#the tension between is just chef’s kiss

[koskela-knights]

Ilmari Huotari on Murhamies

[neytiris-3rd-finger]

iknimaya | neteyam x avatar!reader

summary: half a year later and it was finally time for you to make the trip to the hallelujah mountains and claim your ikran. one step closer to completing your training, you can't help but think about the future - specifically your future with neteyam. it's hard to get anywhere though with lo'ak trying to make plans of his own.

pairings: neteyam x avatar!reader

word count: 10.9k

warnings/notes: swearing, less enemies but not quite lovers, still very slow burn, a lot more angst to come -- fair warning, lo'ak x avatar!reader (one-sided), mutual secret pining, ikran flying, fluff

series masterlist | one of us: part four | requests are currently open for now

When a person becomes one of the people, or in other words, when they are born twice, the clan puts on a ceremony for them. It consists of dancing, feasting, and telling stories to one another — it’s all about connection. A connection between the people, their culture, and the new person who has become one of them. Kiri had been telling you about it nonstop, trying to install some confidence in you.

You would be covered in paint and stand before the clan asking them for their acceptance. The Olo’eyktan would approach you and in his eyes from Eywa, you would either be accepted or denied. If he accepts you, he will place his hands upon your shoulders, above your heart, and in turn, the rest of the clan would follow until they form a large circle around you. Interconnected as one, before Ewya. It’s there where you’d earn your place among the people, forever. 

That isn’t the final test that decides your place among the Omatikaya, but only the ceremony. The final test is the hardest thing asked of a person; a journey, filled with an act fueled by the need to prove oneself. A journey into the Hallelujah Mountains where the individual would walk among the floating island of banshees. The most dangerous creature to fly within the sky, aside from the great leonopteryx, the last shadow. You must look one in the eye and if it tries to kill you, it means you have been chosen as a rider.

After that, it's up to you. Live or die. Walk among the people forever or become an outsider. Stay or be exiled. It all comes down to that final test. After spending six months training, learning, and integrating your entire life onto the planet you had once only seen from a glass window, you were about to face the final test. It all came down to that moment after perfecting the language, understanding the orders of energy transfers under Eywa, practicing Tsaheylu, and consummating the skill of hunting. It all came down to sealing the bond with the second deadliest creature of the sky. 

It was the morning before you were set to make the trek toward the mountains with Neteyam, Jake, and a few other young Na’vi prospects looking to prove that they should be accepted among the clan as adults. Before the village, they were hoping to be seen and accepted by their parents and other adults alike that they were no longer incompetent children, but well-working individuals of society. You had more to prove than them and everyone knew it.

For you it was everything and that thought alone had you retreating into the forest just before sunrise, the foliage illuminating under your feet, as you found yourself among the only spot you could find peace to think. The river and the waterfall that Neteyam had shown you five months ago — the night you had called a truce to the immature behavior and sharp tension. 

From that night on, that place had become his spot and yours. Most of the time, the two of you went together at night. It was a place where you could talk, swim, and whisper to one another about the inevitable future that was approaching the both of you far too quickly. Where yours hung in the balance, unknown about what was to come, his was certain.

When you finished your training, he would be close to completing his own. If you did this, completed this, he would no longer be the Olo’eyktan in training but the future Olo’eyktan of the Omatikaya. He would work alongside Jake until one day the title would be bestowed on him when needed. He would no longer be seen as a boy but a man, and with that came making his bow from what was left of the wood of Home Tree, finishing a song bead for his songchord, and having a woman chosen for him. 

Neteyam would be old enough and prove himself to have the ability to choose a woman within the village. However, where it would be any other man’s choice, you quickly realized for the future Olo’eyktan the privilege would not be the same. He would need a Tsahik to lead alongside him and his choice couldn’t withstand being wrong. The clan could suffer and Mo’at and Neytiri would work in their power to prevent that from happening.

As soon as his training was over, they would look to Eywa and choose his mate. From that moment on, they would be engaged, and as soon as he turned eighteen he was expected to consummate their marriage and their courtship. But then eighteen came and went and he had pushed it off. He had just turned nineteen and there was chatter going around, that they were already praying and looking to Eywa to guide them to an answer, and suddenly you couldn’t bear it. 

It bothered you to no end, on top of the fear of not passing your final test. The thought of Neteyam being mated with another clan woman left the worst feeling in your stomach and made you so sick, but you shoved it down deep. So deep that no one else could possibly know about how you felt.

The very feelings that started to develop the first evening you met were later masked as dislike during that first month when you refused to listen to one another. It was seen as anger and hatred but after the night when he brought you here, to the river, that feeling still remained. The rage and the resentment were gone but the feelings deep within your stomach were still there, their grip tightly wrapped around your very being. 

You knew though that once, or rather if accepted, traditionally one day you would have been able to be matched with someone. Asked by Eywa to be someone’s mate for the rest of your life but even if accepted, not all wishes and traditions are granted to dream walkers. Neytiri had expressed to you multiple times that you would still be a dream walker, a soul belonging to two bodies after the ceremony. It wouldn’t be fair to be mated with someone during the day but separate from them at night. She had lived that life once and she wouldn’t wish that upon any of the young men of their village, let alone one of her sons, who both seemed to have a strong connection with you. Mo’at agreed and therefore forbade you from being promised or even mated to a man of the village unless you became fully Na’vi. 

That wouldn’t be happening anytime soon either because the more you wished to become full Na’vi, the more you began to separate from your former life. But Mo’at forbade that too. The transfer consisted of a ritual where the consciousness of a single being was transferred from one body to another. It had only been done twice and before that, no one knew for sure. After thousands of years, some things became more and more like folk tales. Out of those two rituals, only one survived. The one was Toruk Makto, Jake Sully.

With that case in point, Mo’at didn’t believe in your odds and she hadn’t asked Eywa enough about it to grant your request. It had been days ago when you had appeared in her hut, in a state of distress. After the whispers became louder about Neteyam’s future mate and the talk about your Iknimaya seemed to circulate the village. 

It all was getting to you, not to mention the more connected you felt to this body, your avatar the body, the less you connected to your own. The original body you had spent almost ninteen prior years in, seemed to be failing you the longer you stayed in the link pod and with the Omatikaya.

The truth was your immune system was shot and somehow months ago you had contracted a virus and from there, things began to spiral. You were taking care of yourself less; by this time, you had become far too weak. Norm and Max had been trying to treat you with everything they had but with their resources limited they could only do so much. It had become worse just a few days prior when you for the first time ever delivered a successful clean kill. The testament of whether you were ready to complete the final test. 

That night you had barely made it back to your own room by yourself as you had lost probably close to twenty pounds and had no strength left in your legs. Max had advised you or rather ordered you to take a few days off away from the link pod and lay in bed. You needed to rest and both he and Norm agreed that the strain on your body from the link process wasn’t helping you in the slightest, but you refused. You were too close, after so many long months, you were so close. 

Not to mention that in this body, in this form, you couldn’t feel it — the weakness, the limitations, the way you felt yourself losing all hope of a normal life. In this body, you weren’t that and you refused to give it all up to become that version of yourself when you were this close. You suspected that Jake knew, that Norm had gotten in contact with him and told him about your human state but he hadn’t brought it up to you yet. Instead, he communicated it through lingering stares and the sudden extra attention you seemed to be getting from both his wife and his daughters. 

On this day of all days though, that couldn’t have your attention, not when you were about to partake in the most important moment of your life. Sat at the edge of the river, you stared forward at the water, your arms wrapped tightly around your legs. Your chin leaned against your knees, deep in thought about all of the worst possible scenarios that occurred if you couldn’t do this. 

You heard him before you saw him, he approached you from behind, his footsteps quiet as he stepped past low-hanging foliage like so many times before. How did you know it was him? Because it always was.

“Y/N?” The sound of your name fell from his lips like woodsprites on skin, softly, gently as if he didn’t want to scare you away. He stood behind you for a moment, staring forward matching where you were looking almost in uncertainty at your quietness. “Hey, what are you doing? You do realize we have to start making our way towards the mountains in about an hour.” 

Silence was all he got in response as you continued to look forward at the water and the ripples that formed from a fish kissing the surface. His voice broke through your fears and worries with ease but it wasn’t enough to overpower them completely. You felt him sit next to you, close enough that his leg pressed against yours. He stared at the side of your face, those gold irises of his taking in every part of it and analyzing every one of your emotions. You felt his fingers brush against your skin as his hand delicately clasped around your forearm. 

As if broken from your spell, you turned towards him, eyes swimming with every doubt in your body, “What if I can’t do this, Neteyam?” 

“What?” his brows furrowed “How could you ask that?” 

“What if I can’t claim an Ikran? Is that it? I just don’t become one of the people and then your parents exile me? I once again am nothing but an outsider? I don’t think I can do that. A life where I am not here every day in the village, or running through the forest. I don’t think I could stand it.” 

He pulled you closer to him, a light chuckle falling from his lips, “Y/N. Woah, slow down.” 

“And not being able to see everyone; your sisters, or Lo’ak, or Jake. I mean I don’t think I could ever live with never seeing any of them again. Not seeing you again…”  

His hand tightened as if your words registered in his ears, the possibility of that flashing through his mind. He shook his head and focused instead on your widened eyes and how they refused to look away from him. “That won’t happen. You have this. We have trained for months and I know that—” 

“But what if—” 

“No, but anything, because you have this,” he said, tone solid, not bothering to let you finish your previous thought. A smile broke out across his lips then, “I thought you were tougher than this, Y/L/N.”

Usually, you would defy him, and argue with him but not like the two of you once did. Now those disagreements seemed to always be interlaced with teasing tones and sly smiles. You usually gave him a look filled with smugness just asking for him to try and regain control over you. This look on your face though didn’t appear anything like that though. Instead, you were deflated and falling apart at the seams. 

“Me too,” you agreed.

“Y/N—” he started but his voice died quickly as you spoke again. 

“If I do this, do you think the people will accept me?”

There was no hesitation on his part, “Of course, they will. Why would you ask me that?” 

You looked away from him, pulling your arm away and scooting closer toward the edge of the river, disconnecting from him completely. He felt the warmth from his side disappear altogether as he watched you dip your legs into the water, your head hung low staring at your reflection. 

“Pivlltxe’u (speak up)!” his voice was commanding of you then while he watched as you lifted your hands to look down at them. 

“I can hear them, you know. After all this time the whispers still follow me around. My alien blood. That I am in a false body. That I am nothing like you but still in every way like them — the enemies, the sky people,” you admitted with a furrow in your brows. 

Neteyam wasn’t quite sure what to say as even after the countless amount of nights the two of you had spent in that exact spot, you had never talked about something so serious. Something that was your past life, who you were, or what would be expected of you after this. Most of the time, you talked about him, and his future rather than your own. 

“My father was like you.” 

You laughed dryly, your hands dropping in your lap as your head lulled back slightly, “Jake Sully was not like me.” 

“Except that he was,” Neteyam argued, glancing down at his own hands. His four-fingered hands didn’t resemble his father’s or his two siblings but something that still was deeply a part of his family. 

“No,” you said, the harshness evident in your voice as your ears flattened back and your gaze fell back to your ten fingers, “Jake Sully was Toruk Makto. He led the clan to victory against the sky people. The very people who killed hundreds of innocent Omatikaya and refuse to leave this place in peace. He is not one of them.” 

“And neither are you.” 

He slid closer to you so that you could feel his warmth across your back and side. His chest pressed against your shoulder as he reached forward, his hand ghosting under yours. He took it and held it within his, the back of your hand pressed against his palm. 

“You know what I see when I look at these hands?” he asked, voice soft, eyes locked on the side of your face, “It’s not the sky people or aliens in false bodies as everyone else calls them. No, I see my dad coming here and falling in love with my mom. I see him becoming one of the people, leading them to victory, and being appointed Olo’eyktan. I see my sister being born and then my brother.” 

His breath slid across the side of your face, and you turned to look at him. The warmth of it then spread to your lips as he sat so close, stare already locked onto your own. Those gold eyes filled with specs of yellow and green haunted you at night every time you fell asleep; this was the first time you witnessed them so up close and personal in months. His gaze flickered down to your parted lips before darting back up to your eyes. You then felt his fingers curl around the back of your hand, slotting in between yours and intertwining them together. 

You looked down at them and that warm feeling inside of you began to spread, like wildfire all throughout your entire body. He smiled as he continued, “When I look at these hands, I see you.” 

Your own breath hitched in your throat and your eyes snapped back up to his, unsure if he really said those three words to you. Words you had been trying to earn from him for months. Though often used as a greeting, to some it meant so much more. It was said out of respect and in rare cases out of love. 

“You can do this,” he said and you swore your heart stopped then and there.

You felt as if any words got stripped from your tongue and yanked back into your throat. You could only stare at him in disbelief taking note of the kindness in his eyes and how gentle his voice was. Five months ago things were so different, the way he looked at you was so different. Even if he still lectured you once in a while or hated how you sometimes did run off with Lo’ak, he was different. Ever since that night in the very same spot where he apologized and opened up himself to you, he wasn’t the same Neteyam Te Suli Tsyeyk’itan. From then on it was like he promised himself and his people that he wouldn’t be that person again. It started with you. 

His hand tightened around yours, but before you could say anything else, the sound of footsteps and brush being pulled aside was heard. Your eyes broke away from Neteyam’s and he followed where your attention had drifted to.

Lo’ak stood just a few feet away, frozen at the sight of his brother’s hand tightly clasped around yours. When he noticed how close the two of you were sitting his hands tightened at his sides and his eyebrows raised almost in shock. You noticed the way a lump formed in his throat as his gold eyes, appearing so much like Neteyam’s, locked onto his older brother. 

It was almost as if they were having a silent conversation through their matched stares and rigid statues. Lo’ak shifted uncomfortably on his feet as he hadn’t seen the two of you like this. He thought he had known how the two of you felt about one another. His brother hated you and you couldn’t stand the attitude you got from the oldest Sully. You two never acted like this, let alone felt any certain way to justify why you sat so close, holding hands.

Suddenly, it felt like so much more than two people casually comforting one another. Because you and Neteyam were at each other’s throats for months, even if things weren’t entirely the same, the two of you never publicly acknowledged one another outside of lessons. Lo’ak wondered if it had all gone over his head. Were their stolen glances? Light touches anytime you walked by one another in the village? At night would Neteyam sneak out of their tent just to come to find you? 

He was overthinking it, evident in how his eyes flickered from you to his older brother and then down to your joined hands. But how could he not when he felt like he was getting slapped across the face?

Neteyam able to read his brother’s expression sighed and released your hand from his — almost as if it was the easiest thing in the world, almost like he needed to. You scooted back from him, putting more distance between the two of you as Lo’ak’s eyes zoned in on you, lips still parted in shock. 

“Uh what is going on? You two are friends now?” his voice was spiteful and you couldn’t help but let your mouth part in shock.

Neteyam’s eyebrows knitted together and he suddenly became annoyed with his brother’s attitude, “Lo’ak, don’t!” 

“What, I was just asking,” he rolled his eyes as he rubbed the back of his neck, “Dad says they’re ready. We should get going.” 

You felt yourself inhale, your breath hitching as Lo’ak nodded his head in the direction of the village, refusing to make eye contact with his older brother. You looked over at Neteyam despite Lo’ak’s glare on your back, needing his reassurance one last time. He nodded at you approvingly, another reminder that you had this. His words ring in your ears and it was like suddenly his opinion was the only one that mattered. That whatever happened, what he thought about you was all that mattered. 

Standing up, you approached Lo’ak as every moment of training seemed to flash before your eyes from beginning to end. It all led to this moment. Win or lose? That was up to you. He watched his brother stand too to follow the two of you as he wrapped his hand gently around your elbow.

You didn’t even question the touch from Lo’ak as over the course of the last six months he usually found some way to be touching you. Whether it was his palm on your lower back, legs brushing against one another during dinner, or his fingers trailing across the back of your hand while standing next to one another.

His physical touch had increased since you had gotten your avatar, but his flirting still remained the same. He was still the same Lo’ak you had met when you were a child and though Kiri had a lot to say about it, you constantly reminded her that things had not changed for either of you — especially for you. 

The two of you walked alongside one another with Neteyam trailing back just enough to hear your conversation but not enough to be right on your heels. Something else that had lessened too, his need to hover over you and Lo’ak. With you spending so much more time with Neteyam, there was less time to be with his siblings so when Lo’ak did manage to swoop you away or convince you to sneak off somewhere, Neteyam turned a blind eye to it.

A part of you ignored the way your stomach dropped every time he let you go even when Lo’ak was asking you to leave early during a lesson. Neteyam would stare over at his brother and simply shrug and then just like that, you were being swept away in the opposite direction. 

“You ready?” Lo’ak asked, his hand slipping down from your elbow to his side, but still close enough where you could feel his pinky bumping into yours. 

It was something that had surely caught Neteyam’s eye. The way Lo’ak’s hand so clearly matched yours and even with the two of you walking side by side, he knew that your hand fit perfectly into his younger brother’s — five fingers and all. Just as he had noticed the certain way his younger brother had been looking at you lately as well as constantly trying to get your attention.

It plagued Neteyam with the worst feeling he had yet to encounter, one that stuck to him worse than the rage he had once pushed down so far. The frustration he once held for you didn’t match the way he felt now watching the two of you interact. A green monster their father had called it when he told his sons about it a few years ago — jealousy. It was a feeling that masked all others and slowly drove you mad if you let it. 

“Yeah, I think so,” you replied softly, unable to look away from the forest before you as if you were taking it all in, in case it would be the last time. 

“You think?” Lo’ak raised a single brow, “Please tell me you are more sure than that.” 

Neteyam had heard the accusatory tone in his younger brother’s voice and he felt like scolding him for it as he noticed the way your ears twitched uneasily. What you needed right now was someone to reassure you not question you. 

“I am…” your voice trailed off, your hand pulling away from where it hung by your side next to Lo’ak’s. 

“Hey,” Lo’ak stopped, his hand grabbing your shoulder This made Neteyam pause too, a couple of feet behind the two of you. You glanced up at Lo’ak, hesitantly, gaze glancing from him and where the village sat just behind the tree line.  

Lo’ak squeezed your shoulder in his, a smile forming across his lips, “You’re going to be fine.” 

You nodded, but you seemed even less convinced now than you had been moments ago near the river, hand locked within Neteyam’s grasp. The older Sully boy cursed under his breath at his brother’s obliviousness, not able to read your feelings as easily as he could. He felt his whole body stiffen worse as he watched Lo’ak’s hand drift to your lower back and continue to guide you towards the village where their father was waiting with the other initiates. 

“My dad and Neteyam will be with you the whole time and lead you up the mountain, okay? Then I’ll meet you up there as soon as I can,” Lo’ak explained even though you hadn’t asked, already aware of how the process would go from Neteyam explaining it thoroughly the night before. 

“You’re not going with?” you asked, cautiously. 

Lo’ak smiled at the question as the three of you broke through the brush and back into the village, “I have to do some things for my mom but I’ll fly to you when I am done. I’ll be there by the time you guys reach the top.” 

You barely made a sound at his words, just continuing to walk through the village as a clear spectacle for everyone to look at. A show for them to whisper about and place bets on if you would manage to pass the final test or not. Their whispers were low and you folded into yourself as you observed the children pointing and the mumbling of the adults.

Lo’ak hadn’t spared a glance in your direction, but your frame relaxed briefly at the feeling of another person on your other side. It was Neteyam. He noticed the shift in your body language faster than anyone else. The way he walked overshadowed your figure slightly from others as if part of him wanted to protect you from everyone else and their loud mouths. 

He as well as anyone else couldn’t deny how this day had proven to be a huge deal not just for every other Na’vi attempting it but because there was a dream walker among them attempting it too. It had been nearly nineteen years since the last dream walker climbed the Hallelujah Mountains and claimed his Ikran. The legend of Jake Sully was still talked about fondly by adults to their children as he was the first sky person to ever attempt it. As he went on to become Toruk Makto, those who had been too young to witness any of it at the time found their eyes forever focused on you — the next dream walker. The next sky person to try and live among them. 

Neteyam could see it on all of their faces; the excitement, the curiosity that came when they saw you. Sure there were other young Omatikaya hoping to claim their Iknimaya but all eyes were on you. Especially considering it wasn’t just a test for you, but a test for the man who had taught you everything you knew. It was a testament to the future Olo’eyktan and if he had the capability to lead his people. Evident in the way all of the gold eyes would drift from you to him and how close he was walking next to you. 

Now add in the fact that you were walking in between both of Toruk Makto’s sons, that sure also had an effect on people, noticeable in the way they would lower their hands to whisper to one another. He heard his name float in around his ears, accompanied by his younger brother’s. It was like adding that into consideration, you were shrinking further into his side.

As you approached the small group of young hunters just at the edge of the forest, you all found Jake standing proudly, speaking to all of them. Suddenly then as you stood just a few feet away, Lo’ak turned to you, his hand drifting down to yours. He squeezed it and wished you luck before he slipped away in the opposite direction towards his family’s tent. 

Jake turned on his heels to see you standing there with his oldest son and he had to withhold the smile that was threatening to form on his face; one of pride almost even though you hadn’t done anything to have earned it. His eyes flickered to Neteyam and then back to you as the other four hunters, all many years younger than you, stared at you in wonder. 

“You ready?” he asked, the same exact words Lo’ak had said only moments before and it brought on another wave of anxiety into your stomach. 

You opened your mouth, lips parted slightly as if you were going to respond but no words emerged as you could feel all of their eyes burning holes into you. Neteyam’s gold eyes looked from his father to you but noticing your expression, he leaned closer to you, his hand ghosting over your back as he caught Jake’s gaze. 

“She’s ready,” he said, without a question as his hand dropped from where it had hung in the air just over your shoulder blades. The warmth of it still ghosted across your skin though he hadn’t actually touched you.

Your fingers were digging into the ground above you, upper arms aching as you hung over the side of the mountain, feet barely hanging onto the side. Short of breath, you attempted to pull yourself up but grunted out of distress as your arms seemed to pop and ache at the attempt. You had felt weaker lately and you had a horrible suspicion why. Cursing under your breath, you glanced to your side, watching as each young hunter easily pulled themselves up. The nerves in your stomach increased again though Neteyam had spent the whole ride over on his direhorse, at your side sneaking you reassuring looks. It was like every few moments, his gold irises would drift back to you almost as if something about you guided him back. 

You had thought no one would have noticed the small interaction but it was clear Jake Sully, and Toruk Makto had. He had been stealing his own glances in your direction having once been in your position and he was not surprised to find you riding in silence, chewing a hole into the bottom of your lip. His look was just as protective as his son’s and the pressure of their lingering gazes felt heavy on your chest.

Not to mention, every time the Olo’eyktan looked over his shoulder, he found his son already looking at you. The corner of Jake’s mouth lifted curiously as he watched the interaction between the two of you. The stolen glances how you would nod over to the older boy to assure him that you were alright. It had completely shifted, almost like a 180 from how the two of you interacted five months prior. 

Just as you were about to try and swing your body up for the third time, a hand extended out to you. Neteyam stood on the edge, leaning forward, his arm out as any strong protector would. Jake watched closely as you shook your head at his son, eyes threatening him to back up and let you do this on your own. Neteyam sighed but took two steps back giving you a little more space. 

The ache at this point was barely tolerable as you felt the rock scratching into your knees and your side. Sucking in a deep breath, you tightened your core and pulled yourself up. Arms bent at a ninety-degree angle, you swung one leg up and stood up with ease, slightly out of breath. Jake nodded approvingly and Neteyam held his hands up in defeat. You had this. 

You followed the group across the floating mountain until you came across a waterfall, a small path hidden behind it that would lead to the other side. To the other side where all the Ikrans were, evident by the sounds of their flapping wings, and screeches. It made your ears twitch hesitantly as beads of sweat formed along your hairline.

You walked closely behind Jake, his tail flicking your leg as Neteyam stood behind you, his hand wrapping around your side to press along your hip as if to keep you from getting too close to the edge. You felt your breath hitch at the action but didn’t react to him, too nervous at the sight of the waterfall opening. Jake stopped right near the edge, looking over his shoulder to where you stood behind him 

“Y/N, you okay going first?” he asked, cautiously, lowering his voice as he reached out to take your shoulder in his hand. 

You nodded, but that didn’t feel like enough as you glanced past him to the crowd of creatures stalking around. All creatures with razor-sharp teeth and large claws. As your eyes met his again, there was a different look about you, “Yes.” 

He smiled, squeezing your shoulder. You felt Neteyam lean closer from behind you, his chest meeting your back as his hand shifted upwards from your hip to your chest, his fingers pressed along your collarbone. His mouth opened softly to speak but they closed at the sound of a screech from behind you all on the other side of the waterfall. All heads turned and within seconds, another person emerged. Lo’ak appeared, his riding headpiece pulled down across his forehead, eyes finding yours immediately. 

A grin occupied his face, “Hey, I told you I’d make it.” 

As he looked past you though, he found his father giving him an unimpressed look, eyes settled into a blank look. He clicked his tongue back as if telling his younger son not to interfere as nine out of the ten times he would probably do something to cost this for you.

Lo’ak held his hands up defensively as he wedged his way between the other hunters and his brother, “Got it. I’ll be good.” 

Sighing, you shifted your gaze back to Neteyam as his breath fanned across your face, “You can do this, okay? This you must feel inside. If it chooses you, move quickly just like we’ve practiced. You will have one chance.” 

His words absorbed into you, your attention shifting from him back to the mountain ledge before you. You scanned the area, the banshees' colors reverberating off your eyes, like a reflection upon glass. You took one last deep breath, puffing your chest out as you stepped by Jake out from behind the waterfall. Confidence filled your statue as the Toruk Makto called your name. 

