#the queue from halfway down

[dawsonscreekwasalwaysbad]

bojack: and it ends with a three? talk about an anticlimax! what kind of phone number ends with a three?

me:

[swordsandholly]

Treat Me Gently (Because No One Else Will)

Ch 2: Johnny, Johnny, Johnny

Next | Masterlist | Ao3

Ghoap x Reader | MDNI 18+ | cw: low self image, oral (male & female receiving), fingering

“Merry Christmas, happy birthday.” You sigh, flopping your routine test results on your kotatsu table. It’s nearly time to get out the heating blanket - your favorite time of year. The leaves have just begun or change. A chill wind batters at your windows right on queue.

Simon sits spread out on your couch, practically covering the damn thing. His own results lay neatly beside yours for you to check. At this point you trust him enough that it’s more a formality than anything, but if you even thought about not looking Simon would put you on sex probation for sure.

He looks more tired than usual, you realize as you take him in. The circles under his eyes are darker than what he normally comes home with - more still-healing scratches and bruises litter his arms than you’re used to seeing.

“Fuckin’ beat.” He mutters, bending to give your papers a cursory glance. He reaches out after, grabbing onto the pocket of your hoodie to pull you into his lap.

“Poor thing.” You coo sympathetically, leaning to nip at his clipped ear. “How about I help with that?”

“’ave somethin’ in mind?” He murmurs - there’s a gravel in his voice that he only ever gets when he is truly exhausted. You slip down off his thigh and pull out one of the sitting cushions from under the table, kneeling on it between Simon’s spread legs. He cocks a brow, pretending not to know exactly what you’re doing despite the fact that you can already see him hardening in his sweatpants.

You run your open hands from his knees to hips, then back down, repeating the motion a few times. The material is soft under your palms. Warm, too, from Simon’s seemingly always extra heated skin. It’s always so lovely during the cool months to have a personal heater - it even comes with a nice cock. You have to stifle your snickering at the thought.

“Y’want somethin’?” Simon tilts his head, resting it on his hand with his elbow braced on the back of your rickety old couch.

You grin, attempting at a coy expression and achieving with absolutely no subtlety. Flirting was never your strong suit - you’re much better at jumping right in. You let your hands wander higher, over his hips, under his shirt to his waist. Coming back down, you hook your fingers in his waistband only to pause, glancing up at him for permission.

Simon nods, eyes alight but still obviously worn out. That’s okay, you don’t mind doing the work today. You take your time, running a hand over him through his pants while nudging at the waistband. Simon huffs in the way that tells you to get on with it. You hook both hands in, timing it with the lift of his hips to pull them halfway down his thighs. Really, you’d rather take them off entirely, but you know Simon’s limits. It’s easier said than done to pretend not to notice the large, ugly bruise on his hip.

You take his hardening length in your hand, giving it a few leisurely pumps. You like it better when he’s like this - pretty, untrimmed curls of blonde framing his equally pretty cock. Not that you’d tell him that. It’s his decision to do as he pleases.

You lick a long stripe from root to tip, earning a shuttering sigh as Simon’s eyes slip closed. You can’t help but hum happily as you take him into your mouth - that familiar, pleasant weight on your tongue. It’s impossible for you to take all of him, your hand working what you can’t fit in your mouth. That familiar mix of his musk and fresh scented soap hits your nose and your own eyes flutter shut as you take him.

Simon’s hand comes to rest on the back of your head. He doesn’t apply pressure, there’s no forcefulness, just a gentle hold. A steadiness that he somehow always manages to embody. His pants and quiet groans fuel you to take him as deep as you can. A low moan passes his lips when you lightly cup his balls, giving them a gentle tug. His hips begin to rock forward to meet your rhythm. Those desperate little sounds he makes pool in your core - each one their own reward.

“G-gonna-fuck-” Simon grunts a broken warning.

You take him as deep as possible as he cums down your throat. The hand on your head holds you in place as he works through it, hips twitching and brows furrowed. You lap at the tip, cleaning off the last beads of cum until he sucks in a harsh breath - the signal that it’s crossed into too much. Simon lazily pulls his bottoms back up. His shoulders relax finally, melting fully into the couch with his head still propped on his hand. You have a feeling that’s the only reason it’s still upright.

“Come up ‘ere.” He sighs, lids heavy and words slurred. The hand on your head relaxes, mimicking a lazy, petting motion over your hair.

You shake your head. “I’m fine.”

He frowns slightly. “Don’t want me t’return the favor?”

“I just wanted to welcome you back with something nice.” You smile. “Plus, you’re tired.”

“Who says I’m tired?”

“You. Literally, like, a few minutes ago.” You scoff, leaning your cheek on his thigh. Really, you’re perfectly content here - tracing light circles on his thigh and basking in the physical touch you’d been missing. Warm and comfortable. Your eyes slip shut, the hand stroking your hair eventually goes limp and falls to the wayside. A smile splits your lips at Simon’s light snoring.

He’s so predictable.

You grab your laptop, busying yourself with quietly typing and checking off a few emails while Simon snores away. He might have a little crick in his neck based on the way his head leans forward but you figure it’s better than waking him. You won’t be able to convince him to sleep twice. He’s probably slept in worse positions anyway.

There’s something that feels oddly right about moments like these - you, working at your little table between Simon’s legs while he naps on the couch. It’s where you’re supposed to be. Not always, both of you can come and go, and not necessarily directly touching, but within each others orbit. There’s something about knowing he’s there, even if you can’t see or feel him that makes you warm. Like a nice cup of tea during a heavy storm.

It’s safe here. It’s safe with Simon.

***

The groceries in your arms teeter, the buy one get one bottles of wine clink against each other in your reusable shopping back as you fight with your old deadbolt lock. You really should get your landlord to replace it, but he never answers his damn phone. At least he keeps the rent cheap in exchange for the shitty building quirks.

You check your voice mail - the physical one that you keep on hand only for Official Business - pressing the button on the answering machine as you begin putting away and organizing your groceries for the next couple weeks. You grabbed Simon some of those weird, rarely in stock, off-brand bon bons he loves. He says they have a better texture than the name brand. They just make your teeth hurt they’re so sweet. The voicemails filter through, nothing. Your agent wants to check up on your progress. Your water bill is due. You get a reminder for your appointment at the nail salon.

Your heart sinks when that honey-sweet voice of your lawyer drips through the phone.

“Hey, hun, so… unfortunately I have bad news.” Your blood curdles, back stiffening as you freeze in place. “It looks like we’re not gonna get the easy way out. Matthias officially contested - we’re going to have to go to court-“

You don’t catch the rest of her voicemail. It blurs into the background. Your ears ring, louder, louder, louder, louder.

Your hands shake around the bag of food still in them. If it weren’t already propped on the counter it would have fallen to the floor. It feels far away, as if there are miles between the things in front of you and yourself.

Your breath catches. It stings - every inhale and exhale more labored and shallow than the last. You’re choking on nothing. You can’t get any air - your vision turning to pinpricks. One hand braces you on the counter, the other resting on your throat as you lean, knees weak. You can’t see him. You can’t. The image of his face, dressed in one of his name brand suits, and his family glaring at you from the other side of the courtroom behind him twists in your mind. Hell beg you. He’ll beg and plead and promise things that won’t fix it - won’t fix you.

You’re hot, you’re suffocating. Each breath wheezes in and out.

In.

They hate you.

Out.

They have every right to hate you.

In.

You can’t see him.

In.

Them. Anyone. You can’t-

Please just breathe in!

Your phone dings - Simon’s assigned two toned chime.

S >> Dinner?

S >> I’ve got steak

The ringing in your ears clears to a low thrum. You take a long, deep breath finally. The numb tingling in your hands slowly dissipates. The shaking doesn’t. It takes far too long for you to get the texts written out.

>> I'll bring wine

You run your fingers through your hair, attempting to fix what doesn’t need fixing. You look the same as always, if not a little more hollow. It only feels like it needs to be fixed. You feel frazzled - thread bare. Too exposed and raw, standing out in the hallway that seems far too long in both directions.

Simon will fix it.

If he notices you’re more quiet than usual, he doesn’t say. He’s probably happy for the silence, if anything. Your chattering voice can’t be that pleasant - going on and on about absolutely nothing. Teasing and picking for no reason other than your own entertainment. How the hell does he put up with you?

The food helps. It fills you, makes you whole. The weight of it makes this moment real as you help Simon clean up. As usual, he washes and you dry. He laughs at some offhand joke you make - splashes you with water from the sink and you can’t help but shriek and laugh along with him. The wine makes your muscles lax and your mind slow. It’s good. This is good. This is fixing it. For now, at least.

That’s all you need: for now.

“How was Mexico?” You ask, sinking into your side of the couch. “Didn’t get to ask earlier…”

Simon sighs heavily. “Absolute shite… mostly.”

“Mostly?”

“’ad a good battle buddy.” He hums, staring out the window for a few beats, as if he forgot you were there. Those dark eyes soften as a gentle smile graces his lips - warm and molten.

You break out in an impish grin. “What’s that face?”

“What face?” Simon turns to meet your eye, returning to his usual stony neutrality.

You squint, eyes flicking between his, grin only growing wider. “Oh, you totally fucked.”

Simon splutters, stuttering over denials and dismissals - because that’s preposterous and completely out of character - before he finally submits. It never takes long, just an unending stare until he gets around to it. It’s not like you have room to judge.

You push your socked feet into the side of his thigh. “Sooooo, what’s their name?”

He looks off to the side, pretending to eye his wine glass. “Soap.”

You bark out a laugh, slapping your hand over your lips to stifle the sound. “Don’t tell me that’s their real name.”

“It’s Joh- I call him Johnny.” Simon twiddles his thumbs, shifting slightly. He’s mentioned a Johnny before, you think, albeit briefly. Said he was annoying but competent. There’s a new gleam in his eye, now. You see it. You’re not even sure if he knows yet, but you do. You’ve seen it time and time again.

You hum and swing a leg over his lap, settling your weight on his thighs. His hair is soft as you run your fingers over it - freshly buzzed and fuzzy.

“Tell me about your Johnny.”

“He’s not my Johnny.” Simon huffs.

You smile. He will be. There’s no one on this planet that can resist those big brown eyes and their pretty blonde lashes - even if nothing comes of it long term.

“Still. I’m curious.”

“‘e’s Scottish.” Simon shrugs. “‘e draws.”

“That’s all?”

“‘e’s funny.”

“With your sense of humor, I find that questionable.”

Simon chuckles, broad shoulders shaking slightly. He pulls gently on a piece of your hair, toying with it. “‘e ‘as pretty eyes…”

You cock your head like a bird observing some newly discovered, shiny treasure. This stage always interests you. The yearning, the fluttering. The crush of it all, so to speak. Sometimes you wish you had a way to quantify it - like a heart monitor or blood work or something. It looks good on Simon; the light flush of his cheeks and the slight quirk of his lips.

Matthias used to look at you like that. Your gut churns, throat constricting, and you swallow roughly.

“Good for you, Si.” You murmur.

He scoffs, shaking his head. “Shouldn’t be talkin’ about work so much. Makin’ me neglect the beautiful woman in my lap.”

“Beautiful?” You laugh, cheeks hot as you roll your eyes dramatically.

“Fit?”

“Meh.”

“Sexy?”

“Blah.”

“Stunnin’?”

You lightly smack his shoulder. “Shut up and fuck me, Riley.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He grins. A strong arm wraps around your waist, kneading at your ass before drifting lower, pressing against your sex through your leggings and underwear.

The name Johnny rings in your mind as Simon’s arms envelop you. When did it happen? Where? Their living quarters? Out in some godforsaken tent in the middle of nowhere? That sounds more like Simon. All tense and wound up, heavy hands and low groans. It’s probably wrong to imagine a stranger like that. You wonder what he looks like. Could be anything, Simon isn’t exactly picky (he’s with you, after all). Does Johnny know how Simon feels? Does he feel the same? How would he know? You’ve never been sure how people figure that out. You’ve always just waited to be told and gone along with it - is that how it works for everyone? Surely not. That can’t be how it works for Simon. He’d never just go along - never let someone else just roll with it either. He demands enthusiasm, in his own way.

“Y’with me?” Simon rumbles in your ear. You hadn’t realized his hand stopped moving.

“O-oh, yeah. Just got a little lost in my head.” You murmur.

He hums. “Everythin’ okay?”

“Yeah, just… y’know how I get.”

“You’ve been spacey t’night.” So he did notice. Simon presses his cheek to yours. “Somethin’ goin’ on?”

You chew your lip. You’re a terrible liar - you can’t say no outright. You don’t need to dump on Simon, though. Your problems are minuscule compared to even his day to day ones. An inconvenience at most. Besides, that’s not what he has you here for. He’s not here to listen.

Instead you repeat, quieter but with a smile, “Just fuck me. Please.”

Simon moves slower now, as if you somehow became more fragile in a few mere seconds. He lays you back on the couch, kissing down your body while pushing your shirt up and out of the way. You squeeze your eyes shut, forcing your mind to stay in the moment. You’re in Simon’s apartment, on his couch, with his grounding weight above you. It’s the usual song and dance - gentle movements with breaks for permission. Sometimes you think the checks are more for him; for his own piece of mind in continuing. You still revel in the care behind them.

Simon eats pussy like he’s tasting some sort of delicacy - slow, deliberate, savoring. Long strokes of his tongue between your folds and light, sucking kisses on your clit. He wraps a strong arm around your thigh to hold you still as you begin to squirm, rolling your hips in search of more. Your body thrums with gentle warmth from the wine, letting you lay loose and easy for him to take as he pleases.

“Fuck, Si…” You gasp, back arching as his tongue pushes inside. You’re close already - emotions running high and pushing your desperation. If you can just cum - just reach that high and get it out of your system - it’ll all be okay.

Your hand grazes over Simon’s shorn hair as he circles your entrance with his fingers - coating them in your slick before slowly, slowly, slowly inching them inside. You whine in complaint, grinding down onto them and the tongue on your clit to get him moving - to get what you want.

“Please, Simon-“ You whine. He takes the hint, speeding up his movements to match your desperation.

“C’mon, pretty girl, cum on my tongue.” Simon groans against you, voice low. “Let me taste you.”

You let yourself fall into it. It’s easy to listen with that deep accent lilting in your ears - oozing honey down your spine. It’s easy to follow instructions blindly. Simon works you through it, murmuring little praises and sweet nothings between pressing sucking kisses to your clit. He only stops when you press your palm against his forehead, whining in protest as the stimulation moves onto just that side of too much.

Simon grabs a condom from one of his many little stashes as you come down and hands it to you, as per usual. You flip it in your hands with half lidded eyes while he strips, not bothering with making any sort of show and just letting it all fall into a pile on the rug beside the couch. Not that you’re complaining. You wince internally at the litany of bruises and marks covering him. New scars forming and deep marks of blue, black and yellow.

He slides the condom on with ease, practiced hands making the usually fumbling task quick. He reaches over you to grab one of the throw pillows propped on the couch armrest and taps your hips for you to lift them.

“Ready f’me?” Simon asks, leaning forward to nip at your soft jawline.

“Yeah.” You gasp, turning your head to meet his lips as he presses inside. They’re slightly chapped from his time away.

“Fuckin’ soaked.” He groans into your mouth. “Always take me so well, yeah?”

You nod, breath catching in your throat as Simon grinds his hips against yours. The angle with the pillow presses him against that sensitive spot inside you with every movement. He keeps it slow - intimate - allowing you to feel all of him with each thrust.

Those dark eyes meet yours, pupils blown wide. You wrap your arms around his neck to pull him close - careful not to irritate any of his wounds. Simon tucks you against him, one arm around your upper back and the other hand holding the back of your head as he curls you into him. Your legs lock around his waist as you breathe him in - your moans mixing and bodies melding. This is what you needed. To be consumed, to disappear into the purely physical. Your mind doesn’t need to be active, on edge, as you roll your hips to meet his, as you press your fingers into his strong back and gasp when you cum. You only need to feel Simon’s teeth sink into your shoulder, just enough to muffle his own climax.

It’s safe here.

You both sink into the couch, breaths slowing and lids heavy as you come back to reality. The music that had been formerly drowned out comes back into focus. You shiver at the sudden chill of the room when your bodies part, fumbling for one of the random blankets strewn across his various furniture. Simon doesn’t say anything when you drape it across the both of you and lean your head on his shoulder.

You glance out of the corner of your eye as Simon’s phone vibrates on the coffee table. He has messages locked, but you see three consecutive notifications from “Johnny.” You smile and let your eyes slip shut as Simon’s arm wraps around your shoulders to pull you close.

banner by @the-aesthetics-shop

[storiesofsvu]

Once

Prosecutor!Hotch x reader warnings: language, teasing, semi public sex, smut. This might be my last one shot for a while, I'm likely going to be working on one shots in tandem with the series I want to wrap up, but only be posting the series for a while. This plan is so that when I eventually get back to work (cause yes, we shut down again and the job I was *guaranteed* to have over the break was pulled out from under me at 2am the day we closed by the same ppl who promised it to me...) i have a lot of stuff finished to queue so y'all aren't empty handed lol. Like Hotch and don't want to miss out?! Sign up for the taglist here! Enjoy what you're reading or want to prioritize a request? But me a ko-fi! 🩵🫶🏻

Aaron had been eyeing you up since you’d refused his plea deal back at the precinct, then again, he’d been eyeing you up for what felt like years already. He found it incredibly hard not to, you were always well dressed, clothes fitted, likely designer and tailored perfectly for you, never a hair out of place, your lips coated in a shade that complimented your skin perfectly and made him want to kiss you until he felt drunk. He had yet to win a case against you and shamefully felt like his attraction towards you was more or less the reason, constantly distracted while you did your crosses, feeling admiration at the way you spoke, wrapping the jury around your perfectly manicured finger rather than annoyed that you were swaying them against his client. His eyes raking up your form, trying not to linger to much on your curves perfectly accented by your skirt suits, feeling the rush of adrenaline when you’d suddenly turn back to the gallery, nearly catching his eye before cocking a brow or sending him a smirk, a sure fire sign that you knew you were about to win.

The lingering glances went both ways of course, you happened to be just that much more subtle about it, your eyes on Hotch while your ears were still vehemently listening to his questioning, ready to object whenever you could. You were able to play it off easier than he was, barely giving him a glance before you would redirect the witness and be whisking past him to the stand, a whiff of your perfume enough to intoxicate him for a moment.

It wasn’t a flirtation, it wasn’t a trend of ‘will they, won’t they’ it was rather a game of cat and mouse. Who was going to give in, who was going to be the victor and rightfully claim their prize, though it was a constant guessing game between the two of you of who was the predator and who was the prey. You flaunted yourself more often than he did, clothing in rich colours, pulling focus in the court room, designer heels that brought you up closer to his eyeline, shiny pieces of jewelry placed in just the right spots to have him glancing where he wouldn’t otherwise. Aaron rarely even opted for a colourful tie, leaving practically everything to your imagination, which honestly, you weren’t complaining about.

