#this is almost 2k words. oops.

[syn4k]

sometimes you get hit in the back of the head with an idea for a oneshot and go "oh that's brilliant i have to write it immediately"

[lavenoon]

I had a thought that just wouldn’t leave my brain, and a follow-up question to go alongside it, and it’s only *right* to share, isn’t it? Sharing is caring, after all! ✨

Speaking of caring though… We know the boys care a lot. We’ve had Sun and Moon be scared and worried even to the point of frustration about the people they love being in danger, hurt or otherwise. We’ve seen this with Eclipse and Robin too many times to count, and we also know they care about each other, their other half. We’ve seen them scared… but what about when they’re scared for themselves? And scared for *each other?*

I imagine they’re not often scared for each other in the physical way given their schedules and shared body. If something goes wrong, the other has to deal with it later, yes, but typically after the incident has already passed and what they’re focusing on then is mental support and maybe some body fix-up. Concern, always, but in-the-moment fear for their well-being? That’s harder to come across in their situation. But despite them not being active at the same time often, we know they can wake each other up. And though that’s often on purpose… what happened if it *wasn’t?*

What if, at one point, maybe when Dusk is on an infiltration mission, the targets are *ready*. Maybe not for him specifically, but they know they’re at risk and are prepared for a rat, human or otherwise. And maybe despite how talented Dusk is, that preparation is enough to catch him off-guard.

I imagine Dusk sneaking around a corner, careful and quiet as always, but then he’s spotted. He’s spotted but there’s still a job to do and he’s confident so he rushes *in* instead of *out*, claws extending and ready for a take-down like many of the ones he’s done before— only for a shock to overtake him. And it’s not the kind he’s felt before, it’s not a freezing surprise or a steel-hard revelation.

No. This shock is hot and fierce and *real.*

And it *hurts.* A taser of sorts, specifically meant to subdue those new animatronic agents that keep popping around across the city, and maybe it’s the first time Dusk has seen them, or maybe it’s just the first time he’s been hit by one. But it’s unfamiliar, it’s unplanned, and damn it all, it *hurts.*

And he yells and growls, expecting to be met with a snarky retort as he quivers into the ground, but the pain keeps coming because he’s standing for too long, and the offender doesn’t like that, and even when his knee finally gives out, by then the plan isn’t just to pin him, but it’s to fully knock him out (at least, he hopes that’s as far as they take it). And he has his own electricity in his mechanical veins, even maybe some conferred resistance, but it’s nothing like this, it’s never been turned on him like this, and for however strong Dusk is, at some point, it becomes too much.

And then, it gets worse, because Sun gets woken up by the horrible, horrible pain and *fear* that overtakes his other half, a resounding scream inside their shared mind that he’s never heard before, not like this, not with Dusk not even meaning to let it out, maybe even trying to hold it *in*, but unable to any longer. And it’s almost worse then, for the both of them, when the other half is active. Because Sun is suddenly aware and can maybe feel a dulled out version of the pain, but what’s worse than that is how loudly Dusk’s pain gets to him and his worry and fear mounts for him. It’s unfamiliar, seeing Dusk like this, and it’s absolutely horrifying, especially when he knows there’s nothing he can do, *nothing.* Meanwhile, Dusk is suddenly hit with the realization that he’s making Sun hurt, too, that he’s forcing him to experience even a part of this, that he’s having to sit through this, too, and it’s a new sort of fear and worry as he wishes nothing more for him to retreat and get away and go back because he’ll *handle* this, except he doesn’t trust that, either. And maybe through it all he’s internally yelling for Sun to retreat back but it become a mess inside their mind because Sun is screaming at him, too, but to let him *out*.

Both of them can feel how the two of them being there and active is making things even *worse*, too, then, because systems that are already quite literally being shocked are now being overloaded by double the amount of strong emotions, and mounting, and that only makes them stress more because they might be inorganic… But they have a limit. And they’ve never gotten this close to it before. Not like this. Not *together.*

They’re scared for each other and they’re scared for *themselves* and there’s no way for either of them to help the other or themselves in the moment.

But, of course, it doesn’t get worse than that. They’re saved, one way or another, and everything turns out fine. Maybe the mission is a failure, maybe the boys *do* need to be repaired at least to some degree after that, but it’s nothing the agency can’t get to work fixing.

… But it’s something that stays with them. And it’s something they *remember.*

And this is where I imagine Robin coming in, heart in their throat as they rush to check on their boys, except unlike last time, there aren’t misunderstandings and guilt to talk about. This time, when the boys see Robin, it’s with an unfamiliar flood of relief, safety and a choking feeling in their throat.

What would that be like? The boys actually being comforted for a fright like that? One that honestly, truly, made them worried about what came next and is fresh in their minds, but being given the option of support from their favourite little rival. What would they need? What would they *want?*

(I provided the hurt… will you provide the comfort? <3 )

-🌻 Daye

I will, but first I'll make the angst worse <3

They get out with their eclipse mode. That kind of immediate danger outweighs the risk it carries, and ignoring the risks entirely, that's what that mode is for. They both want out, they need to be out, both in control and away from the danger.

It's not smooth at all, with that foreign electricity still throwing their systems into overdrive, their circuits struggling to contain it all. They run much hotter than they should, and by then, stealth really becomes a non-issue by how impossible it is, even without their cooling fans in overdrive.

They don't think, there's no more need to. They fall back on the basest instincts - there's pain, so make the pain go away.

All the attackers did with their stunt ensured that they end up fighting someone inhumanly strong who no longer cares about casualties.

So they get out, and like an adrenaline rush running out, they just fade back into singular control, barely even noticing as both still process what happened on their own. Maybe some fried circuits, not all joints working as they should, the touch receptors in the area where they were hit totally fried. Limping away, wondering if the leftover tingling is just like an afterimage of the pain, or if their systems got that kind of damaged.

Still they don't think. They just go home.

Only on the porch do they start thinking, hesitating. This is a very new situation that rattled them immensely, and while logically they know they should crawls into their little workshop and to their tools and technical manuals, they just...

They use their key for Y/N's door, and go in.

(There's of course some variables here - is Y/N home? If it's at night, they usually work themself, for some reason not with Dusk. For the sake of the comfort, I'm saying they took the night off for unspecified reasons and are home when they hear their door click shut.)

Y/N, awake because they aren't gonna mess up their nocturnal schedule, is probably upstairs, chilling. Reading a book, or finishing up a little gadget, whatever hobby you want to project.

It's a little earlier than expected, perhaps, so they're not giddy when they rush downstairs - in their line of work, coming home early can go very very well or very very badly.

This one is very very bad.

Moon looks at them, still speechless, not quite sure where to even start, but both Sun (who refused to go into rest mode again, neither even thought about it/ suggested it) and him know they need Y/N right now.

And Y/N sees him - eyes wide, unreadable expression, limping - and cold dread washes through them immediately.

They weren't there, again.

They let them get hurt, again.

Even now that they all know, they still can't protect their partners.

But when Moon takes a hesitant step towards them and crumbles, they push all that away. Rush to him to catch him, and then he's clinging to them like his life depends on it.

(It feels a little like it does. The tingling hasn't stopped yet, and he so desperately wants to feel something, to touch someone who'll make him feel safe.)

Y/N pushes down all questions to first whisper reassurance - he's okay, he'll be fine, they're there, they won't let go, they'll help.

The first words Moon manages to get out?

"Sun's awake, too."

A shift to reassuring them both, acknowledging them both, and a lot of Y/N already checking them for obvious injuries and points of repair. Most damage is internal, though, so they only linger at the torn clothes and the dents left behind by whatever gadget caused the shocks, and they try so, so hard to keep it together for their boys.

But when they do finally break and cry, and Moon just silently, still stunned, wipes those tears away (suddenly it seems so strange. These are tears neither Sun nor him can shed, but they are for them, for the pain they went through), he manages more and more thoughts.

Namely, they are still in the hallway, sitting on the ground.

"Bed."

"We can go to the couch, it's closer -"

"Bed."

And so Y/N helps Moon up the stairs, one hand of his clinging to them, one to the railing. He basically collapses on their bed, and then they crawl next to him, and he buries himself in their arms. They hold him close still, petting and brushing where they can reach, and finally, finally they work up the courage to ask what happened.

"We had to eclipse. We said we'd never do that again."

Technically, not an answer. But it tells Y/N the most terrifying details first. They know Eclipse, capital E, they know how he came to be, why the brothers had a strained relationship, and how scared all of them are of that mode and its risks.

But whatever happened was so bad, scared them so bad, that now Moon is barely talking, barely walking, and made both of them resort to something they fear could erase one or even both of them from existence with one unfortunate glitch.

They cling tighter to Moon, then. 

They know another thing, too. 

“You got out. You got out, and back here, and you’re both still here. It was a tough call to make, but I’m proud of you for making it back.” 

“We didn’t think -” 

“Moon.” 

He glances up, caught in that need to argue (and have Y/N justify their actions, to lift that burden, to absolve them of the perceived failing that going back on their word would spell), but he lets their heavy words interrupt him to look at them. 

Y/N frees their arms to cup his face when he looks up, leaning so close their foreheads and noses touch. There are tears in their eyes, again, and they look at him, pleading.

“Was there a chance that you would have died without an eclipse?” 

The silence speaks for him. 

Somehow, Y/N clings even closer. Their eyes now shut, tears pooling in their corners before running down their face. 

“Then I’m glad you risked it. Please - please let me be glad. Why would I ever not be when it means you could come home? To me? You can’t leave me, please.” 

And the boys got what they wanted - their partner, whom they trust with their life and more (like their brother’s life), telling them they did the right thing. Maybe instinctively, maybe they didn’t carefully consider the risk - but it doesn’t matter, because of course they’re glad they made it home. Sure, they were terrified, and they didn’t even clean up the mess they made, didn’t alert the agency, nothing - 

Because they wanted to go home. 

That’s all they wanted, all they needed, and maybe it was selfish, maybe it was terrifyingly risky, but they made it. And they don’t actually want to regret that. 

So he tightens his grip around them, breaking out of their hold to press close right under their chin, where he can feel their pulse racing. It convinces him, and in turn Sun, that they did make it and they are home, they’re alive, they will be fine, they can get fixed, and things will be okay again.

But they also very much hate to see Y/N this distraught, so Moon digs his fingers into their back (blunt. not the time), to reassure them that he’s there, too. They wrap around him, arms winding around his back, and just tremble. 

“We wanted to come home to you.” 

And that’s a promise, too - that yes, the eclipse mode is a terrifying risk, but that in moments where they have to choose between Death and a Maybe, they will choose the maybe.

They stay like that for a long time, before Y/N slowly starts getting more information out of them. 

And then they’re getting taken care of. 

Eclipse is fortunately not in rest mode when he gets the message that they might have to go to his engineer of trust, if they could crash at his place for a few days? With the offer to call about the details right then, and goes through many emotions at once. Terror, Relief, Surprise (positive), and some weird, deep reassurance that not only does he hear as soon as possible about it, but they actually seek out his presence about it. 

They have their call, and Y/N gives him a rundown of what they know, and that Moon seems a little out of it still but reasonably so for someone in shock. That they’ll do their best to make the trip down as comfortable as possible for them, but they won’t wait to visit until after they’re fixed. 

Eclipse ends the call with a rather shy little “Thank you.”

Y/N then notifies HQ of the situation, giving them the details of what sort of clean up is needed. Then they continue to explain they’re all three taking the next two weeks off, but to please organize an appointment with a trusted engineer in Eclipse’s hometown (: 

Agent River sighs. One of those bone-deep, resigned ones. 

“Is there any way we can speed up your family gathering so we aren’t down our best three agents during the mission you’re already booked for?” 

“Well, it’d save an awful lot of gas money and time if we didn’t have to drive out.” 

“We’ll send you the location for the pick-up, you’ll get your flight. You’ll be back for your mission. It’s an important one.” 

“We’ll get them in working order, first.” 

“Don’t assume unacknowledged means undone, agent. Both agents Dusk and Dawn get full coverage regarding repairs for on the job injury. Go get ready, save all of us time.” 

“... Two hours. I’ll need to make sure they can at least walk, it would make things easier.” 

Agent River just hangs up. She hasn’t got all day, and has calls to make. 

Y/N does fix some minor wiring, probably only a temporary fix. They all stick close the next few days, and while they do go on their mission together, they’re a bit more on edge than they used to be. 

That will stretch on into the long term for a good while, where they all refuse to work without the other. It slows down Dusk/ Dawn’s performance a good bunch, because they now stick to Robin’s schedule. They’re still doing good work - but they earn a couple tired glares from River when even the easiest mission becomes a team effort. 

They ease up on it only because they also carry a lot more gadgets of the weaponized kind, courtesy of Eclipse. They even book a room in the Research and Development department to test them all out, to ensure they know exactly how to use/ activate them should the need arise. It leads to a lot of excited R&D staff and Eclipse gaining a bit of a reputation (positive, of course) at their HQ

It stays with them all, though, and they don’t know if they will ever go back to how it was before. Things never really went back to “before” after Robin got stabbed, after all - there’s still nights where Dusk is just a little quieter as he shadows them, or afternoons where Sun just traces the scar through their clothes, because he knows exactly where it is.

But that’s okay, actually. They have each other, and that’s worth it. That’s what they have each other for. 

And if they feel a little more grateful for that, no one could fault them for that.

[kiss-inthekitchen]

same sky | spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader

a late night phone call with Spencer. unruly amounts of fluff. no gender identifiers in this one. apologies to residents of las vegas, i did insult your city's aesthetics. i had to do it. for the plot

word count: 2k

notes: this is a rework of a very old fic i used to have up on ao3 by the same name. it's the second in a series of fics i've updated from my vault of oldies :) this one's for the girlies who liked the banter in no vacancy <3 oops! all banter

“I miss you,” you say into your cell phone, standing on the back porch and gazing out at the sky. It’s late, but you can’t sleep. Spencer has been gone on a case for the better part of a week, and you don’t sleep as well without him. 

“I miss you, too. But I’ll be home soon,” Spencer replies, keeping his voice low.  

“Is everyone else asleep?”

“Yeah. It’s been a long day.”

“Where are you right now?” Even though you aren’t in danger of waking anyone up, you find yourself mirroring Spencer's tone. 

“Best guess, somewhere over New Mexico.” They’ve been in the air about an hour, and given their trajectory, he’s pretty sure he’s right. Spencer is seated at the edge of the couch, his back against the arm of it and a blanket thrown over his legs, barely covering his mismatching-socked feet. 

“How come you’re still up?”

“I wanted to talk to you,” he says. Somehow, he can feel you smiling across the line. It makes him smile, too. He doesn’t ask why you’re awake when it’s even later where you are; he knows already. "What are you doing?”

“Looking up at the stars.”

“You know, you won’t be able to see me up here.”

“Ha ha.”

“Here, I’ll open the shade on the plane window. At least we can share the same view.”

“Hm. Almost like we’re together,” you hum. 

His heart aches. It’s only been a few days and he still can’t stand it. “Almost.”

For a minute, neither of you speak, looking out at the sky from two different time zones.

“When I wake up tomorrow morning, you’ll be here, right?” 

“Mmhm. Maybe even before that,” he responds, a low, soothing hum in your ear.

“Should I stay up until you get here?” you already know what he'll say, but you kinda like the idea of it anyway.

“No, no, it’s at least another four hours. Don’t worry about it. When you wake up, I’ll be there.”

“Sounds good. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

You’d intended to let him go after just a quick call once you realized that the rest of the team were resting not too far from him, but you don’t want to hang up. He doesn’t make any moves to do so either, wanting to hear your voice as much as you want to hear his. “So, how was Tucson?”

“Oh, you know. Hot. Desert-y. Lots of murder.”

“Less murder now.” 

“Yeah.” 

His voice sounds strained. He doesn’t like indulging in a sense of accomplishment after closing a case, doesn’t ever feel like he’s done enough. He shows up too late and does too little, and then he gets to leave while the families of the victims have to pick up the pieces. You understand why he doesn’t like to think about the work that way, but you’ve tried to remind him that the good he does is incalculable; how many lives saved, how many tragedies avoided. It’s all you can do. 

You pivot a little, not wanting him to get too caught up. “I remember, when I first moved to Virginia, I was so shocked at how green everything was. I swore I’d never seen that much green in my life.”

“I had a similar experience,” he says, fondly, aware of your tactics. 

“Oh, I can only imagine. I’ve been to Vegas. It’s icky.”

“Icky?” he asks, laughing at your word choice. 

“I mean, no offense, but… it’s kinda ugly.”

“Wow, okay, insult my hometown, why don’t you.”

You laugh. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. You’re right.”

“I know,” you sigh. “Always am.”

“Well, statistically, you actually have a seventy-two percent chance of being right, which is still impressive, but hardly a flawless track record.”

“Spencer Reid coming in hot with the stats. I love when you talk numbers to me.” 

“I don’t think we’d have gotten very far if you didn’t.” 

“But I think I should be right more often than that.” 

“Are you asking me to fudge the numbers?” he asks with put-upon shock. 

“I’m just saying, maybe you’ve got it wrong.” 

“Oh, so you dare to challenge the accuracy of my eidetic memory? Or is it the statistics that you think I’ve calculated incorrectly?” 

“This is affecting my score, isn’t it?” 

“I’ll have to factor it in. You understand.” 

You giggle, and Spencer starts to feel some warmth come back into him after too many days of stress, doubt, and destruction. He hadn’t been able to talk to you nearly as much as he wanted. And it was hard to talk to you on certain cases, to allow you to make him feel lighter when reality was so dark. When he felt so much weight on his shoulders, when he should be focusing on the profile and apprehending the unsub and… sometimes he just didn’t feel like he deserved to have that weight lifted by you, even for a little while. 

“Spence?” 

“Will you go inside?” he asks, his tone full of something like reverence for you. “Please?”

“If you insist,” you sigh, already opening the door. 

“I do. I do insist, very forcefully.” 

“I’m already inside with the door locked.” 

“Man, I’m good.” 

“Mmhm.”

“Going to bed?”

“Yeah. Will you talk to me for a few more minutes?” you ask, sliding under the covers. Spencer hears the slip of fabric as you pull them up over your shoulders, and it sharpens the ache he feels to be home with you already. 

“I’ll talk to you for the rest of the night, if you want me to.” 

“No, I don’t wanna keep you awake, too.” 

“I probably won’t get much sleep regardless.” 

“I don’t condone that,” you say, your frown evident in your voice. 

“Noted,” he replies, though he sounds apologetic. 

Four hours feels an eternity too long to wait. You miss Spencer, and you hate how tired he sounds. You want to fix things for him. You want to run your fingers through his hair til he falls asleep and you want to make sure his dreams are peaceful when he does. 

“What do you wanna do when you’re back?” you ask, hoping that planning for it will make the time go faster. 

“Oh, I’m taking a shower and getting right into bed. And you can’t make me get up.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I’m serious. Don’t ask me to do a single other thing cause I won’t do it.” 

You laugh. “For the whole day?” 

“Probably. And you better not go anywhere either. We could both use the rest.” 

“Okay, rest day all day.” 

“We can order Thai though. So we’ll get up for that. But even then, it’s just to sit on the couch.” 

“Maybe the floor.” 

“I will also accept floor,” he concedes, and then it occurs to him that you might’ve been asking because you want to do something with him. “Is there something you wanted to do the next day though?” 

“Well... the saucer magnolias are blooming at the Smithsonian again.” 

“Say no more.” 

You sigh wistfully. “You’re my favorite boyfriend I’ve ever had.” 

“Well, I should hope so,” he says, smiling. “You’re my favorite, too.” 

“Aren’t I the only partner you’ve ever had?” 

“Ha ha. I had a girlfriend in college.” 

“Spencer, you were like sixteen in college.”

“I wasn’t sixteen the entire time,” you hear the eye roll in his voice, “I have three PhD’s, it took me a little while.” 

“Well, who is this girl? Do I need to beat her up?” you joke. 

“No,” he laughs. “You are my favorite, after all. She wasn’t very nice to me.” 

“Okay… so you told me not to beat her up but then gave a reason why I should?” 

“Please don’t beat up my ex-girlfriend. I do appreciate your violent impulses though.” 

“Mm, okay. As long as you know I could.” 

“Sure, angel. You’re very scary,” he placates. 

You let out a little gremlin laugh. 

“Oh, and you’re delirious,” he notes, an amused lilt to his tone. 

“Delirious because I miss you,” you sing, dragging out the ‘you’. 

“God, where did I even find a weirdo like you,” Spencer laughs. 

“I found you. You attracted me with your peculiar aura and soulful eyes. Trapped me in your… fucking what’s-it-called. Tractor beam.” 

“You know, the term tractor beam was actually coined by science fiction author E.E. Smith in 1931 as an updated version of his original term ‘attractor beam.’” 

“Hmm, yup. You caught me in that.” 

“Did you call my eyes soulful?” he asks, seemingly just processing that part. 

“Oh, you don’t like my adjective choice? Next you’ll have a problem with me calling your aura peculiar.” 

“I mean… I don’t know that I loved it.” 

“Here he goes fishing for compliments,” you sigh, rolling over to your other side and creating a bunch of shuffling noise on the line. Spencer wrinkles his nose, holding the phone a little farther from his ear until he hears you speaking again. “Okay, your eyes are big and brown and beautiful and they contain a standard unremarkable amount of soul, and your aura is also really regular. Regular Reid, that’s what they call ya.” 

He’s frowning, you can practically see it, but he’s also fighting off an amused smile. “Well, that one started off nice, at least.” 

“God! You’re so difficult. My boyfriend is sooo difficult. Why don’t you come home to me first and then I’ll come up with some more adequate compliments?” 

“I’m going to hold you to that.” 

The two of you talk for a little while longer, with you telling Spencer about the new coffee shop you’d tried out and how their lavender latte actually tastes like lavender, which is basically unheard of. Spencer tells you about the standoff between him and an all too curious roadrunner that he swears was trying to get into his motel room. Calling it a standoff is generous; the man got bullied by a bird. 

You try not to laugh and end up unsuccessful, with Spencer insisting that you were taking sides and he was well and truly in danger, which only makes it funnier. His voice pitches up even as he tries to keep his volume low, and you argue that his energy is just so attractive that even the local wildlife are drawn to him. 

“Don’t start,” he warns, overwhelming fondness in his voice. 

You make Spencer tell you something boring to calm yourself down from the image you’ve conjured of him being chased by a roadrunner, which, in your exhausted state, is even funnier than it should be. He claims to regret confiding in you with this, but he knows he’d do it again just to hear you laugh. 

Instead of telling you something boring, he recites some of the poems he’s memorized over the years. It works the way you’d intended, and you regret it when you have to stop him to tell him you’re falling asleep. He’s just a little smug about it. 

“So, you’ll be home in four hours?” you ask, the start of your goodbyes. 

“More like three now.”

“We made time go faster.” 

“We did.” 

“Will you try to get some sleep?”

“Fine. Only because you asked.”

You hum, victorious. “Goodnight. I love you.” 

“And I love you.” 

Hours later, just as the sun is beginning to change the hue of the sky from deep navy to a hazy cerulean glow, you feel your mattress shift underneath you. You’re barely awake, but still you register the scent of Spencer’s shower gel, fresh and sort of woodsy. 

Half asleep, you shift to accommodate him, and he slips an arm around you as you lay your head on his chest. You wrap an arm around his torso and throw your leg over his hips, as close as you can possibly get without literally being on top of him. 

You sigh, deep and relieved, and Spencer’s heart stutters. 

“I missed this,” he chuckles, resting his cheek against the top of your head and wrapping his arms tighter around you. You just hum in response, the last of your energy before you’re pulled back under. Within minutes, Spencer is asleep too, and the two of you sleep through sunrise and into the afternoon. 

[mypoisonedvine]

Hi hi! I’m sure you’re being flooded, but I’d love a little something about younger (20 or older though!) reader babysitting for dad! Steve. Smutty if you feel so inclined. Can be single or not, dealer’s choice!

I went wayyyy overboard with this, oops, but it was so sexy omfg

word count: 2k

warnings: huge age gap (45+ vs 20), unprotected sex, breeding kink, oral m receiving, sliiiightly mean dom steve, size kink, stomach bulge kink, daddy kink

You'd been crushing on Mr. Harrington for years, actually... even before the divorce.

It wasn't just that he was good-looking, although that was obviously part of it. It was the way he acted with you, it made you feel all girly and little and dumb; it was the way he played with his kids which made your uterus sob in envy; it was the way he wore reflective shades to the pool and you had to wonder if he was looking at you and seeing how much you'd grown.

For the longest, much to your dismay, nothing happened between you. You'd been trying to make conversation after he came back each night to finish your babysitting shift, but it never really worked. Nothing worked, actually, not even the skimpy outfits or the strategic bending over or the casual touches to his arm or knee.

Nothing worked until last night.

It started mostly normal, except that he was obviously in a worse mood than usual. You asked how his date went; he dodged the question. You pressed again, and he shook his head as he sat down on the couch, running his hands over his hair.

"It's starting to feel futile," he explained, speaking quietly knowing his kids were asleep down the hall.

"What is?"

"All of it," he breathed. "Dating, work, all of it."

You sat next to him, pulling your knees up on the sofa and tilting your head sympathetically. "Tell me about it," you offered.

Amazingly, he did. He told you about how each woman he went out with was worse than the last, and he didn't trust any of them with his kids. That made your heart skip; I'm his babysitter, he trusts me with his kids.

He told you about how rough the divorce had been, and then the custody arrangements. Apparently he was still dealing with that even though Mrs. Harrington had moved out probably almost two years ago now.

He told you about how hard his job was, how the hours killed him, how he could barely find time to spend with his family because he was putting out everyone else's fires at the office.

"That all sounds really stressful, Mr. Harrington," you cooed when he finished his rant. "You need to relax."

He chuckled a little. "Easier said than done."

"Maybe I can help you."

He raised an eyebrow in confusion, but his eyes went wide as he watched you get on your knees on the ground.

"Let me help you relax, Mr. Harrington," you pleaded, running your hands over his legs gently as they stayed slightly spread on the couch.

"Oh, uh— I— sweetie, we can't—"

You reached up to his belt, and even if his words were hesitant, he lifted his hips slightly to make it easier for you to unbuckle it.

"Are you— fuck— are you really—? Baby..."

It made your hips wiggle against the carpet hearing him talk like that. You got his fly open next, and started to rub his cock through his boxers underneath. His eyes followed your every move in disbelief.

He was just starting to get hard when you took him out, but he was already so big... your mouth was watering. You couldn't wait any longer: you looked up at him for just a second before you leaned forward and took his fat head into your mouth.