Jake’s stare matched yours, flooded with determination interlaced with assurance, “Trust your instincts and trust your reflexes. Let your mind go blank and listen to your strong heart.” 

You smiled for a moment before it fell away, a tight line taking its place. With your rope in hand, you unraveled it, able to hear the shuffling of the group of people stepping out from behind the waterfall. All were eager to watch the prospect, the dream walker, the sky person take on their Iknimaya. With the rope interlaced between your fingers, you swung it around as you stalked forward, slowly, the edges of the rocks digging into the bottoms of your feet. 

Jake and Neteyam followed slowly as you stepped forward, eyes meeting each banshee you passed. A few flew off the large rock and with each one that disappeared from view, you felt the base of your stomach form into knots. The groups began to lessen as you moved forward near the edge of the mountain, saliva settling into the back of your throat.

None had shown an interest in killing you. None had shown an interest in your gold stare and sharp fangs. Not a single one could look you in the eye and bare its teeth. It was as if they could smell your alien blood, and see you as an unworthy rider, nothing like one of the Omatikaya. Your heart clenched as you slowly approached a third group of Ikrans. A bead of sweat slipped down from your forehead as you met all of their eyes, a small noise erupting from your throat resembling a yell. 

Three of them flew off, their tails practically stuck in between their legs. Your anxiety spiked again until you found one Ikran still standing in front of you, its head turning towards you as it noticed you out of the corner of its eye. Its large yellow eyes zoned in on your predatory stance. You felt your ears flatten for a moment as you took in the creature. The large creature seemed to have the widest wingspan you had yet to have seen on an Ikran. Its skin was dark blue, so dark, it was almost black, resembling the night sky with bright purple and neon green markings. 

“Shit,” you could hear Lo’ak from a few feet behind you as everyone else took in the Ikran’s large fangs and sharp talons. 

You stood there, eyes widening in shock, tail flicking wildly behind you as the sound filtered over to you of someone smacking Lo’ak across the head. It was Neteyam no doubt. Shuffling awkwardly on your heels, you swung the rope around in your hand as the creature’s claws scratched at the ground beneath it. Its jaws were razor sharp and you felt something spark in you as it leaned its head back and opened its mouth wide revealing them. The hiss that erupted in your ears snapped you out of your daze and you watched as it stood up on its hind legs, snarling nonstop. 

Tilting your head to the side, you felt all doubt, all fear be ripped free from your body. All that was left in its place was confidence in the form of adrenaline coursing through your veins. A small smirk formed across your face and Neteyam watched swelling with both pride and admiration, his eyes flicking back and forth from you to the beast before you. As the Ikran let out another loud screech, your ears flattened across your head, nose wrinkling as you revealed your fangs and hissed — a challenge you were displaying to the Ikran. 

“You gotta move, Y/N,” Jake said, lowly under his breath, but you heard it, as your entire body broke free from the hold the Ikran’s gaze had on it. 

“Let’s do this,” you mumbled, swinging the rope around in your hand as you stepped forward toward the Ikran. 

Just as you took another step forward, the creature jumped forward, its mouth opening revealing its teeth again. It chomped trying to get a hold of you but your reflexes were too fast. You dodged it by leaping to the side and swinging the rope over the Ikran’s snout. It yelled, the scream high pitched, as the rope wrapped completely around its jaw locking it shut. You swung a leg over the creature, wrapping yourself around its neck. Arms locked around its head you struggled as the Ikran began to panic. 

It stood upon its hind legs, wings flapping rapidly as its head thrashed back against you. Your grip kept slipping from around the Ikran, leaving strings of noises to slip from your mouth as it flapped around obnoxiously. Neteyam moved closer but still kept a reasonable distance between you and the beast. He hissed under his breath as he felt your window closing.

“Make the bond!” he yelled. 

With one arm banded across the Ikran’s snout, you groaned as you reached for its queue, all strength leaving your body slowly as you continued to battle the large animal. As you felt the smooth skin of the queue within your fingers, the Ikran growled and threw its head back. Connecting with your body, you felt your grip loosen from the animal and disappear completely.

A yell erupted from your throat as you bounced off the back of the Ikran and collided with the hard ground. Your side hit the harsh material with a thud and you hissed out in pain as you felt it scratch against your skin. Legs limply on the ground and chest heaving up and down, you peered up at the Ikran as it slowly turned around to face you. 

The rope was still tightly bound around its mouth but it was clear that your attempts had only pissed it off. It tried to break free from the constriction around its jaw but stopped for a moment when the cable didn’t snap. Its eyes found your frame on the ground, laying on your back, leaning upon your elbows. Body shaking, you were trying to catch your breath as the Ikran stalked forward, claws ripping holes into the ground. Remaining completely still, you peered up at it, eyes narrowed and a glare reflected across your face. This was the moment, the challenge at hand, the turning point of your entire life. 

Win or lose?

Live or die?

Lo’ak bounded forward, trying to get to you, but he was stopped by his brother throwing an arm across his chest. Neteyam’s eyes had never left you and though his heart was clenching within his chest, a greater feeling had appeared within him. One that felt as if it had been sent from Eywa. A reminder of your strength, your fierceness, and the warrior that had formed deep within your bones. A smirk formed on his face as he watched the intensity in your eyes increase. 

Your gold eyes hadn’t moved from the Ikran and as you looked deep into its black pupils, you saw your whole life flash across your eyes like a movie. Your father’s death. The great war, that convinced your mother to flee back to Earth. A newborn baby unable to travel within Cryo. A childhood stolen in replace of living in the confines of a lab. Spider’s resentment towards you. A human body you refused to accept as a reflection of who you were as a person. Arriving at the village, the constant judgments and fear sent your way from the villagers. The word alien being branded across your forehead.

It all had led to that moment and it all reflected back at you as you were able to see your reflection within the Ikran’s eyes. Smooth blue skin, gold eyes, white freckles, and a challenging curl to your lips. You, this was the real you. 

One of the people or an outsider?

Ears twitching, your stare became deadly as you pushed out another hiss from your throat, the sound igniting your whole body with all of the energy and trust you had left. Just as the Ikran bounded forward, lifting its body, claws glistening in the sunlight. You tucked and rolled to the side out of the way just as the beast slammed its feet down into the spot you initially had been.

Moving quickly, you jumped up upon a rock and leaped for the Ikran. With a huff, you grabbed onto the animal, hand locking around its queue. Your legs folded across the Ikran’s head, tucking it in closer to its body as the creature flopped down onto its side. With your shoulder digging into the ground, you yelled out in pain as you reached behind for your own queue. Tilting the Ikran’s queue upwards, you moved yours towards it and felt your whole body relax as the pink nerve endings finally connected. 

Chest still heaving up and down, your body collapsed for a moment as the Ikran’s pupils widened dilating. It convulsed again, as your hands wrapped tightly around the rope, “Stop!” 

The Ikran’s body fell limp, relaxing at your words, and within a matter of seconds, its breathing leveled out. Staring down at the creature, a smile appeared across your lips, as it stared back at you and you were able to feel the way your heartbeats moved in sync with one another. Its breath you could feel within your lungs and it relaxed under your touch.

Kneeling over the Ikran’s neck, you felt the dirt sticking to your legs as you reached for the rope locked around its jaw. It loosened and slowly the Ikran rose from the ground, stretching out its mouth. It purred underneath your palms as the Ikran slowly stood up, taking you with it. Your feet were lifted off the ground, and you settled back against the base of the creature’s back, readjusting your grip. 

Cheers were heard and as you looked up, you found the young hunters pumping their fists in the air and yelling your name. Jake was grinning from ear to ear, a look of pride swelling on his face. The same look both of his sons got when they completed their Iknimaya. Neteyam stood, shoulders pulled back, chest puffed out with the same look that his father displayed but somehow his tugged at your heart more. 

He stepped forward as if he was going to approach you, but he stopped as Lo’ak blew past him. A large smile occupied his face, but you couldn’t stop yourself from glancing over his shoulder to his brother instead.

“First flight seals the bond," Lo’ak let out a yell and in an instant, there was a flash of blue and green and his Ikran was landing right beside yours. He hopped on, connecting his queue to the animal, before flying off into the sky, “Y/N, come on.” 

You waited for a moment, stuck in a place where you weren’t sure where to go — almost as if your heart was split in half. Neteyam stood in the same spot, his eyes having never left yours and from where he stood he could practically feel the anticipation buzzing through your skin.

He wanted more than anything for it to be him — to be the one you would fly through the sky with on your first flight. After so many months of teaching you and spending endless nights under the trees by the river, he hoped it could be him. But at that moment it wasn’t; even though it was Lo’ak he couldn’t steal this experience from you. He wouldn’t, especially since he knew what it was like to be in your position. 

Even when a part of you wanted him to give you a reason to stay and wait for him and his Ikran, you also couldn’t deny how restless you felt there on that rock. He could see it on your face, clear as day, like how he had seemed to learn every other one of your mannerisms in the last half of the year. Biting onto your lower lip, you couldn’t stop the way your eyes had softened over time as you had gotten to know this young man, who somehow had snuck up behind you and stole your heart.

It was something you hadn’t fully realized until that moment when he smiled over at you, his fangs poking out just past his lips. It wasn’t until he looked up after his brother and nodded his head in the direction, clicking his tongue softly in the air as if he was giving you permission.

Curling your fingers, you brought your hand up near your forehead and extended it out towards him. I see you.

With that you called out to your Ikran, the word fly falling from the tip of your tongue. It took off into the sky, wings extended out to their full length, as it dove straight down off of the mountain. Neteyam ran forwards towards the edge and peered down into the clouds where you and your Ikran had disappeared. But then in a matter of seconds, the clouds broke apart and you appeared again. Soaring through the sky, he watched as the Ikran leveled out, the image of your last action leaving an imprint in his mind and a permanent smile on his face. 

Jake had been right once, in his video log. A direhorse was one thing but flying an Ikran, a person was made for this. You were made for this. With your feet perched along the Ikran’s sides, your hands clutched around its queues, giving quiet commands — it was as if you were at peace, completely free from the cage that your human body had turned into, free from the past that had plagued your memories, and the expectations that a dream walker held.

Feeling the wind on your face and the sun soaking into your skin, you were brought back to that first day with the avatar, when you first walked out of the lab. It felt just like this, able to take a deep breath without the need for an oxygen mask. It was a freedom and a privilege, just as this was.

As you looked around at the floating mountains, and the other banshees floating around you, you knew it then at that moment that you belonged there. You were a warrior, a rider, an Omatikaya, and in one way or another you were going to convince Mo’at of that and every other Na’vi. She was going to approve your request for the transfer ritual if it was the last thing you would ever do. 

You had heard him before you saw him. A yell and then an echo across the sky followed by a shadow above you. Looking up, you found Lo’ak smiling down at you, the same look in his eye that you knew filled yours. The look of an Omatikaya rider. He veered left and then swooped down, his Ikran bumping into yours lightly. You gasped, hands instinctively tightening around your Ikran’s queues as your balance shifted.

Looking back over to Lo’ak, you found him laughing, a devious expression the only way you could describe it on his face. Withholding your own smile, silently you advised your Ikran to lean to the right, straight into Lo’ak’s lane. Your Ikran’s wings bumped into his lightly causing him to bank off to avoid the two of you colliding. When he looked over at you, you couldn’t help but let your head lean back as your sweet laugh escaped your throat. 

You flew like that for a while, him casually bumping into you just to either get on your nerves or hear your laugh again. And somehow even though you wished Neteyam was still there to share that moment with you, you couldn’t help but indulge in the happiness you felt to be with Lo’ak — your long-time friend, the boy who had been flirting with you senselessly, but someone who would never once give up on you. He was loyal and even with your heart wishing for something else entirely, you knew it was a special moment to share with him. 

Hours had gone by and finally, as the sun began to fall from the sky, Lo’ak had gotten your attention. You thought maybe he would lead you home, back to the village, but instead, he nodded his head in another direction, back into the floating mountains. Even with your lack of direction, you knew it wasn’t the right way, but you followed him anyway. He landed on one that had seemed so random to you, but you followed, commanding your Ikran to land.

Listening, it came to a stop near his, and for a moment before you got down from the creature, you looked over to Lo’ak still sitting upon his, and the largest smile formed across your face. Giggling, you shook your head in utter disbelief at the events that had happened the last few hours that were real and now engraved within your memory and soul forever. A look of his own formed across his face as both of your laughter faded. 

He tilted his head to the side, something in his eyes completely different than anything you had seen before, a fondness of sorts, “Look at you, girl! You’re a natural already.” 

His gaze was soft, too soft, you knew that. You looked away suddenly dismounting from the Ikran, letting your queue disconnect for the first time in hours. Letting out a soft breath, Lo’ak followed suit and he approached you to find you already staring over the edge at the fast-setting sun. 

He chuckled, “This was where Neteyam and I both went when we each completed our Iknimaya. We flew for hours unable to convince one another to return home to the village. Even when he had completed his a few years before I did, he always flew like it was his first time — like we both could stay up here forever.” 

You slowly turned your head to face him, his words drawing you in. He smiled at the memory, “Then even after we had been flying for hours unend we would come here, to this spot, and watch the sunset, the evening eclipse. Shit, you should have seen how mad our mom used to get at us when we would return home after dark. It was scary, honestly.” 

“You still do that?” you asked suddenly, your own voice surprising you, “Fly together long after dark.” 

Lo’ak shook his head, his smile slipping from his face just as quickly as it had appeared, “No, at least not with Neteyam. For the last year or so, he's been too busy with training. His focus is entirely put on our father and the role of being the future Olo’eyktan. Dad has him on a tight schedule.” 

“But what about now? He is done training me. Shouldn't he have some extra time now?”

“No, because even if he won't be spending all day every day with you, he'll have other things to worry about. Olo'eyktan things with my father; raids, runs, lookouts, spotting.” 

You nodded, his words making you once again realize, that this was it. Neteyam had done his job and no longer would you be spending days with him in the forest learning the language, hunting, or about the energies of the world. No more nights sneaking off into the forest just to breathe, away from the pressures the adults presented. He had done what was asked of him — teach you the ways of the Omatikaya. 

“Yeah, I guess that would make sense,” you replied, unable to stop the ache that appeared in your chest or the need to pull on the tips of your fingers. 

He examined the expression on your face and the disappointment that seemed to flood your system. He couldn’t help his next statement from slipping out of his mouth. “Yeah, so it's a good thing my mom and grandmother are choosing his mate for him? Because I don't know if he would ever have the time to do it himself."

“Hm, the next Tsahik, right? It’s an important role and an important choice. That will be happening soon then?” 

“Yes, I think so, at least announced soon anyway. Mo'at has been looking for quite a while,” Lo’ak agreed, suddenly leaning closer to you as the thought once again plagued his mind of what he had overheard days ago. “Have you thought about it at all?” 

Your brows knitted together as his question filtered through your ears. Looking away from the eclipse, you matched his stare, a questioning look filling your eyes as an unsure chuckle rumbled within your throat, “Thought about what?” 

He was quiet then, eyes narrowing as they suddenly scanned your face, unsure if he should clarify what he had asked. Lo’ak turned to you fully, reaching out as if he was going to take your hands in his but then after a moment, they dropped back to his sides, a defeated sigh falling from his lips. 

“Are you asking me about—” 

“A mate?” he cut you off, “Yes.” 

“What?” You sputtered out, eyes widening suddenly as your stomach tightened at the sudden shift in conversation. “Lo’ak—” 

“I am asking you about whether or not you’ve thought about it,” he clarified, voice once again silencing yours as his bright eyes never seemed to leave yours, “You’re already eighteen and—” 

“Lo’ak, stop,” you said, lifting a hand and sure enough his voice fell silent with the rest of his thought driting away to the back of his mind. “You and I both know that I can’t be mated with anyone. It is wrong.” 

“But not impossible. You can. It’s just frowned upon.” 

Your mouth fell open agape, afraid of where he was going with the words he had so clearly admitted to you. The way he was looking at you as he said it left a feeling in your stomach, almost as if it was dread, twisting away at your insides.

Yes, it wasn’t impossible, but Neytiri had explicitly warned you how wrong it was and what kinds of problems it would cause. Especially, considering Mo’at had denied your request, it would be even worse if you mated with someone without any of their blessings, defying their direct set rules.

It also wasn't Lo’ak that came to mind when you put in the request. Sure a large part of you could always say you went to Mo'at for yourself, for the health you were currently lacking when you left the village at night and returned to the lab, but there was another reason — another person. It had never been and would never be Lo’ak.

“I mean it clearly has crossed your mind if you went and saw Mo’at. You asked her about the transfer ritual, right?” 

Eyes narrowing in his direction, you held your ground, body tensing as he revealed that he somehow had known. Known that you had gone to see the Tsahik and asked her about the consciousness transfer. He knew and suddenly a panic filled your body. What else could he have known? The reality is there's so much he doesn't know, so that plagued you with the question.

You shook your head, annoyance evident in your tone, “Lo’ak, how did you…” 

“I heard you,” he admitted without a moment of hesitation, “I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop but when I heard your voice with Mo’at I was curious. Then you mentioned the transfer ritual, and I couldn’t help myself but listen.” 

You exhaled, somewhat frustrated, a sudden notion to get back on your Ikran and escape back into the forest and to the village. Your body had already used up its stored energy for the day and you knew the night would be hell when you returned to your human body. But as annoyed as you were that he had heard the request you had put in with Mo’at, you were interested in why he had brought this up. Why he had chosen to mention it to you — let alone the part about mates?

“What are you trying to say?” 

He smirked then as if he had come up with the most brilliant plan but it only left your body feeling cold and slightly worried, “All I am trying to say is that you will become full Na’vi and that means you will be able to be chosen as someone’s mate.” 

“Lo’ak,” you warned suddenly, able to follow his thinking after having known him for so many years, “Please.” 

He ignored your quiet plea for him to be careful with his words as your eyes fluttered to a close. His hands taking a hold of your arms bought your gaze back to his. A small smile appeared on his lips, “What if we became mates? What if we chose each other?” 

A pin dropped as well as your stomach, as if you were back on your Ikran diving down within the sky, waiting for the air to shift. This didn’t feel like it was going to level out like the air or register in your ears anytime soon. You stared forward at him, scared to look away, scared to break the hope that filled his eyes. 

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah, I mean the idea is kind of all over the place, but think of it this way. My parents can’t choose my mate for me and you don’t have to deal with all of the assholes in the village that obviously aren’t good enough for you,” he explained, his hand drifting up to cup your face, “Plus, you want to stay, don’t you? No matter what happens you want to stay here with us, right? Like this, in this form?”

“Lo’ak.”

He was quiet for a moment, thumb softly bruising along your temple, gaze staring deep into yours. “We could be happy, Y/N. Just you and me.” 

You found yourself studying the ground, suddenly feeling sick and like a complete mess as your mind somehow wandered to the one person that seemed to never leave it. Neteyam, the future Olo’eyktan. The very man who would have his Tsahik chosen for him by Mo’at and Eywa herself. The very man who would have the perfect match — a woman who was strong, incredibly smart, and a gifted healer. A Tsahik that was selfless and would provide for her people. That wasn’t you. You knew it. Lo’ak knew it. He hadn’t brought up Neteyam again but the hesitancy in your eyes, the anxious thoughts that had slipped from your tongue, he knew was because of his older brother. His older brother who was already spoken for. 

“Lo’ak, where is this coming from?” you asked, hand reaching up to hold his wrist in your hand, a confused look on your face. 

He was hesitant to answer, seen in the way, his eyes shifted to the sky behind you. You made a displeased noise and his eyes found yours again, a smile forming because you knew him all too well after so many years. “We have been friends for a long time now. For seven years I've always been used to it being us and Kiri and Spider. But somehow even with everyone, we found time just for us. I don’t know, I guess I just feel like I don’t see you as much as I used to.” 

“Yeah, well a couple of things are different now. Huge things,” You chuckled, hand reaching up to take his hand from your face, interlacing it in yours. 

His eyes followed your movement and stared down at your large blue hand that fit suddenly so perfectly in his compared to your human one that had always felt so awkward. He had never been great at communicating the hard stuff or admitting when something was bothering him, so you knew this was his way of saying that he missed you. With all of the sudden changes, he was struggling with accepting them. 

“I’m also not locked away in a lab anymore, I am here with you. Things are going to be different, Lo’ak but it doesn’t mean our friendship is going to change.” 

“I guess I just am not used to sharing you,” he admitted, a flush appearing on his face and it made you realize exactly who he was referring to. Neteyam. “What, outsider and outcast together, you don't want that?"

You sighed, his joke not pulling enough strings in your heart to change your initial apparent feelings. You knew Lo'ak thought and you knew that he wasn’t going to willingly drop this without you taking the time to fully contemplate it even if his intentions weren’t romantic. You inhaled, the depth enough to reach your core, as his warmly coated stare seemed to engulf you whole.

His attempts were not poorly identified, casted by his loyalty to you but his execution was suffocating you. The both of you as you knew what was offered to you was taken from him. Where he could be a consolation prize, you be only an entrapment for him. He deserved more than you. “Lo'ak wouldn’t you want to be mates with someone that you love though? I mean do you even feel that way about me?”

He ignored your question and somehow that was an answer in itself.

“Look, I am not worried about spending the rest of my life with someone I may not feel for as my parents do with each other. Because I know this, us — we could make it work. Do you know why I am so sure about that? Because we have been friends for so long and it wouldn’t be so bad. We could take care of each other, be just as we are now, and build a future for ourselves. And if that's what settling for a life with you, looks like, then I’ll take it,” he paused, voice lowering as a smile fell across his lips, “I would rather settle for that than go along with whoever my parents choose for me. Plus I want you to stay, Y/N.” 

His words hit you like a ton of bricks and suddenly just as you thought everything had become so clear, so free from the downfalls of life, reality hit you again. It shifted and all of your problems returned led by an entirety of new ones. Because there's always a choice that has to be made; choose other people, choose to make them happy, or choose yourself even if there is no assurance that it'll all work out for you. Do you decide to take that risk?

Staring in the face of that question, it felt as if thousands of arrows were coming straight for you, its toxicity was inevitable and it would pierce into you, refusing to ever be pulled free from your skin. Yet, everything he said was so true, so undeniably true, but it all left you feeling uneasy for one reason only, one person only.

It was supposed to be a moment of relief, a moment where you were swelling with pride as you had completed Iknimaya. You were hours away from your ceremony with the people. The most important day of your entire life and one you had been thinking about for years. An accomplishment that would be encased in the back of your mind, as you were only the second dream walker to have ever done it.

It was supposed to be your moment but now because of this eclipse, this mountain, this ride — your moment would remain bittersweet, overclouded by Lo’ak’s proposal. 

[cloudwisp]

Jealous Sylus unknowingly sets himself up when he takes you to a 9-course kaiseki experience for a quiet and intimate dinner date. You’re both seated at the chef’s counter and the charming man preparing the food and serving you tonight was on the younger and attractive side. You can tell the chef pours his heart and soul into each beautiful small plate so you savor each bite with blissful appreciation and praise him for making such delicious food so skillfully with ease.

Sylus wouldn't dream of spoiling your night just because something is preventing him from sharing your enjoyment, but when you kindly ask the talented chef for his name it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. He drags your seat closer to him, laying a soft kiss on your shoulder while maintaining a possessive grip around your waist. You’re infuriatingly oblivious to his display of jealousy as you keep your cute smiles about you and gently pat his cheek feeding him another bite.

After the lovely dinner experience, you and Sylus take a moonlit stroll basking in the cool night air. His thumbs are tucked inside his front pockets so you loop your arm through his to hold and lean some of your weight against him, exhaling that you didn’t know such simple and unique ingredients could make for such a tasty meal and you’d love to revisit the place again. You feel Sylus stiffen under your touch at that and his unimpressed response makes you realize his unusual behavior of keeping mostly quiet this entire outing. You pull him to an abrupt stop and with a tilt of your head and slight furrow to your brows you ask him what’s wrong.

Sylus takes a moment to collect his thoughts, glancing at the lamplight filtered road ahead of him then back at your concerned face and resigns with a small sigh. There’s an edge in his voice when he downplays the situation but the more he recalls your fangirl worthy attention toward the chef it slowly gnaws at him from within. “Nothing’s wrong. You just seemed to enjoy that food a little too much. And that chef a little too much.”

“Sylus, you brought me there so I’m not really understanding...? Of course, I enjoyed seeing the food be prepared right in front of us and the— Oohh, I think I see now.” You really should've tried harder to suppress the fond smile as your mind works to make perfect sense of the unwarranted tension between you and him. But it was truly adorable to think that even the fearsome Onychinus leader was jealous over something so silly and you reach up to playfully pinch his cheek. “Were you jealous? Is that why you were acting so strange?”

“Jealous, huh?” He laughs softly, but it sounds more like a scoff as his fingers curl around your wrist and he brings your hand back down to his side while brushing his thumb over your knuckles. “I wouldn’t say jealous, just… observant. You were practically gushing over the chef when I was right there.”

“Okay, I understand where you’re coming from. It seems I should be more interested in reminding my husband how much I love and adore him.” You encircle your arms around his neck and his expression softens with each tender kiss you trail across his face and meet his waiting lips for an achingly sweet kiss. His hands rest on your hips and tug you closer to him and he resists the urge to deepen the kiss like he’s a man obsessed and can’t get enough of his darling wife.

“I appreciate the reminder, kitten. But I might need another one when we’re back home for good measure.”

[cazshmere]

synastry observations pt. 1 🩵

materialist🔖

🦋 venus in the 3rd house synastry is honestly so so underrated. The venus person could want to constantly talk to the house person because they just GET them yk?😭 it’s so cute to see them interact. They’re in their little bubble, cracking jokes, laughing at things and the banter they have is chef’s kiss😋😌.