But it wasn’t just about the over the top professional and shark like performances in the courtroom that drew you to each other. It was the more candid and intimate moments when he would show up at your office to drop off a warrant or barter through an offer. Catching you halfway through lunch, your blazer off, exposing more skin, the curve of your breast peeking out over the top of your blouse when you bent over your desk to grab something. The more casual way you spoke, the way you insulted your client, agreeing that they were an idiot, the way the word ‘fuck’ rolled off your tongue so perfectly he wished he could hear you moaning it.

The judge called for lunch and Aaron felt like he could barely keep up with your stiletto powered steps in the hallway as you sauntered towards the elevator. Quips and teasing jabs were volleyed back and forth as the stern tone of the courtroom dissipated and a playful nature took over between the two of you. Aaron’s large hand, warm and strong was suddenly on your waist, guiding you out of the way of incoming foot traffic and it practically electrified your senses. Your hand wrapped around his wrist, nails tickling his skin and he felt himself twitch in his pants, suddenly intoxicated by the smell of your shampoo as your head whipped around to look at him.

Neither of you were entirely sure how you’d ended up behind the locked door of a spare witness prep room, but you weren’t going to complain about the way Aaron had you pinned up against the wall as he kissed you. There was a fire behind it, deep and passionate as you battled for dominance, one of his hands on your hips, pressing you harder into the wall while the other one tangled into your hair. Your hands looped over his shoulders, nails scratching at his scalp while you tried to resist the urge to wrap your legs around his waist. You nipped at his lower lip and he retaliated by slipping his tongue into your mouth, commanding the kiss, his hand cupping your cheek, holding you directly where he wanted as his hips rolled against yours, pressing his growing hard on into you. You couldn’t help the moan you let out into the kiss, your tongue moving with grace right along Aaron’s, his free hand crept up your body, palming at your chest and you broke the kiss with a gasp. He took full advantage, mouth moving across your jaw until he was peppering kisses down the side of your neck and your hands were tugging at your blazer, dropping it to the floor once it was off your body.

“This is a one time thing!” You panted, hands clawing at his back as his teeth sunk into your neck, his head nodding ever so slightly when his tongue lapped out to soothe the burn of the bite. You felt the tingle burn its way through you, starting from where his mouth was on you, working down you body to where he was pawing at your chest, all the way to in between your legs where it burst into flame.

“Now why would you say that?” He muttered, a devilish smile on his kiss swollen lips and a dark gleam in eyes and you huffed, grabbing his wrist to direct his hands back to your body.

“Oh just shut up and stop being a tease.” You growled and he laughed.

“Yes Counselor.”

Aaron ducked his head once again, but this time to the other side of your neck, leaving a trail of messy kisses up it until he reached your lips again, swallowing down your moans and whimpers. Your leg wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer to you so you could roll your hips, your panties dampening with each time your cunt brushed at his clothed cock. He let out a small groan, his cock throbbing in his pants at just the thought of being buried deep inside you. His hands found the hem of your skirt, bunching it up around your waist before one of them sunk between your legs, palming at you through the flimsy fabric of your underwear. He moaned against your lips, the heel of his hand rubbing at your clit while his fingers gently massaged your pussy, your hips jolted toward the touch, a whine escaping your lips before you nipped at his.

A smirk broke out on his lips at your neediness and he nudged your panties to the side, fingers running through your folds, collecting your wetness before rubbing at your clit. You broke the kiss with a gasp, your forehead resting on his as you panted, whimpers and quiet moans coming from your lips.

“Please…” you murmured, your eyes fluttering shut at the way he was toying with you and he swiftly slid two fingers into your pussy, letting out a groan as he did so.

“Fuck sweetheart.” He cooed, “you’re so wet.” His fingers began lazily pumping, the heel of his hand still brushing over your swollen clit with each thrust.

“What did I say about teasing?” You grumbled, a hand sinking between your bodies to palm at his cock through his pants and he let out a hiss, his fingers curling inside you. Your breath caught in your throat, hips grinding down into his touch.

“Have to warm you up honey…” he groaned softly, rocking his hips into your hand, “don’t want to hurt you.”

You could only manage a noncoherent string of words, muffled by his shoulder as your head fell forward when his fingers curled inside you again, hitting your g-spot on the first try. Your pussy began to flutter around him as he scissored and curled his fingers, your juices leaking down his wrist. His free hand began to paw at the neckline of your shirt, pulling it down just enough to pull your tits out and his mouth wrapped around one of your nipples, sucking it into his mouth and you let out a moan, your head falling back onto the wall behind you. The hand Aaron had inside you picked up the pace, thrusting deeper into you, wet sounds from your pussy accompanying your quiet moans while your thighs trembled. Your hands shot to his belt, quickly undoing it in order to actually get into his pants and he groaned against your skin when your hand rubbed at his cock through his briefs, the leaking beads of pre-cum smearing against the fabric. Your fingers slid into the waistband of his briefs, shoving them and his pants down just enough for his cock to spring free and his teeth sunk into the curve of your chest as the cool air sent a shiver of pleasure through his body.

“This feels dirty.” You muttered, palming at his length and he chuckled, finally pulling away from your chest as his fingers continued to stretch you out. A piece of his normally styled hair fell forward over his forehead as he glanced down at you with dark eyes, his breath hot on your lips when he spoke.

“That’s because it is.”

“Then hurry up and fuck me already.” You groaned, your body jolting as he curled his fingers once more before pulling them out of your cunt and you let out a whine, grabbing his wrist to suck his fingers into your mouth, tongue lapping around them to get all your juices off.

“Fuck..” Aaron felt any coherent thought leave his brain as his cock throbbed, your eyes not leaving his until your lips parted with a gasp and you let his fingers drop from your mouth and he was able to surge forward, capturing you in a kiss, tongue diving into your mouth in an attempt to taste you. “I don’t have a condom.” He murmured against your lips and your leg wound around his waist again, grinding your pussy against his pulsing cock.

“I don’t fucking care.”

That was all he needed to wrap a hand around his cock, lining it up with your soaked pussy before thrusting forward and sinking fully into you. Your legs eagerly wrapped around his waist as he shoved you into the wall, hips meeting yours as his head buried into the crook of your neck, your cunt already fluttering around him.

“Fuck…” The swear was mutual, you’d never felt so full and stretched out as you were around him, his cock reaching deeper inside you than you’d ever imagined. You were so wet, so warm, Aaron felt like he could combust in that exact moment, but he knew he wanted to feel you for so much longer.

Reluctantly, he pulled out until just the tip was still wrapped in your pussy and set a steady pace fucking you against the wall, knowing neither of you really had that much time. Your whimpers and moans right in his ear were more than enough to drive him wild, picking up the pace, feeling the way your cunt was squeezing around him with each thrust. Your hands clawed at his back, one wrapping around the back of his head, fingers threading through his previously perfectly styled hair. Your lips latched onto the side of his neck directly below his ear, the only visible spot of skin in that area, leaving sticky kisses. In any other moment he’d be worried about the shade of your lipstick transferring to his collar but right now all he could think about was how your pussy felt wrapped around him.

Each thrust of Aaron’s hips you could feel every ridge and vein of his cock dragging over your walls, every time you squeezed around him you could feel him twitch inside you and it drove you wild. He started to grope at your chest again and your head fell back against the wall, thighs trembling around his waist.

“Fuck that feels good.” You murmured, and he fucked into you harder, his hips snapping into yours and you nearly let out a yelp.

“Quiet pretty girl.” He panted, his hand quickly clapping over your mouth, “can’t have anyone know what we’re up to.”

You nodded the best you could, your moans and whines now muffled by his large hand, your breath hot on his fingers. The sensation made his dick twitch inside you, a low swear on his breath when your lips began to kiss at his hand, your tongue surging out, wrapping around one of the digits and pulling it into your mouth. Aaron knew he wasn’t going to last very long with the way you were sucking on his fingers, your moans muffled around them while he fucked deeper into you, his cock absolutely throbbing while your thighs gripped around his waist tighter. His free hand sunk between your bodies, finding your clit and beginning to rub, your teeth scraped against his fingers when he increased the pressure, matching the speed of his thrusts.

Your pussy clenched down around his cock, juices smearing around him with each pass of his fingers and your head dropped against the wall again. Pleasure was shooting through you and if it wasn’t for his hand covering your mouth you were certain the entire floor would know exactly what you were up to. Aaron had you seeing stars already, your body shivering between his and the wall before he nipped at your earlobe,

“Gonna need you to come for me gorgeous.” He panted, his brow slick with sweat, doing his best to hold back his own orgasm until he’d made you come around his cock.

“Fuck!” It came out the best it could under his hand while your body convulsed, thighs gripping incredibly tight around his waist as your back arched off the wall, pussy pulsing around his cock.

Aaron fucked you through you orgasm, slowing the pace of his hips until you were no longer shaking in his arms and one of your legs dropped from around his waist and you started to relax against the wall. A second later and he was slipping out of you, spinning you in his arms to bend you over the table in the center of the room.

A moan broke free from the back of your throat as he re-entered you, his cock a throbbing mess, coated in your cum as he began to chase his own orgasm. A hand tangled into your hair, pulling you up off the table and flush to his chest.

“God you feel so good.” He grunted and you chuckled softly.

“Yeah?” You asked, head turning back to husk into his ear, “you like that Hotchner? The way your thick cock feels buried deep in my wet pussy?” You squeezed as hard as you could around him and he let out a hiss.

“Fuck.” The hand in your hair tightened, “do that again and I’m gonna come.”

“Yeah?” You purred, squeezing your cunt around him once more, holding it for longer as you felt him beginning to pulse inside you, “come for me Aaron, fill my pretty pussy up with your cum.”

“Shit!” His hips faltered against yours as his grip on you loosened and you barely caught yourself on the table as he pounded the last couple of thrusts into you before he let out a low groan, stilling against you.

A very satisfied sigh left your lips at the feeling of his cock twitching inside of you while his cum painted your walls. Aaron was careful, catching his breath as he squeezed at the base of his dick, making sure every last drop of cum was buried deep in your cunt before he slowly slipped out. Part of him was tempted to see if any of it dripped down your thighs, but he was starting to come back to his senses, tucking your panties back into place, pressing them against your swollen pussy lips to catch all of his release.

“You alright?” He asked, his hand soothing up your back, readjusting your skirt before he tucked himself back into his pants.

“Never better.” You replied with a sigh, pushing yourself back upright. Confident you were no longer on shaky legs you stepped over to the mirror, tugging your shirt back into place, fixing your hair and slightly smeared lipstick.

“Here.” Aaron handed you a paper cup of water from the water cooler and you chuckled.

“Such a gentleman.” You teased, taking a sip before reaching up, fixing his mussed up hair and wiping the remnants of your lipstick from his collar. You were about to tease him again when your phone pinged a couple of times and you pulled it out from your bag, “jury’s back. Guess now we’ll find out who really came out on top.”

Shooting him a wink you were gone from the room before he even managed to fully collect himself and his thoughts, slipping back into the courtroom and behind his respective table just in time. Somehow, he wasn’t surprised twenty minutes later when the jury came back fully in favour of you and you were looking over at him with a cocky smirk as everyone packed their things up.

“Well,” he stepped to your side of the room once you were up, “congratulations counselor.” He stuck his hand out for you to shake and you took it after a small laugh, “can I buy you a celebratory drink?”

“Oh Hotchner.” You chuckled, stepping closer to him, “you know the general guideline is that you’re supposed to buy the drink prior to when your cum is dripping out of my cunt.”

“So is that a yes?”

“I seem to remember telling you that was a one time thing.”

Part 2

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@svushots @geekyandgay98 @onmykneesformarvel @emobabeyy @daddy-heather-dunbar @mrs-ssa-hotch @hotchandspencearedilfs @mina2000alex @telepathay @darlingsfandom @ssamorganhotchner @hotchsdoormat @hopedoesntknow @thehauntingofbasingse @plaidbooks @niyizh @tommyriddleobsessed @supercriminalbean @hotchs-bitch @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @emlynblack @ivyflowers13 @ratsnestinmyhair @silversprings-mp3 @ssaaaronhotchnerr @itsrainingreid @speedynana @tgskitten @madamsnape921 @aaronandemilysbitch @mrs-ssa-hotch @nachofriess @khxna @tinyprettyangel @cx-emerald-cx x @momily @acctualdeemon @ch3rry-pops @moonlightjxuregui @int4n @hotchfiles

[httpsserene]

𝖍𝖙𝖙𝖕𝖘𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖊’𝖘 1𝖐 𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖑 - 𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖐 𝖑𝖎𝖒𝖎𝖙𝖘

𝐞��𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐨: 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 ��𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫

summary: slightly less innocent, virgin!reader has had her view of pleasure shifted. her libido has increased to insane levels after she finally allowed her boyfriends to fix her…dry spell. charles and max have no issues with helping her ride out her newfound sexual appetite, and figure that she may be ready to take the next step. or, more accurately, take the next hand. content warning: 18+ only. explicit. no penetrative sex. corruption kink. handjobs. thigh riding. praise kink. dom/sub undertones. charles leclerc is a brat. orgasm denial. there's smidge of humor in here somewhere i think. slight humiliation kink. word count: 4.2k words pairing: charles leclerc / max verstappen x fem!black!reader soundtrack: gun • doja cat

preface: AHHHH OMG I HAD THIS IN MY QUEUE AND THE DATE WAS 9/12 INSTEAD OF 12/9 I WAS IN THE WOODS WITH SPOTTY CONNECTION ALL DAY AND I HAVE TBLR NOTIFICATIONS OFF ON MY PHONE I AM SO SORRY I HOPE YOU ALL LIKE IT! ALL FUTURE EPISODES WILL BE POSTED AT 12 PM ON THEIR RELEASE DAYS!

prev 1k special join taglist feedback & requests table of contents next ↻

it’s laughable. you can’t believe that you almost bought a vibrator instead of telling your boyfriends that you were ready to start the sexual aspect of your relationship. actually, it kind of makes you mad—you could’ve been experiencing the most mind blowing levels of pleasure years ago, if you had just gotten over your own insecurity.

max and charles had been dating each other for a couple years before they found you. you were a friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend, and they were enamored with you as soon as they were introduced. you cringe whenever they reminisce over the first time you met them—the men think it’s the cutest first meeting ever.

they met you on a yacht in monaco. an older member of the ferrari team was retiring and decided to have a relaxed celebratory brunch on a chartered yacht. charles, of course, would be attending; he’s sure he’s most likely contractually obligated to go, but he also enjoys going to these sorts of events, he flourishes and thrives in social settings. however, on this particular day, max and charles had already planned for a date. 

when charles had been forwarded the invitation from andrea (his trainer), who had texted him threats of bodily harm if he didn’t show up—he whined and groveled to max about having to reschedule their date. max had shushed charles’ dramatics, and simply pulled out his phone to show a text thread between him and brad (his trainer), who sent him the invitation to the yacht party. charles made a noise of surprise; this brunch is more relaxed than he thought. max shrugged and pressed a kiss to charles cheek–all they have to do is make an appearance, greet who needs to be greeted, congratulate who needs to be congratulated, and then they can sneak away and leave early for their date.

that was the plan. and everything seemed to be going according to the plan. they had boarded the vessel (nobody knew the rivals had come together), everyone assumed they had just arrived at the same time. they quickly congratulated the retiree, and charles separated from max to go and charm everybody on the boat, while max had gone to take advantage of the brunch spread.

the dutchman was halfway through his second plate of finger food when charles had returned to his side, bringing their trainers and a few engineers along with him. the monegasque was stealing bites of food off his plate, and max gently tapped on the face of his richard mille watch to remind charles that they needed to start wrapping up. 

except, joris had just boarded the yacht—and you were at his side.

charles choked on his bite of stolen food, and max distractedly patted his back to clear his airways. it was like time slowed down, their vision tunneled, and the noise of conversations around them quieted; at the sight of you. you were wearing this light, flowy, orange sundress that complimented your warm brown skin, accessorized with gold jewlery, a pair of heeled tan sandals, and your curly hair was free and blowing in the breeze. you kept your gaze lowered, like you were fearing making eye contact with anybody on board, and you turned to slightly hide behind joris as you frantically whispered to him.

charles and max had decided then and there; they need to know you.

you had parted from joris at the sound of someone calling for you and the sight of you walking away, broke the trance the two drivers had been under.

when charles’ friend made his way over, they were quick to interrogate him about you, and why exactly he’s never introduced you to them before. joris threatened them before he gave them permission to pursue you (not that they needed it), and refused to answer any of their questions about you. he told them to go talk to you, and warned them to be gentle with you—as you have a more shy and introverted personality. it took nearly thirty minutes for charles and max to find where you disappeared too. you were chatting to the retiree, and as soon as you wrapped up the conversation—max inserted himself in your path, and ‘accidentally’ bumped into you.

you stumbled briefly, finding yourself bumping into charles as well. you frantically apologized to the two drivers, eyes wide with embarrassment—and max and charles found themselves vehemently reassuring you that it was their fault, and that you don’t need to apologize.

once you calmed, max started to test the waters.

“it was completely my fault. i should’ve been paying more attention to where i was walking but, i got distracted—because you look too beautiful in this dress.”

your mouth parted in surprise and you giggled awkwardly, not expecting the compliment (charles had to muffle his snort, max is incredibly corny), “oh! thank you—it’s really the dress that’s beautiful.”

the monegasque stepped in, “ah, no that cannot be. the dress only compliments how pretty you are.”

you hummed, eyes flickering between the two of them nervously, and caved to their flattery.

“mmm, thank you…the orange works with my skin tone pretty well.”

“it does,” max agreed with a soft smile, “i must be your favorite driver—since, you’ve dressed in dutch orange.”

your eyes widened, as you giggled at his bold claim, laughing harder when charles’ pretends to be angry at max’s words. the couple watches as your smile shifted from something sweet, to something teasing as you fumbled over what to say in response.

