reader #gn!reader #one piece x platonic!reader #eustass kid x reader #subtle killer x reader #killer x reader #one piece kid x reader

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young-waverer · 7 days ago

Text

fic recs: 4/19 - 4/26

hey what's up hello figured i should put my chronic fic reading to good use and share some each week (or, at least the weeks that i remember to do this)

in no particular order, some of my fave reads this week under the cut

🚒 honey you're familiar by cranberrymoons | @cranberrymoons rating: explicit relationships: buck/eddie

Seeing him like this: Buck on top of him, mile-long legs splayed out over his lap. Straddling him with his hands planted on Eddie’s shoulders, sweat shining on his face, sheets bunching up around both of them. At some point in the watching, sitting up, hand pressed low on Buck’s back to keep him held close, mesmerized.

🚒 eat your bones by oneofthesirens rating: explicit relationships: buck/eddie

“What, even if I kill someone?” Eddie shoots back. It feels like he’s daring Buck — testing him, almost. Eddie can’t tell what he wants from this conversation, just that he wants. “Even then,” Buck says, then adds, “Especially if it's your parents.” "Buck, ” Eddie laughs. His whole face feels flushed, impossibly hot. It’s hot in Texas, always, but he feels almost electric with it. “Nah, Eddie, I’m being so serious right now, if you tell me you need to hide a body in El Paso, I’m there.” Buck’s laughing too, his head thrown back so the arch of his neck takes up most of Eddie’s screen. Eddie presses a thumb to the screen, where he could touch the dip at the base of Buck’s throat if they were together. “Don’t be an idiot,” Eddie snorts. “I’m not going to ask you to hide a body, okay?” Buck sighs. “I wish you would. We’d see each other again, at least.”

🚒 symbiosis by mandolare | @rainscenes rating: explicit relationships: buck/eddie

When Buck turns to the side to step into the shower he freezes, suddenly and shockingly wide-awake, because there’s something very, very abnormal in his periphery, so out of place he almost can’t make himself look straight at it in the mirror. But then he does, and for a moment forgets how to work his lungs. Because there’s the blue-black shadow of fresh ink under his skin, ugly cursive script, about three inches wide right on his ass. Eddie, it says, high on the curve of his right cheek. Buck and Eddie get blackout drunk, and then learn something new about themselves. And each other.

🚒 have, hold by trysetmeonfire | @try-set-me-on-fire rating: teen relationships: buck/eddie

“I think you should marry me,” Buck says. Still not really looking at Eddie. Looking at Eddie. Condensation drips on his thumb. He got back from Texas seven hours ago. He's known the man at his table for as many years. He doesn't- he's not- but who else is he ever going to love this much? And if Buck asks for something he needs- what is Eddie going to do besides his best to provide it? So: “Okay,” Eddie says. “Okay.”

🚒 Help Me Believe by semperama | @semperama rating: teen relationships: buck/eddie

“I fucked up,” Buck says. He wishes he could stop himself from talking. If the elevator hadn’t stopped, if they weren’t trapped here, maybe he would have been able to bite his tongue until later, until it didn’t matter anymore. “Eddie, I—” “Hey,” Eddie says, sharp, cutting him off. “No, you didn’t. Buck, you didn't."

🚒 Gone by hopeintheashes rating: teen relationships: gen

“Who?” Jaw set. Death grip on the kitchen counter, screwdriver digging into his palm. Tommy closes his eyes. “Bobby.” “Which hospital?” He almost chokes on the words. “Eddie,” he says, which isn’t the right answer, which makes his vision white out.