Groaning and tilting his head back, his hands found purchase in your hair instantly.

"Fuuuck," he breathed, "you're... you're so bad, sweetie, you know you shouldn't... oh my god."

You bobbed your head eagerly, feeling him swell and harden against your tongue until your mouth was stretched to its limit by his size. You hummed around him joyfully, revelling in the softly salty taste on your tongue. Stroking with your hand what your lips couldn't reach, you took a break after a few minutes to look up at him for approval.

"Where'd a sweet girl like you learn how to do that?" he asked with a long sigh. "Fuck, keep sucking... look up at me, baby."

You did as you were told, and he adjusted his hips slightly so it was easier for you to keep eye contact with him while you suckled at his throbbing head.

"Good," he praised, stroking your cheek as you worked. "Such pretty eyes... and that pretty mouth too, god. Take it deeper, sweetie, you can choke a little."

His hand helped push you down until his dick hit the end of your throat, and you gagged helplessly. He moaned loudest at that, eyes falling shut for a moment.

"Too big for your little mouth, huh?" he noticed. "Poor baby. Choke on me again."

You did as he said and noticed his hips rocking up to push his cock even deeper and gag you even harder. Tears welled in your eyes but he purred in satisfaction.

"Mm, good job," he praised, "you're so good for me, sweetie."

Needing a break for your throat, you pulled back and stroked him slowly as you made conversation. "How long has it been since somebody sucked your cock, Mr. Harrington?" you asked sweetly.

"Fuck, I don't even know— years? Before Allie was born, probably. She didn't... she never did it, really," he mumbled, and you tried not to bite your lip. Of course his bitch ex-wife never did this to him, he was probably so starved for affection for ages.

"That's such a shame," you pouted, "it tastes so good. I'd never be able to stop tasting you, Mr. Harrington."

"Then don't stop," he encouraged, pushing your head down again. You got back into the pattern, only taking breaks to lathe the shaft in long licks from base to tip; he seemed to like those a lot.

Sometimes you felt his cock throb and you hoped it meant he would come soon: you couldn't wait. You went on for a while longer, though, and started to get desperate for it. When his heavy breathing made you pretty sure he was close, you broke the pattern one more time to encourage him. "I want you to come in my mouth," you informed him. "M'gonna swallow it, sir, I promise."

"No, fuck no," he interrupted, surprising you. "No, I want that pussy. Fuck, I need your pussy, get up here."

You climbed onto the couch eagerly, straddling his lap as he started to pull your skirt up right away. He snapped your panties off like it was nothing, instantly groaning at the sight of your mound beneath; you felt so exposed in the best way, you worried you were going to drip right down onto his khakis with him looking at you like that.

"Fuck, sweetie, you're so gorgeous," he sighed, "such a gorgeous little pussy. C'mere..."

He held your thighs, petting them as he guided you down to his cock. He stopped looking at it once he was just barely pushing inside, instead starting to watch your face as you sank down onto his length with a moan. "Fuck!" you whimpered. "Fuck, too big, you're too—"

"Shh, shh," he soothed, "gotta be quiet, baby, the kids are asleep."

Your gut burned from how stupidly hot that was, and you bit your lip to try to keep it down. His cock reached the end of you and you jolted, trying to move back up, but he shook his head and kept guiding you down.

"No, sweetie, you need to take all of me," he scolded gently. "You're gonna take all of me, fuck, so good..."

Finally, somehow, he managed to get it all inside until your thighs were flush with his. You were shaking, it was so deep you were shaking; there was a slight bulge in your tummy where his cock filled you. "Mr. Harrington, it's too deep..."

He growled, actually growled, and held your hips tightly. "No, baby, it's just the right amount. You're taking me so good... all of my cock is in you, sweetie, you're doing so fucking good. Now just ride me."

Shaking and whimpering, you started to rock your hips on top of his; he sighed and watched you, looking wrecked in the best way.

"Yeah, fuck," he encouraged, "fuck, you know how long it's been since I had pussy like this? Tight, wet, young pussy like yours? You feel so fucking good..."

"You too," you moaned, "you feel so good, Mr. Harrington..."

He smirked a bit. "I think we're on a first name basis by now... but I want you to keep calling me that anyways. It's so fucking cute."

Pulling you a little closer, he whispered right by your ear.

"Maybe," he suggested, "you could even call me daddy."

"Oh, daddy," you pounced on the opportunity immediately, and he groaned in satisfaction. "Daddy, it feels really really good..."

"Yeah? Well then why don't you cream for me, huh? Let that cute little pussy come on my cock—"

You didn't even let him finish. You'd been worked up since he got here and it hit you all at once. He watched you proudly, thin laughter ringing in your ears.

"God, you're so sensitive," he groaned, "it's gonna take me a while, baby, I'm not as young as you... takes me all night sometimes."

You shuddered; "I don't have anywhere to be..."

"Yeah you do," he corrected, starting to guide your hips as your motions faltered from the exhaustion of coming. "Your parents are probably worried about you, sweetie. They don't know what a slut you are, do they?"

You shook your head. "N-no, daddy..."

"Fuck," he breathed, "you're so cute... show daddy your tits, sweetie— lift up your shirt for me and show me your tits."

He was more than capable of doing it himself, but he preferred to watch you roll up your tank top and let him see your tits, hardened from being so turned on by all this. You'd stopped wearing a bra around him months ago, and it was all worth it as he reached up and palmed one of your breasts.

"Mm," he hummed, "you've got great tits, baby— you show them off too much, though."

He slid his hand across your chest to touch the other gently. "I only did that for you, Mr. Harrington," you promised, "I just wanted your attention... wanted you to see how grown up I am..."

He smirked. "You got my fucking attention, sweetie."

With renewed energy, you started to take control again, riding him in earnest. "Really?" you confirmed hopefully. "Did you think about me, daddy? Did you ever jerk off and think about my tits?"

He delayed his answer by hissing a little, looking down at where your pussy slid up and down on him before tilting his head back again. "Yes," he admitted, "yeah, I thought about you. I would've done it a lot more if I knew you wanted me to."

"Of course I wanted you to," you giggled, "I have such a big crush on you, Mr. Harrington, I have for so long..."

"A crush, huh?" he laughed.

You nodded eagerly, whining when he held onto you tighter and started to thrust up into you off the couch.

"You know I'm more than twice your age, right?" he reminded you with a purr, and you nodded. "You know I'm older than your dad, right?"

Your head was spinning, but you nodded again.

"And you know I could get you pregnant... right?"

You moaned, head falling back, and he laughed.

"I knew it," he gloated, "I knew that was what you wanted— knew you needed some babies fucked into you, sweet girl. Daddy's gonna knock you up, s'that what you want?"

"Yes, yes!" you sobbed.

You weren't moving at all now, you were limp and useless as he thrust up into you hard and fast, making you cry and moan so loudly he had to cover your mouth. "I'll come, fuck, nice and deep," he promised, "and give you a baby, yeah? Get you so full and pregnant, just how you want it."

You were begging him for it, but it was all muffled into nonsense under his hand as he fucked up into you rough and fast. It ended with a groan, his head falling back and his body going limp under you as he came. You collapsed onto him, both of you sinking into the couch as you caught your breath.

His hands rested on your thighs still, sometimes petting them or moving up to your waist; you shyly hid your face in the crook of his neck, hardly believing that this really happened— and terrified you would wake up and realize it was all a wonderful dream. "Think I'm gonna need you to babysit for me again tomorrow night," he broke the silence suddenly. "I'll pay double for the short notice."

"I'll do it for free," you replied.

[zevrra]

never forget—

synopsis: where sebastian is actually worried about MC and regrets casting crucio on them caaaause that moment in the game was not enough for me pfft!

tags: 18(+), lil angst, mostly fluff, sebastian(18) x reader, i didn’t know how to end this oops, one-shot, 2k words.

“Crucio!”

The pain that followed that one little word was excruciating.

Yet the spell casted upon you was of your own doing. You, Ominis, and Sebastian had become good friends since your first day at Hogwarts. Always together, always the 3 of you somehow in trouble. Well, mostly you and Sebastian. Somehow Ominis always managed to get out of the trouble the two of you dragged him into. You were Slytherin after all, it was most likely in your blood.

When you first met Sebastian, he had such an eager to learn that his demeanor was contagious. So much so you couldn’t help but also want to gain more knowledge with him over the years. It was all thanks to Ominis from keeping you two from ending up expelled. Your savior in a sense. But ever since the three of you had become good friends, Sebastian never let up about Salazar Slytherin. He was set on finding his Scriptorium, begging Ominis for so long to show him the way. Seeing as he believed finding it would help cure his sister’s, Anne, curse.

When Ominis had finally given into you both and led the way, the three of you worked wonderfully together. Traversing dark and wary caves. Fending off giant spiders, solving puzzles all that good stuff. Until finally you reach a room with a single note, bones buried in dirt, no way out, the word CRUCIO etched into the stone before your feet, and what looked to be a screaming apparition burned onto a mirror.

You sadly read the note aloud for all to hear. Detailing a grim last few words from Ominis’s aunt. Who unfortunately had gone looking for the Scriptorium, alone, and met an untimely fate. You reach out to gently touch Ominis’s shoulder and he stills beneath your touch.

“I’m so sorry about your aunt, Omni.” You mourn. He nods in acceptance. Nothing they did now could’ve changed what had happened to his aunt. He would at least find some peace in knowing what happened to her.

Sebastian is at your side then. Concerned look on his own freckled face. “Ominis…I know it’s hard. But the letter details using Crucio. You’re the best suited for this—“

“No! I won’t do it. To use Crucio you have to mean it. I will not cast that spell ever again…especially on you two.” Ominis steps away from your reach. Closing off from the activity entirely. You didn’t blame him.

You turn to face Sebastian then who looks..almost disappointed with Ominis's rejection. He gestures for you to follow him closer to the wailing mirror. Hauntingly beautiful, even in its twisted state.

“Well, two options. You cast Crucio on me, or I…cast it on you. It’s the only way we’re getting out of here. We can’t die here and now because of—of morals.” Sebastian whispers to you. The thought of dying in that suffocating tomb alone makes your skin crawl.

Ominis had always been vocal about how horrible any of the killing curses were, especially this spell. Seeing as he was forced to cast it when he was younger. The nightmares still haunt the blonde from what you could tell. His sleepless nights. The flinch at loud noises. It was obvious, whatever you decided, that this would forever weigh heavy on your soul. Yet the spell…could come in handy when facing Ranrok. He was your enemy after all.

You hoped it would never come down to using it though.

“Fine. Teach me the spell but you…you cast it on me. I won’t hurt you Seb.” You mumble. And at first, he’s hesitant. His wand slightly swayed before he reluctantly nods. His hands slightly shake as he teaches you the wave of the wand. He had never performed the dark arts before and this could go very wrong or just really wrong. Either way was going to hurt. But you trusted him.

That’s how you ended up in the here and now. Agonizing pain ripped through your flesh like lightning. Flames behind your eyeballs that force them to shut tight. Hoping to ease the pain away. Your teeth gnash against your lip to hold back screams of pain. It does nothing. Dark magic moves under your skin like writhing red and green tentacles. You gasp between almost suffocating screams.

Breathe in, scream, breathe out.

Your back is against the stone, arched, burning hot. Even as Ominis, or maybe it was Sebastian’s, or both of their hands are grabbing at your arms. Cool fingers press into your hot flesh as the boy’s try to lift you from the floor.

They try to comfort you during one of the worst moments of your life. It doesn’t help. They both fumble as they move you into the room that opened up behind the wailing mirror. The pain is nauseating. Every fumble, correction, and movement makes your stomach churn. Threatening to spill out your lunch. Your consciousness is slowly fading at this point. Stars blinking behind your eyelids as you grasp for whatever you can to stay awake.

Through the pulsing pain in your head and ears, you barely hear the two boys arguing. More or less Ominis yelling about how he was right. How this was a stupid idea as he struggles to help carry you. Ominis can’t see where he steps yet he’s trying so hard to save you now.

“You—you’re both idiots!” Ominis snarls. Struggling with words through his rage and panic. “How could you do something like this!”

“I understand, Ominis! Just—just, Merlin, help me! Help me get to the infirmary!” Sebastian spits back as they continue to fumble around, looking for an exit.

The last thing you hear is Sebastian calling for desperate help before the pain becomes too much and finally takes you under. Passing out from the curse spell later than you would’ve liked.

When concussions come back to you, it’s almost unbearable. Your eyes flutter open but fall closed once again. Maybe you could just stay like that for forever. Lying on a cloud, nice and warm, with your eyes closed. Eh, sounds a little too much like death for your liking.

Thankfully, your second attempt at waking up is far more fruitful. Candlelight flickers rapidly at the edge of your feet as your eyes slowly come into focus. You make out the white sheets laying across your body. Feel the firm mattress against your back. Connecting the dots, slowly but surely, that you were in the infirmary.

Your head moves slightly to continue looking around. Hoping a nurse was close by so you could ask for some water or medicine or anything to make the dull ache in your body stop. Instead your eyes find Sebastian.

His unruly brown hair is somehow even messier than usual. He slumps against the side of your bed and from what you can tell, he might be asleep. Seeing as it was sometime during the night. If you had to guess he probably snuck into the infirmary to be at your side.

Suddenly memories of what happened in the Scriptorium come back to you. Sending a harsh chill down your entire body. The cast of Crucio echoes in the back of your mind. You’ll never forget the feeling. Or the look on Seb’s face as he waved the spell and casted it upon you.

‘Crucio can only be cast if you mean it.’ You remember Ominis’s haunting words. Sebastian must’ve meant it. But you try your best to not blame him. He was just trying to get you all out of that stone grave.

“Seb…” You try to speak. Your throat burns as you attempt to rouse the sleeping man at your side. Voice hoarse, borderline gone, from what you can only assume is from the screaming you barely remember doing. “Sebastian.” You barely manage his full name.

His body shifts at the sound of his name but he doesn’t rise. So you make your way to sit up. Although the moment you prepare to sit up, weight shifting ever so slightly, Sebastian shoots up instantly. His pretty green eyes meet your gaze in a wild look. As if he can’t believe you’re awake. Dried drool sticks to the edge of his lips. You can’t help but laugh. Or what you assume is a laugh. To Seb it probably sounds like you’re coughing.

“I—we—are you okay?” Seb stumbles over his words. Knowing Sebastian, he most likely had something planned to say the moment you woke up. Yet now he was almost speechless. For the first time ever.

“I’m o-okay just…w-water.” You manage to mumble. Now he’s quick to react. A glass of water is held out with lightning speed to you and you take it graciously.

After a moment of what felt like an eternity of being parched, you chug the water given to you, before you hand the glass off and sit fully upright. Your fingers lay in your lap, picking at the cotton of the blanket.

Silence falling between the two of you was so uncommon. It almost felt worse than writhing in pain. Not really but the wall built up was hard to ignore. You needed that wall to come down.

“How long was I asleep?” You ask softly. Breaking the silence as your throat is finally feeling better after some water.

“Three days,” Sebastian replies. He doesn’t look at you. You don’t blame him, not really. The guilt must weigh heavy on his shoulders.

Three days. The fact that it had been days since you had passed out in the scriptorium made your gut twist. You can’t even imagine what rumors must have spread among the school. Or the amount of questions the headmaster will be asking you. Oh you were definitely in for some trouble.

“I’m so sorry.”

Apologies were not something Sebastian was known for. The fact that he was apologizing at all was almost shocking. You didn’t have to guess that he didn’t really mean it when he casted Crucio. It was all just a matter of choices, for you all to survive.

“It’s okay,” Your voice is soft as you speak. “I don’t want you to blame yourself. I agreed to it Sebastian,” You remind him. It only makes Seb angrier with himself.

“Of course I blame myself! I could’ve killed you!” Sebastian says in a strained voice. He wants to scream and yell. He wants you to scream and yell at him. For letting him do something so stupid. For not listening to Ominis in the first place. For being too eager.

“It was a matter of life or death Seb you know that—“ You began to say but he cuts you off as he quickly stands from his chair.

“But what if there was another way!? What if I didn’t have to…didn’t want to—I could’ve changed something!” He angrily hisses as he turns his head away from you.

Silences befalls between the two of you again. Stretched longer than previously as you can’t think of something to say. He had three days to beat himself up for dragging all three of you to that scriptorium. You couldn’t imagine how many scenarios he himself had imagined over and over again while in your slumber.

“What if I had lost you?”

The soft words are barely loud enough to hear. Just a whisper under his breath you almost can’t manage to make out. But you do. The somber confession comes at you like a heavy rainstorm. Unexpected, welcoming, lovely, and a little noisy from his previous minor outburst. Building from a small drop to a straight downpour and you’re caught in the middle of it with no umbrella.

Even in the candlelight you see the tips of ears, beat red as he refuses to look at you. Shoulders tense as he tries to will himself to calm down. It was late, you weren’t supposed to be awake, and he wasn’t supposed to be there. It was not the time for this conversation.

Yet it makes you smile anyway. Butterflies jump around under your skin, in your heart, stomach following suit in doing somersaults. You reach with a gentle hand and grab hold of his shirt sleeve, giving it a tug. For a moment he stands completely still. Debating whether or not it was the right moment to hash all of this out. It wasn’t. Yet a second tug on his sleeve has him turning to finally look at you.

This time when you meet his green eyes, his wild look is gone. He looks at you like you’re the cure to whatever alignment he’s currently experiencing. It’s a saddened, sleepless, relieved look. Feeling every emotion he’s ever felt in his life all in the span of a few short seconds.

You smile fondly at Sebastian, praying he could see it in the soft light of the infirmary. “But you didn’t,” You remind him. Almost gesturing to you, him, and your surroundings. “I’m still here, Seb.”

Sebastian simply nods. Not having the courage to speak for it may bring him to tears. Now that would truly be the end of the world if that happened.

You reach for his hand. Reassuring and gentle as your fingers intertwine with his. He’s stiff as a board at your touch. He has always yearned for it but never had the faith to act upon his feelings.

“Plus, it’ll take more than that to get rid of me.” You say hoping to ease the young man’s feelings. At least for tonight.

A squeeze to your hand is the only response you receive as he returns to his seat. He rests your connected hands on the bed before his head follows suit. Instead of returning to the side of your bed he makes himself comfy on your thigh. You smile at the puzzling picture before you.

The great Sebastian Sallow, a man who rarely asks for any help, unless it involves trekking in some dark cave somewhere, was vulnerably sprawled out on top of you.

You stifle a giggle, fearing if he heard you laugh he would assume the worst and pull away. Instead your free hand pushes through his hair. Pushing away dark curly hair from his freckled face.

“You should return to the dorms before the nurse finds you.” You hum as your eyes scan his own closed eyes. Gazing at the lengths of his eyelashes. Every freckle you could see, thinking how fun it could be to count them one day.

“‘Ts fine,” Sebastian shrugs it off. You hear the softness of his breathing, slowly becoming shallow as he falls asleep. Fast asleep in your thigh with his hand tightly wound to yours. You wish you could have a painting done of this moment. Hoping by every ounce of magic in your veins that you never forget this feeling or the sight. And by Merlin does the sight make your heart ache and pound in equal parts.

You just hoped to never go through something like this ever again. Hopefully Sebastian would see how powerful and dangerous the dark arts could be and look for another solution to healing Anne’s curse. Maybe the ancient magic you wield could help next time instead of turning to the unforgiving curses.

[cherriesformatt]

waiting || chris sturniolo

chrisxfem!reader

summary: when reader and chris are about to become parents

warnings: fluff

word count: 2k

a/n: My first story for Chris who cheers 🫢 I did not proof read yet! I hope you like it ❤️ Thank you for the request.

🍒

I was nervously checking the test every second sitting on a closed toilet seat. Chris was staring at it too while sitting on the bathtub edge. We had some scares before, but this one? This one felt a little too real.

We were in Boston for few days now and his mom made her famous shepherd's pie that I loved so much. But it just made me sick and I just have been feeling very weird lately and with my period late it just could mean one thing.

And let me tell you, both of us just looked like we saw a ghost. We have been laughing when Matt and Tilly had an accident - that oops great it wasn't us. Their daughter was born few weeks ago and we are here because they brought her to meet whole family.

But here we fucking go. Two red lines on both of the tests I was holding.

"Fuck...." I heavily breathed out.

I looked at Chris and he looked at me and also let the air out of his lungs as he held his breath for a little. He took his hat of to fix his hair and he put it back on. He put his hand on my thigh.

"I cannot believe this.. I wanna say it's karma but that would be a little mean" He said.

His tone was so calm that it actually made my crazy because I wanted to scream.

"We were teasing them for whole nine months so there we go hun.... our time to shine" I said and hid my face in my hands.

"y/n.... We got this, okay? I know I am a fucking big baby...and you had different plans but... we got this. Anything you decide to do....we got this" He hugged me tight to his body.

Of course I wanted to keep the baby. It was no other choices for me. We have been together for almost two year. I love Chris so much but we just came to the path that we were very happy just two of us. We had a rocky first year awith both of us having trust and commitment issues it wasn't easy and now I will have to share him with our baby.

"I know we do..." I said into his neck.

We didn't tell anyone on this trip because we waned this time to be only Matt's and Tilli's attention spot. But we did tell them right after we came back to LA. Jimmy and Marylou were with us because they wanted to help out with little Noa.

Me and Chris were both lazy souls and we were too overwhelmed to come up with like a cute idea to tell everyone. We just decided to do it.

"So...Noa is going to be a big cousin...surprise!" Chris said when we were all at the dinner table at Matt's house.

"What the fuck are you saying bro?" Matt looked at him with wide eyes.

'I am pregnant" I said looking at him and smiled a little.

"Was that like planned? Is it my turn too? What is this?" Nick laughed.

"Believe me it was not...."I said quietly.

"y/n honey... thats why you were so under the weather in Boston... sweats congratulations" Their mom hugged my tight.

Jimmy hugged Chis too and we just answered all the questions they had before Tilly took me and gave me all the advices and have me her pregnancy stuff she had packed to give away.

Other than the first few weeks the pregnancy was very easy on me. Chris was there for every appointment and he seemed to be really exited. I knew how he loved watching his brother becoming a father but I didn't know he is going to be that much happy about being one as well right now.

I was happy too, we made a space, we were stable, we could make the best for the baby. But we were also very young and that was just scary.

"Nick... I am not doing anything weird, can we just like.. go to the beach? On sunset... I do not need any dresses or flowers. I just need Chris and we should take Matt, Tilly and Noa for the photoshoot" I said to the oldest triplet.

"Okay, okay I knew you will going to say that.... You and Chris are just so basic... " He said.

I asked him to take our pregnancy photos, so we could have it for ourselves.

"If you would ask Chris I am pretty sure he would want our pregnancy photo shoot on Summer Smash stage with Lil Skies" I laughed.

He did as well because he knew I was right. Nick and I were alone at his house because Chris and Matt were gone to the festival. It took me and Tilly two weeks to convince them to go. They were very overprotecting of us. Matt said he would go when they will go to Chicago with him so Tilly did. But I had a lot of work to do here so I couldn't. So Chris said yes but only if I would stay over at Nick's so he will know I am safe.

"You are actually impossible you know?" He said when he walked in to our apartment and saw me painting walls in our son's room.

I was 7 months pregnant. My belly was really big already but I was feeling great. We just had a little gender reveal party for our friends and family. We waited for so long because we didn't know if we want to know but then both of us couldn't wait so we let Tilly organize one for us. We were going to have a boy. Chris was over the moon.

"I was bored and I am fine Chris" I said from the ladder..

"Get down here bro...I do not care you're giving me hart attack. I would you I will do it" He helped me down.

"I love you Chris but I am literally not made of glass" I hugged him and have him quick kiss.

"Yes you are...I missed you both today..." He put his hands on my belly and smiled.

"We missed you too" I said and smiled.

That night we were laying in bed reading. Yes, reading. Both of us were reading parenting books from Tilly.

"This is bullshit it is making me very anxious and I feel like the birth school is enough" He put the book down.

"Me too... honestly I have been thinking the same... everyone keeps telling us what to do and how... and it doesn't help. I mean, sure I take all the advice but in the same time I feel like we need to learn by ourself when he will be here" I said pitting book down.

"We should...You should rest and have the last months of this pregnancy for you...without any stress. And it is our last months just two of us...I wanna spend nice time with you without all of this" He took our books and put them down.

He took my hands into his and gave both of them a kiss.

"Come on a baby moon trip with me? Just two of us..." He asked looking at me and I smiled.

"Chris... this is so sweet" I said.

"Of course..." I aded and leaned in to kiss him.

We both decided that we felt the most comfortable and happy on Cape Cod in the cabin. That's also were we met so we wanted to go there. We rented our own cabin just in case his family wanted to use the other one. It was summer time so they were coming a lot. And also because we just really wanted to be alone. We spend everyday on the beach if it wasn't too hot for me. If it was we would just stay in and watch tv or play games together. I couldn't be more happier than I was with him there.

"You do cheesy sometimes...That I think my eyes are watering" I said when I saw him putting seashells in heart shape on my belly.

"Shut up.... it is cute" He said and made my pose to pictures.

"You're cute....youre such a dad already" I laughed looking at him.

"No I am not...youre just really beautiful" He laughed while laying down next to me on his stomach and on his the towel.

"Thank you Chris.... for that and for taking me here..." I said.

"Anytime mama" He kissed my nose and I scrunch it.

"Calling me mama is crazy" I laughed at him and he only wiggled his eyebrows at me.

And all the tiktoks about how you always thought your partner was hot but after seeing him carrying your baby home it is just something else? Well....seeing Chris with our son in his carseat on our way from the hospital to the car. I was ready to have another one right there.

He was so natural already. He was there for whole process panicking, but he was there. We both cried as hell when they put our baby on my chest. He cut the cord and he couldn't stop staring at our little man.

Our son was healthy and really loud. Thats how we knew Chris was the father. I am joking but for real little guy was a copy of Chris. He looked exactly like the triplets when they ere born.

We decided to name him Cali. We both were struggling with name and when we were watching tv one day someone used it as a name and we just looked at each other and we knew that this is going to be the name. I wanted it to start with C like Chris's name which he was happy about and said that if we have a daughter one day he wants her name to start with my initials.

As we brought Cali home he was a different baby. He was calm and we slept and ate well. I couldn't stop taking pictures of him and Chris. He was such a boy dad. All the stories he was telling him and they both napped together. He was doing everything equally with me. The changing, the feeding, bath time. Everything. I was very proud of how we handled it all.

Noa was Cali's biggest fan. She was almost one. She was walking already and every time they were over here she couldn't stop just sitting next to Cali. She was giving him her binky and just hugging him. We even took a picture where it looks like she is holding him by herself.

