#oliver quick x male reader

[nyursi]

𝐃𝐄𝐁𝐀𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐘!

꒰ † ੭‎ㅤNSFW 18+ㅤ(MDNI)...  oliver never thought that arriving at saltburn would leave a much more deep and sinister ache in his bones. and it's all because of you. felix is no better.ㅤノㅤnot proofread.

ᡴꪫ‎ TODAY'S SPECIAL!ㅤfelix catton, oliver quick.

WOULD YOU LIKE SPRINKLES? (っω=`)ㅤm!rdr, no spoilers surprisingly, weird stuff cause its oliver (but felix is weird too), wet dreams, stealing underwear, drugging, groping, somnophilia.

                 ㅤ ⏝꒷۰꒷⏝꒷۰꒷⏝꒷۰꒷⏝

It was alluring, really. Who could say no to the gorgeous stone walls of the castle? With its very own glamorous inhabitants to match as well. Saltburn practically begged Oliver to come and take it all for himself.

And who was he to deny that call?

Felix Catton too, bore the same charisma. The boy always had everyones eyes on him, no matter the place or time. There was just something about him that grabbed all the attention.

Like a magnet, attracting all the girls and boys to present themselves just to gain a spot in Felix's long list of night stands.

So when Felix so graciously offered for Oliver to spend the summer with him, how could he say no?

He felt so fulfilled, seeing the extravagant hallways, walls lined with all the odd things they had, and the majestic carpets complementing the floor. But nothing ever compared to the feeling that hit him like a truck when he met you.

It was unexpected. There was a quick panic that you, of all people, would ruin his plans, to conquer the estate and banish all the Catton's from existence. I mean, who were you? A relative? Close friend? Surely someone important enough for Elspeth and Sir James to let you stay.

"This is my friend," Felix introduced, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, having noticed the tension between you two. Despite the awkwardness filling the air; you excitedly held out your hand for Oliver to shake. "How come I've never seen you around?" He asked.

You shrugged, "I don't go to Oxford."

Oliver must've not realized how tight his grip had been on your hand, not until you struggled to pull away. Felix smirked in amusement. "Now now, play nice Oliver. He's fragile, and I'd prefer my little friend to be in good condition at all times."

"Felix!" You groaned, nudging against his chest. Rolling your eyes playfully, you shook your head and looked to Oliver. "Don't listen to him, roughhouse all you want." The sweet smile reached your eyes, but the words that accompanied it were venomous. "He did it all the time when we were little. Actually, he still does."

Oh. So you two were close.

He didn't know why, but it left a rather bitter taste in his mouth. Was it because you were close with Felix? Or because Felix was close with you?

Either way, Oliver quickly realized that it just made sense for both of you to be friends. You were a warm light that drew everyone closer, huddling for the warmth you gave so generously. With your attractive physique to accompany such a bright personality made Oliver's heart flutter in a way that made him unsure. (Not to mention that cute boyish smile you had on your face nearly 24/7.)

Had you attended Oxford too— he was sure you and Felix would be a duo no one could forget. A package deal, he'd say.

Oliver found it uncomfortable how quick you were able to get on his good side. You were just so... likeable. In a way that whenever you and Felix would mess around, he found it endearing.

Two utterly perfect boys with the most perfect relationship. Everyone in Oxford would kill to be you.

But Oliver would kill to take Felix's place.

And that thought shocked him; Oliver never thought there would ever be someone else to hold on pedestal, higher than the throne Felix sat on. Because he wanted that closeness, the intimacy of your so called friendship, your very being down to your bones.

He was desperate to have your attention, to join in your silly little inside jokes that Oliver could never understand, to be the reason of your giggles and reddened cheeks from laughter, how your chest heaved with every intense howl deep from your chest, not Felix.

It's not like he didn't notice Felix's unwavering affection towards you. It almost made Oliver chuckle out loud, the first time he found out how enamored Felix was with the boy he wanted to get rid of.

He didn't know he'd too, join the bandwagon of steadfast interest towards Felix's friend. (Boy toy, Oliver wanted to say. But with how platonic you are with him, he doubts the godsend Felix ever had a chance to devour you.)

No worries, Oliver will just take things in his own hands. He'll handle these pressing matters, like how he always has and always will. It's just in his nature. He may never be the strongest, or most attractive in the room, but he sure is the smartest.

Hell— he's definitely the most intelligent amongst those in Saltburn. That's for sure.

You were just incredibly dumb. Gullible, naive— too trusting. Too ready to welcome the outsider Oliver Quick within the estate, who looked like he was attempting to take and seal away Felix from ever seeing you again.

Did you really not feel their burning gazes on your body? Whenever you donned the awfully tight swim shorts at the pond; neither could pull away their eyes because of how it hugged your frame. Showing off the curve of your hips and your behind, displaying a waist that they wanted to grab so badly, and thighs that could be stared at for days.

The exposed skin glistening with water under the burning sun, messy wet hair that clung to your forehead. Plump red lips that encased a popsicle, suckling and even poking your tongue out to lick your fingers when the melted treat slowly dribbled down them.

Perhaps you did know, and this was your own way of teasing them for a stunt they pulled a few nights before. Revenge.

That night, when you wore such careless attire, one that consisted of a large shirt that practically engulfed your frame (one that Oliver knew to be Felix's), and the sinful boxers that held your prick just behind the fabric, Oliver took a trip to the laundry room.

Imagine his shock when he found Felix Catton digging through your laundry basket that held the same boxers from the night before.

A solidarity formed between them that night. A relationship deeper than before. Oliver was just as in love with you as Felix was.

But it killed them to see how oblivious you were with their intentions.

Weren't they trying hard enough?

It came to the point where they were desperate enough to consider drugs. Of all things. The family would all have dinner as usual, but a simple slip of an extra ingredient would be placed into your food.

"Are you alright, dear?" Elspeth asked, concerned from the other side of the table.

Felix quickly came to your rescue, standing up and dragging you to your bedroom. "He might be ill, we'll take care of him." He met eyes with Oliver, who didn't hesitate to join his side. "I'll see to it that he recovers smoothly." And without a second thought, they both left to carry you to Felix's bedroom.

You groaned, the pounding in your skull too much to handle. But Felix talked you through it all the way. Legs too weak to get up the stairs? No worries, they've got that covered. Neither complained when they're able to get this close to your warm body.

"Atta boy," Felix praised, slowly lowering you on his bed. Oliver placed the back of his hand to your forehead, wincing at its temperature.

"That's not a side effect, is it?" Their motives were ultimately changed when you kept writhing on the bed, uncomfortable at the heat and ache throughout your body. You felt sick. This was not part of the plan.

Felix scoffed. "Of course not." He turned to you, frowning when you sobbed. "We'll just... change plans."

There was no doubt to it. Your current state was not to their liking to continue their original ideas, and its not like it was helping with their... guilt. Thinking back on it, they've realized that their original plan was rather unsavory.

It made them look like hypocrites.

After all, they've been wanting and needing you to dream of them as well. Countless nights spent under the sheets behind the safety of their doors, jacking off and wishing it was your hole around their cocks, not their fists.

The wet dreams of you being so good for them, taking them all at once— or the times when they peaked through the bathroom door to watch you showering, and purposefully breaking your doorknob so they can barge in your room whilst you were getting dressed, those they could play off.

But to take you, unsolicited whilst your mind was hazy, was against all their fantasies. They wanted you to want them the same way. With the same desperation, the same debauchery.

So they let you be for now.

The late night fantasies that constantly replayed in their head would be enough. For your sake. Because if they allowed the strong, primal urge to pounce and take you as you were; the bed is where you'd live.

But it doesn't mean the urge was gone.

Oh no, it was very much still there.

So when your soft snores reached their ears, they wasted no time to climb under the sheets, with you between their aching bodies. And no matter how hard they tried to shoo away the dark thoughts nagging at the back of their heads, it still found a way to hypontize them.

It was a golden opportunity. You were sick, yes. But you were still drugged. Fast asleep. Deep into dreamland. How could they pass it up?

Oliver bit his lip and maintained eye contact with Felix. What were they to do? Felix stayed in deep contemplation, but was quickly surprised when Oliver made the first move.

He quickly raised your shirt up to your collarbone, breath stuck in his throat when he was met with your nipples. Oliver traced your chest with his finger, featherlight as he felt your soft skin for the first time.

And shit, did it feel great.

Felix on the other hand, took a more bold approach. Kissing at your nape while massaging his hand down your spine, towards your waistband. He tugged at first, but eventually settled on sneaking his palm beneath your boxers to feel the sweet mounds of flesh he's been dreaming of.

They groped and touched, feeling up every inch of you. No nook or cranny was left un-corrupted by their sinful hands. Slowly, their cocks hardened and they threw away all rational thoughts (Though there were none to begin with, really. Did anyone think rationally when they were in your presence?) Beginning to hump and palm at your own crotch.

Your drowsy whines and hums brought them closer to release. Even in your sleep you managed to be oblivious, unknowing to the dirty acts they commit. Hips bucking and stuttering, breath hitching, the creaking of the bed.

Whispered cussing and lip biting, red marks littered across your skin with their harsh grabbing. It was only after they reached their peak had all your breaths labored, you probably just thought it was a really good dream.

Oliver and Felix began to feel their eyelids get heavy. Even if they didn't get what they originally wanted, at least they got a taste of it. And fuck did they want more.

But no matter, there was always next time.

vanillaclaws 2024.ㅤdo not repost.

[zombisarchive]

FREAK

mdni. not proof read.

FREAK p.t 2

switch! oliver quick x dom! M! reader

warnings: degradation, name calling, smut, hair pulling, biting, mean reader , making out, over the clothes touching

Oliver had been eyeing me all night since I arrived at the pub. Who does he think he is? He’s only around because Felix decided to befriend the little freak. Farleigh and I were supposed to meet up with Felix at the pub after class. But there he was again, like a leech attached to Felix. Oliver.

“Felix!..Oliver.” Farleigh said as we approached the table. Farleigh sat next to Felix, leaving me to sit next to Oliver. Fantastic. “hello..” I glanced at Oliver. He glanced at me muttering out a small hello, god can’t he just speak up? I rolled my eyes, trying my best to ignore his stupid glances towards me.

As we started to part our separate ways after the pub, I began to walk back to my dorm the long way. But I had this nervous feeling someone was watching me. My steps slowing down before I came to a halt, turning around only to see a figure horribly hiding behind a large tree. I know that figure from anywhere. Oliver. What now? He’s moved on from Felix to me? what a freak! “I can see you. I know it’s you Ollie” I yelled out, seeing him visibly flinch at my voice made me feel something. He stayed still and silent before revealing himself. “why are you following me?” I asked as I walked up to him, he looked startled as if I were in the wrong to ask that. “I..um..you forgot your cigarettes at the pub” Oliver finally muttered out. “Cigarettes? you’re following me like some creep over cigarettes?” My tone was harsh and he knew it, there was no way he could escape the truth now. Oliver dug through his pocket fetching out a packet of cigarettes, they were crumpled up, but they were my cigarettes.

We stood there in awkward silence as I snatched the packet from his hand. “Why couldn’t you return it like a normal person?” Asking as I rolled my eyes, seeing him shrug. “I was but you clearly don’t like me..” Oliver said looking at me. I laughed in his face, “clearly. you know why i don’t like you?” stepping closer to him I was now backing him up against the tree he was hiding behind. “No?” Oliver said as his back pressed up against the tree. “Because you’re a little freak! a no good for nothing oxfam scholarship boy” the words seethed out of me like hot lava, I was ripping into him and he took it. Seeing him stand there and not react to anything I was saying made me angry. How dare he? My hand shot up, gripping the side of his hair tightly, pulling it roughly to the side. His face contorted into pain, god did he look gorgeous like that…

“You’re a nothing. A lowlife. I don’t know what Felix sees in you” My words cut deep into him like a knife, his face now stone cold. I smirked loving the feeling of him completely helpless under me. “What? Can’t talk now?” I said with another harsh tug at his hair. He hissed in pain, “For someone who hates me so much…you do love calling out my name at night” Oliver said with a stupid smirk growing on his face, I was fuming. I let his hair go, pinning him against the tree, my breath heavy as he just let me do this. “you know nothing about me” Oliver laughed as he looked at me, “of course I do..i know everything..how you jerk off, calling out my name when no one’s in your dorm..how you look at me like you want to eat me alive” He was right. He did know me. I didn’t know what else to do, he had the upper hand here. “But knowing you, you’d never act on those feelings, no, you’re just as pathetic as i am” Oliver said with a laugh.

He’s wrong. I wasn’t a pathetic low life like him. “You’re wrong.” I said, his face turning to confusion at my words. I pressed my lips against his roughly. Oliver kissed me back, our lips dancing with each other. Hands roaming all over each others bodies forgetting we’re still outside. I pulled back a little, biting at his lip. “Still think I wouldn’t act on it Ollie?” Oliver laughed, “I guess I was wrong” “very wrong.” My hand grasped his hair again, pulling his head back as my lips ravaged his neck. Soft moans came out of his mouth. God he sounded wonderful. Biting and sucking on his neck. felt like ecstasy, feeling him squirm as I bite harder than the last bite. My hands roam down to his clothes cock, palming at it, feeling him buck his hips upwards, his moans growing with every touch. “Fuck..” Oliver moans out, as he clings to my shirt. Pulling away from his neck, i glance down at the ranging boner he has, smirking, “someone’s excited” I tease as he rolls his eyes. “Shut up, just touch me” Oliver begs looking up at me. Letting go of him, I step back away from him. “sorry I’ve got an exam tomorrow, later Ollie” I say walking away, giving him a wave. He glares at me as I walk away walking back to my dorm. Oh how fun this will be.

☆requests open!

☆kinda bad, but maybe I’ll make a p.2?

[flaredcfan]

I can't believe there is so little Farleigh Start content here on FREAKING TUMBLR. WHAT ARE WE DOING PEOPLE???? 🤨🤨🤨🤨

And the worst part is, EVERY post, every fic I've seen has been depicting him as some kind of hotshot daddy dom, I mean, Y'ALL! Did we watch the same movie??? 🤔🤔🤔

He's such a baby girl guys. He's a total bottom, I mean C'MON! A bottom brat that needs so much taking care of 🥺🥺🥺🥺 just LOOK AT HIM 😩😩😩

We need more Farleigh Start y'all. He's the main character here fr fr

[kumememe]

little help (oliver quick x m!reader)

plot: places after the events of saltburn, where oliver had already inherited the estate. he sees someone who caught his eye, someone who reminds him of who he was when he was younger.

a slow sunday afternoon was bestowed upon oliver's day. the usual rustle and bustle of people as they went about their day on the streets, the car honks when there was a mild amount of traffic, the cloudy season of london—everything appeared to be in order. well, except for one thing…

him.

oliver was seated in a small café, typing on his laptop as he worked on some reports for his job as a journalist. with a sip of his cold brew in hand, he took a deep breath and came to a stop. he looked at the word file he had open, the blinking of a single text line jarring. he had hit a block, not knowing what to do next. he took this moment as a sign to rest, stretching his arms outward as he let out a yawn. the feeling of his bones cracking brought him some relief. he looked around the café—no one was there except for the new barista.

ah yes, the barista. from what oliver had gathered, he was a college student, eighteen years of age, studying at oxford just like oliver had. tall, active, and most importantly—diligent and honest. and attractive, but that was beside the point.

oliver had grown intrigued by the younger man who served him coffee every day. he noticed how sweet and alluring the boy seemed, an abundance of innocence and charm surrounding his aura. the folds in his eyes when he gave that toothy grin as he greeted oliver with his coffee, wishing him a good day—it made oliver's stomach swirl with a familiar feeling he hadn’t felt in years. it seemed strange having a feeling remind him of his past, but he couldn’t help it. the college student working diligently behind the coffee bar… he reminded him of him.

young, naive, filled with curiosity and infatuation for the world yet driven—it was something oliver knew all too well.

oliver noticed that the barista was just relaxing, taking his fifteen-minute break earlier than usual. he cleared his throat to get his attention, raising his hand for the young man to see. luckily, the barista saw him and made his way over with a beaming smile. the two of them had shared a fair number of conversations, mostly casual greetings and small talk about how their days had been. they were familiar with each other, so the barista had no problem walking over to him. the barista sat down across from oliver, leaning back against the chair. "hello, mr. quick," he greeted. "hope the coffee's good. we tried new roasted beans today to see if there was a difference."

oliver let out a small bemused sigh, nodding. "it's good, y/n. i wasn't going to mention the sweeter taste until you brought it up."

oliver placed his laptop to the side of the table, resting his elbows on the wooden surface as he propped up his head. "so, how have you been? i assume you're still studying?"

y/n nodded. "yeah. uni has been a bit heavy lately. i can barely balance work and the interims i have." he let out a sigh through his nose. "but i have to do what i have to, to survive."

"what about you? how's work?" y/n asked out of curiosity.

it was oliver's turn to grunt at the mention of his job. "same old, same old. but it's getting rather… monotonous." he leaned back in his chair, mimicking y/n's stance. "journalism is about facts and objectivity, but with the whole internet spewing out rumors left and right, it's getting tiring to follow up on a story."

y/n nodded. "i get it, though i don't do journalism. reading any news article nowadays feels like a double-edged sword," he muttered. "i wouldn't blame you if you wanted to take a break. i'd certainly do so if i could afford it."

oliver cocked his head to the side. "may i ask why you can't?"

y/n licked his dry lips, crossing his arms as he blew out some air. he was hesitant to share, but after knowing oliver for a few months, he decided he could open up. he cleared his throat. "well, for starters, i'm working two jobs just to pay the monthly rent for my apartment," he mentioned, causing oliver's eyes to soften. oliver felt a pang of sympathy for the young man as he listened.

"academic workload is catching up to me, and i'm falling behind just a tad," y/n explained, running a hand through his hair. "there's just so much going on, i can't even think of what to do first."

oliver raised a brow. "isn't term break nearing?" he asked.

y/n shook his head. "yeah, but… i'll need to catch up on my rent. i'll probably work most of the week."

oliver hummed, the gears in his mind turning. for some odd reason, he felt bad for the guy. working two jobs just to make ends meet while also battling the workload and school duties at a prestigious university. he didn’t know his family situation, but it must be difficult if his parents weren’t at least helping to assist him. maybe a certain someone’s savior complex had rubbed off on him, or perhaps since inheriting wealth, he had become more generous. in a twisted sense, maybe it was sympathy.

oliver couldn’t just leave him to suffer, much to his dismay. he wanted to help. he was hooked, intrigued by this young man. he knew he wanted y/n to need him. to be dependent on him for his needs. his eyes darkened slightly as he took a shallow breath, speaking after making up his mind.

"tell you what," oliver began. "i'll help you with your rent."

y/n's eyes widened at the sudden offer, and he let out a laugh of disbelief. his laughter faltered when he noticed how serious oliver seemed. "… are you serious?" he asked.

oliver gave him a small, crooked smile. "of course. why wouldn't i be? it's just to help you get some of the weight off your shoulders," he said in a convincing tone. he noticed the way y/n stared at him, knowing he was probably weighing his options as he looked down at his lap.

"i can't possibly accept that kind of offer, mr. quick. i…" y/n's sentence trailed off, his mouth slightly ajar as oliver waved a hand dismissively.

"i'm not asking if you want to accept it," oliver said, crossing his legs. "i'm telling you that i'm helping you. think of it as a treat for working so hard."

y/n was flabbergasted, not knowing how to respond. for a moment, his eyes squinted and his brows furrowed. "…is there a catch?"

oliver snickered slightly, feigning nonchalance. "no, no catch."

y/n whined slightly. "but i need to pay you back somehow, mr. quick."

"call me oliver."

y/n cleared his throat. "oliver, i…" he tried to protest, but it seemed oliver had made up his mind. with a sigh of defeat, he relented. "alright… thank you so much, oliver. it will really help. a lot." he added, "please, if you need anything from me, i'll do my best to help."

bingo.

oliver smirked internally. "i'll keep that in mind."

a few days later…

y/n returned from work, exhausted, as he collapsed face-first on his dorm room bed. today was the day the rent was due, and he groaned as he got a ping on his phone. unlocking it, he checked the message, tapping the icon to open his inbox. he rubbed his eyes, trying to shake off the tiredness. squinting slightly to read the message, his eyes widened. he couldn't believe what he read.

"greetings, mr. l/n, here is confirmation that your past and current rent have been settled. as for the remaining rent for this school term, it has been paid in advance. the individual who covered your dues has included a message for you, which is enclosed below. good luck with your examinations.

'see you soon, y/n. - o.q.'"

______________________________________________________________ author's note: just a little drabble here since someone asked for some oliver quick love. might make sequel to this or a part two, depending on how many people like it. it's quite rushed and i just wrote it in between classes so... yeah. hope you enjoyed!

[astr0exe]

hear me out, male reader and oliver quick 😤 oliver quick being his usual controlling self even when it comes to the bedroom AAKAKAKAKAKAKAKKAK and reader just loving every second of it, no matter all the teasing and overstim <3

dom!oliver is so fucking yummy lols !! love saltburn sgsksbsndsj also loved writing this sorry its taken me so long ml <3 HOPE U LIKE IT 🩶🫶🏻

// CW : tm!reader , overstim , controlling!oliver , choking , subspace (??) , weird ending 😭 (there is aftercare!!)

Oliver was known for being, creepy, manipulative and dominating. His whole being controlled you completely and you loved every second. You didn’t have to think, to make decisions. No, you were too cute to use your brain, happily letting Oliver do all the stressful stuff for you. He was always like this, his hand constantly touching you. Firm on your back, holding your hand or gripping your thigh through your pants.

He was especially dominating during sex, his fingers abusing your insides and your cock. Jackhammering his thick digits into you until your legs try to close as they shake and you squeal loudly, your eyes rolling back. He would always coax at least two orgasms from you so you are soft and pliable for him when he fucks you. Your brain fuzzy and muddled from the delirious pleasure he makes you feel. His hand on your neck holding you down, making him feel powerful and in control. You can see it in his eyes, even through your hazy mind, the way he stares down at you as if you are his prey. His toy.

You’re nearly unconscious by the time Oliver decides to finally give you the cock you have been being for incoherently. He is merciless with his pace, shoving his thick cock into your sore cunt with no remorse. His hips making a loud noise against yours but it’s barely heard due to the obscene noises of your obviously soaking hole. Your moans are mere whispers, your throat hoarse, even more so with the grip on your neck Oliver has. His groans are loud and his hips unwavering as he forces yet another orgasm out of you. Tearing it from your being as cum with a strangled noise.

His low laugh is audible, laughing at your disheveled state, wondering how you are going to explain to your best friend, Farleigh, why you look so… broken. But so delectable. His cock is deep in you as he teases your cock, urging you to cum again… And you do, your whole body quivering from pure overstimulation as your legs close around Oliver’s waist. His orgasm follows on closely his cum painting your stomach as you pant and huff, begging for any air Oliver may allow you.

He gets off you, throwing some tissues onto the bed and getting dressed, you eyes are clouded as you see him leave, your state of mind completely shattered as you can’t gather yourself or your thoughts. But he comes back, as he always promises he does. In his hands are some chocolate, a crunchie. And a water bottle, cold with condensation on the bottle which he pushes onto your neck mischievously.

[saltburnedme]

My requests are open! Message/comment to be added to the tag list!

Paring: Oliver Quick x Fem!Reader

Word count: 3520

Summary: After your last night with Oliver you question if things were even real, did you want them to be? Or are things better left unsaid.

Warnings: SMUT (ONLY READ IF YOU ARE 18+) unprotected sex, oral sex (male receiving), dub con, drowning (kind of, their in a bath it’s more of like a forced breath play thing no one actually dies), sex in a bath, generally fucked up smut overall again

Read part 1 here (this can be read as a one shot too)

You didn’t wake up until nearing noon, up to this point you didn’t realise that had even been an option. Moments after you realised that something must have woken you up in the first place, there was a light knock on the door from one of the maids, a welcome change to the usual bursting in and blinding you with light pouring in from the freshly opened curtain you thought for a few seconds before she did exactly that.

‘Good morning miss, did you sleep well?’ She questions, her voice cheerful as she opens the curtains letting the sunlight flood into the room. Your eyes still adjusting to the dawn, the memories of last night rushing back into your mind. Your ripped night dress and falling asleep naked must have looked suspicious enough but to add to this you were certain your hair must have been a mess. It was only upon looking down towards yourself to cover up that you found yourself wearing a different night dress, one you can’t remember ever having seen before, your hair felt as if it was tied back and your torn nightwear was nowhere to be found.

‘I slept fabulously, thank you for asking’ you reply, feeling like your speech was slurred from drowsiness.

‘Breakfast is ready downstairs’ she replied before exiting the room, the second the door closed you rushed out of bed and almost sprinted towards the mirror. Was any of it real? You were now dressed where you remember sleeping naked, your hair was tied back and brushed where you remember it being down. Your mirror was against the wall like usual and as much as you may try the damn thing wouldn’t budge an inch. The only thing remaining from the night before was the faint swell between your legs and a suspiciously red mark left around your neck, if it hadn’t been for this you would be questioning if the night previous had been real at all or if you’d finally become so delusional from tiredness that you’d hallucinated the entire thing.

You traveled through your day in a haze, you’d like to say that you hadn’t made an extra effort to seek out Oliver but you had once again wandered into every room, down every hall and through every garden, apparently after everything that had happened he was now conveniently a difficult man to find. Was he ever really there? All of those words he said and everything he did was it actually real? He did seem out of character, the Oliver you knew, albeit very vaguely, would never have come into your room, stripped you naked and fucked you like that. You weren’t even convinced he’d ever actually had sex before last night let alone was as depraved as you’d found him to be. Last night he asked you to come to him at 10pm sharp, to meet him in the bathroom that he and Felix shared, but should you go? If you doubted it was even real in the first place wouldn’t just turning up in their bath seem at the very least a little bit unhinged? You weren’t sure what to make or do with any of it, but if one thing was for certain you were going to find out.

The day hurried by and promptly turned to night, surely you’d see Oliver at dinner you thought to yourself, your little hunt that consumed your day proving fruitless. As always you dressed for dinner, this time opting for a white bias cut silk dress which clung to every curve. It somewhat resembled your torn (and now missing) night dress, the main differences being in the wider straps and being longer in length as the hem delicately brushed the floor.