🚒 Does He Know? by carpediaz | @sofa-king-lame rating: gen relationships: buck/eddie

Lily wonders if Eddie does anything other than talk to Buck when he’s not with Chris, because everytime she runs into him (which is a lot because they’re currently living less than a mile from each other) he’s got Buck on a video call. They bicker about what colour Eddie should paint his kitchen - “Eddie, you wanna go with something warm to make it inviting,” Buck had insisted, cackling triumphantly when Lily had agreed with him. They reminisce about calls they attended - “okay but you have to admit that Ravi fucked that one up, right? I asked for gauze and he handed me an IV bag,” Buck had sneered, wholly offended by Eddie reminding him that Ravi had been terrified of him after the ‘chainsaw incident’. or The one where one of Eddie's highschool friends witnesses Buck and Eddie on video calls over the span of a few weeks and wonders why the fuck they're not together

🚒 all i see is what i should be by oceanofchaos rating: teen relationships: buck/eddie

For some reason, everyone’s much more chill about Buck hooking up with Tommy than they are about him dating Rafa, which given all the drama around not letting Buck message Tommy when they broke up seems kind of fucked up. Rafa’s a genuinely nice guy, and they’re taking it pretty slow because of Chance, so it’s not like he’s rushing into a serious relationship for once.“I’m not saying he’s not nice,” says Hen exasperatedly. Chim exchanges a look with her before saying, “Honestly him being nice is kind of the problem.”“What is that supposed to mean?” asks Buck, righteously outraged. — Episode tag to 8x12 Disconnected, where Buck ends up dating the single father from the first call, and everyone (up to and including Eddie) is super normal and cool about it.

🚒 good dogs don't run away by withmeornotatall rating: gen relationships: buck/eddie

"I, um, well..." Eddie shrugs, all nervous bashfulness that makes Buck want to put him in his pocket, maybe his ribcage, just to keep him close, safe. "I'd ask you to move in, but..." "Hate to break it to you, Eddie." His lips curl around the name differently now. Or maybe they don't. Maybe he's always said Eddie's name like it was his favourite word, a plea, a prayer. "But I've got another month of rent down on this place, so if anyone was asking anyone to move in, it'd be me." (OR: they're roommates, partners, best friends, what else is there?)

🚒 Those Five Little Words by diazzeddie rating: gen relationships: buck/eddie

“Bye, Eddie.” “Bye, Buck. I love you,” Eddie says before he hits the red button and hangs up. Five seconds later, the words hit him like a shotgun blast to the face. He just told Buck he loves him. He told Buck he loves him just before hanging up the phone. He only ever does that when hanging up the phone with Chris, his sisters, and his abuela. The only non-family member who ever got an “I love you” when hanging up the phone was Shannon. OR Eddie accidentally tells Buck he loves him when hanging up the phone. They both proceed to be very normal about it.

🚒 Stress Relief by greenbergsays rating: explicit relationships: buck/eddie

Set in the aftermath of the sniper shooting. Eddie is feeling frustrated and Buck offers a helping hand. (With added feelings!)

🚒 baby come home by anchrblack | @anchrblack rating: explicit relationships: buck/eddie

“I thought you weren’t ever going to come back,” Buck admits, the terrible truth finally out in the open. Eddie’s eyes widen in shock. “I thought that was it—that our time was up. I don’t know. I never thought you’d come back.” “Buck,” Eddie says, devastated. “Buck, I—” “I didn’t think you’d come back,” Buck says, and his voice cracks. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you or Christopher ever again.” eddie comes back from texas, and buck doesn't know how to deal with that.

🚒 let's learn something new by Buddieaya rating: mature relationships: buck/eddie

“You stuck-stuck, or… like, just emotionally stuck?” “Physically,” the man calls out, clearly mortified. “Very physically.” There’s something about his voice, an edge of familiarity that tickles at his brain and makes Eddie’s brows pull together. He knows that voice. Before Eddie can place it, Bobby steps forward, flipping on the overhead lights. “Alright,” he says calmly, surveying the room. “Let’s get to work.” And that’s when it hits Eddie. The glow of the lights reveals the man in full clarity, tousled curls, expressive face, wide blue eyes full of embarrassment, and Eddie’s stomach drops clean out of his body. “Buck?” he blurts, eyes going comically wide. Because it’s him. Christopher’s favourite YouTuber, the one with the DIY science experiments, survival tips for kids, fifteen minute long videos about how cool octopuses are. And now he is tied to a hotel bed in nothing but tight boxer briefs, his cheeks flushed a deep red, that is slowly creeping down his chest which is rising and falling fast in quiet horror. Oh. My. God. Or; Buck’s a YouTuber and the 118 save him from an embarrassing situation, and him and Eddie hit it off.