"Now tell me... isn't this the hotter thing ever?" Tilly asked me when we were watching Chris and Matt from the kitchen.

"Tilly...it fucking is I swear to god I am ready to have 5 more" I said and sat on the kitchen island next to her. We were having some wine and Chips.

Matt and Chris were playing on xbox while Cali was asleep on Chris's chest and Noa was asleep on Matt's. Nick wasn't here because he had some kind of event going on.

"Just bunch of dads" she laughed and took a sip from her glass.

"Dilfs if you ask me" I added and put my empty glass down.

"Alright... you know that we can hear you, right? I am going to confiscate the wine... I swear" Matt looked at us.

"Oh shut up you love it...."Tilly said and he just shook his head.

"Also 5 more is crazy baby...But I am fluttered" Chris looked at me. and winked.

I laughed and me and Tilly cleaned up a little and went to seat next to them.

I couldn't believe that we had two babies in the family and one of them was mine. I was a mother and it honestly was the best thing that happened to me. My missing piece.

My little family was all I needed right now.

[pursuitseternal]

“Beg me…” Ascended Astarion tells you, you naughty darling… highly NSFW drabble

Also known as I blinked and wrote 2K of dom!Ascended Astarion x turned female reader. Oops 😇😈

Ascended Astarion x f!reader |E| 2K of BDSM

Summary: you burn, waiting for his return, waiting for your punishment…. Waiting for him

CW: degradation, BDSM, bondage, orgasm denial, and the sweet satisfaction that comes with its fulfillment

Continue for your delicious recompense…

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You lay stretched on the bed, arms numb from where they are tugged tight, bound to the headboard far above you. Your legs however, you wiggle, writhing, the ache he’s left between your thighs still burning hot.

And you are powerless to do anything about it. Your folds tingle, left untouched, unsated for the hour he’s been gone. And all you’ve been allowed to do is watch as the clock ticks, left wanting as he attends to matters of state.

Punishment.

You seemed a little too friendly with some Druid, someone… you don’t even remember his name. But the smile you gave was enough to stoke Astarion’s ire and flame his jealousy. Enough to have him sweep you away and bind you to your bed. To tease you with his fingers and tongue until you were close.. so close to bursting. Only to have him pull away.

And then he ordered you… compelled you… not to lose your focus on just how badly you wanted him.

You don’t know for certain if it was your bond, as master and bride, as maker and spawn, that kept your loins absolutely on fire for him, or if it was just the magic of your lust for him.

Does it matter? Not a jot, not as you squeeze your thighs together, the sheets beneath you soaked with your arousal as you wait.

Footsteps approach your door, whimpers escaping your mouth as you tug at your bindings. The clock begins to strike the hour, its resonant chime deafening to your ears, every sense of your body burns with overstimulation. You can almost smell him on the other side of the door, the waft of spice and bergamot making your mouth water.

Making your cunt drip more down to the bed as you hear the faint click of the key in the lock.

The bolt draws back, and he enters at last. His face is cold, eyes heavy-lidded as he turns his back on you to shut the door.

And to lock it again. Pocketing the key inside his doublet.

Your heart races, a slight edge of fear spiking your pulse and clamping around your lungs.

But he only shushes you. “Oh, you naughty little girl,” he sneers. “Glad to smell you’re still so hot for me,” he croons as he turns and crosses to the bedside. Instantly, he shoves three long, cold digits into your cunt.

The hum of approval from his throat is nearly enough to send you into bliss. But he simply withdraws his touch. Not a stroke, or a curl or catch on your clit. He merely pulls away to wipe your slick on your panting belly. “There’s hope for you yet, my sweet…” his eyes flash, his body coming to cage you in, the bed buckling beneath you as he slinks over you, careful not to let one inch of his body touch yours. “….that is assuming you still want me? That you’re not ever going to throw seductive smiles and come-hither eyes at anyone else.”

“I wasn’t…” you moan, but his hand flies to cover your mouth, fingers tangy and wet from your arousal.

“Shhh, don’t you insult me by arguing,” that gaze rakes down your naked figure. His lips curl into a sad sort of smirk. “The least you can do is assure me, darling, that you are mine…”

You nod, vigorously. Your breath stifled, his palm over your mouth and nose. He lifts it away, smiling as you gasp for air. “Yours, only ever yours, my love,” you pant. You strain against the silken bonds that still pull at your wrists.

“Better,” he purrs, “much better. Your body says as much, as well. But you’ll still have to prove it, darling. Prove to me that your words are not false.” The tips of his fingers ghost down your neck, trailing feather light between your shaking breasts and circling over your clenching belly.

His hand comes to slink beneath your ass, his hand clutching hard as suddenly he flips you on the mattress. All that power surges from him, stinging your skin as your world spins. Your numb arms ache, your face buried into the silken sheets. The sounds of his clothing rustling is the only warning you get before you feel the hard, cold lines of his body coming to rest on your back.

He bears all his weight down on you. Crushing you. Suffocating you. But his kiss at the sensitive spot beneath your ear is gentle. His voice, that honeyed melody that only makes you wetter. Hotter. “Are you going to be good, my sweet, sweet little slut, so wet and needy?” He takes your ear between his teeth, his sucking kiss deafening, making your whole spine tingle and twitch under him.

You nod, breathless, pained. You moan, “yes,” wanting nothing more than to show how much you do desire him. To show him how wrong he is to doubt you. You shiver, burning and throbbing in agony. But then you feel his kisses, trailing down the curve of your spine. Heavy, sucking, they ground you. Soothe you. His hands lift your hips, holding you steady, fingers sweeping through your drenched seam, catching your clit with just enough force to make you buck against him.

“How badly do you want me, darling?” he rasps in your ear, bracing an arm by your head to press his hissing lips right against your temple. “You tell me, you beg me, and I might do something about it, my love.”

“So badly,” you buck your hips against his hand, feeling his fingers slide deep inside your channel.

He chuckles as he strokes you. “But how badly, darling?” He withdraws his hands, his tongue lapping at your ear to send tangible shivers through your frame. “Badly enough for you to beg?” Those fingers catch that secret spot only he knows between your slick walls. “Badly enough to have you on all fours, keening for me to fuck you?”

“I… beg... you…” you do keen, relief instantly flooding your core as his fingers dive right back in, as they assume a demanding pace, one finger teasing your clit with such command and precision, your vision blurs.

“Good girl… for now… but you have been such a bad, lustful slut, you know,” he purrs into the creases of your ear, the weight of his body easing as he shifts behind you, his hand caressing over every inch of you, the other still stroking deep inside, bringing you so close to your bliss, you can taste its sweetness and feel its tingling heat just starting to crest.

But then, with a low-throated giggle, he extracts his touch, “You better beg me again for my mercy, better show me you’re not just willing to spread your legs for any powerful male that comes sniffing after you…” fingers claw into the fullness of your ass, squeezing it as he growls in your ear. “After all, you were so easy to seduce, to make you mine… always so wet and greedy and eager for a fuck… maybe a little reminder of how much you’re mine is in order.”

You feel the swell of his cock’s head pressing just at the edge of your folds.

“Remind me all you want, my love, but I know I'm yours alone,” You want to cry, tears in your eyes and drool in your mouth as you moan, “So please, dammit, I beg you. I’ll only ever be yours, and you know it.”

“I do know it,” he croons, mock condescension warming his voice as he slides his length in just an inch or two before he pulls back out, “but I do just so like to hear it from those lips of yours, darling.”

“Fuck you, Astarion,” you groan as he does it again, just the bulge of his head dipping into your wetness.

“That’s what you want… isn’t it?” he taunts you, that silken wickedness in his voice, “for me to fuck you?” An arm wraps around your waist, a single finger slides between the crest of your folds to catch your clit again.

You groan, throat going sore with how loud you cry. “Yes, please, please, my love…” you pant. “My body, my smile, my glances are only for you,” you add. Praying, as he strokes you harder, dipping his cock in you shallowly again, that it’s enough.

“Oh my sweet,” he purrs, thrusting slowly until he fills you, the delicious length, the pressure finally making you whole, “now you’ll taste my mercy.” He laughs slowly. Darkly. “I hope you’ll last, hope you’ll take it like the good girl you want to be…”

Withdrawing, he slams into you, bottoming out at the edge of your channel. Pain. Pleasure. It’s all one. The saccharine relief of him buried and thrusting inside you finally soothing that burn you’ve had festering inside you for hours. You can’t even hold your head up anymore. You can barely keep your face high enough to breathe, letting him plunder you at his relentless pace. Gasping, twitching, bucking. You put all your remaining energy you haven’t had burned up with your desire for him into just riding his cock. Another catch on your clit, and you feel yourself hurling into orgasm. His hands hold you firmly up, even as you spasm and clench so hard around him, that length is almost forced out.

He laughs, slow and deep, setting you down, rolling you on your back as you still twitch with your eyes rolled back in ecstasy. “Another four orgasms should do the trick, don’t you think, my love… enough to make you learn your lesson.”

You groan, burying your mouth into the inside of your arm to hide the noise of pleasured anguish.

Slowly, languorously, he covers you with his body, its weight a comfort and an arousal, especially as you feel his knee tuck under yours to spread your folds wide. The breadth of his cock sweeping along the seam of your cunt.

“Four?” You gulp, already feeling another wave of climax burgeoning between your thighs. He gives a little thrust of his length over you, and then another. The hardness of his erection sweeps over you, catching every nerve that flares on fire for more in your slick. Your arms tug on the restraints, your head thrown back to press hard into the bed. Every muscle in your legs clenches, heat and pain and pleasure tingle, bursting down every nerve.

You scream as you come again, but it’s muted, covered by his own devouring mouth. “Three,” he breathes over your tongue. “Perhaps more, if you’re extra obedient, an extra good girl.” Reaching over your head, his finger slips into the silken binds around your wrists, the fabric instantly easing. Your hands fly to embrace him, your touch running up and down his back, riding the scars that cover him, gripping into the pert swell to his ass, pulling him even harder into you. You sigh, his cock returning inside you with a gentle little thrust. “My little love,” he purrs as his hand cradles your cheek softly. “Forever mine…” he gives a slow, attentive thrust, the undulation of his hips catching right on every tingling, overstimulated sensitive nerve inside you. “You’ll come for me again, won’t you? And you’ll let me come too?”

“Yes,” you moan, tangling your tongue with his. “For you my love,” you whisper into his mouth, “for you I’ll come for eternity.”

For @marimosalad ❤️

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Read More Ascended Astarion: “The Rogue You Were”

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Read More Vampire Rogue Astarion: “Bites in the Night” series

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

[ween-kitchens]

this started as a little drabble for an au and suddenly it's 2k words oops

in summary, scar is a wizard who was cursed into a statue for millennia, and eventually became the 'secret keeper' because everyone would confide in it. gem was the first to ask scar how it was doing

gem must not have been paying nearly enough attention to where she was walking, because she has somehow found herself in the secret keeper's grove. not that she minds, but- she could have sworn she started walking the complete opposite direction when she left her house. either gem is way worse at directions than she thought she was, or.. well, okay, she can't actually think of another reason, but she wanted to sound spooky. maybe there's some magical fate that has led her to this very spot- or she just doesn’t know her lefts from her rights.

well, whatever reason it ends up being, gem is stood awkwardly beneath the face of the statue, its eyes shut and face relaxed as if asleep. the cracks and vines across its body looks almost like scars, and gem has to appreciate its beauty. she has, of course, heard all the myths about this statue being some- evil wizard who went around killing people left right and centre, and was eventually turned to stone as punishment. whilst she doubts these stories are anything more than fairytales, gem has to admit that it'd be pretty cool if that was actually the case.

resting against one of the stone pillars in front of the secret keeper's statue, gem looks into its face. centuries of people confiding their deepest thoughts to this stone monolith, decades of fears and secrets and accomplishments all told to the resting face of what may or may not be an evil wizard from millennia ago. it's another very interesting thing, gem thinks, about how people will reach for any sense of attachment they can get. maybe that's why the statue was created in the first place; there is something about its face that draws gem to it, in an odd kind of way. 

"you know, I don’t suppose many people have asked how your day is going." gem says aloud, almost startling herself—she hadn't expected to actually say that.

unsurprisingly, the statue doesn’t respond, but something in its face looks- almost curious. is she making that up? she's probably making that up.

"I hope it's good." gem keeps talking anyway, because she honestly doesn't have anything much better to do anyway. "and if it's not, I hope it gets better."

she shifts a little on the earth, getting comfortable. in this new position, gem is instead facing another stone pillar rather than the keeper itself. "you’re a very lovely statue. I imagine it gets boring around here, but I suppose you have a lot of gossip to keep you going."

there's a kind of rustling from beside her, and she chalks it up to a bird of some sort—she is in the woods, after all. although- it might be someone else on the way to the secret keeper. that might be a little embarrassing, if they stumble across her asking a statue questions about its day.

"were you really an evil wizard, or is that just a story?" gem says idly, picking at imperfections in her nail polish.

"oh- i’d say greatly exaggerated." comes an unfamiliar voice.

gem looks up and shrieks in surprise, jumping to her feet. she immediately stumbles, almost falling flat on her face as she processes who just spoke. "you- how the-" 

a figure is now across the glade from her, looking somewhat bemused as it brushes its white hair from its eyes. the shawl over its shoulders is embroidered with sunflowers, and looks as if it'd been worn for quite some time—what with the tears and holes in the fabric. scars run across every visible part of its skin, some akin to the cracks in old stone, and some resembling battle scars.

the secret keeper blinks at her from where it (he?) sits on the grass, underneath the empty gap where the statue used to be. "oh- yeah, long story." it grins, brushing itself off. "I don't suppose you've seen a pair of crutches around here?"

"I- definitely not." gem says, practically frozen in place. what in wrath- how the- the secret keeper is a person now?? "it's- are you-"

the secret keeper scoffs, and gem can’t tell if it's playful or frustrated. maybe both. "oh- they'll have taken them again, no doubt. that's fine- i'll have my revenge!" it calls to the sky, before turning back to gem. "thank you for helping me out there- they've always  enjoyed playing tricks on me like that."

"what- no, I didn’t-" gem starts to say, but the secret keeper interrupts.

"how long was I stone, by the way?" it asks, offhand.

"oh." gem hesitates. "I- I don’t know how to tell you this. um- it's been a while."

the secret keeper pouts, brushing some stray stone dust from its shawl. "has it been a month again? I have things to do, y’know!"

"it's, um. it's been a thousand years, I think." gem says softly. 

she expects a huge reaction—after all, if someone had told gem that she'd been stuck as a statue for millennia, she'd be pretty upset. god- she can't imagine what that would make her feel; losing everything and everyone you know to time, whilst you stay exactly the same.

the secret keeper blinks, drops the pout and shrugs. "could have been worse." it says, voice surprisingly cheery. "oh- I bet my crutches will have disintegrated, or something." it's grinning like this is funny and not just cause for an existential crisis.

"I imagine so, yeah." gem says, as if she's not about to start freaking out over literally everything that's happening right now. "you- what are you gonna do now?"

the secret keeper pauses, and gem feels a little worry in having actually stumped it. "I, uh. that's a good question."

"if you want, you can stay with me and my friend for a while?" gem suggests, hoping that joel won't mind her bringing home a reincarnated statue to live with them. in her defence, he’s done weirder. 

the statue in question snorts. "I hope you're ready to be killed several times over." it grins, and gem's stomach drops. it seems to notice the look on her face and tacks on, "you guys can kill me too."

gem probably looks like she's seen a ghost, based on how the secret keeper frowns a little in concern. "I- how am i supposed to kill you if i’m dead?"

"wh- 'cause you’d come back?" the secret keeper looks as confused as gem feels. "why wouldn't you?"

"what do you mean, come back? if I die that's it." gem grins. "you’re joking, aren't you?"

the secret keeper shakes its head, less confused and more concerned. gem cannot seem to understand what's happening here. "did you- were you not given the blessing?"

"I.. don’t know what you’re talking about." gem says, smile beginning to slip from her face. "what blessing?"

"you don’t- the one that lets you regenerate?" the secret keeper says, almost frantic. when gem doesn’t show any recognition, it continues. "from- when you die? is that- how do you not know?"

gem blinks. "is that a story from when people thought magic was a thing? i’ve never heard of it before."

the secret keeper stares at her. "magic is a thing. i’m- i’m magic. I just got turned into a human from stone- what do you mean magic isn't a thing?"

"that's- yeah." gem pauses. "so- wait, why would we not have that anymore?"

"wh- I have no idea!" the secret keeper throws its arms out. "it's such a simple thing to do- you give the blessing to your baby, and then it grows with the kid! it's perfect! you don’t have to worry about exploding them with too much magic, because it's always just the right amount!"

"that is smart." gem says. "that's so weird- how has that gotten lost?" she tilts her head to the side. "I suppose it has been a thousand years."

"okay, so- I won't kill you." the secret keeper says, and gem remembers what started this whole conversation. "since apparently you guys are mortal. would I still be allowed to come with?"

"'course." gem grins. "I did suggest it. uh- how will we do this?"

the secret keeper looks at her blankly. "well. I assume we'd walk. do you not do that anymore either?"

gem snorts. "no, we do, I just- you said you had crutches. which I assume you would need."

"ohh." gem suppresses another laugh as it seems the secret keeper has apparently completely forgotten about the crutches. "yeah, that's a good point actually."

"I could try carrying you." gem says, and the secret keeper quickly covers its mouth. "what?"

"nothing!" it says, unconvincingly; gem can hear the smile in its voice. she raises an eyebrow. "well- you’re quite a bit smaller than I am."

"wh- I can carry you!" gem says, mildly offended. "i’m strong!"

"I don't doubt that!" the secret keeper says. "but I could just use my magic."

gem pauses, processing. "wait- so why do you need the crutches?"

the secret keeper grins, and it's almost uncannily sharp. did it just laugh? for some reason, it sounded too high pitched. "it's a little exhausting." it says, and suddenly the smile looks normal again. huh. "I can’t do it all the time, or i’d just- pass out. for a short time though, i'll be alright if I rest."

"you can do magic? still?" gem says, suddenly excited to see it happen. she's sure joel can make crutches for it when they get back—that won't be a problem. "how does that even work?"

the secret keeper seems a little flattered by her interest. "i can’t see why I wouldn’t. I might look a little weird though—my skin goes blue, my hair goes white, that kind of thing."

gem tilts her head. "isn’t your hair already white?"

"what?" the secret keeper's eyes widen a bit, pulling a strand of hair in front of its face to inspect. something shifts in its expression. "oh." 

there's a stab of worry in gem's chest. if magic makes its hair go white and also exhausts it, what's going to happen right now? does- is there something that could happen? man, she does not know nearly enough about magic to answer any of those questions for herself.

before she can actually ask, the secret keeper just shrugs. "weird! anyway-"

it closes its eyes, apparently concentrating hard on something. the air in the grove seems to solidify, crackling with unseen energy, and gem can’t tell if she's holding her breath or if she simply can't breathe anymore. the secret keeper doesn’t react as it begins to rise off the floor, a blue sheen spreading from its fingertips throughout its whole body—scars whitening until they're essentially translucent. tattered wings unfold from its back, skin spread so thin, gem thinks a strong wind could tear them into pieces.

the secret keeper opens its eyes, and grins sharply, wings supporting its entire body. "ta da! how's that for magic, huh?"

gem laughs in delight, applauding it. what else is she meant to do in the face of that? "that was incredible! you can fly?"

"too right I can." the secret keeper beams, swelling with pride. "now, lead the way- uh. I don’t know your name, do I?"

"gem." she smiles, gesturing for the secret keeper to follow her as she begins to walk out of the clearing. "I don’t know your name either."

"well, gem, I am the one and only scar!" it announces, floating next to her. "named after my many- oh! oh- what!" 

gem looks over, slightly panicked, and sees it inspecting its arms. more specifically, the scars on its arms that gem had likened to cracks in stone. "are you okay?"

"I didn’t have these before." scar says, tracing them with its finger and nearly floating into a tree as it does so. "they look like-"

"cracks?" gem suggests, and scar nods. "yeah- I think, with how long you’ve been stone.." she trails off, a better explanation escaping her.

scar seems to understand regardless, nodding. "I guess. hey, that's kinda cool." it looks back up at her, grinning again. gem has to wonder why (and how) it's so pointy. "that's a story to tell at parties!"

"I- yeah, I suppose." gem says, slightly unconvinced. she's not sure how scar has managed to completely accept everything she's told it without a single panic attack, but she isn't sure if that's a good sign. she hopes that people from a thousand years ago were just way better at processing their emotions. "I think the whole stone thing is also something to tell at parties."

"oh yeah, you guys don't have magic." scar says. it scoffs. "you must be so boring."

gem makes an indignant noise, and scar laughs. "excuse you! we're not boring. you were stone for millennia- if anything, you’re the boring one."

scar is still laughing. "you say that like you didn't just stare at me while I transformed. i’m so cool."

"okay, i'll admit, you are cool." gem grins, and scar pumps its fist.

[antoncore]

thinking about tattoo artist riize ..

— 🎀

like a tattoo | p.wb

a/n: went so overboard that this is a fic…oops

word count: 2k

smut 18+ mdni

everything about wonbin, your tattoo artist, was so so pretty, black tank top with jeans with tattoos covering his arms, his big eyes and his pink lips that were simply kissable. you wanted a cleavage tattoo and was kind of nervous to take off your shirt but you felt comfortable with wonbin as you’d gotten your other tattoos done with him. his voice and overall demeanour helped you feel relaxed as you prepared for the tattoo. you slowly took off your shirt, wonbin looking over as he tried to hide how turned on he was by your big tits, noticing that your nipples were pierced too.

wonbin maintained his composure with a warm smile, his voice soothing as he said, “alright, let’s start. just relax for me, alright angel?” you nodded, feeling reassured by his presence. wonbin prepared his tools, his focus shifting entirely to the task at hand. he began outlining the design with gentle precision, his hands steady and skilled. the initial prick of the needle made you tense up slightly making wonbin say softly, “it’s okay, angel, just relax. that’s it, you’re all good.” you couldn’t help but blush at the way he spoke to you, starting to get wet in your panties, not that you could do anything about it right now.

as he continued, wonbin couldn’t hold himself back from getting hard at the sight of your pretty tits. close to losing focus at the thought of having them in his mouth, playing with your nipples as you moaned his name. but he kept going, paying attention to every detail of your tattoo. after finishing the tattoo and filling in all the details, he leaned back, admiring his work. “all done, angel. looks pretty on you, hm?” you looked down at the fresh ink, smiling with satisfaction. the tattoo was exactly what you had envisioned, intricate and beautifully placed. you smiled up at wonbin, who was still admiring his work, his eyes lingering on your cleavage.

“thank you, wonbin. it looks perfect," you said, your voice genuinely appreciative. wonbin smiled back, his eyes finally meeting yours. "i'm glad you like it, angel, really suits you." his voice was soft, almost intimate, and you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks again. he found himself looking at your chest again for a moment too long before he snapped back to reality. "i, uh, should get you cleaned up," he said, his voice slightly huskier than before. wonbin reached for a cloth and some antiseptic, gently dabbing around the fresh tattoo. his touch was soft and careful, but you could feel the tension in the air. you bit your lip, trying to suppress the flutter of excitement in your stomach.

"hold still for me, angel," he murmured, his breath warm against your skin as he leaned closer, the closeness making your heart race. as he finished cleaning the tattoo, his fingers brushed against the underside of your breast, you couldn't help but let out a small gasp, your eyes meeting his. you saw the way wonbin's eyes darkened, his pupils dilating as he looked at you, quickly taking his hand away. “touch me wonbin, please,” you said breathily, feeling yourself getting even wetter. “you sound so cute like that, how can i say no?” he replied, before getting on top of you, his hand cupping your tit now which made you whine. he played around with your piercing gently, his thumb brushing over the sensitive metal and sending shivers down your spine. wonbin's eyes were locked on yours, the tension between you almost tangible.

wonbin leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, "i was thinking about touching you like this the whole time, angel." you moaned softly in response, your body arching into his touch. "bin, please... don't stop," you pleaded, your voice trembling with need. “bin? aww, what a cute nickname, angel. must be so needy, hm?” he teased, his voice low and clearly running out of patience before he kissed you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth with an eagerness that left you breathless. his other hand found its way to your waist, pulling you even closer. you could feel his hardness pressing against you, and it only fueled your desperation for him further.

wonbin broke the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck to your chest. he took your nipple into his mouth, his tongue flicking against the piercing and making you gasp. he took the other nipple between his fingers, gently tugging and rolling it. the sensation was almost too much to bear, your hands tangling in his hair as you held him close. “so beautiful, my angel," he murmured against your skin. "can't get enough of you." you could hardly think straight, your mind clouded with pleasure. "bin, i need you," you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper. “patience, y/n, just wanna focus on these pretty tits for a bit,” he said, his voice teasing.

wonbin continued paying attention to your tits, alternating between sucking on your pierced nipples and gently kneading them. with every touch, you squirmed, making it harder to stay still. his hands eventually began to wonder, sliding down your sides and grazing the hem of your skirt. he glanced up at you, watching the way your face flushed, his eyes darkening with lust. “can i?” he asked, his voice anticipating. you nodded eagerly, unable to form words as your breath hitched in your throat. his fingers slid under your skirt, caressing the sensitive skin of your thighs. he teased you, his fingers brushing against your panties but not quite touching where you needed him so desperately. you squirmed on the tattoo chair, a desperate whine escaping your lips. “please, bin," you begged.

he smirked, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you. "such a good girl, asking so nicely," he murmured, finally slipping his fingers past the waistband of your panties. his touch felt so good that you couldn't help but arch into him as he found your wetness. “so wet for me, angel," he whispered, his fingers sliding easily inside your slick folds. he found your clit, circling it with gentle pressure that made you gasp. "feels good, doesn't it, angel?" “yes, so good," you moaned, your hips bucking pathetically against his hand. the pleasure was overwhelming, and you could feel yourself getting closer to the edge with every stroke of his fingers.