You tried your best to keep your literal and metaphorical cool through the warm air of the summer night, strolling with ease through the door of the large dining room. Your eyes scanned the room for mere seconds before you found him, sitting silently in his usual seat cross from yours, eating and avoiding eye contact at all costs. Taking your seat the usual chit chat continued around you with food placed elegantly in front of you, your eyes beaming forward burning a hole into the forehead of the man across from you in the hopes that your gaze would force his hand in some way. You’d searched for him all day, where could he have been? He looked almost angry. Summoning up your last ounce of bravery you decided, the only way to fight the bull is to grab him by the horns.

‘So Oliver, how did you sleep?’ You asked loudly across the table, loud enough for the rest of the dinner guests to hear, placing a pause over all the other conversations happening in your vicinity. Out of the corner of your eye you could just about make out the puzzled faces of the rest of the table, everyone now wondering how often they’d actually heard you address each other previously to this.

‘Fine, thank you Y/N’ he replied bluntly, his gaze finally meeting yours. You’d hoped opening up some kind of conversation with him would confirm your beliefs in some way, but instead he just looked angry. Maybe that was conformation enough in itself?

‘I thought I heard something from your side of the house’ you muttered out as the conversations around you slowly begin again. His blue eyes becoming black with anger almost daring you to say more as he sat unspoken.

‘Oh did you now?’ He questions. Definitely daring, you thought to yourself. You felt almost as if you were staring out a wild animal waiting to see just how long it would take for you to blink and for him to attack.

‘Yes, I thought I heard someone walking around near my room coming from your direction’ you continue, one hand playing nervously with the soft fabric of your dress underneath the table as the other shuffles food around your plate with your fork.

‘It’s an old house, all sorts of noises’ he replies, his head tilted slightly to the side as if to work out where you were going with this line of questioning. ‘Why, was there something you needed during the night?’ He ponders. Was he still daring you or was he just as confused about this whole situation as you were? Maybe you really had imagined the whole thing. He wouldn’t be asking you that if he had something to hide surely, you knew Felix had a temper with a hairpin trigger and absolutely no one wanted to provoke that. Or maybe that was exactly the point.

‘Oh no, it’s nothing really. Don’t worry, it just woke me up is all’ you reply, trying your best to sweep this entire conversation under the rug as much as humanly possible. You wanted to shrink away and become one with your chair, hiding in plain sight almost as if to disappear completely into a puddle of your own embarrassment. With a shrug Oliver went back to eating and ignoring you again, occasionally joining in with the others conversations as you pushed your food around your plate, taking anxious mouthfuls until the plate was almost entirely emptied.

‘Please may I be excused? I’m awfully tired’ you asked, your question pointed towards Elsbeth at the head of the table.

‘Of course my darling, sleep well’ she says as you hurry off, granting the room a brief Goodnight and a polite smile before making your way down the corridor.

Despite all of this, at 10pm you found yourself pacing your room, if any of it had been real you were well aware that you were late by now, your pacing only increasing as the clock ticks to 10:01pm, 10:02pm and before you knew it 10:05pm.

‘Fuck it’ you whispered to yourself, heading out of your room and down the corridor in the direction of Oliver’s room. Taking off your shoes to be as quiet as possible, your dress swung at your ankles as you almost stormed your way towards the bathroom, your feet padding cautiously but quickly against the wooden floor.

Finally arriving after what felt like hours of walking you found the bath freshly drawn yet the room suspiciously empty. At least this partially confirmed that you hadn’t manufactured this entire situation in your haze of exhaustion. The lights dimmed to their lowest setting you can barely see into the corners of the room, you make your way over to the mirror to take in your reflection standing in front of the sink. Resting your hands against it you check the room again, still no one to be found or so you thought. Letting out a frustrated sigh you concluded that if someone was watching you, as you hoped they were, you’d give them a show.

Sliding the first silk strap down your shoulder you glide your hand across your chest, down to your shoulder and off of your arm. You follow the same with your other arm, still holding the dress to your body as you take one last look around the room before dropping your dress to the floor the white fabric pooling at your feet, a stark contrast to the darkness of the rest of the room. Your movements continued as you slipped your bra off, once released massaging your own shoulder softly to relieve yourself from the stress of the day. Your hands slipping lower you step out of your white, matching silk panties, the collection of fabrics joining your dress on the floor.

You turn away from the mirror, facing towards the bath, slowly stepping in and submerging your body in the water, the shine of the golden tub reflecting off of your skin. Dipping your hair in the water you look around the room full of hopefulness again, still, finding nothing. He had to be here, you were sure of it and if he wouldn’t come to you of his own free will, you’d make him just like he made you. Your hand begins to travel south, lowering between your legs rubbing soft circles into your clit. You feel the tension release from your body almost immediately as your pace increases, letting out a stream of breathy moans, the sound reverberating off of the tiles. Your eyes fall closed and your face begins to contort with pleasure as you feel your climax rapidly build, your mind replaying the previous night tempting your pleasure to reach its peak.

Just as quickly as your orgasm built, it was ripped away from you harshly. Your eyes still clenched shut in ecstasy you feel your wet hair being grasped firmly, pulling you under in the water. You try to hold your breath as you’re pushed under but the shock of it almost causes you to breathe the water in. Being held there for a couple of seconds your pulled up just as aggressively.

‘You think your such a clever girl, calling me out like that’ he growls, climbing on top of you still dressed in a white shirt and boxers. His body caging you in underneath him he puts his other hand around your face, squishing your jaw so that your mouth falls open, spitting into your mouth before pushing your head under water once more. You wish that you could have kept the taste of him on your tongue for a few seconds more, a thought that crossed your mind very briefly until you were filled with the panic of being drowned once again before being pulled to the surface once more.

‘Tell me why I shouldn’t just drown you now little one? You know that’s been my plan all along, fucking you and feeling you completely submissive underneath me, nothing you can do to stop me’ he growls, grinding his hard cock into the flesh of your thigh. ‘But you had to be a disobedient little whore, just like the rest of your fucking Catton family’ he continues, you open your mouth to reply but just as you breathe in to speak he plunges you under again, this time pulling your up faster, allowing you to cough up water and look up to him in fear. ‘There’s my good girl’ he sneers, this is exactly how he wanted you completely obedient and pliable underneath him. He wanted the power over you, to make you fear him and love him all at once, something that he was very much achieving. Almost as quickly as he had turned on you, his touch became soft almost loving and his words followed suit.

‘You looked so pretty in that dress, almost like an angel. You wear that for me sweetheart?’ He asks, releasing your hair to press one hand against the roll top of the bath near your head while still holding your cheeks softly in his other hand. You were almost wordless, the contrast in his actions totally throwing you off in a way you would have never expected. You thought you’d seen the darkest parts of him last night, but this was like you’d found another cavern in his soul filled with nothing but hatred for you and everyone around you.

‘Y-yes’ you stutter out, still catching your breath from being held under water, your eyes locked on his as he leans in closer, his face almost touching yours.

‘Yes, what?’ He asks, your eyes scanning his face rapidly to give him the answer he craves, the answer you wish with all your heart and mind to give him.

‘Yes.. sir’ you reply, your words coming out shakily, your body trembling in the gradually cooling water.

‘Such a good girl for me’ he says letting go of your face, his hand sliding down your curves, pulling your legs around his hips your heat pressing into his fully hardened length. He got off on drowning you, that was the first thing that sprung to mind when you felt him between your legs, he wanted your submission and my god did he have it. ‘Fuck’ he groans to himself as he grinds into you, it was almost as if he saw you as an object, just there for his ego.. and other things. Pulling his shirt over his head he discards the wet fabric to the floor beside the bath, pushing his boxers down and gliding the thick head of his cock through your folds.

‘Do you want me to fuck you angel? You’ve been such a good girl, you deserve a reward’ he asks as softly as he could in the given situation. You knew he didn’t really care what you said, if you refused he’d still take what he wanted from you but he knew you’d never turn him down not when he was the only person granting you the lustful excitement that you so craved.

‘Please sir, please fuck me’ you ask looking into his eyes in desperation.

‘Ah, that’s not quite good enough little one. Show me how much you want me’ he demands, pulling you up towards him, leaning back on his heels as he kneels in front of you, his hips lifted to your face height. Tentatively you licked down his shaft, your gaze held by his as you take more of him in your mouth. For the first time, he was letting you take control, his hands gripping the sides of the bath firmly, his knuckles whitening as his fists tighten. You knew not to break eye contact from your last time with him, he liked you to look at him, he loved the power it gave him over you as he moaned unashamed above you. Wouldn’t Felix hear? Wouldn’t you be in trouble? You thought. You’d suspected earlier today that this may be exactly what Oliver was betting on but right in this moment you didn’t care, you’d do anything to please him.

Your hands join your mouth wrapped around Oliver’s length, pumping him as his cheeks flush and one of his hands entangle in your hair gripping it and pushing his cock deeper into your mouth. ‘Fuck angel’ he almost whispers, as you feel him throbbing under your grip, he was close and you knew it. Your fists quickened their pace and you sucked his tip a little bit stronger until his eyes left yours, his head falling back against his shoulders as his eyes close and his face contorts in pleasure, pushing his tip right to the back of your throat causing you to choke as he empties himself into your windpipe, fucking your face as he rides out his orgasm. Just as his climax subsides he pulls his still hard length out of your mouth.

‘Open’ he demands, no other words. You thought he wanted to see that you’d swallowed but you hadn’t, his spend trickling out around the corners of your mouth. ‘Jesus, look at you’ his tone mixed between an insult and genuine concern. Just as you tried to swallow his load again, you were stopped feeling his mouth on yours, his tongue exploring your mouth immediately making your kiss a mixture of both of your saliva and his cum emptying your mouth of it as he pushes you back against the bath, wrapping your legs around his hips once more. The image of you like this seeming to have triggered something in him again, he immediately lines his cock up with your entrance and thrusts up into you making you let out a light scream in a mixture pleasure and pain as he splits you open.

His pace was fast, way faster than you expected as the remaining water in the bath splashes over the edges as he fucks you landing on the floor beside the tub. His eyes baring into yours once again he holds you up above the water line, the blood rushing throughout your body almost deafeningly as all of your senses heighten zoning in on Oliver. Your ruined orgasm returning almost as quickly as it left you feel yourself begin to clamp down on him, you know he can feel it, his hips grinding into yours forcing your orgasm from you almost violently.

‘Cum for me’ he asks, his tone almost begging at this point. ‘Let me hear it’ He demands, another contrast with last night, this time he wants to hear you. ‘Let them all hear it, let them know who you belong to, who fucks you like this’ his words faltering as you clamp down on him, riding out your orgasm loudly just ask he asked, the sound bouncing off the walls you were certain that they must have been able to hear you in the next village over let alone just in the house.

‘Fuck, you really are an angel, look at you’ he says, guiding your gaze to the mirrors over the sink to the side of you as you come down from your orgasm, still continuing at his blistering pace. Watching him fuck you was almost other worldly, the way the dim light reflected off of his almost translucent white skin. You could see his length thrust in and out of you as your eyes met his in the mirror. Pulling you out of your post orgasm haze he doubles down on his pace, one hand on the bath above you the other on your hip as his nails dig into your soft skin. Without warning he emptied himself inside you, pressing his lips to yours as he came within you his moans almost as loud as yours had just been.

Regaining your breaths he pulls out of you, sliding behind you in the bath washing your body clean with the remaining water as your back is pushed against his chest. You wanted to say something, to ask him what all of this meant or if it really meant anything to him at all. You knew you had feelings for him, feelings that grew stronger every time something like this happened between you. You had a need, a desperate want to make him happy, to impress him and to make him need you the way you needed him.

‘Did you enjoy your little lie in?’ He asks, some what out of context with the rest of what had just happened.

‘Uh.. yes’ you replied ‘I wasn’t aware the staff would let anyone sleep in after 8am’ you continued with a giggle.

‘That’s because they don’t. I told them to leave you be a little longer after your somewhat strenuous night’ he replies pressing kisses into your neck as he continues to clean you.

‘And they listened to you?’ You asked, partially amazed that the house staff would ever listen to the wishes of anyone other than the core members of the family.

‘They will’ He says, his voice sterner as his actions continue, pulling you in for one last kiss while running his fingers through your hair. ‘Oh they will my angel’ his words ring in your ear as you begin to fall asleep on his chest ignoring the rest of his sentence, you were his angel.

Tag list - @lillypink @ilovesaltburn @simplymakkari @hahahafucku @rorysgirl @jubileexoxo @grandpaintersuit @anniemay67 @idontevenknow1359 @frayafriggafrey

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Kinktober Day 1: Breeding + Jason Todd

Jason Todd x male reader

Kinktober 2023 list | Day 2 | Ao3

(a/n; “hey it's September 30th, right? Tf you mean ‘it's october 1st’ no the fuck it no- AHHHHHH” me about three hours ago realizing that I never finished THE FIRST DAY of kinktober )

Summary: You’re a photographer at the Wayne Family events, after meeting Jason by chance they start growing closer

Warning: Horny Jason, horny reader, top!reader, bottom!jason, Jason moans like a bitch, rude rich people, pillow princess + brat Jason Todd, unprotected sex, breeding, not beta read lol.

Word count: 3.4k

To the shock of everyone involved, Jason Todd attended all of the Wayne Galas, not because he liked them- obviously. No, these things were horrible and stuffy and he hated every last person in attendance. Well, almost every last person. Bruce had hired a photographer a few months back, the first few events that you photographed you were mostly in the background, taking wide shots of the entire party, only recently did you start to mingle with the crowd more.

You met Jason a few weeks back as you tried to navigate through a pushy crowd of rich people who, to no one surprise, all thought they were the most important person there. You got pushed into Jason by a man who looked like he could have been British royalty in the 1800s, he sneered at you like a cartoon villain before walking away. You'd been overly apologetic that day, having nearly knocked the drink out of his hand. He was fine though, if not slightly enamored, you looked nice, but out of place, your clothes weren't quite up to Wayne Gala standards, before he could ask what you were doing here, he noticed the camera hanging from your neck, and offered to be your guide.

He ended up sticking with you for the rest of the night, talking as you took pictures of various people and decor around the event. It made your job a hell of a lot easier, people were quick to bump into you, you weren't rich and therefore weren't fully human to these people, but Jason was one of them, well, he was close enough, and even if he wasn't, if he was just as out of place as you, nobody was going to disrespect the host's son.

By the end of the night, you and Jason were on one of the balconies looking over all the photos from that night, and eventually some of your other work.

Eventually, you did have to leave, Bruce was paying for your ride and you really didn't want him to have to wait any longer.

You only got closer after that, every event that the Waynes hosted, you were there, and on your tail- as always- was Jason.

Your relationship didn't take a turn until the last party the Wayne threw, this one wasn't a charity but a birthday party for Bruce's friend, Oliver Queen, who insisted he needed to have it in Gotham. And even though Bruce gave a perfect speech regarding their friendship, you couldn't help but hear the irritation behind it. The night went on as usual, with Jason acting as your shadow as you weed through the crowd.

Your end of the night ritual is the only thing that changed, as you were showing Jason the pictures from tonight, he leaned over and rested his head on your shoulder, an odd act from the man, considering the most he'd touched you at this point was him putting a hand on your shoulder or tapping you to get your attention.

“Tired?” you asked jokingly.

“No,” he said but didn't elaborate.

As you continued to shuffle through the pictures you could feel him nuzzling into your neck. You let out a short, nervous laugh.

“Are you drunk?”

He hummed quietly, then laughed, “No, I'm just…”

He didn't continue, just pressing further into you, you gave up on showing him the photos for now, instead carding your fingers through his hair. Feeling just how different the white streak felt from the rest of his hair, most of his hair was thick and smooth, running through your fingers with ease. The white part was thick too, but it just felt like air, so light and delicate that you could barely feel it against your fingers.

You didn't stop until you felt his lips press against your neck, again and again as he hummed in contempt.

“Jason…” you muttered but didn't move to stop him.

He eventually moved up to your face- your cheeks, your jaw, your lips- with his kisses. It was only when you made a move and kissed him back did things escalate.

You ended up fumbling around on the floor with him, then in the hall, and on the wall next to his bedroom wall, and eventually in his bedroom. Which resulted in the most embarrassing walk of shame you've ever experienced as you had to run past your literal boss having breakfast with the rest of his family- he looked just as shocked as you imagined he would. Jason's older brother, Dick, made a comment that made Jason shout at him, you couldn't hear it with how hard your heart was beating in your ears.

You expected everything to end after that, your friendship with Jason, your job, your reputation as a photographer.

But to your surprise, the moment the front door closed behind you, Jason grabbed your face and pulled you in for a kiss, sweet and slow, nowhere near as frantic and lust-filled as they were the night before.

You started getting together outside of events after that, he stayed at your apartment most days, because ‘he liked being surrounded by you’. You learned a few things about him too, a big one being that he was a bottom, not just a bottom. A total pillow princess as well. He’ll flirt and tease all day and night long, but the moment you turn around to do the same to him, he becomes so pliant, letting you move him how you like, touch him how you liked, and fuck him how you liked.

Considering how close you'd become with his son, you figured you'd never get a call from Bruce to do another job. But you did, and despite feeling a bit out of place at first you eventually got back into it. Jason was your shadow as always, whispering things he definitely shouldn't in your ear, making it hard to focus.

“When was the last time we fucked, honestly?”

“Babe, I'm working,” you said calmly.

“It’s a genuine question.”

You sighed, “about a week ago, when the power went out.”

He only chuckled, still leaning down in you ear.

“There’s gotta be a broom closet somewhere around here-”

“Jason, stop it-”

“I want you to fuck me right up against the door, let everybody hear me while you-”

“Jason-”

“Jason!”

Looking over you saw Dick, who was probably the most outwardly supportive of your relationship with Jason out of everyone in his family. The presence of his brother shut him up quickly, his face turning a bit red. You and Jason wandered around the party with Dick for a while, you were having a great time, taking photos as Dick told to funny little stories about Jason.

Jason, however, wasn't having a great time. He’d planned to flirt with you all night then get fucked so hard that his brain stopped working, then getting pampered by you for the rest of the night, unfortunately, Dick had taken an interest in you for the night, purely platonic of course, but it was constant, and even though Dick has definitely seen Jason at his worst, it'd be really fucking weird if he begged you to fuck him within earshot of his brother. So he held out, frustrated and horny as the party droned on.

By the time guests started leaving you'd been informed of every little embarrassing thing Jason has ever done- including stealing the wheels off Bruce's car, some stories had to be left out or changed for obvious reasons, but outside of that, you were caught up on Jason's embarrassment timeline. You could practically feel Jason stewing behind you, horny, frustrated, and, embarrassed all at once.

“I think it's time for us to go, if we stay any longer Jason's brain is going to start leaking out of his ears.”

You said your goodbyes to Dick and turned to Jason, who was glaring after the man as he walked away.

“We can go now.”

The fumble up to his bedroom was exactly that, a fumble as you clumsily avoided the lingering guest, and as you took a few minutes to worship the exposed pieces of his body on the stairs with your hands and mouth, only moving when you heard footsteps.

You didn't carry Jason into the room, but you might as well have with the way you controlled his every move. He fell back onto his bed, spreading his legs subconsciously even though he was still fully dressed. The smile on his face only grew wider when you yanked him by his now loose tie, pulling him back up to you, pressing a kiss on his lips that only got more heated with every passing second. Kneeling on the bed, his legs wrapped around your waist almost instantly, you could feel the heels of the balmorals Bruce had bought him digging into the back of your thigh.

He pulled back, flopping down on the bed. Jason's hands, however steady they were before, became utterly useless in a matter of seconds as he failed to unbutton his pants several times before giving up, wordlessly resting his hands above his head, staring up at you expectantly. The term ‘pillow princess’ came to mind for a brief second as you unbuttoned them for him. Purposefully ignoring the tight bulge in his pants that was nearly demanding your attention.

“Come on, y/n,” he muttered, his voice as deep as ever.

Slowly rocking his hips against yours in a desperate, yet short lived, attempt at getting you to act. You were by no means cruel, and considering his little plan for the night hadn't fallen through, you indulged him. Lifting his still-clothed thigh up to your shoulder, you had to do a bit of maneuvering to get his pants down to his ankles, Jason was entirely unhelpful, you'd be convinced he was a rag doll if it weren't for his inability to stop fucking squirming.

The way his cock twitched in his pants showed you just how desperate he was, thrusting up against nothing, a short whine coming from somewhere deep in his throat as he started up at you with those pretty blue eyes.

You ran your hands over the exposed skin of his thigh, leaning down and kissing them, leaving little bruises and bites before switching to the next. His gaze was intense, almost glaring, but the whines and whimpers he let out told you that he was just desperate.

Then, unexpectedly, you slid your hand all the way down the inside of his thigh, feeling goosebumps rise in your wake, Jason figured you'd stop just before his cock, you liked teasing him like that, liked taking him apart slowly. But that's apparently not what you had in mind tonight, he only realized that when you wrapped your fingers around his cock, the fabric of his boxers tightened along with your grip. He whined, bucking up into your hand.

Far faster than he expected, you stroked him through his pants, the texture of them and the squeezing pressure your hand provided sending shivers up and down his spine. He gripped the bed sheets as you settled into a pleasant rhythm, fast and tight around his sensitive cock.

His eyes hung low, squeezing shut when you brushed over the tip.

Jason came quickly, hips sputtering and muttering incoherently as he did, cum sleeping through black fabric, drenching your hand and the boxers.

You pulled back, putting your hands back on his thighs, watching his chest rise and fall rapidly as he came down.

Hands still gripping the sheets, he sat there and waited, waiting for you to do something, you were in control after all. But you didn't, you just watched him, his chest rising and falling, cum splattered on his underwear and just under his belly button, the bruises and bites littering his thighs.

“Y/n..” he muttered, hard and horny all over again.

You laughed, “yes?”

He scooted closer to you until you hips were firmly pressed against his ass. Even then, you could here him muttering ‘come on’ over and over against under his breath.

“Speak up, you have to tell me what you want.”

He glared, a real harsh glare that you knew was born out of frustration. He should have known you'd be like this, for a moment he thought he'd really gotten off the hook, but you never just let him cum, you never just fucked him, no, he had to beg for it, as though him presenting himself to you wasn't begging enough.

“Just,” suddenly unable to find his words, Jason groaned, “do something!”

You let out another short laugh, then asked, “Something like what?”

The urge to kick you suddenly emereged.

“Anything, please I-” his hands went from the bed sheets to his face, covering his eyes as his brain once again failed to produce the right words.

You leaned down, pressing kisses down his throat and the pieces of his chest that we're exposed.

After a moment you asked, “How about you tell me what you wanted earlier, you seemed to have a lot of ideas then.”

He shifted, his hands finding the bed again, seems like his mind was racing, as his eyes were almost completely unfocused and blush rose on his cheeks with every second that passed, you gave him a moment to sort himself out.

He spoke suddenly, his voice coming out with some force, “I need you to fuck me until I can’t take it anymore, like you did when the power went out and we didn’t have anything else to do but fuck over and over again, I need you to fuck me like that again, I want you to cum in me so many times that it drips out of my ass and ruins the bed- ah- and I- I can’t- I can’t fucking think with you grinding against me like that so can you please just hurry up and do something!”

A wide grin spread out on your face, even though you barely comprehended that you were grinding your bulge into his ass, it was good to see how a bit of gentle pressure was already making him writhe.

You pulled back, before he could stop complaining you flipped the giant of a man onto his stomach with a hard shove. You heard him moan as he bounced against the bed, he liked being manhandled, but you figured that one out a while ago.

Pulling his boxers down to his knees, fully ready to prep him, only to see the familiar shiny glint of lube covering his hole. Without thinking, you pressed a finger in, feeling just how easily he took it you almost laughed.

“You take all the fun out of prepping you..”

“Shut up and fuck me!”

His desperate, panting tone was enough for you to cave, even as he glared back at you. It took you a second to get out of your clothes, well really just your pants, belt, and boxers, but it still took longer than Jason would have ever liked, again, bratty pillow princess of the century.

By the time you let your cock prod against his hole, he'd grabbed a pillow and rested it under his head, still turning to face you as you slowly pushed in. His resolve didn't last long, broken by a long moan as the head of your cock slipped into his hole, already about to thrust a hole into the bed sheets.

You grabbed his hips, pressing them hard into the bed, he stopped moving, an undeniable whimper coming from him.

You pressed further, barely even half way in and you could feel him squeezing around you, you pressed down until your hips were pressed together.

He panted and moaned, his body flexing, then relaxing. You waited for him to give you a sign that he was okay, and when he did you waited more, just to tease him. He realized this a couple of seconds later, dropping his head into the pillow with a frustrated groan, you're surprised he didn't turn around and cuss you out at that exact moment.

Even though you probably shouldn't have, you pulled out slow, and slammed back into him with more force than you meant to, the bed dipped beneath you both and Jason let put a wild moan. You probably should have gone slow with him, made him cum over and over again before filling him yourself, but you didn't, you had a bit of an epiphany while you had Jason fully wrapped around your cock. You were really, really fucking horny. With someone as pretty as Jason it was always so tempting to take him about the slow way, teasing, drawing orgasm after orgasm out of him, but with some that felt as good as Jason does, it's pretty easy to let that idea fly out the window in turn of pounding him into the mattress.

So you did.

Watching him claw and bite at the pillow beneath him in an attempt to bring some stability back. His whole body getting forced forward with every thrust.

Loud, almost pained, moans and the sound of skin hitting skin filled the room. Even with the pillow shoved into his mouth he was still impossibly loud. You could feel just how warm he’d gotten, his skin was hot and sweaty, and in your mind, you'd hardly even done anything to him yet.

Little tears prickled in his eyes, he squeezed them closed tightly. Taking your cock wasn't anything new to him but fuck, sometimes you could be rough. Not that he didn't enjoy it, no, if he had less pride he’d be screaming at the top of his lungs how good it felt.

He could already tell where bruises were going to form, he'd have burning red hand prints on his waist for sure, and an odd one on his ass and inner thighs, hickies and smaller bruises would litter practically every surface his body offered for sure.

Leaning down, you thrust hitting deeper and deeper, you kissed along his shoulders and back, trying to soothe at least a little of the hurt you were causing. You didn't but it felt nice anyways.

Jason's vision went a little spotty when he came again, you never stopped fucking him and he really didn't want you to. His cum soaked into the sheets beneath him, he could feel the sticky sheets cling to his stomach.

You followed soon after, shooting cum deep inside of him, just like he wanted. He whimpered quietly at the feeling, he could still feel you fucking him with your softened cock, trusting much slower, much to his dismay. He knew you were just waiting to get hard again but he really didn't like waiting.

It didn't take long for you to get hard again, you were still fully inside your beautiful boyfriend's beautiful ass so it definitely wasn't difficult. You continued pounding into him like nothing happened, he didn't say anything either, other than incoherent word between moans. Even though he didn't have to wait long, he missed you fucking him already.