🚒 calling out for somebody to hold tonight by trageddie | @eddiewasinthearmy rating: teen relationships: buck/eddie

Bobby lives, Buck takes Chim's advice, and Buck and Eddie trade secrets and promises.

🚒 you don't get to tell me about sad by HungryHungryHippo | @circledwithaheart rating: teen relationships: maddie/chim

"I'm just glad we could both be here for you," Margaret adds, and Phillip makes a sound of agreement. Buck curls one hand into a fist under the table while he tries to make the other, clenched around his fork, stop shaking. Maddie lightly clasps his wrist across the table, reminding him she's there. That she sees him. "Maybe," Chim interjects, as low and tense as Buck's ever heard him around their parents. "Maybe you shouldn't be." — OR Buck, Maddie and Chim remind the awful Buckley parents who Bobby really was to them.

🚒 too much to lose by rizcriz rating: teen relationships: buck/eddie

It’s not a conscious thought. Not him. Anyone but him. He doesn’t mean it. He doesn’t want to lose any of them—but it’s flitting to the front of his mind and he can’t even stop it, is the thing. And maybe, some awful, heartbroken part of him—this little thing inside of him that he’s been so scared to acknowledge—knows why, but it doesn’t stop the wave of guilt. He doesn’t want to lose any of them. And they’re all in that building. And one of them is dead. And all he can think is—not him. Anyone but him.

🚒 'til our fingers decompose by soopsiesdaisies | @sooperlative rating: explicit relationships: buck/eddie

Buck tastes like the beer they drank after they got in, the dumplings they picked up from that good Japanese place just on the corner from the firehouse, like soy sauce and the garlicky sriracha he likes to put on literally everything. It’s the best thing Eddie’s ever tasted. He’s pretty sure he’ll never want to detach his mouth from Buck’s ever again. Buck does do that, however. Pulls away just a hairbreadth, breathes in sharply through his mouth. A grumpy little whine cuts through the silence of the kitchen like thunder. “Oh,” Buck whispers, sixty different shades of smug, and Eddie’s face gets all boiling when he realizes the sound came from him. “Huh.” Or, Buck gives Eddie his world back, and Eddie is in love with him. They go from 0 to a 100 real quick.

🚒 just give me one bad night by loveisawildthing rating: explicit relationships: buck/eddie

“What do you want, then?” He asks lowly, his voice still raspy from crying. He can feel the deep breath that Eddie takes at the question. Eddie leans forward, nosing clumsily at the skin of Buck’s cheek, then his jaw. “I want,” Eddie starts, and then he places his mouth where his nose had been, right where Buck’s jaw meets his neck. It startles a gasp out of Buck, causes his grip on Eddie to unintentionally tighten. “I want to not think about it for a little while." Buck and Eddie have drunken, bad idea grief sex after Bobby's funeral.

🚒 a hand lit the fuse of a chain reaction of countermoves by Blackmustache rating: gen relationships: buck/eddie

“Some guys at the gym were talking about this new dating app and now things are more - settled. I thought I might give it a try. Nothing serious.” “Really?” Buck tries to push down the jealousy he feels bubbling up at the thought of someone else taking up space in Eddie's life. He shouldn't be jealous. Eddie deserves that as much as anyone. “Eddie Diaz on a dating app??" — Or, Buck accidentally-on-purpose catfishes Eddie.

🚒 'Cause I remember it all, all, all by cathcer1984 rating: teen relationships: buck/eddie

Buck thinks about his role in Chris' life.

🚒 i can take the pillowcases off the yellow pillows by atlasblue85 | @atlasblue85 rating: gen relationships: none

It almost sounds like someone is crying. He heads toward the source of the sound – Christopher’s room, except he knows Christopher is outside goofing off with his cousins. “Eddie?” he calls again, gently nudging the door open. He’s greeted by an unfamiliar sight: his son, sitting on the floor of his old bedroom, sobbing.