“n-need you inside me,” you stuttered, longing for wonbin’s cock. he gave a low appreciative hum, eyes darkening at your words. “what did i say, angel? patience, i know what i’m doing,” wonbin whispered as his fingers continued working you open. the anticipation was almost too much to bear, and you could feel yourself trembling with need. his thumb pressed firmly against your clit while his fingers curled to hit that perfect spot that made you see stars. “oh god, bin," you moaned, your head falling back. "’m so close." “cum for me, angel," he commanded softly, his lips brushing against your ear. “wanna feel you fall apart for me." the combination of his voice and the skill of his fingers sent you over the edge. you cried out his name, your body arching off the chair as you came all over his fingers. he didn't stop though, coaxing every last bit of your orgasm out of you until you were left panting and spent.

wonbin finally withdrew his hand, his eyes full of admiration and lust as he looked at you. "you're so beautiful, angel," he said, his voice filled with affection. you reached for him, pulling him close and capturing his lips in a passionate kiss. "fuck me," you whispered against his mouth. "please." he didn't need any more encouragement, standing up and quickly unbuttoning his jeans and kicking them off, leaving him in just his boxers. you couldn't help but admire his body, the way his tattoos covered him so flawlessly. he pulled you to the edge of the tattoo chair, lifting your skirt and sliding your panties down your legs. his eyes roamed over you, taking in every inch of your exposed skin.

"you're so fucking perfect," wonbin whispered, smirking as he positioned himself between your legs, his hardness pressing against your entrance. you wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him closer. "please, bin. fuck me," you begged, needing to feel him inside you. with one swift motion, he buried his cock inside you, filling you perfectly. both of you moaned at the sensation, loving the way the other felt. his movements were slow and deliberate at first, letting you adjust to the feeling of him deep inside you. he leaned down, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss, his hands returning to your breasts, playing with your nipples which he knew would make you feel even more pleasure.

"god, you feel so good, angel," wonbin groaned, his voice thick with desire as he began to move, his thrusts becoming more insistent. he thrusted so deeply that it had you whimpering and clinging to him. “yes, binnie, yes," you cried out, your nails digging into his shoulders as you matched his pace. the sensation of him filling you, combined with the way he was teasing your nipples had your head going insane. "please, more." "such a good girl for me," he muttered against your skin, his breath hot on your neck. he shifted slightly, angling his hips to hit the perfect spot inside you with every thrust. "tell me how much you want it." “i want it so bad," you moaned, your voice trembling with need. "need you, need you to fuck me harder."

wonbin obliged, unable to deny you of what you wanted, increasing the intensity of his thrusts. each movement sent shockwaves of pleasure through you, making you cry out his name over and over. wonbin's hands roamed your body, one hand gripping your hip while the other continued to play with your breasts, his thumb brushing over your pierced nipple in a way that made you shiver. “so beautiful, fuck,” he groaned, his pace relentless. “wish i could stay like this all day and all night.” you gradually felt yourself getting closer and closer to cumming, his thrusts so fast and deep, hitting every spot inside you just like you wanted.

“bin, i’m gonna cum,” you whined, voice barely above a whisper. “that’s it, angel. cum for me,” wonbin commanded. “wanna feel you cum on my cock, ok?” his words had you spiralling again, crying out as you came. he didn’t stop, thrusting deep inside of you to prolong your orgasm. he felt himself getting close, trying to pull out but you tightened your legs around his waist despite feeling overstimulated. “no, please,” you pleaded, your voice breathless. “want you to cum inside me.” he couldn’t resist, his thrusts growing erratic, each one more desperate than the last. “didn’t wanna pull out anyway, wanna fill you up angel,” he confessed in a broken moan, the words making you gasp. with a final, deep thrust, he buried himself as deeply inside you as he could, his body tensing as he came inside you. the feeling of his cum inside you and the way you clenched around his cock had the two of you breathless and trembling.

you stayed as you were for a moment, wrapped around each other and heavily breathing. wonbin slowly pulled back, looking down at you with a mixture of satisfaction and affection. "i could stay like this forever,” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. you smiled up at him as you replied with, “me too,” reaching to kiss him softly. he helped you clean up, his touch gentle and attentive. once you were both dressed again, he pulled you into his arms, holding you close. “thank you, wonbin," you said softly. “no, thank you, my pretty y/n,” he replied, kissing your forehead.

“want me to take you home, angel? i wanna take care of you,” wonbin continued, smiling softly, slighting giggling. you nodded, grateful for his offer. you looked down at the fresh ink on your chest once again, now carrying a dual meaning, a tattoo that would make you remember what just happened.

[lizardboiii]

At The Tone ┃ DCU

Barry Allen x Spider-Woman!Reader

┃ Summary: Sometimes bad things happen to good people - and that’s where the Justice League comes in. Too bad you weren’t interested.

“Think I forgot how to be happy Something I'm not, but something I can be" Billie Eilish, "What Was I Made For?"

│cw: SFW, alcohol abuse, unhealthy coping mechanisms, grief, hurt/comfort, violent themes

│wc: 3.9k

│chapters: One shot

│notes: This fic has been sitting unfinished (with 2k words!!) in my drafts for a WHILE. randomly decided it needed to see the light of day ig. was gonna make it nsfw but i low key hate it and just wanted too move on oops. enjoy <3

・❥・

│One Shot: At The Tone

You have five new messages.

“Good afternoon, Spider-Woman this is Cla-”

You heard a throat clear.

“It’s Superman. I see you still aren’t picking up any of the team’s calls,” He swallowed thickly, “I understand your recent loss was… hard. Something none of us would have wished for anybody.”

You could feel the tension in his voice.

“Please take all the time you need. The league is more than capable of taking care of New York in your absence for the time being.”

The sound of a pen clicking disrupted the message every so often, “But at least give us some indication you're alive…and well. The team cares about you,” He chuckled warmly, “Even “Mr. I Work Alone” Batman himself.”

His laugh dropped abruptly with a soft sigh, “Call me back when you can.”

Beep

You crawled out of bed slowly, dragging your duvet behind you like a cloak. The plush cotton laid heavy on your shoulders. You wondered if this was how Big Blue felt every morning - the weight of knowing everything depending on him once he bore his iconic red cape. 

You knew what that weight felt like, and you knew what it felt like to have it all come crashing down.

You have four new messages 

“How’s it hanging, Spidy? Haha, you get it?” A dramatic sigh escaped the machine, “Sorry, poor timing.”

He took a moment to regroup, “It's Green Lantern, just calling to check in. Headquarters has been depressing without you. I mean even Martian Manhunter is down in the dumps. It's a total bummer.”

Another sigh, “Listen you don't have to call me back if you don’t want to, but at least let Flash know you're still alive. He needs you more than he lets on.”

Beep

You groaned at the shrill ring of the answering machine. The outdated tech was too cherished to be discarded but the pulsing headaches you received from it almost outweighed the fond memories of Aunt May.

Thoroughly woken up, you entered your kitchenette. Your eyes shifted between the week old coffee pot on your stove to the half empty Hennessy bottle next to it. 

Maybe this time you would make the right choice. A sober evening is a good evening. However, the battle was always rigged to begin with and the winner already predetermined.

The Hennessy felt burdensome in your hand as you took a long swig. It burned violently down your throat, eating at your skin, before finally settling warmly in your stomach. Though you hated to admit it, it satisfied you more than any pot of coffee could.

Staggering to your couch, courtesy of one of New York’s finest sidewalks, you flopped down. The cushions were well used and musty. But who were you to pass up a free couch?

You have three new messages

“Spider-Woman.”

There was a lengthy pause.

“Your recent inactivity has caused some concerns regarding your whereabouts. The league seems to be having a hard time focusing on missions with your absence.”

Bats’ uncertainty leaked through the phone as he thought of his next sentence, “You have my condolences, Webs. However, the league cannot continue to work with this distraction. Please report to the Hall of Justice immediately.”

He hesitated, “We are worried.”

Beep

An involuntary snort escaped you. Bats’ attempt at comfort was interesting to say the least. He was surprisingly awkward for a leader of the Justice League. Though you supposed dark and brooding was his brand.

You have two new message

“Greetings, Spider-Woman, Wonder Woman speaking.”

You could hear muffled arguing in the background.

“Batman may have been a bit…straightforward in that last voicemail,” She attempted a fake laugh, “Please do not mind his bluntness, he is merely just as concerned as the rest of us. In his own way at least.”

A loud slam made her curse under her breath.

“I apologize I must go, the “children” are fighting again. Don’t hesitate to call back. See you soon, Webs.”

Beep

Lifting the liquor to your lips, your brows creased when only a drop hit your tongue. Out already?

You let out an exaggerated sigh before placing the empty bottle on your coffee table. A quick glance at your barren pantry told you everything you needed to know. You’d have to go out and get some more. You felt your face scrunch. That means you have to go out in public.

You weighed your options. 

You could stay inside and continue to peacefully hide from the world, but you're guaranteed to sober up eventually.

Or you could make a quick trip to the convenience store down the road and pray the minimum wage employee can’t smell the alcohol on you from a mile away. 

You hummed thoughtfully. Though, now that you think about it, there’s a off chance you might run into the supe that’s covering your city for the time being. Then again, there’s a very high chance it’s not someone from the Justice League, a member from The Team at best. 

Massaging your forehead, you tried to remember the last time a Justice League member took a leave of absence. A blonde goatee flashed in your mind.

That’s right. Green Arrow was out for a while when he got busted up pretty bad. His protégé, Speedy, ended up babysitting Star City in his absence. You bit your lip. 

But you didn’t have one of those anymore.

You have one new message

“Hey Webs! Sent me to voicemail again, huh?”

An awkward laugh made the machine crackle.

“Just calling to check up on you. How are you doing? Feeling alright? Just say the word and I can grab you anything from anywhere. I mean literally anywhere. They don’t call me the fastest man alive for nothing!”

You could practically hear the large smile embedded on his face.

A large sigh passed through the speaker, “It’s been a month now. The team misses you…I miss you. A lot actually.”

He paused.

“Just call me back alright? I need to know if you're okay.”

Beep

Your hand paused over your front door handle. Flash’s deep voice was like a siren's call, beckoning you in. 

What you’d give to turn around. What you'd do to call him back. It took everything in you to force yourself away from his voice.

Your best friend. 

Your confidant. 

Your everything. 

You have zero new messages

・❥・

You weaved through the bustling sidewalk with a slight wobble, managing to dodge a third of the people you almost crashed into. Night was quickly approaching. That meant the streets were only going to get busier. 

More people = More crime = More superheroes.

Fumbling into a dimly lit alley, you avoided Main Street completely. It was too risky. Even in your civilian disguise there was no guarantee your voice wouldn’t be recognized - mainly by your teammates but especially by… Flash.

You recalled how often you sought each other out in the Hall of Justice. Whether it was meddling in the business of others, or simply enjoying the company of one another.

His hand always seemed to find its way to the small of your back. Gently resting. While his thumb delicately circled the thin fabric of your suit. 

He leaned in closer than he should. The dull smell of his cologne inevitably picked up by your heightened senses. 

It wasn't how friends should behave - but that's all you ever were. Friends.

Thwack!

You slammed yourself against one of the side walls in surprise, extinguishing your mind of complex thoughts. Creeping closer, you cursed in your head when harsh thumps and muffled grunting filled the air. 

“Where’s my money, Huey?”

Crack!

“I-I don’t know! Please!”

Whack!

You recognized the tell-tale sound of blood splattering against the ground, akin to paint splashing. The sound made you nauseous. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you thought of your next move. 

Now, on any normal occasion you’d swing in all heroic and save the day. But today was different. You were different. 

Excuses flooded your brain as you tried to explain to yourself why you felt little desire to help the abused man. 

Your suit was at home crammed somewhere in between an ugly Christmas sweater and a latex bodysuit you practically begged Cat Woman not to give you. 

Even if you had the energy, you were still considered MIA to the league. You’d basically be spoon feeding them your location. 

Your internal dilemma didn’t last long as the pummeling swiftly came to an end. Peaking around the corner, you watched the assistants retreat into an adjacent alley. They moved lazily. Clearly they didn’t expect to be caught.

You could still catch them.

You found yourself making an internal description. Two Caucasian males both wearing black beanies and disgustingly outdated puffer jackets. The taller one sported purple and green. While the shorter preferred yellow. 

Your foot shifted before you felt yourself hesitate. Maybe you shouldn’t. They’d probably be caught soon enough anyways. 

If anything, the supe covering your city would swoop in and haul their asses to the local jail. Especially when you called an ambulance for the man who was passed out on the ground. It would put this area on tonight's map. You sighed and finally allowed yourself to relax. 

This was fine. 

Everything was fine. 

Shifting your eyes to the ground, you located the poor soul who suffered the attack. His breathing was ragged and wet. You were quick to put two fingers on his neck, checking for a pulse. A wave of relief crashed through you when you felt a steady beating.

Pulling out your phone, you immediately dialed 911 and requested an ambulance, anonymously of course. You stayed with the man until you could hear loud sirens growing closer. Your sign to leave. 

Exiting the alleyway, you reached the small convenience store in record time. The adrenaline in your system was starting to make quick work of the alcohol in your bloodstream. 

You could feel your senses beginning to come back. Eyes clearer. Ears sharper. You could practically hear the heartbeats of everyone in the store. 

Groaning at your misfortune, you beelined for the alcohol section in the back. My god was it beautiful. Itching to return home, you grabbed a random bottle that had the highest percentage. Taste didn’t matter. Only the effect.

Glancing at your selection you choked on your own spit. 30 dollars?? The glass bottle was swiftly put back as you grabbed the cheapest one you could find. Tucking the Shitty K under your arm, you turned to walk to the register.

“PUT YOUR FUCKING HANDS UP, OLD MAN.”

You froze. Extending your neck out, you caught a glimpse of the register. 

Purple, green, and yellow.

You had to be fucking kidding.

You watched as the two assailants from the alley held the elderly cashier at gunpoint. His form shook like a leaf. 

“Please! Just take the money and leave!”

You caught his eyes as he begged for his life. Tear filled and shaking. You could have prevented this. If you would have just stopped them when you had the chance none of this would have happened.

You could have saved the man in the alley. Saved the poor cashier.

You could have saved Uncle Ben too. 

Your eyes watered. Fucking pathetic mistake. What the hell were you doing? You weren’t a teenager anymore. You were a grown adult who should have learned from your mistakes by now.

Shifting your eyes from the vodka to him, you pressed your lips in a thin line. You didn’t know what hurt more. The fact that you were repeating past mistakes or the fact that you wanted to take the more expensive alcohol and leave unnoticed.

When did you become this? 

No wonder you let Spider-Girl die.

You needed a drink. Desperately.

Abruptly, a whiplash of red and yellow snatched you from your daydream. The streaking shape blew over the newspaper stand before spinning around the starstruck perpetrators. You knew those McDonald's colors from anywhere. 

Kid Flash.

Like any speedster, he removed the gun in milliseconds before tying up the confused robbers. They stood no chance against the meta-human.

Dusting off his hands, Kid Flash smiled smugly at the dumbfounded duo, “Guns aren’t currency, you know?”

The man in yellow thrashed violently, “What the hell-Kid Flash!? Why are you in New York? Spidey taking a break or something?”

You cringed.

Kid Flash’s boyish voice laughed awkwardly, “Something like that.”

You need to get out of here. Now.

Slowly backing into the aisle, you clenched your teeth when your elbow hit the shelf. The bottles tinked in a symphony, altering everyone in the store of your presence. Fan-fucking-tastic.

Instantly, you snatched your coat hood and covered your face and hair. Staring into the grime covered tiles, you prayed Kid Flash wouldn’t think too much of it.

“Hello?”

Of course. The one time he’s actually thorough.

“Are you alright?”

Bright yellow boots came into your vision as you tried to conceal yourself further. You hunched into yourself with clenched fists. Mistaking your actions for something else, Kid Flash placed a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, hey it’s okay! You don’t have to be sacred!”

You bite into your lip eager to escape the conversation, “I’m not. Please let go.”

Kid Flash laughed, sounding a little too similar to Flash in your opinion. Removing his hand from your shoulder, he stood next to you with his hands on his hips. 

“Then why are you hiding?” A red glove entered your vision. It was headed straight for your hood.

You slapped his hand away, “Didn’t your parents tell you not to talk to strangers.”

He shrugged, “That rule doesn’t really apply to superheroes.”

You couldn’t contain the breathy laugh that left your throat. You hate to admit it but you actually really missed the kid. 

However, you failed to realize your mistake. If anyone knew your laugh it was Kid Flash. You spent way too much time around him and Flash for him not too.

There was a long pause. 

“…Webs?”

You flinched hard, “Wrong person.” You internally cursed at yourself for the obvious slur in your voice.

“Are you drunk?”

“…No.”

His hand grabbed your upper arm tightly, “Where have you been? Are you okay?”

You gently pulled against his hold, attempting to break free without force, “I’m fine.”

“No you aren’t,” Kid Flash raised his hand to his ear piece, “Just let me notify Flash-”

“NO!”

Your arm flew up to the communicator without thought. Taking advantage of his surprise, you were able to snatch the high tech earpiece from his loosen grip.

“Hey!” 

Kid Flash grabbed at you. His lanky limbs attempting to reclaim his lost device, “Let go!”

“You let go!” You shoved his face away with the palm of your hand. 

Kid Flash merely continued to grab at the air around you, “Never!”

If this was any other situation you would have laughed. The pair of you looked like children fighting over the last dessert.  

However, this wasn't just any situation. This situation involved Flash. 

“Listen to your elders you brat!” Finally, after a well fought struggle, you managed to hold the device out of arm's reach. A much needed success after the month you've had- 

“Webs?”

You halted in your tracks.

The small communicator in your hand blinked on and off, identifying an unstable signal. 

“Webs is that you?” Flash was urgent, “Wait there! I'm coming-”

You crushed the device in your hand. Terrified.

Small fragments engraved themselves into your skin, dotting your hand red. What have you done? 

“Batman’s gonna kill you for that, you know?” Kid Flash laughed in an attempt to lighten the mood. 

You frowned, uninterested in entertaining him. Kid Flash merely smiled awkwardly. It was evident the boy was taken aback by your unusually serious demeanor. 

The thought didn't take up much space in your mind. You could only think of one thing. When would Flash decide to appear out of thin air?

As if conjuring the hero, a red bolt flew through the mostly empty convenience store. The glass doors shook from the force. While newspapers scattered through the air, Vogue landed atop the cashier's head. 

Though he moved faster than the speed of light, he stood before you still. Unmoving. It was as if you might fade away if he got too close. 

“Webs,” His voice was laced with reverence. 

Your mouth went dry, “Flash.”

The tension between the two of you was thick enough to cut with a knife, suffocating you. Maybe this was how Flash planned to get back at you for ignoring him. Slowly killing you with hypoxia. A metaphorical death pertaining to how he felt during your absence. 

“Woah, this just got really awkward.” 

Kid Flash’s voice suddenly reminded you of his presence. He swayed uncomfortably. Trapped between you and Flash.

The younger male pointed his thumbs at the door, “Should I leave…or?”

“Yes.” 

Startled at your synchronous voices, Kid Flash quickly shuffled toward the door, “Alright. See you later?”

Flash nodded his head in response, ushering his protégé away. Kid Flash couldn't leave fast enough. Magazines, once again disturbed, twirled around the ground from where he left.

You stared at the loose paper. Preferring the sight of perfume ads then whatever expression Flash held. From the corner of your eye you should see him shift. He moved with unease. Your mouth curled slightly. He never was able to stop moving for long. 

“Webs, I-”

You cut him off, “I’m sorry.”

Flash furrowed his brows in confusion, “You don’t need to apologize. It's not your fault.”

“But it is,” You clenched your teeth in frustration, “It's always been my fault.”

The taller male crossed the space between you hesitantly. You flinched when he placed his large hands on your shoulders, completely engulfing them. 

“It wasn't your fault, Webs. Nobody could have known.”

“I could have saved her,” you finally met his gaze, “I was right there.”

You saw his eyes widen slightly, clearly used to your masked form more than your real face. 

Your name spilled from his lips. 

Not just Webs - your name.

You took a shaky breath, “Barry.”

The name was foreign on your tongue. You had tried to keep your personal life separate from hero work. Though that only lasted a year. Barry managed to weasel his way into your home life before you knew it.

You wouldn't have it any other way.

Barry’s hands slid from your shoulders down to your hands, caressing them softly. “Believe me when I say this,” He took a deep breath, “I’ve been in your position before. We all have.”

Breaking eye contact, your stare bore into the wall of cheap booze, “I know.”

“And I know,” He cupped your cheek, “That drinking away your problems won’t help. It only makes it worse.”

You bit your lip, “I just want to forget.”

“I know. God, I know. I want to go back and change that day every time I open my eyes,” He placed his head in the crook of your neck, “But I've been down that road before. And it's not sustainable.”

Your eyes felt hot, your throat dry, “I don’t know what to do.”

Barry pulled your smaller frame into his arms, “No one does.”

You sunk into his embrace, inhaling his scent.

“Let me take you home, Webs.”

“Okay.”

・❥・

You held tightly onto Barry, arms circling his neck, as he brought you home. You had barely enough time to blink before you were standing in front of your apartment’s door.

Barry hesitantly let you down from his hold. Though his arm stayed wrapped around your waist for support. You gave him a gentle smile as a thank you. 

Unlocking your door, you were immediately reminded of the state of your apartment. Dirty laundry and loose items scattered the floor. 

Shame crept up your neck. The uncaring attitude towards your humble abode seemingly disappeared.

Barry entered slowly, taking in the messy state. His eyes were quickly drawn to the empty bottles strewn about your floor. Unsurprisingly, he began to pick one up. Then another. And another. You snapped when he started to replace your trash bag.

“Barry.”

His head whipped toward you, only focusing on you.

“That's enough,” You tried grabbing the bag from him, “You don’t need to.”

Barry held onto the plastic tightly, “I want to.”

You shook your head, “It's my mess. Leave it.”

“No.”

You jolted in surprise at his commanding tone, “Why?”

He tossed the bag to the side, “Why?” 

Laughing dryly, he shook his head, “Why not? Why wouldn't I take care of you?”

You averted your gaze, “I don’t need you to take care of me.”

“But you do,” his voice was imbued with desperation, “If you didn’t, I wouldn't have spent a month doing everything in my power to find you!”

Your face felt hot, “I didn't ask you too!”

Barry closed in the space between you, “You didn't have too!”

You weren't sure when the tears began to pour down your cheeks, “I never wanted you too! I just want to be alone! Why can’t you let me be?”

“Because I can't let you be!” Barry’s hand slammed down on your tiny island counter, “You're all I think about! From the moment I wake up to the time I go to sleep, all I know is you. I would rather you hate me for the rest of my life just to see you for a moment than ever ignore you.”

You felt like a deer in headlights, “What?”

“That day when Spider-Girl died,” He gripped the counter, slightly cracking it under the force, “I felt like I lost a piece of you too. And I could bear it.”

You felt like you lost your breath when Barry met your gaze again. His eyes were laced with anguish. Bloodshot rims already forming.

“I know you're hurting. I know what I am experiencing is nothing compared to what you are going through,” He searched your eyes, “But I'm in love with you! And I have been for as long as I can remember.” 

The start of a cry made his voice waver, “And this is definitely poor timing for a confession, but I can’t lose you-”

You weren't exactly sure which one of your muscles was still intact enough for you to move. However, the feeling of plush lips against your own thwarted any other thought.

Barry stood rigid for a moment. Hands clenched at his sides. Then, he dominated the kiss like his life depended on it. His hands held onto your waist tightly, before slowly making their way to your face. You couldn't remember the last time you felt this happy.

Pulling away, you took shallow breaths, “I love you.”

Barry smiled and swiped a loose teardrop from your cheek, “I love you too.”

The warm moment didn't last long. Your mind was quick to remind you that there was a reason Barry had to confess in a messy studio apartment rather than someplace special. That reason was because you were broken.

You pressed you mouth into a thin line, “Do you still want me even if-”

“I want you no matter what,” Barry didn’t allow you to get another word in, “We can go through this together.”

He placed a soft kiss on your forehead, “You're not alone, Webs. You never were.”

You swallowed hard, “Together?”

"Together."

・❥・

[spacedace]

Had an idea, thought I'd make it a prompt, 3k+ words later realized this wasn't a prompt anymore but a ficlet 🙃

Anyway, here's the first almost 2k of Talia being a good parent and deciding to not go with either Bruce or Ra's and go off and do her own thing and raise Damian and oops she got attached to Jason while checking in on Bruce and saved him from dying in Ethiopia. & now has 2 sons lol

-

When her Beloved and her father demanded Talia make a choice, of who she would choose, she didn't hesitate.

She chose neither of them. She chose her child. She chose herself.

Outwitting both Ra's al Ghul and Batman was no simple feat. They were both brilliant, relentless and with endless resources at their command. It was why their clashes were as devastating as they were. Immovable objects and unstoppable forces the both of them. If there was something they wanted, it was something they would have.

But not her.

They would not have her.

She had her own networks, her own people, her own keen intelligence and sharp cunning. It took time - time she really didn't have - and a great deal of pain and loss, but she slipped them eventually. Shrugged off the shroud of who she had been - who she was made to be - and stepped confidently into her new life.

Her son was born nine days after her freedom had finally, fully been assured.

He was small and perfect in every way. Soft and warm cradled close to her chest, unblemished by the cruelty of the world as he slept soundly in her arms. Even as exhausted as she was after such a long labor, she couldn't bring herself to sleep. Her attention narrowed down entirely on his every quiet breath, his downy soft hair, his round peaceful face.

In the weeks that followed his eyes would shift and change from a newborn's blue to her own green. It would take years before she could know if he inherited any of his father's features, but that was fine. He was hers and hers alone.

She named him Damian.

In another life she would name him with her father in mind. That her son would rise as Heir to the Demon and conquer the world. That he'd stand as ruler of all.

In this one, she named him with hope in her heart that what he would master was his own life. That he would never be forced to bow to the will of anyone else. To be made to act as servant or puppet. Let him tame his fate into something good and kind and happy.

She did her best to give him the life he deserved.

Lavished him with all her love and affection. Gave him everything he could ever want or need. The friends she began making for herself - not just trusted allies, but friends - laughed that she would spoil him rotten. It was probably true, but she didn't have it in her to care.

Her son would have the childhood he would have been denied if raised raised in the home of either of their fathers. Her father would have demand harsh lessons and frightened obedience and impossible standards. Damian's would have tried - she knew her Beloved would have tried - but his heart would always be for his city first and all else, even his children, second.

Talia kept tabs on both of them, covertly. Ensured she always kept a healthy distance from anything that involved her father or his people. Gathered stories of her Beloved's exploits to share with her son when he was old enough to hear them.

It gave her insight on just what choosing her Beloved would have meant. Reassured her that while not choosing her father had been the right choice, choosing her Beloved would have been the wrong one.

Bruce Wayne was a good man. Brilliant and driven with his kind heart and admirable goals. Breathtaking in his skill and ability.

Disappointing in his parenting skills.

Talia knew she was lacking as a parent herself. That her own upbringing had left its scars and that try as she might she'd undoubtedly end up doing the same to her own child over the years. But she always pushed herself hard towards improving, in making herself better for the tiny boy that she loved more than anything else. And she felt satisfied that in the very least that when presented with options on how her and her son's life would be, she'd made the one that was best for Damian.

