#on my knees for more people to draw him T T

[redwinelew]

knee socks | lewis hamilton

summary | singer!y/n released a song which exposes lewis' lack of attention toward her in their relationship and he isn't too pleased with it.

warnings | 18+. smut. oral (f receiving), orgasm denial, vaginal sex, dirty talk, lewis being a little mean, english is not my first language, pls lmk what else i missed

author's note | i have nothing to post rn and this has been sitting in my drafts so weeks so here you go. lmk if u guys enjoy this and if u want me to write more written fics.

lewis is a private man, he made that clear all throughout his life, since the first world championship trophy was handed to him, the moments everybody's eyes in the world started to set on him, following his every move, to this day. he doesn't like channeling his personal matters to the public. sure there are a lot of people who'd be interested to know, journalists who would sell their souls for an exclusive interview with him, but nothing can make him give up his peace anymore. he had his moments when he was younger. everything was open to interpretation for the media and fans. but as he gets older, things changed. private life should stay private.

you are a musician. and it's risky, dating a musician. he's seen it. he's been with one, and he is one. he thought he already knew, he thought he understood what he was getting himself back into. you are different from his ex. you make your own music, write your own songs, not afraid to be vulnerable through your art, never care however fans and media are going to interpret them. they'll never know the truth. it's none of their business anyway. he doesn't regret dating you, though. nothing could make him regret being with you. he wouldn't trade it even for his 8th championship.

but deep down, lewis knows this day will come. where a little inconvenience happens in your relationship was enough to set you off completely. the day where you stopped listening to the logical part of your brain and follow your heart instead. the day you pissed off enough to finally say fuck it.

in your defense, you were so caught up in your feelings. part of you also honestly didn't care. you are a singer, a musician, as much as he is. this is how you express yourself. he should have known that by now. if he didn't want the whole world to know how fucking busy he is with the race season to the point where he never spent time with you anymore, he should have pay more attention to you.

you would have argued with that if only you could form a single coherent sentence right now. but all you could say was—

"please...."

do not ask how long has this been going on. he could lie and say hours and you'll believe it. he could ask you to do anything and you'll obey. it's not like you have a choice. if it pleases him, if it will somehow get you the release you have been desperately craving, fucking hell, you'll do it. that's how it is right now. you, half naked on the bed. pants discarded somewhere on the carpeted bedroom floor. panties gone to fuck knows where. his old band t-shirt that you're wearing is pushed up, exposing your belly and almost your chest.

him? in between your legs. inked hands holding your thighs open for his tongue to explore your folds in every way he knows, drawing all kinds of sounds out of you, pushing you to the edge again and again but not quite giving you the release you've been desperately needing. not after what you said about him in the song, no.

a whine escapes your lips yet again when he pulls himself off of you just as you're about to reach another peak. he looks up, a smirk decorating his face as his tongue licks your arousal from his thick lips.

bastard.

"i didn't ask you to beg." he replies calmly, caressing your inner thigh all the way up to your knee, making you almost jerk up at the slightest of his touch.

of course he is calm. he's enjoying this. torturing you. driving you insane. god how you wish the tables are turn right now. how you wish that you have the energy to flip the two of you and get your revenge on him, showing him how it feels to be in your shoes. he'd be worse than you are right now. you can say that confidently because you've seen it. some rare moments where he handed over the control to you, letting you take charge in bed and do whatever you wanted to him. easiest way to say, he was a mess.

"you're not being fair—" was instead all you could say in such a pathetic tone that even you did not recognize yourself.

"i wasn't planning to be."

your pussy clenches around nothing at the casualness of his reply. your mind is pissed at him for ruining your orgasms but your body couldn't help but craving for his touch. you've seen the dominance side of him almost every night and yet the calmness that he's radiating right now even though you know how angry he is at you and your song is enough to send shivers down your spine.

there's something about lewis being angry and yet not completely showing it.

it turns you on even more.

"tell me what i want to hear first." he demands, his thick digits rubbing your bundle of nerves. your back arches into his touch. your eyelids flutter, broken moans fall from your lips.

the pleasure didn't last long. a soft, frustrated sigh leaves you as do his fingers from your clit. just when you were going to try catching your breath, he plunges two fingers inside without warning.

"fuck— oh my god—"

he hovers above you, eyes never leaving your face, watching your every reaction, the way your jaw hangs low. the thickness of his digits makes you feel so full already, you couldn't form neither words nor sounds.

"fuck, fuck—" and when he moves his fingers, you already saw heaven. the wet squelching sound from your arousal is so sinful it almost made you feel embarrassed at how wet you still are even after having your pleasure punished by him. your hand reaches up to his free arm near your head, clinging to him for support. your nails dig deep into his inked skin, drawing a silent hiss from him.

"come on," he says again. "tell me what i want to hear."

this might be it. he's fingering you with passion, hitting that sweet spot over and over again, making your legs tremble. he never half-assed anything in his life, especially when it comes to your pleasure but something tells you that maybe this is when he thinks that you have had your lesson and it's time you give you that release. he just loves you that much. and you always get what you want.

"n-no." you stutter in defiance.

he smirks again. your denial only makes this more fun for him, which is apparent in the way his fingers move rougher and faster right now. and you notice how his other digits are avoiding your clit, making it a little harder for you to reach another peak.

"four orgasms denied and you still wanna be stubborn?"

only four? it felt like hundreds, you manage to think to yourself despite how hazy your mind feels right now.

"please...." you croak out, and that's how far you'll beg for his forgiveness.

but he's not satisfied. he pulls out his fingers, and you would have groaned if you could even speak right now.

"no...."

"don't worry, sweetie," he cuts you off surprisingly, sitting up straight again. you prop yourself up on your elbows and watch as he lines up the tip of his cock against your entrance, teasing your folds slightly. you feel as if air has been knocked out of your lungs. you didn't even think that this was a possibility tonight, to be fucked by him. to feel his thick cock inside you. genuinely you thought he would leave you high and dry, though it's very unlikely for him. but still. he could truly be that cruel when he wants to.

"i'll make you come if that's what you wanted so badly. but only on my cock. and i'll make you come again and again until i finally get my apology."

you swallow thickly.

that is certainly a promise.

[jjmbbg]

"Such a good girl"

cw: russell shaw x fem!reader, domestic little intro, oral sex (m!receiving), hair pulling, slight degradation, pubic hair ?? (in case someone whines about it lol)

(pics from pinterest)

Russell always has rough days, going around doing his own thing, helping people, sometimes annoying his not-so-little brother and such. Deal with the bills and such is also a problem —or rather, a pain in the ass.

But at least you were there to ease all of his problems. A light touch on his hand, a kiss on the cheek or your pretty ass on his lap were enough to make all his tensions fade away, at least momentarily.

Today, more than ever, he needed what only you knew how to give him. He dropped the keys of his car on the hall table, hanging his jacket on the coat rack by the door. With a heavy sigh, he walked into the living room, seeing you sitting on the couch with a steaming cup of green tea in your hands.

"Is that my t-shirt?" he asked you, walking towards you and sitting next to you. Then, he gathered you carefully on his arms and made you sit on his lap, kissing your cheek briefly.

"Yeah" you replied, adjusting yourself on his lap, taking a sip of your tea, then you brought the cup to Russell's lips.

"Y'know I ain't a tea fan" he chuckled, caressing your thigh with his calloused hand, leaving a tingly feeling on your skin.

"I'm in your lap, the least you can do is drink some of my tea" you protested, smiling as he gave in and took a sip of it, making a face of disgust. "It has sugar"

"I see"

Russell turned his head towards the TV, wondering what the hell were you watching, but all he saw was just naked people, then a little bit of violence and stuff.

"What's this?" he decided to ask, but when you murmured you didn't know he chuckled. "That's what was on TV, huh?"

You two stayed like that for a while, you sipping your tea, comforting him from his rough day with a small talk and a few kisses. He kept a hand on your thigh, drawing lazy patterns on your bare skin. At some point, you turned your head and looked at him affectionately, your hand leaving the cup on the coffee table and you turned at him to look at his face better.

Silently, your finger traced gently the lines of his face, the outline of his features: forehead, nose, lips and his beard. He smiled at you, leaning to give you a small kiss, his beard tickling your lips and chin, making you smile. Then you gave him another small kiss, and he gave another one.

But what was just little pecks, turned into hungry kisses, his hands cupping your face roughly, lips and teeth crashing into the heated dance of the kiss. He broke apart the kiss, both of you gasping for air. With choked in pleasure, he whispered, his hot breath fanning your face

"On your knees, sweetheart"

A thrill ran down your spine, it wasn't a question but an order. You felt yourself throb in your panties as you got on your knees between his thighs, your hands reaching the button and zipper of his jeans, undoing them and sliding them along his boxers to his ankles. His thick, hard cock sprang free, standing at attention, making you lick your lips in anticipation.

"Go on, baby. I know you want it. Put it deep in that pretty mouth of yours" Russell instructed, seeing you eagerly lean on his crotch, lips hovering the hard-rock length. "Don't be shy, honey. We know you wanna be my little cocksleve, or am I wrong?"

You nodded, your hands reaching out, fingers wrapping around the base of Russell's shaft. It's hot and hard, pulsing against your palm. Eagerly, you parted your soft, pink lips opening your mouth. You extended your tongue, giving the tip a teasing lick, moaning at the salty-sweetness of his pre-cum. You looked up through your lashes, straight at his face, and smiled coyly.

"I'll make you feel good, Russ" you said to him, almost a soft purr from your throat.

Then, you leaned further and wrapped your lips around the head of Russell's pink cock, sealing your mouth on it, your lips forming a tight seal as you started to slid it deeper into your mouth. You can feel the hard length gliding over your tongue, filling your warm mouth in the way you loved like crazy. Your throat relaxed, taking Russell even deeper and feelinf the head hitting the back of your throat, and you swallowed around it, the muscles of your throat fluttering and massaging the sensitive flesh.

He grabbed a fistful of your hair, humming in approval. He didn't pushed your head and didn't guide you, he just kept his hand there, enjoying the feel of your warm mouth bobbing up and down.

"That's my good little slut, huh? You're doing it so fucking well" he growled lowly, his hand twitching with the urge to push your head down and make you choke on him, but he held back.* "Don't stop. Mhm, just like that, babygirl"

You moaned against his cock, a mix of drool and his pre-cum sliding down your throat as you pumped his dick with your mouth. You took him deep, your nose brushing against the wiry hair at the base of his shaft. The musky scent of his arousal fills your nostrils, making your head spin with desire, making your cunt dampening your panties.

"Fuck, you're doing it amazing, honey. You were made to take my cock in that pretty mouth" he groaned, fingers tightening in your hair. "My good little girl, taking me so well like a slut, gagging on me"

Your tongue swirled around the head, tracing the thick vein on the underside, teasing the sensitive spot just below the crown. His moans and the slurpy sound of your mouth made his cock twitch with need of release, the sight of your cheeks hollowing... God, he was gonna bust right here and there if you kept using your mouth like that.

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, but you don't let up. You want his hot seed flooding your mouth, swallow every last drop of his cum.

You glanced up at Russell, his cock deep in your abused throat. The heat of his green gaze sends shivers down your body, redoubling your efforts, determined to make him come undone. You want to be the reason for his pleasure, the cause of his ectasy.

"Yeah, keep sucking me like that. I'm so close, baby" his voice was thick with pleasure, his lips parted letting his precious moans and head on the backrest of the couch, enjoying the way your mouth engulfed him, the wet heat enveloping his dick like a vice. "Take it all, baby. Love to see you choking on my cock"

Then again, Russell listened to the slurping sounds filling the room, mingling with his harsh breaths and your muffled moans and his choked ones. It was filthy, it was good, so fucking good.

His balls drew up tight as your tongue worked over and over the sensitive spot under the head. The pressure building, the coil pleasure winding tighter and tighter in his gut.

"Gonna cum," he warned, voice strained. "Gonna fucking come down your tight throat, and you're gonna swallow it like the good little slut you are"

You nodded as you bobbed your head up and down, moaning on his length, wanting him to finish in your mouth, needing him to. You shut your eyes close tightly as Russell held your head against his throbbing cock, a hoarse cry from the deep of his throat as he flooded your mouth and throat. His orgasm ripping through him like a tidal wave.

Russell's body shuddered with the force of his release, his grip on your hair almost painful. He rode out the waves of pleasure, grinding against your face until he was spent, until he had nothing left to give.

You slipped his cock out from your mouth with a wet pop, a thread of saliva and cum still joining you two. He smiled at you as you swallowed his cum and hummed with need, rubbing your thighs each other, seeking some kind of relief.

"Looks like someone needs a little bit of touch, huh?" Russell teased you, pulling you into his lap. "Huh? What's this?" he teased, palming your clothed pussy, feeling the dampness of your panties. "Uh oh, looks like we have some problem here"

And with a guttural force, he teared off your panties.

"Russell!" you yelped amused and surprised, feeling his fingers sank into you.

"We ain't done yet"

[sadlad03]

heres a little poster thingy (｡o_o｡)""

[notyetneedcoffee]

May I?

Kinktober - Consent NSFW - Adults Only

Summary: You are careful to get Bucky's permission.

Bucky Barnes normally did not allow people into his apartment. It’s not like there was anything to see. A chair. A TV. A bed he never slept in. The light above the stove in the little kitchen was the only thing to illuminate the emptiness of his space.

“So, you’re a hoarder.” You said, deadpanned, as you stepped into the living room.

Bucky huffed a laugh as he turned on the small side table lamp. He rubbed at the back of his neck. “I, ah, I wasn’t really planning on bringing you back here tonight.”

“It’s okay.” You dropped your purse and jacket on the floor by the little counter separating the kitchen and living room. As you toed off your shoes, you made sure to gauge his reaction. Bucky’s shoulders lowered just a little.

“Do you want a drink or something? I think I have a few beers left.”

“Naw. I’m good.” You came closer to him, taking his gloved hand in yours. “I’d really like to kiss you again.”

His eyes brightened as he leaned forward. You rose on your toes to meet him halfway. For such a hard man, his lips were impossibly soft. His tongue touched your lips and you eagerly opened for him, matching his enthusiasm.

Pulling away a bit you tugged at his jacket. “Are you going to get comfortable?” He stilled. You smiled. “Bucky, you can be comfortable with me. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

His eyes closed and he tipped his head forward. “I want to.”

You slowly removed his gloves, tossing them beside your coat. You ran your fingers over his metallic palm, entwined your fingers with his. “I know you have complete control, but can you really feel my touch.”

He nodded. “Yeah. It’s different, but yeah.”

You brought his hand to your mouth and kissed his palm. Bucky stared, transfixed. You kissed the tip of his fingers. His breath increased. You lightly sucked on his forefinger. Bucky’s eyes closed and nearly imperceptible whine escaped his throat.

Bucky cupped your face with both of his hands and kissed you again. You slid your hands under his jacket, along his t-shirt. He let go of you just long enough to shed his jacket. The gleaming metal of his arm didn’t bother you. Neither did the solid pressure of it as he wrapped his arms around your waist to kiss you more.

“Doll,” He sighed, pressing his forehead to yours. “It’s been a while.”

“I know.” You toyed with the bottom of his shirt where it was tucked into his jeans. “Bucky. May I take this off?” He nodded. You pulled it up, grazing your fingertips along his flat stomach, over his powerful chest, until he lifted his arms and pulled the shirt off the rest of the way himself. Your fingers lingered on his chest. “Damn, you’re gorgeous.”

You reached behind you and unclipped your bra before drawing it along with your shirt over your head. Bucky panted, mouth slightly open. You took a half a step closer. “Will you touch me?”

He nodded. His right hand slid up your side to cup your breast. You drew his left hand to your skin, showing him you wanted him to touch you every way he could. Bucky sighed and wrapped his arms around you. His kiss became more demanding.  His hands explored your back.

“Doll,” Bucky sighed. “Damn, you feel so good.”

“Can I feel more of you?” You nipped at his jaw. He breathed a quiet ‘yes’ as you unfasted his belt.

He stared as you slipped from your pants, standing before him in just tiny white cotton underwear.

When you lowered yourself to your knees, Bucky face expressed so many emotions at once. Excitement, fear, adoration, nervousness. It went decidedly soft when you took your time unlacing his boots and removing them one at a time.

He went still as you unzip his jeans. His erection twitched as you barely brushed against it as you pushed his jeans over his hips. Jeans tossed aside, looking up at him, your hands ran up his thighs. Bucky’s eyes were wide, he chewed on his lower lip.

“Bucky,” You moved closer, so close you could smell his skin. “May I touch you?”

“Yes.” He breathed.

You lowered his boxer briefs and wrapped your hand around his cock. He let go of a shuttered breath. Thick and long. You stroked the silky skin covering the steel of his cock.

“May I,” You ran your nose along the underside of him. “taste you?”

“Oh god,” He groaned. “Yes.”

As your wet mouth wrapped around him, your felt his body twitch. His fingers stroked through your hair. You could feel his tight control beginning to wane. His hips rocked. His thighs locked.

“Fuck, Doll.” He clutched at you. “Stop. Stop. I can’t. . . Stop or this is over too soon.” You stood. Bucky’s thumb slid along your wet, swollen lower lip. “Damn, you’re beautiful.”

“Can we go to bed?”

He nodded, leading you to the other room. It was as sparse as the living room. You kissed him again before crawling to the middle of the mattress. Bucky leaned over you, looping his fingers in your underwear and pulled them down. Your legs fell open. He inhaled deeply through his nose.

“Please, Bucky.”

He slid his hands along your thighs, stroking slowly, moving slowly closer to your core. Long fingers stroked through your folds, gathering your wetness, teasing your clit. Bucky leaned forward with his weight on his free hand to kiss your breasts. His mouth sucked on your hard nipples, making your back arch.

Warmth pooled in your core. Still, you wanted this to be about him.

“Bucky.” You pulled him up and kissed him deeply. Giving a light shove, you pushed him over onto his back. Straddling his hips, you kissed his jaw. Nibbled at his neck. You whispered in his ear. “I want to make you feel good.”

Strong emotion swirled in his eyes. You stroked his chest, sitting back more. His hands came up to cup your breasts. You took his right hand in yours and sucked upon his finger, kissed his palm. “May I do that, Bucky?”

He nodded, visibly shaking at your words.

You reached down, stroking him, rubbing him along your wetness. His hands moved up and down your thighs. As you lowered yourself onto him, impaling yourself, Bucky moaned loudly. You rocked, loving his reaction, lost in the intensity.

“Oh god, Bucky.” You panted. “You feel so good.”

His fingers dug into the cheeks of your ass, rocking you as his hip pushed up. You braced your weight on your hands. You kissed his chest, his neck, his full beautiful mouth. Tension grew, swirling in your belly. Your eyes locked.

“Doll, ah, I’m gonna…”

“Yes,” You breathed. “Me too.”

“God, you’re amazing. Make me feel…wanted.” His gaze held you captive. “Feel so good.”

You moved faster. The coil tightened. You wanted to say things, confess things. The emotion nearly bringing tears to your eyes. His breath grew harsher, hips snapped faster. You began to quiver.

“Please, oh, fuck.” Bucky’s clutched at you. “Come for me.”

You came undone. Eyes locking closed and body shaking. Bucky wrapped his arms around you tight, pushing up into you fast and hard until the moan of his release filled your ears.

You lay atop him, limp and sated. His fingers drew lazy circles along your back. “Doll,” He sighed. “You’re too good for me.”

“No,” You kissed his chest.

He smiled. “Then may I call you my girl?”   

Want more? Check out my Master List.

[sweetpascal]

omg looove this idea!! hmm, perhaps prompt 7 from list 3? with our boy frankie?? 🥵 only if such a pairing tickles your fancy, of course!

main prompts post

#7 from prompt list no. 3

⤷ finding a somewhat private area at a fancy party to fuck (coat closet, empty office, secluded corner on the big balcony, hedge maze if we wanna get dramatic, etc) 

oh absoLUTELY this tickles my fancy. call me a pescatarian cause i love me some Catfish (ew that was such a bad joke, i even made myself cringe. please ignore that dad joke.) 😭

pairing: frankie morales x fem!reader

— summary: when dancing on your husband accidentally makes him pop a boner, frankie takes it upon himself to drag the two of you away to relieve that stress.

— warnings: husband + wife trope. hatless frankie. frisky dancing. groping. heavy make out session. no foreplay. spit as lube. standing doggy. size kink. brief daddy kink. sprinkle of mirror sex too hehe.

— wc: 3.2k (i'm surprised i kept it below 5k tbh)

this boink part is inspired by this spicy twitter video ;)

follow @sweetpascal-notifs for future fic updates.

The idea to host a New Year's party was Benny's. Often referred to as the group's golden retriever, he has an innate charm that draws people to him, enabling him to make friends effortlessly. As the youngest among his three friends and blessed with boyish, attractive features, it's no wonder he has numerous friends beyond Santiago, Frankie, and his older brother, Will. He's made acquaintances at the gym, dive bars, and even grocery stores. Benny has a knack for talking his way into and out of situations, often avoiding parking fines and more serious troubles. However, that's not the focus. When Benny organizes a gathering, he spares no expense on food, beverages, music, and decor. New Year's, after all, is a celebration of new beginnings.

There you and your husband, Frankie, were, at the black-and-white masquerade party. You donned a sleek, black silk dress that hugged your figure, featuring a deep back and slender straps, complemented by a delicate pearl necklace resting on your collarbones. Frankie was dressed in his finest black trousers, a snug black t-shirt tucked into them with a belt, and a black blazer. His outfit struck the perfect balance for Benny's theme, being neither too ostentatious nor too simple. Fortunately, masks were provided at the party, so that was one less thing to consider.

The music was loud, and the atmosphere was lively. You had lost track of the others some time ago, but Frankie remained by your side, steadfast as glue to paper. Aware that parties weren't really his scene, especially considering his age and dislike for crowded spaces, you found a quiet corner. Gently pulling on his hand, you guided him to stand against the wall. The bass pulsed through you, a constant presence. Your mask concealed your forehead, eyes, and nose, leaving only your lips and chin visible. Frankie's mask was a different hue but similar to yours. Despite the strobe lights, it was clear his gaze hadn't strayed from you, not since you left home.

"Are you doing okay?" you asked, loud enough for him to hear, your hands gently gripping his shoulders for balance. Frankie leaned into you, his large hands settling on your hips as he nodded in response to your question and gave a thumbs up. You returned the nod and placed a soft kiss on the bald spot along his jaw.

The sensation of alcohol settling in your body is unmistakable. The buzzing in your veins, the warmth spreading through your chest, and the tingling sensation all over become increasingly pronounced. As the music shifts to a rhythm that's easy to dance to, you find yourself easily moving to the beat. Frankie's hands were still on your hips as you turned in his hold with your back now pressed into his chest. Your eyes closed as you felt yourself getting lost in the music. His crotch was pressed into your backside, and so you leaned forward to put your hands on your knees, arched your back, and began to grind your ass against him to the beat of the music.

You obviously can't hear his reaction, but you can definitely feel it. His hardness is thick against your ass, and you feel it slotting between your cheeks each time you bump and grind against him. It got to a point where a small crowd gathered around you both to cheer you on, even going as far as to record you twerking on your husband. People hooted and hollered. With a beaming, embarrassed smile, you stood up straight and wrapped your arms around Frankie's neck, giggling into his neck as he gave your ass a hearty swat.

"You're fucking killing me," he groans in your ear, the heat of his breath causing goosebumps to raise on your arms. "Let's go."

With a startled yelp, Frankie grabs your wrist and pulls you through the crowd. You focus on his tall figure and broad shoulders as he makes his way to an unknown destination, deliberately bumping into people blocking his path. Keeping up with his quick pace is a struggle. As he bounds up the stairs two at a time to reach the second floor, your heels come off in the haste.

"Frankie! Slow down, you big lug!" you shout, but it's no use. Whether he's ignoring you on purpose or the music drowns out your voice, he doesn't slow down.

The music had become distant and muffled. As Frankie reached the third floor, the Miller Residence felt almost like a mansion, enveloped in near silence. His large hand remained clamped around your wrist as he frantically opened every door he came across, yet none seemed suitable to enter. The question burning on your lips faded away when he swung open the fifth door, revealing a spotless bathroom. Casting a glance over your shoulder, he guided you inside with a hand at your waist.

"Frankie, what're we doing--"

You're immediately silenced when he yanks off his mask and takes yours off as well, followed by his plump lips frantically kissing your own. Moans are muffled as Frankie pushes you against the sink and starts tugging the straps of your dress down your shoulders until it pools at your feet. Confused and extremely aroused, you realize what exactly he wants and why he wants it. He lets out a husky moan and pulls away from your lips as though he was forced to. A thin string of saliva connecting your lips is wiped away with his thumb. As you glance down at his lips, you can see your lipstick smudged all over him.

"I'm going to fuck you right here, right now," he tells you, and his tone holds no room left for discussion. When Frankie is pleasure-drunk, all coherent thoughts leave his mind. When he's horny horny, the man will fuck you regardless of where you are or what you're doing. Even at his age, your husband's stamina is quite impressive.

He kisses you again as you struggle with his belt. His tongue, warm and so wet, invades your mouth and licks you all over. His teeth bite, nibble, and suck on your tongue and lips. Lewd smacking sounds fill the empty space of the bathroom. It's so wet and frantic and dirty. Spit slides down your chin and Frankie groans huskily as it smears on his own chin.

With fumbling hands, you successfully open his belt and pop open the button of his slacks, frantically sliding down the zipper and shoving your hand inside to stroke his hard cock through his boxers. Frankie moans deeply, hot air puffing across your kiss-swollen lips. Your thumb circles around the tip and you can feel a wet spot through the fabric. The throbbing in your core is nearly painful, so you squeeze your thighs together to try to provide some relief.

"You feel that? You feel what you did to me? Grinding that ass all over my dick and expecting me not to do something," he grits, his eyes black with lust and jaw clenching as your hand tightens around the base of his thickness, stroking up and down and twisting your wrist when you reach the tip.