🚒 Ice Cream Trucks by glorious_spoon | @glorious-spoon rating: mature relationships: buck/eddie

"What's so funny?" Eddie murmurs. He's pressed so close Buck can't see his expression, but he can feel the shape of his smile against his jaw, and that's even better. "Nothing, nothing," Buck says, breathless, and kisses him again, because he gets to do that now apparently. "I just can't believe this is happening. Feels like a dream." "You have a lot of dreams about me?" Eddie asks, in a tone that's definitely trying to be smooth but is just a little too uneven to completely pull it off.

🚒 wait for me there by hyruling | @hyruling rating: explicit relationships: buck/eddie

“How do you feel about me?” Eddie asks at last, voice low. “Eddie,” he says, ragged. “Don’t make me – you know. You have to know I – don’t you?"

🚒 king of the castle by organyx rating: explicit relationships: buck/eddie

Buck scoffs. “You really think you could go longer than I could without—” Eddie shakes his head in amusement. “Making a ‘deposit’?” he teases sarcastically, finishing Buck’s sentence when he awkwardly clams up. “Yes, with one hundred percent certainty.” Buck’s eyebrows raise, his bright grin showing off a row of perfectly white teeth. “Oh, you wanna bet? Since you’re so confident.” — Buck and Eddie challenge each other to see who can go the longest without an orgasm. Eddie’s pretty confident he can win.

🚒 minor major crisis by WillowFlycatcher | @hannimals rating: teen relationships: buck/eddie

As much as he’s tried to shut it down, Buck can’t deny that Tommy had cracked the seal on a certain question. One that Buck hasn’t stopped thinking about ever since. And no, let the record show that it is not whether he’s in love with Eddie, even if everyone seems to be dying for that to be the case. That’s a patently ridiculous suggestion that holds absolutely no water, and has not a single shred of evidence to back it up. It’s not worth thinking about for even a second. No matter what everyone says. No, the question at hand is obvious. Could Eddie, possibly, maybe, conceivably not be straight? Or: Buck looks for one answer and finds another.

🚒 i'll hold in these hands all that remains by star_bunny | @buckkdiaz rating: gen relationships: buck/eddie

‘Eddie,’ Buck whispers; a single word, but still, his voice breaks on the enormity of it, and then he steps in closer and kisses Eddie. It's frantic and desperate, more of a crushing press of the lips than a kiss, but for a moment Eddie gives in to it, gives in to the need to forget about the fucking nightmare they're living in and seek solace in Buck’s arms, gives in to seven years of wanting as he snakes his arms around Buck’s back, pulling their bodies flush together as he deepens the kiss, chasing oblivion until - Until he tastes the mistakable salt of tears. Eddie hasn’t seen Buck cry all day, but he can taste it nonetheless, taste his grief , and it’s like a shock to the system, piercing through the haze that had settled over his mind at the feel of Buck’s lips against his. He breaks the kiss with a sudden gasp. ‘No,’ he whispers, his breathing harsh and ragged, like it’s killing him to say this. Because it is. ‘Not like this.' Eddie and Buck seek comfort in each other after the funeral.

🚒 unbreakable, impenetrable by cavka | @cavka rating: gen relationships: gen

Staring at the screen, watching as Buck slowly slides down the wall of the lab as his grief overtakes him, Tommy wonders if he's ever loved someone so much that their death would break him like this. Tommy's thoughts on himself, the 118, and vulnerability in the aftermath.

🚒 (one more look) and i forget everything by Neuqe rating: gen relationships: buck/eddie

That is exactly the kind of smile that is stuck on Eddie’s face right now, on the other end of the table, at the firehouse, and Buck fears those damn butterflies are permanently dislodged between his ribs, making his stomach flip, not unpleasantly, as he just looks at Eddie and smiles back at him.

🚒 I will never let you fall apart by unfictional | @sadgayeddie rating: teen relationships: buck/eddie

It’s late. Eddie’s phone starts vibrating, and he knows on instinct that something is wrong. It’s been radio silence from Buck all day and all his texts had gone unanswered. He knows it must have been a bad shift since he knew Buck would have answered his texts with at least some random emoji if he was busy, but today? Nothing. If he’d remembered correctly, Buck was supposed to be off shift hours ago. He couldn’t even feel relieved when Buck finally called because he knew something was really wrong.

#fic recs #911

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