Not the life of an assassin or a vigilante, but the life of a child.

A child who was taught some of the skills of both the worlds she'd turned her back on, admittedly, but only ever for his own protection. Damian was safer knowing how to hide, how to escape, how to fight. She had done her best, but there was always the looming threat that they might be found one day. She needed to be sure he was ready, if that time ever come.

She didn't teach him the way she was taught.

When her son fumbled or failed she gently corrected him. Walked him through what he'd done wrong, how he could improve. Made a game out of the experience so that he came running up to her on toddling feet with bright eyes begging that they have a lesson. His excitement and delight in it all made him a better student then her fear and desperate need for her father's approval and affection.

There was a day she caught sight of him, all of four years old, tiny face scrunched in a look of concentration as he practiced the form she'd taught him the day before with his small, wooden practice sword. Some of his father's features lingered at the edges of his face, but he'd deepened his resemblance to her by picking up her mannerisms and expressions. Her son, going through the same steps and motions she had when she'd been his age, little body wobbling as he turned to fast before plopping on the ground with a tiny oof.

Talia had small silver scars on the back of her hands, so thin and so old as to nearly be invisible anymore. They burned all the same as she recalled herself stumbling in nearly the same way. Stomach churning as she remembered the terror she'd felt as her instructor had snatched her up by her hair and drug her over to a low table, holding her hands in place with a massive hand. The way she'd bit her lip hard enough that her mouth filled with blood as he struck her with the thin lash, knowing that if she cried the punishment would be all the worse.

Damian only blinked his big green eyes and scowled the same way she did whenever something of minor importance didn't go the way she wanted it to. Then he saw her standing there in the doorway watching him and his face lit up, bright as the son and just as beautiful as he jumped to his feet and darted over to her. Tiny hand clinging to the loose fabric of her pant leg as he begged her show me again Mama!

It was moments like that where she knew beyond any shadow of a doubt she'd made the right choice.

Her father would have broken her brilliant, kind hearted son. Would have done to him what was done to her to forge Damian into a weapon.

Her beloved...

He would never hurt her son like that. Not the way her father and his loyal followers would. But she couldn't ignore the fact that Damian would still be hurt all the same under his father's tutelage.

Talia knew the man she loved well. Adored his strengths, but was not blind to his flaws. He kept his heart well guarded, hidden behind imposing walls of silence and razor wire of words he didn't truly mean. Still kind, but horribly distant when it came to those he cared for most. It shielded him some, perhaps, but it left those who loved him feeling lost and alone.

She saw how Dick Grayson had grown over the years. Tall and clever and lonely and bitter. Fighting for independence, for acknowledgement, for his father to speak words of love and respect. Things Bruce felt but almost never said unless he thought things were dire.

She saw too how the heavy weight of her Beloved's priorities weighed up on his second son.

Young Jason Todd who saw magic in the harsh world he'd been drawn into and desired to be the protection for others that he never had growing up. She saw much of herself in him, though he faced the world with far more hope than she had at his age. He was a bright boy with a good heart that had weathered a harsh upbringing that Talia could sympathize with. There was a familiar anger in him too, broiling just beneath the surface, flaring up and burning him as much as everyone else when triggered.

Most of all though Talia could see the desperate loneliness that had marred her own life in the boy. The soul deep fear of abandonment. The painful desire for love from a father that always seemed to stay at arm's length who spoke rarely of affection and often of missions to be completed.

She kept a close eye on her Beloved's second Robin.

When he left for Ethiopia, searching for family in a stranger that had already given him up, she'd followed.

Jason only ever wanted family and love. A good boy, bright and fierce and brave. A boy Talia saw a lot of herself in, who faced the world with such determined brightness in spite of the pain and hardship he'd known.

Shelia Haywood took that boy that Talia had grown so fond of, took his trust and his love and crushed it beneath her heel. Callously handed him over to the Joker without a second thought. As if he was disposable, as if he was nothing more than a puppet to use and toss away when it suited her.

Talia had risked everything when she'd decided she would not choose either her father or her Beloved. She'd turned her back on her entire life, everything that had ever been and ever could be on either side. She spent months running, hiding, fighting and killing, in orchestrating a plan that could outwit and outmaneuver the two most brilliant men she knew. And she'd done it all so that her son could live free, as master of his own life.

Jason Todd had come to Ethiopia looking for a mother.

Talia, with blood on her hands and a burning warehouse behind her as she carried his broken body to safety, made sure he found one.

[aesopsharpmybeloved]

Bound - MAJOR UPDATE

The NEWTs can be quite stressfull. Luckily, professor Sharp knows exactly how to make his young sweetheart relax a bit.

Aah, sweet sweet PWP ❤ Huge thanks to my dear friend and partner in crime @tea-withjamandbread who authored several ideas in this smutty story, and to Maarty for her continuous support 🥰

UPDATE! After I posted this two days ago, I re-read it and realised I hated it. So like 70% of it has been rewritten and almost 2k more words appeared. Oops. So it's basically a new fic 😂

18+ GO AWAY CHILDREN, srsly

Bound (14.1k words)

tw: teacher-student relationship, age gap (reader is an adult), explicit sexual content, lights bdsm, light bondage, blindfolded, body shots, masturbation, oral sex, vaginal sex, comeplay, dirty talking, pwp, corn with feelings

During the NEWT exams, some classrooms were emptier than others. For example Potions and Transfiguration both held only about twenty-five students each, because of the complexity of the subjects. However, the same could not be said about the Charms classroom. The number of Seventh years who partook in the NEWTs exam in Charms was quite high every year, the subject (and its teacher) was not only popular, but universally demanded in most work fields. This year was no different. In fact, it seemed to break the record. 

You felt like a thousand Galleons once you left the stuffy room. While the Charms classroom was usually a very comfortable place to be, spacious and airy, when filled with nearly sixty nervous young adults, one Hogwarts professor, and two overseers from the ministry, it got quite stifling quite fast. You were rather confident that you did well on the written part of the exam, and you weren’t particularly worried about the practical part that was scheduled for tomorrow, but you knew better than to rest on your laurels. After all, it was one of the things your beloved insisted on instilling within you. So, some extra practice it was - you were certain that he would understand why you sought the warmth of his embrace a little later than usual.

You made your way over to the Owlery to let professor Aesop Sharp know that you would take some time after supper to practise your charms up in the Room of Requirement after dinner, before coming to seek him in his chambers. The summer was blooming, and most of the students were enjoying the warm day, many of them nose deep in their books, preparing for the following exams.  

After you’ve climbed the spiral staircase of the tower, you could see Diana was sitting on one of the perches, watching the other owls around her with mild interest. She hooted in greetings once you came into her field of view, and you approached her immediately, letting your finger lightly scratch under her chin. You were the only one allowed to do so for more than a few seconds. 

 “Hello, girl,” you said softly. A year ago, you didn’t think you’d ever get an owl. The school owls you’d use were, more or less, reliable, and you hardly needed a pet cat, seeing as there were dozens upon dozens of them roaming the castle. You weren’t exactly certain your parents would even allow you to get a pet. You weren’t certain of it even as you handed the nice gentleman a decent sum of money for the impressive greater sooty owl you fell in love with the first time you saw her in that shop. One of your greatest decisions ever, you decided.

 —

 Your mother nearly fainted when you returned from your international travels sporting a large cage containing the dark bird. Diana released several rather frustrated noises every now and then, less than thrilled to have to limit herself to the enclosed space. 

“That thing is not staying,” Father had said after he snapped at Mother to take a hold of herself. “That thing is an owl, father,” you replied defiantly yet calmly. Mind, you knew they most likely wouldn’t be anywhere near as excited as yourself with the purchase, but you had hoped there wouldn’t be any hostility. It would seem you thought wrong. The middle aged man was rather red in the face: “I can bloody well see it’s an owl, (F/N), and it has no place here! This is one of the finest houses in Knightsbridge, not some bloody forest!” You took a deep breath. Damn it, you used the phial of Felix Felicis potion you brewed at the end of the previous term on getting your parents to agree to let you travel by yourself, and left the rest of the potion at Hogwarts. If only you were able to use Accio on it all the way from here… 

“Hyde Park’s just around the corner, father. There are plenty of owls there, so it’s not like anyone would think it strange to see one more flying around. Father, please, it’s only for the following month before I go back to school, you won’t even see or hear her.”

 Your father lifted a finger in the air, but before he could resume talking, your mother’s voice cut in: “Let her keep the bird, Lionel. She already paid money for it, and she’s hardly going back to Australia just to return an owl… and besides, it’s not…it’s not that bad. I hear that the DeWitt fellow from Kensington had a live falcon present at a formal evening he hosted in his house, and it was apparently a big success with the guests.” 

You could hear a small tremble in your hervoice, and she was still watching the owl warily, but at that moment you could nearly hug her. Your father fumed for a few moments, his small eyes switching between Diana, your mother and yourself. Finally, he sighed, looking morosely out of the window: “Fine. But I hear one hoot in the middle of the night, I’m throwing the thing out. What a bloody waste of money…”

You hurried to your room with your new companion, before you could bite back that it was your hard earned money you spent. You didn’t want to risk your father retracting his agreement with Diana staying.

—

You grimaced somewhat at the memory, but then sent a smile Diana’s way: “Don’t you worry, girl, we’re not going back there. I rather think the freedom of the Highlands is more of your style than the busy Hyde Park, isn’t it?” The owl hooted softly, as if agreeing with you. You could hardly blame her - you now knew you were the same.

You then held up your hand, showing Diana the short letter you needed her to deliver. 

“You know who it’s for,” a grin adorned your face and in Diana’s expression, you could see the owl equivalent of a good-natured eyeroll. She offered her leg to you to attach the letter to. 

“You be nice to him,” you waved your forefinger in front of the owl in a cheeky warning, and she responded in kind, by gently nipping at the digit and then swiftly spreading her wings and leaping off the Owlery window, prompting you to chuckle.

You gazed after her for several minutes, lost in thought. You couldn’t believe that less than three weeks separated you from graduation. 

In eighteen days, your time at Hogwarts will be over. You’ll empty your dorm room for one last time, have one last breakfast in the Great Hall as a student, and say many heartfelt farewells to the people you’ve met here over the three years. You would of course stay in contact with your closest friends, like Natty, Poppy, Sebastian and Ominis, and Amit… You’ve been through too much together, too much to just say one last goodbye and begin your lives on your own. But some of the others, like Samantha or Imelda, well, who knew when your paths would cross again. 

-

 Sebastian and Natty were both hoping to catch a job as curse breakers at Gringotts, which would offer them a chance to not only become even more capable wizards than they already were in their own rights, but also see the world, get acquainted with more wizarding cultures. Poppy would be joining her Grandmother in her research, as you knew since the day you first met the girl in Beasts class. And Amit was, along with Adelaide, joining her uncle’s business, his desire to learn more about Goblins not having died down over the years in the slightest.

And Ominis? Well, he didn’t know what he wanted to do just yet - and which employer would take him in with his condition - but he seemed happy nevertheless. Similarly to yourself, the last thing he wanted was to return to his family, and having already secured himself a different abode, the lad looked content for the time being.

 However, you were certain you were one of the only ones, if not the only one to stay so close to Hogwarts. Even Sebastian planned to leave Feldcroft behind…Seeing as his once home became no more than an empty house, his uncle dead and his sister gone and refusing to speak with him, nothing but memories of his gravest mistake filling the empty rooms, you could hardly blame the Slytherin for wanting to leave it all behind.

And you? Well, you were all set up, weren’t you. A job already waiting for you, and a small house at the edge of Hogsmeade ready for you to move in. Frankly, you were quite excited at the prospect of living by yourself, setting your own rules, running your little household the way you want to, making the space yours. 

Thanks to professor Weasley being the greatest (deputy) Headmistress, you had a special permission to leave the castle a few weeks back, so that you could apparate to London and get various items of furniture and such for your rented house. 

And, interestingly, the Hogwarts potions master was somehow already present when you suddenly appeared in a little hidden alley a bit away from the Leaky Cauldron. 

And since he was already there, he could perhaps tag along to offer advice as to which items he found appealing and appropriately priced in regards to their quality. And since the two of you were already in Diagon Alley, well, you may just as well nip round back to the Leaky Cauldron for spot of lunch, and then why not take a little stroll in some park, arms linked and bodies joined at the hip, enjoying the cool air of early summer. 

 In a way, it was a little taste of what things were going to be like when the two of you no longer needed to hide, when you were free to show your feelings towards one another openly. And not just that. In a way, one that you were a bit too shy to think about just yet, it was like a taste of what things were going to be like one day, when the two of you would join in a shared life permanently… And somehow, this little secret thought was what made you blush during this little encounter of yours…

-

Dinner itself was rather uneventful - every so often, your eyes would travel up to the High table and over to the professor. Occasionally, he was already looking back at you with a small smile on his face, sometimes he was focusing either on his own meal, or on one of his colleagues sitting next to him, chatting. However, it seemed the potions master had the ability to feel your eyes on him, for after a few seconds his head would turn your way, and his own dark eyes bore into your own. 

And each time they did, you felt a little shiver run through you. 

 Somehow you managed to actually climb all the stairs leading onto the Seventh floor instead of immediately sneaking off into Aesop’s rooms following supper.

You made your way towards the training room that materialised in the Room of Requirement the previous year. The large chamber never ceased to amaze you with its ingenuity - as you finished your descent down the stairs, you found the room nearly empty with only one item in the middle. An item you recognised instantly - it was one of the puzzles you’d solve during the Merlin trials! 

Excited, you took off your blazer and rolled up your sleeves, so as to achieve maximum mobility and comfort. 

 ‘Flipendo ,’ you cast on the upper stone non-verbally, piecing together which way you have to turn it. And once you did, once the symbols matched, the whole thing just disappeared into thin air, leaving another object there in its stead - this time it was a broken statue, and you knew what to do immediately.

You sent spell after spell at the various items that appeared before you. You were handling yourself quite well too, being able to react quickly and send the correct enchantment. There was a brief moment of panic at one point, as the room suddenly filled up to the brim with water, which made casting the bubble head charm that much harder, but otherwise you felt confident and calm. 

You only just finished casting a perfect performed Descendo upon a floating training dummy, when you were suddenly plunged into darkness. Quickly casting Lumos, you realised that you were stuck in some sort of… cavern? A stony cavern, that was for certain, and a seemingly inescapable one. A frown riddled your brow.

Stone, stone, what to do with being stuck in a stony prison? 

At first, you tried to transfigure one of the rocks that seemed to be closing you in into a smaller object, which hadn’t worked. Depulso had a similarly dissatisfactory effect. Casting Bombarda or Confingo would’ve been entirely too dangerous to even try in this situation, as they would both recoil off the stone and hurt you… 

It took you a few more seconds until you remembered: the Gouging charm, of course! 

You pointed your wand at one of the stones again and thought as hard as you could: ‘Defodio.’ However, that didn’t seem to do the trick either. But the spell was correct! It had to be! You weren’t aware of there being a different spell you could use in this situation, and as Revelio did not reveal anything special about the stones that had you trapped, you were even more certain that the Gouging charm was the correct one… You just had to cast it right…You squeezed your jaw tighter and tried again.

 ‘Defodio!’

 And again, nothing. Damn it!

You were beginning to feel a little nervous if you were to be honest. The space you were in was rather tight and not exactly well ventilated, and as you attempted to cast the spell again and again, drops of sweat appeared at your hairline.

 “Defodio!” you cried out loud desperately, but all that followed was a light pop, as if a small pebble popped in half somewhere among the rocks. 

 Dear heavens…

Would the Room let you out if you couldn’t perform the spell? Or would you stay trapped inside, slowly losing precious oxygen until you suffocated? Surely not! Deek would come looking for you sooner or later certainly. He’d find you, he’d hopefully be able to get the Room to drop the spell it trapped you with. Wouldn’t he?

“Defodio,” you barely heard, the voice sounding terribly muffled. You had to actually shield your eyes as the stones around you began opening up and the light of the room hit you. 

After a few seconds during which your eyes grew used to the light once more, you finally saw the source of the successfully done spell. Aesop Sharp stood some ten feet away from you, wand raised and a little concerned expression on his ruggedly handsome face. 

 You finally managed to catch your breath which you didn’t even realise grew so laboured and fast during your uncomfortable stay within the cavern: “Th-thank you…”

He didn’t say anything for several minutes, waiting for you to calm down, and only then he spoke, his voice soft and gentle: “Are you alright, (F/N)?” 

You felt colour rush into your cheeks and embarrassment seep to your gut. Your eyes fell to the ground in shame. As if sensing your thoughts, the professor spoke again: “This is a very complicated spell, (F/N), even for many experienced wizards - there’s no point beating yourself over not being able to cast it non-verbally,” he came a little closer, and touched your shoulder with his free hand, his thumb rubbing small circles through your shirt.

“As you perhaps heard just now, I didn’t manage to cast it verbally either,” you replied, your voice quiet. Goodness, and here you were, feeling so bloody confident about the practical exam… What if this spell appeared among those you’ll be examined from? What if you fail then like you failed just now? Could one spell ruin the entire exam?

 “Darling, whatever you’re thinking right now, stop,” Aesop spoke, his large warm hand sliding down your arm until it reached your own hand, and curled around it soothingly: “not being to perform the spell non-verbally several times coupled with being very much stuck inside a pile of rocks is not exactly good on the psyche - I bet by the time you decided to speak the spell out loud, you weren’t nearly as focused on the correct hand movements as before, were you?”

 You didn’t say anything. He was right, though - during your last attempt to cast the spell verbally, you were sort of just wildly flailing your arm rather than doing the short, jerky wrist movement that the spell required. 

 “Let’s try something…” Aesop said, and then stored his wand away. He moved to stand behind you, wrapping his left arm around your waist and taking a hold of your right hand with his own. 

You let him move your hand until it was pointed forward. More rocks materialised out of nowhere and formed something of a small mountain right in the middle of the room. “Why don’t you try to send the spell non-verbally again? If it doesn’t work, take ten seconds to breathe deeply and calm down, then try again. And if that doesn’t work either, another ten second pause, and then send it verbally. The important thing is to perform the spell itself. Non-verbal casting does get you bonus points, but you’ll hardly be chastised if you speak your spells. However, if you stress yourself out because you’re unable to cast the spell without saying the incantation, you’ll find it difficult to cast the spell verbally as well.”

He then gently began moving your hand in the pattern of the Gouging charm, just making sure you remembered the proper movement, before he moved his head to be able to whisper into your ear: “Go on and try. And remember what I told you.” 

You shivered a little at the feeling of his hot damp breath upon your skin.  

You concentrated your hardest upon the stone formation, moved your wand in the pattern he made you practise again earlier, and thought your loudest ‘Defodio’. 

And… nothing.

“Alright - that was a fair enough try,” he spoke, calmly and far from critically, “I could feel your magic, but it was not enough. It was not concentrated enough. Breathe, my sweet,” Aesop whispered again, “Close your eyes, count to ten, and breathe deeply, in and out.”

So you did. You closed your eyes and began counting slowly, timing your breaths so that they were slow, deep and steady.

 “Alright - now focus. Imagine the stones already broken in half, an entrance forming among them, and only when you can clearly see it in your mind’s eye, that’s when you send the spell.”

You listened to the teacher, letting his close proximity calm you down enough to be able to once more fully focus. You stared unblinking at the small mountain in the middle of the room, trying to imagine it opening up into a cavern. 

Just like when you were standing before a treasure vault, or perhaps an ancient tomb in the Highlands, an entrance materialising right in front of you, after you’ve sent the correct spell on the stony key cube. “Steady,” Aesop whispered again.

 ‘Defodio,’ you commanded in your mind, your wrist turning in that jerky pattern, and suddenly…

Crackling and popping could be heard, and a hole started to form in the midst of the rock formation, soon reminding you of an actual entrance to a cave. You couldn’t help but turn your head to grin at Aesop, finding him grinning back at you already. Both his arms now curled around your waist: “Splendid job!” He pressed several prickly kisses on the skin of your neck, prompting you to giggle breathlessly.

 “My knight in shining armour,” you breathed out, leaning into your beloved further, “first you save me from suffocating in The Cavern of Certain Doom, then you save my performance tomorrow… Although I don’t know how we’re going to arrange you standing behind me while I cast this spell,” you finished with a small chuckle, your hands coming to cover his own around your midsection. 

“You’re in luck,” Aesop simply replied, “this spell is not among those that are used during the exam. I can’t tell you anything else, unfortunately. However, I had the chance to watch you for a while before your unfortunate rocky situation, and I wholeheartedly believe you’ve got nothing to fear tomorrow. You’ll be brilliant.” 

You smiled and fully succumbed to the comfort of his embrace. “Not as brilliant as you are,” was your whispered answer as you let your head drop to his shoulder in a silent invitation. One look at your parted lips was all it took for Aesop to seize the moment. His lips moulded against yours in a passionate kiss not a second later.

You pocketed your wand quickly to be able to turn around to face him and wrap your arms around his neck. Soon your fingers found their place in his hair, and you promptly began messing it up, dragging your fingernails through the soft locks. You accepted his tongue in your mouth shortly after, letting the older man taste you to his heart’s content and ravish your mouth as he saw fit. 

One of his hands came to take hold of the underside of your thigh, and he effortlessly lifted your leg up to place it over his hip. You lost your balance somewhat, but Aesop held on tight, his strong arms rendering you standing upright right where you were, as well as making you very aware of the effect your heated snogging had on him through this very close proximity. 

You managed to stifle the groan that threatened to escape you, but weren’t able to stop yourself from tugging on his hair harder, which in turn made him produce an unintelligible noise into your own mouth. 

“Oh, sweetheart…” he breathed out, closing his hand tighter on the flesh of your thigh, pressing you even closer, “if we don’t stop now, I think I might actually ravish you right here on the floor. Which I wouldn’t be exactly opposed to, mind, but I’d rather not traumatise our house elf friend was he to appear. For one. 

“For two, the ground is hardly a very comfortable place to rest afterwards…”

Your breath caught in your throat at his sultry voice. A few chosen words, and here you were, quite ready to actually really let him take you right there, right now. 

You were both torn from your little game of seduction by a series of loud sounds coming from one end of the room. You swiftly turned your heads in that direction, watching in bewilderment as a door appeared out of nothing. It was no ordinary door, though - it was camouflaged to look like the wall around it, and had it been closed, you could barely see it was there at all. 

From the entrance of the training room, it was virtually invisible.

“I swear, if that is what I think it is, I’m about to start really doubting this place, “Aesop said with a disbelieving expression on his face, “Vivariums to breed bloody Graphorns is one thing, but making a whole new room solely so that a professor can make love to his student sweetheart on a surface more comfortable than a stone floor? Now that’s ever so slightly questionable.”

You couldn’t help the small fit of giggles that overtook you then. Aesop watched in mild amusement as you covered your mouth. 

“You know,” you said once your laughter died down, “that’s what this place is all about; it provides without judgement. You really need to use the loo, it creates the loo. It feels like you could do with a bath, it makes a bathtub… And now here we are, the two of us very much needing a nice, comfortable and private space, and, of course, the Room is ready to provide.”

The professor pulled back slightly, a sly smirk on his lips as his hands kneaded the flesh of your hips. “Well… In that case, we’d be quite ungrateful not to make use of whatever the Room prepared for us, wouldn’t we?”

Without warning, your feet left the ground as the potions master bent to toss you over his broad shoulder. You barely avoided a collision with his strong back by bracing your hands against it.

 “Aesop!” you squealed out, only prompting him to chuckle smugly and use his free hand to swat gently at your buttocks. “You absolutely incorrigible man…” you sighed then, accepting your fate. You were unable to deny that there was something completely exhilarating about being manhandled like this. 

Several months ago, Aesop would’ve needed at least two phials of Wiggenweld potion to be able to just toss you over his shoulder and walk with you like this without doubling over in pain. However, following the extensive exercising he did while his leg was on the mend, Aesop felt healthier and stronger than ever, and he carried you like you weighed nothing at all.

From your position, you were only aware that Aesop was carrying you towards the newly formed room, but you couldn’t see a thing, despite attempting to turn around as much as your current position allowed you. Finally, the professor stopped in his tracks and whistled: “Well I never… this looks quite enticing indeed…”

Slowly and carefully he lowered you down until your feet once again touched the ground, his hands seemingly accidentally lifting your skirt slightly in the process, running over the backs of your thighs. 

You immediately turned around to see the new room for yourself, and grinned wide right away. Oh yes, you thought, this was indeed quite lovely.

The new room was bathed in a soft moonlight, and there were at least a dozen candles placed around on the various surfaces within. The flames of the candles danced and swayed slowly, creating a very tantalising atmosphere. There were several pieces of furniture. Before the artificial window stood two comfortable looking armchairs, and to the side of the room was a dresser, a white basin with a matching water jug and a few washcloths upon it. 

However, the obvious centrepiece of the room was a (very) large and beautiful bed, with intricate details adorning its dark wooden frame, and covered with deep purple sheets giving off a silky shine. It looked incredibly inviting, and you had to restrain yourself from jumping straight among the copious amount of pillows.

The Room of Requirement outdid itself indeed, it was one of the most beautiful if not the most beautiful bedroom you ever laid your eyes on, and it seemed Aesop agreed with you in this regard: “Now I feel a little self-conscious about your first time being among the mismatched chaos of my aunt’s cottage to be honest…” 

You could not help but grin at the teacher: “Oh, I thought it was quite charming, actually! However, rest assured that it matters very little to me whether we are at your aunt’s cottage, in your chambers, or in this spectacular room. I’m just glad to be there with you.” 

Aesop smiled at your words with the kind of smile that always made butterflies flutter within your stomach, and this time was no exception. You never understood his insistence that you deserved better, someone younger, better looking, who hadn’t made as many mistakes as he. 

In your eyes, he was perfect in his imperfections, and handsome beyond all reason.

You barely noticed your hand glide over his prickly cheek, your thin finger tracing the edge of his lips. His eyes fluttered a little under your tender touch, and his look was devoted and filled with adoration. And when you suddenly gripped his tie just below its knot and pulled him towards you, you were quite surprised to feel a very similar sensation. 

Aesop too held onto your blue and bronze Ravenclaw tie, and he also used it to pull you closer for a passionate, nearly bruising kiss.

The kiss was much too short however, as Aesop parted your lips mere seconds later in order to release a hearty chuckle, for he noticed your accidental synchronisation as well. The pause before another kiss was not horribly long though, and soon the professor was very much snogging the living daylights out of you, something you definitely didn’t mind.