🦋 Another underrated placement is most definitely sun in the 4th house synastry. The immediate connection between these people ? like wow. Another placement where y’all just GET each other 💕.

🦋something weird I’ve noticed is when I have 12th house synastry with someone, I ALWAYS listen to music and make fake scenarios about them in my head😭 (I mean I do this with every guy I like but when 12th house synastry is involved it becomes excessive…). Especially with their venus/mars in my 12th house💀. Do y’all do this too? lmk

🦋moon-mars harsh aspects is honestly something else…❤️‍🔥. you don’t know if you wanna rip their head off or rip their shirt off (lmao with consent ofc)😭💀. They just KNOW what to say to PISS YOU OFF, especially the square. Despite them being the most aggravating person you know there’s something appealing about them that just draws you in😳😋.

🦋I feel like when you have mercury in the 1st house with someone, there’s always some sort of subtle or not so subtle physical touch taking place. Either they bump into you or touch you by mistake or they just tend to be extremely close to you…🤔 lmk if any of y’all have experienced this.

🦋 The way I have a love/hate relationship with mars in the 1st house synastry😭. Especially when a guy’s mars falls in my 1st house, I literally cannot help but physically react to whatever he says or does. Oh and you best believe the mars person wants to be physically near you or touch you in some shape or form. They literally can’t keep their hands to themselves ❤️‍🔥😋.

🦋if sun-venus/mars and moon-mars hard aspects (esp the squares) were a trope, it’d for sure be ‘enemies to lovers’😌❤️‍🔥. The countless “you’re so annoying”’s and the “I hate you”’s 😳❤️‍🔥. The tension is palpable hehe.

🦋something I’ve noticed with sun in the 8th house synastry is that there is a lot of insecurity from the house person’s side😬. The house person feels overshadowed by the sun person and in return tries to copy or mimic the sun person’s mannerisms in order to become more like the sun person 💀. On a more positive note, the house person genuinely admires the sun person’s personality and looks at them as sort of an inspiration 💕(ofc it depends on how self- confident the house person is and how good their self esteem is).

Please do not copy or steal any of my work <3. These are just personal observations so don’t take any of them too seriously 🧿😙♥️.

© cazshmere 2024 [All Rights Reserved]

[buntanteen]

svt fic recs list <3 - lee jihoon/woozi b'day edition - sfw & nsfw ver.

summary: 28 days of sfw & nsfw jihoon reader insert fics for woozi's birthday

contains: 18+ nsfw (mdni!!) majority is afab reader, mostly sub!jihoon

✩ svt writing & fic rec masterlist ✩

✩ sfw ✩

❥ woozi bf headcanon samples - @wooahaee

this makes me just feel so happy and giddy and helps calm me down to go to sleep. the tid bits of what he might be like as a bf is making me crazy *rams head into wall*

❥ princess treatment - @emocheol

i just wanna give him so much love and care. hoonie really deserves the love he receives and so much more

❥ crushing!jihoon - @emotionalsupport-ljh

oh he's SHYYYYYYYYYY (me acting like i'm not shy too jfgkbd) and a bit patheticccc (perfect for me heheh😘) i'm kicking my feet and giggling this is so cuteee HE'S SO CUTEEEEE

❥ pouty - @qmrzi

omg pls give this baby attention, i will sob if he doesn't get it😭 baby was just excited to show his hairrr (also, bro looks SOOOOO fucking good blonde dfjkbd)

❥ the seventeen members as boyfriends - @catboyieejeno

woozi's section gimme gimme all of it thank you~ the quality time?? the massages?? the gym pump omg kvhfbk

❥ jihoon & hand-holding - @ylangelegy

and if i sob?? jihoon wanting to express love outside of songs kjfdb the triple touch to signal "i love you"??? as someone who can't always verbally say what i want to say, i love this 🥺

❥ seventeen when you reject their kiss (as a prank) - @emocheol

jihoon's section is just so *sobs* HE'S SO LIL AND CUTE I WILL GIVE U ALL THE KISSES U WANT

❥ shadow - @babyleostuff

i just know hoonie would drop everything to comfort someone he loves and i hope he has people that do the same :3

❥ 16:33 - @fairyhaos

YOU'RE SO REAL HE IS SO SO PRETTTY

❥ all the ways jihoon kisses you - @wifeyoozi

(putting it in sfw cuz the nsfw is minimal) THIS IS SO CUTE AND SWEET 🥹 JIHOON KISSES GIMMEEE

❥ simp jihoon (texts) - @wooziorgans

I'M CACKLING HE'S SO???!?!

✩ nsfw ✩

❥ lazy morning sex - @sluttywoozi

OH THE PICS YOU USED KDFJGBFDKG oh the vibes in the fic are just *chef's kiss* it is just jkbgdk kjgbkdfb fdkjgbdkfgbdk bgbdfkjgb ya know?

❥ sub!jihoon - @hannieehaee

going slightly insane over praising pretty jihoon and marking him up and him getting flustered and insane over praise d hfhdhdbdb obssessed. u threw so much of what i want to do to woozi into this fic i'm really going through it rn i cannot handle the lack of sanity rn

❥ under the neon lights - @dirtysvthoughts

OH THE IMAGES IN MY HEAD AHHH. lemme "celebrate" his birthday with him PLS PLS PLS. fuck this fic is so hooootttttt

❥ sub!woozi - @hanniehae

FUCKKK i wanna praise him sooooooooo bad and see him flush all red from compliments. does he even know how pretty he is?? (editing this fic rec and i didn't realise that i had literally recommended it 2x dfkjgbk IGNORE THAT)

❥ OT 13 : edging vs overstimulation - @svtswhorehouse

jihoon's section...ah fuck, him being a wildcard. overstimulating or edging depending on his mood. i cannootttt

❥ simp!jihoon - @boofeine

(op's account got suspended so the fic isn't available :/) if i died after woozi saying babygirl....hahahhaha no i didn't??

❥ simp!woozi - @hannieehaee

dear lord he's so down bad and so horny and so needyyyy

❥ dishes - @wooziorgans

it started off so sweet and then.... if i moaned??? THAT'S BETWEEN ME AND THE FIC

❥ things you do that make svt bust quick - @pochaccoups

jihoon's section....dear lord i have a thing for his longer hair and it is so well shown in this vkjfbkjb

❥ slow motion - @cherriegyuu

OHOHOHOHO FRIENDS TO LOVERS HEHEHE. the tension building is just so goooood. the proximity pushing it to the edge? i love itt

❥ riding needy jihoon - @boofeine

(op's account got suspended so the fic isn't available :/) needy??? jihooon? *screechesss* OH THIS IS TOO MUCHHH

❥ loser!woozi - @hannieehaee

confident!reader with loser!jihoon?? sign me up

❥ boyfriend!woozi headcanons (sfw + nsfw) - @wifeyoozi

oh dear, he sounds perfect for meeeeee. being too shy for pda but clingy in private??? YEET ME!! god of music and god at making you cum- *gets dragged away* HE'S JUST SO LOVINGGG

❥ lee jihoon as your producer - @woozivrsefactry

oh dear...he's so whippppeedddd~ AND FUCK THEY'RE BOTH SO PEVERTED?!!?

❥ next stop till nirvana - @wifeyoozi

ffs the images this writing casted in my head is INSANE. he's look SOOO pretty overstimulated

❥ sub!jihoon x sub!reader - @hannieehaee

he's insane for reader and i'm insane for him jkgfbdk cockwarming to fucking hoonie in his studio PLS SEDATE MEEE

❥ no song without you - @hannieehaee

genuinely just obsessed with how jihoon is characterised in this fic?? the tension between reader and him is insane!! the concept for their song is something i would love to see jihoon in too. him being lowkey pathetic and inexperienced makes my brain go brrrr skjfdgbdk he's so down bad for reader and i am down bad for him djfkgfbd this is the fic that made me start reading more woozi fics haha

ames' song recs: q&a (ft. ailee) by seventeen, ruby by woozi, chemistry by kiss of life & boyfriend by yeonjun

ames note: sorry for dropping off of tumblr for a bit haha. i got overwhelmed from posting. LMAO THE WAY I ONLY HAVE LIKE A FEW SFW FIC RECS I'M SORRY Y'ALL JKBVFKJ can you tell i like subby jihoon... kfjbd and i love jihoon so so much?? anywaysss, everyone enjoyyyy~ wooahaeee ς(.>‿<)

[countingdots-tc]

TEACHER/STUDENT BOOK RECS

*if you want me to add a forbidden romance list, let me know*

𓃠 This is a list with hyperlinks to books that have teacher/student, age gap, and experienced/less experienced themes that I have read! These are in order from most recommended to least recommended based on my opinion.

𓃠 This will be updated as I read more! Think something should be added to the list? then let me know!

𓃠 Happy reading!

⭐️= highly recommend/changed my life

😇= no smut

🌶️=contains smut

💦=read to really get your rocks off

highlighted=warning

PROFESSOR/COACH BOOK LIST

The Unrequited by Saffron A. Kent-⭐️😇

ProfessorxStudent & mental health themes

Cute little poet embarrassingly falls for her grumpy professor. Beautiful slow burn and perfectly describes what it feels like to want someone and not feel enough for them. She is such a realistic female lead and reminds me a lot of y’all 😂. This is THE teacher crush community book. If you don’t read anything, read this!!

The Professor by Invi Wright-⭐️🌶️

ProfessorxStudent

Cute romance by young, new, and self published author. Very relatable female lead. If you enjoyed The Unrequited, you will like this book for all of the same reasons. Quick and easy read, only 240. She isn’t perfect, she’s clumsy, and I wouldn’t even say she’s socially awkward, she’s just a normal college student in her early 20s. She’s a fun narrator. This author has a lot of potential and her writing will only get better.

Gabriel’s Inferno by Slyvain Reynard-⭐️😇

ProfessorxStudent

Such a good dark academia book. Beautifully written and actually has a movie adaptation. I would definitely recommend this if you want a realistic couple but a bit more serious. Characters have so much depth

Off Balance Series by Lucia Franco- 💦

CoachxStudent

Warning: female lead is age of consent NOT legal age.

If you want something really forbidden and fucked up, read this. If you want the MOST insane sex scenes, read this (MINORS STOP). I really don’t even want to add this series to this list but for the girls who wanna go there, have fun. I started this when I was still in high school, read the 3rd one as an adult, it’s not as easy to read now. Take that info as you please. With that being said, it’s one of the best writing and plots I’ve ever read. Lucia Franco’s other work is 😍

The Professor by Skye Warren-🌶️

ProfessorxStudent

Also an ex-boyfriend’s dad book! This book was amazing! Read it in a day and immediately pre ordered the second. The plot twist in this book made me throw my phone! Narrator/FMC is a bit less relatable for me. Has a secret society plot! Potentially brooding Professor

The 4th Degree by Nikki Castle- 💦

MMA CoachxStudent

Warning: parent death & parent w/ chronic illness

Coach is so broody but has a big heart, he just doesn’t like to show it. FMC has so much depth and is really mature for a 19 y.o. Coach is a quiet character with a dirty mouth. Doesn’t talk much but when he does??? The tension between them is chefs kiss. Not too much a a slow burn. “Will they, won’t they, will they, won’t they” vibes.

Lessons In Sin by Pam Goodwin-🌶️

TeacherxStudent with 18 Y.O female lead

Troubled rich girl gets sent off to a catholic boarding school and falls for the asshole Dean of the school. Smut is pretty good, plot works. I’m not going to say it’s bad, I think whether or not it’s enjoyable depends on the person. It wasn’t bad, I just wasn’t obsessed. If you’re just trying to live vicariously through her (aren’t we all), then it works!

Teach Me by L. L. Ash-🌶️

ProfessorxStudent

Really good start, and I do mean GREAT start… I just feel like the sex scene came too soon (Ch. 9/32) and it threw me off but I also like SUPER slow burns. It’s still a good book. I enjoyed the male love interest, Professor Harlo. They’re cute together. Grump and Sunshine.

Waking Olivia by Elizabeth O’Roark

CoachxCollege Athlete & mental health themes

Great concept! Rare that you see two moody & broody MCs… not my favorite execution of it. It’s not so bad that i think it’s objectively bad. I could see where someone else likes it. But I don’t. Why are they grumpily ogling each others bodies by the 3rd chapter? If you just need ur fix, it works. Has potential

Dark Notes by Pam Goodwin-

TeacherxStudent & themes of abuse

Probably DNF-ing

AGE GAP BOOK LIST

Something In The Way Series by Jessica Hawkins-⭐️😇

Sister’s Boyfriend/Husband & “I saw him first”

Most beautiful romance series I’ve ever read, best written books by Jessica Hawkins. I recommend all of her other books. Lake is 16 when she first meets Manning but nothing sexual happens between them for another 3 books until she’s in her 20s. Beautiful slow burn with characters full of depth.

Sinner by Sierra Simone- ⭐️💦

Brother’s Best Friend & religious themes

Amazing character creation and mapping. These characters feel real! This book is about “teaching” a girl about sex before she becomes a nun. It’s not just a bang bang, hump hump book. It has heart and it really good. If you enjoy religious themed romance, you may enjoy Priest by Sierra Simone too. I didn’t 💀

Birthday Girl by Penelope Douglas- 💦

Ex’s Dad

Most popular forbidden romance so whatever you’ve heard about it, dump it. This might be the most tame book on this list. Pacing is good, well written main character. Insane amounts of smut but it doesn’t drive the story forward so feel free to skip it if you get tired.

Love Unexpected by Q. B. Tyler- 💦

Ex Stepdad & parent death

This book is HOT! However after the first few scenes, I got a bit tired of the smut. Well written enough female lead with a rushed ending. However if you just need something to read and not despise it, it’s good enough.

Strictly Off Limits by Jessica Hawkins-🌶️

Dad’s Best Friend

Jessica is my favorite author so I’m a bit biased but she definitely isn’t a smut writer. This novella would’ve been better without smut however it isn’t super present and doesn’t really drive the story forward so don’t feel like you’re missing anything if you skip the smut!

The Doctor by Nikki Sloane- 💦

Ex’s Dad

personally didn’t care for this book, smut starts off way too quick and I’m more of a slow burn girl. It is a novella yet, it was still too quick. However! You may love it <3

𓃠 If I’m not reading fast enough for you and you want to see what I will be reading in the future here is my Amazon TBR, have at it!

𓃠 If you want to see a more organized bookshelf of what I’ve read, here is my Goodreads!

[sanguineterrain]

im begging you to write a part 2 of vigilante reader because the way you write??? the dynamic between reader and jason??? the sex tension???are chef kiss!!!

thanks very much! part 2 and I couldn't put off the reveal bc I'm just too impatient lol 🫶 but I might write another part post-reveal? maybe? cuz I'm growing attached to these two <3

jason todd x gn!vigilante!reader (nocturne). tw explosions, smoke inhalation, reader passes out, canon typical violence, identity reveal, asshole bruce. jason is in love? jason is in love.

read pt 1 here! | all fics are reblogged to @sanguinelibrary

****

"Go home."

"Bruce, I—"

Bruce looks at you, eyes sharp with fury and... something else. Something older.

The others know how to talk back. You still haven't gained the courage to sass The Batman.

"Go. Home. If you need an escort, I can call Superman."

You take a step back at his coldness.

"Bruce, I know I messed up, letting Hood escape but—"

"Yes, you did. You deliberately disobeyed an order. I told everybody to stand down. He could've killed you."

But he didn't, you don't say. He could've, but he chose not to.

He'd felt safe.

"I had it under control, honestly. He wasn't—it wasn't like the other encounters you've had with him. He wouldn't have hurt me."

That is the wrong thing to say. You realize that after the words leave your mouth and the muscles in Bruce's jaw jump.

"You can't be this naive. I know I wouldn't have chosen someone who's this naive," he says savagely. "You know Hood can't be trusted, and you're defending him to me. We've seen time and again he's rogue. He doesn't make sense and that's exactly why he's dangerous."

"But if you would just listen—"

"Enough," he snaps. "Enough. Go home. I'm suspending you for three weeks."

"Three w—I'm not even injured!" you cry.

"No, but you need the time. You're not thinking clearly. Go. I don't want to see you until next month."

You press your lips together before you say something truly foul. Something about Batman's habit of pushing people away. Something about dead Robins.

You don't let the tears fall until you leave the Cave. This is all Hood's fault. You know it would've been a different conversation if you'd managed to successfully capture him.

You'll take down the Red Hood if it's the last thing you do.

****

It takes you approximately two days to break your suspension.

In your defense, you meant to follow Bruce's orders. You would've stayed put and helped Barbara with research instead.

But not at the expense of civilian lives.

"All units to Canal and Riverview, 10-80. Standby. Do not enter the factory until given clearance from the Bomb Squad."

You turn off the police scanner and stuff it in your drawer. In Gotham, explosions usually come in multiples. If there's one, there's bound to be another. The police are generally inept when it comes to evacuating civilians. You know one of the other Bats are on their way, but you're the closest to the docks.

You glance at your suit. No. If you go as Nocturne, Batman might suspend you indefinitely.

You grab your gas mask and put on a black hoodie and a domino mask. You'll just have to make do.

The marina is blanketed in thick smoke. It makes your eyes water. But in the commotion it causes, you're able to slip past the barriers and help workers out of the factory. It's difficult because without the suit, people don't give you the same trust and respect. But you're anonymous, and that's all that matters.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

You ignore the voice and keep hauling two elderly workers towards the exit. They're barely outside before you turn around, determined to clear every level of the factory.

You're yanked backward by a hand on your hoodie. You nearly lose your footing, but the hand is firm, dragging you towards the pier.

You're spun around and put face to face with a red helmet.

Oh, of all the fucking—

"Let go of me!" you shout, smacking his arm. Hood's grip tightens.

"I will as soon as you stop doing stupid shit. What were you thinking, coming here?"

You pause. Whoops. This isn't how a plain civilian would react to being apprehended by the Red Hood.

And that's definitely not how the Red Hood would react to getting swatted by a random civilian. Shit.

"I was, um, I was thinking I could help," you say haltingly. "P-please don't hurt me, Mr. Hood, I was—"

Hood sighs and lets you go, then tucks his gun into his holster.

"Cut the shit. I know you're Nocturne. I also know that you need some acting lessons because what the hell was that? Mr. Hood?"

A chill washes over you. "I don't know what you mean. Nocturne?"

Hood shakes his head. "I don't have time for this. The building's gonna collapse any second. Stay. Put."

He goes back toward the smoking entrance. Your eye twitches as you follow him.

"Last time I checked, you don't have that kind of authority, Hood."

He turns around and looms over you. "Don't I?"

Anyone else would back down. You might've a week ago. You should, after the tongue lashing Bruce gave you.

But there's no soot on Hood's helmet or vest. He doesn't smell sweet like gasoline or pungent like motor oil.

He was in the factory to help.

Something shifts. Batman is wrong. Batman is more wrong than he's ever been.

Because Hood's not the enemy here. Not anymore. Maybe not ever.

You push past Hood. "It'll be faster if we work together."

"Oh, absolutely not. You're not even in your suit."

"As per your request," you say, flashing a plastic smile. "You're welcome."

"Don't get cute with me, you—hey!"

You dart past him and go straight into the factory. Hood shouts your name, which makes you pause, just for a moment.

But revealed identity or not, you need to clear the building. So you pull on your mask and run faster.

Your worst fear is confirmed when you check the upper level: someone was missed in the evacuation. It's a worker, and she's unconscious.

You don't think about how explosions come in pairs in Gotham. Don't think about how long it'll take to get to the exit.

You take off your mask and slide it onto her face. The smoke burns your throat immediately, but you ignore it and lift her in a fireman carry, just as you were taught all those years ago by Robin. He's the one who taught you how to save people without relying on brute strength or height.

You hope he's alright, wherever he is. You hope he's not too upset seeing you rush into a burning building.

That's your last thought when you see the entrance. Your face is covered in sweat and grime. The heat from the fires is exhausting. You can feel your eyes beginning to close.

"There's something seriously wrong with you," a decoded voice says in your ear, and then the woman's weight is lifted from your shoulders.

Hood grabs your hand, the woman over his opposite shoulder, and you make it out just as the second explosion goes off. It knocks you forward.

Hood puts the woman down just in time to catch you. His arm is around your waist, the other hand cradling your head. His gloved thumb touches your mouth, and you feel his dawning realization as he finally sees your mask on the woman.

"Don't tell Ba'man," you slur.

"Jesus fuck—" Hood starts to drag you. You feel lightheaded. He's moving, and you wish he'd stop. "You don't take off your mask. You never take off your mask. We taught you that!"

"She was unconscious, J'y..."

Arms tighten around you. Everything goes dark.

****

You wake up to the smell of scrambling eggs.

For a moment, you just bask in the smell. It smells like Alfred's breakfast scramble. Bacon. Butter. Golden potatoes.

Then you wake up further and realize that you're not in the Manor. You're in your apartment.

So who's cooking?

You get up quietly, slipping out of your room. You pause in front of the full-length mirror.

Honestly, you've looked worse. Your hair needs a wash, and you're in the same clothes you went into the building with, which are now a little charred. But your face is clean of soot, and your throat hurts only a little.

The kitchen sink runs. You slowly creep out into the living room, keeping your breathing even and silent.

The mess of black hair, you recognize. Sort of. You might've mistaken him for Bruce if you didn't know that Bruce has a lifetime ban from kitchens all over the world.

He's too tall to be Dick. Too skilled in the kitchen to be Bruce. Too nice to be Bruce, too—you can't imagine Bruce Wayne making you eggs. Especially when you disobeyed his orders. Again.

The red helmet on the kitchen stool turns your blood to ice.

You grab the letter opener from a drawer and wait a few seconds to see if Hood's heard you. Then you throw the letter opener with near perfect aim at his exposed shoulder.

He catches it without turning.

Your heart skips a beat. Every time you think you might get the drop on him, Hood reminds you just how competent he really is.

A mix of fear, aggravation, and something you don't want to examine too closely swirls in your gut.

"Impressive," he says. "Dami been training you? Mama Al-Ghul spent a lot of time on his knife lessons."

"Why are you in my apartment?"

Hood sets the letter opener down on the counter and turns off the stove. Then he serves the breakfast scramble on two plates, then sprinkles chives over them.

This is the weirdest kidnapping ever.

He sighs, back still facing you.

"You can't tell anyone it's me," he says.

"You make a lot of demands for a guy who just used the last of my eggs."

Hood laughs. It sounds wet. It sounds like grief.

"God, I've missed ya, honeylove."

Your heart pounds. You try to find another weapon, anything. Hood doesn't give you the chance.

He turns around.

The first thing you see is the stark white streak of hair and the curls you once loved. The curls that were near unrecognizable in the casket.

You were right: Batman was wrong.

pt 3

[aouiaa]

can u write an abby x reader fic where it’s just fluffy and soft. like maybe abby comes back from a long patrol and reader missed her or smt like that :)

❝ MISSED YOU (R FINGERS) TOO ❞ — 𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍 !

warnings and disclaimers, wlw content, smut w/o plot, sub!abby (YAYAY), softdom!reader, cunnilingus, fingering, praising, usage of petnames (babe, baby, pretty girl).

TAPE THAT MOUTH SHUT, someone by the great name of @les4elliewilliams made this smutty. don’t worry it’s still fluffy and very soft, chef’s kisses to her!

the distinct sound of a key turning in the lock alerts your ears, causing you to turn your attention to the door. eagerly, you approach, your excitement akin to a dog with its tongue wagging, as it opens, the sight of your form clad in her oversized shirt brings a soft smile to her lips, clearly amused by the sight.

"hey, babe," she breathes out, her fatigue evident in her voice. noted. she willingly leans into your embrace, her eyes fluttering shut as if grateful for the comfort. in this unwavering tranquility, she subconsciously lets go of her bag, it falls to the floor with a soft thud, and she murmurs against your collarbone, "missed you."

"yeah?" you respond with a hint of a smirk playing at your lips. the dangerous undertone in your tone is evident, and she knows it's precisely what often lands her in tense situations.

“yeah.” she affirms, pulling away slightly to examine your features intently.

a shit eating grin is on your face as you stare at her, continuing. "you must’ve had a long day, how about i help you unwind some tension in your weary, weary bones?" you suggest with a playful pout.

she laughs softly and scratches her cheek, replying, "as much as i would love that, I'm still pretty sore from the gym, plus..."

"plus patrol too," you continue for her, nodding in agreement. "yeah, yeah. i know, but... what i'm offering to you is to just lay back, and look cute." you smirk, letting your words sink into the pulsing ache between her taut thighs. "just like you are now." your voice lowers a few octaves as your lips caress the tip of her earlobe, sending a shiver of anticipation down her spine.

a sharp gasp escaped abby’s lips as you skillfully kept her trembling legs from closing around your head, preventing them from closing around your head as you feasted on her, your hunger fierce and insatiable. your eyes met hers, your gaze that of a predator staring at its prey. you watched as her eyes rolled back, her body trembling as she clutched at your fingers, her grip parallel to that of a compressor. a testament to the pleasure you wrought.

wrapping your lips around her clit, you hummed against her, amusement flickering in your eyes. you chuckled, the vibrations adding to her pleasure, "you gonna cum for me, pretty girl?" you knew she wasn’t capable of forming coherent sentences, but it was entertaining to see her struggle. "yeah, you are. look at you, working so hard... yeah, baby, come for me." your words, combined with your skilled mouth urges her closer to the precipice.

requests are open, don’t be shy ;3

PERMANENT TAGLIST, @dyk3ang3l, @elliesprettygirl, @les4elliewilliams, @r3starttt, @slut4mascss, @marsworlddd, @bready101, @abbysleftbicepp, @airenaa, @caraphernellie, @astralnymphh, @whore87, @kaiilectric, @sapphicontherun, @mikellie, @nihilisticangelbby, @be3flow3r, @ppuussyyy, @clairoscharm, @lvlymicha, @brackishkittie, @loveyru

REQUESTED TAGS, @grey-jedi12

[!] — IF BY CHANCE YOU WANNA BE ADDED TO MY PERMANENT, look at this for more info!

