#no one is keeping you here. go. be free of the thoughts that plague you

[its-echo-song]

Plague AU Ch 6.

This is a POV switch :)

At first glance there is a yearning, one that carries me toward him without thought. Three lengthy strides, a hand in the beginnings of reaching out toward him as if all other troubles have been swept aside by his sudden appearance. But before I reach my destination, grab him by the hands and let my reservations crumble to dust, my eyes fall on the sketchbook held within them.

I stop short- my stomach churning in a sudden anxiety, anger, irrationality. He’s in my home, why is he here? Why did he show up while I was gone? Why did he take it upon himself to search through my things? Logic cuts through all delusions, excitement, any part of me that would’ve been happy to see him.

“What- what are you doing?” My eyes will not leave the book in his hands, as if I’m being pulled into the way his calloused fingers wrap around the edges of the page. Rough with something far too delicate, like the book may tear apart just by being held by him. “Why do you- that’s my-“ I swallow, stepping forward and reaching for the sketchbook.

He pulls away. My eyes snap up to meet his and he looks almost as shocked as I feel. 

“Donald- give that back!” I reach again and he dodges again. I become aware of the fact that I’m shaking now, anger feeling as if it’s gnawing at my bones. “Don-“

He furrows his brow suddenly, demeanor shifting from a dazed shock to frustration. “Why?”

“Because it’s mi-“

“No! You know what I’m asking! Why!?”

“You’re being childish! Just-“ I reach once again and he lifts the sketchbook into the air, far out of my reach. 

As if it’s not enough of a absurd gesture to be in my home in the first place, as if it wasn’t enough to look through the one thing I know for a fact he knew I didn’t want him to see- now he’s leveraging his physical attributes against me, keeping one of my most beloved possessions out of my grasp. 

I start to grab at his arm, trying to bring it within reach. The damn man is so muscular he barely moves at all,  a wall of strength and defiance staring down at me with a growing agitation.

“You said you were afraid I’d abandon the project-” “I’m not talking about this-” “You are and I’m not giving this back-” He shifts, his weight uneven enough for just the right amount of time for me to cause him to stumble slightly. He lets out a sharp swear as his reach dips for a moment and I reach with my other hand. He grabs my wrist with his one free hand, shuffling slightly so I have to adjust my footing or fall, letting out a small sound of effort. I shuffle back slightly, wrenching against his grasp on my wrist- to no avail, not that either one of us would be surprised at that result. “Let me go!” I pull back with my full body weight, feeling his grip tighten on my wrist slightly. “Stop trying to fight me! I just want answers!” At this point, I must admit, rationality has abandoned me. The sheer frustration at the situation has created a strong resistance to reason, I don’t want to concede and admit defeat. I don’t want to give him the damned satisfaction. I glare up at him, satisfied at my flustering him being evidenced in the flush on his face and how his eyes widen slightly. “What a shame, I won’t give them.” He sets his jaw, taking pause to give me a withering look of frustration. “Why are you being so stubborn about this?” I reach for the notebook with my free hand again, trying to push myself into him and knock him off balance enough to gain some sort of advantage- he stumbles back a step before sighing and grabbing that wrist in his free hand as well. He spins slightly, stepping forward with my hands held above my head. I try to keep the space between us, attempting to hold my pride despite the obvious loss I’m suffering. 

I step back several paces in time with his advance before I feel my back land flush against the wall. He pins my wrists up against it, leaning into my space. I stare up at him, suddenly feeling entirely out of my depth. My eyes linger on the sketchbook for a moment before meeting his again and I have to swallow back my nerves. “Are you ready to give up?” He asks, something in his tone far less hostile and perhaps more tired. “No. I didn’t do anything wrong.” “That’s what you think?” He scoffs, shaking his head and looking to the ceiling for a moment before returning his gaze to me. “Your hypocrisy is insufferable.” “Then why come back!? Let it be!” He leans closer, mere inches away from my face. “Because-” There’s a moment of hesitation, he struggles with a few words before forcing out a low “you’re driving me insane.” It's at this instant that my body seems to catch up to the situation, suddenly I’m aware of his grip on my wrists, the warmth of his rough hands, the fact that he’s not holding me tightly enough to actually cause any discomfort. My heartbeat starts to race, a thrumming in my ears as I stare at him, as the words catch up to me. “Don’t be ridiculous I-“

“`Ridiculous? I don’t even know your name. Who are you?” 

“That’s- you don’t need to-“ my heartbeat is resting in my throat now, he’s close enough that I can feel his body heat radiating off of him.

His eyes flicker down to my lips as I talk, I hate that I notice it, I hate that I flush at it.

“Tell me your name.” He demands once again.

Tension lingers suspended in the few seconds it takes me to answer, something within me suddenly wanting to rise up to the challenge- a sudden rush of giddy glee in the frustration I cause him.

“Make me.”

He stares at me blankly, seeming to process what I’ve said. I expect more anger, to get a rise out of him, instead he lowers the hand with the sketchbook down to his side. Then he drops the book with an unmistakable sound, one that sends a slight shock through me. His eyes lock onto mine, he takes a breath in before whispering so softly I have to wonder if I’d imagined the word leaving his lips. “Tell me.” My heart skitters in my chest, for a brief second of time I wonder if I might be drunk for the way my head spins. He raises his free hand up to my chin and gently grabs my face, making it impossible for me to look away. I can’t avoid noticing the smaller details, the way his chest is heaving with too-fast breaths in sync with mine, the high flush upon his cheeks, his dilated pupils as his staring bores holes into my soul.

“Harvey.” It’s like a confession, something I feel deep shame for, something I wish I could leave behind. The security of being unknown crumbles around me as he smirks down at me. “See? Not so hard-” “We're done. Get out.” I come across far more defeated than I intend, weaker than I’d want to.

“Unfortunately for both of us, I need answers”

“You’ve got your damn answer, let me go!” I strain against him and he grits his teeth, squinting at me. “No- I got one answer and you’re still avoiding the issue-” “There’s no issue! Nothing but your delusions-” “My delusions?! Mine?” An accusation, one that makes perfect sense to me. I’ve been far less than a doctor should be, acting without thinking, letting my desire overtake my sense. “Yes!” “You started this!” “So-so let me end it!” “No!” “Why? Just- let it be!” He shakes his head, letting out a laugh that very nearly chills me to the bone, wry and exasperated. “I tried that. You’re the one who won’t leave me alone.” “What? I’ve-” “Every day- every day my mind wanders back to you. I can’t stop wondering what I did wrong- I can't stop thinking about… How am I supposed to just- how am I supposed to just walk away?”

“It’s- it’s just research…” A pathetic lie, one I’ve told myself plenty of times. Then, with hardly a warning, our lips collide. Heat floods through my body in an undeniable spark of need, the flush on my face deepening as he pulls his hand off my wrists and slides his arm around my waist. He pulls me close, flush against his body, and instinctively my arms wrap around his neck. I find myself pulling him into me, a carnal desire to be held, needed, wanted, consumes me to the core- I forget myself, all else seeming to melt away. The only thing that matters is the firm pressure of his hand against the small of my back, is the heat of his body against mine, the strength of his hand wrapped around the back of my neck. Then he withdraws, sudden and just as shockingly as when he’d started the kiss- I find myself wishing he hadn’t torn himself out of my grasp, left my hands feeling strangely empty, my chest feeling cold. “Is it still just research?” He asks, almost with a sense of triumph in his tone, still breathing with a quick rise and fall of his chest, still flushed and looking as if he’s a starving animal and I’m his next meal. Still being far, far, too easily swayed. Still proving that I could never make a new life for myself if I were to remain in his presence. Still hauntingly beautiful, painfully wonderful. Still far too much of a liability for me to be comfortable around. “... Yes.” Any joy he might’ve felt falls from his face, replaced by disgust and colored with hurt. He says nothing, just steps backward away from me as if I’d transformed into some hideous beast, something utterly repugnant, sickening. Perhaps I am, I feel as if I may be someone worthy of such a response.

Then he turns, walking out of the house without even glancing back at me. I’d expected the door to slam shut, some sort of last word, but instead he closes the door gently and I am left standing in the cold room alone. I can’t bring myself to move just yet, instead I look down at my sketchbook where it lay on the floor. I hate it, everything within it, the proof of words thrown at me with such malice that they take permanent residence in my mind.

There’s no intelligence in a man who cannot separate his love for his science from his subject.

It seems I’ll never be an intelligent man, simply a hurtful one. I crouch down and pick up the sketchbook, thumbing through the pages- so many are filled with drawings of him. So many failed attempts at catching the spirit of the man who sat before me, so many times I’ve cursed my hands…

I sigh, trying to swallow back the tears in my eyes as I look over the sketches.

I cannot live like this.

I light a fire, kindling it to a blaze, and cast the sketchbook into the fireplace.

I watch as the flames lick at the pages, charring and devouring them, curling the edges in on themselves until they’ve been turned into ash. I tell myself, so it burns away the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, the way I’d memorized him, every laugh line and callous.

I wish I felt warmth in this, but I simply watch it all burn and feel further from myself with each passing moment. In the end, though, it’s what’s best.

Nobody needs me to practice medicine on them, or attempt to- I couldn’t even find myself in a physician's course of study.  No, a simple artist and nothing more- taking on a plague doctor's task out of reckless disregard for my own life… he’s better off not knowing me at all.

[drakonic]

ana, everything you're saying is so so real. i cannot believe that they are still hounding you, that the discourse is spreading beyond just you.

first of all, for any anti's or anons sending hate to ana and her friends: do you have nothing better to do all day? do you spend your time haunting people's inboxes? because i know so many of you have made actual accounts, actual pages, actual walls and walls of text just to publicize and encourage others to share how much you hate a ship or a person or some thing. do you have nothing better to do than tear people and things down? things and people that have nothing to do with you?

second of all, the show is, ultimately, a piece of fiction. why are you harassing people online over racism they have never displayed over a piece of fiction that badly represents the culture you're supposedly defending? for some of the other anons, why are you acting like you're the victim in this? no one targeted you. no one so much as breathed your name or your culture or your ethnicity and no one mocked, criticized or libeled it.

and let me be clear:

you are harassing ana.

you are coming into her inbox to anonymously tell her that she's wrong, racist, any other number of other things, over something she thinks about a work of fiction. it should not bother you, would not reach you if you stopped interacting, isn't factually incorrect, does no harm to anyone, and is not immoral. you came to her.

so tell me, who's being problematic here?

thirdly, anon, do you even know what you're fucking talking about? what sort of half-assed bullshittery are you pulling out of your asses for these arguments.

(a) you don't know your source material, atla, because as much as i love the show, it's an absolute shitshow in regards to its progression with character arcs, with respect to ethnicities, with respect to real history. and as i am not as well-versed in the latter two as others may be, i will not add more on that except to say this: the show itself may represent some east asian cultures, but bryke did a shit job of it, cherry-picking what they liked and what they thought went well together. did it raise awareness? vaguely. did it to a good job of it? absolutely not. and with regard to character arcs? so much of atla didn't make sense anymore come book 3 because the plot no longer followed a logical path, including aang's own arc, including most of the romantic relationships. there's absolutely nothing wrong with respecting cultures, with respecting beliefs, and in fact that's a great thing! but like ana said, there is a problem with forcing your own beliefs on others with no regard for their own culture or their own agency. that in particular screams of entitlement you can clearly see throughout history. (b) you don't know ana or what she's said, clearly. you didn't do your research, anon, because she's never been racist or insensitive. and for the people who are gonna say something like "ana is white," please stop there. don't assume ethnicities. and she's clearly said she isn't white. i've known ana for a long while and she's never been racist, has called me out for criticisms on aang, and she loves this show deeply while still being able to acknowledge the flaws in canon. that is a much better, much more media literate and world-conscious engagement with a piece of fiction than you harassers in her inbox.

and lastly, most importantly: i'm her friend. i love her. leave her the fuck alone. fuck off and find something better to do with your time.

alright, i'm done dealing with this bullshit.

i didn’t want to address this any further but since these people seem utterly obsessed with me & and have now gone on to harass my friends, i have had enough.

first things first, and i can't believe i even need to say this, but aang is a fictional character. he is not tibetan, because there is no tibet in the world of avatar: the last airbender. aang - and the air nomads in general - are the products of two white men's (and a predominantly white writing team's) interpretations of buddhism, hinduism and tibetan culture, interpretations that have themselves been criticized by actual tibetan people.

criticizing, mocking, or even making fun of aang does not make me racist towards tibetan people, just like criticizing zuko wouldn't make me racist towards japanese people, or criticizing toph wouldn't make me racist towards chinese people, because none of these characters are actual depictions of real life groups or cultures. they can't be, because those groups and cultures do not exist in the world of atla. (xiran jay zhao discusses this very topic, and the show's "representation" of asian and indigenous cultures, better than i can in their video essays, if anyone is interested in hearing more about atla from an east asian perspective.)

additionally, even if aang were somehow an actual tibetan monk, i cannot recall a single instance in which i said anything derogatory regarding his cultural practices or beliefs (which, again, stem from bryan konietzko and mike dimartino's understanding of tibetan monks). when i criticize aang (and once again i can't believe i need to say this), i am criticizing the writing of his character and the worldbuilding of his culture and people. not, you know, an actual person and their actual heritage.

i have no problem with aang being a pacifist, or a vegetarian, or shaving his head, or wearing robes. what i do have a problem with is his entire dilemma about killing being brought up in the last four episodes of the show, only to be resolved by a magic rock and a lion turtle instead of character growth and agency. what i do have a problem with is his treatment of katara, and his disrespect towards her cultural beliefs in favour of pushing his own on her. aang is entitled to believe in non-violence and the sanctity of all life; he is not entitled to make that choice for katara, as he tried to in the southern raiders. each of them has a right to their own beliefs, and neither should use their individual beliefs to impose upon the other, or dictate what they should do.

the really ironic thing about all of this is that i love aang. i have said over and over that i believe kat.aang could have worked, that i thought they were cute in book 1, that aang is a great protagonist who had potential for an amazing arc, if only it had been followed through on in book 3. my criticisms of aang's character come from my love for him, because he deserved better than the writers who turned him into their own self-insert fantasy.

so whoever you are that's been endlessly hounding my inbox, and now my close friends', calling me racist because of my opinions on a fictional character: for your own sake, just block me and go on with your life. your social justice crusade against a singular stranger on the internet isn't helping anyone, let alone actual tibetan people.

[gtgbabie0]

{Sevika is a little more sensitive then she lets on and you just love to tease her}

Idk tying her up and eating her out ig?

!!-18//MDNI-!! My Masterlist is here <3

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Sevika was the more dominant one in the relationship, she loved to take control and give— to listen to your breaths become all shaky and to watch your pupils dilate with pure wanton desire because of her because she knew your body like the back of her damn hand, it made her feel a sense of pride, the type she could high on.

And you obviously didn’t complain, not when she was so incredibly attentive to every inch of your body in ways no other person was. In all honesty, you couldn’t even form words to say anything other than her name… over and over and over again.

Your mind would be too focused on the feeling of her strap slowly fucking into your wet cunt, from tip to base, the thickness stretching you out. It was always so mind-numbing, intense— the way her thumbs pushed into the fat of your inner thighs to keep them flushed against the mattress as she thrusts her hips, the bedsheets absolutely soaked.

Sevika got off on watching the way your greedy pussy practically swallowed her cock back in, squelching and gripping around the toy and she swears to death she could feel it. She “fucks you how you deserve” and it never fails to make you see stars— whether it was her fingers, tongue her strap.

And yeah the power trip was pretty dizzying but sometimes Sevika just loved to let her guard down and let you take the reins. I mean a girl likes to be wined and dined… and eaten out every so often, right?

She just wasn’t used to all this pampering you showered her with, it was a foreign concept one that she thought she didn’t really deserve— then you go and prove her wrong with that adoring glint in your eyes and a gentle hand against her cheek. “No baby, you deserve all of it. let me love you.” The words are whispered so gently that it makes her chest flutter and suddenly she doesn’t feel like a big tough criminal, no, just a woman madly, madly in love.

And god did you make her feel like the only woman in the world when you kiss your way down her body, hands caressing over the curves over her body, shedding her clothes until you’ve got your pretty face in between her thick thighs— making her head spin as pleasure takes over every thought that plagues her overworked mind.

“Your mouth is fuckin’ sin, baby.” She practically whines, all breathless, hips writhing against the bed— she can’t touch you, because somehow you’ve managed to convince her to let you tie her up with those red ropes… it was killing her but fuck if she didn’t look absolutely stunning.

You moan against her soaked cunt in acknowledgement, spreading her folds open with your tongue as you slowly lick along her labia and up to her clit, which you pepper with slow opened-mouth kisses— her hips bucking up into your mouth, desperate for more.

“Sev… don’t make me tie your hips down too.” You tut, pulling away to look up at her with a small frown— which causes her to whimper in disappointment—your lips and chin glistening with her desire.

The sound of her frustrated huffs puts a smirk on your face, watching as her head falls back against the pillows with a groan as you press your face back into her wet heat.

Her wrists, both metal and flesh, were bound against the headboard by the rough fabric that was far more durable than they looked— she’s tried to free herself multiple times, to bury her fingers in your hair and fuck your face but it was useless, she was at your mercy and in all honesty she loved it.

“Fucking hell— please baby, please” She pleads, her eyes rolling to the back of her head as you press your tongue flat against her clit, licking at her in a way that makes her body twitch.

It wasn’t like you’d been teasing her for hours, you literally not long slipped her boxers off and yet she was acting like you’d been edging her for the last five hours… and you absolutely loved it, knowing that the only thing on her mind was you and your mouth.

“Mm… you want my fingers, yeah?” You coo softly, looking up at her through your eyelashes to gauge her reaction as you continue to lick at her clit.

God she did, all she could get out was a messy string of “Fuck, yeah baby, please.” blabbering on and on, all whiny and desperate— it was a sight to see, the Sevika the most feared woman in Zaun in all her glory spread out on your bed, tied up, whining and moaning just for you.

Then you’re plunging your middle and ring fingers into her slick cunt, thrusting them in tandem with your tongue on her clit— your free hand rubbing over her thigh and along the shape of her writhing hips. The way she moans out your name shoots a tingle down your spine, a familiar throb of need between your legs has you grinding down against the mattress needily.

Sevika is so sensitive, it doesn’t take you much to turn her on and right now she’s soaking your hand— her walls clenching around your digits as she struggles against the ropes binding her wrists, head thrown back against the pillows, arching into you, practically panting.

“So beautiful Sev with my fingers stuffed in your pussy, so greedy.” You smirk against her, adding your index into her just to prove your point, stretching her out, and the rough, broken moan that escapes her parted lips causes a surge of pride to buzz through your chest.

“Don’t hold back baby, you deserve it.” Whispered hotly against her clit as she follows the slow and meticulous curl of your fingers— practically grinding her pussy against your mouth until she’s gushing around your three fingers, drenching your palm whilst your tongue works against her clit.

You work her through it until she’s lying boneless against the pillows with laboured breaths— completely and utterly spent, shuddering slightly as you pull your digits out.

Sevika watches you press a kiss to her inner thigh, then another to her hip— her eyes never leaving you as you kiss your way back up along her body, straddling her lower abdomen as you lick your fingers clean and she can feel how drenched your panties have become, that gets to her and suddenly she's turned on all again.

“Feeling good?” You ask with such sweetness in your tone as if you hadn't just fingered her, leaning over slightly to undo the ropes around her wrists— she chuckles hoarsely in response.

Her hands immediately grasp your hips, feeling up the curves of your soft body greedily— the roughness of her palm sets a blaze to your skin which is cooled down by the metal of her other, all of it makes your spine tingle with need. “Mm, your turn baby.” She smirks, fingers curling around your jaw as she pulls you down against her, your chest pressed to her own. Her heart flutters at the giggle you let out, sweet like honey as she kisses you sloppily, tasting herself on your lips, before pushing you back against the mattress ready to return the favour tenfold…

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[ddollipop]

CURB THIS SICKNESS. . . ! — ( SOFT YANDERE!PLAGUE DOCTOR OC X READER. )

#. synopsis! — there's a virus outside that's snuffed out the lights of many. . . and lucian refuses to let you meet such a miserable fate .

#. contains! — f!reader , explicitly nsfw content , multiple orgasms , vaginal fingering , implications of paranoia , cum swallowing , oral sex , cunnilingus , blowjob , vaginal sex , obsessive behavior , frequent usage of endearment terms (love, darling, angel) , missionary position , bathing , established relationship , slight choking , slight hair pulling , creampie , biting .

#. word count! — 5.1k .

#. oc carrd! — click here to find more information on lucian + other original characters of mine that i might write for in the future! xx .

When the virus began to spread in all directions from its alleged location of origin, —you were certain you’d be dead before winter. If not from sickness, then certainly from another disease, or at the hands of some twisted maniac just searching for someone to slaughter that nobody would care enough to miss. You thought it was only a matter of time before you succumbed to hunger or thirst or the changing chill of autumn, or maybe something completely different: but something was bound to happen, and you were sure of it.

And it did. . . But it was nothing like what you had in mind.

Lucian may have seemed like something out of a horror story passed down through generations, still clad in his working attire the night he scooped you up in his arms from a shabby alleyway like a stray kitten, but he was surprisingly gentle (and perhaps unusually quiet.) He wasn’t very talkative, but he cared for you in a way you were completely unaccustomed to, —prepared you a warm meal, brewed you chamomile tea, ran you a hot bath, and gave you a place to sleep for the night. He said you were slightly fevered and a bit malnourished, but all things considered, it could have been worlds worse.

“You’re lucky,” he hummed, a gloved hand smoothing over your jaw, “the pestilence hasn’t taken hold of you.”

Even back then, that wasn’t why you felt lucky. . . No, much to the contrary, you felt lucky because this man had taken you in without expecting anything of you in return, and he sought to keep you safe from the rot of the outside world. Thus, little by little, you stopped caring much about going out there. 

His place is a bit quaint for two, but it’s homey, and it smells perpetually of lavender. Over time, he’s shifted the sleeping arrangements, and now you rest in his arms each night; about as close as one can get to being a lover without having the label.

A part of you is sure you could get it if you asked, but to you, it doesn’t matter much. At the end of each day, he comes home to you, and that’s what counts. You take care of the housework while he’s away (not that there’s ever much to do.) For as odd as he is, his living space is free of most things, —no trinkets unrelated to his work (which you are not keen on touching), and he’s meticulous about picking up after himself and keeping all his items in order, so your unofficial duties are few and far between. Otherwise, the rest boils down to cooking meals, washing clothes, and keeping yourself entertained while he’s away. . . Like some kind of glorified trophy wife.

And sure, this will probably get old eventually, but for now, this is what you’re working with. He likes to have you close and to know where you are, —to know that you’re safe and not out getting infected by anyone or anything. If you’re at his home, you’re safe from all the filth of the outside world, and heaven knows it’s so nice to come home and lie next to a body so utterly unmarred by the grime of society.

You’re sure once the virus has stilled, he’ll ease up.

But tonight is not that night. Lucian all but stumbles through the door, and you can hear his rapid breathing through the long, beak-like shape of his mask. He seems startled and frantic, and you rush over, a concerned expression crossing your features.

“Lucian? Are you alright?” You ask, reaching out to put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

In an instant, he snatches your wrist and grabs for the other, holding one in either hand. His grip is fervent, but far from painful, and you become more confused the longer he goes without explaining the state he’s found himself in.

“Lucian—”

“Darling,” he cuts you off, “you mustn’t get near the door.”

“Okay,” you nod in compliance, “but why?”

“The pestilence has taken hold of this city,” he replies. “The air out there, you wouldn’t believe the thickness of that putrid aroma. It’s suffocating.”

Before you can ask if there’s something you can do to quench his worries, he tugs you away from the entrance and into the bathroom. He removes his gloves and sets them aside, reaching down to begin running a warm bath. Then he looks to you, almost expectantly.

“Strip, please,” he encourages, —saying it like he’s desperate for the act, albeit not necessarily under the context you’d prefer of him.

“Lucian—”

“Darling,” he hisses, “please, do as I ask of you.”

His bare hands cup your cheeks.

“Please,” he repeats.

It’s hard to deny him when he asks like that and has been so good to you, and it’s not as if he’s asking for a lot. He’s just having a bad night, and if scrubbing yourself down will help ease his mind a bit, you’re willing to put in that sliver of extra effort for his sake.

Lucian sighs in relief as you begin to disrobe.

“Thank you,” he comments. “I really don’t have a clue what I’d do if you fell ill. . . I don’t think my heart could handle such a thing.”

You slip the last of your clothing off and step gingerly into the filling tub. It’s not long enough to stretch out in, so you bunch yourself up neatly to fit the space and look up at him once more.

“I feel fine,” you assure.

“I’m glad,” he replies. “Even so, it’s much better to air on the side of caution. The human body is a dangerously fickle thing, and it can be incredibly fragile. I’ve seen as much firsthand more times than I can count. In its infancy, this virus is little more than a common cold, but progresses into something fatal at a rapid pace.”

You simply nod as he kneels next to the tub, rolling his sleeves up.

“Your breathing is ragged, Lucian,” you state, “you should take that mask off and get some fresh air.”

“After,” he answers quickly.

He reaches for the half-used lavender soap bar and lathers it on his palms, then reaches out to smooth the suds over your arms and neck. His motions are a little rough and all too urgent. This is far from the first time he’s accompanied you for a bath, but it is the first time he’s ever done so and been this aggressive in his approach (if only as a result of his own anxiety.)

For the time being, he seems to avoid your breasts, instead reaching for one of your legs to hike it up out of the water. He repeats this process with the other, cleaning you until he seems satisfied. When he makes no move to revisit your chest, you take the soap from his hand and lather it yourself, placing it in its previous spot before leaning back slightly and allowing your hands to travel where you’d have liked for his to go.

Lucian watches but doesn’t touch. Your fingertips nudge at your nipples, feeling them harden under the minstrations, your bottom lip slipping between your teeth. If nothing else, he should be getting the hint by now.

Surprisingly, you’ve never had sex with him in all the months you’ve spent curled up in his arms, sleeping in his bed. He’s watched you take care of yourself on a number of occasions, has helped with his fingers another few times, —and allowed you to wrap your hand around him once a few weeks prior; but anything beyond that has seemed to be off limits. You’ve chalked it up to his shyness, or perhaps his distaste for human contact as a result of the pestilence; but tonight feels distinctly different.

Even in his previous state of frazzlement, Lucian seems all too content to sit back and watch you fondle your own breasts, soapy fingers clutching and releasing in tandem. You’ve always liked for him to watch you do things like this. Though his mask obscures the view of his face, you just know his eyes are trained on you, soaking up every movement, and you like to think he’s drooling at the way you grope yourself for his enjoyment (and for your own.)

“Lucian?” You prompt, half-lidded eyes glancing over to him.

His shoulders straighten as you say his name.

“You’re very beautiful,” he says, words almost too muffled by the mask to be made out.

“You think so?” You smirk a bit.

“I do.”

Ah, but that’s nothing new, and it’s nothing he hasn’t shared with you before. On the very night he took you in and washed your hair, he smoothed his gloved hands against your scalp and mumbled about how pretty you looked, even with dirt still caked on your skin. Even covered in filth from the alleyways you’d been sleeping in, he thought you were nothing less than stunning, —a real vision to behold, and he’s never skimped on such compliments.

You pause for a moment, reaching out to grasp for his hands. He allows the gesture, though he seems a bit confused, leaning in closer to the rim of the tub as you position him to your liking.

“Do you think I feel feverish?” You inquire, placing one of his hands on your neck and another on one of your breasts.

He makes no move to pull away, firming his grip up almost instantaneously, as if he’s been itching to feel you this way.

“Perhaps a bit warm,” he mumbles, taking a moment to roll your nipple between two nimble fingers, “but body temperature is known to rise during times of. . .” he trails off, clears his throat, then utters: “arousal.”

You trail your nails down his arm, letting your head tip back again. His hands are a bit calloused, but they feel so good against your skin, and you let a few moans slip past your lips. It’s not often he touches you like this without his gloves on, but the flesh-on-flesh contact is electrifying.

“Not to worry you, but I do feel a bit strange,” you huff slightly.

Through the slightly tinted bath water, Lucian can still watch your hand as it travels between your thighs.

“I’m just a throbbing mess,” you hum, giving him a pointed stare; “but you’ll take care of me. . . Right, Doctor?”