“You know,” he murmured during one of your brief breaks for air, voice low and a little hoarse, “you gave me something of an idea…”  

“Oh? What sort of idea?” you mumbled in reply, your fingers slowly probing at the lapels of his overcoat before sneaking down to unfasten the buttons of his waistcoat. The potions master was smiling as he watched your growing desire, and his grin widened even further upon your whispered question. His dominant hand once more closed around your tie, now over the knot itself, and pulled down. The tie grew looser around your neck until it slipped from its knot entirely, remaining hanging in Aesop’s hold. 

“You see, I wondered whether I could perhaps make use of this. And my own tie as well… Tie you by the wrists to the bedposts, spread you nice and wide for me, then have fun making you come apart for me again, and again, and again…” he purred into your ear, marking the end of his sentence with a quick nip at your earlobe, prompting you to shudder noticeably. 

“So?” he whispered again, “what do you say?”

The smug bastard, you thought, grinning. He knew very, very well just by looking at you, that refusal of his proposal was the very last thing on your mind, the first electricity like impulses of impending lust fluttering through your core. Aesop smiled and started kissing a hot trail over your throat, but otherwise made no further advances.

“I need an answer, my love…I need you to say it,” he reminded after another minute or two, and you belatedly understood his restraint in taking things further just yet. 

“Y-yes, Aesop” you finally replied, voice a little shakier than before. 

“Good,” came out of his mouth as little more than a sigh, and his hands slid up to begin undoing your crisp white shirt, pulling it out from where it was tucked under the waistband of your skirt in the process. You watched almost mesmerised as his large long fingers made easy work of the small, delicate buttons, all the while his mouth latched onto your neck again. 

He kissed the newly uncovered skin after he’d slipped the soft shirt down your shoulders. Hot tongue glided over your collarbones and the clever fingers slid down the sides of your bosom before taking hold of your waist. His head dropped further and he nuzzled his face into the cleavage of your chemise before kissing at the path in-between your breasts, as much as the silky material covering them allowed him anyway.

He raised his eyes slowly and waited until your gazes connected. While his cheeks were slightly flushed and his dark eyes made even darker by the growing arousal, there was also that cheeky glint within them you were so fond of witnessing. It made another shiver run through your frame. The reason was simple: every other time Aesop had this look in his eyes, you knew he was going to say or do something that would plaster a nearly permanent grin on your face. Utter some deeply ironic quip, long-suffering comment concerning his students, or offer some rather cheesy pick up line. 

However, when he got this look in his eyes as the two of you were about to retire to the sheets, it meant a single thing: You were not leaving this bed tonight.

He bent even further, his lips making contact with one of your nipples, which was visibly perked under the thin chemise following his previous actions. The sharp sting of his crooked teeth on the sensitive tissue made a barely audible mewl escape your open mouth, and when your lover’s tongue circled the teat through the undergarment, your knees buckled somewhat.

 His chuckle against the now damp material of your undershirt didn’t help much either. 

“I can see we best get you to a seating position… Can’t have you tumble down for me just yet, now can we…” he said, sounding very satisfied with himself. 

He guided you to the edge of the bed and sat you down. The mattress felt firm yet comfortable, but you didn’t really have time to ponder about it for too long, as the potions master kneeled before you. He took hold of one of your feet and propped it up on his upper thigh so that he could unfasten the laces on your boot. And once he did, his large hands slid over your leg appreciatively, fingers teasing at the stocking covering it. Your skirt was lifted a bit to reveal the soft, milky skin of your upper thighs, as well as the simple elastic garter holding the hose up. 

Aesop made quick work of it, and seemed to be immensely enjoying slowly peeling both the garter and the stocking off your leg, dragging his nose and lips over the skin of your knee, your shin, your instep. The discarded clothes landed somewhere on the floor behind him, and he focused his attention on your other leg. 

Once you were completely barefoot, he raised a single finger in a silent request for you to give him a moment. He shifted to sit on the ground instead, and started undoing his own heavy boots, haphazardly throwing them to the side once they were loose enough for him to slip his feet out of them. With a barely audible grunt, he stood up again, rose to his full height, and made the height difference between the two of you greater than ever. 

There was a small predatory glint in his eyes as he towered over you, but he remained so gentle still, raising his hand to merely caress your cheek with utmost gentleness. You happily leaned into his touch, turning your head a bit to be able to press a kiss against the heel of his palm. 

“I’m going to need you to scoot further back on the bed, love” he requested in a quiet, unreadable voice, but you didn’t hesitate to comply. 

You only just managed to sit back enough for your entire body to be upon the bed, before your back made sudden contact with the mattress behind you. As it turned out, as soon as there was enough space on the bed, the potions master nearly leapt up upon it and on top of you with the ferocity of a wild thing, using his hands to pin yours above your head on the mattress, before rendering your entire body immobile using his body weight. You felt the low rumble of his laughter all over you, saw the irresistible smirk on his mouth, his face right above yours. Without further ado, you connected your lips again.

You couldn’t help but grin when he finished the kiss with a playful nip at your lower lip and scooted back in order to rid you of the rest of your garments. He popped open the button of your skirt, and unabashedly tugged it down along with your drawers. 

“Aesop Sharp, you truly are an insatiable man…” you muttered amusedly, prompting the teacher to snort. Soon, his palms again covered your thighs and began sliding up, excruciatingly slow, pushing the chemise up inch by inch. He always did this part slowly, almost reverently, lapping up your naked form with his eyes just like he did that very first night… 

And like that first night, you were justly bothered by the obviously unfair difference between your states of undress. You were quite ready to comment on it too, after the last piece of your clothing joined its companions on the floor, but found yourself speechless after your lover moved to straddle your waist, your previously discarded tie in hand along with his own. When did he even take it off?

“May I, dear?” he asked again, taking your hand and moving it above you at a slow pace, in case you had changed your mind about the whole thing. 

You felt your face burn as you nodded: “Yes, Aesop…”

Soon thereafter, Aesop was securing your left wrist to one of the bedposts using your Ravenclaw tie. You noted how careful he was tying you to the bed, constantly making sure the tie wasn’t squeezing your wrist tight enough to cut off your blood flow, but also that there was no way for your hand to get free following any sudden harsh movements. Your other hand was promptly taken care of as well, and Aesop moved back to sit across your hips and admire his handiwork.

The obvious hunger in his eyes made more blood rush into your cheeks, and your hands balled into loose fists.

You were completely naked before him, physically and mentally, vulnerable and defenceless… And yet you felt entirely comfortable with the situation. You felt exhilarated and excited as to what Aesop was about to do to you. The man himself seemed content to simply touch and observe you for a while, his warm hands caressing your body everywhere he could reach, mapping your curves, connecting your freckles and moles using his fingers. 

“Might have to re-tie you later,” he mused out loud in a low voice when he dragged his digits over your arms, making your body break out in goose flesh and making you squirm slightly at the ticklish sensation. “Oh?” you asked, your eyelids heavy with anticipation. You didn’t expect his next words to make a tremble run through you, but they sure did: “in case I want to flip you on your hands and knees instead…” 

Seeing your reaction, another predatory grin spread on Aesop’s features: “Oh, this is going to be fun… For now, though, I think it’s only fair you’re not the only one disrobed.”

Aesop began to take off his clothes then. First to go were his overcoat, jacket, and the waistcoat you unbuttoned previously, all of which the potions master shook down and away in one go. However, then he must’ve decided that a bit more teasing is in order, and each following article of clothing was removed slower than the last one. Aesop was fixing you with a smug smirk as he slowly shrugged the suspenders off his shoulders, and started unbuttoning his own white shirt. 

You licked your lips and your fingers flexed on their own accord as he revealed his hirsute chest.

That made him grin even more. He knew you loved to touch him, that you loved to run your nimble fingers through the hair on his breast, to pull on it, to bury your face in it to inhale his scent. He loved when you did that too. However, right now he was rather enjoying witnessing you like this even more.You remained silent but inhaled shakingly when he started to unfasten his trousers, revealing the sizable bulge in his pants.

A relieved little sigh left his mouth: “Finally. Those were getting uncomfortably tight… Then again, I hope to get into something even tighter later…” The potions master slowly untied the lace of his pants and slowly pulled them down.

His erection sprung out from its cottony confines, and your mouth watered at the sight of him. Your thighs squeezed together as much as they were able to, considering the tall man was still straddling you, and you found yourself perhaps slightly desperate to continue.

Just seeing Aesop like this, half naked, his large cock throbbing, his inhibitions tossed out of the window, and his gaze positively ravenous did inexplicable things to you. Your already swift heartbeat quickened up further and your womanhood dampened with sheer lust. 

You watched in fascination as his own fingers wrapped around the stiff penis, and he began to stroke himself slowly. Merlin, while you weren’t able to touch him, you could recall the feel of him inside of your hand perfectly, the organ hot and thrumming under your fingertips, getting even more sensitive at its mushroom-like pink tip, out of which a small clear droplet of fluid spilled already.  

He shifted somewhat and used his feet to spread your legs a little bit, just enough for him to slide the shaft into the gap that appeared between your thighs, dragging it through your damp folds and over your swelling lovebud deliciously. A noise so quiet you almost struggled to hear it yourself snuck out from your throat and you swallowed heavily, squirming at the teasing. He pumped his hips a few times, enjoying the sweet friction and riling you up further. 

He chuckled then, though it was audible in his voice that he wasn’t nearly as calm as he perhaps pretended to be. His breath was definitely shorter than it had been, and the rise of his eyebrows was absolutely unmistakable.  

He remained stationary for a little while, nestled within your legs, before a low chuckle rolled through him: “My apologies, dear, I seem to be getting terribly ahead of myself.” He braced his arms on the mattress next to your ribs, and slightly awkwardly climbed off the bed, mindful not to trip over his own undone trousers.

He removed his socks, then fully took off the dark breeches, his drawers soon following. He took his sweet time carefully folding each discarded article of clothing, which contrasted with all the other clothes that were haphazardly thrown on the floor previously. 

You watched his every move; someone as tall as Aesop shouldn’t be able to be this elegant in their movements, especially so during an activity as simple as removing one’s clothing, yet he managed perfectly. It was actually nearly mesmerising to watch him.

You heard a dark chuckle when he turned to the dresser to place his folded clothes onto it: “Oh, Room of Requirement indeed! This is exactly what I was thinking about just now,” he said, seemingly more to himself than to you. He slowly turned around to show you what he discovered on the piece of furniture. It was a long stripe of soft-looking deep green fabric, a little wider than a ribbon. It took you several seconds to understand what he intended to do, by which point he was already sitting on the edge of the bed next to you. “What do you think? Do you trust me, my love?” he asked gently, reaching out to touch your hot cheek, calloused fingertips dancing over the smooth flushed skin in gentle patterns. You thought about the idea for a little while, swallowing nervously. It all came down to a simple fact: 

You did trust him. You trusted him absolutely.

You didn’t really know what to expect from the experience of being both bound and blindfolded, though. What if not being able to touch him, or even see him at all would make it uncomfortable for you? Or what if the lack of sight would make the sensations too intense? It was yet another unknown for you. But then again, so was sex itself mere months ago. And Aesop was so completely brilliant, guiding you through all of it, holding your hand, and being so patient and sweet with you. Every single day, you discovered together what worked for one and didn’t for the other, staying respectful of one another’s boundaries and feelings.

It was so easy with Aesop. It was amazing with him. 

You knew you needn’t have ever worried. After all -

“If anything starts being too much, if it gets uncomfortable, even a little bit, just say the word and I’ll immediately stop and release you,” Aesop said sincerely, still stroking your cheek tenderly. You couldn’t help but smile at him, channelling all of your love for this man with your eyes.: “I trust you completely, Ace.”

The professor grinned in reply, his hand squeezing the piece of fabric a bit tighter. He leaned down to place a single kiss on your pliant mouth, and then tied the blindfold around your head. It indeed was as soft  and smooth as it appeared, but it blocked out way more light than you would’ve thought a thin stripe of cloth like this one could. That is, you were suddenly plunged into absolute darkness, which disoriented you momentarily.

Nothing happened for at least a full minute, no touching, no kissing, if you didn’t hear Aesop’s soft breathing right in front of you, you would’ve nearly thought he left, which was of course silly.

But then… First thing you felt was a warm body descending upon your own once more, both enticingly and comfortingly, a pair of arms coming to curl around your back. Then, a hot pair of lips claiming yours in a slow kiss. Finally, his breath teased at your earlobe again: “Could you do me a favour, dear?” he asked, sounding more playful than ever. Your mind felt quite clouded over, but you managed a very eloquent ‘huh?’. However, even in your heavily distracted state, you were sure that smug smile was still plastered on his face: “Would you please test your restraints for me?”

A breathless chuckle escaped your lips, but you decided to humour him anyway. At first you tugged at the neckties in several short bursts. That, unsurprisingly, did absolutely nothing. So you decided to truly try, and put your entire strength into an attempt to loosen the restraints enough to get free. You were sweating and breathless by the time you realised there was no way for you to get your hands free. Without magic, that is. 

“So, my dear… Are you able to free yourself?” Aesop whispered against your lips, his large nose dragging against your own in a manner that was contrastingly cute compared to the delectably filthy sound of his voice and the even filthier unspoken promise.

 “No, I’m not.”

”Good.” 

And not a second later were you gasping in surprise which swiftly turned into a moan of pleasure as the professor’s mouth latched itself onto your breast, his teeth worrying your sensitive nipple rather roughly. Aesop bit and he sucked in the way he knew you loved, and he always did so until it became nearly painful, at which point he stopped and focused his attention on your other nipple, giving it the same treatment. 

Normally, you’d be dragging your fingers through his hair and tugging on it, but now all you were able to do was to squirm and accept his merciless ministrations. Every now and then he pulled away slightly in order to blow cool air onto the teat, prompting it to harden even further than it already was.

You could only imagine your nipples being raw red and swollen when he finally lifted his head up again. They felt so very tender, and your quim was throbbing longingly. “Now what do we have here?” he asked lightly, clearly enjoying himself immensely, “another lovely thing I can use…” 

Did the Room create another object? What could it be? 

You gasped loudly when something cold and liquidy hit your collarbone and poured down between your breasts to further spill down your sides and into the little hollow of your belly button. A strong scent hit you then - is that Firewhisky?! While you didn’t enjoy the taste of the liquor, you couldn’t deny its smell and the alcoholic vapour combined with your current state of arousal made for one sensual mix. 

And the mix was made even more sensual when Aesop’s mouth proceeded to lick the alcohol from your skin, being very meticulous in his effort not to let a single drop go to waste. After he’d finished by drinking the last few drops from your belly button, he gave a satisfied grunt: “Hm, my sweet - I don’t think I ever want to drink Firewhisky a different way…”

You were now able to hear soft sounds of skin on skin, and another small sigh left your mouth. You truly wished you could see him, as you didn’t doubt he looked completely delectable. In your mind’s eye, you did see him; he was half hovering over you, half kneeling upon the bed between your own legs, slowly stroking himself while he played you like a violin, plucking at all the right strings. He repeated the process a few more times, pouring and licking the liquor off your body, mindful that it didn't get onto the more sensitive bits, all the while audibly pumping himself and groaning at the combined sensations.

It was complete and utter hedonism, and bloody hell you loved it…

“A-Aesop…” you sighed. You could smell his musk and the Firewhisky, and it was driving you positively ravenous. Not being able to touch him or even see him was only adding to the desperation. “Hmm? What is it, my sweet?” came from above your navel, Aesop’s breath cooling the damp skin and making you shiver, the words very nearly purred. You opened your mouth to speak, but no sound came out. You didn’t actually know what exactly you wanted to ask for - the only thought on your mind was him. You just wanted more of him.

There was a bit of shuffling; you felt the change in pressure on the mattress around you, and soon he was straddling you again, this time higher up your chest. He was very careful not to actually sit on you and potentially squeeze something too much. His scent got stronger, and the soft sounds of his hand languidly sliding over his shaft louder. “What would you like, dear?” 

You could feel your cheeks redden impossibly, and were all of a sudden a bit glad for the fact that you couldn’t see him. Noiselessly you opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out obscenely. A chuckle was your sole answer before long fingers slid into your hair to stroke it: “I rather think it’s my turn to make you feel good, sweetheart, not vice versa,” he said quietly, but you couldn’t mistake the little tremble in his voice. 

“Please…” you whispered back, before opening your mouth again. Aesop’s hand slid back from your hair and he caressed  your cheek instead, before putting two fingers on your tongue and making you open your mouth even more. You instantly any recognised the next thing to touch your tongue. You closed your lips around the engorged glans, and began to run your tongue around it, rolling it in your mouth and worrying at the slit at the top. You then hollowed out your cheeks to add suction to the movements of your tongue on him. 

His breath shuddered, and the hand on your cheeks tensed somewhat when you began bobbing your head up and down as much as you were able to in your position, releasing soft groans every time you managed to take him in further. Soon his own hips joined into the slow rhythm, and he used his hand to guide your head along even further.

The musky scent of him, the slightly salty taste, his beautiful sounds, oh, he was absolutely intoxicating. You licked along the defined veins of his cock, no doubt looking a right slobbering mess, but neither of you were capable of caring. If your hands were free, you'd be gently kneading at his bollocks, or perhaps toying with his nipples, but you had to admit, being restrained like this made for a very heady experience as well…

“Mhm, f-fuck,” he grit out before a hard thrust forward, one that guided him all the way in. You felt the tickle of his pubic hair on your nose, felt him twitch inside of your throat. You breathed deeply, fighting your gag reflex, the fabric covering your eyes dampening slightly with the tears that burst out following your efforts. You swallowed around the heavy prick, prompting another choked sound from your lover. 

The hand that was holding your cheek before tangled into your hair, and closed into a fist around it just enough to make you feel the pull, but not any pain. “I could just come right now-” he said, his voice low and dripping with pleasure, “paint the inside of your throat…” Your eyes fluttered under the blindfold. You wouldn't mind. The few times he allowed you to actually finish him using your mouth were completely glorious. “But that’s no fun, considering I’m planning to ruin you before I even fill that sweet little cunny of yours…”

 And then, with what seemed like a lot of effort, Aesop loosened his hand on your hair and pulled back and out of your mouth, a thin string of saliva clinging onto his tip still before separating, and falling unceremoniously down on your neck.

You heard him breath heavily for a few minutes, calming himself down a bit to be able to carry on with your little play. He moved back so that his legs framed yours again and his hands braced on the mattress on each side of your head.

 “I rather think it’s time to make you cry out for me , my dear.”

 Before you were able to gather your bearings, he claimed your lips in a filthy hot kiss, his tongue probing and penetrating, immediately overpowering your own into submission. You could taste the Firewhiskey he lapped up off your skin, and were sure he could taste himself on your tongue. You only sighed into the incredible kiss, letting him take absolutely everything he could possibly want. “You are driving me mad, (F/N)...” he muttered against your lips, a sense of urgency in his words, and ran his hands over your arms. They were beginning to feel quite numb if you were honest, but Aesop’s touch still made your skin break out in gooseflesh, and the promise of more pleasure to come made you completely uncaring towards any numbness.

Using his hand, Aesop turned your head to the side to be able to bite down on your pulse point, and he once more began to descend down your form. A trail of kisses and little bites led him back to your breasts, and he couldn't resist flicking his tongue over your poor, oversensitive teats, which made you whine quietly and toss your head around a little. Your thighs were rubbing against one another unconsciously, as you were trying to bring at least a little bit of friction to your soaking wet cunt. 

“Oh, I don’t think so, love,” Aesop said once he noticed your efforts, some of his smugness seeping back now that he wasn’t root-deep in your throat, and forced his own leg between yours, “as I said - my turn.”

You felt terribly cold when he pulled away somewhat, immediately missing the warmth of his strong body. Your legs were then mercilessly spread open, exposing your nearly aching womanhood to the cool air of the chamber and making you gasp. You heard what sounded like a growl leave the man who was currently digging his fingers into the sensitive skin of your thighs where he held them, no doubt leaving small bruises in his wake. 

“Bloody hell, sweetheart,” he mumbled, further opening your legs, “I wish you could see yourself right now… See yourself the way I see you… So beautiful. So sweet and lovely, all spread out like this. Like a feast ready to be devoured...” 

A single finger slipped across your seam, dipping within your folds teasingly before dragging over your swollen clitoris. “You are absolutely drenched,” Aesop remarked, the urgency in his voice coming back. Though he said his words lightly, airily almost, you could feel what felt like a snare drum in your veins. You were like prey face to face with a predator, and you knew that he would strike any second now. Your thighs trembled in anticipation.

And while you half expected it, it still caught you unawares when he lunged down, burying his face between your thighs. His lips, tongue and teeth all at once began an intense assault on your most primal senses, the relief of having your need finally attended to combined with the need itself forced a choked cry out of your throat, and for a second you couldn't comprehend why you couldn’t feel his hair between your fingers, when your hand was clearly reaching for it. 

No, your hands were instead balled into tight fists and you shuddered violently. Your lover was groaning in pleasure as he licked and sucked at your damp skin before letting his tongue delve into your fluttering opening, one of his hands letting go of your leg and coming in to help. His calloused thumb quickly found your lovebud, and began to rub it in a circular motion, in the same rhythm in which his tongue thrusted inside you.

Because of the absence of sight, it was like you could feel every single sensation twice as intense. Aesop’s little grunts as he devoured you, his thumb relentlessly worrying at your clitoris, that sweet, sweet sting of his beard on your tender skin, and the complete inability to do anything about any of these things, bound as you were, made the little electric sparks that announced an impending climax approach much quicker than usual. Mind, Aesop was perfectly capable of making you come within mere minutes, but the teacher was fond of taking his sweet time riling you up, and in turn making sure you were ready for him to fully take you. 

Two fingers pushed in alongside his tongue in search of that hidden bundle of nerves that never failed to make you moan for him. And find it they did, swiftly and precisely. 

You didn’t expect the orgasm to rip through you the moment the tips of his digits bumped into it, but here you were, crying out embarrassingly loudly and arching your neck and back as much as you were able to, while your toes curled and the sudden pleasure made your body feel like it was on fire. It was obvious your lover didn’t exactly expect it either, if his little gasp was anything to go by. His mouth left you, but his hands remained where they were, the fingers inside you actually pushing against your walls with every contraction of them, stretching them open. 

“My, my…” he said a little smugly as you still writhed under the sensations, your breathing laboured and your heartbeat almost too loud for you to hear him, “that was quite unexpected. However, very, very much welcomed. In fact, I rather think I’d like to do that again.” And without further warning and without you having any time to come down from your high, the teacher dove right back, his mouth returning to your entrance, and his devilishly clever hands doubling their intense assault. And just like that, you were thrown right back into the toe-curling sensations, your body so bloody sensitive, yielding to Aesop like he was its true master. Despite having just climaxed less than two minutes ago, you felt bloody close to the edge once more, and Aesop seemed hellbent on mercilessly shoving you over it again, lapping up at your fluttering entrance like a man starved.

Then however, as his fingers started to pump quicker inside you, making sure to hit that spot again and again, his mouth was forced to retreat, and he instead used it to suck at your lovebud instead. 

Another sudden and earth-shattering orgasm flooded over you in a truly ridiculously short amount of time, and now you were trembling all over, your thighs shaking nearly violently. You weren’t even aware of the surely whorish sounds you were producing, but your sweetheart obviously appreciated them, for you heard him growl: “That’s it, my sweet - sing for me…” 

This time he didn’t stop his ministrations even for a second as you came on his fingers and mouth a second time, and you remained a moaning, blubbering mess. You could feel a film of sweat covering your inflamed form, your own heart hammering in your ears louder that the bells of the Bell tower.

It was… It was actually becoming too much in the span of such a short time, and you were beginning to feel a bit dizzy from the unstopping pleasure, overstimulation setting in. Your dry throat burned from the sounds you made, and as yet another orgasm approached you, fast, intense, and feeling destructive, you knew that your limit would have been reached after that. 

So you gathered up all of your strength, all of the sense you were able to muster at the moment (which wasn’t a lot but it was hopefully enough for you to be able to say a single word), and you took several shallow breaths, fighting more moans that were bubbling in your throat.

“J- ah! J-Jobberknoll!” you managed to squeak out before another powerful burst of pleasure rolled through you and you cried out once more, the cloth over your eyes once again getting wet with your tears, the sensations too much.

Too much! Too much!

However, less than two seconds later, it all stopped entirely, the fingers retreating from your pulsing heat, the mouth ravishing your clit disappearing, and a pair of strong arms taking gentle hold of your hips instead. You shuddered out a soft sound of relief. 

One of those strong hands softly touched your face and caressed your cheek. “Are you alright, (F/N)?” Aesop asked, the concern in his voice winning over the obvious arousal, “did I hurt you?”

 It took you at least a minute but possibly even more to gather your wits about you, to catch a breath, to stop feeling like you were either going to faint right there or climax anyway despite no longer being stimulated. All the while, Aesop’s hand was stroking your cheek, the other holding your hip still, and the teacher daren’t move.

 “I-” you finally managed to grit out, your voice sounding foreign to your ears, shaky and hoarse, “N-no, you didn’t hurt me, b-but… it was becoming too much. I’m sorry…”

 You heard him click his tongue reproachfully: “What did I tell you about apologising for stopping me when you want me to stop?” You took another several seconds to reply: “... Not to.” 

“Exactly. If anything, I’m proud of you for having spoken up,” he said quietly, caressing your hair in praise. You opened your mouth a few times, and we're just about to ask for some water, when something cool touched your lower lip. You swiftly recognised it as the rim of a goblet, and eagerly opened your mouth further. Aesop carefully helped you take several large gulps of water, soothing your dry throat. Once you were done drinking, your lover put the goblet away again, probably where he found it in the first place, and again stroked your cheek.

Do you want to fully stop? It’s absolutely alright if you do,” he said then, his fingers tracing the features of your face with utmost gentleness. “N-no!” you replied, perhaps way too quickly, but completely sincerely, “No, no, I don’t want to stop, I just-... I just need a few minutes.” 

The professor’s body covered your own again, bringing on a beautiful sense of comfort. “You can have as much as you want, dearest… is it alright if I kiss you in the meantime?” he asked, and you could feel yourself melting a bit on the inside.

Yes, the older man very much was capable of turning into nothing less than a ravenous beast during your tender fun, but was completely ready to stop the very moment you showed any discomfort, and even ask permission for a kiss after he just made you come twice, face buried in your quim. 

“P-please,” you whispered only, raising your head a bit in a blind search of his lips. You didn’t have to search for very long at all, as the hot mouth covered your own in a kiss so gentle, it contrasted your previous passion beautifully. However, that doesn’t mean this kiss wasn’t passionate. 

