#so it wasn’t filling up at a faster enough rate

[gatheryepens]

I donated blood today for the first time…sort of

[danikamariewrites]

Punches & Apologies

Batboys x reader

Notes: this was a commission fic that I forgot to post lol. Buckle up bc she’s a long one with lots of Az angst

Warnings: angst, training accident

Heavy pants and the rush of your blood fill your ears. You are exhausted. Your body begging you to stop. The muscles in your arms and legs screaming and pulsing, never being pushed to this extent before.

Azriel is pushing you as punishment for your latest mission to the Continent. You made a mistake, a miscalculation. One that got an emissary killed and put you within death’s grasp.

But that does not give Azriel an excuse to push you like he has never made a mistake before.

Cauldron, your mates must be feeling your pain. At least Cassian is. You’ve been sending everything to him down the bond in the hopes he stops Azriel.

Slipping to take a knee on purpose, Azriel brings the practice sword to rest against your throat. His nostrils flared as his breathing turned heavy, angry that you would blatantly yield instead of fighting until the end like you were taught.

You just stare at each other for a moment that seems to go on for an eternity. Cassian clears his throat but you two just keep staring each other down. “I think that’s enough for today.” His voice is strained, telling you Cassian was certainly feeling the echoes of your pain.

“No,” Azriel said tensely. “We keep going.” He draws back the practice sword, stepping back to pace in front of your still kneeling form. You screw your eyes shut, putting all of your effort on slowing your heart rate.

“Azriel, I don't think it’s wise to continue. Take a break and cool off.” Cassian gives Azriel a glare reserved for his soldiers. “No.” Azriel replied shortly. His piercing gaze never leaving you. “Get up.” He commands.

“Az, please,” You beg. “Up now, or I’m suspending you from missions indefinitely.” Your eyes widen at his threat. Cassian opens his mouth to interject but you hold your hand out to him, rising from your spot on the mat.

If Azriel wanted your all, fine. You’re done pulling punches. Throwing your practice sword aside you ball your fists. A wave of anger rushing through you, motivating you to beat the ever-loving-shit out of your mate. “Let's go then.” You bite out. “No weapons? Fine.” Azriel says smugly.

The two of you square up, circling each other slowly as you assess the other’s weak spots. You were determined to land the first punch. Not wasting any more time you launch yourself at Azriel with your fist pulled back. Letting your fist fly straight for his nose, Azriel dodges you, dipping to your right.

You stumble, quickly regaining your balance, whipping around to face him. A nasty scowl contorting your features. Azriel throws a series of punches that you duck under. Your arms raised in front of your face for protection.

Between punches you pop up, landing two quick jabs to his ribs. There wasn’t much behind the punches, but enough that you could put some distance between you. Over Azriel’s shoulder you could see Cassian standing rigid, his hands behind his back. A torn look pulling at his rugged face.

Part of Cassian roars to put a stop to this before someone gets hurt. The other part of him whispers that this is between you and Azriel. That you two need to work this out so the anger doesn’t follow you around.

When Cassian focuses again the two of you are getting more and more violent. Punches getting faster and faster.

You can tell Azriel is getting even more frustrated with you. By continuously dodging him you aren’t truly facing off against him. His pace picks up so fast you can feel the wind from his punches. You go to step left, thinking Azriel was going to throw his right hand. It was too late for you to notice the change. Azriel throws a left hook, his fist connecting with your jaw. A loud crack stunning the three of you.

You let gravity pull you down to the mat. Laying flat on your back, tense and in shock waiting for the adrenaline rush to wear off so you would feel the pain. There was a slight ringing in your ears along with Azriel and Cassian’s screaming match that you tuned out.

Looking at the sky you focused on the clouds passing by. Their different shapes and how soft they seemed. Anything to get your mind off the pain that would be taking over any second.

“Rhys,” you whispered in your mind, “Rhys…the training ring…” Even in your mind your voice was weak. When you focused you saw soft violet eyes staring down at you. “Hi darling.” Rhys says softly. “Rhys?” Your voice cracks as pain has your mouth snapping shut. Tears sting your eyes as you try to breathe through your nose to stay calm.

“Hey, hey it’s ok.” Rhys coos. He softly runs the tips of his fingers against the blooming bruise on your face. You whimper at his touch. Rhys winces at your pain, feeling your distress through the bond. You can still hear Cassian and Azriel arguing. “QUIET!” Rhys’s voice booms through the training room. The pair immediately fall silent. The severity of what has happened settled over them.

Rhys carefully scoops you into his arms. As he heads for the entrance to the house he yells at Cassian and Azriel, “Do not disturb me or her for the rest of the day. I will deal with both of you later.” Rhys’s tone left no room for argument. The Illyrians bowed their heads murmuring “Yes High Lord” in unison.

Trying to focus on anything but the pain you look at the hallway Rhys is walking. The floor is lined with an ornate carpet. The walls are covered in old paintings you’re sure his father collected, along with vintage sconces giving off a soft glow of fae light.

That’s when you realize he’s taking you to his personal wing. Rooms Rhys has rarely used in the last few years since the bond snapped.

You make a small noise to get his attention. Unable to move your mouth in fear of something in your jaw popping. You push yourself further into his chest. Focusing on the feel of Rhys under you.

Gently laying you on the large four poster bed Rhys hesitantly lets you go. “I will be right back.” He says, disappearing in a wisp of black swirls.

You knew he would be back soon. That Rhys wouldn’t leave you to suffer alone. To ease your anxiety you use the technique Cass taught you. Five things you can see, four things you can touch, three things you can hear, two things you can smell, and one you can taste.

There wasn’t much you could do for a few of the numbers, but what you could do caught your attention immediately. It’s been so long since you’ve visited Rhysand’s personal wing of the House of Wind. Longer since you’ve spent the night here.

Looking around the room you noticed the paintings – his favorites from his father’s collection – the curtains half drawn for the balcony doors, a blanket Rhys would always wrap you in hanging off the end of the bed. The canopy on the bed has changed from thick, velvet black fabric to a gauzy, airy white fabric you would see in the Summer Court. Lastly, you notice how brightly lit the room is.

You feel the softness of the comforter under your fingers. You had thought it would feel scratchy or dusty from not being used. But that wouldn’t be like Rhys to let anything in this massive house seem unused.

You can feel your training leathers clinging to your skin from sweat. Feel the heaviness of your boots pulling at your ankles.

Before you can move to unlace them Rhys reappears with Madja by his side. The old healer was fuming, her eyes going wide as she spotted the bruise on the side of your face. Rhys must have told her about training.

“I swear to the Cauldron,” Madja mutters. Striding over to you she plops her bag down on the bed, her gentle hands softly cup your jaw. Rhys stands behind her. Anxiously biting at his nails as he watches the glow from her hands.

Madja straightens, her lips pulled into a frown as she thinks. “It’s not broken or fractured, thank the Mother. But the bruising inside and out will cause you pain for a few days.” You nod at her assessment. Placing her hands on you again you hold back a new wave of tears as Madja healed what she could.

You didn’t pay attention to her when going over what tonics to take and when. Rhys was clinging to her every word for the both of you. You were too busy thinking about how Azriel pushed you so hard that you ended up hurt.

When Rhys came back from escorting Madja to the city he helped you out of your leathers and into a hot bath.

An hour later you were back in bed with Rhys holding you to his chest, an ice pack resting against your jaw to help with the swelling. Tears silently stream down your cheeks as Rhys smoothes down your hair to help calm you.

“Do you want to stay here or in your own room?” He asked, finally breaking the silence. Sniffling your answer, “Here.”

“Ok,” Rhys presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “You’ll stay with me, right?” You hold his shirt in a death grip. Praying Rhys won’t leave you alone. “Of course, darling.” You let out a shaky exhale in relief. You weren’t ready to face Cassian and Azriel. Staying in Rhys’s wing ensured that. They wouldn’t dare enter his personal wing for fear of being punished by their High Lord.

For a week you stayed curled up in Rhys’s old bed. He opted for working in his smaller study next to the bedroom while you recovered. Though the bruising went down and the pain went away you couldn’t bring yourself to do any of your daily activities. Your failed mission and fight with Azriel depressing you too much, along with the absence of two of your mates. That was your choice though.

You weren’t ready to face them. Still angry at both of them. Angry at Cassian for not stepping in. Angry at Azriel for thinking he could push until he gets his way.

Once you were able to actually chew your food, you thought maybe it was time to leave bed. “Are you sure you don’t want to take a few more days?” Rhys asked. He wrapped you tightly in his arms, resting his cheek on the top of your head.

“Yes, Rhys. I’ll go back to High Lady duties, but I’m not training for now. I don’t particularly want to be around Cass and Az.” You huff. Just thinking about them makes you angry. Rhys leans away from you, holding you by your shoulders. “I know darling. They do feel guilty and are beside themselves.” Rhys frowns.

You knew they were. You could feel them through the bond, Azriel the least. You knew he must have built a wall of steel around his heart. Cauldron, he must be a ghost of himself right now.

After a few days of being back in the usual parts of the house you seek out Cassian. Finding him in the dining room you sit across from him. Cass pauses eating, shocked to see you. You send him a reassuring smile along with a pulse of love down the bond.

“It’s good to see you sweetheart.” He breaks out into a wide grin, reaching across the table to hold your hands. “Hi Cass,” is all you can manage. Overwhelmed by the happiness you’re feeling through the bond to see him again. “How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

“Better,” you answer honestly. “The pain is gone but the bruising is still there a little.” You turn your head to give Cassian a better view of the yellowing skin. His fists clench and his face contorts in anger.

“I should’ve stopped him myself. Az was in his own head and I knew it,” Cassian says more to himself tha you. It seems like this is the first time he is truly admitting his thoughts outloud. “Cass,” you say gently, “It isn’t your fault. This is between me and Azriel.”

“I’m sorry.” He chokes out, silver lining his eyes. You quickly round the table, placing yourself in his lap. You wipe away a stray tear, kissing his nose. “Cass, I’ve forgiven you.” Cassian pulls you into his chest, hugging you and sending all his love down the bond. It was almost too much. You felt like your chest was going to explode.

As the days pass and your temper cools, you find yourself craving to have all three of your mates by your side again. Rhys and Cass were keeping you company. You’re back to your old routine, but still sitting out of morning training. You felt like a piece of you was missing.

You had only seen Azriel in passing once. And the male couldn’t even look at you. Your heart clenched at the lack of recognition. You tried to reach out to his end of the bond but you were quickly met with an impenetrable wall of shadows.

Azriel had taken to spending his days in his office, throwing himself fully into his work, and sleeping in his own room.

Packing for your trip to the Winter Court you called Rhys and Cassian into your bedroom. You give them a sweet smile as you fold your clothes, putting them in your bag. “I have a request for while I’m gone.”

“What’s that, darling?” Rhys’s smooth voice sends a shiver down your spine. He presses his chest to your back, hooking a finger under your chin to tilt your head back to look at him. You give him a knowing smirk and swat his hand away. “I’m trying to be serious Rhys.” The High Lord holds his hands up in surrender. “What do you need from us?” Cassian asks earnestly.

You stand straighter, eyes hardening. “I want you two to bring Azriel out of this dark spot. He’s hurting and I don’t think he’ll talk to me until he knows you two have forgiven him.”

They suck in a breath, giving each other a look that tells you neither are sure Az will talk. A long moment of silence passes before they look back at you.

“We will.” Rhys hesitantly agrees. “Do you forgive him though?” Cassian asks with a sad expression. You nod slowly. “I do. And I need you two to forgive him.” They agree to your request, promising to make things better.

Azriel watched from his balcony as you and Mor winnow away. It had pained him to stay away from you. He couldn’t bring himself to face you.

His stomach has been in constant knots. Azriel hasn’t eaten a proper meal in a week thanks to the incident with you. If he didn’t talk to you soon the guilt was going to kill him.

Azriel hadn’t slept properly either. The purple bags under his eyes were painful proof. Every time Azriel closes his eyes he sees the shock set in from the punch. He feels your jaw bone cracking under his fist. He sees you laying on your back, stunned from what your mate had done.

Azriel is your mate. One of three males that is supposed to protect you. Not cause you harm.

A knock at the door pulls him from his morbid thoughts. Opening the door Rhys stands there giving him a tentative smile. Azriel bows his head slightly before looking back at him.

Rhys clears his throat. “I know the last week has been tough, so I thought we could have a night, just the three of us.”

Azriel tenses at the thought of being around Cassian. His murderous eyes flash in his mind along with calloused hands grabbing him, wanting to throttle him. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Rhys.”

Rhys holds in a sigh, annoyed that Azriel doesn’t see the peace offering he’s trying to make. “Az, look at me,” he hooks a finger under the taller Illyrians chin, “You can’t avoid us, or y/n for that matter, forever. Please, come have dinner with us. We miss you.”

Azriel gives in, nodding in defeat. Rhys grabs the Shadowsinger’s hand, pulling him to the dinning room. Az tenses when he sees Cassian in his usual seat. Taking his place across from the General, Azriel keeps his gaze glued to him. His shadows ready to protect Azriel at any sign of a threat.

Cassian gives him a reassuring smile, “It’s good to see you, Az.” All Azriel can do is nod. A lump growing in his throat. He reigns in his emotion, keeping them behind the wall he’s built up.

Rhys flicks his wrist, making platters of food appear. “Eat up. I made sure the cooks made everyones favorite.”

The trio falls into an awkward silence. Only the clatter of cutlery against porcelain filling the cavernous room. Cassian breaks the silence, trying to naturally clear his throat. “So…” he drawls, “How was everyone’s day?”

He and Rhys fall into easy conversation with Azriel following along to avoid being consumed by his emotions. When Azriel eventually gets roped into the conversation he’s his typical quiet self.

Moving to the sitting room after the meal Azriel opens up more. Becoming his usual self around Rhys and Cass. Once the whiskey comes out the trio are back to their usual banter. Like there hasn’t been a huge rift keeping them isolated from one another.

Rhys sets his crystal glass down on the side tabel. Leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees, he levels Azriel with an interogative look. “Not to ruin the evening, but we do need to talk.” Azriel freezes, that lump returning to his throat making it harder to breathe.

He knew this was coming. They needed to discuss it at some point. Az nods, urging Rhys to continue. “We know what happened, but we want to know what was going on with you.” Rhys says gently, not wanting to drill Azriel.

Azriel swallows hard, screwing his eyes shut to keep tears at bay. All calming techniques from years of training leaving his mind, losing all control on his emotions. Something Azriel isn’t known for. Grappling for words he finally finds his voice.

“What happened on the Continent stuck with me. It wasn’t a typical slip up, you didn’t see her. I thought we were going to lose her. And I wouldn’t have been able to come home and face the two of you if that happened. I thought when we got home things would be better and everything would fine.”

Tears escaped his tightly closed eyes.

A heavy, comforting hand rests on the middle of Azriel’s back. Opening his eyes he finds Cassian giving him a pained, sympathetic look. Something in Cassian’s soft hazel eyes broke Azriel. His tears started falling faster as he attempted to blink them away. Rhys rested a hand on his knee, telling him to let it out.

“Stepping back into training with her I knew I had to teach her how to avoid an accident like that again. I needed to know she could keep up if push came to shove. So I pushed and Gods do I regret it. I got so mad that she wasn’t taking it seriously and Cass you should’ve stopped me.” Azriel anguished. “I got mad and I punched, hard. I hear it all the time. I see her laying there when I close my eyes. I can’t…just,” Azriel breaks down, dropping his face into his scarred hands. Heartbreaking sobs rip from his lips as he leans into Cassians side.

The males cry with him. Feeling Azriel’s guilt and turmoil through the bond.

When Az calms down he looks to the males for guidance. Rhys moves to the couch from his usual armchair, pressing a long kiss to Azriel’s forehead. “Talk to her. Y/n desperately wants to see you too. Being away from you has pained her as much as it has you.” Rhys whispers.

Two days later, with a chill you can’t seem to shake, you return home from the Winter Court. You bid Mor goodnight in foyer and head to your bedroom. Pushing the door open you find Azriel sitting on the edge of your bed, his head down as he nervously pulls at his finger nails.

“Azzie,” you say, hopeful that he truly is here and not an image your very tired mind made up. Leaving your bag on the bench at the end of your bed, you rush over to your mate, holding his face in your still cold hands. “I’ve missed you,” you whisper.

Az leans into your touch, covering your hands with his own. You’ve missed his touch. Those rough, loving hands holding you tight to his chest. “I’m sorry,” his voice breaks, silver lining his eyes. The wall keeping his emotions from you fianlly breaks. Letting you feel everything he’s kept to himself.

“I’m so sorry. I should have stopped when you and Cass told me to. I shouldn’t have let my anger and fear get the best of me. I am so sorry, my love. So sorry.”Azriel’s arms wrap around your waist, pulling you to stand between his thighs. You let him hold you, wrapping your arms around his neck.

The two of you cried and clung to each other for what felt like an eternity.

Azriel pulls away, holding you by your waist. You wipe away his lingering tears. “I forgive you, Azriel. Promise me that if something like this happens again you won’t let it build. We’ll talk first before we let our feelings get the better of us. Because I don’t know what will happen is there’s another incident like this.”

“I will, I swear it. And i’m going to make this up to you for the rest of our lives.” Azriel’s tone is a strict promise to you. “As long as you don’t push me in training anymore we’re ok.” You joke with him. Azriel’s face stays serious, not a smirk in sight. “Never again.”

He stands from the bed pulling you into sweet embrace, tucking your head under his chin. “If you’re up for it I want to take you to dinner tomorrow night. Just me and you,” he asks, hopeful. You squeeze Azriel tighter, “I’d love that Azzie.”

Unwrapping yourself from Azriel you look up at him with big, tear filled eyes. Batting your lashes at him. Azriel looked at you with hazel eyes full of nothing but love. He cups your jaw, running his fingers over the spot where the bruise from his punch once was. “How are you feeling? I dove right into my apology I didn’t even ask.”

“I��m good. The pain is gone, so is the bruise on the inside.” Azriel’s eyes widened. He didn’t get a full update from Rhys when Madja had healed you. “But it’s ok,” you assure him quickly. Azriel pulls you against his chest again, kissing the top of your head. You giggle lightly at his action.

You pull away again, going to your closet to change for bed. It’s been a long day and you could leave unpacking until tomorrow. Right now you wanted to sleep with Azriel by your side. It had been two long weeks without him.

Coming back to your room you find Az sitting back on your bed awkwardly. You climb onto the mattress, crawling up behind him. You rest your chin on his shoulder, “Will you stay in here tonight? I don’t want to be without you.”

Without a word Azriel shoots up, stripping his leathers from his body. He pulls the covers back waiting for you to settle in next to him.

You quickly snuggle into his side, resting your head on his bare chest. Azriel pulls the covers up around your shoulders tight to keep you warm. You gently pull his face down to meet your lips in a sweet kiss. “Goodnight Azzy. I love you, so much baby.”

Azriel cradles your head, letting out a small hum. “I love you too, sweetheart. More than you know.”

[buckiverse]

☆--- warnings: mdni, cat!xavier, needy xavier, mutal masturbation, handjob, nipple play

☆--- a/n: xavier's cock is specifically this hex code: #c97677 (pretty pink)

Being a veterinarian took work. Caring for animals all day was challenging enough but being responsible for Xavier after his…transformation was an entirely different story. Xavier wasn’t just any patient–he was a mix of feline grace and otherworldly intelligence hybrid. His calm demeanor and sharp awareness made him fascinating to work with, but the complexity of his transformation made it a work in progress.

So, when Xavier came into your home office complaining about back pains, your professional instincts struggled with the quiet worry that came with loving him. “Can you describe your symptoms?” you asked softly, glancing up from your desktop to meet his familiar, piercing gaze. The warmth in his eyes—a mix of affection and amusement—reminded you why this transformation was an adjustment.

Xavier tilted his head, a small smile playing at his lips as his tail flicked lazily behind him. “It’s not exactly pain, per se,” he said, his voice carrying that familiar soothing cadence. “More like… a dull ache that comes and goes. Especially when I stretch out after napping. Maybe you’ve been spoiling me too much,” he teased lightly, his gaze softening as it lingered on you. 

You jotted his symptoms in your notebook, a low sigh escaping your lips. “Maybe I have,” you added, your voice laced with quiet amusement. Rising from your chair, you nudged it toward the wall before turning back to Xavier, grabbing your stethoscope out of your bag.

“Want me to take a look?” you said, approaching him.

His legs spread open on the couch as he leaned forward, his hands pushing against the cushion, straightening his posture. “If you’re willing too, I don’t see why not,” he said, his head tilting slightly, his left ear perking up. 

“Take a deep breath. I’m going to check your heart rate first,” you instructed gently, resting a hand on Xavier’s shoulder. Your thumb began tracing small, soothing circles against his skin as you placed the stethoscope against his chest.

Your eyes closed as the steady rhythm of his heartbeat filled your ears. “It keeps getting faster,” you observed, your gaze dropping to him. Your eyes met his, a familiar warmth sparking between you. “Calm down for me,” you cooed, your tone soft.

“How could I,” Xavier began, his fluffy tail slowly swishing behind him, “when you’re so close to me?” he uttered as eyes studied you.

“Of course,” you said, kissing his lips with a gentle peck. His tail wrapped around you, urging you closer. “Sit down,” he whispered against your lips. He watched as you nodded silently, agreeing to his request. Making your move, you set your stethoscope on the cushion next to Xavier, placing your right knee on the couch and your hands on his shoulders. He waited patiently, observing you intently when you finally straddled his lap. 

His hand extended, stroking the skin of your cheek. “I missed you, honey,” he purred, his eyes softening as he admired the details of your face. 

“How? I was only gone a couple of hours,” you said, fully sitting on his lap. His eyes scanned your body before flickering back to meet yours. “Does it matter?” His hands held your hips, his thumb secretly sneaking under the fabric of your shirt, rubbing circles into your skin. “I always miss you,” he said.

His lips met yours gently, his hand cupping your cheek as if he were savoring your lips against his. The way his lips moved against yours sent warmth coursing through you, pulling you deeper.

You parted your lips slightly, his tongue running over your lips. When he slid his tongue into your mouth, you whimpered, your eyelids fluttering at the feeling of his tongue. “M-hm,” you moaned, your hips twitching into him. His hands caressed your back, pulling you flush against him. 

Your hands traveled up his chest, resting behind the softness of his ears. Your fingers stroked the fluff of his ear, tugging it ever so delicately. “Yeah…right there,” he breathed, his pupils blown wide, his cheeks flushed, his lips swollen from kissing you. He bit his lip, his brows furrowing and lips parting at the feeling of your hands. “By my ear,” he murmured, bringing your other hand up to his face, lapping at the skin on your wrist. 

“O-oh,” you stuttered, surprise evident in your reaction. You rolled your hips down into Xavier’s, gently caressing his ear. He placed your hand on his chest, observing you.

“Touch me…please,” he whimpered, guiding your hand down his abdomen to the bulge in his pants. You groped his length over his shorts, peeling the waistband down and revealing the tip of his cock. The head was pinkish-red, his slit leaking, begging to be touched. “You won’t make me beg, right?” he blurted, his hips jerking upwards. 

“So needy, aren’t you?” you teased, releasing his cock from his shorts completely. It sprung forward, resting against his abdominals. You drew spit in your mouth, taking on your fingers, lubricating his length. You wrapped your hands around him, studying him. You swiped your thumb over the slit, “Please… y/n,” he whimpered, his hips bucking into your hand. You bit your lip, stroking his cock. His head fell back onto the couch. The flush on his face added to the electricity building inside you. 

His hands found your breasts, caressing them over the fabric of your shirt. Working his hands under the fabric, the chills of his fingertips caused your nipples to harden. His pointer finger circled the nub before flicking it with his feline-like nails. Your breath hitched in your throat when the sharp scrape of his nails hit your nipples. “Fuck, d-do that again,” you mewled, your grip tightening around his cock. 

He tugged your nipple, sending a shiver down your spine. The dig of his nails against your nubs made you roll your hips against his muscular thighs. “Xav, m’ almost there,” you pleaded, your pussy pulsating around nothing. 

Your eyes met, and the snap of his cock into your hands intensified, causing you to tighten your grip. Your eyes glossed over when he tugged your sensitive nubs, and you felt the electricity of your orgasm wash over you. “m’ cumming, Xav’” you moaned, your thighs shaking on his stronger ones as your body fell forward onto his, your head landing on his shoulder.

Grounding yourself, you tugged his tail. Xavier's hips thrust into your hand again. “Honey,” he groaned out, his abdominals flexing as his cum squirted on your hand and his stomach. You raised your head from his shoulders, meeting his gaze, your grip on him finally releasing, and he kissed you sweetly, “I missed having my partner around,” he whispered.

[ctrlchar]

HIII can you do something like were your giving Johnnie head while he’s playing video games with his friends or streaming on twitch or filming a video and he’s trying so hard not to moan and he gets so fed up he fucks you or something idk 🗣️👍

giving Johnnie head under his desk headcannons

a/n: I loveeee this idea sm thank you for the request!!

cw: kinda public? it’s through a screen but you get the point,somewhat rough,

he’d be sooo pissed off but at the same time he’d love it sm

it would be whenever he’s live,leaving you to your own thoughts as he played a series of games with his friends on twitch

every once and while whenever he got a break from the game he would talk to you and give you a little kiss if you were still in the room with him

of course this wasn’t enough

you had considered humping his pillow on his bed but you figured it might be too obvious if he repeatedly been looking over at his bed

eventually Johnnie had decided to pull away from his chair to go and grab him a water bottle which was on his desk

seeing this window of opportunity, you crept under his desk sitting on your knees as he gave you a confused look which was just barely out of frame of the camera

you began to unbuckle his pants,making it abundantly clear as to what your intentions were

you took his for now soft cock out of the restraints of Johnnie’s jeans and began to slowly stroke it

Johnnie on the other hand was trying to put all his attention on the game which had just begun a new round rather then the sensation between his legs

you had begun to take the tip into your mouth,his hips bucking up slightly which to anyone watching looked like he had just been readjusting in his seat

every time you would take more of him into your mouth he would curse out a profane word with a “cough” at the end

to the viewers it looked as if he had simply gotten pissed off at his game but to you that was obviously not the case

his knuckles were turning white from how hard he was gripping his mouse to keep his composure

your tounge danced against the underside of his cock driving him absolutely batshit insane

after a couple more minutes of you teasing his cock his friends conveniently decided they had played enough games for the night and decided to end their streams making Johnnie follow suit

“alright guys” he says his voice cracking a bit at the end “i’ll see you all later” he says before quickly ending the stream

as soon as he ends the stream you remove your mouth from his cock going back to slowly stroking it

you giggle softly and look up at him as he runs his hand through his hair before he pulls himself from behind his desk

“what the fuck was that” he asks seeming upset however you both knew he wasn’t genuinely upset at all

however he was to a degree pissed

“i was bored” you pout “and you wouldn’t give me any attention”

i mean all you wanted was his attention so that’s exactly what you got

he proceeded to bend you over his bed using the spit off of his cock mixed with your own slick as lube as he pushed himself deep inside you bottoming out in one push

“tryna get me fuckin’ caught up huh?” he says thrusting into you at a even faster rate then before,the obscene sound of his hips meeting yours filling the room

“thinkin’ you can tease me and get away with it” he grunts out to which you whine due to all the pleasure coursing through your body

you couldn’t even form sentences because of how good he was making you feel. all you could do was moan out a string of apologies as his hands move to your hips

“i don’t think you’re really sorry” he admits “if you were sorry you wouldn’t be creaming all over my fucking dick” he says punctuating the last two words with a thrust.

looking down to see what he was talking about you noticed the white ring that had formed around the base of his cock

he begins to slow down his thrusts giving you a minute to talk before going back to his relentless pace

“mhm I promise m’ sorry” is all you could cry out with tears forming at your eyes

his ring clad hands grip onto your hips which was sure to leave bruises the next day but you didn’t care

if anything you wanted him to leave bruises you wanted to have a constant reminder of just how good Johnnie fucks you

mutually, he wanted the bruises to stay as a reminder to not tease him like that again

his grunts turn into moans as he approaches his long awaited orgasm

he could tell you were getting close as well from the way your back was arching off the bed to the way your moans picked up and got even higher then before

with his tone softening up he moves one of his hands to your hair petting it softly “come on baby cum for me” which was all you needed to hear

your nails scratched down his back as you came hard,almost on the verge of shaking had Johnnie not been holding onto you

with a couple more thrusts Johnnie had came inside you,as he slowly pulled out watching his cum drip out of you

after a couple minutes of you guys laying together on his bed you look up at him from where you had been laying on his chest

“you’re not actually mad are you?” you ask looking up at him

his face softens “of course not baby” he says leaving a light kiss on your head as he held you close in his arms

[kaybreezy3000]

A steaming hot and humorous deli Five story, and An Ode To All The Fives We’ve Loved Before.