It may just be your imagination, but you could swear you heard his breathing shudder at that request. You’ve never been this forward with him, but something apart from the facial expression that’s still hidden away tells you that he likes where this is going. His fingers clamp down on the column of your throat, squeezing just enough to make taking in air a bit more of a struggle, but not anywhere near hard enough to be fatal.

The bit about being a throbbing mess was by no means an exaggeration on your part, so you take matters into your own fingers for the time being, drawing circles on your clit beneath the water.

“Of course,” he finally finds the voice to agree, “—I’d do anything to keep you from feeling unwell.”

That is what you like to hear.

“Anything?”

“Anything.” 

His grip tightens on your throat again, for emphasis, and with that, he seems to come slightly undone.

“Darling, that’s why I’ve demanded you stay here in my home, —our home. It’s safe here, free of contaminants and filth and anything that could cause you harm,” he says, the words spilling out like he’s been holding them back since he first set his sights on you.

“The world outside is ill, not just this rotten city. I’m working tirelessly to combat this pestilence, but as things stand now, the safest place you can be is here. With me. You understand that, my love. . . Don’t you?”

You’re only half listening, but you nod in agreement anyway. Whatever he’s saying, you trust his opinion on the matter.

“Of course,” you gasp, almost slipping a finger inside yourself to the tune of his melodic voice.

“I knew you would,” he continues, loosening the grip on your neck again. “You know I only want what’s best for you, that everything I do is to ensure your safety, —to eliminate the possibility of you ever falling sick.”

“Of course,” you repeat, head growing cloudier by the minute. “You’ve always taken such good care of me, right from the very beginning.”

God, he’s so elated that you’re seeing things his way. The way this makes him feel is almost too much to handle.

“I try so hard, darling, I truly do,” he says, both hands coming up to cup your cheeks.

“Please, Lucian,” you mumble desperately, “I need you tonight.”

He complies, shedding his long coat and draping it over your shoulders once you’ve stepped out of the tub. The chill of the air against your wet skin leaves your nipples hard and sensitive, and as he leads you to the bedroom, you hope he realizes just what it is you’re asking for. His fingers are a plentiful start, and you just know they’ll feel so good stuffed inside you, curling to hit all the right places, —but they’re nothing compared to the cock he’s stingily hidden away for all this time.

Tonight, you want him in all his glory in the glow of the lanterns on the walls. You want to strip him bare and gag on the length between his thighs, feel him twitch against the roof of your mouth, tease every vein that runs up his shaft. It’s not enough to grind against him while you’re half asleep or hump his clothed thigh until you’ve left his pants damp and your pussy sopping, just begging to be fucked by this man who might just love you more than he could ever fear any virus that lurks outside these walls.

“Don’t fret,” he tells you, though it sounds more like a command than a gesture to soothe any worries, “just lie back. I’ll be sure to give you. . . A proper examination.”

You could cum just hearing that.

With half your body pressed against the headboard and his coat nearly slipping off your body completely, he sets to work in his underclothes and mask. It’s by no means an uncommon sight, but there’s something distinct about him this late evening; the way his black attire contrasts so beautifully with the stark paleness of his skin and the mystery it shrouds him in that you’re just dying to sink your teeth into. Everything hidden beneath that cautious wardrobe and that long mask. . . You’ve gotta have it. It’s a necessity.

His fingers, ungloved, begin softly with your calves, tracing senseless lines.

“I’m not so fragile,” you remind him.

For as oblivious as he can be, Lucian takes the hint, and by the time he’s reached your thighs, he’s content to give them the same treatment as your throat.

The way he splits you apart is almost painfully clinical, a thumb on either side of your lips, peering through the eye holes of his mask to admire the way your folds glisten in the orange lantern light. A few prodding strokes leave you biting your lip again, body waning in anticipation for the moment he finally turns his hand over and sinks the longest of his fingers inside you, —slowly, but deliberately. It’s impossible to see his expression, but you hope his mouth hangs open a little at the way your cunt suckles on his finger, encouraging him to prod more and maybe stuff another few inside for you to grind against.

There’s something about the warmth of his fingers that gets you off almost in equal amounts to the way he moves. Another finger inside, and you whine, halfway to an orgasm from this alone.

He’s not particulary rough in his execution, but there’s a clean meticulousness in every movement that leaves every cell in your body craving more, begging for anything he can offer. Months upon months of wanting, of dropping hints, of hoping he’d catch on and finally see things your way, —and at last, you’ve made it. And now that you’re here, you’re content to simply lie still and let him have his way with you.

“Please don’t stop,” you beg, nearly choking on the words when the tips of his fingers brush just the right spot.

“Before you’re satisfied?” He sits forward a bit, resting his free hand on your stomach to press you down onto the bed. “Darling, I couldn’t fathom it.”

You will your upper body forward, grabbing for the hand on your stomach to move it up to your throat. He squeezes, scissoring the fingers inside you, watching closely as your body shakes and your eyes roll back a bit in ecstasy.

“I’ve tried,” he says to you suddenly. “I’ve tried so desperately to be gentle with you.”

You smile.

“I appreciate that,” you answer. “But I don’t want you to be gentle at the moment.”

“That’s a dangerous request, my love,” he warns.

God, you hope so.

You reach forward and grab at the beak of his mask, pulling it upward gently until it begins to slip off and reveal the handsome face underneath. Dark hair, dark eyes, but skin almost pale enough to be sickly, you meet his gaze just long enough to ask for permission, then lean in to kiss him on the mouth. It’s the first time, and it’s electric. He’s avoided this for months, —avoided your mouth, your unspoken pleas, all the passes you made for the sake of keeping himself at bay. But here you are now with two of his fingers stuffed inside you, his hand on your throat, and your lips slotted against his own.

“Please,” you murmur, fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt.

And you can feel the restraints of his mind come unwound.

He’s no longer gentle in the way he fucks you silly with his fingers, hammering them over and over and over again into that delicious spot buried deep inside you, squeezing your throat hard enough to cut your breathing off. The way your pussy spasms as you cum is blissful, and he loves the way your arousal soaks his digits, loves the way your back arches, soundless moans spilling forth as he makes you orgasm.

“I fucking tried,” he says again.

It’s almost manic, so desperate and sort of pathetic in the kind of way that turns you on. This is the first time you’ve ever heard him curse, and it dawns on you that even the filthiest of words sound so unendingly elegant when they’re spoken by Lucian.

“I tried to be gentle. I tried to keep you safe here, —to shelter you from whatever forsaken wasteland remains out there,” he insists, his fingers still buried in your twitching cunt. “I just wanted to protect you.”

He lightens the grip on your throat as you lean in to kiss him again, cupping his face in your hands.

“You have,” you assure him.

“You take such good care of me, Lucian,” you mumble into his ear. “Let me show you how grateful I am.”

The fingers stuffed inside you slowly slip out, and reach for his hand, guiding them to your lips, taking his digits into your mouth to taste yourself on them. He watches with hunger and interest as you clean him with your tongue. He leans in to kiss you to get a taste of it himself, grasping your hair near the scalp and taking a fistful hard enough to make you gasp.

“I can’t let you leave,” he murmurs. “It’s not safe out there. When this pestilence has been subdued, I’ll do this all correctly. We can start from the beginning, and I’ll be a gentleman.”

“I look forward to it,” you answer softly.

“You’ll stay until then?” He inquires.

He’s clearly overreacting, but it’s hard to care when you just want him inside you. Lucian has seen death day in and day out, —so it’s no wonder it feels like it permeates everything around him. He just doesn’t want you to suffer such a fate, and you’re confident that you won’t, as long as he’s yours.

“Of course I will,” you answer.

It’s like something primal takes over. Suddenly his lips are on yours in a bruising kiss, and his hands are grasping roughly at your breasts, pushing you down onto the bed as he crawls between your legs. He pauses, hovering just above your dripping cunt, turning his head to sink his teeth into the meat of your thigh. It makes you squeal a bit, and he kisses the teethmarks he left behind as if in apology.

You can’t help but wonder how long he’s been yearning for this. It’s like every part of him is thrumming from the thrill of it all, and this man who has previously refused to even kiss you on the mouth is now stationed exactly where you want him, tongue lolling out to lick a solid stripe up your folds. He laps like a man starved, then spreads you apart with his thumbs to suck your clit mercilessly.

It’s good enough to make your vision go blurry, and you can’t seem to form proper words through the haze. Desperately, your fingers claw at the sheets of this mattress, and he moans against your hot cunt, sending a vibration rippling through your core that makes your back arch on instinct. You mumble something that comes out like gibberish, pussy convulsing against the flat of his tongue.

His arm comes round to press your hips down, forcing you to be still. It’s the kind of toruture you’re sure you’ll learn to live for. There’s only so much you can wriggle under his arm, which has a surprising amount of force despite his rather lanky stature.

From what little friction you manage as you attempt to grind against his tongue, you tip yourself over the edge and as the knot in your stomach unties for the second time tonight, he continues licking, lapping at the juices that spill forth.

He stands and reaches for the top button of his shirt, not bothering to wipe his face, chin and lips glistening with your aftermath. You watch him undress with lustful eyes, propping yourself up on your elbow, then slinking back against the headboard once again, resting your weary body against it. The quiver of your thighs doesn’t stop you from nudging at your swollen clit.

“I wanted to be a gentleman,” he comments, untucking the shirt from his pants and pulling the front open.

It’s not skin you haven’t seen before. In fact, you’ve seen every inch of him at one point or another; just never all at once, and now, you’re waiting with bated breath to see him completely exposed for your eyes only.

“I truly did. I wanted to give you comfort and security, —to love you as you deserve. And I knew from the moment I saw you that only I could give you exactly what you’ve always needed.”

You hum in acknowledgement as he continues to strip himself bare.

“But it’s so clear to me now that I’ve neglected you,” he continues. “This beautifully desperate display is all a result of my negligence. . . I failed to realize just how much you needed me like this. How much you needed the touch of a man. . .”

He sounds apologetic, but your eyes are fixated on his half-hard cock. The last time you saw it, he asked that you keep your mouth away; insisting it wasn’t sanitary to use it for such purposes, terrified that you might contract some sort of illness if you sucked his dick for the sheer enjoyment of doing so. This time, however, you have a feeling you’re well past that.

To test the waters, you let your hand fall away from your cunt, slipping off the side of the bed to kneel before him. He gazes down at you as you open your lips and let your tongue fall out, encouraging him to make what he will of it.

“My love,” he says, placing four fingers under your chin to rest his thumb against your tongue for a moment, “—I’ll make everything up to you. . .”

His free hand pumps his cock once, twice, thrice, —then he places it gently on the flat of your tongue, letting you feel the weight and the warmth of it. He sighs.

“Darling,” he groans, “ah. . .”

It takes very little for him to come close to cumming in your mouth, just a few minutes of sucking him off, listening to him moan, feeling him quiver at your touch. You hum with his member stuffed down your throat, and he cants his hips reflexively, an orgasm bubbling up beneath his skin.

Your non-dominant hand holds his cock steady while the other is stuck between your thighs, rubbing furiously at your clit, making you whimper along his shaft. When he notices, Lucian finds that wholly unacceptable and snatches you up to position you on the edge of the bed, relieving the pressure on your aching knees. You weren’t down there for long, but kneeling was hardly comfortable on the hard floor.

He spreads your thighs apart and smacks the pads of his fingers against your slit.

Whatever he’s doing, you’re sure you’ll enjoy it to the fullest, so you occupy yourself with his cock again from this new angle, bending awkwardly to mouth at the reddened tip. His fingers find their way inside you once more, working their delicate magic, brushing against all the right places. At this point, you’re more desperate for his dick to slip inside you like this, but you take what he offers in stride (and more of him into your mouth in the process.)

He’s vocal, and that’s utterly divine. His gravely moans and the pump of his fingers leave you cumming for a third time before his first orgasm arises, depositing a sizable amount of his seed into your mouth.

“I love you,” he huffs, —and if he were anyone else, you’d be certain it was just the oral sex talking, but no. . . Lucian wouldn’t have said it if he didn’t mean it.

Of course, he’s made similar confessions over the months, and has certainly treated you like it long before he ever expressed it so directly, but still. . . It feels nice to hear it, if nothing else.

“I love you too,” you answer honestly, urging him closer with your arms wrapped around his neck. “I’m yours tonight, completely. . . If you’ll have me. . .”

“Oh, darling, don’t be foolish,” he remarks, kissing you deeply. “You’ve been mine since the moment we met.”

Your back to the cool sheets, he lingers over you now, his shadow looming over you so monstrously. There’s a stark flush of red on his face that has begun to spread down the length of his neck, and one of his hands finds its way to your breasts as the other smoothes across your thigh. The head of his cock kisses your sopping entrance, sending a series of chills from the top of your spine to the bottom.

His breath on your neck makes your chest tighten, and he finds your lips with his own again as he sinks inside you, filling you up.

“Lucian,” you whimper, helpless to his touch as he pauses, buried down to the hilt inside your cunt.

He presses a few gentle kisses to your throat, murmuring something about how nice it feels to be stuffed inside you. He feels your nails dig into his shoulders as you adjust to his intrusion.

“You must understand by now,” he says, mumbling the words right next to your bitten earlobe. “Everything I do is for you.”

“I do,” you gasp slightly. 

As he begins to move, your walls clench around him, and he exhales deeply against the junction of your neck and shoulder. You roll your hips to match his pace, but as he goes faster, that becomes fruitless. Eventually, you resign yourself to the fate of lying there against the pillows, speared on his cock, him making a mess of you as you moan uncontrollably.

This was everything you’d been hoping for and then some, like some erotic dream come to life. Lucian’s lips travel where they please, —stopping to peck at your jaw, then to suck on your throat. Your breathing is haggard, and he smooths a hand down your side, resting it against your hip for a moment.

“Just a little more,” he whispers, as if to be reassuring.

“Just look how stunning you are, angel,” he murmurs, “how pretty you look like this.”

He kisses you once more.

“You take this so well, like your body was made for me.”

You’re delirious enough to believe that might be the case.

His cock pounds a little harder, and he hits the perfect spot, tearing a desperate yelp from your throat. You’re overstimulated and weak, but your high is itching just under your skin, and you couldn’t bear to see it disappear.

“Please,” you whimper to him, completely at his mercy, “—please, I’m so close.”

He loves the desperation that clings to your voice. The hand on your hip travels to your clit, pressing roughly against the abused little button, making you jerk slightly. He rubs a few heavy circles against it, and you come undone, cunt spasming around his cock as he chases his own release inside you.

Lucian is sloppy near the end, which may just be the only time you’ve ever known him to not be perfectly calculated and precise. His breath hits your neck again, over and over as he huffs through the hunt, finally sinking his teeth in when he comes to a finish. His cum sits hot inside your cunt, and he catches his breath for a moment, head resting against your throat.

“I apologize,” he utters. “I hope that wasn’t too much for you.”

You exhale slowly, his cock still buried in your heat.

“Don’t apologize,” you murmur, “I enjoyed myself.”

You feel him smile against your neck.

“I’m glad, darling.”

For the first time, he sleeps next to you without clothing, letting you touch every part of him, tangling your limbs together. Your face buried in the crook of his neck, breath fanning softly against him, as close to sleep as you can manage without tumbling over the precipice, Lucian reaches for his long coat and drapes it over your body, holding you closer.

[imaginespazzi]

Part 14: The End And The Beginning

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13

Still a flicker of hope that you first gave to me that I wanna keep (please don't leave)

(In which an infrequently-updating writer finally didn't take a month to update)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Fluff and I guess a little bit of Hurt/Comfort

Words: 9.2K

TW: Swearing (and I believe that's it)

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 It's a little past 2 AM but y'all wanted a chapter at an ungodly hour so here it is. It's insane to think that there will only be one more chapter of this fic. In all honestly I did have ways to drag it out for a little longer but ultimately, this felt like the right path to take. I feel like some of this chapter is a little OOC (though my lovely friends have said maybe I'm just being paranoid) but whelp it was for the plot so! Like I said, ungodly hour chapters means barely any editing for now but I will go over and fix things later. In the meantime if y'all wanna point things out in terms of grammar and typos, please feel free. As always, let me know what you liked, what you didn't and what you'd like to see as this story comes to an end. Have a lovely rest of your day (night?) my loves <3

June 2033 

Azzi thinks she might have every detail of her rather uninteresting bedroom ceiling memorized by now. After all -for almost 3 weeks now-  instead of sleeping, all she’s done is stared up at it, her mind wandering off to a thousand places, all plagued with the same face. Azzi hadn’t thought it was possible for her heart to ache as much as it had the morning after the proposal, when the regret had hit and she’d rushed into Paige’s room, only to be told by KK that the older girl was gone. The days following had been torture, like enduring a heart attack over and over again, the pain crescendoing until she’d gone numb from it. 

But last time there had been no false notions, no open-ended goodbyes, just a clean break and somehow that had been easier to live with. These last few days -filled with the unbearable waiting of maybe today she’ll come back to me- have been worse. Perhaps it’s because of the innate hope flickering like a candle within her. And even though the flame of it seems to get smaller and dimmer every time she sees Paige and the older woman still can’t quite make the promise to stay, Azzi knows that until that hope of hers is either completely shattered or fulfilled, there is no moving on from this hurt. 

Sighing to herself, Azzi grabs for her phone. The screen lights up to countless notifications and she bites her lip when she notices the one from Clémence. Dinner had been uncannily awkward last night in a way that it had never been before when the French woman had been a much more frequent presence in her and her daughter’s life. But in between Azzi being completely lost in thoughts of her and Paige’s conversation in the locker room and Stephie somehow managing to find a way to relate every little detail back to Miss Buecks and her face-falling a little every time she did, well it was suffice to say even Clémence’s attempts as making the dinner more cheerful hadn’t been enough to make the evening less of a disaster. Azzi had almost let out a sigh of relief when she’d finally dropped the other woman off at the hotel, trying to not to wince when Clémence had leaned in for a quick kiss on the cheek. But cleary she hadn’t been inconspicuous enough -and neither had Stephie, who’s voice had been rather devoid of her normal Clémence related cheer when she’d wished the Frenchwoman a goodnight- and the guilt from the way the other woman’s smile had faltered, still lingers in Azzi’s stomach. 

Chewing at her bottom lip, she swipes the text open. It’s a simple “it was good to see you two again.” and perhaps it doesn’t mean much -maybe Azzi’s doing that overthinking thing again- but there’s something about the formality of it, about the full stop at the end of the sentence feels rather definite. Azzi almost feels like she should apologize for something, perhaps for being so aloof last night or maybe even more. She knows that Clémence had wanted something else from her, had patiently waited for her to turn their relationship into something beyond just casual, something Azzi had never been ready to give to her. But it almost feels too late for any of that and so all she says is “it was good to see you too.” and she hopes that Clémence knows that despite everything, she means it. 

Throwing her phone back on the dresser and now feeling perhaps even worse than she had a couple minutes ago, Azzi pulls her blanket above her head, almost pleading with her brain to just shut off. She’s about to give into the impulsive urge to scream into her pillows, when instead her door creaks open and she immediately throws the comforter off of herself, reaching over to turn on her bedside lamp as she sits up straight on her bed. 

Stephie stands in the doorway, a fluffy teddy bear cuddled to her chest as she stares up at Azzi with big doey eyes and the older woman’s heart constricts when she sees the hint of sadness sitting heavily within them. Her little girl had been quiet all day -really since dinner last night. With today being a rare off day, the two of them had spent most of it lounging on the couch watching movies. But Azzi could tell something was off about Stephie. Her daughter, normally ever the commentator, had been dead silent, cuddling into her mother’s side and barely even chuckling at the comedy scenes. Truthfully, Stephie hadn’t been quite the same ever since they’d left Paige’s that morning -and with the amount of nights she’d snuck into Azzi’s room since, her mother had almost been expecting it tonight- but it seemed like something else had shifted last night. 

“C’mere baby girl,” Azzi says softly as she holds her arms open and Stephie dutifully climbs into them, burrowing her head into her mother’s chest, “what’s up?”

“Can’t sleep,” comes the muffled response from her daughter as Azzi gently rubs the little girl’s back, “can I sleep here with you?”

Azzi smiles, pressing a gentle kiss against Stephie’s hair, “of course you can sweetheart,” she whispers, before falling back into her pillows with her daughter still securely wrapped in her arms. 

She continues to brush her hands through Stephie’s hair, listening to the sound of her little girl breathing as she hums a lullaby. 

“Mama,” Stephie says tentatively, after a while. 

“Yeah Stephie-bean?”

“Yes-er-day when we were at dinner-,” the little girl swallows nervously and Azzi’s squeezes her shoulders, hoping it conveys that she’s listening, ready to hear whatever it is that’s been bothering the little girl, “yes-er-day at one of the other tables, I saw- I saw a woman with gold hair and she- she had it in a bun like- like the one Miss Buecks usually has.”

Azzi’s breath hitches, “go on sweetheart.”

“And she- she was-,” Stephie drops her voice down to a whisper, “she was kissing someone who looked a lot like you Mama.”

“Oh,” Azzi manages to get out as she feels her lungs compress. 

“And there was a little girl too and they both gave her lots of kisses too,” Stephie’s voice is small as she says the fact and Azzi has to bite her lips hard to keep in the sob that’s threatening to escape her lips. And she remembers the exact people Stephie’s talking about, remembers the way her heart panged as she’d seen the way three of them -the two women and their little girl- were practically giddy around each other. They’d looked almost like an exact replica of Paige, Azzi and Stephie, not that long ago. Azzi had, had to tear her eyes away from the scene, not wanting to let the tears that were dangerously close to her waterline slip down her cheeks. She hadn’t looked in their direction again. But Azzi hadn’t even imagined that maybe Stephie would’ve noticed that too, that her daughter would’ve felt the sting of the happy picture the same way she had. 

“Oh sweetheart-”

“My friend Anya has a Mama and a Mommy,” Stephie rushes out before Azzi can console her any further, “and my other friend Lena didn’t understand how that was poss-ble cause she has a Mommy and a Daddy like most of my other friends but Anya said it’s poss-ble and that her Mama and Mommy love each other just like Lena’s Mommy and Daddy love each other.”

“Anya’s right,” Azzi says softly, smiling at how simple children make everything sound even though she’s not quite sure where Stephie’s getting at with this story, “I’m sure her Mama and Mommy love each other a lot.”

“Anya says they kiss on the lips- just like- just like the women at the restaurant and like Nana and Pops or like Uncle José and Aunty Tully,” Stephie scrunches her nose as she finally untucks herself from Azzi’s chest, “Anya says that’s what people in love do but I think it’s kinda gross cause kissing on the lips looks kinda yucky.”

Azzi laughs, booping the little girl’s nose, “it does look a little funny.”

“But Anya says her Mommy and Mama do other things too. Like her Mama takes care of her Mommy when she’s sick and when her Mama cries over a movie, her Mommy laughs but then gives her Mama a big hug. And Anya says that sometimes when Anya’s Mama isn’t looking, Anya sees her Mommy looking at her Mama with a big smile,” Stephie stretches out her arms for emphasis as she climbs off of Azzi’s lap to sit on the bed next to her. 

“That sounds sweet,” Azzi says wistfully, still a little confused why she’s being told everything about Anya’s two mothers. 

There’s a moment of silence before Stephie drags in a deep breath as she stares intently at her mother, “I never seen you and Miss Buecks kiss, Mama.”

Her words loom in the air as Azzi’s mouth falls open, everything suddenly beginning to click, “Steph-”

“But when Miss Buecks was sick, I saw you make her soup and make her eat her med-cines even though Miss Buecks said they tasted yucky. And when you cry over Mr. Olaf melting in Frozen, Miss Buecks always says ‘Az you’re so silly, you’ve seen this so many times. How can you still cry at it?’”Stephie recites, doing an almost perfect impression that has Azzi’s letting out something in between a sob and a laugh. 

“But then she gives you a big hug anyways. And Mama,” the little girl continues, “when you’re not looking, I see Miss Buecks looking at you with this big, big, big, smile all the time.” 

“Stephie,” Azzi chokes out, trying to hold herself together. 

Her daughter looks at her with something almost like wonder, “you and Miss Buecks- you were just- you were just like Anya’s Mama and Mommy?”

“Yeah,” Azzi whispers, as she grasps the little girl’s hands in her own, bracing herself for whatever Stephie might say next, “yeah I guess we were.”

But Stephie doesn’t say anything for a while, sitting all quiet and contemplative for a moment until she slowly climbs back into her mother’s arms, resting her head right against Azzi’s chest. 

“Mama,” her voice is small when she finally does speak, “I really miss Miss Buecks.”

Azzi feels her heart constrict, finally losing the battle against her tears as they drip down her cheeks, and she tightens her grip on her daughter, “I know baby. I really miss her too.”

*** 

April 2025

“What are you doing?” panic filters into Azzi’s tone as she watches Paige slowly get down on one knee, her heart pulsating as she slowly begins to understand why her girlfriend had set this whole thing up. Really she should’ve known as soon as KK and Ice had excitedly bound into her room, mischievous knowing smirks on their faces as they’d made her change into something nice before practically dragging her onto the roof. She should’ve known when she’d seen the candles and the pink roses and Paige just a little too dressed up in the midst of it all, that this was more than just one of the older girl’s lavishly planned date nights. 

Paige smiles up at her, either not hearing the distress in the brunette’s voice or perhaps not quite understanding the gravity of it. She reaches for Azzi’s hands, soft fingers entwining with the younger girl’s like their holding onto a lifeline. An unfamiliar sensation builds in Azzi’s stomach, one she doesn’t think she’s ever felt in Paige’s presence before.  

“Paige,” she whispers helplessly. 

“I’ve got you baby,” Paige squeezes her hands gently, mistaking whatever it is that Azzi’s feeling, for simple nerves. 

But it’s not that. Azzi knows this unsettling feeling that’s tornadoing around her isn’t just nerves or butterflies or whatever else it is that one normally feels before a proposal. It’s something much, much worse. Something almost like dread. And Azzi can feel all those suppressed emotions that have been building for the last couple of weeks-the whispers of thoughts that she’d brushed away as nothing serious- suddenly rushing through her body and settling like a large, immovable lump at the back of her throat. 

She remembers the first time she’d felt it, that unfamiliar twist in her stomach. It had been at a press conference after some easily won Big East game with UConn’s Big Three sitting diligently at the media-table. And it had suddenly occurred to Azzi, just as they’d finished their media availability, that she’d been asked exactly one question about her own performance -a respectable 24/4/3 statline- from the pool of reporters. Every other question of the four that had been directed her way, had been about Paige. She’d come to a stop outside the press room, letting herself sit with the thought for a second until her girlfriend -with her bright blue eyes and just-for-Azzi smile- had come bounding up to her. And suddenly, as it always seemed to be when it came to Paige, Azzi couldn’t think about anything else anymore. Not when the blonde was lacing their fingers together and putting her lips dangerously close to her ears, whispering all the sinful things they could get up to that night.

But then it happened again two games later. One question about her own performance followed by a cycle of questions about Paige during a presser where the blonde wasn’t even in attendance. This time Azzi had thought about it a little longer but then she’d chided herself for it, chalking it up to her brain doing that overthinking thing again. It was natural to be asked about teammates, especially superstar, generational, teammates who were likely to go #1 in the upcoming WNBA draft. 

And then it happened again. 

And again. 

And again. 

Until it was the Elite Eight and Azzi found herself, after a 28/5/4 statline and two clutch free throws to win it all, still somehow fielding more questions about Paige -and how the blonde had impacted Azzi’s game and recovery and their relationship as best friends- than about her own performance. 

That’s when she’d finally begun to understand what that twist in her stomach had been. She’d felt sick at the idea that it could be envy -how could she ever be jealous of her Paige’s success- but she’d understood then, almost gawking at the reporter who’d had the audacity to ask her, her fourth Paige-related question that night, that it wasn’t that. Maybe it would’ve been easier if it was. 

It was fear. 

The fear that her own identity in the basketball world was slowly withering away under the weight of her relationship. 

“Hey,” Paige’s voice feels like it’s coming from a distance even though she’s right in front of Azzi and the brunette swallows hard as she tries to pry herself away from her thoughts to focus on her girlfriend. 

“Paige,” she whispers back helplessly, as her eyes begin to water. 