You slammed into him hard and he went cross-eyed for a moment, letting his moans flow freely, louder and more satisfied than before.

“Right there-” he panted, “again, please-”

You couldn't deny him, not when he begged like that, you angled you hips so you'd slam against that spot again and again until he was staining the sheets for a second, then third time.

He made it too easy to want to fuck him.

His body was nearly limp by his fourth orgasm, you pulled out, he let out a little noise, unable to do much about it. You flipped him onto his back, seeing the mess covering his cock and stomach, his eyes tracked your every move, but not many where made, you ran your hands down his thighs just like you'd found before, then shoved your cock back into his mess of a hole.

You chased your own pleasure, dragging an exhausted Jason along with you for the ride. His hands gripped onto you, pulling you down and holding you tight, letting his airy moans fill your ears.

You came soon after, with him clawing at your back and clinging to you like a damn koala. You stayed inside him for a long moment, waiting for him to remember that he had to let you go.

When he did, you leaned back, watching yourself pull out of him, your cock covered in cum and lube. Cum dripped out of his hole rapidly, a puddle forming and growing on the bed, you laughed, still a bit winded.

“Hey, looks like you got your wish, these sheets are defiantly ruined.”

He laughed tiredly before pulling you back down into his arms.

[satrs]

Ride of your life!

Requested by anon ↳ ❝ [...Chigiri and Kunigami? Threesome? But separate can work too! Just…just need something new for my kings ] ¡! ❞

✎ A/N; Hihi nonnie! decided to add some other guys to this, since I still got a ryu and oli brainrot <3. Hope u like it, enjoy!

SYNOPSIS; car rides with them.

TAGS; ADULT CONTENT(18+). MDNI. NSFW CONTENT.

Risky driving(do NOT do this shi y’all, drive safe) car s€x. Unprotected intercourse. oral (->fem). Established relationships. Semi public s€x (shidou). Oral( ->male). Mutual masturbation(Kunigami). Petnames(pretty, princess, cutie). Dirtytalk.

FEATURING; chigiri, kunigami, shidou, oliver x fem!reader

WK; 1.9k

CHIGIRI HYOMA

He'll never pass on an opportunity to ride shotgun. Especially when you're driving.

You never fail to make his boxers get tight when you reach over the stick shift, soft fingers teasingly brushing across his growing bulge. The red haired is always quick to brush your hand off in a hurry, scolding you to focus on the road.

If he was being honest, he would love nothing more than to just yank your head down to his cock and let your hot mouth work wonders on him. But he obviously can't do that right now. It's way to hazardous. You know that, right?

The car comes to an halt on the red light an he notices your bottom lip caught between your teeth, a malevolent grin tugging on your lips. Chigiri has barely any time to react, your hand already eager to loosen his belt. "F-fuck, stop it. You're driving-" He cuts himself of with a shaky breath once your fingers sneak down his pants and tug his raging boner out, thumb quick to brush across his leaking tip.

You giggle at his reaction, "Stop being such a killjoy and just relax." You look at him through your lashes, eyes swiftly glancing at the red light before you lower your head, one hand still prominent on the wheel. You suck his swollen tip while swiping your tongue along his sensitive slit, causing him to jolt in his seat.

He drops the protest, mouth hanging open as his eyes squeeze shut in bliss, pushing his head into the headrest with gritted teeth.

And he can feel your smirk against him, his lip swiping along his dried lips for moisture.

"Such a fuckin' tease", he breathes out, fingers tangling into your hair until he detects your gag, your throat contracting around his length. He chokes out a moan, hips bucking up into your mouth until his eyes shoot open, realization hitting him.

Hand still stroking the top of your head, he glances onto the road, noticing the yellow light threatening to turn green at any second. "S-shit!"

He yanks your head off of his length, your hazy eyes trying to adjust to the front. To his solace you're swift with your movements, quick to gain control of your senses as you push on the gas, setting the car in motion.

His heart still rapidly beating in shock and excitement, he lets out a sigh of relief, starring daggers into your side right after.

You drunkenly smirk at him, spit dripping down your chin. His dick jumps in delight at the sight. "Oh come on. Admit it, you like the thrill."

Your absent hand coming up to wipe the access saliva off your face, biting back a laugh as you continue driving, acting oblivious to the scene playing next to you.

He breathes out a laugh, hand moving up to get loose hair out of his face. "Alright, pretty. Why don’t you finish what you started, hmm?“

With that you flash him a cheeky grin, steering the wheel to the next best parking opportunity, halting it.

And as he adjusts his exposed hips on the seat, you lick your lips in delight, arching your back over the console to swallow his needy cock right back into your mouth.

„Atta girl.“ His posture relaxes with your bopping movements, hand finding comfort on the top of your head again, encouraging you to take him deeper.

„Justttt like that. Nice and deep.“

KUNIGAMI RENSUKE

He picks you up, opens the passenger’s seat up for you, get back to the driver’s seat and rests his hand on you plush thighs the entire ride. It’s habitual at this point.

He might even lets his hand travel up a little, caressing your exposed stomach in a loving manner., not failing to flatter you with his never ending compliments.

You found yourself an endless charmer, ready to do anything and everything to see that smile he oh-so loved lighting up his life.

But even he can't help but let the filthy concept of lust cloud his mind. And one thing's for sure - he's not one to shy away from telling you.

"You look so gorgeous right now", his hand is resting on your thigh, goosebumps covering your skin once his thumb soothingly brushes over your groin, "wish I could have you right now", he breathes, auburn eyes burning the image of you further into his mind.

"Who's stopping you?" It's almost a quiet whisper that you return, thigh flexing as you await an reaction. And you receive a clear message once his hand spanks over the naked skin of your thigh, soft hand rubbing over the red imprint in apology.

"Be a good girl and get ready for me back there yeah?" Sharp chin motioning you to make headway.

Within a blink of an eye you're already behind him, spread open with your sopping panties on display. "Oh?", his eyes widen at the sight, hand struggling to get rid of his belt, frustrated at the tightness of his pants, "All ready and needy for me. Ain't that right, princess?"

You cage your lip between your teeth, eagerly nodding at him. Your hands travel down your thighs, slowly putting up a show for the man.

He groans once your hand reaches your drenched panties, outline of your needy heat visible. The orange haired was about to loose his mind, hips unconsciously bucking up into nothingness once he'd undone his belt- only obstacle being his boxers.

You giggle, visibly amused by his action. It doesn't take long for you to push your panties to the side, your eyes shooting up at his face once an almost animalistic growl rings your ears.

Dick already stiff on full display, his hand wraps around the aching length once your fingers play with your folds, teasing him. He lets out a curse under his breath once you push past your entrance, hole swallowing your fingers with ease.

With each twist of his hand he reaches further and further into bliss. The sight of your sobbing cunt on full display, fingers buried into the hilt made him a sound similar to a whimper, fighting the urge to not throw his head back in bliss, to scared he might miss something.

He paces his movements with the speed of your fingers, eyes wandering between your pussy and your face, trying to soak in every tiny motion of yours.

The hand around his dick tightens once he notices your walls tightening around your shaky fingers as you struggle to hit the spot inside of you he could reach in a whiff.

He swallows thickly, hips bucking up into his hand as he imagines his needy cock in replacement of your inexpert fingers. He's got to be inside of you right now, or he might actually die.

"Don't you wanna come back and fuck me, ren'?", you tease, wiggling your hips up to edge him on further. And he bites on.

A snicker leaves the mans lips, upper body turning in his seat to climb to the back in a swift motion. "Yeah? Want me to fuck you?"

Before you could return a sneaky remark, he's already hovering above you, broad chest blocking your view.

"Such a fuckin' tease. Gonna shape you just right for my cock."

SHIDOU RYUSEI

You're familiar with shidous various fixations. But there was one thing you were always rather dubious about - his obsession with fucking you in public.

Obviously, it was rather risky, some might even say mindless to perform such act out in the open - but not him. He didn't care about passerbys seeing the both of you in such a state, hell- he even wanted them to see. He longed for them to see him have you- claim you as his.

"C'monnnn, cutie", he breaks contact from your neck for a brief moment, hand still firmly kneading your behind. "It's damn near empty in here. No one'll see." His deserted hand moves swiftly to reveal his hard on raging against his boxers, rubbing up into your thigh to relief some tension.

You hesitate, hand reaching for the hood of the car to balance yourself. "M' not sure, ryu." Your eyes scan the dark parking lot around you and indeed- it was empty. Besides some parked cars in the distance. it was pitch black, the middle of the night, not a soul but you two around, the dim lights around you slightly illuminating your figures. "What if someone comes?"

He clicks his tongue, mouth still attached to your neck, as he propped one of your legs up the hood, granting him further access to your heat. "Ain't nobody comin' round here at this time", he hikes your dress up just above your belly button, quick to move your panties to the side. You bite your lip at the sudden hit of cold air.

"Besides", his hand places a quick slap to your pussy, "we can just pull that short ass dress of your back down in a whiff, baby. No need to worry."

Your hands fly up his shoulders, clawing into his jacked as you whine. "F-fine. But"- before you can comprehend his movements, his fat head already hangs heavy onto your clit, causing you to bite back a moan.

"Huh? You said sum'?", he teases as he eases himself inside of you, thick length stretching your walls as you clamp down on him, earning a hiss from the man as he begins a steady pace, pelvic brushing against your bud with each push of his hips.

"Suckin' me in so well. Want me that deep, huh?" His movements pick up, his hands gripping your cheeks apart to hold you in place. He shamelessly moans into your mouth, swallowing your sounds in the process.

A gluttonal groan rumbles from his chest, movement of his hips flattering as he neared his release.

You can only cry out at his relentless pace, mind turning numb. "Ya like that? Hell yeahhh you do. You- fuck! Loveee it right?" Your nod is speedy, eyes scrunched up together in lust. "Yes ryu! Love when you f- fuck me real good."

An amused hum leaves him at that, smirk on his face still prominent as he speeds up, curve of his dick hitting your spot just right, causing you to yelp out at the sudden pleasure. "Yesyesss! R-right, right there!"

He could cum right there, just at the sight of your fucked out state. His hand reaches up, placing his fingers around your throat to pull you up to his level, magenta eyes devouring you like a hunter would his prey.

"U' better be on the pill cuz' 'm bouta beat this slutty pussy up."

OLIVER AIKU

Well he didn't expect ... this.

Yeah sure, he told you to put on something nice, since he'd take you out for dinner, but this dress even threw him off his seat.

It hugged your figure perfectly, almost like a second skin, the seductive color adoring your smooth skin, captivating his heterochromatic eyes with each sway of your delicate hips.

"Would ya' look at that", he whistles, eyes roaming over your body, leaned back against the car hood, watching you approach him in swift motion.

You do a small spin, giggling in the process. "Like it?", you ask rather rhetorical, biting back a grin once his hands find comfort on your hips.

He just clicks his tongue in response, finger inching down your dress, coming dangerously close to the end of your dress, fingertips brushing over your thigh.

The dinner can wait, he's got to have desert now.

With a soft pat to your rear, he leans off of the car, shiny canines exposed from his wide grin. "Move that pretty ass to the back. Gonna eat ya reallll good."

You feel your lower belly pulsate at his raspy voice, leaning up to place a quick kiss to his cheek, before disappearing to the backseats.

Oliver followed suit, impatiently shutting the door behind him. You face him, excitement glinting behind your eyes as his hands snatch your heels, your dress riding up in the process.

His eyes flicker between your curious face and the lace covering your pussy that matched the color of your dress.

"Oli', we'll be late." He hushed you with a quick kiss to your hidden cunt, his thumb teasing your clit through your panties. "We got all the time of the word. Jus' relax and let me eat, would ya? M' starvin'."

And with that, he pushed your panties to the side, burying his face right into your heat. His tongue licks a long stripe along your vulva, earning an eager moan from you.

"O-oh." He continues his antics while his hands hold your hips in place, grunting into you once your hands tangle into his dark locks, pushing him further into your cunt. "s-so good , Oli'", you murmur, head throwing back as his tongue pushes past your entrance, slurping up your juices.

He makes out with your cunt, tongue spelling his name to your clit as his fingers replace his mouth on your entrance.

Your eyes roll to the back of your skull and you can feel his shit-eating grin against you.

He's so cocky, trying to hide the fact that his boxers are screwed tight against his hard cock, trying to ease the strain by bucking his hips into the seats. "Yeah? Feels good? 'f course it does.", he mumbles between your legs, fingers curling up inside of you.

You suck your stomach in, the pleasure roaming every inch of your body as you feel yourself nearing your release. "mmmhh- fuck! T-think I - I'm gonna cum- shit! R-right there, oli'!"

He speeds up his movements, sucking your click into his mouth while swirling his tongue around it, his fingers relentlessly massaging that gushy spot inside of you.

And once he feels your walls tightening around his digits, he retreats them, mouth covering your hole to catch your fluid inside of his mouth.

"Yeah, c'mon, pretty. Cum." His words are barely audible, but you still comply, back arching off the seats as you squirt inside his mouth, thighs clamping around his head to ride out your orgasm.

He swallows all of it, bruising tight grip still prominent on your hips. "That'ssss it."

The man doesn't stop, his hunger still not fulfilled as he continues to swirl his tongue through your folds, your heel digging into his back, legs shacking from the overstimulating pleasure.

"Ya can take one more. One more, then we'll go, I promise."

You sob, hands crawling into the leather beneath you, and you know, you'll probably skip dinner tonight.

©︎𝙎𝘼𝙏𝙍𝙎. all rights reserved. Do NOT plagiarize, copy, modify, republish, or translate my work in any way!

[jacevelaryonswife]

Supermassive Black Hole

A duo project changes some perceptions about your classmate

pairing: Michael Gavey x fem!reader

warnings: smut, period tipical misoginy (2006 guys), loss of virginity, english is not my first language.

word count: 3,297

ewanverse masterlist

When a firm knock came from the door, a name automatically entered your mind.

Gavey.

Michael Gavey.

You imagined that he would come to your meeting eventually, you actually longed to, although you didn't admit it. That idiot deserved to be put in his proper place — which was necessarily below you.

It had all started when a duo project was designated by draw earlier that day, and for both luck and bad luck your partner was the awkward genius, and difficult to deal with Michael Gavey.

There was no shortage of adjectives to be used for the unstable dirty blonde, which was truly fascinating. He intrigued you with his sharp intellect and his eccentric personality to the same extent that he repelled you with his peculiar and almost aggressive way. He was quite a figure, although you didn't allow yourself to think much about it.

It was also not a mystery that he was a true Norman No Mates, which wasn’t difficult to understand since his social skills were disastrous. The memory of him screaming at Oliver Quick in O Week never left your mind, especially the sudden change of attitude when he lowered his head and responded to the sum that Felix's pet (as your friends called him) made. You watched the whole situation closely, with a lot of curiosity, since your tables were close.

After that, whenever he entered an environment, you wondered what he would do next. You never knew what to expect from Gavey.

He started fervent debates during classes, demonstrating unparalleled intelligence and self-confidence, in addition to a slight arrogance that made him look strangely hot. Obviously a dispute of nervous male egos originated from these discussions, which made you watch with veiled fun and irritation while remaining silent. You admired the way his brain worked for math, but you didn't understand how he could be so bad at dealing with other people.

Because of this, you chose to keep a considerable distance from the horizon of events that involved Michael and his complexity, and for a long time this worked perfectly well. Until that damn moment.

Feeling humiliated by the way that insolent worm acted when trying to take responsibility for the whole activity for yourself, as if you were incompetent and incapable, you immediately confronted him about such behavior when he went to your meeting at the end of the class while you collected your material.

"Excuse me?" You asked.

"I'll finish this by Saturday, no need to worry," he repeated condescendingly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Do you think I won't participate? Or did you just choose to pretend that I don't exist?" You asked with your eyebrows furrowed, posture becoming more imposing.

He remained silent for a short moment, seeming to analyze the situation (or the best answer to it, you couldn't tell). He wasn't used to being so reluctant to say what he thought, so it was a surprise to see him using time to devise something.

"I don't like working in group, I thought it would be faster if I did everything," he looked down quickly, running away from your gaze.

"I also don't like working with other people and I didn't even think about excluding you," you replied.

“Of course you don't.” There it was. The veiled arrogance that you so hated, present in most of your classmates.

Few were your STEM classmates, since your class was mostly composed of resentful boys who did not know how to deal with a woman without seeing her as a less intelligent object. Luckily not everyone was like that and you managed to put together a really cool group.

When all you did was send a cold and angry look, Michael cleared his throat and tried to speak again, but you cut him off impatiently. "When you're less asshole look for me again, I think you have my Myspace."

Who did that little shit think it was to treat you like that? 'Of course you don't' He was so fucking pretentious! And that's because he almost couldn't keep eye contact for a long time.

Pathetic.

That skinny nerd tormented your thoughts for the rest of the afternoon and served as gossip between your friends. Predictable. The way he acted was not very different from what you imagined about his annoying self-sufficiency. And even so, there he was, stopping in front of your door (more nerdy than ever) with his laptop and notebook in hand, wearing a blue button striped shirt, black belt and cream pants. He had a terrible taste in clothes, although they totally reflected his personality, he was curious.

“I'd like to apologize for my behavior earlier, it wasn't cool,” he started as soon as you leaned carelessly against the door.

Interesting.

You considered it for a moment, looking at him before turning his back and clearing the way for him to enter your space. "It wasn't that hard, was it?" You pulled a chair for him and threw yourself dramatically on the bed before sitting down to face him, already well established and looking closely at your figure. "So... I assume you've already thought about the structure of the project."

Of course he had thought.

He opened the laptop and exposed his idea while showing some calculations in his notebook, and you made an effort to pay attention to what was said and what was sketched. Obviously his idea was good, great actually, incredibly structured and cohesive with what the professor wanted. But you also had some ideas and would like them to be taken into account, telling you what you had planned. Surprisingly, he showed to consider your suggestions, even praising them — you knew they were good, but not that his ego allowed you to visualize this. You suggested a division of parts that would be meticulously checked in a future meeting.

"As you have already started, I thought about staying with the second part, what do you think?" You asked.

"It's okay, I intend to finish tomorrow maybe, I'll forward some references by email to you."

“Sure.” It was all very bureaucratic and direct. You sneaked up to look at his laptop screen before looking at what he was typing. "I have some of these books here, but I'll look for the others."

And without realizing it, you got into a big problem.

The freshness that radiated from him flooded your senses gradually, looking too long at his neck and jaw...

He had such beautiful features and aquiline dirty blonde hair that it looked so soft. And those hands... those long fingers... no, no, no and no. You (your body) couldn't be heating up to Michael Gavey.

But it's been a while since some fun... and you were at a suggestive time of the month. Maybe... just maybe... It wasn't a bad idea. As you returned to sitting on the bed, specifically next to where his chair was, you analyzed him as he typed the references in the email. He was not bad looking, no, quite the opposite in fact.

He was handsome, really handsome. And you wanted him. You wanted Michael Gavey.

You wanted to fuck him.

Fuck that attitude.

But how? How would you approach that nervous nerd?

Your mind struggled to develop an effective approach. You didn't want to waste time, not with the heat that spread high between your legs. You just waited for him to send the damn email and close the laptop. "Do you want anything to drink?"

“I'm good. I think we ended up here, I'll try to finish my part quickly," he looked at the notebook that was on the pillow, which you anticipated to pick up and deliver it, standing up in a false farewell.

"Sure," and as soon as Michael got up with the notebook and laptop, you held his arms, gently removing the objects while placing them on your study table. "But I don't think you should go now," you used without a more seductive tone while holding his shoulders.

"What are you doing?" He asked still, tense, looking directly into your eyes.

“Are you dating someone?” You asked softly, getting closer, leaning your breasts against his chest.

"No, I'm not," he answered the obvious, but you wanted to hear the obvious with all the lyrics.

Stretching a short distance from his lips, you asked: "So can I kiss you?"

That same look seen earlier was present again, as if his mind worked hard to find a solution to the problem presented. His mouth opened minimally when he took a deep breath, this time his gaze fell on your lips. "Why do you want to kiss me?"

"Because I fucking want it."

And then you collided your lips with his in a demanding kiss that took a long time to be reciprocated, but when it was... oh boy. Michael held your waist and tried to keep up with your rhythm. He wasn’t so experienced, but his lips were soft and pleasant against yours, kissing you with so much enthusiasm that it made you dizzy.

It made you both dizzy.

He couldn't believe was happening — and that it was happening to you. You... gorgeous, sexy and intelligent. You with a nice and phenomenal ass, who he believed would never look at him twice. You, who kissed him on the tongue and moved his hands to your chest and ass and smoothed the back of his neck and massaged his shoulder. He'd never been kissed like that before. Had never touched a girl like that.

What the fuck was going on?

With the deepening of the kiss you felt a hardness to press against your belly, inhibiting a conscious smile while Michael struggled between apologizing or pretending that it was not happening. Fortunately, you didn't intend to let that be ignored. Your hand slid from the nape of his neck until it reached the increasing bulge, gently squeezing over his pants, making him moan against your lips. You squeezed again before breaking the kiss.

"I don’t wanna just kiss tonight."

Fuck. He couldn't believe what was going on.

He felt that he would cum right there if your hand kept rubbing his cock.

"Are you sure?" He asked uncertainty, still not convinced that you really wanted him that way. It was so fucking sudden, one minute he was collecting his things to leave and the next he was kissing you.

"All the certainty in the world, and you?" You sang against his lips.

"I-" that would be fucking embarrassing, you would laugh at him, "I want to but- I never-"

Oh. It wasn’t different from what you expected.

"It's okay, seriously, there's no reason to worry about it."

“... are you fucking me or something?” He asked weakly, looking at your beautiful face with lust, seriousness and insecurity. You've never seen him so vulnerable.

"Of course not, I want you Michael, I want that, but if you feel you're not comfortable we don't n-"

"I want that."

“Are you sure?”

“I'm fucking sure.”

He felt a chain of confidence run through his body and leaned over to kiss you. You wasted no time unbuttoning his shirt, groping his newly exposed soft torso. Michael almost sighed when receiving your soft touch, pulling the blouse out of your body and coming across exposed and already hardened breasts.

Fuck.

He almost moaned. They were the first tits he saw in person, it was more than exciting. He held them immediately, massaging, squeezing, experiencing...

"Not like that," you held his hands gently.

"Sorry, I never-"

“It's okay.”

Your hands landed on the belt and unbuttoned it, continuing to unbutton the pants that were urgently removed by him while you discarded your own and hovered only in panties, watching him get rid of the shoes as well. Michael had little time to get used to your half-naked figure, since with a mischievous smile, you slowly lowered your panties and left it accumulated on the floor. He felt his neck and face burn and cock pulse with your vision, contemplating for too long.

You touched him over his black underwear, feeling him hard and big, making him moan.

"I won't last long if you keep fucking touching me like that," he took a deep breath, closing his eyes.

"So why haven't you taken that off yet?" You shook his head, teasing him, watching him almost tear off his underwear and show off his cock in all splendor. He was packing, bigger than you expected, all pink, beautiful and anxious. “You have such a nice body,” you kissed him lazily, anticipation thrumming through you.

Michael felt himself in the clouds with your body pressed to his without any layer of fabric, but a big wave of anxiety hit him when you walked away to get a condom before gently guiding him to bed. “Relax, let me take control,” no foreplay would be necessary when you were already wet enough to receive it. "Take a deep breath and calm down, it's quite intense, try to be distracted by something else," you adjusted the condom to its length and saw it almost shake. That boy wouldn't last a minute.

He followed your instructions and concentrated as much as possible not to cum fast, holding firmly on your hips but nothing prepared him for your wet and hot folds.

Fuck, not even the best handjobs compare to your tight pussy going down on his cock. He moaned loudly when you rested against his groin, staring at where your bodies connected.

You bit your lips and closed your eyes, feeling deliciously full. He was bigger than average and had a delicious thickness that you would love to squeeze on your walls just to see him have a spasm, but I knew it would be too much for the beginning.

"When you want me to move, just say it."

Oh no, no! He was sure he would end up there even if you moved. "Don't move yet," he replied quickly, "Fuck," he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

It was terribly satisfying to see him all vulnerable and red, without the usual arrogance and weirdness, and even better to have him inside you (albeit for a short time presumably). He thought about all the things he heard about sex all his life in those long seconds, filtering out what seemed more credible and useful. Think of something less sexy. It was fucking hard.

“Move.”

“Enjoy baby,” you slid gently up, resting your hands on his chest as you started an experimental and slow rhythm. “Mmm.”

So damn good.

Your juices made the movements easy and smooth, leaving him breathless whenever he was balls deep. The friction generated by the constancy of the movements made you two moan and the tightness on your waist increased. He was a fucking vision with disheveled hair, half-open mouth and crooked glasses, all docile while he was fucked dumb. The feeling of power over such an intelligent man was as exciting as sex, causing a presumptuous smile on your lips when you leaned over to kiss his milky neck, rubbing your body against his.

“Are you enjoying it?” You purred against his skin, kissing him superficially on the lips.

He was in the fucking clouds. And you knew that. Little shit.

He wrapped your body to move his hips against yours. He couldn't hold it anymore, he needed to cum. "I won't last long."

“It's okay, baby.”

Your tits jumped when you started riding it hard at a terrifying pace. He closed his eyes and felt his balls weigh every time you sat on his cock, holding your waist, your tits, your ass, everything you could while you allowed it.

"Fuck- I'm-" he moaned loudly and released his load on the condom, feeling a mind-blowing pleasure that paralyzed his senses and one pulled into a supermassive black hole. A thin layer of sweat covered his body, illuminating the reddish tone that covered it.

So beautiful.

Coming out of the top, you lay comfortably next to him, supporting a part of your peso on his chest while watching him struggling to stabilize his breathing. He still couldn't believe that it had finally happened, and especially with a girl like you.

“Are you here?” You asked after a while with a fun smile, although warm between his legs. He didn't know if he was, but he replied with a panting 'yes'. "Well, because we're not done yet."

What?

“What?” He asked.

“Sex is a two-way street baby, and I haven't come yet,” you purred softly against his ear, biting the lobe.

"I don't know when I'm going to get hard again," he confessed. Well, his brain was working again.

"You don't have these long fingers for nothing, Michael, and if you want it again you'll fuck me with them."

As much as he was affected by a sudden one, his sharp senses were awakened in the implication of a next time. He faithfully believed that hard work would lead him to maximum success in his life, he could not imagine otherwise in this situation. "How should I do that?"