Written by: @badkitty3000 and @kaybreezy3000

(Rated Mature for Sexually Explicit Content, 6976 words)

Note: All six reader inserts in this one were inspired by characters we wrote in our other stories about Five. But if you haven't read any of these stories, you can still easily enjoy this one. If you find that you want a little more of Five and any one of these lovelies, links will be provided at the end.

Heading across the subway platform towards the deli, Five heard the shrill squeal of a train coming into the station. Thinking it was going to be another version of himself showing up, he slowed his step, letting out a tired sigh. “Here we go again.”

Even before the train was fully stopped, he realized this wasn’t going to be one of his normally depressing encounters. There were six females inside one of the cars, all of them anxiously looking back at him standing under the warmth of the delicatessen's incandescent lights.

He was dumbstruck. There had never been anyone else besides himself on a train before. 

His breath caught as the doors began to slide open.

“No way…” he gasped, looking at the girl in front who had a baseball bat slung over her shoulders, her body poised for a fight.

“Five!” she shrieked as she pushed the doors open, kicking one of them aside faster with the heel of one of her checkered patterned boots. Dashing towards him, her wooden bat fell to the ground with a resounding thunk as she threw herself into his waiting arms.

Just then, a loud bark echoed through the subway. Bursting out from between the other girls’ legs, a golden-haired dog bee-lined it for the door of the deli, just as another stunned Five threw it open. A fraction of a second later, that Five was stumbling backwards, getting knocked down by the wild beast. “I missed you too, buddy,” he laughed through his tears as his furry friend affectionately slobbered him.

Next to them, pink and blue pigtails swayed as the first Five lifted the girl in his arms, kissing her anywhere he could plant his lips. Loving it, her smile got bigger and bigger the more frantic he got, and she started giggling even more about it when she looked down at the pair on the ground. “I guess it was easy enough for Mr. Pennycrumb to figure out which one of you was his master. Just look at him…he’s so happy he and his daddy finally get to go home.”

“Home?” the deli’s Greeter Five questioned, sounding heartbreakingly confused as the rest of the girls on the train came past, worriedly making their way towards the welcoming lights of the restaurant, all of them hoping their Fives were there too.

Inside, Five was behind the counter, doing his usual inventory of ingredients for his famous pastrami sandwich when he looked up to see the most beautiful sight he’d seen in a very long time. He could hardly believe his eyes and it took him a few seconds to realize she was real. 

Skidding around the corner from the kitchen while trying to hide the tears in his eyes, he grabbed his wife around her waist, reeling her in. With hands on each side of her face, he kissed her so desperately that he forgot to breathe. Finally, he pulled away, smiling lovingly as she started to cry.

“I can’t believe it’s really you. I’ve missed you so much, my love,” he choked out, stroking her cheek with his hand. “What are you doing here? When I ended up here, I thought I’d lost you and our entire world because our timeline was destroyed.”

“I missed you, too,” she breathlessly replied. “Things were a little all over the place with the timeline problem thing, but it’s okay now. We’re here to bring you home. I didn’t know there was an entire restaurant filled with you when I set out, but the girls and I ended up on the train together and it quickly became clear we were all in the same boat, and all of you were too. As crazy as all that is, when we realized where you all ended up, it was still a little surprising to say the least.”

“How did you even find this place? The odds of coming across it are astronomical.”

His wife rolled her eyes. “Really, Five? There’s like twenty of you here and not one of you can read a goddamn map? Together, the girls and I figured it out in about fifteen minutes.”

“Oh…” Five muttered.

She smiled and kissed his pouty face, pushing his dark hair off his forehead. “Well, it’s a good thing for you, and all these other boys, that before you got stuck here, you stole the hearts of the smartest, most badass women around because we’re here to save all your asses.” She looked around at all the Fives that looked like they were either about to have a breakdown or were in the middle of one. “And just in the knick of time, it seems,” she added.

While being devoured by the Five that had been previously pouring coffee, his girlfriend stopped him mid-kiss to say, “Hold on… you guys are stuck here because you don’t know how to read a map?” 

“We know how to read maps,” her Five scoffed back. “We just don’t know how to read this particular map.”

With his head down as he rounded the corner from the kitchen, another Five came in carrying a bin of clean dishes. Irritated that nobody was helping him he said, “You don’t know your ass from a hole in the ground, Waiter Five, and hey Brisket, you may be a worthless genius like the rest of us, but you’re letting the sandwiches burn!”

“I don’t give a fuck about the sandwiches, you moron,” Brisket Five snapped back. 

Brisket’s wife quirked a brow. “Brisket?” she questioned, letting his strange nickname roll off her tongue with seductive playfulness, only then just realizing her husband was wearing a chef’s apron.

“Are you surprised? You know I’m the king of the kitchen,” he said, giving her a cocky smirk. 

Hearing the allure of the feminine voice questioning Brisket Five, the distracted bus-boy finally looked up, his eyes as wide as saucers.

“HOLY SHIT!” he gasped as the tub of plates in his hands hit the floor. Moving almost as fast as if he’d blinked, he leapt over the booth between him and the luminously pale girl that was grinning at him with two shiny tips of sharp white studding into her lower lip.

“Hey there, you little horny devil,” the cheeky looking vampire girl snickered as he slid up to her, his boyish mess of dark hair all over the place as his entire body shook like a leaf with excitement. “Five, sweetie, there’s so many of you here…” 

Looking over at the lonely looking Five in the corner booth with his mannequin, the vampire’s fang descended a little more.

“Awww,” she cooed as she looked back at her own Five. “He’s so cute. He’s just like you were. Can I maybe have a little nibble on him, honey?”

“Hell no. I am the only abomination you get to suck on,” Bus-Boy Five dreamily replied, his soft green eyes luring her right back.

Interrupting their reunions, and their conversation about the map, the bathroom door flung open, and another Five carrying a mop came out, immediately directing his shock at the girl the Waiter Five was once again doing his best to suffocate with kisses. “Hey!” he yelled. “Are you that chick who used to fuck Klaus? 

Tossing his mop in the supply closet, the Janitor Five moved in closer, plopping his butt down on the tabletop next to a Five who was sitting there, contemplatively shuffling a deck of cards as he watched the bizarre scene unfolding.

At the mention of Klaus, Waiter Five gave his girl one more peck, then a sly grin as he said, “Those guys don’t know the whole story. All they need to know is that the Hargreeves with the best dick won. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

The girl that ironically used to own a coffee house shook her head at her now-waiter boyfriend as she stretched up, planting a big kiss on his lips. “You could say that. Or, more accurately, I won. I’ve been missing a lot of things about you, including your dick,” she teased while pulling him by the belt loops until their hips were flush.

A few feet away, a shapely woman with jet-black hair slid into a booth. The bells on her red headband rung cheerfully as her bottom bounced on the vinyl seat. The familiar sound made the slumped down man that was sitting there lift his head.

“Oh, Five…what did you do?” she soothed as she snuggled up next to him while placing a gentle hand on his cheek.

He looked over, eyeing her up and down with a foggy expression before the light suddenly went on. His face immediately relaxed with relief. “Oh my god…it’s you! How are you here? Fuck. Did I die and go to heaven?”

She shook her head, the same chipper smile on her face, just like always. Leaning in to give him a tender kiss, Drunk Five’s angelic girlfriend placed a warm hand on his thigh. “I will explain all of that later. Right now I think we need to get you sobered up.”

Her Five nodded slowly, his eyes becoming misty. “I’m sorry, I went a little crazy with the booze again,” he admitted, gesturing to the bottle on the table. “I’ve been a mess since I lost you.” His gaze drifted downward to her low-cut top and the perfect tits that were spilling out. “Damn, I missed you.”

Leaning in, his lips tickling the shell of his girlfriend’s ear, Waiter Five whispered, “I’m not sure how fucked-up Drunk Five got a nice girl like that.”

Looping her arms around his waist she smiled. “Because she’s an actual angel,” she replied. “Like from heaven. They had a real life Christmas Carol situation and that’s what helped him finally get his shit together.”

“Huh,” Waiter Five hummed before he started kissing her again, already not caring about the other alcoholic version of him’s issues.

As Greeter Five came inside, joining the group, one of the Fives nearest the door swooped in, taking the hand of the girl next to him, gently kissing it.

Instantly overwhelmed by the unexpected gesture, as well as the sight of all the other Fives, she turned to her Five, mouth agape. “Wow… I thought you had some kinky things going on inside your brain, but compared to you…” She started to crack-up. “He was just thinking about eating pastrami off my ass!”  

Looking beyond flustered by her calling him out, the other Five quickly backed away, stammering, “Wh-what is she, a mind reader?”

Positioning himself in front of her, Greeter Five’s already menacing expression turned even more threatening. “Yeah, dumbass, she is and she can alter your emotions, so I’d watch out if I were you or you might find yourself falling in love with a jar of sauerkraut. And you won't be eating pastrami or anything else off her ass as long as I’m here, so fuck off unless you’d like an acid burned dick and that spatula over there shoved up your ass.”

“You know that’s not how my powers work,” the petite blonde corrected as her hands slid around the Greeter Five’s trim waist. Clearly already aware of that, and enjoying her magical touch way too much, his grin grew and he started to lower his mouth to hers again.

Seeing that he was out of his element, and not about to win this one, the food fetish Five bolted out the door, prompting Janitor Five to stroll over, his hands casually tucked into his pockets. “Since you are the biggest nut job in here, it makes sense you’d be dating a sexy Harley Quinn look alike,” he said, distracting the couple.

“I mean no offense, sweetheart,” Janitor Five continued while suggestively wiggling his eyebrows at Greeter Five’s girl. 

She smiled.

“I think you’re hot,” he added as his cool green eyes sparkled triumphantly. “Just so you know, I am way less of a headcase than him, and I am not at all scared of letting you play around inside my head, or my pants.”

“Fuck you!” Greeter Five growled.“Keep your grimy toilet cleaning hands off of her, shithead! She’s my wife!”

“Woah, settle down there, ‘Mr. I started The Commission But Got Downgraded To The Doorman At A Deli.’ I am just trying to point out that I am a much lesser dipshit than you, and let the lady here know that you are not her only option when it comes to better Fives.”

“For fucks sake! We all know that I am the best Five in here!” Greeter Five loudly yelled back, as he lunged at him.

Catching her husband by the coat tails, the comic book character look alike’s fingers brushed against his lower back. The fight almost instantly forgotten, Greeter Five turned and lowered his forehead to hers, and within seconds, she had his mind and body coming back down to a much less murderous state of arousal, but it was already too late. That arrogant outburst started all the other Fives bickering and glaring at each other, sizing each other up even though they were all the exact same size.

No longer involved in the hostilities because he was caught in his wife’s euphoric spell, Greeter Five scooped her up, pinning her against the window next to the entryway.

“I wish I could kill all these pathetic bastards,” he breathed as he nuzzled his face against the crook of her neck.

“No you don’t. You’re a good man, Five,” she corrected.

Happily mind fucked and once again paying no attention to anything else other than the piece of ass he had in his hands, Greeter Five crushed his lips against his wife’s, inadvertently sliding her back along the window glass until they rammed into another three-peice suit wearing Five that had been standing near the door since his girlfriend had come in and claimed him. 

That Five had been basking in the pleasure of having his shaggy hair played with while the woman in front of him teased her hands down the front of his pants. Not happy with the Greeter Five for interrupting them, he angrily moved away from him, barking, “Get a room, asshole!” 

Greeter Five snickered. “Why?” he questioned through the fringe of his hair as he grinned at the other Five. “I don’t care if you fuckers watch.” 

Ready to own that, he shamelessly started rutting the prominent bulge in his pants into his giggling telepath.

Seeing and hearing all this madness, Brisket Five’s wife started to get a wild gleam in her eye as a million kinky thoughts about the vast number of identical, sexy men in the room filled her with naughty ideas.

Not nearly as fazed by all the bullshit happening around him, Brisket Five took her chin in his hand, guiding her face back to his until she was looking up at his piercing green eyes that could read her like an open book. With a subtle shake of his head, he raised an eyebrow. “I don’t fucking think so, darling,” he said, his voice low with warning.

She batted her lashes at him innocently. “What are you going to do about it, Daddy?”

At the mention of his dirty, yet fitting nickname, the other women perked up, dodging their own Five’s kisses and disappointed faces as they shared amused glances with one another.

Still getting publicly dry humped, only now over on the table edge in front of a Five that was still trying to sit there and do his crossword, Greeter Five’s girl chirped, “That’s amazing!  So it’s not just my Five that likes the daddy thing!”

None of the Fives needed to say it. Their intense glares directed at each other said it loud and clear for all of them.

I’M THE ONLY DADDY HERE! 

“That’s it. We’re going to settle who is the ruler of this deli once and for all!” Greeter announced, right before sliding his girl’s booty shorts towards him so he could push her backside down on the table.

“Sounds like you want to put your money where your mouth is,” taunted Cards Five as he continued to nonchalantly shuffle through his deck.

“Fuck yeah, I am,” the Greeter confirmed, ripping the red and blue shorts down his woman’s legs as he licked his lips and lowered like he was about to dive face first into her pussy-which he was.

“Oh, you are on! Get ready to lose, assholes,” yelled Waiter Five as he picked his girl up with her legs wrapping around his waist.

As there were more grumbles and boastful claims coming from the Fives, the girls glanced around at the roomful of horny, angry men they had on their hands. Brisket Five’s and Greeter Five’s wives took one look at each other and knew exactly what the other was thinking. 

“Alright, ladies,” Brisket’s wife called out. “We can’t bring these horny old bastards home in the state they’re in. I think we should let them have their fun with us and then we can get out of here safely. Sound good?”

The women all nodded in agreement and just as fast they started to get pawed at even more aggressively.

Having witnessed all of this, the most aloof looking Five who had been sitting in the corner booth, lifted his glass, clinking it with the one sitting in front of his beloved mannequin. “I’m sorry, darling, you might want to shut your eyes.” 

Openingly admiring the butt of the girl with the other Five that had been over by the door, Janitor Five asked, “How’d you get so lucky to hit an ass like that?”

Smirking, the Five in question leaned up against the wall next to the jukebox while pulling his lady away from the Janitor. “It’s a long story but it started when I became a pervert that was obsessed with spying on her while I jerked off. Then there was an accidental parking lot abduction incident, and after that, it just sort of happened.”

“You mean, first you tied me up, then I tied you up and set you straight,” she corrected, tugging his tie, which earned her a quiet whimper.

“Oh, so you're into perverted creeps?” Janitor Five said, trying to get a rise out of her Five but he got nothing out of either of them other than more of her hands going down her perverted boyfriend’s pants.

Seeing again that he was going to be left high and dry, the Janitor Five moved on, selecting a perfect song from the jukebox next to them for the fuck-fest that was about to commence. He then turned to Drunk Five who was still in his booth and sneered. “You might as well count yourself out, dickhead. You won't even be able to get it up.”

With an indignant snort, Drunk Five pulled his cheery angel onto his lap, running his hands up and down her bare thighs as she ground down on his rapidly hardening crotch.

“What do you think, honey?” he rasped. “Is he right?”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s going to be a problem, actually,” she laughed, leaning in for a deep kiss.

Cards Five, not at all interested in the sex part of all this, saw his opportunity elsewhere. He turned to the Janitor Five giving him a slanted smile.

“We’re going to make a killing,” he said before hopping up on one of the unoccupied tables with the deli already becoming rowdier from all the couples in various compromising positions and locations around him.

“Listen up, shit heads! Here’s the rules!” Cards Five called out. “The Five who can get their lady off the most times in five minutes wins and will be declared the official BEST FIVE! And…no helping your guys by touching yourselves ladies, or you’re out.”

“Awww,” Janitor Five huffed.

Ignoring his disappointment, Cards Five gestured for him to start collecting the bets, then he pulled his sleeve up and set his stopwatch. 

Holding his arm out to show the other Fives, he received the desired nods of approval from all.

Not needing any more encouragement to begin, as soon as Cards Five yelled out ‘go’, every Five who had the option started getting to work, determined to win his very important title. 

Amid a flurry of coat jackets being hurriedly shrugged off and ties being thrown through the air, their perfect song selection cued up. 

As the first few staccato notes of “Eye of the Tiger” filled the room, there was a chorus of enthusiastic cheers from the over-sexed men. 

The competition had officially begun.

With his vampire girlfriend at his side, Bus-Boy Five took off with her towards the bathroom, entering the small tiled room on the heels of the Pervert Five and his pretty dominator. Shoving him into the wall, the small but assertive female directed her man to drop his pants. Already looking so excited that he might explode, he didn’t argue. His pants fell around his ankles, the metal of his belt clanking against the floor as she yanked his underwear down, letting his length spring free.

With her shirt getting ripped open and the tiny pearl buttons tinkering across the counter, the vampire sank her fangs into her Five, moaning as he hungrily nipped his teeth across her porcelain neck.

Catching the door before it swung closed on them, Janitor Five propped it open, yelling, “There’s no room for modesty here, boys! You better give us a good show in there!” 

Over in their booth, doing just that, Drunk Five was already getting the full religious experience with his personal angel.

Straddling his lap, she quickly unbuckled his pants and shoved her hand inside, grabbing hold of his hardened cock. “Even though you fell off the wagon, you know I’ll always let you plow my field,” the angel quipped with a smile.

He pulled her in for a rough kiss, a hand on the back of her neck as she pumped her fist. “Enough of your bad jokes, sweetheart, right now I need you to ride my dick,” he murmured before groaning loudly, “Let’s show these assholes what we can do.”

“You got it, baby,” she purred next to his ear as she pushed her panties aside and sunk herself onto his waiting dick. 

With her tits bouncing in front of his face, and her hot sleeve moving fast over his cock, Drunk Five was in a Heaven made just for him. Clutching his shoulders, the angel threw her head back as his heels dug into the floor and he pounded up into her, her broken cries proving he was still a contender.

Simultaneously, on the other side of the deli, Brisket Five was not-so-gently squeezing his wife’s tight, round ass as he aggressively sucked at her neck.

“Five,” she breathed out desperately as she clawed at the back of his shirt after having flung his chef’s apron on the floor. She took a quick peek over his shoulder, scouting the room. “I think we’re out of fuckable places.”

Pulling back with a mischievous grin that always lit a fire in his wife’s pants, Five shook his head. “Not necessarily.”

She let out a short laugh as she worked as fast as she could to get his shirt unbuttoned and pushed off his arms. Running her hands down his firm, bare chest she looked up at him. “You’re going to fuck me in a closet, aren’t you?” 

As Brisket Five quickly hurried his wife along to his secret sex spot, Waiter Five brushed past, heading in the same direction. 

“I’m calling the kitchen, dipshit, so don’t even bother,” he snarled at Brisket Five. 

When he didn’t get the expected spiteful reply in response, Waiter Five stopped and turned. The chef version of himself was not actually trying to bone his woman in the kitchen. Instead, he was continuing in the direction of the supply closet.

“Where the fuck are you going? Scared your girl might see what she’s missing out on?” Waiter jeered, even as his girlfriend was pulling her legs tighter around his waist, rubbing against his hard crotch. His hands gripped her ass harder as he pushed her against the doorway of the kitchen, jerking his hips against her until she let out a beautifully needy moan.

“Think again, dumbshit,” Brisket barked back before unceremoniously shoving his wife into the closet and slamming the door behind him. 

“That guy is a total whack-job,” Waiter Five said to his girl before continuing inside, perching her on the food-prep counter. 

“How about you focus less on him and more on fucking me,” she suggested, snaking her hand down the front of his pants as she rubbed the large package that was tenting there.

With a quiet grunt, he let his eyes fall shut, his expression one of total bliss as he grinned back at her. “Good idea.” 

As she hastily began opening his fly, Five worked on yanking her pants down. Knowing his dirty-minded coffee girl inside and out, he shoved his hand between her legs, letting his long fingers work their magic.

“Daddy knows what you like, doesn’t he, sweetheart?” he seductively taunted.

At the first “Ffff-uuu…yesss” that she whimpered, he knew he had her right where he wanted, and he continued to finger her while she rocked her hips into his hand and pulled at the front of his shirt.

In the closet, Brisket’s wife was pushed roughly against a wall as he flattened her body, attacking her with bruising kisses. With his hands gripping her wrists, he shoved her arms over her head, pinning them to the wall as Janitor Five’s mop went clattering to the floor.

“Panties off. Now!” Five ordered in a harsh but quiet tone, knowing for a fact that this was a sure fire way to get her dripping wet.

Freeing her wrists, she did exactly what he said, dropping her shorts and underwear and kicking them off somewhere in the dim light of the closet. With the sound of his wife’s harsh breathing riling him up even more, Five anxiously unbuckled his pants and dropped them to the floor.

Lifting one of her legs, holding it up against his hip, he pressed his rock-hard cock between her legs, not entering her as his shaft rubbed against her wet slit.

As he continued to rut into her, faster and harder but not actually fucking her, he felt the satisfying shudder of her body against his. “That’s one, but I think we can do better than that, don’t you think, angel?” he teased.

Also about to witness a second orgasm, sitting over at his booth with Greeter Five licking and lapping his wife’s clit as his fingers squelched in and out of her quivering cunt, Crossword Five lowered a hand under the table, discreetly palming the tightly stretched fabric covering his crotch.

With his fingers thrusting and wife gasping, her body bucking on the table in front of them, Greeter Five looked up, his face proudly shining as he glanced at their booth buddy. “Might as well whip it out and go for it, you dirty bastard. She likes to watch.”

At the sound and sight of Crossword Five’s fly zipping down, the woman on the table between the two shameless men cried out, “Oh, Fivvvvve. Fucck, yes! I love you!”

“That’s right, say it louder, beautiful. Let these assholes get a taste of what they are missing!” her husband growled, right before grinding his face between her legs again.

In the corner booth, not at all impressed, the Five sitting with Dolores picked up his empty margarita, eyeing it like it had personally offended him. “I’m not like that, am I?” he questioned, to which the mannequin next to him held her Mona Lisa smile, but only until he looked over and cutely smirked. “Oh. You’re right. I am like that,” Five chuckled, clearly stewed.

In the bathroom two minutes earlier, the Pervert Five’s head fell back with a bang against the wall the moment his girlfriend’s lips began to circle around the dripping tip of his waiting erection.

A few feet away, flipping around his vampire, Bus-Boy Five was about to do some sucking of a totally different kind as he lined himself up to the smooth white ass waiting for him to destroy it. Fisting the length of the vamp’s hair as the tip of his cock prodded the coolness of her slippery folds, his words came out ominously dark. “You’re all I’ll ever want. This time I want forever.” 

“Then take it,” his vampire moaned as Five’s lips began to move along the exposed side of her milky throat. Looking like a man whose soul needed saving, using a hand to guide the thickened head of his cock where he needed it, penetrating all her senses at once, his blunted teeth slowly began to sink in.

A guttural moan reverberated from Five’s chest as his mouth filled with the salvation of her bittersweet taste.

Mouth agape, her fingers clenching the edge of the countertop as Five’s tongue moved over her broken skin, the vampire’s body, shaking with lust, jerked back, forcing him to bottom out.

“So-so fucking tight,” he deliriously groaned, just before thrusting his dick inside her again with much more supernatural vigor. 

Looking up as he fucked, his chocolate locks hanging in his eyes and his lip still bleeding from one of her love bites, Five grinned at his reflection in the mirror, the wicked gleam in his eyes matching the sinful glow in hers lovinginly looking back at him.

Not to be out done by the debauchery happening next to them, the other Five helplessly gasped a string of profanities as he clenched his hand on the back of his girlfriend’s head so he could better slam his dick down her throat.  

Interrupting the gagging and sniffling, whines and animalistic grunts and growls streaming out of the bathroom, pointing at the violent blow job in progress, Janitor Five barked out, “Disqualified! You’re supposed to be getting her off, not the other way around, you selfish dumbass!”

Coming fully undone, unloading in her mouth with his hips twitching even more spastically with each new wave of ecstasy, dumbass Five hissed and moaned, “Fuuu-aaaahh- This feels so ff- Mmfff- I don’t fff-ucking care.”

As Waiter Five’s girlfriend was coming down from her finger-fuck climax in the kitchen, he was already preparing for the next round. Stroking his leaking cock, he positioned his swollen tip at her soaking wet opening. As he slammed into her, her head fell back, knocking against the metal pots and pans that were hanging behind them. Each clatter of metal was accompanied by a loud moan as Waiter Five used all of his strength to give his girl the fuck of her life.

Alerted by all the noise, Janitor Five poked his head through the kitchen’s service window. “Hey, you better not drip any jizz on that floor, I just mopped it.”

Not slowing down for even a second while he continued to rail his girl as hard as possible, Waiter Five glanced over his shoulder at the dickhead in the doorway. “Says the guy that cums in the coleslaw.”

Smiling and mouthing ‘True’ to the girl being nailed where their food was prepared, Janitor Five witnessed a second Waiter-delivered orgasm. It was followed a few seconds later by a loud groan and some cursing as his counterpart came hard inside of her, the clanging of the pots and pans slowly quieting as his body stilled.

Back in the closet, Brisket Five’s wife clung to the rattling supply shelves as his hips slapped against her ass and his dick slammed inside her from behind. Sweating and out of breath, expertly maneuvering his fingers on her clit, she started coming hard.

“Fuck, Fiiive!!” she screamed as she bucked her ass backward and rolls of toilet paper rained down on them.

“That’s two,” he panted heavily as she tried to regain her composure enough to stand on her wobbly legs. “One more, darling?”

Grinning widely, pulling her flush with his chest, his cock still-hard, his wife nodded and smiled knowingly; just another confirmation that the two were meant for each other.

As he went in for a kiss, a hand tangled in her hair, she stumbled forward, causing Five to stagger backward into the door. The two came flying out of the supply closet with a giant crash as they fell into a mostly-naked heap onto the floor. 

There was a very brief pause as everyone else in the deli looked in their direction, but they were quickly ignored as the other Fives got back down to business.

“One minute left, boys…let’s wrap it up!” yelled Cards Five.

Determined not to lose, Brisket Five pushed his wife onto her back and crawled on top, not giving a shit that they were laid out for the entire deli to see. Thrusting his cock back into her still-wet cunt, Five let out a long groan. Going at it hard as he held himself up on his forearms, he rammed into her at just the right angle. From there, his wife’s third orgasm came quickly, allowing him to fill her up with an impressive stream of cum. 

Standing near the kitchen service window, Janitor Five slammed his palm down onto the order-up bell to signal the latest win. “Another one for Brisket!” he yelled. “That’s three!”

As Brisket Five and his wife laid on their backs, chests heaving, he grabbed a nearby discarded suit coat and threw it over her bottom half. With satisfied smiles, they lazily high-fived one another on a job well done.

Realizing he needed to do something fast, Greeter Five worked his hips overtime as his wife’s legs draped around the narrow of his waistcoat. 

“Come on, come on, come on!” Janitor Five chanted along with him as he dangled over the booth, watching their Greeter going at it, his dick working like a piston engine.

In a frenzy, beating his meat hard, Crossword Five let out a broken moan. 

Only taking his eyes off his prize long enough to see that Cards Five was counting down the final seconds on his fingers, Greeter Five frantically gasped, “Touch him, NOW!” 

As the telepath’s hand fell into Crossword Five’s free hand, his face pinched in ecstasy and spatters of cum flung from his rapidly pumping fist, landing all over the tabletop.