[lynnlovesthestars]

One and only.

Pairing: Astarion x fem!reader

Genre & warnings: smut and fluff, post act 3, soft Astarion, fingering, slight overstimulation and orgasm denial, unprotected sex, a lil of anxiety? and thinking but lots of love too, blood, biting.. I don't think there's more?

Words: 4.4k (damn i didn't think it was that long oof.

Healing is a slow process, but with you it's a little easier.

Astarion paced back and forth in front of the tent, weighing the words that were floating in his mind, the feeling that pooled in his stomach and shoved off the fear hidden in the back of his mind.

You were different because you cared about him. You reminded him every night before you'd close your eyes and fell asleep in his arms, and you respected him like none ever did. You reassured him whenever he'd ask you if you were still okay to wait for him until he was ready to try again with sex, and he was oh so grateful for it.

It's been around three years since you were free of the tadpole, you'd grown so much together: patching up each other's wounds while learning how to love. You taught him to be intimate without bedding you. You taught him how caresses could be so much more than sex.

He looked around the camp, you called your old companions for another adventure, helping you find a cure for vampirism, and they all eagerly accepted.

Aylin and Isobel were the only ones missing, literally.

You found a nice spot in the underdark, glowing mushrooms of pretty colors decorated all around you, and the circular cave was just perfect enough for the bunch of you.

You were fumbling around the fire, trying to roast a boar leg you got at a small merchant you found on the road.

Gale was trying to interfere with that boar leg cooking process, but you didn't want to hear him, especially after you had to live off his particularly unsavory stew for months, this time you were taking the metaphorical chef hat and feeding everyone with your newfound skills. Three years away from adventure had to be filled one way or another.

The camp was always lively, that's one of the perks of being so many.

Wyll was playing with Boo, while Minsc and Jaheira were playfully fighting over something dumb. Karlach and Halsin were fast asleep next to the fire, snoring loudly between Gale's words.

Lae'zel and Shadowheart were discussing as always and, though everyone was too distracted to hear him, Astarion was still mumbling to himself while pacing.

The dinner was great, you could see it in the eyes of everyone as they bit into the tender meat and shared stories. Minsc was deep into another tale of Boo, Jaheira and him as your eyes wandered to Astarion, which still hasn't had his dinner.

You couldn't see him, until you noticed that the oil lamp in your tent was on, and his shadow was fixing something around the tent. For what you knew he was moving the pillows scattered around, in a way that you'd be more comfortable while he fed.

They all knew at this point that you'd let him feed off you on daily basis, it started back while you were on your way to Baldur's Gate back then, and you took the habit so much that at a certain point you didn't even feel dizzy after he'd been done.

You excused yourself as you made your way to the tent, it was one of those nights where you needed an extra long hug, and a few kisses on the forehead.

When you opened the flap of the tent, he was still fighting with a pillow, trying to fluff it up just how he liked it, but failing. He was glad that he learned how to hide his emotions, shoving the tension down and away.

You kneeled next to him, placing a hand on his before taking the pillow from his grasp.

He followed your movements closely with his eyes, as you put the pillow on the floor.

He didn't know what he expected to see, but to watch you punch the pillow relentlessly, was definitely not on the list. Though after you were done, the pillow was somehow perfect. Was that how his pillow was always extra fluffy?

You gave him a soft smile before you tossed it next to the others, which you noticed were arranged differently, making something closer to a nest, than your usual layout.

You both didn't speak, you were so close that you'd know just by looking at your bodies, or the way your face crunched, and yours clearly said "cuddle".

In a matter of seconds, he pulled you in his arms before scooting closer to the pillows to rest there.

He loved the way you'd make yourself comfortable on his lap, how you wiggled for a moment before finding that nook where your head rested perfectly on his chest, and the way you would hum when you were happy with the position you chose.

He could live off just of that pretty sound that would come out of your lips.

You were so absorbed by the closeness that you didn't notice the barely perceptible hesitation in his touch, as he slowly turned your face to him, making sure you could hold eye contact for a moment.

The eagerness and the pure undevoted love were fighting with the fear, the fear of reliving those nights he tried so hard to forget, but at the end of the day, he needed you. He needed you more than he feared his nightmares, he needed to feel you around him, he needed to let you feel his love, his devotion, all of him.

If there was one person that he wanted to love so deeply, it was you.

So many times he thought of trying to have sex again just to see if he still was disgusted, but only with time he was able to realize that he wasn't disgusted by sex, he was disgusted of being stripped of his chance to back away. And the more he got to know you, the more he grew closer to you, the more he longed for you, in every way. It was no longer the need for release or just the fucking without attachments, he wanted to make love with you. He wanted to hear you moan his name like a chant, he wanted to feel your hands reach were no one was ever allowed to: tracing his back, on the dip of his lower back, around his hips, at the center of his chest, where his heart, your heart, resided.

There was no one else he desired like this, the idea of other people, or having other lovers but you, made him retch. He didn't want love unless it came from you, he didn't want sex unless it was you making him feel lightheaded. Of course it took him a lot of time to understand this, and a lot of work around his feelings, and his body, and you never shied away from any of his attempts to push his boundaries.

You helped him reshape the ideas of the smallest things, down to skinship.

Even after hours of brooding on how to ask you, he found himself speechless at the sight of your soft eyes filled with love, and the peaceful smile you gifted him. He was mesmerized.

It took him a second to just recollect, as he took his time ingraining in his mind that look he loved so much.

"My love" He whispered as he cupped your cheek, making you lean into his touch. "I've been thinking a lot" His thumb traced your cheekbone ever so slightly, drawing a delicate humm from you. He had planned a lot to say but as you leaned close, the speech was already out the window. So he just lowered you on the bed, and crashed his lips to yours.

It took you a second to process the unexpected movement, but a second later you were lost within his kiss.

Initially it was rough, the way he gripped on you, like an instinct that he could barely control, full of yearning and need, but slowly, the more you relaxed in his arms, savoring the taste of his kiss, the more he would slow down, like a love poem traced with his whole body.

His hands would graze over your hips, your shoulders, your neck, every bit of exposed skin was being caressed by his slender fingers, holding and molding your body like it was putty.

He rested his forehead against yours as he caught his breath, and allowed you as well. His eyes were closed as he was lost in your sweet scent.

It took him another long moment before being able to control his breath, regain his senses as his head was already spinning away.

"My love, allow me.." He breathed ooutsweetly as he latched his hand around yours, your fingers intertwining in his like an instinct. "Allow me to feel you." He placed a soft kiss on your cheek. "Allow me to make you mine" The words came out almost as a plea, like a starved man that was in front of a banquet and forced to resist the need. His lips traveled to your neck, resting where he'd usually drink from you.

"I'm already yours" You whimpered as you could feel his teeth graze, sending a shiver down your spine. You could feel the pit of your stomach bubbling with tenderness, as his eyes were rounder than usual, and his gaze was soft. Though there was a yearning feeling in the bottom, drowned momentarily by the adoration.

So many nights you had to leave the tent to take care of your needs, as you didn't want to burden Astarion with it. You wanted him to be fully there as he helped you release all that pent up tension, not just a shell of him. You craved his love, not his body.

You had to resist the very urge to push your hips against him, even though he was asking you already. You wanted to make sure he was truly okay before making any movement.

He groaned as he tilted your neck, pressing his lips right under your chin, and descending between your clavicle. He wanted to worship every millimeter of you, no skin would have to go unkissed.

"I want to make love to you, my one" He left a bite on your shoulder, no teeth were deep enough to draw blood, but definitely enough to steal a delicious mewl from you.

His words made your heart roar.

You raised your head enough to catch a glimpse of his eyes, now sultry, half closed as his lips still rested on your skin, dropping sweet kisses right where he was.

"Mh, you sure?" You asked as your body basked in the attention he was providing.

"Like I've never been before. I dreamt for so long to have you wrapped around me" He moved again, until your chests were against each other, and your noses were meeting. "I want no one else but you. I want to know what having the love of your life so close, so vulnerable feels like" He placed a quick kiss on your nose. "I just want to get lost in you, to hold you like I've never held anyone" his arm wrapped around your waist, holding you tight to him, like he wanted to merge your bodies. "I want to be one with you" He whispered as he closed his eyes again, inhaling your flowery scent mixed with his.

Your heart was pounding so loudly against your rib cage that you would have sworn he could feel it without leaning in.

You wanted to sound louder, but as your lips opened to say that yes, the sound came in almost a strangle

by all your emotions.

Astarion's eyes glimmered with a light you've never seen before resting there.

He was gentle as he undressed you, every inch that was being revealed to his eyes, was met with his yearning lips, drawing all sorts of pleading sounds from you. Your body was already shaking like a lire string as it was touched, and your lips chanting a melody for him.

His descent was agonizingly slow, but what struck you was how his movements were.

You knew he was well versed in sex, but the way he was caressing, tracing, kissing, biting, was the one of a man that was trying to listen to your reactions, to savor the tiniest sensations, to learn his lover, such a difference from the confident man that fucked you senslessly in a forest three years prior.

It was no longer about repayment for the feed or protection, it was pure undevoted love in each touch.

Just with those miniscule attentions, your heart was swelling for him, and little did you know that he was hitting him as well, all your emotions flowing around you in the small space of the tent.

Your clothes were soon on the other side of the floor and you took your time admiring him in all his beauty: the way his chest was rising, the way his skin was covered in small old marks, so carefully healed that you wouldn't be able to discern them unless you would be trying to remember his every pore.

"Gods i wish you could see yourself through my eyes right now" He sighed. "I've seen you naked so many times, but right now? No goddess could compare next to you" He kissed your navel delicately as his fingers were grazing your thighs.

You could feel your cheeks igniting at the praise. You wished for a moment you still had that tadpole eating your brain, just for a second to show him the true vision. His body was so perfect in front of you, the truly breathtaking view. You could have sworn he would have made such a perfect painting.

Before you could open your mouth though, he was praising you again.

"No words would be enough for me to explain how every curve of your body makes me ache for you, my one" He leaned forward, placing wet kisses from your neck, down to your hips, over and over again until his name was a broken mewl from you lips.

He stopped between your thighs, taking his time to spread you wide open for him. He kissed that spot that caught his mind right away, that perfect dip of your hips, where stretch marks were concentrated.

He hummed as he couldn't help but graze them with his teeth, stealing one moan that made him almost melt.

Then agonizingly slowly he kissed the inside of your thigh, trailing kisses until his nose brushed against your clit. You wanted to beg for him to eat you, but his head turned towards the other tight, repeating the tantalizing trail of kisses until he reached for your dripping cunt.

"You are so ready for me" He kissed right above your clit, teasing you more and more. "But I have to dine first" a finger gently traced the outline of your lips, taking his time before dipping it between your folds, and earning a moan. It was so long since someone touched you, you could feel your whole body clench at the smallest touch.

He kissed your thigh again, sighing at the softness of your skin. You were so wet he just inserted another finger in you and started pumping in your pussy, drawing those perfect moans from you again, music to his pointy ears.

Then as he added another finger, his teeth sank in your plush thigh. All of your senses jolted up, amplifying everything as he started drinking from you.

His slender fingers reached right where he made you cry in pleasure, as you slowly gave in to the lightheadedness.

As he kept feeding, he still worked you like he knew every movement that would make you whimper, drawing always so near to your orgasm before pulling away.

Moments later he finally let go of your thigh, his teeth slipped away from the pricks they had made home in, and licked away the rivlet of blood still spilling from the new wound, causing your body to arch even more under his tongue. You were so close, so desperate to come you'd chant his name like a prayer, just so he'd taste you.

Instead he pulled out his fingers, taking one at a time in his mouth and sucking your slick off of them.

"You are delicious, my love" He moaned as he popped each finger out of his lips.

You were on edge, so tempted to take control and ride his face until you'd come on his lips, but you had to restrain yourself, you wanted him to guide you through it, you wanted him to have full control of his and your body.

His tongue reached for the rivlet of blood on his lips before pulling you in his lap, your thighs wrapped around his hips like they were made just for that. You could feel his erection press against your folds as he pulled you closer.

His lips and yours clashed together in something that was akin to a slow dance, your arms wrapped around his neck, while his held you by your hips.

You could drink the sighs he was letting out, the smile he grew in that intimate moment, the reason why he wanted you in this position.

For months he tried to imagine how he wanted to make love to you, how he'd feel the safest, and his mind always came back at the idea of your chests against each other, your lips so close he could kiss you, but also where he could hear your moans the closest. How he wanted you to rest against him as he whispered how perfect you were for him, he wanted you. All of you. All of your warmth, all of your skin, all of your sights, he wanted to see how he was affetting you, and how you affected him. He wanted to lift your chin, to kiss your neck, he wanted the both of you to find respite in the tight hold.

Seeing you so close to him, so vulnerable just how much he would be, it was how he wanted it to go, cause this for him was like a first time. He wanted to be overwhelmed by you, as you consumed him.

He wanted to feel his home in you. In you and only you.

He took a moment, resting against you, clinging to you like you were going to disappear from his grasp.

"If you want to stop, you just have to say it, my star" You whispered as you rested a hand in his hair, drawing circles on his scalp as he breathed in your scent, that was slowly mixing with the smell of sex.

"No my love, I'm just bathing in you before doing anything else" He admitted, placing a kiss on your neck, where he was resting his head.

"I don't think I could ever exchange this for anything. No power, or castle could compare to the home I made in your heart". His words were warm, caring, just like scorching fire against ice.

"I love you" You murmured as you caressed his cheek, and brought him back to you.

"I love you too, my one" He kissed you slowly as he guided you up. Bringing you to rest your forehead against each other as you slowly sank on his length. A gasp simultaneously filled the tent, so loud it could wake up everyone, but you didn't care. The air was pulled out of your chests, as you clinged on each other.

You both waited a moment before doing any movement, both overwhelmed by the closeness and the pleasure.

You wrapped around him so perfectly, he could barely keep any control over his body, his mind or his lips.

"Mh so perfect for me" He whispered sultry, as he guided you through the slow movement, allowing him to bottom out before having your hips meet his again, stealing another breathy moan.

It was slow, tender, so much that you could feel your eyes become glassy.

Nothing could ever compare to the fire that was spreading around your body as he picked up pace, stealing everything from you. Your air, your whimpers, your heart, over and over again.

He wanted to savor every inch of you, he would allow himself to fill you to the hilt, as he threw his head back.

"M-mine" He lulled as he couldn't resist the urge to go faster, his body loosing control of his movements.

It became all so sloppy, ragged as he grasped at you ass, his nails sinking into your skin as he slapped his hips against yours.

"This is what you do to me" He rasped as he lolled his head back. His hair wild as some curls fell on his face. His mouth agape as he choked praises.

Sweet gasps echoed between the syllables of your name, as he submitted to the pleasure.

He wanted to scream, to let everyone know you were his and no one could ever coax those sounds from him like you did, so effortlessly.

Your fingers twirled naturally around his curls, pulling his head to yours as you deepened the kiss along with your movements, savoring the taste of his lips and sweat as you made him see the stars.

You drank each other's moans with your lips as you completely gave away to the pleasure, as you gave all of you to each other.

You could barely register who was directing, cause your bodies just felt like one. Molten lava simply mixing as it burned hot like the hells.

You were so close, your whole body shaking as you could barely form a proper sentence. "L-love y-you" You muttered though your tongue felt indescribably heavy and light simultaneously.

You were drunk on him, your eyes rolling back as he hit that spot that could make you come undone. He worshiped every inch he could reach with his lips, making sure your body was left with a memory of the night, of his trust, of his love.

"You fill me so well" you praised with the last bit of your sanity, stealing the most precious sound from his lips.

Euphoria washed over Astarion as he was high on the feeling of your pussy clenching uncontrollably around him.

He pumped in you insatiably as you could feel it build up, the familiar knot as your muscles tensed up, feeling the heat rise and your legs shake.

You were not sure what it was, maybe it was the moaned praises, or his touch, or the way his hair bounced as he sank in your, but you felt your body being stripped of all the flesh, pleasure taking it's place as your orgasm washed over you. Your head rested on his shoulder as he was still lost in you, so close to his own release.

You knew that the only sound in the camp was your skin slapping, and the lustful sounds you'd make for each other.

The frenzy turned into a slow-burning passion, his hips rhythmically pounding in you as his lips met again with yours in a matching kiss, your moans mixing in the middle as you could feel it again, your orgasm building so quickly you barely had time to process how sensitive you were.

You let go of his lips to admire how his mouth parted, a series of whimpered moans fell from his lips as you could feel every inch of you being dragged away in the second orgasm at the sole sight.

His hips stuttered once, twice, before the arrogant orgasm sent him to the moon, spilling all his cum in your warmth.

He stayed in you for a few more moments as he processed how elated he felt.

There was no one else in the universe that would make him feel so safe, so loved. He was gentle as he laid with you in his arms, drawing shapeless lines along your velvety skin.

He couldn't hold back the tears that were forming at the edge of his eyes, as he held this night so close to his heart. For him, this was his first time, and it was with you, his other half.

You noticed right away when the first few tears started tracing his skin. You were so afraid of his reaction that this was like a shock to you, in a way.

You prayed the morninglord he wasn't already regretting the intimacy, maybe he didn't feel what you felt: that sense of belonging, the overwhelming love.

You cupped his cheek as you caught a tear with your thumb. "Are you ok, my star?" You whispered as you took away another and another with tenderness that made Astarion even more emotional.

He slowly met your gaze, his eyes so soft and his lips curled in a tender smile as the droplets still descended down his cheeks.

"I'm perfect, my love" He rested his hand on yours, clasping at your fingers and bringing them away from his cheek.

"Why are you crying?" You offered a reassuring look, the one he learned meant that you were a safe space where he could speak his mind unfiltered.

"I dreamt of this nights for months, how I would ask you, and how I'd hope this would carry out" He exhaled for a moment as he toyed with your fingers.

"And none of those dreams could ever get close to this" His smile was getting wider, accentuating those lines you loved so much.

"I don't care for sex, unless it's with you. Unless it's loving you with every inch of me, unless it means undressing ourselves and being exposed in all our vulnerability. Unless it means I get to feel you become part of me" You were absorbed by his words and his eyes, that you didn't notice he let go of your hand to hold you closer.

"You are the other part of me", He let out shakily. "I might even say you are the best part as well." He kissed your forehead tenderly. "You are my one and only" He whispered at last as he dragged the blanket he had left on the side, on your bodies. You murmured something between a love confession and a praise as he lulled you to sleep in his embrace.

You were fast asleep as he finally remembered what he was forgetting.

He summoned a mage hand, trying to be as silent as possible. The ghostly arm reached under one pillow and pulled out the velvety box, before shoving it in Astarion's backpack and dissolving its form.

"Tomorrow" He noted in his mind. "Tomorrow I'll ask you"

[carmenberzattosgf]

s3 carmen i need to take you out to the alley to give you a freak nasty blowjob to make you calm down-💫

let’s talk about blowing Carmy to give him stress relief. Word count: 1613

I’m thinking about working at the bear as a server. You and Carmy have always had tension. Longing glances that went on a little bit too long. Lingering touches of his hand on your waist when he needs to get around you.

This night, Carmy is on fire during service. There’s practically steam coming out of his ears. He’s barking orders without a care, expecting to be listened to. Usually, he directs most of his anger towards the kitchen staff, but you land in his crosshairs.

“Why the fuck is it taking you so long inbetween plates? Are you taking the scenic view back to the kitchen or some shit? Stop wasting time and hurry the fuck up.”

“Chef. Chill,” you respond. As soon as the words leave your mouth, you realize how bad of an idea it was to say that.

“The only thing you should be saying is ‘Yes, chef’. Do you want to try that again?” You turn to face Sydney instead of Carmen, trying to keep your cool.

“Chef Syd. Can you hold down the fort for a second? I need to talk to Carmy really quick.”

Carmy interjects before Sydney can even reply. “The fuck? I’m doing my job here. Now, can I get—“

“Chef. It’s fine. Go cool off a bit,” Sydney replies, stepping up to the expo. Carmy sighs, running a hand in his hair, before storming off through the back door. You follow suit, catching the door before it slams.

Carmy leans against the back of the building. His fingers are in his hair, tugging at his roots in an attempt to dull his anger. Under his breath, he mutters a slew of curses and god knows what else. Somehow, you find the courage to stand in front of him, toe to toe.

“Carmen, you need to calm down. You can’t lash out on people like a toddler when you don’t get exactly your way.”

“I- I can’t fucking turn it off.” His voice is laced with venom. He looks directly into your eyes. That furious look still present in his features. “I need people to- to fucking listen to me, and f-fucking go faster.”

You can’t deny the tension brewing between you and Carmy in the dim alleyway. His breath fans against your cheek. It would take just a small lean in for your lips to press against his. That’s not what you do, though.

Instead, your hand moves, as if on its own accord, to just barely palm his groin. His eyes widen as he takes in a gasp of air. Pure shock falls on his features. “You need to let your stress out. Do you want a way to do that, Carm?” you ask.

“I w-what— what?” he stammers. His cheeks flush in an instant. You chuckle as you feel him hardening through his pants. You lean into him, but your lips miss his own, choosing to target the corner of his mouth.

Your mouth trails gently, chaste kisses from the corner of his mouth, down his jaw, and to his neck. You don’t spend time sucking on the skin. If a bruise appeared on his neck after this, everyone would know. Instead, you trail your tongue on his pulse point. His body shivers against you. “C’mon, Carmy. Do I need to spell it out for you?” You punctuate your sentence by applying pressure with your palm to his length. You can’t see his face, but you can hear the groan he tries to keep under his breath.

You drop to your knees in front of him, thankful for the thick fabric of your pants. You gaze up at his face with the most innocent look you can muster given the situation. Carmy can’t even comprehend the sight of you on your knees for him. The fear of someone seeing is the last thing on Carmen’s mind. “Are—fuck—are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Take my cock out.” Carmy’s voice commands just like he’s giving you orders in the kitchen.

“Yes, Chef,” you whisper. He tenses from your choice of words. Your fingers dip into the waist band of his slacks before pulling them down to his knees. His underwear falls down with them, leaving him bare and hard in front of you.

He’s huge, way bigger than you would have expected. The tip is already leaking precum. You can’t take your eyes off of his lower half. He hides a lot of muscle under his chef whites. The V-lines of his hips are deep and defined, guiding you right to his cock. Your eyes catch glimpse of a happy trail that extends under the fabric of his shirt.

“Like what you see?” His voice is low and gravely.

You don’t look up at him, not yet. Your hands slide underneath his shirt to tug up the fabric, letting you see the rest of his stomach. The happy trail runs up to his navel. Your finger tips trace the lines of his abs. You can’t resist the urge to press kisses to his stomach. Here, you don’t have to working about marks showing, so you suck and bite at his skin. Carmy’s hand briefly cups the back of your head, threading into your hair before letting go.

“You’re so pretty, Carm,” you admit with brutal honesty. It’s true. He’s built like a Greek god. For the first time, you’ve rendered Carmy speechless with just your words. The second time you render him speechless happens when your lips wrap around the tip of his cock. You moan as the salty taste hits your tongue. Your cheeks hollow inwards to suck lightly.

“F-fuck. Fuck—fuck.” You snap your eyes up to look at him. There’s sweat forming at his brow. His hands clench at his sides in a white knuckle grip. With his gaze on you, you lick a broad stripe from the base of his cock to the tip, making a show out of it. His dick twitches on your tongue.

You can’t stand not having Carmy’s hands on you, so you take one of his hands and place it on your cheek. Not waiting a second, you take his cock all the way into your mouth. Your nose reaches the trail of hair you noticed earlier.

“Holy shit—look at you,” Carmy murmurs. His tough hand cups your cheek, lazily rubbing his thumb on your skin. Without realizing it, Carmy’s hips sink a just a little bit deeper into your throat. It reaches the point of too much, making you gag. You don’t lift off of him, though. Tears well up in your eyes as you keep his dick deep inside your mouth.

“Is it too much? You’re gagging for it,” he spits out. He’s trying to keep his composure, but his voice is full of need. “Shit—babe. Can I— can I fuck your mouth? We’ve already—fuck— already been out here too long,” Carmy practically begs.

You lift off of his cock looking utterly debauched. Spit runs down your chin, and your lips are swollen red. “If it’ll help you calm down, you can do whatever you want with me, Carm. Use me.”

“Yeah? You want that? What a good girl for me.” Carmy grasps his length in his hand, guiding himself to your lips. Your mouth falls open letting his cock sink all the way into your throat. The grasp of his hands is different from before. This time, both of his hands are on your face, palm resting on your cheeks. The rest of his hand wraps around your head, holding you firmly.

Carmy is really efficient. His cock pounds into your throat with zero hesitation. It’s near animalistic the way he’s holding your head and using you. “S’good so fuckin’ good. Takin’ my cock so good, baby,” he mumbles, too lost in pleasure to care about the words leaving his lips. “Gonna—gonna cum down your throat. You’d like that wouldn’t you? To be my little cum slut?” A deep moan reverberates through your mouth at his words. He’s lost all filter.

It’s only a few more thrusts before Carmen spills into your mouth with a strained groan. Just as you’re able to swallow, Carmy pulls to up to your feet. His lips smash against yours. The kiss is fierce and all consuming. His tongue dips into your mouth, battling with your own. Carmy groans into your mouth when he tastes himself on your tongue.

Strings of spit unite your lips when he pulls back. There’s a new look in his eyes that you can’t quite describe. “A-are you—“ you have to clear your throat, still sore from his cock. “Are you feeling calmer now? D-did that help?” Your voice is completely shot and raspy.