After all, you could taste the proof of your own arousal and pleasure on his lips and tongue, and it was such a strangely heady sensation, you felt your core flutter again.

“Mhm…” your lover groaned between kisses, “can you taste how delicious you are? How amazing you smell? You are like bloody ambrosia to me, and I’ll never stop craving more. I could come just like that, just devouring you like so, forcing those sweet sounds out of you. Almost have, just now…” You proceeded to whimper into the next kiss, his words making the primal thing in you purr happily. 

“A-Aesop… I-... you can continue… please…” you whispered against his lips. You could feel him smile, his hands once more going to your hips and massaging them shortly. “Are you certain, (F/N)? We can wait a little more, if you need. Do you want more water?” he asked.

“N-no…” you replied, “no, I'm fine. Please, continue.”

He pulled back again then, and you could feel his engorged glans against your opening. You were already taking a deep breath, preparing for the penetration, when instead the teacher’s cock slid right along your seam and over your sweet spot, making you shudder in both pleasure and mild frustration. He repeated the motion several times, each one making you feel you’re about to go mad.

“You have to tell me what you want, my love,” your sweetheart whispered, his voice betraying the fact that he was barely restraining himself now too. You were already red as a salamander, but you still felt even more blood rush to your cheeks.

 “F-... Fuck me, Aesop!” You breathed out.

There was a few seconds of pregnant silence, but then the potions master chuckled gleefully: “Merlin’s beard, love… Words one could consider crude, but from your lips… Like a siren’s call… And your call is always my command.” 

However, before he could finally line up with the entrance into your warmth depths, you spoke up once more, a hint of embarrassment colouring your voice: “B-but wait! Can you… uh, can you please take the blindfold off? I need to see you…” 

Instead of laughing or refusing, Aesop gently caressed your cheek and moved his hands to remove the blindfold. “Of course, sweetheart. Let’s get this pesky thing off, shall we?”

Even though the room was quite dim, having spent long minutes in complete darkness, it took you some time to adjust to the light. You blinked repeatedly, your vision a little blurry, but soon your eyes focused on your lover. You couldn’t help the smile that bloomed on your face. Aesop too was smiling down at you, his eyes filled with both love and lust, pupils so dilated they made the teacher’s orbs look entirely black. His cheeks were reddened, and you could see the area around his lips glistening damply with the proof of your desire.

“You know,” he said gently, “I also prefer it when I can see you, see you fully, that is… I love looking into your eyes when you come for me…” 

Once more his hands took hold of your cheeks, and he dipped his head to give you another deep kiss. 

“Ready?” he asked, pushing a strand of your hair out of your eyes and across your sweat-slicked forehead. You beamed up at him, drunk on your pleasure and your love: “You take such good care of me, Aesop… Yes, I’m ready.”

The older man gave you another shiny grin and sat back on his heels. He grabbed his throbbing erection in his right hand, and gave himself several slow strokes, using his index and thumb to play with his foreskin, pulling it over his glistening glans halfway before pulling it back again, your eyes watching his every move and your womanhood fluttering in anticipation. 

“Of course, my love,” he said, “After all; you’re mine. I’ll always take the very best care of you. You can count on that… For now, however… For now I’m going to render you unable to count even to five.”

As much as you could, given your restricted position, you leaned over to watch him guide his prick to your dripping entrance. A sigh left your lips when he shifted forward and the dark pink tip sipped inside, the familiar stretch making you bite down on your lower lip. In a fluid motion, he thrust himself all the way inside, forcing another soft groan from your mouth. It was scary how addictive this feeling was, the feeling of complete fullness, of your bodies being this absolutely connected. You could feel the beat of his heart through his shaft within you, frantic like yours was. “Hmm…” Aesop sighed, his eyebrows rising in the pleasure of being completely enfolded within your plush heat, his voice soft. 

He stayed where he was for several moments, just enjoying the sensation and letting you adjust a little.

Effortlessly, he then lifted your lower body off the bed and placed his legs below your hips and bottom, making you sort of awkwardly sit in his lap while your upper body remained pretty much hanging by the hands secured to the bedposts. You were entirely in his control, unable to move at all. Not that you minded. 

His forehead made contact with your collarbone, and his arms curled around the small of your back, and he shallowly pumped his hips a few times, making the two of you produce soft sounds of pleasure. The rhythm he set was slow at first, the teacher’s mouth again closing around one of your nipples, your breast muffling his soft little grunts as he sheathed his cock within your core repeatedly. 

“Have I told you your breasts are the eighth world wonder, my sweetest?” he purred with a smile when he released the pebbled teat, once more red and sensitive from him rolling it between his teeth on the very verge of pleasure and pain. And while you were in the middle of another pleased sigh, you couldn’t help but chuckle at his words.

“Oh, Ace…,” you murmured, “I never knew how difficult it would be… Not b-being able to hold you…” Your eyes were partially closed as you enjoyed the sensations of him languidly fucking your tight little quim while worshipping your body. 

The professor smiled softly: “Would you like me to untie you?” You thought about it for a while, but ultimately decided to remain bound - after all, it was not every day you indulged in this kind of play, it’d be a shame to end it prematurely. 

“Mhm… no. No, it’s alright. I can tie you to the bed n-next time…” you whispered, moving your own hips as well as you could given the position, both of you searching for that one magical angle that made you cry out for him. “Now, that, ah…” Aesop groaned upon another thrust, “that’s an idea. Keen to leave me a moaning, trembling mess, are you?” Your eyes fluttered and your lips spread into a smile. “Y-you know how beautiful you are in that state?” you whispered, the image appearing in your mind’s eye. 

Aesop, completely dishevelled, blushing, sweating, whining in the pleasure you were bringing him. All the while being entirely at your mercy.

“Likewise, (F/N),” he growled slowly before suddenly snapping his hips roughly against your own, making you choke out a gasp, “which is why I intend to get you into that state right now .”

And then his pace quickened rapidly, and he finally found that spot that rendered you positively speechless. His fingertips dug into the flesh of your hips enough to leave small bruises there, and he began to ram into you in earnest. And, just like he promised, you were indeed soon reduced into a state of overwhelming pleasure, but this time you let it claim you fully and entirely, your hips quickly unable to keep up with his, and you could do little more than just lie/hang there and take it. 

The room was filled with the beautifully vulgar sounds of your bodies uniting, again and again, the noises of gratifications that poured from your open mouths, and the banging of the headboard against the wall behind it following Aesop's wild movements. You whined and writhed, your nails digging into your palms when they would normally be making small crescent moon shaped cuts in the skin of the teacher’s muscled back.

He leaned over suddenly, one of his hands curling around the headboard close to your right hand, while the other moved south. His thumb found your lovebud, and he began rolling it roughly in rhythm with his powerful thrusts.

The added sensation to the little pink pearl was like a summoning call to your previously snuffed out climax, and it began to return tenfold, your walls fluttering around the large cock, your entire form beginning to tremble under the delicious assault on your senses. Aesop’s other hand found your own where it was suspended at the bedpost.

“A-Aesop…” you barely managed to wine out, your grasp on the English language lessening rapidly. “I’m g-going to…” your head was thrown back, your eyes were rolling into the back of your head on their own accord, and you needed more.

“I-I’m… I’m close too,” he groaned and increased his pace even more, forcing more filthy noises pour out of your mouth at the dizzying feeling. And as you found yourself dancing upon that edge, your toes curling in on themselves, and the coil in your stomach tightening, Aesop suddenly pulled his hand away from where you were so intimately joined in order to wrap it around your throat. 

He wasn’t squeezing you very hard at all, just sort of pushing, lessening your oxygen supply. You trusted him, though, you trusted him to never hurt you, and right now he was making you feel so, so bloody good. 

The shortness of breath somehow made the chaotic flurry of sensations even stronger, and you gave a half-choked hoarse cry when you felt that knot inside finally explode into blinding white pleasure, one that made all of your muscles spasm. You felt that intoxicating feeling of soaring hot pleasure roll over you like a tidal wave. You let it consume you.

Your following sound turned into something of a sob, because of the sheer intensity. When you somehow managed to open your eyes, all you saw was Aesop, his face directly above yours, his eyebrows knitted and his eyes screwed shut. His mouth was opened, and a string of grunts was leaving it as he too found himself on the very verge.

With a muttered curse that had his voice rising half an octave, his eyes snapped open, and he looked directly at you. His gaze was both frightening and beautiful, he looked wild, like a primal being. He intended to take, and he was clearly past the point of all reason, chasing his pleasure within your contracting depths.

In a quick move, he pulled out, and used the hand he was gripping your neck with to roughly tug at his cock one, two, three times. A guttural growl that reminded you of a predatory animal reverberated through the room, and a hot rope of pearly white come spread over your stomach, followed by another one upon your ribs, reaching your breast even. He then proceeded to roughly thrust himself back into your quim, forcing a desperate whine from your mouth, and you felt more of his hot seed filling you in short bursts, igniting you from within.

Aesop’s forehead landed on your own, hot puffs of his breath landing on your damp lips, the hand that was holding your own tangling into your hair as he still pumped his hips slowly to ride out his orgasm.

You were perfectly marked by him, inside and out, claimed as his own again.

His strength gave a minute later, and he collapsed on top of you heavily, his breathing ragged and his heartbeat frantic.You gratefully accepted the weight and warmth of his body. Waves of gratification still rocked through you, and a sweet afterglow was settling in. 

You turned your head to the left, where Aesop’s face was still buried in the crook of your neck, and pressed several soft kisses against his bearded jaw, nuzzling against his scarred cheek with your nose. One of his hands was still stroking through your hair, damp with perspiration, while the other curled around your back, holding you close.

As you cooled down from your shared ecstasy, your lover finally lifted his head, but only to connect your lips in a satisfied, lazy kiss, the previous lust-crazed passion replaced by sweet tenderness. After several minutes of gentle kisses and soft words, he looked into your eyes. 

“Are you alright, sweetheart? I haven't hurt you, or squeezed you too hard?” the professor asked, his voice low with residue pleasure and slight fatigue. The hand in your hair went to gently stroke at your neck instead, checking for any damage he might’ve caused. You couldn’t do much else than beam back at him: “I’m alright, Aesop… Although I can’t really feel my hands.” Your smile got a little sheepish as you nodded in the direction of your hands, still tied to the bedposts by your and his neckties. 

“Ah,” Aesop hummed, “of course, dear, let me just-” and then, following a wave of his hand, the ties began unknotting themselves before simply sliding off your arms. You felt pins and needles in the limbs as you finally lowered them to rest on Aesop’s strong back, but couldn’t find it in yourself to care, just happy to be finally able to hold him.

You stayed like this for a few more minutes, just enjoying the intimate closeness, before Aesop finally moved to sit up on his heels again, his now soft member leaving your depths. Your lover murmured something under his breath as he looked down on your body and then on his own. And then he smiled: “I made a bit of a mess - I’m sorry dear.” 

His voice betrayed him though, he sounded everything but apologetic.

He was looking at you with a mix of smugness, possessiveness, a hint of renewed desire, and overwhelming love, as he observed the product of his pleasure clinging to both of your stomachs and dripping out of your core. You were blushing heavily, but didn’t feel uncomfortable at all. With a simple wave of his hand, the jug that stood upon the dresser poured water into the washbasin. Another wave, and it floated towards the bedside table, along with one of the soft looking cloths. 

Aesop’s elegant fingers curled around the textile, and brought it into the water. After squeezing out the excess liquid, he set to clean you. You were happy to find the water nicely warm, perfect for your tired, slightly sore body. Aesop very slowly and very carefully washed your torso, making sure to be extra gentle around the more sensitive areas like your tender nipples. He rinsed the cloth and continued lower. 

Many times, a quick Scourgify was enough to get both of you by, but it seemed Aesop was currently intent on prolonging the intimate atmosphere that settled between you, taking the sweet time to clean you up himself. 

Only after he was done with you did he finally use the washcloth on his own body, scrubbing the drying seed from the hair on his stomach and giving himself a quick wipedown. Once he was finally all done, he carelessly tossed the fabric into the basin and curled up next to you on the bed. He helped turn you on your side to face him, and pulled one of your legs over his hip. 

Soon thereafter, a very soft duvet slid upwards to cover your bodies and wrap them in its warmth. Your older lover then gently brought your wrists to his face and frowned momentarily: “If time comes when the two of us want to repeat this experience, I’ll get you some softer and finer restraints.” Your wrists were red where they were tied. “And I’ll get you some ointment for your wrists.”

You smiled at the professor. He was always so concerned for you, always making sure you were alright, even after he made you see stars and experience pleasures you wouldn’t have thought possible. 

“You do take such good care of me, Ace,” you repeated, drunk on your current state of comfort as well as the love you held for the incredible man who held you in his arms, blinking slowly, “but I think I quite want to keep my wrists as they are… As a… little reminder…”

A new wave of possessiveness flashed in his eyes for a second - you knew he adored seeing you embrace the marks he left on your body. You, after all, also loved to see the imprints of your fingernails clearly visible on the skin of his broad back, or the hint of the love bite you left just below his collar. It was clear the two of you had some sort of thing for marking the other as your own, as well as being marked. 

Your eyes closed on their own accord when his large, warm palms enveloped your face in their hold, and he sought your lips in a slow kiss. He helped you mould around his body in a way that was comfortable for both of you. 

“How long do you reckon we can stay here?” you asked softly, the fatigue that followed your most pleasurable love-making turning into outright sleepiness as you snuggled under the duvet. Your hands lazily stroked each other's bodies, your hair spread around your heads on the shared pillow. The moonlight from the artificial window got dimmer, and the flickering candles became the main light of the room, further deepening the intimate atmosphere. 

 Aesop hummed quietly: “I’m not expected anywhere. And I rather think your roommates no longer question your absence at night - after all, we planned to be together tonight anyway.” You huddled further into his warmth: “Good. I’m fairly certain I wouldn’t be able to walk back to your chambers right now anyway.” 

Your responses prompted a small chuckle out of the potions master: “I would’ve gladly carried you all the way back into my chambers, though I suspect the portraits and the ghosts would surely give us some curious looks.” You chuckled as well.

“It’s nearly surreal that in less than three weeks, there will be no more sneaking about… well, as successful as we were actually sneaking about anyway…” you continued, “if I finish my practical exams, that is.” The teacher only smiled at you, squeezing your waist: “You’ll be incredible. I know you will. And, I mean,” he pulled back to look at you, a grin on his face and a mischievous look in his eyes, “we can sneak about recreationally, if you so wish. However, I for one am quite looking forward to not having to do that, and instead be able to court you openly. If you’ll have me, that is.”

Another blush entered your face upon his sweet words: “Always, Aesop…”

“Still,” he spoke again after a while, “shame you’re such a responsible adult, going nearly straight to work following graduation - I would’ve hoped to have you all to myself for the summer. Though I of course realise you, uh, didn’t know whether there was even a possibility of a shared summer when you applied for and accepted the job. Still, if Miss Peck would be able to relieve you for, let’s say, a week… Well, we could go somewhere if you’d like. Devon, for example, is quite lovely this time of year.” 

As he spoke, the older man was fidgeting with your fingers, a hopeful undertone to his voice. You couldn’t help but smile warmly at him: “I think Ellie can miss me for one week, as long as I owl her about the matter in a timely manner… What can you tell me about Devon?”

Aesop’s grin could light up the entire Great Hall, and it certainly made a whole kaleidoscope of butterflies flutter around your stomach, as he turned to lean over you a bit: “Oh, let me tell you…”

Hello, and thank you very much for reading. I hope you enjoyed this dirty little story. As always, you can also check this story as well as all of my other stories over at AO3. I adore feedback! ❤

[sunlightmurdock]

i'm always thinking of being bradley's inexperienced controversially young girlfriend who also happens to be mav's daughter

got a lil carried away with this one bc it’s almost 2k words oops… warnings for obviously unspecified age gap, and dumbification a lil bit. Tried to keep this race inclusive despite dad Mav

I am pushing the deadbeat dad Mav agenda hard rn ,,, sorry Mav. So we all know Bradley had his issues with Mav, I’m gonna say that Bradley cut him off at around eighteen and didn’t really come back into contact with him until the events of TG:M, when he’s around 33/4. And we all know that Mav was a bit of a heartbreaker.

So, I’m going to say that it’s a while after Bradley cuts off Maverick that one of Mav’s exes comes to him and let’s him know that he has a daughter. He tries, but your relationship with him is consistently strained. You’re a lot like him and that scares him, he tries to control you and you hate that. He missed out on a lot in those years before he knew you, too.

You see him occasionally, less than frequently, through your adolescence and into early adulthood. You know all about Goose, and Goose’s son — your mother filled you in. You hadn’t ever really taken much time to think about the cute little blonde toddler dangling off of your father’s arm in of those photos from the eighties, and who he would be now. Truthfully, your intentions are as innocent as can be when you’re lounging on that beach and picking up a football that was kicked in your direction. There was no way you could’ve known who the tall, handsome brunette towering over you and asking if he knew you from somewhere was.

Sure, once you’d noticed that he was an aviator, maybe that should have put you off a little bit — but growing up this close to Miramar, if you struck off every guy in the Navy, you’d be single forever. And Rooster, the name he had given you, was a dream.

From that first day, inviting you and your friends to join his at their little bonfire on the beach, you had been hooked. Pretty brown eyes and a smile that made you want to melt, he drew you in and left the rest up to you. Inviting you to that bonfire, sitting at your side, acting like he was the perfect gentleman. Letting you do the work, prove that you wanted him.

And you had. Giggling at something that would soon spin into a full-blown inside joke between the two of you, you touched him for the first time. Just you palm, skimming briefly across his knee as you leaned into him, laughing.

Then, your arm looping around his as you shifted closer to keep warm. He chides you about not dressing appropriately for the late April weather, you remind him of his age. He smiles, hearing old man roll off your tongue, knowing that it’s anything but an insult coming from your mouth.

He doesn’t kiss you in front of his friends. You ask him to walk you home, already knowing that he will, since he’s such a gentleman. You weren’t planning on staying out that night, the t-shirt you had brought to wear over your swimsuit does nothing to protect you from that evening chill. But his arm does, when he’s got it draped around your shoulders, cuddling you into his side as you walk.

He’s bigger, far warmer, than you are. He tells you about his adventures as he walks you home. At your door, you both know that this isn’t going to be a kiss on the cheek goodbye. Still, he plays your game like it will be. His giant hand eclipsing the nape of your neck, pulling you into him so that he can kiss you. Up close, your head tips almost all the way back as he lips touch slowly against yours. Brief, disarmingly tender.

And then he pulls back, and he’s staring at you with those big, brown eyes and the freckles on his nose and those forming smile lines. You really can’t take any of the blame for the decisions you make when he’s staring at you like that.

You press forwards and kiss him again, harder than he had kissed you. If it had been anyone else, he might have been knocked back by your enthusiastic kiss, but he isn’t. He’s steady, grabbing your hips and walking back until you’re hitting your front door. Your heart’s beating a million times a minute and you’re willing yourself not to get in your head about this.

He lets you lead him through into your bedroom, your fingers knitted between his as you guide him along. Your buzz wearing off, he feels your confidence starting to falter as his hands are pushing up and under that thin t-shirt.

His voice feels like silk, making you close your eyes and hum eagerly in agreement as he asks if you’ll let him see you. Your experience doesn’t match his, that’s clear, but you don’t feel left behind. Even though it’s far from slow, he keeps you with him, setting the pace and making sure that you can keep up. He pulls you out of the bikini you had worn to the beach, working his warm mouth over each inch of newly uncovered skin.

You’ve had guys go down on you before, this isn’t the first time. You expect it to go as it always does: a few seconds of eager lapping at a spot vaguely close to your clit, and then him to pull back and start pushing down his shorts. As it turns out, you’re not as experienced as you had thought. Not when it comes to the things that Bradley can show you.

He presses two, thick fingers over your core and guides your excitement upwards, working them in slow, methodical circles around your core. God, pilots and their fucking steady hands. You’ve got Bradley moaning into your soaked cunt, his cock straining so hard against his shorts that he thinks for a second he might cum in them like some teenager.

Your thighs bracketing his ears, his fingers pressing hard into the soft flesh of your stomach as he holds you down to the mattress. You’re so sensitive, more fidgety than he’s used to — you can tell that he likes this.

He’s been thinking about this since he saw you laying in the sand, talking to your friends with that pretty little smile on your face. He groans as you jolt against his firm, wet tongue, pressing his fingers into you up to the knuckle. Your slick walls take the two digits perfectly, your back arching away from your sheets, rolling your hips down onto his tongue.

You’ll be embarrassed about that later, when he’s trailing his fingers along your bare stomach and he’s grinning, reminding you how you had chanted his name. It’s something that, with Rooster, you quickly learn not to be embarrassed about. He adores it when you do that.

Bradley sits back on his knees and pops open the button to his shorts, dragging the zipper down slowly, his muscled chest heaving. Kneeling over you like that, just watching you come down from clearly the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had, he’s pleased with himself. And you, so eager and willing, are propping yourself up like you’re ready for more.

He cards a hand gently over the top of your hair, precise in his ability not to catch his fingers or tug at your texture, just caressing the back of your head as you sit up and kiss feverishly across his toned stomach.

You nose at the almost blonde trail of hair below his navel, following him as he pushes the band of his shorts down just enough to let his cock spring free. It sits in front of your chin as you look up at him and swallow.

“Another time.” He decides, giving the nape of your neck a quick squeeze with an amused smile on his lips.

Then, he’s pulling you under him, your hands are in his hair and your legs are hooked around his waist. He’s grinding the tip of his cock back and forth over your overstimulated core, gripping your jaw and sucking at your neck.

You whimper softly when he finally decides to give you what you’ve been begging him for, the tip of his cock pressing into you, his mouth trailing your jaw. The stretch is there, but it’s not a feeling of discomfort— just a brief need for pause — you barely notice it when he’s squeezing at your tits and telling you that you’re taking him so well.

Grabbing onto his thick shoulders, pressing your heel into the small of his back, lifting your head to try to kiss his plush lips.

He fucks you hard from the moment that you’ve eased into it, pounding into you until you’re too dumb to even beg him to keep going. But, he’s so tender about it. Groaning like he’s got some sympathy for how dumb he’s making you, kissing you softly while his hand’s knotted into your hair and tugging at your roots.

And he doesn’t leave right after, either, he kisses your cheeks, your chest until your head finally stops spinning long enough for you to laugh and swat him away.

“So, when am I seeing you again?” He asks, squeezing those big palms of his around your hips, still nestled between your legs even now that he’s back in his boxers. You should be shy, with the wolfish way that his gaze will drop occasionally to rake over your naked body. But you aren’t. You want him to keep looking.

“Mm, I have to meet my dad for something tomorrow,” You give a small shrug and glance behind you to see what you’re lying uncomfortably back against. Bradley’s lips quirk as you tug the stuffed rabbit from behind you and hug it to your chest. “I’m free after seven.”

He leans down, squashing the rabbit between your chest and his to kiss your lips. “How about you come over to my place and I’ll fuck you in a bed without so many guests in it?”

Your cheeks burn at his acknowledgment of the couple of stuffed animals you’ve got dotted around, but you grin and nod anyway.

“You want me to pick you up?” Bradley offers, kneading at the flesh of your thighs with his warm hands, kissing you slowly again.

“Mm, no,” You give a quick shake of your head and press your foot into his thigh, “My dad would probably just interrogate you. I’ll drive.”

Bradley chuckes, handsome in the warm glow of your bedside lamp as he slides his hands down and squeezes at your ankles. “Well, sure. He’s gotta make sure you’re safe.”

“Mhm,” You nod your head slowly, sitting up and hooking your legs over his hips, crawling into his lap. Your arms drape around his thick shoulders. “I don’t think he’d like the thought of me and you together very much.”

Both of you unknowing, Bradley just chuckles and turns his face in towards the crook of your neck to leave you with a kiss.

anyway how long do we think the two of you make it before Maverick finds out?

[modelbus]

I've been in the worst writing slump... so I've defaulted to Kaz Brekker (oops). This didn't get as far as I wanted it to, but it's about 2k words!

Be warned: This contains death (murder), kidnapping, violence, skin trading, mentioned sex work, human trafficking (called "the skin trade" in here), weaponry, and I think that's it!

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Gn!Reader

Tricked Target

Time is as good as the kruge in your pockets in the Barrel. You know this well, considering you have little of both; money and time. Or perhaps you have too much time. It simply depends on how one sees it, you suppose.

Someone might take you pouring over papers on a desk as a waste of time. See the mahogany wood, stained dark, and curl their lips as the sheer money it must've taken to buy.

Someone else might realize this isn't your office, isn't your desk, and keep their mouth shut.

Tonight, that happens to be an unfortunate man named Zade Oren. Tied in his leather chair, black ropes expertly woven, a gag stuffed in his mouth, and both Achilles slashed for good measure, he learned his lesson.

Don't piss you off.

And although he isn't technically keeping his mouth shut of his own free will, it still technically counts. You give him the slightest of glances, just enough to monitor the tears dripping down his face from wide eyes, before returning to the papers you're rifling through.

"This would be easier if you had just cooperated." You muse aloud, flicking through a ledger before abandoning it. "But you guys never do."

He makes a pathetic sort of whimpering that makes you grin.

You aren't a bad person. After all, you only enjoy the blood on your hands when it's from the right person. The type of person you have at your mercy right now, for example. If anything, you're as close to good as it gets in the barrel. A type of vigilante, rather than one of the profit-seeking groups.

Dime Lions, Black Tips, Razorgulls, The Liddies, Harley's Pointers. Now those are some bad organizations. You're still on the fence about The Dregs; you've seen them do as much good as they have bad. Mostly due to the smaller organization within them. Or maybe the Crows aren't part of the Dregs anymore; you don't care. They're not of interest to you.

"Ah. Here we go." You hum, finding a record of a transaction. Zade gives a feeble cry. Useless, these men who beg for their lives. As if you'll ever give them back.

The transaction seems harmless enough. Four pearls for a sum of money. A sum far too large to be worth even some really fucking nice pearls. And, most importantly, names of the buyer and seller. Your eyes ghost over Zade's name as the buyer, focusing on the seller's name instead.

Then, you crumple up the paper and stuffs it in your pocket.

Pearls. What a stupid code name. The sellers determine it, and they're never very creative with code names. Always something valuable, never something believable.

All it takes is one person (you, in this case) to see what it really means.

Kids.

"I should be going, I think." You finally say, straightening. "Don't worry, don't worry. No more people need to get hurt anymore."

Zade slumps in relief, and you let a wicked grin stretch over your face.