You purred, taking his right hand and guiding it to your wet center. "Always start here if you want to make a girl cum," you circled your bud with his fingers, enjoying the delicious feeling, showing him the place before going down to your entrance. "Start with one finger, then add another."

He followed your instructions firmly, sticking a long finger and pumping slowly. "Not so slow," you bit your lower lip, somewhat impatiently waiting for the development of a slow orgasm. You needed to cum hard. Taking his hand, you held your middle finger and attached it to your index finger. “Faster.”

And although inexperienced and a little strong sometimes, his fingers felt fucking good on your walls, reaching the sweet point that made your feet's fingers curl. “Keep going, mm.”

"Can I kiss you?"

“Yes.”

Michael collided his lips on yours in a kiss full of tongue and teeth, staying on top while he fucked you with his fingers. He was hypnotized by the sounds you were making, by the warmth of your body, by the taste of your mouth...

“I'm close!”

You couldn't believe that that sleeky nerd of all people was giving you such pleasure.

Michael got up abruptly and used the hand that held his weight to circle your clitoris, making your eyes close with the construction of an abrasive orgasm. He pumped faster, watching your body squirm and your back arch.

“Michael- I'm gonna-" your whole body trembled when the coil burst and a hot pleasure flooded your senses, holding the sheets and closing your legs with the strong spasms.

It was the hottest thing he'd ever seen in his life. And he did that. He made you cum. Michael was still very stunned with everything that happened, watching your figure before being pulled to lie next to you. You rested your head on his chest with a satisfied and tired smile, giving light kisses on his skin, relaxed with the post-orgasm fog.

“Did you like it?” You asked to break the ice.

"You've already asked better questions," he joked with a hoarse laugh, "Of course I fucking liked it."

“Mmm, I like to make sure,” you replied, facing his beautiful blue eyes behind the slightly blurred lenses.

Having your body so close (and with everything that happened) Michael felt his cock contract and a new electric current run through his body. "So there's going to be a next time?"

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general: @succnfuccubus @fan-goddess @kravitzwhore @partypoison00

ewanverse: @aemonds-fire @partypoison00 @schniiipsel @fan-goddess @arcielee

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thank you smm @solisarium for the help with this ❤️

[sincerelyverena]

⟡⁺ PUPPY PRINCESS

. . . OLIVER QUICK X FELIX CATTON X FEM!READER ‘you know me as your boyfriend's goofy friend.’ @watercolorskyy

inbox is always open to requests!

in whichꕀ

✦ ﹒as felix's girlfriend, you've never had a longing for anyone else. except oliver. you bring up the idea of the two of you fucking the meeker male, and surprisingly, felix complies.

tagsꕀ

✦ ﹒smut ﹐threesome ﹐sub!oliver ﹐dom!felix ﹐reader and felix are an established pairing ﹐reader is a freak﹐reader treating oliver like the princess he is ﹐mainly focused on reader and oliver﹐felix is the core of the pairing ﹐mutual pining ﹐public sex﹐pussy worship ﹐tongue-fucking ﹐anal ﹐pet names ﹐implied aftercare

THANK YOU TO MY WONDERFUL BETA READERS: @sparklehani ﹐@vikwrites

Oliver Quick. Your kryptonite. 

Feeble Oliver from Oxford, who would’ve guessed? Over the fragile rim of the porcelain tea cup pressed to your lips, you scrutinized an oblivious Oliver. A particular aura radiated off of him, a glow you had never encountered from your brief acquaintance on campus. 

Was it attractive? Immensely.

You adverted your attention off Oliver as a skyscraper-remanent individual bounded through the doorway. A chorus of greetings rose in the air at the sight of Felix Catton, the contagious energy you esteem to be your boyfriend of six months. The manicured length of your nails tapped along your fragile teacup as Felix made a beeline straight to the vacant seat beside you.

“I told you to go easy with the wine, Fi.” You scolded him playfully, reaching upward to draw your thumbs across the thin, darkened areas illustrating Felix’s under-eyes.

The molten brown of Felix’s eyes twinkle mischievously. “I drank it like any other bottle of alcohol you offered me.”

You inclined your head upwards, heart giving an absentminded flutter as you felt the warmth of his lips encaptured your own. It was more of a peck, rather than a kiss but the searing heat you reciprocated was a welcoming sensation nevertheless.

“Wine makes you sleepy though.”

Felix responded with a joking grumble and a hand to the inner mound of your thigh. The corners of your lips quirk up endearingly. 

As you drew your attention to the lukewarm cup of tea perched before you, you caught sight of Oliver. More specifically, how the coolness of his ocean-dripping eyes bored into you. The fashion in which the thick lashes lined his eyes, which fluttered innocently. How the aquamarine speckles of his hues flickered towards Felix, who rubbed absentminded circles into the base of your thigh. A heat circulated in his surveying gaze, a heat that directly arrowed toward your abdomen. Pooling, molten warmth that dripped down the sleight of your back and ran under your skin.

The edge of your tongue flickers over your suddenly dry lips. All you can think about. All you can even render is the idea of Felix’s girth straining against Oliver’s heat. His best friend’s head smuggled between your thighs.

The scandalous nature of these images protrudes your thoughts for the rest of the day. The heat that resulted followed you to the point where you were aware of how your arousal soaked a patch through your thong.

As the hours ticked by, the horizon continuously darkened. Ridding the atmosphere from the rays of sun illuminance. The sky is painted in a fluid darkness. Stars scattered the canvas of twilight, an immense contrast against the crystal-clear waters of the estate rivers. Shadows chased each other across Saltburn, like spirits, discovered in every untouched crook and crevice. The ideal scenery for the night swim Felix had prompted you and the three others into.

Farleigh and Venetia had made an early exit a few minutes prior, tired eyes proclaiming a desire for their beds. This left you and Felix, the two of you sprawled upon inclined lounges by one of the various lakes tucked into the estate yards. Oliver, on the other hand, drifts across the deep, clear waters that rippled around his physique. Revealing a stomach that caused the ache haunting the space between your thighs to intensify in nature. 

Your horny, dazed nature had returned.

“You’re thinking hard right now, aren’t you?” Felix prompted, a soft tinge prominent in his tone. His head inclined, and the roundness of his eyes bored immensely into you. Served as a signal that he had been watching you for some time.

You lolled your head back against the lounge chair behind you. Your gaze had prominently latched onto every singular droplet of water that rolled off of the muscles that rippled throughout Oliver’s silhouette.

Your next words escaped you bluntly. “I want us to fuck him.”

“Never knew you were interested in Oliver like that.”

“I have no damn clue what happened to him since Oxford but…”

You didn’t have to complete your sentence as you sucked in a sharp breath, finally tearing your eyes away from him completely to meet the darkness of Felix’s gaze.

“Whatever makes my princess happy.” Felix complied without missing a beat.

Felix was brisk to inch towards you, leaning over the slight bridge of a gap between the both of you. The lushness of his lips met the crevice of your neck, burying himself into you. Drowning him in the fragrance that practically dripped off of you. The soft motions of his lips intensified the roar of want dripping from your womanhood. You choked back a strangled gasp as the long frame of Felix’s fingers slipped underneath the scarce fabric of your bikini bottoms. Digits rolling to explore the gushing wetness that circulated between your folds.

“Ollie!” Felix's voice rang over his shoulder, blissfully ignorant to the fashion in which you buckled upwards for a hitch of friction.

In the hue of his loudness, Oliver’s head popped upwards from his current floating state. If you weren’t overwhelmed by the heat that sparked from each skim of Felix’s fingers, you’d let out a good-hearted chuckle at how wide-eyed Oliver looked at this moment.

“Yeah?”

“Come and help my girl out, would you?”

Oliver sauntered toward you with an indescribable emotion playing in his doe remanent eyes. His expression refused to falter, not even in the slightest as his gaze adverted toward the sight of Felix teasing your heat.

Virtually, you were on the edge of release as soon as you witnessed how Oliver dropped to his knees in front of you. Felix refused to remove his hand, even as Oliver shoved the fabric of your bikini bottoms aside to reveal your wetness. 

You murmured a wordless prayer to whatever god reigned above as Oliver released a low whistle, the base of his tongue wetting his lips as he took in the altar you presented before him.

“We don’t have all day, Ollie.” Felix drawled onwards, the base of his forefinger continuing to prod the throbbing pearl lining your entrance.

Oliver obeyed, leaned forward, and licked a harsh swipe of saliva across your heat. Your back involuntarily arched at the sensation that followed, prompting the man before you to virtually submit himself to you. Head between your legs, just as you imagined the hours prior. 

“Does that feel good, baby?” Felix murmured into the husk of your ear.

A barely incomprehensible response escaped the edge of your lips. The combination of Oliver working his mouth between your folds and Felix’s soothing motions across the nub of your clit resulted in hot, heavy sparks of pleasure building up at the base of your spine. 

You buckled your hips upwards, practically on the verge of face-fucking Oliver. “Oh, my fucking…” 

“[Y/N]...” Oliver murmured into your heat, the vibrations rooted from his mumbled words arrowed straight to your pooling core. The hand that wasn’t on the verge of tearing off your bikini bottoms completely clawed around the base of your thigh, drawing himself closer.

As if your body was a temple, and you were a goddess.

The length of your legs draped over the bareness of his back, the sensations of his muscles rippling with effort felt throughout your calves. The cool, wet skin of his shoulders pressed against you was a feeling beyond words.

Your orgasm began to trickle in with a singular stuffing of Oliver’s tongue. A cry rips itself from your throat, writhing with each pump. 

“Ollie– Christ, right there baby…” 

Saliva gradually begins to roll down the base of Oliver’s chin with effort, peering up at you with those fucking eyes as he continues to pound your wetness. With a few more ruts of his tongue, you came undone underneath his mouth. A strangled cry escapes you involuntarily, vision blurring momentarily as shockwaves grapple your entire being.

The force of your words escaped you in slight breaths. “Where the fuck did you learn how to do that, Ollie?”

“Well…” Oliver’s cheeks flushed before he continued to lick up every last drop of your release, stimulating your throbbing heat once again.

You slumped back into the frame of the lounge chair underneath you. Amid your post-peak haze, the choked noises of Felix’s heavy breathing cut through the air like a knife. You hadn’t even noticed he had removed his hand in the first place. Through the corner of your heavy-lidded eyes, you spied Felix, palming himself through his swimming trunks' thin, flimsy material. 

“Fuck… Ollie, get to your feet.” Felix mustered in between strained words, managing to hold a reign of command over the young man planted before you.

The lounge chair squeaked beneath you with a strain of effort as you prop yourself up on the bridge of your elbows. A slight smirk gradually threatened the corner of your lips as you watched Felix stalk towards Oliver, step-by-step, inch-by-inch. All whilst teasing the waistband of his summer shorts. 

Felix’s taller statue practically leered downward at the shorter male like a beast, a predator to his prey. The broadness of his body strained against the muscles lining Oliver’s back. The harsh ripple of Felix’s swimming trunks being discarded sounded throughout the otherwise quiet atmosphere, accompanied by the short whimper that reverberated from Oliver at the mere concept of Felix pressing himself against him.

The broadened surface of Felix’s fingers fiddled with the top of Oliver’s summer shorts. The commanding hues of his voice corresponded with the thin rustle of fabric. “Do you want to fuck my pretty baby right here, Ollie?”

The azure speckles that lined Oliver’s eyes virtually burned into you with the intensity of his stare. As you sprawled out upon the lounge chair right in his proximity, your bikini brief dangled loosely upon the rim of your ankles. Presenting yourself to him in the process.

Oliver managed to muster a nod. “I would be honored.” His voice sounded strained with arousal, no doubt.

With a lack of warning, Felix lowered Oliver’s trunks until his erection escaped without struggle. There wasn’t any question about how undeniably hard he was, especially when Felix pressed into him. 

With a signature rip of foil, the male who stood over you began to attempt to line himself up with the slickness of your heat. A soft gasp, brimmed with desperation, reverberated from Oliver as Felix continued to tease his hole. Oliver wrung his palms around the arms of the lounge chair you possessed, making it easier for Felix to push into Oliver with a singular thrust and a line of saliva. 

Oliver’s breaths picked up the pace as Felix began to work his heat further. His eyes grew a tad glossier at the immense discomfort brewing in his tight hole. 

“Felix…”

“Don’t keep my princess waiting now.” Felix exaggerated the intensity of his words with a simple grinding motion of his hips against Oliver’s own.

Oliver’s breath had noticeably caught in the hollow of his throat. He obeyed though, wordlessly. Was it the harsh hues of Felix’s demanding words? Or the fashion in which Felix gradually thrusts in and out of Oliver’s heat, teasing his hole further. Encouragement. If you will.

Oliver’s girth buried itself into your willing cunt, inch by inch until his cock had disappeared fully into your body. Your lips parted absentmindedly at the remote concept of his size. Molten heat pooled throughout your abdomen at the sight of Oliver towering over you, puffing out a strained breath as Felix quickened his pace behind him.

Eyes half-lidded and cheeks flushed, Oliver began shifting his hips. A smooth tempo of his thrusts stimulates your inner walls, resulting in a slight moan reverberating from you. Felix’s eyes notably shift into something else entirely at the sound, his girth rutting Oliver with a spark of intensity.

“Wasn’t that hard, was it, Ollie?” Felix drawled onwards, a hint of teasing prominent as he slammed himself deeper into Oliver’s heat. The hue of Oliver’s whimpers fell upon deaf ears as Felix continued to draw out his words. “So good for us.”

The double doses of pleasure resulted in the heated flush of Oliver’s cheeks creeping down his neck. The sensual pace of his lips grew deeper, a tad sloppier as Oliver’s back involuntarily arched in protest. “This… is– fuck, Felix…”

“You can do this, baby.” You purred amid tangent breaths, peering upward at Oliver with a pair of lust-drenched eyes. Capable of causing Oliver to peak right there, right then. “Mmm… I’ll help ya’ out.”

Oliver couldn’t have gotten a word in at all before you draped the length of your legs across his bare waist. His hips inclined closer to you in the process, your pelvis tilted upward to allow the flushed male to pound into areas you never thought were possible.

“Christ, [Y/N]... [Y/N].”

The dirty sound of your name on his lips like a prayer, accompanied by the hot, searing pleasure burning through you caused your release to threaten you. Building up along your spine. Threatened to unleash with every buckle of Oliver’s hips, searing into you.

“She’s good at this, ain’t she, Ollie?” Felix taunted light-heartedly, broadened palms clutching along the bone of Oliver’s hips. Grinding him backward into his cock, still jacking away into his hole.

The newfound sensation brought a strangled gasp to rip out of Oliver’s throat, eyes slammed closed momentarily. “So… fucking tight.”

A soft chuckle bore Felix, hips striking ass as the roll of his girth grew to a brutal pace. Soft grunts of delight escaped Oliver, but his poundings grew sloppier and sloppier – signaling how close he was. 

The lack of attention upon your wetness made you groan absentmindedly. “Ollie, you… fucking prick.”

Heat convulsing with a need to peak, you drew Oliver further back into you via his hips. His girth struck a key sensitivity within you, once. Twice. Thrice. Until the tension that built up within you dissolved into mere pleasure, virtually seeing stars as Oliver’s name played upon your lips like a prayer to the Gods.

By the time you returned to reality, Oliver wrothe at his peak. His hips had jerked, spilling every drop of his release into the rubbery goodness rolled over his tip. Felix had followed shortly afterward, the toned nature of his silhouette glistening with newfound sweat. His pleasure-laced groans sliced the air as he proceeded to flood himself into Oliver. Felix reached upward, palm curled around the hollow of his throat and inclining his head backward as he rode out his orgasm.

“That’s it, Ollie. So good for me.”

In the midst of you catching your breath, you witnessed Oliver bathed in the light of Felix’s praise. Mouth agape. Azure eyes speckled with nothing but absolute pride. Eventually, Felix released Oliver, leaving a blooming red mark illustrating the crook of his neck in his wake. The silence drew on momentarily as the males managed to catch their breath.

“You never answered my question, Ollie.” You prompted after a few beats, leaned over to pull your bikini briefs over your hips once more. “Where did you learn how to do that?”

“[Y/N]...” Oliver started, yet failed to finish as his cheeks flushed with adoration.

“Slow down on the investigations, doll.” Felix chimed in, his once dominant exterior melted down into the playful guy we all had known to love. He clasped Oliver on the shoulder, so casually, that you wouldn’t have guessed he was inside him a few minutes prior. “I think our dear Ollie has had enough for one day.”

You gave a teasing roll of your eyes but didn't press onward. Instead, you extended your arms out in a singular grand motion. “C’mere then, both of you.”

As the two males tucked themself into the base of your shoulders, you realized that they would do everything for you. 

And you would do anything for them.

WORD COUNT: 2K MASTERLIST REQ ME!

[monster-disaster]

[wolf-shifter] Oliver

wolf-shifter!Oliver x human!male!Reader Good to know: malexmale, rut, smut

Summary: You are worried about your friend so you visit him.

A/N: Shelby's story can be found on my Patreon.

"Need a hand?" you ask, scratching the back of your head while eyeing the boxes piled haphazardly in the middle of the street. Screws glint in the early morning light, scattered across the ground in a mess.

"No, it's fine," the young woman replies, waving you off with a forced, tired smile. "You've got more important things to do than clean up someone else's screw-up."

A huff escapes your lips as you try to suppress a laugh, but a grin spreads across your face anyway. "Screw-up," you repeat.

"Go back to your buns," your neighbor from the hardware store chuckles. Her once-tense posture slowly relaxes as she tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"You sure? Looks like a real pain," you offer again, casting another glance at the chaotic mess of supplies.

"Yeah," she nods, but her smile falters for just a moment, replaced by a brief, tight grimace. "It's not the first time," she mutters.

You want to press her a bit more, but a quick glance at the watch on your wrist reminds you that if you don’t get back to the bakery soon, the croissants will soon be smoking in the oven. "Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me."

The sound of her shuffling the boxes lingers behind you as you head back to your shop.

_

"Hello," you smile. "What can I get for you?"

"Just the usual, please," comes the reply, and without even thinking, your hand is already reaching for the bagels neatly displayed beneath the glass counter. The warmth from them seeps through the paper bag as you hand it over.

"Thanks. Have a good day," they say, already on their way out.

"You too," you call after them, but your voice is swallowed by the steady hum of the shop. Behind you, the espresso machine hisses, adding to the busy chatter all around.

The bell above the door jingles again, a soft chime that blends into the rhythm of customers coming and going. The line at the counter never seems to shrink. It seems like it stretches with each passing second, and you have barely any time to catch your breath between the orders.

"Mornin'," the familiar deep voice draws your attention away from the counter. The rag you use for cleaning is forgotten as soon as you see the man standing in front of you.

"Hello," you smile, straightening your posture without your noticing. "What can I get for you?"

"Two baguettes, please," Oliver replies, and you nod, turning away from him to reach for his order, yet keeping an eye on him the whole time.

The man you have known since kindergarten looks disheveled, more tired than usual. His hunched posture and the light sheen of sweat on his forehead under the bakery's bright lights make you frown.

"Are you okay?" You ask him.

"'m fine," he mutters, leaning against the counter like he's struggling to stay on his feet.

The wrinkle between your brows deepens. "Oliver-"

"I'm fine, Y/N," he grunts with a frustrated edge to his voice. "Don't worry about it."

Don’t worry about him. You almost scoff. Ever since he left Ironridge to join the military worrying about him is all you do.

"Sure," you say quietly, biting back the questions crowding your mind. The line behind him is growing, and you don't have the time to dig deeper, no matter how much you want to.

He takes the bag from you while already turning to leave. "Thanks."

"I'll call you later," you nearly shout after him, and even though he doesn't react as he makes his way to the exit, you know his sensitive werewolf ears hear you.

The usual morning rush slowly fades, and when you finally have a moment to yourself, you pack a small bag and fresh coffee to take over to your neighbor as a pick-me-up for her tough morning.

The streets are now bustling with activity; stores are open, and people move about their day. The sun shines down over the rugged mountains and woods surrounding the town, yet the air still carries a crisp hint of the approaching autumn.

The bell in the hardware store jingles as you push open the door, your gaze lingering on the boxes still piled outside. "Y/N—Oh," your greeting falters when you notice she is not alone. Shelby throws you an unimpressed glance, but you don't take it personally. You aren't sure if the orc has any other expressions.

"What are you doing here?" your neighbor asks, putting back something on the counter before turning her full attention on you.

You lift the paper bag and plastic cup with a smile. “Breakfast. On the house. Looks like you've earned it.”

"Oh, thank you!"

"Are you sure you don't need help?" you ask, placing the bag and cup on the counter. Your eyes flick to the boxes stacked near the window. "They look heavy, and I've got time."

Before she can answer, Shelby's gruff voice slices through the conversation. "I will take care of it," she says firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. She points at your neighbor. "You, eat."

"Shelb—"

"Eat," Shelby insists, then steps out to tackle the boxes with determined strides.

You stand there, trying to hold back a chuckle. "She's in a good mood today," you tease. "But if I'm not needed, I should probably head back to the bakery."

"Bye," the young woman hums, still a bit dazed by the sudden turn of events, and you have to bite your tongue to stop yourself from teasing her further.

When you get outside, you grin at Shelby while nodding her way, but she scowls back at you without a sound. Typical. She hoists the boxes effortlessly, barely noticing the bustle of people flowing around her. The town is now fully awake, with traffic picking up and the stores on the main street open for business.

Back inside the shop, you pull out your phone, sending a quick text to Oliver. Are you okay? Just as you tuck the device away, the clock strikes twelve, and a fresh wave of customers begins to pour in.

The rest of the day passes in a blur of baking and filling orders, each task blending seamlessly into the next. Before long, you are locking the shop door while the sun is already sinking behind the distant mountains. As you settle into your car, you suddenly remember the message you sent, but when you check the phone, there is no answer from the other man.

"Okay," you huff under your breath. "Change of plans."

Oliver lives in a small cabin in the woods. He bought the place after he came back from the army. He needed space and privacy, and his wolf was calmer so close to nature.

A narrow, hidden path leads you into the forest. The green of the trees looks tired now with the fall in the doorway, but the canopy above is still thick, barely letting any silver of light through the branches. Your car stumbles up on the dirt road as the wheels fight with the bumps and pits on the way.

By the time you reach the small wooden building, the sun is behind the horizon, with only thin rays of light painting a slight blush on the otherwise clear sky. Among the tall, towering trees, the cabin is old but well-kept, with fresh renovations here and there. There is a porch with only one chair and empty flower boxes on the windows.

Leaving your car next to his, you grab the small bag of pastries you intended to eat for dinner. The crinkling of the paper bag sounds unusually loud in the quiet evening air. You knock on the front door, but after several attempts with no answer, a frown tugs at your lips. You are almost entirely sure he is home, and there is no way he can't hear you. You test the handle, and to your surprise, the door swings open easily. It’s unlocked.

"Oliver?" you call, stepping inside. The house feels too quiet, a strange stillness clinging to the air as if it’s holding its breath.

"Are you home?" you try again, your voice echoing slightly in the stillness. No answer. Not even the faintest sound of movement.

"Oliver!" Stepping into the house, you close the door behind you and leave the small paper bag on the kitchen table. "I brought you food." Your steps creak on the stairs as you make your way up to the second floor.

"Oliver?"

A frown pulls at your features as you near his bedroom. Muffled groans and labored breaths filter through the thick wooden door, growing louder with each step you take.

"Oliver?" you call again, your voice softer this time, a mix of concern and hesitation. There's no response, only the strained, irregular sounds from beyond the door.

The doorknob is cold in your hand as you turn it and push the door open.

The sight of him takes your breath away.

He lies in the tangled mess of his bed, naked and spread across the sheets. A thin layer of sweat glistens on his flushed skin, and beneath, his muscles twitch and flex, caught in a rhythm between agony and release. His chest expands with every ragged breath, and your gaze from the tense plates of his muscles wanders down across his stomach to the happy trail leading down your attention between his thick thighs. His cock juts out, hard and leaking onto his lower belly.

Oliver is caught somewhere between human and wolf. His triangular ears twitch at the sound of your footsteps, tracking your approach even as his glazed eyes remain half-closed. A heavy, furred tail sways lazily beneath him, brushing against the sheets. The slow movement is in contrast with the violent changes rippling through his body. His usually toned, muscular frame is hairier now, with dark fur creeping across his chest and shoulders. His back arches off the bed, and a low growl escapes his lips as his body convulses. His muscles bulge, stretching and thickening with each passing second. You can see his fingers elongating, transforming into claws as his hands dig into the bed. His face, once familiar, begins to morph, the bones cracking audibly as his mouth stretches into a long muzzle.

"I—" Oliver wheezes between ragged breaths, his voice rough and strained as his body continues to betray him. "I forgot the pills."

Oh

Werewolves without partners rely on suppressants to dull the intensity of their heat or rut. These pills help manage the unbearable desire, easing the physical and emotional strain that comes with it. Without it, however, the experience shifts from manageable to agonizing and tense, turning what should be a few days of discomfort into a feverish nightmare that can stretch into a week or longer. Without the suppressants, Oliver is left to endure the full force of it. His body burns from the inside out in a constant state of arousal that offers no relief, only exhaustion, no matter how many times he relieves himself. The fever takes its toll, leaving him trapped in a haze of desire, weakened and drained by the time it finally passes. His usual control is gone, replaced by raw instinct, and a deep, aching hunger burns and only grows in his stomach. His wolf claws to the surface, pushing his boundaries and testing his limits.

"What can I do?" you ask, placing your hand on his forehead, though the thick fur covering his body makes it impossible to feel his skin.

Oliver's long mouth opens, but the words blur into a drawn-out whine as his fingers curl around your wrist. His grip is shaky but enough to keep you close.

"Please," he whispers, heart racing. His hips buck upward, his cock bobbing beneath its own weight. The sight leaves you breathless.

"Oliver-"

"Please," he whines again with desperation.

Before you can process what’s happening, he pulls you onto the bed beside him. You tumble onto the messy sheets, and in an instant, his arms are wrapped around you, dragging you against him with an urgency that sends a thrill down your spine. His hips grind against the rough fabric of your jeans, a rhythm fueled by the fire burning his veins. His hand slips beneath your shirt, claws grazing over your stomach and up to your chest. The tickling sensation makes your muscles jerk, and a shocked moan escapes your lips when his fingers find your nipple, teasing and pulling until it's hard under his impatient touches.

"C'mere," he huffs, propping himself on one elbow to bury his face into the curve of your neck. You can hear every deep breath he takes, sniffing you and letting his nose run along your skin and pulse.