“Fuck, baby. You’ve got my heart beating out of my chest. Thank you for uh— for doing that. I was being an asshole,” he admits.

“You just needed someone to relieve some stress. I’m happy I could help you.”

“You’re coming home with me after service. Gotta take care of you since you took care of me.” Carmy leans in to give you a soft kiss. “And… you might wanna head straight to the bathroom to clean up a bit. Don’t need anyone else to see you like this. You’re too fucking pretty.”

Carmy is like a new man when he walks back into that kitchen. He’s more toned down, and careful about the yelling. Sydney thinks you must have been a therapist in a past life, because whatever you did managed to chill Carmy out.

It’s a week tops until someone in the kitchen finds out you two are fucking.

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Scarlet Control

Dom!Scarlet Witch x subby!fem!reader

Word count: 800

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, flogging (impact play), power exchange, sensory play (mix of pain and pleasure), use of restraints

Authors notes: Gods...floggers are just chefs kiss

The flickering candlelight danced along the walls, casting long shadows over the dimly lit room. The Scarlet Witch—Wanda Maximoff—stood near the edge of the bed, her crimson magic swirling faintly around her fingers. She watched you with a calm yet commanding gaze as you knelt in front of her, eyes full of anticipation.

You shivered slightly, feeling the cool air against your bare skin. Wanda had taken her time preparing you, whispering soft praises into your ear as she wrapped the delicate ropes around your wrists and ankles, securing you to the bedposts. The position left you exposed, vulnerable, and entirely at her mercy. You could feel the heat pooling low in your stomach as you tried to steady your breathing.

With a flick of her wrist, a soft leather flogger appeared in her hand. The tendrils of the flogger brushed lightly against your back, teasing your sensitive skin. Wanda circled you slowly, her eyes glinting with a mix of affection and dominance.

"Such a good girl," she murmured, her voice low and sultry. "You’re always so eager to please me, aren’t you?"

You nodded, your breath hitching as the flogger trailed down your spine. Wanda chuckled softly, amused by your eagerness. Without warning, she snapped the flogger against your back, not too hard, but enough to send a jolt of sensation rippling through you. You gasped, the mixture of pleasure and pain leaving you trembling.

"Do you like that?" Wanda asked, her voice soothing but with a firm edge. She didn’t wait for an answer before striking again, this time a little harder. The sting was more intense, but so was the warmth spreading through your body. You moaned softly, biting your lip as you arched your back in response.

"Such a pretty sound," Wanda praised, her fingers gently stroking your cheek. "But I want to hear more."

Another strike, then another, each one carefully controlled, each one building the delicious tension inside you. The flogger kissed your skin in rhythmic motions, alternating between soft caresses and sharp snaps that left you writhing beneath her touch.

"Color, detka," Wanda purred, her voice grounding you.

"Green," you whispered, desperate for more, and Wanda’s smile widened. "Please Mistress...more."

"Good girl."

Wanda’s eyes darkened at your words, her hand tightening around the handle of the flogger. The sound of the leather snapping against your skin filled the room again, louder, sharper. Each strike sent waves of sensation coursing through your body, and you let out a breathy moan, leaning into the pain that brought so much pleasure.

“You take it so well,” Wanda whispered, her voice laced with satisfaction. She circled around you again, running the flogger teasingly along your inner thighs, making you squirm. “Look at you, already trembling for me.”

The flogger struck again, this time against your thighs, and you bit back a cry, your body responding immediately. The mix of pain and pleasure had you completely at her mercy, your mind clouded with need.

Wanda leaned in closer, her breath hot against your ear as she whispered, “Do you want more, my little pet? Do you want me to push you further?”

Your heart raced at her question, and you nodded eagerly, your voice coming out in a shaky whisper. “Yes… please, Mistress.”

She chuckled softly, clearly enjoying the way you begged for her. “Such a needy little thing,” she cooed, her fingers tracing the marks she’d left on your skin. “But I love seeing you like this—completely helpless, all for me.”

Without warning, the flogger struck again, harder this time, making your whole body jolt. Your breath hitched as the sting radiated through you, but the rush of warmth that followed had you arching your back, desperate for more of her touch.

“Good girl,” Wanda purred, her magic brushing lightly against your skin, soothing the areas she’d just struck. The contrast of her gentle touch against the harshness of the flogging was intoxicating, leaving you even more sensitive to her every move. “You’re doing so well for me.”

You whimpered softly, the intensity of the sensations building as Wanda continued her rhythmic strikes, each one more deliberate than the last. The sharp sting of the flogger mixed with the soft caress of her magic, keeping you on edge, never letting you fully relax.

"Tell me," Wanda’s voice was a commanding whisper, her fingers lightly tracing your jawline as she stood in front of you. "Who do you belong to?"

"You, Mistress," you gasped, your voice breathless but certain. "Only you."

A wicked smile tugged at her lips as she leaned down to capture your mouth in a possessive kiss. "Good girl," she murmured against your lips, her tone dark and dripping with approval. "Now, let me show you just how much I own you."

[justlemmeadoreyou]

5. seasoned to perfection (restaurant owner!harry x chef!y/n)

(part 1 here) | (part 2 here) | (part 3 here) | (part 4 here)

Summary: Harry comes back, and the pent-up tensions and frustrations from the day you met are released, in the literal sense. he's vulnerable too, but it's for your eyes only..

Words: 6k+

Warnings: Fluff, Smut. P in v sex in the driver's seat 🤭, kissing, dirty talk, praise kink, unprotected sex, creampie.

***

Harry was back in Chicago two days later, just as he'd promised. A profound sense of relief washed over you the moment his broad-shouldered figure appeared striding through the airport terminal - he looked exhausted and careworn, but his stride was purposeful, that familiar spark of intensity simmering behind his hazel eyes.

Despite the lingering worry etched into the lines of his face, Harry flashed you a lopsided grin as he drew closer. "Well if it ain't my star pupil, coming to greet her mentor like the proper respectful protegee she is."

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly, unable to suppress the matching grin that tugged at your own mouth. "Don't get too full of yourself there . I'm just here to collect on those celebratory drinks you promised."

"Is that so?" Harry's raspy chuckle sent a shiver down your spine as he closed the remaining distance between you. Up close, you could better make out the faint smudges of fatigue ringing his eyes, the weary set of his shoulders that hinted at the emotional toll this family crisis had already exacted. 

"I sure am lucky you pulled through like a total rockstar the other night, darlin'," he said, voice softening with sincerity. "Don't know what kind of state my head would be in right now if that whole gala affair had gone pear-shaped on top of everything else."

You felt your chest constrict with sympathy at the undercurrent of weariness bleeding into his gravelly timbre. For all his towering self-assurance, it was still far too easy to catch glimpses of the profoundly lonely man beneath.

"Hey," you said softly, emboldened enough to reach out and give his forearm a reassuring squeeze. "It's gonna be okay, you know? One way or another."

"Yeah, I know," he acknowledged after a beat, hazel eyes crinkling faintly at the corners as he regarded you. Impulsively, Harry reached up to brush a stray lock of hair from your face in an unexpectedly tender gesture. "Thanks for being here, pet. I could use a friendly face right about now."

You felt your breath catch at the gentle rasp of his rough fingertips grazing your cheek as they fell away. A look passed between you, heavy with unspoken undercurrents simmering just beneath the surface.

Harry seemed to catch himself after a pregnant pause, giving a slightly brusque clearing of his throat as he took a half-step back. "Anyway, I'm betting you're just aching to hear all the dirty details about how your old mentor totally knocked it out of the park running my crazy-ass centerpiece for the gala, am I right?"

The teasing rasp was back in full force, but you could have sworn you detected an undercurrent of...flirtation? Nerves fizzing in your veins, you forced an answering grin. "Well, I definitely wouldn't say no to getting an extremely thorough debrief on all the specifics."

"That's what I like to hear," Harry chuckled, reaching down to snag your bag before you could protest. "C'mon then, let's get out of this madhouse. I'll fill you in on every juicy detail over a proper meal - hell, I might even let you buy me a congratulatory drink for once."

You rolled your eyes at his cheek but didn't object as Harry slung your bag over his shoulder and began leading the way out of the crowded airport terminal, one calloused hand at the small of your back guiding you through the milling crowds. The innocent point of contact still managed to raise gooseflesh along your skin.

"I hope wherever we're going has a full bar," you quipped once you made it outside, drawing a rich chuckle from your mentor.

"Have I ever let you down before on the booze front, darlin'? Though I gotta warn you, I might have to start cutting you off early tonight if you get too sloppy with the drinking."

You snorted indelicately. "Please, like your liver could even hang with mine these days. I'll be the one cutting YOU off before the night is over, old man."

"Old man?!" Harry's brows shot upward in mock outrage. "Well aren't you a cheeky little thing. Maybe I oughta just turn this reunion car right back around, huh?"

You grinned unrepentantly. "And deprive yourself of soaking up my full admiration for how flawlessly I executed your crazy dish the other night? I don't think so, Chef. You're stuck with me now."

A look you didn't quite catch flickered over Harry's face before his expression softened into something tender and...admiring? "You got me there, pet. I really am damn lucky I've got someone as fiercely dedicated and hardworking as you lookin' out for me."

He gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze as the valet pulled up a sleek black car. "C'mon then, let's go get that drink and hear all about how you made your old mentor proud once again."

With that, Harry opened the passenger door in a surprisingly gentlemanly gesture, making a theatrical play act of ushering you inside before circling around to the driver's side. Despite the lingering exhaustion evident in his features, an unmistakable lightness and sense of humor had returned to Harry's manner now that he was back in your company. You found yourself charmed all over again by his trademark swagger and grit.

Once Harry had pulled out into Chicago's hectic downtown traffic, he gave a weary but contented exhale. "God, I really did miss the hell out of this place while I was gone. Nothing quite like the thrill of the culinary world, am I right?"

"I'll say," you agreed easily, draining the last of your bottled water. "That whole gala evening was an adrenaline rush like none other."  

"So go on then, darlin' - give me all the dirty deets from the frontlines." Hazel eyes glittered with renewed energy as Harry flashed you a wolfish grin. "Did Thomason end up being a totally insufferable hard-ass running the kitchen in my absence, or what?"

Unable to resist indulging him a bit, you launched into a play-by-play recap of how the evening had kicked off. "Well, I'll say this - your boy definitely mastered the art of brusque delegating from the moment I stepped through those doors."

"That definitely tracks," Harry chuckled in amusement.

You held up your hands in a placating gesture. "But honestly, he managed to not be a total nightmare for once. Sure, there were still barked insults and slews of obscenities flying around...but Thomason weirdly seemed more patient with me than usual."

"My best guess is that the hardass saw how much weight I was putting on your shoulders to make sure the night went smoothly," Harry supplied. "He knows damn well not to get in my way when I've got a white whale in my sights."

You felt an undeniable swell of pride at his matter-of-fact confidence in your abilities. "Well, whatever the reason, I can't deny Thomason at least made sure I got briefed on every single responsibility under my purview upfront. Nothing left out or unclear."

"Good, that's what I want to hear," Harry nodded in approval. "You damn well better have been prepped to the gills on every last particular after all the hours we spent running scenarios during practice."

"Oh he made sure of it, believe me," you assured him wryly. "I don't think my head stopped spinning from all the prep tasks and oversight duties he laid on me until we were halfway into evening service."

"That's my girl, always rising to the occasion no matter what fresh hell gets thrown your way," Harry said with unmistakable pride. His gaze flicked over to you with open fondness. "So go on then, I'm dying' to hear about the actual execution part. Did the crew and I at least have you guys trained up good to handle the intricate stuff?"

As if on cue, your mouth curved into a smug grin. "Does a flawless plating of your avant-garde centrepiece dish answer your question? Because let me tell you, Chef, those practice runs may have been hellish - but they paid off in spades. We didn't miss a single beat from start to finish on that thing."

Pride resonated in Harry's rumbling laugh. "Ha! That's what I like to hear. I knew I could count on you to hold down the fort and keep those yutz line cooks from falling apart under the pressure."

"Wow, you really are impressed, huh?" You couldn't resist teasing him a bit. "I didn't think I'd ever see the day where Harry  dolled out such lavish praise."

Harry shot you a wry look, but his eyes were twinkling with amusement. "What can I say, you bring out the sappy side in me sometimes, darlin'. Must be all those gooey mentor-mentee feelings."

You laughed, giving him a playful shove. "Sure, keep telling yourself that's what it is. I think we both know the real reason you're so proud of me right now."

"Oh yeah?" Harry's voice dropped an octave, taking on that low, rumbly timbre that never failed to send a shiver down your spine. "And what's that, sweetheart?"

You felt your cheeks warm at the heated undertone in his words, suddenly very aware of the charged tension crackling between you in the confines of the car. Clearing your throat, you opted for a subject change. "So, uh, I have to ask - how are things with your mom? Any updates there?"

Harry's expression sobered instantly, some of the lightness dimming from his eyes as he readjusted his grip on the steering wheel. "It's...been a rough couple of days, that's for sure. But the doctors seem cautiously optimistic after running all their tests and whatnot."

He exhaled a ragged sigh, keeping his gaze firmly fixed on the road ahead. "They were able to get her stabilized, at least. Still lots of treatment and recovery ahead, but...the prognosis isn't quite as dire as we initially feared."

"Harry." You reached over to cover his hand with yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. "That's such a relief to hear. I'm so glad she's going to be okay."

He glanced over at the contact, eyes flickering with some indecipherable emotion before he slowly turned his palm to lace his fingers through yours. The simple gesture felt impossibly intimate in the dim confines of the car.

"Yeah, me too, pet," Harry said gruffly. He fell silent for a long moment, seeming to struggle against the swell of emotion welling up behind his gruff exterior. When he finally continued, his voice had gone low and husky.

"I gotta admit, having to leave everything and fly out there on such short notice...well, it really puts a lotta stuff in perspective for me, you know? Reminds me that there's more to life than just the goddamn kitchen for once."

You felt your breath catch at the sudden vulnerability in his tone, the rawness shining through those rough-hewn features. This was such an unprecedented side of Harry - one you'd never seen him display so openly before. He wasn't the type to indulge in sappy feelings or put his heart on display.

And yet here he was, opening up to you in a way that felt profoundly intimate. Impulsively, you gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, silently urging him to continue.

Harry's gaze was soft when he finally looked over at you again. "I've been so focused for so damn long on my career, on chasing that elusive Michelin star...putting in more hours at the restaurant than I do actually sleeping most weeks. It's been all-consuming, you know? To the point where I've let other important stuff get shoved to the back burner for way too long."

There was a weighty pause before he added in a quieter tone, "Stuff like...well, like relationships. Connections with people outside of the kitchen brat pack. Hell, even making time for my own family before it's too late."

His calloused thumb brushed over your knuckles, sending sparks skittering across your skin. "Being out there this week, it made me realize how much I've let slide while chasing my big culinary dreams. How many people and opportunities I've missed out on by being so goddamn single-minded about the hustle."

You felt your heart give a hard thud in your chest at his words, an undercurrent of meaning thrumming through every syllable Harry uttered. Was he actually...was this leading where you desperately hoped it was leading?

"I don't know, Y/N," he continued, voice going soft and rumbly in a way you'd never heard it before. "Maybe it's time I start setting aside room for more than just food in my life again, you know? Making space for the other shit that actually matters in the end."

Without warning, the car slowed before pulling over to the side of the road. You looked around in surprise, momentarily disoriented - only to suck in a sharp breath when you felt the warm press of Harry's palm cradling your jaw, gently but insistently turning your face towards his own.

His hazel eyes were turbulent but gleaming with unmistakable intent as they roamed over your features, seeming to drink in every last freckle and curve. "Like people," Harry murmured, deep voice gone even more rough and gravelly. "Important people who've been right there in front of me this whole damn time, just waiting for me to get my head out of my ass."

Your mouth went dry as his thumb brushed over the swell of your lower lip in a devastatingly tender caress. "You've been so goddamn strong for me lately, darlin'," he rasped. "Taking charge and killing it even when I had to bail on you guys. Honestly, I've never seen someone rise to an occasion like you did with that whole centerpiece service."

A surge of molten heat flared in his gaze as Harry slowly, incrementally leaned closer with every gravelly word. "Which just makes me wonder...what if I told you how crazy you've been driving me lately with that fierce, take-no-shit attitude and work ethic? How distractingly sexy it's been watching you come into your own in the kitchen?"

Coherent thoughts fled in the wake of his scorching words. All you could process was the heated intent burning from every line of his expression, the delicious timbre of his voice as one calloused palm slid around to cradle the nape of your neck.

Any remaining space between you evaporated as Harry drew inexorably nearer, heated breaths fanning over your parted lips. "Maybe it's time we both stopped ignoring this crazy tension that's been building between us, eh?" His words were nearly a growl, sending liquid fire pooling low in your belly.

"Tell me you want this as badly as I do, darlin'," Harry rasped, nose brushing against yours. "Tell me, and I swear to god I'll - "

Whatever devastatingly filthy promise he'd been about to make was suddenly cut off as you surged upwards to crash your lips against his in a heated clash of hunger and need. Harry made a noise of surprise that quickly morphed into a guttural groan as his big hands pulled you flush against his powerful frame, deepening the kiss with smoldering intensity.

All the frustration and undercurrent of want that had simmered untapped for months between you both finally found an outlet as his mouth slanted hungrily over yours. Harry tasted like smoky whiskey and roasted espresso, the scents you'd unknowingly committed to memory from hours spent shadowing him in the kitchen. Now you could finally indulge in the addictive flavor without restraint, losing yourself in the velvet heat of his lips and the wicked stroke of his tongue.

A desperate whimper escaped you as Harry's fingers wound through your hair, tugging just enough to angle your head for even deeper exploration. He swallowed the sound with relish, growling low in his chest as he took control of the ferocious give and take - a twin to the commanding yet sensual way he moved around the kitchen.

Time seemed to lose meaning as you kissed with reckless abandon, hands roaming wildly over the other's body. Your fingers brushing over Harry's hard pecs and rippling abs, committing every ridge and plane to memory. His calloused palms skimming over the flare of your hips, teasing at the sliver of exposed skin above your waistband as he tugged your shirts aside.

"Fuck," he growled, still cradling you tightly against his muscular frame. One hand drifted up the length of your spine to sift through your tousled hair, something breathtakingly tender. "Been wanting to do that for way too goddamn long, sweetheart."

You let out a shaky exhalation, riding the waves of tingling euphoria coursing over your skin. "Me too," you confessed in a huskier tone than you'd ever heard yourself use before. "God, Harry, I–” you stopped the rest of the words before they escaped your mouth, afraid you were going too far too fast. But he tilted his head downwards, raising his eyebrows and asking you to tell him whatever the hell you wanted to.

“I– say it, darlin’” he urged, swiping one thumb over your face, grazing it tenderly across the apple of your cheek, “No more secrets”

Eventually, the scorching inferno of desire raging between you banked to a low, smoldering burn...though no less devastatingly intense for the minor reprieve. Finally, you drew back just far enough for Harry to rest his forehead against yours, harsh breaths intermingling hotly.

You nodded, taking a deep breath and looking straight into his emerald eyes, “I–I, fuck, I need you, Harry. So–so fucking bad it–hurts”

You confessed, and the look that crossed Harry's face was one mixed with relief and the tiniest hint of lust.

You didn’t need to tell him twice because you barely had the time to catch your breath when he crashed his lips down on top of yours, claiming them once again. He slid so he was more close to you now, hands gripping the back of your head and keeping your face in place for him to kiss you hard. He had been waiting for this for so long–all the longing glances, the pent up, fucked up frustration in him–he was bearing all of it into the kiss that left your mind dizzy and lips swollen./

“Fucking exquisite”

He praised you, and you blushed into his mouth. It was all a blur after that–he gripped your thighs tightly, pulling you from the passenger seat and maneuvering you into his lap. You lowered yourself down, the front of your jeans making a slight contact with the tip of his clothed cock, and the whine he let out was pure sin.

“Gonna make me burst”

He held on to your hips, kneading them in his palms as he watched you settle on top of him. You skillfully aligned his seat as abc as it could go, so he was almost laying down while you sat on top of him. 

“THose hands–they aren’t just good in the kitchen, are they?” he teased, and since now you were on top, you were feeling more powerful.

“Mhmm,” you agreed, unbuttoning his shirt and sliding it off his chest, smoothening your hands down his golden chest, “Wait till you see what else I can do with these”

He let out a gasp as you leaned in, licking up his abs, and kissing his butterfly tattoo. His hands slid to your waist, kneading the soft flesh in his palms and letting you admire and worship his body.

“Cheeky minx “ he said, but the words were swallowed into a groan as you sucked on his nipples, biting them softly and smirking when he rolled his hips upward. He was getting desperate, hips lifting up every now and then in need for relief.

You continued the onslaught of kisses, but wanted to give the poor millionaire some relief. You reached for the button of his pants, undoing it and unzipping his fly. Sitting back up, you pulled them down to his knees, and the sight of his boxers tented…his cock begging to be released from its confines made your mouth water.

Harry couldn’t take it anymore. He sat back up, making you fall back against the steering wheel but caught you just in time, resting his palms on your back. Once you were stable, he undid your jeans as well, wasting no time in pushing one hand inside.

“Oh fuck–Harry–” you cursed, and he could see it on your face–pure lust and arousal. He began to swipe his fingers between your lips, spreading the wetness around and finding your clit–expertly rolling the soft bundle of nerves between his fingers that had you curling your toes. He looked straight into your eyes while doing that too–watching you fall apart from just his fingers.

Once he was done teasing you, he circled his fingers around your entrance, which was completely, devastatingly soaked. You had been dreaming of this for so long–wanting this for so long that now when you were finally going to have him, it felt straight out of a dream.

“So fucking wet–all for me?” he asked, and you nodded, “All–all for you, chef”

“Fuckin’ tease” he cursed before pulling his fingers out, which were now covered in your slick and arousal, and pulling his boxers down, letting hsi cock spring free.

You had seen many cocks. In porn, in real life. But seeing his cock–thick and long, slightly curved towards the tip, which would make it the perfect fit for your needy pussy. The tip was a perfect shade of purplish-red, with a few drops of precum oozing out and making your mouth water once again. You wanted him in your mouth. And he did too, but right now, there wasn’t much time.

You lifted yourself up, pulling your jeans and panties down in one go, till they were near your knees just like his. Positioning yourself right on top of him, he gave his cock a few stroked before resting one hand on your hip. You placed your hands on his shoulders for support, and once your pussy was in contact, his eyes almost rolled into the back of his head.

But he didn’t push it in just yet–rubbed it back and forth between your lips, till your legs threatened to give out, and you squeezed his shoulder.

“Alright, no take backs–” he whispered, and aligned it with your hole, and you pushed yourself down on him, and fuck–was it worth it.

Once he was inside, your mouth fell open. You had been wet, and he hand;t prepped you too much because of it. But the sweet burn of him pushing it in fully–it fueled into your pain kink, and you bit your lower lip, getting up and lowering yourself down on him fully, till your hips were touching his heavy balls.

“So full, I–I feel so fucking full, Harry–” you told him, and he nodded, his adam apple bobbing. He pulled you down for another kiss, and using both hands, he began fucking you on him.

You moaned and screamed into the kiss, the tip of his cock kissing the back of your cervix, his precum leaking from his tip continuously. While you were sure you would be able to take the lead, giving up control and letting him use your body however he wanted–it made you feel really fucking good.

“Good, so fucking good, pet, so tight and snug around me, aren’t you? Could fuck you for days, I swear–”

You would get back at him on that promise for sure, later.

“Denied me of this sweet cunt for so long–gave me those fuck me eyes the first day you came into my restaurant.”

You tried to shake your head to tell him how that wasn’t true, but the words lodged in your throat. You didn’t know how you looked at him, he did.

“No–no Harry, fuck–, I–I wanted to–”

“Fuck me, hmm? The first day you saw me?” he teased, and you pulled his ear lightly.

“No, you dumbo. I–I wanted to push you against the counter and pin your hands beside you and–”

“And fuck me?” he finished your sentence once again, and to get back at him, you squeezed around him. You did it with all the strength you had, and you could swear you felt him harden just a little bit more inside you.

“And how is that different from what I said?” he asked, and you placed your hand over his mouth to shut him up. You tried to ride him this time, using his strong chest to fuck yourself up and down, till your wetness was pooling on the base of his cock. It was a wet mess–your arousals mixed together on the top of his thighs and you were positive it slipped through to the seat.

“Make me–make me cum, chef-” you said, and you felt him smile against your palm. You lifted it up, and he pinned your hands behind your back immediately.

“Chef, huh?” he taunted, and pulled you down for another kiss, halting for mere seconds before you came all over him–wetness oozing out and wetting his cock and balls. He pushed his tongue inside your mouth, the movements mirroring those of his cock in your pussy. It wasn’t long before he came too, emptying himself into your snug heat with a low groan.

He made out with you throughout–never letting your lips rest as his seed filled you up to the brim. The warm feeling had you dizzy, being filled up by the man you admired and wanted for years.

Once you were relaxed, tongues dancing in slow motions, he pulled out and pulled your panties back in place, saving his cum from falling into embarrassing places. You rolled your eyes at him, adjusting your clothes and sitting back on the seat beside.

His eyes gazed into yours with adoration, the car filled with the smell of sex and sweat. The lingering scent of finally giving into something that was building up since day one–it made you feel happy and vulnerable.

He reached out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear, letting his palm linger against your cheek in a tender caress.

"You know, I meant what I said before about not wanting to let this amazing opportunity between us slip away," he murmured, eyes shining sincerely. "After everything we've been through, you've become one of the most important people in my life, darlin'."