To the backdrop of Janitor Five loudly singing, ‘Rising up to the challenge of our rivals,’ Greeter Five’s wife’s eyes began to roll back in her head and her body began to tighten and turn to mush all over again.

Looking like a madman, Greeter Five kept at it, thrusting his throbbing cock in and out of her trembling hole as he filled her with load after load of pent up seed.  

“Yes! We got this in the bag!” Janitor Five exclaimed, obnoxiously clapping his hands together over the awe inspiring spectacle of the three exhibitionists simultaneously climaxing.

Turning back and forth between the two Fives who appeared to be at a tie, Cards Five held up his watch for his betting buddies to see. “It’s…TIME!” he shouted. 

Either not hearing that it was over, or simply not caring, Bus-Boy Five and his vampire girlfriend burst out of the bathroom with him carrying her like she was his front backpack. Unnaturally floating past everyone, he kept at it, impaling her, his phantomlike showmanship making it abundantly clear he wasn’t going to stop and he didn’t give a damn who won the fuck competition.

Just then, the bell on the door chimed as Old Five walked in wearing his dapper gray suit and hat. “Jesus Christ! What the hell is going on in here!” he gasped in horror as the undead couple disappeared through the doorway behind him.

Kissing his wife languidly as his softening dick wetly slipped out of her, Greeter Five began to laugh. “Busted, beautiful. I saw that,” he said, taunting her as she dizzily eyed-up the older gentleman. “Don’t even think about it,” he warned, still treasuring her with gentle brushes of his lips against her flushed cheeks.

“What?” she said as she grinned and pulled his pants around him, re-fastening his belt. “You give an amazing mustache ride. You can’t blame a girl for wanting to feel the tickle of your sexy old man whiskers for old time’s sake.”

The line between Greeter Five’s brows deepened with distaste as Old Five looked his half naked wife up and down, his mostly whitened brows going all the way to his hairline because he was so floored by what she just said.

Chuckling at Greeter Five’s sour expression, Janitor Five started to clear some of the scattered dishes on their table since their bus-boy was currently preoccupied doing vampire things. “Are you going to spank her for saying that, or do you want me to since you look a little spent?” he conversationally offered.

“No thank you. I’ll take care of it later,” Greeter Five politely chuckled as his wife pinched his butt.

As the rest of the Fives and their girls were still lounging around in various states of droopy eyed post coital bliss, twirling his wife’s panties on his index finger, Greeter Five smiled smugly. “As I said before all of this, I am, and always was, the winner here.”

Not having that, Brisket Five, helping his wife up off the floor, chimed in, “No. It’s a tie. Everyone heard my girl screaming for me at least three times. Twice in the closet and the last just now.”

Tensions rising again, arguing about how to divide the money, the betting Five’s started in on each other.

“Well, this has been interesting,” Old Five grumbled from where he was sitting in one of the back booths, his hat resting next to him as he sipped his coffee. “I can’t believe what a moron I used to be.” 

Before picking up his book, the old man’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he gave Greeter Five’s wife a flirty wink. Getting one back, he reached over, dropping a quarter in the jukebox.

Missing the enamored look on his wife’s face this time since his focus was on his nemesis, Greeter Five said, “Whatever. See you later, loser.”

Brisket Five’s smarmy grin deepened. “You only hit three because you are a cheater, shit head.”

About to say something else ridiculous to the other him, a finger pressed against Greeter Five’s lips, shushing him. Her mind willing him to shut his trap, the seemingly harmless blonde began softly singing along with the jukebox and his eyes instantly glossed over.

 Let ‘em say we're crazy, I don’t care about that…Put your hand in my hand baby, don’t ever look back…

“What a pussy,” Brisket Five laughed at the other him’s inability to see that he’d been silenced. 

Sighing, his wife’s head moved back and forth in reprimand.

“What?” he questioned, as if he didn't already know.

Grinning like an idiot as the song that had so much meaning to him played, Greeter Five, having forgotten what he was going on about, allowed his clever wife to tow him towards the door like a puppy on a leash. Following their lead, the Five who still owed his girlfriend for her world-class BJ, and a much more sober Five and his angel, happily made their way out with Waiter Five and his coffee girl not far behind. Brisket and his wife brought up the rear, his arm draped over her shoulder.

As all of the couples made their way out of the deli, every one of the Fives was looking forward to finally getting back to the places where they had first learned what it meant to be truly loved. 

Seeing that their only reliable cook was now leaving them, Janitor Five threw his hands in the air as he yelled out, “Hey, Brisket, what the fuck are we supposed to eat now?”

Turning around and seeing his signature apron lying on the floor, Brisket Five scooped it up. With a crooked grin, he flipped his hair out of his eyes and tossed it at the deli’s biggest asshole. “Why not try eating a dick?”

After the doors of the train closed, and the more fortunate Fives were on their way, Janitor looked over at Cards Five and shrugged as if considering that.

Turning to go back inside as he laughed, then began belting out, “AND…WE can build this dream TOGETHER, standing strong forever, NOTHINGS GONNA STOP US NOW! AND if this-”

As they heard the sound of another train coming into the station, he stopped. 

With that unexpected surprise, not long later, all of the remaining Fives finally found their happiness, too.

Thank you all for reading this, and for all your support through our many, many crazy Five stories. ❤️

To read Kitty's origin stories for Brisket Five, Waiter Five, and Drunk Five either visit this master list or hit the A03 links below.

(Brisket) Halo Series

(Waiter Five) 'Love In The Time of Cholera and Coffee

(Drunk Five) It's a Wonderful Life, Five Hargreeves

To read Breezy's origin stories for Greeter Five, Vampy Five, and Pervert Five either hit my master list or the A03 links below:

(Greeter Five) Paramore (The Umbrella Academy) 3-part series

(Vampy Five) 'The Devil Within'

(Pervert Five) 'Bad Things'

[diamonddaze01]

love you the mostest

pairing: ljh x reader genre: fluffy fluffy fluffy | wc: 2.2k warnings: none | rating: pg a/n: my love letter to lee jihoon - happy birthday <3 // also big thanks to @chanranghaeys for convincing me to write this all as one big fic i love u muah

summary: happy birthday, jihoon.

The room was still dark, save for the faintest sliver of light peeking through the edges of the curtains, hinting at the dawn breaking outside. The soft hum of the early morning and the rhythmic rise and fall of Jihoon’s breath were the only sounds, a quiet lullaby of intimacy.

You had woken up long before your alarm, the quiet stirrings of the city pulling you from sleep. Jihoon’s schedule was packed today, like it always was, and you wanted to steal this moment—when the world was still asleep and his mind hadn't yet been claimed by the chaos. He was so calm in the mornings, his body relaxed and at peace, the stillness of sleep wrapping around him like a comforting blanket.

You shifted slightly under the covers, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, inviting you to stay close. His hand found yours, fingers threading together almost instinctively, as if this was the most natural thing in the world. His exhale tickled your skin as he pulled you in, his face burrowing into the crook of your neck. The familiar weight of him settled against you, grounding you in the moment.

You pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, your lips lingering there for just a beat longer than usual. Pulling back, you brushed a strand of hair away from his face, his eyes barely open, still clouded with sleep. He blinked up at you, his hand tightening around yours as though to ensure you were real, his lips curving into a soft smile.

"Mm... so early," he mumbled, his voice thick with the remnants of sleep, his breath warm against your skin.

"Sorry, Hoonie," you whispered, squeezing his hand gently. "I couldn’t wait to tell you."

He stirred just a little, his arms pulling you closer, his lips grazing your jawline, a barely audible sound escaping his lips. "Tell me what?"

You grinned at how endearing he looked, his sleepy smile making your heart flutter. "Happy birthday," you whispered, your words soft but full of warmth, just for him, in the quiet stillness of the room.

His eyes fluttered open fully now, the remnants of sleep still clinging to him, and for a moment, it seemed like he didn’t quite understand. Then, a soft, surprised smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and his voice, still rough from sleep, was filled with warmth. "It’s too early for that, you know?"

You laughed softly, your fingers threading through his messy hair. "I know. But I wanted to be the first to wish you."

His arms tightened around you, pulling you in closer, his lips brushing against your neck once more as he sighed. "You’re always the first," he whispered, his voice barely audible, "And the best part of my day, too."

Your heart skipped a beat, and you could feel the sincerity in his words, even through the haze of sleep. The morning light, gentle now, cast a soft glow on his face, making him look even more angelic than usual.

"I’m glad," you murmured, your voice full of affection as you tightened your embrace. "You deserve everything, Jihoon. I hope this year brings you all the happiness you deserve."

He sighed contentedly, his eyes slipping shut, the exhaustion of his day lingering in the way he held you close. But then, his lips brushed your cheek, a soft kiss that lingered just long enough to make your heart beat a little faster. It wasn’t rushed or demanding—just gentle, an invitation to stay in this moment with him.

You didn’t pull away. Instead, you leaned into the kiss, closing your eyes as his lips hovered near your skin, warm and tender. A moment passed, and his mouth brushed the corner of your lips, so faint it almost felt like a dream. The kiss was lazy and slow, drawn out, as though he was savoring the sensation of being close to you.

His hand found its way to your arm, his fingers tracing up your skin with a light touch, sending a shiver down your spine. He tugged you in closer, his body pressing against yours, and the weight of him was both heavy and comforting. The space between you disappeared, leaving only the soft press of his lips and the gentle rhythm of your breath.

"Too far away," he murmured, his voice low and still thick with sleep, as if waking to the reality of the moment. His lips found yours again, this time with more intention, the kiss deepening as if he couldn’t quite pull away. It was slow, not desperate, but full of the kind of closeness that only two people who had shared so many quiet mornings could understand.

You melted into him, your heart fluttering with the familiarity of it all. His lips moved against yours in a rhythm only the two of you knew, a rhythm that spoke of years of being in sync with each other, of a bond forged in the most ordinary yet profound moments.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested gently against yours, both of you breathing softly, trying to slow the quickening beat of your hearts. His eyes were still heavy with sleep, and you brushed your fingers through his hair, your heart full with the quiet intimacy of the moment.

"You need to get some rest, Hoonie," you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of his nose. "You’ve got a long day ahead."

He groaned, a playful pout forming on his lips. "Just a little longer..."

You shook your head gently, kissing his forehead, lingering there for a moment before you tucked yourself closer to him. "No, you’ve got schedules today. You need to sleep."

Jihoon’s arms tightened around you for a second, and he sighed, his face nuzzling into your neck once more. "Fine," he muttered, though you could hear the smile in his voice. "But just a few more minutes."

You grinned, letting yourself relax into him, the warmth of his body and the steady sound of his breathing lulling you both back into the quiet comfort of the morning. The world outside could wait just a little longer.

It’s nearly 2 AM when Jihoon comes home, the faint jingle of his keys breaking the stillness of the apartment. The door creaks open, and the soft shuffle of his sneakers against the hardwood announces his presence. He stands in the entryway, shoulders sagging under the weight of exhaustion. His eyes are heavy, his body aching from the endless hours spent in the studio.

But then he notices it—the living room.

The space is bathed in a soft, golden glow from the streetlights filtering through the curtains. Balloons in every color scatter across the floor like a rainbow had exploded inside. In the center of the coffee table, a small cake sits proudly, its frosting delicately swirled and an unlit candle standing tall in the middle. The sight alone eases the tight coil of tension in his chest, but it’s the figure on the couch that truly stops him.

It’s you.

You’re curled up, cheek pressed to a throw pillow, legs tucked underneath you. The faint rise and fall of your chest in sleep makes his heart twist. You look so peaceful, your hair slightly mussed and your face soft with dreams. Jihoon stands there for a moment, drinking you in, before a quiet laugh escapes him. How is it that even now, you manage to make him feel like the luckiest person alive?

“Baby?” he calls softly, his voice low and careful, barely above a whisper.

You stir at the sound, a groan escaping your lips as your eyes flutter open. Blinking blearily, you meet his gaze, your expression drowsy but warm.

“Jihoon?” you murmur, your voice laced with sleep.

He steps closer, the corners of his lips tugging upward. “Yeah, love,” he says, moving to the couch and gently lifting your legs to settle them on his lap. His hands are warm and careful as they touch you, and you sigh at the familiarity. Leaning down, he presses a soft kiss to your temple, his lips lingering as if to reassure himself that you’re really here. “What’s all this?”

“Birthday surprise,” you mumble, your voice thick with sleep as you rub your eyes.

Jihoon chuckles, a low sound that rumbles deep in his chest. “It’s 2 AM. My birthday’s over, love.”

That wakes you a little more. You sit up abruptly, your mock-serious expression drawing a playful scoff from him. “I’d celebrate with you any day, any time, forever, love of my life,” you declare dramatically, throwing a hand over your heart.

He rolls his eyes, but the warmth in his gaze betrays him. “Alright then, troublemaker,” he teases, “let’s celebrate.”

Sliding off the couch, Jihoon pulls you with him, settling himself on the floor in front of the coffee table. He tugs at your hands until you’re seated sideways in his lap, his arms wrapping around your waist like they were made to anchor you there.

His gaze flickers to the candle. “Well?” he prompts, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Aren’t you going to light it?”

You reach for the lighter, flicking it until a tiny flame dances atop the wick. The room glows warmly, the light catching on Jihoon’s features—his sharp jawline, the soft curve of his lips, and the faint tiredness that lingers in his eyes. Your breath hitches. He’s always been beautiful, but in this moment, with his gaze fixed only on you, he’s breathtaking.

You hum a quiet, off-key rendition of Happy Birthday, and Jihoon sways you gently as you sing, his hands rubbing slow circles into your back. When you finish, he leans forward to blow out the candle, the flame flickering briefly before disappearing.

“Make a wish?” you ask softly.

His lips curve into a faint smile. “Don’t need to,” he murmurs, his voice like a secret meant only for you. “I already have everything I want.”

The words make your heart stutter. He leans back against the couch, and you press a kiss to his cheek, then another to his jawline, your lips brushing against his skin as softly as the light in the room.

Jihoon reaches for the cake with his fingers, tearing off a small piece and holding it out to you. “Forgot the plates, huh?” he teases, his lips twitching with amusement.

You laugh, taking the offered bite. The frosting melts on your tongue, sugary and sweet, but nothing compares to the warmth that blooms in your chest at the sound of his laughter.

“You know,” he muses, brushing a thumb over the corner of your lips to catch a stray crumb, “in Brazil, people give the first slice of their birthday cake to the person they love most.”

The simple, tender confession undoes you. Without thinking, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into a kiss. It’s soft and deep, and he sighs against your lips, his hands tightening around your waist. He tastes like frosting and everything good in the world, and you think you could drown in him forever.

“Happy birthday, Jihoon,” you whisper when you finally pull back, your foreheads resting together. “I love you the most, too.”

His lips brush against your temple as he replies, “Thank you, my love.”

The two of you sit there for a while in comfortable silence, the hum of the city outside a faint backdrop to Jihoon’s voice as he softly hums a melody into your hair.

“Baby?”

“Yeah, love?” he answers, his tone low and warm.

“It’s not your birthday anymore.”

A faint smirk curves his lips. “Well done, troublemaker. Very astute observation.”

A mischievous grin spreads across your face as you dip your finger into the frosting. “So that means I can do this!”

Before he can react, you swipe your frosting-covered hand across his cheek, leaving a trail of sprinkles and sugary chaos behind.

For a moment, he just stares at you, mouth agape in mock horror. Then his eyes narrow, and a grin overtakes his features.

“Why, you little—”

You’re on your feet in an instant, laughter spilling from your lips as you dart toward the bedroom. Jihoon’s laughter rings out as he chases you, catching you with ease and tackling you onto the bed.

“Got you now,” he declares, pinning your wrists to the mattress, his fingers digging mercilessly into your sides as you shriek with laughter.

“Jihoon, stop!” you gasp between giggles. “The sheets—they’re new!”

He pauses, his expression mock-serious. “Fine,” he relents, releasing your wrists. “Only because the sheets are white.”

“And because you love me?” you tease, still catching your breath.

“And because I love you,” he calls over his shoulder as he heads to the bathroom. “I love you the mostest. Thank you for the best birthday.”

Lying back on the bed, you let out a contented sigh, your heart full. There’s no one else you’d rather celebrate with—2 AM or not.

[mothandpidgeon]

Nine Lives (witch's familiar!Ezra x witch!f!reader) - Part 4

Moth's Masterlist // follow @mothandpidgeon-updates and turn on notifications to stay updated with my fics!

SERIES MASTERLIST

pairing: witch's familiar!Ezra x witch!f!reader

rating: E MDNI

summary: As you came into your powers and your curves filled in, Ezra realized he feelings for you were more than just affection. The only problem? He's a 300 year old cursed witch. Oh, and he's a cat.

contents: age gap (like 300 years), nudity, alcohol, only one bed, masturbation, moth never uses y/n.

wc: 7.1k

a/n: Hello again, my friends. This chapter took much, MUCH longer than I expected and also much longer. It probably would have been a lot faster had i not been encouraged to add some smut you know who you are. There are at least 3 more parts to this story. Thank you for being on this journey!

Big thank you to @lowlights and @schnarfer for advice on this and to @moonlitbirdie for betaing and loving me unconditionally.

🐈‍⬛

He’s having that dream again. The one where he’s human and you’re holding him, lips against his shoulderblade, fingers stroking the coarse hairs low on his belly. He’d live in these dreams if he could.

After the disappointment of the night before, Ezra revels in it, even if this is fleeting. 

He should never have gotten his hopes up. It wasn’t just the risk to consider but the complexity of the spell. You’re not a child but as witches go, your powers are still young. And, with his last minute decision, the two of you bodged together the potion in less than a day. The chances that it would have been successful were so slim, he’d been a fool to believe that you could pull off such a feat. He’d been caught up in the moment, your unfailing belief in him, the tantalizing question what if…

At least he has his dreams. Half awake, Ezra reminds himself that had the spell had worked, he wouldn’t be laying naked in your arms. There’s no knowing how things would change if he did. 

Sinking into the sweetness of the dream, he can’t help but roll over and bury his face in your neck, purring against your pulse. Instead of being met with your mouth, your hands searching for more of him, you scream. 

It’s enough not only to wake him but startle him out of the bed. What would normally be a swift leap off of the mattress, landing on his feet, is an inelegant tumble to the floor, knocking his head and pulling the sheets off with him. You’re actually shrieking. It’s not just some figment of his imagination. A string of creative expletives leave you as Ezra tries to untangle himself from the covers. When he finally rights himself, his heart beating like a rabbit, he finds you pressed against the headboard with a look of terror on your face. 

“What the fuck! What the fuck!” you shout, your heels digging in the mattress as you scoot away from him. 

“Easy! It’s me, little mage! It’s me!” he says, breathless. 

Your eyes somehow manage to grow even wider. 

“Ezra?” you say, your voice barely a whisper. “It worked.”

His head is spinning so quickly that your words take a moment to sink in. Another is spent in disbelief as he look down at his hands, outstretched in submission. Ten fingers. There are legs snarled in the bedsheets not covered in black fur but with wiry hairs. 

Ezra touches his nose, still bent from where he broke it in his youth. He feels the divot of the scar on his cheek, the whiskers on his upper lip. All as he was. 

He stares, speechless for once in his life. 

“Ez, it fucking worked!” you cry, tumbling across the bed and diving over the side. 

You clasp your hands on either side of his face, your eyes wild with delight, and your laughter is a mix of joy and relief. He joins you, it’s contagious, laughing and gripping into your shoulders. If he didn’t feel your palms against his cheeks, he’d think this was still a dream. 

Luckily he has the presence of mind not to plant a kiss on your mouth though with the amount of glee bouncing between the two of you, he doubts you’d protest. 

“We did it!” you say. 

“You did it,” Ezra corrects, marveling at you. 

You amaze him more each day. Not only did you do some incredible and complex magic but you foresaw it all. Beautiful, clever, talented. And now you’ve given him his greatest gift. He’s human once more. 

Your eyes dance across his face in turn, taking in the new details

“It’s really you,” you say. 

You stroke at his face with your thumb. It’s a light touch but to Ezra, the sensation is so powerful he’s afraid he’ll shatter into a thousand pieces. 

You smile softly and reach for his hair. “Your patch,” you say, twisting the white strands out of his forehead. 

“Oh, Ez!” you exclaim.  

Overwhelmed by it all, a dam bursts. Tears are slipping down his face without him even knowing. Centuries of them finally making their escape. 

You lean in, press your forehead against his as you have so many times before yet it’s so new. The bridge of your nose brushes against his, your lips hover so close he can feel your breath. You stroke behind his ear, fingers in his hair, a sensation that’s familiar, grounding. 

He’s so grateful for you, for your faith in him. 

You sniffle and he realizes that you’re just as emotional. Your cheeks glisten with tears when you pull away, still shaking your head in disbelief. 

“Thank you,” Ezra says. Chokes. He’s never done this properly though he’s tried to show it. It’s too difficult to put into words, even for someone as verbose as he is. He’s grateful with a depth he can’t find words for though he’s always considered himself a master of them. 

Tears well in your eyes again but these aren’t like the joyful ones you just shed. Your lips quiver. Ezra catches one as it slides down your cheek with his fingertips. He’s watched you cry so many times and he’s always wanted to do that. 

You throw your arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight embrace. It feels better than he’s ever imagined. You fit in his arms so perfectly, he could hold you for a thousand years. He inhales your scent, familiar to him but different now. His senses have dulled but drawn close, he loses himself in it. 

“Ezra,” you say after a long moment. “I just realized. You’re totally naked right now.”

Perhaps he should be embarrassed, worried that this is your first glimpse of him and you’ve seen all that there is to see. But he couldn’t care less. 

The two of you descend into giggles. 

—

“This is how I’m to make my debut in the world?” Ezra asks, stepping out of your bedroom.

He’s wearing the clothes you picked out for him, all that you could find that would encompass his broad frame. Your sweatpants are cinched tight around his slim waist, ending far above his ankles. Below that, his toes overhang the edge of your old flip flops. The outfit is finished with a big sweatshirt you bought several Halloweens ago– the words Witch, please emblazoned on the front in a cutesy font.

A startled snort leaves you and he scowls.

“I’m sorry,” you say, covering your smile with both hands. “You look–”

“Like a buffoon,” he says.

“Like you need to go shopping,” you correct.

You wait for Ezra outside of the dressing room, your back pressed against the door. The very first stop outside of the confines of your apartment is the local department store to get him something normal to wear. Ezra’s an oddity, everything from the way he speaks to his awkwardness adjusting to walking on two legs make him stick out. An ironic sweatshirt and sandals aren’t going to help him blend. 

The excitement is still buzzing through your veins. Every few minutes you want to open the changing room door and make sure that he’s still there, still human. A couple of times you even peek under the door just to see his feet haven’t turned back into paws. It’s really happening. You’re out in the world with Ezra. Ezra the human, a man. You changed him yourself, just as your dream had predicted, but you’re less fixated on the feat of magic and more on what he’s transformed into.

Ezra’s not at all who you were expecting under the fur. He’s remarkably handsome. Tall and broad shouldered. A strong nose accentuated by a dark mustache. His mouth is almost always set in a pout, full bottom lip turned out, jaw dotted with stubble. 

He’s not entirely unrecognizable. There’s something about the mirth in his smile that feels familiar, a slyness in his eye. 

Still It’s hard to believe that this is your Ezra, the little cat that curled up in your lap, tiptoed behind you on the back of the couch. He’s all man, big enough to swallow you up in his embrace. If you were strangers, you’d be too intimidated to even look him in the eye.

You giggle to yourself at how ridiculous that thought is. He’s Ezra. Your best friend. It doesn’t matter what he looks like. And if you told him he was good looking he’d never shut up about it. 

“What’s so funny?” he asks from the other side of the door, his voice muffled as he brings a shirt over his head.

“Just thinking about how my sweats fit you,” you say.

“Breathe a word of that to a soul—“ he grumbles. 

“Are you done yet?”

He sighs and you hear the latch on the door and there he is again. It knocks the air out of your lungs to be face to face with him once again, with that new face. Ezra stares back at you. His eyes are nothing like those sharp, golden eyes you’ve known for so many years. They’re deep brown, big and round— funny enough, more like a puppy dog than a cat. 

Your gaze falls down onto the outfit he’s chosen.

”What happened here?” You ask. 

His shirt is only half buttoned leaving a large swath of that golden chest in view, a constellation of freckles dotting his neck clavicle. You noticed them when he was sprawled out on your bedroom floor, tried to keep your focus on those instead of letting your eyes wander too much. 

”I’m afraid I haven’t gained mastery over my thumbs yet,” he admits sheepishly. 

“Let me.” You try to hide your grin.

You work the buttons, careful not to let your knuckles brush his front. His warmth radiates through the thin cotton and you’re suddenly very aware of how close you’re standing. It shouldn’t be so tense. This is the same Ezra after all, the cat you snuggled to sleep every night. Nothing’s changed between you and yet it’s definitely not the same. You feel him watching you and you swear he’s holding his breath. He shifts uncomfortably. 

”Are you sure these trousers are right?” He asks finally, palms grazing the fronts of his jeans. “They’re exceedingly restrictive.”

”When’s the last time you wore pants?” You ask him.

“When you tried to put me in that ridiculous cowboy get up,” he reminds you. 

“You were so cute!” you laugh, remembering how he flopped down on the floor in protest. 

He scoffs. 

“Come see yourself,” you say, motioning towards the trio full length mirrors at the end of the hall of dressing rooms. 

Ezra’s a sight to behold in his new outfit. A crisp white shirt tucked into a pair of dark jeans. If you squint you can see the man he once was in one of those romantic billowy shirts. 

“Looks good,” you say. 

Ezra’s furrowed brow smooths and he catches your eye in the mirror with a bashful smile. 

“You have a dimple,” you say. 

You keep noticing new things about him as the day goes on. There’s a little bald patch in his beard, wrinkles around his eyes when he laughs. 

“I suppose I forgot,” he says, blushing. “Am I not what you expected?” 

If you didn’t know him better, you’d think he sounded nervous. 

“I don’t know,” you say. He’s not what you pictured yet he’s exactly right in every way. He’s better than you pictured. He looks like that. How could you expect he was existing in your presence all this time?

You remind yourself quickly how wrong it is to be thinking of Ezra that way. He’s the closest thing you have to a brother. How many nights did you stay up pouring your heart out to him about life? It’s just the novelty, you assure yourself. Once you get used to him, it’ll be different. 

“I guess I thought you’d look like Ichabod Crane,” you tease. 

“Hilarious.”

––

“You should go to the Grand Canyon,” you say. 

All night, you’ve been brainstorming a list for Ezra, all of the things he can finally do now that he’s turned. The two of you already crossed off the first thing— eat dinner at a fancy restaurant— and you’re working on the second item— drinks at the local watering hole. 

It’s a busy Saturday night but you worked some magic to get a cozy table. The place is rustic by design, the kind of bar invented for the Brooklyn transplants that are renovating barns into Air BnBs. 

It’s chock full of mortals but Ezra couldn’t care less if he were surrounded by the witch hunters of Salem, just being out and about with you feels like a thrill. 

“What about having a human body is necessary to visit the Grand Canyon?” Ezra asks.  

The more drinks you had in you, the more esoteric the ideas became. 

“I don’t know. You could hike?” you say. 

“I think I had the advantage with four legs. I’ll pass,” he says. 

“I guess you’re right,” you say. Then you point an excited finger at him. “Learn to drive!”

He tilts his head, considering it but you’re already onto the next one. 

“Dancing!” 

“I’m not sure I know how it’s done these days,” he says. He’d enjoyed dancing when he was human the first time, mainly because it gave him ample opportunity to touch and flirt.  

“I don’t know. You just move,” you tell him. “Come on. I’ll dance with you right now.” You reach your hand out for him across the table to show that you really mean it. 

Ezra’s seen you dance hundreds of times. At witches gatherings, of course, but many more times in the kitchen, wearing your pajamas and singing off key, you scooping him up and rocking him to the beat. You might not be a good dancer, he’s not one to judge, but he’s always loved watching your hips find a rhythm. 