"Oliver," you gasp, fingers raking through the soft, brownish hair on his shoulder. You feel his muscles moving, tense and alive, as his hips continue to thrust against your hips, leaving a dark patch on your pants.

The sight of this powerful man becoming a begging, whimpering mess under the delirium of his rut sends a rush of heat through you. Arousal floods your veins, and the zipper of your jeans presses painfully against your own erection. Your reaction to this big male so desperate and pathetic is automatic. At this point, you aren't even sure if you have the will to say no to him.

"I'm here," you tell him softly, trying to ground him amidst the chaos. Your hands move up and down on his back, letting your fingers glide through his fur. "'m here."

"Please."

You hesitate. Uncertainty swirls in your mind as you open and close your lips to say something. "Oliver..."

As if he’s reading your thoughts, his arms go still around you, and the air thickens with tension. His whole body goes rigid, afraid you will get up and leave him like this. "Don’t," he growls. "Don’t stop."

"Oliver," you murmur his name again. The weight of his desire hangs heavy between you, and you can’t help but feel drawn to him despite the sane part of your mind trying to stop you.

You met Oliver in kindergarten. It all started when you slid down the slide, and he happened to be on his way up on the wrong side. Before either of you realized what was happening, you both ended up in a heap at the bottom. You both groaned as you sent him tumbling onto your stomach, elbows first.

From that moment, you accepted him as your best friend, and he had no choice in the matter. You became a pair through thick and thin.

You were there when he enlisted in the military, and you were there when he came home to visit. And eventually, when he came back for good, you helped him find solace in the woods, away from the noises of the world.

And now, it's you and him again.

"On your back," you instruct gently, turning him until you are above him. His long arms are still holding you close. "It's okay. Let me take care of you."

He growls low in response, the sound vibrating through you as you let your hands explore his body. Beneath the warmth of his fur, you feel the hard contours of his chest and the thin layer of softness that has settled in since he left the army. He’s buff and thick, a blend of strength and comfortable softness that awakens a new desire in you. For a fleeting second, you forget about his leaking cock just a few inches away from you and almost let yourself rest on him, snuggling close.

Sliding down his tall body, you settle down between his legs. Your shoulders brush against his thighs as your hand wraps around his erection. The warmth radiating from your palm makes a thick bead of pre-cum drip down his shaft. Your fingers curl around him, moving your thumb up and down while exploring his length.

"Fuck," Oliver cries out. His hips instinctively buck up, and the pink tip brushes over your lips, emitting another growl from his throat.

"I'm here," you reassure him softly, your voice steady despite the racing of your heart.

Leaning in, you take a deep breath of his warm, musky scent and let your mouth envelop the sensitive head of his cock. His warmth fills your mouth as you suck gently, lapping at the small opening. He is heavy and salty on your tongue. As you explore him further, your tongue swipes over a vein bulging underneath his skin, brushing over the outline while you maintain a steady grip. You can feel his body reacting to each movement. His muscles tense and relax, and his breathing becomes more erratic with each passing second. His chest is heavy with need and desire.

“God, you feel so good,” he grunts, his voice hoarse with desperation.

Glancing up at him, your lips curve upwards as much as it's possible with this thick girth in your mouth. He looks like a proper mess, spread out on the bed, breathless and half-delirious. So, you deepen your efforts, taking him a little further until he hits the back of your throat, and both of you moan at the new sensation. You can see your voice rippling through his body, making him shake and tremble.

“Just like that,” he encourages breathlessly. His fingers tangle in your hair, guiding you gently up and down on his leaking cock and keeping you around his base every now and again.

His breaths become ragged, and a low growl escapes his lips as he nears the edge. His chest heaves, and his back arches until his muscles grow tight and hard.

“Please,” he whispers, strained. “I’m close.”

Increasing your pace, you match the rhythm of his breathing. You can feel his pre-cum and your own saliva dripping down your chin as you move up and down, letting your tongue swipe up across the underside of his length and linger around the tip of his cock.

The air thickens as he goes tense and rigid beneath you, and with one final thrust, he lets out a low groan. The sound resonates deep within you, throbbing down straight to your cock. His body shudders in the next second as he reaches his peak, and you brace yourself, feeling the rush of his release. He is thick and salty in your mouth, and you gulp around him as much as you can, but the long spurts of his cum leave a mess on your face and around his cock anyway.

As Oliver recovers from the intensity of his orgasm, a new spark ignites in his eyes, and before you know it, with a swift motion, he flips you onto your hands and knees. His movements are both commanding and careful. The sudden change of position sends a rush of adrenaline through your body, making your nerves buzz with a thrill that heightens your senses.

You kneel at the top of his bed while the wolf behind you tugs down your clothes hurriedly, ripping into the thin fabric of your shirt as he gets rid of it and throws it onto the ground carelessly.

"Hey," you groan, half-laughing, but your friend is too busy to reply.

His attention is on the shifting muscles on your back and the straight line of your spine that lead him down to the tight curves of your ass. A low rumble escapes his throat at the sight, and suddenly, his large hands are on you. His long fingers dig into your flesh, kneading and groping your cheeks to his heart's content.

"Fuck," Oliver groans. "I will take care of you."

You huff, letting your weight rest on your elbows. "I don't doubt it." Your lips are open to say something else, but the words blur into a loud wheeze when you feel him spreading you open, letting his thumb brush over your exposed hole. Your body reacts on instinct, pushing back against him for more. Your back arches, and your muscles tense with impatience.

His next words make you forget how to breathe for several seconds. "I can't wait to taste you."

Without waiting for an answer, Oliver leans down and lets his tongue swipe a wide, wet path between your cheeks. He teases and prepares you slowly, curling his long tongue before slipping past the tight rim of your hole to soak you in his saliva. Every lap and grope on your ass punches a new sound out of your chest you barely recognize as your own.

"Oliver," you breathe out his name, pressing your forehead against the messy bedsheets underneath you. "Fuck me. Pleasefuckme!"

"Soon," he growls back, slipping a finger inside you slowly and carefully. He watches you open up to him while you moan and groan at the other side, rocking your hips back and forth to make him hurry.

You burn and stretch around his finger, but every fiber of your body begs for more, driving you half-crazy with the need for the wolf. Your mind is dizzy. The world shifts and swirls around you several times until you close your eyes.

Oliver nips at your flesh, letting his sharp canines brush over your skin while adding another finger to make you wheeze and jerk at the new sensation. Your cock, between your spread thighs, bobs with every relentless movement of your hips and leaks onto the bed, hard and sensitive. You know one touch would be enough to make you cum, but your senses are so focused on the wolf behind you that touching yourself doesn't even cross your mind.

By the time Oliver is done stretching you, you are nothing but a drooling, moaning mess under him.

"Hold onto something," the male warns, but it almost makes you laugh. There is just enough strength in you to keep yourself in position, you seriously doubt you could hold onto anything.

"Just fuck me finally," you croak, pushing back when you finally feel his cock rubbing and prodding at your hole.

Soon, the bedroom is filled with the sounds of your moans blending into his low, desperate growls. His breathy grunts fan over the nape of your neck as he rocks into you, edging you closer and closer to your orgasm without touching your cock even once. Your whole body is on fire and ready to burst with pleasure. The base of your spine tingles, sending ripples through every twitching muscle that rocks back and forth against the other male's rhythm.

"Fuckfuckfuck," you chant airy, lungs burning from the lack of oxygen.

"Cum for me," Oliver almost howls, hips stuttering as he feels his own pleasure building. You feel like a glove around him, tightening and fluttering as you writhe and chase your orgasm. One of his large hands from your shoulder, slips down on your side and down between your legs. His fingers barely have any time to curl around your raging hard-on when you cum with a shout.

White-hot pleasure strikes through you, igniting every nerve with a force that leaves your muscles taut and trembling until they slowly melt under the intensity. The rush overwhelms you. Your mind swirls, and your body convulses around the male behind you. Oliver holds onto you as if his life depended on it. You feel him shudder, his breath ragged as his restraint snaps only moments later. His low, guttural growl fills the air, and the sound only pulls you deeper into the blissful haze.

When you open your eyes again, you’re lying on your side, cradled against Oliver's chest. His arms are wrapped around you protectively. His heat seeps into your skin. His breath is steady and warm against your neck, but you feel the tension still humming in his body. Your limbs feel heavy and weak to do much more than nestle into his hold.

"Sleep," the wolf hums behind you, pressing his nose against your pulse. "I will need you again soon." His words carry both a promise and a warning, and you feel a lazy smile tug at the corner of your mouth as your body surrenders to rest.

The following days blur together. Time loses meaning as Oliver’s rut consumes you both, and everything beyond the two of you fades away. Food, water, and even coherent thoughts seem secondary. You try to call your friend to manage the bakery, but even that feels distant as the wolf’s insistent presence dominates your world.

It’s only when you wake one morning and find his side of the bed empty that you know the fever has passed. The sheets are cool where he once lay. With legs still shaky, you drag yourself into a quick shower, borrowing one of his worn shirts and a pair of pants before making your way downstairs where you hear him moving around.

"Just in time," the man says, putting two glasses onto the table when you appear at the bottom of the stairs. "I'm sure you are hungry," he grins at you wolfishly, motioning to the food laid out on the table.

You groan, rolling your eyes. "Shut up."

He laughs but motions you to sit down.

For a while, the only sounds are the clinking of utensils and the soft stirrings of nature outside. The sun filters through the window, casting a warm, golden glow over the scene.

You clear your throat, searching for words. "About the last few days..." The unfinished sentence hangs in the air, awkward and uncertain. You don’t know exactly what you want to say, but the need to address it lingers.

Oliver interrupts before you can find the words. "How about a date?" he asks suddenly, his tone casual but his eyes watching you closely. "At your favorite place."

You blink in surprise, caught off guard by the suggestion. A smile slowly forms as you meet his gaze. "Yeah," you say, a little more softly than you intended. "I'd like that."

Oliver isn’t one to openly share his feelings, but this- this is a good start.

[kumememe]

new beginnings (felix catton x m!reader)

warnings: none, just felix being intrigued by you. proofread a little bit, might do a part two soon if people like it. send in requests if you want, but note that I only do male and transmasc readers. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

a cool autumn breeze danced gently across the field of webbe college, gracing the students with its presence. the sun softly casts its sunlight upon the old, slightly rustic buildings as they emit a yellow-orange glow. the timely place felt as if nothing had changed or caught the attention of students until- felix catton. the so-called 'prince of oxford,' the shining star amidst the otherwise dark and gloomy galaxy. the moment he stepped in on campus, everyone knew who he was. he wasn't doing it intentionally, it was just what the universe has bestowed upon him. it's just how he naturally is. he was meant to be the center of attention, the one who gets everything and anyone he wants without any effort. with his six foot-five stature, fluffy dark hair, flashy smile, and aloof nature- he brings people in like a moth to the light. students would do anything to be in his posse because of his magnetic charm, where they hang onto his every word as if he were a saint on a pedestal. at this point, people may as well bow down to him and kiss his feet. it is not like he wouldn't mind, after all, since that is how his life has always been. his aura was hard to miss, hard to ignore, and yet.. someone changed that.

felix took a drag of his cigarette as he leaned against the wall of the college hallways, talking to some students who wanted to ask him about something unimportant. he was used to girls and boys asking him about the most mundane things just to get closer to him, the touch him subtly on the shoulder with their flirty gazes. it was normal, but oh so boring. he listened to some girl chatter on about how she wanted to take him out sometime, but his focus was caught somewhere else, specifically across the hall. a guy, about average height, wearing a windbreaker jacket that hugged his figure nicely, chunky glasses that almost hid his piercing e/c-colored eyes, black denim jeans that accentuated his thick thighs, and a pair of tattered sneakers that looked like it was worn for years. he observed his mannerisms quietly, the conversations that occurred around him quickly falling silent as his eyes stuck to the male across the hall. felix knew that he was just another average joe, but something about the way the other male quietly walked inside the library, adjusted his headphones, and avoided those around him... it made felix realize how out-of-place the latter was.

felix quietly makes his way toward the boy, ignoring the stares that he gets from the confused posse around him as they watch him do so. his confident stride noticeable from afar, fixing his hair a bit as he followed him inside the library. He quietly makes his way to the counter, leaning against it as he watches the other return his books. he cleared his throat as he showed off his charming grin, "hello." startled, the mysterious figure took his headphones off, letting it hang around his neck as he nodded slightly to the taller male, "hey." the mysterious figure didn't budge nor adjust his attitude when it came to felix, which surprised the tall male slightly. he was used to people having immediate recognition of his significance or popularity as they cower to him like prey when they meet the predators, but with the latter, it seemed like barely even knew who he was. at that moment of unfamiliarity, he feels a blend of intrigue and disbelief, pondering if the latter was the only one who didn't know of his power.

noticing felix's sudden silence, the peculiar fellow raises his brow. "...have we met before?" he asked as he left the counter slowly, watching as felix instinctively followed him to continue their conversation. felix snaps out of his thoughts, "no, it appears we haven't. i'm felix catton." felix extends his hand towards the latter, who hesitantly shakes it while giving a small smile. "i'm y/n. y/n l/n."

felix smiles at the way y/n's soft hands grazed against his as the latter pulled it away, eyes meeting with felix's. "felix catton, i've heard of that name before..." y/n put a finger to his chin as he tried to remember where he heard it from. "really? what have you heard about me?" felix smirked, feeling his arrogance seep through his calm and nonchalant facade. y/n hums, "not much, it's just that you kind of own this place in a way."  felix let out a small laugh at his observation, he liked the fact that y/n had no clue who he was, and it was refreshing. furthermore, it was a nice change of pace.

"are you a new student here?" felix asks, and y/n nods slightly as he makes his way to the physics section of the library. his hand softly follows the outlines of the books, carefully reading the title on the spine to check which ones he needs for class. "sort of, I just shifted to the course i've wanted since day one," y/n says as he takes out a book from the shelf, looking at the contents in its first page, "which is physics and philosophy." felix leans against the shelf with an interested look, his eyebrows arched in curiosity. "those two are quite a pairing, aren't they? philosophy and physics are the opposite of each other." he states, as y/n shrugs with a grin. "that's what makes it so exciting. you get the best of both worlds."

felix grins at the other male's attitude, he was interesting and mysterious, to say the least. y/n makes his way to a secluded part of the library that was near the philosopy section as felix followed like a puppy, eager to get to know the student. y/n turns to felix, "what about you? what did you take?"

"philosophy, politics, and economics." felix answers, waving it off. "it's a rather boring major to be in, honestly."

"do you not enjoy it?" y/n asks as he skims through the book, looking up at felix from time to time.

"eh, it's better than nothing," felix said as he gets closer to the shorter male in a not-so-subtle way, which was only met with a raised brow from the latter. y/n didn't bother to mention the shift in his tone as he hummed in response. "how about you, why'd you take physics and philosophy?"

y/n lets out a small scoff, "it is because, in short, i am a nerd." he says sarcastically, "and also because i enjoy pondering about stupid things such as... 'can you cry underwater?' or 'if you tried to fail and you suceeded at that, then... which one did you do?' it's silly, isn't it?"

felix snorts at y/n's own comments towards himself, finding his answers charismatic and charming. "you're quite the intriguing character, mr. l/n." felix says sarcastically.

"same goes to you, mr. catton." y/n says quickly in rebuttal, earning a cheeky scoff of approval.

as their banter continued, felix found himself drawn to y/n's energy and wit. he couldn't help but admire the way y/n's eyes lit up when discussing their shared interests, even if it was the simplest of topics such as food or music taste. it was refreshing, a departure from his usual interactions with classmates.

"hey, have you ever heard of the butterfly theory?" felix asked, leaning in closer, his curiosity piqued.

y/n looked up from the philosophy book they were skimming through, a playful grin tugging at the corners of their lips. "of course, who hasn't?" they replied, mirroring felix's proximity.

and just like that, they fell into a deep conversation about the theoretical possibilities of the butterfly effect, completely engrossed in each other's ideas and opinions. it was as if the rest of the world faded away, leaving only the two of them immersed in their discussion. the way y/n talked so elegantly and focused, smiling as he talked about his ideas of different theories. the way his long thick lashes bat down each time he blinks, the way he chews his lips when he takes his time to form a response- felix felt drawn to him like a magnet. usually, it would be people around felix feeling like such but with the roles reversed, he realized how much he wanted to get to know the latter.

as the library hours passed by unnoticed, felix realized he was enjoying y/n's company more than he had anticipated. there was something about how they laughed at his jokes and challenged his thoughts that made him feel a sense of connection he hadn't felt in a long time. eventually, the librarian's gentle reminder that the library was closing snapped them out of their engrossing conversation. "my dears, the library will be closing soon.. please, go to the front if you need to check those books out. i'll be waiting, y/n, felix." the librarian's raspy voice reminds them quietly as she strolls past them with her return cart. reluctantly, the two guys gathered their belongings and made their way out after borrowing some books, their minds still buzzing with the excitement of their discussion.

outside the library, under the soft glow of the streetlights as the sun swayed downwards with the purple and blue gradient mixing in, felix turned to y/n with a smile. "hey, would you like to continue our conversation at the nearby pub sometime?"

felix knew that there was a reason he was drawn to y/n, and he wanted more. he couldn’t help but think maybe this could turn into a real friendship or better.

y/n's eyes sparkled with excitement as they nodded eagerly. "i'd love to," he replied, a genuine smile lighting up his face.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ this end was a bit rushed tbh, but i still like it :) if you guys also like it, reblog and heart it (idk this is awkward) i also took inspo from chai, specifically quietwinters so uhhhh.... yeah. thanks for reading.

[dreamersworldduh]

RISKY DECISIONS

• Oliver Queen x Male!Reader

SUMMARY — being an assistant is supposed to be an hell of a job, at least that was how the movies make it seems. Yet somehow it’s the complete opposite for you when you become an assistant to Mayor Oliver Queen.

WARNING! 18+ MDNI. Suggestive Langauge. Swearing.

WORDS! 9.3k

AUTHOR’S NOTE! Hi! Sorry for the delay, I couldn’t choice which fic I wanted to do between Oliver Queen and Nate Jacobs, plus I have my first request that I’m writing, so I did to them all. Enjoy! 😚

You never imagined that living in a place like Star City would lead you to be sitting across from its enigmatic and undeniably handsome mayor, Oliver Queen, on a date of all things. Life has a funny way of throwing curveballs when you least expect them, and this was certainly one of those moments. Never in your wildest dreams did you think you'd go from an ordinary citizen in a bustling city to sharing an intimate evening with one of its most powerful and mysterious figures. But, as they say, fate works in mysterious ways.

It all began on what you thought was just another ordinary day, one where you were desperately scouring job listings and hoping to find something, anything, that could help pay the bills. As an art major fresh out of college, you'd always envisioned a life filled with creative pursuits—painting, galleries, exhibitions, and maybe even a small studio of your own someday. However, reality had other plans. The bills didn't stop, and your bank account certainly wasn't growing any larger. That's when the job posting for an assistant position in the mayor's office caught your eye.

It wasn't exactly a dream job, but it was stable, well-paying, and honestly, you couldn't afford to be picky. So, you applied, never thinking you'd actually hear back. To your surprise, you received a call within days. A whirlwind of an interview followed—though, admittedly, the moment you saw Oliver Queen walk into the room, you barely remembered what you said. His presence was larger than life: sharp blue eyes that seemed to see right through you, a confident smile that somehow managed to be both charming and intimidating, and the kind of charisma that could make anyone feel like they were the only person in the room. By some miracle (or perhaps your desperation showed just enough to make you seem dedicated), you landed the job.

At first, the position was everything you anticipated—and maybe a little less glamorous than you'd hoped. Your days were filled with the predictable rhythm of office life: fetching endless cups of coffee, juggling the mayor's ever-changing schedule, filing documents that seemed to multiply overnight, and acting as a buffer between your boss and the chaotic world of Star City politics. The office buzzed with constant activity, from council meetings to press conferences, all of it demanding your attention. You often found yourself staying late to meet impossible deadlines or untangling last-minute crises that seemed to pop up without fail. It wasn't the creative dream you'd envisioned, but it was stable work that kept your head above water. For that alone, you were grateful.

Still, the job came with its challenges. You quickly learned that Star City's political landscape was as turbulent as its streets. Factions bickered over funding and policies while the media scrutinized every move the mayor's office made. More than once, you found yourself running interference during heated debates or smoothing over tense situations with quick thinking and a calm demeanor. The work was demanding, but it left little room for boredom.

What you didn't expect, however, was how involved Mayor Queen was with his staff—or, to your growing surprise, how often he interacted with you personally. You'd heard the rumors before you took the job: that he was aloof, enigmatic, and often kept to himself. His reputation painted a picture of a man who carried his secrets like armor, a leader whose complicated past made him both a hero and a mystery to Star City's citizens. But the man you came to know was so much more than the headlines suggested.

Oliver had a presence that was hard to ignore. Whether he was striding into the office with his signature confidence or leaning over a conference table to make a point, his sheer charisma filled the room. What struck you most, however, was the surprising warmth behind the stern exterior. He wasn't just the brooding figure the tabloids made him out to be. He had a sharp wit and an easy, disarming sense of humor that could catch you off guard. He took the time to remember the little things—your favorite coffee order, your comments about your artwork, and even the days you looked particularly tired after long hours.

At first, your interactions were brief, professional exchanges—a quick thank-you for a report or a casual nod as he passed your desk. But those fleeting moments gradually grew into something more. Conversations in passing turned into longer discussions during late-night work sessions, where the two of you often found yourselves the last ones in the office. He'd linger, asking questions about your background, your aspirations, and what had brought you to Star City. You found yourself opening up in ways you hadn't expected, drawn in by his genuine interest and the way he seemed to truly listen when you spoke.

And then there were the glimpses of vulnerability, the cracks in his armor that revealed the man beneath the title. You could see the weight he carried—the burdens of his position, the responsibility he felt for the city, and perhaps even the ghosts of his past. There were moments when his smile faltered, when his gaze lingered on something unseen, and you realized just how much he gave of himself to lead Star City. It made him more human, more real, and in turn, it made your admiration for him grow.

Before long, you began to notice the subtle shifts in your dynamic. The way his gaze would linger just a moment too long when you spoke. The warmth in his voice when he addressed you by name. The private smiles he seemed to reserve just for you. It was as though he saw something in you that no one else did, and the realization sent a flutter through your chest every time. What had started as an unassuming assistant job was slowly transforming into something far more significant—something you never could have anticipated.

It wasn't long before the dynamic between you and Oliver began to shift in ways you couldn't quite define but couldn't ignore either. At first, it was subtle, so subtle that you wondered if you were reading too much into it. A fleeting glance, a brush of fingers when he handed you a file, the way his voice softened slightly when he said your name—these small, delicate moments began to stand out amidst the chaos of your daily responsibilities. It was easy to dismiss them at first as coincidence, or perhaps just a byproduct of your overactive imagination. After all, this was Oliver Queen, the mayor of Star City—your boss.

But the signs kept coming, and they became harder to rationalize. Like the way his gaze would linger on you during meetings, just a beat longer than it did with anyone else. Or the way his entire demeanor seemed to change when you spoke about your artistic ambitions, a rare spark of curiosity lighting his usually serious eyes. He'd ask questions—not the polite, cursory ones people ask out of obligation, but genuine inquiries that made you feel like he actually cared about what you had to say. And then there were the smiles, small and fleeting but entirely private, as though they were meant for you and no one else.

One moment in particular stuck with you. You'd been working late on a policy briefing, your desk cluttered with papers and a cold cup of coffee. Oliver had come by to check on your progress, leaning casually against the edge of your desk as he skimmed through a draft you'd prepared. When he handed it back, his hand lingered just a moment longer than necessary, his fingers brushing against yours. It was barely noticeable, but it sent a jolt through you nonetheless. He'd given you one of those rare smiles then—soft, almost shy—and for a moment, the bustling office around you seemed to fade away.

Still, you told yourself not to read into it. He was your boss, after all, and the last thing you wanted was to create some awkward misunderstanding that could jeopardize the job you'd worked so hard to secure. But the moments kept adding up, like puzzle pieces that refused to fit into the neat, professional boundaries you'd tried to maintain.

And then, one evening, Oliver made it clear that you weren't imagining things. It had been an exhausting day, the kind where the tension in the office was almost palpable. A city council crisis had thrown everyone into overdrive, and by the time the dust had settled, the office was nearly empty, save for you and a few other stragglers finishing up loose ends. You were at your desk, methodically packing up for the night, when you heard his familiar voice behind you.

"Long day," he said, his tone warm but edged with fatigue. You turned to find him standing a few feet away, his tie loosened and his sleeves rolled up—a rare, unguarded version of the polished mayor the public usually saw. He looked tired, but his gaze was steady, focused entirely on you.

"It's an understatement," you replied with a tired smile, reaching for your bag. You expected him to make a quick comment and head out, as he usually did after late nights like this. But instead, he lingered, his hands resting in his pockets as though he were trying to decide something.

"I've been meaning to ask you something," he said finally, his voice low but firm. There was a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, a vulnerability you'd never seen before. You straightened, suddenly very aware of the shift in the air between you.

"Of course," you said, trying to keep your tone casual even as your heart began to race.

He took a small step closer, the distance between you shrinking. "I've really enjoyed getting to know you," he began, his words deliberate, as though he'd been rehearsing them. "And I'd like to spend more time with you—outside of work."

The room seemed to grow quieter, the hum of the office fading into the background. His words hung in the air, carrying a weight that made your pulse quicken. There was no mistaking his meaning now, no room for misinterpretation. This wasn't a casual invitation to discuss a project over coffee or grab a quick lunch. This was personal, intimate—a step into uncharted territory.

"Are you... asking me out?" you managed, your voice barely above a whisper.

His lips curved into a soft, almost sheepish smile, the kind you rarely saw from him. "Yes," he said simply. "If you're interested."

For a moment, all you could do was stare, your mind racing as you processed the enormity of what was happening. The mayor of Star City, the man who had once seemed so untouchable, was standing in front of you, vulnerable and waiting for your answer.

You agreed, of course—how could you not? But even as you said yes, a thousand thoughts raced through your mind. How had this even happened? How had a job you took out of sheer necessity led to this? As you sat across from Oliver now, his attention focused entirely on you, you couldn't help but marvel at the twists and turns life had taken to bring you to this exact moment.

As the evening unfolded, the boundaries between professional and personal seemed to blur, dissolving into something warm, candid, and deeply human. The weight of Oliver's office—of city budgets, policies, and public appearances—felt like a distant memory. For the first time, the man across from you wasn't Star City's mayor, nor a public figure surrounded by layers of protocol and mystery. He was just Oliver, and his curiosity about your life was genuine in a way that caught you completely off guard.

He leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on the table as he spoke, his piercing blue eyes never straying from yours. "What made you choose art?" he asked, his voice soft but laced with a genuine interest that made your heart skip.

At first, you hesitated. It wasn't often someone asked about your passions with such sincerity, and you weren't sure how much to share. But there was something in the way he waited—patient, attentive, and utterly engaged—that made you feel safe enough to open up. You spoke about how art had always been your refuge, a way to process the chaos of life and transform it into something meaningful. You told him about the quiet joy of sketching in a sunlit room as a child, the long hours spent perfecting your craft, and how your dream of making a living from your passion had always seemed just out of reach.

Oliver nodded thoughtfully as you spoke, his expression shifting between admiration and understanding. He asked questions that went deeper than surface-level curiosity: What inspired you? What challenges had you faced? What did you hope to achieve? It wasn't just polite conversation; it was as though he wanted to piece together every fragment of what made you who you were. His attention made you feel seen in a way that few ever had, and the ease with which the words flowed from you surprised even yourself.

Then it was his turn. Slowly, carefully, he began to share pieces of himself—pieces you'd only glimpsed through the carefully curated image of Oliver Queen the public knew. He spoke of his years away from Star City, the pain of losing people he loved, and the weight of the mistakes that had shaped him. His voice carried a quiet intensity as he described the sense of purpose he had found upon returning home, the drive to rebuild a city he felt responsible for.

"I never thought I'd end up here," he admitted, leaning back slightly, his gaze momentarily distant. "Running a city, leading people—it wasn't part of the plan. There were times I didn't even think I'd make it through the day, let alone find a reason to keep going. But Star City... this place, these people, they gave me that reason."

His honesty was raw, vulnerable, and it struck a chord deep within you. It was one thing to admire him as a leader, a symbol of resilience for the city, but hearing the weight of his struggles made him feel more real, more human. He wasn't just the polished figure on campaign posters or the commanding presence in a boardroom—he was someone who had fought to piece himself back together, someone who had chosen to carry the burdens of an entire city on his shoulders.

Of course, it wasn't all heavy confessions and heartfelt exchanges. This was Oliver Queen, after all—a man whose charm was practically legendary, a weapon he wielded with precision even now. Throughout the night, moments of levity broke through, lighthearted and flirtatious in a way that left you both blushing and grinning.

"You have this way of pulling people in," he said at one point, his lips curving into a sly smile. "It's not just your art—it's the way you see the world. It's captivating."

You laughed, trying to brush off the compliment even as your cheeks warmed. "That's rich coming from you," you teased. "I'm sure you've had plenty of practice captivating people."

He chuckled, a low, warm sound that sent a shiver down your spine. "Maybe," he admitted, his gaze locking with yours, "but that doesn't make this any less real."

The weight of his words hit you like a jolt. It was playful, yes, but there was an unmistakable sincerity beneath the flirtation. He wasn't just flattering you; he meant every word, and the realization left you momentarily speechless.

And then there were his eyes. You'd always thought they were striking, but tonight, they were utterly mesmerizing. In the intimate glow of the room, they seemed to hold a depth and warmth that drew you in completely. There was an intensity in the way he looked at you, as though you were the only person in the world, the only thing worth his attention. You found yourself hanging on his every word, not because he was Oliver Queen, the mayor, but because of the way he made you feel: seen, valued, and undeniably alive.

By the time the conversation began to wind down, you glanced at your watch in surprise. Hours had slipped by without you even noticing, the world outside fading into irrelevance. You weren't sure what the future held—what this connection would mean or where it might lead—but in that moment, you couldn't bring yourself to care. All that mattered was the man in front of you, the shared laughter and confessions, and the undeniable spark that had taken you both by surprise.

Your relationship with Oliver had evolved into something that neither of you could easily define, but it was becoming clear to both of you that the lines between personal and professional were growing increasingly blurred. You found yourselves spending more and more time together—not just outside of work but during long hours in the office as well. Though you both tried to maintain a semblance of professionalism in front of others, it was becoming harder to keep up appearances. Especially when Oliver seemed determined to test those boundaries every chance he got.

One afternoon, you were in his office, helping him sort through a mountain of paperwork that needed his signature or review. The large space, usually a hub of activity, was uncharacteristically quiet, with most of the staff out to lunch. You sat comfortably in one of the plush lounge chairs positioned across from his desk, your legs crossed as you sifted through a stack of documents. Oliver was seated behind the desk, but you couldn't help noticing that his attention wasn't exactly on the papers in front of him.

"Okay, so this one is for the new community center funding," you explained, glancing up at him briefly before returning to the next item in the pile. "And this one is for—Oliver, are you even listening?"

He didn't respond, not really. Instead, he leaned back slightly in his chair, his piercing blue eyes fixed on you in a way that made your stomach do a little flip. You furrowed your brow, confused, and a little exasperated by his lack of focus.

"Oliver?" you prompted again, your tone carrying a hint of warning. That's when he stood abruptly, pushing his chair back and rounding the desk with a purposeful stride.

"What are you doing?" you asked, your voice a mix of confusion and curiosity as you tilted your head to look up at him.

Still, he said nothing. Instead, he reached out, his hand brushing against yours before firmly taking it in his grasp. Your heart skipped a beat as he gently tugged you to your feet, leading you behind the desk. Before you could protest or even fully process what was happening, he dropped back into his chair, pulling you into his lap in one swift motion.

"Uh, no, sir," you said quickly, shaking your head even as your cheeks flushed with heat. "This is definitely not happening. Do I need to remind you that your sister, who also happens to be my boss, would kill me if she saw me sitting on the big boss' lap?"

Oliver threw his head back and laughed, the rich sound filling the room and sending a shiver down your spine. "Relax," he said, his voice low and teasing as his hands rested lightly on your hips. "Everyone's out to lunch. We have the whole office to ourselves."

As if to further his point, he leaned forward slightly, brushing his lips against the side of your neck in a way that made your resolve falter. You wanted to protest, to remind him of the risks, but his charm—and the warmth of his touch—was dangerously persuasive.

"Oliver..." you began, your tone meant to be scolding but coming out far weaker than you intended. He smirked against your skin, clearly enjoying how easily he was unraveling your composure.

"You worry too much," he murmured, his voice soft but laced with mischief. "You work hard, you're brilliant at what you do, and you deserve to take a little break every now and then."

His lips pressed another soft kiss to your neck, and you felt your resolve slipping further. You glanced toward the office door, half-expecting someone to barge in despite Oliver's assurances that you were alone. But no one came, and for the moment, it was just the two of you in the quiet, sunlit office.

"Fine," you relented, though your tone carried a mix of exasperation and amusement. "But if anyone walks in, you get to explain this."

His grin widened, and he leaned back in the chair, his arms wrapping around you in a way that felt protective and intimate all at once. "Deal," he said simply, his voice low and satisfied.

For a few stolen moments, the world outside the office seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in your bubble of shared laughter, quiet teasing, and the unmistakable spark of something neither of you could quite put into words.

Suddenly, Oliver's lips claimed yours in a kiss that was anything but hesitant. It was heated, passionate, and filled with an intensity that stole the air from your lungs. His hands, firm and commanding, cupped your face as he deepened the kiss, his lips moving against yours with a hunger that made your heart pound wildly. The world around you blurred and disappeared, leaving only the warmth of his touch and the electricity crackling between you.

Before you could fully comprehend what was happening, Oliver's hands slid down to your waist, guiding you with a confidence that left no room for second-guessing. With a slight shift, he maneuvered you to straddle his lap, his strength evident as he adjusted your position as though you weighed nothing at all. Your knees pressed into the soft leather of his chair as you braced yourself on his shoulders, your breaths coming in shallow, rapid bursts.

His hands found their way to your hips, gripping you firmly as though grounding you in the moment. But he didn't stop there. His fingers moved lower, kneading your curves with a mix of control and reverence, until they rested on the swell of your ass. His touch was possessive, his palms squeezing with a deliberate pressure that sent shivers racing down your spine.

Your body pressed closer against his, and that's when you felt it— his dick—hard, undeniable, and pressing against you with a need that matched the fire in his kiss. A quiet gasp escaped your lips as he tilted his hips slightly, guiding you against him with a motion that made the heat between you both nearly unbearable. His hands urged you to move, rolling your hips against his in a slow, deliberate rhythm that left no doubt about his desire for you.

The friction was electric, a spark that ignited something primal within you. Your fingers tangled in his hair, your lips parting to let him take the lead as his kiss grew deeper, more consuming. His tongue teased yours, each movement of his lips and hands drawing you further into the whirlwind of his passion.

"Oliver..." you murmured breathlessly against his lips, your voice barely audible. But he didn't stop. If anything, your quiet plea only seemed to fuel him further. His grip tightened, his fingers digging into your skin just enough to leave you tingling, and he pressed you down harder against him, making sure you felt every inch of him.

The sensation was overwhelming, his touch, his kiss, the way he looked at you with a gaze that burned with both desire and something deeper, something more tender. It wasn't just lust—it was connection, raw and unfiltered, as though the barriers between you both had finally shattered.

In that moment, there was no office, no mayoral responsibilities, no rules or consequences. There was only Oliver, his body against yours, his hands guiding you, and the all-consuming pull that neither of you could resist.

Your fingers moved almost instinctively, as though they had a mind of their own, reaching up to loosen Oliver's perfectly knotted tie. The soft silk slipped through your fingers, and with each tug, you felt a thrill rush through you at the sight of his reaction. Oliver's lips curved into a slow, satisfied smile, his eyes glinting with delight as he watched you work. There was something utterly magnetic about his gaze, the way it locked onto you with unrelenting focus, making you feel like you were the only person in his world at that moment.

"Taking charge, are we?" he teased, his voice low and rich with amusement, though the heat in his tone betrayed just how much he was enjoying this.

You didn't respond, not with words at least. Instead, you let the tie fall free, the fabric sliding between your fingers as you dropped it onto the desk behind him. The small act felt bolder than it should have, but the way his smile deepened, his sharp jawline relaxing just slightly, made your pulse quicken.

Your fingers hesitated for just a beat before moving to the top button of his crisp white shirt. As you slipped it free, your fingertips brushed lightly against the warm skin of his chest, and you felt him draw in a slow, deliberate breath. The air between you seemed to crackle, the quiet tension growing with every passing second. You glanced up at him, your eyes meeting his, and the intensity in his gaze sent a shiver racing down your spine.

Encouraged by the way he was watching you, you continued. One button became two, then three, and with each flick of your fingers, more of his chest was revealed. The smooth, taut skin beneath his shirt was a distraction all its own, and the heat radiating from his body only seemed to amplify the electricity between you. His collar loosened, exposing just a hint of his collarbone, and you couldn't help but let your fingertips trail lightly against the edge of the fabric as you worked your way downward.

Oliver's hands moved to rest gently on your hips, his touch grounding you even as your heart raced. "You're full of surprises," he murmured, his voice quieter now, softer, but no less filled with that unmistakable heat. His smile had turned from playful to something deeper, something laced with admiration and desire.

As you undid the next button, the edges of his shirt began to fall open, revealing more of his toned chest, and you couldn't help but let your fingers linger for a moment, brushing against the smooth lines of his skin. His muscles tensed slightly under your touch, and his eyes darkened, the playful glint replaced by something far more intense.

You were acutely aware of the closeness between you, the way his breath mingled with yours as you leaned closer, your fingers still working on the remaining buttons. The quiet intimacy of the moment was intoxicating, each small movement drawing you both deeper into uncharted territory. With every undone button, every fleeting touch, the barriers between you seemed to fall away, leaving only the undeniable connection that neither of you could ignore.

Oliver's lips crashed against yours with renewed intensity, his kiss deep and commanding as he lifted you effortlessly by your legs. You barely had time to gasp before he was standing, his strong arms supporting you as if you weighed nothing, and placing you on the cool, polished surface of the desk. The sudden shift in position sent a rush of heat through you, but practicality took over for a brief moment as you broke the kiss to hurriedly push the paperwork to the side.

The sound of the papers scattering across the desk made him chuckle, his lips curling into a mischievous smile. "Really?" he teased, his voice low and filled with amusement.

"Shut up," you shot back playfully, grabbing his face and pulling him back into another kiss before he could say anything else. Your lips silenced his laughter, and his hands settled on your waist, pulling you closer to the edge of the desk. The kiss was fiery and relentless, leaving you breathless as your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan softly against your mouth.

Then Oliver broke the kiss, leaving you gasping for air as his lips trailed down your jawline and onto your neck. His hot breath sent shivers racing down your spine, and the scrape of his stubble against your skin made your heart race. His hands, steady and deliberate, found the buttons of your shirt, and you felt the subtle tug as he began to undo them one by one. There was no rush in his movements—each button was undone slowly, almost torturously, as though he wanted you to feel every second of the moment. His lips followed the path of his fingers, brushing against the newly exposed skin and leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

Your hands, seemingly acting of their own accord, moved to his waist. You fumbled slightly as you found his belt buckle, your fingers trembling with a mix of anticipation and urgency. The clink of the metal as you unfastened it filled the quiet space around you, and you wasted no time pulling the zipper of his tailored pants down.

The pants slipped down his hips, falling into a crumpled heap around his feet, revealing a pair of tight black briefs that left very little to the imagination. Your breath hitched as your eyes were immediately drawn to the prominent bulge straining against the fabric, impossible to ignore. The sheer size of him made your pulse quicken, and a faint blush rose to your cheeks as your gaze lingered. He was rock-hard, his dick was pressing against the material, begging to be freed from its confines. The sight alone was enough to make your thighs press together, a rush of heat pooling low in your abdomen.

Oliver caught the way you were staring, and his lips curled into a knowing smirk. "See something you like?" he asked, his voice dripping with amusement and desire as he continued working on the last few buttons of your shirt.

You didn't answer—words felt unnecessary. Instead, you reached out, your fingers grazing over the waistband of his briefs, your touch tentative yet deliberate. The sensation of his hard length beneath your fingertips made him exhale sharply, his movements pausing briefly as though savoring the contact. The tension between you was palpable, every touch, every glance fanning the flames of a fire that had been building for far too long.

With a deliberate tug, you slid Oliver's briefs down, revealing him in all his glory. His nine-inch dick sprang free, thick, hard, and pulsing with need. The sight of him, fully aroused, made your breath hitch, your eyes lingering for a moment as you took him in. You bit your lip, a mixture of nervous anticipation and sheer desire coursing through you, before glancing up to meet his eyes. The way he looked at you—raw, hungry, and utterly captivated—only fueled your confidence.

Without breaking eye contact, you placed a hand on his chest and gave him a gentle push, urging him back into his chair. He complied willingly, sinking into the plush leather, his gaze never leaving yours. His lips curled into a faint smirk, but there was a flicker of tension in his jaw as though the anticipation was almost too much for him.

You slowly sank to your knees in front of him, your hands trailing down his thighs as you positioned yourself between them. The power dynamic had shifted slightly now, the usually confident and composed Oliver watching you with uncharacteristic vulnerability. His chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, his hands gripping the armrests of the chair as he waited for your next move.

Your hand reached out to wrap around the base of his shaft, your fingers barely managing to encircle his impressive girth. His skin was warm to the touch, the velvety smoothness contrasting with the hardness beneath. You gave him a tentative stroke, marveling at the way his body responded to you, the way his hips shifted slightly at your touch.

Leaning forward, you let your tongue dart out, flicking it lightly against the head of his dick. His sharp intake of breath was music to your ears, and the faint groan that followed sent a thrill rushing through you. Encouraged, you let your tongue trail along the length of him, your movements slow and deliberate as you tasted him for the first time. The salty, masculine flavor was intoxicating, and you couldn't help but savor every inch.

"God," Oliver murmured, his voice rough and strained. His hands twitched on the armrests, as though fighting the urge to grab you and take control. But he didn't—he let you set the pace, his trust in you evident in the way he surrendered to the moment.

With one last teasing lick, you parted your lips and took him into your mouth, inch by inch. The stretch was intense, but you relished the challenge, the way he filled you completely. You hollowed your cheeks, creating a tight seal as you began to move, your tongue swirling around him with each stroke.

Oliver's reaction was immediate. His head fell back against the chair, a low, guttural moan escaping his lips. "You're... amazing," he managed to say, his voice heavy with pleasure. His hands left the armrests, one of them tangling in your hair as though he needed something to anchor himself.

You glanced up at him as you worked, his jaw clenched and his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. The sight of him, undone and vulnerable, sent a wave of satisfaction coursing through you. You adjusted your angle, taking him deeper, and the way his grip tightened in your hair told you exactly how much he appreciated it.

The rhythm you set was slow at first, deliberate and teasing, but as his moans grew louder and his hips began to move in sync with you, you quickened your pace. The room was filled with the sounds of his pleasure, the quiet groans and gasps that made it clear you had him completely under your control. Every movement, every flick of your tongue, every pull of your lips was designed to drive him closer to the edge—and judging by the tension in his body, you were succeeding.

Suddenly, you pulled away, letting his length slip from your lips as you caught your breath. The moment lingered, both of you flushed and panting, the heat between you almost unbearable. Without a word, you rose to your feet, your movements deliberate, your eyes locked onto Oliver's. His gaze followed you intently, dark and filled with desire, as though he could hardly wait to see what you'd do next.

Your hands moved to your belt, the faint sound of the buckle clicking open breaking the tense silence in the room. Slowly, purposefully, you slid the leather strap free and let it drop to the floor. Oliver's lips parted slightly, his chest heaving as he watched you with rapt attention. You moved to your pants next, unbuttoning and unzipping them with agonizing slowness, letting them fall to pool at your feet. With one final motion, you slid your briefs down, freeing yourself completely.

Your length sprang free, hard and ready, the cool air sending a slight shiver down your spine. Oliver's eyes flickered down, his gaze darkening even further as he took you in. A low, appreciative growl escaped his lips, and you felt a rush of satisfaction at the way he looked at you, his hunger evident in every line of his body.

Without hesitation, you climbed back onto his lap, straddling him. Your thighs pressed against his hips as his strong hands immediately found their place on your waist, gripping you possessively. His fingers dug into your skin just enough to make you gasp, the pressure grounding you as you shifted into place.

Oliver let out a guttural groan as your length grazed against his, the contact sending a jolt of electricity through both of you. The heat and hardness of his arousal pressed against yours, the friction intoxicating as you rolled your hips slightly. The faint slickness between your bodies only heightened the sensation, and you couldn't help the quiet moan that escaped your lips as your movements grew more deliberate.

"Damn," Oliver muttered, his voice rough and low as he tilted his head back slightly, his grip on your waist tightening. His usual composure was gone, replaced by pure, unfiltered desire. "You're going to make me cum."

You smirked, leaning forward just enough for your breath to ghost against his ear. "That's the idea," you teased, your voice soft but dripping with mischief.

Oliver growled again, his hands sliding down to grip your hips firmly. With an ease that spoke to his strength, he lifted you slightly, aligning you above him. The heat of his length pressed against your hole, and you felt a pulse of anticipation ripple through you. He held you there for a moment, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your heart race.

"You ready for this?" he asked, his voice rough but gentle, a stark contrast to the raw desire in his gaze. His hands steadied you, his touch a perfect mix of control and care.

You nodded, your lips parting as your breath hitched. "Always," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

With that, Oliver guided you down slowly, the pressure building as he pushed against you. The stretch was intense, but his firm, steady hands on your hips kept you grounded, helping you adjust inch by inch. The combination of his strength and gentleness left you breathless, and you couldn't help but marvel at the way he seemed to read your body so effortlessly.

As you sank lower, the feeling of him filling you completely sent a wave of pleasure through you, making you gasp and clutch at his shoulders for support. Oliver let out a deep, satisfied groan, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he finally buried himself within you. The intensity of the moment was overwhelming, every nerve ending in your body alive with sensation as you both paused, letting the raw, intimate connection settle over you..

Oliver's lips claimed yours once more, a kiss that was deep and fervent, filled with passion that left you breathless. His hands remained firmly on your hips, his grip strong and steady, guiding your movements as you began to lift yourself slowly. The sensation of him inside you was intense, every inch of his length pressing against you in a way that made your entire body tremble.

You moved cautiously at first, rising up just enough for the stretch to ease before sinking back down, taking him in again. The friction was exquisite, a slow, deliberate rhythm that made your breath hitch with every motion. Oliver groaned against your lips, the low, guttural sound reverberating through you and spurring you on. His fingers dug into your hips, not enough to hurt but enough to ground you, to remind you of the control he still held even as he let you set the pace.

Breaking the kiss momentarily, you gasped for air, your hands braced against his shoulders for balance. His gaze met yours, piercing and filled with a hunger that sent a shiver racing down your spine. He leaned forward, capturing your lips again, his tongue teasing yours as your movements grew more confident, more fluid. Each rise and fall of your body sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, the connection between you both deepening with every thrust.

Oliver's head fell back against the chair, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as a groan escaped him. "You feel... so damn good," he murmured, his voice thick with pleasure. The praise only fueled you, making you move faster, your hips rolling as you adjusted to the rhythm that had both of you teetering on the edge.

You could feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles tensed beneath your hands as you rode him, the heat radiating from his skin. His hands slid from your hips to your lower back, pulling you closer against him as if he couldn't bear to have even the slightest bit of space between you. His lips found your neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin there, his hot breath sending jolts of electricity through your body.

"Oliver..." you gasped, the sound of his name escaping your lips in a breathless moan. He responded with another low growl, his hands gripping you tighter as he began to meet your movements, thrusting up to match your rhythm. The chair creaked beneath you both, the quiet sound lost in the symphony of your ragged breaths and the unmistakable sounds of your bodies moving together.

Each motion brought a fresh wave of heat, the pressure building with every rise and fall. The connection between you was raw and consuming, the kind of intensity that blurred the world around you until there was nothing left but him—his touch, his kiss, and the overwhelming sensation of him filling you completely.

Oliver's lips found yours again, his kiss searing and desperate, as if he needed to feel every part of you, to lose himself completely in the moment. And you let him, your movements growing bolder, faster, as you gave yourself over to the intoxicating rhythm of pleasure and passion that bound you both together.

You never imagined yourself in a situation like this—having sex in an office, no less the mayor's office—and with the mayor himself. The fact that Oliver Queen, your unofficial boyfriend, was the one making you unravel so completely felt like something out of a fever dream. But here you were, straddling him in his plush leather chair, your bodies moving together in a rhythm that sent shivers down your spine. The taboo nature of it all—the high-powered setting, the risk of someone walking in—only seemed to heighten the intensity, making every sensation feel sharper, more electrifying.

The thought of the unlocked door barely crossed your mind. If it had, you didn't care enough to stop. The pleasure coursing through you was too overwhelming, too consuming, to let the fear of being caught disrupt the moment. Oliver's hands gripped your hips possessively, guiding you as you moved, his strength grounding you even as your world felt like it was spinning out of control.

His head tilted back slightly, exposing the sharp angle of his jaw as he groaned deeply, the sound echoing through the otherwise empty office. His usually composed and polished demeanor had completely unraveled, leaving behind only the raw, passionate man beneath. His eyes locked onto yours, dark and intense, filled with a hunger that made your breath hitch. The way he looked at you—as if you were the only thing in the world that mattered—sent a rush of heat through your body.

"You're doing so good," he murmured, his voice rough and low, each word dripping with sincerity and desire. His praise sent a jolt of pleasure through you, spurring you to move faster, to take him deeper, to draw even more sounds of pleasure from his lips.

The documents behind you probably held the future of Star City in their inked words, but they were the farthest thing from your mind. All you could focus on was the way Oliver's hands explored your body, the way his lips occasionally captured yours in a searing kiss, the way his dick filled you completely with every movement.

The faint hum of city noise from the windows seemed a distant backdrop to the symphony of your shared breaths, quiet moans, and the creak of the chair beneath you. The unlocked door stood as a silent reminder of just how risky this was, but it only added to the thrill. Anyone could walk in—his other assistant, a council member, even Thea—and yet neither of you could bring yourselves to stop.

The sheer recklessness of the moment made it all the more exhilarating. The polished, professional space of the office felt almost surreal as a backdrop to something so intimate, so primal. This was the same place where press conferences were planned and city policies were crafted, and now it bore witness to a completely different kind of connection—a connection that was raw, electric, and undeniable.

You hadn't planned for this, hadn't expected to find yourself in a whirlwind romance with Star City's most powerful man. Yet, as you moved together, his hands gripping you tighter, his name falling from your lips in a breathless moan, you realized you wouldn't trade this moment for anything. Locked door or not, the passion between you was too powerful, too consuming, to be denied.

Suddenly, Oliver's eyes darkened with a new intensity, a spark of determination flickering across his face. Without a word, he tightened his grip on your hips, and in one fluid motion, he stood, his incredible strength evident as he lifted you effortlessly from his lap. The movement made you gasp, your body clinging to his as his dick stayed buried deep inside of you, the sensation making your head spin.

Before you could fully process what was happening, he turned and laid you down flat on the cool, polished surface of his desk. The contrast between the hard surface beneath you and the heat radiating from his body was electric, sending a shiver racing down your spine. Papers and folders scattered to the floor, forgotten in the haze of passion, as Oliver positioned himself over you, his hands firm and commanding as he held your legs in each of his hands.

He pushed your thighs apart, lifting your legs slightly to give himself the perfect angle. The possessiveness in his touch sent a thrill through you, making you feel utterly exposed yet completely safe at the same time. His grip was steady, his fingers pressing into your skin as he adjusted your position, and you couldn't help but marvel at the raw power in his every movement.

Without hesitation, Oliver began to thrust into you, his pace quickening with a new fervor that left you gasping for breath. The desk creaked slightly beneath the force of his movements, the sound mingling with the quiet moans and gasps that spilled from your lips with every powerful stroke. Each thrust was deliberate, his hips snapping against you with a rhythm that sent waves of pleasure radiating through your entire body.

"God, you feel so good," Oliver groaned, his voice rough and strained, every word dripping with raw desire. His gaze flickered between where your bodies were joined and your face, his expression a mix of concentration and unrelenting hunger. His intensity was overwhelming, consuming, and you couldn't tear your eyes away from him.

Your hands instinctively reached out, gripping the edge of the desk for support as his thrusts grew deeper, harder, the angle sending shockwaves of pleasure straight through you. The fullness of him, the way he moved with such precision, made your head fall back, your lips parting in a breathless moan. Oliver leaned over you slightly, his strong hands keeping your legs steady as he drove into you with a pace that bordered on relentless.