You have no time to respond as he pulls your hand away from inside his slacks and spins you around with such force that you stumble and catch yourself on the bathroom counter. As you look in the mirror, you realize the extent of your disheveled appearance. Your lipstick is smeared all over your chin, your eyes are half-lidded and glazed over, saliva shining all over your lips. You're a hot mess, all thanks to your horndog of a husband.

One of Frankie's large hands settles into the middle of your back, right between the shoulder blades, and he pushes you down so that you're now bent over the counter. Your body slouches so your left shoulder and the side of your head rests along the wall. Frankie's other hand cups the back of your right thigh, and he grips the meat before lifting your leg up to prop your knee on the edge of the counter. With that same hand, he pulls down his undone slacks and boxers, allowing his cock to spring up. It bobs up and down for a second. Your eyes follow the movement, and you let out a needy little sound that you try to muffle by biting on your thumb. It's no lie that he's well endowed; a delicious eight inches, three fingers thick, veiny with a slight curve, and nicely cut. A dark dusting of hair lays across his pelvis and you crave to lick up the happy trail.

"You're gonna get it, baby, don't worry," Frankie breathes out. He strokes his cock for a few seconds, feeling the throbbing intensify when he glances down and sees your wetness shining in the dim lighting. Your cunt flutters so prettily at him, almost begging for him to stuff it full and make the emptiness go away.

You watch through the mirror as Frankie spits into his palm and uses that to coat his cock. You can see his arm moving up and down as he strokes from base to tip; the wet sounds cause your cheeks to warm. There are only just a few seconds before he slides himself home. He makes eye contact with you through the mirror and steps closer to your backside. He guides himself into your leaking pussy with one slow thrust, allowing you to feel each and every inch he has to offer. Your breath gets caught in your throat and your eyes threaten to roll back into your skull. The positioning of you bent over the counter with your knee hiked up to rest on the edge has him reaching a lot deeper than usual.

"Fuck," Frankie shakily whispers as he looks down between your bodies to watch as your pussy eagerly swallows him up. He positions his left hand at the back of your neck, gripping gently and keeping you pinned against the wall. His other hand grabs onto the crease of your hip, and then he starts to really fuck you.

The first couple of thrusts were slow and deep. The added tightness of no prep beforehand has heat pooling heavily in the pit of both of your stomachs. Desperately trying to hold in your moans, you bite down harder on your thumb. Your hair is no doubt mess from the motions of your body rocking in time with his hips. You look into the mirror and finally let out a wanton moan when you see Frankie completely transfixed on his cock going in and out of your messy pussy. His heavy balls slap against your clit--the position with your leg hiked up causes your pussy lips to spread further apart, which then exposes your swollen clit completely.

"I-I... ohmygod," your words are slurred as you try to speak coherently. Frankie lets out a pleasure hum in your direction, his hips now moving a tad bit faster. Your ass cheeks jiggle from his pelvis smacking against them. The hand on your hip smacks down onto the meat, his thick fingers gripping and grabbing eagerly. "Jus' like that!!"

"Yeah?" he grunts and leans over your slouched body, his lips pressed into the shell of your ear and his hot breath spewing across. "Daddy's hitting it good, isn't he? You take this dick so good, baby. Tell me you love it." He hikes your leg higher until your knee is practically inside the sink bowl. "Tell me how much you love this fuckin' dick." It's like a dam break as he growls the last sentence in your ear and nips your earlobe, being mindful of your dangly pearl earrings.

"Yesyesyes, I-I love it s-so much!!" You whined breathlessly, trying your hardest to tell him clearly just how much your love his cock and how good he's fucking you. As he repositions his stance and widens his legs, he starts to fuck you so hard and so deep that you lose your train of thought. Matter of fact, all thoughts are non-existent, and your brain is just a puddle of mush.

Frankie's breathing stutters when your pussy flutters around his cock. He hunches over and bites down on your shoulder before turning his head to bury his nose right below your ear. His hand around the back of your neck presses you further down as he plows faster into your body. The wet sounds of your dripping cunt, literally leaking all over him, are the only sounds filling the bathroom, aside from his heavy breathing and your squeaks.

"You take it so good, baby," he grunts like an animal, teeth bared, jaw clenched, nostrils flaring. He stands up to his full height and yanks your hips a few inches away from the sink, only hiking your leg higher on the counter, your knee nearly pressed into your chest.

"Fuck!" You managed to choke out, no longer able to swallow down your moans as the pressure in your gut tightens more and more. Eyes crossing and toes curling, your free hand--the one not trapped between your head and the wall--reaches out to hold onto the sink faucet. Frankie's cock is hitting you so good, his tip repeatedly punching that one spot that makes you go fucking crazy. "Kee-p go-ing... aaahhh!!... fuuuuuuck!" Your moans have now turned into groaning wails as your husband fucks you faster, harder, deeper, no longer holding back his brute strength.

"I know, baby, I know," Frankie huffs out a laugh that blends into a drawn-out moan. Both hands are now gripping onto your shoulders to pull you back in time with his forceful thrusts. The sopping sounds of his balls slapping against your clit, splattering wetness all over your inner thighs and his, makes his head fall back and his eyes clench shut.

Then, the countdown starts.

From all the way down to the first floor, you can faintly hear the crowd of people yelling out the numbers 45, 44, 43, 42...

Your bleary eyes open and you let out a choked sob when Frankie looks back at you through the mirror. He grinds his cock slow and deep to make your eyes roll right back into your skull. With one hand, he fists a chunk of your hair and towers over your slouched body, resuming the brutal pace he previously set. He tips your head up and uses the hand gripping your hair to shake you back and forth.

"Look at me," he orders, finally using his other hand to reach down and slide beneath your stomach to rub his middle and ring fingers around your clit in tight circles. "You better cum when they get to 1."

Half-lidded eyes meet his own through the mirror. Frankie's neatly styled hair was now a curly mess and falling across his forehead. His kiss-swollen lips were parted and he looks like he's about to fall apart any second.

The crowd chants 33, 32, 31, 30...

"All right, baby, c'mon," he rasps in your ear, grinning in drunken pleasure when your eyebrows tilt upward and you start letting out stuttered gasps. The rhythmic flutter of your pussy starts increasing when he rubs your needy clit up and down rather than in a circular motion. "Almost there..."

25, 24, 23, 22...

Frankie stands up straight for the last time and finally plows in and out of your soaking cunt, completely ravishing you and taking what you have no other choice but to give him in your pleasure-drunk state. The coiling gets tighter, damn near unbearable. It starts in the pit of your stomach and travels in opposite directions, going all the way to your inner thighs and to the tips of your toes and traveling up to the hardened nubs of your nipples.

18, 17, 16, 15...

"Give it to me, honey," Frankie is starting to lose control, his pace sloppy and his cock throbbing relentlessly as his heavy balls start to tighten. "You can do it, baby. Oooohh shit!! C'mon now. Do it for--fuucckk--me."

The hand at the back of your neck travels down your sweaty spine and clamps down on your hip to fuck into you. He smacks your ass and grunts heavily at the jiggle. He smacks your ass again, forcing a breathy wail from your bitten lips. He looks into the mirror and sees the expression on your face that tells him you're right on the edge. Your face is prettily scrunched up, eyebrows furrowed and lips forming a perfect O. Your hand desperately clings onto his wrist at your hip as you get onto your tiptoes. Your thighs begin to shake on their own and your vision becomes blurry.

9, 8, 7, 6...

"Ohmygod... ohmygod... ri-ight there!! Frankieee!!" Tongue feeling so thick in your mouth, you bite down on your bottom lip and fall completely flat with your chest firmly pressed onto the counter. Your hand smacks onto the mirror, sweaty fingerprints smudging the clean glass. "Ahh!! Aaahhh!!"

3, 2, 1...

"FUUUUUCK!!" You and Frankie simultaneously shouted at the top of your lungs as you came at the same time. Your swollen, ribbed walls contracted around his cock, sucking his cum straight from the tip and having him shoot it so deep in your cervix. The power of your orgasm has you spasming uncontrollably, your hand sliding down the mirror and frantically grabbing onto the faucet again. Wetness leaks down your inner thighs, no doubt being a mixture of yours and Frankie's combined cum. You can still feel his cock throbbing as his cock weakly shoots out the last bit of his seed.

There are a few seconds of silence as the two of you try to catch your breath. Your hair is a disheveled mess and covers the side of your face as you rest your head on the counter, still trying to keep your tremors under control. Your body is sticky with sweat and other bodily fluids. Frankie's still clothed body is hunched over your back, his warmth burning through his clothes and layering onto your exposed skin. It was comforting, his natural heat and the weight of his body.

He stays inside of you, allowing himself to get soft as he finds comfort in the wetness and warmth of your pussy. There are still small flutters from the aftermath of your intense orgasm. Frankie lets out a deep chuckle and kisses your bare shoulder gently, trailing his kisses up your neck and finally laying one on your earlobe.

"Happy New Year," he murmurs, gently brushing your hair aside. A weary smile graces your lips, and a soft giggle escapes you. Below, the party picks up again, ringing in the new year with jubilation.

With a slight turn of your head, you plant a sweet kiss on his lips, followed by a light peck on the tip of his nose. "Happy New Year, Francisco," you whisper. Your gazes lock for a moment before he leans in for another gentle, lingering kiss.

A knock at the door breaks you two apart before Benny's voice echos through the wood, "When you two are done fucking in the guest bathroom, come downstairs and have some cake."

[ebongawk]

gimme kiss #41 😎

41. A kiss out of spite

"Chrissy will you–– Hey, man move it–– Will you please just talk to me? Chrissy! Babe, wait up!"

Chrissy was resolute in her marching through the party, red solo cup held above her head to avoid knocking into the swaying bodies. Avoiding the possibility of covering either herself or someone else in wet.

Though she'd swapped her vodka soda out for a water as soon as she saw Jason walk through the doors of the house party they were apparently both attending. She'd have to be sober if she wanted to remain resolute in this breakup.

Her defenses never failed to fall when she got tipsy, and she absolutely refused to take Jason back again. No way, no how, no sir. He was an asshole, and yeah, it had unfortunately taken her most of high school and half of college to realize it, but she couldn't exactly un-realize it now.

Of course, he would just happen to be at the one party she decided to attend this semester since the breakup. After vetting his calls for the past three months and being conveniently out of her apartment whenever he came around (she sent a silent thank you to Heather and Robin for playing up how busy she was as she hid in her bedroom while he was at the door), of course he was doing his absolute best to grab her attention here, of all places.

In public.

It would be mortifying if it wasn't so sad.

Dipping into the basement, Chrissy made her way through yet another throng of bodies before shoving herself into a small clearing. A deep inhale and an exasperated exhale ignited a chuckle from across the way, and Chrissy glanced up.

Oh.

What a pretty boy.

Blinking some of the haze out of her eyes, Chrissy watched the way he tilted his head to one side in curiosity as his eyes darted from her feet to her face. Then, making the trek again but far, far more slowly, Chrissy felt something heated curling dangerously in her stomach.

"All good, toots?" he asked, his voice just loud enough to carry over the din of noise. "Seems like you just ran a marathon. Not all that to find little ol' me, I assume?"

Those dark eyes were alight with some unnamed mischief Chrissy suddenly found herself desperate to identify. He was alone, sitting in the corner of the basement with a cigarette between his lips and a half-beaten lunchbox at his feet. Like some nefarious prince on a deserted island, there was a strange berth of space around him. People milling about but never daring to get too close.

But his question was like a welcoming hand stretching the distance. He'd lowered a moat over crocodile-infested waters and was waiting for her to cross.

She didn't hesitate his extension of refuge.

Plopping wearily down on the small stool he had cleared for her next to his armchair, Chrissy groaned as she rubbed her temples. Setting the red cup at her feet and taking yet another deep, slow breath.

"So, uh," the guy began, sitting forward until he could catch her eye before she let her head droop between her knees. "You come here often?"

Snorting, Chrissy rolled her eyes.

"What, dingy basements at parties?"

"Dingy basements in general." He sat back, crossing his arms over his chest and drawing Chrissy's attention to the stretch of his t-shirt beneath the leather jacket he wore. "Not to, y'know, toot my own horn, but they're kinda my domain, and I've never seen you around."

Once more looking her up and down and igniting that same detrimental heat in her gut, he winked at her. Chrissy almost swooned, cheeks growing warm under his obvious appreciation.

"I'd remember," he finished.

Clearing her throat, Chrissy crossed her legs and smoothed her skirt down.

"I'm not a frequent flyer, no," she admitted. "I don't often even come to these parties, to be honest, but––"

"Ah," the boy said, grinning. "Knew it. You looked like more of an upstairs gal. Never deigned these poor basement dwellers worthy of your presence."

That wasn't necessarily a lie, and Chrissy pursed her lips to quell her indignation. Basements had reputations at parties like this. It was where dark corners lit up with the haze of marijuana and various other substances.

"I don't hold myself to that high of a standard," she muttered instead, making the boy laugh.

"Well, color me lucky, I guess," he chuckled. "That your first foray into the dark might've put you in my path, I mean." Waggling his eyebrows, he let his gaze dip down, then back up. "Maybe having a pretty thing like you on my arm will drum up some business."

"Business?" Chrissy questioned just as her eyes, for the first time, glanced away from the boy and toward the stairs. Pulled by peripheral motion, Chrissy watched from her perch as a familiar head of blond hair came flouncing down each step. Half-hidden by the crowd, he hadn't yet seen her, but she had the vantage point to see him searching for her.

"Oh, nuggets," Chrissy whispered, glancing frantically around for a better hiding spot before Jason found her. The boy at her side seemed to clock her sudden spike of anxiety, his eyes following hers to the new arrival and narrowing.

"Hey, princess, you alright?" he asked, leaning toward her. "You, uh, need me to, y'know, take care of anything?"

His insinuation went entirely over her head as the panic set in, but a different idea somehow managed to infiltrate the static mess of her thoughts.

"Would you kiss me?" she asked, her voice pitched with desperation. The guy's eyes widened impossibly, drawing attention to the thick, unfair ring of eyelashes that framed them. Eyes darting toward Jason, who was facing the other direction, then back again, Chrissy punctuated her question with a little, "Please?"

"Fuck," the boy muttered, ashing his mostly-ignored cigarette in a nearby tray and tangling his fingers in her hair. "Yeah, uh, yeah, sure, whatever the lady doth request."

He tried to pull her in, but the distance between his chair and her stool was too great. Chrissy scrabbled to her knees, hitching a leg over the arm of the chair and half-landing on his lap. The boy chuckled, the sound mingling with Chrissy's giggle as he rested his free hand on her waist and drew her in properly.

"This alright?" he asked, his lips centimeters from hers. Making her heart drum violently in her chest. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the exact moment Jason noticed her, picking his way through the room with demands that people move out of his way.

"This is perfect," she responded, letting her eyes linger just long enough to grab Jason's attention before she was turning back and closing the gap between her lips and the boy's.

And she forgot, all at once, that she was trying to get back at her ex-boyfriend.

He was a flavor she was unaccustomed to, but suddenly craved. Cigarette, yeah, but it was more than that. It was a deep earthiness melded with something minty, like he'd been chewing gum, maybe. Chrissy moaned, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling herself closer. Sliding from her awkward perch on the arm of the chair and completely into his lap, Chrissy lost herself entirely in his kiss.

He felt so incredibly solid. The hand in her hair pulsed slightly, fingertips gently scrubbing against her scalp with every breathy sound she made. His other hand on her waist squeezed slightly, his palm warm and pleasant on the slight amount of skin she had showing between her top and her skirt. His thighs were sturdy beneath hers, muscle hidden beneath all that black denim.

Someone said her name, she was pretty sure. Yelled it, actually, making the boy growl as he pulled away from her dazed, bee-stung lips.

"Hey, man, fuck off," the boy demanded. "I'm trying to have some quality time with my girl."

Without the hush of the boy's kiss calming her mind, she could hear Jason behind her positively seething.

"Your girl?" he asked, his voice pitched with anger. "She's my girl, dick!"

Still, he dared not intervene. The guilt of his own actions outweighing his apparent claim over their dead relationship. Trying to resuscitate one half of a heart that had happily flatlined months ago.

Looking at her, then over her shoulder with a little smirk, the boy shrugged. Every gesture he made was so incredibly close, and Chrissy cataloged them all in her mind. Filing them away for later dissection.

"Really doesn't seem to be the case, my guy. Why don't you run along home to your little jock itch teammates and try to circle jerk the infection away, huh?"

Jason said something else, but Chrissy didn't hear it. Because the boy was pulling her back in, the heavy rings on his fingers tangling in her hair as he angled her head in just the right way to slip his tongue past her teeth. Chrissy moaned, her body going fully molten in his hands as he drew her in and drank her down, sip by sip by sip.

Far, far too soon, he was gently easing himself from her embrace again. Eyes on her for a long moment before darting away ever so briefly to scan the room.

"Pretty sure he's gone," the boy murmured, his lips nearly close enough that she could feel every syllable. Or maybe it was just the vibration of him, the way he'd somehow, miraculously, already tuned her boy to feel it. "Christ, toots. That fucker an ex of yours, I'm assuming?"

"Unfortunately," she sighed, forcing her fingers to untangle where they'd come to rest on the nape of his neck and slide down his chest. She gently smoothed out the lapels of his jacket. "For, like, months now, but he doesn't seem to take the hint."

"Oh, I think the hint was definitely taken this time, sweetness," the boy smiled, his thumb tucking beneath her chin for a brief moment. "And if not, I mean. I'm always open for a round two, y'know?"

"Yeah?" she asked. "You gonna be in every dingy basement of the party I happen to attend every four-to-six months?"

"Maybe," he shrugged, his eyes glinting with that same unnamed mischief. "Wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility. These assholes are paying for my college education, after all."

"And if, um," she began, her hands curling around his shoulders. "If I said I wanted round two... despite an audience." Dropping her head, Chrissy looked at him from under her lashes. Attempting to appear as coquettish as possible. "Or, maybe, regardless of an audience?"

The curl of his grin was echoed in her stomach, her insides twisting and morphing until they were the exact same shape as his teeth.

He was going to eat her alive, and the only thing she'd be able to say at the end was thank you.

"Yeah?" he asked. "You, uh, thinking now, or you thinking four-to-six months from now?"

"We can start with now," she shrugged, "and see where we're at in four-to-six months."

The boy threw his head back, letting out a long, loud cackle that had Chrissy clinging to him through her own laughter.

"Eddie, by the way," he said, sticking his hand in the scant space between their torsos. Sporting a wide, feral grin that made Chrissy forget all about her discomfort of the night.

Curling her fingers around his, Chrissy shook his hand.

"Chrissy," she introduced herself.

"Chrissy," he repeated, and she was fascinated by the way his tongue curled around her name. The way his lips parted on the second syllable, accentuating the second 's' in a way no one ever had. "Gorgeous."

"I bet you say that to all the girls that fall into your lap and beg you to kiss them to chase away their exes."

"Only the especially gorgeous ones," he shot back easily. "Hey, uh, not to be, like, too forward, but can I kiss you again?"

Her smile tasted sweet on her own lips. She wondered if Eddie would say it tasted the same.

"Not too forward," she soothed. "You can, um. You can kiss me anytime you want, Eddie."

"Shit, baby, don't threaten me with a good time."

kiss roulette!

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Crossroads

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 9

Prompt: Icy Roads

Rated: T

Tags: Fantasy AU; Demons; Deal with a devil; Slight blood and gore; Blood drinking

The full moon is almost at its zenith by the time Eddie reaches the crossroads outside the village. It's a few days until the solstice, and even though there's no wind, the air has that unforgiving bite to it that comes with clear, starry winter nights. His toes are aching in his threadbare boots - that dull, throbbing pain that means they're going to go numb soon. He grits his teeth and ignores them, stiff fingers fumbling in his bag for the supplies. 

He didn't account for how difficult it would be, etching the runes into the ground. The earth and mud are frozen solid, covered in a thin sheen of glittering ice. He casts his stick aside after the first futile attempt, opting to use his dagger instead, and even so, it's agonizingly slow work. Eddie swears under his breath, casting nervous glances at the moon overhead. The witching hour will be over soon. When his circle is finally complete, his neck is drenched in sweat and his breath fogs around him in puffy clouds. He doesn’t waste any time, scrambling up and standing by the side of the circle. His hands are so numb he hardly feels the pain of the blade slicing through his palm. He waits impatiently for the blood to well up, then holds his hand out. 

“What are you doing?” 

Eddie yelps and whirls. The precious red droplets burst outside the circle. 

There's a boy standing behind him, watching him curiously. He must've come from the village, even though Eddie is sure he's never seen him around. He'd remember if he had. 

He's striking. More beautiful than anyone else Eddie has seen in his sixteen winters. Smooth, soft skin with dark moles scattered all over it, like the stars in the sky above. His clothes are unlike anything Eddie has ever seen, rippling around him like water turned fabric. Shiny and precious and way too thin for a night like this. Some merchant's or nobleman's son, probably, passing through on his way to wherever it is that rich people go. 

“Fuck off,” he snaps, clenching and unclenching his hand in an attempt to draw more blood. “Can't you see I'm busy?” 

The boy doesn't fuck off. His footsteps crunch in the frozen mud as he walks closer. Eddie tries to ignore him, even though he can feel his breath on his neck. 

“Are you trying to summon a demon?” 

Eddie groans. 

“No,” he grits out. A thin red rivulet is trickling down his shaking fingers. Not enough. Not nearly enough. “I'm not trying, I am summoning a demon, so get outta here before-” 

“No, you're not.” 

Eddie whips around. The boy doesn't flinch, even though the burst of movement almost knocks their noses together. 

“What the hell would you know about that?” 

The boy shrugs, meeting his glare with an infuriatingly bright smile. “I could be wrong, but I'm pretty sure that rune is upside down.” 

“It’s not-” Eddie starts to say, but then he follows the boy's gaze and his stomach lurches. “Shit!” 

He drops to his knees, frantically trying to smooth out the earth and redo his work, but the ground is rock hard and his bloodied fingers keep slipping on the hilt of the dagger and his nose is stinging and the rune is starting to blur in front of his eyes. 

“It's no use,” says the boy, not unkindly. “You'll never fix it on time. You can always come back next month, or in spring even, when the ground is-” 

“No, I can't!” Eddie yells. His voice cracks. In the shrubbery by the roadside, a tiny animal takes off in flight. “I can't wait because he'll be dead by next month, so shut the fuck up and leave me alone!” 

Silence drops. Somewhere in the night, an owl hoots, long and mournful. 

“Dead?” asks the boy. He had crouched down so that his face is level with Eddie’s, peering at him with the same calm curiosity as before. “Who'll be dead?” 

Eddie wipes his eyes, smearing tears and blood all over his face. 

“My uncle. He's sick, and it's been getting worse, he doesn't have time-”

The boy snorts, disbelieving and bewildered. “What, you don't have healers in your village?”

And Eddie doesn’t know why, but he almost tells him. About how they're too poor to afford one. About how, even if they could, nobody would come and help them. How it's all his fault. He, who killed his own mother in childbirth, who seems to be followed by bad luck wherever he goes. No way any of the superstitious townspeople would mess with that. 

“This is pretty serious business, what you're attempting here. It's no joke, entering a contract with a demon.”  

“Yeah, no shit,” Eddie snivels, watching his hand in his lap. Now it's bleeding, of course. Now that it's too late. “You think I don't know that?” 

“You're willing to accept the consequences, then? Sign over your body and soul? Obey their every order? Serve them in this life and beyond, and swear allegiance to no other master?” 

“Fuck, yeah, whatever,” Eddie growls. “All of that, if that's what it takes. What's it to-” 

And then he looks up and his voice fails. 

The boy is smiling, wide and satisfied. His eyes are gold, glowing with an inner light that puts the moon to shame. His pupils are thin slits. 

“I've stated my terms and you’ve accepted,” the boy says. In spite of the frost, his hand is warm as it closes around Eddie’s wrist. His nails are sharp. “Just as I accept your offering.” 

His tongue tickles Eddie’s skin as he drags it over the cut in his palm, lapping up the blood. 

“The contract is valid, and your wish shall be granted. From this night, you're mine.” 

More holiday drabbles

It's not how Eddie expected to sell his soul, but he'll take all he can get. 

[supercoolhotgirl]

rice purity (pt 2) - lip gallagher

hey sexy people. here is a fun little surprise. thanks to abbi and izzie for motivating me.

NOTES: smut, lip x reader, fingering, teasing, piv sex, woo wooooo!!!!

———————————————————————

“can i kiss you?”

he was looking into my eyes with such intensity i thought i might burst into flames. i’m not entirely sure how i got the words out. “yes,”

it came out more of a whisper than a real word, but it was all he needed. his hand already on my cheek, i watched him smile inches from my face and then close his eyes. i followed suit, tilting my head ever so slightly to the right.

his lips pressed against mine slowly, and i could feel his breath on my tongue. i sifted my hands through his hair, tugging softly as he pulled back. “was that okay?”

i laughed.

“what? what’s so funny?” he looked genuinely concerned.

“feel my fucking heartbeat, lip,” i took his hand and put it against my bare chest, right above my heart. he watched me move his hand, a blush rising in his cheeks.

“jesus,” he said, his eyes meeting mine again. “if that’s all from one kiss…” he trailed off, a glint in his eye as a mischievous smile played on his face.

“shut up and kiss me again, gallagher.” i said, leaning back into him. this kiss was bigger, messier. more passionate. he was testing the bounds i supposed, seeing how far he could go until i told him to stop. he kept kissing me, his hand never moving from my chest.

he pulled back slightly as i went in, drawing me to him without actually kissing me. torture. i opened my eyes to see him and his shit faced grin. he went back in, this time pulling me by the legs towards him so i was even closer to his body.

the kisses were turning intense, feverish even. his tongue was playing tricks on my lips, moving in ways jack dawson certainly couldn’t. i was panting, and i felt him pull away as i caught my breath. he moved in towards me, grazing my neck with his tongue.

i shivered in his lap, and he laughed into my skin. “a little jumpy, are we?”

the gravel in his voice made my heart skip. he began kissing my neck, sucking and licking and nipping right below my ear. “fuck, lip…” i groaned, my nails slipping over his neck and jaw, anywhere i could reach him.