He’s still unsteady on his feet with less than 24 hours on his new legs and yet he couldn’t care less if he looks a fool if it means he can dance with you. The two of you are sure to draw attention— no one else is dancing despite the fact that the music’s so loud he has to shout to be heard. That doesn’t bother him. Let these mortals see you with him for once. Let him pretend for a moment that you’re his. 

He takes your hand, his heart speeding up in anticipation of your body being close, when your face falls. Your gaze is somewhere past him and you pull out of his grasp. 

“Oh, fuck,” you say. 

Ezra looks over his shoulder to see a familiar face. A lanky guy carrying a guitar case stops in his tracks when he spies you. The last time Ezra saw this mortal he had his paws all over you. 

“Shit. I completely forgot. Connor’s playing a gig here tonight. He invited me,” you groan. 

This fuck. Ezra’s joyous mood is jolted by the memory of Connor slobbering over your neck, the sounds of the two of you on the couch that he tried desperately to block out, the jealousy that sickened him. Here was one of the mortals that had touched and tasted you in the way Ezra had only dreamed interrupting his first chance to truly be close to you. 

But his lips crack into a wicked smile as Connor’s face twists in disappointment. Ezra knows how it looks to him. You’re here at his show where he hoped to woo you with song and you’re cozied up to another man. How many times had Ezra himself been forced to endure such humiliation?

 “Hey,” you say with unconvincing friendliness, selling it by standing up to offer a hug when Connor finally works up the nerve to come by. 

He keeps a wary eye on Ezra who in turn sits up straighter, chest out. He makes himself larger the same way he would passing one of the strays in the graveyard. It’s been hard to adjust to his new body, constantly bumping into things because he’s bigger, off balance without a tail. But right now, he couldn’t be more pleased with his new form. 

“Who’s your friend?” Connor asks without exchanging any pleasantries. He’s not masking his annoyance very well. 

“Oh. This is—“

“Ezra,” Ezra offers. 

“Hey,” Connor says dismissively. 

“He’s a friend of mine,” you add quickly. “Wanted to tag along to your show.”

“I hear you’re quite the talent,” he says. 

There’s a twitch in Connor’s brow as you kick Ezra under the table. 

“I guess you need to go set up,” you encourage, so ready to be rid of him. 

Ezra has other plans. 

“You must have time for a drink first. What’ll it be?” He asks. He can feel your eyes on him, trying to figure out his ulterior motive. 

“IPA,” Connor answers after a moment’s hesitation. 

Ezra’s powers tingle as he waves over the waitress. 

Connor finds a chair and joins you at the little table. The beer sets his mind at ease as you bullshit about how Ezra is an old friend, trying to save this guy’s pride. It seems like he buys it. Like all mortals, he’s a bit dim. 

He’s ridiculous, too. Talks a lot without asking you questions. Thinks he’s terribly interesting when he’s no different from the other mortal men that have shared your bed.  

“Isn’t your cat’s name Ezra?” Connor finally realizes after droning on about David Bowie as if he were the one that heard an original pressing of Ziggy Stardust. 

You stutter for a moment but you don’t have to come up with an answer because Ezra chimes in.

“Now, what was it you were attempting to elucidate with regards to psychedelic rock?” Ezra asks. 

You stifle a laugh, choking down some of your drink to hide it. This time, beneath the table you’re pressing your knee into his. 

“Uh,” Connor says, trying to gather his thoughts. “Yeah.”

He clears his throat, runs a hand through his hair then reaches for his beer again. 

“Well a lot of people think it starts with The Beatles but actually,” Connor lifts his drink to his lips in a theatrical pause, taking a swig, but his expression contorts in confusion, then disgust. He spits the beer back into his glass and with it comes a spider, it’s spindly legs thrashing about wildly. “Ah! Fuck!” he sputters. 

In his fright, Connor’s arms flail cartoonishly. The glass flies from his grasp and hits the table top, spilling its contents in all directions. You cry out, jumping up to avoid getting a lap full of IPA. The spider spins in the slippery puddle, trying to scurry every which way. Connor tries to distance himself from the arachnid but he legs of his chair catch and he topples over backwards onto the floor.

All conversation dies away around you as the other patrons have turned to watch the chaotic scene– Connor’s feet pointed up towards the ceiling, the floor beneath the table pooling with spilled beer. Ezra sits cool as a cucumber, his side of the table miraculously dry.

”Careful there, Connor,” he says. “Just a pretty little spider.”

You shoot him a look and he shrugs innocently. Your eyes say behave but it’s contradicted by a budding smile. 

“You good?” you ask.

Connor lays there wincing, probably much more embarrassed than he is bruised. Ezra offers a hand to help him up, all friendly smiles. Connor scowls but he has no choice but to accept, letting himself be hoisted to his feet by the other man. The crowd loses interest as Connor dusts himself off. 

“What a tumult,” Ezra says with a laugh. He slaps Connor on the shoulder so hard that he stumbles forward.

The waitress comes over with a bar rag and a judgemental look. 

“Did you hurt yourself?” You ask.

”I’m fine,” Connor answers a little too quickly. He flattens his ruffled hair. “Listen, maybe I should just go warm up.” He motions towards the little platform that serves as the stage.

”A wise idea,” Ezra says and Connor darts away.

”You’re bad,” you say but you’re practically bursting with laughter.

Ezra considers continuing his mischief while Connor’s performing— make him play the wrong notes or break a guitar string— but he doesn’t have to. Connor’s eyes keep finding you as he sings his whiney little songs and each time, Ezra’s right there. Leaning in close to talk to you over the music, making little quips that have you close to spitting out your drink. Right now, you couldn’t care less about this mortal, busy trying to convince Ezra that karaoke should be added to his adventure list. 

“Let’s go,” you say after draining your glass. 

“But your friend’s not done,” he teases. 

“I think we’ve heard enough,” you say. 

You offer Connor a sad little wave as you get up from the table, taking Ezra’s hand in yours to lead him through the throng of people crowding the bar. 

He watches Connor’s face fall as his eyes follow you to the exit. It’s a silly little revenge but to Ezra it’s delicious, a comeuppance for every mortal that’s been in your bed. Maybe Connor thinks you’re taking Ezra home to do the same to him. Good. It’s so delightful that Ezra doesn’t even care that it isn’t true.

––

“What have I unleashed on the world?” you ask with laughter, crossing the threshold of your apartment.

“I have no idea to what you are referring,” Ezra says but there’s a smirk on his lips. 

“You’ve gone from hairballs in shoes to public humiliation.” You should be more sympathetic to poor Connor but you can’t stop giggling. Every time you recall the sight of him flying backwards, flapping his arms, you’re in stitches again.

“Just a little harmless magic to warm up my powers,” he replies. “Not to worry, little mage, I’m sure he’ll still be more than happy to accept a booty call.” 

You shake your head. Between the awful conversation, the spew of spider, and the wailing of his songs, you have no interest in revisiting things with Connor.

In the kitchen you pour two glasses of water, adding a few drops of a tincture you keep handy for hangovers. You’re still a little tipsy, will probably wake up with a headache in the morning, but you don’t care. You can’t remember the last time you had so much fun with another witch. Not that it should surprise you. It’s Ezra after all.

”You know, you can’t fuck with these mortals too much. You do that to the wrong guy and they’ll start hunting us again,” you warn. You hand Ezra one of the glasses and flop down on the couch beside him. 

“But it’s alright to toy with their emotions?” Ezra retorts. “How many hearts have you broken?”

You scoff in mock offense but you know he’s right. You’ve never let yourself get attached to any mortals. Somewhere, deep down, you knew you’d never have a serious relationship with one of them so there was no fear of falling in love, no worry about their feelings, no risk of getting hurt.

Now that you’ve stopped moving, fatigue sets in. You rest your head on Ezra’s shoulder. You’re starting to get used to the fact that you can actually do that but it hasn’t gotten old yet. An absent grin plays on your lips. 

“Did you have a good first human day?” you ask. 

You feel his chuckle under your cheek. 

“I did indeed,” he says. 

Your smile widens. Ezra’s arm wraps around your shoulders, his fingers gently grazing circles over your sleeve, and you nuzzle further into his chest. 

“Thank you, little mage,” he says. 

”Mm,” is all you manage.

Your heavy eyelids begin to drift closed. It’s so cozy, you imagine yourself as a little cat in Ezra’s arms. You wonder if this is how it felt for him, cuddled in your lap, getting scritches under his chin, and you swear you’re purring. No, you’ve fallen asleep and started snoring. 

You force yourself awake with a groan. Ezra’s sitting contentedly beside you, watching you shift and stretch.

“I’ve got to sleep,” you yawn and manage to drag yourself onto your feet. 

Ezra doesn’t move, just nods and says, “Good night.”

“Are you staying up?” you ask. He must be exhausted after such a roller coaster of a day. 

“I think I’ll sleep here,” he tells you. 

You falter just outside of your bedroom. 

“You don’t have to,” you say. 

“I should,” he says. 

“Oh. Okay.” You’re not sure why it hurts. “Well, then you take the bed. I'll sleep out here,” you offer. 

“It’s your bed,” he says. 

A pang of guilt punches you in the gut. How many times had you reminded him of that?

“It’s alright. I’ve slept here on numerous occasions,” he assures you. 

You linger for a moment, trying to come up with some good reason why he shouldn’t stay on the couch. It shouldn’t be important to you. He might want his own space, some privacy after all these years, yet it feels like you’re losing something. 

“Let me get some sheets—“

“I know where the linens are,” he says. Obviously. He lives here too. 

Eventually you have to stop standing there like a weirdo and go to the bedroom. Door open or closed? You leave it somewhere in between. 

“G’night,” you say. 

You lay in bed listening to Ezra in the linen closet, then shucking his jeans and settling on the sofa. Suddenly you’re wide awake and sober as a judge, ruminating on what this means for the future. The two of you can only slip further and further away. He wants his own place to sleep, he’ll want his own place to live. It’s only natural. He’s not yours anymore. That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?

You roll over, pulling the covers up to your ears. Then off. You punch your pillow into shape. You strain your ears, listening for Ezra's breathing in the next room. Is he sleeping? You lean off the side of your bed, peering into the darkness and do your best to make out his form in the shadows. 

Soon Ezra will have his own life, his own friends. He’s always been his own person. At least that’s what you’ve always said. How long have you been deluding yourself?

You shift again, grabbing your pillow and squeezing it in your arms to mimic his cat’s body. No luck. Nothing’s the same as Ezra. The occasions when you’ve fallen asleep without him clutched to you have been few and far between. Loneliness aches in your chest. This wasn’t something you’d thought through before you cast your spell. 

Finally you throw back the sheets and march into the living room.

Ezra lays on the little couch as best he can, bare to the waist clad only in the boxers you made him buy. One of his long legs is sprawled over the side of the couch, the other tucked under his body. His eyes are wide open, staring up at the ceiling, an arm folded beneath his head. 

“I can’t sleep,” you say.

“Likewise,” he says.

“This is ridiculous. Ez, you’ve always slept with me,” you complain.

“That was different,” he says, sitting up on an elbow.

“Well–” You want to tell him that nothing’s changed but it doesn’t really feel like the truth. Everything’s felt different today. You throw up your hands. “This is weird.”

He looks at you for a long time, the swell of his bottom lip turning into a deep frown.

“Just. Come on,” you say.

You leave the door open for him as you go back to your room and climb into bed. It’s his turn to hesitate, loitering in the doorway. Moonlight catches on the slope of his shoulder and the angle of his nose, glints in his unsure eyes. You sit with your arms crossed until finally he relents. 

It’s certainly not the same as it was to have your cat beside you. Ezra occupies a large part of your double bed but he leaves a wide swath of mattress between you, keeping his limbs close to his body. Your instincts tell you to reach out for him but you don’t want to overstep this new boundary. 

Despite the awkwardness, the delicate balance neither of you want to upset, feeling his warmth on the sheets, you’re finally able to breathe a sigh and sink into your pillow at last. His warm eyes gaze at you, giving you a long, slow blink.

“Better?” he asks. 

“Mhm,” you answer. 

And soon you’re both fast asleep. 

––

Ezra’s cock greets him in the morning like an old friend. 

He can feel your breasts warm against his back, your arm curled around his waist the same as always. Despite his efforts to keep his distance, you found each other in the night, sleeping the only way you know how. His body responded in kind.

This was what he feared, why he tried– briefly– to be good and sleep on the couch. Though to say that you’d twisted his arm was a lie. He’d given in far too quickly because he wanted you too much.

He can’t keep thinking about you like this if he wants to stay close to you, if he plans on surviving as a human. But all he wants to do is crawl down the bed, bury his face between your thighs, and make you his. 

Before he does something rash, he slips away from you. You’re fast asleep thanks to the drinks and the late night. As Ezra rolls off the mattress, you let out a complaint, a little whimper that goes straight to his groin. He freezes, cock aching, and watches you roll over. You’re beautiful bathed in morning light, the sheets laying gently across your curves. If only he could run his hand over their outline. 

His movements are not exactly cat-like as he creeps into the bathroom, the old wooden floors protesting with each step. As soon as the lock clicks he’s divesting himself of these ridiculous underthings. And there he is, that old menace. His length glistens with leaking precum, tip flushed red, begging to be touched. Ezra grips the base carefully but it still elicits a groan. He’s too sensitive— hundreds of years of pent up desire and a night beside you have him dizzy. 

He gives himself an experimental stroke and it’s like lightning. His knees buckle and he has to hold himself up with his palm against the back of the door. With a silent curse and a steadying breath, Ezra spits into his fist and goes again. Slow, gentle. He knows he won’t last but he’s afraid his new body won’t be able to take the rapture. It’s divine torture, his mind soon swimming in pleasure. 

Every dream he’s had, each time you danced under the moon or came out of the shower skin beaded with water, it all rushes past his eyes a cacophony of obscenities. Thank the stars you can’t see him like this, more animalistic than when he was one. Repulsive. Fucking his fist as he thinks of you, the only witch that’s ever cared for him. Defiling you in his mind. 

He promises his guilty conscience that he’ll never do this again. He just needs it this once as his muscles strain and tighten. It’s bliss and agony all at once and he’s so close to breaking, he can hardly bear it.

“Ezra?” he hears you from the bedroom. Your voice is still rough and husky from sleep and it’s more than enough to push him over the edge. 

His head falls back, eyes squeezed shut, and he chokes down the growl that’s erupted from his chest. His hips jump and his hand is coated in hot release. 

“Ez?” you call out. 

Ezra swallows dryly, inhales as deeply as he can manage. 

“Just a moment,” he manages to croak out as his forehead comes to rest against the cool wood of the bathroom door. 

“Oh,” you say with relief. “You weren’t there. I thought-— I was afraid maybe the spell went wrong.”

“Not to worry, little mage,” he says. “I’m still under your spell.”

—

The two of you spend the day in the basement, doing magic together. Ezra shows off the spells that were something of a specialty for him. Mostly, they’re party tricks. (“This one used to send the mortals frothing,” he says as he changes a glass of water into wine.)

The only blemish on an otherwise perfect day came when you offered helpfully, “You know, if we can clean out the spare room down here, you could have a place of your own.”

It stung though Ezra knew you would expect him to leave the nest eventually. Maybe you’d heard what he’d been doing behind the bathroom door and were hinting he find somewhere else to abuse himself.

It feels good to be doing magic again, even better to share with you. He’s a little rusty, working a muscle that’s been comatose for years. You don’t seem to mind. You’re impressed, just as giddy as he is,  though you’re not amused when he turns a bowl of pasta noodles into worms.

“If you ever do that to me, I’ll turn you back,” you swear.

You’re particularly fascinated with a piece of magic Ezra shows you where he ignites a flame in his hand. 

“Show me again,” you say.

He strikes his thumb against his fingertips as though they were flint on steel and the fire sparks. You watch with a furrowed brow, rehearsing the motion with your own hand.

“You can do it with a candle. It’s quite the same,” he explains. The flame glows orange, hovering in his palm until he snuffs it in his fist.

You hold your hand forward and mimic his motion to no avail. 

“It’s not a snap,” he says in reply to your frustrated groan. “Observe.” He demonstrates again, slower this time.

“That’s what I did,” you complain.

After a few more attempts you shake your head.

“I can’t do it.”

“You turned a cat into a man. This is well within your abilities,” he assures you.

You thrust your hand towards him. “Show me.”

“Very well,” he says. 

It’s not like your touch is new to him and still he swoons as he cups your hand in his. Maybe it’s because yours is so much smaller, almost delicate. It’s the intimacy of this moment, the magic, that has his heart hammering. Your powers vibrate beneath your skin, heating you from within.

You don’t have to stand so close but you slot yourself against him, your shoulders against his chest.

“Relax,” he whispers into the shell of your ear. He can’t help himself, resting his other hand on your hip. 

You take a deep breath and he marvels at how easily you unwind in his arms. If you turn towards him, your lips will brush.

”Focus,” he says as if his own head isn’t swimming.

You nod and Ezra guides your thumb across your fingers. 

The fire doesn’t just spark to life in your hand but it ignites as if it were fed by kerosene, flaring wildly. It burns so hot he can feel it radiating through your fingers. You let out a delighted squeal, your smile brighter than the flame itself. 

“Holy shit!” You turn to share your joy with Ezra, so close your noses touch as you move. You giggle. 

He can’t help but grin himself. You are truly amazing. 

It all shatters in an instant. You hear the jingle of the shop door above and the fire in your fist fizzles to ash. You freeze except for your eyes that grow wide with horror. Footsteps cross overhead, the floorboards creaking. The bookstore is closed just as it is every Halloween week. There are no customers coming in. There’s only one person that could be here. 

Ezra hears Margot call out your name and his stomach drops.

”Are you down there?” she says. She’s just at the top of the stairs where you left the door propped open.

”Uh huh,” you answer. You still haven’t moved an inch, just stand there dumbly.

You’d talked briefly about how the two of you would break the news to Aunt Margot but you hadn’t come to a decision. You still had time to figure it out and you were both so giddy that you couldn’t imagine a world where she was anything but delighted to see what he’d become. Suddenly it’s an incredible risk and neither of you are prepared.

“”I just kept thinking about you here all alone. I left as soon as I could,” she says. “Everybody was asking about–“ her eyes finally land on Ezra and she stiffens ”–you.”

“Aunt Margot–” you try.

Percy, who’s just peeked his head out of her breast pocket, lets out a squeal.

“What have you done?” she asks, her voice barely a whisper. 

He’s not sure how she knows– Margot is perceptive in ways neither you or Ezra could anticipate– but she doesn’t need to be told.  

She stares at the man before her and he’s brought back to the look on Cee’s face years upon years ago when he stood over Damon’s limp body.

It’s a punch in his gut delivered by himself long ago, it all slips away. The party is over, the jig is up. The past two days evaporate like one of his dreams. Those sweet mornings waking up beside you, the swell of your touch, the thought of a future. He’d really believed it could go on like that forever. 

You look as terrified as your aunt but you swallow it down and say, “I turned him back.”

“That’s not possible,” Margot says. 

“I’m afraid it is,” Ezra says. His words don’t hold any of their usual cool confidence. 

“Is this why you stayed home?”

“No—“ you try.  

“You lied to me,” Margot says. “And you had no right to do this.”

“We had no intention of doing this before you departed,” Ezra begins.

“The laws have changed,” you snap.  Ezra wraps his hand around yours, not sure if he’s protecting you or grounding you before you lose your cool. 

“Well, they’re still laws. And shame on you, Ezra, for letting her do that,” Margot snipes. 

“I talked him into it,” you say. 

“Oh, yes, I’m sure it took a lot of convincing,” she replies with an eye roll. “Have you lost your mind?” 

“It’s unjust what they did to him,” you argue. 

“He was convicted of killing another witch. I’m sorry, Ezra, but that is no petty crime.”

“That other witch was a child abuser!” you snap. 

Ezra clenches his jaw. You’re the only other person he’s told about Cee and now seems like an inopportune moment to start pouring out his guts. Margo’s sharp eyes look to him for confirmation, her frown softening with surprise.

”I make no excuse for my transgressions,” he says.

“You should turn yourself in to the elders before they find out on their own,” Margot says. 

”No,” you say. 

”She’s right,” Ezra says, his eyes cast to the floor. 

“No,” you say once more. ”Ezra served his time. And he should never have been such an inhumane punishment.”

Margot hears none of it, shaking her head with her eyes screwed shut.  “The elders will take your powers for this. Or worse. They’ll make you both into cats. And you did this all under my roof. Did you think this through at all?”

Reality sinks in the pit of Ezra’s stomach. He’s put you in danger but Margot too. She’s always been good to him, one of the few people he enjoys and he’s gotten her mixed up in a crime. 

”You weren’t even here,” you say, your voice wavering. Clearly the guilt is creeping through your veins as well. 

”Go upstairs, dear. I need to speak to Ezra alone,“ she demands. 

”No,” you say with indignation.

“It’s alright,” Ezra tells you.

You look between the two of them. Margot stares at him as if you’ve already left the room and you have no choice but to obey. 

Margot says nothing, shooting daggers at Ezra for an excruciating amount of time. At last, she puts her hand to her brow in exasperation and does her best to collect her emotions. 

”Let me get a look at you,” Margot says when she stands tall again. 

Ezra steps forward, presenting himself with a slight bow as he was accustomed to do. He has many years on her but he currently feels like a boy caught by the schoolmarm, about to get his knuckles rapped. 

She takes his hand, turns it over in her own, inspecting the magic you’ve done. Margot lets out an indignant scoff. 

“How did she do it?” Margot asks, her voice half suspicion, half wonder.

“A potion. A spell. It was by her own hand,” he explains. “She foresaw it in a dream.” 

Margot fingertips brush her lips, the whirl of thoughts racing through her mind plain on her face. 

“You know what kind of witch has the powers to cast a spell like that?” he asks.

Her answer is a nod and a sigh, her shoulders straightening. Still lost in thought, Ezra fills the silence with his plea.

“Margot, I have served your family for two centuries but I have never cared for another witch as deeply as I do your niece,” he admits. “I’m well aware that what we’ve done is bold and rash. Foolish, even. But I promise you that I will not let any harm come to her so long as I’m living.”

His heart beats so hard, he’s afraid it might leap from his chest.

Margot looks into his eyes and there’s a momentary prickle along his scalp. Her lips quirk and her expression softens and Ezra feels too vulnerable. He’s let her see too much of the truth. If he could, he’d climb out of his own skin. The moment passes as Margot masks her sympathy, raising her chin and crossing her arms in a way that reminds him of you.

“Fine. This isn’t an endorsement,” she says. “But you can tell her I’m not going to rat you out.”

“Thank you,” he says. He knows that he’s been given yet another gift he doesn’t deserve. Hopefully Margot can sense his gratitude as she did his conviction. He heads after you, towards the back door of the shop but is stopped by the sound of his name. Turning, he sees Margot with her keen eye on him.

“Be careful,” she warns.

He’s not sure what she’s referring to but he knows she’s right.

🐈‍⬛

Part 5

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[wheneverfeasible]

Inspired by this post courtesy of @steddiecameraroll

wc: 1.3k || rating: E || cw: drug/alcohol use || summary: Steve loses a bet. Pre-Steddie rivals-to-lovers. Ambiguously takes place in a S1 AU.

🔞🔞🔞

“Fffuuckk…”

The word was drawn out, breathy, and cracking in that perfectly wrecked way that had Eddie’s pulse throbbing in his jeans. His mouth had long since gone dry at the sight, his eyes never wavering.

It had started as a bet, a dare, something between two dudes who had had a little too much weed, a little too much beer, and it had been humorous at the time. Sure, Eddie felt a little guilty about it considering his own feelings towards the guy, but Steve had been game for it, so…whatever. He hadn’t really expected Steve to lose the bet after all…

The wet schlick of Steve’s hand only added to the sound of shuddering breaths, the gasping whines as he chased the end, his neck arched back in pleasure. Legs spread wide to give Eddie full view.

“Beat that, King Steve!” Eddie crowed as he landed on his feet, wiping his wet mouth dripping with beer with his whole forearm, eyes sparkling in delight.

Harrington just scoffed from where he was standing nearby, hip cocked out with his arms folded over his chest. He rolled his eyes mockingly. “Please. That’s not even close to my record. I can take you down easily, Munson.”

“Oh yeah, big boy?” Eddie sneered, but there was no heat to his words. “Bet you can’t.”

A competitive streak sparkled in Harrington’s eyes, dropping his arms to stalk up to Eddie and pushing his finger into his chest. “Oh yeah? Wanna put your money where your mouth is, Munson? Let’s bet on it. I win, I get free weed for the rest of the school year.”

This announcement was met with resounding cheers from their audience, but Eddie wasn’t paying attention to them. He was paying attention to the warmth of Harrington’s finger against his chest, the warm breath that wafted over his face that already smelled like beer and Eddie’s weed, the way Harrington’s eyes were lit with mirth and a hint of friendliness towards the town freak. His lips were curled into a smirk of his own and Eddie wanted to lick it.

Eddie caught Harrington’s wrist where his finger was still pressed into Eddie’s chest, pulling it off him to tug Harrington closer. “You so confident you’re gonna win?” Eddie snarked, a part of him telling him to cool his jets before Harrington remembers he crashed his party after selling his product instead of leaving, but the weed and the beer rushing through him from his keg stand wouldn’t listen.

“Then, let’s make it something truly terrifying.” Eddie leaned in to whisper his prize if Harrington lost in his ear…

“Oh god,” Steve whimpered, and Eddie could only watch the pearly flood leaking from Steve, dribbling over his fingers as his hand moved faster, squeezing at the base with a deep moan.

Eddie could feel an answering patch of wetness in his boxers, making him glad for his black jeans at the moment. He shifted ever so slightly in the chair pulled up to the foot of Steve’s bed, where the other boy was propped up against the pillows and short headboard.

He ached to touch, to press the heel of his hand where he throbbed in his jeans, but he only stared, watching Steve with a continued smirk, legs spread out as he lounged back. Even for all of his displayed nonchalance, however, he couldn’t stop the flush in his cheeks as he watched Steve, nor the hungry look in his eyes.

Harrington jerked back at Eddie’s words, staring at him with wide eyes and a slightly gaping mouth. He was silent and still for just long enough that terror started to fill Eddie’s booze and weed drenched mind, and he was just about to laugh it off like a joke, to squash his stupid crush down down down, when Harrington moved.

The other boy closed his mouth, cleared his throat, and shook Eddie’s hand off his wrist. His eyes dragged over Eddie before he crossed his arms again and smirked. “You know what, Munson. You’ve got yourself a deal. I’m not King for nothing,” he said with another scoffing roll of his eyes. “I always get what I want.”

Harrington moved over towards the keg without another word, deftly let his teammates hoist him up, and the count began.

“Fuck,” Steve breathily gasped again, his hips making small thrusting motions as his feet dug into the bed below him, giving him the room he needed. His free hand was, amazingly enough, roaming over his chest, lightly tugging at his own chest hair with another moan.

The moonlight filtered in through his open windows, casting his tanned body in a spotlight for his audience of one. Steve’s sweat glistened, the sheen of his shiny and wet tip like a beacon for Eddie’s eyes. At least until Steve’s other hand drifted down, skating his navel, over his hip, and skimmed over his balls.

Harrington didn’t make it. It was close, literally just a single count away, and then he had to drop the nozzle in defeat.

Eddie won.

When Steve’s fingers slid lower, slipping between his cleft to touch the most intimate part of himself, Eddie couldn’t keep his own gasping moan between his teeth. If Eddie had thought Steve might have forgotten he was on display, that was immediately disabused now as Eddie’s sound merely causing Steve to arch against his fingers, a deeper, more guttural moan leaving him.

“Fuck, Eddie…”

“If you lose, Harrington, then I get to watch you jerk yourself off.”

The sound of his name on Steve’s lips, wrecked and needy, sent a pulse through Eddie that had him leaking heavily and twitching in his jeans so much it was painful. The gasp that left him only seemed to drive Steve on further, his hand fisting his own cock tighter, faster, his breath punching out of him with every harsh tug.

“R-right there, fuck, yes,” Steve was moaning, and even though the words were barely anything at all, they were somehow the filthiest thing Eddie had ever heard in his life. “Fuck, feels so good.”