“oh? well, if i did dress for my favorite driver, it would be lando norris. because, this color is more similar to papaya than your dutch orange.”

max scoffed, and charles bursted out laughing—the two of them not expecting the teasing from you, based on how joris led them to believe that you were the shyest thing to walk on earth. 

that interaction had completely cemented their urge to date you. they ended up staying at the yacht party, just talking to you the entire time, enjoying making you blush and fluster, flirting around the limits of how much affection you could take from them. they missed their dinner reservation, but found themselves taking you out to dinner somewhere near the waterfront. 

at the end of the night, you exchanged phone numbers with them and they sweetly told you that they’d reach out to you for a second date. you had made a noise of surprise, completely disbelieving that you were on a date, or that they’d want to see you again. but, charles and max were quick to make their intentions clear as they realized they may have been moving too quickly for you.

you can’t believe that was over two years ago. the boys had been so kind with working hard for your trust, and with a final conversation about how this relationship would work—you had agreed to be their girlfriend. of course, you had your stipulation of not being ready to have sex, but the boys did take that in stride and didn’t try to coerce you into changing that boundary. matter of fact, they had even offered to stop having sex between the two of them if it made you uncomfortable—which you disagreed with on the spot; they didn’t need to limit their actions with each other just because you needed extra time. 

and extra time, ended up being two years. charles and max had waited two years without complaining once, about the fact that you still weren’t ready to have sex with them. apparently, the final aspects that you needed to realize you were ready to have sex were: being unable to get yourself off for a month while they were in the midst of a triple header…and also that, you trust them with your entire soul. 

and goddamn, did their patience result in a valuable reward.

ever since max and charles had cured your dry spell by giving you the most life-changing orgasm from riding max’s thigh, you’ve been insatiable.

it’s like your horny-meter was struck by lightning and was overloaded and stuck at the highest setting—it feels like a perpetual ovulation week. it feels like you can’t look at max’s thighs without getting wet, it feels like you can’t hold charles’ hand without your knees buckling. it wasn’t like you were never horny before the thigh-riding incident (max finds the title hilarious), but to be consistently desperate—you’ve never felt like this before. it’s like the monegasque and the dutchman have awoken your sex drive and shifted it into high gear. your libido has been so insanely high that the men have pretty much offered themselves to you as free-use.

you wake up horny? choose your fighter: charles’ thigh or max’s thigh. you get turned on by charles kissing your cheek? ride his thigh. your tummy knots up when max calls you pretty girl? ride his thigh. your panties get wet when charles comes back from getting a haircut? ride his thigh. your clothes fall off when max smiles at you? ride his thigh. your brain turns to mush when charles and max make out? ride their thighs, twice.

you’ve been so pleasure-crazed that you ended up getting a friction burn from how often you were using their thighs. 

you whimpered in shame as charles rubbed aloe vera on the irritated skin between your legs.

“vior (see)?” charles said to max, who was sitting on the bed next to you holding your hand, “she has sensitive skin—we should not have let her use our thighs so often.”

“ah,” max dismissed, ignoring your mortified whine, he smirked at charles, “she’s just learned how good we can make her feel—forgive her desperation, schatje?”

charles lightly presses on the inflamed skin, and you slightly hiss in pain. he stares at max with an unimpressed expression, 

“and now feeling good too often has her feeling bad, non?”

charles resumed his gentle massage of aloe vera, as he continued to bicker with max about you, like you weren’t lying right there. mortification had the melanated skin of your cheeks flushing with a visible blush, and you muffled your embarrassed whimper into max’s thigh. the humiliation of your boyfriends discussing your barely-sex related injury as if you aren’t present should have been horny-level reduction material—but secretly, you enjoyed it; just a little bit. 

with a pained gasp, you slammed your thighs shut around charles’ hand when he passed over a more seriously-raw area of skin. his hand was forced up, and it brushed firmly against your cunt—and that previously pained gasp transformed into a moan of pleasure. the conversation around you silenced abruptly. you kept your eyes tightly shut, refusing to pull away from the safe haven of max’s thigh. you heard charles laugh disbelievingly, and with his free hand he easily pulled your thighs apart with little effort. the casual show of strength only had you getting wet. 

he made a show of flexing the hand that was entrapped between your thighs, before he dropped two of his fingers on top of your panties and guided them to circle over your clit through the thin cloth. your eyes flew open, and with a squeal your hips bucked up to chase his hand; but he was too quick, and pulled away, using that same hand to hold your hips down on the bed.

“you’re so horny that you completely forgot about the friction-burn you have on your thighs from your previously extremely horny activities,” max deadpanned, staring down at you with a blank expression.

“i can’t help it,” you murmured shyly, “sorry.”

“don’t apologize,” max stated, releasing his grasp of your hand to brush his thumb across your cheek, “nothing’s touching your cunt for a week.”

“huh? WHAT? why? no—why not?” you blurted out in confusion, ignoring charles’ snort.

“liefje—you could barely handle charles rubbing the gel into your skin; you are too sore and inflamed. no pillows, no hands, no thighs.”

you humphed, knowing max is right, but not wanting to admit it. 

“that’s torture! i just started getting to experience real pleasure and now i can’t even cum for a week?!” you whined up at max with pleading eyes.

“you went without using our thighs for two years—you can handle a week, mon coeur,” charles patted your hip with an annoying smile, before he climbed off the bed to put the gel away.

“charles, don’t tease her,” max sighed, “it’s just a week, pretty girl. you’ll be fine.”

you are not fine.

it’s the slowest time has ever passed in your entire life. honestly, the nerve of your boyfriends to have beautifully muscled thighs around you. you’ve been put in horny jail–seriously! the two men seem to have a radar for whenever you start to get turned on. no matter how hard you try to suppress any changes in your body language or facial expression, they sus you out in a few seconds. it’s uncanny; before you even open your mouth to try and persuade them into anything, they squish your cheeks together and say, “not yet,” and then walk away to give you space to calm down. every instance of this in the first couple of days was more mortifying than the aloe-vera gel application situation (which max now applies for you since charles couldn’t refrain from teasing you), but you quickly became desensitized.

max will not budge. he lets you whine, grovel, beg, promise, and plead. he sits through your whole monologue of desperation on day four, and smiles the entire time. when you finish your expertly delivered request to be allowed one orgasm from his thigh, he pats you on the ass and walks away. the amount of rage that filled you was probably unhealthy–how the fuck does he manage to be so unfazed?

charles, on the other hand, you could break. on day five, you trapped him in bed, sneakily convincing him to spend five more minutes with you while max brushed his teeth. you were quick to initiate sweet kisses, humming into the press of his lips, before you pull away and squirm on top of him to straddle his torso. 

the love-tinted haze cleared from his eyes as soon a he puzzled out your motive, and the monegasque moved to guide you off his body, but you halted him, pressing a firm hand in the middle of his bare chest. 

“c’mon cha–just let me, it’s been so long,” you pout down at him, doe-eyes wide and pleading, “don’t you wanna make me feel good?”

charles wavered–it has been so long. he doesn’t think he’d forget how your face looks as you orgasm, but it would be nice to see it again. you slowly grind your hips down on his, and charles manages to hold back any noises, but his eyes flutter in pleasure. the brunet halts your hips when he sees the brief flicker of discomfort appear in the furrow of your brows.

“ah, regarde toi (look at you)!” charles tuts disapprovingly, “you know you aren’t ready, just wait a little longer!”

you climb off of his lap, and bury your face in the pillow next to him, muffling a dramatic scream to make sure he knows how displeased you are. he rubs your back soothingly, letting you release your anger, before you flip over and huff.

“fine–whatever. two more days. two more days…for me,” you murmur, ignoring charles’ squint at your words, “just because i can’t do anything doesn’t mean you two can’t, right?”

charles shrugs his agreement, “yes, i guess. we haven’t came since you can’t. we were just planning to wait for your skin to recover.”

your heart warms at their abstinence, and the gears of your brain start turning. 

“hmm. you know you don’t have to wait for me? i kind of got myself into this situation and it’s not fair for–”

“no. max and i are both responsible too,” charles cut you off, “we should’ve taken more care to make sure you weren’t pushing yourself too far.”

“i don’t blame you guys–i was jumping the two of you everytime you so much as breathed in the same room as me. but, that’s not the point! i was going to say: shouldn’t i thank you guys properly?” 

“quoi? how?” he tilted his head to the side in question.

“i mean, isn’t it time i learn how to make you feel good too? i’ve kind of taken advantage of you, and never thought about making sure you guys feel good, like me.”

“how can you say that, mon amour? you make us feel good everytime we make you feel good,” charles sees that you don’t quite believe him, “you don’t notice how tight our pants get when you sit on our thighs? after you’ve finished, we sneak away to the bathroom to relieve ourselves! trust me, we feel very good with you.”

“hey! that’s my point–i want to make you guys…cum,” you whispered, “not have you sneak away to go do it yourself. can’t you teach me? isn’t now the best time for me to learn when i can’t be distracted by my own orgasm?”

“as long as you avoid rubbing yourself on anything, i’m actually okay with this,” max’s voice carried from the doorway, causing you and charles to jump in surprise. neither of you heard him open the en-suite door.

the dutchman walked over and sat on the bed next to charles, who eagerly supported your suggestion now that max said it was okay. 

“c-can…can we do it now?” you asked quietly, simultaneously afraid of a possible rejection and the idea itself.

the younger man hummed, and sat up next to max. he smirked at the blonde, “i’m sure he can’t say no to the opportunity of having me teach you how to touch him just the way he likes.”

you may have miscalculated, to some degree. does everything about max have to big? big mouth, big hands, big thighs, big…dick. your brain stops functioning at the sight—max sitting with his back against the headboard, legs spread open comfortably, uncaring of how exposed he is, his cock half-hard and still growing where it rests on his thigh, and don’t forget his self-satisfied smirk at the sight of your shock. you squirm from your seat in between his legs and charles steadies you from his position behind you, bracketing your body within the two of them.

the monegasque shifts forward, hooking his chin on your shoulder with his chest pressed along your back, and hums softly, “all of that ,” charles pauses and moves his right hand to apply pressure on your navel, “is going to be deep inside of you soon.”

“ ‘s not gonna fit in me.”

“we’ll make it fit,” max states. you whimpered at his confident tone, and you could feel charles muffle his chuckle in the crook of your neck. 

the click of the lube bottle opening caused you to flinch back into charles, who soothed you with a pat on the hip. the brunet carefully squeezed out a small amount of lube into your right palm and murmured instructions for you to warm up the liquid. he then guided your hand to grasp max’s dick, who sighed softly at your touch.

“touch him however you want, mon ange,” the monegasque directed, “get used to how he feels and then we can make him feel good.”

swallowing down your apprehension, you lightly trace a finger down his shaft, marveling at how he’s a few of your fingers in girth and decently longer than the size of your hand (that’s definitely not fitting inside of you, they have no idea what they’re talking about). you drag the tip of your pointer finger up along the vein on his underside to the head of his cock. the tip is flushed with an attractive shade of pink complimenting the pale skin of his body, and it’s a beautiful contrast to the brown skin on the back of your hand. you wrap your palm around him gently and brush your thumb over the head, making a noise of surprise at his cock twitching in your grasp. a drop of pre-cum beads in the slit and you curiously drag a finger to collect it; you pause, before you bring your finger to your mouth and flick out your tongue to taste it.

it almost tastes like nothing? slightly bitter, a little salty—but, it’s good. he tastes good. 

max groans and the sound of his head falling back and hitting the headboard reminds you that the cock you’re feeling up is attached to him. 

a broken rasp of, “fuck,” slips from his lips, and charles kisses your cheek in approval.

“ah-you’re so good at this already, mon amour,” charles cheered, “let’s give him a hand, together.”

he brings his left hand around your body to join yours around max’s, and leads you through the motions. he starts you on half strokes, having you circle your hand around the head, while he focuses on mimicking your motions around the base. you can see the muscles of max’s abdomen and thighs clenching with the effort of not thrusting forward into your hand.

“shit,” max moans, “the two of you will be the death of me.”

charles nips a mark right behind you ear, “move your hand like this—oui, just like that—and press your palm around the head—good girl—just keep doing that for me, mon amor.”

max groans roughly at the focused attention on the sensitive tip of his dick; he’s going to come embarrassingly quickly. the sight of charles teaching you how to give him a proper handjob is going to keep him up at night.

“liefje, you’re doing such a good job,” max pants, “going to make come already, pretty girl—are you going to lick my cum off your fingers too?”

you moan highly at his words, nodding your head quickly in agreement, eager to keep being good for him. max continues to run his mouth as he gets closer to orgasm: ‘you and charles should taste the cum off your hand together,’ ‘he can’t wait to get his hands and mouth on you,’ etc.

with a stuttered breath, max warns you that he’s cumming—and charles yanks your hand off of him; ruining max’s orgasm. the dutchman shouts in frustration, his hips bucking up freely now, trying to chase the delicious friction that was stolen from him.

with flushed cheeks, max yells, “what the fuck, charles!” and you turn to look at charles, who’s sitting behind you with an extra-pleased smirk on his face. the brat shrugs nonchalantly, not offering an explanation. you bring your hand back to grasp max’s cock—and repeat the same motion of twisting your palm around the head, to lead max back to an orgasm. he moans in relief, thankfully the edge of release didn’t slip away from him entirely—and then you bring your other hand up to make up for charles’. 

all it takes is a few more synced strokes, and max cums. you feel the warmth of his release coat your fingers, but your eyes are stuck on his expression. his mouth parted slightly, eyes shut, his chest heaving, mouth red and flushed from where he was biting at his bottom lip, and you can see the pleasure washing over his face—goddamn, you wish you were feeling what he is. in the haze of appreciating how he looks when he comes, you fail to stop your hands from continuing your motions and max’s hands fly down to halt you once the pleasure slips into too-much.

when he makes eye-contact with you, you raise your cum-covered hand to your mouth and make a show out of tasting his cum. you moan sweetly and smack your lips—honestly, you don’t particularly like or dislike the taste, but the way max’s eyes widen at your display makes you think you’ll learn to love it. he watches you lick your hands clean, and murmurs out a faint, “what the actual hell, liefje.”

“and, you,” the older man’s expression hardens as he directs his cold gaze on charles, “we’re not touching you for two weeks.”

“por quoi?!,” the monegasque pretends as if he doesn’t know exactly what he did.

you and max both ignore charles’ whining, and you smile extra sweetly at max as you wiggle onto his lap, “may i use your thigh, please?”

he digs his thumb into the sensitive skin of your thigh, and you yelp lightly. 

“two more days, liefje,” max orders, “and if you’re patient, you can have more than just my thigh.”

1k special taglist: @saintslewis @cherry2stems @lorarri @inloveallthetime @mindless-rock @biancathecool@barnestatic @my-ylenia @katekipshidze @darleneslane @lovingaphroditesworld @smoothopz @vetteltea @dreamingofautopia @jayswifee @megatrilss1885 @nanamilkbread @sophia12345678 @benstormy @userlandonorris@xxniallxxsworld @starfusionsworld@hangmandruigandmav @spicybagel14 @ggaslyp1 @idontgotopartiesanymore @woozarts @yourlilitha @smartstupyd

© httpsserene2023

[snowball-doie]

| pairing: poly!Markle x gn!Reader

| info: 18+ MDNI. Wholesome 'til the halfway point. threesome. MLM behavior. Cum eating. Penetrative sex. Oral.

| aurora's note: tds3 changed me as a person....

| poly!markle who are the silly boyfriends who can never take anything serious.

| poly!markle who think it's hilarious when they surprise you with matching ugly pajamas for your anniversary.

| mark who gets cuteness aggression when he sees you and chenle wearing the pajamas, laughing about how stupid you all look-- he can't help but pat down the floof of hair sticking up at the back of chenle's head, and he feels like he has to tackle you onto the bed while burying is face in the crook of your neck.

| poly!markle who lay on either side of you in bed, sending your group chat TikTok memes while giggling to themselves, instead of just showing their screens or talking.

| chenle who rolls over and swings a leg over you while putting his foot on mark's legs-- mark ends up scrolling with one hand and mindlessly plays with chenle's foot with the other.

| chenle who gets all giggly because mark's tickling him. his contagious laugh makes you laugh until your stomach hurts.

| poly!markle who gets a burst of energy at 1am and decides it's the perfect time to start a dance party in the bedroom, in their matching pajamas, while you're half asleep in bed.

| mark who pulls you out of bed and makes you dance with them.

| chenle who plays the silly meme music while mark queues up the music he can actually sing to.

| poly!markle who end up forgetting about the queue, and when a slower song comes on, they sneak up on you, trapping you between their bodies. mark's in front of you, hands wandering around your sides. chenle's behind you, his hands sneaking under the waistband of your pajama pants so that he can get you off while you're moaning into mark's mouth and begging them for more.

| poly!markle who can't even take their silly dance night serious, so they end up taking turns fucking you while laughing at the meme songs that randomly play in chenle's playlist.

| chenle who bends you over so your ass is up in the air while he rails you from behind and you suck off mark.

| mark who lays you on your back and lifts one of your legs high into the air, his hand pressed on the back of your thigh, while he fucks you deep and slow, kissing your ankle, whispering that he loves you so much.

| poly!markle who cum on each other and watch as you lick it up.

| poly!markle who fuck you 'til you're tired, but they're still wired with energy, so they turn to each other for a bit.

| poly!markle who somehow still have all the energy in the world after they're spent, so they leave you to rest in the bedroom while they go interact with fans on instagram in another room.

| poly!markle who wakes you up in the morning with kisses all over your body-- mark's content when you groan and start pulling on his hair, sleepily begging him to get you off with his mouth, and chenle watches with a grin.

| poly!markle who never fail to keep you occupied with their energy, entertained by their antics, and fucked-out from their incredible stamina.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Quiet Ones 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You live a quiet life, but your peace is fractured by a chaotic man.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, short!shy!reader

Note: don't ask me why I did this.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You keep to yourself. That’s the safest, the easiest way to live. You keep your head down, your eyes to yourself, your voice bottled up. 

You grip your phone as you approach the coffee shop. You stand on your toes to see through the painted windows and frown at the long queue. You won’t have to worry about that. Like everything else social, you’ve found a work around. 

You look at your phone, the app showing your order as ‘preparing’. It should be done shortly as the progress bar fills close to complete. You can bear the claustrophobia for a minute or so until it’s ready. 

You go to open the door but an arm reaches past you and does that first. You step back, patiently waiting for the other customer to precede you. They don’t move. You stare at their shoes. Dark blue velvet loafers with gold emblems on chains.  

“Go on, baby face, I got it,” the man’s voice makes your skin crawl. 

You shrink down and give a nod, throat clenching as you struggle to find your voice. You’re not much for conversation but you’re but impolite. 

“Thanks,” you force out without raising your head. 

You scurry through quickly, a bit to close to the stranger than you like, and you clasp your phone against your chest as you stand just away from the cluster of people awaiting their orders. You bounce on your feet as the noises join together to form a cacophony; the hissing steam, the clanging metal, the clinking porcelain, the calls of the workers behind the counter, and the buzz of the crowd seated or standing around the cafe. Sweat gathers on the nape of your neck as the chaos swirls a storm around you. 

You pull your phone away from the front of your pullover and check the screen. Should be ready any moment and you’ll be free of the circus. You adjust your grip on the phone, almost jittery as another customer joins the wait at the pick up window. 

You breathe out. It’s not usually this busy at this time. You have a routine. You can handle the expected. You order on your phone so you don’t need to talk to anyone. You wait outside until it’s almost done then come in too quickly claim your prize. But not today, something’s different and it’s throwing everything off. 

It’s only on Wednesday’s that you venture down to the cafe. It’s the halfway point of your week so you mark it with a taste of motivation. The same order every week. A London fog latte. Simple and affordable. Nothing fancy, nothing complicated. 

Your name cuts through the din, “...medium London fog.” 

You drop your arm to your side and set your shoulders. You march forward through the parting bodies ahead of you and reach for the cup. Before you can grasp it, someone else scoops it up. You nearly cry out in horror. Someone’s stealing your order! 

You turn to the tea thief but they make no move to flee. They hold the cup nonchalantly, turning it to read the sticker on the side, reciting the same name that just rose from the barista’s lips seconds ago. You face the stranger but again, your eyes are downward.

The blue loafers! 

“Cute name,” he comments as he holds the cup out. 

You once more try to take the cup but before you can, he has it out of reach again. Your lashes flick and your fingers twiddle helplessly. His large hand is firmly around the cup so even if you did try to wrestle it from him, you doubt you’d have any hope but to spill it all. 