You felt your heart swell at his words, leaning into his touch with a soft smile. "And you're one of the most incredible men I've ever known, Harry. I'm just...I'm so grateful we finally took this leap together."

Chuckling warmly, Harry pulled you into a snug embrace, pressing his lips to your forehead in a lingering kiss. "Well, you'd better get used to having me around then, sweetheart. Because I don't plan on going anywhere."

Reaching up, you cradled his whiskered jaw, marveling at how such a hardened culinary genius could look so endearingly unsure in the wake of baring his heart. A soft smile curved your lips as you stroked along the line of his cheekbone with your thumb.

"Harry," you began, keeping your tone low and earnest. "I just want you to know...what we share goes far deeper for me than just some crush or physical attraction. You've been such an incredible mentor, certainly - pushing me to my limits and helping me discover a resilience I didn't know I had. But more than that, you've also become one of the most important people in my life these past few months."

He seemed to still against you, holding his breath as he searched your expression intently. Encouraged by the yearning shining from those soulful hazel eyes, you pressed onward.

"From the very first day, there was just...something about the way you carry yourself in that kitchen, so passionate and uncompromising in your artistry. It inspired me in a way I've never experienced before. And as I got to know the man behind the chef's coat better and better, that admiration grew into something...well, something I couldn't ignore or push away, no matter how much I tried."

You gave a rueful chuckle, shaking your head. "Not that I'm proud of how I handled that, especially at first. I was so terrified of being just another young line cook with an embarrassing crush on the big-shot chef, you know? Of risking the most rewarding professional relationship I've ever had by letting feelings get in the way. So I tried my damnedest to squash it down and keep things strictly business between us."

Harry made a low noise of understanding, one calloused palm drifting up to cradle the side of your face with ineffable tenderness. The pad of his thumb brushed over your lower lip as he gazed at you with naked longing.

"But the more time we spent together, the more I came to realize I wasn't alone in what I was feeling," you continued, emboldened by the smoldering affection gleaming in his expression. "Those heated looks and moments of banter that always left me weak in the knees...the way you'd find any excuse to touch me, even if it was just your hand on my back or brushing my arm. And don't think I didn't catch that molten vibe you gave me after the gala service the other night, Harry."

You gave a breathless chuckle at the memory, watching in satisfaction as his eyes darkened perceptibly from the reminder. "Point is, it's been pretty damn obvious to me for a while now that this crazy, inexplicable tension has been building between us. And after tonight...after you pour your heart out about wanting to open yourself up to something deeper outside of just the kitchen...well, I knew I had to finally stop fighting it."

Cradling his rugged features between your palms, you gazed at Harry with profound sincerity. "I don't want to just be another protegee you take under your wing, Harry. I want...god, I want so much more than that if you'll have me. As more than just your mentee."

The silence that fell between you seemed to stretch out into infinite stillness - until finally, Harry broke it with a shuddering exhalation. His features softened into an expression of pure affection and naked vulnerability.

"Darlin'," he murmured in that low, gravelly timbre that had haunted your dreams. "I gotta say, you're one hell of a woman. Smart, fiercely passionate, and talented as all hell in the kitchen. Any chef in their right mind would count themselves lucky to have that kind of force on their line."

One calloused thumb brushed a stray lock of hair from your forehead in an achingly tender gesture. "But the more I got to know you, the more I realized you were so much more than just a hell of a cook. You've got this...this fire inside, this core of unshakable integrity, that shines through in everything you do." 

A slow, lopsided grin curved his mouth as Harry seemed to drink in your features hungrily. "Truth is, I've been half in love with you since the first time you went toe-to-toe with me over mise en place and didn't back down one inch. Kidfron called me out a while back, said I needed to get my head out  and stop being an idiot about my feelings before I lost my shot with you. And you know what? He was right."

You heard the sharp breath you sucked in at his unexpected confession, suddenly feeling lightheaded from the rushing euphoria of having your own deepest desires affirmed. Harry's smile softened into something unbearably tender.

"I meant what I said earlier, about needing to start making room in my life for stuff that actually matters now," he murmured. "No more letting amazing opportunities or people slip through my fingers while I'm off chasing the next culinary high, you know? From here on out, I wanna do this thing with you - the real deal, not just heated flings or fooling around when it's convenient." 

One calloused palm drifted up to cradle the back of your neck, thumb brushing over your wildly fluttering pulse. "That is...if you're sure you want to go all in with this crazy bastard and whatever baggage he's got. Because I sure as shit don't plan on letting you go after everything we've been through, darlin'. You're stuck with me now."

The last words were issued in a low, rumbly rasp brimming with naked want and promise. You felt a shiver of pure yearning race down your spine as Harry slowly, inexorably drew you back into the smoldering field of his orbit.

"Just to be clear," you murmured, drunk on the whiskey-smoke scent and pure masculine essence of him, "I am absolutely, one-hundred percent sure I want to dive into this thing with you, Harry . The real deal, as you put it - not as mentor and mentee, but as...as partners in every sense of the word." 

A smile you couldn't suppress bloomed over your features as you nuzzled his whiskered jaw adoringly. "You, me, and whatever crazy culinary adventures lie ahead...I can't wait."

Harry rumbled out a low, contented chuckle that vibrated against your skin deliciously. "Sounds perfect to me, darlin'," he rasped, "Absolutely freakin' perfect."

Silence fell between you then, stretching out in a tender, infinitely rich moment of shared affection and promise. Of two hearts irreversibly entwined, embarking together on an endeavor that would change the course of both your lives immeasurably.

Though the road ahead would surely present its own tangle of twists, turns, and daunting challenges yet to come...in that ephemeral pocket of stillness, cradled in the heart of Harry's powerful embrace, you had never felt more vibrantly alive or certain of the path destiny had laid out before you.

No matter what obstacles or battles awaited around the bend, you knew without a shred of doubt that you would confront them as you did everything else - side-by-side with your partner, your equal, your soulmate in every possible sense. Two culinary spirits, unified at long last in a blissful, rapturous understanding.

The rest of the world could keep spinning wildly outside the sheltered cocoon you had woven together. But in this perfect, crystalline moment frozen in time...nothing else mattered beyond the blazing truth ignited between you. From here on out, you would walk through the fire of any culinary pursuit, hand-in-hand, soul-to-soul alongside the man who held your heart.

And in the end, that's all that would ever matter again.

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

tell me if you like this! this series is done, but I'm always open to doing extras and check-ins!

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[sasheemo]

Friday Thoughts

Chapter 4

Chapter Summary: Sunday morning at Agatha’s house starts innocently enough… until it doesn’t. Turns out, the kitchen has more to offer than just coffee.

Chapter Tags: Power Dynamics, Ethics Are for Mortals, Soft Moments Amidst the Heat, Smut, Fingering, Oral Sex, Mommy Kink, Dom/sub Undertones, Kitchen Sesbian Lex 

Word Count: 9k

A/N: It’s 5 AM here, and I have no one to blame for my lack of sleep but Agatha Harkness and this absolute filth I've been pouring my soul into for the past four days. I had plans to be a functioning adult tomorrow since I am the designated xmas chef in my family, but instead, I stayed up crafting kitchen sesbian lex for you gorgeous, unhinged humans in my phone. Priorities, am I right?

And remember when I said Chapter 3 was the longest thing I’d ever written? Yeah, well… that record didn't last long. Behold 9k words of depravity only mommy!Agatha could inspire. So, I hope you’re ready to spend your xmas in the sin bin with me.

Happy reading, my fellow degenerates 💜

Chapter Index

Read on AO3

The next morning, you awaken gradually, muffled sounds drifting up from downstairs, gently drawing you back to wakefulness.

You immediately recognize Agatha’s voice, rich, melodic, carrying that unmistakable tone that shifts effortlessly between alluring and intimidating. Nicholas’s laughter echoes in the background, joined by another voice you don’t recognize. 

They’re talking, but the words are indistinct, a steady murmur. Then you hear the sound of the front door closing, and silence falls.

Groaning softly, you let consciousness settle, the faint throb of a headache a subtle reminder of the wine from the night before. 

Bit by bit, the blurry details of last night start to piece themselves together: you and Agatha almost kissing, her voice soft as she asked you to stay, and the haunting sound of her pleasure echoing in your mind as you retreated to the guest room to lose yourself in your own.

The memory makes heat rise to your cheeks, but you push it aside, shaking your head as if to clear it.

Deciding not to dwell on it, you swing your legs over the edge of the bed and stand. You’re still wearing the oversized t-shirt Agatha gave you to sleep in, its hem brushing against your thighs as you pad barefoot across the room and into the hallway to head downstairs.

The house is silent, so quiet that you assume Agatha and Nicholas must have gone out. The thought of being alone eases some of your tension, though it leaves you feeling a bit… off. 

You make your way into the kitchen, still half-asleep and craving coffee, but the moment you step through the doorway your breath catches in your throat.

Agatha is sitting at the table, two stacked empty plates and a half-filled mug of coffee in front of her. She looks completely at ease, a quiet aura of domestic bliss enveloping her, and the sight almost knocks you off balance. 

She’s not wearing her usual tailored work outfits or the expensive accessories you’ve come to associate with her presence. Instead, she’s dressed in a dark grey sweatshirt and matching sweatpants—comfortable, simple, but somehow still effortlessly refined. 

Her hair cascades in loose, wild waves over her shoulders and down her back, and her face is bare, untouched by the usual hint of makeup. The simplicity does nothing to diminish her allure—if anything, it magnifies it, leaving you unable to look away.

Agatha senses your presence instantly.

Her head turns, and her gaze finds yours, steady and piercing. With an almost languid motion, she brings her mug to her lips and takes a slow sip, never once breaking the connection between your eyes.

You’re suddenly acutely aware that her t-shirt is the only thing you’re wearing, the soft fabric skimming over bare skin and leaving far too much of you exposed.

You shift awkwardly, feeling her gaze linger before she finally speaks.

“Good morning, hon.” she says with that ever-present undertone of playfulness.

“Good morning.” you groan back, your own voice still thick and raspy from sleep, betraying the weight of the night before.

The silence stretches, taut and charged, its heaviness almost laughable this early in the day. You clear your throat, forcing out the first question that drifts into your thoughts.

“Where’s Nicky?” you ask, tilting your head slightly, the movement unconsciously mirroring your curiosity.

“Rio picked him up this morning. They had a trip planned for today.” Agatha replies casually, her tone breezy, almost dismissive as she takes another sip of her coffee.

Her words click in your mind, and you realize the voice you heard earlier must have been hers, Rio’s. It feels odd to know that Nicholas and Rio were here just moments ago, yet now the house is empty except for you and Agatha. 

“Did you sleep well?” her question seems innocuous, but it lands like a jarring interruption, scattering your thoughts before you can fully process them.

“Yes.” you answer, forcing yourself to sound steady. “The bed was really comfortable. Honestly, I think I slept better than I do at home.”

“The guest bed is nice, but it’s not the most comfortable one in the house.” she quips, the curve of her lips dancing on the edge of saccharine charm and predatory intent, her eyes alight with unmistakable mischief.

The meaning behind her words is impossible to miss. It lands with striking clarity, and for an instant, you falter. 

Then, slowly, you arch a brow, pairing it with a half-smile that practically screams, I can’t cope with your teasing first thing in the morning. 

“I really, really, need coffee right now.” you mutter, turning toward the counter to prepare some, your heart still racing from her comment.  

The hum of the coffee machine fills the room as you busy yourself. As you reach for a mug in one of the top cabinets, you glance over your shoulder. 

“Do you want some more cof—” the words catch in your throat. Agatha’s eyes aren’t on your face. They’re fixed, unmistakably, on your ass.

She doesn’t look away quickly enough, and for a split second, you see something flicker across her face—surprise, maybe even the faintest hint of embarrassment. 

You blink, then a grin spreads across your lips as you seize the moment, not thinking too much about the words slipping from your lips.

“Something on your mind, Agatha?” you tease, your tone dripping with feigned innocence.

Agatha leans back slightly in her chair, recovering quickly. A slow, unapologetic smile curves her lips as she meets your gaze. 

“Maybe.” she replies nonchalantly, though there’s a fiery spark in her eyes that betrays her.

The tension thickens, and your heart pounds in your chest as a satisfied smirk spreads across your lips, impossible to suppress.

The coffee machine beeps, signaling that your morning fuel is ready, the sound slicing through the air like a blade. 

With your mug now filled, you turn and lean against the counter, your grip on the handle a little too tight.

The room feels quiet, too quiet, and you try to ignore how aware you are of her—how the air feels heavier with her in it. Then, her voice weaves itself into the stillness.

“I wanted to say…” she begins, her tone dropping lower, carrying a careful edge as if she’s testing the waters. “I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable last night, hon.”

Your stomach twists, a pang of disappointment spreading through your chest. You manage a soft laugh, hoping it sounds casual. 

“No, of course not.” you say, waving it off. “I figured… I mean, I knew it was just the wine.”

“The wine?” Agatha asks, her brows knitting together as confusion flickers across her face. 

Her reaction is subtle but unmistakable, and you realize instantly that your answer wasn’t what she expected, or wanted, to hear.

“Yeah. You know, it… loosened things up a little.” you nod quickly, looking away as you bring the mug to your lips. 

When you glance back, her expression has changed—sharper, more focused. Her eyes lock onto yours, and the intensity of her gaze makes you seriously consider crawling into the dishwasher for cover.

“It wasn’t the wine.” she scoffs, her voice firmer now, frustrated almost, cutting cleanly through the space between you. There’s no room for misinterpretation, no hesitation in her tone.

The air shifts as she pushes her chair back with a deliberate slowness, rising to her feet with an elegance that feels almost dangerous. 

How is it possible for someone’s movements alone to change the entire atmosphere of a room? The look on her face—annoyed, almost angry—isn’t one you see often, but it’s impossible to misread. It’s the expression of someone who’s extremely close to reaching the limit of their patience, and the tension radiating from her seems to charge the very air between you.

“Tell me, is it Nicholas?” she asks abruptly, her tone laced with mock curiosity and dripping with provocation, her lips curling into a wicked, knowing smirk. “Is that what’s holding you back? The fact that I’m his mother? Or is it the fact that you work for me? Does that little moral compass of yours make this feel wrong, unethical?”

Your heart stutters, her questions catching you completely off guard, every coherent thought scattering like leaves in the wind.

You can’t answer because, truthfully, you don’t know. Maybe it’s all of those things, or maybe it’s none. Perhaps you’ve clung to the excuse of ethics as a way to convince yourself you’re not selfish, to believe you’re a good person, whatever that means. But does that even matter when, for months, you’ve been lying in bed at night, your fingers between your thighs, her name a whisper on your lips, and the dark corners of your mind drowning in visions of her?

You honestly never thought Agatha would ever look at you like this, like she wants you, like she’s already decided you’re hers. And now, faced with the reality of it, you’re completely unprepared. You’d convinced yourself she was an indulgence, a fantasy to steal yourself away from reality at night. But now that she’s here, so real and so close, you have no idea what to do, no idea how to reconcile the fantasy with the reality.

And worse, you can’t find a single excuse for what might happen next. If ethics were just a convenient mask for your own fears, if it’s obvious now that she wants you as much as you’ve always wanted her… then what’s left to hide behind?

Her smirk deepens at your wordless floundering, her eyes gleaming with the satisfaction of unspoken triumph. She steps closer, the heat of her presence enveloping you, the air between you crackling with intensity.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’d never do anything to hurt Nicky. He’s my priority, always. But don’t confuse that with restraint.” her tone drops, low and velvety, her words wrapping around you like a silk ribbon pulling tight.

You know that she is right, about all of it. Agatha Harkness isn’t the kind of woman who lets anything—ethics, doubts, or even the love she has for her son—stand between her and what she wants. You know she’d never risk Nicholas’ well-being, but you also know that nothing gets in her way. Not morality, not caution, and certainly not you.

You blink once, twice, your grip on the mug tightening to the point you’re genuinely surprised it hasn’t cracked yet.

The room seems to shrink, the walls pressing closer as she takes one step forward, then another, each movement unhurried yet charged with intent.

Your pulse thunders in your ears, each beat echoing louder as she closes the distance. She doesn’t stop until she’s standing inches away, so close that you can feel the heat radiating from her skin, mingling with the inebriating scent of her perfume.

Slowly, she reaches out and takes the mug from your hands, her fingers grazing yours as she sets it down on the counter, the touch lingering just long enough to leave your skin tingling.

Her gaze drops, settling on the oversized t-shirt that hangs loosely over your frame. Her lips curve into one of those knowing smiles of hers, the kind that always makes you feel like she can see straight through you.

“This looks good on you, hon.” she murmurs, each word curling through the air like a caress. Her eyes drift back up, locking onto yours, and the intensity in her gaze knocks the breath from your lungs.

“I like seeing you in something of mine.” she adds, each syllable dripping with meaning.

You can’t move, can’t speak. All you can do is stand there, your chest rising and falling in shallow breaths as the tension between you hums like a live wire. 

For a moment, time seems to pause. Then, without warning, a flood of memories crashes over you, unbidden and vivid, rushing through your mind like a reel on fast-forward.

You see it all in an instant, the whole past 4 months: the first time you stepped into this house and were struck by Agatha’s presence, how you immediately felt her gravitational pull. The way her voice always seemed to carry an edge of authority that made your pulse quicken and your thighs clench. The fleeting glances, the teasing comments, the nights you spent lying awake replaying the moments you could swear were more than just polite and casual conversation. Her scent lingering on the sofa after she left for one of her Friday night outings. The way her laughter filled the kitchen, rich and melodic, when Nicholas shared one of his funny anecdotes.

And then, last night. Her face mere inches from yours, close enough to see every intricate shade of blue in her eyes. The way her voice dipped when she asked you to stay. The sound of her, breathless and undone, breaking the silence of the night.

Your grip on reality snaps. 

Fuck it.

You are done. So. Fucking. Done. With this game, with her teasing, with the endless tug-of-war between your self-doubt and the ache that consumes you every time she’s near.

Your voice is low but steady as you finally speak, your lips curving into a sly smile.

“You know…” you pause, letting the tension hang between you, your eyes locking onto hers with bold intent. “I can think of a few other things of yours I’d rather have on me.”

It takes a heartbeat for your words to sink in, but when they do, the shift in her is instantaneous.

Her pupils dilate, the faintest twitch of her lips betraying her composure. She takes one final step forward, and the space between you vanishes entirely. 

Your breath hitches as she leans in, the warmth of her body enveloping you, the faint brush of her exhale against your cheek.

It feels just like last night, on the couch. But this time, there’s no wine to blur the edges, no excuses to hide behind.

“Agatha…” you whisper, her name barely more than a breath, but it’s enough for her eyes to flicker with something raw, something unrestrained.

“Do you have any idea…” she murmurs, her voice a husky rasp “how long I’ve wanted this? How long I’ve wanted you?”

Her words slam into you like a shockwave, your knees threatening to buckle as a rush of heat coils low in your abdomen. You take in the raw hunger on her face, the barely restrained need, and with it, the last fragile threads of your restraint finally snap.

Your voice trembles, dripping with desire, as it escapes your lips.

“Then fucking take me already.”

Yours words hang in the air for the briefest second before she closes the distance, her movements charged with unbridled need.

She grabs you like she’s starving. One hand clamps firmly around your waist, pulling you flush against her, while the other slides up to the back of your neck, her fingers tangling in your hair. 

The heat of her palm burns through the fabric of her t-shirt, branding itself onto your skin as her mouth crashes against yours.

The kiss starts slow, teasing, her lips achingly soft as they claim yours, drawing you in until nothing else exists. 

Without thinking, you let your tongue flick against her lower lip. And then, the dam breaks.

Your small, tentative act unleashes something feral and untamed in her. She deepens the kiss, her lips pressing harder, more demanding as her tongue curls and twists with yours, exploring, tasting, claiming with a hunger that leaves you dizzy and reeling. Each stroke feels purposeful, like she’s determined to make you forget how to breathe, how to think. 

Completely lost in the sensation, you cling to her, your fingers curling into the fabric of her sweatshirt as she presses closer. The edge of the counter bites into your back, but it’s a distant ache, overshadowed by the heat of her body against yours.

The moan that just slipped from your lips is still echoing in the air when you feel Agatha’s hands slide down, firm and purposeful, gripping your thighs just beneath your ass.

You catch on quickly, instinctively bracing on the counter for leverage. It happens seamlessly, her hands guiding you upward as you hoist yourself up with your arms.

In the process, for the briefest, agonizing moment, her lips leave yours, and it feels like a punishment. But the second you’re seated, she’s back, her mouth claiming yours with even more intensity than before. 

Her body slots perfectly between your thighs, her hips pressing insistently against yours as the kiss turns hotter, rougher.

You pull back just enough to gasp for air, your eyes half-lidded and dazed as you look at her.

“I need to see you.” you whisper, your voice breathless and thick with desperation as your fingers tug lightly  at the hem of her sweatshirt. “I want to see you.”

“Oh, you want to see me?” she coos, her tone low and laced with amusement as her breath ghosts over your cheek. “Then ask nicely, sweetheart.”

“Please, mo-” the word catches in your throat, half-formed, and your entire body stiffens at the realization of what you were about to say.

Shit, really?! That fast?! you think, half-mortified, half in awe of just how quickly you were folding for her. You’ve barely even started, and here you are, ready to hand over your dignity on a silver platter.

But Agatha’s eyes darken, her eyebrows arching in feigned surprise, while her lips curl into the most depraved smirk you’ve ever seen.

“Go on, baby. Say it.” she murmurs, a velvet invitation laced with command. “I know you want to.”

The air crackles with anticipation, every nerve in your body screaming at you to let go.

You try to hold back, clinging to the last shred of composure you have left, but it’s futile. The way she looks at you, the way her touch sends fire racing through your veins, makes it impossible to resist.

“Please, mommy.” you whisper, the words trembling but filled with raw, unfiltered need. “Please, let me see you.”

Sinfulness flares up in her eyes, and the grin that spreads across her lips is equal parts dangerous and thrilling.

“That’s my good girl.” she praises, her voice dripping with satisfaction as her hands move to the hem of her sweatshirt.

When Agatha’s hands leave your body, you can’t stop the whine that slips from your lips. It’s needy and pathetic, but you’re already too far gone to care.

“Oh, sweetheart…” she mocks as she tilts her head. “You really are that desperate, aren’t you?”

Her words make your cheeks burn, and you bite your lip hard, swallowing back another whine. But the look on her face, so smug and in control, has you clenching your thighs around the edge of the counter.

Your gaze is locked on her hands as they slowly, tantalizingly lift the fabric. Her eyes never leave yours as she teases you with every inch of skin revealed, and when the sweatshirt comes off entirely, you feel your breath catch in your throat.

She’s bare beneath it. Completely bare.

Your mouth goes dry, and then the exact opposite—you feel your tongue press against the roof of your mouth as you practically salivate at the sight of her.

“Look at you.” she purrs, a wicked grin spreading across her lips as she tosses the sweatshirt aside. Her hands slide to her hips, her fingers brushing over her skin as if to emphasize the curves you can’t stop staring at. “You’re such a fucking mess for me.”

Your teeth sink harder into your lip, your eyes shamelessly roaming her chest. You’re utterly entranced—the fullness of her breasts, the way her nipples harden in the cool air, her confidence radiating off her in waves. Everything about her leaves you utterly speechless.

She notices, of course she does, and her grin sharpens, cruel and knowing.

“This little shirt of mine… it’s cute on you. But wouldn’t it look better crumpled on the floor?” she coos as her fingers hook under the hem of your t-shirt, lifting the fabric just enough to expose a sliver of your stomach.

“Tell me, sweetheart…” she drawls, her tone dripping with mockery as she leans in closer, her breath brushing the shell of your ear. “Do you want mommy to strip you down? Hmm? Want me to see every inch of that needy little body of yours?”

Your body reacts before your brain can catch up. You nod quickly, far too eagerly, your thighs pressing against her hips as your breath comes in short, uneven bursts.

She smirks at your silent response, her nails dragging upward, grazing the underside of your breasts.

“You’re gonna have to use your words, baby.” she whispers, her tone dark and commanding. “Tell me how bad you want it.”

Your voice seems nowhere to be found, the weight of her touch and her voice combined too much to bear. But, when her nails scrape higher, barely brushing your nipples, words spill out in a rushed, broken plea.

“Take it off, mommy, please.” you whimper, your voice shaky and drenched in desperation. “I need you, I need you touch me.”

Her laugh is low, and entirely self-satisfied. 

“That’s better.” she murmurs, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. “Such a good girl, begging so pretty for me.”

In one fluid motion, she yanks the t-shirt over your head, tossing it aside with a flick of her wrist. Her eyes rake over your bare skin, the hunger in her gaze making your thighs tremble.

“You’re perfect, baby.” she breathes, her voice rough and uneven, her restraint barely in check.

Agatha doesn’t hesitate. Her lips descend on your breasts with a ferocity that makes your entire body jolt. Her tongue flicks over a sensitive peak, and you can’t stop the cry that rips from your throat as your head falls back against the cabinet with a soft thud.

“Fuck!” you gasp, your body arching into her mouth as her teeth graze you, the sharp sting sending a delicious pulse straight between your legs.

She doesn’t stop. Her tongue circles the hardened bud, before sucking hard enough to pull a strangled moan from your lips. The sound only seems to spur her on, her mouth devouring you with unrelenting hunger.

Her finger slides up your thigh, nails dragging across your skin, stopping at the edge of your panties, teasing, her thumb brushing over the damp fabric.

You’re completely lost in the moment, drowning in the heat of her mouth on your chest and the agonizing proximity of her fingers to where you crave her touch the most.

But as her lips move to your other nipple, sucking it into her mouth with equal fervor, one frustrating realization claws its way through the haze of your pleasure. 