Eddie couldn’t stand it anymore, his wide eyes glued to the purpling tip of Steve’s cock, barely able to drag his eyes away to see the way Steve’s other fingers massaged over himself between his ass cheeks. Eddie’s hand crushed and squeezed his own erection through his jeans, thrust up against his palm for more pressure. The pain was exquisite.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Steve gasped, the muscles in his thighs and arms bulging, his toes curling in his sheets. Throwing his head back, cords in his neck straining as he clenched his eyes shut, Steve came in thick and hard rivulets over his fist and shooting across his chest with such velocity a splatter even hit his chin. “Eddie…”

Eddie let out a shaky moan, his own dick spasming in his jeans as he released wet and hot in his boxers. The only sound in the room after their oddly in sync panting breaths.

Two weeks later, at another party that Eddie was actually invited to as reigning Keg King, he could only watch with slack jawed awe as Harrington surpassed not only Eddie’s record with ease, but also his own.

When Harrington landed nimbly on his feet, he sauntered over to Eddie with a small smirk, and leaned in close enough to whisper softly in his ear. “I told you, Munson. I always get what I want.” He pulled back just enough to look Eddie in the eyes. “Next time, let’s bet your mouth.”

Then, with a wink, King Steve was swept away into a congratulatory crowd, leaving Eddie wondering…just who had been playing who, and just how soon was too soon to propose marriage.

-

Hostage tag: @derythcorvinus

Tagged in celebration of first publicly posted smut: @katyawriteswhump

[potatomountain]

Your Dream For Mine

🏴‍☠️ Pairing: Pirate Captain Hongjoong x reader

🏴‍☠️ Au: Rival Pirate Captains

🏴‍☠️ Genre: Pirate au. first love to enemies to lovers? fantasy.

🏴‍☠️ Rating: 17+ light mentions of past abuse, murder, and other pirate themes.

🏴‍☠️Word Count: 2.8k

🏴‍☠️ Network: @pirateeznet

🏴‍☠️ Event: Pirateeznet Second Anniversary, genre chosen: Pirate, chosen prompt: Rival Captains.

It had been years since you last saw him, but he still filled your mind on the daily. From your memories with him to the tales you heard with the reputation he had built. People didn’t talk about Pirates without mentioning him, or his crew, speaking with both fear and awe. Not even the Marines dared to chase him unless they were young and stupid. After all who would want to fuck with a pirate that had a literal siren on their crew?

But as he stepped into the tavern, his small crew around him chatting up a storm, he did not seem unwelcome in the tavern. You were in the port city that openly supported pirates, so that wasn’t much of a surprise. What was a surprise was how your heart still beat a little faster at the sight of him, how the sound of his laughter still sent chills down your spine, and how his smile had your lips tugging upwards even after all these years. The reaction had you downing your drink, turning to your best man and leaning in.

“That’s him. I thought they didn’t stop at this particular inn.” You asked Chan, your best man, as the Captain of the Hala, your rival of sorts, sat with his crew a few tables from yours.

Chan shrugged, sipping on his ale. “I would assume so, but you are the only one here who could recognize the Captain with your history. Not that the rest of us know the extent of it.” Your crew of The Siren knew of your personal vendetta against Hongjoong, but you had never indulged in the details. Chan knew the most, and that was just because of your shared nights with him and how long he had been with you. You trusted him with your life after all, but not with your greatest pain.

“Let’s wait and see.” You hummed out, undoing a button on your shirt, a habit you did whenever you had “prey” in sight. Your crew chuckled, talking to themselves that their maiden had found a sucker for the night. “You know the drill Chan, I entrust it all to you.” You patted his thigh and then called for another round of drinks. The men let out cheers loud enough to draw attention, but you sipped on your ale and paid no mind to the others, just hyper aware of one.

Drinks came and you could hear the retelling of stories from the lips of those that actually lived them, the crew of the Hala boasting loudly as they cheered for their own round. You could easily pick out the Siren, the vibrant pink of his hair that reminded you of the inside of a seashell, as well as some small patches of his skin looking quite pearlescent. The giles on the side of his neck were also a dead give away, and yet he was still breathtakingly beautiful. Beautiful and practically attached to the man who had your entire focus.

The jealousy that surged through you was a surprise, especially since you didn’t know who you were more jealous of: The siren for having his affection, or Hongjoong for having such a gorgeous Siren by his side.

What would it be like to be a part of his crew?

The question both shook you to the core and also gave you a wonderful idea. You leaned into Chan, smiling wickedly. “Every six months, come back here. Until I return.” It was a whim, sure, and who knew if you could actually do it-

But as you approached the table, looking them over with a smirk each just to lock eyes with him, you saw the raw emotion as he muttered your name- the name you hadn’t used in so long. “It’s been awhile, Hongjoong. I didn’t think I’d see you here.”

Several of his crew muttered your name, confused but seemingly elated. “This is her Captain? The one that got away?” Ah that comment stung.

“Yes. What about your husband?” Hongjoong asked, staring you down apprehensively.

“Dead. Few years ago. That’s what happens when you’re an old man. Left me with enough of a fortune to do as I pleased though, so here I am, finally searching for that dream I had.” The dream you gave up on when he left, that twisted and turned to simply stealing his.

He looked at his crew, the Siren leaning in and whispering in his ear. He seemed to think over whatever he was told, then nodded. “Seonghwa thinks you’re pretty, says you should join us. I like that idea too. Any objections?”

One of the tall ones snarled. “You can’t be serious? Like join our crew?”

“Yes, if she wants.” Hongjoong replied with no hesitation, staring his crew member down.

“How about I start with joining you for drinks? Can’t say I have enough pirating experience to join.” A lie but they didn’t know that. Only the men that died by your hand knew that, or your crew. They wouldn’t be yours for some time now.

As the men around him nodded, you sat to his side that was unoccupied from the Siren. You had an in to what you desired most, and you were going to take it.

Swords clashed as the storm raged around you and your opponent. His men were struggling to keep the ship afloat as the waves teetered the mass left and right, the deck covered in inches of sea water that tried to sweep you both away with each step. 

None of that mattered as you dodged his blade, slashing into your shirt and knicking your skin. You quickly swung your own blade, dealing a similar wound to his side, almost evenly matched swordsmanship. Of course you were still at a disadvantage, being the lone attacker on his ship, knowing that the water was not much safer; not because of the storm but of the siren that stood watch in shock.

You could recall the events that led to the fight, because he finally caught you in a lie. Weeks at sea, getting to know the crew, almost feeling like one, and you finally let slip the extent of your experience. 

All because he talked of taking down “The Siren” which he had heard recently took down a high ranking Marine ship. Even without you, your crew was building their reputation and becoming a threat to Hongjoong. One, you realized, you and your crew hadn’t been before.

When you defended them, tried to persuade him from destroying them, he questioned you. Which resulted in your swords clashing on the deck, still trying to get answers out of you, confused by your hostility. 

“Why are you doing this?!” He called out over the crash of the waves and thunder, creating distance and holding onto the railing of the stairs. Your back hit the mast, shirt torn open and clinging to your breasts and waist. You had been enjoying the fight, and you hoped your skills would have given you away by now.

“You still haven’t figured it out?!” You called back, procuring the red gem from a pouch on your belt. He paled, sword dropping to the ground. “Really Hongjoong, I had the same dreams as you… did you really think I would settle being some old crone’s wife over a life on the sea?! That it would take me years to chase that dream?” You pocketed the gem known as the Kraken’s heart, dipping down just in time to dodge a sword that had swung from behind, bringing your leg up to connect the sole of your foot to the man’s stomach. He doubled over in pain, dropping to the ground as you rolled away from another attacker.

The crew took their Captain’s shock as an excuse to jump in an attack for him, finally realizing you were an enemy, but you dodged their attacks left and right while Hongjoong could only gawk. They were ruining the moment for you, unable to watch as recognition dawned on his face that you, his sweet innocent childhood friend, stole his precious treasure.

This was the treasure you both dreamed of obtaining some day. The talks of becoming pirates together, Captain and second in command. You would have followed him anywhere, done anything for him, and yet he left you. He left you to rot at the altar to marry another man, already out on the seas building a reputation. He was attaining a crew while you were enduring nights in an old man’s bed fulfilling his desires, just so you could avoid his fists.

Your rage had built up, festering like a poison that only consumed you more after your dear husband’s death. You built your dream pirate crew, even if you were far behind in the race, hearing more tales of Hongjoong and his adventures, which grew your blind rage even more.

Soon it was no longer about the treasured gem, but about taking everything from the man that left you. Your first love. He had been your dream, and he took it.

So you would take his.

Easier said than done as you were outnumbered, one to eight, on his ship in the middle of the sea. But you were willing to die tonight. Willing to take his dream to your grave. To do that though…

You slipped on the wet deck, wincing as one of the swords slashed at your shoulder. You rolled away, bringing your sword up to injure the man. It was San, wearing an expression of betrayal. He may be one of the few on this ship you would regret hurting, but it was not enough to deter you from your goal. Surging onto your feet, you didn’t run for the railing to the open sea, instead charging at the man you could thank for this opportunity, and the only one who could get in the way of your plan if he dove in after you.

Seonghwa’s arms came up to block your swing, but you aimed for the legs, damaging his tendons to cripple him to the ground. He cried out, falling back against the man you once loved. He caught him with ease, seeming to snap out of his daze as he asked the siren if he was alright. 

“You’re concerned about him?! REALLY?!” You screeched out, seething.

He looked confuse as his ship doctor, Yeosang, came rushing to the Siren’s side as you felt metal slice your back open.

Cursing you swiveled, lodging your sword into the side of the giant man, matching his sharp glare. “I knew you were no good.” Mingi snarled out, but you just laughed, practically dancing away from them before you could get grabbed or injured again, now leaning against the soaked railing as a wave splashed against the ship, soaking you to the bone and stinging the open wound on your back.

“You would be right-” You held up the pouch with the jewel, holding it over the edge just as the ship entered the eye of the storm, the sun shining on the Hala while the waters still raged around you. “After all, it’s no good to have a vendetta against the man who left you to rot. Kim Hongjoong, you have such a beautiful crew.” You stared at the man as he took a step forward, muttering your name. The other seven stared at you, some with clear hatred like Mingi and Wooyoung, but others with a sympathy you didn’t want to see. You spent weeks on the ship with them, learning their secrets, becoming one of them.

You shared a bed with a few of them, including the man you had shared your first with. Learned to trust some, but never completely. No matter how much you wished you could be a part of the crew, the poison which he left behind in you would not subside.

“I wish I could take your life. That I had that in me. Years as the ruthless Captain of The Siren and I can’t cut the throat of the one who wronged me the most.” You spouted out, climbing on the railing and holding onto the nearby rope as you whistled your calling, a four note melody that was often heard before your ship would attack. There were curses around, Mingi’s the loudest but Hongjoong silenced them as he stepped closer.

“You’re the Song of the Siren? You eliminated all other crews-” Hongjoong started but you cut him off quickly.

“You left me there Hongjoong. For years I waited but you never came back. Everything I wanted was gone the day you left and all I could think about was taking the same from you. I tried to outdo your reputation but because of your dear Siren that wasn’t going to happen.” Your eyes fell to the beautiful siren in question, the creature that was responsible for Hongjoong’s greatest achievements at sea. “I thought if I had a better crew that wouldn’t matter-” Your eyes took in the rest of the crew, all skilled and amazing in their own right, regretting not knowing them sooner. Just another thing Hongjoong stole from you. 

“And then I thought if I couldn’t have that, I could get to this first.” You motioned to the pouch, the wind picking up behind you as the storm was approaching again. “But I’ll just take this to the bottom of the sea, right where I should have left my love for you. Maybe then you will know the pain of losing your dream, as you were mine.”

You jumped into the sea just as the rain picked up, hearing him call your name. The icy water felt like home to your already dead heart, shutting your eyes and welcoming the burning water into your lungs.

You wanted nothing more than to sink to the bottom of the ocean, grabbed by what you hoped was the current.

Lips on yours had your eyes shooting open, recognizing Hongjoong even if you could only make out his scrunched brows over his closed eyes. He jumped in after you, breathing air into your lungs but you knew it was too late.

He was going to sink to the bottom of the sea with you. With all your cold heart, you didn’t wish for that. Wish for him to die. You let go of the gem just to push weakly at him. He could’ve grabbed the gem, but he only pulled you close.

It wasn’t enough, an odd warmth overtaking you as you lost consciousness, your mind filled with the past 10 years since the day you stood at the altar, waiting to be swept off your feet not by a prince, but a pirate.

Is that what you wish for? 

The odd voice in your head confused you, breaking through the cold water and surrounding you with warmth. Was this your death?

No, and yes. Tell me, do you regret this ending?

No… well yes.

You saw him again, entering the inn with the seven other men. He looked at them like he used to look at you, talking about adventures like the two of you used to dream of them. You remembered your first thought when you saw them, the first desire. It was even stronger now knowing that Hongjoong had all but given his life for you.

I want to be with him. With them. Being a pirate, a life on the sea… it only had appeal if it was going to be with him. You told the voice, tears burning your eyes.

As you wish.

You awoke to your name being called, Hongjoong’s familiar frown staring down at you. The scenery was familiar, the inn where you had saw him weeks ago, where you had approached with a whim of revenge, a half-baked plan. You had indulged, just for that night, in being with him again.

He looked just as he had that morning, your hickies scattered on his neck and scratches from your nails on his tattooed chest. “Hongjoong?”

“Ah, so you wake finally. Are you ready to tell me the truth?”

“What truth?” Slowly you pushed yourself up, just to notice something odd. You were back in that inn, but your body felt different, not as it had that morning.

He pointed to your chest, perhaps the answer for the odd weight you felt- the red gem was now embedded in your skin, strange markings running along your body all connecting to the gem. “Why do you have my gem? It wasn’t there last night.”

“That…” You gently ran a gentle finger over the gem, “is a good question. I think it would be quite a long story.”

Or not. It wasn’t hard to figure out. The mysterious power of the Heart of the Kraken was obvious. You were given a second chance.

How would you use it?

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[grifffins]

🔮 The Fool’s Journey (Into Trouble) 🔮 | Ch. 5

Lilia Calderu x fem!reader

summary: A matchmaking event, a reckless plan, and a game that cuts a little too deep—because playing with fire always has consequences

wc: 8.3k (Chapter 5/?)

a/n: I'm reading all the reviews you're leaving, and it's filling me with so much joy, seriously, thank you so much! I promise I'll eventually get around to replying to them all, but for now, just know that I've seen them, I appreciate every single one, and they are absolutely fuelling me to get these chapters out faster. If I had to stare at this chapter any longer, I was genuinely going to throw myself off a cliff, so here it is before I lose my mind. I don’t know, I hope you like it!

And just a heads-up—ratings have officially gone up 🔥 y'all better handle this with care.

Ch. 4 ch. 6

also on ao3

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The next few weeks flew by in a blur of routine and mild frustration. I’d gotten used to maneuvering on crutches though not without my fair share of near-disasters and before long, I was downgraded to a boot. A clunky, annoying boot, but it was better than nothing. And now, I was almost out of it, counting down the days until I could finally move like a normal person again.

Lilia had been... Lilia. Ever present, always hovering just enough to make sure I wasn’t doing anything too reckless, but never crossing the line into anything that could be considered more. There were lingering touches, soft smiles, and the occasional meaningful glance, but nothing had really progressed.

And, honestly? That was fine.

Mostly.

Between the shop being surprisingly busy and my friends constantly roping me into their latest schemes, fundraisers, work drama, and questionable life choices. I barely had time to dwell on it. I liked keeping busy, helping where I could, and throwing myself into distraction after distraction. It was easier than thinking about how much I wanted Lilia but didn’t know how to move things forward.

Some days, it felt like we were stuck in this comfortable, frustrating limbo. We'd laugh, we’d bicker, we'd work side by side in the shop, but there was always this invisible line neither of us was willing to cross.

Still, things were good.

Lilia was still a mystery I was determined to solve, even if she sometimes acted like an impenetrable fortress. But there were moments, tiny cracks in the walls she put up. The way she’d refill my tea without asking, or how she’d linger at the end of my shift, pretending to read while really just making sure I got home safely. The way she’d watch me when she thought I wasn’t looking, like she was thinking about something.

And those moments? They were enough to keep me going. For now.

One afternoon, as I hobbled around the shop stocking shelves, I sighed dramatically. "Lilia, please, I cannot wait to be out of this boot. I feel like Frankenstein’s monster."

Lilia smirked from behind the counter, flipping through an old grimoire. "You only have to wait till this afternoon."

I shot her a glare. "Rude."

She chuckled, but there was that usual softness behind it, the kind that made my heart skip a little. "You'll be back to your reckless self soon enough. I'm sure I'll regret it."

I grinned. "Oh, you will. First thing I'm doing is dancing barefoot on the counter just to spite you."

Lilia rolled her eyes but didn't argue. Instead, she just said, "I'll keep the first aid kit ready."

I snorted, limping toward the register. "You should always have that thing on standby with me around."

"Trust me," she said dryly. "I do."

The bell above the shop door jingled, and before I could process it, Jen and Agatha waltzed in like they owned the place.

"Y/n!" Jen beamed. "Still hobbling around, I see."

Agatha leaned on the counter, eyeing Lilia with that devilish glint in her eye. "And, you're still under Lilia's watchful eye, huh?"

Lilia arched a brow. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

Jen smirked at me. "Oh, it's not a bad thing at all."

I groaned. "Guys, please."

Agatha ignored me, grinning. "Anyway, y/n, you up for helping me with something later?"

I sighed, already knowing I was about to get roped into something ridiculous. "What is it this time?"

Jen wiggled her brows. "Oh, you know, just a little... matchmaking event."

I blinked. "No."

Lilia, to my absolute horror, looked very interested. "Matchmaking?"

Agatha smirked. "Yeah. You in?"

Lilia, without missing a beat, looked directly at me and said, "I think y/n should go."

My jaw dropped. "What?!"

Lilia’s lips curled into that maddening smirk. "It could be... fun."

I groaned, slamming my head onto the counter. "I hate all of you."

Lilia just sipped her tea, looking far too pleased with herself. "You'll survive, baby."

“What exactly is a matchmaking event?”

Jen leaned against the counter, grinning like the devil she clearly was. "Oh, y/n," she purred, eyes sparkling with mischief. "A matchmaking event is exactly what it sounds like."

I narrowed my eyes at her. "And why, exactly, do you think I need to attend one?"

Agatha smirked, completely ignoring my very valid concern. "It's a charity event, actually. Think of it like speed dating, but fancier, cocktails, music, a little light mingling." She waved a hand dramatically. "People will bid on dates, there'll be matchmaking games, the whole romantic shebang."

I groaned. "You have to be kidding me."

Billy, who had apparently appeared out of thin air (or just snuck in without me noticing), clapped his hands together. "Oh no, she's not kidding, and I am so excited for this."

Lilia, who had been sipping her tea silently this whole time, finally spoke up, eyes fixed on me in that infuriatingly calm way she had. "I think it’s an excellent idea."

I gaped at her. "Et tu, Lilia?!"

She shrugged, setting her cup down with a smirk. "You did say you were bored."

Agatha nodded sagely. "Exactly! And what better way to pass the time than by meeting some... interesting people?"

I groaned, dragging a hand down my face. "Oh my God, no. I am not getting auctioned off to the highest bidder like a damn prize goat."

Jen laughed. "Oh, come on. It’s for charity! Think of it as... networking."

Billy wiggled his brows. "With benefits."

Lilia quirked an eyebrow, but there was something sharp in her eyes now, something that made my stomach flip. "You never know, y/n," she said smoothly, "maybe you'll find someone... intriguing."

I stared at her, heat rising to my cheeks. Was she actually encouraging this?

I pointed an accusing finger at the coven. "You’re all just doing this to watch me suffer, aren’t you?"

Agatha grinned. "Absolutely."

Billy winked. "One hundred percent."

Jen shrugged. "You should be used to it by now."

I sighed, sinking onto the nearest chair. "This is actually my worst nightmare."

Lilia, standing far too composed and far too smug, leaned against the counter. "You'll do fine, baby."

And the way she said it, soft, teasing, but with just enough of an edge, made me wonder if she was enjoying this a little too much.

I stared at Lilia for a long moment, watching the way she casually sipped her tea, completely unbothered by the absolute chaos the coven was throwing at me. Mixed signals? Oh, she was full of them. She’d spent weeks hovering, making sure I didn’t overdo it, looking after me with a quiet protectiveness, and now she was totally fine with me flirting with other people?

Okay, Lilia.

Fine. If she wanted to play it cool, I could play it colder.

With a wicked smirk, I crossed my arms and leaned back into my chair. "Alright," I said, shrugging. "I'll do it."

The coven exploded.

"YES!" Billy practically fist-pumped.

Jen beamed. "Oh, this is going to be so good."

Agatha cackled. "I knew you'd come around."

But I didn’t take my eyes off Lilia, watching for any flicker of emotion behind that carefully composed exterior of hers. She raised a brow, looking mildly impressed but ultimately unfazed. “Good for you,” she said, nodding. “You’ll enjoy yourself.”

I wanted to scream.

Instead, I smiled sweetly. “Yeah, maybe I’ll meet someone intriguing, like you said.”

Lilia’s lips twitched, but she didn’t rise to the bait. “Perhaps.”

Ugh.

I was going to do this. Not because I wanted to, but because if Lilia was going to keep up this whole mysterious and unattainable older woman thing, then I was going to make her watch me flirt with someone else.

By the time I got back from the hospital that evening, boot-free and feeling like I had reclaimed my dignity, I was on a mission.

I went all out.

I pulled out one of my best dresses, the kind that hugged in all the right places, paired it with strappy low heels— I wasn’t about to push my luck after just recovering from a broken leg — and topped it all off with red lipstick. My hair was styled to perfection. 

I looked in the mirror and grinned. Damn, I missed dressing up.

Before I left, I snapped a quick selfie and sent it to the group chat.

Me: Ready to break hearts tonight.

Billy responded instantly.

Billy: BABE. I AM DEAD.

Jen: GIRL, THEY WON'T SURVIVE YOU.

Agatha: Show Lilia. Right now.

I rolled my eyes, typing back.

Me: No way. Let her suffer.

I grabbed my clutch, took one last glance in the mirror, and smirked.

Lilia Calderu had no idea what she was in for.

I arrived at the venue, the heels clicking confidently against the pavement as I made my way inside. The place was fancier than I expected, soft lighting, elegant decor, and the kind of crowd that screamed money meets desperation.

I spotted Agatha immediately, standing near the bar with a drink in hand, watching me approach with an impressed smirk. Her eyes swept over me from head to toe, and she let out a low whistle. “Damn, y/n. If I weren’t rooting for Lilia, I’d bid on you myself.”

I rolled my eyes, planting myself in front of her. “Alright, what do I need to do?” I asked, folding my arms.

Agatha grinned wickedly. “Eager, are we?”

I sighed, eyeing the bustling room. “Let’s just say I’ve been encouraged.”

She chuckled, handing me a glass of champagne like she hadn’t practically dragged me here. “Alright, here’s how it works. There are three... let’s call them options.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Go on.”

Agatha held up a perfectly manicured finger. “Option one—the bidding auction. People bid for a date with you.”

I groaned. “Hard pass.”

Ignoring me, she lifted a second finger. “Option two—the matchmaking questionnaire. You fill it out, they set you up with someone they think is compatible.”

I stared at her. “Do I look like someone who’s here for a deep connection?”

Agatha smirked. “No, you look like someone here to make a certain divination witch jealous as hell.”

I didn’t deny it. “And option three?”

Agatha smirked, holding up the final finger. “And then there’s option three... mingling, flirting, working the room.” She gestured grandly at the crowd. “And, honestly, that’s where you shine.”

I sighed, taking a slow sip of champagne. “And which one exactly do you want me to do?”

Agatha’s grin stretched impossibly wider. “Oh, baby, I didn’t bring you here to find your soulmate.” She winked. “I brought you here to make Lilia Calderu jealous as hell. So, option three it is.”

I arched a brow. “And if she doesn’t show up?”

Agatha shrugged. “Then at least you’ll have some fun and free champagne.”

I sighed, finishing my drink. “Fine. Let’s do this.”

Agatha grinned, looping her arm through mine. “That’s the spirit. Now, go mingle. And remember, eye contact, light touches, and laugh at everything.”

I groaned but let her pull me toward the crowd. This was going to be... interesting.

I took a deep breath, rolling my shoulders back and putting on my most dazzling smile. If I was going to do this, I was going to do it right.

Armed with another glass of champagne and Agatha’s ridiculous advice bouncing around in my head, I stepped into the crowd, letting myself glide from conversation to conversation. I laughed, I touched arms lightly, I made just enough eye contact to keep people interested without giving too much away.

And through it all, one thought lingered in the back of my mind.

Please show up, Lilia.

I scanned the room subtly, pretending to be fully invested in whatever some guy in a ridiculous suit was rambling about, but my heart wasn’t in it. I could feel the absence of her. Could feel the weight of her not being here.

The evening dragged on, and despite the flattering attention I was getting, more than I knew what to do with, there was an ache in my chest that wouldn’t quite go away.

I found myself standing near a group of women, effortlessly charming my way through another conversation, when I caught myself staring toward the entrance for the millionth time.

Nothing.

I sighed internally, feeling my excitement wane just a little.

But just as I turned back to my conversation, I caught a shift in the air. A presence.

And then I saw her.

Lilia Calderu, standing in the doorway like she owned the place, dressed in a simple but devastatingly effective black dress, nothing overly elegant, just effortlessly put together, the fabric skimming her figure in a way that made my mouth go dry. Her dark curls were loosely pinned up, a few strands escaping to frame her face, and those brown eyes of hers scanned the room with sharp intent, missing nothing.

My heart stopped.

She looked... incredible.

Her gaze locked onto me almost instantly, and I saw the way her eyes flickered over my dress, my posture, the easy way I was leaning against the table with a glass of champagne in hand and a smile that may have been a little too smug.

For a second, I thought she might turn around and leave, but instead, she walked in with the kind of calm, deliberate grace that made my stomach twist into knots.

Agatha, appearing by my side out of nowhere, whispered, “And there she is.”

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. “I thought she wasn’t coming.”

Agatha smirked. “She didn’t think she was coming. But then she realised she couldn’t let you have all the fun without her.”

I watched as Lilia made her way through the crowd, her expression unreadable, but her eyes, her eyes, never left me.

I forced myself to smirk, turning back to the group I was talking to, making a show of tossing my hair over my shoulder and laughing lightly at something someone said. But my heart was pounding.

Lilia Calderu was here. And she was watching me.

Game on.

I took a slow sip of my champagne, letting the bubbles fizz on my tongue as I kept my posture relaxed, my smile effortlessly charming. I could feel her gaze burning into me from across the room, sharp and assessing, but I didn’t look her way, not yet.

If she wanted to watch, I’d give her a damn show.

“So, y/n,” the woman beside me purred, leaning in just a little too close. “You never told me what you do for a living.”

I smiled, tilting my head coyly. “Oh, you know... a little bit of everything,” I said smoothly, trailing a finger along the rim of my glass. “Keeps life interesting.”

I swore I could hear Lilia’s scoff from across the room, and it took everything in me not to grin.

Agatha, who was lingering nearby, nudged me under the table with her foot. “Subtle,” she whispered, her tone practically dripping with glee. “She’s watching you like a hawk.”

I shrugged, pretending to be unaffected. “Let her.”

I felt her familiar presence before I even saw her. Lilia’s energy was intense, heavy and magnetic, drawing people in without her even trying. And then, just as I was laughing at something unremarkable, I saw her appear at the edge of my vision, standing beside the group with her arms crossed, a neutral expression on her face.

But her eyes? Her eyes told an entirely different story.

They flicked from the woman leaning too close to me, to my lips, and then, finally, locked onto mine.

I arched an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “Lilia,” I greeted, taking another slow sip. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

She tilted her head slightly, her lips curving into that maddeningly subtle smirk. “Neither did I.”

Agatha, not missing a beat, grinned and chimed in. “Lilia! Finally decided to join the fun?”