Every time Azzi had imagined Paige proposing -the first time had been when she was 15 and she’d woken up from the dream, almost shaking but still filled with the serene calmness that came from knowing something was inevitable- she had always in fact pictured tears in her own eyes. 

But not like this. 

Because these little droplets cascading down her cheeks that Paige’s fingers diligently reach up to wipe away aren’t the tears of a girl whose dreams to marry her best friend -the love of her life- are coming true. They’re the tears of a girl who’s bracing herself for an inevitable fight when she puts her career before a relationship, when her head wins this fight against her heart. 

Blissfully unaware, Paige continues on, “I’ve um- I’ve thought of this a million times. Actually maybe a billion or a trillion or quadrillion. Point is I’ve been thinking about it pretty much ever since I met you.”

Stop, Azzi thinks but all that comes out is a whimper. 

“So you’d think, considering I’ve thought about it that many times, I’d have an actual speech prepared or something. And I did you know. I uh- I wrote one and then I hated it so I deleted it all and then I wrote another and then I deleted that one too,” Paige laughs and the sound of it, that had once felt like a warm blanket shrouding all of Azzi’s senses, now feels a lot like a wintry chill settling around her body. 

“And what I realized,” there’s moisture pooling in the blonde’s own eyes now, “is that I don’t need a speech. I don’t need hundreds of words. I just need three. I love you,” Paige presses a kiss against Azzi’s knuckles and the other girl shudders, “I love you so fucking much Azzi Fudd. And I’m gonna love you for the rest of my life.”

She lets go of the brunette’s hands to retrieve a black velvet box from her pockets and Azzi bites her lip so hard, the metallic taste of blood overwhelms her taste buds. 

“Azzi Jazlyn Fudd,” Paige says softly, flicking open the box to reveal a heart-cut diamond ring, “will you marry me?”

“No,” it comes out so soft, almost blending with the wind, that for a second even Azzi doubts she’d said it. 

“”What?”

Azzi clears her throat, “no.”

“No?” Paige repeats, blinking up at her with a mixture of confusion and anticipatory dread. 

“No,” Azzi says again, her voice much stronger now as she takes a step back, the tears freely falling from her cheeks. 

“I don’t- I don’t understand,” Paige, still on one knee, stumbles a little as she tries to formulate the right words, “you- you don’- no?,” her eyebrows furrow in confusion, “you don’t want to marry me?”

I do, Azzi wants to scream. 

“I can’t,” she says. 

Paige stares up at her, something akin to disbelief etched across her beautiful features, “what does that even fucking mean you can’t?”

“I just-” Azzi struggles against the jumble of thoughts in head as she tries to piece together a coherent sentence, “I can’t.”

“Bullshit,” Paige snarls. 

“Paige-”

“Do not Paige me,” the older girl seethes, her expression darkening, “you better fucking explain yourself.”

“I- I will,” Azzi stutters, trying to make herself small as she wraps her arms around herself, “can you- just,” she eyes Paige, who’s still kneeling one one knee, “can you please- please just stand up.”

Paige flinches, like Azzi has asked her to shoot an arrow into her own soul. And maybe she had. But she does as asked. The blonde’s movements are reluctant, almost like it pains her to stand up and when she does, the distance she puts between her and Azzi can’t be more than a few meters, but it feels like it stretches the length of an ocean. 

“Explain,” Paige says scathingly.

“I just-” Azzi takes in a deep breath, barely able to meet her girlfriend’s eyes as she forces out the next words, “I don’t want to be known as just your wife.”

Paige lets out an expected noise of protest, “you wouldn’t-”

“You don’t know that,” Azzi cuts her off with a pointed look, “because right now- right now sometimes it feels like all I am is just Paige Bueckers’ best friend. It doesn't matter how many points I score or how many defensive moves I make on the court or whatever else I do on the court, somehow it all leads back to you. And it makes me feel-,” she chokes on the next words, the acidity of them leaving a bitter taste in her mouth, “I feel invisible.”

“Azzi-”

The brunette holds up a hand, needing to finish what she’s saying before she fully succumbs to her emotions, “sometimes- sometimes my entire career at UConn so far feels like- like it’s just an extension of yours. Paige you- you get to be Paige. Just Paige. The superstar. You get to go to entire pressers not having to answer a single question about me or our friendship. You get to have entire articles written about you that have just a throwaway line about me and not have half of it be dedicated to how I’m the driving force behind your success. And that’s how it should be because- because as much as we rely on each other, your success is still yours. But sometimes it feels like mine isn’t mine.”

“I’m sor-”

“No!” Azzi cuts Paige off loudly when the older girl tries to apologize, guilt flashing in her eyes, “it’s not your fault Paige. You- you’re my biggest cheerleader. You always have been. But I just- I need to have my own identity. And that’s already been so hard being known as just your best friend. It’s only going to get worse if I-” she stops, unable to say the rest but even unspoken, it lingers in the air. 

If I become your fiancé. 

 “I need next year to be different,” Azzi says instead, “I need it to be my year. Just mine. Just for once, I just want to be known as Azzi.”

“It will be,” there’s a newfound conviction replacing the previous anger in the blonde’s voice as she takes a deliberate step towards Azzi. Bolstered when the other girl doesn’t instinctively move back, she takes another one and then another and another, until the seemingly never-ending distance between them disappears. 

“I understand where you’re coming from,” Paige says softly as she gently holds one of Azzi’s hands between her own, “and I hate- I hate that you feel this way. But it’ll be different next year when we’re not on the same team anymore right? Out of sight out of mind type shit? They won’t- they won’t ask you about me or make everything you do about me anymore-”

“You don’t know that-”

The older girl continues like she didn’t hear the interruption, “I just- I just don’t understand why you can be known as my girlfriend but not my-” she swallows, “but not my wife? Because Az- when we come out-,” the girl in questions flinches and Paige pauses, her expression falters at the movement. 

A deadly silence clouds the air and it’s April in Connecticut and the spring breeze is just the right temperature. But as Paige slowly lets go of her hands, realization dawning on her face, Azzi thinks she’s never felt colder in her life. 

“You- you don’t-” the blonde looks at her almost accusingly as she takes a step back, “you don’t want to come out?”

“Paige-”

“Answer the fucking question Azzi.”

Azzi casts her eyes downwards, digging her fingers as deeply into her palms as possible, “no, no I don’t.”

“I see,” Paige says slowly, her tone dangerously low, “and how long have you felt this way Az?”

“I-I-” the brunette stutters nervously, “I made- I made the decision after the Elite Eight.”

“That’s not what I asked,” Paige says calmly. 

“I don’t- I don’t understand-”

“How long Azzi?” the blonde sneers, “how long have you had all the fucking doubts about your identity and our relationship? How long have you been questioning everything about us? How long have you bee going through this whole fucking decision-making process about our future?”

“That’s not-”

“Oh no,” Paige interrupts harshly, “that’s exactly it. That’s exactly what you were doing. So tell me. How. Long?”

Azzi gulps nervously, “since the game at home versus Nova.”

Paige blinks at her, “three months? Three fucking months Azzi. You’ve been feeling this way for three months and you didn’t once think that maybe you should tell me? That maybe we should talk about it?”

“I didn’t know,” Azzi says helplessly, “I didn’t even understand it myself Paige. I didn’t know what I was feeling. I didn’t even know there was something to discuss.”

“But clearly you did figure it out, Azzi. Because I know you and I know you didn’t make this decision without figuring your emotions out, so why not come to me then? Why not tell me as soon as possible. God fucking hell Azzi- when even were you gonna tell me?” Paige yells, all pretence of calm gone from her body, “if I- if tonight hadn’t happened, when would you have even told me?”

Azzi doesn’t say anything and Paige shakes her head, starting to pace around the rooftop. 

“We had a plan Azzi. We’ve had a plan for four years. As soon as one or both of us was out of UConn, that was it. No more hiding. No more secrets. Just you and and me and we weren’t gonna care who the fuck knew about it,” the blonde pinches the bridge of her nose, “and you’re telling me that for three month- three fucking months- you’ve been questioning that whole fucking plan while I remained oblivious as fuck? Azzi all I’ve done these past few months is tell you how fucking excited I was about being able to call you my girl in front ov everyone. How excited I was to hold you in public and for us to just be us without giving a fuck who could see. And you just,” Paige’s voice breaks, “you let me. You let me do all of that- feel all of that. You let me be hopeful for a future that you weren’t even sure you could see for us.”

Azzi looks away, that rock of guilt settled in her stomach starting to get heavier and heavier with each word that leaves Paige’s mouth, “I’m just asking for a little bit more time Paige.”

“And what happens if that time doesn’t go the way you want it to Az?” Paige asks sadly, “what if we survive the next year but you decide that you can’t be attached to me to start your W career?”

“That won’t happen-”

“You don’t know that,” a sardonic smile appears on the blonde’s face, “I can’t keep hiding forever Azzi. All I’ve done is love you in secret. I can’t- I don’t- I won’t do that forever.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Azzi bursts out, her defensiveness suddenly translating into a burst of anger, “I am asking you for a little bit of time. Not even a whole year anymore. Just a little bit of time for me to establish my own identity and honestly Paige if you can’t even give me that- if you can’t understand why I need this time- then maybe-” she stops herself, eyes widening at the words -word she’d never even expected herself to think of - that are now sitting, like burning embers, on the tip of her tongue. 

“Then maybe what?” Paige asks slowly, but there’s an almost resigned tinge to her tone that suggests she already knows. 

“No,” Azzi shakes her head, turning away from the older girl’s piercing gaze. She looks down at the ground, still covered in rose petals. The wax of the glittering candles littered between them has melted onto them, causing their pink hue to turn into a darker shade of red. And it’s like there’s blood scattered on the remnants of Paige’s perfect proposal. 

“Say it Azzi-”

“No-”

“Say it.”

“I don’t want to,” Azzi covers her ears and she wishes this were a nightmare, wishes she could open her eyes and find herself waking up in Paige’s arms. Warm and soft and loved. 

“Godfuckingdammit Azzi,” Paige yells, “just say it. If I can’t understand why you need time then maybe we should what?” she repeats, waiting for the brunette to finish her own sentence. 

Azzi whimpers, continuing to shake her head, “Paige please.”

“Just. Fucking. Say. It.”

The younger girl swallows, “then maybe we should end it.”

Another beat of silence. 

“Maybe we should,” Paige’s voice is gravelly and Azzi doesn’t dare turn around, not ready to see the heartbroken expression -or worse, perhaps the nonchalant one- on the older girl’s face, “if after all we’ve been through, if it’s so easy for you to think those words. Then maybe we should- maybe we should end it.”

And Azzi thinks for the rest of her life she will wonder what she should have done next. If she should’ve said something or if -when she hears those retreating footsteps- if she should’ve run after her. She thinks, for the rest of her life, she will look back on this moment and dissect every single second of it, that she will wish for the time machine to go back and stop herself from doing and saying so many of the things she had on the rooftop that night. 

But Paige walks away. 

And Azzi doesn’t do anything to stop her. 

It isn’t until the morning after -when her head does finally catch up to her heart and all she can feel is that unfamiliar sting of regret- and she races into the apartment downstairs and Ice’s expression is filled with sadness and KK’s glare is filled with accusation, that she finds out just how far Paige had gone away from her and Azzi realizes, she’s just a little too late. 

*** 

June 2033 

There’s a redhead and a brunette, holding hands and chatting quietly as they wait outside the school. The two women are clearly entrenched in their own world -sharing those warm gazes and bright smiles that Azzi’s just a little too familiar with- blissfully unaware that they are currently being stared at. Actually, perhaps glared at is a more accurate statement because there’s a clear tinge of envy running down Azzi’s spine as her eyes remain laser-focused on the scene in front of her. She hadn’t meant to be doing this of course -nobody really plans to come to pick up their daughter from school and somehow end up stink-eying said daughter’s friends parents for being too in love. But as fate would have it, somehow from where she’s parked, Azzi has a perfect view of Anya, infamous Mommy and Mama. 

They’re sickeningly cute.

And Azzi fucking hates them.  

It’s unfair of her to feel this way; she knows that. But watching them lead the life she’d always imagined for herself, is more difficult now than it ever has been when Azzi had seen them before in passing. Back then, it was just a dull ache of something she craved but knew she’d turned away herself. But now- now she’s had a taste of that life; had gotten to live it out -even if just for a second- with the girl she’d always dreamed of living it with. Until one night and a series of revelations had snatched it all away, and now Azzi’s left with nothing but the bitter feeling of waiting to see if she’ll get that back forever or if it had really only ever been meant to be a fleeting moment in her life. 

A sigh of longing escapes her as she watches Anya go rushing into her mothers’ arms, the two of them catching her in perfect sync. She has the resentful urge to scoff at the scene. It’s all so goddamn dramatic for three people who see each other every day. Except Azzi’s mind is filled with memories that are almost exact replicas of the scene in front of her; just with different faces. 

“Hi Mama,” it isn’t until the backdoor opens and Stephie’s voice fills the car that Azzi finally tears her eyes away from Anya’s family. 

“Hey baby,” she choruses back, turning around in her seat to make sure her daughter is buckling herself in correctly, “how was your day?”

“It was okay,” Stephie shrugs and Azzi feels her heart plummet at how nonchalant the little girl sounds. She misses the sound of her daughter ranting about just how booooring school is, and thinks she wouldn’t even try to reprimand her if Stephie deemed school useless like she used to. Azzi just wants her ball of sunshine, talks-a-mile-per-minute child back because this meek, quiet little girl in the back feels like a shell of who Stephie used to be. 

“You excited for Mama’s game tonight?” Azzi presses as she starts to back out of the parking lot, almost relieved when it seems to cause Stephie to sit up a little straighter. 

“You’re- you’re playing the Liberty right?” the little girl asks quietly, “that’s- that’s where Miss Buecks wanna go? New York?”

Azzi freezes at the question, trying to keep her hands steady on the wheel as she hums in agreement. 

“They’re a good team right? Lots of champ-ships and stuff?” Stephie continues. 

“Yeah,” Azzi clears her throat, “it’s uh- it’s definitely gonna be a good game.”

“Anya’s Grammy and Grandpa live in New York. Not the city-city but close to it,” Stephie says after a moment, “Anya says New York’s really nice. She’s been there lots and lots of times to see her Grammy and Grandpa forChristmas. And she- she says when she went, it snowed lots and lots.”

Despite herself Azzi smiles as her mind drifts to memories of cold Northeast winters. For the most part, they had been filled with dreary chills and darky rainy days. But then amidst it all, there had been a couple rare days of snow and when she’d been at UConn, her teammates had taken full advantage. And just like most of her memories of those years, Paige is front and center of these ones too. The blonde had never been nearly as enamored with the snow as Azzi was, and she definitely wasn’t enamored by it at seven in the morning when the brunette would wake her up squealing that it had in fact snowed and the world around them was white. Despite her grumbling, Paige had still let Azzi bundle the both of them up in winter clothes and drag her outside. And her faux irritated expression hds slowly morphed into one of admiration as she’d flicked the snow off the younger girl’s eyelashes, pulling her closer by her scarf because Azzi I’m so cold, you have to kiss me to keep me warm baby. 

“We don’t get snow here,” Stephie says thoughtfully, unaware of the path down memory lane her mother had just taken. 

“No, no we don’t,” Azzi says, almost wistfully. 

“It would- it would be nice to live somewhere with lots of snow,” Stephie ponders out loud and her mother’s eyes widen as she starts to understand where this is going, “like- like in New York.”

“We could- we could have snowball fight and make snowmen like Mr. Olaf and snow angels and everything else you do in snow,” the little girl’s voice gets increasingly more and more high-pitched in excitement, “it would be so fun Mama.”

“Steph-”

“And Anya said that- that- that- she’d even visit me like she visits her Grammy and Grandpa. She promised Mama, she promised she’d come see me if I lived in New York-”

“Honey no,” Azzi cuts her daughter off heartbrokenly, “we are not going to live in New York. 

“But Mama, Miss Buecks-”

“Stephie stop-”

“No Mama listen,” Stephie protests indignantly, “Mama what if- what if Miss Buecks really needs to be in New York. What if it’s impo-tant. And that’s- that’s why she can’t stay here. With us. Not cause she doesn’t want to but cause she can’t. But Mama just because Miss Buecks can’t say doesn’t mean we can’t go Mama.”

“Sweetheart-”

“And you- you just said the Liberty is a good team and you’re such a good player Mama. I think you’d be good on their team too. And I- I really, really like the Valk-ries and I would really miss Aunty J and Aunty Tessie and Aunty Joy but if you- if you and Miss Buecks played for the Liberty- I know I’d like them too. And I’m sure Nana and Pops and Uncle Jon and Uncle Jose and Aunty Tully would come visit us lots and lots and I wouldn’t even miss them lots cause they’d visit so much. I just know it. It could work Mama- I know it could.”

“Stephanie,” Azzi's voice is louder than she’d meant it to be as she pulls onto their street, “sweetheart, we are not moving to New York.”

“But Mama-” the little girl whines. 

“No Stephie. That’s just-” Azzi swallows the sob stuck in her throat, “that’s now how the world works.”

“But what if I want it to work that way?” Stephie asks softly with all the innocence of a five-year old as she meets her mother’s eyes in the rearview mirror. 

“Oh baby,” Azzi’s so caught up in her daughter’s earnest wishful thinking that she doesn’t even notice there’s another oh-so-familiar car parked in her driveway until she almost crashes into it. 

“That’s Miss Buecks car,” Stephie whispers softly, craning her neck to get a better view. Her eyes widen in tandem with her mother’s as they both catch sight of the same thing at the same time. 

It’s Paige. 

Paige, whose eyes are sunken in and red-rimmed. Paige, whose hair is tossed back into a messy bun -looking like it’s been in that same one for days- with little loose strands falling out of it. Paige, whose entire body is hunched over as she sits on their front porch, holding a grey hoodie close to her chest. Paige, whose hands are fidgeting with themselves because she can never sit still, especially when she’s nervous. Paige, who looks up just as Azzi parks her car -whose staring at the both of them like they’re still her everything. Paige, who despite it all, still looks like the most beautiful woman in the world. 

Paige, who’s here. 

It’s Stephie who recovers from the shock of seeing Paige first, the click of her seatbelt being unclasped pulling Azzi out of her own trance. The little girl pushes her door open, getting out of her car seat with quickness as she stumbles out of the car. 

“Careful sweetheart,” Azzi calls out immediately but Stephie isn't listening, already rushing up the pathway as Paige -her expression hopeful- stands up at the sight of the child running towards. 

It isn’t until Stephie hesitates, coming to a halt just a couple of meters away from Paige, that Azzi draws in a deep breath and gets out of the car herself. Unlike her daughter, her steps are much slower, her movement hesitant and guarded. She knows this is it; knows that this is when all that waiting she’s done in the past few weeks will finally be over, that Paige is either here to fulfill a dream or to start a nightmare. 

Azzi walks up the pathway until she’s right behind Stephie, one of her hands instinctively reaching out to hold her daughter’s shoulder, conveying two messages. One to Stephie, a promise that no matter what happens now, she’ll still always have Azzi. The other to Paige is an unspoken message from a protective mother, silently begging her that if she is here to break their hearts, to break Stephie’s gently. 

“Hi,” Paige’s voice is croaky when she speaks, her eyes flickering nervously between the mother and daughter in front of her. 

Azzi clears her throat, willing herself to reply, “hey,” she pauses, continuing only when the older woman keeps her own mouth shut, shuffling her feet nervously, “do you- do you want to come in?”

“Yes,” Paige says, her cheeks reddening at how quickly the word leaves her mouth and that almost makes Azzi smile. 

She nods at the older woman, her hand travelling from Stephie’s shoulder to instead hold her hand as they walk up the steps together. Azzi’s shoulder brushes against Paige’s as she moves past the blonde to open her door and electricity courses through her veins. From the way Paige gasps, the brunette is sure she must’ve felt it too. It crackles in the air as Azzi unlocks the door, her brain feeling foggy at the mere feeling of having Paige so close after so long. 

The three of them walk quietly towards the living room, Stephie’s hands still clasped in Azzi’s and Paige following closely behind them. The little girl’s grip is tight and despite how young she is, Azzi knows just how perceptive Stephie is. She’s just as aware of this moment as the adults are, realizes it just as much as they do, that they’ve reached a crossroad and the path they take -a path determined by whatever Paige chooses- will shape their future together or apart. 

“I um- I- well- the thing is- I-,” Paige breaks the silence first, stuttering over her words before letting out a soft sigh She closes her eyes for a second and when she opens them, there are little droplets of water on the edges of her eyelashes. 

“I really missed you guys,” she confesses in a whisper, her voice breaking throughout. 

There’s a second of silence as her words linger in the air and Azzi feels Stephie’s hand slip away from her own and the little girl almost stumbles over her own feet as she races towards Paige, the older woman’s arms immediately opening to catch her and as she kneels down to pull Stephie into her her chest. It’s like the blonde’s confession had broken a dam, and the water that came rushing through it, had washed away the last little bit of pretence of nonchalance that Stephie had been holding onto. 

For the last few weeks, every time Azzi’s little girl had seen Paige, be it when she accompanied her mother to a practice or when she was on the sidelines at a game, Stephie had ignored the blonde, maintaining the same angry façade as the one she’d had the morning after that night. But Azzi had seen that resolve weaken over time; had seen Stephie’s eyes linger just a little bit longer on Miss Buecks with that familiar look of yearning. And Azzi had known that resolve was almost completely gone, in the car, when Stephie had all but begged her to consider moving to New York if that was the only way they were going to be able to keep Paige in their lives. 

She feels her own set of tears prickling in her eyes as she takes in the scene in front of her. Stephie’s face is pressed into Paige’s neck, the blonde has one arm wrapped around the little girl’s waist and the other other gently brushing through her hair. Their grip on each other is tight with barely any space for air between them, tears freely streaming down both of their faces. 

“I missed you too Miss Buecks,” Stephie sobs and Azzi notices the way Paige’s hold on her tightens at the familiar nickname, “missed you so much.”

“Me too Stephie-bean,” Paige affirms as she coaxes the little girl’s face out of her neck, cupping it in her hands, “I’m so sorry sweetheart. So, so, sorry. I missed you so, so, so, so much,” she says, punctuating each word with a kiss to Stephie’s face in between. 

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie looks down nervously, her fingers playing with the collar of Paige’s t-shirt, “can me and Mama come to New York with you?”

“Stephie!” Azzi exclaims as Paige’s eyes widen. 

“Wh-what?” the blonde asks softly as she searches the little girl’s face in confusion.

“I don’t want you to go,” Stephie says quietly, “but if you have to- then can we come with you?”

“Oh sweetheart,” there’s disbelief in Paige’s tone, something almost akin to awe as she tilts Stephie’s chin to make the little girl look back at her. 

“My friend Anya says New York’s nice,” Stephie rambles, repeating what she’d been telling her mother in the car, “and-and-and she says there’s lots and lots of snow and I told Mama that I think it will be nice to live in lots and lots of snow. Mama hasn’t said yest,” the little girl briefly looks back at Azzi with a sheepish look on her face before turning back to Paige, “but I know- I know we could cov-ince her because Miss Buecks, Mama’s missed you so, so, so much too.”

“Has she?” Paige asks, her eyes flickering to Azzi who’s trying desperately to keep her face neutral as she keeps her own gaze firmly fixated on a picture of her daughter on top of the mantle. 

“She has,” Stephie confirms, before using a finger against the older woman’s cheek to get her to return her attention back to her, “so can we come with you? Please.”

Paige slowly tucks a strand of hair behind the child’s ears as she shakes her head, “no.”

“N-no?” Stephie’s bottom lip trembles at the rejection, “why not? Why can’t we go to New York with you?”

“Because nobody’s going to New York, Stephie-bean,” Paige says firmly and Azzi’s eyes shoot towards the blonde, her lips parting slightly as she processes the meaning behind her words, her heart beginning to race with anticipation. 

“Nobody?” Stephie repeats as a question, her little voice filled with hope. 

Instead of answering, Paige grabs the grey hoodie she’d brought with her that had fallen to the ground. She gently un-scrunches it, holding out the sleeve of it for Stephie to look at. Azzi cranes her head curiously to get a better look of it, squinting her eyes when she notices something written in washed-out black ink. 

“You probably don’t remember this because you were a lot littler when it happened,” there’s a teasing smile of Paige’s face as she uses the incorrect word, “but the first time you ever spoke to me properly, you told me, that your Mama says that one day, you’re gonna be an even better basketball player than she is.”

Stephie beams, “Mama says I’m gonna be the best in the world today.”

Paige chuckles, “I believe it and I believed it then too. That’s why,” she points down at the hoodie, her fingers brushing over the material so delicately, like it’s one of her most treasured possessions, “that’s why I had you sign my hoodie.”

“You asked for my auto-graph?” Stephie’s eyes glint and perhaps she doesn’t quite remember what Paige is talking about exactly, but Azzi can tell that it’s stirred up recollections of something. 

“Yeah- yeah I did. And you said, ‘silly Miss Buecks, I’m not famous’ and I said, ‘but if you’re as good at basketball as you say you are, then one day, you will be. Just like me and your Mama.’ And I meant it. You’re gonna be so- so great one day sweetheart. I know you are,” Paige says with conviction as her thumbs lightly caressing Stephie’s cheeks, “and I- I wanna be right here every step of the way, I wanna be right here to watch you grow up and become the great player -the great woman- that you’re destined to be.”

“You mean it?” Stephie asks, her eyes shining with a fresh new set of tears.

Paige nods, delicately wiping her thumbs under the little girl’s lower eyelid, “I do. I wanna be here, with you and- and your Mama,” she raises her head toward Azzi, mustering a watery smile, “I want to stay. Forever. If you’ll have me.”

Azzi lets out a staggered breath she didn’t know she’d been holding as her eyes remain locked with Paige’s. And suddenly, after eight years spent feeling unfulfilled -eight years spent with this constant sense of being incomplete-, hearing Paige finally say she wants to stay forever, feels a little bit like as if that missing part of Azzi has finally returned back to where it rightfully belongs. 

A loud squeal echoes throughout the living room as Stephie leaps back into Paige’s arms, a large smile stretching the length of her whole face as she buries her face back into the crevice between the blonde’s shoulder and her neck. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” the little girl chirps excitedly, “of course we’ll have you. Of course, of course, of course,” Stephie says in delight before she turns herself slightly in Paige’s grasp, arms still around the other woman’s neck as she looks imploringly at Azzi, “right Mama?”

Azzi doesn’t say anything, pursing her lips as she tears her gaze away from the two people in front of her. 

“Mama?” Stephie presses. 

“Give me a second Stephie-bean,” Paige whispers to the little girl, bumping her head against her temple. 

From the corner of her eyes, Azzi watches as the blonde disentangles herself from Stephie, before slowly getting to her feet and walking towards the younger woman. 

“Az-”

“It’s been almost three weeks-”

“It’s been two weeks, six days, five hours and around fourteen minutes,” Paige shrugs, a hint of a smile playing on her face, “give or take a few minutes.

Azzi continues to look away from her, trying to keep her face devoid of emotion, “still took you a really long time to decide you were gonna stay.”

“Well I’m an idiot,” Paige says matter-of-factly and Stephie snickers behind her, “you know me Az. Sometimes these things- they take me a little while to understand.”

“I told you we wouldn’t wait forever,” Azzi says softly. 

“I didn’t make you wait forever,” Paige reaches out to gently grab her chin between her thumb and index, turning the brunette’s face towards her, “just needed a little bit of time.”

“You didn’t give me time,” Azzi accuses and the blonde flinches. 

“I know. I- I should’ve. Should’ve don’t a lot of things differently when it comes to us but I didn’t and I- I can’t change that but Azzi, I promise, I promise I’ll do everything right this time,” keeping one hand cupped around Azzi’s cheek, Paige uses the other to guide one of the brunette’s hands to rest against her chest, “I swear.”

Azzi swallows, feeling the quick rhythm of Paige’s heartbeat under her fingertips, “how do I know you won’t run away again?”

“Because I trust you,” the blonde whispers, “I trust you to stay and I trust you not to break my heart again. And that- that doesn’t mean that I’m not scared anymore- cause I am. Not a lot but definitely still a little bit. But someone once told me that, trusting is really scary but that maybe- maybe it would be a lot less scary, if we did together.”

“They sound like a really smart person,” Azzi bites her lip, “you should probably listen to them more often.”