She’s still wearing her sweatpants.

For some lame, inexplicable reason, the thought makes your blood boil, snapping you out of your trance just enough to notice the imbalance. She’s standing there, all smug dominance, fully in control while you’re bare and completely at her mercy.

It won’t do.

One of your hands finds her chest, cupping her breast with a boldness that earns a muffled groan against your skin. You squeeze, your thumb flicking over her nipple just as your other hand trails downward, nails scraping over the curve of her hip before hooking under the waistband of her sweatpants.

The sudden touch makes her pause. Her lips leave your chest abruptly and her head snaps up, narrowed eyes locking onto yours. For a moment, she looks almost… intrigued.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she asks, a dangerous edge lacing her tone.

Your fingers tug lightly at the waistband, your lips curving into a smirk. 

“Catching up.” you murmur, your voice breathy but steady, even as your fingers push lower.

“Is that right? And here I thought you couldn’t wait for mommy to take what’s hers.” she purrs, her voice as cocky and controlled as ever. But the faint roll of her hips, the way her body leans just slightly into your touch, betrays the fire burning under her skin.

Your hand moves decisively, slipping lower and sliding beneath the fabric of her sweatpants and underwear in one seamless, fluid motion.

The second your fingers touch her folds, you both moan obscenely loudly.

“Fuck, you’re dripping for me.” you whisper, reverent and breathless, as your fingers slide through her slick heat.

Her groan is low and guttural, her control slipping as both of her hands fly to your hips, gripping you tightly as her head dips closer to your ear.

“You have no idea what you’re doing to me.” she growls, her breath hot and ragged against your skin. “But if you think you’re calling the shots, baby, think again.”

But you barely register Agatha’s words. You’re too lost in her—the way she feels against your fingers, wet and burning hot, the slight roll of her hips against your hand.

You realize that your own hips have started moving on the counter, mirroring her rhythm, your body subconsciously chasing the same friction.

The heat between you is unbearable, your body responding to every movement, every sound, every flicker of dominance she tries to hold onto. You can’t help but press your fingers deeper, teasing her entrance, dipping just enough to feel the way she clenches around you. 

But, of course, Agatha won’t give in and relinquish control that easily. One of her hands snaps to your wrist, her grip firm and unyielding, halting your movements in an instant.

“Mmh, looks like I’ve got a greedy little brat on my hands.” she purrs, her voice a silky threat. Her eyes gleam with intent as she removes your hand. “Let’s fix that.”

Before you can respond, her hands grip your hips firmly, dragging you forward off the counter in one fluid, confident motion.

You instinctively wrap your legs around her waist, your arms looping around her neck for balance. Your chest is pressed flush against hers as she effortlessly takes back control.

“W-what are-” you stammer, but your words are cut off as her lips find yours again, her mouth devouring yours with a ravenousness that leaves you lightheaded.

You immediately kiss her back with equal fervor, your fingers tangling in her hair, your teeth catching her bottom lip in a teasing nip. The combination earns you a raspy moan slipping from her throat, and your hips grind instinctively against hers.

You assume she’s taking you to the table to set you down, the same way you were perched on the counter. But when her stride slows, instead of placing you on the table, Agatha lowers you to the ground.

The second your feet touch the floor, her hands are on your waist, spinning you around with a forceful motion.

You gasp as your hips meet the edge of the table and a knee slots between your legs to part them. Your palms fly forward, bracing yourself on the cold wood as her presence looms behind you, her breath warm against your neck.

Her front presses against your back, and the fabric of her sweatpants brushes against the bare skin of your ass. The contrast—soft cotton against heated skin—is maddening, and you push back instinctively, grinding against her.

“Let’s get rid of these, shall we?”  she murmurs, her tone carrying the faint lilt of a question, though it’s clear no answer is required, no permission sought. Her fingers hook under the waistband of your panties, her intent already decided.

She pulls them down in one smooth motion, the fabric slipping over your thighs and pooling around your ankles. The cool air brushes against your wet core, but you barely have time to process the sensation before her hands are back on you, landing on your hips with a firm and possessive grip. 

One hand stays there, squeezing tightly, grounding you while the other slides lower. Her fingers graze your ass before dipping further between your thighs to brush against the wetness dripping down your legs.

Her touch is maddening—a tantalizing blend of featherlight and firm—as her fingers glide through your folds. The wet mess she finds draws a low groan from her throat, a sound that’s both satisfied and utterly depraved.

“God, you’re soaked.” she growls, her voice rough and thick with lust as her other hand tightens its grip on your hip, holding you firmly in place as you instinctively try to roll them.

Her fingers press against your entrance, circling, teasing, never giving you the satisfaction of what you need. Your knees threaten to give out as you cling to the table for support.

“Agatha—” you choke out, your voice trembling with desperation. Your hips buck involuntarily, seeking friction, seeking her, but she pulls her fingers away just enough to leave you whining.

“That’s not how you address me, sweetheart.” she murmurs as her nails dig into your hip just enough to promise marks you’ll feel later.

You shake your head, your breath coming in short bursts as you try to find the words.

“Please.” you manage, your voice barely above a whisper. “Please, mommy, I need—”

Before you can finish, two fingers plunge into you, your breath catching at the sudden fullness. 

Your body arches instinctively, your walls fluttering around her fingers as she sets an infuriatingly controlled rhythm. You can feel every drag of her fingertips against your inner walls, waves of pleasure crashing over you with each calculated stroke.

“Look at you.” she coos, her own tone ragged and breathy, but never losing its condescending edge. “Dripping down my table, clenching around me like you don’t ever want me to stop. Is that it, baby? You don’t want mommy to stop?”

“Fuck! Don’t stop!” you gasp, your voice barely recognizable, breaking on the words as your fingers dig into the edge of the table. “Please mommy, don’t stop!”

Your words are still hanging in the air when she slams a third finger into you, the stretch pulling a sharp cry from your lips.

She chuckles darkly, and even without seeing her face, you can picture it perfectly—that satisfied, smug grin of hers, curling across her lips, oozing with triumph.

Her fingers thrust harder now, deeper, each movement striking that perfect spot inside you with unerring precision, sending tremors through your thighs. The sheer pleasure sends your body folding forward, your elbows replacing your palms on the table as your head dips low.

You can hear it, the obscene sound of how wet you are as she sinks into you over and over again. The slick, rhythmic noises filling the space between her low groans and your soft mewls.

Her pace is merciless as her fingers drive you closer and closer to the brink, your body trembling under the unbearable pressure as it builds to a breaking point. Every nerve is alive, ablaze and hypersensitive, and you’re so close, so achingly close—the coil inside you feels stretched to its limit, ready to snap and drag you under completely.

And, apparently, Agatha feels it too.

Her fingers slide out of you slowly, and your walls clench around the sudden emptiness, making you whimper. But before you can beg, before you can even think, her hand comes down hard on your ass, the sharp crack of her palm against your skin echoing through the room.

The sting is immediate—electric, and utterly unexpected—dragging a strangled gasp from your lips. The sheer force and suddenness make your elbows buckle, your upper body collapsing fully onto the table, palms splayed weakly on either side of your head.

“That’s for making me wait so damn long.” she snarls, her voice dripping with controlled anger as her fingers ghost over the burning outline of where her hand just landed. “For wasting my time when we both knew you were already mine.”

Her words send a fresh wave of heat pooling between your legs, but before you can process it, another spank lands on your other cheek, just as sharp, just as precise.

You cry out, your hands scrambling for purchase on the table as the sting radiates through you, mixing pain with a sickeningly addictive pleasure.

“Say you’re sorry, baby.” she commands, her free hand sliding up your back to press between your shoulder blades, holding you firmly in place.

“I—I’m sorry, mommy!” you manage, your voice trembling as your nails dig into the wood beneath you.

“Louder.” she growls as her nails lightly scrape the tender flesh of your ass, making you hiss.

“I’m sorry, mommy!” you cry, your voice breaking on the words as your thighs clench together instinctively, desperate for any friction, any relief.

“Good girl.” she praises, her tone softening just a fraction. “Apology accepted.”

Her fingers plunge back into you with a roughness that makes your body instinctively try to arch off the table, but the hand forcefully planted between your shoulder blades keeps you pinned in place, pressing you down and keeping you bent over, completely at her mercy.

“Do you hear yourself, baby? How good you sound when I’m ruining you?” she groans, her tone husky and frayed as the wet, filthy sounds of her thrusts fill the air once more.

You don’t even try to answer, you can’t. You’re too far gone, blissed out beyond reason, your mind an empty haze, her fingers fucking every last coherent thought straight out of your head until all that’s left is her.

Agatha’s pace is so brutal and purposeful that it seems impossible it could increase, that her fervor could intensify. But then the pressure on your shoulder blades vanishes and her hand moves back to your hip. 

She grips you with bruising strength as she pulls you back onto her fingers, forcing you to take her deeper, faster, leaving you no room to escape the overwhelming sensation.

“You want to come, don’t you?” she scoffs, her breath hot against your neck as she leans in closer, her teeth grazing the shell of your ear. “You want me to let you fall apart right here on this table?”

“Yes!” you gasp, your voice breaking as you cling to the edge of the table for dear life. “Yes, please, mommy—please let me come—I can’t—”

“Not until I say so.” she warns, cutting you off. “You’ll come when I tell you to, and not a second before.”

“Please!” you beg, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, the need for release becoming too much to bear. “Please, mommy, I’ll be good—I’ll be so good, just please—fuck!” 

It’s clear that your pleading isn’t just affecting you—it’s unraveling her too, every word dragging her closer to giving in and granting you what you’re unashamedly begging for. The proof is in the sounds spilling from her lips, perfectly synchronized with each slide of her fingers into your dripping hole. Each thrust draws a deep hum, a choked groan, as if your submission alone is enough to push her to the edge. It’s intoxicating, the way her pleasure seems to mirror yours, feeding off your helplessness, as though dominating you is quickly becoming her favorite indulgence.

As her fingers curl insistently against that delicious spot inside you, her other hand leaves your hip, gliding between your thighs to find your clit.

There’s no room for teasing as her fingers press and circle it with merciless speed, each motion exquisitely calibrated to make you clench greedily around her fingers buried deep inside you. 

You bite down hard on your lip, the sharp sting an attempt to ground yourself, but it’s no use. The dual assault of her thrusts and the devastating rhythm against your clit is too much, too perfect, her control over your body absolute.

You’re barely holding on by a thread, fighting desperately to keep the orgasm at bay. 

Your knuckles turn white as your grip tightens on the edge of the table, searching for any semblance of stability while your hips twitch erratically. Your whole body is trembling, helplessly teetering on the edge of blissful oblivion, every muscle locking tight as the inevitable surges closer.

Agatha knows. She feels it—the way your walls flutter around her fingers, the way your thighs quake with each jolt of pleasure, the way your cries are pitched higher and higher. Her voice cuts through the haze, a final push into the abyss.

“Come for me, baby. Now.” she commands, and the finality in her voice does it.

The words hit you with thundering force, igniting every nerve in your body as the orgasm crashes through you—it’s blinding, a white-hot explosion that obliterates everything else, consuming you entirely.

You’re breathless, helpless as she continues to thrust into you, wringing every last drop of ecstasy, guiding you through the aftershocks as your body twitches with lingering tremors.

“Yes, just like that.” she murmurs, her voice soft and brimming with pride. “Such a good girl for me.”

The hand on your clit withdraws, only for her arm to slip between your body and the table, wrapping securely around your waist as she gently pulls you upright. 

A few seconds later, her other hand stills, and her fingers slip out of your core, leaving a hollow ache that draws a soft whine from your lips. But the tenderness in her touch as she turns you around and envelops you into her arms quiets your mind completely.

You collapse against her, your legs barely able to hold you up as you rest your head on her shoulder, her lips brushing your temple in a soothing kiss.

“You did so well, baby.” she praises, her voice like velvet wrapping around your senses as her hands trace slow, idle patterns along your back. “So fucking perfect for me.”

You nod weakly, too spent to speak, your body still trembling in her arms. The world feels distant and blurred, but the warmth of her embrace grounds you, pulling you back piece by piece. 

“You’re everything I imagined.” she murmurs, her voice carrying that playful edge you’ve come to crave. 

“And trust me, I imagined this—” her lips curl into a smirk that you can feel against your temple. “—a lot.”

Your head tilts back just enough to meet her gaze, and the glint in her eyes makes your stomach flip.

“Oh?” you ask, a hint of a laugh in your voice. “Care to elaborate?”

“I’ve pictured bending you over this table more times than I care to admit.” she says, the corners of her mouth tugging upward. “And now that I finally have…”

Her words trail off, unfinished but loaded with meaning. 

Her eyes roam your face, taking in every detail as if she’s trying to commit you to memory. You feel the heat rise in your cheeks, and a new warmth stirs low in your belly, reigniting the fire you thought had been temporarily quenched.

“Well…” you murmur, your voice soft but full of intent “you’re not the only one who’s been fantasizing about this table.”

Her brow arches, the flicker of intrigue and surprise in her expression sparking a surge of confidence in you. Before she can respond, you move.

Your hands find her waist, gripping her firmly as you spin her around and guide her back toward the table. She lets you, her movements uncharacteristically yielding as she stumbles slightly, her smirk faltering into something curious, fascinated.

“Sweetheart, what are you—”

You don’t let her finish. Your lips crash into hers with all the passion you’ve been holding back. The kiss is deep, slow, a manifestation of everything you’ve been feeling—the pent-up longing, the intensity of what just happened, the desire that refuses to fade.

She responds immediately, her hands gripping your waist as the back of her thighs hits the edge of the table.

One of your hands slides up her side, your palm grazing the curve of her breast before cupping it fully. Your thumb circles her nipple, the taut peak hardening under your touch as she moans into your mouth, the sound vibrating against your lips and spurring you on.

Your lips trail away from hers, leaving a path of open-mouthed kisses along her jaw, her neck, her collarbone, slowly working your way down.

Once you reach her chest you take your time there, lavishing her with attention. Your hands knead her breasts while your tongue teases one peak, flicking and swirling before closing your lips around it and sucking hard.

Agatha’s head falls back and her body arches into your touch, a sharp gasp tearing from her throat as her nails bite into your waist.

You switch sides, your mouth now focused on her other breast while your hand continues to play with the first, pinching and rolling her nipple between your fingers.

You can hear her uneven breathing, her chest rising and falling rapidly as you worship her, but it’s not enough. 

Your hand trails lower, your fingers finding the waistband of her sweatpants. You glance up at her, and the impatience in her eyes makes your lips twitch into a smirk.

You hook your fingers into both her sweatpants and underwear, yanking them down in one swift, decisive motion. For a fleeting moment, the field seems leveled—Agatha now as bare as you, her body exposed to your gaze. It’s almost enough to fool you into thinking she’s relinquished some of her control.

But you know better. No missing layer will strip her of the commanding presence she effortlessly exudes. If anything, her confidence seems to grow sharper, like she knows exactly how her body affects you, how completely entranced you are by every inch of her now on display.

Agatha carelessly kicks the discarded fabric to the side and leans back against the table, hands gripping the edge with an ease that feels almost like a challenge—an unspoken dare for you to come forward.

The morning light streaming through the kitchen windows catches on her skin, as if the sun itself is conspiring to exalt her, highlighting every sharp line and soft curve of her body.

You scoff quietly at yourself, almost amused by the thought that you ever believed, even for a second, that you could resist her. As if morality, self-doubt, or even the frailest shred of common sense could have won against her. Against this.

Not that you wanted to resist—not really. And now, with her standing there like this, completely bare and unapologetically commanding, the only thing you can think about is how badly you want her, how you can’t wait a second longer to taste her.

You drop to your knees slowly, the cool floor biting into your skin but only serving to heighten your anticipation. Your hands glide down her thighs and her stance shifts, her legs parting instinctively to make room for you.

Agatha’s breath catches almost imperceptibly as she looks down at you, her expression a mix of dominance and barely restrained need.

From this angle, she looks even more imperious, and the thought that you’ve put her in this position, that you’ve brought her to this point, sends a fresh wave of heat pooling between your own thighs.

“Oh, baby…” she purrs, her tone dark and laced with sin. “How many times have you thought about this, hmm? About getting on your knees for me like a good little girl. Every time you walked into my kitchen?”

Your cheeks burn at her words, but the heat only fuels your resolve. Instead of responding right away, you lean forward, your lips brushing her inner thigh. She’s dripping, and the glistening evidence of her arousal makes your mouth water and your lips curve into a smug grin. 

You look up at her from beneath your lashes, your breath ghosting over her slick heat. She tenses, a sharp inhale escaping her as you trail soft kisses upward, closer and closer to where she wants you most.

“You talk too much… mommy.” you murmur sultrily against her skin, the emphasis on that last word a bold, blatant act of defiance.

Then, without warning, you dive in, tasting her for the first time.

The first glide of your tongue through her folds draws a strangled moan from her lips, her body jerking involuntarily as her fingers tighten against the edge of the table.

The taste of her—rich, and utterly addictive—sends a rush of heat straight through you. It’s overwhelming in the best way, every nerve in your body coming alive as you bury your face between her legs, your tongue moving with purpose.

Her slickness coats your tongue with every stroke, and you can’t stop the soft whimper that escapes you at the sheer decadence of it. Her hips buck against your mouth, seeking more, and you eagerly give it to her, your tongue circling her clit before dipping into her entrance, savoring the way she clenches around you.

“Fuck.” Agatha hisses, her composure beginning to crack. “That’s it- deeper.”

You press your tongue further, sliding it in and out of her languidly, curling it just right and relishing the way her walls flutter in response. The husky sound that escapes her throat makes your thighs clamp instinctively, the rawness of it fueling your determination.

You feast on her, losing yourself in the act of pleasing her, in how her body arches slightly as if trying to take more of you, in the way her scent and taste consume you entirely.

As you bask in the illusion of control, one of her hands leaves the table, drifting to the back of your head. Her fingers weave into your hair, tightening their hold—not enough to hurt, but firmly enough to remind you exactly who’s in charge.

“Stay still now, baby.” she growls, her voice edged with impatience and laced with unyielding authority. “Let me take what I want.”

Her words make your core clench so hard it aches, slickness dripping shamelessly down your thighs as you eagerly offer your tongue, sticking it out for her to use as she pleases.

Her rhythm starts slow, her hips grinding lazily against your mouth, each movement steeped in self-satisfaction. The wet, decadent sounds of her arousal fill the room, blending with the throaty cries spilling from her lips, each one more unrestrained than the last.

You realize that despite every fantasy you’ve ever had, nothing could have prepared you for this. For her. 

You’ve dreamed about this for months—what she’d taste like, how she’d sound, how she’d react to your touch—but the reality is so much more intense, it’s almost too much to bear. Every flick of her hips, every whimper, every broken curse escaping her throat makes your head spin, your body aching with the need to please her. Her dominance is inebriating, her pleasure a reward you’d gladly chase forever, and all you can do is hold on as she uses you, as she takes what she wants, what she needs.

She starts grinding faster on your mouth, her pace growing relentless, chasing her release with increasing desperation.

“God, you feel so fucking good.” she groans, her voice hitching as your lips close around her clit to suck softly. “Always knew you’d be perfect on your knees.”

Her words set your cheeks ablaze, but the heat only emboldens you. Your fingers dig into the pale flesh of her thighs, steadying her as you redouble your efforts—your tongue circling her clit before flicking over it in quick, precise strokes.

“Right there- fuck, don’t stop.” she gasps, her head falling back as she cries out.

You can tell she is close and you obey without hesitation, your tongue pressing harder against her clit, driving her higher and higher.

You glance up at her through your lashes, and the sight—her head thrown back, lips parted in ecstasy, chest heaving, her entire body trembling with pleasure—almost makes you come on the spot.

This is all you’ve ever wanted. Her. Like this. Falling apart under your touch. And God, you’ll do whatever it takes to make her come undone completely.

Suddenly, her grip in your hair tightens, almost painfully, and she pulls you impossibly closer, her thighs tightening around your head. Her hips grind against your mouth with wild abandon, and you realize she’s taking over completely, using you to push herself over the edge.

“Fuck, yes- take it, baby.” she snarls, her voice cracking as she rides your face with frantic movements, her nails digging into your scalp with each snap of her hips.

The mix of sensations makes you moan loudly against her, and it’s the vibrations reverberating through her that ultimately tip her over the edge.

Her hips stutter and her release hits with devastating force, her body shuddering violently as her pants and groans grow into sharp cries. 

Her juices flood your mouth as she comes undone, and you don’t stop, your tongue working her through every wave of her orgasm, lapping up every last drop and savoring each second of her shaking, gasping form.

When her movements finally slow, her grip on your hair loosens, and she slumps back against the table, her chest rising and falling as she struggles to catch her breath.

Her hand slides from the back of your head to cradle your cheek, her thumb brushing gently over your flushed skin. The tender touch makes your eyes flutter closed, but the moment shifts as she smears her arousal deliberately across your lips, the gesture both possessive and searingly intimate.

When your eyes open and your gaze lifts to meet hers, the sight of her staring down at you leaves you breathless. Passion smolders in her darkened eyes, with a glimmer of admiration flickering in the depths of her blown-wide pupils, making it impossible to look away.

“Good girl.” she murmurs, her voice rough yet rich with praise. “You’ve outdone yourself, baby.”

Agatha’s hand glides down your arm, steadying you as she helps you stand. Once you’re upright, her fingers trail back up, brushing over your skin until they reach your jaw, gently tilting your face toward hers.

Her lips capture yours in a kiss that’s slow and indulgent, her tongue brushing against yours as she moans softly, tasting herself on you.

You let out a quiet whimper as her tongue flicks over your lower lip, savoring the evidence of her own release. 

The kiss deepens, and time seems to dissolve, the world narrowing to just the two of you, the warmth of her mouth, the press of her body, the way her hands skim possessively over your waist.

When you finally pull back, breathless and dazed, you let out a faint chuckle, shaking your head. 

“If we keep going like this, we’ll end up spending the entire Sunday fucking.” you joke, your tone light and playful despite the lingering breathlessness in your voice.

Agatha snorts, a short, genuine laugh spilling from her lips as she rests her forehead against yours. 

“Tempting as that sounds…” she murmurs, her eyes glinting with amusement “I was actually thinking about taking a shower, care to join me?”

You nod, your voice caught in your throat, as she takes your hand and leads you out of the kitchen. The gesture catches you off guard, and you can’t help but glance down at her fingers intertwined with yours—her grip firm yet tender, guiding you into this uncharted territory with quiet confidence.

You follow her up the stairs, your eyes drawn to the sway of her hips and the cascade of her wild hair tumbling down her bare back. Even in this quieter moment, her confidence radiates effortlessly, pulling your attention with every step.

You thought you were just going to take a simple shower. Adorable. Truly, the height of naivety.

The moment your back meets the cold tiles, Agatha’s hands are on you. One grips your thigh firmly before sliding down to hook under your knee, lifting it effortlessly and wrapping your leg around her waist. The hot water beats down, soaking you both, but all you can feel is the heat of her mouth tracing over your skin and the relentless thrust of her fingers inside you.

Her body presses yours firmly against the wall, her wet hair sticking to her face in chaotic strands that only make her look more feral, more untamed. You can’t even focus on the steam blurring your vision or the water rushing over you—just her teeth grazing your collarbone, her nails digging into your thigh, and the delicious stretch of her fingers curling just right. It’s messy, slippery, and you can’t stop the breathless laugh that escapes your lips between gasps of pleasure.

By the time you step out of the shower, your legs are unsteady, and your chest heaves with exhaustion. Agatha wraps a towel around you, her touch uncharacteristically caring as she gently pats you dry before tending to herself.

In her bedroom, she hands you another oversized shirt and a pair of loose-fitting shorts. You dress in comfortable silence, but as the two of you change, a strange, heavy realization settles over you.

This changes everything.

Your gaze flits to Agatha as she adjusts the waistband of her pants, and an unexpected pang of uncertainty grips you—not about her, or even about everything that just happened, but about what it means for everything beyond this moment. For you, for her, and for Nicholas.

You’re not sure how to voice it, but the weight of it presses on your chest, and Agatha seems to notice. She steps closer, her brows furrowing slightly as she tilts her head, studying your expression.

“Hey…” she murmurs, her usual teasing edge replaced by something softer, almost disarming. “What’s rattling around in that pretty little head of yours, hmm?”

Her hand comes to rest lightly on your arm, and the way she looks at you—steady, calculating, yet undeniably understanding—makes your heart skip a beat. She’s not demanding, but offering, giving you room to decide whether to speak or retreat.

You’re not sure what to say, or even where to start, but the warmth of her hand on your arm tell you it’s okay. That whatever you need to say, she’ll listen.

[potatomountain]

CIY CH 29

Chapter Twenty-Nine

📍Pairing: detective ateez ot8 x detective afab reader

📍Summary: "It's okay to be scared"

📍WC: 3k

📍AU: detective/mafia

📍Genre: action, dark romance, poly romance

📍Warning(s): mentions of torture/r@pe, mentions of minor character death, mentions of sex trafficking and kidnapping, PTSD, panic attacks. trauma triggers.

📍Beta readers (and sole motivation): @yourfatherlucifer, @flurrys-creativity , @bunnliix, @adelusionforyourthoughts and occasionally @daemour

📍AN: a comfort chapter but there are still some serious topics so read at your own risk. also, not all panic attacks are like what reader experiences here in the chapter (this is going off my own p.a)

📍dividers and banner made by me!

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To say you haven’t had a moment alone would be an understatement. Someone was with you always, even when you had to use the restroom. Which- that was an embarrassing situation on its own, but after you had tried to take care of yourself alone the first time… well the embarrassment was better than the pain and anguish.