“mm what’s that?” he asked. “you want another hickey to match the first?”

i nod ungraciously, unable to form words. my breathing sharp and raspy, i let him kiss everywhere he could possibly touch on my neck, then slowly lick from my chin up the side of my jaw to my ear.

i opened my eyes in shock as he gave me a little nip on my earlobe. i could feel his smile. i pushed him away from my neck and stared at him.

“okay?” he said.

“very,” i told him, grinning.

“why’d you stop me?”

“i need to make sure your heart’s going as fast as mine.”

i put my hand over his heart, and sure enough, it was racing.

“you know, i don’t think you can feel it well enough,” lip said, returning my smile.

“whatever shall i do?” i teased.

he leaned in to my ear. “i think you know.”

i exhaled at his words, then slowly gripped the hem of his t-shirt and began to pull. i got it over his head and threw it unceremoniously to a corner of the room, ravishing his torso with my eyes.

he grabbed my chin lightly and tilted it up towards his face. “eyes up here,” he said, mocking offense.

“not today,” i said, before slipping off the couch and onto the ground before him. i raised myself on my knees and looked up at him.

he sat up like a shot. “no way in hell i’m letting you go down on me before i’ve gone down on you.”

i pretended his words didn’t strike something animal in me. “bold of you to assume that’s what i was about to do, lip.”

he widened his eyes and leaned back into the couch. “carry on, then,” he said.

i sat up straighter and put my hands on his hips. i looked into his eyes and began to lick a line from below his belly button all the way to his neck, not breaking eye contact once. i continued, feeling his body tense every time i hit a sensitive spot on his abdomen.

when i got to his neck, i licked up his chin and into his mouth, feeling him lean into me and pull me up to him. he yanked me onto his lap, my knees straddling him as he panted.

he pulled me in tighter, kissing my neck and pulling back. “god i can’t be close enough to you,” another kiss. “i want to be everywhere inside of you.” i made a noise that was somewhere between a moan and a laugh and started to grind on him. his obvious hardon was not giving me anywhere near enough friction through his jeans and mine.

lip suddenly got off the couch and yanked his pants down, kicking them to the side of the room.

i stared stared up at him, mouth slightly open. “what the fuck are you waiting for?” he asked, gesturing for me to get up. “take your fucking pants off!!”

“jesus,” i said, scrambling to get off the couch. “didn’t know you were so needy.”

“really? you didn’t?”

he sat back down on the couch and lifted me by the thighs to straddle him again. “you didn’t know i’ve wanted you for years?” i ground against him, his words conjuring memories. “didn’t know i’ve touched myself thinking about you almost every night?”

“fuck, lip…” i moaned, putting my hands around his neck as he guided my hips against him.

“you didn’t know how much i’ve wanted to fuck you on this couch every time we’ve hung out in here?”

now i was really grinding, his dick perfectly hitting my clit through our underwear. my mouth slightly open, i leaned closer into his face, letting him take over.

“how much i’ve wanted to make you cum? watch you cum?”

i moaned at his words, my stomach burning. “then shut up and make me,” i said, hoping he really would.

“mm mm,” he said. i could feel him shake his head and kiss me quickly. he lifted my bra over my head and leaned in, licking my nipple lightly as i pleaded for him to do more. he obliged, sucking and giving me a little bite, enough for me to jump in his lap.

then everything stopped, his hands stilling my hips.

“what the fuck?” i said. “i was about to cum.”

“aw. poor poor girl,” lip pouted. he rolled his eyes. “i’m gonna make you cum. calm down.”

“doubtful,” i teased.

“sorry? what was that??” he feigned, putting a hand behind his ear.

“oh, i just said go right ahead. i have full confidence.”

“turn around,” lip said, making me get up and turn, then sit back down on his lap, my back facing him. i put my arms around him, leaned back, and kissed his jaw. he placed a soft finger below my belly button, trailing it up to my ribcage. i thought he’d finally start touching me when he shook his head again. “go get the mirror.”

he was pointing to the old full length mirror i’d had for years. it had polaroids of us tacked on the sides, but besides the dust on the edges it was still in pretty good condition.

i groaned and got up again, taking the mirror and asking him with my eyes where he wanted it. he pointed to the space directly in front of him, and i realized.

“you are one sick fuck, you know that?” i said, sitting back down on his lap.

“why, because i want you to watch yourself cum?”

“yes. that is exactly why.”

he rubs his palms gently across my thighs, laying his head on my shoulder. “don’t pretend you’re not turned on by the idea,” he whispered in my ear. “that it doesn’t make you soaked.”

i shivered. “can you touch me already?”

he shrugged, bringing a finger around and down to my underwear. “i suppose.”

i rolled my eyes but let my head fall back against his chest as he pressed his index against my clit through my underwear. “lip,” i begged. “don’t be a fucking tease.”

he pressed harder, rubbing in circles through the layer. i let out a breathy sigh, but it wasn’t enough. i raised my arm to his neck. “more,” i asked, gripping his face.

“like,” he said, pausing as his hand crept inside my underwear and he slid a finger through the slick. “this?”

i nodded breathlessly, waiting for him to finish what he’d started. he moved two fingers slightly inside of me, collecting everything he’d given me.

“knew you’d be so fucking wet for me.”

“you’re awfully cocky for someone who hasn’t even made me cum yet.” i said with a gasp as he finally touched my clit.

“wanna say that again?” he drew slow circles on me, pressing slightly to make it even better.

“just like that,” i whined, squeezing my eyes shut.

“nuh uh. open your eyes,” lip scolded, stopping his hand until i opened my eyes. “look at yourself. fucking gorgeous, letting me play with your pretty pussy.”

i moaned, reaching back to tangle my hands in lip’s hair. he leaned into my neck, sucking and biting and kissing everywhere he could reach. i tugged on his hair and he let out a soft moan. “you like that, gallagher?”

i did it again, taking notice of the sounds eliciting from his mouth against my neck. his finger faltered on my clit and he grabbed my hands from his hair. “don’t. cant focus when you do that.”

i let out a breathless laugh, then a gasp when he added another finger against my center. “so fucking good, lip.”

“this how you do it when you’re alone? you touch yourself and think about all the things i could do to you?” i nodded, breathless. “tell me what you think about.”

i let out a shaky gasp, his fingers slowing down and lightly grazing my clit, making me shiver.

“think about you. just like this, fingering me on your couch,” i start, watching him smile deviously in the mirror. “always imagine they’re your fingers making me feel good.”

“yeah i bet you fuckin do,” lip growled, speeding up against my clit once again.

“fuck!” i moaned, the pressure of his fingers perfectly making my center light up. “lip, i’m so fucking close.” i whimpered, arching my back to get away from his fingers.

he pushed my hips down with his free hand, pressing a bit harder on my clit and rubbing in perfect circles. “then take it. don’t try to run from it, gorgeous.”

i nodded against his back, watching him play with my clit in the mirror, loving the look of pure hunger on his face. “just let it go. cum on my fingers, baby.”

just like that, i snap, my eyes squeezing shut as i contract around air, lip still pressing against my clit and sending me into waves of pleasure. i shake against his back as he whispers in my ear.

“keep going. so pretty, baby. so good for me, cumming on my fingers.”

i try to recenter myself but lip keeps pressing lightly on my clit, making me jump. “lip—i can’t— can’t take anymore.”

“that’s too bad. because i’m not nearly done with you. haven’t even gotten inside you and you’re already fucked out.”

i let my head lean against his chest as he runs his fingers through my cum, collecting it on his hand. he brings it up to my chest, smearing it on my nipples and pinching them lightly.

lip fully picks me up and turns me around on his lap, and i jerk every time my clit brushes his boxers. “so sensitive.” he teases with a grin. he keeps eye contact with me as he leans against my chest and licks my nipple, sucking off all the cum he’d put there. he pulls back with a nip, groaning. “taste so fucking sweet. cant get enough.”

i smile bashfully as he goes back in, letting out a moan as i involuntarily rut my hips against his, pressuring my already sensitive clit.

lip inches his hand down to my waist, softly tracing my skin as i away against him.

“think you can give me another one?”

i nod. “wanna be good for you.”

he looks surprised. “is this a new kink i’ve never known about?”

i shove his face away playfully. “it’s new to me, too.” i confess.

“what, you don’t moan into your pillow that you wanna be my good girl?”

i feel heat rising in my cheeks.

“forgot to tell you. remember two weeks ago when you texted me to come over? i guess you forgot. cause when i got there, you were fucking yourself on your pillow.”

my eyes widened, becoming embarrassed that lip had seen me in that state, rutting desperately against my pillow and probably crying out for him.

“you made me so fucking hard. all i wanted was to go in there and fuck you like you deserved.”

i peered at him with wide eyes. “what was i saying?” i almost didn’t want to know.

“something about how much you wanted me to fuck you. how you wanted to be a good girl, the best girl for me.”

oh fuck. “it’s true.” i whispered.

“well then here’s what’s going to happen,” lip says softly, giving me a kiss to my collarbone. “you’re gonna ride my fingers until you cum. tell me just how you like it. show me. i just wanna make my good girl feel good.”

i swallow. “i’ve never…” i start, unable to finish.

“never what?”

“never gone inside. i don’t really know what i like.”

he grinned. “i guess we’ll just have to find out, won’t we?”

i bit my lip.

his fingers found my entrance, lightly teasing me as he looked into my eyes. “i’m good. please just do it,” i said, thirsty.

he grinned, sliding one finger into me slowly. i groaned at the sensation, simply an intrusion at that point. i felt the rest of his hand against my clit, providing some relief.

“you move whenever you want to.” lip told me.

i nodded, then started to grind. as soon as i started moving, discomfort turned to pleasure. lip’s finger perfectly filling me up and hitting spots i couldn’t reach myself, his hand pressing against my clit deliciously.

“fuck…” i moaned, moving slowly against him.

“that feel good, princess?”

i nodded, too deep in pleasure to articulate real words.

i sped up, rutting against him as he hit every spot inside of me perfectly.

“just like that. fuck my fingers like you fuck your pillow, baby. be so good for me.”

i kept going, speeding up and lifting myself slightly up and then back down onto his finger. but it wasn’t enough.

“want— want another one.”

“dirty girl. one isn’t enough for you?”

i shook my head.

“whatever you want, gorgeous.”

i groaned as lip slid his finger out and slowly put two back in, filling me even further to the brim.

“fuck..!” i groaned, unable to compute with the fullness. “want—want you to fuck me after this.” i said.

he laughed as i rutted desperately against his fingers. “we’ll see.”

i sped up my motions, absolutely needing the friction everywhere. lip groaned at my swaying, reaching to my chest and licking at my nipple. that just about pushed me over the edge.

“lip— oh my fucking god—“

he hummed against my nipple, the vibrations sending shock through my body until i came again, squeezing my eyes tight and seeing white as waves of pleasure washed over me.

i leaned my head against his chest as i came, jerking slightly as my whole body tensed up.

“so perfect for me. so fucking perfect.”

i panted as i leaned back, lip’s fingers still filling me deliciously. he moved them slightly and i jumped a bit.

“too much,” i whined.

“too much? i haven’t even started.” lip said mischievously. “lift up?”

i did, watching lip pull his fingers out of my cunt and up to his lips. he stared into my eyes and licked them absolutely clean, never breaking eye contact. it made my body heat up even more.

i guess two orgasms made me confident. i leaned against his chest and whispered into his ear. “i want you. want your cock. cant stop thinking about how good it’ll feel.”

i could feel his heartbeat quicken as i kissed his ear and neck, leaving a hickey to rival mine. he started to grind against me, pulling my hips down to match his movements.

his boner immediately brushed against my clit, leaving me moaning against his neck. “cant— cant do more of this. i need you.”

“what, you don’t want another one just like this?”

i shook my head and pouted.

“you know what i think?” lip started, leaning in to kiss my neck. “i think you’re already cockdrunk and i haven’t even fucked you yet.” another kiss. “we’ll have to work on that, won’t we?”

i nodded as he kept working on my neck, teasing and teasing and teasing.

“think you’re ready?” lip asked, serious concern on his face. “because i could happily keep doing this, watching you cum over and over…”

i nodded. “yeah. i’m ready. and i want it to be you.” i made a motion to get up and move to the bed, but lip pressed my hips down onto his.

“absolutely not. i’m gonna fucking ruin you on this couch so it’s burned into your memory. so every time you come over, it’ll just be me and my fingers and my tongue how good i made you feel.”

i shivered.

he made a move to flip me over, but i stopped him. “wanna ride you.”

his eyes went wide. “you’re sure?”

i nodded, slipping off of his lap to slide his boxers off his legs. his dick sprung out, long and incredibly hard. i moved back up and kissed the tip before letting him out on a condom.

“how gentlemanly.” i said, sitting back down on his lap. i felt him tense as my bare cunt touched him, the wetness surely making it difficult for him to stay still.

i slowly slid myself onto him, being sure not to go too fast for my own good. he just kept looking into my eyes and nodding slowly, making sure i was okay. he was bottomed out when i spoke.

“can i move? i’m so fucking wet it hurts.”

he nodded frantically. “please. fuck, yes. you feel so fucking good.”

i wrapped my arms around his neck and started to grind, immediately letting out a moan in sync with his. his chest rose and fell rapidly, his hands both around my waist to help me move.

i went faster, cherishing the sounds that were coming from between us.

“you hear that? so fucking wet. so perfect.” lip groaned, moving my hips in time.

i tilted my head back and sped up, my clit rubbing against his skin and tightening the coil in my stomach.

lip started to lift me full up and slide me back down, letting both of us feel it to the fullest extent. i couldn’t keep quiet, letting out moans that i’d never even heard from myself before.

lip’s sounds were heaven, every time he groaned i found myself closer and closer to the edge.

“you fit me so perfectly, baby. like a fucking glove.”

“lip—“

“i know. i can feel it. it’s okay. come for me, right on my cock. i wanna feel you all over me.”

i slammed down on his hips once more before sending my body into shock, my eyes immediately shutting and body tightening as my orgasm broke loose, haywiring every nerve in my body.

that didn’t stop lip. in fact, i think it spurred him on. he kept thrusting into me as i came, whispering out obscenities as i squeezed around him.

“fuck, baby. so good for me.” he said as he slowed down, letting me come down a bit.

“one more. you can take it. i know you can. my tough girl.”

he picked me up and laid me across the arm of the couch, then positioned himself to slide right back in. i moaned out at the new position, feeling so incredibly full. i felt obscene, full to the brim and completely dizzy.

“you like this? feel so fucking dirty, taking it from the back?”

i nodded, and lip started thrusting slowly. he pulled up my body by my chest and held me close to him, his front to my back. i reached back to comb through his hair, and that did it. he was keeping one hand on my hips, and the other reached around to circle my clit. without warning, another orgasm hit me full in the face and made my body collapse.

i squeezed against lip’s cock and felt him twitch. “fuck. gonna come, gorgeous” he moaned breathlessly.

i barely got out the words through my haze. “please.”

just like that i felt him cum, deeply and fully inside of me. he let out an absolutely obscene groan, one from my dreams, and continued to slowly thrust against me to ride it out. at this point i was completely limp against his body, the only thing keeping me up being his one arm wrapped around my chest.

he was panting as he pulled out of me and helped me down onto my back. i reached out for him, my arms outstretched. he laid down behind me and wrapped his arms around me, pulling a blanket over the both of us.

“fuck.” i said softly.

“so it was better than jack dawson?”

i laughed. “than his one kiss? yes.”

it was silent for a lovely moment.

“hey, i know you’re not exactly an expert at this,” lip started before i rolled my eyes. “but you’re actually supposed to pee after sex.”

“jesus, lip. you just made me cum four times and now you’re coaching me on my health?”

“yes. yep. that is exactly what i’m doing.”

“god. i’ll get up in a minute.”

he stroked my hair as we layed in silence.

“i don’t think i’ll be able to walk tomorrow.” i sighed.

“obvious solution is stay the night. then you won’t even have to walk tomorrow.”

i sighed. “i suppose.”

“hey. how many things can you cross off the list now?”

“oh god. i totally forgot. is that really how this started?”

“mm mm.” lip shook his head. “this started way before today. and you know it. all those goddamn glances, the comments, the little touches. i’ve wanted this for so long.”

i turned over and curled up into his chest.

“me too.”

[owliellder]

The Finer Details

Post DI! Leon Kennedy x Painter fem! Reader

MDNI 18+

(Session 1, Session 2, Session 3, Session 4, Session 5, The Reveal)

Description: Leon realizes that retirement is in his best interest now that he's getting older. All of his accomplishments as an agent mean he's truly earned a painting to commemorate..

Warnings: Not Proofread, Age gap! (reader is anywhere between mid-late 20's and Leon is 40), Porn w/ Plot, Use of she/her pronouns, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Alcoholism, mentions of trauma/PTSD/depression, P in V smut (wrap it NEOW), Leon cries during sex 💔

Tags: Older Leon Kennedy, Younger afab!Reader, Leon is SAD but he is your muse, Crying, mentions of Leon masturbating, starts off with Dom! Leon and Sub! Reader, falls into switch territory because that man needs some serious TLC, Praise kink, Hickeys, Handjob, Nipple play, Oral sex (m! and f! receiving), and a heavy dose of Aftercare

Author Note: I'm actually thinking I might be doing one chapter every other night, but I would also like to draw on my comically large art tablet at some point this week, so I might skip a day or two.

Cross posted onto AO3

Session 2: Color Matching

You partially regret just agreeing to "tomorrow", seeing as this man decided that he wanted to show up at 4am.

It was the original time set for yesterday's session, and you guess he felt bad for being late, but god damn he texted you an hour earlier telling you he'd be there by 4am. Dragging yourself out of the comfort of your bed was difficult, but in the end it was worth it to draw such a stunner.

You had to get there before Leon did, so there you were; half awake, dressed in a pair of fuzzy pants and a loose t-shirt, and a small cup of tea in your right hand while the other fumbled with the keys to your little work room.

That was the greatest part about your job as a professional painter. You didn't have a dress code.

Though most days you did try to look your best, some days it was just easier to be comfortable. Besides, it's not like tons of people come and see you everyday, it was usually just one person at a time.

It was 3:47am by the time you'd gotten to your workspace and settled, sitting on one of the many floor pillows in the living area you put together away from the actual painting setup. The tea was warm, it was keeping you sleepy, but you couldn't stop taking small sips. It was in your hands, there wasn't much you could do to stop yourself.

You told Leon to just come on in when he arrived, not wanting to walk all the way back down just to lead him back up. The stiffness from sleep was still in parts of your body, so you knew it would be difficult to get up, even when he did finally stride through that door. He dressed nicely today, just what you needed him to do.

Wanting to relish in the dim yet warm lighting of your various lamps for as long as possible, you beckoned the man to come over and sit with you, which confused him slightly. He thought you would be ready to get started once he showed up, but he wasn't one to argue so early in the morning. Instead, he shrugged and slowly sauntered over to you, taking a seat on a floor pillow across from yours.

"Good morning." Leon grumbled quietly, his voice barely hiding the fact that he wasn't quite awake either. That rumble in his chest made your stomach flutter. "Good morning to you, too." You responded, closing your eyes for a moment to take another sip of your tea.

"When uh-" He cleared his throat, putting a fist up to his mouth as he did so. "When are we gonna get started?"

You furrowed your eyebrows, moving the cup away from your lips to stare at him. "I wasn't expecting to be up so early, so just give me a few more minutes to wake up and then we can turn my main lights on."

Leon sucked on his teeth as he thought, turning his head to look over out one of the windows as he rested his wrists on his knees. "Oh, yeah, sorry. Just wanted to make up for being late yesterday."

You laughed softly before letting out a quiet sigh, setting your tea down on the low coffee table sitting behind you.

"Don't worry about it, but also don't make me get up so early again, old man." You attempted to joke, immediately noticing the wince on his face at the nickname. To divert, you stood up and stretched, patting his shoulder as you walked by him. "Alright, let me pull my stuff out and then we can get started."

Leon followed you with his head, taking a few seconds before standing up himself, pressing his hands onto his knees to help get up from the floor pillow.

"I'm just going to be color matching your tones today. I won't do all of it since obviously lighting changes throughout the day, buuuut..." You trailed off, beginning to rummage through a drawer in one of your desks before pulling out handfuls of paint tubes. "I just need to pull out the basic colors I'll be using."

It was still pretty dim in the room which caused you to have to squint to see the names of the colors on the tubes. Leon found that partially amusing, his chuckle causing you to glare playfully over at him. "Something funny?"

"As funny as it is to watch you go cross-eyed looking at those," he smiled, gesturing with his thumb to the light switches near the door. "I feel like it'd be easier to just turn the lights on."

"My retinas will be fried if those get turned on-" You were cut off by your own shout when Leon took the liberty of turning the lights on himself, laughing as you quickly moved to cover your eyes.

He only had to squint for a second before his eyes adjusted. You, however, were not expecting the sudden change, so you got an eyeful of bright white light. Complete and utter agony that lasted for a full five seconds.

By the time you moved your hands away from your eyes, they were watering and you had to squint for awhile longer. "Give me a warning next time you decide you want to try and murder me like that." You said, wiping away the few stray tears you'd produced from the light sensitivity. "You might live in the light, but I don't!"

The man shook his head and crossed his arms, smile still plastered to his face as he slowly made his way over to the chair in front of your easel. "That's payback for calling me an old man."

You twisted your head around to the chair so you could give him an indignant look, catching a glance as he was putting his hands up in defense with a small "what?" before you turned to look down at the tubes of paint sitting next to your hands on top of the desk.

"Nothing, just wasn't expecting to work with a toddler, that's all.." You mumbled, smile creeping onto your face as you heard him click his tongue from behind you. "I was an old man not five minutes ago and now I'm a toddler?" Leon asked, voice peaking dramatically.

"Yes, you have quite the range, Mr. Kennedy." You began sifting through the various paints you'd pulled out, humming softly as you contemplated what route you wanted to take with them. Stick to primaries? Add secondaries? Should I just use every color I need? Hmmm..

Leon watched as you stared at the paint tubes you'd picked up, tilting his head to the side slightly to try and get a better look. He snapped his head back upright when you started to speak again. "I'm trying to decide whether or not to use a lot of different colors, or just stick to a minimum.."

It was almost as if you knew what he was wondering. "Uhh... what's the difference...?" The man questioned, raising an eyebrow as you turned around, seemingly having made your decision already.

"Using just the main 6 colors-" You turned around and were faced with his very confused stare, causing you to explain a little better. "The main colors you see in a rainbow."

He breathed out a quiet "ahh" at that. Okay, good. He knows his basics. Cute...

"I can mix just red, blue, and yellow at varying degrees to get any color I need. Adding green, purple, and orange will help even more." You pursed your lips, lightly tossing the paint tubes in your hands before setting them down away from the other tubes. "I need white also. Damn.."

"What's wrong with white?" Leon asked, leaning forward a bit to watch you dig in the drawer for a tube of white oil paint.

"Nothin'. Just forgot, is all. Trying to keep this as authentic as possible..." You mumble, quickly closing the drawer with a slam after pulling out the paint you were looking for.

Silently nodding his head in acknowledgment, Leon turned his focus to his surroundings again, admiring your choice in decor once more. He bought a nice decorative pillow for his couch yesterday after being here the first time.

You grabbed a few strips of thick white paper, running your thumb along its textured surface before setting them down. You told him to stay where he was as you set up a small art palette, little dollops of the paints sitting neatly in the circular grooves.

"I'm gonna make color swatches of your skin for myself." You spoke up as you suddenly turned and walked towards him, holding the palette in your left hand while holding the strips of paper and a small yet flat paintbrush in the right. "Also, I'll need to get a picture of you in the position you want, but I'll do that after all of-" you waved everything you're currently holding in a small circle. "-this."

Leon simply responded with an "oh, okay", his knee beginning to bounce as you quickly began to mix little bits of your paint together to get a simple pale skin tone down before you even attempted to match his.

As you worked, you were starting to grow nervous with the silence, and clearly the man in front of you was as well, given he had started to sweat slightly on his forehead. He wasn't nearly as conversational as the last two agents you painted.

"So.. you've earned yourself a portrait..." You smiled slightly, holding up the strip of paper you'd brushed your mixed paint on to see what colors to mix in next. "What'd you do to earn one?"

Leon hummed. It was hard to think about every mission he's gone on, all the horrors he bore witness to, the people he saved, the people he couldn't save, how it all started, and now the fact that he's done-

"Hey, woah, I'm sorry." The sound of your voice drew him away from his thoughts. "I didn't know that would be a.. sore subject for you." He blinked at you a few times, furrowing his eyebrows soon after. "What?"

You pulled the strip of paper away from his face, pulling your lips tight with a shrug of your shoulders at his response. "You suddenly looked mad. Like... really really mad. I thought you were gonna snap at me or-"

"No. It's just bittersweet, is all." Leon cut you off, waving his hand dismissively at you before nodding once down to the paint palette in your hand. "You can keep going."

You stayed frozen in your crouched position for a few seconds longer before continuing to swatch your paint. You kept silent, not wanting to seem like you were antagonizing him.

"I used to be just a cop." The man suddenly said, causing you to look up from where you were mixing your paints together. "Only for a single day, but I was a cop. Simple as can be."

You nodded, beckoning him to continue with a small smile, which he did. "I'm sure you've heard about some of that already though, since you worked with Claire not too long ago."

His comment caused you to let out a small "ohh" in sudden recognition, nodding your head again. "Yeah, that's right! She mentioned you on that, okay.."

Leon continued to talk about all of his missions vaguely, still having to keep confidentiality in mind. You let him drone on, having gotten his skin tone matched in a few different areas now. You stopped to scribble on the papers with the paint swatches, making sure to label where each tone came from on his face and hands.