Paige chuckles, “well if uh- if they give me the chance, I think I’d listen to them for the rest of my life.”

Azzi shudders and she doesn’t know if it’s from the earnestness of the words spoken or the strength of the emotions in the blonde’s gaze that’s still completely transfixed on her. 

“What about New York?” she asks finally. 

“I called the whole thing off,” Paige states nonchalantly, “I had Talia call Jonathan Kolb last night and I explained everything to Ohemaa this morning. Everyone’s on the same page. There is no deal anymore.”

“You-” Azzi gapes at the girl in front of her, “you- you already called the whole thing off?”

“I did,” Paige confirms, not a hint of regret in her voice, “I don’t need an escape plan.”

“You called it off before even talking to me?” Azzi asks, knitting her eyebrows together, “you didn’t even know how this was gonna go.”

“I already told you. I trust you,” Paige says simply, “I believe in us Az and I really hope you still believe in us too.”

The words are barely out of Paige’s mouth before Azzi’s crashing into her, the weight of her body sending the blonde staggering back a few steps before her hands steadily secure themselves around the younger woman’s waist. A slightly surprised gasp escapes Paige until the sound of it is stolen by Azzi pressing her lips against the older woman’s. Despite her initial surprise, Paige kisses Azzi back with equal fervor, both of them pouring the myriad of suppressed emotions between them the last few weeks into it. And it feels like a cliché, like coming home. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Paige breaks away first, eyes widening as she slowly turns around to look at Stephie who’s practically vibrating with happiness as she watches the two of them, “Stephie-”

“She already knows,” Azzi says with a slight grin, shaking her head fondly at just how joyful her little girl looks. 

 “You told her?” Paige looks between the mother and daughter. 

Stephie smirks triumphantly, “I figured it out myself Miss Buecks.”

“Of course you did smarty pants,” Paige smiles at the little girl but Azzi knows her well enough -is still so in tune with every little bit of Paige despite the time apart- to see the small hint of disappointment behind it. 

“I would’ve told her myself if she hadn’t,” Azzi says quietly and Paige turns back around to face her. 

“What?”

“I love you,” Azzi says and she swears no three words have ever sounded as right on her lips, as those three do, “I love you,” she repeats again and she can feel Paige’s hands shaking as they instinctively tighten their grip on her waist, “I love you so much Paige Madison Bueckers and I want everybody to know it. Stephie, our families, our friends, our teammates, the whole world. I love you and I never wanna hide that. I want everybody to know that you’re mine and I’m yours. Forever.”

A strangled sob escapes Paige’s mouth as she presses her forehead against Azzi’s, “I love you too. I love you, so, so, so much. I’ve loved you since the beginning and I’m gonna love you till the very end. Forever.”

Their lips meet in a searing kiss and it’s unclear if they’re both crying more or giggling more, as they hold each other as tightly as possible. And this isn’t their first kiss, far from it- far closer to being their millionth or so- but still it feels like a fresh new start, a brand new love story but with that same old special, all-consuming, forevermore love that has always connected them to each other. The one that had never gone away, no matter how long they’d been apart. 

“Ahem, ahem,” an exaggerated cough breaks them apart and the two of them turn their heads at the same time to see Stephie looking dramatically at them, her hands on her hips. 

  “So, Mama loves Miss Buecks and Miss Buecks loves Mama. What about Stephie?” she pouts, exaggeratedly stomping her foot. 

Paige and Azzi both laugh, removing themselves from each other just enough to crouch down and open their arms out for Stephie, beckoning for her to join their embrace. The little girl’s attempt at a sour expression is immediately replaced by a cheerful grin as she runs into their arms, tiny hands somehow managing to wrap around both of their necks. 

“You know we love you the most Stephie,” Paige whispers into the little girl’s hair, who lets out a content sigh as she burrows herself further into the two women’s arms. 

Azzi hums in agreement, closing her eyes as she leans her head against her daughter’s, feeling Paige’s fingers intertwine with her behind Stephie’s back. And then it’s quiet for a while, nothing but the sound of the three of them breathing and their hearts beating together in sync. Azzi feels at peace, her mind completely calm, no longer overthinking anything. 

Because now she finally has everything. 

Paige, Stephie, and the promise of a world the three of them can build together, it’s everything. 

[cryptfile]

Ꮺ˖˚₊ leeches, [ logan howlett x vampire!reader au ]

summary — logan howlett lacks of patience (and he can also be a nice little blood-bag while losing his temper). 8k+

warnings — 18+ mdni, fem!reader implied, blood kink (keep in mind you’re a vampire! not twilight but more of a true blood kind?) downright filth im sorry, dead dove do not eat, smoker!reader, endless tension, manhandling, praise kink, kind of porn without plot (LIES CAUSE IT HAS ONE THO??) my boy's into paaaaaain can't help it it's canon, age-gap at first (reader is her 20's but again, vampire), public sex (it just happened), daily reminder to wrap it before you tap it, p in v, choking, filthy mouth, pet names.

side notes — thought this could take place after days of the future past? au cause why nottttt ,,currently on ovulation season so bare with me,,, been a little mia cause i’m surviving aka going through the worst semester of my life at uni? internships are breaking my ass currently so well, here i am just existing, also, english’s not my first language and everyday i’m grateful for it, so any mistakes i’m not sorry in advance lol i’m also too lazy to correct once published,, feel free to send more logan requests since i've basically been a slut for him for a while now (i'm rotting in hell).

He could swear the mansion got ten degrees hotter when you came in.

It’s inevitable. It’s this thing you carry, the way you move — Graceful, elegant, almost compelling as the air fills the room. It’s not public knowledge that you’re not a mutant itself, yet you’re presented like one, like you have healing factors and age painfully slow, but human after all, a subtle lie, one that can harm no one.

It’s safe to say you catch his attention in the most annoying way: How couldn’t you? All you do is this weird seduction he’s appealed to, whether you’re conscious or not it’s just captivating, an invisible force that even when you ignore it is there, there waiting for the perfect moment to flood every time you happen to be in the same room.

Captivating. That’s the word.

The room becomes smaller after, the air grows thicker, and it’s almost like a ticking bomb, the way you wouldn’t even look at his face while he’s noticeable pinning after Jean Grey, the mystery that surrounds you and he cannot seem to resolve no matter how much time he puts into it.

It’s like he's the plague. You don’t really try to exchange more than just a few words, only when it's needed and you cannot avoid him any longer, and he didn’t say anything at first, keeping his distance too cause he don’t see how you’d become friends, cause after all, what he could have in common with a girl that doesn't surpass the twenty years?

But soon he's upset about it, even when he doesn't really say anything out loud, it's a spike he cannot reach under his skin. You seem to become friends with anyone but him, mutant kids in your history lessons, the rest of the team, even the damn mailman when he delivered a package — You'd say hello like it's a long time lover or so, greeting people like they mean the world to you.

He has students now that are asking for a transfer from his class to yours cause it seems you're fun to be around, more like he is, and he fucking hates it.

It's fair to say it's been getting into his mind lately. That thing you do with your hair, twisting it in your index finger on a lock as you speak, the subtle red glow in your eyes he always catches by mistake, not enough fast to stop looking at you, pretending he didn't even see in your direction at first.

Tension. Logan just happens to hate tension.

In fact. He's almost sure your problem is personal, that you might hate him enough to act like he didn't exist at all, enough to avoid him like he was not there.

That's why it's just so weird.

When he finds himself walking down the hallway to the kitchen and he smells this cherry-scented aroma that settles under his nostrils, he changes the direction he's walking to, to instead, follow the path to the person that was silently smoking outside. Hiding. Maybe, a student he'll have to scold like the old man he was turning into.

No smoking in the mansion!

However, as the night is just settling, he doesn't recognize a little mutant, but instead happens to recognize you in the middle of the gardens of the mansion, close to the maze; escaping the comfort of the inside to enjoy a self-rolled cherry tobacco he has smelled before in the air. He's a victim mostly, cause his legs move on it's own as his mouth go dry, approaching you in silence.

"What do you want?" you ask when he's halfway there. And your tone is just cold as ever, not an ounce of feeling as he contemplates your side profile, the way the tobacco sticks out of your parted lips, seated on a bench hidden between bushes and trees — "Is Scott bitching about the smell going into the mansion already?"

No. He's not. But he doesn't have enough reasons to explain exactly why he's outside if you asked, why, all of sudden, he followed the scent of cherry knowing it was you the only one who carried a colts package in the pocket of every single jacket you wore, constantly asking Storm if she could hold on to the bag of filters for you while you rolled in the worst moments.

It's distracting, to say the least.

"Yeah," he quickly says, lying cause in reality he hasn't seen the guy in the whole day, yet it sounds like something he would say. "Do you happen to have another one of those to share?"

You don't talk much, hand reaching his as you offered him from your tobacco without a single word, the same that was placed between your lips and now was on his in what seemed to be something more intimate than what he'd like to admit, the cherry taste filling his lungs as they weirdly enough, shared a cig.

"Aren't you too young to be smoking?"

You laugh, and the sound sends a shiver down his spine cause he has never heard a sound quite like it, nothing that resembles that throaty, raspy sound that came out of your lips in amusement thanks to his words. He, out of all people, has never seen you like that — "And how old you think I am?"

He seems to think about it for a second, carefully picking his next words. Logan knows that women and their age are a tricky thing, you cannot say a number that's too compromising, nor act stupid and say something that's clearly not correct — "Not a day over twenty-two."

The answer pleases you, and he just knows he's wrong, but you don't seem bothered by it, instead, you nod pretending he's right, like he just got the answer right away.

He can see why everyone's switching classes now. Cheeky bastards.

"Twenty-two is not young at all, but i'm twenty-seven though," you say, and he scoffs at the statement, seeking for any change in your heartbeat, any sign of a lie. The strange thing happens when he cannot pick any heart at all, any sign of pulse.

"You are pretty young still," he says, against his age, you’re just starting out living—. "You don't look like you are twenty-seven at all."

"Cause I age slower than the rest," it's a practiced lie. One you know from repeating the same explanation over and over again, the priced answer of why you haven't changed a single bit in the past few years and made you a mutant — "I never looked my age."

Such a fucking liar. He doesn't need any heartbeats to confirm it cause deep down you are a terrible actress, he can see it so clear, how you're calculating every answer, thinking about the correct thing to say, the normal thing to say.

"Is that your thing?" he asks, playing pretend almost as bad as you do. Tilting his head to the side as he questions you — "Age slowly?"

"I have healing powers," you explain as he tossed you the joint once again. "My saliva kinds of help healing wounds. It's pretty boring."

"Boring" Logan repeats. The word itself sounds so damn fun in your lips it's contradicting. "That doesn’t sound really boring."

There's a moment of silence after that. Where you smoke in silence taking in the taste of the cherry, and he is having a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that your lips also touched the side of the cigar he was smoking before, the plain lies you've been repeating over and over the last ten minutes.

It's almost infuriating. Makes his blood boil without question, he surely endures your treatment of silence, but being lied to? That's a whole different level.

“How old are you, kid?”

Your brows furrow in response, a clueless face. You are pulling out this show once again Logan don’t buy for a damn second. Something about the scrunch in your nose, the way you dismissed your own powers as if they weren’t enough. He knows it’s all a lie. He knows it even when he doesn’t really know you at all, when it’s the first time you’re truly speaking to him after your arrival to the mansion almost a year ago.

“How old you really are?”

You laugh at the question once again, and he just knows it, knows it when he sees you barely illuminated by the dim light of the moon, the act you always keep up, a web of tangled lies you have to be into— “Told you i'm twenty-seven already, didn't you hear?”

“Is it now?” he asks, amused by the sass, exhaling the smoke of the low-quality tobacco he doesn't understand why you're so invested in when passed it to him—. “Cause you don’t seem very convinced, it really sounds like bullshit to me.”

You're almost offended. By the look you give it's like the worst mistake he could ever make, yet you remain silent, not giving the satisfaction of an honest answer yet. Testing his patience like he did have one to begin with.

"Is that why I can’t hear your heartbeats, darlin'? Cause you age so slowly?”

The nickname scratches a part of your brain, and you hate him for it. The word rolls out of his tongue with an accent, smoking your cherry tobacco cause you happen to be nice.

“You can’t?” you’re good at faking it suddenly, at least, that's what he thinks when your brows furrow in alleged curiosity, stiffening your back, uncomfortable. “How weird.”

“Damn right it is” that's when you realize he knows you are lying. Even when you don’t talk much, even when you act all stiff and bothered when he’s close, he knows that you are fully invested in lying. In whatever twisted little lie you've planned, like it was your real life and not something you made up. “Are you going to tell me truth, then or do I have to find out? Does the professor know that you're lying?”

The smoke lingers in the air.

“How old are you?” he asks once again, demanding an honest answer this time — "Thirty? Thirty-five?"

You find his questions annoying, mostly cause he won't stop until he gets an answer, one that pleases him enough to leave you alone, the other part cause you happen to like the playful banter you two keep going, dangerously much. You don't hate attention it's clear, what you do hate it's the way he seemed to see pass the lie, to demand more even when he has no right to.

He enjoys being the one who's right though, Logan cannot help it. He's pleased to catch that look on your face who says everything but nothing at once, to have you where he wanted, almost at the edge of admitting a truth.

Is it payback because you've been stealing all of the little mutants from his class? He's jealous cause kids like being around you? It does not make much sense, but he is fully invested. Questioning all.

Even when you're outside, it seems like the air grows thicker. And Logan finds himself seeking for your breathing, cause he don't know nothing, nothing about you more than the fact you don't seem to have a heartbeat, or pulse and now, breathing.

“If you really are that eager to know, i'm a hundred and twenty-seven” the words float in the air for a while, and he's sure you're just messing with him, cause there's no way a pretty little face like yours had endured a century. “I've been alive for quite a while.”

He doesn't fully believe it first. Of course he doesn't. Logan's sure you're messing with him also, distracting him about your real age.

“And I supposed this do come from you slow aging powers” He tries to give you a point there, but it's difficult to be serious when you're just playing with him—. "How so?"

To be honest, you do have a little temper yourself, you've learned to stand up for yourself most of the time, so when you happen to notice he's teasing you, that he doesn't really believe you, you adopt this attitude of defense he notices as you shift over the wood you're seated in.

"No, it doesn't" you steal the joint from his hands to have a smoke yourself. "You really aren't as smart as I thought you were, huh?"

Do you happen to have a dead wish? His muscles tense beneath his shirt, and in contrast of his problem, you can hear it all. All the sounds his body makes when he's all bothered just by the beat of his heart, that annoying sound his bones make each time he moves.

"What are you?"

"That's it," the praising goes directly into his chest, the tone you use to tell him he's going in the right direction it feels just so right he forgets why he got mad in the first place—. "That's what you should be asking right there."

It's almost a shame having to admit he would also switch classes. That he would also go through all the paperwork himself without a second thought and that right there, is pathetic, but you're smiling at him as if you're encouraging the man to try harder, to find the answer himself, and fuck — He's old, too old, he's tired, he's in a bad mood as fucking usual, and he happens to dig a drink in the quiet of his own room, but he's pulled by something as equal as devastating as the gravity force, shoot towards you in pure need to have some answers even if he has to make you spit them.

"I find it strange, cause when you don't have a heartbeat, you aren't usually alive" Deep down he's fascinated, hazel eyes glues on your face trying to understand. He feels like he has it in the tip of his tongue waiting to leave his mouth as a catastrophic answer, but he doesn't find the right words.

"That's cause i'm not," you state it like it's something obvious. And just as he knows you're lying, this time, he knows you're telling the truth, blowing the smoke in his direction just to bother him — "Why do you think i'm teaching history after all huh?"

He hasn't seen it all, it seems.

Yeah.

He's losing it after that night.

It’s known that Logan has sleeping problems, but that night specifically he thinks about something else rather than what usually torments him, a truth he also has to keep a secret now that he's learned more about it.

See, Logan doesn't expect you to be really dead. Much less to hear what you are and have been hiding this whole time from the rest of the people in the mansion — He also learns that you feed on blood, that vampires are a common thing in the world and that he shouldn't, at least, be that surprised when he's a mutant in a world full of humans himself.

You are a folklore myth on small villages, stories in Rumania and horror character in films, so you don't blame him when as you spoke, he finally understands why you're so damn attractive, so damn seductive as you explained more about your way of living, some memories you've been keeping to yourself since being a vampire was so damn solitary, memories he listens to cause he knows what it's like, to be misunderstood, to be eternal, to be alone as well.

It makes the two of you grow closer by the next weeks. You now talked during broad daylight about random shit at first, about the war sometimes, about your condition as he refers to when people is around, eaves-dropping on what you two are talking so invested in. Friends.

Simple as that.

And it's safe to admit also that in the course of the next days, Logan Howlett is a fucking mess, and he knows it, but he won't do anything about it.

He won't flirt cause he knows you're a hell of a woman, in every good sense of the word, that he's way too damaged for a vampire even, for all kinds of people out there, and as much as he'd like to say anything, he values your attention, how you switched the attitude of acting like he didn't exist to be a friend, one that you came to share secrets with a cherry aroma glued in their skin.

It gets him insane, to the point he's no longer spending much time with Jean and people start to pick up on it as if he didn't have enough headaches already. He doesn't care. Shit you are not bothered by what people say, and to be honest, he cannot seem to care either.

At first, he's reluctant of keep on talking to you as normal as it is. He's not really invested in religious themes, but he sure admits you're a sin by all meanings, a religious experience of some kind if anyone asked him — He agrees with what he has heard also in the hallways. Innocent conversations of teens and their platonic crush on their teachers. You are pretty hot.

He's so interested in knowing more about you, about the nights you spend in Rumania, when you leave to Canada, the different lives you've lived across the years. He finds himself looking forward to share his stories too, weird enough, cause he's over two centuries himself and he just craves to talk about it with someone who also gets him in a deeper level, that weariness that fills your body when you age so long.

You got the best of immortality, and instead of feeling envious, Logan finds himself attracted to you so much like he's never been in his whole existence. Not at the point it happened with you at least.

By the end of the first month he knows your little treats. You use a lot of sunscreen, and avoid activities outside as much as you possibly can with those classic, tiny black sunglasses that hided you from the rays of the sun, always in the shadow so unapproachable; how you'd usually dismiss food offerings from anyone who's kind enough to even offer you something, and when you haven't fed well during the course of the week, you'd become the most maddening woman he'd ever met.

Maddening.

"What wrong with you, Leech?" Leech. You've been in such a bad mood lately that when he's seating next to you in another random smoking session outside, your fingers twitch, clearly pissed at the nickname after saying multiple times you don't like it.

"I'm not in the mood for plays now."

He can tell from before. When you talked to him that very morning and stared at the collar of his flannel for what it seemed a good, nice minute, he realizes the same moment that you were staring at that pulse point in his neck, where the flesh blood was pumping in his blood flow: You're hungry, as any living creature would be and at your own manner, in constant control as you fight the sense of hunger.

So instead, the mutant ask, like he always does when he’s curious about something that involves you:

"When did you last feed?"

"A couple of weeks ago."

That would explain it. You don't talk much about your meal plan, he knows the professor is in charge of all of that. You've told him about blood bags and hospitals, but he's not really aware of how constant you need to eat, how the blood supplies most of your energy, makes you stronger, gives you vitality, so Logan at first, don't really know what its like to not drink any blood in the course of two weeks.

"What happened with the blood bags from the Hospital?"

The mention of blood out loud seems to triggers you. A groan escaping your lips as you can swear you feel the taste in your mouth — "Don't know. Haven't seen a single one this week, Charles said something about next week, problems in the bank I guess."

You're clearly worked up. It's a new look he hasn't registered before, your hair is tangled in a less-composed look, and there's a slight shake in your hands as if you're going through withdrawal, deprived for what you needed the most.

"And animals?" he questions, trying to find a solution. “Can’t you eat a cat or something?”

"Like shit i'm going to feed from a fucking animal," you're almost immediately grossed out, scrunching your nose at the idea. "I can barely handle being so close to a damn human but animals? I'd rather fucking die this time for real, no waking up."

"That bad huh?" the mutant asks, taking a sip from the beer he sneaked outside, chucking lightly afterwards. "So you're a leech with elegant taste, huh? Of course you are."

"Clean blood is rare," you explain, rolling your eyes. It's inevitable. He knows you hate the nickname so much that he insists to keep on calling you that way just to get a reaction—. "Humans nowadays taste like dirt. They consume drugs among other substances, pills, food supplements, even damn vitamins, don’t get me started about blood diseases cause it gets me in a bad temper. Every single thing affects on your taste, even what you eat. It's all registered there. Clean, good blood is rare to find. Call me elegant, call me picky. It's a damn fact."

"And what about mutant blood?" he questions. And it seems like a mere phrase at first, one with no subtle tones, he’s usually curious about your nature so you don’t pay much attention as he spoke—. “You’re picky about mutants too?”

“No, i’ve never had a mutant before.” The truth is, you hate feeding from people, the act being something so intimate, so damn personal, you refrain yourself. Killing humans, picking a next victim to fed on, is considered now a treat you don't appreciate from your kind, making you steal from hospitals and any kind of blood bank before Charles offered you help. You haven't fed from a mutant, cause you avoided everyone equally, but you don't want to be rude about it. “You all smell different, but i’d be lying. Maybe yes, i’d be picky about it too, feeding is something intimate.”

It's an undeniable admission, and now that he's trying to be in your position, he would also be picky about someone's blood. Logan remains stoic cause he’s suddenly filled by the thought of something else, a glimpse of his own weird creativity he forces himself to push aside, to really suppress now that it's not the time or the moment.

“How do I smell?” It's too late to stop the words from coming out of his mouth when he asks her. And at first, is out of pure curiosity. He has never encountered a vampire in his life until you, let alone had someone talking about the subtle tastes of the blood being undead, so he doesn't want to let the opportunity slip — Of course he wants to know if an over two hundred mutant like himself would be as remotely good as a fresh, clean bag from the hospital.

"You stink like wet dog," he surely deserves it after all the times he’s been calling you a leech — "Like those cigars you tend to smoke, alcohol, and musk. It's similar as wood. That smell you got when you're in a forest and it's not raining but straight pouring."

"Is this a way of telling me i'd taste bad, peach?"

You make a mental note to let him know after you like peach way more than leech.

"If i'd found a human smelling like that, you won't be hearing from me anytime soon" you're just messing with him. A playful banter you enjoy more than ever, the distraction you needed to think in something else rather than the blood bags you craved so deeply — "Hell, i've would just walked the other way."

"So i'm taking you won't be feeding from me anytime soon."

It all takes a dark turn there. You're very aware of the tension the last month now that you talk to him in daily basis, but it’s just mere tension, nothing that ever goes beyond the limit. Logan has never said something to flirt with you despite the million chances he got, and he always remained like a friend, one that you enjoy spending time with now. Cannot be blamed when you're taken aback.

“Cat got your tongue, kiddo?” Man. You're about to whine about the name before you remember he is indeed, older than you are. Vampire or mutant.

"You want me to feed from you?"

He seems so willing when you ask. Even when you teased about his smell calling him a wet dog. He just seems so eager to let you just do it, try a mutant for the first time.

"Yeah," he dismisses it like it's not something so deep — "I doubt Charles is going to let you take a bite since you could clearly kill him, and I'm not sure the others would be pleased with the idea of you sinking your teeth in them, so yes. Me, leech."

Logan Howlett doesn't really smell bad. And you don't know why cause he has all the ingredients to fucking stink, yet, you'd call him interesting. That's what you thought when you find his pulse point again, the vein in his neck you looked earlier in the morning, thinking just as the same you were thinking now.

Of course you would feed from him. Is it a good thing to do? No, in any other circumstances you'd decline. He's your friend.

Now? You’re having a hard time.

"So I'm guessing that you're pleased with the idea, then," Real talk?, you just want to hear him say it. He doesn't talk much usually, but now that he's very vocal about what's on his mind, you have to take advantage of it—. "I'm not sure either. But I do think Storm may be interested too."

He seems content with the response, taking a long sip from his beer before adding — "Please, go and ask her so you're less annoying."

You're almost completely sure he doesn't find you annoying. You also don't care about Storm. And maybe he knows you're not going anywhere, that you're not moving.

"You really want me to bite you?"

"I dunno now, princess" he looks at you pleased now cause he got you where he wanted to, cause he managed to awake all the interest now that you're looking at him "Are you going to pull a Dracula on me?"

"No, i'm not going to suck you dry if that's what you're asking."

Logan chuckles. He's a damn masochist. It's been like that as long as he can remember. It may have to be with his healing powers cause he likes it more than usual, but the idea gets to his head soon enough, all falling so damn fast: Your breathing would be against his neck and he'd take the bite like a damn champ.

"Yeah I can handle you," he says, aroused. "You're not gonna hurt me if you take some blood. I'll be fine and you won't be a pain in the ass."

He acts so gruff about it but you hear the sound of his heartbeat already high enough to wake the entire mansion, his labored breathing since he suggested the idea himself. He digs it, strange enough. Thrives on the idea.

He's a grown man already, and he can take a little leech like yourself.

It's clear you're hungry, cause it doesn't take much for you to accept, nodding like you're defeated, like you just lost the war entirely, cause there's no many options here to take and even if it were, you are now interested in have him more than any other blood bag. In fact. To hell with the hospital.

"Okay."

It's a simple answer, and it sure works with him as you get close to him, the bench you always used to sit now seeming so small as you look around confirming you guys really are alone—. "You won't tell anyone?"

It's something stupid to ask, cause after all that time he has never said anything, keeping your secrets as if they were his own, saving you from weird questions people get sometimes as they didn't know much about you. He's clearly not going to say nothing at all.

"Are you going to stop whining for a second and just eat darlin'? Cause I might change my mind here."

He's feeling overload soon after.

You don’t need a formal invitation to lean closer to his neck.

There's no way to describe it also cause he has never seen something like that, never felt a similar sensation more than when he's fucking, the cold touch of your fingers in his chest, taunting the vein in his neck without a previous warning before leaning in even closer than before—. "Stay still" you demand, face close against his bare skin, only one goal in mind. "Don't move for a minute. Just-"

You cannot finish the sentence, and Logan can experience the sporadic pain of the bite first hand when your teeth finally sink in his neck, piercing the flesh so easily as you let the blood fill your mouth. He grunts at the sharp pain, his face contracting momentarily before it's replaced by a nice wave of pleasure, one that hits him right in the guts as he grabs you by the nape of your neck, pushing you against him, almost demanding you to be closer, to keep on taking what you want, what you've been craving for two weeks.

When did he turned into this perverted sick? Getting off by something so primal as the fact you're feasting on him.

The feeling of your lips and the clear suck you gave when feeding are sending him into a spiral, and to be honest, he didn't expect to be so devastated by you, by the way your fingers stay against his chest to prevent him from moving, pinning the mutant between the wood bench and yourself so he won’t move, won’t do anything unless you want him to,pressing on the wound to draw more blood out.

"You heal so damn fast," you complain, looking at the traces of your bite with an unpleased face as they disappeared on his skin as fast as you created them.

"Then bite me again. I don't care."

You chuckle before leaning once again, and you can feel how the air grows hotter than how it was usually, the shift on his breathing as you bite him again, pressing on the wounds once again just to suck.

And you’re hungry, it’s the whole deal. His taste differs from what you believe at first, a huge change from what humans taste like, from what you’re used to deal with in hospitals. There’s a subtle taste of alcohol yes, but it mixes good with the sweet taste of honey, the weird taste you cannot put into words. It must be a mutant thing for sure cause it’s thicker than usual, a mix of flavors that explode in your tongue.

The headache you suffered from the whole week seems to dissapear as you drink in, feeding the monster you responded to in your stomach, demanding you to make him bleed more, to satisfy yourself until you can’t have any more.

Logan, on the other hand, is really fighting against his very own war.

You’re already close enough, but he just wants you damn closer, as much as he possibly can. It’s clear that well, it hurts slightly, but he has endured much worse, means nothing when it’s the pleasure that comes with it who strikes on his body, the light sucking, the idea you’re full of his blood, that you are not on trouble as you were before thanks to him. All because of him.

He's not used to acts on his impulses, but he does it anyway.

"C'mere" he says in a strangled voice, Logan's having no trouble moving you around, grabbing you by the hips to make you straddle him, keeping you glued to his neck as he doesn't want to disturb you—. "You really are a pretty leech, huh?”