You look around but no one else seems to notice. They’re all staring at their phones or talking with the person next to them. The staff behind the counter are too busy appeasing the rush of orders. 

“I’ve never tried one of these,” he taunts, “I’m more of a ristretto guy. Like my espresso.” 

You shake your head and rescind your hand, balling it against your fist. What does he want? Why is he bothering you? You said thank you. Did he not hear you? 

“Don’t get yourself in a tizzy,” he pushes the tea towards you, “there you are, sweat pea.” 

You hesitate. You slowly unfurl your fingers and reach for the cup. As you wrap your fingers around it, you can’t help but brush his. Thick and strong and unmoving. He clings to it for just a moment before he lets you have it. 

“Thanks,” you squeak again, this time louder so he certainly hears you. 

“You got a sweet voice,” he puts his hand on his hip, a glimpse of a shiny gold watch face peeking out from beneath his sleeve, “I’d love to hear more of it.” 

Your eyes round as you focus on the zipper of his thin jacket. You shake your head and meekly raise your cup awkwardly and dip your chin slightly. No thanks. 

You turn and weave your way back through the crowd. Your heart is thumping in your chest. What an odd encounter. 

More so, you’re dismayed that he saw you. That he noticed you. For years, you’ve done your best to be invisible. You prefer it that way. You don’t even think your neighbours know you exist. But that man, he seemed to see nothing but you. 

You push outside and nearly drop your cup. You try to steady yourself. You’re all knotted up and tense. You tuck your phone into your back pocket and bring the cup before you nose, inhaling the sweet scent of the foam. Something about it isn’t as soothing as usual. 

You turn down the pavement and wince as a sole scuffs close behind you. Suddenly, another set of steps walk next to yours, measured to keep in tandem with your own short legs. Blue velvet.  

You walk faster. Is he following you? Why? What does he want? He’s much taller, you can’t outpace him. 

“You know, when I said I’d like to hear more, I thought maybe over a coffee?” He suggests. 

You don’t say a word as you keep your eyes forward, squeezing your cup tight as you try not to swish it around too much. You’ve never had to deal with this before. Men don’t see you. There was a time you hated that but since, you were grateful for that. 

“I mean, I could do most of the talking, never had much of a trouble with that, jellybean,” he offers. 

You shake your head. Your throat tightens. You can’t speak. You want to scream but you can’t make a noise. 

As you get to the corner, you stop short. He steps past you but just as quickly catches himself and turns to face you. You gulp and look down at your cup. You can’t keep going. If you do, you’ll lead him right to your home. 

“What’s going on, sweetheart? You forget something? How about we head back and I’ll buy you something sugary to go with that?” 

You furrow your brow and step back on your heel. You bring your eyes up, a furtive glance at his face, brief and flickering. You just want to know what he looks like so you never see him again. 

His blue eyes twinkle, his nose is long but proportioned to his chiseled face, his hair is combed back, the sides shaved, and a thick swatch of hair lines his upper lip. He’s older than you, you know that much, but you’ve never good at gauging age. You’ve never seen him before but you can’t be sure. You don’t look at many faces. 

You pivot and cross the street without looking. You narrowly miss a bumper and get a honk in remonstrance. You can’t stop yourself. You’re panicking. You head down the next street as his footsteps follow. It’s all you can hear.  

As you pass a bin, you dump the drink. You don’t pause as it plummets heavily into the trash and you fall into a brisk half-jog. You pump your arms, puffing wildly, dizzy as you search for a saviour.  

You dash into the library. You don’t know what you’re looking for. Just for anyone to get this man to leave you alone. 

You don’t look back as you enter and head straight for the front counter. You’re out of breath as you approach the rounded edge and tap the bell frantically. A woman emerges from behind the window wall and she greets you with a confused chime. 

“Hello, can I help you?” She asks. 

“Yes, I need...” you gulp and glance at the doors. You push away from the counter and spin, searching. You don’t see the man. He’s probably waiting outside. But you never looked back. You never really saw if he was following. “I...” you turn back to the woman, “never mind.” 

You cross your arms and turn away. You cringe as you realise how ridiculous you must have seemed. Worse, you didn’t mean to bother someone just doing their job and over what? You’re own issues. You should go home, back to your reclusion, where you can’t be in anyone’s way. 

👄

When you finally muster the courage to leave the library, your journey home is slowed by your paranoia. You have your phone out, held up so you can see over your shoulder with the front camera. You watch the screen more than the sidewalk ahead of you. 

You get home without a second shadow. As you let yourself through the grated front door of the building, you can’t help but feel stupid. That man must’ve got the idea when you as good as ran in the other direction. You’re being dramatic. 

You close the camera and put your phone away. You waist six dollars in your frantic flight. You mourn the tea latte as the heavy inner door clunks shut behind you. You drag your feet up the stairs as your keys jingle on your finger. 

You apartment is at the very end of the hall. You enter and twist the latch. You slide the chain into place and hang the key ring on the little hook beside the door frame. You untangle your purse and leave it with your phone on the table in the corner. 

You shuffle the few feet to the front room and look around. You find comfort in the familiarity of your little apartment. Your hideaway. 

You go back to your desk and sign back in. You’re back later than usual but you can still make up the time. As long as there’s enough tasks left in the portal. You don’t have to let that man ruin your whole day. You’ll never see him again. In a few days, you won’t even remember him. 

👄

Wednesday. Halfway through the week.  

You scroll and click around your screen as you watch the clock in the corner tick on. Usually around this time, you’d be excited. You’d clock out for your break and go down to the cafe. As much as you looked forward to the treat, the walk alone was relaxing in its own way. 

Not that day. Despite your efforts to shrug off the strange encounter, you haven’t shaken it. So instead, the kettle boils as a bag of earl gray sits in an empty mug. You’re not going. Maybe next week. 

You’re a bit depressed but you’re too nervous to make the venture. Oh well, you’ll save a bit of money. You could find a different place next time. That might be easier. 

You stay logged in and claim a new task. Hey, you can be done work earlier if you can power through. You might even make a few extra bucks. 

The kettle clicks and you get up to pour the water. You leave it to steep, forgetting it for the screen before you. Your fingers tap endlessly across the keyboard, filling the silence as you zone in on the words, transcribing messy ink to Times New Roman. 

Your trance is broken by a sudden buzz. You sit up, the kink in your neck pangs. You need to stop hunching. The buzz comes again. Is that... It must be a mistake. It happens now and then, someone buzzes the wrong apartment. 

You get up as it sounds a third time and you shuffle down to the speaker box. You hit the button, “wrong number.” 

“No--” 

You let go of the number before you can hear the response. They buzz again. You sigh. You hit the button. 

“I’m sorry but you have the wrong number,” you repeat. 

“I don--” 

You release the button again and take a step back. Buzz! You’re getting annoyed. You hit the button. “Wrong--” 

“Got a delivery. 212.” The man’s voice drowns out your own, reciting your name after your apartment number. Your finger stays on the button as you frown. A delivery? 

“I’m not expecting a delivery.” 

“Are you...” he says your name again. 

“... yes.” 

Silence, filled with the low hum of the speaker, “so, can I come up or...?” 

“Uh, I guess.” 

You pull your finger away and hover it over the other. Maybe it’s from work? There was the one time they sent a cheap mass production travel mug with their logo on it as some incentive. A poor attempt at employee appreciation. 

You press down and hold until you’re certain they have enough time to get in. You wait by the door, ringing your hands. You hear the door at the end of the hall open on its old hinges and you peek through the peephole. 

You watch the fuzzy figure come into focus with each of his long steps. He doesn’t hold a box nor wear the uniform of a postal worker. No, he wears those blue leather loafers and holds a bright pink paper cup with a white lid. From the cafe.  

As he comes close, you get a pigeon’s eye view of the hair on his upper lip and his bold blue eyes. It feels like he can see you too as he stands smirking on the other side of the door. This can’t be real. 

He knocks and you wince as the door shifts in the frame. 

“Special delivery,” he calls through, “open up, baby face.” 

[klausysworld]

Vacation Special

Hope had convinced her family to take her on vacation. Turkey was her country of choice, her friends from school had been boasting about the weather and all the things they'd bought there.

All of Hope's friends knew that her family was rich, minted; so they assumed that she'd have travelled all over and were a little surprised when she had never been anywhere except Louisiana.

That's when Hope started whining to her mom and dad, and when they weren't convinced she went to Rebekah who was adamant to be the favourite aunt and therefore took the initiative and booked two weeks away.

Which was how they all- Klaus, Elijah, Hayley, Rebekah, Marcel, Kol, Davina, Freya, Keelin and Hope- all ended up in the airport at 5am for their 7am flight. Everyone spread out, wanting something to eat and agreed to meet at their gate in an hour before the flight so that they could buy last minute things like crosswords and sweets to suck on during take off and landing.

Klaus had been stood with Rebekah and Elijah in a queue for a cup of coffee when he felt someone's eyes on him. His instincts put him on high alert making him turn his head quickly, locking eyes with a girl who immediately went pink and looked away. She her friends trying desperately not to burst into a fit of giggles as they all looked in different directions.

He couldn't say he wasn't flattered. The smirk on his lips said it all as he made a point of looking over to her each time he felt her gaze on the side of his face.

By the time he had gotten his drink and looked back to her, she was missing from the spot he had found her. A small sigh left him as he shrugged it off and wondered off to find somewhere that would sell some decent food and not something overpriced and greasy.

Once fed, he was late to the meeting point which caused some huffing but wouldn't ruin the trip and everyone got over it when Klaus handed Hope his credit card for her to buy some candy and games.

Which was where he saw her for the second time, whispering with her friends who were convincing each other to just stuff their pockets with sweets and get out of their.

"They have security" Y/N muttered and her friend rolled her eyes, shoving a handful into Y/N's carry on and giving her a look as if to say 'now what?'. "Fine, lets just go. We're boarding soon." She grabbed her friends hand and they left quickly, not before making brief eye contact with Klaus which only made her walk faster.

Getting on the plain was the worst part. Hope hadn't wanted to go on a private jet, all of her friends had flown economy and she wanted to do the normal thing. Klaus was less than impressed, as was Elijah. But for Hope they would suffer in silence.

Besides, Klaus benefitted from it.

Halfway through the night he heard that familiar chatter, his head perked up and his eyes found her, again.

She was talking to the flight assistant, her expression of faux innocence and anxiety as she clearly asked for something. The flight attendant nodded and placed a hand on her shoulder before following her to her seat to help.

Klaus was twisting every which way to see where she was sat, his foot kicking Rebekah's leg making her start whining and telling Marcel to do something to which he only reminded her that Klaus wasn't his brother, he was hers.

Klaus settled back into his seat with a grumble, giving up and flicking through the book he'd brought as way of entertainment for the next couple hours. His attention was back up when he heard her soft voice excusing her way down the aisle to the bathroom. He was out of his seat in no time, stalking his way down to find her.

The door was being pulled shut but he grabbed it, forcing it open and slipping inside, letting it close behind him.

Y/N was looking up at him with wide eyes as she glanced down at the lock which he turned purposely. The bathroom was tight, quite literally just a toilet and a sink but Klaus couldn't care how little space he had to work with, he had her lifted up and sat on the sink in seconds.

Y/N knew it was incredibly wrong to let this happen, to even consider it let alone do it. Oh but his lips felt so good on her jaw, down her neck and his hands knew exactly what they wanted as her skirt was dragged up and her panties down.

"I saw you, love." He muttered, keeping his voice low against her ear as he pulled her closer to the edge so his hips could grind between her legs. "Eyeing me up, and then stealing things? Naughty girl." He breathed and she moaned softly.

Her skin had been set on fire in seconds, she wasn't even sure that it wasn't just her wet dream.

But when she felt her pussy stretch around his cock, she was sure it was real. "Oh fuck-" She whimpered and he groaned, hips already rocking to get a feel of her around him. His hands held her tight, keeping her where he wanted her as his body thrust up into hers. Klaus let his mouth trail wetness down her neck to her chest, sucking at the exposed cleavage which bounced in his face with each time his cockhead hit her spot.

A breathy chuckle left him when she started crying out loudly, pussy squeezing and hands holding onto the sink for dear life.

He lifted her, pressing her against the bathroom door. Klaus didn't give a single fuck if people could hear her, hear them, feel the whole goddamn plane shaking with how hard he was doing her.

Their breaths were hot and heavy as her sweaty legs wrapped around his waist, her cunt full of his cum and leaking with her own as he slowly relaxed his grip on her skin. Klaus lifted his head, kissing her lips once with some force and stroking her hair.

Her lips remained parted and panting as she felt him remove himself from inside her, leaving her empty and aching. He placed her back on her feet, helping her gain some balance before fixing her outfit and his own. He gave her a smirk, kissing her cheek and stroking her sides before unlocking the door and slipping back out.

Klaus went back to is seat, sitting down with a pleased smile on his lips as he closed his eyes and relaxed. Marcel and Rebekah only shrugged, not really caring about his sudden mood changed so long as it was for the better.

When they got off the plane, he didn't have the chance to look for her again. He'd been so caught up in enjoying himself that he hadn't even gotten her name.

By the time he got settled into the place they were staying, checked into their rooms and unpacked, he had to assume that he probably wouldn't get to see her again,

And he didn't for a couple of days, until he heard whistling and laughing.

Y/N and her friends were in their bikinis, stood on the balcony of their room looking across at the opposite rooms and telling for some guy to drop his towel.

Klaus couldn't help the amusement he felt at their applauding and laughter but he also felt a slight tinge of something else.

Hayley only rolled her eyes, "I miss when I was that fun, cmon lets get the water floats for Hope."

Klaus hummed and opened the door, getting out the blow up donuts and carrying them back to the pool, glancing over his shoulder to see his mystery girl biting her lip and beckoning whoever this guy was over to their room. Klaus didn't approve.

By evening, the Mikaelson's had eaten and were up in the drinking area whilst Hope ran around with her new vacation friends.

And there she was again, like her soul was pulling for his.

He watched silently as she drank herself stupid with her friends, he could still see her blue bikini beneath her pathetically thin white dress, well it was sort of a dress and sort of just some cloth wrapped around her mid section.

By the time Kol and Marcel had also gotten drunk off their faces, Klaus disappeared easily.

His hands on her hips from behind as she held herself up at the door. She didn't even care who was touching her, that beautiful ass of hers was already rubbing up against his bulge without a care.

"Slutty girl." He murmured, looking down at her through hooded eyes. Her body tensed slightly at his voice and she spun around so fast she fell, causing him to chuckle and catch her. His arms wrapped around her waist, holding her to him as she grinned at him.

"Hi" She whispered a tad too loud making him hum and tilt his head a little, looking her body over properly like he should have the first time he saw her. His eyes lingered on her tits, loving how they spilled out of her bikini and pressed against the white material. "You wanna fuck 'em?" She asked, a laugh in her voice making his brows raise.

"Oh sweetheart, you are bolloxed." He grinned and she pushed her hips forward to touch his.

"Mhm, you wanna come to my room?" She murmured and he hummed in approval.

"Just for a moment." He agreed, letting her stumble through the resort until they got there.

The room little lounge was covered in clothes from the girls, but her bedroom was surprisingly clean. She pushed him back a bit and looked up at him. "You have to wait, come into the room in two minutes!" She held up two fingers and he couldn't suppress the amused smile.

"Two minutes?"

"Mhm, then I'll be ready." She giggled, closing the door in his face and disappearing.

Klaus waited patiently outside the door, listening to her tumble around and get changed before silence. He waited a good five minutes before pushing the door open only to see her passed out on her bed in a set of lingerie.

"Oh, love." He muttered softly and stepped inside, lifting her and laying her down properly before pulling the thin sheet over her exposed skin. A soft kiss was pressed to her cheek in departure before he went to leave her room, but curiosity got the better of him.

On his way out he picked through her things on the the drawers, finding her passport and opening it up. He smiled to himself at the sight of her face in the picture and drifted his attention to her name.

"Y/N." He recited, letting the taste of her name sink into his tongue before putting everything back and switching the light off, heading to his own room.

The next morning Klaus was up and taking Hope to the breakfast early so she could get everything fresh and first.

"Early bird catches the bird!" Hope chirped, remembering what Klaus has told her when she was smaller making him warm as he loaded up her plate.

"That's right sweetheart, now where are we sitting?" He asked, and she pointed to a table with comfy chairs but his eyes landed on the table opposite.

Y/N.

He was surprised to see her up so early, considering her state last night, but here she was dressed and eating breakfast like normal. Except for the way she would groan with each bite and the girl next to her would complain that the sun was killing her.

"We came for the sun." Y/N mumbled and her friend huffed.

"I knowww...but it's...it's hurting my mind." She wined and Y/N covered her ears.

"Oh my god shut up!" She whispered dramatically.

Klaus glanced down at Hope, about to suggest somewhere else but she already started walking.

He let out a breath and followed her over, sitting down and putting the plates down. It took longer than expected for her to notice him across from her. Her eyes went big and she tapped the table twice for her friends attention.

"Plane guy." She signalled and her friend looked over with keen eyes making Y/N throw her hands up. "Make it more obvious, why don't you?" She asked sarcastically and her friend hummed with a grin.

"He was already lookin' anyways." She revealed and Y/N glanced up, making eye contact and looking back down at her food.

He tuned out of their conversation, focusing on the quality time with his daughter and taking her back up to get more to eat and drink before making plans to go get changed and into the pool.

That was all Y/N's friend needed to learn before recovering from their hangover and dragging Y/n back to their room.

"I can't wear that, there's kids at the pool!" She exclaimed. One friend laughed and the other nodded thoughtfully.

"She's right, even plane guy has a kid. On an evening, get freaky but in the day keep it modest enough that its family friendly but still enticing. I say white, shows an element of innocence but does the best for your figure, makes 'em pop if ya know what I mean." She winked and Y/N rolled her eyes playfully.

"Please, he knows she ain't innocent-"

"Hey! I'm not that bad." Y/N defended and her friend scoffed.

"You fucked him in an aeroplane toilet." She deadpanned and Y/N pouted her lips.

"Mmh! Make that face right their and he'll go feral." Her friend clicked and Y/N grabbed the chosen swimsuit before locking herself in her room.

She remerged a few minutes later and strutted past with towel in hand.

"Alright, I'll text an update. You guys go book the pirate ship thing, ask if theres dolphins?" She announced and received a whistle, a thumbs up and a slap on the ass.

The towel was laid out on a deck chair before she sat down. She made a show of rubbing sunscreen on before laying on her back and letting the sun caress her skin.

Klaus wasn't the only man staring by the time she got comfortable. But he was the first to approach. Once Freya and Keelin were racing Hope across the pool and he was sure his family wouldn't notice his absence, he climbed out of the water and made his way over.

His eyes were obsessed with the way her skin gleamed. His body still dripped wet as he pulled a seat up beside her, not hesitating to brush his hand over her thigh.

"You shouldn't touch without asking." Y/N murmured and he chuckled lowly.

"You haven't complained before, love." He mused and she peeked her eyes open, glancing to him.