You took note of how he circled back to his single day as a cop and to certain missions. His mention of saving the president's daughter had you immediately smiling. That was a straight ticket to earning his own portrait in that hall of the White House, he could've done just that his entire life and he still would've been seeing you at some point.

You focused on mixing your paint for a little while before noticing he had grown quiet, looking up to see him staring out the window, a faint orange glow from the sun rising highlighting his features. And his tears.

Growing concerned once again, you set down the paintbrush on the palette so you could place a gentle hand on his shoulder. It seemed he didn't notice that, too lost in his head to notice anything at this point.

"Hey..." You asked with a soft voice, your eyebrows furrowing with worry. "We don't have to talk about it anymore, you know..."

Finally, Leon looked back at you, eyes widening once he realized how watery his eyes were. He turned his head away so you didn't watch him wipe the tears that had fallen down his cheeks and use his sleeve to dry his eyes. It wasn't like him to be so easily bothered by this stuff.

"I just need one more color swatch and then you can go, okay? We can save the photo for another day." You gave the man a weak smile, one he didn't reciprocate. You understood.

He looked like he wanted to say something, but you filled in for him. "Seriously, it's no trouble at all. If you need more time then you need more time." Standing up from your crouched position, you left your half-finished color match swatch with the finished ones before walking over to set everything down on the desk.

You didn't want to crowd the poor man. That was probably the last thing he needed. Despite having only painted for a select few, you've learned to just step away from these retired agents when things would go awry. It was akin to a war veteran suffering from PTSD; they did almost have the same experiences as far as you could tell.

"I'm sorry."

Leon finally managed to say to you, his hands anxiously rubbing up and down on the tops of his thighs. Must be a nervous tick.

You angled yourself so you could see him while your body still faced the desk, smiling at him while your hands worked to neatly stack the strips of paper before clipping them together with a paper clip.

"There's absolutely no reason for you to apologize." You kept your smile as you responded to Leon, looking back down at your hands to make sure everything was put together properly. "You forget I strictly work with agents like yourself. From all the vague tellings, I know that the job is tough on you guys; body and mind."

It was weird having someone outside of the agency talk to him about this kind of stuff. It was weird for him to be bringing it up in the first place. Or, at least he felt like it was.

"Still, I should know better than to do that." Leon sighed, rubbing his hand along the side of his face before stroking his chin, scratching at the stubble growing.

"Know better than to do what? Let yourself process everything you've been through?" You spoke in almost a whisper. If your tone was any louder, you fear you'd come off as accusatory.

"I get it. Really, I do." Leon groaned quietly at your words, causing you to click your tongue. You grabbed your swivel chair and scooted it over so you could sit in front of him, and when you did, you brought your legs up to sit criss-cross just like yesterday, only there wasn't a table separating the two of you. You looked solemn. He didn't like where this was going.

"The whole point of painting you a portrait is to honor you and your work as an agent, but it's not just about getting yourself painted." You leaned forward in your chair, elbows resting on your knees, all the while keeping your voice hushed and gentle. "Seeing the portrait once it's finished is going to be an incredibly emotional ordeal. It's a reminder that this is truly the end of an era for you, Mr. Kennedy..."

Your words were really starting to strike a chord for Leon. He hadn't given it much thought. He didn't want to give it any thought at all. All he thought was "I'm just going to get myself a nice fancy portrait and be done with it". He didn't even consider what the portrait of him would actually symbolize.

"Oh." Was all Leon could muster, letting his gaze fall into his lap where his hands now sat clasped together. If it weren't for the comfortable environment you had set up here, he probably would've bolted ages ago.

You let him think everything over for awhile, wanting to give him all the time in the world. Clearly he needed something, but he wasn't allowing himself any sort of leeway.

It took some courage building internally, but you decided to stand up, taking the one step closer to him before placing your hand on his shoulder once more. You squeezed it a bit, bringing his attention back to you as he lifted his head up.

You attempted to smile at him, moving your hand off his shoulder so you could hold your arms out slightly. This man needed a hug and you were more than willing to offer the leeway he wasn't granting himself.

Leon stood up rather quickly which surprised you, and startled you just a bit, before feeling his large arms tightly wrap around you. It was a little awkward since he had to bend a bit to hug you properly, but it worked out in his favor, and yours too, since he got a better opportunity to bury his face into the crook of your neck.

He sighed happily when he felt your arms slowly wrap around his chest, doing your best to squeeze him for that extra bit of comfort, even rubbing up and down on his back. It had been so long since he had a real hug. It felt good.

You let him hug you for as long as he needed, which was longer than expected, but definitely not unwelcome by any means. Though, his warm breath against your neck and the smell of his cologne was causing you to blush. That's really the last thing you needed him to see after being so vulnerable and open with you.

You felt him start to pull his head away, prompting you to pat his back gently as an end to the hug. Despite the fact that it was faint, it was clear to you that he was blushing when you were finally able to look up at him.

You wanted to remain calm for Leon, letting out your nervousness through a quiet cough. "I know we've only met up twice, but if you ever need a change in scenery, just know that my workspace here is always open to you. I'm always open to you, okay?"

Your words were making him feel weird. Something he hasn't felt in a long time was creeping up his chest. Your smell lingering on his coat wasn't helping, either.

"Yeah-.. yeah, okay." Leon huffed through his nose, reaching up to scratch at the stubble underneath his jawline as he averted his gaze to the floor.

The sun was fully up now, so you walked over to where the light switches were next to the door, flipping them off. All your other ambient lights could be turned off later. For now, you needed to focus on the man still standing in front of that maroon chair.

"You can stay if you feel you need to, but I just want you to relax." You said, looking over at him as you heard his footsteps slowly walk past you to the living space.

"I'll head out." Leon bent over and grabbed his motorcycle helmet from where he'd set it down on the rug near the floor pillows. He placed his on his head as he walked over to where you stood next to the door, not really wanting anyone to look at his tear-stricken and red face any longer.

Once he finished fiddling with his helmet, you reached out and took his hand in both of yours, patting the top of it softly. "Text me when you're ready to come back over."

You couldn't see Leon's face anymore since he'd put the visor down, but you could definitely see him nod his head. He opened the door and let himself out, touching the side of the doorframe as he rounded the sharp corner and walked down the stairs.

After closing the door behind him, you started walking around your workspace to turn off all the lamps and other ambient lighting, pausing to listen to the sound of his motorcycle start up and drive off.

[xomakara]

Fevered Gaze

(re-posting from my old account seulrinnie-rinrin/xomakara-secondary)

SUMMARY | You end up dancing with San and Wooyoung at the club where you can’t help but want them.

PAIRING | San/Reader/Wooyoung

GENRE | smut with no (maybe a little) plot, unprotected sex (wrap it up everyone!), fingering, vaginal sex, oral sex, praising, dirty talk

RATING | Mature

LENGTH | 3957 words

AUTHOR’S NOTE | Hi.

The moment you step into the club, the pulsating beats of the music envelop you, drawing you deeper into the vibrant atmosphere. As you weave through the crowd, your eyes suddenly lock onto two figures across the room - Wooyoung and San. Their presence is magnetic, effortlessly commanding the attention of everyone around them. Wooyoung’s infectious energy is palpable, his laughter resonating above the music, while San’s cool, confident demeanor adds an intriguing contrast. You find yourself mesmerized, unable to tear your gaze away from the dynamic duo.

You watch as they move to the rhythm, their bodies in perfect sync with the beat. Wooyoung’s fluid, almost effortless dance moves are captivating, each one executed with a charisma that seems to light up the entire room. San, on the other hand, exudes a more subtle allure, his movements precise and deliberate, exuding a quiet intensity that draws you in even further. The synergy between them is undeniable, and you can't help but be fascinated by the way they complement each other so seamlessly.

"Are you thinking about getting some later?" a low voice purrs in your ear, breaking your trance. You glance over your shoulder, startled to see your friend, Yunho, sitting beside you.

You laughed and continued to look at the people on the dance floor. "Not with you."

"Oof, my heart." Yunho placed a hand over his heart in exaggeration. "So...Wooyoung and San?" he asked curiously.

You nodded in response, still staring at the two men dancing, taking everything in with unblinking intensity. "They're...they're amazing together."

Yunho tilted his head, confused. "What makes them amazing? The way they moved?"

"It's like they know exactly what the other wants without saying a word." You shook your head. "There was something so sensual and sexy about it."

"Uh huh, keep it in your pants girl." He nudged your side playfully, making you snort out loud before shrugging him off. "Whatever floats your boat I guess."

"Oh come on, it doesn't hurt to dream." You batted your eyelashes innocently.

"Dreams don't float unless you're wearing a life vest. Now go, have fun, we'll leave when I'm done drinking this bottle."

"Yes, sir." You saluted Yunho with a wink, before striding towards the two men. As you drew closer, the bass notes of the song suddenly rose, the throbbing vibrations penetrating your skin until your whole body felt as though it was buzzing. Your mouth went dry and your heartbeat increased as you approached them. Without even realizing it, your eyes were now fixed firmly on San, studying every line of his body. He shifted slightly, his back muscles flexing underneath his tight white t-shirt, making your lips part involuntarily. Wooyoung noticed your hesitation and grinned, flashing those dimples of his that made your knees weak. He gestured for you to join them on the dance floor, the seductive way he held his body swaying provocatively in time to the beat pulling you towards him.

"Yo, Y/N! Let's go!" he shouted enthusiastically, beckoning you closer with one finger. "Come dance with us."

"Wooyoung, you know I'm not the best dancer." You laughed, grabbing onto his hand to pull yourself close.

"I don't care, come dance with me anyway." He turned to face San, lifting his arm for you to join them. His voice rumbled through your body, sending chills down your spine. You gulped loudly, taking in the intoxicating scent of his cologne as he leaned closer to you. His warm breath caressed your cheek and neck, igniting the flame inside of you that you had long since forgotten existed.

San didn't say anything as he took your hands, wrapping his arms around you possessively. His gentle touch sent tingles through your entire body, leaving you feeling weak and vulnerable. You instinctively curled your fingers into his hair, holding on tightly as he pulled you against him. Wooyoung wrapped his free arm around your waist, gently resting his hand on the small of your back. You gazed up at him, drinking in his handsome features, wondering how it was possible for someone so perfect to exist in real life.

You forgot all about Yunho as the three of you began moving to the beat, losing yourself in the music. As the night wore on, the alcohol started to hit you hard, loosening your inhibitions and leaving you feeling relaxed and comfortable. Before you knew it, you found yourself sandwhiched between the two men, swaying to the music in a sea of strangers, losing yourself in their embrace. Your thoughts wandered, wondering what would happen if things continued the way they were.

There was no denying the tension between you, a sexual energy simmering beneath the surface that seemed impossible to ignore. As you glanced up from your train of thought, your eyes caught sight of Yunho with wide eyes before giving you a nod to continue with whatever you were doing. A smile spread across your face as you returned your focus to the men pressed against you. This was the kind of intimacy you craved, the feeling of being totally connected to another person, just like Wooyoung had said.

Your heart sped up as San nuzzled into your neck, inhaling deeply as his warm lips lingered briefly before pressing into your skin again. His hips rocked slowly against yours, gradually increasing the pressure as the music played on. Your breathing became labored, the sound of your heavy exhales filling the air. A sense of desperation fills your mind, driving you to find release. It was only then that you realized that neither man had taken their hands off you since you'd joined them on the dance floor. Suddenly, you found yourself needing their touch more than ever, wanting desperately to feel them hold you, to experience their bodies rocking against yours once more. You ran your tongue along the edge of your bottom lip, trying to control your racing pulse. You wondered idly what the two of them must think of you right now. Did they feel the same way you did? Did they desire you the way you desired them?

You closed your eyes and breathed in the musky scent of their bodies, enjoying the feeling of their hot breath warming your neck. In an instant, a thought came rushing back to you: If you were to act upon your desires, would it ruin the friendship between you? Would they lose respect for you or reject you in favor of the other? You opened your eyes quickly, pushing aside those intrusive thoughts. They could do whatever they wanted after this night. Right now, you were determined to enjoy the ride and stop caring about the consequences. Besides, there wasn't any turning back now. With their heads buried in your neck, the two men were oblivious to your internal conflict. Wooyoung tightened his grip on your waist, pulling you closer to him as he groaned softly, pressing his pelvis into yours. San wrapped his arms around you, leaning forward to kiss your temple as he lightly bit your earlobe. A familiar warmth grew in your lower stomach, spreading outward until you could barely contain your lustful desire.

Every fiber of your being ached for them, calling out to them, begging them to claim you. Every cell in your body yearned for them, longing for them to fill your soul with complete satisfaction. You couldn't deny it anymore. You wanted them. And you weren't going to let either of them get away.

When San broke away from your neck, you felt his lips press against the crook of your jaw, his body now flush against yours as he pushed you backward. You shivered under his heated stare, remembering how beautifully intimate his lips had been against your own.

"I want you," he whispered hoarsely.

The words sent a rush of heat coursing through your body, causing your nipples to harden painfully. You looked up at him through hooded lids, biting your lip anxiously as he gently lifted your chin.

"I want you too." Wooyoung echoed his confession in a husky voice, nipping at your bottom lip as he captured your gaze.

You responded immediately, slipping your hands into their pockets, closing your eyes and reaching out for them. You gripped their clothes, silently pleading with them to take you home, to give you what you wanted. You weren't sure how much longer you could wait. 

"Take me home. Please." You pleaded quietly.

As if reading your mind, Wooyoung released you, taking one of your hands. San took your other hand, and you felt their fingers interlock as you followed them toward the exit of the club. As soon as they reached their car, they pulled you against them, kissing you deeply as they led you to the passenger seat. Unable to resist, you fisted both of their shirts, burying your face into their chests, soaking in the soft, masculine scent of their colognes.

"Baby, let's wait until we get home," Wooyoung suggested, drawing away to give you a wicked grin.

"I don't know if I can wait that long..." You mumbled in reply, your voice muffled by his shirt.

"Yes, you can." San teased, rubbing your thigh suggestively as he slid into the driver's seat.

"Maybe we should stay here and fuck in the backseat instead?" You moaned seductively.

"Oh, baby...you're so bad." Wooyoung replied playfully. "But there's not enough room in the car."

"I'd rather have you writhing beneath us in bed, moaning my name while I fuck you senseless," San said, placing a hand on your leg. "That's what I really want."

It took but minutes to get to your apartment, closing the door behind them with a resounding thud. You led both men towards your bedroom, feeling each one's eyes on your body as you unbuttoned your black mini dress. Taking their hands, you guided them to sit on the edge of your bed, letting your dress fall to the ground, revealing your black lace bra and matching panties.

"Like what you see?" You asked huskily, licking your lips.

"Fuck, yes." San breathed.

Wooyoung nodded eagerly. "I think I died and went to heaven."

"I can't be the only one with no clothes." You pouted as you stood in front of them, looking sexier than you had ever felt before. You unclasped your bra, tossing it aside as the two men admired your naked chest. You hooked your fingers in the sides of your panties, dropping them to the floor without removing your gaze from theirs. "What are you waiting for?"

"Shit, Baby...you're killin' me here," Wooyoung moaned, getting undressed as fast as he possibly could. "San, you don't mind if I go first, right?"

"Of course not," San answered easily, tugging his shirt off. "I'll take my time with her later."

"Thank you." Wooyoung breathed.

San moved from the bed to sit in the chair next to your dresser. He watched as Wooyoung pulled you against him, running his hands over your exposed body, marveling at the feel of your silken skin. Slowly, he inched his mouth upward, tracing light kisses over your breasts before moving downward, stopping to nibble on your nipple. His tongue circled your hardened bud, eliciting a loud moan from you as he toyed with it gently, flicking his tongue over its tip every so often. You gasped and bucked against him as he continued, watching with heavy-lidded eyes as he swirled his tongue around the underside of your breast, teasing you mercilessly.

"Jesus, Wooyoung, I'm gonna die if you keep this up." You whimpered.

"Just trying to give San a good show, baby." Wooyoung explained, laughing.

You let out a moan as he shifted his lips to your other breast, sucking hungrily on it. Each time he bit down on it, you could feel a jolt of pleasure shoot straight to your core. You clutched his head tightly in your hands, not wanting to let him go. "Please, Wooyoung..." You begged.

His answer was slow and firm, biting down harder on your nipple as his hand kneaded the other breast.

"Tell us how you're feeling, kitten." You heard San asked from his seat.

"Good. Very good." You sighed, your body beginning to tremble with anticipation.

Wooyoung gave you a quick peck on the lips before his attention returned to your throbbing nipples. Moving his lips slowly downwards, he grazed his teeth lightly against your skin, making you squirm. One hand left your breast to stroke your stomach, lingering momentarily on your navel before returning to tease your nipples some more. His thumb found your clit and began circling it delicately, coaxing a small moan from you as he leaned back slightly. "Do you like it when I bite down?" He murmured.

"Yes, please, oh god...yes." You moaned. Wooyoung lifted you up and positioned you on the bed to lie down, your head near the foot of your mattress. When he bent over to kiss you again, you arched your back and moaned loudly as he thrust his tongue inside your mouth. He grinned impishly as he ran his fingers down your torso, tracing gentle circles over your stomach, gently stroking the insides of your thighs. He stopped when he reached your sensitive spot, giving you a few gentle taps before moving up your body again. Once more, he found your clit, slipping a finger inside you as he sucked your nipple into his mouth. "Does that feel good?" He whispered in your ear.

"Y-yes!" You stuttered. The sensations he was creating within you were becoming almost unbearable. You gripped the sheets and turned your head to look at San who was currently cupping his hard on. "You want me to suck on it?" You asked breathlessly.

"Not yet, kitten." San moaned when he heard you speak. "Let Wooyoung make you feel good first."

A low chuckle escaped Wooyoung's lips as your nipple slipped free from his mouth. His lips trailed down your body, kissing every inch of your skin along the way. You writhed underneath him, desperate to feel him touch you. As he reached your center, you whimpered, unable to form coherent words. He looked up at you, his eyes dark and smoldering. "Say something, baby."

"Please, Wooyoung..." You managed to choke out. "Eat me. Fuck me with your mouth."

"Anything you say, baby." Wooyoung replied sweetly. He smiled slyly, his hand caressing your inner thigh as he looked up at you again. "How does our little Y/N taste? Like strawberries or raspberries? Or do you taste a little different from those fruits?"

"Why don't you find out? Use your tongue and discover." You purred, pushing yourself against his hand.

With that, he leaned in and placed the tip of his tongue on your clit, slowly trailing it upwards to swirl around your opening. Your body jerked and trembled uncontrollably as he flicked his tongue back and forth across your pussy, sending shockwaves of pleasure all throughout your body. Your breathing became rapid and shallow as he kept doing it, gradually increasing the speed and pressure of his movements. With each passing second, your hips started thrusting involuntarily. You moaned loudly, your head falling backwards as you surrendered to the sensation that was coursing through your body. Finally, he let his tongue slip inside you, swirling quickly around your inner walls, twirling around your sensitive clit.

"Wooyoung...god, it feels so good." You panted breathlessly, gripping the sheets.

"Fuck, you taste amazing," he moans, before sucking your clit into his mouth. His tongue flicks and circles, driving you wild. You thread your fingers through his dark hair, holding him to you as you buck your hips.

San kneels beside you, his hands roaming over your body as he kisses a path along your collarbone. "You like that, kitten? Want more?" he teases, his breath warm against your ear.

You can only nod, overcome with pleasure as Wooyoung continues to devour you. You feel San's hand slide between your bodies, his fingers joining his tongue. He thrusts them inside you, curling them to find that sweet spot that has you crying out.

"That's it, beautiful," Wooyoung encourages, looking up at you with dark, lust-filled eyes. "Come all over my face. I want to taste you."

His words send you over the edge, your back arching as you cry out in ecstasy. Wooyoung laps at your juices, groaning in appreciation as you came. You're sensitive and breathless, but the feeling of satisfaction is immense.

San then moves to position you on the bed. "Now it's my turn to taste you," he says, his voice husky. "Get on your knees, Y/N."

You do as he says, feeling deliciously naughty as you present yourself to him. He runs his hands over your ass, squeezing and kneading the flesh before giving each cheek a sharp smack that makes you moan.

"Such a beautiful sight," he groans, his fingers tracing the outlines of your pussy lips. "So fucking wet for me already."

He dives in, his tongue teasing your entrance before sliding inside, mimicking the thrust of a cock. You moan, resting your forehead on Wooyoung's legs as you ride his face, grinding against him until you come once more. Wooyoung bites his lips as he watches San eating you out, his cock getting hard.

You whimper at the sight of Wooyoung's thick cock, your mouth watering. You lean forward, capturing the head with your lips, swirling your tongue around the smooth, purple tip. Wooyoung groans, threading his fingers through your hair as you suck him deeper into your mouth, bobbing your head in a steady rhythm.

"You look so fucking hot like this, taking Wooyoung's cock so deep," San muttered against your pussy. "Is this what you want, Y/N? To have Wooyoung fuck your pretty mouth while I eat you out?"

"Yes! Please...more," you cried out.

San paused for a moment before answering, "Good girl." Then, without warning, he plunged his tongue inside you, grazing your g-spot.

"Oh god...please...fuck...don't stop." You beg, clawing at Wooyoung's leg as you're rocked by the force of his assault on your sensitive areas.

"Come on, don't forget me." Wooyoung slapped his cock against your cheek. "Show me how much you love my cock."

You opened your mouth wide, taking him inside, sucking and stroking him expertly. Wooyoung watched as you pleased him, letting his hands wander down to your breasts where he squeezed and fondled them roughly. You're happy to oblige, pulling him deeper inside you as you suck harder. You reach between your legs, stroking your clit, San still eating you out as Wooyoung moans in response. Your orgasm is fast approaching, building up behind your closed eyelids.

"I'm cumming, I'm cumming..." Wooyoung grunted, closing his eyes. "Ah, baby, swallow my load. Take it all down."

As soon as he said those words, you came at the same time as Wooyoung let out his load in your mouth, your juices coating San's lips. You gasped, catching your breath as your body came down from its high. "Holy shit," you managed to mutter, pushing away from San but he held tight to your hips.

"I want to feel your pussy around my cock now." San muttered. You feel the head of his dick at your entrance, and you push back eagerly. San grabs your hips, pulling you onto him as he sinks deep with a single thrust. You cry out, loving the feeling of finally being filled by him.

He starts to move, his hips snapping as he pounds into you. Wooyoung reaches around, squeezing your breast as he rolls your hard nipple between his fingers. You're overwhelmed with sensation, pleasure coiling tight in your core again.

"Fuck, you're so tight," San grunts, his hands bruising your hips as he holds you in place. "Take it, baby. Take my cock."

You cry out with each thrust, begging for more. Wooyoung moves one of your hands down to your clit, guiding you as you circle your bud. The combination of their touch and your fingers sends you spiraling towards the edge once more. "More, San...more..." You plead, barely able to form a sentence.

San answers with another deep thrust, pushing you closer to climax. Your mind explodes with pleasure, colors mixing together until you see nothing but white light. A blissful wave hits you, sending your whole body into spasms.

"I'm gonna cum!" you cry, your walls clenching around San's shaft.

"Cum for me, baby," he encourages, his voice strained. "Milk my cock, take what you need."

You explode around him, your juices flowing as your body shakes with the force of your orgasm. San groans, still thrusting as he chases his own release. "Fuck, I'm close. Gonna fill that tight pussy, flood it with my cum."

His words send you over again, your sensitive walls milking him for all he's worth. San slams into you a few more times before he stiffens, roaring out his release. You feel his hot seed spilling inside you, his cock twitching with each pulse.

He pulls out slowly, and you turn to face him, kissing him deeply as you taste yourself on his lips. Wooyoung joins the kiss, both trying to claim your mouth.

"That was incredible, but I want more," Wooyoung whispers, his eyes dark with desire. "I want to feel that tight grip around my cock now."

San helps you straddle Wooyoun'g lap, guiding his friend's erect length to your entrance. You sink down slowly, taking him inch by inch until you're fully seated.

Wooyoung groans, his hands gripping your hips as he starts to move. "So fucking tight. It's unbelievable," he pants, his eyes rolling back as he enjoys the sensation.

You rise and fall, bouncing on his lap as San kneels before you, sucking your sensitive nipples into his mouth and swirling his tongue over the bud. You moan, grinding your hips as you chase another climax.

"That's it, beautiful," San encourages. "Ride his cock, take your pleasure."

You lean back, bracing your hands on Wooyoung's thighs as you change the angle and find that sweet spot deep within. His eyes widen, and he bucks his hips wildly. "Fuck, I'm close! Keep going, baby!"

You ride him harder, your walls contracting around him as another orgasm builds. "Cum with me," you pant, feeling yourself spiraling upwards.

Wooyoung grips your hips tightly, his body tensing as he follows you over the edge. "Fuck, I'm cumming!" he yells, his cock throbbing as he spills his release inside you.

You collapse forward, Wooyoung's arms wrapping around your shoulders as he kisses your neck tenderly. You feel blissed out and sated, but the night is far from over. These two gorgeous men are yours to enjoy, and you plan on savoring every moment.

The evening unfolds in a blur of passionate sex, dirty talk, and shared pleasure. You lose count of how many times you climax, each orgasm more intense than the last. San and Wooyoung are generous lovers, ensuring you're satisfied before taking their own pleasure.

As the night stretches on, you find yourself sandwiched between their muscular bodies, their cocks nestled against your skin. You feel protected and adored, surrounded by their heat and the scent of sex.

Wooyoung's fingers trace lazy patterns on your bare skin, his breath evening out as he dozes. San presses a soft kiss to your shoulder, his arms tight around you.

You smile, content and fulfilled in a way you've never experienced before. This is what you've wanted, what you've fantasized about, and it's exceeded all your expectations.

As you drift off to sleep, you know tonight is just the beginning.