The sounds of your bodies moving together filled the room, a symphony of desire that drowned out everything else. Each thrust sent the desk sliding ever so slightly against the floor, a subtle reminder of the raw power behind Oliver's movements. His hands shifted slightly, his grip tightening as he adjusted the angle again, hitting a spot that made your entire body arch in response.

"Oliver!" you cried out, his name escaping your lips in a breathless moan as pleasure coursed through you like fire. He grinned at the sound, his usual smirk replaced with something darker, more primal.

"I love hearing that," he muttered, his voice low and gravelly as his pace quickened even further. His fingers dug into your thighs, anchoring you to him as he drove you closer to the edge. Each thrust was purposeful, each movement designed to wring every ounce of pleasure from your body, and you couldn't stop yourself from surrendering completely to him.

The desk beneath you seemed almost insignificant compared to the connection between you both, the way he moved, the way he looked at you as though you were the only thing in the world that mattered. The vulnerability of your position, the strength of his control—it was intoxicating, overwhelming, and utterly perfect.

The pressure in your body had been building steadily, each thrust of Oliver's hips pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Your breaths came in ragged gasps, your fingers curling tightly around the edge of the desk as the overwhelming pleasure coursed through you, making your entire body tremble. The intensity was almost too much, each wave of sensation crashing over you faster than the last, until you felt yourself teetering on the brink.

With one final thrust, the tension inside you snapped. Your back arched off the desk, your head falling back as a guttural moan escaped your lips. Heat rushed through you, your cum spilling out in hot, pulsing streams against your stomach, the release leaving you breathless and utterly consumed. The slick warmth spread across your skin, a stark contrast to the cool air of the office. Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath, the aftershocks of your orgasm still rippling through your body.

Oliver slowed his movements for a moment, his gaze dropping to your stomach, where your cum glistened against your skin. His lips curled into a satisfied smile, the dark, hungry gleam in his eyes telling you just how much he enjoyed watching you come undone beneath him.

"Beautiful," he murmured, his voice rough and low, filled with both admiration and desire. But he wasn't done yet.

His hands tightened their grip on your legs, holding you firmly in place as he resumed his thrusts, this time with a newfound urgency. His movements grew faster, more erratic, the sound of his hips snapping against you filling the room as he chased his own release. The sight of you, still trembling from your climax, seemed to spur him on, his breathing ragged and heavy as he drove into you with relentless intensity.

The raw power of his movements left you gasping, your body still hypersensitive from your own pleasure. Each thrust sent another jolt through you, the rhythm pushing you to the edge of overstimulation even as it brought him closer to his peak. His head fell forward slightly, his jaw clenched, and his hands flexed against your skin as his pace quickened.

"God," he growled through gritted teeth, his voice rough and strained as the tension in his body built. You could feel him throbbing inside you, his muscles taut as he edged closer and closer. His eyes locked onto yours, filled with a fiery intensity that made your breath hitch, and you knew he was seconds away from unraveling completely.

With one final, powerful thrust, his body tensed, his head tilting back as he let out a deep, guttural groan. His release came in hot, pulsing waves, filling your hole completely as his hands gripped you tightly, as though anchoring himself in the moment. The warmth of him, the way his body trembled slightly as he came, left you breathless all over again. His chest heaved with the effort, his gaze slowly returning to yours, softened now with a mix of satisfaction and something deeper, something intimate.

As the tension eased from his body, Oliver leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips—a stark contrast to the intensity of the moments before. "You're amazing," he murmured against your mouth, his voice still husky with the remnants of pleasure. The tenderness in his tone made your heart flutter, a perfect end to the wild, exhilarating ride you had just shared.

Suddenly, the faint murmur of voices drifted through the office door, snapping you out of your blissful haze. Your head whipped toward Oliver, your eyes wide with panic.

"Oh shit," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Oliver, ever calm under pressure, smirked slightly and grabbed your hand. "Come on," he said, tugging you down toward the space under the desk.

"This is not gonna work," you hissed, glancing at the scattered papers strewn across the floor—the remnants of your earlier passion—and the very visible evidence of what had just transpired. Your heart pounded as the sound of footsteps grew louder, accompanied by the unmistakable clack of heels.

The door creaked open, and you froze, crouched under the desk with Oliver. The sound of heels clicking against the floor sent a chill down your spine as the familiar voice of Thea Queen, Oliver's sister and your boss, echoed through the office.

"Ollie?" she called out, her tone sharp and inquisitive.

From your vantage point, you could see her shadow moving closer, her figure pausing as she took in the mess you'd left behind. Papers were scattered across the desk and floor, and—oh no—your pants and briefs were still in plain sight, lying in a heap next to Oliver's discarded clothing. You could only imagine the look of horror that must be dawning on her face as she pieced it together.

"Oh my god, Oliver!" Thea exclaimed, the disbelief in her voice palpable. "If you're going to have sex in your office, the least you could do is lock the damn door!"

You turned to Oliver, glaring at him with an expression that screamed, I told you so! He met your gaze with a sheepish grin and shrugged, mouthing, "Oops."

"Duly noted," Oliver replied aloud, his tone surprisingly casual for someone caught in such a compromising position. His calmness would've been impressive if you weren't on the verge of wanting to strangle him.

From her position above the desk, Thea sighed loudly, clearly exasperated. "Unbelievable," she muttered before she turned toward the door. But before leaving, she paused and glanced back over her shoulder. "Oh, and tell Y/N when you're both...dressed that those papers still need to be on my desk by the end of the day. Got it?"

You cleared your throat, trying to keep your voice steady. "Gotcha," you managed to reply, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

With one final huff, Thea walked out, but not before locking the door behind her. The sound of the lock clicking into place was strangely reassuring, though it did nothing to ease your mortification.

As the silence returned, you turned to Oliver, who was now sitting back on his heels under the desk, a smug smile plastered across his face. "See? Everything's under control," he said with a wink.

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn't help the small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Oh, whatever," you replied, shaking your head as the two of you began gathering your clothes and the scattered papers. Despite the embarrassment, you couldn't deny the absurdity of the situation—or the fact that you wouldn't trade it for anything.

[slytherweasley]

Concussion (Oliver Wood x reader)

Warnings: smut, oral male receiving, swearing

Summary: Oliver gets knocked out after being thrown off his broom by a Slytherin. You stay by his side but his concussion makes him irritable. He’s in so much pain you decide to take care of him.

Oliver lays on the hospital bed still knocked out after being thrown off his broom by a Slytherin at todays game. You sit by his side rubbing his scalp trying to soothe him in hope he will awaken. You were frozen in fear as you watched him fall, you couldn’t get up to see if he was okay until others from the crowd assured you he was alive.

Slowly Oliver’s eyes begin to open, his team mates are also here to show support for their captain. He groans in pain and Madam Pomfrey rushes to his aid. Once the team had given him their best wishes she sent them off so he could have some space.

You stayed by his side the whole time, you tried to cheer him up in every way you could think but he was short with you. “Oli, do you want me to go?” You ask softly “No stay” he says holding your hand firmly “i am in a lot of pain so I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings it’s not my intention” “I know, it’s okay” he reaches up slightly but you meet him with a kiss.

Madam Pomfrey releases him from the hospital wing and gives you everything you need as well as instructions on how to take care of him. He refuses to be wheeled in a wheelchair so you put your arm around him and let him lean on you as you walk to his dorm.

Oliver is well liked which is why it wasn’t a surprise that everyone wanted to talk to him but you tried to get him to his dorm as quick and safely as possible. You finally get him there and into bed “thank you darling” he kisses your forehead as you stack pillows behind him.

Once he is comfortable you organise his meds and everything he needs. “Darling?” He asks “Yes, Oli?” “Can you come cuddle? It will help my pain.”

He makes some space for you and you get into bed with him and try to adjust the pillows but he hits his head on the bed post “fuck” he yells “shit, baby I’m so sorry” you gently rub his head “stop. Just stop” he yells. “I’m sorry, I failed at everything” you mumble “I know you’re trying to help and you’re doing a great job, it’s just these pain meds are only doing so much.”

He pulls you into a hug “you didn’t fail at this, you could never fail at comforting me.” Something about the way he assured you created a solution to help him feel better.

You let go of the hug “I promise I won’t fuck this up” you say “fuck what up?” He asks as you lift his shirt up halfway pressing kisses down his stomach. Your fingers slide into his pants and start to palm him over his underwear “fuck darling” he groans as you feel him getting hard underneath your touch.

Your hand slip underneath his underwear as you begin to jerk him off slowly “feels good” he assures you “I love it when you touch me like this.”

You stop jerking him off to get rid of his pants and underwear letting his dick free. Your spit on his dick letting your saliva run down the base down to his balls “Oh darling, you are going to be the death of me.”

Your lips wrap around the head and you start sucking and swirling your tongue around the head tasting his precum and letting out a moan. Slowly you begin moving further down until your nose hits his mound. Oliver’s moans become louder and needier which makes you incredibly wet but you focus solely on Oliver.

Your hands massage his balls, he goes wild every time you pay attention to his balls. “Fuck darling, that’s it.” You start to move faster on his dick your eyes start to water and drool goes down your chin, you can hear the sounds coming from the back of your throat that Oliver is obsessed with.

“So good for me darling, I’m so close” this prompts you to do everything you can to keep going. “Fuck, I’m really close, you got to pull out if you don’t want me cumming down your throat” he warns but that’s what you want.

“Ah so good darling” he says as he cums in your mouth. You swallow and gently remove your mouth from his dick. “Thank you” he kisses your forehead “so much better than pain meds, do you need me to repay you?” He asks as you help him out his boxers on “No, it’s about you my love, I’ll manage as long as you are okay.”

You lay down carefully beside him facing him with your lips almost touching, he wraps his arms around you. “I don’t deserve you” he mumbles against your lips “yes you do” you close your eyes and lazily kiss him.

[pkg4mumtown]

Special Weapons and Tactics

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Male!Reader

Rating: Teen (for now)

Summary: You’re an FBI SWAT agent sent to a scene that the BAU is in charge of. There, you meet the team, specifically SSA Aaron Hotchner.

Content Warnings: Male!reader (no Y/N), strong language, first person POV, non-descriptive mentions of PTSD, canon-typical violence

A/N: I’ve been sitting on this fic for a while and I’m happy to share it with you! I’m about half way done with it and will be finishing it as I post the chapters. I will post about every couple weeks just so I have time to keep up with writing. I also have two Spotify playlists on my page for Criminal Minds if you want to check them out!!

Also available on AO3

July 2010

“Listen up. Target’s name is Lucas Bryant. This guy’s got a military background and possibly suffers from PTSD. He’s using various military paraphernalia to subdue his victims, believes his killings were righteous, and believes he’s at war with us, so approach with extreme caution. There’s a high chance that he won’t let himself be captured. The BAU believes he’s holed up in an attic, upstairs, or basement of some sort. Meet the BAU Unit Chief when we arrive.”

Various, “yes, sir’s,” echoed in the tactical van. Metal sliding against metal followed as last-minute weapons checks commenced.

“ETA is two minutes.”

I had been in the middle of poring over a case file when I got the SWAT mobilization order to a house in northern Virginia and was happy to step away. Words had been swimming on the pages of the file for the last couple of hours, so I’d been restless and itching to clear my head. I let myself imagine breathing out any thought of my own cases so I could be fully focused on this one.

Before the van could fully come to a stop, we were all standing and waiting for the back doors to unlock. A sea of olive green and black emerged from the van and we followed the lead SWAT agent toward the group of agents discussing and gesturing toward the house. The house was strangely well-kept, with a maintained lawn, but “No Soliciting” signs were hung on any possible surface. The curtains were all drawn closed, putting the agents even more on edge since we had a visual disadvantage.

“They’ve been briefed, Agent Hotchner,” our lead SWAT agent notified the Unit Chief as we approached.

“Great, thank you,” the tall, dark-haired agent nodded, making eye contact with each of us to make sure we were paying attention. “We’re splitting into three groups. The first group will go with Agent Morgan and Dr. Reid to breach the front door and head upstairs, the second with Agents Prentiss and Jareau to breach the back door, and everyone else with myself and Agent Rossi to the basement. Let’s go,” he dismissed the group, and everyone split up, having seen who they’re going with since the Unit Chief pointed them out as he spoke.

I looked at each of the other's faces as he gestured to them. The only member I was familiar with was Morgan since we were both in the FBI academy at the same time. The younger one—Reid—seemed vaguely familiar but I couldn’t recall as my attention drifted back to their boss.

My group followed Hotchner and Rossi to the side of the house where two doors indicated the basement access for the house. After we secured the entrance of the basement, we formed up along the side of the house and prepared for entry. I was the last in line of SWAT agents and felt Hotchner’s hand come to my shoulder. The two metal basement doors were firmly closed, prompting our breacher to check for locks. The breacher signaled that basement door was locked and unclipped a saw from his gear. He readied himself to cut the lock, giving us a signal and making eye contact with Hotchner, behind me.

“Is everyone in position?” came Hotchner’s steady, low voice.

There was a resounding confirmation over the radio.

“Breach.”

All of the teams moved immediately. Our breacher made quick work of the lock with the saw while the next agent in line pulled a flash-bang from his vest. With the doors forced open, the breacher jumped away from the entrance while the other agent lobbed a flash-bang down the stairs. As soon as it went off, everyone was following the agent down the stairs and swarming the basement. Rossi stayed outside to watch any windows while Hotchner was the last one in behind me. By the time we arrived, the room was clear and strangely empty besides the typical basement findings. Tall, metal shelving lined the walls with nothing of much interest on them and the floor was littered with boxes and grime. A lingering musty smell permeated the air but nothing else of concern.

“Anything upstairs?” Hotchner asked into the radio.

“Nothing, Hotch.”

He was understandably irritated by that answer and ordered, “Tear this place apart.”

We all got to work as he radioed with his team back and forth, looking around the room for any clues or ideas. Agents ripped into boxes and overturned miscellaneous furniture scattered throughout the basement. Hotchner grew more frustrated by the second judging by his tone over the radio, but his face didn’t show it.

“There’s electrical running down to the ground on the south side of the house,” the older agent—Rossi—sounded over the radio.

The stoic agent’s eyes snapped to the far wall to my left and moved briskly, just short of shoving agents out of his way. His tall frame squeezed between two shelving racks, stepping on a pile of trash in between as he feels the wall.

“Do you see any seams in the bricks?” He directed the question to me, making realize I was the closest to him but far enough to examine the wall from a distance.

“N—oh—yea! A little higher!” I pointed higher up the wall and try to follow the seam down.

I noticed a faint line—no, a wire—lower on the wall ending somewhere under Hotchner’s foot. My nerves lit on fire as I realized what was happening, but I couldn’t move toward him fast enough, “Sir, wait!”

Hotchner lifted weight off one foot to stretch more, turning to look at me as I surged toward him. He started to speak, unaware of what was happening or what I’d seen, “There’s airfl—”

Hotchner was cut off when an ear-rupturing, forceful shockwave echoed throughout the basement, bouncing off the walls and causing the unprepared to stumble. He lost his footing, disoriented and thrown off balance by the concussive blast. I even stumbled back as the blast pushed past my efforts to move forward. At the same time, he and his head were thrown forward into the industrial metal racking with what should have been a sickening thud. Everyone’s ears were ringing too much to hear it. Thankfully, the SWAT agents all had on ear protection and recovered much more quickly than Hotchner.

 I rushed over as the SWAT team’s medic and caught him under his armpits before he could collapse. His body was almost completely lax in my arms, so I dragged him away and propped him against a different rack.

“Sir, are you hurt anywhere else?”

There was no response, and his eyes were barely open and fluttering. I patted him down roughly but found nothing glaringly wrong besides the gushing cut to his forehead.

“Sir, can you stand?”

Nothing. Fuck.

The other SWAT agents were scrambling to open the false wall while being mindful of any more wires. I decided to radio the teams outside before I moved the agent.

“Basement team is working on a false wall. I have an agent down, in and out of consciousness from a concussion grenade. Possible head trauma. Extricating him now.”

“Copy.”

“I’m going to get you out of here, sir,” I assured him as his eyes finally fluttered shut, and his body became completely limp.

I secured my weapon and squatted low until his body could drape over my shoulders. I hooked an arm through his legs and held his dangling arm with the same hand so that I had a free hand for balance on the stairs. When he was as secure as I could get him, I quickly exited the basement, wanting to be out of there by the time they opened the false door so neither of us got shot.

I could only manage a brief nod to Rossi as I carried Hotchner’s extra weight from the stairs to the front lawn. I was keenly aware that the EMTs hadn’t been allowed in the staging area yet since Bryant wasn’t yet apprehended. I got to the edge of the front lawn before depositing him as gingerly as I could on the grass.

“Sir, can you hear me?” I raised my voice and took my helmet off, tossing it in the grass haphazardly.

Fetching a small penlight from one of my pouches, I removed my gloves and opened his eyes to check his pupils. Finding a somewhat normal reaction, I put the light away and got to work on treating his forehead, hoping the stinging would jostle him awake.

“This might sting,” I murmured to myself, basically.

I flushed the wound and press gauze firmly against it, feeling the agent below me tense with pain. His strong hand engulfed my wrist to roughly pry my hands away, but I persisted. I shoved my knee over his bicep and stapled his arm to the ground with my shin.

“Sir, relax. You’re safe,” I reassured him, maneuvering my arm so he could see my face and uniform. He was looking wildly around, probably looking for his team. “Look at me sir,” I requested and offered my rank as an SSA and my last name to him. “You have a laceration on your forehead, okay? I’m stopping the bleeding.”

His breathing began to slow, and he nodded slightly in confirmation. I took my shin off of his arm now that I knew he wouldn’t try to fight me.

“Can you tell me your name?” I began asking him some basic questions to assess for any brain damage.

“SSA Aaron Hotchner,” he answered, louder than he should have been responding but understandably so.

“Good. Do you remember the name of the target?”

“Lucas, mhm, Bryant,” he cringed as my hands worked on his head.

“Can you tell me how many fingers I have up?” I requested, pulling one of my hands away to show him three fingers.

“Three,” he squinted.

“Who’s your Section Chief?”

“Strauss.”

“Goo—,” I started but he cuts me off.

“You want my phone number, too?” he deadpanned, making me huff and smirk at the sarcasm.

“Well, do you remember it?” I challenged him, using butterfly style bandages to hold the wound closed before taping gauze over it.

He effortlessly relayed the numbers to me, giving me a pointed look as if to tell me he was fine now. “If you remember the number I’ll let you buy me coffee,” he rolled his eyes but briefly held my gaze with striking hazel eyes. He attempted to sit up, but I prevented him with a firm hand on his chest.

My brain screeched to a halt as I mentally rewound what he just said to me. Did he just flirt with me? Crap, what numbers did he just say? 5-5-5-0-4-7…6? No—8-6. I repeated them over and over in my head.

I was broken out of my stupor when I could finally hear chatter on the radio again as my ears became more attuned to our surroundings instead of just Hotchner, “Your team is fine. The target’s down.”

He relaxed a little more and I was all too aware of the hand I still had on his chest. He was, too, I saw as he quickly glanced down and then at me but didn’t mention it. I dug my hand into another pouch and brought out an ice pack, activating it with a pop, and pressing it to his head. He took over for my hand and kept the pack pressed to his head.

“Noted, by the way,” I answered his earlier challenge with an upturn at the corner of my mouth.

He gave a hum in acknowledgement. Hotchner was silent for a while, his free hand absentmindedly playing with the grass while trying to crane his head to look at the action behind him to no avail.

“It’s weird being on the other end of this,” he murmured, seemingly to no one in particular.

“What do you mean, sir?” I adjusted myself to sit on the grass more comfortably.

“Hotch,” he corrected, focusing back on me. “And, usually, I’m the one calming victims down. Yet here I am getting flustered over an operator.”

“You could have fooled me,” I laughed, my hand twitching against his chest. Whatever flustered feeling he was talking about, it wasn’t noticeable—to me at least. His features were still void of any emotion beyond the lingering worry for the mission.

“Despite having been in SWAT, the situation was…eye-opening,” his even voice invited a brief moment of mirth.

“You were straight before you went in the basement?” I joked with pursed lips.

“Pretty much,” Hotch nearly cracked a smile. The hint of it soon faded away and he made direct eye contact with me, hoping I would understand, “That’s a joke.”

I was…unsure of how to take that. It was a joke in that he actually is straight or a joke meaning that he’s not straight? Was he or was he not flirting? I mentally sighed and gave him a neutral answer just in case.

“I’m aware of how sexual orientation works, sir,” I forced a chuckle. “Maybe that hit jostled your head a little more than we thought.”

He deflated a little, his smirk dropping, “Yea, maybe.”

In an effort to save the conversation, I latched on to what he previously said, “You did SWAT detail?”

“Mmm, yea, when I was at the Seattle Field Office…tch,” he let out a long breath. “…a long time ago. It was fun,” he raised an eyebrow at me. “Surprised?”

“Only a little,” I shrugged. “You seem capable,” I gave him a once over, imagining him in the uniform I was wearing.

In the distance, I finally saw the rest of Hotch's team leaving the house. They rushed toward me where I had their boss lounging in the grass.

“Your team is incoming,” I notified him and began standing.

I extended my hand to Hotch, and he took it reluctantly as I helped him to his feet. He wobbled for a second, prompting me to still him with a hand firmly planted on his back while his hand clutched my shoulder. If anything, my hand on his back had the opposite effect as he put pressure into my hand instead of balancing himself.

Interesting.

I would have been crazy to pull my hand back.

Rossi approached with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “Close encounter with a deadly shelf down there, eh?”

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from bursting out in laughter at the murderous look Hotch shot at Rossi. It was only made funnier by the image of the stern agent with a child-sized icepack on his forehead.

I quickly cleared my throat as I noticed the other agents looking expectantly at me, “Just a laceration and probably bruising later. He hit his head pretty good, possible mild concussion so he shouldn’t be alone for 24 hours. Might need stitches and probably worth getting his head checked out but I’m sure he won’t.”

Hotch winced as he accidentally put more pressure on it with the icepack, “I’m fine. Just a headache.”

I fixed him with a pointed look, then glanced at his hovering team, “Yeah, well, they seem to disagree.”

Prentiss stepped forward, concern softening her features. She reached for his forearm, his hand quickly sliding from my shoulder to her hands and leading him away from my hand on his back, “Come on, tough guy. You’re crashing with me.”

No significant other at home? Or is she…? Hm.

It was almost possessive, but what did I know? With the nature of our work, I’m sure they were all pretty close and protective of one another. I might not be a profiler, but I got the idea nonetheless as her eyes flicked toward me like I was a stranger. Well, because I was.

Clearing my throat, I swiped my helmet from the grass and tucked it under my arm. I extended my hand to Hotch, “Great to meet you, sir.”

Despite not knowing them besides Morgan, word did tend to get around the field offices about the BAU, so it was nice to put faces to the team.

“Thank you for your help,” my last name escaped his mouth with a low and soft hum, giving me a grateful quirk of his mouth.

Before I could lose myself in his features, I shifted my attention to Rossi and shook his and everyone else’s hand. As I got to Morgan, recognition flashed across his face.

My last name questioningly fell out of his mouth in disbelief. A bright smile lit up his face as he realized why we knew each other, “How’ve you been, brother?”

“Good, man. I—,” I heard my name called across the street, beckoning me to the tactical van. I acknowledged my teammate and continued my sentence by drawing out the letter, “I…gotta go, I guess.”

“No worries, we’ll catch up soon. Let’s go out some time,” Morgan reached for my hand and pulled me into a brief hug.

“Sounds good,” I smiled at the team and jogged back to the van.

I approached the van, slowing down as I got to the open door where Ramirez was waiting for me expectantly.

“Have fun with the shrinks?” He grinned and held the back door open for me.

“Yea, they’re alright. I went through the academy with one of them,” I climbed in and helped him shut the doors before sitting down.

“Bunch of characters, though,” he chuckled.

“What do you mean?” I frowned.

“Nah, it’s just…I’ve worked with them before. No offense or anything, they’re just…weird, I guess,” he stammered over his words, not quite expecting to be called out.

“And, yet we rely on them for profiles that help us get guys like that,” I gestured vaguely in the direction of the house we had just left.

“Fair enough.”

On the ride back to DC, I pulled out my phone and typed in the number I had been repeating since my interaction with Hotch. 5-5-5-0-4-8-6. I quickly saved it under something practical and not at all indicative of how giddy I felt saving it.

Spoilers, it was just “Hotch BAU”.

 I resisted typing out a text message to him at that moment, not wanting to seem…desperate? Yea, “desperate” sounded right. I decided to send it later that night, which sounded even more desperate considering he would be at that attractive agent’s house. Prentiss? Prentiss. I grumbled to myself for being stupid and shoved my phone back in my pocket.

-

Chapter 2 - Coming Soon

[bucketsofmonsters]

Vows - Part 1

cw: consentual blood drinking, cockwarming, accidental voyeurism, polyamory, more tags will be added as the story continues

male vampire x afab reader

Word count: 6k

Vows Masterlist

You kept your back straight, trying to maintain what little dignity you had left standing before the man on the throne in front of you. 

You lost all of that when he looked you up and down and gave you a simple command.

“Kneel.”

You bit your tongue, doing your very best to keep a pleasant look on your face as you got on your knees. He couldn’t know how much you hated him. You wouldn’t blow this. 

Your valiant attempt to hide your disdain didn’t seem to have the effect you’d hoped. He looked down at you, sneering, and said, “I was told you’ve been quite eager to get in here. You don’t look eager.”

“I am not in the practice of fawning over men I’ve just met.”

He cocked his head to the side, eyes roaming over you, trying to get a read on you. 

His hair was dark, touched with hints of gray. His face was pale and smooth but not uncreased, particularly worn crow's feet in the corner of his eyes telling tales of a smile that you saw no signs of right now.

He looked down at you with eyes that looked faded, like a half-decayed corpse, and spoke through his fangs. “Why did you want to come here?”

You couldn’t pretend it was out of desire, he’d clearly seen right through that. So you tried another tactic. 

“I had nowhere else to go,” you admitted, looking up at him with sad eyes. 

His brows furrowed. “If you wanted shelter you could have asked for shelter, we would have given it. You took our vows. Why?”

He was right, you had. You’d signed your soul away. Your body too. For what, the chance to live in the home of a leech? You had no idea how anyone could agree to this, how he could have fooled any of the poor people who lived here, who he saw as dinner and as walking sex toys. It was dehumanizing. 

But it was also the easiest way to get close to him. To learn his secrets. 

His eyes softened as your gaze fell, your combative eye contact turning to something shyer, more nervous. 

“We don’t need to talk about that now. But you don’t need to be embarrassed, not here. And you certainly don’t need to be afraid. Whatever your reason, you’re here now, that won’t change unless you want it to.”