"I was very drunk." She reminded and he smirked a little before smiling properly.

"I know, and very confident. But I was a perfect gentleman and put you to bed and left you in peace."

"Sounds like you just did the right thing, buddy." She shrugs and he nodded faintly. "But thank you, it would have been easy to just...take advantage I guess." She mumbled and he removed his touch from her leg.

"I don't want to have you unwilling, love. I want you to scream in pleasure, not fear. And most importantly, I want you to want me and I'm quite certain that you do, love." He smiled, bright teeth on display making her reciprocate the expression.

"Yeah? Quite certain? Now who's confident?" She teased and he hummed.

"Why don't we go somewhere quieter, love? I'll help you gain your confidence back." He purred softly and she tilted her head.

"Maybe later, I need to tan my back." And with that she shifted over onto her front so that her ass was right there for him to admire. He didn't hesitate in grabbing the sunscreen and squirting a healthy amount onto his palm before spreading it across her skin.

Y/N only hummed a soft tune as she let his hands stroke and massage her legs, ass, back and shoulders. Klaus wished more than anything that they weren't in a family friendly environment. He needed to be back inside of those hot, wet walls. He wanted to feel the firmness of her ass against his pelvis with each thrust.

"Fuck, love. Cmon, theres a bathroom less than a minute away-"

"Bathrooms are kinda dirty and not in the hot kind." She muttered, purposefully pissing him off making him scoff without true annoyance.

"Again, love, you did not complain last time now did you?" He reminded and her eyes rolled, not that he could see.

"Still. I felt all dirty after, I'd rather not do it there again." She muttered and he suppressed a growl of irritation.

Klaus took a moment to calm himself. His hand remained on the back of her thigh as his eyes drifted back to the pool, checking on his family and noting their squeals and laughter. He knew he should get back, stop thinking with his dick and do what he came on this vacation for, but it Y/N was making it easy for him.

"Perhaps I should come find you later, when you're finished tanning." He mused, his voice thoughtful and his eyes on her. Klaus was hoping she'd bite the bait, not want to wait and give in now but this wasn't Y/N's first game.

"Probably a good idea." She agreed and his chaw ticked.

"Perfect. I'll find you in a few hours, love." He leaned down to press a wet kiss to the spot between her neck and shoulder, his body shielding her from view as his hand gave her ass a good firm squeeze. A shiver ran right the way down her spine and a little moan escaped her lips making him smirk and get up, leaving her alone again.

He couldn't lie and pretend that he hadn't been thinking about her throughout the day, she seemed to just be everywhere. Always teasing him with her body and those eyes of her. It was driving him well over the edge and he was struggling to keep it together in front of everyone. Especially when she'd be eating across from him, deliberately sucking on her meat, licking her knife and fork so he could imagine how her tongue would press along his cock.

His fingers tapped routinely against the table, lowly making his family insane and Rebekah finally asked him to stop and he grumbled about not doing anything.

By the end of food, everyone knew something was up, except Hope. Kol was first to catch on as his eyes also wandered the smoothness of her legs beneath the table before resting his gaze on her pouty lips and round eyes. Innocent and yet not with the way she was looking at his brother. A sly smirk slid across Kol's face as he looked back down at his food.

"You look starved, Nik." He told him, glancing up at him through his brows. "You should go eat something, you're getting a tad pale-"

"Shut up Kol, I'm perfectly sated" Klaus snapped.

"Mhm, if you say so. Wonder who's bed you'll be in tonight-" He chuckled but was winded as Davina's elbow hit his stomach, disturbing his full stomach.

"Why wouldn't you be in your bed?" Asked Hope, confused as she glanced around.

"He won't be sweetie, Kol's just trying to be funny." Hayley smiled, stroking Hope's hair and side eyeing Elijah with amusement.

Dinner remained quiet until Hope asked if she could see her new friends again in the evening at the children's entertainment and of course Klaus and Hayley agreed.

The family went and changed before splitting between either drinking or watching over Hope whilst watching the entertainment.

Klaus of course was on his mission.

He had showered and shaved. Making sure his aftershave smelt strong on his skin and his hair was combed to perfection as he unbuttoned his shirt halfway.

Klaus wasn't so sure why he needed to impress this girl so much, he could easily pick up a different woman at that bar but he didn't want to fuck any of them, no matter how good they looked in their skirts, he wanted Y/N.

And after making a dent in his wallet from supplying both her and her friends drinks for the evening, he finally got to feel her.

She had been sat on his lap on the balcony, legs folded over the side of his as she chatted away. His hands were allowed to explore whatever skin was visible and he found that she wouldn't ever turn down his lips of her neck. Y/N was practically covered in his saliva from his tongue on her skin, his blunt teeth just scraping her flesh from time to time.

When her friends announced they were going out of the resort to find the clubs Klaus was already in her ear. "Let me look after you whilst their gone, love. You know how good it'll feel to have me alone." He told her, tongue wetting her ear and making her shudder with a nod.

They all go up at the same time, waving goodbye as they turned different paths. Klaus didn't bother rushing her to the room, he wanted her to yearn too not just be dragged around. Besides he knew he would have her now, there was no need to get it done too quickly when he could spend the time to enjoy it.

So once they got back inside they had another drink and sat in the lounge style room, still against him with his hands on her skin as they chatted for a while.

It only took one kiss on the mouth to get into her room again.

Finally pushing her hips down into the mattress made his dead heart thump against his ribs. Her touch was so good on his chest as she pushed his shirt from his body and felt the muscle of his chest. His eyes were hooded as he watched her undo his jeans, encouraging every last piece of clothing from his body so she could admire him.

Her fingers were like a vice around his cock as she pumped him, his hips moving in sync with her wrist. His groans flooded the room, fuelling her to squeeze his length tighter and swipe her thumb over the bead of precum that had gathered on his tip. Klaus's head had gone back, exposing his Adam's apple as his body went tense with pleasure only to have it taken away as she squeezed his base and pulled her hand off.

His breathing was rough and raggedy as he dropped back against her pillows.

"Fuck you're gonna kill me" He whispered, the irony of his sentence barely registering in his muddled mind as her giggle rippled across the air.

Her hands brushed up his hips, up his abdomen and chest before cupping his face. Her fingertips caressed his cheeks, feeling the very slight prickle of the hairs he had shaved away just hours ago. His lips were parted, blowing puffs of air against her hands as she traced the plump pinkness.

"I want you, Klaus." She whispered to him, having recently learned and exchanged names.

A soft smirk overtook his features, his head turning to kiss her lips. Klaus wasn't sure if it was the buzz of the alcohol or the anticipation built up but a kiss had never felt that good before.

Y/N pulled away after his tongue started to get hungry, leaving him still starving and yearning. His body sunk into the bed again as he felt her climb atop him, sliding her warm body onto his, taking him inside her like they had both been craving since the plane. Both their eyes closed momentarily, taking in the pleasure of the other.

Klaus's eyes cracked open to watch her tits rise and fall gracefully as her hips started to roll on top of him, he couldn't pick a nipple to stare at as they both got harder and more noticeable.

"You know I was serious last time, right?" She murmured, causing his attention to lift back to those eyes of hers with curiosity. "I'll let you fuck them." She told him, half laughing and half moaning when his hips abruptly bucked up into her, cock smacking her cervix painfully. but she still enjoyed it. It was impossible not to enjoy Klaus.

Especially once he had flipped her onto her back and lifted those sexy legs round his hips to fix the angle and fuck into her with precision.

The female body was no mystery to him, he loved how he could make it twitch, tremble, quiver and shake. The way she clenched and arched. How her eyes went back into her head and her mouth stayed open with a flow of needy moans and whines for him to give it to her harder which he not once denied her.

By the time she was undone the beds legs had snapped, the mattress on the floor wall dented from the continuous smack of the headboard which Klaus's claws clung to as he came deep inside her again.

"God, I could marry your cunt." He whispered, his lips wet against her ear and she smiled ear-to-ear.

"You've really made this vacation for me." She told him as though he didn't already know that.

"You were supposed to marry my cock sweetheart." He grumbled playfully and she breathed a laugh.

"I definitely will." She agreed, leaning up to kiss his mouth as her ankles unlocked and her legs slid down and off his body.

"I hope you don't think we're done." He warned, his hands sliding back to her thighs which tensed and relaxed in his palms.

"How am I supposed to leave you wanting if I give you everything in one night, hm?" She questioned him, tone light but the slight seriousness to it made his expression falter. There was no way he could wait for more, not with the feel of her still on his dick.

She took that comfort away from him as she placed her hands on his shoulders and pulled his cock out of her, biting her lip and listening to his groan whilst the discomfort set in a little.

Y/N started to move out from beneath him, the sticky uncomfortableness starting to get to her like it always did and she felt the need to soak it away but Klaus pulled her back to his chest, arms round her body not possessively and sexually but gently and protectively.

"At least don't kick me out right away." He murmured to her, kissing the side of her head and stroking his fingers along her spine.

They laid like that a while before he felt her thigh twitch a little too much. His eyes cast down, seeing her brows together and eyes closed as if something were wrong; uncomfortable. He rubbed her legs, spreading his warmth along her skin but her trembles didn't lessen.

"Is something wrong, love?" He asked her, tone soft and a little confused.

"No, I'm sorry...I just need to um wash is all." She muttered and he felt a lump form in his throat. She was in his grasp and lifted, brought to the tiny little shower where the water pressure was not so reliable.

Klaus managed to fit them both in, lathering her body in soap and making sure she was clean and comfortable by the time they got back out.

Once they laid back in bed he felt her snuggle up to him like he had hoped she would've earlier. He held her close, despite the heat and humidity making the skin to skin slightly uncomfortable.

"You're weirdly nice, you know that?" Y/N mumbled to him and he smiled, a little amused with himself at the turn of events.

"This is...nice." He murmured back, for once enjoying the aftercare of a session.

"You know, I saw you with a kid...she kinda looks like that woman too." She whispered and he nodded, getting where she was going.

"Hayley's Hope's mother, she's now with my brother Elijah. They're ready to tie the knot. I don't care for her that way, I did for a short while but we weren't meant for each other like that. Hope is all we were for, a night of passion for a lifetime of unconditional love." He explained, a pureness to his voice at the memory of Hayley's pregnancy and the first time he held their daughter. "She's good for Elijah, balances out his boring." He chuckled and Y/N smiled.

"It's nice that you all get along."

"You think that now, you should see us under normal conditions back in New Orleans. Its a right mess!" He smiled and she glanced up at him as he stared off at the ceiling.

"Maybe one day I will see it." She uttered, watched as he looked to her and leaned down to kiss her lips.

"Perhaps." He murmured, his eyes glancing to her. He had mixed views on how he felt around her. The passion he felt was unmatched, the desire was strong and burning. But there was an inkling within him that urged for a little more, something he didn't really know that he wanted.

However that need only grew over the vacation.

Each time he wound up in her bed, they ended talking as much as getting up to...other stuff. His fingers would tangle in her hair, massaging her scalp as her eyes drooped and she mumbled to him lazily. Something about her pretty face when she was all sleepy was so innocent and gentle. It created such a beautiful contrast to how rough she begged him to be.

Taking her from behind was a pleasurable experience which was permanently engraved into his mind but holding her after and caressing her legs once they were clean and dry made him just as happy. It warmed him all the way through, made his heart beat.

"I fly home tomorrow" She told him, a yawn on her lips.

"You do?" He asked, his brows furrowing a little as his mind tried to focus on both her voice and the feel of her nails drawing patterns on his chest.

"Mhm, I have the 12 o’clock flight back so I'll be leaving after breakfast." She sighed and his eyes fluttered, thoughts catching up with him.

"Can't you stay a few more days? I go back in 4." He whined a little and she huffed a soft laugh.

"I wish, I'll miss the sun." She whispered, glancing down at the tan line of where her bikini strap had been. Klaus hummed, his eyes also going to the line on her shoulder, wishing she hadn't put a shirt back on and he could still see her pretty titties.

"I'll miss you" He murmured, voice a little slurred as his body got heavier, sinking into the bed.

He couldn't hear her reply as he fell asleep, his body exhausted after the last few hours.

Once morning was around all of her friends had burst into the room. Klaus had gotten far too accustomed to them all crowding the bed, sitting along her side and picking out what she was going to wear for the day.

"It won't be this hot when we get back, maybe some flowy pants?" One of them mused, rummaging through her half packed case.

"You know we have to like...go in a couple hours? Shouldn't you be packed?" Her other friend scolded and another rolled her eyes.

"Leave her alone, lover boy has been distracting her, I'll help you pack babe."

Y/N smiled and stretched her limbs out.

"Thanks...are we still hitting breakfast buffet?" She asked only to receive a chorus of approval.

Klaus kissed the side of her head gently, his hand still brushing her thigh beneath the covers as her friends finally picked something for her to wear.

"I should get back to my-"

"Daughter." Y/N finished and pecked his lips, "Say hi and bye to Hope for me? Oh and give her this!" She dragged the drawer open and pulled out a little box containing a silver necklace with a blue pendant.

Klaus smiled at her, appreciating everything about her.

Y/N had been in the local market when Klaus had taken Hope, she ended up tagging along and Hope got along with her easily as they spent the entire day giggling and spending her dad's money on ice cream and fake designer. Though Klaus wasn't sure when Y/N had slipped away to buy this gift, he wouldn't turn it down.

"I will..." He whispered, eyes flicking to her lips and her friends whistled and groaned childishly when they kissed.

Klaus felt a little funny for the last few days of the holiday. He still had a lovely time of course. Chasing Hope around the beach was a memory he'd cherish forever.

The vacation was a massive success, by the time they got back to the compound it was all anyone would talk about for weeks.

In said week, Klaus hadn't heard from Y/N much at all. He assumed that it must've just been apart of the vacation for her.

Y/N however was thinking the same thing about him. He had barely messaged her at all and she didn't want to seem desperate by bugging him so she just waited around for his notification.

But it didn't come so she got frustrated and decided life was there to take risks and ended up sending a very explicit photo to him.

In response, she got a video call.

"Please tell me those clothes are still off." He groaned, holding his phone close in hopes it would give him a better view.

"Mmm...I wasn't sure you'd reply so I put them back on.." She shrugged and he let out a little whine.

"Why wouldn't anybody reply to that?" He muttered and she rolled her eyes.

"You barely reply to anything else." She complained and his eyes flicked from the visible cleavage on the screen to her defensive, unsure eyes.

"I wasn't sure you were still all that interested." He replied, feeling a little annoyed with himself for being a thousand years old and still not knowing how to read women well enough to realise she had been silently pining and waiting for him. Her silence was enough to confirm her feelings and he straightened up a bit. "We should meet, I'll buy you dinner." He offered, voice hopeful and light.

Her head nodded and he could tell she was fiddling with something.

"I can come to you now?" He asked, his leg stretching out to pull his shoes toward him as she shrugged.

"It's okay, you don't have to right now. We can pick a better time, I know you're busy and all."

"No, no. I'm ready, I'll come get you, text me your address love." He argued, getting up and grabbing his wallet.

"Klaus, you really-"

"Address, sweetheart, address." He told her firmly, hanging up so she couldn't argue.

He received the message a moment later as he got in his car, heading over to the pin.

He made sure to get out the car, open the passenger door for her and kiss her cheek when she got in.

It was strange, seeing her under normal more formal circumstances as he drove them to a restaurant. He lead her inside, secretly compelling the woman for a table and pulling her chair for her.

Y/N looked both impressed and a little awkward, he supposed it was strange for her too. In Turkey everything was different, effortless.

Still she enjoyed their time out, sharing a meal and catching up on how everything and one had been since returning home.

Later he drove back to hers and walked her up her apartment stairs to her door. He could see her debating letting him inside.

"It was lovely to see you, Y/N." He smiled, pressing a soft kiss to her lips and caressing her cheek "I'll see you again, soon-"

"No, no come in. I just have to clean up but you can wait in the kitchen, my room is a mess." She laughed a little and he tilted his head.

"I don't expect to go straight to your room, love. I know everything was fast from the plane to the resort but...I like you and you shouldn't feel like you have to show yourself for my attention although believe me, it gains my attention but so do your eyes and your smile and that voice of yours." He told her, a loving look reflecting across his features as she smiled almost shyly and gently pulled him inside.

He kissed her shoulder and neck softly as she giggled and lead him to her room regardless of him promising no expectations. He stepped over the random things on the floor as she tugged him to her bed. Her body pushed his down and he felt her hands on his pants in a heartbeat, pulling them open and moving her mouth down but he cupped her face and brought her lips to his own instead.

Klaus flipped them so he could hover above her, pin her down and lift her hips to get her underwear off before he let go of her lips and travelled south.

He wasn't sure why he hadn't gone down on her whilst in Turkey, especially with how her scent was. She was so appetising it was unreal, he couldn't help but dive into her mouth first.

His eyes were in the back of his head as his tongue lapped, plunged and curled. Her fingers twisting at his curls and her sounds shaking the building.

Klaus felt like he was starved, her being all that could sate his hunger as he devoured her.

His cheek rested on her thigh once he was finished, her body heaving for air as he sucked light marks into her flesh and stroked his fingered along her shin to her knee.

It took him a few minutes to figure out where everything was before he could get her in the bathroom and clean her up, helping her into comfort as she leaned on him.

Once she was curled up and asleep in bed he moved around a few of the things on her floor, not too much as he didn't want her to feel he was invading her space but enough so it was a little tidier.

Y/N woke up a few hours later, his body curled around hers keeping her protected and warm. Her lips upturned faintly and she leaned her head back to feel his chest. His arms tightened around her and he smelt her hair.

"Go back to sleep, love." He mumbled, "It's still night time."

"Thank you." She whispered and he squeezed her gently.

"Thank you, my love. I'm happy to have you...for now and for as long as I can."

[crazypersonslayy]

[Lessons in love] Severus Snape x Prof!Reader

~~Part 1

Summary: Y/N is the Herbology professor who has worked in Hogwarts for a few years since Professor Sprout retired. She has never really interacted with Snape, until Dumbledore assigns the both of them to work on combined lesson courses to improve student engagement. Things seem professional, maybe with a hint of unspoken attraction simmering beneath the surface. Until one thing leads to another.

A/N: Sorry if some facts about HP is not the most accurate, I haven't read/watched it in a few years 😅 Also please let me know of areas for improvement, this is my first fanfic

~~

She was never one to be fond of the Potions Master, finding his demeanor to be rather scary, unapproachable, but nonetheless mysterious. Despite that she has been a professor for a while, they haven't a conversation beyond anything but polite "good morning"s. And sometimes he doesn't even return it, nonchalantly acknowledging her with a curt nod, and just like that he's gone within the blink of an eye, his long coat swooshing behind him. They've shared a few stolen glances during dinner, but neither of them brought it up, merely brushing it off as a coincidence.

She couldn't get over his mysterious personality, wanting to dig deeper, wanting to learn more about him. She knew he was a past Death Eater, and she knew about his love for Lily, his broken heart, his entire being shredded and torn to pieces by her death. She ached to have a proper conversation with him like he did with Minerva and the other professors, but just didn't have the courage to. After all, she was not a Griffindor.