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

No One Here Is Alone

Elks Chapter 2 Version 2.0

Pairing: Jackson Joel Miller x Female Reader Chapter Rating: T. (Nothing explicit for the first few chapters.) Chapter Summary: The man you've had a crush on since he showed up to Jackson just so happens to be your favorite student's caretaker.. and he just saw you do a brutal face plant in front of his home. Chapter Warnings: soft jackson joel, rumors still spread in the apocalypse, 2000's indie rock, interrupted sweet moment, cats in windows, there was only one umbrella, romance, Joel Miller making dinner, thigh paint, knee pillow Words: 4,500 Header courtesy of @saradika-graphics

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Masterlist Playlist

*** “Radio Cure” by Wilco. 

It's Monday evening, and you're standing nervously in front of Joel’s house, clutching your messenger bag brimming with art supplies. You take a deep breath to steady yourself, before giving the door three quick knocks.

Joel opens the door with a warm smile. “Hi, come on in.”

“Hey,” you reply, trying to keep your smile under control.

"Let me show you the room."

Joel leads you into his home to a makeshift studio just off the living room filled with various wood workings, half carved animals, shelves of tools, and a long work table. You'd never expect it, but Joel is an artist.

You love the space, it's so open and warm. Lived in and utilized, you're happy places like this can still exist in other people's homes. 

Your eyes fall on a couple of old guitars leaning against a wall.

“You play?” You ask, nodding towards them.

“Been playing almost my whole life. You?”

“Same, my guitar broke a few weeks ago,” you say with a hint of sadness. “There’s a big hole in the side now.”

“That’s rough. Your stereo and your guitar?”

“Afraid so. It’s very quiet in my home.”

“Those guitars are broken over there, but I just haven’t gotten around to fixing ‘em, I’m sure I could easily repair one for you.” 

“Joel, you— that’s very nice,” you say, touched but hesitant. “I wouldn’t ask you to do that for me.”

“No, s’okay, I like fixing things,” he insists with a reassuring smile. 

“Wish I could fix things,” you say with a nervous chuckle. “By the time I would be done, it’d be a pile of sawdust.”

A huff of air releases out of Joel’s mouth, his smile makes a dimple you’ve never noticed before appear. God, he’s gorgeous. “You’re funny. I can see why Ellie likes you.”

Heat creeps up your chest and settles into your cheeks. “So, Where would you like me to draw the mural?” you ask, using your question as a way to cut through the nervousness inside you. 

“Was thinking over on this wall with the window. I can see it from my chair in the living room.” 

You turn to examine the large, empty wall. You’re not sure if the cream hue is the original paint color or colored that way from age. It’s a perfect canvas.

“Good choice.” you say. “Do you want the whole wall?”

“The whole wall.”

“Just bluebells?” you clarify.

“Just bluebells.”

“Perfect.”

You pull the pencil from the chest pocket of your overalls, gently pressing it against the wall to sketch out the first bluebell. You can feel his eyes on you, his large body crowding the space behind you. You try to focus on your drawing, blocking out the sound of his breathing and the heat of his closeness.

Joel clears his throat. “I’ll just be in the kitchen making dinner. Did ya’ eat?”

“No,” you reply, glancing back at him. “But I can eat after I’m done here.”

“Have more than enough here for another person and Ellie’s at Dina’s tonight. You like pasta?”

“Of course I do,” you say with a smile. “I’d starve if I didn’t. Shelf stable.”

Joel chuckles, “I’ll be in the kitchen cooking. Just holler if you need anything. Help yourself to any of the supplies I have here.” You nod as Joel turns and strides down the hall.

“What a beautiful face, I have found in this place, That is circling all ‘round the sun, What a beautiful dream...”

The hairs on the back of your neck prickle as the music starts, breaking the hush that had settled in the room while you quietly sketched. For the past hour, the only sounds were Joel’s movements in the kitchen and the soft scratch of your pencil against the wall. Now, Joel is playing the mixed CD you had left there. Despite being all alone in his studio, you can’t help but grin. You tuck your pencil behind your ear and head to the kitchen to find Joel draining a pot of cooked pasta. 

You try not to stare at the way his biceps stretch the sleeves of his shirt or the way the steam floats into the air swirling around him, creating an almost dreamlike scene of domestic bliss.

“Neutral Milk Hotel,” you say from the doorway, rubbing your daisy pendant hanging against your neck.

“S’a pretty good song.” Joel replies, his gaze shifting from the pot to your pendant. 

“Thanks for putting it on, I missed hearing music.”

“When’d your player break?” Joel’s asks, his eyes still focused on your daisy pendant. 

“A little over a week ago. I lived without a stereo for close to fifteen years, all through my twenties in the QZ. My CD’s sat in a crate next to my bed all those years. I got used to them existing almost like photographs, circular snapshots of memories… silent and incapable of their original use,” you say, your voice trailing off as you remember.  “When I got here and walked into my house the first thing I saw was the small boombox on the shelf, I almost passed out when Maria told me it worked. It had to be repaired a few times and Gordon kept warning me that it wasn’t built to last. Took it to him the day after it broke for good and he let me know nothing could be done. I felt like I lost a limb.” 

“M’sorry,” Joel says as he begins to dish the pasta and sauce into two bowls.

“Thanks, I still have other things to fill up my time so it’s not as bad as I’m making it seem. I know it’s a luxury and I know I can live without it. It’s just… the noise kept me company, you know?” 

“I do,” Joel says, setting the bowls on the table, his eyes still locked on you. 

He watches you intently, as if he’s captivated by your presence. You’d be doing the same if you weren’t so nervous about him noticing. You sense Joel doesn’t care if you notice him watching.

You sit at his table, the orange glow of the sunset filters through the window, casting a soft light over everything. Coffee rings cover Joel’s wooden table top, a sign he probably never cleans up his mug until after he’s home in the evening. The smell of tomatoes, garlic, and onion from the bowl of pasta in front of you tantalizes you.

“This looks delicious,” you say, picking up your fork.

“Sauce was made by Maria, she takes pity on my kitchen skills and makes sure Ellie and I are well fed.” 

“She’s great,” you say through a bite. “So is Tommy.”

He nods in agreement. 

You both settle into a shared silence as you eat. 

A slow and haunting song begins to play, Joel looks up from his meal. “This is my favorite song on your CD.

“Cheer up, honey I hope you can,

There is something wrong with me,

My mind is filled with silvery stars”

“‘Radio Cure’ by Wilco.” you say, recognizing the song. “One of my favorite bands. My only CD of theirs is so scratched it no longer works… this is the only song I have now.” 

You lean back, closing your eyes, getting lost in the music, mouthing the lyrics silently. 

“S’beautiful,” Joel says softly as you open your eyes and find him watching you again. “...The song’s beautiful.”

Your heart skips a beat at the tenderness in his voice. So soft and deep, you wonder if he talks to anybody else this gently. 

“If you like it, keep my CD,” you offer. “You’ll get more use out of it than I will now.” 

“I’ll borrow it until you get a new CD player,” Joel says as he stands. “You’re welcome to come over and listen anytime. You can bring your other CD’s over if you want.”

“Really? I appreciate that,” your voice lifts with excitement.

“Glad to help.”

“I”m going to get back to drawing before it gets any darker,” you say, handing him your empty bowl. “I really enjoyed dinner, thank you.”

“Course,” he nods, taking the bowl from your hand and depositing it into the soapy water.

You return to the woodworking room, pick up your pencil, and continue delicately sketching flowers on his wall.

“It really, really, really could happen, Yes, it really, really, really could happen If the days they seem to fall through you Well, just let them go”

You hum along to your favorite Blur song, the eighth track on your CD.

“Did you want another light in here?” Joel’s deep voice startles you. You jump and turn to see him leaning against the doorway; you don’t know how long he’s been there. “S’getting dark in here.”

“Y-yeah, that would be great. I just want to finish up the first outline tonight.” 

Joel nods and heads over to the large cabinet in the corner, retrieving a work light as you turn back to your work. 

“This’ll help,” he says, grunting slightly as he bends over and plugs it in. “It’s lookin’ really nice so far.”

“Thanks,” you reply, still sketching. I love the process of beginning a large piece like this. It makes me so excited to think what it’ll look like when it’s all finished. Breaking it down into small steps, then seeing it all come together.”

“No wonder Ellie’s always so excited about art, when you put it all that way.” 

You nod without looking back at him, choosing to focus on your sketch.

“Just going to be in the living room reading my book. Lemme know if I can help,” he offers.

“Thanks.”

You hear him settle into his chair with a sigh. The chair he can sit in and look at your mural, the chair he can sit in and watch you work. Your insides twist as you feel like you’re being watched by him–you like it. 

You round each small petal making every flower perfect for Joel’s eyes.

Sometimes you hear a page turn in between tracks, sometimes you hear a sniff or a throat clear, you actually wish there wasn’t any music so you could only hear Joel.

“Okay,” you step back from the wall shaking out and stretching your overused hand and stretching your tired fingers. 

“Finished for the night?” Joel asks as he stands and walks into the room, eyes landing on the wall. “It’s really beautiful,” he says as he stares at your preliminary sketch.

“Thanks, there’s still a lot that has to be done, but I’m really happy with how it’s looking so far.” You back up to stand next to him. “When do you want me to come back?”

“I’ll be out on Patrol with Tommy until Wednesday night, Thursday work?”

“Thursday’s good. Same time?”

“Same time,” he confirms with a nod. “I’ll make dinner again.”

“You really don’t have to,” you reply, bending down to grab your bag.

“S’okay, I want to.” 

“Okay,” you say, stifling a yawn and blinking your tired eyes. 

Joel notices and grins slightly watching you. “Getting late for you, huh?” 

“Yeah, close to my bedtime,” you admit. 

He follows you to his door. “G’night,” he says, holding the door open. “See you Thursday.”

“Good luck on patrol,” you walk out the door and glance back at him, offering a small smile. “Good night.”

You feel Joel’s quiet, watchful gaze follow you as you leave his yard.  

Once you get home, you don’t bother changing out of your shirt when you crawl into bed. It smells like Joel’s home.

“Hey lady,” your friend Helen greets as she leans against the doorway of your classroom, interrupting your paper grading. 

You look up and give her a smile. “What’s up?”

“Thirsty Thursday at the Bison tomorrow, you in?” 

“Oh,” you pause, putting your pen down. “I can’t, I’m painting something for Joel Miller at his house.” 

Her eyebrows rise. “Joel Miller, Joel Miller?” 

“Yeah…” you nod.

She steps into your room, crossing her arms and smirks. “So, the rumors are true?”

“Rumors?” you ask.

“Grace said she saw you leaving his place late Monday night. Apparently, Joel stood and watched you walk home the whole way.”

You roll your eyes. “God this place is small, isn’t it?”

Helen laughs, her expression softening as she moves closer. “He nice to you?” Her protective side always shows when it comes to you. 

“I wouldn’t be doing this for him if he wasn’t.”

She nods. “Atta girl, I’ll leave you to it,” she knocks on your desk before leaving.

You’ve heard all of the rumors about Tommy Miller’s scary older brother. You’ve listened intently as people regaled tales of his violent past and whispered stories of his brutality. You heard the hush amongst the crowd whenever he’d walk into a room when he and Ellie first showed up. He’s supposedly a monster, and yet all you see are deep, soft brown eyes that crinkle at the corners when he smiles at you.

Thursday, you find yourself at Joel’s wearing your overalls again. Today, though, you’ve layered an oversized flannel for warmth, shielding yourself and your box of paints beneath an umbrella from the pouring rain. Before you can knock, Joel opens the door.

“Come in,” he says, grabbing your umbrella. “Was lookin’ for you so you didn’t get stuck in the rain.”

“Thanks, it’s awful out,” you reply, stepping inside and shrugging off your flannel. “How was patrol?” 

“Same as usual,” he says, taking your jacket and hanging it up on the hook over his coat.

“Well, that’s a good thing,” you say heading into his woodworking room and place your paints on the floor.

“That your book?” Joel nods to the faded black leather portfolio with tattered corners covered in faded stickers. 

“Yeah, I brought it over.”

“Haven’t seen something like that in years. Can I look at ‘em?”

“Go ahead,” you say smiling and handing it over to him. “Find something to play. It’s your stereo. Don’t tell me what you pick–I want to be surprised.” 

You love hearing the soft, familiar thud of the pages as Joel flips through it.

“Don’t recognize most of these names,” he murmurs.

“What kind of music do you like?” you ask as you unroll your brush holder, picking out what you’ll need.

“Rock, country… a little bit of blues.”

“Country? Really? How typical Texas of you.”

He chuckles. “Good country. Real country. Johnny Cash, Merle Haggard, ’n the like.”

“I stand corrected, Texas.”

He grunts in amusement while you begin laying out your paints on the countertop, carefully choosing your colors. 

“Found something,” Joel says.

“Can’t wait to hear what you pick,” you respond, pulling your palette out of your bag as he leaves the room. 

A bluesy rock guitar intro with a steady drumbeat begins to play as you mix emerald and olive tones together.

“Haven’t heard this one in over 20 years,” Joel says, re-entering the room. “Liked The Rolling Stones.” 

You kneel down on the floor to begin painting green stems. You move your brush and body slowly and smoothly, rising up to finish each stem tip. You feel Joel’s steady and attentive gaze follow you. 

“Never thought I’d see somebody paint like this again,” he says from the doorway.

“It’s my favorite thing to do,” your focus unwavering from the wall. 

“Can tell,” the gentleness of his voice causes your skin to prickle. “M’excited to see how it’ll look when it’s done.”

“Me too.”

You hear Joel take a deep breath and his footsteps shift. “I’m gonna go finish cleanin’ my guns,” he says with an exhale. “I’ll be in the dining room if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” you say, twisting your torso to look back at him with a smile. A large dollop of green paint falls from the paintbrush in your hand, plopping onto your exposed thigh. 

Joel’s eyes immediately drop to the spot, widening as you grab your paint stained rag and wipe the paint off. He clears his throat, his cheeks blush a subtle shade of red. “Uh, right. I’ll be in the dining room,” he repeats, turning quickly to stride away.

His hurried footsteps fade as they move into the next room. A small smile tugs at your lips and a rush of excitement blooms within you. 

You dip your brush back into the paint again, steadying your breath, and begin painting a new stem.

"S'pretty nasty out there, d’ya want that work light again? Sky’s turnin’ real dark,” Joel asks, interrupting your focus. 

“Yes, thank you,” you answer as your focus is still on the delicate petal you’re painting.

You hear Joel shuffle behind you to pull the light out, the same small grunt as earlier this week leaves his mouth when he bends over to plug it in. The light buzzes on, flooding the room and your painting with a bright white hue.

“You been kneeling on the floor like that for long?” he asks, concern lacing his voice. 

“Yep, it’s not so bad while down here,” you reply, still focused on your brushstrokes.

“Ya’ still have the hurt knees and you’re kneeling on the damn hardwood floor,” he mumbles under his breath as he leaves the room. 

You’ve gotten used to people not being concerned about such simple things like your personal comfort, Joel’s worry for you makes you feel a foreign feeling. 

He returns and holds a pillow out for you. “Here, grabbed ya’ this.”

“Oh, I’m okay, really,” you protest, “I don’t want to accidentally get paint on it.” 

“Don’t care, take it,” he insists.

You hesitate for a second before taking the pillow and slipping it underneath your already aching knees.

“Feels much better, thank you,” you say as you wiggle back and forth on the softness. 

“Welcome.” 

A long sigh escapes his lips, grabbing your attention. You glance up and meet his eyes– his hazel flecks glow in the light supplied by the work lamp. He sticks his tongue out to wet his supple lips, your eyes move to watch. He reaches a hand out, his thumb rests against your cheek, his fingers cradle your chin. 

Your breath hitches, lips parting as you inhale deeply, a chill takes over your whole body. The music from the stereo muffles. All that exists now in this moment is Joel’s touch. 

“Thank you again, for doin’ this for me,” he says, his voice low and tender. “Been thinkin’ ‘bout how nice it’s gonna be to look over and see this once it’s finished… reminding me of home.”

“O-of course Texas,” you stammer, your eyes still lingering on his mouth. 

“Mm,” he grunts, his head dipping with a slight nod. 

“L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L–” The music stutters.

“Shit, I forgot this song always does that,” you say as Joel’s hand retreats from your cheek. 

“I got it,” he says, quickly striding out of the room. 

“You just have to skip to the next track and it should work!” you call after him as your skin still tingles from where his hand had been moments ago silently cursing your scratched CD.  

The track changes, the interruption long gone, just like Joel’s touch. You return to painting, calming your body and emotions in the aftermath. You exhale slowly, trying to calm the flutter of nerves in your chest, grounding yourself back into the rhythm of painting. You don’t hear from him until well after the CD finishes and the house falls silent.

“Dinner’s ready,” he says, rapping his knuckles gently on the doorway, snapping you out of your trance. “You got a lot done—s’lookin’ real good.”

You glance over your shoulder at him, surprised by how much time has passed. The shared moment between you now feels long gone and distant.

“Thanks,” you say standing up and stretching, placing your paintbrush in the jar of water.

“Just come to the kitchen when you’re all done in here.” 

“Hope you like turkey and barley soup,” Joel says as you enter the kitchen. 

“Any soup makes me happy,” you reply with a smile.

“Good,” he places a bowl in front of you. “This one I actually made, Maria didn’t hafta take pity on me for this meal.”

It looks delicious and smells incredible. Joel’s taken the time to set the table tonight, a tattered cloth napkin folded neatly beneath a soup spoon, a glass of water to the side, you notice the coffee stains have been wiped up. 

You take a bite, the warm soup slides down your throat, perfect for a chilly rainy evening, it’s good. “Joel, this is… really, really delicious.”

His eyes soften. “I’m glad you like it, haven’t cooked for anybody ‘cept Ellie in years.” 

“You did boil me spaghetti earlier this week, remember?” you tease.

“Hmph,” he chuckles, “right.” 

The two of you eat in comfortable silence, your spoons against the bowls are the only sound. You should be nervous in this situation but the way Joel handles himself in front of you, as if he’s perfectly comfortable with you in his home makes your nerves settle.

You place your spoon down and sit back in your chair. “What was your favorite food before …everything?”

He thinks for a moment. “Don’t really know, maybe tamales? My mom used to make them every year for the holidays. I could eat six of them in one sitting.” 

“I loved tamales, too. God, I miss Mexican restaurants. You know, I just remembered margaritas. I used to always see people drink them when we’d get Mexican and I always thought that looked so cool. I never got to try one.” 

He watches you with that familiar expression, as if he could listen to you talk for hours, nodding along with a small smile. “What was your favorite food?” he asks.

“Fettuccine Alfredo, one hundred percent. My mom used to make it for me every year for my birthday. If we went to an Italian restaurant, it’s what I’d always order, definitely Fettuccine Alfredo.”

“Never had it, always just stuck to pouring a jar of Ragu over spaghetti or a frozen lasagna,” he says, a small grin on his face. 

“I miss those too. Anc cheese. I miss being able to have cheese whenever I wanted so much. The stuff we have now just isn’t the same.”

“Mm,” Joel nods, “kinda like the ice cream we have. Not the same, but good enough.”

“Isn’t that the motto of these times?” you say with a smirk. “‘Not the same but good enough.’”

“S’a good one,” Joel pauses, “you’re funny.”

“Thanks,” you murmur, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear feeling Joel’s eyes follow your movements as he gets up. 

You rise as well, grabbing your bowl to follow Joel over to the sink. He reaches for it, his fingers brushing against yours as he takes it from your hand. “I’ve got it,” he says, placing the dishes into the sink. “You seem to be almost finished in there.”

“Yeah, I think I only have a couple more hours of work left,” you say stretching your back. 

“Don’t want to keep you any longer tonight, know you got work tomorrow and know it’s a lot bein’ down on the floor like that for as long you were.” 

“Yeah, they’re aching,” you admit with a shy smile. “When do you want me to come and finish it?”

“Tomorrow at the same time, if you want.” 

“That works, might be a little late though–Fridays are always busy with the end of the school week.” 

“Course, take your time. I’ll be here.”

“Is it okay if I leave my things in the room? If not, that’s okay too I can take them ho–” 

“S’fine,” he interrupts gently, he places his hand against your back. “Don’t mind at all. I’ll walk you home, s’getting late and it’s still rainin’ pretty bad.” 

You protest. “No, I’ll be okay, I’ve walked through much worse.” 

“Don’t care.” he cuts you off as he grabs your flannel from the hook. “I’m walking you home, it’s pourin’.”

He holds your flannel open for you and offers a small nod. You step forward and slip your arms through the sleeves, the closeness sends goosebumps across your skin.

“Course,” Joel breathes out as you step away and grab your backpack.

“You really don’t have to—“

“Now, stop telling me I don’t have to,” he says, mild frustration tinging his voice as he shrugs on his jacket. “I want to.”

He opens the door and motions you to go ahead of him before grabbing your umbrella. 

“Don’t you have one as well?” you ask.

“Never got one. S’a nasty storm today, I think it’s going to be just as bad tomorrow.” 

You step out, the rain falls in a steady stream. “It’s good for the crops and the water reserves at least,” you shrug as Joel holds the umbrella above you. 

As you walk down the road, you notice the rain pelting Joel, his head and shoulders already damp as he holds the umbrella over you.

“There’s enough room for both of us under here, there’s no sense in you getting soaked,” you say, stepping closer to him.

He murmurs something under his breath–it sounds like “Y’sweet,” but the rain drowns out the sound. You almost think you imagined it. He adjusts the umbrella, moving it so that both of you are shielded from the rain.

The two of you walk towards your home, your bodies occasionally tapping against each other as Joel huddles over you. You wish you could slow down, elongate your time next to him, stay under the shelter of the umbrella and his body.

“That’s me, right there,” you say nodding towards your front door. 

“Y’got a cat?” Joel asks when he sees your cat Penny sitting on your windowsill backlit by your lamp.

“Yeah, two of them. You like cats?”

“Even if I did, couldn’t have ‘em. Allergic.”

“That’s a shame,” you reply with a shrug.

“Hm,” he grunts with a subtle smile.

Escaping the rain underneath the safety of the awning of your front porch, Joel closes your umbrella and hands it back to you as you tap your wet boots against your frayed welcome mat.

“Well, thanks for walking me home, I’ll see you tomorrow?” You say as you rest your back against your front door.

“Yeah,” Joel says, his eyes holding your attention for a moment longer than expected. “See you tomorrow.”

He turns and leaves your little yard, turning back around at your fencepost to give you a nod before continuing down the road in the dark rain. Joel Miller just walked you home.

No One Here Is Alone- Joel's Version

[inaconstantstateofchange]

I come to you on my hands and knees (relevant to the topic right lol) begging for any and all info on Bane, Banites and how it all ties in with Gortash. I love you in advance. <3

Bane and His Cult

Alright, so after twelve and a half hours of research I still don’t fully feel like I have enough, but at a certain point I just need to get this out there, and if there is anything you – or anyone else – would like to see explored in more detail, please feel free to ask! 

Note: I love getting asks like this! There is such a vast quantity of Realmslore that having some sort of specific focus for my deep-dives is a huge help, and knowing the topic is of interest to others is a huge motivator. I also greatly enjoy getting to put my training as a historian to work, as there is so much to interpret and archive alike. 

As ever, these writeups will align with current 5e lore, and draw from 3.5e for additional supporting information. On rarer occasions – and always noted – I will reference 1e and 2e, but with the caveats that there is much more in those editions that is tonally dissonant with the modern conception of the Forgotten Realms, and thus generally less applicable.

We’ll begin with one of the most recent conclusive descriptions of Bane, from the 5e Sword Coast Adventurer’s Guide, an overview of the current world-state of, well, the Sword Coast: 

Bane has a simple ethos: the strong have not just the right but the duty to to rule over the weak. A tyrant who is able to seize power must do so, for not only does the tyrant benefit, but so do those under the tyrant’s rule. When a ruler succumbs to decadence, corruption, or decrepitude, a stronger and more suitable ruler will rise.  Bane is vilified in many legends. Throughout history, those who favor him have committed dark deeds in his name, but most people don’t worship Bane out of malice. Bane represents ambition and control, and those who have the former but lack the latter pray to him to give them strength. It is said that Bane favors those who exhibit drive and courage, and that he aids those who seek to become conquerors, carving kingdoms from the wilderness, and bringing order to the lawless.¹

This gives us the briefest summation of what draws people to the Cult of Bane: the desire for power and control, often deriving from a sense that they lack exactly those two things. Bane is the quintessential deity of lawful evil, which – if you’ve read any of my previous posts on the sociology of the Nine Hells – bears a striking similarity to Baator itself, the realm of lawful evil, and the place where Enver Gortash spent at least a portion of his formative years. 

The majority of the following excerpts derive from 3e, which went into far more detail on the specificities of the Faerûnian gods, including their dogmas, holy days, et cetera. One important point to note, however: any discussions of Bane’s scope of power are no longer accurate, as the time period in reference is about one hundred and twenty years before Baldur’s Gate 3 is set, at a time when Bane had just returned to life – and godhood – as nothing less than a greater god. By comparison, during Baldur’s Gate 3, he is a quasi-deity, having abandoned most of his previous godly power in exchange for the ability to directly meddle with Faerûn – forbidden to the gods by the overgod Ao – and gambling that he would be able to regain his lost power and prestige in so doing.²

The dogma of Bane – that is, the core tenets and philosophies that his followers seek to emulate – is as follows: 

Serve no one but Bane. Fear him always and make others fear him even more than you do. The Black Hand always strikes down those that stand against it in the end. Defy Bane and die — or in death find loyalty to him, for he shall compel it. Submit to the word of Bane as uttered by his ranking clergy, since true power can only be gained through service to him. Spread the dark fear of Bane. It is the doom of those who do not follow him to let power slip through their hands. Those who cross the Black Hand meet their dooms earlier and more harshly than those who worship other deities.³

Even were there nothing else to go off of, this would tell us a great deal about the group dynamics of any followers of Bane, whether established church or fragmented cult. Just as in the Hells, hierarchy is everything to proponents of lawful evil. Any cult of Bane would have a strict order to its power structure, and there would be limited – practically nonexistent – tolerance for any questioning or insubordination of that order. To the minds of Banites, such is simply the natural and superior ordering of the world. These interactions are detailed below: 

Within the church, the church hierarchy resolves internal disputes through cold and decisive thoughts, not rash and uncontrolled behavior. Bane’s clerics and worshipers try to assume positions of power in every realm so that they can turn the world over to Bane. They work subtly and patiently to divide the forces of their enemies and elevate themselves and the church’s allies over all others, although they do not fear swift and decisive violent action to help achieve their aims.³ 

The manner of tyranny that Bane holds to is similarly calculated – he is not interested in mere shows of force, but rather in insidious plots that twist and make use of existing rule of law to legitimize tyranny wherever possible. A social tide operated ostensibly within the laws of the land is far more troublesome to fight back against than a simple army.⁴ 

As far as specific ritual and day-to-day workings of the cult, some can be evidenced here, in broad strokes: 

Bane’s clerics pray for spells at midnight. They have no calendar-based holidays, and rituals are held whenever a senior cleric declares it time. Rites of Bane consist of drumming, chanting, doomful singing, and the sacrifice of intelligent beings, who are humiliated, tortured, and made to show fear before their death by flogging, slashing, or crushing.³ 

In this sense, rituals seem most likely to be used as a display of power and a test of subservience, leaving lower-ranked members of the cult at the whims of their superiors, expected – as noted previously – to attend to their commands with the same alacrity they would use were Bane himself to speak. The rites themselves are designed to reinforce and glorify the primary aspects of their god’s domain: the tyranny of forcing submission and pain from the weak. 