You hum against his skin, pleased at the contact, and when he realizes you’re not complaining about his actions, he let his fingers grip your tights, keeping you against him.

You can hear him making this sound, quite like a moan but not exactly when you’re licking the holes you left in his skin, he does heal fast and don’t need any of your help when you’re done, but you coat his skin with your saliva anyway just to speed up the process, cause you want to do it, looking down to him after to check if he’s pale or nearly dead. You never really know.

And Logan himself is just fine cause his fingers gather the blood under your lip when he takes the sight of you sitting in his lap as the pearly white rays of moonlight makes your skin shine, and he pushes them inside your mouth so you don't waste any drop of what it can be considered food.

"So what's the final verdict?" he asks as his hands are now grabbing your tights, there's something so intimate about the moment, so personal, hot as he presses his fingers against the flesh of your muscles, he understand what you said before—. "Do I taste like utter shit?"

"Well, i’d need another taste to have my final decision" he laughs, and he don't really laugh often so the unexpected sound sends a shiver down your spine now that you’ve heard the sound quite a while now—. "Not much, just a little."

“Have you fill then, peach” He encourages you. “I want you full so you don’t whine the rest of the week.”

You don’t have any heartbeat, but if you did, it would be ragging in your ears at his words. At the warmth he’s spreading like a disease on her body that, despite being dead and cold, you can feel more than ever.

“I like peach,” you admit, this time pressing a soft kiss before directly hurt him—. “Leech is annoying.”

He’s going to say something, tease you about it maybe but he’s interrupted by the nice feeling of what he considers are your fangs tearing his skin apart, familiarity hitting him all sudden as he moans, a rough sound that comes from the deep of his throat, hands coming down to squeeze your ass, making you gasp against his neck when you experience the aching need physically forming in his pants.

“Still,” you say, concentrated on not allowing the wounds to close. But at the lack of complaints on what he's doing, Logan’s hands kept wandering around, making you move against his now clearly stiffed cock—. “Fuck’s sake I said still.”

“Stop being a damn brat. You can eat while I move you,” he grunts annoyed, shoving you against him, the friction of his jeans against the thin fabric of your shorts is enough to keep you quiet: Feeding from a stranger and feeding from a person you’re attracted to are two different things, especially in the position you find yourself in. “You don’t have to do anything. Quit whining about it.”

In response, your fingers press against the wound, not caring if it hurts or if it bothers him, but just enough to get him to bleed more and prevent the cut from closing, lapping at the blood that gathered over his collarbone, staining his white tank before you could even avoid it.

Your fingers grab the fabric just to pull it slightly down so it won't bother you, and the deep sound his chest make when he mocks about your desperation is stuck on your brain for the next couple of minutes, indulging in his taste, shutting up the rest of the world.

A moan comes out of your lips, muffling it against his skin. You're too zoomed out to hear it, but he's on a hell of a ride too, moaning as he demands more. It's been a while since the last time you did something like that, combine the pleasure of something as primal as eating with a mundane activity like sex, so you kind of forgot how good it felt, blaming yourself from depriving from something so needed.

"Do you always get this turned on when someone bites you?"

"No" Logan answers as you finish. He's rock hard beneath you, and he lets you know it when he's controlling the movement of your hips, working you against him at a slow pace—. "See, the woman i'm trying to seduce don't usually bite me, nor make me their main dinner plate."

You whine at the friction.

He looks down to the cause of all his damn problems just to notice his pants being damped with nothing but a physical form of need, soothing the uncomfortable fabric of his blue jeans — "So wet for me already, you’re making a damn mess, do you always get this turned on when feeding?"

Cheeky bastard.

He's using your own words against you, and you cannot be less bothered as you laugh softly, licking your lips only cause you know there's dried blood in them, drowned in his smell, the honey taste that lingered in your mouth.

“No, I don’t.”

At the sight, Logan's hand grabs your jaw in a rough movement, making you look at him before making you kiss him, deepening the contact as fast as you give him the chance. His tongue is soon invading your bucal cavity as he takes control of it, slow, intense and needy, as if he was holding on so much time before giving in to his own desires.

It is something like that.

You don't need to breathe in daily basis, but there's a burning sensation in your chest of wanting, of infinite lust you've been also experiencing by yourself.

The old mutant can taste his own blood in your mouth, a metallic taste as he keeps on kissing you until your lips are pink and puffed. He has thought so much about it that now that he has the opportunity, he devours as if he's a starved man having his first meal in what seems are ages.

"You didn't tell me if I tasted bad."

You think about it for a second.

"I'm afraid you're a rare breed cause it doesn't make any sense" You don't need any help now moving, cause you're rolling your hips on top of him at your own pace, allowing him to use his hands for something else—. “You have all the ingredients to taste like shit, but it's nothing but the contrary, even better than the fucking blood bags.”

“Sounds like your going to make me your meal plan, darlin. I’m here offering you a hand and you just take everything,” — “Such a greedy little vampire.”

He doesn't seem to care though, same as before he's nothing but willing to let you take everything as much as he tries to bark about it. He's more worried about his hands now that they're sliding down your oversized shirt, tracing patterns over your stomach, his touch so hot against your usually cold temperature.

"Logan," you whine,— "Someone can see us out here."

"Now you care about that?" his hazel eyes are a shade darker when he speaks. "After you're nice and full of my blood?"

His hands are big enough to take your whole cunt, allowing his digits to roam over the fabric of your underwear, almost thanking you for using those loosened pajama shorts he has seen before that very night as he just takes the fabric and pull it to the side.

"Nobody is going to see us. It's late and everyone's sleeping, leech" he teases you, and you cannot bring yourself to care about the nickname at the feeling of his hand taunting you from over the fabric—. "If you can bite me here outside, you might as well take my cock here too."

You cannot battle against that. You're deep in whatever spell he puts you into, giving in to the attraction and the tension that now needs to be taken care of. Logan's fingers touch you in nothing but experience, cause he knows how to please after so much time alive, how much pressure he needs to apply to leave you plain dumb, pliable for him.

"D'you think I need to stretch you out before fucking you?" he asks against your neck after leaving a reasonable-sized hickey in the zone, he likes the idea of people finding out about what you've been doing with him the next morning. "Or you're a big girl and can take me all by yourself?"

He'd like to take your time with you. Thoroughly enjoy you as much as he wants to, let everyone know you're his now, that you're shuddering thanks to him only, but he's too needy for that, too deprived of you to take his time.

"I want you to use that pretty mouth of yours and talk to me," he demands, coming up to look at your face while torturing you, his index and middle finger rubbing your clit from over the underwear—. "I'm not properly touching you yet and you're losing it already, peach. C'mon, you can talk to me still."

"I can take you," you say in a strangled voice. "Please Logan, please."

It's the plea of your tone that gets him, the soft begging of an ache he can only soothe, your face while you ask for more, not aware of anything else but him.

"Please what?"

"Please just fuck me already," you ask in frustration—. "I just need you to fill me up for a damn while."

You are starting to love the sound of his laugh. The deep sound he makes when he’s really enjoying something, his voice in damn general.

"Be a good little vampire" He says in a gentle tone. Logan’s trying to be kind even when his touch is so rough. "Unbuckle my pants and take my cock out. My hands are busy now, and you can do it yourself."

He is busy indeed. Toying with your underwear being the only thing that’s keeping him from the direct contact, pushing the fabric against your hole as it works as a barrier, preventing his digits to fuck you as he’d like to. He’s busy keeping you in place, preventing you from downright melt as your hands came up to unbuckle his belt first, the sound of the metal as it moves filling the air for a couple of seconds before you put all your attention in the button of his jeans, the zipper coming down with the force you’re using.

“Yeah baby,” he praises—. “You’re doing so good, keep going.”

When you pull the fabric of his briefs down, he’s already leaking for you, pink head, slightly curved to the side, moaning, erratically how much he needs your hands on him, how you're wet and ready for his cock. You close your fist around him, stroking slowly as your hips lift up enough to position yourself on top of him.

He’s big. Damn fucking right he is, you’d expected it from before cause sometimes you swear you can see his full length in his jeans, but taking him in your hand is a struggle but itself.

“Are you going to take me yourself or do you need my help? I know you can.”

Despite his words, he does help. Grabbing the black fabric of your underwear to finally make it to the side, the tip of his dick pushing against your clit before he's the one to place it in your leaky hole, forcing himself slowly, giving you time to take him in, inch by inch.

“Good girl," he says, head rolling backwards for a brief moment as he experiences the warm sensation of your walls surrounding him, clenching against his cock as he keeps one hand on your hip, helping you as you lower yourself over him. "Let me look at you.”

His fingers grab your jaw, squeezing you as he makes you look back at him, pushing you once again as you holded a loud moan. He's stretching you at his need.

"One more time," he begs. "One more time and you got it, peach. You're almost there."

Jesus fuck. You can feel yourself getting dizzy. You've drank a lot of blood and you're now overwhelmed by this intense pleasure that formed in your lower stomach, gathering there and waiting for the perfect moment to explode—. "Fuck I-"

Logan's pampering you with kisses as a mere distraction, his lips travelling through your neck to your collarbone before you're finally seated on top of him, a muffled moan you need to shut filling the calm of the night.

"Fuck you're tight," he exhales, and he's lost in the sensation, the way your velvety walls welcome him inside. He stays still for a moment, giving you time to adjust, to make you the one who starts moving on top of him.

You can see his veins popping up. All over his chest and coming down to his shoulders and his arms, and god gracious — He smells so fucking good you’re tempted to ask if you can have a bite again.

The moment feels longer than usual, the seconds pass slowly as you stay there. Logan’s hands are just touching your skin from under your oversized t-shirt, taking in the low moans you gave him, the almost perceptible whispers as you get used to him, to his size.

He likes the intimacy of it, the bliss. Man you look so pretty in his lap when the light of the moon is stripping you all to his eyes, even if you’re fully dressed an he’s seated in a damn bench, he cannot enjoy it more, pulling you in for a needy kiss, one that is rougher than the first one and leads you to move inevitably.

His cock pushes past that nice spot inside, and the friction is enough to make you move again, rocking your hips at a slow pace for a few seconds. The sound of your moans is silenced by his demanding kisses, and now that he knows you can handle him, his grip on your hips turn more firm now, squeezing the skin there so he can control your speed, the rythm of your movements now faster than before.

“Shh, don’t whine” what he lacks of vocal usually, he pours it all in just fucking, talking you through it when he feels you’re being too loud—. “Do you want to wake the others? We can’t have them seeing you like this, all fed up and cock-drunk.”

“Let me bite you again,” you ask soon enough. And it takes a lot to do it, cause you’re doing it out of pure greed, cause you can’t have enough.

“Take whatever you want, leech, just don’t make me faint” he jokes, his panted breathing betraying him as he moans, incredibly interested in the idea—. “Want to be conscious when you cum all over my dick.”

Logan’s sure your eyes glisten in a red color as you lean over his neck. And this time is less affectionate, much less gentle as you finally bite him again, teeth piercing the flesh so easily his hips jolts against you in response of the sharp pain your fangs create, the warm sensation of his blood in contrast of your cold touch, tongue-licking all you get from him.

And fuck it feels good.

He shrudders beneath you, shaking his head just slightly at reflex of pain before continue working his way with you, placing his hand between your tights as he lets his fingers rub on your sensitive clit, just enough to make you bite on his neck harder, the lewd sounds of your cunt taking him between holded moans as you suck on his neck.

“That’s it taking me so good,” He praises — “You like that, princess? Like how you’re full of me?”

You hum against his skin. The blood coates your chin as it goes down through his chest, staining his white tank for a couple of seconds before the holes your teeth made finally closes on their own.

It’s pure ecstasy. He can feel it when you clenching around his cock, cheeks red from his blood going now through your system, his vitality, his energy.

You can feel him fucking everywhere. So when you kiss him it’s all teeth, bite and his blood.

The pleasure’s taking control of you now, and Logan’s dizzy from the blood loss, his body covered now in sweat as his words slur together, not threading any coherent thought.

“That’s it,” he says, making you bounce of his cock. “Gonna’ have you in my room then, all spread out f’me.”

His hand wrap around your neck tightly, keeping the direct contact as he chokes you. Shit. You don’t need to say a word. Logan already got you.

“James-” he’s too deep to question why you’re using that name with him. How you facade is crushing down now as you let go.

When your body trembles on top of him he’s already cumming too, the squeeze on his cock sufficent to fuck him up personally, his bruising grip on your hips shoving you as deep as he possibly can as his release hits him like a brick falling from the damn sky.

He lets you work for it, ride each second of your high, milk him dry as a white circle of his own cum mixed with your juices coated the base of his cock, his underwear now slick with your orgasm.

He’s struggling to breathe, to properly say something as you’re finally coming down from your peak, looking at him through half lidded eyes.

“Did you called me James?” he questions, and you’re a damn bad liar, cause he knows imediately you’re hidding something cause of the look on your face—. “Do we know each other? From before.”

You don’t know how to respond at first, at least, cause you cannot lie in a position like that now.

“Well uh. It’s quite a long story here.”

Before you can continue he gets up, making you wrap your legs around his hips before stsrting to walk to the mansion.

“Logan-” you say in a strangled moan yourself, still sensitive as he’s balls-deep inside you.

“It will be less than two minutes, leech” he responds gruffily,— “Need to get you into my room so I can enjoy you the rest of the night, and you can tell me all of it.”

He don’t care if he’s bloody or a damn mess as he squeezes your ass climbing up the stairs, much less if anyone see the two of you in that state.

“I want to hear all the details, Cause I have a weird feeling that this has happened before.”

You cannot find a reasonable excuse to say no as the man’s already reaching the second floor.

Logan’s fucked after that night. When he learned about all that you were before, weirdly connected to you through the decades.

It must be the bite isn’t? Shit. He’s more in sync than ever now that you’ve been feeding from him a lot the last few weeks.

Ah. You fucking leech.

my masterlist

[bigfatbimbo]

helloooo surprise it’s the anon who requested Stanford hcs(and who also hates writing dom! male characters lol). Surprisingly, I’m here for Bill!

this is not so much a request as it is me just rambling and being curious about your thoughts, but what do you think of bill going into. . . subspace? is it even possible for him, would anything even be intense enough to get him so submerged into the moment like that? how would he even act? I wonder if he’d even enjoy it, since it could leave him feeling pretty out of control. . . maybe.

I’ll Give You Anything!

summary — subspace!Bill Cipher headcanons and drabbles

a/n — Hi anon! This is such a great question, and i’ve been itching to answer it. Also, feel free to mark yourself with an emoji next time!

⃤ The idea of Bill Cipher going into subspace intrigues me just as much, if not more, as the idea of him subbing in the first place. 

⃤ Let’s start off with the obvious: chances are, if he ever did, you wouldn’t remember.

⃤ To be in such a weak vulnerable state would most likely not be on purpose, so no matter how well you treat him, he’d probably always pluck the memory out of your head. 

⃤ As to whether the idea is even possible, that’s iffy. On one hand, human feelings are watered down sensations to him in the first place, although new and exciting, it’d take a lot to get him to even be a somewhat ‘mess.’ And even then he’d be fully conscious. 

⃤ On the other hand, a human sexual pleasure is probably a foreign and unexplored concept to him, honestly, as well as in his own body—not even sure it’s possible in his normal form—so it’s not crazy to say that certain sensations would have some sort of overwhelming pleasure. 

⃤ Although, even then it’s incredibly unlikely that he’d be submerged in such a deep euphoria, or let his guard down enough to even consider the idea. Even when you’re topping, he’s still a god and you’re not. 

⃤ I think this could change if the reader was a more powerful being. [i’ll elaborate if asked]

⃤ So let’s consider for a moment, what would Bill Cipher in subspace look like?

Mascara smudged from the beads of sweat dripping down his face, mouth stuck in a dreamy dazed smile. Still muttering something, as always, but just a tad whinier than usual, as breathy. 

How long has it been since he’s been taken care of? If he can just pluck the memory afterwards, then why not indulge. He’s earned it. Leaning back and fully whining for you, loudly wanting, no, needing more. 

He grabs for you absentmindedly, trying but failing to take note of the way you react. Surprise? No no.. he can barely tell now. Doesn’t matter as long as you keep doing what you’re doing to him. He thinks he cries something out, but he can’t hear.

New sensations, curiosity plagues him, as well as unsurmountable pleasure, and yet, self respect escapes him. It doesn’t matter now, if he’s still embarrassed after you’ve forgotten, he can always just showcase his power over you. Insurance. 

His mind fogs, and he becomes louder.

“I—i’ll give you anything, worlds, galaxies, the stars, just— ah— keep going!”

“Anything?” You purr.

He almost wishes you’d be able to remember him like this tomorrow. Almost.

[band--psycho]

Vander x Reader - In Another Life (Part 1)

SPOILERS FROM ACT 3 - YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

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Thank you to everyone who's sent in a request so far! I'm absolutely loving the ideas you guys are sharing and will get to work on them soon! 💛

Requests are still open so if you have any ideas/requests, you're more than welcome to send them over (thank you to everyone who's requested a story so far, I'm working my way through them!)

Thank you all for the continued support!💛

I do not give permission for any of my works to be copied or translated onto this site or other platforms!

The way I sobbed during this first episode when I saw Vander again!

I just had to write this afterwards - I hope you all enjoy this!

You woke with a start, your heart beating at a rapid pace as a light bead of sweat formed on your forehead. 

You stayed like that for a minute, just sitting upright in the bed as you began to catch your breath; your eyes focusing on the environment around you. 

You weren’t in your bedroom. 

In fact, you didn’t really know where you were…it was weird, although this place seemed so different to you, it felt oddly familiar at the same time.

The last thing you could remember was being in the room with the hexcore in it. 

Ekko…Heimerdinger…Jayce…where were they?

Thoughts were running around in your mind faster than you could keep up with them; you’d barely finished one thought before another one took over, as you tried to work out what the hell happened and where the hell you were. 

‘Am I dead?’ you thought to yourself, running your hands over your face. 

But all your thoughts were halted when you heard the door to your side creek open; followed by a voice that confirmed you must’ve been dead, or just completely losing your mind.

Vanders voice….

“Good morning, sleepyhead, or should I say afternoon,” he chuckled; a sound that made your heart ache, and yet at the same time, made you feel all warm and fuzzy. 

It was a sound that you never thought you’d hear again… 

A sound that had made you feel safe; regardless of what was going on, even now when you had no idea what was going on. 

You heard his footsteps getting closer to you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. 

Not even for a second, just in case this was just your mind playing a foul trick on you. 

It wasn’t long before the sounds of his footsteps stopped and the bed that you were sitting on dipped as Vander sat in front of you.  

He lifted his hand to your face, tilting your chin up with his thumb, “You okay, sweetheart?”

His touch; it felt so real, so real that it made you sure it wasn’t your mind deceiving you. 

It couldn’t have been. 

Vander quite often occupied your dreams, and in every single one of them, his touch had never felt as real as it did in this very moment. 

“Am I dead?” The words fell from your lips before you could stop them, coming out in a small whisper.

Your eyes met Vanders gray ones, that’s when you noticed the worry that was slowly building inside them as he stared at you. 

“No, darl,” he cooed, wrapping his other hand around your waist, lifting you out of the bed momentarily before placing you in his lap, “you're safe.”

Safe.

You hadn’t been safe in a long time. 

And yet, here you were feeling safer then you had in years, with a man who should’ve been dead.

Your man. 

The love of your life. 

He was here. 

He was alive. 

You could hear his heart beating as you snuggled into his chest, savoring the all too familiar scent of Vander….smoke, fire and alcohol, mixing together with a small amount of cologne he loved to wear. 

“You’re alive…” you breathed, tentatively reaching out to touch his cheek. 

He seemed different. 

But in a good way.

The dark circles that were once under his eyes were pretty much all but gone; and his eyes seemed happier than when you knew him, as though he was free from all the stress that once plagued him. 

“Course I am, darl,” he assured you with a small smile; before pressing a soft kiss on the top of your head, hoping that his small action would be able to ease your mind. 

It didn’t. Not really at least. 

You were so confused. 

You didn't understand what was happening.

You tried to blink back the tears that were forming in your eyes, tried to keep yourself together so you could figure out what was happening. 

So you could think logically. 

But there was nothing logical about any of this…the arcane….magic…it wasn’t something that was logical. 

But now, being wrapped up in Vanders arms again, made you want to throw logic to the wind and just stay like this with him for as long as you possible could, not knowing how long this could last.

You didn’t know what was happening, or how, or why; all you knew was that Vander was here. 

That was all that mattered.

Taglist:

@xacatalepsyx @barbersjoy @conretewings @the-lone-librarian @cass-brightwood @fortune-fool02 @arielpanda1 @mothratic @simping-ella @stickyrice5096 @levis-butterfingers @lesbianinyourarea @eternallyvenus @trixiex2 @nagislemontea @dazecrea @littlejoyfullthing

[erenjaegerwifee]

Make You Mine II

Paring: Neteyam x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader

Warnings: MDNI 18+, smut, explicit language, tit sucking, orals (f receiving), p in v, marking, dirty talk, rough sex, belly bulge, hair pulling, making out, love at first sight, more embarrassing awkward moments at the end. 

Word Count: 4.8k

Disclaimer: All my characters are aged-up! If that makes you uncomfortable feel free to scroll and do not interact with my posts. 

Index: karyu - teacher, hupx- miss, kelku - house/home

This is part 2 of this fic! If you like my work feel free to check out my other work here!

You feel so giddy, you walk to work the next morning with a smile. Sleep did not come easily last night your mind was racing, but when you did fall asleep his face, his lips plagued your dreams. Your brother thought you were crazy this morning when he saw you skipping around the kelku. 

“Good morning class, how’s about we do some reading this morning then we can go play outside for a bit” you were so excited for your day to be over that you kept looking up at the sky for the general time. The children ran in circles and played, skipping around and screaming but you couldn’t find any of it annoying. You know yourself; you know if Neteyam asks you to be his mate you would say yes. You met him yesterday, but you would still say yes. 

You could hardly keep your excitement in but your daydreaming stopped when you heard the wailing of one of your kids, Tuktirey. “Hey hey, what happened here?” you rushed to her side and saw her clutching her knee. “She tripped on the rock and fell down; it was an accident” one of her classmates that saw what happened spoke up. Tuk was sniffling next to you and you had to pry her hand away so you could see her cut. It was just a little graze but you knew how much it must have hurt her, your pain tolerance is properly equivalent to hers.  

“Alright it’s alright, I’ll take care of her” After you said that the other kids started running around and playing again besides a couple of Tuk’s friends who stayed by her side trying to cheer her up. “I’m fine go play, hupx y/n is here with me” you smile at her as her friends ran away.  

“Come on let’s sit in the shade.” you picked her up and walked over to some rocks that sat under a tree with Tuk on your lap. You cleaned up her cut but not without the occasionally protesting in pain. But eventually she calmed down and rested her head on your shoulder. You didn’t realize at first because you were paying attention to the other children in the class that Tuk had fallen asleep on your shoulder.  

When it was time for you to take the kids inside you made them line up and walk orderly back into the small area where class was held. Tuktirey was still asleep, so instead of waking her you held her in your arms as you walked back to class with the other children. You didn’t bother waking her as the day was almost over and the crying must have made her very tired.  

Taking care of her made you completely forget you scheduled a date for the evening with Neteyam and when all the kids sprinted out towards their parents’ he walked in. Your back was turned facing away from him and Tuk’s limbs were wrapped around your body and her head rested on your shoulder as you tried to neaten up the classroom before leaving. He admired you both for a minute, he thought you looked so beautiful, so domestic with a kid in your arms, he could feel his stomach bubbling from how much he wanted that to be his kid.  

“Hey” he said softly but still startled you, you jump and whipped your body around to look at him. “Oh, you scared me, you were so silent, hi” you smile at him. “I am a hunter; it would defeat the purpose if I was noisy” he chuckled making you giggle too.  

“What happened here?” he gestured to Tuk in your arms. “We were all playing outside and she tripped and cried when it was almost time for us to come in, she just grazed her knee but she was sitting with me after and just fell asleep and speaking from someone who cries and then falls asleep I didn’t want to wake her.”  

He chuckled, “She’s not heavy, Lo’ak complains all the time when he has to pick her up” he moves to take her out of your arms and you let him, he gets so close you get a whiff of his scent and you almost cum. He smells so good; how does he smell so good after a long day of work?  

“No, I’ll feel that pain later, maybe tomorrow too in my arms.” you giggle as tuk shifts and wakes up. She was not being held on Neteyam’s hip and she raises her head to see you. She did what you thought was the cutest thing ever, she stretched her hand out and when you took it she laid down on her brother's shoulder and went to sleep. Neteyam saw the way your eyes teared up at her cute gesture and puffed his cheeks so he wouldn’t laugh.  

“So, what did you have in mind for us to do today?” you turned and asked him. You both started walking out of the classroom. “I have to take Tuk home, then I thought we could take a walk through the forest and have dinner together at my family kelku.” you smiled and agreed, “that sounds wonderful what will your mom be making?”  

Neteyam cleared his throat before answering in a sort of shy tone, “My family is going to the communal dinner, I thought it could just be me and you, I was gonna cook, but if you prefer they stay-” 

“No! I mean, no, that sounds lovely” you smile at him as we made it in front of his family kelku. You both walked inside and greeted everyone pleasantly. You felt a bit awkward seeing his father and brother after the last time but you decided to just ignore it. You made small talk with everyone while neteyam handed Tuk over to her mom to put her to bed and he took your hand and walked out of the kelku.  

“So, where are you taking me?” Neteyam never let go of your hand and you didn’t pull away either, it was so much bigger than yours, his hand was rough like a man’s but it was somehow soft at the same time. “Well, I was planning on taking you to a make-out spot I found so we can finish what we started last night” that statement kind of set you off, how much other girls does he take there.  

You pull your hand away from him and stop walking, you cross your arms over your chest unintentionally pushing your breast together. “I’m not going to your make out spot, how much people do you even take there?”  

Neteyam was confused as to why you pulled away at first but when he heard you speak, he chuckled a bit which confused you, but before you could say anything he said, “Oh no, Lo’ak told me about the spot, yea he’s a whore, but I've never taken anyone there before. I was hoping you’d be my first.” 

His response made you feel bad about jumping to conclusions and you run your hand over your face to hide your smile, “that’s not nice.” Neteyam mirrored your smile and chuckled, “It’s true.”  

After a couple minutes of walking, Neteyam pulled back some vines that hid a beautiful clearing, a small pond sat on the side with a few lily pads floating in them. Neteyam lets you walk in admiring the clearing and he looks around outside to make sure no one is around when he follows you in. 

“This is beautiful Neteyam” she said in awe. He didn’t take much time to admire the area the way you did, he instead admired you, “You look beautiful kalin txe’lan” (sweet heart). You turn towards him and he walked up to you wrapping his arms around your waist, “don’t waste time, do you?” you whisper as his face got closer to yours. “I don’t wanna waste a second with you” he mumbled before he pulled you in for a kiss.  

Just like before his lips were soft, warm, he tasted sweet like fruits he must have eaten earlier. Your hands came up to the back of his neck and he deepen the kiss, like yesterday his body bent over yours as if he wanted you closer but he already had you pressed up against him. His hands slid down your hips to your ass and gave it a squeeze making you moan into the kiss before he lifted you off your feet without breaking the kiss.  

You let out a yelp of surprise and held on to his shoulders as he stood like you weighed nothing in his strong arms. He walked slowly until your back was pressed up against the rough bark of a tree and he continued his assault in your mouth. You pulled away for air pulling your head back and resting it against the tree behind you. Neteyam didn’t waste a second kissing down the column of your neck.  

He kissed your neck from your collarbone up to the bottom of your ear. His teeth grazed that perfect stop on the junction between your shoulder and neck making you moan, “oh Eywa” your eyes rolled and your legs wrapped around his back and locked at your ankles. He chuckled a bit feeling the way you squeeze his waist with your thighs. His lips came back up to your mouth and you intertwined your tongues in your mouth.  

You were starting to feel hot, his hands roamed your body, your hands scratched at his shoulder and he was kissing so intensely, so good, you didn’t want him to stop. If he laid you on the grass and fucked you know you would let him, you were so close to begging for it. Neteyam heard static coming from his ear piece, someone was trying to talk to him, after a few second, he recognized Lo’ak’s voice in his ear. As irritated his brother’s voice sounded in his ear instead of yours, he didn’t pull away from your hot tongue. 