"Y/N, Severus," She was snapped out of her daze by the familiar, kind voice of the Headmaster, "I apologize for disturbing your dinner, but could the both of you follow me to my office? I have something to discuss." Snape, who sat two seats away from her, took a last sip of his wine and stood up from his seat. Y/N took it as a queue to get up too. She wiped the corners of her mouth with a napkin and stood up. Her eyebrows knitted together, what on earth could Dumblemore possibly want with the both of them, surely he could've just called them separately? How odd. She shook away her thoughts, following behind the two men as they exited the great hall.

She struggled to keep up with Snape's long strides, descending down the stairs carefully to not trip over her own feet while trying to match his pace. Dumbledore was quite ahead of them, his white hair glimmering under the candlelight that lit up the ancient halls. She would never get over how magical and magnificent the castle looked at night, and the stars that hung across the sky, reminding of her youth at Hogwarts, when she used to sneak out to the Quidditch field at night with her friends to stargaze and have heart-to-heart talks.

Enough of the sentimental talk, she snapped out of her daze, and couldn't help but realise that she had caught up to Snape, they were almost walking side by side. "But I haven't walked any faster.." She thought. Then it struck her "He couldn't have slowed down for me..right?" She looked up at him, catching a glimpse of his crooked nose when he turned his head ever so slightly towards her, eyes darting to her figure and returning to look straight ahead within a second.

The corner of her mouth curled slightly, maybe his heart wasn't that cold after all.

~~

The pair entered the Headmaster's office, each taking a seat in front of his desk. She slumped ever so slightly into the soft cushioned chair, while Snape sat halfway in the chair with a rigid upright posture, his expression unreadable.

"I'm sure the both of you are wondering why I you're here. Well, to put things simple, I need the both of you to work together," Dumbledore stated simply, as if it wasn't that big of a deal at all. Snape let out a strangled "What?". Y/N was taken aback, why would they ever need to work together? Potions and Herbology are two completely different subjects.

Before she could retaliate, Dumbledore put up a hand in silence. She nervously bit her lip waiting for him to continue. "I apologize for the suddeness, but Minerva and I have discussed this. The older 6th and 7th year students, despite not choosing to further their studies for NEWTs in these two subjects, still lack foundation abilities. We found that it is still preferred by employers to have knowledge in these subjects beyond the OWLs. Hence we think that it is necessary to provide compulsory combined potions and herbology lessons for students. I know these aren't the best circumstances for the both of you, but I do hope I can get your understanding and cooperation."

Her mouth dropped in shock. Her, the kind, patient Herbology professor who is loved and adored by students. And Snape, the moody and fierce Potions Master known "affectionately" as the Dungeon Bat? Them working together? Teaching together? Not in a million years. And Snape surely felt the same through how tight his jaw was clenched.

She sighed, there was no way they would be able to do this, and she hesitated before speaking, "Sir, are you absolutely sure there are no other arrangements that can be made? I will be glad to do group or individual tutoring after school-hours or on weekends." Dumbledore glanced at her above his crescent-shaped glasses and sighed, "I'm deeply sorry Y/N, we do not want to take away any more of these students' time to revise for their upcoming tests. The only solution is to squeeze in an hour and a half of combined lessons in the afternoons." She slumped even more into the chair, and closed her eyes tightly despite feeling Snape's intense gaze on her. She wanted to dissapitate into the air, dissapear off the face of the Earth.

"I know how difficult it is to plan combined subject lessons, and I will increase your salaries accordingly". Her eyes shot open. It wouldn't hurt to send some extra money to her parents back home, they were saving up for a trip to Italy anyway. He got her good. "Okay", she replied, defeated. Snape merely nodded, and she noticed a slight frown that appeared between his eyebrows.

"What have I gotten myself into?"

~~End

Part 2 will be up soon!

[perfectly-m1saligned]

(Late) K!nktober day 8

Following @dreamlandcreations prompt list. Day 8: gun play; dirty talk. You can find all my stories on my Wattpad as well. Toodles!

(NSFW: MDNI!! Reader's discretion is advised)

Simon Riley x reader

(Stalker!Simon)

cw: gunplay, dubcon (?), unprotected piv, creampie

word count: 2400

a/n: I'm very sorry for this delay, but you're getting double fed tonight!!

The music was deafening, the lights painting your body in different coloured hues, making the people around you look like they were in a stop-motion movie, making you dizzy if you looked too hard. Halloween, the night of the witches, night of the dead, whatever; to you, and your friend who was walking next to you, was the night of the sluts, which meant belt-sized skirts and the tiniest tank tops ever.

Dumping Jackson a week before Halloween was like a godsend. It stung deep in your pride, seeing him fuck that blonde bimbo in the bathtub at your friend Jessica’s party. It didn’t exactly hurt because you loved him or anything, it just infuriated you how he’d had the audacity to disrespect you like this. You mourned the loss for all of two hours after coming home from the party, then the pain was gone.

“y/n, I’m going to grab us a couple of shots at the bar!” Helen said over the loud thumping music, stretching herself up on her tippy toes despite wearing those safety hazards that she called ‘shoes’. You nodded, watching her disappear in a blink of an eye in the sea of people that littered the dance floor. You took your phone out, groaning at the sight of Jackson’s messages piling, along with phone calls. Apparently, fucking that girl had been a “terrible mistake” and he was “piss drunk”, but sober enough to get his dick hard and stick it in another girl’s cunt somehow.

Since Helen was taking too much time getting your drinks, most likely due to the monstrosity of a queue that lined the bar, you decided to go wait with her since you had nothing better to do. When you finally spotted her, two hot guys dressed as jacked angel and devil were talking to her. She met your gaze, and winked, making you smirk. The guys seemed nice, and you all took shots together, until a pleasant buzz filled your head, and the cute devil had to support you by wrapping his arm around your waist.

“You girls want to go to VIP?” He said, his lips grazing the shell of your ear, his captivating green eyes peering down at you, his lips curled in a sexy little smirk. You were more than looking forward to spending the night with him, since Helen had his friend’s tongue already halfway down her throat, his hand cupping her ass from under her miniskirt. “Gotta hit the loo first.” You said, unfortunately feeling the weight of the booze aggravating on your bladder. When you turned to head to the restroom, you didn’t notice the black-clad figure on the other side of the room starting to walk as soon as you did.

Poor, silly, y/n, you thought he hadn’t followed you here? It was Halloween, after all, one of the most dangerous nights of the year, he had to look out for you. Plus, those guys totally weren’t your type, he was far better. He was the only right guy for you. You simply didn’t know yet.

The queue to the restroom was surprisingly short, since there were only two stalls, and in your alcohol-induced haze, you forgot to properly lock the door behind you. Strike three. He’d pinned you for a smart girl, but God, you could be so damn naive. Strike one: talking to that guy. Strike two: not locking the door behind you. Strike three: letting him get to you.

You were washing your hands, eyes looking down as you heard the faint sound of the creaky hinges move.

“Oi, it’s-” you froze, the water still running over your hands. He simply stood there, looking at you. The hood of his black hoodie was up, casting shadows over his face, hiding his features from you in the already dimly-lit space. Your heart started to hammer, threatening to slip out of the frail confines of your ribcage. Jackson? He wasn’t nearly as tall, or his shoulders as broad, but perhaps it was the sheer fear coursing through your veins right now that made him look bigger.

“J-Jackson? What are you doing here? I told you to leave me alone-” The man tsked, seemingly amused by your squeaky, feeble voice. “I’m no Jackson, bunny.” He replied, his baritone voice sending a chill down your bloodstream, making you shiver. “You know, y/n, I never liked him. You truly should look over your taste in men, because as of now, it’s shit.” You were utterly dumbfounded, the water still running behind you as you slowly turned around to face him. His imposing figure crowded the small space, looming over you.

“Who are you?” You asked, your voice shaky, barely above a whisper. You tried to look past him, but there was no way you could’ve escaped him, since he had most likely locked the door, like you should’ve done when you came in here. He took a step forward, some light exposing a razor-sharp jawline, covered in light stubble. “Who am I” He echoed, almost mocking. “I’m the only man who cares about you, y/n.”

When he removed his hood, your heart dropped to your ass. Simon. Simon Riley. He lived right across your apartment, on the other side of the corridor. Suddenly, although your cognitive processes were currently running a little slower than usual, the pieces started to come together. How he was coincidentally going downstairs to throw out the trash when you came up with groceries, and you always accepted his kind offer to help you unload them. Why sometimes you felt like someone was watching you, waking up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night, and you thought you heard your front door close, but always thought it was a dream.

“S-Simon?” You stuttered, bewildered. You took a step back, but the cold sink pressed into your lower back, faint splashes of water hitting your bare skin. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this, bunny,” he murmured, taking another step towards you, the sole of his combat boots making a squelching noise on the sticky floor. “I always had to see you with that son a bitch Jackson, I knew he wasn’t a good guy. He didn’t deserve you. I wasn’t surprised to learn he cheated on you.” How did he know? You had only talked about it on the phone, at home, alone- “Yes, y/n, I have cameras installed in your house,” he scoffed, reading your thoughts. He said it as if it was the most obvious thing on earth. “How else am I supposed to protect you, hm? Make sure you’re safe?”

Your chest was heaving, the sheer panic you were feeling not allowing you to move from your spot, slightly shaking. “Plus, I wouldn’t want to miss it for the world,” he began, taking another step forward. He stood inches away from you now, raising a gloved finger to your finger, running it over your jaw before hooking it under your chin, forcing you to tilt your chin, your eyes meeting his chocolate brown ones. “When you’ve drunk a couple glasses of wine, and you sit on the couch, your pretty little hand travelling between your thighs-” he scoffed. “Because, let’s face it, that guy couldn’t even give you a proper orgasm, y/n. What a sad excuse of a man he was, unable to please his woman?”

His finger wandered south, making you gasp as he stopped right between your heaving breasts. “Are you…going to hurt me?” You asked, gazing up at him through thick, black lashes. He cooed. “I would never, my sweet little bunny,” he murmured, his nose nuzzling the fold of your ear, his warm breath tickling your sensitive skin. “No one could treat you as good as I would, but it seems like you need a little bit more convincing.” You suddenly felt something cold tracing the inside of your thighs, making you whimper as it trailed up your flushed flesh. “Because apparently, you prefer to go with some fucking jerks who only want to use you for your body, y/n. And it makes me so. Fucking. Mad.” You stilled, realising he had a gun.

“S-Simon, no…please…” you cried out softly, already feeling the hot tears brimming your eyes. “Shh, shh,” he shushed you quietly, pressing a few butterfly kisses on your jawline. “I’d never hurt you, didn’t I just tell you that? Although…” his voice took on a menacing tone. “I won’t hesitate to put a bullet through that guy’s skull if you so let him put a hand on you again.” The top of the barrel made contact with your clothed core, feeling the steel barrel slide right between your folds. You shouldn’t have liked it, but the friction combined with your intoxicated state elicited a soft moan to slip past your lips.

“That’s it, such a good little slut,” Simon chuckled, biting into the rosy flesh of your neck. He immediately chased away the sting, running his flat tongue over the red mark left by his teeth. “You’re a twisted little thing, aren’t you? Getting wet on my gun, tch.” He mocked, a wolfish grin on his lips. “N-No, I…” He cut you off. “I know how much you had to hold yourself back with Jackson, he fucked you with no passion, and you let him treat you like a sex doll, bunny. He couldn’t give you what you really needed, but I can.” Another gasp ripped from your chest, feeling him move the flimsy fabric of your panties on one side with the gun, the cold steel collecting some of your arousal from your weeping cunt.

His other hand crept under your top, cupping one of your breasts, pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, coaxing another sweet moan out of your lips. He finally closed the distance between you, bewitching you with a feverish kiss, his tongue immediately seeking out yours, tangling with it in a dizzying dance. He kneaded the plump flesh of your breast in his hand, the other guiding the barrel between your slick folds, teasing your entrance, and a growl rumbled in his throat as he felt his cock pulsating painfully in his jeans. You were responding so well to him, perhaps not in the right state of mind to actually understand what was going on.

He had started to become obsessed with you from the moment he saw you, when he moved into your building. Your sweet laugh, that cute smile that you should’ve reserved for him, and him only. You were perfect, yet you failed to see it, selling yourself short for pathetic boys like Jackson and that guy out there, who was probably wondering where you had gone. You were exactly where you belonged, with him. He could treat you better than anyone else; besides, he knew you so well, he knew everything about you. No one would love you like he did.

You had started to grind your hips over the barrel of the gun, chasing the heat that was coiling up in your stomach, the delicious friction against your clit bringing you closer to my release. Then you suddenly felt empty, and you groaned, frustrated, shooting him a glare. “W-Why did you…?” You gasped, feeling him trace the cold steel up your body, pushing it between your lips. “Take off my pants, y/n, I need to feel that sweet pussy around my cock.” You could taste yourself on the weapon, the tangy hint of your juices mixing with the feeling of the metal.

Inhaling a shaky breath through your nose, you started to fumble with the buckle of his belt, unable to see what you were doing, with your mouth full. “Faster.” Simon ordered, pushing the gun down your mouth, your throat clenching and making you gag slightly. You finally managed to get his jeans open, and pulled them down along with his boxer briefs, feeling his fat cock springing free, hitting your stomach. Simon’s hand left your chest, spitting down on his palm and then stroking his dick with it to avoid any discomfort. “Turn around, bunny.” He said, taking the gun out of your mouth.

You did as he said, meeting your reflection in the fogged mirror, his imposing frame looming behind you, and you shivered when you felt him pull his weapon to your head, the rush making your arousal leak down your legs. “You’re such a filthy whore, y/n. Say it,” He growled, lining the head of his cock with your weeping entrance, keeping the string of your thong to the side with his thumb. “Say you’re a filthy whore.” In one long thrust, he bottomed out inside of you, making you cry out, your gummy walls enveloping his shaft as he speared you open.

“I…I’m a- ah…f-filthy whore!” You whimpered, your hands curling around the cool ceramic of the sink, feeling it press onto your lower abdomen as Simon used the gun to bend you over. “Yes you are,” he cooed. “Fucking hell, bunny, you’re so soaked you’re going to drown me, baby.” His hips started to thrust into you at a punishing pace, your forehead pressing against the mirror, your hand slipping, closing the tap as you were pushed forward. “See, bunny, no one can fuck you like I do. Can you feel me inside of you? Fuck, look how bad your little pussy needs me, such a greedy little thing, needing to be filled.”

Your moans filled the grubby stall, the obscene sounds of his dick slamming into your cunt mixing with the noises of skin against skin. The heat was coiling back up quickly in your belly, Simon’s cock throbbing against your walls, meaning he was close as well. “I’m going to fill you up, and then you’re going to walk back with my cum leaking from this filthy cunt, yeah? You’re gonna go back to your friend Helen, saying that you got the best dick of your life.”

His words were muffled nonsense in your head now, your orgasm mounting quickly, until it crashed onto you like a truck. You clenched tight around him as you came, your squirt splashing on his lower abdomen. An animalistic grunt rumbled in Simon’s chest, thick white ropes of cum shooting inside you, filling you to the brim. You were left breathless, dazed and confused, feeling Simon’s seed flowing down your legs.

“I’ll see you at home, bunny. You’re mine now.” Simon whispered, leaving a chaste kiss against your temple, before he disappeared into thin air.

•This is an original work of fiction, please do not translate or share on this or any other platforms without credit•

[lovings4turn]

୧ ‧₊˚ ☕️ ⋅ ☆ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭…

— in desperate need of caffeine, logan stumbles into the first cafe he comes across. little does he know, this will be the start of something great.

+ the first part of my whole latte love series , aka my child , so i hope you all enjoy <3 this is set in the uk , but reader isn't specified to be any particular nationality !

+ dividers from benkeibear !!

there were many sacrifices logan sargeant was willing to make in his life.

flying halfway across the world aged only eleven to pursue his dream of racing, for one. on a smaller scale, always allowing his brother dalton to ride shotgun on family trips, despite the fact that the backseat caused his legs to cramp up after a few hours.

but, no matter how late he was running, logan had promised himself he would never, ever deprive his body of a hot, caffeinated beverage before a meeting. 

on this particular morning, though, logan was running especially late. normally, the jarring sound of the iphone alarm would snap him from his deep sleep within seconds, the noise sparking an instant feeling of dread within him even when it wasn't coming from his phone. 

he’d learned that alex had a habit of setting alarms for various things throughout the day, before promptly forgetting what he’d set it for, leaving logan to go through the five stages of grief at least four times a weekend. 

but it seemed today the universe had been a little bored, and so decided to find entertainment in burdening a poor, unsuspecting american race car driver with one minor inconvenience after another. 

firstly, his alarm hadn't woken him up. correction: it had woken him up, just thirty minutes after it was supposed to.

secondly, his pride in managing to get dressed with an impressive five minutes to spare was quickly dissipated when he couldn't find his keys or wallet. the hunt had set him back another ten minutes (because why on earth would he think to check the cutlery drawer until he had run out of other possible options?).

and, for good measure, he'd tripped over his own welcome mat in his mad dash out of his apartment. so, yeah, it had been a morning, to put it lightly.

logan cursed to himself as he all but jogged down the busy street, eyes desperately scanning every building he passed in search of a cafe. he was too frantic to read any shop signs, but when he witnessed two girls walking out of a doorway clutching two paper cups, he knew he'd struck gold.

fucking finally.

logan offered the pair a tight lipped smile as he slipped past them and into the cafe, letting a sigh of relief escape his lips as the familiar smell of strong, freshly brewed coffee hit him. 

this was more than worth being late for, he decided. he'd pick up a few extra coffees, as an apology, a courtesy of some kind. who could be mad with a cup of coffee in their hand? though logan figured he was allowed to be a little lax in his timings anyways, since he was no longer in his rookie year at williams. the team would forgive him quick enough.

trainer-clad feet led him towards the back of the fairly short queue leading up to the counter, and logan took the opportunity to slip his phone out from his coat pocket and shoot a quick text to alex. he hoped his teammate wouldn’t mind bearing the responsibility of updating the rest of the team on his whereabouts. 

‘sorry, overslept. omw now though, bringing coffee as an apology and effort to keep my head’.

three laughing emojis quickly flared up onto logan’s lockscreen, and he took that as a positive sign. 

it was only when logan placed his phone back into his pocket that he realised just how close he was to the front of the line, and immediately began rehearsing his order. sure, he ordered the same thing practically every single time he got coffee, but with the day he was having, he’d probably find a way to absolutely butcher the simple order.

all he needed was his oat milk latte, a black coffee for james, and some sort of sugary, overly sweet concoction for alex. he doubted this place sold the pumpkin spiced lattes that he loved to tease alex about ordering, so he’d just have to find the next best thing.

only, when he finally stepped up to the counter and opened his mouth to order, his mind went blank.

standing only a few feet in front of him was the most gorgeous person logan had ever seen, and considering he’d travelled the world and met countless different women and men over the years, that was an impressive achievement. 

you, luckily, hadn’t noticed the internal reboot logan was experiencing, and focused instead on offering him a warm smile and greeting.