Faiths & Pantheons, published a year after the Campaign Setting supplement, provides a similar description of the rituals of the cult of Bane, along with some intriguing and flavorful additions (noted in bold for ease of comparison): 

Their religion recognizes no official holidays, though servants give thanks to the Black Hand before and after major battles or before a particularly important act of subterfuge. Senior clerics often declare holy days at a moment's notice, usually claiming to act upon divine inspiration granted to them in dreams. Rites include drumming, chanting, and the sacrifice of intelligent beings, usually upon an altar of black basalt or obsidian.”⁴

As, in the “present day” of Baldur’s Gate 3, Bane has lost much of his foothold on power and his Faith’s old domains, the specifics of architecture of Banite keeps are no longer quite so relevant. However, in times past, when his Faith worked far more openly and held much greater power, the philosophy of Bane was expressed through the architecture of his churches and strongholds: 

Tall, sharp-cornered stone structures featuring towers adorned with large spikes and thin windows, most Banite churches suggest the architecture of fortified keeps or small castles. Thin interior passageways lead from an austere foyer to barrackslike common chambers for the lay clergy, each sparsely decorated with tapestries depicting the symbols of Bane or inscribed with embroidered passages from important religious texts.⁴

The social capital of a Faith – a broad term used to encapsulate all followers of a single deity – is often heavily intertwined with the power of its god, a mutualistic relationship that runs in both directions. More social weight behind the Faith means its god’s name and will is conveyed to more people, some or many of whom might apportion some worship or act in alignment with that god and empower them by so doing. More power for the god means more divine actions that can bolster their own image and the reach of their clergy. At its height in the late 1300s, the Faith of Bane was one of the most prominent and powerful, with comparable might to that of a small kingdom.⁵

Something that is important to bear in mind in a setting such as the Forgotten Realms, not only polytheistic, but an environment where the gods being worshiped are demonstrably existent, is that the followers of evil gods are not likely to be obtrusive with the less savory aspects of their dogma. Not only would that, in the majority of cases, do more harm than good to their deity’s long term goals, in the words of Elminster: 

A dead foe is just that: dead, and soon to be replaced by another. An influenced foe, on the other hand, is well on the way to becoming an ally, increasing the sway of the deity.⁶

All of this aligns with what we see of the Cult of Bane and its operation in Baldur’s Gate 3. While it does not have the same sway and might behind it as it did a hundred years before, through manipulation of law and carefully applied pressure – of whatever form most likely to yield the desired results, be it threats, bribery, blackmail, or use of hostages – Gortash has enacted a steel web of delicate, ensnaring tyranny across the entire city. 

We can even find present-day expressions of the interactions of the cult members, and find that they hold true to what their forebears experienced, further proof of the consistency of lawful evil. A personal note found on the body of a dead Banite guard at the Steel Watch Foundry calls the Black Gauntlet in charge of the Foundry Lab, Hahns Rives, a “disgrace to the Tyrant Lord”, and notes the writer’s intent to “compile a list of Rives’ shortcomings for the Overseers.”⁷ These shortcomings include: 

1. Rives failed to reprimand Polandulus for making jokes about Lord Gortash! 2. Rives missed the morning mass to Bane - twice! 3. Rives didn't punish Gondian Ofran when she missed her gyronetics quota merely because she'd lost a finger that day in the punch press.⁷

We can see evidenced here the constant scheming for position and recognition consistent with this manner of lawful evil hierarchy. Both devils and Banites orient their day-to-day lives around how to prove themselves to their superiors, while also undercutting them at any chance they have to prove their own superiority, with hopes of being raised above them. 

This is only reinforced further by another text found within the Steel Watch Foundry, Bane’s Book of Admonitions. Its text is not written out for us, but described as such:

A book of adages and precepts for Banites, providing the basic tenets of worship of the Lord of Tyranny, with suggested prayers for common situations. The heart of the book is Bane's Twelve Admonitions, a dozen rules for proper Banite conduct, with punishments specified for failure to comply. The book opens easily to a page with two of Bane's most popular admonitions, number six, the Reprimand for Leniency, and number seven, the Rebuke for False Compassion.⁸

The most likely scenario is that this book was used by the “Overseers” referenced by the anonymous Banite writing of Rives above. The exact position of the Overseers is not made clear, but from context and knowledge of Banite hierarchy, we can infer that they inhabit a place in the hierarchy above both the guard and Rives himself, and that their role is to ensure all those below them uphold the tenets of Bane at all times, never losing sight of his will. 

In that context, it makes sense that they would both have a book of specific punishments for specific infractions – rule of law, after all – and that, given the attempted report on Rives, punishments (“admonitions”) for the crimes of leniency and false compassion – and all compassion is false when your conception of the world does not allow for its existence – would be those most referenced. It would be incredibly important to the unity of the cult, as well as to Gortash’s plans, to harshly punish any observed leniency or break from Bane’s law among members of the cult.

Not only would failure to control the situation at the Foundry potentially spell failure for the schemes of Bane’s Chosen, any unpunished step out of line by members of the cult would be seen as tempting others to do the same, a trickle of dissent quickly becoming a flood. Better to ensure that all adherents live in merited fear of the consequence of failure. 

After all, it is said of Bane himself: “He has no tolerance of failure and seldom thinks twice about submitting even a loyal servant to rigorous tortures to ensure complete obedience to his demanding, regimented doctrine.”⁴

And, in an appropriately lawful hierarchy, the same rule must apply from the bottom, to the top.

¹ Sword Coast Adventurer’s Guide. 2014. p. 26.

² Descent into Avernus. 2019. p. 231

³ Forgotten Realms Campaign Setting 3E. 2001. pp. 237-8

⁴ Faiths & Pantheons. 2002. pp. 15-16.

⁵ Forgotten Realms Campaign Setting 3E. 2001. p. 93

⁶ Ed Greenwood Presents: Elminster’s Guide to the Forgotten Realms. 2012. pp. 135-6.

⁷ Rives’ Failures as a Banite. Baldur’s Gate 3. In-Game Text.

⁸ Bane’s Book of Admonitions. Baldur’s Gate 3. In-Game Text.

[riverlikethelake]

May the dead walk again

Summary: Your foster fathers, Max and Norm present you with an avatar, an early birthday gift and it feels like the weight of the world has been simultaneously lifted and placed on your shoulders. After running into a Na'vi boy, you're taken to the Omaticaya and given the chance to become one of the people, your friend's older brother being the one to teach you.

Pairing: Neteyam x Avatar!reader

Word count: 7.5k

Warnings/notes: mentions of death, depression, angst, fluff, development of platonic/familial relationships, Spider tries, Protective!Norm, foster family in the lab, the beginning was written when i was sleep deprived, slowburn, slight enemies to lovers, Neteyam and reader are in denial

series master list | Would stardust fix us? Part one.

The Na’vi say that everyone is born twice, it’s a metaphor for young Na’vi going through their iknimaya and earning their place in the clan, but sometimes you wish it was more than that. You pray to Eywa, a god, a mother you’ve never known, and doubt will ever feel, that when you die you will get reborn. Maybe you’re manifesting an early demise, but you cannot bring yourself to care.  

You will die, everyone does, your death has just always been by your side, its weight enveloping you in a suffocating embrace, plaguing your life with its entire being.  

So, you pray to be reborn, into a body with legs that will carry you across the planet you were born on yet never get to see, with a heart that will beat steady as you run, with lungs that will breathe in the deadly air that you crave to feel blowing on your skin.  

You sit in one of the chairs, knees to your chest hunched over as you read one of Grace’s logs. You keep your eyes glued to the screen even as you hear the decompression chamber going off. You hear the chatter of your brother and friends as they enter the lab, you don’t have to turn around to know that the quick footsteps are Kiri running over to see her mother in the Amnio tank. 

Large hands rest on your shoulders from behind as Lo’ak leans over to look at the computer you’re reading on. “Watcha reading about this time?” he asks, amusement in his voice. You rest your head against his forearm.  

“Razor palm” you answer, you see him tilt his head in confusion out of the corner of your eye. “pxiut” you add.  He thinks for a moment before shaking his head “px-iu-t" he drawls, showing you the correct pronunciation.  

“pxiut” you state, correctly this time. He grins and pats your shoulder before pulling back and turning to lean on the desk. Spider walks up and glances at your screen, he leans in inspecting the image and shrugs. “My drawing was better” He grins. 

You roll your eyes and smile “Oh definitely, the detail you had?” you tease, dramatically doing a ‘chef’s kiss’ motion. Spider playfully smacks the side of your head and backs away, turning to walk to Kiri. You turn your attention back to the screen, reading about the plant.  

The world of Pandora always fascinated you, the plants and animals that resided on the planet captured your eye from a young age. You grew up staring out the windows of the biolab into the world beyond, once you learned to read, your birthday gifts were always wider access to all the files they had about pandora, from the process of its discovery to the day-to-day experiments Max runs.  

You never stepped foot outside the lab doors though, you barely even stepped outside your room. When you were younger, you’d pester Spider about what he saw, making him describe each plant and animal in detail. He’d oblige you, staying up late telling you stories of his adventures, he even started drawing plants he found. It was the closest you got to the world beyond, your obsession with anything and everything Pandora growing with each moment you could feel the presence of what laid beyond the walls. 

Lo’ak watches as you pay full attention to the screen in front of you, completely absorbed in your own world. He taps on the desk to get your attention. “So, the little hideaway is finally out of her room huh?” he teases, your eyes flutter to him before going back to the screen. “Don’t get used to it” you mumble. 

He chuckles, “I haven’t seen you in a few weeks, what's new?” he leans forward, keeping his eyes on you. You shrug “Not much, I looked over the test samples Norm collected, nothing you’d be interested in though” you explain, leaning back into the chair as you looked at him.  

Lo’ak scrunches his nose “It seems like that’s all you do now” you nod, he huffs “But you don’t even go outside, you’re so obsessed with the world, but you don’t even know what it looks like up close.” You give him a look before turning back to your computer. 

You’ve heard him complain about your lack of interest in seeing Pandora many times before, it confused him how your brother couldn’t stay in the forest long enough while you were rarely seen outside of your room. Truthfully, all you wanted was to see the forest, touch the grass and soil like your brother does, climb through trees and hear the sounds of nature. It was something you desperately wanted but never let yourself indulge in, knowing that once you got a taste, nothing would ever be enough, limited by your very being. 

But all you tell Lo’ak is you’d much rather research it than see it. He rolls his eyes and pushes off from the desk, you sigh in relief, assuming the barrage is over, but you yelp when Lo’ak grabs the back of the rolly chair and pulls you out and to the middle of the lab, spinning you so that you face Kiri and Spider. 

“Sister! You cannot possibly be ok with Y/n living her life like a-… what does dad call it?” He leans over the chair, braids falling in front of you as he faces you upside down “A hermit.” he states. You frown swatting at his braids, beads clicking together as they collide.  

“Lo’ak leave her alone” Kiri pushes at his head so he is no longer engulfing you, she places a hand on your shoulder for comfort. Lo’ak frowns “What? You have always been on my side about this”  

Kiri rolls her eyes “Yes, and I still am, but this is no longer about Y/n going outside, this is about your pride and ego.” She states, pulling your chair forward, out of his grasp “seeing who can get the other to falter” Kiri was always a firm believer that you needed to see Pandora, but she took a much more careful approach than Lo’ak, telling you about it’s beauty and encouraging you much like a mother coaxing her child into taking their first steps. 

You look up to Kiri who’s raising her eyebrows at Lo’ak, you hear Lo’ak grumble before she pulls back, satisfied with her victory. You look past her, making eye contact with Spider, you raise your brows, and he nods. He climbs off the tank Grace stays in and shoos Kiri and Lo’ak away, taking a hold of your chair and rolling you back to your desk. 

Your friends weren’t unaware of your condition, but you didn’t like the faces they made when they saw it affect you firsthand, how they’d walk on eggshells around you. So, Spider would always cover you, finding some way to get the attention off you or get you out of the room. 

“Just let Y/n do her thing, you’re gonna make her retreat back to her little hideout” he teases lamely, ruffling your hair. You stick your tongue out at him, but smile, placing your hand on his in a way to say thank you.  

The past few weeks, whenever you stood up or walked, you’d feel like you were going to faint and would need several minutes to recover and stabilize, hence your lack of presence whenever the Sully kids visited. Of course Spider would brush off their worry and tell this it you were just being moody, wanting to be alone, or getting in a fight. But you could only be gone so long without raising suspicion. 

You tune out your friends as they bicker, trying to read the rest of the report but your mind was flooded with thoughts. You glance to the corner of your screen, looking at the time. Norm and Max would be back at any moment, and they will throw a fit if they find you out of your bed. 

You think for a minute, weighing your options. Norm wasn’t subtle about his worry for you, nor was he good at hiding your condition from others. If he came back now, there’s no guarantee he’d get the memo to keep Lo’ak and Kiri out of the loop. If you got up now, you’d no doubt cause worry, they’re already suspicious about your disappearance the past few weeks. But, Lo’ak and Kiri don’t actually know much about humans, you could always blame your adverse reaction on dehydration or not eating anything. 

You thought for a moment before pushing away from the desk and standing up, you groan as you feel your head swirl, limbs suddenly feeling like jello. Within a second, Spider’s at your side, placing himself under your arm to support you. 

You throw your head back groaning, Kiri and Lo’ak are at your side asking questions, running their hands across your arm and forehead. “M’fine, just dehydrated” you mumble as Spider starts to lead you away.  

Kiri starts to fuss at you about taking care of yourself when you hear the decompression door opening. Before you can react, you hear Norm calling out your name. You groan at the loud noise, a lump forming in your throat. There goes your plan. 

Norm and Max rush over, Spider transfers you to them, Norm fully picking you up in his arms. “What are you doing outside of your room? You know how unstable you are right now” He fusses. You groan “M’fine Norm” Your head is throbbing, your eyes screw shut and your tongue feels heavy and numb in your mouth. 

“What do you mean unstable?” Lo’ak presses, stepping forward to inspect you. You open your eyes, frowning. “I’m fine Lo’ak, they’re just being dramatic” you swat at him, shaking your head. 

“Y/n you look like you’re going to pass out, I don’t think you’re fine” he retorts, raising his brows. You look to Max hoping he’d help your case, but he just shrugs “You need rest Y/n” he explains. You roll your eyes and shake your head, pushing at Norm’s chest to be let down. 

“I can take care of myself” you state, embarrassed at the commotion your foster fathers were making. Norm grunts and starts walking out of the room, ignoring the questions your friends keep asking. He makes it to the back of the building before you notice everyone following you, Spider catching up and telling Max something you can’t make out. 

Before you know it, you’re being laid down on your bed and Max is making quick work of the medication and equipment kept by your bed. You sit up as Max wraps a blood pressure monitor around your arm, huffing as Norm places a hand on your forehead. He points Spider to the pack of water bottles they keep by your nightstand; he grabs one and hands it to Norm who quickly opens it and presses it to your lips. 

“Ok ok that’s enough” you announce, leaning back away from the bottle. “I know you think I'm helpless but I'm not, I'm almost 18, not a baby” you state, glaring at the scientist. “Well Y/n when you can’t even stay in bed long enough to recover, what else are we supposed to do?” He retorts. 

Your furrow your brows, rolling your eyes “I’ve been cooped up back here my entire life, I think one day outside of the room I haven’t left in three weeks is fine” you mumble, looking to Kiri and Lo’ak who are peeking in through your door. Norm follows your gaze, his expression softening when he lands on the Sully kids. He looks back to you as you avert your gaze, pursing your lips. 

Sighing, he turns and walks towards the Na’vi kids. “Y/n is fine, she got sick a few weeks ago and we didn’t know what it was so it was a hard recovery” he explains “But we have a better handle on it now, she just needs some water and rest and she’ll be ok” he watches as they glance to each other, worry spread across their face. 

They look to you before retreating, murmuring to each other. You bring your knees to your chest, burying your face into your arms. Spider crawls over you, sitting on your side, wrapping an arm around you.  

You take deep breaths, pinching your eyes shut. After a moment Max takes the monitor off you and his hand takes its place. “Get some rest Bug, it’s the fastest way to recover” he squeezes your arm before standing up, he places a quick kiss on the top of your head and walks out. 

Norm watches you for a second and sighs, ruffling your hair and walking out, closing the door behind him. You don’t lift your head even after they leave, so Spider rests his head on your shoulder.  

Even as a kid you felt uneasy about others knowing your condition, there was no way to completely hide it so you settled with avoiding the topic all together. You were sick, yeah, but that doesn’t mean you’re gonna die if they breathe on you too hard or say something too loud. Hell, not even Spider knows the full extent to your condition. It already controlled every aspect of your life, the least you wanted was to have some sense of a normal social life. 

After a moment you turn your head just enough to peak your eyes out to see Spider, he notices and makes eye contact, a soft expression passing over his face. “What did you see?” you mumble, barely audible. He chuckles, leaning back against your headrest.  

“Well Lo’ak decided to ride a Pa’li, it was the first time i saw their resting place and there were so many pitcher plants, Pa’liwll Kiri says” he explains, quietly you repeat the name, running through the catalogs in your head for a visual. “Oh and we saw an ‘angtsik from above…” he continues, describing what seemed to be a once in a lifetime adventure for you when for him, it was every other day. 

You listen as he laughs and gets sidetracked, making jabs at Lo’ak’s ability to ride a direhorse or shoot an arrow. You finally lifted your head to laugh when he told you about Tuk cursing in front of Neytiri, courtesy of Lo’ak not being able to keep his mouth shut. Spider took the chance to pinch your cheek, earning a slap on the hand.  

“Oh and Neteyam was pissed at Lo’ak when he saw a scar on Tuk’s cheek” Your ears perk at the name, curious about the boy you rarely heard about. You had never met Neteyam, he had never come to the lab. 

He was older than you but younger than Spider, and you had only ever heard offhand comments about him. Neteyam, the next Olo’eyktan and the golden child that outshined Lo’ak, the perfect soldier and a mighty warrior. He’s everything the first son of Toruk Makto should be, born with his life laid out before him. 

You saw Lo’ak’s envy of him, how he slowly lost his desire to be like his brother, evident in the change from admiration to resentment when he spoke of him throughout the years.  

You were once desperate to meet the brother your friends often spoke of, but as years passed and his presence stayed a ghost, you resigned yourself to only knowing him through word of mouth. When you were young, Lo’ak and Spider would talk about how cool he was, how fun and great he was with a bow.  

Now, all you hear is how busy he is, how he just does his father's bidding and has abandoned spending time with his siblings for training. You take their word for it, how could you not? You’ve never met the boy and you can see the toll their strained relationship with their brother has taken on Kiri and Lo’ak.  

But there's two sides to every story, you know that all too well. 

“What does he look like?” the words slip out before you can have a second thought. Your voice is barely above a whisper, you hope that your foster brother didn’t hear you, but it’s crushed when you hear him hum.  

“He looks like Lo’ak, but more like his mom. Ummm yknow yellow eyes and his hair is braided back, so it doesn’t hang down in his face like Lo’ak and Kiri.” He looks up to the ceiling, trying to recall the boy’s appearance as best he could considering it’s not something he actively takes note of. “he’s pretty tall, but then again all Na’vi are compared to us” he chuckles, nudging your side. 

“Oh, and Lo’ak looks a little more human than him, his nose is flatter, and he has three fingers” he states, leaning against you. “uuuum yeah, he’s really stoic though, he doesn’t talk much and when he does, he’s so serious” 

It makes sense, you think, being the Olo’eyktans first son and having a brother like Lo’ak, it wouldn’t be easy to be laid back. You tilt your head at the weak description your brother provides, he was never a great storyteller, even with years of experience, recounting every detail of his day by your bedside at night. 

His words are interrupted by a yawn that escapes from his mouth, he continues on with his sentence, but you pat his shoulder, his words trail off. “It’s late Spider, you should get to bed” you whisper, a reassuring smile gracing your lips. 

He searches your eyes for a moment, you haven’t had much time together lately and he always feels guilty about leaving you alone in the lab for too long. After a moment he nods, placing a chaste kiss on your forehead before leaping up and out of the room. 

- 

It’s been hours since the lab went quiet, the Sully kids long gone and your foster family asleep. Your eyes twitch, the lack of sleep weighing them down. You stare out the window, moonlight shining on your face. 

For all your life you stared out this window, the shining stars burning into your skin.  

You’ve memorized the stars, the patterns and the order, years of searing each star into your mind. You read about constellations when you were young, the ones visible from earth, it amazed you, the stories behind just a star. Every night you’d search the sky in hopes of finding a constellation, you found ones that were close but just not right. It upset you, you knew the story of Orion and Delphius like the back of your hand, you had drawn, and memorized Hercules and Perseus a thousand times so why could you not find them? 

It all came a head one night when you tried to leave the lab, convinced that the glass of your window and the limited view were the source of your inability to draw the lines in the stars above you. Max caught you as you were trying to reach for the handle to the decompression chamber, oxygen mask thrown on flimsily and still in your pjs.  

You whined about wanting to see the stars, insisting that the window was distorting them somehow, it took some prying, but he made the connection that you wanted to see constellations. You were upset to find out that those constellations aren’t visible from Pandora, but you were content, curious about what the skies of Pandora did hold. 

You started to make your own, disfigured shapes and hours mapping out the stars. Each one was a story, a life you created, a life you wanted. Norm and Max knew of your hobby, even wanting to hear the stories you came up with, but you refused. 

It was too personal.  

It was something for you and just you. 

You rest your head against the cold glass, eyes straining to the sky, avoiding the jungle that lay beyond the clearing. 

You hear the footsteps, the way he hesitates to intrude before opening the door. 

“Y/n...” His voice is modulated, quiet and clear. You don’t turn to look at him, keeping your eyes on the dots littering the sky. 

Carefully, he walks over, sitting on the edge of your bed, placing a hand on your shoulder. “I was going to wait till morning to tell you but since you’re still up...” You move your eyes, looking at your foster father without making an effort to move your body, as if you’d crumble and break at any movement. 

He holds your gaze, unsure of where you are. 

“I’d like to show you something” He states, coaxing you out of your trance. Max stands in your doorway, making his presence known when Norm’s advances seemed to make no progress. You look down, fiddling with your fingers before leaning to Norm.  

He takes your hand and helps you up. “It’s a surprise” Max quips in a sing song way as Norm places his hand over your eyes. Internally, you roll your eyes, your lips curling into a smile as you chuckle. You let the two lead you out of your room, you try to make sense of where you’re going but you get lost at just a few turns in. 

You want to scold the two men, accuse them of purposely going slow when they come to a sudden stop. 

you keep your eyes closed for a second, even after Norm takes his hands away from your face. “It’s a little early” Max breaks the silence “but we thought you’d like to put it to use sooner rather than later” Your confusion from his words quickly disappears as you open your eyes, your sight landing on an amnio tank. 

You gasp as you take in the sight. An avatar floats in the tank, jerking and fidgeting. The face on the avatar was you. Your body, your face, molded into that of a Na’vi. You try to speak but your tongue falls short, mind racing and tripping over words. 

“Happy early 18th birthday” they say in unison, amused by your shock. 

“How” is all you manage to get out. A soft chuckle leaves the two men's lips. “Well, it took a long time, our tech isn’t as good as it was before the RDA left” Norm explained, patting you on the back. 

“But we managed, your indifference to anything but your computer helped keep it a secret” Max added, chuckling. 

Slowly you creep towards the tank, eyebrows furrowing as you take in the figure. It was surreal to see yourself like… that. 

It’s you but it’s not, it’s a mindless avatar that you can take over, it will be you. You tilt your head as you circle the tank, taking in every last detail of the avatar. Max and Norm watch you patiently, expectant of the shock you’re feeling. 

“Why?” You look up to them, you hand resting on the cool tank. They both walk over, Max standing on the other side of the tank, looking down at the avatar. “Well, you’ve been obsessed with Pandora practically your whole life” he says. 

Norm stands next to you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “We also know how late you and Spider would stay up so he could tell you about the jungle and the Omaticaya” Max continues, Norm squeezing your shoulder. 

“We’ll get it ready tonight and tomorrow you can take it for a test drive huh?” Norms voice barely cuts through the tension in your head. You didn’t know what to say, yes or no? 

You’ve stared out your window your entire life, craving Pandora, reading and watching old logs over and over again to get a glimpse of what it might feel like. Now you’re presented with the opportunity, and you can’t bring yourself to say yes. 

You don’t trust yourself to not give up everything for the world that lies beyond the walls of your home. 