Lilia’s gaze didn’t leave mine as she responded, “I suppose someone had to keep an eye on y/n.”

“Oh, I think I’m doing just fine on my own,” I shot back, playful but pointed.

Lilia’s lips twitched. “So I see.” Her gaze dragged over me, slowly, taking in every inch of my dress, my posture, the way I was standing just close enough to the woman next to me to imply interest.

I held her gaze, my heart racing. “You know, you could’ve just stayed home,” I teased, my voice dropping just a bit. “No need to check up on me.”

Lilia stepped closer, leaning in just enough that I could catch the faint scent of her perfume. “Maybe I just wanted to watch?”

I swallowed, my bravado slipping just slightly.

Agatha, watching the exchange like it was the best thing to ever happen to her, nudged me again and whispered, just for me to hear, “You’re losing, babe.”

I straightened up, regaining my composure, and smirked at Lilia. “Well, since you’re here... maybe I should introduce you to some people.” I gestured to the woman beside me, who looked suddenly very interested in this new development. “This is—”

But before I could finish, Lilia reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear, her fingers lingering a second too long. The touch sent a shiver down my spine.

“Enjoy yourself, baby,” she murmured, her voice low and full of something I couldn’t quite place. “Don’t let me stop you.”

And with that, she stepped back, leaving me absolutely reeling.

Agatha burst into laughter. “Oh my God, she is so playing you.”

I clenched my jaw, staring at Lilia’s retreating figure as she casually wandered toward the bar, looking as cool and composed as ever.

Oh, hell no.

I was not about to let Lilia Calderu waltz in here, throw me off my game with a well-timed smirk and a touch that lingered just enough to make my brain short-circuit. If she thought she could walk away with the upper hand, she had another thing coming.

I plastered on my best grin and turned back to the woman next to me, who was still watching the whole exchange with keen interest. “Sorry about that,” I said smoothly, letting my fingers graze lightly over the rim of my glass. “Old friend.”

Lilia, who had just reached the bar, tilted her head slightly at my words, clearly listening in.

The woman smiled, intrigued. “Old friends who stare at you like they’d rather eat you alive?”

I laughed, but it wasn’t entirely fake. “She’s... complicated.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Lilia's shoulders tense slightly. Gotcha.

Agatha, still lingering with a devilish glint in her eye, whispered in my ear, “Atta girl. Make her work for it.”

With renewed confidence, I turned my full attention to my current company, leaning in just enough to make it seem like I was entirely absorbed in our conversation. I laughed at all the right moments, let my hand casually brush against hers, and even threw in a little coy lip bite for good measure.

And Lilia saw every second of it.

I could practically feel her eyes on me, dark and heavy, her carefully composed façade slipping by degrees.

When I dared a glance her way, I caught her watching with that unreadable expression, cool, detached, but with a flicker of something darker beneath. Jealousy? Annoyance? I wasn’t sure, but I liked it.

Still, she didn’t approach.

Fine. If she wanted to play it that way, I’d push a little harder.

I tilted my head back, laughing at something the woman said, making sure my posture screamed confidence, my neck arched just enough to be noticeable. And then, as casually as I could manage, I said loudly enough for Lilia to hear, “You know, I was a little nervous about coming tonight, but... I think I’m really enjoying myself.”

From across the room, I saw Lilia’s grip tighten around her glass.

Agatha, ever the enabler, had appeared at the bar, bit back a grin and leaned against the bar near Lilia. “So, Lilia,” she said innocently, “what brings you here tonight? Surely not jealousy?”

Lilia’s eyes flickered with something sharp, but she simply took a sip of her drink, her voice smooth as silk. “Just making sure y/n doesn’t get herself into too much trouble.”

“Oh, I think she’s handling herself just fine,” Agatha teased, shooting me a wink.

I smirked, running a hand down my hip and throwing Lilia a pointed glance before turning back to my conversation.

But before I could say another word, Lilia appeared at my side, moving silently and suddenly. Her presence was commanding, and I felt it in every nerve of my body.

“Y/n,” she said smoothly, her voice velvety and low. “A word?”

The woman next to me raised an eyebrow. “Oh,” she said, clearly amused. “I think I’ll leave you to it.”

I swallowed, my heart pounding, but I kept my smirk firmly in place. “Of course, Lilia.”

She led me away from the crowd, her hand resting lightly on my lower back, just enough to own the situation, just enough to remind me exactly who I was dealing with.

Once we were in a quieter corner, she turned to face me, crossing her arms and raising a brow. “Having fun?”

I shrugged, playing it cool. “I was.”

Lilia’s lips twitched, but her gaze sharpened, laced with something I couldn’t quite place. “You’re walking a fine line, baby.”

I tilted my head, stepping closer, pushing just enough. “Maybe I like the edge.”

Her eyes darkened, and for the first time all night, I wondered if I’d pushed too far. But instead of pulling away, she leaned in, her breath warm against my ear, sending shivers straight down my spine.

“Careful,” she murmured, voice low and dangerously smooth. “You might find yourself wanting something you can’t have.”

I swallowed hard, fighting to keep my cool. “Maybe I’m tired of waiting.”

Lilia’s expression remained unreadable, her head tilting just slightly.  “Getting ahead of yourself, baby.”

I exhaled sharply, biting back the urge to roll my eyes. “And you love dragging this out, don’t you?”

She made a soft, thoughtful sound, her gaze sweeping over me like she was deciding just how much she wanted to let me have. “Mmm. Maybe. Or maybe you’re seeing something that isn’t there.”

Heat curled in my stomach, frustration and want tangled together, her eyes flicked down to my lips for half a second, just long enough for me to notice, but before I could say anything, she let out a slow, almost teasing sigh and stepped back, putting space between us. “Go on, baby. Enjoy your night.”

And with that, she turned and walked away, leaving me reeling.

Agatha appeared at my side almost immediately. “So... that looked intense.”

I took a deep breath, my heart racing. “I think I might be losing.”

And honestly? I didn’t want to play this game anymore.

Agatha grinned. “No, babe. You’re both losing.”

I groaned. “Great.”

I huffed, crossing my arms tightly over my chest as I watched Lilia disappear back into the crowd with that same frustrating grace she always carried. I turned to Agatha, my lips pursed in irritation. “You know what? I don’t want to do this matchmaking thing.”

Agatha, ever perceptive, didn’t even argue. She just sipped her drink and gave me a knowing nod. “Of course, no problem.”

I blinked. “Wait, seriously?”

She smirked, leaning against the bar. “I know when you’ve had enough, y/n. And right now, you look like you're two seconds away from murdering someone.”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair, suddenly feeling the weight of the evening pressing down on me. “Yeah, I think I just... I need to go home.”

Agatha nodded, patting my arm. “Good call. Go home, take a bubble bath, and—”

“Eat my feelings?”

Agatha grinned. “Exactly.”

I gave her a small smile, grateful she wasn’t pushing. “Thanks, Aggie.”

She winked. “Don’t worry, babe. We’ll gossip later.”

I nodded, weaving my way through the crowd, ignoring the curious glances and the lingering presence of Lilia somewhere in the room.

By the time I stepped outside, the cool night air hit my skin, and I let out a long breath. The tension that had been building inside me all evening eased slightly, but the frustration was still simmering beneath the surface.

Because despite everything, the flirting, the teasing, the stupid mixed signals, Lilia still managed to keep me at arm's length. And I was tired of playing the waiting game.

As I made my way home, heels clicking against the pavement, I couldn't help but feel like I had just walked away from a fight I wasn't even sure I wanted to win anymore.

I made it home, kicking off my heels the second I stepped through the door. The silence of my apartment felt jarring after the noise and chaos of the event, but it was exactly what I needed. No prying eyes, no teasing coven, and most importantly, no Lilia.

I sighed, rubbing my temples as I walked into the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water and downing it in one go. The adrenaline from earlier was fading, leaving me feeling tired, annoyed, and... a little disappointed.

The evening had started off fun, with the whole “make Lilia jealous” plan in full swing. But somewhere along the way, it had stopped being about teasing her and started feeling like something else. Something heavier.

I wanted her to chase me. I wanted her to want me.

But instead, she just kept pulling back, staying in that frustrating space of almost.

I flopped onto the couch, staring up at the ceiling, letting my thoughts spiral.

Maybe she really doesn’t feel the same way.

Maybe the age gap is too much for her.

Maybe I’m just a fun distraction to her.

I groaned, tossing a pillow over my face. “Ugh, stupid.”

Just as I was debating whether to text Agatha and unload my feelings, my phone buzzed against my thigh.

I grabbed it, half expecting it to be one of my friends checking in, but my breath caught when I saw the name on the screen.

Lilia.

I stared at it for a beat, my thumb hovering over the screen.

Was she going to scold me for leaving early? Check on me? Or just... toy with me some more?

Taking a deep breath, I swiped to answer. “Hello?”

There was a pause, then Lilia’s voice, soft and measured. “You left.”

I blinked, sitting up straighter. “Yeah, I did. I wasn’t feeling it anymore.”

Another pause. “I see.”

I rolled my eyes. “Did you call just to state the obvious, Lilia?”

She hummed, and I could practically hear the smirk in her voice. “Maybe.”

I rubbed my forehead. “Lilia.”

She sighed, and for a moment, I thought she might actually say something real. But then—

“I wanted to make sure you got home safely.”

My heart did that stupid little flutter thing, but I pushed it down, forcing a casual tone. “I’m fine. I always am.”

There was silence on the other end, and for a second, I thought maybe she’d hung up. But then—

“I shouldn’t have encouraged you to go,” she admitted quietly.

I swallowed, surprised by the sudden shift in her tone. “Why did you?”

She didn’t answer right away, and when she did, it was softer than I expected. “Because I wanted to see what you’d do.”

I clenched my jaw, feeling frustration bubble up again. “And? Did you enjoy the show?”

Lilia exhaled, something close to a chuckle, but there was an edge to it. “More than I should have.”

My grip tightened on the phone. “You’re infuriating, you know that?”

Another pause. “So I’ve been told.”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “Go to bed, Lilia.”

“You too, baby,” she murmured, and before I could come up with a snarky response, the call ended.

My heart pounding, frustration and something else, something deeper, swirling in my chest.

I stared at my phone for all of ten seconds before I muttered, "No, fuck this." Without thinking any further, I tapped Lilia’s number and called her back.

She answered almost immediately, her voice a little softer, maybe a little surprised. “y/n?”

“You’re confusing,” I blurted out, pacing back and forth in my living room, frustration bubbling over. “You are so confusing, Lilia.”

Silence.

I didn’t care, I was on a roll now. “You flirt with me, you pull away, you get all soft and caring, and then you act like none of it happened. And I keep trying to play it cool, keep waiting for you to make up your damn mind, but you never do.”

She didn’t say a word, and I wasn’t stopping.

“And fuck you and this whole age gap excuse, because that’s what it is now, Lilia. It’s an excuse. You keep telling yourself that’s the problem, but it’s not. You flirt with me, you want me, and then you shut me out like it never happened. I’m tired, Lilia. I’m so tired.”

I paused, breathing hard, and then it hit me. My eyes widened as I blurted, “And you never even gave me my underwear back!”

I was hysterical. 

I could hear Lilia inhale sharply on the other end, and for a second, I thought she might say something, anything. But all I got was silence.

And that silence was worse than if she’d yelled at me.

I swallowed hard, my anger deflating into something... heavier. More raw. My voice softened, and I rubbed a hand over my face. “I’m sorry,” I muttered, feeling the weight of it settle in my chest. “I shouldn’t be yelling at you.”

Still, she said nothing, and it was starting to hurt more than I thought it could.

I took a shaky breath. “I’m done, Lilia. I can’t take any more.” My throat tightened, and I blinked back the sting in my eyes. “It hurts too much.”

For a long moment, there was only the sound of my breathing and the faint static of the line. Then, finally, Lilia’s voice came through, so quiet I almost didn’t hear it.

“Y/n...”

I squeezed my eyes shut. “Don’t.”

Another pause. Then she sighed, long and slow, like she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. “I never meant to hurt you.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, well... you did.”

Silence again, and I could almost imagine her, standing in her shop, looking down at the floor with that troubled frown she always wore when she was thinking too hard.

After another beat, she said, “I—” but she cut herself off, like she couldn’t finish the sentence.

I shook my head, wiping at my eyes. “Lilia, I can’t do this anymore. Not unless you actually want me. Not unless you’re willing to admit it.”

There was a pause. Then, finally, so quietly it nearly shattered me, she said, “I do.”

I froze, my heart slamming in my chest. “What?”

“I do,” Lilia repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. “I just... I didn’t know how to.”

I swallowed hard, my chest tightening. “Then why are you pushing me away?”

There was a long silence before she finally admitted, “Because I’m scared.”

I felt something shift inside me, my anger melting into something softer. “Scared of what?”

Lilia sighed again, and this time, she sounded... tired. Vulnerable. “Of how much I want you.”

My lips parted, my throat suddenly dry. “Then stop running,” I said softly. “Please, Lilia. Just... stop.”

She was quiet for another long moment, and then— “Come over.”

My breath hitched. “What?”

“Come over,” she said again, a little stronger this time. “Now.”

I hesitated, my heart pounding. “Lilia, are you sure—”

“Yes,” she interrupted. “Please.”

And just like that, I didn’t even hesitate. I grabbed my coat, shoved my feet into my shoes, and bolted out the door, my heart pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat. The night air was cool against my skin, but I barely registered it, I was too focused on getting to Lilia.

The drive to her shop felt endless, every red light an eternity, every turn slower than I wanted. My fingers tapped anxiously against the wheel, my thoughts racing.

She admitted it.

She finally admitted it.

But what did that mean? What was waiting for me when I got there?

By the time I pulled up outside her shop, I was a mess of nerves, my stomach churning with anticipation and something I couldn’t quite name. I parked and sat there for a moment, gripping the steering wheel, trying to collect myself.

Come over, she’d said. Not “we need to talk,” not “I need to explain.” Just... come over.

I swallowed, took a deep breath, and stepped out of the car. The street was quiet this time of night, the shop windows dark except for the faint glow of a single light inside.

I knocked, and almost immediately, the door creaked open.

Lilia stood there, looking... different. Her usual confidence wasn’t as sharp around the edges tonight. Her hair was loose, curling naturally around her face, and she had changed into casual wear, soft sweater and leggings, barefoot.

Her dark eyes searched mine, and for a moment, neither of us said anything.

I exhaled shakily. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she replied softly, stepping aside to let me in.

The familiar scent of her shop, incense, old books, and something distinctly her washed over me as I walked inside. She closed the door behind me, and the quiet settled around us like a heavy weight.

I turned to face her, my heart still racing. “I meant what I said, Lilia. I can’t do this anymore if you don’t—”

“I know,” she interrupted, her voice thick with something I couldn’t quite place. “I know, baby.”

The sound of her calling me that made my knees weak.

I swallowed. “Then why—”

Lilia took a slow step forward, her eyes locked onto mine. “Because I’ve spent a long time being careful, y/n. Too careful.”

I didn’t move, didn’t speak. I just let her talk.

“I told myself I couldn’t do this,” she continued, her voice quiet but sure. “That you deserved someone... younger. Someone with fewer complications. Someone who wouldn’t keep you waiting.”

I blinked, my throat tightening. “Lilia...”

She stepped closer, and this time, she reached out, brushing her fingers lightly over my wrist. “But you’re right. The age gap, the excuses... they’re just that. Excuses.”

I felt something break inside me, my breath hitching. “Then stop making them.”

Lilia looked at me, really looked at me, and I could see the struggle in her eyes, the hesitation, the longing, the fear. But then, with a slow, deliberate movement, she cupped my face in her hands, her thumb grazing lightly over my cheek.

“I’m done,” she whispered. “No more excuses.”

I barely had time to react before she kissed me.

Soft at first, hesitant, but then I melted into it, my hands gripping her waist as I kissed her back with everything I’d been holding in for weeks, months.

Lilia pressed closer, her body warm against mine, and I felt her exhale shakily into my mouth, like she was finally letting go of all the barriers she’d built between us. Like she wanted this just as badly as I did.

I pulled back just enough to catch my breath, my forehead resting against hers. “Took you long enough,” I whispered, my lips curling into a smile.

Lilia chuckled, her fingers still ghosting over my jaw, thumb tracing my lower lip. “I know, baby. I know.”

And for the first time in weeks, I felt like I could finally breathe.

But Lilia barely gives me a second to recover before she’s grabbing my hand and pulling me through the shop, her grip firm, her steps hurried, almost reckless. I can barely keep up, my heart racing, my body already aching for her before we even make it to her bedroom.

And then I’m there, being pushed back onto the bed, the mattress bouncing beneath me as I look up at her, chest rising and falling rapidly.

She’s standing over me, eyes dark and burning with something dangerous, something I’ve been craving for so long. 

I moan, unabashedly, because fuck, she’s so hot.  The way she looks at me like she’s about to devour me whole, like she’s going to ruin me, like I’m something she’s been starving for.

And then she starts stripping, slowly, painfully slow, slowly, deliberately, eyes locked onto mine the entire time. Teasing me with every inch of skin she reveals. She peels her sweater over her head, her curls tumbling loose, and I watch, breathless, as she undoes the clasp of her bra with deliberate precision, letting it fall to the floor, her smirk growing the longer I stare. Her hands move lower, hooking into the waistband of her leggings, sliding them down her hips with an agonising pace. She steps out of them with ease. My pulse pounds in my ears as she takes her time, dragging it out, knowing exactly what she’s doing to me, letting the last of her clothes slip from her body until she’s completely bare, standing before me in nothing but those dark eyes and the wicked smirk playing on her lips, and I’m left staring, aching.  

I can’t take it.

I stand up, lurch forward, hands reaching for her, closing the space between us, my hands immediately on her body, kissing every inch of skin I can reach her collarbone, her shoulders, the curve of her neck. My hands roam over her bare back, pressing her closer, needing to feel her. My teeth scrape over the pulse hammering at her throat, and I hear her breath hitch.

Lilia moans, her fingers tangling in my hair, tugging me even closer, and I can feel the heat radiating off her. I trail kisses down, across her chest, down her stomach, dragging my nails lightly, down her ribs just to make her gasp, desperate to taste her, to make up for all the time we’ve wasted.

I want her. I want to wreck her, hear her fall apart beneath me.

But Lilia has other plans.

With a low growl, she shoves me back onto the bed, straddling me before I can even react. Her body pins mine against the mattress, a delicious weight that has me gasping. She tugs my dress up, her hands rough and impatient as she drags it over my head and tosses it aside. A shiver runs through me as her fingers hook into the waistband of my panties, and without thinking, my hips lift to help her slip them off.

And then she does the same to me. Lilia’s lips are everywhere, hot, demanding, claiming me in a way that’s anything but soft. It’s hard, it’s raw, it’s pent up tension that’s been building for weeks, and it’s so damn good, and I can feel it in every press of her teeth, every bite of her nails against my thighs.

She kisses me like she’s making up for lost time, her hands gripping my hips tightly, grinding down against me, slow and deliberate, teasing me with the friction, with enough force to leave bruises in the morning. My nails rake down her back, desperate, needy, and she loves it, moaning into my mouth as she deepens the kiss.

We don’t stop.

There’s no hesitation, no second guessing, just heat and need and the overwhelming feeling of finally having what we both wanted.

I gasp as Lilia's hands roam lower, her touch possessive, her mouth following her hands, unrelenting, claiming every inch of me. She grips my thighs, spreading me open, pressing teasing kisses along my inner thigh, slow, deliberate, making me squirm.

She pauses just above where I need her, her breath warm against me, teasing, torturous. And when she finally looks up at me, her lips just barely brushing my skin, her eyes are dark, lips slick, pupils blown wide with hunger. She smirks.

“Took me long enough, huh?” she murmurs against my skin.

I can’t even answer, just nod breathlessly.

Lilia’s mouth is on me before I can even process it, her hands pressing my thighs apart with a hunger that makes my head spin. She doesn’t tease. She doesn’t drag it out. She takes. 

She devours me like she’s starving, like she’s been holding back for too long and refuses to do it a second longer. Her tongue moves with precision, slow at first, savoring, before she licks deeper, pressing her mouth against me with a hunger that has my head spinning. She flicks her tongue, dragging it over me just right, and I sob, my body jerking beneath her. 

Her fingers slide through slick heat, teasing, testing, until—

I gasp, my back arching off the bed as she pushes in, stretching me, filling me in a way that has me gasping for air.

She’s ruthless, curling her fingers just right, stroking deep, pushing, pulling, setting a pace that leaves no room for mercy.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve been doing to me, baby?” she moans against me, the vibrations sending a shiver up my spine. Her fingers don’t slow, thrusting into me hard, fast, each stroke deliberate and punishing. “The things I’ve thought about... every time you walked into the shop in those little skirts, every time you teased me?”

I whimper, my hands clutching the sheets, head thrown back in pure bliss.

She bites the inside of my thigh, and I cry out. “Those panties you left behind,” she breathes, her voice thick with lust, “I couldn’t stop thinking about them. About you. About what it’d feel like to have you.”

A desperate moan rips from my throat, my body trembling under her touch. “Lilia... please.” My hips lifting, chasing her, needing more. She hums, low and indulgent, before finally sliding another finger inside me, stretching me open, pushing deeper, pressing her palm against me just enough to make me whine. My hands clutch at the sheets, my body burning, every nerve ending sparking.

“I should’ve done this sooner,” her tongue circling me in slow, teasing strokes, drawing me apart piece by piece. “Had you like this ages ago. Been wanting to hear these sounds from you for weeks”

Her fingers press against that perfect spot inside me, and I choke out a sob.

She licks deeper, pressing her tongue flat against me before sucking lightly, and I jerk, crying out.

“Want to hear you cum for me,” Lilia purrs, her voice dark and commanding,  before she sucks harder, her fingers thrusting into me faster, curling deep, coaxing me higher. “Come on, baby. Let me hear it.”

And I do.

The pleasure crashes through me like a tidal wave, my body shaking, moaning her name over and over as I fall apart beneath her touch. Lilia doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up until I’m completely wrecked, panting, and twitching from the aftershocks.

She finally pulls back, pressing a final, lingering kiss against me, her breath warm and heavy.

“Good girl,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to my stomach, her voice full of praise that makes me shiver all over again. “You did so well for me.”

I can barely respond, my limbs boneless, my mind hazy. But I know one thing for sure, I want more.

It takes me a moment to come back down, my body still trembling, my breaths ragged and uneven. Lilia watches me with dark, satisfied eyes, her smirk smug and dripping with confidence. Her fingers still teasing lazy circles on my thigh like she’s enjoying the way I twitch under her touch.

But I’m not done with her, not by a long shot.

Before she can even process it, I flip us over, pressing her into the mattress with a wicked grin. Her eyes widen, but there’s no surprise, just anticipation, hunger.

“Fuck.” The word comes out in a breath, barely a sound, but enough for her to hear.

She hums, amused, her nails skimming over my arms as if daring me to continue.

My fingers trail lower, slipping between her thighs, and I pause, my breath catching as I feel how absolutely soaked she is. The realisation sends a shiver through me, and I can’t help the smirk that tugs at my lips.

I pull back slightly, looking at her properly now, taking in the way her lips are parted, her pupils blown wide, her body already straining toward me.

“Oh,” I breathe, teasing my fingers against her, dragging them slowly to feel every bit of her need. “You don’t need any help, do you?”

Lilia’s breath hitches, her hips twitching beneath my touch, but she doesn’t answer, just watches me with dark, half-lidded eyes, her lips parted in anticipation. Fixes me with a look that makes my stomach flip.

It’s daring. A challenge. Like she’s waiting to see what I’ll do next.

“Fuck,” I say again, letting out another slow breath, pressing a little firmer, feeling how she responds so easily. “You really have been waiting for this,” I murmur, my voice dark, satisfied. “Haven’t you?”

She parts her lips to respond, but I don’t give her the chance.

I sink my fingers into her, slow at first, teasing, stretching her open, feeling the way her body clenches around me. 

And then I push in deeper, hard, and she gasps, her back arching, her fingers digging into my shoulders..

I don’t go slow. I don’t tease. I take her hard and rough, my fingers moving with purpose, curling inside her in a way that has her moaning instantly.

Lilia’s hands grasp at my shoulders, her nails scratching, dragging down my back, and I lower my mouth to her breasts, sucking one of her nipples between my lips. I swirl my tongue around it, biting down just enough to make her cry out, and it’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.

“Fuck, y/n,” she moans, her hips bucking up against my hand, her thighs trembling around me.

I smirk against her skin, flicking my tongue over the hardened peak before moving to the other, lavishing it with the same rough attention while my fingers pump into her relentlessly.

She’s so wet, so tight around my fingers, and it doesn’t take much before I feel her start to tighten around me, her walls fluttering, her breath coming out in broken gasps.

“So, you’ve been thinking about this for a while, huh?” I murmur against her chest, my voice dripping with satisfaction. “Thinking about how I’d feel inside you?”

She groans, her back arching as she gasps, “Yes... yes... fuck.”

I grin wickedly, increasing the pace, curling my fingers just right until she’s on the edge, her breath coming in short, desperate pants. “Come on, Lilia,” I whisper against her skin, sucking hard on her nipple as I thrust into her with delicious precision. 

“Let me hear you.”

And she does.

Lilia spasms around me, her moan breaking apart into something raw and desperate, her entire body trembling beneath me as she comes undone, gasping my name like it’s the only thing she knows.

I watch her fall apart, mesmerised, drinking in every twitch, every gasp, every sharp intake of breath, and it’s the most intoxicating thing I’ve ever seen. 

My fingers slow, riding out her high as I press soft kisses along her collarbone.

Her breathing is ragged, a deep flush crawling up her chest, sweat slicking her skin, and she lets out a soft, breathy laugh, pulling me against her, her fingers tangling in my hair. “I should hate how smug you look right now,” she murmurs, voice thick and shaky.

I smirk, kissing along her jaw. “You love it.”

She hums, her lips ghosting over my temple as her breath steadies, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on my back. 

After the intensity of it all, after the heat, the moans, and the desperate need finally sated, we collapse into the sheets, bodies still humming with the aftershocks.

Lilia sighs softly against my hair,  her arm draped lazily over my waist, her chest rising and falling steadily beneath me, and I feel her hand lazily tracing circles on my back. 

I shift slightly, my leg sliding between hers, my fingers still ghosting over her skin, unable to stop touching her even in the aftermath.

Her skin is warm, still damp from sweat, her breathing slow and steady.

“Comfortable?” she murmurs, voice low and raspy, and I can hear the lingering amusement in it.

I nuzzle against her neck, pressing a lazy kiss to her collarbone. “Very.” My voice is heavy with sleep, and I can feel the exhaustion creeping in, but I don’t want to move. “You?”

She hums, her lips pressing against my temple in a slow, lingering kiss. “Mm. I could get used to this.”

My heart stutters at that, but I don’t say anything, just smile against her skin, letting myself bask in the warmth of her.

Minutes pass, maybe hours, time feels irrelevant when I’m wrapped around her like this. Lilia strokes her fingers through my hair absentmindedly, and I can feel her breathing slowing, the tension that always seems to cling to her finally easing away.

I sigh, letting my eyes flutter shut, my body melting against hers. “Don’t retreat in the morning,” I mumble sleepily, barely coherent, but needing to say it.

She chuckles softly, the sound vibrating through me. “I won’t, baby.”

And that’s enough for me. With her promise lingering in the air between us, I drift off, feeling safe, sated, and completely tangled in her. Tangled in her warmth, in her scent, in the quiet hum of her presence.

[kensuio]

sugar daddy aventurine is head over heels smitten for you, always givin you whatever you wanted. a designer bag? what color? expensive jewelry? he’ll buy you the whole set. clothes? shoes? of course he had to have his princess look beautiful so everyone could see how good he took care of you. you were over-spoiled to say the least.

he couldn’t resist you. it wasn’t his fault he fell for you so fast. you were just too cute, so good, so caring. you needed someone to take care of you and he showed you he could be that man to you. after that, your relationship had changed from just purely financial to romantic.

he was weak when it came to you. you could’ve done something to get him upset and all you have to do is look into his eyes, pout that bottom lip out while apologizing and his eyes on you waver for just a second. the next his hand is at your neck, the other palming at the soft plush of your ass.

you were his lifeline. his last breath and the first thing he desired in the morning. he needed you and he couldn’t stand to see you give him anything but that pretty smile towards him with those stars of admiration in your eyes. fuck, how could he when you looked at him like he gave you the world? (even though he know he does!)