“morning! what can i get for you today?” you asked, finger poised and ready to input his order into the till in front of you.

logan barely managed to stop himself from physically shaking his head in an attempt to clear it, before pasting a crooked grin of his own onto his lips.

“good morning,” he returned, voice a little quiet before he cleared his throat and spoke up again. “can i just get a large black americano, large oat milk latte, and uh,” logan paused, eyes quickly scanning the board in front of him as he weighed up all of the different syrups available. 

vanilla, caramel, hazelnut, and oh, thank god, cinnamon. that was close enough to pumpkin spice, right?

“and a large cinnamon latte, please. oh, to take out.” he finished, finally returning his eyes to you as you skillfully rang through his order.

“ah, great choice,” you commented, your smile still never having left your lips. 

from the moment he’d opened his mouth, you’d quickly registered the accent, though opted not to comment on it despite how pleasing it was to your ears. of course there were no shortage of americans stepping into the cafe everyday, but there was something about his in particular that caused your ears to perk up a little more. maybe it was down to the person it was attached to, instead. 

“and is that everything for you today?” you continued, snapping back into following what you’d aptly dubbed your ‘service speech’, a routine that ensured you didn't stumble over your words to every customer you served.

“that’s all, yeah.” logan responded with another small smile. 

“perfect. that’ll be nine eighty there.”

"great, thank you."

logan quickly pulled out his phone to pay, though as his eyes caught the small jar sat on the counter, ‘tips’ scrawled onto a label in nice handwriting, he wished he was paying by cash. a flash of hope ran through him as he dug his hand into his jean pocket, and he had never been more relieved to feel some spare change brush against his fingertips. 

barely even bothering to count how much was there – it looked to be about three pounds, but he could have been wrong - logan dropped it into the jar, offering you a sheepish smile. he felt a little foolish, paying by card and fumbling around for some cash, but the look on your face was more than worth it. 

“thank you,” you repeated with a soft laugh. “should be ready for you in two minutes.”

logan couldn’t bring himself to speak again, so simply nodded and moved to walk to the point he would collect his drinks from. before that, though, he would grant himself one, small privilege. 

his eyes quickly found your name badge, and he scanned it as subtly as he could before he walked away, the name replaying over and over in his mind like a broken record. but, no. broken records were annoying, an inconvenience, something to fix or throw out. your name was anything but. 

not even five minutes after he’d placed his order were his drinks placed onto the counter, each labelled appropriately to save for any confusion. a cupholder had also been provided, which logan was eternally grateful for. he didn’t think the three drinks would survive the short journey otherwise. as a treat to himself, he took a small sip from his latte and almost swore. logan didn’t believe in magic, but he was sure that this coffee was somehow laced with it. never had a simple oat latte tasted so good to him.

and, he thought, a little embarrassingly, never had someone looked so good making one, either. 

“see you later!” you called from behind the till, lifting your hand in a gesture that could be perceived as a wave, but also an attempt to smooth your hair a little. 

logan nodded and gave you a smile. you would definitely see him later. he had just found his new favourite coffee shop, and he wasn’t going to give it up any time soon.

☕️ . . . there it is , the first instalment !! i loved writing this so much - and actually did so with a cinnamon iced latte of my own , as alex and i are actually one and the same ! hope you all enjoyed , and thank you for reading <3

[ravencoloredroses]

Safe Word

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Sometimes when Az comes home from a mission things can get out of control.

Word Count: 1,679

Warnings: *SMUT*, blood, bruising and cursing

A/N: It’s been a while since I posted and I’m so sorry about that. Life has been crazy lately, but now that things are back to normal (ish) I’ll be posting more regularly. I have a bunch of requests to catch up on so if you requested a while ago and I never posted it I’m sorry! It will be up soon I promise! Anyways, I hope you enjoy this short fic with Az! This is my first time writing smut…. so let me know what you think! <3

——————————————————————

I hear the front door open as I drain my bath water. He’s home. Rushing to meet him, I just grab my robe to put on. Coming down the stairs, I see him in the entryway taking off his shoes.

“Hey Az!” I greet and watch as his stiffened form relaxes at my words.

“Hi beautiful.” He says back, spinning around to face me. When our eyes meet it’s difficult not to notice the fire in his gaze. He walks over to me and I meet him halfway. I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him down for a quick kiss.

Well, it was supposed to be a quick kiss, but Azriel had different plans. He pulls at the back of my head exposing my neck to him. He makes his way down my chin to my neck and down to my collarbone. I grab onto his hair and arch my body closer to him. He gives a deep moan and comes back to my lips. He grabs the back of my thighs as my queue to jump up. I cling onto him as he walks us up the stairs. My robe pools around my waist and he releases a moan as he notices how I’m dressed.

“I missed you so much, my love.” He says when we finally break for air.

“I missed you too.” I managed to get out. He smirks, pushing open our bedroom door and tossing me onto the bed. He looks at me with the gaze of a predator, and I’m more than happy to be his prey. I understand exactly what he needs from me. I knew from the moment I saw him at the door.

When Azriel has a bad day on a mission or in training he has multiple different ways to relieve his stress. Most days are just to cuddle up with a book or take a relaxing bath, but on rare occasions he needs to release his frustrations with sex. Today is one of those days.

He hovers over me pulling off my robe. As his scarred hands graze over my skin, I feel a wetness pooling at my core. I reach down and start to undo his belt buckle when he takes over for me. I watch as he flings his leathers onto the floor, never breaking eye contact. I note the obvious bulge in his boxers and pull him down into another searing kiss.

I move my hands down his torso and under his waistband, stroking him teasingly. He grabs my hand and kisses the inside of my wrist.

One second he’s standing up to remove his boxers, the next his mouth is back on my neck. I run my hands through his hair as he makes his way down to my chest, leaving marks that will definitely be there tomorrow.

His shadows creep up and bring my hands above my head pinning them there. He begins massaging one of my breasts and sucks on the other one. His unoccupied hand finds its way to my thighs, slowly circling around where I need him most. He runs his hands through my folds as his thumb plays with my clit. I arch my back off the bed and struggle to pull my hands free from his shadows, desperate to touch him.

He moves back up to kiss my lips, gives himself a few pumps, lines himself up and slams into me. Normally he allows me to adjust to his size, but tonight he just starts pounding. At first it was a bit of a shock, but after a few thrusts I realize I’m just along for the ride.

His pace never slows, if anything he picks up speed. The sound of slapping skin fills my ears and he moves his hands to my waist, holding me down firmly. He’s slamming into me so hard that I’m sliding up the bed towards the headboard. He pulls at my hips to bring me closer to the edge of the bed. His grasp on me only tightens as time goes on, turning my pleasure into pain.

I try to endure it for his sake. I know he needs this -needs me- right now and I can’t bring myself to stop it.

“Fuck.” He moans in my ear. “You feel so good.”

I kiss his shoulder as my response, but as tears fill my vision I know it’s getting to be too much.

I realize that I’m not wet anymore. Making this much, much worse. I can endure the pain from his hold on my hips, but every thrust feels like sandpaper scraping my insides.

He adjusts his grip on my waist and thrusts faster and harder. He’s getting close, and I tell myself if I can just stick it out for a little longer it will be okay.

The pain becomes too overwhelming and that has me do what I never thought I would need to do.

“RED!”

Azriel immediately stops his motions and looks at me stunned. “What’s wrong?!? Are you okay?!?” He asks looking frantic.

“I’ll be okay, I just need to stop. I’m sorry.” I sob, wiping away my tears.

“Do not apologize. Ever. Can I pull out?” He questions. I give him a small nod. He slowly pulls out of me and releases his hold on my waist. His shadows also release their hold on my wrists, giving my arms light kisses as they go back towards Az. He kneels before me and we both take note of the visible marks he left behind and the trail of blood seeping out of me.

“No. No no no no no.” He says mostly to himself, pulling at his hair. “Fuck. Oh my gods I’m such a fucking idiot. I’m so sorry dove, I- I don’t even know what happened.”

“Azzy, It’s oka-“

“Don’t. Do not tell me it’s okay.” He cuts me off, running off to the bathroom. As he gets up I notice his painfully hard cock. He was about to cum, and I ruined it. It looks so painful for him and I feel terrible for essentially blue balling my mate.

He returns with an entire first aid kit and a wet rag. He gently spreads my legs and begins wiping me clean. I can tell by his clenched jaw that he’s beating himself up in his head. I want to say something but nothing I could say will help this situation, so I remain quiet.

When he’s done cleaning the blood off of me, he rummages through the first aid kit looking for something. He pulls out a tube that I don’t recognize, meets my confused gaze and says, “I asked Madja for this when we first became mates. It helps to heal cuts on the inside, I can do it… if you're okay with that.” He looks at me with eyes filled with sorrow and I give him a small nod.

He sighs and twists the cap off the tube and squeezes some onto his fingers. He scoots closer to me and I spread my legs as far as I can for him. He clenches his jaw again and slowly pushes two fingers into me. I hold back my gasp as he moves them around to coat my walls. He pulls out and wipes them off on the rag.

He climbs back up on the bed and reaches over to pull me into his lap. I rest my head on his shoulder and grab his free hand to play with. Rocking me back and forth, he rubs a soothing hand down my spine.

After a while like this, he lifts me up and pulls back the covers of our bed. He lays me down and then climbs in next to me. I snuggle up into his chest and he puts his arms around me. “Az, it’s not your fault. We have a safe word for a reason. I should have used it sooner, so if anyone’s to blame it’s me.” I whisper and feel him stiffen underneath me.

“I’m your mate. The person you’re supposed to trust, the person who should never harm you. You’re the love of my life, I’ve waited centuries for you and I fucked that all up tonight. I know we have a safe word, but you should never have to use it with me. It’s my job to keep you safe, but I didn’t even keep you safe from myself.” He sobs.

I shoot up into a sitting position to look at him fully. Azriel does not cry, ever. Yet here he is, my mate, crying because he thinks he hurt me. I place my hands on either side of his face and look him dead in the eyes.

“Azriel. I love you so gods damned much. I do trust you, fully. After I said the safe word you immediately stopped. You stopped when you were about to orgasm. That shows me how selfless you are. Not all males would do that, but you did.” I kiss away his tears and continue.

“I never knew what it felt like to feel safe until I met you. You are the only person who puts me first and that means the world to me. I will never be able to repay you for all the times you’ve saved me. I love you Azriel and what happened here tonight doesn’t change that.”

He nods his head and I wipe the rest of his tears away then place a soft kiss on his forehead.

I slowly lay back down and pull him into my arms. This is my favorite way to sleep and I think it’s his too. Az nuzzles his head into my neck and I let my fingers play with his hair, lightly scratching his scalp like I know he loves. He places a kiss on my shoulder and flares out his wings to shield us from the world.

I’m drifting off to sleep as I hear a whisper so quiet I barely hear it.

“I love you too.”

[sunarots]

so high school ━━━ atsumu miya

10. darlin’ ♡

Using the sleeve of your hoodie, you use the small mirror in an attempt to dry your tears from your eyes before Atsumu came back and caught you. Unfortunately for you, the door flies open with an instant complaint. "Can't do shit here. We need to- What's wrong?"

You bite your lip and try to stop more tears from flooding out at the thought, closing the sun visor and relaxing back into the car seat. Even though you may not be used to the doors yet, you couldn't deny that the seats were almost as comfortable as your bed. "Wakatoshi's moving to Poland." You can't stop your voice from breaking halfway through the sentence, a sign that you were very likely to keep crying about it until you would wake with a headache.

"Is he really? Wow, Adlers are going through it." He turns the key in the ignition and looks back to you when he catches you sniffle. "I'm sorry, it was rough when Shoyo left. Can't believe two of yer friends left. Let's go get KFC, yeah? Cheer ya up. I'll pay."

You look up from your lap, laughing through your tears when you catch him attempting to wiggle his eyebrows are you. "Thanks, Atsumu."

"Here, choose whatever music ya like." He passes you his phone, telling you to keep it unlocked before he carefully pulls out of the parking lot and turns to the main road.

You scroll through some of his Spotify playlists, trying your hardest not to laugh at some of the songs he had hidden among the regular ones. You settle for one of the Fall Out Boy songs in the album, and adding loads of random songs to the queue. "I can't believe he's leaving, too," you mumble, turning the music up a bit louder and settling back into the seat.

Atsumu glances over at you, catching the tear running down your cheek. "Aw, y/n, yer still gonna get to see him. He'll be playing volleyball, so ya can see him when he travels. It's not forever."

You know he's right deep down, but you still can't help but feel hurt that your two closest friends for the last two years have up and left so soon together, and so far away. You were happy for them, you really were, but... Wakatoshi was right, you did feel abandoned. Forcing the tears to stay in your eyes, you look back down at Atsumu's phone and start scrolling through his liked songs on Spotify. And, they were certainly something.

It went from Hollywood Undead, to Taylor Swift, to My Chemical Romance, to MARINA. He really did listen to everything.

"Your music taste is... something. You have Corpse Husband and Sabrina Carpenter in the same playlist." You turn his phone to him even though he can't look at it.

He glances over at you and turns into the gas station, turning his focus back onto the road. "Just means I have fun at any club," he defends himself, stopping the car. "Are ya coming in?"

You nod your head, pulling down the mirror and sighing at your red eyes.

"Here, take these." Atsumu pops open the glove compartment of the car, pulling out a sleek, black case. He removes a pair of gold aviator Ray-Bans, putting them over your eyes. "Problem solved. Can ya run ahead and grab some snacks for the apartment? Just anything, yeah?"

You nod your head, picking up your phone and purse from the floor. "See you in there."

You tuck your phone and purse into the pockets of your sweatpants, fixing the sunglasses over your eyes and walking inside. You lap around the different aisles, grabbing multipacks of crisps and some different types of biscuits. You pick up a packet of chilli crisps and scan over the different drink options waiting for Atsumu.

At the sound of girls squealing behind you catches your attention, turning around to see Atsumu being huddled by a group of four girls around your age. You catch a few words here and there, and Atsumu seems to be bathing in their compliments. You shake your head and turn back to the refrigerator, picking up a bottle of white peach Fanta and slowly walking towards the counter, hoping Atsumu would catch up to you before you were served.

Sure enough, he tapa your shoulder and squeezes in beside you in the queue. "Sorry."

"Oh my god, the Miya Atsumu is talking to me. Can you sign my boobs?" you laugh through your words, unable to keep a straight face. "You love being in the spotlight."

"So what if I do? It's nice having people who appreciate ya," he responds, nudging you forward in the queue towards the empty checkout. "Pump three, and all this."

Before you have a chance to reach for your money, Atsumu lifts his card over the reader. You sigh, picking up some of the snacks to carry them back to the car with him.

“What’s that sigh for?”

“I was gonna pay for that.”

Atsumu laughs. “With what pay check?”

Your jaw drops, a laugh escaping before you can trap it. “Wow, low blow.”

You catch the stares of the fangirls lingering on you and Atsumu, fighting your urge to stick out your tongue at them. Instead, you turn your back and focus your attention fully on the car in front of you. Atsumu dumps the snacks in the backseat, leaving you with your drink and crisps.

“White peach Fanta? Yer disgusting. Don’t drink that in my nice car.” He grimaces at the thought, walking around to climb into the driver’s seat.

“What? It’s nice!”

“Nah, yer gross. But those chilli crisps are nice. Can I get some?” He waits for you to nod your head before reaching over, opening the packet and stuffing a few in his mouth before pulling out of the parking lot and heading towards the nearest KFC. “Thanks, darlin’.”

You raise an eyebrow, side-eyeing him through his sunglasses. “Why’d you do that?”

He hums. “What?”

“You keep calling me darling.” You sit your drink down beside him, taking a couple crisps yourself.

“I call everyone that. Why, d’ya want me to stop?” Concern washes over his expression, taking a fleeting glass at you to see if you were uncomfortable. “I don’t want to make ya uncomfortable, I can stop calling ya darlin’.”

You think for a second, giving him a small smile and leaning back against the seat. “I was just curious. You can keep calling me it.”

masterlist. previous | next

summary. after your best friend reveals he’s moving out of your shared flat, you’re presented with a tough choice: let one of the creeps who are begging you to let them move in with you, or find a cheaper flat in another area of town. a do-over couldn’t have come at a better time for you, but your only option for a place to stay is with someone your best friend knew from high school, and his two teammates.

taglist (open!). @reignsaway @yuminako @thiisisntlovely @diorzs @aboutkiyoomi @spicana @bakingcuriosity @kr1nqu @savemebrazilhinata @dazqa @sereniteav @beckxisxinxlovexwithxjin @sleezzsister @hermaeusmorax @giocriedpower @sophosphorescent @gigiiiiislife @zazathezaer @rrosiitas @iaminyourfloors @writing-for-the-hell-of-it @sillygooseymood

[stupidlittlespirit]

Heyo, it’s that body-swap! Anon again!

I’ve come to offer another lil scenario I think you’d like!

Considering Fords default method of writing is in cursive, and how it’s now considered something of a dying art amongst young adults. I’d like to imagine a scenario where Ford observes Reader writing something down, and he absentmindedly asked why they don’t just write in cursive because you know…isn’t that faster?

Reader then explains that they’re not really well-versed in writing in cursive, the curriculum basically cut halfway through the alphabet and with typing more often then physically writing, they just never got around to utilizing the little skills that they had learned. And Ford hearing this is just dumbfounded: “How is not learning cursive practical? It’s basically an essential for note taking, surely carrying around a typewriter with you seems…tedious, don’t you think?” And Reader would just have to take a second to process that information because, a typewriter?! But after doing some more ‘catch up the man who was stuck in a portal circa 1980 something to modern technology’, Ford would still strongly suggest that reader brush up on their cursive skills, he’d even offer to tutor them—only if reader is interested; he could take some time out from his very busy schedule to re-teach them.

Queue Ford leaning over Readers shoulder observing their writing, him taking hold of Readers hand to guide their wrist work..,, his hand is so much larger then Readers, his is rough and calloused but dextrous and gentle as he helps Reader write. He’s very close; as his broad chest hovers only a few inches from Readers back. His body heat a reminder of how close not close enough he is. As Readers thoughts get clouded, Ford seems to be really focused on genuinely tutoring Reader…though he really can’t help himself from sneaking a glance at their face every now and then, he just…needs to make sure their paying attention. That’s all. Nothing more than being a good responsible tutor with no other motivation whatsoever. I mean sure he enjoys helping Reader, and may or may not think they smell really nice considering how physically close they are right now, but thats just an objective observation based on nothing personal from Ford. Whatsoever. Just a completely normal stream of consciousness from the super focused Ford.

Looks like Reader will need more tutoring sessions to get a good grip on cursive writing.

oh GOD this is so good, you know my weaknesses well, anon........

I can just imagine Ford using the guise of guiding Reader's hand to be a little indulgent with contact, like you said. He really doesn't need to run the tips of his fingers up and down the tendons of Reader's wrists like that as he explains, but actually he totally does, how else can he help you loosen your grip to encourage your movements to flow?! Maybe he even has to give you a very special, very scientific hand massage to warm up your joints....?