“I’m not 18 yet” you blurt out, coming up with any reason to refuse the gift. “Close enough” Norm shrugs. Max sends you a short smile “We’re sorry about freaking out earlier, you’ve been doing everything we said to recover, and it wasn’t fair to blow up on you like that” 

You stare at him silently, hands itching. God, you have everything you’ve ever wanted right here at your fingertips, you’ve been obedient your entire life, content with what you have. 

But now you have the chance to live. 

- 

Before Max can even finish his sentence, you’re throwing on the old avatar clothes they dug out and bounding out the door. The examination was grueling, the excitement and anxiety about to burst out your veins. 

You feel the sun on your skin, and you close your eyes, basking in the light. Your breath hitches as you feel a cool breeze graze your skin. Fresh air fills your lungs, crisp and energizing.  

“Now Y/n be care-“ Norm starts to warn you, but without a second thought you’re running through the field, jumping over railing and fallen logs. You can’t help the exhilaration that pumps through your blood, purging your mind of any previous anxiety or hesitation.  

As you land you stumble, tripping over yourself. your heals dig into the ground and you throw your arms out to balance yourself, a second tics by and a laugh escapes your lips. You throw your head up and stare into the sky. Your lips hurt from how hard you’re smiling. 

You look down at your feet digging into the ground, wiggling your toes into the soil. You whip your head around, smiling widely at Norm watching you from the door. You’re outside. Actually outside. Within seconds you're laughing, spinning around in an attempt to take in everything at once.  

It was the same field and forest you had watched everyday, but it’s so different up close, so real. It doesn't take long for you to grow dizzy and fall flat on your butt, tripping over your own feet and loosing balance. It’s without a doubt embarrassing, later you’ll thank Eywa that only Norm and Max were watching you, but you can’t bring yourself to care as your sink your fingers into the ground below you, threading your fingers through thin patches of grass. 

You bite your lip, giggling like a child with a lollipop as your swipe your hand across the ground, committing the course feeling of the dried up dirt to memory, how it sticks to your palms and how the path your hand took bears a faint mark. 

You cant imagine how stupid you look to Norm as he walks up to you, you’re literally playing in dirt, but the look on both your faces show no proof that either of you care. He ruffles your hair, reminding you of how messy and unkept it is, before he hands you a choker-mic and earpiece. “It’s just the first day so I don’t want you going far, you know how badly that could have gone for Jake” his comment draws a giggle from you, knowing the story of the great Toruk Makto from the perspective of the science guys by heart.  

“Check in every hour and keep an eye on your surroundings” He drones on with the safety speech he drilled into Spider as a kid, you listened but your attention is taken by the forest that lies just meters ahead of you, the edge just a glimpse of the world beyond.  

It’s captivating, every movement and sound draws your attention. It’s so much bigger than you ever could have imagined, the towering trees pushing a subtle sense of dread in your stomach. You could get lost, lose track of time, fall in love, so easily.  

You’re hypnotized by the sway of the leaves, the quiet movements and way the air shifts.  

Can you do this? 

You’re pulled out of your trance when he nudges your shoulder, you blink hard and look to him. “Were you even-? Whatever” he sighs “Just please don’t-” he hands you a knife “Don’t die, you’ll come back to your real body and it wont hurt you but it’s not a fun experience…” you take the knife, observing it. 

It’s a common hunting knife, the netting wrapped around the handle is worn, basic weaving patterns. You look up to him, tilting your head. He smiles and nods to the forest “Be safe kid, I want you home before eclipse.”  

You push yourself up and you take a moment to take in your sudden height difference. A smirk slips onto your lips and he rolls his eyes, biting your lip you turn to the forest. anxiously, you step forward, one foot in front of the other. 

Before you can think, your feet are speeding up, pushing you forward into the jungle you stared at for 17 years. You break through the edge and you’re surrounded by trees and green, the forest envelopes you, the earthy smell sinking into your skin.  

You slow down once you’re several meters past the edge, taking in everything around you. The leaves far above you sway in the wind, tiny critters crawl around on the trees and fallen over logs. The sound hypnotizes you, each noise and bustle piercing your ears. The forest envelopes you, every part of your being melting into the air, begging to become one.  

You’re smiling so hard, your lips feel like they’re going to split, the ache in your cheeks forgotten before you can even bring yourself to notice. 

You’re in the forest. 

You take a moment to breathe in the air, the damp smell of wood and moss, soil and plants sprawling across the floor and trees. Vines wrap around branches, hanging down, some of the flowers move as if they were breathing, the sway of the grass in sync. Chirps and clicks echo, your head swiveling trying to find the source.  

Your legs are moving unconsciously, your body in a trance. The feel of the ground beneath you is entrancing, the tickle of the grass on the bottoms of your feet, its disorienting how soft the soil is compared to the hard floors of your home. Except it didn’t feel like home anymore, it never did, this is what feels right. 

The smoothness of the giant leaves you run your hand over, the flowers sprouting from vines and plants, leaves of plants grazing your legs, it all leaves you breathless. Names run through your head as you observe the plants, their names popping into your head, the properties and uses. Its surreal to see them up close, in real life.  

I should take samples... You think to yourself but pack the idea to the back of your mind, another day perhaps.  

The forest is enchanting, taking all of your attention, you forget Norm’s advice and just wander through the green aimlessly. You don’t even realize how far you’ve gone, how long it’s been, the pair of eyes that's been trailing you for at least a mile.  

Neteyam doesn't understand you… you’re na’vi but wearing human clothes? Obviously, you must be an Avatar, but he’s met all the Avatar’s left on Pandora during the meeting with his father, and you’re careless, like a toddler who just learned to walk. Uncaring of where you are, where you’re going, clueless of your surroundings.  

He considered you could be a Skyperson, the ones who returned, but his father and the scientists doubted that the RDA would fund an Avatar program after their last mission. You’re also defenseless, wearing old clothes and no gun, no soldier, no sign that you’re here maliciously. You’re not a threat. He still keeps his bow ready despite his certainty that you’re harmless, in case you make an unsavory move or a different threat makes an appearance. 

He tilts his head as he watches you, you’re smiling and immersing yourself in the forest. The way you take it all in reminds him of his sister, but this is different. His sister has a natural connection, the forest being her home, you’re engulfed by it, if he hadn’t been keeping such an intent eye on you then you would have disappeared right before him.  

Something about the way you walked, the delicate placing of your feet, the careful posture you kept to be able to turn and see all of the forest at any moment, he couldn’t just let you wander off. It’s his job as future Olo’eyktan to be vigilant and mindful, your presence, even innocuous, wasn’t something that could be acquitted.  

So he followed you, tilting his ears to make sense of your whispers to yourself. He knows English, his entire family is fluent in it, but he still frowns when he recognizes you’re speaking it. He and his siblings will use it occasionally, but he often avoids it due to the distaste he feels about it, the association it has with skypeople leaving a bad taste in his mouth. 

He doesn’t contemn skypeople as much as his mother or other members of the clan, but he never goes out of his way to speak or associate with them.  

With a soft giggle, his entire attention locks onto your face. Your hand comes up to rest your fingers In front of your mouth as you smile at the bugs fluttering around a twirling plant after you tapped it.  

Yeah… like a toddler… 

He purses his lips to hold back the sigh that tries to escape his lips, how much longer must he watch you? The decision it up to him but he doesn’t know how to approach the situation. 

He tilts his head, shifting his weight on his feet. He’s about to leave, deciding you’re not going to cause a problem, when an atokirina’ floats in front of his. It bobs through the air, seemingly aimlessly, before slowly descending towards you. His eyes follow it intently heeding Eywa’s mind. 

The spirit drifts around you, catching your attention once it bobs around your head. You can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips when you notice the spirit, you take your hand off the tree it was resting on and cup it with your other, biting your lip as the atokirina’ floats down into the cusp of your hands. 

It tickles at your palm and fingertips, your smile grows wider, such a being coming to you and making contact brings you endless joy, even if you don’t know the full significance of it. Slowly you bend down to rest on your knees, keeping a slow pace to avoid disturbing the being. Once you're sat, you shift to rest on the side of your thigh, humming as you bring the spirit closer and observe it.  

He watches you for a moment, considering you before shifting to get down from his hiding spot. You gasp when he drops down from a branch from a tree opposite of you, you had the sense that you weren’t alone, but you attributed that to the bustling forest.  

Your eyes are locked onto the Na’vi boy several feet infront of you, mouth agape and body frozen. There’s a heavy silence between you, observing eachother, unsure of what to say. You decide to say something, he hasn’t killed you yet so thats a good sign, but he beats you too it. 

“Who are you.” He states, hs voice gruff and thick. You open your mouth, words jumbled in your throat before you blurt out “Y/n” his eyes are biting, pinning you to your spot. 

He doesn’t say anything, observing every part of you. “I’m from the labs, um with the science guys” you offer, he tilts his head, furrowing his brows. You panic, realizing that you could very well be taken as a RDA sky person “The ones who fought with you, loyal to the Na’vi” you add abruptly, hoping to withdraw any possible suspicions or misgivings.  

His expression remains unchanging, it makes you nervous, unsure of what to do or say. Before you can try and add anything, “Come” is all he says, nodding his head in the direction he turns to walk in. Realizing the woodsprite is long gone, having floated away during the interaction, you scramble up to follow him.  

He’s quick, knowing of where to go, experienced in the trek of the forest. You clamber after him, trying to keep up with his pace while avoiding any obstacles. Your efforts are unsuccessful, your foot tripping over a vine like branch that caught on your foot.  

You hiss at the sting of your palms that caught you, pushing yourself up on your elbows. You start to get up when the boy is in front of you, grabbing your hands and inspecting them. His expression is unreadable, but the way his eyes soften when he sees the minimal damage done to you makes a smile pull at your lips.  

He looks up to you, repositioning his hands to be holding onto your wrists, he stands up, pulling you up with him. “Must i carry you?” He asks lamely, annoyed at your unwieldy coordination. Quickly you shake your head, heat rising to your cheeks from embarrassment. He nods and turns to continue his path, his hand loosely holding onto your wrist as you both continue foreward.  

You don’t know how long you walk for, letting the boys hold on you guide you as you study the forest you pass by. Before you know it, his pace is slowing and you peak over his figure to see the village. A pit grows in your stomach, you fiddle with your hands, wringing your fingers as you walk through the village, eyes following your every movement.  

You really don’t want to be here, no doubt much farther than what Norm and Max would have approved, but there wasn’t much you could do. You didn’t want to protest or run, overly aware of how easily the boy could overpower and kill you, but there was also the curiousity of the forest guiding you. 

The Na’vi know the forest better than you ever could, you’d no doubt be safer with a stranger than on your own, it’s a chance to see and explore the forest without worry of getting lost or running into danger. And now being in the village? It’s unexpected, but you can’t deny the ecitment that swirls with the anxiety in your chest. 

He walks up to a particular tent, you notice its larger than the others, not by much though. Na’vi start to surround you, curious about you and the boy, the whispers and eyes on you causing you to bite your lip nervously. The boy calls out to the tent, after a moment the flaps open and out walks a tall man adorned in intricate jewelry spreading across his shoulders and chest, a tall woman and an older woman stalking out after him.  

Their eyes fall on the boy, then you, the woman’s eyes narrow, tilting her chin up. The man just seems confused, looking to the boy for an explanation. They start speaking in the language, you understand some of it, but you’re not fluent. You pick up “Eywa’s sign” “Harmless” “daughter of the sky men” ect. You can interpret what they’re talking about, but you can’t understand specifically what is being said. 

The woman narrows her eyes, studying you. You resist squirming under her gaze until the man turns to you and speaks “So, you’re Y/n, Spider’s sister, right?” his English is clean, almost as if you were talking to one of the guys in the biolab and you mind makes the connection. 

This is Jake Sully 

Your eyes widen at the realization, but you keep yourself composed. Carefully you nod “Yes sir, they gave me this Avatar as an early birthday gift and I decided to look around the forest” you explain, you bite the inside of your cheek “I’ve never seen it before” you whisper weakly, averting your gaze to the floor.  

The woman, who you assume is Neytiri circles you, surveying your appearance and self. She stops next to you, brushing her fingertips against your loose hair. “You have never been outside of that tawtute vessel?” she muses, curiously watching your facial response.  

Your eyes dart to her, biting your lip you start to nod but the attention is drawn away when a familiar voice calls out. “Y/n?!” to your side, Spider, Lo’ak, and Kiri stand startled. Spider’s mouth twists into a grin before stepping foreward, he looks you up and down “So it was viable huh?” he asks amused, you tilt your head in confusion, you're about to say something before he continues “and they gave it to you early? And they didn’t even tell me” He feigns hurt, his amusement growing by the second. 

“Wait Spider you knew about this?” Lo’ak asks, stepping foreword and grabbing him by the shoulder, pointing at you. Your brother shrugs, explaining that it was an idea they told him about a few years ago but never confirmed. Kiri steps foreword, a smile growing on her lips. 

Her hands graze your cheeks as she observes every part of your face and body “This is amazing Y/n!” her eyes lock with yours “this is amazing” her smile bleeds into yours, a shy grin forming as she takes your hands in hers and laughs.  

“Yeah now you can actually hang out with us” Lo’ak roughly places his hand on your head, the height difference not as drastic as before but still there. You shyly tilt your head, biting your lip at the excitement of your friends and brother. 

The buzz seems to die when their eyes are drawn to the figure that steps closer behind you, out of your peripheral you see the older woman, the Tsahik, stare at them, communicating through their eyes before they take their hands off you and back up a few steps. A lump forms in your throat as you turn to fully face the towering woman. Her gaze is unwavering, strong, it makes you want to say something, anything. 

“What is your purpose, girl?” She questions, the weight of her words pulling down on your every limb. What does she mean? It’s such an intense yet vague question, her firm expression not giving any help to your attempts to decipher what’s the right thing to say.  

To live. 

You’re out of the lab, face to face with someone other than a person you’ve known literally your entire life. You’re not confined to those walls anymore, you can breathe the air, walk and run without concern, see and live among what you’ve been learning about your entire life, yearning for it. 

It wasn’t your intention when you stepped into the forest, and you’re sure it was Max and Norms either, but the opportunity is right in front of you. This is your choice, completely and entirely your choice. 

“To learn the ways of the forest” you say carefully “the ways of the people” you bite your lip as she slowly looks you up and down. She finally meets your eyes and you straighten your back, keeping her gaze locked with yours. You can’t explain the relief that washes over your chest when her eyes twitch, the slightest softness creeping into her expression. 

She glances to the boy then to Jake and Neytiri, again silently communicating with their eyes. After a moment she turns back to you. “I trust my grandson’s judgement” She states, your mind goes blank for a moment before she continues “both my grandchildren and the Great Mother see something in you, it would be foolish to reject you.” She turns to Jake and Neytiri again, looking to the people surrounding you all now. 

“She will be taught the ways of the people” She announces firmly, she locks eyes with Jake, then glances down to the boy who brought you here. Jake breathes in before stepping forward, placing a hand on the boys shoulder. “My son is to be Olo’eyktan, he must be able to lead and help the people” He looks to the boy, his son “It will be his job to guide her, a great way to gain experience and prove himself”  

Whispers move through the crowd, the way the boys lips purse makes your tail flick against your ankles unconsciously. You lock eyes with him, you want to curl into yourself at the way he looks at you. The intensity of his gaze hitches at your breath, reviving the weight pulling the strings of anxiety in your chest. You feel a pair of hands on your shoulders and a voice speaks right next to your ears. 

“You and Neteyam stuck together huh?” Lo’aks voice is riddled with amusement “This ought to be good” he cackles, your brother nudging your arm as he makes similar comments.  

The boy stands in front of you, eyes fixed on you, you swear you see the hardness of his gaze waver. 

Neteyam… he’s more than you ever thought he would be 

[rootedinrevisions]

Unspoken

SUMMARY: What started as a casual birthday dinner with friends quickly took an unexpected turn the moment Adam sat next to you, his presence impossible to ignore. Drinks flowed, conversation sparked, and before long, you found yourself on the dance floor, the tension between you growing with each beat. He teased you with subtle touches and whispered words that sent your mind racing, yet you kept him at arm’s length, enjoying the game just as much as he did. By the time the night wound down, you assumed he’d let it go—until you returned to your hotel and saw him waiting by your door, eyes dark with intent.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This one is a special one I wrote for one of my favorite people in the world @thedeboniardevistation HAPPY BIRTHDAY BEAUTIFUL! I hope you like it!

WARNINGS: 18+ SMUT.

The restaurant is dimly lit, its warm amber glow reflecting off the polished wood tables and cushioned chairs. The hum of conversation fills the air, laughter bouncing between the walls. It’s your birthday, and your closest friends have gathered to celebrate. You’d been looking forward to a night of relaxation, away from the hectic schedules and adrenaline of the ring.

As the waitress leads your group to a large round table, you glance around, spotting Adam Page—“Hangman” to most people—just behind you. He’s already smiling in that easygoing way that makes his eyes soften beneath the brim of his cowboy hat. You nod at him, casually assuming he’s just another one of the group tonight. After all, you and Adam talk often backstage, but your interactions have always felt friendly—nothing more.

You take a seat and moments later, Adam pulls out the chair next to yours. The motion feels casual enough to you, but when you glance up, you notice a couple of the others exchanging glances. You brush it off, not thinking much of it, and focus on the menu in front of you.

“Got any favorites here?” Adam’s deep voice asks, drawing your attention. His Southern drawl rolls off the words effortlessly, as if every sentence he speaks belongs in a country song.

You shrug, looking over the menu. “I’ve been here a few times, but I think I’ll try something new tonight.”

His gaze lingers a little too long, though you’re oblivious to it, focused on what you’re going to eat. Adam, however, can’t help but notice how your hair frames your face under the soft light, and he’s trying really hard not to let his eyes drift down your body. You’re always on his mind, whether it’s during work when he catches a glimpse of you talking to someone else or when he’s alone in his hotel room at night, wishing he could pull you into his arms.

He’s gotten pretty good at hiding it, or at least he thinks so. But tonight is different. Tonight, he’s sitting close enough that his knee brushes yours under the table, and that small contact alone makes his chest tighten.

The conversation flows easily among your group as drinks and appetizers are ordered. Adam’s voice dips in and out, answering questions here and there, but you notice he’s quieter than usual. Still, whenever you glance over at him, he’s got that relaxed smile, like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

You laugh at a joke one of your friends cracks, nudging Adam lightly in the process. “Did you hear that?”

He chuckles, though he’s not entirely sure what he’s laughing at. His attention is split between trying to act normal and fighting the urge to reach out and rest his hand on your knee—just to see if you’d look at him differently, if you’d feel the same fire in his touch as he feels every time he’s near you.

“Yeah, yeah, I heard,” he responds, shaking his head. “You’ve got quite the crew here tonight.”

You smirk. “Of course, I only bring the best out for my birthday.”

It’s that smile that undoes him every single time. The way your lips curve, the way your eyes light up—it’s like a punch to the gut. Adam has felt this way for months, though he hasn’t had the nerve to act on it. You, meanwhile, have been completely unaware of the yearning looks he shoots your way when he thinks no one’s watching.

Everyone else sees it, though. They’ve caught the way he moves just a little closer to you backstage, the way his entire face softens whenever you enter a room. But you? You seem to chalk it up to him being friendly, as if Adam Page hasn’t been harboring some serious feelings for you for nearly a year now.

The dinner progresses smoothly, the table alive with chatter and laughter, but Adam stays close. His arm brushes yours now and again, sometimes intentional, sometimes not, and each time he feels the warmth of your skin through his sleeve, it takes everything in him to play it cool.

As the night wears on and dessert is served, one of your friends leans over with a smirk. “So, what’s the plan for the rest of the night? We hitting up a bar or something?”

You grin. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

Adam leans back in his chair, eyes fixed on you even as you direct your attention elsewhere. He can’t help but wonder what you’d do if he pulled you aside tonight, told you how he really feels. Would you laugh it off, thinking he’s just joking around? Or would you stare at him in that way that makes his knees go weak, and tell him you’ve been waiting for him to say something all along?

“Guess I’ll tag along,” he says, his voice lower than usual.

You glance at him, grinning. “You sure you don’t have some wild cowboy plans tonight?”

He chuckles, but there’s a rough edge to it. “No plans better than celebrating your birthday.”

His words come out so smoothly, you don’t think twice about them, though the others exchange glances again. It’s not lost on them that Adam rarely, if ever, makes plans with anyone outside of work. And yet, here he is, sitting next to you all night, showing no intention of leaving your side.

As the group begins to gather their things, preparing to head out, you stand up and stretch. “Alright, time to go.”

Adam gets up too, his gaze trailing over you before he pulls his hat down lower over his eyes. If anyone noticed how tense he’s been tonight, they don’t say anything, though you catch the way one of your friends gives him a knowing smirk as the two of you walk side by side out of the restaurant.

The bar is dimly lit, quieter than the average nightlife spot, but still lively with a low hum of conversation and the occasional clink of glasses. It’s laid-back, the kind of place where jeans fit in just as easily as leather jackets and relaxed smiles. A cozy lounge with a polished wood bar and soft music—not quite honkytonk but with enough of a country undercurrent to keep the vibe friendly.

After dinner, your group spills into the place, a few of your friends immediately claiming a booth while others head to the bar to order drinks. You’re standing by the entrance, looking around the room, when Adam appears by your side, his hand gently brushing your elbow.

“I’ll get your first drink,” he offers, his voice smooth but that Southern accent slipping in, adding a lazy warmth to the words.

You smile up at him. “Thanks, Adam. I’ll take whatever you’re having.”

He grins, tipping his hat slightly before heading toward the bar. Your eyes follow him without thinking, taking in the way his jeans fit snugly over his frame. But before you can start to wonder why you’re staring, one of your friends sidles up to you, nudging your side with a knowing smile.

“So, Adam’s here, huh?” she teases.

You laugh lightly. “Yeah, I mean, he was invited, too.”

She raises an eyebrow, her voice dropping just a little as she leans in. “You think he’s single? Or is he seeing someone?”

The question catches you off guard. You blink, processing it for a moment. Adam Page? Seeing someone? For some reason, the idea of him with another woman makes your chest feel tight, though you don’t know why.

You fumble for a response. “Uh… I’m not sure.”

Your friend shrugs, her eyes flicking over to where Adam is standing at the bar, his cowboy hat slightly tilted back as he chats with the bartender. “He’s pretty hot. Think it’d be cool if I, you know, hit on him?”

A strange sensation rolls through you, like a spark of something unwelcome. The image of her cozying up to Adam, flirting, maybe even going home with him tonight—it unsettles you in a way you can’t quite name. You’re not possessive of him. He’s not yours. You don’t even have feelings for him… right?

But still, you hear yourself saying, “I think… he might be seeing someone.”

Your friend looks surprised, raising an eyebrow. “Really? Who?”

You hesitate for a beat, knowing you don’t have a good answer. “I’m not sure. He doesn’t talk about it much.” It’s a half-lie, but it’s enough to stop her from pursuing the idea further. Inside, though, you can’t help but wonder why you said it—why the thought of Adam with someone else stirred something deep within you.

As if on cue, Adam returns, two drinks in hand. He hands one to you, his fingers brushing against yours for a split second longer than necessary. You ignore the flutter in your stomach as you take a sip, the cool liquid sliding down your throat.

“Thanks,” you say, giving him a small smile.

Adam’s eyes linger on yours for a moment before he nods toward the small dance floor in the corner of the bar. “Wanna dance?”

Your friends are still scattered around the lounge, deep in their own conversations, and the music is soft enough that dancing seems more like an intimate thing than a group activity. But something in Adam’s tone makes it impossible to say no.

“Sure,” you reply, setting your drink down on the nearest table.

He leads you toward the floor, and at first, it’s easy. The two of you start dancing with a respectable distance between your bodies, the movements casual and unassuming. You let yourself relax into the rhythm, laughing at something he says about how out of practice he is when it comes to dancing. It’s fun, lighthearted… until it’s not.

The space between you starts to shrink, bit by bit. His arm brushes against yours. His knee bumps into yours. And soon, the soft beat of the music seems to guide you closer together, until there’s barely a breath of space left between you.

You’re facing him now, your bodies moving in sync as the rest of the world blurs around you. It’s as if everything else fades, leaving only the two of you on this dance floor. His hands find your waist, pulling you closer as you let yourself lean into the warmth of his body.

And then, almost without thinking, you turn around, your back pressing against his chest, the curve of your hips brushing against him as you move to the beat. You feel him still for a moment, the air between you thickening. His hands settle on your waist, his fingers gripping just a little tighter.

You arch your back, pressing into him further. He lets out a low chuckle, and you feel the rumble of it against your spine.

“You know what you’re doing to me, don’t you?” he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear.

You swallow hard, a shiver running down your spine. “What do you mean?”

Adam leans in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “You act all innocent and look so sweet, but I know what a dirty mind you really have.”

The words send a thrill through you, heat pooling low in your belly. He’s always been good at getting under your skin, but this? This is different. This is something you can’t ignore.

His grip on your waist tightens as he pulls you against him, the hard line of his body pressing into yours. “You know what you’re doing to me, darlin’,” he whispers, his voice low and rough.

You bite your lip, tilting your head back just enough to catch his eye. “Maybe I do.”

Adam’s breath hitches, and for a moment, neither of you move, the tension between you crackling like electricity.

“You’re coming home with me tonight,” he says, and it’s not a question.

Your heart skips a beat, the heat between you burning hotter. But you’re not ready to give in just yet. You turn your head slightly, giving him a challenging smile. “I don’t like being told what to do,” you murmur, “unless I’m naked and underneath you.”

A slow grin spreads across his face, his eyes dark with want. “That can be arranged.”

Your heart is pounding in your chest as Adam’s words hang in the air, thick with desire. His hands are still resting on your waist, holding you close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him. For a split second, you’re tempted to just give in—to let the night end exactly the way he’s suggesting. But then, a playful glint sparks in your eyes.

You take a small step away from him, turning to face him fully. The slight distance between your bodies makes his hands fall from your waist, and you can feel the surprise in his eyes as you smirk up at him.