“Bro, mom and dad just left to go to dinner, place in yours.” Neteyam’s ear perked up, he was going to take you home. One of his hands held you up easily while the other came to his throat to press the talk button, “yea, thanks bro-” he said between the kiss hearing a muffled ‘ew’ come from the ear piece from his brother.  

“What?” you pull away and ask, “that was my brother” he pointed to the ear piece, “Let me take you home, have some dinner” you looked at him from your position pressed up against you, his strong arms bulging under your weight but he lifted you so easily, his lips swollen from kissing you. You didn’t want him to stop. Neteyam dropped you to the floor and you stumbled a bit but his arms were still around you and you were still against the tree.  

He was going to step back and allow you to walk with him but you pulled his head down for another smearing kiss, “I am dinner” you mumbled the words into his mouth making him groan and push up against you, “nah baby, your dessert” you smiled into the kiss before pulling away and wrapping his arms around you.  

The walk back to his hut was silent aside from the occasional kisses he left on your neck and shoulders, sometimes your head. He pulled the flap to his family kelku open and you walked in, it was silent now so you got a chance to admire the space. The sully’s put a lot of effort into making their place a home, you say touches of each person when you looked around along with the family photos that hung on the walls.  

Neteyam told you to get comfortable sitting in the common area of the home and you watched him light up the fire and cook up some stored meat, before cutting up some vegetables and fruits for you to eat, it was a generous amount you didn’t want to waste it. “I’m not gonna eat that much neteyam” you looked at the serves he dished out, “Don’t worry about it, whatever you don’t eat I will” you were still worried some of it might go to waste but decided to drop it. “So, where did you learn to cook?” you asked him as you leaned back against the wall watching in focus on the food over the fire. “My mother taught us, everyone besides my father and Tuk knows how to cook. Mother tried teaching him but he’s pretty much a lost cause, he can’t cook to save his life” you laughed at his comment and engaged in small talk until he handed you a leaf with steamy food on it. You admired how well cooked and good the food looks, “It almost looks to pretty to eat”  

He chuckled and sat with his own serving which was the rest of the food, “You’re gonna eat all that?” you looked at the food you could never finish in his leaf. “I’m a big man sweetheart, I eat way more than you think” he laughed making you laugh with him. You both talked until you were done eating and cleaned up the space, “That was delicious Neteyam. Everything tonight was wonderful.” you smiled at him and he took both your hands in his pulling you close.  

His thumbs rubbed back and forth on the top of your hands and he smiled down at you, “I had a really nice time tonight with you, I know we didn’t do much but-” you raised on of your hands to his mouth shushing him with your finger. He instinctively kissed it but you didn’t move it. “I had an amazing time, it doesn’t matter what we did, you provided, you made sure I was safe and had fun- lots of fun” you giggled making him join in. 

Neteyam pulled you closer wrapping his free arm around your waist and he held your hand with the other, he kissed you softly on the cheek, then again on the corner of your lips then fully. You moan sweetly into the soft kiss. You pulled away but he chased after you with him lips slotting them back together. The kiss got heated and he walked you back until you were in his private room. You were so in your head thinking about how good it felt to kiss him that you didn’t realize he moved you until his scent hit you in the nose.  

You pulled away darting your eyes around his room and his lips went back down to your neck, you didn’t take in much detail when he bit you in that same amazing spot again and you fell weak in his arms. He moved you to his bed and sat you down on the soft sheets breaking the kiss. You looked around at the bed then up at him and he held your face with both his big palms. “Why don’t you stay here tonight, wouldn’t want you to go home so late”  

“Neteyam the sun is just setting, we just had dinner, what about my brother.” 

“Lo’ak invited him to a party they are gonna crash here when they come back you don’t have anything to do tonight, just stay with me” you bit your lip looking up at him contemplating whether you should stay. Your mind was quickly made up when his thumb pulled your lip from between your teeth and looked down at you so lustfully. You nod your head meekly and pushed yourself further into his bed and he crawled right over you.  

Neteyam slotted his hand under your back to the knot holding your top together and brought his head down to kiss you, he didn’t untie your top it’s like his fingers were teasing you, you’ve had enough of that, you want him to lay his cock on you. “Take it off” you whisper into his lips; he didn’t need more when he pulled the string on your top loosening in. Neteyam broke the kiss to watch himself pull your top of your chest and admired the way they bounced when he released them. His staring made you a bit self-conscience until he bit his lip and blushed at the sight.  

His hand came up to squeeze the flesh of your tits watching it spill through his fingers. “You’re so fucking sexy, couldn’t help but think about this when I first met you. You were just so gorgeous” your face flushed at his words and his finger gave you a nice squeeze before threading lightly to your nipples. Neteyam circles light touched on the buds watching the way they harden with a smirk.  

His head dips and licked a stride up your right boob to your nipple and sucked on it. Neteyam tugged on the nub feeling the way you squirmed under his touch, you were so sensitive. He switched to your other nipple mimicking his actions until your nipples were swollen and wet. Your thighs were wet with your essence you wanted him down there now. His lips moved back up to your neck kissing and sucking on your skin making purple marks. Your hands moved down his body to his loincloth and shoved your hand in grabbing his cock. 

Neteyam stuttered at the feeling of your small warm hand engulfing him, you give it small strokes in the restricted area and feeling the way Neteyam’s breath picks up. He kisses down your body until he’s in line with your covered core, he admires the wet spot before licking a stride up on the stop making you jolt. Neteyam unties your loincloth tossing it to the side off the bed and spreading your legs wide for him to see. He sends you a wicked grin that making you face flush and turn deep purple, “so wet baby, all for me?”  

You bit your lip when his voice makes you clench around nothing and you nod your head. Neteyam smirks and kisses your clit lightly loving the way you slightly jump at his every touch. His tongue darts out tasting the slick between your folds and he groans at the sweetness. Neteyam buries his head down between your slick thighs making you moan, his tongue darts through your folds and into your clenching hole, his noises make you shiver when he sends vibrations up your cunt.  

No one has ever gone down on you and it felt so good, at a point you thought it just wasn’t something you enjoyed, but Neteyam is clearly proving you wrong. His tongue glides up to your clit circling and flicking your sensitive bud making you whimper. “Eywa, you taste so fucking good” he groans and looks up at you. You both make eyes contact and you can’t find it in yourself to break it, or to hold in your whimpers. You are so close you feel yourself getting closer and closer every flick of his tongue and you thread your hands through his hair and pull him up away from your cunt.  

You breath heavily as you say, “I’m gonna cum” 

He smiles at you words, “Let me make you cum” he replies almost immediately as he tries to go back down on you but your hands move to his shoulders, “no Neteyam, wanna cum on your cock”  

Your eyes are glassy and your face sports a deep blush, your swollen lips and caught between your teeth once more and your chest rises and falls rapidly. Neteyam adores how you look in his bed, all fucked out and pretty, and you haven’t even seen his cock yet. He sits up on his knees in between your thighs and unties the knot for his loincloth, he pulls it off tossing it to join yours and bends over your body, your eyes take in his toned figure and his hard cock.  

Neteyam is huge, you’ve never been with someone that big but you want it so bad. His lips met your ear as he strokes his cock, you can see from under his body the way his tip leaks pre-cum and it drops on your cunt. His tip prudes at your entrance and you spread your legs wider to accommodate him. When his cock head enters you squeeze your eyes shut from the stretch and Neteyam moves slowly back and forth until his entire length is buried in you. You both moan when his tip hits your cervix and your belly bulges.  

“F-fuck Neteyam it’s so big” you whimper, you rock your head back so your cheeks are touching and your hands move up his chest to his muscular biceps, you only feel hard muscle on his body as he tenses up from your tight cunt sucking him in.  

Both you and Neteyam look down when he pulls out until it’s just the tip and thrust back into you, “Yea? Gonna take this big cock baby?” his words feel like it goes through one ear and out the other when he starts to speed up his thrust but it doesn’t matter when your already chanting ‘yes yes yes’ in his ear.  your fingers scratch at the skin you can reach and you mewl in his ear.  

You feel yourself getting so close to cuming you want it so much more since the last time you edged yourself. Neteyam sets a pace that makes your head spin, his cock is angled to hit your g-spot every time he thrust. Your jaw is slack and you bite his shoulder to help muffle your moans but your thoughts are spinning around his cock you can’t even think about how much strength you need to bite. Neteyam kisses along your neck whispering sweet praises in your ear about how good you feel, and how you’re such a good girl for taking him so good. 

“Fuck Neteyam! I’m gonna cum!” you shout he speeds up his thrust. You can barely see when your vision turns white and you gush on his cock. Neteyam slows down his thrust and pulls out of your gaping hole. His cock drips your essence off the tip and he smiles down at you, “Fuck, you okay baby?” you nod your head up at him with your eyes shut but you realize he never came and your eyes shoot back open.  

Neteyam looks down at your spent body observing your every little feature committing it to his permanent memory, “You didn’t cum nete...” you say softly making him smile down at you, “It’s okay tonight was about you”  

You look down at his raging cock and suddenly have all the energy to take more, “No I want your cum” you mumble at your sit up and turn around. Neteyam didn’t quite hear you so he didn’t stop you from getting up, “What? Baby what are you doing?” 

You get on your hands and knees; your ass sits up in line with his chest and your tail sways in the air, “I said I want your cum” you repeated louder as you look back at him with a sweet blush on your face. You heard him growl behind you and shuffle to line his cock up with your hole. “You’re just perfect hm” he said and stuffed his cock back into you.  

Neteyam thrust slowly as he gathered up your hair into a makeshift ponytail with your kuru handing down his forearm as well and he yanks your head back thrusting into you at a brutal pace. “You’re such a good girl sweetheart, taking my cock so fucking good, look at you” his hand slaps down on your ass hard creating a nice hand print covering your ass, making you scream out his name. You can’t form any words besides his name.  

You feel yourself cuming again, you're so close to another sweet release, but this time you can’t warn him about it because every thrust makes you breathless. Neteyam feels the way you gush once more on him and he gets an ego boost, he’s so happy he is the one fucking you and making you cum on his cock and no one else, “Yea sweetheart, cum on my cock just like that, so fucking good for me yea?”  

“Yesyesyes tey pleasee, w-want your cum!” your words are jumbled but you scream them out, all your body wants is to feel him pump his cum into you. He doesn’t take long after to cum hard inside you, you feel his cock twitch as he pumps himself empty in your cunt. “F-fuckkkk yea take my cum baby” his breathing is heavy and his body drops to the side pulling you down with him, he doesn’t pull out or anything just covers you both with the blanket and wraps his arms around you as sleep finds you. 

“Tukteiry wake your brother” Neytiri says as everyone sits in the common area and Neteyam still isn’t awake. “Okay mama” she jumps up and runs into her brother room. You and Neteyam are still sound asleep, but he is not laying on his back with his hand under your body and you lay with your face in his pillow and hands up by your head on your stomach stuck up every close to him, the blanket has been pushed to both your waist showing your hair cascading down your naked back and his ripped abs.  

When Tuk runs in, she’s confused at first, she has never seen a girl in Neteyam’s room before let alone his bed. When she does realize who it is due to your bracelet that you made in class the day before she knows it was you. Tuk lets out a loud blood curdling scream making you and Neteyam jump up and she runs out of the room. 

You both look around for the alarming noise and you hear Tuk shout, “Daddy! Neteyam kidnapped hupx y/n!” you and Neteyam scramble when it finally hits you, the situation you’re in. The sun has risen and the high in the sky and beaming through the room, you were surprised it didn't wake you. “What?” you hear footsteps coming closer to the room you presume it’s his father so your flip your body around and bring the blanket up to your chest to cover your body. Your hair is a mess and Neteyam scrambles to find both of your clothes but he throws them off the bed last night so you pull him back and cover his body just in time for jake to walk in.  

Lo’ak follows closely behind him and suddenly you are in another awkward situation with them, including Tuk as she darts in the room right after. Lo’ak tries so hard to hold in his laugh you can see him turning purple and Jake stands like he doesn’t know what to say. Your eyes dart to Neteyam and back to the three people standing in front of you. “I thought you were gonna wake me up” you whisper, “I thought so too apparently Tuk beat me to it” he said in the same tone,  

“See daddy he kidnapper my new karyu. You can’t keep her! Hupx Y/n is my karyu!” you ran up to you on the side of the bed and started pulling you. You didn’t think she was strong enough but you almost drop the blanket, but didn’t thanks to Neteyam. 

“I did not kidnap her; she’s is here because she wants to be here” his tone was snappy with Tuk like he’s fighting for a toy. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you out of her grip. Jake still stands quietly at the entrance of the room and Lo’ak is quickly losing his battles about laughing at you both. “Okay Tuk enough come on; they’ll be out in a minute.” Jake grabs Tuk and pulls her outside. 

 “But daddy he kidnapper her-” 

“No, he didn’t kidnap her, they were playing- to late last night and... she had a sleepover here...” Jake says making Lo’ak laugh as he followed them out.  

You turn your head to neteyam and fall back onto the bed groaning in embarrassment, “I’m never gonna show my face in public again” you cringe at the interaction that just took place making Neteyam laugh. You both wash up in his room and step outside and everyone, including your brother turns their head to look at you while you awkwardly greet them. Neteyam gently nudges you to sit down on a stop next to you brother and Neteyam on the other side and your brother spoke up, “So, how was your night?” you slowly turn your head to him and slap him in the face with cushion you were leaning back on.  

It was an eventful morning but you wouldn’t do anything to change the night.  

🪸 I hope you al enjoyed reading the second part! I appreciate all the love I’ve been getting for them!

🪸Reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated!

Taglist:

@rivatar @delusionalwh6re @xylianasblog @nilahsstuff @strongheartneteyam @m1tsu-ki @kylimarz @quicktosimp @its-jennarose @r11k4 @xrollingmyeyesx @teymars @neteyamsoare @pandoraslxna @inlovewithpandora @winterhi09 @anonymuslydumb

[lupinqs]

CHAPTER NINE ━━ Treat You Better

❀ ━ pairing: paige bueckers x oc (jo jacobson)

❀ ━ word count: 3.9K

❀ ━ warnings: mentions of sex

❀ ━ links: my masterlist, nobody gets me masterlist

❀ ━ author’s note: this is suchhhhh a filler but i promise promise promise the next chap is genuinely when things are gonna start to get real

THE MORNING sunlight creeps through the slats of the blinds, soft and golden, but Jo wishes it would go away. Her head is pounding, a heavy, unforgiving rhythm that makes her groan under her breath as she starts to wake up. Everything feels off—her body is sore from sleeping in jeans, her crop top is clinging to her like a second skin, and her makeup feels grimy against her face. She’s tangled up with someone else, too, her head resting against their shoulder, an arm draped loosely around her waist.

Paige.

Jo shifts her head to the side slightly, keeping her eyes closed, and the smell of Paige—fresh, even after a night out, like some combination of lavender and the faintest hint of citrus—fills her nose. It’s comforting, especially after being away from it for so long.

Eventually, Jo’s eyes flutter open and her gaze is met with Paige’s face. The older girl is still fast asleep, her lips parted ever so slightly, blonde hair falling out of the loose bun tied at the nape of her neck. There are little flecks of mascara beneath her eyes, and something about it makes Jo smile despite the pounding in her skull. Paige looks pretty like this. Well, Paige always looks pretty, but especially right now. She’s softer, more relaxed and entirely unguarded.

Jo lets herself linger for a moment, watching Paige breathe evenly, her chest rising and falling steadily. It feels intimate—maybe too intimate—and Jo suddenly shifts, trying to shake the thought loose.

That’s when Paige begins to stir, groaning softly. Her arm tightens around Jo’s middle, and she mutters something completely incoherent against Jo’s shoulder. Jo huffs a laugh, nudging her. “Paige,” she drags the name out, her voice light despite the hangover.

Paige shakes her head, burrowing deeper, her nose brushing against the bare skin of Jo’s shoulder. “Too early. My head hurts,” she mumbles, her voice muffled and scratchy with sleep.

Jo lets out a little chuckle, even though she wholeheartedly agrees. “Yeah, mine too,” she murmurs, rubbing her temple with her free hand.

It takes a bit of coaxing—nudges, laughter, and Jo teasing Paige about being lazy—but finally, the blonde opens her eyes, blinking slowly up at Jo. A sleepy, dopey smile spreads across her face, and Jo swears it’s unfair how charming Paige can look first thing in the morning.

“Morning,” Paige says, her voice still soft with sleep.

Jo can’t help but smile back down at her. “Good morning.”

For a moment, it’s quiet. Jo watches Paige, who seems perfectly content to just lie there, gazing up at her. It’s almost too much, and Jo feels her heart stutter oddly, making her almost feel like she’s still drunk.

She has something to ask, though. Something she needs to say. But she hesitates before she speaks. The question bubbles in her mind, persistent and nagging, and even though she’s afraid of the answer, it has to be asked.

It’s not that things don’t feel better—they do. After the game and her little breakdown, yesterday felt easier, like they’d skipped back into the rhythm they’ve always had. But it’s hard to shake the doubts, the ones that settled deep her chest during the weeks Paige had avoided her like the plague. Every unanswered text, every dodge of eye contact, every vague excuse about being busy—it had all added up, leaving Jo with this lingering fear that maybe she’d done something irreparable.

And now, lying here with Paige pressed against her side, soft and warm and familiar, Jo feels like she’s standing at the edge of a cliff. One wrong step and she—they—could tumble right over it.

Still, Jo swallows her nerves, and says, “Hey.” Her voice comes out quieter than she intends, almost unsure. The rest of the words get stuck in her throat, especially as that bleary blue gaze continue to stare up at her.

“Yeah?” Paige asks, rubbing one of her eyes.

Jo almost chickens out. It’d be so easy to let the moment pass, to pretend like everything’s fine and not poke at the cracks that might still be there. But the fear is too heavy, and the words are already on the tip of her tongue, so she pushes forward before she can think better of it.

“Are we… good now?” she asks slowly, hesitant.

Paige blinks at her, still sluggish and probably too hangover to fully process what Jo’s asking. But Jo doesn’t look away, even though her stomach twists uncomfortably, afraid that the question might make Paige get out of bed and run away again.

Instead, Paige sits up slowly, propping herself up on one elbow. She’s more awake now, her gaze sharpening as she seems to study Jo’s face. For a moment, Jo thinks maybe Paige is going to dodge the question or brush it off, but then Paige smiles—soft and genuine, the kind of smile that feels like reassurance all on its own.

“Yeah,” Paige says simply, steadily. “We’re good.”

Jo’s heart does this weird stutter thing that she tries to ignore. Paige reaches out, brushing a strand of Jo’s hair out of her face, and the touch is so gentle that—for whatever reason—it makes Jo’s breath catch.

But then Paige’s hand drops, and she leans back against the wall with a little groan. “God, my head,” she mutters, scrubbing a hand over her face.

Jo laughs softly, the tension in her chest easing away quickly. “Same,” she says, nudging Paige’s arm. “Now reach in that drawer and grab the ibuprofen, please.”

Paige obliges easily, leaning over to open the nightstand drawer. She pulls out the pill bottle, shaking a couple of them into her hand before popping them into her mouth and swallowing them dry. Then she looks at Jo, holding the bottle out. “Here,” she says.

Jo extends a hand, and Paige pours two pulls into her palm before tossing the bottle back into the nightstand. Their fingers brush in the exchange, but Jo ignores it. Instead, she focuses on swallowing the pills quickly, before laying back down beside Paige.

She stretches her legs beneath the blankets, trying to shake the stiffness from a night spent curled in the same position. She’s barely comfortable again when she feels it—Paige’s foot, warm and obnoxiously careful, running teasingly along her calf. The sensation sends a shiver up Jo’s spine, equal parts annoyance and amusement.

“Quit,” she says, jerking her leg away and kicking Paige’s foot lightly for good measure.

Paige laughs, amused with herself, like always. “JoJo,” she teases, the nickname Jo hates.

“I liked you better asleep,” Jo retorts, her tone dry but laced with fondness.

“You were the one who woke me up,” Paige shots back, a smirk crawling across her features.

Jo rolls her eyes because Paige isn’t wrong, but she isn’t about to admit it. Instead, she sinks further into the mattress, determined to ignore the sudden playful energy Paige has brought into the morning.

But then the blonde is groaning dramatically again, like a child denied her favorite toy, and says, “Talk about somethin’ interesting. I’m too tired to get up but too awake to sleep.”

“You’re such a baby,” Jo replies, shaking her head, though there’s no real bite to the words. It’s hard to genuinely be annoyed with Paige.

“C’mon,” the older girl insists, nudging Jo’s leg again with her foot. Her persistence is endearing, even if it’s also mildly irritating.

Jo lets out a long, exaggerated sigh, pretending think about what could possibly qualify as “interesting” in Paige’s world. She taps her fingers against the comforter, milling it over, until something from yesterday flickers to the forefront of her mind.

She shifts slightly, meeting Paige’s gaze fully, her curiosity sharpening. “Yesterday… you mentioned there was a girl.”

Paige’s face changes in an instant. The lazy, playful smirk vanishes, replaced by a groan so exaggerated it would be funny if it didn’t make Jo even more curious.

“I’m too tired for this,” the blonde mutters, draping an arm over her face like she can physically block out the conversation.

But Jo isn’t about to let it go. “Come on, tell me,” she says, tugging at Paige’s arm. “She doesn’t like you back, you said? How do you know? Have you tried to ask her? Who is she?”

Paige makes a noise that’s somewhere between a groan and a laugh, clearly exasperated. “You’re worse than Nika,” she mumbles, peeking out from under her arm to glare at Jo.

Jo grins, undeterred. “That’s not an answer.”

“Because I don’t have an answer,” Paige snaps back without any fire.

Jo merely raises an eyebrow, unconvinced. Paige’s face is flushed now, the tips of her ears pink in a way that only happens when she’s cornered. It’s almost cute, but Jo’s too focused on getting information to dwell on it.

“Just tell me who she is,” Jo says, almost whining by now. She flicks at Paige’s skin, before adding, “You know I won’t tell anyone.”

Paige shakes her head, dragging a pillow over her face like she wants to suffocate. “You’re being annoying,” she mumbles, her voice muffled.

“I’m being persistent,” Jo corrects, poking at the pillow.

“Same thing,” Paige shoots back.

Eventually, Jo huffs, realizing she’s not getting anywhere. “Fine, whatever,” she says, flopping back on the bed. But then she adds casually, “You better tell Celeste that then. She’s always asking me about you, y’know. Since I’m the only one on the team who knows you two were—are?—fucking.”

The pillow flies off Paige’s face so fast it’s almost comical. Her wide, incredulous eyes meet Jo’s, and for a second, she looks genuinely horrified.

“She’s still asking about me?” Paige asks, her voice raised high in disbelief.

Jo nods, biting back a laugh. “Yep. She cornered me at practice last week, actually. Wanted to if you were seeing anyone.”

Paige lets out a strangled noise and shoves her face into the nearest pillow, letting out a muffled scream that makes Jo laugh outright.

“P, you did this to yourself,” she says, patting the blonde’s back lightly.

Paige lifts her head just enough to glare at her, but the glare doesn’t really hold. Instead, her expression shifts into something—oddly enough—more serious. She sits up slowly, leaning her elbows on her knees, and Jo notices the way her hands fidget in her lap.

“Yeah,” Paige says finally, quieter now. “I know.”

The way she says it—like there’s something unspoken beneath the words—confuses Jo a little. She sits up too, watching Paige carefully, but the older girl doesn’t say anything else.

The room is quiet for a long moment. Jo feels like she should say something, but she doesn’t really know what. Paige’s shoulders have grown tense, her head bowed just slightly, and Jo wonders, not for the first time, what’s actually going on inside her head.

She doesn’t push, though. She never does. Instead, she reaches over, giving Paige’s arm a gentle squeeze. “You’re gonna figure it out, P,” she says softly.

Paige glances at her, and for a split second, Jo sees something vulnerable swirling in cerulean. But then Paige nods, forcing a small smile.

“I hope so.”

BY LATE NOVEMBER, the season is in full swing, and Paige feels like things are finally normal again—at least as normal as they can be when you’re a sidelined player with a knee brace and a persistent, unrequited crush on your best friend.

But it’s fine. She’s gotten good at compartmentalizing. Her feelings are a box she keeps tightly locked, tucked away in the back of her mind where they can’t interfere with the other parts of her life. And right now, the biggest part of her life is the team.

They’ve been good so far this season. After the heartbreak of the last year—the natty loss, Paige’s injury—there’s been a renewed fire in the team. They’re undefeated so far, having gone through Northeastern, Texas, NC State, and Duke. And, just earlier tonight, they beat Iowa in a game that felt like a statement.

Paige couldn’t be prouder of her girls.

Aaliyah’s truly become a beast in the paint. Her scoring and rebounding have been vital, and Paige truly doesn’t know if there’s anyone in the country who can match her physicality under the basket. Nika’s been, well, Nika, leading all of D1 in assists. Azzi’s been unstoppable, her shooting unreal, putting up numbers that should make other teams scared.

And Jo.

Jo, Jo, Jo, Jo, Jo.

It’s not just that Jo’s good. Everyone knew she’d be good. She came into the program as the top recruit in the country, and the expectations were high from the start. What’s impressed Paige isn’t just Jo’s skill, though. It’s her composure. Her leadership. The way she’s stepped into the spotlight as a freshman and made it look effortless.

She leads the team in steals, her scoring and passing are great, she fights for her rebounds. She’s just a complete player. Paige sees it all from the bench, and she can’t help but feel a surge of pride basically every time the basketball is in Jo’s hands.

Paige misses playing more than she can put into words, but she’s found a different kind of purpose. She’s become the team’s absolute biggest hype woman, and she takes the job very seriously. She’s the loudest voice on the bench during games, cheering for every big play, every defensive stop, every three that swishes through the net.

It’s not the same, of course. Nothing can replace the feeling of being out there, running the floor, and making plays herself. But it’s something, and Paige takes pride in it.

She thinks about the way Jo played tonight, and how she’d carried herself on the court. Confident. Fierce despite her natural softness. Completely in control. She remembers the way Jo had grinned after stealing the ball from Caitlin, doing what she does best and taking it coast-to-coast for a layup.

Fuck, Paige is proud of her.

It’s a complicated feeling, though, because sometimes that pride gets tangled up in other things—things she always tries to push away, but come running back to her anyway. Like the way Jo had looked tonight, sweat-slicked and determined, her ponytail swinging with every step. The way she’d laughed with Aaliyah and Aubrey after the game, her eyes crinkling at the corners. The way she’d glanced at Paige during a timeout, her expression warm and perfect and easily able to make Paige’s heart stumble.

Currently, her heart is still stumbling due to the feeling of Jo’s hands delicately painting her nails. They’re sitting on the floor of Nika and Lou’s hotel room in Portland, surrounded by the team. It’s a bit cramped in here for all of them, the room almost pulsing with laughter and the commentary of some men’s college basketball game playing on the TV. The smell of leftover pizza hangs in the air, and Paige’s attention is split between everything happening around her and the way Jo’s fingers brush against hers each time she dips the brush into the bottle. She doesn’t even know how Jo convinced her to do this, but here she is, watching Jo’s brows furrow in concentration, trying so hard not to notice the way her pulse quickens. Paige can’t help it, though. She’s tried so many times to ignore these little sparks of attraction, but they won’t go away. Not when Jo is this close, this easy to be around.

Around them, the team is talking in that easy, loud way that they always do, teasing each other, yelling at the game every now and then, laughing. Azzi’s just put all of the attention on Ines, though, her love life becoming the new topic. Paige tunes in and out of the conversation, but she hears Jo’s voice rise with excitement.

“Oh my God, Nesh, you gotta tell us more about the boy! How many times have you hung out now?”

Paige watches Ines blush, her face turning a deep shade of red as she stammers out a response. “Like, four or five?”

The questions from the team start flying at her, a cascade of curiosity and teasing. What did you guys do? What’s he like? What does he look like, again? Paige tries to focus on the conversation, but it seems like her mind won’t let her, instead zeroing in on the continuous feeling of Jo’s hand in hers. The closeness. If only Jo knew what this was doing to her.

But she doesn’t. Jo is talking and laughing, her voice light as she banters with Ines.

“JoJo, you’re in love, right?” Ines asks suddenly.