And Reader purposely screwing up their writing so he has to spend more time with them and teach them more often >:)

I love close proximity prompts so much, thank you for this. I'm adding this to my docs to work on, I hope that's okay!

Also, fun fact: I do actually write in cursive! My whole family does because my grandmother went to secretarial school and it's commonly used for speed reasons, so she taught all of us lol. Plus, when I went school (I'm talking middle school, so about 10-11 years old in the UK) we were actually made to write in it anyway to prove we could 'write like grownups' lmaooooo

[irislunace]

I Love Us

Honestly, I'm so, so very glad AvA is the first fandom I've actually been an active participant in.

LONG RANT INCOMING

Throughout the years, I have "been in fandoms", but I never felt like posting my own art or works, commenting on vids (i didn't have a youtube account back then, still don't), or being anything other than a silent observer.

Back in March, when I came home from that math competition, and found AvMath in my recommendeds, and just clicked on it, I did not expect to get dragged into a fandom about stick figures, of all things. I remember watching AvPhysics directly after, then finding "Wanted", and watching it with no context. I remember going to the wiki, seeing all of the content that was made, and and binging AvM and the actual shorts and literally everything else.

And most of all, I remember thinking, "I wish I could just erase all of this from my mind and experience the magic all over again."

-

In May, I took a chance and went to Ao3. I knew it was a site to post fanfiction, but it had never been something I was interested in. But I was just curious, to see if fanfiction about this amazing fandom really existed. I didn't have an account, no; I think I just wanted to see.

There were about 1600-1700 fics on there about AvA, during that time. I didn't know how hits worked or kudos worked, but I just remember scrolling down until I could find something that looked like a lot of people had liked it.

And even then, I clearly remember the first fic I touched. "Identity", by LeenaFreeBird (I'll link it at the bottom). I absolutely loved it. I spent the rest of the month simply reading, and consuming all of the cool hcs, learning what fan terms meant, having an idea for my own fic that I thought, back then, I could never write.

Because I didn't.

I never made an account or wrote. I never left comments because part of me though people without an account wouldn't be able to, and that was just habit, at this point.

And even though I stepped slightly away from there in the months of June and July (we were in the process of moving halfway across the country, I had just watched the new Demon Slayer season, and upon recommendation had binged all of Haikyuu in a week), I always made sure to keep updated on whatever new AvA/M videos had been posted.

In August, I went back on Ao3.

SO MANY AMAZING FICS HAD BEEN WRITTEN IN THE SPAN I WAS AWAY.

I remember binging all of them for the month. I sat alone at lunch (as I was new I didn't have any friends), just reading them on my phone and getting sucked back into there.

In September AvI began. On a whim I logged back into my tumblr account that I had made like 5 years ago in 4th grade to post random rambling stuff about my life (I tagged nothing but my username wth), and redid my entire blog. I was sooo happy when one of my posts reached 100 notes.

I felt way stronger, and way braver. I joined the invite queue for Ao3, because I decided I DID want an account, and I DID want to post my own fics.

And everyone was (and is) SO NICE about it. They love my fics and posts (which I still consider really crappy, btw) to pieces, and always give me good comments. Even my bad fanart (another thing I got the courage to post during this time). Shipping wars never happen here (if they did, I wouldn't know about it). Rarepairs are appreciated, and we unanimously know the ships that should be completely illegal (not naming ship names here).

Everything and everyone is loved, and this is like the one little corner of the Internet where mostly all is safe and your opinion is valued. Sure, your fan theory may be wrong, but people here don't go and tell you "that's so stupid lol, no way that's true". They'll give you actual feedback, explain the evidence that falsifies it, or add to it because they like it.

Even on YouTube, if someone posts a yellue ship video, for example, they'll get hate, or "the color quad are just siblings lol", or "they r stickmen why are u shipping them". If someone HCs Blue as a girl (ik that's been debunked where we are at rn), they'll get a comment saying "it's stickman for a reason".

Like, let people have their opinions. Alan has never confirmed the color quad as siblings, or their origin story. I know he has said that he would like to avoid romance by not making female characters, but it's not like the people who ship yellue or grapeduo barge up to his door and demand he makes it canon. They're just peaceful, and everything that you're saying is fanon. For all we know, four different animators could have collabed on the sticksfight website and each animated a different character (not saying that's true, but we don't know).

And even with hollowhead pairs. Alan created them, yes, but how does Creator transfer to father in this scenario? We don't know, because he hasn't confirmed the hollowheads as siblings either. They still get hate on YouTube.

But Tumblr just loves everyone. The AvA community, for example, will always make you feel like you posted something good. They lift you up, not put you down. They appreciate your headcanons because it provides a new way of looking at things.

They appreciate you.

I feel so much better about putting myself out there, and I know I will do so more in the future. I now cannot comprehend how someone can see all of this content and think "they are just stick figures". No they aren't. They are stick figures with trauma, feelings, pain, heroic qualities, fatal flaws.

You, tumblr, makes me feel this way.

Thank you so much.

(I did not expect to rant about my entire journey when I was supposed to be talking about how amazing the AvA tumblr fandom is, but now that I have I'll just keep it. Here's the fic I was talking about)

[aonungsmate]

Map of Stars

Aged up!Neteyam x Mate!Reader  [Word count: 1.6k]

Warnings: EXPLICIT SMUT, Back praise, unnecessary words bc y/n is smitten fr, body worship, implied smut, size kink if you squint, overstimulation [This goes without saying, minors dni]

You like holding onto Neteyam whether on his shoulders, around his waist, his toned arms, but most especially his back.  You loved how his lean back presses against you, tight muscles flexing every now and then, never failing to jostle the fluttering feeling in your stomach. Neteyam however, was oblivious to your growing affinity towards his back.  He’s the sharpest warrior there is.  He knows when a sturmbeest would appear at a certain hotspot.  He knows where the fresh fruits are.  But  this?  This,  he does not know. Not that he would care. If anything, he'd be more than flattered, that even the simplest things on him you would find endearing.  He certainly notices your behavior around him when those feelings resurface though.  He loves how your ears would suddenly turn downwards, slowly turning leaning more into the purple spectrum, indicating that you were flustered.  Your tail would suddenly start swishing a bit faster, its end becoming more and more noticeable as it moves unconsciously.  

So, when Neteyam saw you doing it once when he was helping his brother remove the saddles from the ikran, he was set on finding out which particular part of him makes you all putty in his presence.  First, he tried pinning it on his arms.  He has trained for years, effortlessly making it a routine to do various hand exercises to improve his aim, practicing weaving with his sisters, and lifting supplies for the clan, making his biceps more toned, making it one of the first things the women in the clan would coo at. He has tried  showing off to you countless times, purposely shooting better at practice when you were around, making sure that you were seeing his taut muscles as he pulled his arm backwards to aim.  At dinnertime, he would reach from behind you, making his forearm slightly graze your shoulder.  To no avail, you would only smile at him endearingly, face slightly reddening from the contact, but it’s definitely not the reaction he was trying to find.  

Neteyam loves everything  about you.  But he was just a man.  He wants to see you melt before him, baring your everything at him.  He longs to witness you offer yourself as his and his only.  

Neteyam never considered himself as a selfish person.  Growing up he has only known to give and sacrifice for his siblings, dedicating his whole being to please his parents, the people around him, always aiming to prove himself as the future olo’eyktan.  But as his pupils rapidly enlarged at the sight of you squirming beneath him, your three fingered hands raking along his back, your eyes hooded with overwhelming arousal, all he can think of is to take take take.  

“Neteyam–!  Slow down–ah!” you pleaded, eyes slowly rolling back at the feeling of his muscles flex beneath your fingertips.  You didn’t even realize you were crying until your mate swiped a stray tear on your cheek, dipping towards you to rub his nose against your left cheek, his hand stroking your queue, making you arch your back, meeting his chest halfway.  As if to add fuel to fire, he tugged at his queue, forming tsaheylu between you, burying you in massive waves of emotion.  Love.  Desire.  Lust.  Fondness.  Worship.  Ardor.  Everything came to you in a roller, making you quiver at the feeling, chanting out his name so loud some might mistake it for a ritual,  a sacrament of lascivious want for your mate’s back.  

You were too swamped with pleasure your hands have fallen on the mats, gripping at nothing as Neteyam thrusted at you faster and faster, never getting tired of maneuvering his hips forward and backwards, pulling back until only his tip was inside of you, then moving oh so deep back into you, giving you endless jolts of pleasure.  You rolled your hips upwards to try and match his pace, only proving to you that you can’t catch up to his tempo as he outruns you by digging his member brisker into you.  He groans at your ear, slipping from his  positioned palms, almost failing to stop himself from falling flat into you, his elbows acting as cushion from his unexpected collapse from too much delectation.  From the new angle, he catches your lower lip between his teeth, playfully biting it then smashes his lips against yours, deepening it with a delve of his tongue on yours.  He moans as you reciprocate by licking against his tongue, decelerating his thrusts to match how slowly he detaches mouth from yours, a string of saliva appearing from between you.  

It was endlessly torturous as it was tremendously pleasing to you, that he would go  from slow to fast then rapid to sluggish, continuously building the impending knot in your stomach.  “Oh my Eywa–!  Neteyam-” you exclaim as he once again consumes you by plunging into you harder rhythmically.  He grabs your hand, guiding it on his back as he rammed into you.  You whine in realization as he makes you scour through his rear muscles, feeling them twitch at your hand’s mercy, experimentally pressing through the plush of them with Neteyam muttering a curse as he impossibly quickened his pace.  You were seeing stars when he gave you three of his hardest thrusts, your arms pulling him closer to  you, making him nestle against the dip of your collar.  You sob against his shoulder as you feel yourself let go, your slick covering the entirety of his member.  

“Hahh–”  He breathes, his warmth seeping through, filling you with his seed, never stopping his languid thrusts, his eyes almost went black when he sees himself inside you, his shaft plunging inside you lazily, a dent on your stomach visible.  You pull his head into you, kissing him with wild abandon.  This takes you back to  your first night as mates.  You were on his back, being carried by him to the tree of  souls  after you hurt your ankle out of sheer excitement when the day he would choose you has come.  Your courting was well known in the village.  The people knew that the two of you have loved each other for a long long time.  

That night was also the reason why you have come to love the way his back would dip into a perfect semi-arch that leads to the most alluring tail you have ever seen.   The way his back pressed into your chest, firm muscles shifting every now  and then, it was so so attractive.  So when your beloved pulled out from you, you could not help but pull him closer to you, only you shifted him onto his stomach, your eyes seemingly forming into hearts as they lay gaze on his freckled back, the bluest stripes adorning it.  Your eyes droop into a mesmerized look, thinking just how beautiful Neteyam is.  You could be presented with every eligible man in the whole world but not one of them would hold a candle to your Neteyam.  

Neteyam shifted his neck slightly to see what you were up to, chest slightly heaving at the exhaustion starting to seep through.  He was about to ask what was  wrong when his eyes  widened in realization.  You were practically melting his back into a  puddle with how lovingly your amber eyes were stuck onto him.  

“I see,” he chuckles, voice slightly raspy.  He folds his arms beneath his head, acting as a pillow to make himself comfortable, knowing how much time you will spend giving his back attention.  Yawne does that very well, in his opinion.  You gently put open mouthed kisses on his back, a beautiful map of stars that you have come to love, giving each bioluminescent freckle attention, doing your best to remember which spots struck the most reaction.  Neteyam jutted his hips onto the flooring after you suckled on a certain area of his back just a few  centimeters away from his tail.  Eywa, he exclaimed.  You started working your way up, licking him from the dip of his spine, moaning obscenely as you did it, your hips rocking against his tail, its incessant flickering creating a friction against your womanhood.  

A  familiar buildup has Neteyam breathe a sigh, groaning as he feels your wetness against his back, your nose nuzzling against his braids.  You kneaded the knots on his back, eyes rolling back at the feel of his muscles rippling against your palms, tearing a loud moan from you as your mind blanked out for almost a minute with how unexpected your release came.  Neteyam gasped your name as he himself let go of the tightening in him, releasing a sputter of his semen against the ground, his right hand shakily reaching behind him almost tangling with the connected queues, and finally came in contact with your sex as he massaged through the bundle of nerves, helping you through your  release.  You squirted against his back, making your breath hitch when you felt his left hand rub your bottom against him, stroking it in a circular motion.

“Neteyam, I love you–!”  You scream, continuing to whimper his name, "Neteyam, Neteyam Neteyam—Haah.." your voice fades as you run out of breath from overstimulation, tickling his ears as you did so. 

As soon  as he felt your heartbeat slow down, he shifted onto his back to guide you into a cuddling position.  Deciding how close he needed you, he lifted you up to put you quite literally on him, an appreciative sigh coming from you.  You pressed a kiss on his cheek, then went back to nuzzle against his neck, mumbling an i love you, so so much my mate.  It was not too long until your soft snores reached his ears.  He chuckles at the sight, his arms wounding around your waist, his tail protectively wrapping itself around your thigh, with yours unconsciously doing the same to him.  He smirked at his new discovery, the cogs inside him starting to run through ideas where he can exploit this to tease you, perhaps score another passionate night with you, as the two of you go beyond your experiences, showering each other with love and intense desire.

[spinningwebsandtales]

Imagine Going On A Park Date With Steven

Steven Grant x FemReader

Rating: G

Warnings: Slight steam but mostly tooth rotting fluff

Word Count: 1.3k

Requested by @the-marshals-wife

(A/N:) If anyone couldn't tell, I had a little too much fun writing this piece! And it is one of the most fluffiest pieces I've ever written! I hope that you enjoy it my beloved friend and to all the other Moon Knight fangirls I hope you enjoy it too! I hope to get more writings up and into my queue as I have some news to share, I'm just waiting on some answers first! Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

Steven wiped his sweaty hands onto his jacket. He hadn't been this nervous since his first day on the job at the museum. And though he loved history and teaching others, he struggled socially. Then he met you. Perfect and kind and an absolute dream. It had been that first encounter in front of the dinosaur section that him tripping over his feet, more so than usual. It wasn't until your beaming smile had his racing heart calming and him quickly agreeing to your invitation to coffee.

After that simple outing for coffee, Steven had begun to realized how much more often you were hanging out around the museum. Runs for coffee, turned into unexpected lunch meetups, and walks to a bakery for a quick sweet treat. This was the first official date between you two, and Steven had been the one to buck up enough courage to ask. And now he was standing here at the park entrance sweating profusely as he waited for you to join him. After he heard of the small festival happening in the local park and how you enjoyed little get togethers like this, he was more than happy to do something a little out of his comfort zone when it came to you. So he prepared himself and wore his best but comfortable clothing.

"Steven!"

Your voice had him quickly looking up and the sight of you had him wiping his hands once again, this time on his pants. His throat tightened at the sight of you in a modest sundress that flowed gently around your ankles, comfortable flats with freshly painted toenails on display, and a sun hat that protected you from the sun.

"Sorry I'm late," you panted while adjusting your small bag. "Traffic was bogged down on main street. I barely got through."

Steven shook his head, still completely speechless. Your head tilted, concern in your bright eyes as he still hadn't said a word. Feeling like the most awkward being alive, Steven cleared his throat trying to dislodge the words he wanted to say.

"You look absolutely amazing," he finally said. You laughed making him blush bright crimson as he realized he didn't reply to your lateness.

"Thank you," you replied taking everything in stride. "You look handsome as per usual."

Steven stammered, scrounging around in his bag he quickly pulled out a little box of chocolates. The edges a little bent from being stuffed inside his crammed bag.

"These are for you!"

"Oh chocolates," you took the box gratefully. "We'll share these later!"

He nodded before offering out his hand. You took it seemingly unaware of how badly he was sweating. You gave his hand a gentle squeeze and lead the way through the park gateway. People seemed to be everywhere, but it wasn't where the crowd was overwhelming. A couple bands played at each end of the park and in between was different vendors. Some sold food, several advertised different games for prizes, and a few scattered around were selling chances to win more advanced prizes. To your glee there was a stand selling snowcones, but you wanted to leave that for last. Right now you just wanted to enjoy finally having a fun date with Steven Grant.

The whole place a whirlwind of color had Steven dazed, the only anchor was your hand guiding him along. In moments you both had made it halfway through the park, trying to decide what you both would like to do first. Steven wasn't much for the more physical games, but he could outdo anyone in a trivia game. You managed to rope him into playing a ring toss game with you. With a basket of rings before each of you, you both proceeded to toss the rings towards the bottles set up in a wooden box. The clink of the glass bottles had his heart racing faster and in a blink of an eye, the rings were gone and he was no closer to a prize. You on the other hand were able to ring two bottles for a couple smaller prizes. You were handed a couple of small keychains, one a smiling sun and the other a sleepy looking moon. Both adorable in appearance, you couldn't help but grin.

"Here," you held out the moon keychain towards Steven.

"I didn't win it though," he stepped away.

"I know but I want to give it to you," stepping closer as he backed away. "You give me moon vibes so I think you should have it."

Steven reluctantly took the keychain, "I'm supposed to be winning you prizes."

"Real couples share the burdens," you kissed his cheek before leading him to another game a few feet away.

His cheek tingled where your lips made contact and he promised himself in that moment that he would win at least one thing to give to you. He never felt more determined until now.

Three games later and you both found a bench to sit at and take a break. It was this moment Steven revealed the little galaxy patterned bear, that he had won at a rubber duckie game, while you had waited in line for a couple bottles of water.

"Now I get to the gentleman and return the favor," he boasted with a small grin.

You gasped taking it gently from his hands and gripped it to your chest, "It's so cute! Thank you Steven!"

"It's nothing that special."

You gasped playfully punching him in the shoulder, "Shut up yes it is! I shall name him Stevie and he will be my bestest mate!"

Steven suddenly took great interest in his shoes, "I hope he doesn't take my spot then."

Noticing his blush, you gently reached down to take his hand and threading your fingers together. Steven's head jerked upward, from his nose to his ears a pretty bright pink.

"I don't think anyone could take your place Steven," you replied gently.

With sudden bravery, to which he had no idea where it came from, Steven leaned in closer. His nose brushed against the stray hairs that had escaped from your hat, tickling him. Your breath hitched at his gentle caresses on your fingers. You could have sworn your heart skipped a beat as his lips pressed against your cheek tenderly. You leaned in closer, your eyes closing, letting Steven do whatever he liked. You could trust him and you knew he would never take advantage of you.

"No one could take your place either," he replied, his warm breath puffing against your now blushing cheek. He clapped his hands, startling you from the searing moment. "How about a snowcone? You've been eyeing the stall since we got here."

"What about dinner," you whispered.

"Life's too short not to have dessert first," he replied matter-of-factly.

You laughed, "Who am I to argue with the master historian?"

Steven stood up from the bench and once more offered you his hand, "Shall we milady?"

"We shall," you agreed heartedly and took his hand. Deep down inside you knew that taking his hand in this moment meant something more. You felt like you both were taking your first steps into something more, bigger, and beyond either of your understanding. But you felt a giddiness taking over. As long as you got to explore this future hand in hand with Steven, you couldn't help but feel like everything would turn out just right. You gave his hand a little extra squeeze and as he looked at you with knowing eyes, you knew he felt the same way as you.