“i could never stay mad at you baby…” his hand grips at your ass, massaging the warm skin. “i just can’t, you know that.” honestly, it would’ve been better if you were wearing nothing at all because it barely covers anything anyway. you knew that these were his favorite on you, you put them on because of this fact.

his lips softly touch your forehead, “just promise not to do it again, yeah baby?” he asks you, grin as big as ever. he was always almost way too quick to forgive you. you bat your eyelashes up at him before nodding your head and smiling, “i promise daddy.”

his dick stiffens at that fucking word. daddy. he didn’t know he liked it until you called him it while his fingers were inside you. his body was hovered over yours as you sit below him legs spread open on display, like the prize you were. you couldn’t remember how long you were in the position. after one? two? thr—did it even matter anymore— orgasms?

your hands gripped onto his shirt, his lips kissing and sucking onto the side of your neck. he never had a problem pleasing you. he preferred it. he could just cum in his pants from seeing you lose yourself in pleasure. that was what sent him there every single fucking time.

his azure and violet eyes staring down at you intensely. “does it feel good? you want daddy to make you cum, don’t you?” he repeats after you, voice like music to you as his lips hover the shell of your ear. he didn’t know this was your thing, but he fucking loved it now that he knew it was.

you nod your head desperately, his voice deep yet filled with so much passion and endearment at your ear was enough to send you over the edge. it was enough to make your head spin and clench around his fingers. “y-yes daddy please .. s’good.” water begins to form at your waterline in pleasure and he chuckles at the sight of you coming undone in front of him.

“mhmm just let go for me pretty.. let daddy take care of everything for you.” he kisses just below your eyes as tears fall and his fingers curl inside you at an even faster rate. you knew aventurine would take care of you and make you feel good. he always does.

[starsforselene]

Pairing: Bang Chan x afab reader

Rating: explicit MDNI

Contains: fingering (f receiving) oral (f receiving) chatty Chan, masturbation (f) hot roommate walking in on you

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: You’ve had a crush on your roommate, Chan so long he’s part of your weekly self love sessions. However, this particular Sunday night, Chan comes home early and overhears you.

Note: it’s just a little self indulgent pointless smut.

—/

“God damn it,” you mutter between clenched teeth as your head hits your pillow.

You fling the now lifeless vibrator across your room where it lands in your dirty clothes pile; with a sigh you stare at the ceiling, the dull ache between your thighs almost mocking you. It’s Sunday night and normally the only time your roommate, Chan, is gone long enough for you to get some alone time in since he’s got his weekly boy’s night at his best friend’s place. As luck would have it you forgot to charge the damn thing after your last session.

Now, you’re laying in bed, half cocked and out of fun options. You could either suck it up and get ready for bed, or handle things…manually. The thought of facing Monday morning unsatisfied is not ideal so you figure it’s better to take care of things the old school way. Closing your eyes, your hand roams down your stomach towards your center, slipping between your folds to gather the slick that had collected from your earlier ministrations, swirling them around your still-swollen clit. You let out a low moan as pleasure starts to build back up, steady and warm in your core.

It’s not long before images start flooding your mind: long, strong hands roaming over your body; soft lips kissing their way through all of your sensitive spots. You gasp as pleasure thrums through your body; visions of dark hair tickling your thighs as a sly smile peeks up from between your legs. A low moan slips from between your lips along with a muttered name as your fingers circle your clit faster desperately wishing it was his mouth, his hands bringing you closer to edge.

“Fuck, Chan,” you whimper, fingers working your bundle of nerves as you picture his tongue there instead.

Your breath quickens as your release approaches, legs buzzing with pleasure that zig zags its way up to your belly where it coils tight. Chan floods your mind: his long fingers inside you, pumping in and out as his lips suck on your clit—things he’s never actually done but you’ve thought of more than you can count. Your hips buck as you approach your high, sheets slipping off into a heap at the foot of the bed.

“Hey, did you remember to put the stuff—Shit!” Chan closes the door as quickly as he opened it.

“Oh my God! Why didn’t you knock! Jesus, fuck—Chan! What the hell!” You shout as you scramble to cover yourself despite the damage being done. Your heart is thundering in your chest, hands shaking as you wrap the sheets around yourself.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t—I just thought that—“ Chan says from the other side of the door, voice filled with panic.

”You thought, what exactly? That you’d barge into my room?!” you shout back as you get up and walk across the room, opening the door to find him standing there, his back to you.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d be, uh, busy. I wasn’t sure if you had put the clothes in the dryer or if you needed me to do it.”

“You could’ve just looked in the washer? Why are you even home? I thought tonight was boys night?” you ask the back of his head.

“Oh, I didn’t think of that. Boys night was cut short, Han has an early meeting tomorrow. I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt…anything.”

“Turn around, Chan, I’m covered,” you huff as you lean against the doorway.

He obliges, face and ears red as he looks you directly in the eyes as if he’s willing the rest of you to not exist.

“Did you see anything?”

He swallows hard and you know right away that whatever comes out of his mouth is going to be a lie.

”I didn’t, I promise. I was in and out so fast I didn’t really see much.”

“Much or anything?”

“I didn’t see a lot…I promise. It was more what I—nothing.”

“Chan,” you say as he’s looking at the floorboards like they’re fascinating works of art. “It was more than what?”

“What I heard,” he admits, glancing up at you. “Or what I thought I heard! Maybe I misheard you or I made it up or something. Listen, I’m sorry. I’ll just go and we can forget this happened.”

He makes to leave but doesn’t, like he’s got something else to say. Your heart is hammering in your chest along with a thousand thoughts running through your mind.

“Just tell me. I don’t feel like tip toeing around this for days. It’s embarrassing enough you walked in on me masturbating. I don’t want a repeat of the time I caught you in the same position last year. We skirted around each other for weeks, it was beyond tedious.” The memory of that night fueled many Sunday sessions for you but he doesn’t need to know that.

Chan sighs in defeat and runs a hand through his hair as he glances up at you.

”I heard you moaning my name before I came in. At least I thought I did,” he says in a rush.

Your stomach drops down to your feet, heat rushing up your neck and into your face. Curiosity gets the better of you and you find yourself looking at Chan to gauge his reaction. He doesn’t look utterly disgusted, which takes you by surprise. Instead, he meets your gaze with his own, eyes darker than they were a minute ago, the connection sending heat through you. Your breath catches in your throat as you slowly realize that Chan looks the opposite of disgusted.

“Oh. Umm, well…”

“So did you?” he asks, eyes on yours still, slowly peeling away your resolve.

”I might…have…”

The air shifts between you like your admittance has opened a door that barely had hinges to begin with. Chan’s eyes alight with something you can’t quite place but it makes your core throb all the same.

“Why?”

The question catches you off guard and you straighten out of your haze.

“Why what?”

“Why were you moaning my name while you were touching yourself?” he asks as if he’s asking whether you want to make dinner or have take out.

You stare at him, unsure whether he actually wants an answer. He’s watching your face, almost like he wants to make sure he isn’t crossing any lines but also like he’s wanting to see if those lines can be erased instead. Your crush on your roommate is something you barely even acknowledge to yourself but right now, with the way he’s looking at you, it’s hard to think about much else other than your go-to fantasies of him and how they might become reality.

“I-uh-I- was thinking of you,” you say and immediately regret. Shit, why did you just—

“Do you think of me a lot when you do that?”

“Chan, I-“

”I think of you. I think of you a lot, actually,” he says quietly.

Your eyes meet again and that heat flares. You suck in a breath and sit on the edge of the bed, looking up at him. He looks less embarrassed than earlier, that line fully crossed now. He walks into the room and sits beside you, the heat from his body permeating through you.

“You…think of me?” you mutter as you fidget with the edge of the sheet, incredibly aware of how naked you are underneath.

Chan takes a deep breath, exhaling it slowly.

“Yeah, I do. Have for a while.”

A thrill runs down your spine, that familiar heat pulsating in your center. Chan thinks of you when he’s—you take a breath to push the thoughts away.

“I like that you think of me like that,” he adds softly.

You look back up at him and find molten fire in his eyes. It matches the fire burning inside you.

”What do you think of when you think of me?” The words escape you before you can even think of stopping yourself.

Chan smirks, like he knows he’s got you, turning to face you as his hand reaches up to cup your cheek. Your pulse quickens along with your breathing but you immediately want more. His thumb grazes your cheek, he leans in but stops short, as if waiting for you. All thoughts of hesitation leave you, a quick nod is all it takes before he’s bridging the gap between you. His lips are soft, tentative—at least until you kiss him back.

The moment the switch flips is almost tangible. Every glance, every accidental touch, every single time you thought of Chan in ways that you shouldn’t culminate in this moment where his lips are on yours and all you can think is more. You deepen the kiss with a moan, dizzy with this new feeling of having Chan’s lips on yours. His tongue explores your willing mouth, his hands moving down your arms and grabbing around your waist to pull you closer. You groan, his touch igniting small fires in its wake that burn brighter the more he touches you. His lips leave yours with no warning, breaking the kiss; it’s a bucket of ice water over you.

”Do you really wanna know what I think about?” he asks between panted breaths.

God, yes, you almost say but hesitate. You squeeze your thighs together to find reprieve for the ache that robs you of self control. His eyes never leave yours, pupils blown wide as he waits for your answer. The nagging curiosity wins over any doubt that might try and dissuade you; you need to know.

“Yeah, I do,” you whisper.

“Can I show you?”

You’re nodding before you can stop to think about it; all you know is that now that he’s touched you there’s no going back. Chan leans in, electricity sparking between your bodies the closer he gets, and he kisses you softly. His lips move slowly down your cheek, featherlight kisses that travel down your jaw towards your ear where he hovers, breath fanning over the soft shell of your ear.

“Lay back on the bed for me. Make sure you take that sheet off.”

Arousal rushes out of you at his words, a small whimper is your only response as you stand up and gingerly remove the sheet from around your body, exposing yourself to his hungry eyes. He takes in your naked form greedily, tongue darting out to wet his plush lips, an obvious bulge in his pants that makes you clench around nothing as you settle on the bed for him.

Chan stands at the end of the bed and looks at you, at first it’s full of desire but something clouds it. Your furrow your brow, panic rising in your chest. Maybe he’s changed his mind? Maybe it got weird? You know it should feel weird to you but it doesn’t, you’ve had feelings for Chan for far too long but maybe he doesn’t feel the same way? You reach for a blanket to cover up when he sighs.

”Are you having second thoughts? We can stop, you know. I understand if it’s weird,” he says.

Your chest feels light again, at least you’re on the same page—kind of.

”I’m not! I was worried you were having second thoughts—that maybe you didn’t like me like this and just got caught up or something.”

Chan chuckles and kneels on the bed between your legs, running his hands up your legs and settling them on your thighs, making you shiver. He licks his lips as his eyes roam down your body and settle on your face.

“I promise you that I’ve been fantasizing about this for far too long to have second thoughts,” he drawls with a half smile. He lifts your leg and slowly kisses his way up to your knee while his other hand spreads your leg to open you up for him. His eyes are obsidian, his want for you almost palpable. “Watch me baby, hmm?”

A pathetic whimper is all the response you can provide, body covered in goosebumps of anticipation as you watch Chan lower himself between your legs. He takes his time; kissing and caressing your thighs, slowly coming closer to the pulsating heat at your center. He bites and sucks the sensitive skin at the apex of your thighs and you gasp, fingers digging into the sheets when he quickly licks the pain away.

You feel the smirk against your skin as you hear his deep chuckle, it’s enough to make you dizzy with need. You’re about to beg for relief when he licks a broad stripe from your entrance up to your clit, moaning when he finally tastes you.

“Oh, fuck!” You cry out, shuddering as pleasure rocks through you, hands gripping his hair to keep yourself grounded.

Chan groans against you, tongue circling your clit just enough to make your hips buck up against his face; a silent, desperate plea for more. He doesn’t seem to take, taking his time licking and tasting every last bit of you, making his way back towards your entrance to dive his tongue inside enough to prolong the sweet torture only to stop and taste his way back up towards your throbbing clit. He licks and sucks on your clit until you’re a whiny, quivering mess; every nerve in your body buzzing with pleasure and desire.

“Chan,” you whimper between panted breaths as you lift your head to look at him.

You’re not sure what it is you’re asking for at this point but his dark eyes look up at you with molten desire in them as he smirks.

“I got you,” he purrs as he slowly inserts two fingers into your heat.

The deliciously slow stretch takes your breath away, your head falls back against the pillow as pleasure warms its way through your veins. How he knew what you needed before you did adds to the building tightness in your belly. He hums in approval as his fingers press against the sensitive spot inside you that makes you gasp and clench around his fingers, taking his time stroking it. You writhe on the mattress, Chan’s name falling from your lips with each pump of his fingers in and out of you, stars exploding behind your eyes with every drag of his fingers against your walls.

The heat builds in your belly, coiling tighter and tighter, making your toes curl and your eyes squeeze shut. Chan’s soft voice brings you even closer to the edge with each half moaned encouragement like he’s enjoying this just as much as you are. He presses his thumb against your bundle of nerves and the room spins, pleasure radiating through you and tears spring to your eyes; it’s too much but not enough.

“P-please, Chan,” you plead, voice barely a whisper, body wound tight.

He groans in response, fingers working you faster as his thumb flicks your clit. It doesn’t take much until the coil inside you breaks and you’re lost to the overwhelming release that crashes over you. Chan moans along with you, sending shocks of pleasure through you as he coaxes you through your high.

“Mmm, that’s my girl,” he chuckles darkly as he kisses your inner thigh.

A shiver runs down your spine as you start coming down, everything covered in a sweet haze that envelops you.

“That was…really something,” you breathe, covering your face with your hands.

“Better than what I imagined,” he responds as he kisses his way up your body until he’s settled between your legs.

He caresses your sensitive skin while placing soft kisses over your cheeks and eyelids, sweet nothings about how long he’s wanted you peppered in between.

“What now?” you whisper, a beat of uncertainty panging in your chest.

“We can figure that out in the morning. I’m tired,” Chan replies gruffly.

You giggle and roll your eyes, a smile settling on your lips. You’d argue but you’re tired and satisfied and his arms are way too inviting; you’re not too concerned with whatever comes next.

Knowing him, it’ll be the best thing that’s ever happened to you.

[a-small-safe-place]

His Haven Pt. 3

Part 1 Part 2

Homelander x Psychiatrist!Reader

Homelander had arrived at your office earlier than your usual meeting time. You had asked him to be there around an hour earlier than your scheduled session. He was putting on a fake smile; he was always good at that. Homelander thought he knew what was happening. You were dropping him as a client. You had to be. You had all but threatened it the last time he came to your house when he was desperate for someone to talk to or even just be around. When his reflection was saying things that were beyond harsh and his penthouse felt a little too empty. Even if you did drop him as a client, he didn’t plan on going anywhere, but it bothered him that you would have even tried.

Homelander stepped into the office without knocking, like he always did. He knew that bothered you, but he didn’t need to knock. It was obvious to him when someone else was in the room, and you would not be dumb enough to book someone over his time with you. He immediately noticed your heart beating faster and the stink of adrenaline all over your body. You were afraid. The smell of adrenaline was fresh, so that meant one thing: you were afraid of him.

Homelander took his seat across from you. You smiled a fake smile before asking, “How are you today?” He wanted to gripe about you, tell you that you had no reason to be afraid of him right now, tell you that even if you tried to drop him as a client, he wasn’t leaving. “Fine,” is all he says with an irritated tone. “What’s so important that I had to be here an hour before our meeting? You know I’m a busy man,” he scolds. Your heart rate spikes.

“Well, we’ve been having some issues with boundaries. Usually, I discuss these things in our first meeting, but since my contract with The Seven was a unique experience, I hadn’t bothered to have a boundaries talk with any of you, at least not an in-depth one.” After you finish talking, Homelander relaxes a bit. You weren’t trying to get rid of him. It was a relief. He figured since you were human; you probably didn’t notice the change in his demeanor, but in reality, it was a very noticeable change. He was like a feral cat finally calming down enough to eat or drink.

“Boundaries, boundaries, boundaries,” Homelander mocks a bit. “Is that all you doctors want to talk about? I thought you wanted to talk about me?”

“This is about you. It’s about both of us,” you counter. He stands back up and begins pacing a bit with his hands behind his back. “Look, we need to have boundaries. They are important. In our first session, I said that I am here for you, and I cannot be here for you if we have no boundaries. If these boundaries continue to be pressed, then I will recommend you to another psychiatrist, one that will be better suited to your needs.” It’s obvious this pisses him off enough that his mask drops. Homelander’s already thin lips flatten into a line of a scowl. At first, his eyes widen a bit, clearly shocked at your sudden assertiveness, but then narrowing somewhat out of anger. He is not looking at you. He’s looking in your direction but pointedly avoiding you or maybe looking through you. Homelander seems to be lost in thought or as if he has suddenly begun to disassociate.

“So you are dropping me?” he finally says. His voice is flat, and his eyes are somewhat glassy. “No. I am still your psychiatrist. We will just be working on our boundaries. It’s my fault. I should have discussed this with you the minute I realized we would be meeting regularly, and I should not have been so indulgent, but that stops now. We will both be good, okay? And you can continue to be my patient. But there will be no time for us outside of this office, and you will quit showing up at my house or following me home. I know you are lonely, but I cannot fill that loneliness as your psychiatrist. I can help you understand why you are having those feelings, but I cannot fix them.” You speak with a confidence that Homelander has never seen from you. He likes this attitude you have.

He ponders it for a moment before sitting back down. Homelander thinks he can make this work, for now. He will still get to see you and visit your house while you’re out. You’re still his. “Okay, I’ll behave,” Homelander says in a way that borders on pride and flirting. He feels somewhat proud of you for being so assertive with you, even if he’s not a huge fan of the outcome.

He knows you will come around eventually, and when you do, he will be waiting with a dinner reservation and the mirror on the ceiling of his bedroom freshly cleaned.

Tag list: @demodemo909 @misadventures0fdes

[clareguilty]

Ghost/Soap/Reader | Sex Pollen, Breeding kink

This fic was written for Kinktober 2024! Let me know what you think <3

Ghost/Soap/F!Reader | Sex Pollen, Breeding kink, strength kink, dacryphilia Rating: Explicit | WARNINGS: EXTREMELY DUBIOUS CONSENT Word Count: ~3400

The last thing you expected when you answered the knock on your office door was the sight of two uniformed soldiers, both broad enough to fill the entire doorway each, expressions grave. You ushered them inside your small, cluttered office tucked away in the biochemistry wing of the university building. Being the head of the pharmacology department did not come with a sprawling mahogany desk and glorious window views. You were lucky to have a desk and a window at all.

Still, you were the best in your field, and that had granted you tenure and funding to continue your research as well as a small team of graduate students and postdocs to boss around as you pleased.

One of the soldiers introduced himself as Captain Price, the other a corporal under his command. You cleared off space on your desk as the corporal opened a locked case and pulled out a laptop.

“Anything you are about to see is highly classified information,” the captain warned you. “Our intel pertains to ongoing operations to stop a dangerous organized terrorist group.”

You nodded along, but your focus was on the footage being played on the laptop. The drone shots and shaky handheld cameras, clips of lab workers handling samples while suited head to toe in protective equipment. There was footage of soldiers experiencing a variety of symptoms: aggression, paralysis, psychosis.

The corporal opened a file for you to scroll through. Pages and pages of reports.

“Biochemical weapons,” you murmured to yourself. “Inhalants?”

“Gas,” the captain confirmed. “Your security clearance is still in the system from your field work on that operation in Andorra. Our people are using your research as the blueprint.”

You were the leading expert on biochemical weaponry, much of your research was centered around synthesizing field antidotes. It had been a few years since you were last out in the field, taking samples from warzones and the sites of attacks.

“You need me out there?” You asked. But you already knew the answer. They wouldn’t be here in your office otherwise.

“You’ll be working with our top tactical operations team. The best men we’ve got. Whatever they’re making in these labs, we need to put a stop to it, and then we need to figure out how they’re doing it.”

You looked at the footage again - civilians this time - and felt your stomach turn at the sight.

“When’s the earliest we can leave?” You asked, closing the laptop to hide the horrifying images.

-

The body armor on your last field operation had been simple: a bullet proof vest with a mask and helmet. You had worn your civilian clothes and brought along everything else yourself.

“Alright, Dove, arms up,” the special forces sergeant, Soap, grinned as he dropped a heavy vest over your head. You dutifully raised your arms so he could fasten the tangle of buckles until you were secured.

“Thanks,” you glanced down at the overwhelming amount of gear that was now covering your front.

“You’ve got your radio,” he tapped the top left pocket, “Compass, shears, three mags of extra ammunition, scopes, batteries, and torch.” You watched him point out each item. “On your belt here you’ve got your pistol, knife, and canteen.”

Soap put his own gear on much faster than it had taken to kit you out. He carried even more equipment, but he somehow made it look easier.

You had been staying at the temporary base with Captain Price’s 141 task force for days now. Without access to quality lab equipment, you were working tirelessly to find answers about the biochemical weaponry using whatever was available. As impressive as your makeshift setup was, it wasn’t near precise or thorough enough to save lives.

It felt a little ridiculous. A researcher surrounded by a bunch of special forces giants. They were welcoming and friendly - except for the terrifying lieutenant with the skull mask, but you knew you were out of your depth surrounded by cases full of rifles and grenades. Sleeping on a cot and eating rations cooked off a gas burner.

Captain Price had done whatever he could to make you more comfortable. The encampment was a few secured buildings and several large tents. And while you were accustomed to the conditions after your previous field research, they had afforded you as much privacy as possible. 

Underneath the teasing and jokes, Soap was kind and friendly. He’d nicknamed you their ‘peace dove’ on the first day, and you hadn’t been able to shake the moniker since.

Even Lieutenant Ghost had been considerate as you tried to keep up with the heavy military jargon and unfamiliar protocols. He slipped you candy bars that were definitely against regulations and sat with you after the countless briefings to explain all of the commands that had flown over your head rapid-fire. He was still scary.

The last military squadron you had worked alongside had mostly ignored you, frustrated with your inexperience and occasionally downright cruel. They hadn’t respected your expertise or your research despite your attempts to explain how vital it was to their safety.

There was none of that here.

After several days of monitoring intel and surveillance, Price had finally made the call to infiltrate the terrorist labs. The only way to stop these weapons would be to secure the materials themselves.

Soap and Ghost were assigned to clear out any hostiles, and your mission was to gather anything in the labs that would help to stop production of the weapons and synthesize antidotes.

It was difficult to keep up with them as they closed in on the lab. You had been instructed to hang back a ways while they engaged, but even then you were struggling to match their pace.

You had never known anyone who could make an assault rifle look small until these men. Like they were holding a toy. Despite their size, both the sergeant and the lieutenant were exceptionally fast even with all their gear.

As you approached the location of the terrorists’ labs, Ghost signaled for all of you to halt. He grabbed you by the shoulders and pressed you into a crouch inside a copse of brush where you would be able to keep cover.

“Stay here. We’ll engage the hostiles and bring you in as soon as the site is secure,” he ordered.

Both he and Soap immediately made to move in, but you managed to catch Soap by the hand. “Be careful,” you warned. “We have no clue what kind of shit they’re cooking up in there.”

“Don’t worry, Dove. We’ll do just fine,” Soap promised with a grin.

And then they were gone.

The silence that filled in after their retreating boot steps was excruciating. The sharp cracks of gunfire that rang out in short bursts were somehow even worse. You couldn’t radio in without risking the operation - the noise could give away their position - so you were left waiting until Ghost signaled the all clear. As the minutes dragged on since the last round of shots, you prayed you wouldn’t have to fall back on your contingency extraction: if you didn’t hear from either Soap or Ghost after two hours, you were to make your way to a designated pickup spot.

Your radio crackled.

“You there, Dovie?” Soap’s voice came through. He sounded uninjured.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl.” That was Ghost this time. “We’ve eliminated all hostiles. Give us ten more minutes to secure the site, and then I’ll send Soap to come get you.”

“Copy that.” An unbelievable amount of tension seemed to melt out of you at that, and you let out a heavy sigh.

Not even a minute later you heard a distant bang. Not gunfire. A small explosion.

“Lieutenant?” You immediately called over the radio. “What was that?”

“Fucking hell!” Soap shouted. “The lab was rigged!”

“Lieutenant?” You were already pushing to your feet, rushing out of the safety of your cover and towards the labs.

“We tripped something,” Ghost finally responded. “They had canisters set to burst if the lab was tampered with.”

“You mean you got dosed?” Your fingers were numb with fear as you fumbled with your radio. “Are you experiencing any symptoms? I’m on my way now!”

The radio was silent for a few moments, but you were sprinting as fast as you could toward the site. If you could get there quick enough, maybe you could find an antidote somewhere in the labs. They wouldn’t know what to look for, but if you could find out what was in those canisters, surely you could fix this.

“Wait, Dovie,” Soap’s voice was rough, breathy. “Stay where you are. Don’t come near here.”

“I’m the only chance you have at finding an antidote,” you shouted into the radio.

“Hold your position. Do not approach. That is an order,” Ghost snarled, but you were already at the entrance, flying through the path of carnage Soap and Ghost had left. The satellite images in the briefing had given you a rough idea of where you needed to go, and the trail of bodies confirmed you were on the right track.

As you came up on the entrance to the labs, someone tackled you into the wall, pinning you in place. You screamed, but a gloved hand covered your mouth.

“It’s just me,” Soap assured you. “But you shouldn’t have run in here without your weapon drawn. Shouldn’t have come in here at all.” He pulled his hand away so you could gulp down a breath.

“Whatever you were hit with, they might have an antidote. If I can get to it before it’s too late-“

Soap cut you off. “You’re worse than me at following orders.”

”Let me go.” You tried to squirm out of his hold.

Soap made a choked off sound in your ear. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Fuck, I’m sorry. It’s the gas. I swear. We didn’t know the lab was rigged.”

“What the hell is going on?”

“Jesus, Dove, you have to forgive me. Promise? I can’t fight it.”

“Whatever it is, you’ll be okay. Just let me go, Soap.”

He was pinning you in place with his entire body weight, panting against the back of your neck as he easily kept you still despite your attempts to break free.

Thankfully, you heard the sound of heavy boots approaching. That had to be Ghost.

He rounded the corner and you cried out. “Lieutenant! Please, sir!”

Ghost snarled when he saw you trapped beneath Soap. He crossed the room in three easy strides and ripped the sergeant off of you. Soap hit the floor with a groan, and you tried to back away.

Except the Ghost was closing in on you, knife drawn. He cornered you easily, and the fear had you freezing in place. You weren't a trained soldier. You weren't equipped to handle these kinds of situations.

You flinched as Ghost grabbed for you, squeezing your eyes shut and preparing for the worst, but there wasn't any pain - just the sound of tearing fabric and the sensation of your body armor falling away to a heap on the floor.

“Gotta get these off you,” he growled, crowding even closer against you. His voice wasn’t nearly as rough or as breathless as Soap’s. When you finally worked up the courage to open your eyes, Ghost was leant over you with his face in your neck taking deep inhales. Was he… smelling you?

They’d both been dosed. You had never seen symptoms like these before, but it wasn’t a typical toxin. Surely you could find an antidote if they just let you go.

And then Soap was back, pawing at the space between your bodies. “Please, Ghost,” he was begging, “feels like I’m about to die. Fuck. Need it so bad.”

Ghost pulled away from your neck, reached out to grab Soap by the jaw, holding him still. There was a moment of quiet save for both yours and Soap’s panicked breathing. “Alright, Johnny.” He finally assented. “You gotta go easy, you hear? Don’t wanna break her.”

You didn’t like the sound of that one bit, but struggling was absolutely useless when Ghost was holding a knife. You knew what he was capable of.