“Maybe,” you say, your tone light and teasing, but with just enough edge to keep him guessing. “But you’re going to have to work a little harder than that, cowboy.”

Adam raises an eyebrow, a slow smile curling his lips as he watches you, clearly not expecting that response. “Oh, am I now?” he says, his voice rich with amusement.

“Mm-hmm,” you hum, turning away with a little shrug as if the heat between you hadn’t just spiked moments ago. You flash him a quick, challenging look over your shoulder. “You’ll have to prove you can keep up.”

Before he can respond, you slip through the crowd of your friends and back toward the booth where your drinks sit, leaving Adam standing there with a grin tugging at his mouth. You can feel his eyes on you as you move, and you love it—the way the tension is still there, but now it’s a game.

You rejoin the group with a carefree smile, plopping down in the booth and taking a sip of your drink like nothing out of the ordinary just happened. But one of your friends isn’t so easily fooled.

“So…” she begins, sliding into the seat next to you, her voice low with curiosity. “What was that about?”

You blink, feigning innocence. “What was what about?”

She gives you a look, clearly not buying it. “You and Adam. I swear, the two of you looked like you were about to combust on the dance floor. And don’t think I didn’t notice the way he’s been eyeing you all night.”

You take another sip of your drink, glancing at her with a coy smile. “We’re just dancing.”

Your friend snorts. “Yeah, and I’m a professional ballerina.” She nudges your arm. “Come on, you can’t tell me you don’t feel something between you two.”

You hesitate, your mind replaying the way Adam’s body had pressed against yours, the way his breath had tickled your ear, the way his words had sent a shiver through you. Something about him always gets under your skin, but admitting that to anyone—even yourself—feels like giving up control. And you like being in control.

“I don’t know,” you say, your voice softening. “He’s… I mean, it’s just Adam. We’re coworkers.”

Your friend raises an eyebrow. “That doesn’t mean there can’t be something more.”

Before you can respond, the man himself saunters back over to the table, his presence unmistakable. He catches your eye with that same easy smile, but there’s a glimmer of determination now—a spark that tells you he’s ready to rise to your challenge.

He sits back down next to you, just close enough that your knees bump under the table. “What’d I miss?” Adam asks, his voice low, but there’s an unmistakable playfulness behind it. You can feel his energy, the way he’s waiting for your next move.

Your friend gives you a knowing look before sliding out of the booth to go join some of the others. You’re alone with Adam again, and the air around you feels charged.

“Just talking,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady, though the proximity of him is already doing things to your composure. “About how you might need to step up your game if you’re planning on taking anyone home tonight.”

Adam’s eyes gleam with interest, and he leans in, just enough that his voice drops to that deep, rumbling tone that always seems to get to you. “You know,” he says, his lips curving into a grin, “I think you like making me work for it.”

“Maybe,” you say with a shrug, not looking at him but instead focusing on the rim of your glass. “But isn’t that part of the fun?”

His hand slides casually along the back of the booth, brushing your shoulder. It’s a small gesture, but it sends a spark of heat through you. “For you, maybe,” he murmurs, his voice lower now. “But darlin’, I’m a man who knows what he wants. And what I want—” His words trail off as he leans in a little closer, his lips brushing against your ear just enough to make you shiver. “—is you.”

The words send a thrill racing through you, but you’re not about to give in so easily. You turn your head slightly, your lips almost grazing his cheek as you meet his gaze. “Like I said… you’re going to have to work a little harder than that.”

Adam chuckles, a deep, warm sound that sends heat rolling through you. “I’m up for the challenge,” he says softly, his hand brushing yours under the table. “And something tells me you want me to win.”

Before you can respond, a few of your friends make their way back to the table, oblivious to the tension radiating between you and Adam. As the night goes on, the playful banter continues, your friends exchanging knowing glances as they catch on to the back-and-forth. They may not know the details, but it’s clear to them that something’s brewing between you two.

But for now, you’re content to let Adam chase. You can feel his eyes on you, the way his gaze lingers when you laugh, the way he watches you when you talk to the others. And every now and then, you meet his stare, the silent challenge still hanging in the air.

By the end of the night, you know the game isn’t over—not by a long shot. You stand up to leave, giving Adam a quick glance over your shoulder as your friends start saying their goodbyes.

“Maybe next time,” you say, your voice soft but teasing as you catch his eye one last time.

Adam smirks, tipping his cowboy hat with a slow nod. “I’ll hold you to that.”

As you walk out of the bar, your heart races with anticipation. You don’t know when the next move will come, but one thing’s for sure—you’re not done playing this game with Adam Page just yet.

As the night winds down, you part ways with your friends, your laughter lingering in the cool night air as everyone says their goodbyes. Adam had stayed back at the bar with a few of the others, sharing a few more drinks and swapping stories. You can’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment as you glance back, noticing that he hadn’t even made a move to leave with you. Had he given up the chase?

It stings a little more than you want to admit. After everything tonight—the playful back-and-forth, the heat that simmered between you, the unspoken promises—you thought for sure he’d try harder, push just a little further. But maybe this was just a game to him after all.

With a small sigh, you make your way back to your hotel. The elevator ride up to your floor feels oddly quiet, the lingering buzz of the night fading. You’re almost embarrassed at how much you’d let yourself get swept up in the idea of Adam wanting you. He did want you, didn’t he? Or had you just imagined it all?

You fumble with your keycard, trying to shake the thoughts from your mind as you step off the elevator and head toward your room. The hallway is dimly lit, and the sound of your footsteps echo off the walls as you near your door. All you can think about now is sinking into bed, forgetting the flutter in your chest every time Adam looked at you tonight.

But then, you see him.

Leaning casually against the wall right next to your door, arms crossed, that signature cowboy hat pulled low over his eyes. His dark jeans cling to his legs, and the black bandana around his neck is the final touch to his laid-back but unmistakably commanding presence. His eyes flick up to meet yours as you approach, and you freeze.

He’s been waiting for you.

“Adam?” you ask, your voice laced with surprise and confusion. You stop a few steps short of your door, your pulse quickening at the sight of him. “What…what are you doing here?”

Adam uncrosses his arms, pushing off the wall with the ease of someone who’s completely in control. He takes a slow, deliberate step toward you, his gaze never leaving yours.

“You didn’t really think I’d let you walk away that easy, did you?” he drawls, his Southern accent making every word sound like a lazy promise.

Your heart skips a beat as he closes the distance between you. The hallway feels smaller now, the air between you heavy with anticipation. You had been so sure that he was done, that the game had ended. But here he is, standing just inches away from you, and the heat that had simmered between you all night suddenly flares back to life.

“You looked like you were having fun back there,” you say, trying to sound nonchalant as you gesture vaguely toward the direction of the bar. “I didn’t think you’d—”

“Didn’t think I’d what?” he interrupts, his voice low and gravelly as he takes another step closer. “Come after you?”

Your breath catches in your throat. The way he’s looking at you now—it’s not just playful anymore. There’s something more in his eyes, something deeper, and you can feel it pulling you in.

“I thought maybe you’d given up,” you admit, your voice barely a whisper now.

Adam’s eyes darken, his jaw tightening as if he’s weighing his next words carefully. Then, without warning, his hand reaches out, gently tilting your chin up so that you’re forced to meet his gaze. His touch is firm but careful, the rough pads of his fingers sending a shiver through you.

“Darlin’,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing lightly along your jawline. “When it comes to you, I don’t give up that easy.”

You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest as his words sink in. There’s no escaping the intensity of the moment now, no brushing off the tension between you as just a bit of harmless fun. It’s real. And it’s right in front of you.

Your eyes flick to his lips for a brief second, the temptation overwhelming, but you manage to hold back. You can’t let him see how much you want him… at least not yet. So, instead, you give him a small, teasing smile and step back just enough to break his touch.

“Still,” you say, tilting your head coyly. “You’re going to have to work harder than that.”

Adam’s expression shifts, amusement dancing in his eyes as he watches you pull away. He chuckles softly, shaking his head as if he’s enjoying every second of this. “You keep sayin’ that,” he says, his voice dropping an octave. “But I think you’re the one who’s been wanting me to catch you all night.”

You don’t answer, but the silence between you is telling enough. You both know what’s happening here, and yet the push and pull makes it all the more intoxicating. Your body is already buzzing with adrenaline, with the promise of what could happen next.

Adam takes a small step forward, crowding your space again. This time, he doesn’t wait for you to pull back. He leans down, his lips so close to your ear that you can feel the warmth of his breath as he speaks.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere tonight,” he whispers, his voice low and rough. “So how about you stop runnin’ and let me in?”

You close your eyes, your pulse quickening as his words wash over you. The desire between you two is undeniable now, and the only question left is how long you’re willing to drag this out.

You open your eyes and turn to face him fully, a slow smile creeping across your lips as you consider your next move. With a deep breath, you finally give him what he’s been waiting for.

“Okay, cowboy,” you say softly, your voice barely more than a whisper. “You win.”

Adam’s eyes flash with triumph, and before you can even process what’s happening, he’s got his arm around your waist, pulling you into him. His lips crash against yours, and everything you’ve been holding back all night suddenly surges to the surface. The kiss is fierce, intense, and you can feel every ounce of the tension that’s been building between you two all night in the way his hands grip your body, in the way he kisses you like he’s been waiting for this moment forever.

When you finally pull back, breathless and flushed, Adam looks down at you, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

“Now that’s more like it,” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

You can’t help but laugh, the tension between you shifting from fiery to something lighter, more playful. But the desire is still there, burning under the surface, and you know tonight is far from over.

With a quick swipe of your keycard, you unlock the door to your hotel room and push it open. Adam follows close behind, his presence unmistakable as you both step inside, the door clicking shut behind you.

And just like that, the chase is over. But the night? It’s only just beginning.

The door closes with a soft click behind you, but the sound feels louder, heavier in the quiet space of your hotel room. Adam steps further in, his presence filling the room with a palpable intensity. You don’t say a word, not as you take a few steps back, the carpet soft under your feet, not as you let the tension between you stretch out for just a moment longer.

Adam’s eyes stay on you, dark and heated, as he pulls off his hat, tossing it casually onto the chair by the window. You watch, your heart thundering in your chest, as his fingers tug the black bandana from around his neck, the slow unraveling sending your pulse racing.

“Been waiting for this,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough as he takes a step toward you, closing the gap once again. His words send a shiver down your spine, the reality of the moment settling in now. This isn’t just a game anymore.

It’s happening.

You can feel the shift, the weight of the desire between you pressing in, but there’s no fear. No hesitation. Just the thrill of knowing exactly where this night is going.

Adam reaches for you, his hands firm as they slide around your waist, pulling you into him. Your breath hitches as you feel the solid warmth of his body against yours, his strength undeniable as he cups your face with one hand, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

You tilt your head up to him, your lips parting slightly as your eyes meet his. The tension is electric, buzzing between you, but there’s something else now too—a tenderness, a kind of vulnerability that neither of you has shown until now.

“I’ve wanted you for so damn long,” he murmurs, his voice dropping into that Southern drawl that makes every word sound like a promise. His forehead rests against yours for a moment, his breath mingling with yours, his hands holding you close, like he’s savoring this before taking the final step.

Your heart pounds in your chest, your hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin through the fabric of his shirt. You let out a breathless laugh, the nervous excitement bubbling up inside you.

“I didn’t think you were ever going to make a move,” you confess softly, your fingers gripping the material of his shirt as you lean into him.

Adam chuckles, his lips brushing against your temple as his arms tighten around you. “Trust me, darlin’,” he whispers against your skin, his voice thick with heat. “I’ve been dying to.”

And then his lips are on yours again, but this time it’s different. It’s not just a kiss—it’s everything. It’s all the words he hasn’t said, all the looks he’s given you, all the moments where the tension between you threatened to spill over. It’s need and want and raw desire, wrapped up in one fierce, breathless kiss.

Your hands slide up his chest, fingers tangling in his hair as you pull him closer, your body pressed tight against his. Adam’s grip on you is firm, possessive, like he’s been waiting for this moment for longer than he’ll admit. His tongue brushes against your lips, and you part them without hesitation, the kiss deepening as his hands roam your body, exploring every curve, every inch of you that he can reach.

You break the kiss just long enough to pull his shirt up and over his head, tossing it to the floor in a messy heap. Adam’s hands follow suit, sliding under your shirt, his fingers grazing the bare skin of your waist, sending a shiver through you. You’re suddenly desperate to feel him against you, to close the distance that’s still between you.

The rest of your clothes come off in a blur of motion, discarded carelessly around the room as the two of you stumble toward the bed. Your back hits the mattress, the cool sheets a stark contrast to the heat building between you as Adam leans over you, his hands braced on either side of your head.

For a moment, he just looks at you—his gaze sweeping over your body, the hunger in his eyes unmistakable. But there’s something more there, too. Something that makes your heart race even faster.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he says, his voice rough with want. His hand slides down your side, his fingers skimming the curve of your waist before gripping your hip, pulling you closer to him. His lips find yours again, softer this time, like he’s savoring the feel of you.

The weight of him above you is intoxicating, every inch of your body buzzing with anticipation as his kisses trail down your neck, his breath hot against your skin. You arch into him, your fingers gripping his shoulders, your mind spinning with how badly you want him.

And then his hands are on you, exploring you in a way that leaves no part of you untouched, no inch of skin ignored. The sensation of his touch is overwhelming, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body as his lips follow the path his hands have already taken.

It’s almost too much—the way he’s looking at you, the way he’s touching you, the way he’s making you feel like you’re the only person in the world right now. You’re burning for him, aching for him, and when he finally presses into you, it’s like everything falls into place.

The gasp that leaves your lips is swallowed by his kiss, and for a moment, all you can feel is him. The heat, the intensity, the overwhelming sense of rightness that comes with every movement, every sound, every breathless whisper of your name.

Adam moves slowly at first, his hands braced on either side of you as his lips find yours again. But it doesn’t stay slow for long. The tension between you, the months of unspoken desire, the build-up of everything you’ve kept bottled up—it all spills over now, in the way he holds you, in the way his body moves against yours, in the way you respond to him without hesitation.

It’s primal, intense, but there’s a sweetness to it too. The way he presses his forehead to yours, the way he whispers your name like it’s something sacred, the way his hands never stop touching you, even as your bodies move together in a rhythm that feels like it’s been building for so long.

You lose track of time—of everything but him. The world outside the walls of this hotel room doesn’t exist anymore. There’s just Adam, and the way he’s making you feel, and the way you never want this moment to end.

But eventually, it does. And when it does, you’re left breathless, your body still humming with the aftershocks of everything you just shared.

Adam collapses next to you, his chest heaving as he pulls you into his arms, his breath hot against your neck. Neither of you says anything for a long moment, the silence between you filled with the sound of your breathing, the quiet aftermath of what you’ve just crossed.

Finally, Adam speaks, his voice low and rough in your ear.

“Should’ve done that a long time ago,” he murmurs, his hand resting on your hip, holding you close.

You smile, your eyes closing as you snuggle into him, your body still pressed against his. “Yeah,” you whisper, your voice soft and content. “You really should have.”

And just like that, the line between you has been crossed. There’s no going back now. And truth be told, you don’t want to.

[tenderfxck]

Can you write for submissive alhaitham? Imagine arguing over something trivial and just pinning him down and breaking him :D but ofc the onion boy would not go down without a fight, and that's where the fun begins <3

this got longer than i expected. um.

this is switch/bottom al haitham. sorry if that wasn’t what you were looking for but uhhhh. inspiration struck my dick and here we are.

contents: switch! al haitham, bottom! al haitham, gn!reader, no reader genitals mentioned, can be read as strap or not, he gets pegged/fucked :P, overstim, brat taming, light orgasm denial, begging

edit: i woke up this morning and found some issues. i went ahead and fixed them and last night’s me will be appropriately drawn and quartered for not proofreading closely enough

it all started when he mumbled a snide remark under his breath.

you had just finished chiding him for being too brusque with some poor akademiya students when you turned to take leave of his office, determined to decompress after dealing with that proud scribe.

it seemed to have been building, this tension between you two, and al haitham was irked enough to push it a just a bit more.

“well maybe you should stop with the niceties and people might actually respect you.”

he watched as you froze in front of him, a faint smirk crossing his face as he saw your perturbed look as you turned back to meet his gaze.

“mr. scribe, do not confuse kindness for a weak will.”

this was rare.

he’s only seen this look that’s currently overtaking your facade a few times before; only when he’s really struck a chord in your arguments.

he laughs quietly, mockingly as he crosses his arms and rests his back against the grand bookcase behind his desk. “well maybe if you knew how to assert dominance instead of resorting to being an absolute pushover you could—“

he feels the push of something before he's pinned between the wall and you.

he never knew you were capable of being assertive, let alone this. his chest tightens, breath catching as he stares back into your darkening eyes.

"assert dominance, huh?"

your knee finds its place between haitham's legs, drawing the open so easily in his paralyzed state.

"dominance. . ."

. . .

“ah- ah- ah- ggh!”

archons. his voice is hoarse, yet he still can’t stop it from rhythmically crying out, a chorus of moans punctuating each harsh meeting of hips. his cock is starting to feel numb. you already rode him twice until he completely emptied himself in you, yet now your thumb still rubs at the tip, taking in every broken little sob of him saying it’s “too much.”

“wasn’t it you who said i needed to- what was it?”

you thrust into him sharply, uncaring for his worn and overstimulated body. all he can do is gasp out, cock throbbing in your grasp.

“assert dominance?”

fuck. he feels so full. his face is buried in one of the pillows on the chaise lounge of the study, no doubt probably stained with his drool by now. his knees dug into the soft, green velvet, ass poised up high, being fucked so earnestly by you.

"i'm simply demonstrating my aptitude."

you continue this steady, constant pace, fucking him flat into the sofa while all he can do is sob out such cute, broken little moans and grab helplessly at the plush upholstery.

who knew you kept something like that hidden away, ready to be used like this.

“please, t-too—ah! much. . .”

“hush. no more whining, now, just take it all, mr. scribe.”

you gave a particularly harsh thrust after, punctuating your teasing nickname before setting that harsh pace again.

he felt like he was losing his grip. his normal sensibilities were now nowhere to be found, replaced with the mind-numbing sensation of you filling him up and the urge to beg you for more, more, more.

and he hated it.

“haah. . . stop—ggh! using me you p-please, asshole. . .”

it was just too much. the hand digging into his soft hips, the other that teased his spent cock, the brutal pace of you pounding into his ass, so completely at your mercy.

“fuck. . . g-gonna cum again!” he gasps, tongue lolling out of his mouth as he sees stars cloud the edge of his vision.

your hips still and your hands are suddenly no where. the sensation abruptly dulls, leaving him unsatisfied. but the burning urge remains, twitching helplessly at the loss of stimulation.

“nonono- fuck! why. . .” he huffs sharply, thoroughly pissed off.

his cock throbbed between his legs, laying swollen and neglected against his thigh. he was leaking from the relentless teasing of your hands, only pushed farther by the lewdness of your pressing so deep into him. he was so certain he had nothing left to give but fuck did he want—need to cum again.

“we’ll i’m just a pushover to you, aren’t i? so i did just what i was told.”

you shifted ever so slightly, slipping that much farther out of his hole, al haitham sobbing at the loss of sensation.

“and stopped.”

archons, no. he was so fucking close to the edge. he needed that release. needed to be roughly fucked to completion. needed to call out your name as he came all over his spent body as you used his hole as you pleased.

fuck his pride. he needs you.

"i-i'm sorry" he keens, shame forgotten, instead heaving and writhing before you. "i'm sorry, just please- archons, ggh. . . please just-" he looks up at you above him, lashes decorated with desperate tears, wiggling those divine hips against you as he pitifully, submissively, finally begs-

"fuck me!"

a sinful smirk spread across your face as you reach you forearm around al haitham's neck, pulling him up into a headlock, his body flush with yours. his back arches so sweetly against your form as you harshly thrust yourself back in, all the way to the base. al haitham chokes out a surprised moan, eyes rolling back as he melts, completely surrendering to you.

"glady, mr. scribe."

[garoujo]

emmie i’m on my knees begging you to elaborate on the hanma club thing (if ur ok with it ofc!!)

ஜ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ based off of this lil post about shuji !

warnings: f!reader, night life, alcohol mentioned / consumed, not proofread (it’s messy). ♡ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ note: fank u for asking for a lil elaboration nonnie ueueue ! i hope u enjoy <333

you hated hanma shuji.. sometimes.. not really but you think there’s times where he’s particularly insufferable, like during a petty little argument and yeah maybe it was about nothing, but you still think he could be a little less annoying about it. although you’re pretty sure he does it because he thinks you’re hot when you’re mad.

but now you’re here, in a cab with your friends while that same exact person blows up your phone after you’ve left him on read for the past 40 minutes. sometimes a girls night is called for after a long week at work, especially when you’re feeling extra pretty as you touch up your makeup in the front camera of your phone — making sure to swipe away the next message that comes from your boyfriend before you’re locking it with your next giggle.

hanma may be annoying but you know exactly how to get his attention.

you’re already a little giddy from the alcohol as you press your side against your friends in the back seat with a grin, you’re both babbling on about how excited you are to get out. this club is one of the hottest in town, you really know the owner? the question rings slightly in your cloudy frame of mind and you suddenly feel hotter when you drawl out a dreamy little mhm~ he’s an asshole though.

it’s 9:34pm when you arrive at the club, shivering when the cool night air seems to roll over your already too warm skin but it feels nice when your heels click against the pavement. it wasn’t your first time at this place but it was your first time without him, seeing it from the outside — the swarm of people and the pretentious, judging looks they seem to give you while they wait for entry.

not that you care, because there’s still an immediate knowing look from the doorman that seems to catch your eye before you can drag your friend to the back of the line.

you can’t deny the way it makes pride burst and warm along your shoulders when the two security guards cast eachother a glance, followed by a rough swallow before they’re stepping to the side and allowing you entry despite the stares and judgemental whispers from the group still waiting.

but despite the special treatment, you still deny the escort to the vip booth — earning you a few grumbled curses from the men that you’ve put down to how someone else is going to react rather than taking it personally. your friend gives you a grin as you cast her a look over your shoulder and it’s almost instantaneous the way the sleek, crystal bar calls to you both as you cross the dance floor, already feeling lighter despite the weight of every set of eyes on you.

hanma on the other hand is sat at his desk as he listens to two of his men drone on about their most recent shipment, they seem nervous — more so than usual but maybe that’s down to the particularly pissed looks he’s been wearing all night. his jaw grinds tighter with every text of his that goes unopened or unanswered as his lips curl around the end of his cigarette with his next slow drag, his hair is mused from his hands and it’s like he’s even more restless than usual.

his phone chimes and he gives it a lazy, nonchalant look when he realises it’s not from you— until it’s about you and he swears the room shakes with the way he throws his head back to laugh. it’s startling as the twitch of his lips twist into a smirk before it’s hidden by sin when his palm smoothes down his face, squeezing between his brows from underneath his glasses as his giggle seems to break off into something lower.

“get out.” he grits with his next breath and he doesn’t even cast them both a second glance before he’s taking another long draw of his cigarette and readjusting his suit jacket to leave as he types out another text.

boss: let anyone near her and i’ll knock your fucking teeth out.

it’s 9:40pm when hanma gets a text telling him who’s at the front door of his fucking club and he knows he’ll be there by 10.

there’s a shift in the atmosphere despite the way you can barely feel it, your hips have taken a sort of sinful sway to the music and you feel fuzzy from the shots at the bar that the bartender insisted went unpaid. your friend told you that everything tastes better when it’s free and with the warm buzz you feel in your brain you think you’re gonna have to agree.

you’re acutely aware of the fact everyone seems to be avoiding you, but you’re too blissed out to care — focusing on the call from your friend as you both sing along to the next song that seems to play a little louder as the bass rings in your ears. another twirl of your hips and you grumble when you’re stopped in your tracks by the hard press of a chest against your back.

you know who it is ofcourse, he was all consuming — looming as his tall figure seems to curl itself over you, surrounding you with the familiar scent of his expensive cologne before you feel his fingers smooth up your hips, tracing their way from your stomach to your collarbones until you feel the press of his rings at the base of your neck. but you let him.

“you’ve been out long enough.” hanma grits as he leans in close, his lips deliberately grazing along the shell of your ear as he holds you in place against him. it makes you shudder, the low drawl of his voice as his finger taps at the sensitive column of your throat — like you’re not in public, he’s just playing with what’s his.

“hmmm? do i know you?” call it liquid courage or maybe it’s still the dull sting from your petty little fight earlier — mostly one sided, but you still think he’s annoying when you cast him a lidded, albeit still beautiful look from over your shoulder while the amber that pools in his gaze waits to meet you.

“you know i don’t like being ignored, babydoll.” another squeeze and hanma seems even closer now with the drop in his tone, making you shudder as you seem to melt into him.

“awww, i thought you liked when i was mean, or did i hurt your feelings?” you feel like your mind and body are working separately right now.

“better watch that mouth with me, or else. i’m already angry.” and even though hanma’s grinning when he says it you can see something darker in the way his lips seem to curl, accompanied by the twitch of his fingers against the base of your throat as they squeeze a little tighter.

“so grumpy, i’m just having a good time, shu~” oh you were as you bury yourself back into his chest, letting your hands reach behind you to scratch at the base of his neck when you feel his lips dip lower to graze along your jawline. it’s already stuffy but he always had a way of making you feel too warm for your clothes.

“you forget who owns this place? or is that pretty little head all just for show?” hanma’s words are like honey as they drip from between his lips, rocking through to heat the base of your spine before he’s tilting your head up to meet his and laughing when your lips seem to part instinctively for him.

“you gonna cry?” you grit again before you suck at your lower lip and fuck— he thinks he should piss you off more often.

“nope.” hanma sings as he pops the p, letting his fingers dance along the press of your throat before they’re cupping at your jaw as he holds you facing him, giving you a carnal, almost predatory look while his hips press flush against yours. “but i always think you look pretty when you do, babydoll.. and i think you owe me an apology.”

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