Paige fights the urge to roll her eyes. This is not a conversation she wants to be involved in. She doesn’t care to hear about Asher and how perfect he is. It stings, always, like a paper cut that lingers and throbs with every passing second. But Paige bites her tongue and tries to push it all away. This isn’t about her. It never is.

“Yes… ?” Jo answers, her voice laced with a bit of amusement, clearly caught off guard.

Paige looks over to see Ines staring very seriously at Jo. The blonde damn near snorts at the expression.

“Okay, so you’ve had sex, right?” Ines pesters. “And since you’re in love, the sex has to be good, right?”

Paige stills as the room lets out playful oohs and teasing laughter. She feels an involuntary flush creep up her neck, her chest tightening uncomfortably. She can’t help the way her ears heat up at the words, can’t help the way her mind automatically goes to places it shouldn’t. She tries to shove them down, because, really, she doesn’t want to think about Jo and Asher having sex.

Jo side-eyes Ines a little, letting out a slow, confused laugh as she tilts her head. “Neshy, why’re you asking me about my sex life?” she jokes.

“Because,” Ines says quickly, her tone growing urgent as she sits up straighter, “I’ve never had sex, but I know he’s gonna want to soon, and I don’t know what to expect! And the rest of the team is either gay or single!”

There’s a beat of silence, and then the room is erupting into laughter. Aaliyah’s been cackling so hard this whole time that she’s damn near falling off one of the beds, Jo’s giggling, and even Paige finds herself smiling despite the awkwardness of the topic prior.

“I’m not either of those things,” Nika chimes in, raising a hand.

Ines waves her off. “No, you don’t count, Nika. Nahiem is too new.”

Nika gives her a look, scrunching up her nose, before resting back against the headboard.

Ines, meanwhile, turns her attention back to Jo, her expression comically serious. “Jo, you’re not gay or single.” Damn, rub it in, why don’t you, Paige can’t help but think to herself. “I have questions, and I need answers.”

Jo looks up from Paige’s nails again to give Ines a look. “Me?” she asks like it might be the worst thing in the world, voice high-pitched.

“Yes, you,” Ines says firmly.

Paige watches as Jo glances around the room, clearly debating her options, but it’s obvious she’s a trapped. The whole team is watching now, always so nosy. Paine fights the urge to get up and walk out. She doesn’t want to hear this. She knows she doesn’t. But she also can’t stop herself from listening.

Jo sighs, setting the nail polish down carefully on the floor. “Fine. What do you wanna know?”

Ines leans forward, her elbows resting on her knees. “What was your first time like?”

Paige watches as Jo hesitates, glancing around the room as if hoping someone will save her. But no one does, and she lets out a small, nervous laugh before answering. “Um…” she starts, clearly stalling. She pauses long enough to blow lightly on Paige’s nails, the warm puff of air making Paige’s fingers twitch.

Finally, Jo looks back at Ines, and says, “It was Asher.” That part is obvious—Paige knew it would have been. And, even after hearing it damn near every day, she still hates the way his name sounds coming out of Jo’s mouth. “I was fifteen. I’d been dating him for, like, a year at that point. I think.”

“How’d it feel?” Ines asks immediately, her tone laced with curiosity.

Jo laughs, shaking her head incredulously. “Jeez, Ines,” she says slowly, like she can’t believe she’s asking her about all of this in front of the whole team. “Um… it wasn’t good. The first time never is. I mean, I—like—bled and cried a little bit and shit.”

Paige cringes internally at the mental image. She’ll never understand the appeal of having sex with a man, and Jo’s description only solidifies her opinion. Still, when Jo laughs again, Paige almost smiles a little. Jo’s laugh is warm, infectious, and even though Paige hates the topic, she doesn’t hate hearing Jo’s voice.

Ines, however, looks absolutely horrified, her eyes wide and her mouth slightly open. Her expression is so comically distressed that Paige finds herself laughing along with the rest of the team.

“Don’t look at me like that!” Jo says, giggling as she shakes her head. “It’s normal. Everyone’s first time sucks.”

“Well,” Ines says after a moment, her voice quieter now, “does it feel good now?”

The question hangs in the air, and Paige feels her heart pound a little as she waits to hear the answer. This whole thing feels a little weird for her. She doesn’t want to hear that Jo feels good when she’s fucking Asher, but she also doesn’t want to hear that she doesn’t—if that makes any sense at all. Paige doesn’t even know.

Jo hesitates again, her gaze dropping to the floor. “Um. Not—not… really,” she admits finally, shrugging a little. “I mean, it’s fine. It’s not like I don’t enjoy it, but… well, most of the time, I don’t, like, finish.”

Paige’s jaw nearly drops at the admission. She doesn’t even realize she’s staring until Jo glances her way, and she quickly looks down, trying to play it off. But her mind spins, racing with thoughts she shouldn’t have.

If Jo isn’t finishing with Asher, then, seriously, what’s the point? Paige knows, with absolute certainty, that if she ever had the chance—if Jo ever gave her even a single opportunity—she could show her what she’s been missing. She can’t help her thoughts, unbidden and vivid. She imagines Jo beneath her, legs spread, lips parted as Paige pulls sounds from her that no one else ever has—that Asher never has. She imagines eating her out, fingering her, making her finish over and over and over again in a way that her boyfriend of damn near five fucking years hasn’t been able to. Paige knows she could do it—she’s always been good at that. (Seriously, why else would she have a roster like she does?)

As her thoughts continue to race, though, Paige glances up—meeting Aubrey’s gaze. Aubrey gives her a little look, as if she knows exactly what Paige is thinking. Paige looks away immediately, face burning, knowing she needs to keep her mind in check.

Meanwhile, Jo’s trying to defend herself, laughing nervously as she says, “It’s just… boys. You know?”

Nika and Ice both nod in agreement, and Paige can only stare at the ground, her thoughts a tangled, desperate mess. She doesn’t trust herself to speak, not when all she can think about is how much better she could be for Jo��how much better she would be—if given the chance.

[junislqve]

lip gloss ✶ jake

𝓢. jake hated you, you hated jake. but that was until a small slip up had you entirely change your perceptions of each other.

pairs tutor!jake x tutee!reader content making out skinship fluff nerd jake not proofread wordcount 463 CATALOGUE

i put down the file a few times writing this.. anywho!! this is the entry for @bywons 1k event hiyaa i love my srunums >< based off strawberries & cigarettes

REBLOG if you enjoyed!

Jake couldn’t sleep.

he’s spent hours tossing and turning on his bed trying to catch his sleep. unfortunately, the universe wasn’t on his side.

everytime he’d try to close his eyes it would bring him back to- he shot his eyes open. sitting up on his bed and ran a hand through his face in frustration.

jake had a problem. and you were exactly at the center of it.

“do you know how dumb you look like right now?” he can practically hear your voice mirroring from an hour ago.

jake groaned, “can’t you go a day without pissing me off?”

“okay and whose the freak that likes maths here”

that seemed to silence jake, his blood was boiling. it’s only been a week into tutoring you and he was so close to giving up.

“if you want to keep failing maths then so be it, it’s not like i’m doing this out of free will anyway”

“whatever, im leaving”

the universe was also, apparently not on your side back then. because as you were about to get up you tripped over a small box tucked underneath jake’s study table.

and the person you brought down with? jake. you both hadn’t realized it until your folded knees rest on top of jake’s lap. or did you realize when you felt jake’s hands firmly gripping your waist?

“can you let go of me?”

“you pulled me down first” he said, softly? calmly? you didn’t know but it sounded weird.

“it’s not my fault you have an unused box under your table. why did you even have one anyway? now can you let go of me this would look weird if any-“

even your own train of thought cut off. jake’s lips were on yours. and damn were his lips soft. his hand came up to your neck and the other to your hair as yours stay limp in shock.

you felt weak under his touch, especially when he was kissing you so passionately. his sweet smell of vanilla filled your senses and seeped comfortably through your body.

jake on the other hand was fighting his demons, your lips tasted like strawberries and cigarettes all fused into the sweetest taste. like a drug, a drug he’d want to consume all the time.

he didn’t know why it took him so long, but he’s regretted every moment he’s argued with you when it could’ve been used for moments like this.

you both only broke apart when it was getting hard to breath and both your cheeks were flushed.

with your lip gloss all smeared on his lips, and the lingering taste of it that would soon plague his mind, jake didn’t think he’d ever let you skip any more tutoring sessions.

“ready for the next topic then?” 

© junislqve 2024. liking, commenting, and rebloging are appreciated.

[r0-boat]

Defile

Whb!AsmodeusxGn!Reader

Happy Halloween, and enjoy this sinful fanfiction

Cw: Corruption, primal, predator/prey, breeding, mind control, womb tattoo(what's the gender-neutral term for that), Heat, religious play, CNC, Asmodeus yaps a lot, aftercare

You kneel at the end of the sanctuary your hands clasped together As you pray in the dead of night. As the rest of your brothers and sisters at the monastery slumber, You had woken up early dreaming of sin, pools of blood red eyes staring into your very soul as you feel hands grasp and touch you in ways the Lord will not permit.

You had been plagued with sinful thoughts and dreams for a while now. So you pray hoping that someone would answer your prayers, and you'll be free from temptation.

But in the ivory halls of the church, with nothing but the light of the Moon and the candles lit around the altar to keep you company. Little did you know you were not alone. A darkness more sinister stalks closer. The candle sticks that littered the Sanctuary blow out one by one starting from the entrance when the doors creeped open.

You didn't open your eyes And one by one each candle blows out all around you. You did not open your eyes until you smelled the smoke. The only candles that were still lit were the ones around the altar. You thought as though the wind must have blew them out.

Your eyes adjusting to the dark as you squint looking around for an opened window or door that you are not aware of that could have caused the candles to go out. Your eyes peer into the blackened void behind you. You could almost feel at stare back.

That's when you heard it.

"well well well, What do we have here. A little lamb astrayed from its flock?"

It bellowed. Echoing throughout the entire chamber, your heart quickens as you lose your balance from the shock, falling from your knees to your bum. Your eyes widen as they dart throughout the room, But all you could see was the same inky darkness that not even the moonlight could pierce.

"W-who are you?" Your voice cracks the only words you can manage to get out.

The figure finally steps into what little light that could reach into the monastery. Long pitch black hair his naked figure covered by a single white silk robe ironic for what he was. Chains and barbed vines around his arms and legs and his piercing red eyes with a single yet unmistakable curled horn.

There was no mistaken of what he was. Your breath shakes your whole body shakes. Grasping the gold pendant around your neck You scoot away.

The demon chuckles. "Don't be afraid dear human, I promise I'll take good care of you." The way that word rolled off the tongue made you shiver. You didn't want to know what he meant by that.

"You're not supposed to be here!" You call out

"This is a house of God! You are not welcome devil!"

The red-eyed monster grinned, his smile wide and sinister, flashing his fangs. He let out a deep chuckle. "Your God will not protect you." He smiles. You can hear shackles on his arms and legs shake as he stalks closer. That sinister smile seems to grow wider and wider.

"Do you think you're pathetic little prayers will keep the incarnate of Lust away from what he has claimed. Look into my eyes prey you know who I am..."

As the being gets lower to your level, his claws scratch against the marble tiles as he practically crawls toward you. Eyes full of longing and hunger. Getting so dangerously close, you could smell a sweet temptation coming from him.

They warned warned you about him; One of the seven deadly sins.

Asmodeus.

He didn't have to hear you say it because he could see it in your eyes The delicious fear. He could hear every pump of your heart getting faster and faster And of course you reeked of desire. Pretty virgin things like you always made the most delicious of prey.

"I can smell that you crave for me." He growls.

Your heart practically stopped; that sentence alone finally made your feet move, scampering on the ground before taking off. All you hear was a laugh echoing through the halls as you keep running.

You could hear him coming for you his heavy breath the footsteps behind you that sound less and less human and more like a pack of hungry wolves.

You didn't look back; you didn't dare to. You could already hear how close he was and that he was gaining. Your lungs burned as you pushed as hard as you could. You could only reach outside in the courtyard, the moonlight showing his full figure before he tackled you to the ground, his whole body weight bringing you down.

Using his entire strength, Asmodeus forces you to the ground. You are at his mercy as you try desperately to fight him. You swore you felt drool dripping on your skin when he buried his nose into your neck, deeply inhaling your scent.

"perfect, simply perfect. I've been watching you for a while. And now that you're underneath me, You are far better than I ever could have imagined." His breathy voice tickled your ear as you delicately felt his claws and fingers around your neck. Your heart dropped as you felt a bulge in his clothes pressing against your pajamas. You try to squirm out of his grip, anything to get out, but you are trapped, caged in his arms, back pressed against his chest.

"your ass grinds against me, mate; You're so eager for me to claim you as mine." He sneered. His claws were ripping and shredding through your clothes as if they were paper.

Treating you like a mir doll for his amusement. Asmodeus flips you over, holding your arms together with his big hand.

"Yes, let me see you, let me see my new bride." He purrs. His eyes rolling over you like a piece of meat.

Your struggling was cute, It highlighted how much bigger and stronger he was compared to you but he began to grow tired of your useless attempts at freedom. He likes his mates 'willing' after all.

He let out another animalistic purr pressing his tongue against your collarbone looking up your neck as his other hand presses down on your lower stomach.

You felt heat underneath his palm a sweet pleasurable heat burning into your core when he lifts his palm a mark appears and its place.

That warmth from your core begins to spread all over your body. Places where he has touched, bit, licked, or sucked, begin to tingle all the way down to your core.

Asmodeus watches with a pleasant grin as his influence slowly takes over your body. He presses harder against you, his skin against yours. All he was doing was touching you, yet you felt so sensitive—that little warmth beginning to grow hotter and hotter as It became increasingly harder to think. The demon above you begins to explore your body with his hand and his tongue, licking and groping every part he can, feeling up his new favorite toy.

"Good human, become nice and obedient for me. Feel your mind slip away and become mine." His voice seems to echo in your mind; you feel it with your whole body, sending ripples of pleasure throughout.

Asmodeus, lets go of your wrists. Finally, you have a chance to escape, but your body has other plans: staying underneath him, obedient and ready.

Knowing that your body has completely submitted to him, the devil leans backward, unveiling his cock hard and throbbing, his balls swollen. "Come to me, human, come serve your new male. Prepare him for breeding." He moans, His hand squeezing his shaft with one lazy pump before cupping his balls.

His voice echoes in your mind and you obey him without question. The more you resist the deeper you fall.

As your mouth begins to drool at the sight of his dick. You crawl forward on your hands and knees. He watched in delight to your tiny hand wrapping around his demon cock before taking it in your mouth.

His natural musk, sweet yet woody fills your nose All you want to do is bury your face into him and ride him till the sun comes up. Your own drool runs down his shaft using it as lube to pump his cock with your hand while you struggle to take it deeper.

Despite your eagerness to please him, your movements were that of a virgin; he could smell that you were turned on by this, Even if you are under his influence. He plays with his jet-black hair idly, His teeth sinking into his lip. The desire to corrupt you with his demonic seed grows with every bob of your empty little head.

With a wave of his finger for you to stop, you obey like an obedient dog in heat; His cock is coated with your saliva, and your mouth drools from the taste of his pretty cock in your mouth. Asmodeus smirked as he crawled back on top of you with one hand. He parts your your thighs, preparing to sink inside you.

"I've had enough waiting, I'm going to breed you like the sow you are." Asmodeus growled

You arched your back as his cock filled you up just right. Putting your legs over his shoulders as he pressed his entire body weight down onto you. He didn't wait for a moment because if he did, you would be screaming and begging him to move.

With every slam of his hips the symbol on your core begin to glow brighter and brighter.

At that moment, your mind was not yours. It belonged to the man claiming you, but you could still feel it begin to change and warp with every thrust. His cock hits the deepest parts of you, and he snarls, feeling you clench.

"I know you're close. Cum as I fill you with seed and marry you in Unholy Matrimony right outside the very place you kneel and worship Your Lord!" He pants, a crazed look in his eye as he chases his orgasm. He's close, So close, ready to flood your insides and mark you as his. He could feel you tighten around his throbbing cock; you were close, there was no need in try to fight it. He's going to shatter your pitiful attempt at rebellion and rip the orgasm out of you.

Asmodeus let out an animalistic growl, drilling down into you harder and harder. If it wasn't for his voice ringing into your head, all you could hear was the slapping of his hips and his balls against your ass. "I will bind you to me, and you will worship me like your new God! Cum on my cock whore!"

It was a command, ending it with sinking his teeth right into your neck. Your eyes rolled back clenching and exploding all over him. Asmodeus letting out a maniac laugh before slammed with one final thrust deep inside you to steal his hips. He made sure to lift your lower body just right so he was reaching as deep as he could before filling your deepest parts with his virile seed. Your cunt milks him as you cum like it's the first time you came in your entire life milking his cock as you feel every spurt of seed as he drains his balls inside you.

Even as you stopped even after he stopped he still pressed inside you. Making sure every drop stays deep.

The two of you back in the afterglow before you feel as modius wrap his arms around you He nuzzles into your neck peppering it with kisses.

"beloved, My dearly beloved."

He groaned still deep inside you You can still feel how hard he was.

"I still want more... I want more of you." He whined overdramatically, grinding his still-stiff shaft against you.

As much as he wanted to have more of you, as much as he wanted to drill you into the dirt till the two of you were spent and on the verge of passing out, He knew that you probably had had enough. You were merely human, after all. Deliciously and lovingly human.

You felt his tongue drag across your neck again this time affectionately you giggle and push him away "All right get away from me stinky. We can't stay here for long." He lets out a groan despite him being much stronger than you he plays along moving his body giving you a little more space. Only a little.

"Satan doesn't have to know what we use this place for."

Asmodeus purred playing with your hair as he stayed glued to your body like a clingy lover. He cared little for the names you gave him It was a nickname from you and he would accept any.

"I highly doubt he wouldn't know after how loud we were."

He just let out a goofy chuckle. Guilty was charged He wasn't exactly the quietest either.

"Will you stay with me tonight? I promise we can bathe together."

It was a tempting offer. He was desperate to have you in his arms for a little while longer Even if that means doing the one thing he hated. But your answer is still the same, knowing that one night with him will never just be one night...

"You know my answer."

You heard the pout in his voice "Mmh Okay... But at least let me bring you back to your bedroom. I'd like to tuck you."

[spinningwebsandtales]

Imagine Having To Patch Soshiro Up After A Kaiju Attack

Soshiro Hoshina X FemReader

Rating: T+

Warnings: Blood, injuries, mentions of death, teasing, and kaiju remains

Word Count: 1k

(A/N:) I am enjoying the Kaiju No. 8 anime immensely and it's giving me all sorts of ideas to write! I have several more Kafka ones in my drafts and I want to write more for several other of the male characters. So keep an eye out I may write your favorite dude! I'm also thinking about opening my requests back up in case anyone has any Kaiju No. 8 requests, even though my drafts are insanely full. We'll just see but until next time happy reading! ~Countess

The suits made by Izumo Tech were a marvel of innovation and technology. Designed to give the members of Japan's fiercest warriors; The Defense Force, a fighting chance against the Kaiju that plagued their country. But still the warriors were only human no matter how amazing the suit.

Your booted feet thundered against the broken asphalt, breath heaving in pants as you raced across the now quiet battlefield. Just seconds ago it was Hell on Earth as you and your fellow soldiers fought for your very lives. But now Kaiju matter was splattered against everything. It was going to be quite the mess for whatever cleaning crew was open to do the dirty job. The attacks had become more frequent here lately, that the few companies that specialized in Kaiju clean up were becoming overwhelmed to get the different attack sights back to some semblance of normalcy for the citizens. But even that problem was far back from your mind. Only one person had you running so hard after fighting so intensely. Soshiro had gone silent after dispatching some of the smaller ones with his blades. You knew he had sustained injuries, but for him to go quiet, it wasn't a good sign. There was closer Third Division officers nearby but you knew with whatever stamina you had left you could make it. Your worries taking over any rational thought in your mind.

Konomi echoed in your ear, leading you straight towards Soshiro's location. Her frantic directions wasn't doing much to calm your nerves, but as an officer you couldn't let your anxiety show.

"Just around this corner," Konomi said. You thanked her turning down your communication device as you skidded around a pile of rubble. There leaned up against what remained of a wall was Soshiro. He held his side, eyes closed, and protective mask discarded at his side. Though winded and exhausted from the long race here, you gripped your rifle tighter the sling hitting your neck and tangling in the wild strands of hair that had broken free. Blood coated Soshiro's face and the fact that he wasn't responding to footsteps coming closer was more than concerning. Fear was beginning to grip your heart, when you finally got at his side.

"Two cracked ribs and significant blood loss," Konomi's sudden voice through the comm caused you to jump. "He's not critical just yet but I do have the medics on route to your location."

"I can staunch the blood flow," you replied. "I'll try to get him conscious again too."

"Good idea. I'll keep monitoring his vitals and let you know if anything changes."

"Copy."

Unslinging the rifle from your neck, you set it close by in case any threats remained. You removed the small med pack from your belt and got to work. Tapping at his cheek, you started working on getting Soshiro awake. Several moments went by and it wasn't until you put pressure on one of his worse wounds did he finally groan.

"Vice Captain," you continued to pat his cheek. "Vice Captain Hoshina! Soshiro wake up!"

He stirred, bleary eyes blinking against the bright sunlight before his gaze finally found you.

"Welcome back to the land of the living sir," you sighed in relief.

"So I died," he groaned. "And here I thought I was immortal."

"Well you didn't die but you do have a long road to recovery. You're pretty banged up and look terrible. The Kaiju Captain blew to smithereens looks better than you."

"Officer (L/N)," Soshiro groaned more as you wrapped several wounds tightly in gauze, "did anyone ever tell you that your bedside manner is garbage?"

"We're out on the battlefield and you're not laying on a bed sir," you grinned before going back to placing pressure on a wound that was too large for bandages. "Beside manners don't exist out here."

"Fieldside manner then," he glared. "And if you press any tighter to my side you're going to stab my lungs with my ribs."

"That's not me. That would be your suit keeping you from jostling your cracked ribs."

"(Y/N)! Vice-Captain Hoshina's vitals seem to be stabilizing more. Medics are inbound and will be there shortly," Konomi updated you and you acknowledged her.

"You had me worried Soshiro," you sniffed, hands stained with his blood. You had turned your comm off so you could talk with him in private for just a moment. You both didn't have long anyway with the evac team so close by.

"Sorry," he grimaced. Righting himself up more he wrapped one arm around your neck and pulled you in tight. "I'm sorry I worried you so much. I take risks but this time my decision wasn't the right one."

You held him as best as you could without hurting him further, "I'm just so glad you're okay!"

You hated crying but the relief you felt, had you breaking down in seconds. Soshiro wasn't used to seeing you cry and it broke his heart. Always the strong soldier, you couldn't help yourself around him as you wanted him by your side forever.

"You're not hurt are you," Soshiro asked as he stroked the back of your hair.

"No." You breathed deep, calming yourself and wiped your eyes. "Does that mean that I have surpassed the great Soshiro Hoshina in skills?"

"Absolutely not. We both know that my blade skills leave everyone else in the dust," he scoffed.

"Yeah but I didn't decide to use my ribs to stop a kaiju punch."

"Shut up."

You laughed kissing his forehead quickly, as it was the only place not covered in blood, as the boots of the medics came closer.

"I'm glad you're okay," you whispered. Soshiro couldn't answer as he was suddenly surrounded by several medical officers. He nodded towards you as you picked your rifle back up and started to go join the other members of the Third Division. The battle wasn't over just yet as you needed to look for more survivors. But you felt the burden lift from your shoulders knowing that the man you loved was going to be okay and was in capable hands. The fight with the kaiju continued on but if you stayed by Hoshiro's side you felt like you both could make the world a better place together.

[josephquinnswhore]

devils antics - joel miller x female reader

Summary: joel explores unspoken territory.

Word Count: 1.8k

Content Warnings: established relationship, age gap, daddy kink, use of pet names (angel, baby, sweetheart, honey), (reader mid 20’s Joel is in his 50’s.) somnophilia, dubcon, p in v, creampie, thigh riding, reader is asleep for most of it. Joel Miller wearing reading glasses 🥵

Note: game/og Joel is the love of my life if you don’t like him, go kick rocks.

It had been a day, Joel could concede the fact as soon as you had walked in the door. Usual infectious smile was nowhere to be seen, he felt unnerved by the way your lips were pulled into a tight line, noting how your bottom lip twitched in its struggle not to slip into a pout.

You were trying to stay strong, level-headed. Joel knew you were tough, you could handle things well, and when you couldn’t you’d always communicate the problem and together; create a solution to free you of your metaphorical chain and shackle.

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow.” Is what he’d gotten from you, avoidant eyes and a wave of your hand, monotonous voice set him on edge. The stress radiated from your body like heat waves.

His hand slipped onto your shoulders, only adding to the extra pressure that they struggled underneath. “Let me at least run you a bath sweetheart, it’ll help you relax.”

Another disinterested reply, a shortened mumble of, “I’m fine. Just want to sleep it off.”

He felt stumped; you could be so stubborn. He was here offering solutions, ways in which he knew he could help and be of use and you outright refused. There was no negotiation, straight dismissal. He found it hard to admit that it hurt, god it hurt him. He felt rejected.

A voice of reason in his mind, told himself that he’d never seen her like this, that something so profoundly stressful must have happened for her to be like this.

As you’d said to him, once tomorrow would come and you were rested, they’d talk.

He spends a while in the living room; reading a few chapters of his book before he marks the page by folding the top corner over. A ghost of a smile grew on his lips as he heard your scornful voice in his head.

“You’re going to ruin the books Joel, use a bookmark for goodness sake!” He folded the paper anyway, maybe if you’d noticed it would give you another reason to talk to him.

His pointer and thumb reach up to take his glasses off, pinching them in the worn spot where the temple of his glasses meets the small silver hinge. He sets the book down, then places the glasses on top of them, he’s careful to make sure they’re leaning on the temples, not the lenses.

He feels a heavy feeling forming in his chest, like he’s worried you won’t want him there. Would you; want him there? The thought makes his hand hover above the door handle before he turns it, cursing the sound of the squeaky door hinges that could use some lubricating.

He was sure Tommy mentioned finding an old can of WD-40 on his last patrol.

You’re fast asleep, miraculously through the squeaky door and Joel’s heavy footsteps on the wooden floor throughout the house.

His heart swells when he looks at you; your lips are parted and there’s a frown strewn on your face, skin wrinkling around your eyes. God, you’d probably have crows feet before you turn 30.

“Oh baby, look at you.” He mutters to himself, shaking his head. You went to bed wearing one of his shirts and no pants.

He doesn’t bother to undress, not thinking he’ll get much sleep anyway. He lies there, turning his head to the right so he can watch you sleep, it disturbs him; how even in sleep whatever has you worried plagues you in your sleep.

Watching your chest rise and fall, his own breathing becomes synchronised with your own, heart beating at the same pace as he starts to grumble, his tired eyed begging to be closed for some rest. It takes mere minutes before he finds himself unable to keep his eyelids open.

He stirs, hearing soft whimpers coming from your lips, when he opens his eyes he sees that your lips are still parted, a small puddle of drool has accumulated on your yellow pillowcase.

He can’t help but chuckle at the sight. Until you whimper again, and he takes you in, he realises he’s in a predicament.

Your two thighs are wrapped around his own, locking him in place as your hips rut against his leg, the cause of those sweet sounds coming from your lips. He freezes for a moment; wondering what he should do.

He considers waking you up, shoving you off or even trying to pull his leg away to free himself of your devious grip on him. But he doesn’t. He feels a wave of sympathy.

Here was his poor baby, face strewn in a stressed-out frown and out of desperation, rutting and grinding her panty clothed cunt onto his rough, jean-clad thighs, like her life depended on it.

How could he deny you? He couldn’t.

He felt a tingle shoot down his spine, his cock hardened, stiff and uncomfortable in his jeans, as he watched you using his body in your sleep to get yourself off.

His poor angel is reduced to this, so stressed and exhausted from whatever you’re juggling has you so needy, so desperate and too anxious to ask him to actually fuck you to feel that release.

It was a no brainer to him-to help you. You were his angel, his baby. He wouldn’t let you suffer, you were too restless and you deserved to sleep without interruption. The peace of sleeping without stress on the back burner of your subconscious.