Surprisingly you didn’t mind someone glued to your side at all times. If it wasn’t Wooyoung, it was San. If it wasn’t one of them, it was Seonghwa. On occasion there were multiple. Sometimes Hongjoong was in here with Seonghwa, sometimes Yeosang was sitting in the corner on his laptop while Wooyoung or San, or both, had your undivided attention.

You couldn’t say how long had passed. A week? Maybe more? You hadn’t really moved from the room you were in, everything you could possibly need was brought to you. Food, water, any clothes from your apartment or belongings. Though you opted more for their clothes, the eager way some of them had begun to fight over who’s clothes you would wear next had you laughing.

Only for it to die as soon as you noticed the way they were looking at you. In awe, like their chest was aching.

It felt… wrong.

You were both grateful and appalled at the attention, and at the way they gave it. Ready to serve you, which from Wooyoung was normal and easy to accept- but when it was Seonghwa? Or the rare moments Mingi or Jongho or Yunho were here and soft with you… it left a bitter taste in your mouth.

None of them talked about it. They didn’t mention what had happened, nor the days before. Not even when you woke up screaming from a night terror, fighting off and hitting Hongjoong who had been the one watching you. The fact they felt the need to watch you was aggravating to say the least. Yet you couldn’t bring yourself to be the first to say it. To mention it. To speak it into existence.

Once the pain began to subside, it was easier to forget it happened, pushing it to the back of your mind. In fact you were determined to act as if it had never happened, which wasn’t very easy to do, sandwiched between Wooyoung and San.

They were the touchiest, which you didn’t mind. Wooyoung was always touchy, but unlike before they were gentle and sweet: cupping your cheek, playing with your hands, kisses to your knuckles, and back rubs. San gave the better back rubs, rough and larger hands easing the tension there, but there was still a hard limit to how much they would touch you, as if the wrong touch would set you off. 

With a huff you pushed yourself up, both of them sitting up just as quickly ready to get you anything you needed. You let the annoyance show. “I’m hungry and I want to shower. One of you is a radiating heater and I am laying in my own sweat for fuck’s sake.”

San chuckled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry Sweetcheeks, I can help you with the shower-”

“No, I want to shower by myself. You can help Mister Chef with the food.” You stared down your nose at him, daring him to say otherwise.

“How about I stay right here just in case you need me?”

“San.” You warned, ignoring Wooyoung who was watching the battle of wills with his fingers over his mouth in shock. “I can handle a fucking shower by myself.”

Sensing this was something you weren’t going to budge on, he sighed. “And you can shower by yourself, but I would like to sit out here and wait for you in case you do need me. I’ve been cleaning you up all week, who knows you might want me to fix the spots you missed.” He winked, resulting in you rolling your eyes.

His words did make you feel less suffocated, and you knew that was why he said them, which just had you conflicted. He read you a little too well sometimes.

“Fine then. Chef Wooyoung-”

“Yes my lovely Goddess?”

“I would like to come downstairs and eat so take your time.”

“Hm alright, I’m sure the others have suffered without my cooking anyways. Enjoy your shower Goddess. Would you like my clothes today?”

“I’m wearing them now.” You pointed out with a smirk. His sweats were the ones that fit you the easiest. “But I suppose.” Patting his head you climbed around them, ignoring the twinge of pain from your sore muscles. Being bedridden did numbers on your body, even recovering, but you ignored the damage in favor of putting on a brave face.

You also ignored their gazes on your back as you made your way to the bathroom, completely forgetting the fact that you had showered daily since coming here. Sometimes twice. Usually to keep your wounds clean, but mostly because you felt unclean. And each time, Wooyoung or San, or even Seonghwa, would stand in the shower in their swim shorts and a shirt to bathe you properly.

Before, you would focus all your attention on them, just follow their lead. Let them take care of you. It was easy.

Now, as you stare in the mirror with the shirt off, it was not easy.

The cuts and bruises had faded significantly but they were still there. There was still so much proof of what had happened. How can you pretend it didn’t when it was right there?

Taking a deep breath you pushed forward, muttering under your breath it was fine. You had left the bathroom door cracked, despite telling yourself it would have been fine to lock it and give yourself some space but the idea of you alone in a locked room?

You could handle this, you weren’t broken. He didn’t break you. It was just a shower.

Mentally you talked yourself through each step until you were under the nice luxury shower, shutting your eyes and letting the water run down your body. 

Big mistake.

There was no San or Wooyoung to keep you grounded. No clothes or sounds to remind you where you were, or keep your head out of that place.

You just wanted to forget. Just wanted to move on. But no matter how much you told yourself it didn’t happen, there was so much irrefutable proof that it did. No matter how much you didn’t want it to affect you, it did.

A scream erupted from you as arms were wrapped around you and you were pulled out of the shower. You slammed your fists down, hitting broad shoulders, but it didn’t deter whomever had you.

Not until you recognized San saying your name repeatedly.

You locked up, eyes flying open with fresh tears running down them. He had fresh scratches on his cheek from your nails, but his eyes held nothing but concern for you. “Are you with me now?”

Slowly you nodded, realizing you were panting- no hyperventilating just a moment ago. “I- yes. Yes I’m here.”

“Good. We need to talk.” He turned the shower off and then grabbed a towel. He wrapped you up and carried you out to the bedroom, door shut and curtains pulled tight: usually both were open so you didn’t feel more trapped.

They put so much effort into making you feel safe, you really didn’t know how to handle it. Was it because you were broken? No good to them? Or did they just feel like sucking up after what happened. You knew they felt guilty, from the moment you had latched onto Yunho when you woke up frightened. Then Wooyoung’s promise- which he had been keeping.

It was their way of caring for you, you couldn’t fault them for that. You just hated the why. Why they had to do so much. Treat you this way. And that without it you would be far more lost than you were now. You couldn’t run from it no matter how much you tried. How much you wanted to.

So as San sat you on the mattress and knelt before you, you peeled yourself away from him and grabbed the blankets to cocoon yourself in comfort. “Why did you come into the bathroom?”

San looked a bit perplexed, knees on the floor so he was still beneath you of sorts. “You were sobbing, quite loudly, and when I went in there you were struggling to breathe.” By your reaction, he gathered you hadn’t been aware of that. “Listen, I'm no stranger to these types of panic attacks. Sweetheart you have PTSD, which is understandable considering what happened. But pretending it didn’t happen isn’t going to fix it. Our bodies remember years after these things happen. I still struggle sometimes.”

Hugging the blanket tight you stared at him through the small hole you left yourself to breathe. “What do you mean? You went through something like that? Really?” It was hard to hide your disbelief, after all who could have gotten the jump on San? Big, muscly, trained to fight San?

He smiled wryly at you, and nodded. “Yeah… I did. I uh, guess it’s about time I let you in on my little secret. We went to school together, in fact you used to kick my ass in Taekwondo. I was a lot smaller then, higher pitched voice. Seemed to hit puberty late- yeah, now you remember.”

The more he had described himself, the more you did. The small twink that was a grade under year, and the only kid that wasn’t afraid to spare with you in your last year of high school. But he was shy, didn’t talk to you much, and he didn’t look much like the man before you. “But… didn’t that Choi San go missing shortly after his graduation? Don’t tell me you just joined up with these guys?”

He scoffed, but shook his head. “No, something happened first.” He crossed his arms over the mattress and rested his chin on the back of his hands, dropping the bomb. “I got sex trafficked. Red Wolves. I was one of the few that got sold in the city instead of shipped off, one of the Golden Circle business men had a certain… taste. It’s been a couple years but I still freak out about the idea of bottoming. I just…” He sighed, trailing off despite the bit of hurt in his voice. “Not with anyone here usually, but some days my mind just pluments and I can’t help it.”

Tears sprung back into your eyes at the imagery his words created. To imagine San, the sweet sunshine boy you remembered, going through something like that? “How’d you get out?”

“Wooyoung.” He brightened considerably at the name, smiling up at you. “He was hired as a call boy by the guy to do some things with me. He got me out by pulling some strings, and then put me here. I’m not the only one he got out of a tough bind, Yeosang too. He’s working hard to hopefully get his mother out of her situation but, that’s a lot harder than buying a sex slave or freeing you from someone else’s hold. Mingi too knows what it’s like, his mom got him into some serious shit when he was a minor.”

Your heart hurt for every single one of them. You couldn’t imagine the pain and fear you felt belonging to one of these men. Sure they were mafia. Sure they lied to you. But how could you doubt them when they had treated you like this the past week or so?

So much made sense, and it warmed your heart to know their care wasn’t out of pity, but understanding. They knew the fear that you were put through. And they knew what came after.

“Does it… does it ever go away?” You mumbled out, scooting closer and reaching for him.

San didn’t hesitate, sitting up straighter and holding his arms out. You climbed down onto his lap, shivering at the cold but he pulled the blankets back over you, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Yes and no. It’s something that’s going to live with you forever. It’ll shape a lot of what you do, but if you mean the pain… that does go away. As long as you address it and feel it when it pops up. But then you have to remind yourself that it’s in the past. That man can’t hurt you any more- hell Hongjoong made sure of that. He was covered in the man’s blood.”

“I remember. I didn’t…. I didn’t know what to think about it at the time. I could barely process that Hongjoong and Seonghwa were there. That they were tortured too. I realize not like me… or maybe?”

“Yeah, what you went through was that bastard's way of trying to hurt them too. And I’m sorry about that baby girl. You're always going to be a weak spot for us, because we care so much about you. Wooyoung told you he loved you… he’s not the only one you know.” San gently rubbed your back, the same way he had every chance he got recently. It soothed you, helped regulate your breathing, and now you knew he did it because it probably worked for him too.

Smiling, you buried your face into his neck and breathed him in, always a comforting scent. “Are you going to confess now too?”

“Honestly I’m ashamed I wasn’t the first one. I liked you long before they even knew you.” He admitted with a huff and you could feel him smile as you laughed. “Even when you kicked my ass I thought you were the coolest girl and I had the biggest crush.”

Lifting your head you arched a brow. “Oh, now I see, that’s what you meant when you had said you had imagined pinning me down so many times. Twink 3000 was a major pervert huh?” You teased, laughing even more as he blushed, stumbling over his words.

“I was hoping you would forget I said that-”

“How can I?” You interrupted, cupping his jaw and forcing him to look at you. “There were times he would… touch me… that I comforted myself by thinking about those times with you guys. With you in the gym, Mingi, Wooyoung… I didn’t want to be scared of being touched like that.”

He softened, bringing his hands to your sides and holding you there. “It’s okay to be scared of it. It’s okay if you don’t trust us like that yet. Or ever again. We aren’t going to think less of you. We aren’t going to get upset if you don’t want us like that. Or if you only want one of us like that. Jongho doesn’t fuck all of us. Yeosang doesn’t either. Captain and Hwa share this bed, they’re a bit more than the rest of us but that’s fair. No one expects you to love or want us equally, but that doesn’t make you less of an equal in the ways that count.”

“Sannie-”

“It’s okay if you start crying randomly, or you need space or need the opposite. If you need a break or need to work. You went through something traumatic and you’re going to figure your triggers out and go through it differently than us.”

“Sannie.” You said it a bit louder this time, trying to get him out of his little tangent.

But he kept going, intent on getting his point across. “We just don’t know what you need yet so we were doing what works for us until you do but there isn’t anything wrong if you wanna keep this up too so like-”

“San!” You snapped out, then crashed your lips to his.

He was so startled he fell back, holding you to him but responding without hesitation once the shock passed. Of course kissing wasn’t something you thought you would want to do. Anything sexual, just as he had pointed out, but this was San.

This was your rock, your solid mountain. Your dimpled sunshine and perfect muscly pillow and you loved him. Just as much as you did Wooyoung.

Sure you hadn’t intended on confessing to the little yapper, but you had been spurred on his and knowing you were loved after what happened was oddly healing. There was a long way to go though.

Your hands found San’s hair, curling in the short black strands and moaning against the kiss as you proved to yourself you could enjoy this. At least until his hands roamed down to your ass. Pulling away while simultaneously catching your breath you grabbed his hands. “Kisses for now. And yes, I love you. If you had stopped with your big ‘It’s okay’ speech for two seconds I could tell you that.”

He chuckled bashfully but was grinning up at you so much his dimples were on full display. “You looove me~”

“This is the part where you say it back dumbass.”

He laughed, sitting up just as he swept you into his arms and somehow managed to get you on the bed and him on his feet in a matter of seconds. “I love you too baby girl. Now let’s find those clothes for you and then we can go downstairs and eat. Though I am vetoing you being alone naked, or in a locked room until you actually feel comfortable and am not doing it just because we annoyed you with our clinginess.”

With a pout you nodded in agreement. Considering both seemed to be things you just couldn’t handle alone - yet - you could agree there. “Can I freely roam the building then and, I don’t know, try and do some work?”

“Oh so you do want to work?” He hummed out, moving over to the bin of clothes that had been gathered for you. “As a detective or…”

Now that was the real question. Traumatizing hostage experience aside, and your love for two of these men, where did you stand with them? As individuals, in a career sense… in a partner sense?

“I guess I should talk to everyone and figure it out shouldn’t I?”

AN: One last chapter to go! Bringing Case: It's You to it's climax.

This story focused more on reader finding a home with Ateez and learning their secret, as well as some other things. but book 2, Case: It's Us, will tackle the usual plot point of taking down the rest of the crim world... if they can. From Revenge, to healing, to a whole lot of smut -- please look forward to book 2! I hope I can wrap this one up in a way that satisfies you all, and really shows where their relationship is here at the end of Book 1

Taglist will be done in reblogs and again, keep your eyes peeled for taglist instructions on the last chapter. Follow them and you will be added to the new taglist! The old one will be scrapped!

[diamonddaze01]

HEYYY. I read your off the record jeonghan's fic and OH MY GOD. IT WAS SOOOOOOOO AMAZING AND GOOD. CHEF'S KISS MWAH

I was wondering if you can do jeonghan 75 drabble. I would really really appreciate it. thank you and love you mwah

off the record

pairing: jeonghan x reader | wc: 1.3k prompt: "guess who's going to be a father!" au: f1 au | warnings: mentions of pregnancy a/n: hello hello nari your asks always make me smile <3 // this is a continuation of [on the record] bc ferrari!jeonghan lives in my head rent free (highly recommend you read on the record first for some context)

The atmosphere at the Australian Grand Prix was electric, the roar of the crowd still echoing as the last of the race cars pulled into the pit lane. Jeonghan had just secured yet another win, and the sea of Ferrari red flooded every corner of the paddock. The team was in chaos—cheers and hugs, champagne spraying everywhere, mechanics shaking with excitement—but Jeonghan’s gaze was fixed on something else.

You stood just outside the frenzy, leaning casually against the barrier, your camera poised as you snapped a few final shots. You’d been here before, a part of this circus. But today, you had a story of your own to deal with, one that Jeonghan was certain would find its way to his attention.

Jeonghan peeled off his helmet and flashed a grin at the crew as they crowded around him. But his eyes were still searching for you.

A few weeks ago, you'd written something that had the entire paddock talking. 

"Guess Who’s Going to be a Father!" 

Yoon Jeonghan, Ferrari’s golden boy, had been linked to a famous model, Sienna Hartley, the stunning up-and-coming fashion icon known for her work with luxury brands. A few months ago, the paparazzi had caught the two of them together at a private event. The photos were casual enough—Jeonghan with his arm around her waist, a smile that seemed too comfortable—but it was the following week’s headlines that sent the media into a frenzy.

The shots of Sienna taken at an upscale café, her baby bump unmistakable under a form-fitting dress, had people running wild with speculation. Was Jeonghan going to be a father? Had he been keeping a secret relationship? The rumors only grew when neither Jeonghan nor Sienna commented on the speculation, leaving fans and gossip columns to fill in the blanks.

The rumblings were only growing louder, and of course, you had jumped into the fray, teasing the possibility of Jeonghan becoming a father. The headline had been coy but suggested a connection between the two, leaving just enough room for interpretation. And now, here he was, stepping out of the car, knowing exactly who was responsible for the chaos.

As he walked toward you, the crowd parted around him, but his eyes stayed locked on yours. He could practically feel the mischievous energy radiating from you, even from a distance. The subtle smirk tugging at your lips was all the warning he needed.

Jeonghan approached with slow, deliberate steps, his face a mixture of amusement and challenge. "So we write fake articles now, do we, sweetheart?" he called, his voice carrying across the pit lane.

You didn’t even flinch. With a calm, collected posture, you raised an eyebrow, offering him a half-smile as you lowered your camera. "Just reporting what people are saying," you replied smoothly, voice teasing. "You know, about you possibly becoming a father this year."

"People are saying that?" Jeonghan asked, a slight chuckle escaping his lips. He stepped closer, clearly enjoying the tension building between you two. "Maybe you’ve been spending too much time with the gossip columnists, huh? Could’ve sworn the last time I checked, we were talking about race wins, not baby bumps."

You shrugged, not missing a beat. "Well, Jeonghan, it’s not my fault your personal life keeps getting more interesting than your driving. You really should be more careful with who you’re seen with."

His eyes darkened playfully. "Careful? You think I care about rumors?" he quipped, leaning in just a little bit closer, his voice dropping to a lower, more flirtatious tone. "But if you wanted to get my attention, sweetheart, there are far better ways than a headline about some fake baby."

You tilted your head, smiling in that way that always left him unsure whether you were teasing or challenging him. "Who says I want your attention?" you replied with a hint of challenge, crossing your arms as if daring him to press further.

Jeonghan’s smile only widened. "You’ve got my attention now, don't you?" he teased, his fingers brushing against the barrier you were leaning on, his proximity making it hard to ignore the way the air between you two shifted.

You glanced up at him, keeping your expression casual, but the spark in your eyes was undeniable. "Oh, I don’t know," you said nonchalantly, "maybe I’m just here to enjoy the view of a guy in red doing what he does best – reckless maneuvers that still somehow let him win, y’know?" You paused, letting that sink in. "Though if you really wanted to shut down those rumors, maybe you should take a different approach."

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

You gave him a sly smile. "I don’t know. Maybe just come out and say you’re not the father. Or, you know, get more specific about who you’re spending time with. The fans love a good love story, after all."

The way his expression shifted made it clear that he wasn’t quite ready for this conversation to take that turn. His jaw clenched, a hint of frustration appearing under the surface, but it was quickly replaced with his signature smirk. "Sweetheart, you sure talk a big game for someone who's so quiet when it counts."

You leaned in just a little, enough for your words to linger in the air between you. "I could say the same about you," you shot back, eyes glinting with mischief.

Jeonghan paused, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth, but you had him on edge in a way that he didn’t expect. "Listen," he said, his tone dipping lower, his voice now laced with more than just flirtation. "There's only one girl in the paddock I have eyes for, and it sure as hell isn’t Sienna Hartley."

The tension between you two was palpable, a spark igniting in your chest at his words. You met his gaze head-on, not backing down. "And who says I’m interested in your attention, Jeonghan?" you shot back, smirking. "Maybe I just like watching you squirm under pressure."

He leaned in a little more, his breath coming out a little sharper. "You really think you can get under my skin with a headline like that?" he murmured, his lips dangerously close to your ear. "I’m not the one with something to prove, sweetheart."

You could feel his breath on your skin, but instead of feeling intimidated, a thrill ran through you. "Then why do you look like you’re about to lose that smug grin?" you teased, lifting your chin just slightly, making sure the challenge was clear in your words.

Jeonghan grinned, his teeth flashing. "Oh, I’m not losing anything," he said, the playful tone returning. "But if you really want to get my attention, there are better ways than headlines."

You smirked, standing your ground. "Oh? Well, if you want to do something better with your mouth than argue with me, you know where to find me." You shot him a quick wink and began to turn away.

Jeonghan's eyes widened for a moment as he processed your words, and for the briefest second, he was completely thrown off. His confident swagger faltered, and it was then that you realized: you’d left him flustered.

You glanced back over your shoulder with a smug grin. "But I’ll be honest, Jeonghan," you called out, "I’d much rather see you focus on keeping your title than keeping up with rumors."

And with that, you turned and walked off, leaving Jeonghan standing there, still processing your bold departure. His pulse was racing, but not because of the race. This time, it was because of you—your words, your attitude, and the way you had him on edge in a way no one else could.

"Dammit," he muttered under his breath, but the smile on his face betrayed how much he appreciated the challenge. “I should’ve asked her to dinner.”

But knowing you, this was far from over. And next time? He might just have something to say about it.

send me an ask for my drabble game!

[writing-until-i-drop]

Mirror Sex | Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x reader | wc: 1,075

No use of y/n | 18+ Minors DNI

Warnings! body insecurity, fingering, unprotected p in v (wrap it before you tap it), lmk if I missed anything

Ao3

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

You had been staring at yourself in the mirror for the past twenty minutes, poking and pulling at different parts of your body. Bradley had been home for a few minutes, you had heard the front door open and him call out your name but you weren’t ready to face him yet. 

“Sweetheart?” There’s a knock on the door before it opens. “Is it my birthday?” He jokes, obviously happy to have found you in nothing but your underwear. You turn to face him, forcing a smile. Bradley was your dream man, he was kind, funny, and one hell of a cook. It didn’t hurt that the Navy had also turned him into two-hundred pounds of pure, tanned muscle. 

“I missed you too, baby,” His brows furrowed, knowing you well enough to know something was off. “I’m fine, Bradley.” 

“No, you’re not,” Bradley started looking you over, concern evident in his eyes. “What is it? Are you hurt?” His touch burned, your self-consciousness eating away at you until you pushed his hands away.

“Lee, just stop for a minute.” He frowned but dropped his hands to his sides. He was worried, you knew that, but you couldn’t get the nasty voice in your head to stop talking. You looked a lot different than you had when you had come to California, different than when you met your loving boyfriend. Most days, you were fine with the change, but there was something about today that had gotten to you.

“I’m going to need you to fill me in here, sweetheart.” Bradley reached for you and this time you let him, he pulled you against his chest. He had showered at work, smelling like the special soap you had bought him. Breathing in the familiar scent, you melted into him. “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” 

“Do you think I’m attractive?” You whispered, holding his shirt tight when he tried to pull away. “Don’t look at me, just answer me.” 

“Baby, you’re hot as fuck,” His blunt reply made you laugh, easing a bit of the tension your body had been holding. “What’s this about?” 

“Brain’s being mean,” You mumbled, kissing his chest. “I’m really glad you’re home.” 

Bradley turned you around, your back to his chest. You looked at him in the mirror, admiring his handsome face. He, on the other hand, was watching you. 

“Does my girl need a reminder of how beautiful she is?” 

“Maybe,” You reached up, cupping the back of his neck. Bradley kissed the top of your head.

“You're perfect, baby,” He kissed your neck. “Your smile gets me weak in the knees and these,” He squeezed your breasts. “Well, you know how much I love ‘em. But I’ve got a feeling you’re worried about this,” His large, calloused hands ran over your stomach and you groaned, trying to wrap your arms around yourself but he batted your hands away.

“Lee,”

“Nuh uh, keep your hands on me or at your sides.” You grumbled unhappily but complied.

“You know what I love so much about this part of you?” He ran his hands over your stomach and squeezed your hips, his touch highlighting all of your insecurities. “Means I’m taking good care of you, keeping you fed and happy.” 

“I do love your cooking,” You did. Bradley was an excellent cook, always showing off in the kitchen, recreating any recipe you found on Pinterest wearing a kiss the chef apron. 

His thumbs hooked your underwear, pushing them down far enough until gravity took over. You kicked them to the side, heat pooling at your core, knowing what was coming. All of your earlier insecurities were forgotten as Bradley reached down, a calloused finger slipping between your folds.

“Watch yourself in the mirror, baby,” Bradley ordered you and your eyes snapped up. You watched as Bradley’s fingers moved with precision, finding your clit, making you squirm with desire. “Think you can take me now, sweetheart?” 

Normally Bradley could spend hours on foreplay, working you over so well you had tears in your eyes, barely able to think anything at all before he finally slipped inside of you, and for good reason too. There was a reason his callsign was Rooster and it wasn’t just because he was an annoyingly early riser. 

“I can take it,” Bradley chuckled at your breathy reply, bending you easily over the bathroom counter. You spread your feet apart, giving him easier access. You watched Bradley unbuckle his belt and push off his jeans, “I love you.” 

“I love you too, sweetheart. Hands on the counter,” You braced yourself, teeth sinking into your bottom lip in anticipation. Your moan filled the bathroom as Bradley worked two fingers inside of you, pumping them in and out of you at a quick pace that already had your knees shaking. “You look so pretty like this, needy for me,” Bradley kissed the back of your neck. 

“Lee,” You panted, widening your stance. He pulled out his fingers but before you could whine, he pushed into you. “Fuck.” Your eyes fluttered shut, your senses overwhelmed by the sensation of Bradley surrounding you, filling you, it was all consuming.

“Look in the mirror, baby, look at how pretty you are while I fuck you,” Bradley was thrusting into you at an excruciating pace, making it hard to keep your eyes open but you tried your best. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, baby.”

“I love you,” He smiled, his pace not faltering.

“I love every single part of you, tell me what you are, baby,” Your hands slipped on the counter, your front collapsing against the cool surface but the change in angle felt too good to care. You kept your eyes on the mirror, looking at your blissed out expression, the way your hair stuck to your forehead, and the way Bradley was watching you with love and adoration. “Answer me, baby, what are you? How does my girl look?”

“Beau- ah, fuck, beautiful.” 

“That’s right, baby, you’re beautiful.” He found your clit, sending your nerves into a frenzy, “Come for me, baby.”

“Lee,” You cried out, body shaking as Bradley fucked you through your orgasm before spilling inside of you, your name on his lips. 

“Hey, babe?” Bradley asked after a minute, his voice light and teasing, still laying over you as you both caught your breath. “Do you feel bonita?” 

“I hate you.” 

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