It was too quick for you to even register. Soap was fast. He snatched the knife from Ghost and cut your clothes away, taking you down to the ground with some sort of wrestling maneuver you were never going to escape from.

“I’m so sorry, Dove,” Soap was apologizing again. “Can’t fucking help it.”

He shoved his own gloves and gear away, fumbling to open his trousers before freeing his cock. He was achingly hard, and dripping. He was also fucking huge. His eyes fluttered shut in relief as he wrapped his hands around the length and gave a few lazy strokes, but you weren’t naive enough to believe that would be all it took.

“Please,” you begged, tears streaming down your cheeks.

“Don’t fuss,” Soap placed a finger over your lips to quiet you, then he shoved it inside your mouth. You weren’t sure if biting him would end well for you. He grabbed your legs by the knees, raising your hips until your pussy was on display for him. “That’s a good girl.” He spit on his fingertips and began rubbing at your entrance, as if that would be enough lube.

He pressed two fingers inside of you, but you were so terrified that it didn’t feel right at all. It hurt. You screamed, and suddenly Ghost was there.

“This is the only way to help,” he said, and you noticed he had a silver canister in his hands. “I promise this will make it easier.”

You didn’t have enough time to react before he crushed the canister with just his gloved hands. A deafening hiss drowned out the sounds of your own sobs and your vision went white as the contents of the canister filled the air. You couldn’t hold your breath at all, not when you were sobbing with gasps of pain. The gas settled over your skin, inside your mouth and nose. You instinctively swiped your tongue against your teeth and cheeks. It tasted powdery and sour.

“Give her a second, Johnny,” Ghost ordered.

You were almost glad they had cut your clothes away because your skin was suddenly too warm. Too clammy. Your mouth went from bitter and dry to watering with saliva in a matter of seconds. Every sensation felt sharper, and the pain disappeared. Soap was just as warm where you were pressed against him, and his fingers inside you were now drenched in slick wetness.

How were they even able to think like this? They’d been dealing with these symptoms for longer than you and somehow still had control of themselves. You had been exposed to the gas for less than a minute and all rational thought had left you.

“That’s a good girl,” Ghost’s voice reached you through the drunken haze and you whined. “Spread yourself nice and open on Johnny’s fingers.”

Oh. You were fucking your hips against Soaps’ hand. He was watching the sight with his pupils blown wide as he pressed a third finger inside of you. The stretch felt amazing, but it wasn’t enough.

“Please,” you begged. “More. Please.”

Soap curled his fingers inside you and you cried out. He held your hips still with his free hand so he could fuck you harder on his fingers. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he had you gushing over his wrist in a matter of seconds.

“Gonna fuck you now.” He settled between your thighs. All you could do was beg because his finger hadn’t been enough. “Gonna breed you full, alright, Dove?”

“Yes. Yes, please,” you panted.

You would never have been able to take his cock if Ghost hadn’t dosed you with the gas. Even after the rough fingerfucking you still cried out at the stretch. But it didn’t hurt this time. You loved the way he filled you, the sensation of him sinking deeper inside.

He was too impatient at this point. Had been holding himself back for too long. The moment his cock bottomed out inside you it was like his final thread of control snapped. You were long past him, having never once stood a chance after Ghost crushed that canister.

“Jesus, Dove, you’re so tight. Feel so good on my cock,” Soap was panting against your skin as he fucked you. You were much less coherent beneath him, just a stream of sobbing and begging. You understood what Soap had said earlier: you felt like you were going to die if they didn’t fuck you. If they didn’t ruin you on their cocks. 

“I’m already close.”

You were surprised Soap had lasted this long, considering how quickly you had come on his fingers. It was definitely the toxins in your system, but you needed him to claim you. Needed to be bred full. You must have begged for it, because Soap was soothing you as he picked up the pace.

“You’re okay. I’m gonna give you what you need. Just take it like a good girl, right Dovie?”

He forced his cock as deep as he could when he came, rocking against your hips to make sure it would take. You could feel it, so hot and sticky inside you, dripping out around his cock as he rode out the aftershocks of his orgasm.

You barely had a moment to catch your breath before a huge shadow filled your vision. Ghost. He shoved Soap aside, taking in the sight of you beneath him.

“Johnny made a mess of you didn’t he?” A gloved hand trailed over your tear stained cheeks, through the string of drool hanging from your lips. He forced your thighs apart to see Soap’s come dripping out of your used pussy. “Look at you, pretty girl,” he teased.

“Please,” you whined. The strange panic was taking hold of you again. You were scared what would happen if Ghost didn’t fuck you. “Please, sir. I need it.”

“Jesus, fuck,” Ghost swore under his breath. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you. Should’ve known you wouldn’t be able to fight it off. Poor thing.”

He tossed his gloves aside, running warm, calloused hands over your sticky, sweaty skin. “I’m bigger than Johnny,” he warned. “But something tells me you’ll like that.”

All you could do was beg. How did Ghost have so much control? It was almost like he wasn’t affected at all.

He took mercy on you, dragging his cock against your pussy to slick the length of it before pressing inside. He was slower than Soap, more careful. And even under the effects of the gas, you needed it. Fuck. He was huge.

“You’re fucking noisy,” Ghost grumbled. And then there were two fingers pushing past your lips. You swirled your tongue around the digits to chase the salt and the sweat, and the relative quiet seemed to appease the lieutenant as he finally bottomed out inside you.

You had never been so full in your life, split open on the lieutenant’s cock like this. He groaned beneath the mask as he fucked you, rhythm faltering as you squeezed tight around his cock.

Even with his fingers in your mouth, you must have picked up your whining again because he leaned in to shush you. “Don’t worry, I’ll fill you up again. Breed you just like you need. We won’t let you go until you’re full of us.”

It should have sounded threatening, but all you could focus on was the promise that they would take care of you. That they would leave you dripping with their come.

The initial rush of the toxins had given way to a sort of timeless haze. You couldn’t focus on anything except the feeling of Ghost fucking you and his fingers in your mouth. It could have been hours. You just needed to be full.

“Here it comes, Little Dove,” Ghost warned you. “Better take every last drop.”

He pulled you so far onto his cock that a glance of pain managed to reach you in the haze, but it only left you craving more. You could feel his cock twitching inside you as he came, filling you even more than Soap had.

“Such a good girl.” He only pulled out after he was sure he had fucked his come into you as deep as possible. And when a few drops began to spill out, he swiped them up with the fingers he had just pulled from your mouth and forced them back inside your pussy again.

“Hey, LT,” Soap grinned where he was slowly stroking his cock. “Does this mean it’s my turn again?”

[cosyvelvetorchid]

Hi again, the buck 1.0 anon, 1st of allll loved it it was prefect! You’re the best! can you a continuance of sorts. Where Chim caught Tommy and buck again by accident. Maybe Maddie wants to surprise Buck with something and they let themselves into Bucks apartment and chimney has a ‘not again moment Maddie’s like ‘again?’

You ask and will receive 🩶

***

RATING: E

Buck slowly opened his eyes and stretched his body. He reached out to the other side of the bed to find it warm but empty. A little fizz of disappointment went through his at not waking up on his birthday so see his boyfriend.

He threw on some sweats and left for downstairs to see Tommy moving around the kitchen making breakfast. Well, brunch, really, given it was just after 11am.

He stopped at the bottom of the stairs to just watch Tommy. It had been almost 8 months and he’d been waiting for that giddy, honeymoon, oh my god I’m the luckiest man on earth feeling to go away, and yet it hadn’t dampened in the slightest. In fact it’d only become more heightened with each passing day.

He laughed to himself as he stood mesmerised by the tensing and twisting of Tommys back and shoulder muscles as he worked. Aside from checking out the occasional ass of a man previously, he was utterly clueless as to how he’d never noticed how gorgeous muscles were on man.

Or maybe it wasn’t muscles in general and it was Tommy’s specifically. It was Tommy’s masculinity that really did it for him. His sheer size, his strength, and god that cleft! The stubble, the size of his hands and that yeah that glorious cock that made him see god.

All of it—all of him —did it for Buck.

“It’s rude to stare, you know, even if it is your birthday.” Tommy turned around and Bucks heart, as it always did seeing Tommy, thrummed in his chest. He walked over and Tommy wrapped an arm around his neck, pulling him in and placing a kiss onto his forehead.

“Happy birthday sweetheart.”

“Thanks.” He smiled.

“What do you want to eat? Anything the birthday boy wants.” Tommy told him, wrapping his arms around his waist.

“Weren’t we supposed to go out for brunch?” Buck remembered the conversation they’d had a few days ago about his birthday.

“We were but I thought I’d let you sleep in after your shift. I figured we could go for dinner instead, if you’d like?”

“I would definitely like.” Buck smiled with a chaste kiss to Tommy’s lips.

“So, what would you like to eat now?”

Buck mouth curled into a smirk as his fingers grazed around the waistband of Tommy sweats.

“Really?” Tommy raised his brows. “Should it be the other way around given it is your birthday?”

Buck pulled Tommy’s sweats down without breaking eye contact with him and shook his head.

“Nope.”

Without hesitation he dropped to his knees and took Tommys already solid cock in his hand. Tommy leaned back, gripping the counter tightly as Buck took his swollen head into his mouth.

“Ah fuck!” Tommy breathed out. Buck gripped his cock near the base just tight enough and on the right side of pain as he slowly lowered his mouth down. Very quickly his cock was slick with a mixture of his pre come and Saliva.

Tommy couldn’t help but marvel at how far Buck has come giving him head. In the beginning he’d been tentative and with a sensitive gag reflex he’d have to use his hands in conjunction with his mouth. Tommy had slowly and methodically taught him how to deep throat and here he was now, on his knees on the kitchen floor with Tommys cock all the way down his throat. His eyes streamed still but there was no uncomfortable gagging.

It filled Tommy with immense pride at his Evan. Also, selfishly, he loved that he was Evan’s first experience at taking a cock. In every sense.

Buck began moving faster and Tommys hand instinctively reached out to grasp his hair. He pulled tightly, just enough to turn Buck on without causing pain.

“Jesus baby.. you’re so.. good to.. me..” he panted.

Buck hummed in response and the vibration shot Tommy closer to the edge. Buck reached around and grabbed Tommy’s ass cheeks hard, pulling him as far into his mouth as Tommy could go.

The sudden feeling sent Tommy into a tailspin.

He was so fucking close. The tears streaming from Bucks eyes, the glugging noises coming from his throat, the feel of his fingertips pressing hard into the flesh of his ass.. Tommy was almost there..

“Fuck Evan!”

**1 minute earlier**

“Are you sure he’s not home?” Chimney asked.

“Yes, Howie. I spoke with Tommy yesterday and he told me he was taking Buck to brunch.” Maddie reassured him. “So, we’re going to let ourselves in and leave him this beautiful cake for him to come home to as a nice surprise.”

“Hmm. I still don’t feel right about it. Something is telling me it’s not a good idea.” Chimney complained.

“It’ll be fine. Come on.”

They made their way into the building and up to Bucks apartment via the lift. Maddie stood back with the cake box in both hands so that Chimney could open that door.

He inserted the key and turned it.

“What’s that sound?” Maddie asked. But It was too late—Chim was already opening the door.

“OH GOOD GOD, AGAIN?!” He cried out and quickly turned around.

“What do you mean again—OH MY GOD!” Maddie screamed, dropping the cake box which hit the floor with a thud, as she caught the sight of her bother on her knees.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” It was Tommys turn to yell as he grabbed his sweats and quickly tried to pull them up.

“What the hell, Maddie?! Don’t you knock?!” Buck chastised her.

“I’m sorry! Im so so sorry!” She had her hand over her eyes.

“You can uncover your eyes, Maddie. What are you doing here?” Buck asked, annoyed.

“It’s your birthday—I wanted to surprise you with a cake. Tommy said he was talking you to brunch.”

“We, uh, changed our minds.” Tommy said, his cheeks still flushed with embarrassment.

“We can see that, Kinard. Along with other things we didn’t want to see.” Chimney added with a grimace.

“Not our fault you didn’t knock.” Buck told him.

“I swear to god if this happens again I’m gong to gouge my own eyes out.” Chimney said resolutely.

“I’m so sorry.” Maddie said again crouching down to pick up the cake box. She put it on the island and tentatively opened it. It was a 4 layer chocolate cake but now was a box full of chocolate mush. “We’ll just, uh, leave this here. It’s still edible so.. happy birthday. We’ll be, uh, going now.” She grabbed Chimneys arm and pulled him backwards towards the door. He narrowed his eyes and shook his head as he was dragged along.

Buck followed in the direction and closed the door. He turned and made eye contact with Tommy. It took about 3 seconds for them to burst into laughter

[kimberbohwrites]

As promised, the smuttiest chapter I have EVER written. Please enjoy. AKA the much anticipated, "Rolan in Rut" Chapter Hope for the Gate Chapter Three Word Count: 3,328 Rated: Explicit -- MDNI! You have been WARNED. READ ON AO3 (or continued below) <Chapters 1&2 Please don't forget to kudos/comment/like/reblog <3 Rolan x Tav art by @ ORANGEKITTYENERGY on tumblr

Summary: Eight months after the events of 'All I Wanted' (my first Rolan x Tav fic [see series]), Tav and Rolan’s relationship is tested by tragedy and turmoil. There will be drama, romance, political intrigue, action, and of course — smut. Is our favorite tiefling strong enough to handle it all and hold on to the girl? Tags/Warnings: Rolan, Tav. Post-Canon, Fluff and Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Porn with Feelings. Porn With Plot, Tiefling Biology, Tieflings, Rolan in Rut, Anti-Tiefling Racism, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Smut, Breeding Kink, Breeding, Knotting, Penis In Vagina Sex, Masturbation, Scent Kink, Oral Sex, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Sex, Shameless Smut, Creampie, Smutty

If Rolan had felt more himself, he might be embarrassed about how quickly his dignity was left behind. It is as if something breaks in him as the hours crawl toward the time when Tav and him had agreed to meet. It was agonizing. He’d been in rut before, but it had never felt so acute.

Even her scent left behind on his desk fuels the madness. He knows she’s busy getting ready for their unplanned holiday and he knows he mustn’t bother her. But the fever and aches were growing steadily worse with each passing hour. The only balm for him came in the form of his desk. As he resigned himself to finding relief, a hint of too-familiar shame rises in him but was quickly washed away in the tidal wave of need currently housed within him.

It wasn’t something he was proud of, but he’d grown desperate for her.

Resting his head down and his face flat on the desk he took a deep breath of her scent that still lingered on the wood. His cock grew achingly hard but the rest of him felt a sense of relief, like a cool breeze on sun-scorched skin, the pain remains but the relief is welcome. Taking another deep breath, he freed himself from his pants, taking his throbbing length in hand as he closed his eyes and conjured the image of his Tav.

Trying to bite his lips to contain the muffled groans proved of little use, his desperate pants and whines were still audible even with his face against the desk. He felt filthy, face pressed to his desk as he stroked his cock to her scent and his fever-fueled imagination. He wanted to find her right now and take her, against whatever surface of the Tower he found her nearest.

He needed to be inside her, to ruin her, to make her scream his name.

Stroking faster he felt the pressure build, the bulbous knot at the base of his length already forming. Gods he was desperate to knot her. He needed to feel her squeezing against him as he claimed her. His hips began to rut into his hand as he worked himself closer to the edge, wondering how she would feel stuffed with his knot.

His mouth had slackened as he got closer, now drooling onto his desk as he panted and moaned like nothing more than an animal. He needed Tav, alone. He needed to fuck and fill her and claim her as his mate. His imagination flashed with images of her beautiful core dripping with his spend and it propelled him over the edge. He came so hard he felt lucky he was already face down on his desk as his head reeled.

With each pulse of his cock, he let out a whine of relief as he coated the underside of the desk, his hand and his lap.

—*—*——*—*—

Rolan sat up with a start. His head felt fuzzy as he realized that he must have passed out at his desk. It couldn’t have been for too long judging on the state of things. With a mutter he cast a quick spell to clean up the mess around him. As he ran a hand through his sweaty hair, the other dropped into this lap and found himself still quite hard. He let out a groan of frustration. He’d expected the relief of such a carnal act to last longer but he had never experienced a rut so intense.

Quickly fixing his clothes and appearance with another simple spell (though even the little spells seemed to drain him in his current state) he stood from his desk. The effort making him reach out to the smooth surface for support. His head rushed as the room spun around him.

Zurgan, no more magic for right now. He thought to himself.

He needed to reach the portal room up in Ramazith Tower and meet Tav. He could barely hold himself upright in his current state of, desire. And using magic seemed to no longer be an option.

Looking down revealed the additional challenges of his situation. Though his clothes were clean and fresh once more, the obviousness of his arousal was quite clear to anyone who looked upon him.

Panic prickled at his forehead as his heart began to race. He chided himself, he was no better than a horny young man — it was humiliating. He was better than this. As his thoughts began to consume him threatening to take him to a dark place, a small knock sounded at the door.

“Rolan?”

Tav’s voice cut clear through the panic and right to him. Peeking her head in the door with a smile, she let herself the rest of the way in when she noticed him leaning against the desk for support.

“I thought you might not be feeling well.”

She bit her lip nervously as she approached. Rolan fought the urge to throw her down on the desk, rip off her clothes, and bury himself inside her.

“I think that’s a bit of an understatement actually”

He couldn’t help but sound tense when he answered.

“I thought that might be the case. I hope it’s okay, but I packed your things and have them upstairs and ready for you. The shop is closed, can I help you love?”

It came out in the next breath, before he even knew what he was saying.

“Marry me”

He felt his hand go to his mouth, but it was too late, even if he smothered himself right now the words had already escaped. Judging by the look of abject shock on her face, Tav had heard him quite clearly.

“Sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I said that.”

He quickly added and he heard Tav let out an uneasy breath.

“That’s okay, I know you’re not yourself right now… I was just surprised is all.”

She put a supportive arm around him as if to lead him upstairs but at her touch he jumped as if struck by lightning. He was barely holding on to the gentleman in him as his rut-addled brain screamed at him to mount her right there.

Her touch felt better than anything he’d felt in his life — so much so that he’d almost finished again on the spot.

“I think it’s best if I follow you”

“Right, sorry”

He could smell her arousal as she moved away from him, and he groaned before he could silence himself. Digging his clawed nails into his palms he said a silent prayer to any deity who might listen that he could just hold on a little longer.

He wanted to be gentle with her, she deserved romance but with each passing moment something wild grew stronger within him.

—*—*——*—*—

It had been a process making it upstairs, he’d needed to walk slowly. A combination of fever and arousal making the environment around him distorted and unfamiliar. Tav had been patient and kind of course, trying to keep ahead but always turning back to wait if he got too far behind. He began to feel uncomfortable in his clothing and not just because of his hardened cock pressed against his pants.

His tail swished behind him trying to keep him balanced as he followed her upstairs.

More than once, he found himself wanting to give up. The feeling of too uncomfortable to move almost overwhelming him, but when he saw Tav ahead he would find another spark of energy to keep moving.

Finally, they reached the upstairs of the tower and the room that used to house Lorroakan’s hideous book throne. He’d been as good as his word and the throne had been disassembled and organized back onto bookshelves first when he’d become Master of the Tower.

Knowledge was not a throne to horde and covet, he thought to himself angrily.

The grand space now served as the main library and the home of the permanent portals he’d been working on since Tav had come to stay. Currently only the portal to her home was functional, though he was almost finished with the one to Waterdeep.

When he crossed the threshold into the room, he found her leaning against a desk. Nearby was stacked luggage for both of them. He was immensely grateful for her, he’d focused so much on making sure the Sundries was ready that he forgotten to pack himself.

However, he was unable to voice any of these thoughts at current, his mind simply latched on to her form on the desk.

It was strange, but he was almost grateful for the crippling fever because he wasn’t able to feel his usual sense of anxiety. In truth, Rolan had panicked the several times he’d accidentally thought about what this experience might be like with Tav. He’d always been sensitive about his more infernal attributes even though she’d shown time and time again that she loved each part of him.

Some small part of him still believed it was a trick. Being reduced before her to his most base and primal instincts was something that had long worried him, but now that it was happening, he couldn’t be bothered to care.

The only thing he could feel was need. He couldn’t wait any longer. Not when she was a few steps away, so beautiful and all his. His intentions must have been clear on his face because she turned to him with a coy smile.

“Rolan, we’re almost there”

While his mind attempted to clear the dirty thoughts and take control once more, his body takes a step toward her as if acting on its own. Almost like he’s being pulled toward her by an outside force and that he can no longer resist. Truthfully, he doesn’t want to resist it. Tav makes no attempt to move away, looking up at him as he moved closer with her big beautiful green eyes. Her chest rises and falls gracefully with anticipation. Rolan forgets to breathe when his eyes meet hers.

The last shred of his control is ripped away when she nervously bites her bottom lip again. He’s on her in an instant, his tail coiling around her back to pull her in even though there is no closeness that will be close enough ease the way he burns for her.

“Need you, please”

His words are moaned into her lips between hot, desperate kisses that begin to drag south down her jaw.

“Rolan”

“Please, let me have you, I’ll try to be gentle”

He whines the request as he sucks and licks at the spot where her shoulder and neck meet, feeling elated as her body shivers against his.

“Yes, gods Rolan, yes”

Tav pulls him back to her lips and kisses him hard. His hands reach out to hastily strip her of her clothing. Their kisses turn frantic, teeth and lips against one another as he finally divests them both of their clothes. Certain he’d probably tore his own robe a little in his rush but too desperate to care, he kicks the last of it away.

He pushes gently to lay back on the table, uncaring for the bottles and potion equipment rattling around as he positioned her perfectly and dropped to his knees. His tail latched around one of her ankles as his hands spread her dripping cunt open before him, his body now driven near-feral at the smell of her need.

His tongue is inside her pushing as deep into her and licking against the sweet spot inside her like candy. Her screams and squeals of excitement, her taste, has his cock dripping onto the floor beneath him. With a groan he realizes that before too long the knot at his base will swell. He needs to be inside her before that happens, but he is unwilling to take her without the proper preparation.

Excited at a challenge, he decides to finish her and quickly. Flattening his tongue out inside her to press against her walls, he traces the pads of his point and middle finger over her clit. He carefully avoids his claws in that sensitive area with what little thoughts his brain is still capable of making. The effect is immediate as her abs tense, her thighs tremble and he is just able to push her to her bliss before she bucks out of his grasp completely.

 When she finishes on his tongue and face it’s his name on her lips, screamed until she runs out of air and gasps for breath.

Her taste satisfies the itch and the fever somewhat, but it’s not enough. He barely waits for her to recover, now wild with lust he stands and flips her over on the table. Tav is now chest down on the surface, holding herself up by her tiptoes as she is bent over by him. Bottles tip and clatter to the floor, the sounds of breaking glass barely permeate his brain as her dripping cunt is exposed to him.

“Please Rolan, please”

She begs and mewls softly at him as he leaves wet kisses down her spine, tracing his tongue every few inches against the hot skin.

“Since you asked so nicely”

He groans it out as he straightens and grips his cock, running it up and down her dripping center to coat himself with her slick. 

“Tav… are you sure? This might… hurt or you could get… get pregnant”

He whispers and whimpers his concerns as he readies himself. Desperate as he is to be inside her, he needs to be sure that she wants this… wants him.

She turns her head slightly to see him from her periphery though she’s still bent over the table.

“Rolan…  I want you”

He can tell just from the glint of her green eyes that she has more to say but the moment is wrong. As much as he’d hang on her every word, he is grateful as he pushes into her with a desperate whine.

“Tav… fuck… You feel…”

The sentence goes unfinished as control slips from his grasp. His hips rut wildly against her backside as he bottoms out in her. The slight swelling at the base of his cock already has her squirming and his tail coils around one of her legs to keep her steady.

His clawed fingertips lightly mar the smooth surface of her skin as he clutches her hips and pulls her back onto his cock with each thrust. At first he’s not even aware of the stream of filth leaving his mouth until he feels Tav clench harder around his cock as his words grow obscener.

“Fuck, you feel so good around my cock. Going to knot you and stuff you and fill you.” He groans and another whine follows on its heels as his thrusts grow more desperate, “breed you all night and put a baby in you.”

She clenches and cums, squeezing him like a vice as she squirts and drenches him. His thrusts grow faster, harder at the feeling as he fucks her through her orgasm.

Her hands shoot out to grab the table edges for support, sending more supplies and glass crashing to the ground. It goes unnoticed as she gasps and chants his name like a prayer. When she feels his growing knot begin to slow his movements, she is only able to scream as her eyes roll back into her head and she finishes on his cock for a second time.

He’s so close now, desperate for release his thrusts growing shallower as his knot begins to hold him inside her.

“Mine, mine, mine, mine”

He’s unaware of how he chants the word with each shallow, desperate stroke inside her. Tears form in his eyes at the sensation, how she squeezes his fat knot as he frantically grinds into her. Her free leg, the one his tail isn’t wrapped around, kicks out and her toes curl. Though he’s barely aware, Rolan is grateful Tav is enjoying herself as well.

When he cums, its with a shout and a gasp as he unleashes pulse after pulse inside of her. Tears run down his face, whining at how good it feels, the relief of mating almost immediate. The sensations push Tav over the edge with his a final time as she barks out his name.

“Rolan, fuck!”

He rests his sweaty head against her back and kisses her skin softly a contrast to the brutal fucking he’d just given her. She murmurs in gratitude. His body lurches and shakes as his cock throbs within her, still releasing pulses of spend deep within her.

“How long are we…”

“It should go down within the half hour, but I can’t be sure I’ve never done this with anyone… never felt like this before.”

“I love you too, Rolan”

“You should rest”

“Gonna close my eyes”

She whispers already sound sleepy and he can hear her start to drift off, exhausted from the day of packing and helping him. His heart lurches in his chest as he gently leaves more kisses on her back, softly rubbing her shoulders to soothe her as she slipped off.

“I love you more, Tav”

He whispers it to her, unsure if she’s still awake enough to be able to remember he’s said it when she wakes. That’s okay because he plans to tell her a hundred times when she wakes again and a hundred more after that.

As the fever clears, the short window of relief allowing his other senses to function he takes stock of the room around him. Broken glass and scattered potion reagents clutter the floor around them, he knows he should feel bad about the mess he’s made.

Instead, when he sees Tav beneath him his heart swells, the situation they find themselves in is overtly sexual but all he and think of is how much he loves the freshly fucked woman currently asleep on the table. He’s glad she’s resting; he intends to spend the days that follow making her scream his name until her voice gives out.

But he’s also grateful she can’t see the tears that run down his face as he worships her sleeping form, gently stroking her skin and leaving light kisses in the wake of his fingertips. This woman, this beautiful, fearless, frustrating woman had become the most important thing in his life so quickly. It scared him sometimes.

—*—*——*—*—

Downstairs many floors and streets away, and blissfully unaware Cal strode toward the Tower after visiting Lia at the Forge of the Nine. As he rounded the corner he collided with a small figure, sending them sprawling onto the cobblestones.

“I’m SO sorry! I need to pay more attention!” He began to stutter out as he lurched forward to help the figure from the ground.

“Oh, clumsy me — I didn’t see you there”

As Cal reached out to take their hand and stand them up he gasped in surprise.

“Wait, you’re…”

“Fancy bumping into you here!” The monk that Cal had met that very morning said with a smile. The half-elf woman was breathtaking, soft, sweet, and almost delicate looking.

“How…”

Cal gaped as he aided the beautiful woman to her feet.

“My name is Venetia”

“…Cal! My name is Cal!” He awkwardly laughed out as remembered his name at the last second.

“Where were you headed Cal?”

Her voice sounded so sweet and when Cal looked in her eyes, her eyelashes fluttered hypnotically. He swooned at the sight; smitten the instant they’d made eye contact.

“Home”

He pointed to the looming Tower on the skyline. Venetia’s eyes seemed to light up, Cal’s heart raced at the sight.

“Can I walk with you?”

She asked it so nervously, so sweet and shy that Cal immediately said yes without further consideration.

“Of course!”

She fell in beside him, pressing close as they turned toward the Tower and fell into easy conversation.

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