Desire washes over him, his large hands grip your hips, guiding you slowly to grind into his large thigh, still facing each other. His eyes flicker over your body, realising already, how you look less pent up than earlier. Calloused fingertips are soft on your skin as he grips your torso softly, pulling you closer into his chest.

His lips start kissing your neck, softly and gently, careful not to wake you. Small groans get stuck in the back of his throat as you continue to whine desperately for more friction.

He closes his eyes, voice husky with desire as he speaks. “It’ll be okay now honey, I’ll give you everything you need.”

Arousal fuels his actions, lips attacking your soft neck down to your collarbone, his hand sneaks under the material of his shirt on your delicate skin. He groans as he feels your nipples are hard against his thick fingers.

Your hips against Joel’s had slowed down, the rhythm becoming less synced, more sloppy, his heart pounded as he realised how close you were.

“You’re almost there princess, just let daddy take care of you. You know he looks after you.” He wasn’t trying to be quiet anymore, hell if he woke you up, he wouldn’t mind at all.

Moments later a string of quiet and frantic whines left your lips, body slumped and stilled as you cum from riding his thigh. The wet spot on his jeans is what drives him wild, a primal growl leaves his lips, and he can’t control the desire he has to take you here, as you slept.

“You wouldn’t mind”, he reasoned aloud. “You’d wanna help your daddy wouldn’t you angel?” He muttered as he pulled his jeans down to his knees, pulling his aching cock out of it’s containment.

His fingers peel your soaked panties to the side, cursing when he feels with his fingers that your cunt is dripping with slick. He couldn’t fight the devil’s temptation, the sin of lust had already possessed him and your sweet, sweet juices coated his fingertips.

He dragged his sticky fingers down his cock, pumping it a few times before lining himself up to your hole. He exhaled a few times as he pushes himself in, animalistic grunts leaving his lips at the feeling.

You stir for a moment, Joel stills and makes sure you’re asleep before he continues. He pumps himself into you, hips meeting yours in a slow motion, teasing himself, watching you be so vulnerable under him sent an arousal though his entire body.

He felt his orgasm coming on fast than it had ever before.

“That’s it angel..” He grunts, unable to stop the words from slipping past his lips. “I’m almost done princess, just let daddy use you.”

His body shakes heavily as he ruts into you, going deeper. His arms have moved so they’re now wrapped around you, and his voice is a little breathless and even more husky as he lets out small groans and moans.

But he's still holding himself together fairly well considering how close he is to falling apart. His body still tenses up, though, as he continues to fuck her while she sleeps.

Joel doesn’t feel bad, like he can’t comprehend why this would be such a terrible thing if you did wake up—he’s past the point of feeling guilty, he knows you’d want to be his good girl and help him finish.

“You're such a good girl.” He murmurs softly, his voice is slightly breathless and husky as he stares at her and kisses her softly on the lips.

He grunts softly and shifts his body even closer to her, so he’s flush against your chest. His legs are still shaking a little, and he feels a rush as he gets close to cumming and almost reaches it.

“Almost…” He trails off, his voice a mere whisper.

“Just... give me a minute... and I'm all done…” He adds softly, his voice cracking as he starts to come undone.

His grip on your hips tighten, cock now slamming into your hole harshly, crushing your body under his as he rams into you, Joel’s starting to lose his composure, not worried about waking you anymore.

He lets out an animalistic growl as he cums, long ropes of cum filling your spend cunt, trickling down your thighs and onto the bedsheets as his cock continues to pulsate into you.

“Fucking—Jesus baby you’re squeezing me.” He growls, feeling your cunt squeeze around him, you moan loudly and he realises that you’ve just had an orgasm.

Your eyes shoot open and it doesn’t take long to put the pieces together. Reality hits him as he realises what he’s done. Joel’s face suddenly turns to one of guilt, panic. He pulls out of you and starts breathing heavily.

“Baby—I can.. I’m sorry I wasn’t—I didn’t think.. I don’t know what came over me.” He stuttered, voice thick with emotion, his hazel eyes were soft and it was clear as day he couldn’t resist it.

You feel your face and neck warm as you take his hand in your own. “It’s okay, I like it—seriously. It’s sexy, the idea of you taking what you need and looking after me is perfectly okay with me baby.”

He starts to calm down, long arms extending to pull your body into his own, you’re both sweating and covered in cum.

“You’re so good to me angel. I dunno what I’d do without you.” He mutters tiredly, nuzzling his crooked nose into her hair.

This would need to be an in depth discussion. That could be done in the morning; for now, you were happy, Joel was happy. That’s means enough to fall asleep in each other's arms happily for a few hours.

[meanbossart]

I realize this is a weirdly specific question, but what was DU Drow’s experience like first waking up on the Nautiloid/on the beach?

Like, was he wearing Bhaalist stuff when he woke up then? If he was, did he ditch it right away or did he just leave it on until he found gear in better shape or maybe just didn’t want to associate with that symbolism/organization anymore? Like what was the thought process for him there, assuming that were the case??? If he was wearing something else, what might it have been?

I ask because I finally started my first Dark Urge playthrough yesterday (YIPPEE) and am plagued with thoughts about my guy, wondering if maybe he had some Bhaalist gear on when he first fell out of the Nautiloid that slowly was switched out for other things as the story progressed. Then I was like “oh hey what about Drow??? What was going through his head when he woke up that morning on the beach??????” Especially bc I can’t imagine he had much time to look at what he was wearing on the Nautiloid while it was still flying around.

ANYWAYS. Apologies for the ramble, my brain is plagued with thoughts now that I’m finally doing a Durge run so I might come at you with more random ass questions in the future >:)))

First of all AYYYY have fun with your first durge run!!! I'm always open to more questions if they happen to pop up throughout the experience.

Now to your question: An Interesting one! Though my answer might be disappointing LOL

In my personal lore, DU drow woke up from the tank with nothing but some scrappy underwear on - hell, It would probably make more sense if he was fully nude, even, but that would make many of the companion introductions a little too awkward - so, tattered underwear it is.

Considering what Kressa had been doing to him, I imagine that she would have either removed or destroyed his clothes at some point during the experimentation. DU drow was stuck with her for at least a few weeks - so, even if she didn't promptly undress him, his outfit would have been far too slashed, cut, and caked with old blood to keep, and likely torn off so it would stop getting in the way.

Her husband (I think he's the one who ships you away, if memory serves me right) would have had little reason to send him off with dignity - BUT perhaps he slipped some briefs back onto the drow's body because he felt ashamed of the implications of his wife keeping a battered, nude man around.

So, DU drow slides out of his pod, caked with old blood with only some ill-fitting linens covering his groin. He picks up whatever sharp object he finds lying around for self defense and proceeds through the ship, barefoot, hair matted, having no idea who he is, what he looks like, or how he got here. He's completely overtaken by his self-preservation instincts and being confused is second to getting out of his situation alive. He goes along with Lae'zel because she seems to have at least some idea of what's going on, and he frees Shadowheart from her pod because she seems more trustworthy than Lae'zel.

He probably stripped the trousers off of one of the corpses lying around the beach after the actual crash (they would have been a little tight, but it's better than nothing) and god-willing was able to snatch some fresher underwear at the grove or something. The only indicatives he had of a past life were his scars, and I guess his unusual features. The thing is - whenever he first caught sight of his reflection, he very much liked what he saw looking back. Someone else might have been shocked by their appearance, but what DU drow felt would have been more akin to a kind of relief - I'm strong. I'm big. I'm intimidating. Good. As it should be.

And well... There's not much reason to give it thought past that. His looks feel right, he thinks he looks attractive, even his scars are somewhat comforting. Tadpole and odd company aside, it actually feels nice to be himself right now, so why ruin it with questions and concerns.

[moonydustx]

How Does Work? (or at least, we try?)

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 ( you're here) - Part 4

warnings: finally the real deal!!!! smut. Friends with benefits (but they both want more than the benefits, they just don't realize it yet), oral (f! and m!receiving), kinda orgasm denial, at some point they don't use condom. If I missed any warning, let me know

MDNI | MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

How could a few minutes sink so deeply into a mind that was far from empty?

How could sounds he rarely heard be present when Law closed his eyes?

The night that had happened - or at least almost - had become a martyrdom for the captain of the Heart Pirates. Your shy smile every time they passed each other in a hallway did nothing less to rid him of such thoughts.

He wanted to be able to think about other things, he wanted to at least listen to the sane side of him that insisted on reminding him that he could be speeding things up too much. But damn, it was too difficult to hear that side when your presence was still present in his dreams.

You wish you could say that you are in a different situation, that your roles, that your friends, that even the choppy waves of the sea against Polar Tang were enough to shake Law's presence from your mind. What didn't help much was that he was your captain.

Awkward shoulder touches, hands that insisted on sometimes intertwining under a table, hot kisses exchanged in an empty corridor. Despite the uncertainties that plagued both your mind and his, it was difficult to keep your distance.

The big problem was: it had been almost two weeks and that was all the two of you had.

"Hey, are you still with us?" Penguin shook his hand a few times in front of you, realizing that you were rambling inside your own mind. "What's going on?"

"Nothing." you tried to shake the thoughts away with a brief smile. "What do you need?"

"Today is your day to get the grouch out of there. Seriously, the captain's watch is yours"

Ah, captain's watch.

You and your crewmates knew about Law's bad habit of occasionally focusing on the job and forgetting about everything around him - socializing, eating, drinking water, anything that took his focus away. That's why you created the captain's watch, when he showed signs that he was going to disappear, one by one you would try to pull Law out of the dome in which he was placed. In today's case, you were docked on a small island, which barely interfered with the log pose. It would just be a night to breathe before continuing on the journey.

Already ready to leave, like the others, you decided to gather up the courage you had and go to Law. Two knocks on the door - almost softened by the sweat that accumulated on your hands - and a low murmur asking you to come in.

"Hey captain." your voice practically lifted him from the papers he was analyzing. "Sorry to interrupt."

"Don't apologize for that." trying to avoid boosting your ego, you could notice that Law seemed more relaxed as soon as he looked at you. "How can I help you?"

"I came to try and pull you out of this little dome, captain."

"This color really suits you." Law moved the chair away, creating a gap that allowed him to look at you from top to bottom.

"That's not what I said."

"But it's the truth, you really suited this dress." he insisted, knowing that your cheeks were probably burning with shyness.

"Is this your way of saying I look pretty?"automatically, your feet seemed to guide you in the direction where he was.

"What are your plans for today?" like a predator watching its prey, Law analyzed every step you took towards him. However, your walk stopped at the time of his month, where you leaned back, face to face with the man.

"We'll go out to dinner, enjoy the little time we have free on the island. I just came here to ask you if you want to accompany us?"

"Does that mean everyone is going to leave, including you?" it was hard to contain the laughter when you saw Law practically pouting.

"It's dinner, captain."

"I can take you to dinner." he sounded almost offended, standing up and stopping in front of you. One of his hands slid down your arm, moving up slightly. "And then, after dinner…"

"Stop being a pervert!" facetiously, you complained. However, instead of moving away, both of his hands attached themselves to your waist.

"You come here, all pretty, in a nice short dress and tell me you're going to leave me here alone? I have the right to be a little perverted." his torso, which was still a few millimeters away from yours, stuck to your skin. His fresh breath millimeters from yours. "What did you do to me?"

"What do you mean captain?" the name came out in a provocative tone from your lips.

Law thought about saying that during the last two weeks you had been his frequent thought. About him thinking about what moments would be opportune for him to steal some of your attention. But that might sound strange. Sounding in a way that was still difficult for even him to understand.

Instead, he decided to capture your lips with his, the taste of the sweet cherry gloss making him even more intoxicated than your presence was capable of.

He could have thought of having you there, on his desk and using the little time they had until someone suspected your disappearance. He could let one of his hands sneak where he wanted and capture some of your nectar to remind him how good it felt. But no. Your lips were enough to leave him lost.

"Law…" you pulled away enough for the air to return to your lungs.

"You still have time to give up on that dinner." he asked and saw you laugh lightly, denying his request. "It's okay. Go, enjoy the night." He stole some more from your lips and freed himself from your arms, watching you head towards the door.

"Maybe I'll make time to come back early." you warned before leaving and laughed when you saw him cross his fingers.

As soon as the door closed, you needed to catch your breath until you returned to your friends.

As soon as the door closed, Law collapsed into the chair again. The warm body and a not so familiar sensation. Was what he was doing right? Was what he was feeling right?

The night seemed pleasant, a lot of chatter wasted, bottles of drinks were piling up. But even so, your mind wandered to a certain submarine in the nearest port and you knew you wouldn't stay there for long at that dinner. And of course, drinking and talking resulted in some topic that would make you embarrassed, it was no surprise that the topic came back your way.

"I have a point to state." Ikkaku began, throwing one of her arms over your shoulders. "Someone here has been very happy, very mysterious. Even your skin is the best my dear friend. Tell us, what have you been doing?"

"You ask as if your distrust wasn't sex." you replied, cynically throwing her arm away.

"So… What are you waiting to tell us?" Shachi leaned on his hands, feigning heightened interest. "Finally someone took good care of you know what."

"Perhaps." there was no point in lying, you were terrible at it. In this case, you would try to control the damage and omit what was possible.

"The question is: your own fingers or someone else's fingers?"

If you were still drinking something, you would have choked for sure. Your memories dragging you directly to the first contact you and Law had.

"This is confidential." you replied to Penguin, who groaned.

"Don't be boring! It's rare to have new gossip, I want to know the details." Ikkaku pointed out, seeing you roll your eyes. "Was it someone we know? Someone from here?"

"No!" You immediately denied it. "N-no. It was on the last island we visited. It was a date at a bar and that was it, nothing more to explain." not that there were many lies left in your stock.

"What's his name?"

"La- Laos!" you stuttered. "He's been taking the same route as us, so we'll meet up today." you lied, already anticipating an excuse you intended to use.

"Laos, interesting name." Ikkaku commented and you could see the malice in her words. "And today, are you going to have another nighttime adventure too?"

"I don't know, it's up to him." you shrugged, wanting the topic to drop.

"Hey, I know you're not a saint or a spotless virgin." Ikkaku spoke in a more serious tone, ignoring the jokes the others made. "But some guys might want you just for you know what. And you're too pretty and cool to subject yourself to that."

"Serious?"

"Some men have sex just to prove a point: that they can do it, that it has to be their way, anyway. But if it's something you want too, I don't see a problem."

The topic slowly died down and in the first gap you found, you slipped out and hoped that none of them had thought of following you.

Some guys might want you just for you know what. Even with the joking tone, Ikkaku's words stuck in your mind. Well, you and Law hadn't had a complete relationship, but was that what he wanted? And wasn't that what you wanted too?

Immersed in your thoughts, the path to Polar Tang was faster than you expected. As you suspected, the submarine was practically empty. Those who hadn't left were too busy with their tasks.

Two knocks on the door were enough to find who you were waiting for.

Law didn't consider himself anxious, in the essence of the word. He did not consider himself one of those who suffer tortuously waiting for something. Except, today he was anxious.

After he finally managed to leave the small office he was in and head towards his bedroom, he had already tidied up the small place countless times, making the bed tidy, everything he could he did. He didn't expect two knocks on the door to make his heart race so quickly.

"Hey! Someone kept their promise." he gave you space to enter.

"I wouldn't be crazy enough to disobey my captain." You said in a teasing tone. "What good did you do?"

"To be honest nothing."

The hands in his pockets indicated that Law was more nervous than he appeared. Knowing that he seemed to be just like you gave you a boost of courage.

Before he could even come up with a topic to try and talk about, you approached him and kissed him quickly, surprising him.

"I'm sorry." you pulled away, seeing him take his hands out of his pockets slowly. "It's been two weeks and all I can think about is us, that night."

This time, Law took the lead. His previously shy hands pulled your body against his while his lips stole yours.

The taste of cherry in your mouth was a distant memory, but feeling your lips against his was still an intoxicating sensation. One of his hands felt around and found the key, locking the door.

In not so sure steps, you could feel the padding of the bed against your thighs and taking strength - or in the correct way, catching Law off guard - you turned him in order to guide him until he was the one sitting on the bed and you were standing.

Wanting to understand your intentions, Law leaned on his elbows and had to restrain himself from exposing how much he was entertained by your body in front of him.

Sliding the straps of the dress, the piece gathered at your feet and allowed Law to see only your almost naked body in front of him, except for the cloth of the same tone as the dress that covered your intimacy, almost like a planned act.

Using the same splashes of confidence, you bent down just enough to kiss him lightly and leaving his head hanging, waiting for another kiss. Your fingers, cold from nervousness, began to lift his shirt, throwing it away.

"It looks like someone is eager to do all the work." Law pointed out. Seeing your hands retract, Law took one of them and slid it down his chest, then his abdomen, to the waistband of the pants. "You can do whatever you want, really. Don't think too much."

"Can I kiss you… there." your eyes pointed to the waistband of his pants and Law swore he could die with just that question.

"Only if you want." he pointed out, seeing you kneel in front of him and reach for the buttons on his pants, untying them. Following his own order not to think too much, you let your fingers invade the underwear he was wearing, stroking his cock gently. the word came out as an exasperated whisper from Law's lips. "Fuck."

You pulled his cock out, small thrusts around your hand being made under Law's watchful eye didn't help one bit in your search for courage.

Your lips found his sensitive area, placing an almost chaste kiss and then gave way for your tongue to explore that place. As you explored every inch of him you could reach, you could hear some grunts above you and every time you looked in his direction, it somehow became clear that they were coming from his lips. You opened your mouth and swallowed half the length of his cock, enough for his tattooed fingers to get caught in your hair and begin to dictate a slow rhythm. There was still a bit of sanity in Trafalgar D. Law and at the moment, he was using all of it not to rush things.

"That fucking mouth, so good, so fucking good." he grunted once again, his head lolling back, trying to avoid the almost innocent looks you were giving him. "I can't wait anymore."

The last muttered words were the only thing you heard before you felt your body leave the ground. In a movement that you barely had time to understand how it was done, you found yourself in Law's arms being placed on the bed, while he fit between your legs and explored every inch of your lap with wet kisses.

"You're too good for your own good." he murmured, taking your lips in a wild kiss. "Makes me not want to let you leave here, ever."

His tongue invading every inch of your mouth and the heat making you look for friction against his pelvis and Law didn't hesitate in pressing his intimacy against yours. Fighting his own desire to sink into you, his wet kisses traced a path you were eager to see.

"You don't intend to stop me today?" Law commented cynically, his lips hovering over the thin, damp fabric of your panties.

"I don't think so, it's a good view from here." You tried to play his game and saw him press his lips exactly where you needed it most. "Law!"

"huh?" This time, he started licking over the fabric, wanting to tear your sanity away there. "Do you need something?"

"Please, can you do that again? Just a little, please." you whimpered and saw an almost sadistic smile on his lips.

"Oh I'm definitely still going to make you beg one of these days." his hands went up to the side of your panties. "But for today…"

You feel that same sensation from that day, your pussy burning for more, your legs shaking, your hips involuntarily throwing themselves against his face, until Law stops, immediately returning on top of you.

"Don't pout."

"But…"

"Today you will learn a new lesson about orgasms." Law pointed out, stretching to reach a condom that he had casually left next to the bed.

"What lesson?"

"Don't be hasty." he fit between your legs. "Can I?"

"Yes of course."

As soon as Law started to fit his cock inside you, God, it was the same feeling as two weeks ago. It was once again a little piece of paradise exclusive to him. The sly moan that left your lips didn't do much to help him hold back.

He began to move slowly, feeling every piece inside your pussy accommodate him as if he had made it there. Your hands got tangled in his dark strands and the hat with black polka dots was forgotten, lying on the floor.

He could see how hard you were fighting to not let a louder noise escape your lips and even though he knew the risks, he would thrust harder now and then just to hear the adorable noises that came from you, encouraging him to go even harder, faster. He wanted to have enough concentration to use his power and prevent any sound from coming out, but it was impossible with the way you were tied to him. So strong, so good.

"Pretty thing, I can feel you squeezing me." He sank into your neck, placing a few kisses that would definitely leave a mark on your skin, but he couldn't think about it. Law was leaning over your body, without leaving you, kneeling between your legs. "I bet you want to cum for me, hm?"

"Law!" your legs tightened around his torso. "J-Jst give it to me, p-please. I'm almost there."

Ignoring all your requests - and almost ignoring what his body wanted - Law came out of you, opening your legs and watching your intimacy pulsate with desire. Damn, that would be a difficult lesson to apply.

"Why did you stop?" you sounded indignant, your voice rising a few octaves and your eyes involuntarily filling with tears. "W-Why?"

"Hey, shhh, calm down." he asked with a smile on his lips. As if you were made of paper, he turned you onto your stomach, gently pulling your hips, leaving you on all fours for him. Your frustration was soon replaced by a choked moan leaving your lips as you felt his fingers explore your intimacy, tracing circles on your bud. “I promise to give you what you want, okay?

"But Law! I was almost there."

"I promise you won't regret it." he felt you buck your hips against his hand, searching for even more friction. "Is that good?" he heard you nod in a grunt. The nimble fingers were replaced by his cock, which slid to your entrance. "Can I continue?"

"Please."

Again, with an excess of patience that you had no idea what he was getting from, Law let inch by inch enter you. The moans surpassed any protection your hands could provide, much to Law's delight.

Law could see you writhing to take all of him inside you at the same time your hips thrust against his asking for more and more.

"I promised not to disappoint you today, didn't I?" One of his hands pulled you so that your back was pressed against his abdomen. "How do you feel?"

"So good, so fucking good. please - I... " a growl from your own lips interrupted you. "P-promise you won't stop now Law."

"And that's the lesson of the day." the hand that supported you by your torso went up and lightly attached itself to your neck, upon hearing you moan, Law controlled himself not to squeeze even harder, that wasn't his goal today. "Did you know that orgasms can be even more intense?" he began, breathlessly. "The more - oh fuck." he stopped when he felt you rocking against him, seeking even more friction. "I won't be able to give you the full lesson today. But in short, the longer you wait, the better it gets."

"I-I can't wait any longer Law!"

"I've got you baby, I've got you." his lips attached themselves to your neck, placing kisses on your sweaty skin. "You can cum when I tell you to, okay? Only when I tell you to."

"But…"

"Shh, I know you're almost there. Just a little more." he can see your face focusing, the mark of your teeth on your lip, trying to control the noises.

Feeling his own peak approaching, Law took one of his hands to your clit, making quick movements, which increased according to the speed of his thrusts.

"That's it, now just give it to me. Come on, pretty thing, cum for me."

Hearing your noises increase, Law took your lips to him in an almost uncomfortable position, but it didn't matter, What mattered was feeling you tremble under his touches, drenching you like he hadn't felt before and just like you, he allowed himself reach the apex.

Gently, Law let your body leave his embrace and lie face down on the bed. Your skin was covered in goosebumps and he could see small tremors in your leg. Better than that, he saw a shy smile and an ecstatic look on you.

"Was it a bad lesson?" he asked, laying down next to you and watching you deny it. "Everything is fine?" you again just nodded with the movement of your head. "Really?"

"It was just a little too much, almost too much to handle. I thought I was going to explode." You said, between sighs. Something told you to come closer and snuggle up to him, but at the same time, you didn't know if that was what you should do. That's what boyfriends did, wasn't it?

"Almost too much? Soon we'll have to decide on a safeword." he pointed out, making you laugh slightly. "Do you know what it is?"

"I don't know about orgasms, I already read that somewhere." you scored. "What do you think of a bear?"

"Bear?" he looked incredulous. "Do you really want me to think about bears during sex?"

"We're talking about a safeword."

"It makes sense." He also turned onto his stomach, facing you. And so, the two of you stayed for a few long minutes.

"I can hear your brain working from here." Law adjusted himself to the side, so that he could face you completely. "Seriously, it's a little rusty, but I can still hear it."

"You're not that good."

"Yeah, definitely rusty, after all, that's not what you were talking about just now." Law smiled when he saw you roll your eyes, just watching you he knew that your cheeks must be burning with shyness. "Seriously, what's going on in here?"

"Nothing to worry about, Captain." you pointed out, turning around and sitting down feeling his gaze burning in your direction. "I think I should leave."

"No, nothing like that." he gently pulled your arm, forcing you to lie down again. As a method of keeping you there tied to his bed, Law got close enough to leave his body practically on top of yours. "You're going to lie here while I get you some water and something so I can clean you up."

"Clean me up? You, clean me up?"

"What strikes you as strange about that?" He moved far enough away, getting up only to rip off the condom, throw it in the trash and put on the underwear that had been thrown somewhere that you didn't care about worrying about at that moment.

"I should go clean up myself, as well as go get my water."

The way the words came out of your lips with a certain conviction bothered Law a little. Not that he was bothered by your self-sufficiency, in fact it was one of the points he most admired. What bothered him was the fact that you didn't even consider being taken care of after all the things you both did, at least in the way he expected to be able to take care of you.

"You stay here" He simply responded, returning to the bed and bending down enough to leave a quick kiss on your forehead and ask with his face just a few millimeters away. "Do you need anything else?"

"No, thank you." nothing more than a whisper came out.

Before Law could get far enough away, the words fell like a waterfall from your lips, curiosity and the conversation you had earlier with Ikkaku seemed to occupy every space in your mind.

"Law?"

"Hm?" he muttered, as he hunted for where he had thrown his own pants.

"You… How can I ask?" Your genuine doubt caught his attention, and he immediately stopped to observe you. "What do we do… I mean, you didn't start this just to prove a point, did you?"

"Like what?"

"I mean, this all started after that conversation about me never having a orgasm and well, now I think we did everything we could do…" you sat down holding your legs against your body. "To put it in simpler words, you wanted me just for you know what."

"I knew that brain of yours was working too hard." he laughed lightly. Ignoring the idea of ​​leaving you alone with your own thoughts, he decided to postpone going to the kitchen. "What kind of idea is that?"

"I don't know." You shrugged, watching him sit in front of you on the bed, it was difficult to face him back in that situation. "I heard someone talk about it, about wanting someone just for that, just to prove the point and then this idea stuck in my mind."

"To answer your question, no, I'm not with you just for that, but to be honest, I don't know how to answer anything beyond that." Law tried to be as honest as possible, after all it was nothing but fair since you had said that to him. "The last few days I've been trying to understand some things, some feelings and while I understand all of this…" he approached, taking your face in his hands and forcing you to look him in the eyes. "While I try to understand all these feelings and I believe that you also have to understand something, I need you to know that I don't want you just for sex, you will never be just that, okay?

"Okay." your voice came out like a precious whisper to him. "Can you kiss me?"

He even thought about saying that he already planned to do it, but gestures said even more than words. Law took your lips and little by little he lay almost completely on top of you.

Feeling you searching for more contact, Law let one of his hands caress your thigh, asking permission to give you even more attention. Feeling you give up space, his hands soon found your intimacy. His slow touches began to elicit small moans from you.

"Look, all you want is sex." he joked, seeing you frown he reached up and kissed the tip of your nose. "Want some more my pretty thing?"

"Just a little, please."

"Whatever you want."

Fitting between your legs, he slowly slid into you and so followed his thrusts. Even with scratches being distributed across Law's white, tattooed skin, he continued at the same speed. His name was starting to become a delicious mantra to hear coming from your lips.

"I'm here, I'm here. Do you want to give it to me again?" He intensified his ministrations a little when he felt you once again on the edge of the abyss. He didn't expect to feel the wetness gush towards him as your nails dug into his skin. "Oh fuck, that's a good girl. My good girl. Can you give me one more of those? Please, just one more."

A few more thrusts were enough for you to reach your pleasure again and Law felt your sweet nectar running through him. Forgetting about the lack of a condom, Law allowed himself to cum inside, to feel his hot seed spread throughout you. Luckily, he was a doctor and would know how to deal with some kind of later contraception. He just couldn't miss the chance.

"It's okay." Law responded to your growl as soon as he came out of you. "Can I postpone going to the kitchen and cleaning up that I promised?"

"Yes." you replied sleepily. Unlike the first time, as soon as you finished, Law immediately pulled you into his arms. "I-I need to go."

"No, you don't need to."

"Don't?"

"No." Law insisted, pressing you into his arms. "Let me take care of you tonight, okay"?

"Yes captain." your voice was almost disappearing in your sleep.

Law slowly saw you close your eyes and sleep and he knew it wouldn't take long for him to do the same. The only thought that gnawed at him was that he didn't want it to be just tonight.

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