He rose from his throne and moved towards you, holding out his hand. You took it as you rose to your feet, not wanting to insult him any more than you apparently already had. 

“What can I call you?” you asked, still not having so much as a name for the man.

“Sir is fine.”

It took everything you had not to roll your eyes at him. 

“Now,” he said, his hand still wrapped around yours, his grip firm but not strong enough that you couldn’t pull away if you really tried. “I should show you around.”

It wasn’t much of a tour. 

He took you through the halls, up a spiral staircase, and past what felt like dozens of doors without uttering so much as a word to you. 

The monotony of the tour was disrupted when a young man came barreling down the hall. He was dressed in all white, his hair a curly blond. It was a bit too long and he pushed it out of his eyes as he skidded to a halt only for it to fall dutifully back into place. 

“Hey Rook I…” He did a double-take as he saw you. “Oh, hello. Haven’t seen you around here before.”

“I’m new.” Your tone was dry. You could tell from the two marks on his neck that he was one of the vampire’s disciples. You knew it wasn’t his fault he’d been fooled into staying here and fought the urge to resent him, to view anything associated with this monster as bad.

A massive smile took over his face. “Great, it’s always nice to have someone new around! I’m Oliver, by the way.”

“Hello.”

“Listen, I know it can be intimidating here at first but I promise he’s a sweetheart under all the dramatics,” he said, gesturing to the visibly frustrated man standing right next to him.

He didn’t take that well.

“You should run along,” Rook insisted, pressing a quick kiss into Oliver’s forehead and cutting off your conversation. “I think I’m going to have to give some special attention to this one.”

Oliver looked at the vampire with furrowed brows. “Okay. You’re being weird but okay.” He turned to you on his way out. “He’s not usually this weird, I promise. I mean, that’s not actually true, he’s always weird but like… different weird.”

“Oliver!” he hissed, his face twitching into what almost looked like embarrassment. 

“Okay, okay, I’m going. Just try not to scare them off.”

As you both watched them trail down the hallway, you turned to Rook and asked, “What happened to everyone calling you sir?”

“I didn’t say everyone had to call me that, I said you did,” he replied, an unmissable snideness in his tone.

Great, you’d been undercover for less than a day and he already didn’t like you.

You hadn’t had much further to go before your little interruption. Your room seemed to be only a few doors down. 

Rook held the door open for you, beckoning you inside. 

He stood in the doorway looking in at you, not entering the room. “The closet has clothes for you. That’s why we gathered your measurements after you took your vows, everything here should be perfectly fitted to you.”

“Thank you, Rook,” you said with a little curtsy.

“Sir,” he hissed at you, his fangs particularly evident as he spoke. 

“Rook,” you insisted, refusing to back down.

He conceded faster than you would have expected, a soft chuckle escaping him at your persistence. “Fine. Rook. Now get some rest. You can pick more of those fights you’re so desperate to pick with me in the morning.”

You immediately turned defensive, terrified of what he was implying. “No, I’m not… I just…”

“I’m not blind, and you have a worse poker face than you seem to think. I’m not worried, I’ve proved less understanding people than you wrong.”

“I really am sorry. I think I’m just nervous.” That much was true at least. You had a feeling your nerves wouldn’t subside until you left this god-forsaken place behind.

“It’s alright,” he promised. “We’ll work on that.”

The words sent a chill down your spine. What was intended to be reassuring felt threatening instead. Something about the way he spoke to you, all straight faces and hushed words, left everything he said feeling sinister. You decided that even if you didn’t know what he was, they would make you feel uneasy. 

It only left you more convinced he had the people here under some sort of spell. Surely he couldn’t have won them over, there must be something else at play. 

You’d half expected to be forced to stay with him your first night so you let out a sigh of relief as he turned without another word and left you in what appeared to be your own room. 

It wasn’t like you didn’t think he had the space, this place could house hundreds, you just weren’t sure of his morals. Or how impatient he would be to test your loyalty to his vows. 

You patted at your side, ensuring you could still feel the notebook you’d sewn into your skirts before you came. 

It was fairly thin. It needed to be able to let it sit, undetected, in the fabric just below your hip.

You hiked up your skirts, pooling the fabric in one arm as the other reached down and grabbed the silver dagger that lay flush against the inside of your thigh. You hadn’t known where it would be able to lie safe and undetected or how thoroughly you would be checked. 

You opened the wardrobe to try and asses where you could go about hiding your contraband from now on, your prior hiding spacing being spoiled by your new host's insistence upon extravagance. 

You considered hiding it somewhere in your room but quickly dismissed the thought. At least with them on your person you’d know if you were discovered. With them in your room, you could be compromised and in danger and be none the wiser. 

There were more clothes in the wardrobe than you’d owned over the rest of your life combined. There were suits and pants and skirts and dresses of every length, even ones that didn’t quite feel appropriate. 

Your gaze was drawn from those scandalous dresses as you realized that some in this closet, shoved into the corner, were sheer. Those you discarded immediately, you wouldn’t give him the pleasure. 

Despite all the variety in clothing types, it all seemed a bit one note. You were stricken with endless patterns of black and white. There were a few in plain black or plain white that you gravitated towards but the rest were covered in patterns. Diamonds and stripes and checked skirts, it was enough to give you a headache. 

The colors and patterns felt aggressive and gaudy when confronted with a whole closet of them, but you couldn’t help but admit that they were beautifully made. The fabric was the softest you’d ever felt. 

You pulled out a black dress, the one that felt closest to what you were used to, and started to put it on. You’d been searching for places where you could sew in secret folds when your hand went right through the skirt and into a pocket. 

You pulled the skirt upwards to evaluate and noticed that the stitching was far rougher there than any of the other seams, looking not unlike your secret pockets you’d become adept at making lately. 

Their presence couldn’t help but worry you. Who had these belonged to before? Who had felt so unsafe here they’d been set on creating hiding spots close to them. 

Whoever they were, they had more sense than the rest of Rook’s victims. 

Your fingers ran over the handle of the knife as you shoved it into your new pockets instead of reattaching it to your thigh. It was safer there, better hidden, but you wanted it at hand. You’d been reassured you wouldn’t have to use it, not on your first mission, but it was always good to have. 

Just in case. 

Your knife was still stowed away but the notebook remained out. You still had work to do. 

Quickly, afraid someone may walk in on you at any moment, you scribbled out a summary of your first day here. It wasn’t much but you’d been told to take note of everything. Besides, you’d never hunted a vampire before, you didn’t know what details were important yet. 

As you completed and folded up your note, you rushed to the window, unlatching it and looking around quickly for anyone surveilling you.

You noted a distinct lack of onlookers at the same time a pigeon landed on the window frame. 

Your face lit up as you saw him, your dutiful little messenger a welcome familiar face in this horrible place. You cooed at him for a moment, giving him a soft pet down his back.

“You’re so good. Told them you could find your way to me.”

But you didn’t have time to fawn over him, you needed to get this note out of here as quickly as you could. 

You attached the note securely to his leg and sent him on his way, staying at the window and watching him until you could see him no longer. 

With your mission for the night completed and your little friend finally out of sight, you gave yourself permission to rest. 

Taking up most of the room was a massive bed, with black blankets pulled over white sheets and sheer black curtains hanging around it. 

The bed was so nice and perfect you couldn’t bring yourself to disturb it, instead curling up on top of the perfectly made bed in the house you didn’t belong in. 

You woke up with a jolt, already filled with adrenaline. The sun was shining through the window and you felt a pang in your chest at the implications of the fact that you had a window at all. He had to avoid the sun, it caused vampires pain and sapped them of most of their strength. Most avoided houses with windows entirely, wanting a space to hide away from it. 

But no, you’d been given a window. This really was your space, a space that half the time he was likely to avoid. 

You realized you’d slept in much later than you’d intended. So much for getting up early and poking around. 

For most vampires you’d be right where you needed to be, most of them were nocturnal but there were a lot of patterns Rook didn’t follow that most vampires did. 

He seemed to prefer following the sleep patterns of his disciples who lived with him, or at least you thought he did based on the little intel you had. 

It was his house so he didn’t need to be invited in anywhere. Instead, it had wardings that meant only those invited could step inside, hence why you were on your very first mission, all alone. You were the only one who’d never been in the limelight, who vampires wouldn’t know to watch out for so here you stood, invited inside with the rest of his little humans. 

If you couldn’t snoop, you should at the very least try and gather information from him. 

You stormed out of your room, set on gathering intel. 

You needed to have more to report this time. What you were doing wasn’t cutting it. You were supposed to be proving yourself and instead you were what, wandering around a mansion and picking petty fights?

You didn’t really know where he was so you took your best bet and headed down to the throne room. 

He wasn’t a ruler of anything, not really. It felt like it was more for his ego than anything. 

The massive wooden doors that led to it were shut with Oliver sitting on the ground beside them, like the world's least threatening guard. 

Upon closer inspection you realized he was knitting something, the pile of yarn next to him the same black and white as most of the things in this god-forsaken place. It didn’t help him appear more intimidating, that was for sure. 

As you reached for the door handle he made a noise of protest from his seat on the floor.

“I wouldn’t go in there,” he called out. “Rook said not to let anyone in.”

“I don’t care what Rook said,” you insisted. “I need to talk to him.”

“I really wouldn’t if I were you…”

You left his calls of protest behind as you stormed into the room.

Rook was sitting on his throne, but he wasn’t alone. 

There was a girl in his lap. You couldn’t see her face, her back facing you as she straddled him. Her long, red hair hid most of her from your sight but it failed to cover her lower half and your face heated at the sight of her plush, unclothes thighs hugging his midsection, her dress hiked up around her waist. 

He pulled her head to rest on his shoulder and you caught a glimpse of both her face and neck, a trail of blood gently trickling down her side, staining her white dress bright red. From what you saw she looked completely out of it. You weren’t even sure she noticed you coming in. 

“Would you like something,” he prompted, his arm wrapped protectively around the girl on his lap. Something in you churned at the sight and you forced it back down. 

You didn’t say a word, turning on your heels and storming right back out of the room. 

Oliver looked up at you, fighting back a smile as the heavy door fell shut behind you.

“I tried to warn you,” he said, amusement radiating off of him and you wondered if maybe everyone in this god-forsaken place was an asshole. 

You spent the rest of the afternoon seething. You weren’t even entirely sure about what, to be honest, just spending most of your time pacing and feeling generally upset. 

When Rook finally decided to show his face, you let it all out on him. 

The second he entered the room you were chewing him out. “What the fuck was that? Do you have to be getting your dick wet and feeding constantly? I mean, christ, it’s my first day here!”

He countered your aggression with a roll of his eyes. “You’re mad at me? Maybe if you listened to Oliver it wouldn’t have happened.” 

You avoided his gaze sheepishly. He was right, this was your fault. Your anxiety about this whole situation was manifesting as anger and you needed to get it under control. For the sake of the mission. 

“If you want to be rude to me, fine,” he continued, “but do not be rude to these people. They’ve done nothing but welcome you here.”

“It’s alright if I’m rude to you?”

“For now. I foresee that changing in the future but I don’t mind a challenge.”

Is that what he thought you were doing? Playing hard to get? It bought you time so you went along with it, wondering how long it would be before his patience snapped and you no longer had a choice

Your thoughts drifted back to the redheaded girl. His body language had read as protective but she’d been bleeding and she didn’t even seem to react to you coming in. Your mind couldn’t help but drift to the worst-case scenario. 

“How many people live here?” You asked, trying to get him to reveal if she was one of his pet humans or someone disposable, someone you should start quietly mourning.

“Right now? You’re met both of them. Well, met is a strong word, more like rudely stormed in on.”

If she lived here, she was probably alright. You’d do your best to find a way to check in on her, just to be safe.

At the revelation that only two humans lived here, you thought back to the only face you’d expected to see within these walls. “The man who measured me, the one who permitted me inside and made me take my vows. Where is he? Petyr, I think his name was.”

He was an older man, you’d guess late 50’s. He’d been a calming force when you’d met him, making your mission seem less daunting with the power of pleasant conversation, even if you couldn’t admit any of your real intentions to him. 

You would’ve appreciated his presence. Your only hope was that Rook hadn’t already gotten to him.

“He’s traveling,” Rook explained, a faraway look entering his already glassy eyes. “He always wanted to see the world. He’s spent far too many decades trapped in here with me so I sent him off to see it.”

You scoffed. “So that’s it? He got too old and you sent him off? You just discard your little lovers when they’re not young enough for you anymore?”

He looked genuinely hurt by the accusation. “You don’t know anything. I’d give the world for him to be here, for them all to be here. But they have lives to live, certainly more than I do. They’ve more than earned their dreams, I just try to help with the ones I can.”

At the clicking sound of approaching heels, you glanced down the hallway to see a woman with familiar long locks of ginger hair striding towards you. 

“I’m done taking insults from you. Play nice with her,” he hissed.

“Or else?”

He didn’t answer before storming off, leaving you to get acquainted with the redhead you’d already seen far too much of.

You turned back to her and saw her looking longingly after him as if she didn’t want to be left alone with you. Part of you couldn’t help but take offense to that. He was the monster, not you. If anything, you were going to be her savior. 

She let out a nervous giggle as she shifted her gaze from the hallway where your host had disappeared back down to her dress, a new one without blood dripping down it. “I’m sorry about earlier. Not the most dignified meeting we could have had.”

“It wasn’t your fault, I shouldn’t have been in there.” The mark on her neck had already begun to fade, healing much faster than a regular wound. However, you knew it would never fully heal, his mark would be on her skin for the rest of her life, claiming her. 

“Regardless, I'm sorry. You shouldn’t have seen me like that until much later, our third meeting at least.”

She smiled at her own joke and you could help but mirror it. 

“I’m Vivian, by the way. It really is lovely to meet you.” Her smile was so genuine it was hard to not have an immediate fondness for her. 

“It’s good to meet you too. Can I ask, are you alright?” You asked as you stared at the wound on her neck, the blood that had been spilling down her before completely absent except for that small reminder of its presence.

“Hmm? Oh yeah, just a little embarrassed. Rook says I shouldn’t be but you’re the first new person who’s come since I arrived, I wanted to make a good first impression.”

“No, not that. You just seemed out of it in there, he didn’t hurt you did he?”

“What, Rook? No, of course not. He was taking good care of me, I promise. Has he talked to you about when you want him to drink from you yet? It really isn’t scary, I promise. He’s very gentle.”

“People keep saying that to me and yet I haven’t seen any proof. He’s been nothing but an ass to me.”

That threw her off balance. “He has?”

“I think he thinks I’m a bit obstinate,” you said, hoping that was all it was. The alternative was that he’d become suspicious of you and that was something you couldn’t abide by.

“That doesn’t make sense,” she insisted. “He doesn’t mind a bit of pushback. God knows Oliver can be a handful and I’ve never even seen him get upset.”

“Well, he’s been plenty upset at me.”

“I’m sure you two just got off on the wrong foot,” she insisted. “He’s a little rough around the edges sometimes but hey, who here isn’t, right?”

You couldn’t help but bristle at the comment. 

She picked up on your reaction immediately. “No, I didn’t mean… It’s just, we’re all running from something, right?”

You nodded. You needed to stop being so aggressive, you were standing out far too much. “Yeah, of course, you’re right.”

“It’s alright,” she said, resting a reassuring hand on your arm. “It took me ages to get used to this place too. Try not to worry too much, it’ll feel like home before you know it.”

You doubted that.

Vivian wandered off, saying something about taking a nap and you retreated to your room. 

You were a mess. It felt like every time you tried to do anything here it ended up being a disaster that got you one step closer to being caught. You collapsed backwards on your bed, set on hiding in your room until morning. 

The universe seemed to have other plans.

A knock sounded at your door and you called out, “Who is it?”

“It’s Oliver, I’m coming in.”

He opened the door, not even waiting for you to call him in and he stared down at you, collapsed on top of your blankets. 

“Good your still dressed,” he said, extending a hand to help yank you to your feet. “You’re having dinner with Rook at sunset.”

Your blood ran cold at the thought of being alone with him and of what ‘dinner’ could entail for a vampire. 

“No.”

“Yes,” he insisted.

“I don’t want to,” you snapped back.

“Too bad. He said, and this is a direct quote, ‘they wanted to speak to me so fucking badly earlier, let’s give them an opportunity.’”

Oliver’s persistence in inviting you made sense, it didn’t sound like an offer one was allowed to refuse.

“Go hang out with Viv in the meantime or something, it’s awfully lonely in here,” he said, not waiting for a response before setting out on the move again. It was almost like he was allergic to standing still. 

You followed his advice, figuring you wouldn’t be able to relax knowing what was coming anyways. 

Vivian wasn’t hard to find, although you wouldn’t exactly say you found her. One second you were wandering down empty hallways and the next second she was behind you, tapping your shoulder to get your attention. 

“Hello,” she said, her persistent warmth immediately setting you at ease, even if her sudden appearance had frightened you. 

Vivian was an easy person to get along with. You spent the next few hours milling about with her, not talking about much of importance but passing the time much easier. 

She seemed determined to make you feel welcome. It was nice, feeling like you have a friend here, even if she could never be an ally. 

Oliver and Rook were entirely absent as you and Vivian wandered about. You made sure not to open any firmly shut doors this time. 

After a few hours, the moment you dreaded arrived. Vivian poked her head out the velvet curtains that were covering the nearest window and grinned at you. 

“Alright, Oliver said to send you down right about now. It’s right down that hallway.

Your heart skipped a beat as you stared down the dark hallway. Vivian didn’t seem to quite understand the magnitude of your anxiety, excitedly shooing you down towards the door. 

You entered a room that looked almost exactly like what you’d expect from a dining room in a house this big. The table was massive, spanning the humungous room. 

Something you hadn’t expected to see was the number of chairs. 

The table was completely devoid of them except for one Rook was sitting at right at the head of the table and another right next to him. 

You sat beside him, having no other choice in the matter. 

“This massive house and you can’t afford more chairs?”

“They were removed. It’s hard to talk all the way across the room.”

You resented the fact that he refused to even give you the option. 

The chairs that remained looked heavy and you couldn’t help but imagine Oliver and Rook desperately trying to push them out of the room in order to trap you next to him. Despite the less than optimal outcome, you had to fight back a smile at the mental image. 

“Did you sleep alright?” he asked, cutting through your daydreams of him. 

“Fine,” you responded bluntly. 

“Are you sure? Your bed was still made.”

You were suddenly very glad your knife and notebook were stashed in your pocket. “Why were you in my room? How did you even get in, I left the window wide open.”

“Ah, yes.” He looked embarrassed and you got the sense that he’d be blushing if he had the blood for it instead of being pale and cold. “Well, we don’t exactly have staff here, they’re too scared of me to come. Everyone mostly takes care of their own tidying but I look after the rooms of newcomers. And I just covered up until I could get the drapes closed, it’s not the easiest way to move but I only have to travel the length of a room.”

Your accusation suddenly felt cruel. There was something so earnest about his words, something sheepish at the fact that he was picking up after you. “Oh. Okay. Well, the bed was just so lovely and made so well, it felt rude to mess it up.”

He smiled. “Well, I’m glad you appreciate my bed-making skills but I promise I don’t mind if you sleep under the covers. That is what they’re made for.”

The conversation put you more at ease, feeling less like you’d been brought here to be interrogated and more like this was a ploy from Rook to make you like him. It almost felt worse this way, the way he seemed to be trying to hide his eagerness to make you feel welcomed. 

You looked down at the plate of food in front of you, finally convinced it was probably safe to eat, and noticed that it was the only one on the table. The spot in front of Rook was entirely empty. 

“You’re not going to eat?” you asked as you took a bite of the food. It made you a little angry how good it was and for some undiscernible reason, you hoped Oliver had made it. Like that would make it alright that you’d enjoyed it. 

He shook his head. “Can’t. Solid food are beyond me I’m afraid.”

“Why would you invite me to dinner then,” you asked, baffled by the decision.

“It seemed like a good time to talk. Besides, it’s a good way to make sure you eat. Viv is very concerned about you, says you’re not handling all this very well.”

She might’ve been right to be. With everything going on, eating had been the last thing on your mind. “I’m just nervous,” you justified weakly. 

“So you keep saying.”

He watched you eat, studying you as you made your way through the dish. Finally, you grew tired of his observation and set down the fork. 

“I can’t help but wonder, am I playing right?”

“Playing? This isn’t a game.”

“Yes, it is.” you insisted. “All of this has been, despite the fact that you declined to inform me of it. I think you like when it's a game. So am I playing correctly or have I already lost?”

“You barely know me and yet you pretend to know so much.”

“Am I wrong?”

“About this? No. Might be a first since you entered this place but you are not wrong.”

You scoffed. “What do you want from me?”

“You came here. You act as if I forced you into my home.”

“And you let me in. But you’re not making me give you anything so what do you want, why am I here? Why should I want to win?”

“I want you to trust me. That’s where this has to start.”

“And where does it end?”

“That depends on you. If you keep behaving like this it might end with you never trusting me.”

You worried when that end might be. “So I am losing. Good to know, And of course I don’t trust you, I don’t know anything about you.”

“Alright then,” he said as he leaned back in his chair, the corner of his mouth quirking up before he could manage to suppress his smile. “Go on.”

“With what?”

“Getting to know me.”

This was your opportunity, he’d just all but given you permission to ask all the questions you wanted. Not wanting to let the chance pass you by, you blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “So you drink blood.”

He smiled, baring his fangs at you as he did. “See, you know some things about me.”

“Are you going to drink from me?” you pressed on, refusing to let him steer you off track. 

“If you want me to.”

“And if I don’t? Isn’t that what you brought us here for?”

He scoffed. “I’m building a community here, not a buffet.” 

You just continued on with your questions. “Do you kill people?” 

“Not unless it’s self-defense, same as most people I’d assume.” He chuckled as he answered but you didn’t find it funny. 

“Let me rephrase then. Have you killed people?”

“Noone who didn’t try and kill me first.” That answer he didn’t chuckle through. 

He looked you right in the eyes as he stated it. It felt like a promise. You just weren’t certain if it was a promise not to hurt you or a promise of what would happen if you tried to hurt him.

“I don’t know if I believe you,” you said. You didn’t have to do much acting to appear nervous around him but you hoped it might help. Maybe if he knew you were afraid of him he’d give you space.

“You should. Vampires can’t lie.”

You perked up at that. “Is that true?” you asked incredulously.

He just raised his eyebrows and gave you a shit-eating grin.

You had half a mind to throw something at him. 

He didn’t apologize for his stupid little joke, which was well enough because you wouldn’t have forgiven him. Instead, his eyes darted down to your half-finished dinner. 

“You going to finish that?”

You crossed your arms. “I’ve lost my appetite.”

“Don’t be like that, we were having fun! You were playing the game. Well, if you’re really done, come on,” he said, offering you his hand. “I’ll show you the gardens. You’ll like them. Everyone does.”

There were few decisions you could’ve made that felt as deeply ill-advised as going on a walk with him, alone, as the sun had already set. 

You told yourself it was because there wasn’t an easy way out but honestly, you weren’t so sure, and you took his hand. 

He led you outside, the grip on your hand less firm than it had been last time. 

“Where are the flowers,” you asked when confronted with walls of bushes as the two of you stepped outside. 

“There aren’t flowers. It’s a hedge maze.” 

You snorted out a laugh. “Why do you have a hedge maze?”

“Every self-respecting mansion has a hedge maze.”

“That’s absurd,” you insisted.

“Well, maybe I’m absurd. Either way, absurd or not, everyone loves the hedge maze. Want to give it a try.”

The idea of being lost and alone, or worse, lost and with Rook, wasn’t exactly appealing to you. “Not really.”

“Suit yourself.”

“I have more questions for you,” you said, figuring you should at least take advantage of this alone time that you’d foolishly agreed to. “I mean, if you don’t mind.”

“Go ahead. I hope they’re more fun than your last ones.”

“Can you actually turn into a bat?”

“Yes, I can.”

“Can I see?”

“No. Maybe someday but that’s something I only do with people I trust and as someone very cross with me once said, I can’t trust you, I don’t know anything about you.”

“Okay. Another question then. What’s with all the black and white?”

“Don’t you like it? It feels fitting to me. The light and the dark, the wars that are waged, reflected on everything here.”

Your nose scrunched up as he talked, waxing poetic about two colors that you couldn’t quite bring yourself to care about. 

As he went on, you began to put some of the pieces together as he spoke. “Your name is Rook too. That wasn’t your given name I assume.”

“My favorite chess piece. Honest, direct, noble.”

“Okay,” you said, cutting him off before he could start rambling again. “Be that as it may, you shouldn’t impose your weird chess thing on us. Some of us like colors.”

“My weird chess thing?” His voice cracked as he questioned you, snorting out a laugh at your comment. “You are so rude, where were you raised?”

You clutched your chest in mock pain. “Sorry, not all of us were raised in a mansion Rook.”

“I’m terribly sorry, I didn’t realize most people went around insulting one another so freely.”

“I think you’d be surprised. If you went out in the world wearing some of those outfits you gave me I think you’d hear some choice words thrown your way.”

The thought inspired yet another question from you. “When you talked about needing a special outfit to close the window, is it like, a big sun hat? A black and white one of course.” 

“More like a sheet ghost.”

You giggled and he laughed along with you, looking down at you fondly and with some undeniable smugness present on his face. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you asked, quickly snuffing out your laughter. 

 “You’re not afraid. It’s the first time since you got here that you weren’t terrified of me.”

You hadn’t even noticed that the bubbling fear that lived in your chest had faded out as the two of you had spoken, “How could you possibly tell?” 

“I can smell it. All those chemicals in your blood.” 

“Stop smelling my blood,” you practically shouted, smacking at him.

He let out an almost boyish laugh as he dodged your attack. “I can’t help it, that’s like asking you to stop smelling the flowers.”

“There are no flowers,” you pointed out.

“Well, in theory. I can’t just turn it off. Trust me, if I could I would.”

After a moment of thought he added, “You know what this means, don’t you?”

“Not a clue.”

“It means I won. This battle, at least.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re insufferable.”

A tempest of competing emotions fought in your chest. You were a fool, you were giving in to him. The hunters didn’t want you here for this exact reason, he must be hypnotizing you or something. 

That felt more believable than you having a pleasant conversation with him. 

With his victims? Maybe. They were people with souls, albeit misguided people. But not with him.

You felt like you were losing control. Of all the things you’d imagined when you got here, this was the furthest thing from your mind and yet you couldn’t deny it, especially after he’d as much as said it.

You’d stopped being afraid of him, for however brief a moment.