"Oh, no, you've misunderstood. No people will be harmed by me tonight. But you're not really a person, are you?" Your head tilts, watching the panic wash over his features.

Like a cat toying with a mouse, you are. It's just so amusing though, to witness the fear. To let them experience what they've instilled in so many others. That despair? It's precious.

Your knife is sinking into his chest before he can protest any more. Pushing past the hard bone, sinking into his heart with a sick squelch. By the time you pull it out, he's already dead.

"Fool." You sigh, leaving him there and striding over to the window. Let his guards find him later, you don't care.

And when you hoist yourself out the window, scaling onto the roof, the office is almost as you found it. Only his dead body and a note to proclaim the kill as justified.

It reads the same as always: Hurt a kid and I'll hurt you next.

The Avenger is the name people like to call you. Or the rumors of you. Most of Ketterdam has the wrong ideas about you, but you aren't fixing to correct them. False assumptions only make your job far easier.

Honestly, you'd rather be called a protector. But avenger works just as fine. It gets the point across.

A shiver runs up your spine when you're standing on the rooftop, but a cursory glance around shows nobody. You didn't expect it to, but still. The feeling of eyes following you has only gotten stronger recently, but seeing as nobody has attempted to kill you yet you assume it's fine.

Some people are just too curious for their own good and like being spies. As long as they aren't fucking up your plans, you really don't care. Honestly. The feeling of eyes is perfectly fine with you.

"You could say hi. I don't bite." You murmur into the still air, but to no avail.

The feeling doesn't leave as you head back to your home, a dingy apartment near a lot of the gambling dens. It's rented from a landlord who couldn't give less of a shit—she's never met the guy—which was perfect for you. And the place was cheap, which was a big bonus. Not that you were hurting for money, because you had no problems about stealing from those you killed, but you preferred to use it for better things.

Like buying new knives.

Dropping back down to the alleys, your feet hit the cobbles without a single sound. Subtlety was an art form, one everyone had to perfect in the barrel. Unless they were rich enough to get away without it, but you were not. Sadly.

There's footsteps behind her, and you turn to glare at the stranger. Give them a silent warning to mind their own fucking business.

Luck is not on your side today though, because they lunge at you with outstretched hands and a knife. You dodge, slamming your body into a wall to avoid the attack, hands scrambling for your own daggers.

The attacker is big, an ugly snarl stretched out across his mug, a beard covering half his face. Professional, if you had to guess, and definitely after you. Oh, joy.

This time, you don't give him the opening he wants. You dart forward, metal gleaming, knowing that the only way to walk away is to remove the obstacle in your path. In other words: kill him.

You both scramble, your knife digging into his forearm due to a nicely executed move on his part, but you abandon it in his arm to stab at him with another. A hand on your arm, metal meeting metal, it's a raw fight. Evenly matched.

But you must be off, must be mentally occupied, because you don't hear the footsteps behind you until it's too late. It's not until something slams into your head, sending you staggering with black spots, do you realize someone else is here.

"And that's meant to be the Avenger?" The person behind you scoffs.

"They put up a pretty good fight before you came in." Burly guy answers, stepping toward you.

His shoes are the last thing you see before your eyes roll back.

-

There's a hood over your head.

When you blinks your eyes open, you're met with complete and utter darkness. Although you want to panic—desperately—you don't. You can feel the ropes tying you to some type of chair, your wrists pulled together behind the back of it and your ankles tied to the legs of the chair.

Panicking now wouldn't do anything for you, so you just sit in silence.

But you're frustrated. So frustrated that you let your guard drop, that you've gotten yourself into this situation. You refuse to be another Mar, refuses to be the second Avenger that befalls the fate they tried to prevent.

"Makes sense now why he's wanting 'em." Someone is saying, and you try to subtly tilt your head to listen in. "He's always collecting 'em dangerous skinny ones."

"Putting together his own little menagerie." A second voice joins in, laughing.

The words have you tensing, against all instincts. Are they selling you to the menagerie?

Everyone knows what the menagerie is. Girls, tricked into sex work—and sometimes men—and people all too willing to take advantage of them. One of the things you worked against, and, subsequently, one of your worst nightmares.

"Serves this one right. Sardonic, isn't it?"

"You mean ironic?"

"What the difference?"

Oh, saints. You haven't just been kidnapped, but you've been kidnapped by idiots.

"Both of you stop. He'll be here soon." And that's a third voice. Only two people grabbed you, and you're willing to bet this third is the boss.

You don't recognize the voice, but you haven't exactly heard the voices of many people that are high in the chain in the Barrel. Not unless it's them begging for life, and you never hear from them again after.

But now you know for certain that they won't be sending you to the actual menagerie at least. The double confirmation is nice, even if the unknown is a whole other worry.

A door opens somewhere, and there's an abrupt rush of footsteps.

"You're early!" Probably boss guy shouts way too loudly. "The Avenger is all ready for you, but still knocked out."

"How long ago did you grab them?" Oh, that's a new voice. Faintly familiar, although you can't tell from where.

It's been a long time since you've felt so helpless. Like things were out of your carefully measured control. Not since you came home to an empty apartment, a person missing from it.

"A few hours." Probably boss answers. You don't need your eyes to know he's leering at you.

"...and how hard did you hit? Saints."

"They're alive, ain't they? Pay up."

"How much did we agree on again?" A cool voice asks, and your head jerks up. You know that voice, you've stalked the owner of that voice.

Kaz Brekker.

"Oh, look at that. It lives." Probably boss laughs cruelly, and you attempt a glare at him through the hood. "And you know how much we agreed on. Hand it over, Brekker."

And there's your confirmation. Your didn't just imagine it; Kaz Brekker is buying you. Why? You've never interfered with his dealings. In fact, after confirming he isn't into the skin deal, you actively stayed out of his business. You definitely didn't need more enemies than you already have.

The sound of Kruge being exchanged, followed by gleeful exclamations, makes you grit your teeth. If Brekker wants a shot at you, he'll have to do a lot more than pay some money.

"Get out." Brekker says after a moment, cutting the guys who kidnapped you off.

"This is our-"

"Get. Out."

Nobody makes him repeat it a third time, as is evidenced by the sound of footsteps fading away.

He's bossy, but he has the power to be. The cool indifference in his tone, the brilliant business plays he's made. Scrappy, like you, but far more powerful. There's a raw hunger in him you don't have; that nobody but him has.

It's scary as hell.

"Untie them."

There's movement around you, and then the hood is yanked off. You squint, blinking a few times, before focusing on the irritatingly put-together man in front of you. Although looking roughly the same age as you, the Barrel makes anyone be adults far too fast.

Brekker stares down at you, gloved hands clasped onto his cane. Behind him, a Suli girl hovers. Inej, his wraith. A spy, as far as anyone knows. Not an assassin. So that means whoever is working on untying you is Jesper.

"You're in quite the situation." He notes dully, but there's a wicked gleam in his eyes.

It only makes you glare harder. "Thanks, I'm aware."

The rope around your wrists falls away and you bring your hands to your lap, but don't move to untie your ankles. There's a sharpshooter behind you and a girl with knives in front of you; You aren't completely stupid. And that's not to mention the damage you know Brekker can do too.

"I have a deal for you." Brekker says after a moment, taking a step forward. He switches his crow-headed cane to his left hand, holding out his right for a handshake.

You don't take it. "What's the deal?"

"I don't think you're in a position to be asking questions."

"What's. The. Deal?"

"Perhaps I didn't make it clear. Take the deal right now, or we'll dump your body in the harbor to drown."

Well. That's not a lot of options. Everyone knows to negotiate all terms of a deal before accepting, but what choice do you have? He's brilliant for this move, and you hate him for it. Saving your life, buying you, just to force you into a deal to live.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, reason why this is such a horrible idea, you're shaking his hand. 

"Screw you." You spit out, life-saving be damned. Your grip tightens, just to spite him. Although his lips tug down, he doesn't pull away.

His reply is passive.

"Welcome to the crows."

[ughgoaway]

we went to winter wonderland // day 2

content warnings; swearing maybe? I think that's it??

a/n; day 2!!! I have only been to Winter Wonderland like once, so if this is inaccurate... oops! but I did have a good time despite it being a bit shit, which is how I felt writing this fic too lol. also I did use a quote in here I saw online, but I can not for the life of me find who wrote it, as soon as I do, I will edit this and credit them!!! <3

word count; 2k

(this fic takes place pre-relationship)

12 days masterlist

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“Alexa! Play Daddy's song!!” Matty hears his daughter shouting at the Alexa from the kitchen. He smirks to himself once he understands what she means.

Matty was careful what songs he showed Annie, knowing she was at the age of endless questions, and he didn't exactly feel like explaining the intricacies of some of his songs. 

But last week, Matty had to run into a meeting and left Annie in the studio with Ross and George. As they sat there and planned the setlist, any time Annie heard the title of a song she didn't know, she would pipe up and say, “What does that one sound like?” and either George or Ross would play a small bit of the song. When Me and You Together song was brought up, they thought it was about as harmless as 75 songs can get, so they played the whole song for her.

They watched her eyes light up as the song played, and by the end, she was dancing around the room with them both and singing along, but once it stopped, she asked for it again. And again. And again. Now it was a week later, and Matty was sick of the sound of his own voice, which is not something he thought was possible.

As Matty strolls into the front room to see Annie looking grumpy at the Alexa for not understanding her request, he scoops her up and sits on the sofa with her on his lap. She shrieks as he picks her up and crosses her arms over her chest once she's sat down. 

“Annie, sweetheart, im so glad you like my song, but im not sure we need to listen to it again,” Matty says gently, trying not to upset his daughter. Annie huffs in his lap and immediately pouts, and it almost breaks him. But he manages to stay strong. 

“Why don't we do something else instead, hmm? You could show me some of your new toys? We can even play Barbies if you like?” Matty says, trying to bargain with Annie. He wasn't very good at the whole discipline side of parenting. But how could he be when Annie gives him those puppy dog eyes and a shaky bottom lip?

But before either of those comes out, her face lights up with an idea, and Matty knows that doesn't bode well. “Okay, we can stop listening to my most favourite song if we can go to Winter Wonderland like it says!!” Annie says, stressing most favourite in an attempt to guilt trip her dad, and it works.

They had gone to Winter Wonderland last year, and Annie had the time of her life. Some of the kiddy rides made Matty feel his age though, and after a 3rd go on the teacups, he had to sit stationary for a good 15 minutes. Despite that, that day was one of Matty's favourite days with Annie, seeing her face brighten at the rides and all the people, watching her sit on Santa's lap and ask him for a new dog, “my doggy mayhem needs a friend!!” but nothing compared to their trip on the Ferris wheel. 

Watching the skyline of London reflect in her eyes was a sight Matty would never forget, her giddiness as she tried to spot their house (she insisted she found it, and who is Matty to disagree?) and the different colours of light slide over her ecstatic face. The purple and pink lights shining in her wide eyes as she stared at the people below giggling was the highlight of his Christmas. 

Annie sat on his lap as they went down on the wheel, and before they even reached the bottom, she was fast asleep in his arms. Watching her eyes flutter on the train home made Matty's heart swell in a new way. He didn't think he could love something this much.

So when she asked, Matty couldn't help but nod his head and get attacked with hugs and squeals.

////////////////////

The sun had gone down about 20 minutes ago, and Annie was determined it was now time to go on the Ferris wheel, “I need to see all the pretty lights, Daddy!” she says, dragging Matty over to the queue.

Matty laughed and followed behind her. A giant stuffed bear obstructed his view slightly, but he blindly trusted Annie's directions. After a long day of rides and fairground games, Matty wouldn't mind a gentle spin around the Ferris wheel.

Little did he know you were thinking the exact same thing, only a few people ahead of him in the queue. 

You hadn't planned to go to Winter Wonderland that day, not even thinking about it before you were in central London. But on the tube, you saw a poster and suddenly felt drawn to it. The hustle and bustle of people and the decorations were sure to make you feel a bit less shit. 

You couldn't go to Christmas at home this year, not being able to travel due to severe weather warnings, so you went up to your mum's house a few weeks before for an early Christmas dinner. It sounded like a good idea at the time, but how wrong you were.

The whole family was invited, and you were inundated with questions about a significant other, “Oh do you have a boyfriend yet love?”

And then, having to cope with the sad eyes and the pity after you say no, “Oh don't worry, sweetheart. It'll happen for you eventually.” 

They all said the same thing, pity followed by an attempted set-up, “Actually… if you're still single, there's a lovely young man I work with that would be perfect for you!” 

And thus the spiel began, describing a man who you're sure is nice enough but definitely wasn't perfect for you. Even if he was, you couldn't date right now anyway. You were well and truly stuck on Matty.

You can't think of anyone else. Your head is full of him. Your heart is full of him. You think of him when you wake up, what he's doing right now. Whether he's making breakfast for Annie, or maybe if he's at the studio already. Throughout the day, small things remind you of him. The guitar that sits in the corner of your room, an abandoned attempt at a hobby, now sat as nothing but a reminder of the man you were violently in love with. You turned on the radio each day to distract yourself, but now something as basic as music has you yearning for him. One day, as you were getting ready to go out, one of his songs came on, and you froze on the spot. You didn't end up going out that day. You stayed home and ached over a man who you could never have. 

The worst time was at night. You lay in bed staring at the ceiling, the ticking of the clock teasing you. Reminding you that each minute you don't sleep translates to an hour of grumpiness tomorrow morning. But you couldn't help it. Your mind was swimming in him. You thought of lying in bed together, chatting, and giggling. And falling asleep in his arms. You'd be able to listen to his heartbeat rather than the tick tok of that fucking clock.

So you lie, you say to your aunts, “Oh I don't need romance! Im perfectly happy.” But you say you don't need love like a woman on a diet says she doesn't want dessert, you long for it but you don't think you deserve it. 

To try and distract yourself, you dragged yourself out of bed and into central London. The poster convinced you, and soon enough, you were standing in front of Hyde Park with a ticket booked. 

For a solo adult, you had a pretty fun day, going around to all the stalls and buying unnecessary treats for you and your loved ones. You ate some overpriced food and went on a few rides. But you were waiting until the sun had set for your favourite activity, the Ferris wheel. 

You get loaded onto a carriage, and you hear the ride operator ushering more people on saying, “There's only one in here so you two can join her, okay?” You keep focused on the view outside, not too worried about who you're going to be spending the trip around with.

That was until the door shut, and you heard a breathy voice say, “Hi.” 

Why do you recognise that voice? Oh- OH. you turn, and you're met with the same pair of eyes that run through your mind all night, the same eyes that seem to follow you wherever you go.

A few hard blinks later, you assure yourself you're not dreaming, that is Matty Healy standing in front of you with a bear almost the same size as his daughter.

Speaking of his daughter, you catch her in your arms moments later, Annie had thrown herself in to hug you; clearly over the moon with your presence.

“Well hi guys!” You say, somehow managing to keep your voice even, “So nice to see you both” Your eyes flick from Annie's up to Matty, who simply nods, dumbfounded. 

You make a slightly awkward conversation with the two of them, both you and Matty reeling from the surprise encounter. But Annie wasn't phased, easily recounting her whole day to you and laughing when she detailed how ill Matty got on the teacups. 

“In my defence,” Matty says, already smiling at your poorly suppressed giggles, “they spin really fast, okay! Im getting too old for teacups,” he says with a flick of his hand.

Just as you say, “No!” Annie says, “Yes! Too olddddd” dragging out the last letter. All of you burst out laughing, Matty gives Annie a pinch and calls her cheeky.

Once you reached the top, you, Matty, and Annie all quieted down and stared out at the view, all immersed in the London skyline sparkling back at you. Annie stood below you with her face pressed into the window as you and Matty had a quiet conversation. 

“I always wait until it's dark to come up here, I love the lights too much to come up during the day” you whisper to Matty.

You don't turn your head to face him until the silence is too much, and you almost jump when you see him already looking at you. 

But all Matty wanted to do was look at you. The way the lights glittered in your eyes, your smile as they flicked over the view. The way you squinted and leaned in closer, trying to figure out what landmark you were looking at. He especially loved the way your hand was subconsciously stroking Annie's back the whole time. 

He felt like a real fucking family. And god, it hurt. 

Nevertheless, he couldn't stop staring at you, willing to endure any pain if it meant he could continue living in this delusion he had created. 

Any beautiful view was lost on the two of you now, just staring at each other with dopey smiles on your faces. Tracing each feature with your eyes, desperate to memorise this. To live it over and over again. 

Annie tugged at her dad's leg, and that finally pulled his attention back. You were nearly at the bottom of the wheel, and Annie's eyes were heavy with sleep. She rubbed at her face with closed fists and then stuck her arms up. Matty immediately scooped her up and held her close, letting her eyes shut and resting her head on his shoulder. She was falling asleep in a matter of seconds.

Neither of you spoke on the small remainder of the journey, not wanting to wake her up. But as he walked off trying to balance both Annie and the bear, Matty gave you a small smile and a wave. You did the same and walked in the opposite direction.

That night, it wasn't just you staring at your ceiling. Matty was up until 3 am watching the moonlight dance and fantasising about the life he had for 10 minutes. A life with you.

[geekgirl-1717]

ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ᴀ ᴍᴏɴꜱᴛᴇʀ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴍᴇ!

ᴋᴀꜰᴋᴀ ʜɪʙɪɴᴏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

+18 CONTENT/NSFW. MDNI

Tags: AFAB + implied fem! reader, kinda monster-fucking ? kafka does a very partial transformation into kaiju form, oral (f! receiving), tongue-fucking, squirting, overstimulation, kafka is a little bit of a soft dom, mentions of oral (m! receiving), 2nd person, no use of (y/n). banner is from @roseschoices !

oh shit sorry guys my hands slipped I accidentally wrote 2k+ words of lowkey monster-fucker smut oops

it felt like hours since kafka had first settled himself between your thighs, dragging orgasm after orgasm out of you with his sweet yet sinful tongue. during times like this, you were convinced kafka ate you out for his pleasure just as much as yours.

by this point, you were teetering on the edge of consciousness. the pleasure was immense, just shy of overwhelming, but you felt like you were floating all the same.

kafka’s voice brought you back down to earth.

“do you trust me?"

those words were mumbled into your skin, his hot breath tickling your bare thighs. your head was filled with cotton, hazy and nearly spent from the pleasure kafka had been lavishing you with. but even in your pleasure-drunken state, you instinctually nodded. you knew you could always trust kafka, and right now was no different.

kafka gave you a beaming smile before directing his attention back to your dripping pussy. you let your head fall back against the pillows, reaching down to gently thread your fingers through kafka’s hair as you anticipated the return of his gentle ministrations.

you nearly yanked a chunk of his locks from his poor head, however, when a foreign yet overwhelmingly pleasurable sensation penetrated your core. it was soft and wet, yet too impossibly long to be his tongue, brushing against spots deep within you that even your own fingers could never reach.

“kafka- oh god. fuck. what’re you- ohhh fuck.”

you could hardly think straight, much less speak. with tremendous effort, you lifted your gaze enough to see whatever kafka was doing between your legs. you looked just in time to see it was a tongue, thick and probing and definitely not human, slithering back into kafka’s mouth. a set of sharp teeth now extended up his cheeks almost to his ears. you’d seen him like this a few times, when he would accidentally leave behind traces of his kaiju form before he gained better control over his ability.

although this time, it certainly wasn’t an accident.

kafka was fixing you with an almost bashful look. despite now having a visage that most would deem terrifying, you found it endearing.

“is this- uh. is this… okay?”

his voice came out deep and raspy, sending a shockwave of arousal up your spine. if you felt like your head was spinning before, you were absolutely reeling now. it was all a bit sudden, but you would be lying if you said it didn’t stir something deep within you.

“y-yeah, you can keep going, baby.”

kafka appeared relieved, before a look of determination crossed his face.

“i’ll be gentle, sweetheart. i promise.”

you knew he would be. he always was. his caring nature shone through in every facet of his life, but he was especially so gentle with you during sex, caressing your body as though it were made of glass and stopping immediately at the slightest hint of discomfort.

he started by softly running his tongue up and down the length of your folds, as if to test the waters. his tongue then trailed its way up to your clit, prodding and curling around the sensitive bud. the pleasure was immense, even from such a simple ministration, and it caused your hips to twitch involuntarily.

kafka pulled away immediately, causing you to let out a soft whine. he caressed your thighs in a soothing manner, that gravely voice reaching your ears once again.

“was that alright? are you still okay with this?”

you had to stop yourself from groaning in frustration. you knew this was just kafka’s nature, his way of ensuring your comfort and well-being, but god did you wish he would stop holding himself back in moments like this.

“please, please don’t stop. i-i’ll tell you if ‘s too much but please- just keep going.”

you were sure you sounded pathetic, begging and pleading when he’d barely done anything to you, but you couldn’t handle kafka’s unintentional teasing for much longer.

kafka tensed momentarily, but steeled himself before returning to the task at hand.

little did you know, kafka had been having very similar thoughts as yours. he would never even dream of hurting you in any way, but he would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t want to let loose sometimes, allowing his lust and devotion for you to fully consume his thoughts and actions.

maybe it was something to do with his monstrous transformation, albeit partial, but he was finding it more and more difficult to restrain himself. his senses were heightened. your smell, your sweet moans and whines, all of it was driving him crazy.

kafka’s hands came up to wrap around your legs, pulling you closer to his eager mouth. that enormous tongue lolled out of his mouth again, slurping through your folds with more fervor. he was able to use the flat of his long tongue to grind against your clit while the tip snaked down to tease at your entrance.

“shit! so good- so good. don’t stop.”

your hand found its way back into his hair, using it as an anchor to keep yourself grounded through the mind-numbing pleasure. you were going to end up giving this poor man a bald spot with how hard you had been gripping the strands, but kafka hardly seemed to care. your words of praise combined with the tinge of pain from your tugging made him let out what you could only call a growl, a deep and primal noise that reverberated through your core.

his tongue moved down lower, focusing its attention solely on your dripping hole. you were already soaked from your previous orgasms, but he continued lapping up your slick like a man starved. your hips jerked and twitched wildly, something kafka didn’t seem to like.

he curled his arms around the backs of your thighs, solidly holding you in place. he let out another toe-curling growl before speaking in that sinfully raspy voice.

“stop squirming.”

it was such a simple command, one he only intended to give so he wouldn’t accidentally scratch you with his fangs, but it sent a white-hot rush of pleasure between your legs. you could only whine in response, reaching your free hand up behind your head to tangle in the sheets. you forced yourself to remain still, tilting your gaze up to fix kafka with a pleading look.

kafka couldn’t quite smile, but you could see the satisfaction in his eyes as he squeezed the fat of your thighs.

“atta girl.”

you hardly had time to process his words before he was absolutely devouring you.

his tongue plunged into your needy hole, stroking and pressing against your walls. the tip brushed gently against your cervix, and you felt your eyes roll back at the sensation. kafka’s strong grip on your thighs ensured you remained open and pliant for him, leaving you no choice but to lay back and take everything he was giving you.

he began thrusting his tongue in and out of you, essentially fucking you with the monstrous organ. it was hot and wet and unlike anything you’d ever felt before, a pleasure that no one else but him could deliver.

your moans and whimpers reverberated off the walls. you were too far gone to worry about keeping quiet, and kafka was reveling in each and every noise. by this point, he was thoroughly drunk off your taste, your heady scent, your cries of ecstasy. he began grinding his throbbing cock into the mattress, chasing his pleasure as rapidly as he was delivering yours.

you shrieked as kafka suddenly yanked you impossibly closer, burying his face in your heat. his sharp fangs brushed against your clit and the soft skin of your inner thighs, adding yet another dizzying sensation. all the while, kafka continued to fuck you on his tongue, prodding against spots that had the coil in the pit of your stomach winding tighter and tighter.

“a-ah god. please, kafka. pleasepleaseplease!”

you weren’t even sure what you were begging for, pleasure clouding your mind and slurring your words in a messy jumble. but as if knowing exactly what you needed, kafka tilted his head and angled his tongue upwards, pressing against a particularly sensitive spot within you.

“fuck- kafka!”

you were nearly sobbing now, your vision going white as kafka thrust his tongue against that spot relentlessly. your legs were shaking, the pleasure in your core building into something more intense and unfamiliar.

“wait, wait! kafka- oh fuck! too much, ‘s too much!”

you pushed against kafka’s heads futilely, but his grip on your legs only tightened. lust had consumed his instincts entirely as he continued to rut into the mattress, never once letting up on his pleasurable assault on your cunt.

it was all too much for you to handle. this new, dominant side to kafka, the addictingly teasing scratch of his goatee and sharp fangs against your heated skin, his tongue seemingly devouring you from the inside out, all of it made the tension in your stomach finally snap.

your mouth dropped open in a silent scream as your orgasm crashed over you, and you swore you nearly blacked out from the intensity. you barely registered the hot rush of liquid gushing from your core, soaking the sheets beneath you and dripping down kafka’s chin.

your back curved into a near-painful arch, your legs kicking out and thighs clamping hard around kafka’s head as your body couldn’t decide whether to escape from or indulge in the overwhelming pleasure wracking your body.

kafka didn’t leave you much of a choice, however. his hands traveled from your thighs to your hips, holding you down against the mattress with a fierce grip you were sure would leave behind bruises (not that you really minded) as he tongue worked relentlessly to prolong your orgasm as much as possible.

even after you came down from your pleasure high, kafka’s tongue continued to probe lazily around your spent hole, lapping up the rest of your remaining juices. your hand released its death grip on his scalp to push weakly at his head.

“too much, baby. i can’t-.”

you managed to slur out. thankfully, kafka relented, finally retracting his tongue and allowing you a reprieve.

you could feel your heartbeat pounding in your ears. you vaguely registered kafka calling your name, but it sounded muffled and distant, as though you were underwater. still, you managed to crack your eyes open to see kafka, having reverted to his normal state, hovering over you and gazing down with a look of concern.

“love, are you okay? was that too much? shit, i’m so sorry-"

you managed a weak chuckle, reaching a hand up to gently card through kafka’s hair. whatever beast had been unleashed before was now satiated, with kafka back to his usual doting self.

“‘m fine baby. it was so good. you’re so good to me.”

kafka sighed in relief before leaning down to press a gentle kiss on your lips. his goatee was still coated in your wetness, but neither of you could bring yourselves to care.

returning the favor to kafka briefly crossed your mind, but as he pressed himself closer to deepen the kiss, you felt a damp spot on his boxers pressing into your leg. the knowledge that kafka had been rutting into the mattress, getting himself off on your pleasure alone, made a dull throb pulse in your core, but the fatigue settling into every nook and cranny of your body pushed away any thoughts of another round.

kafka flopped down next to you before wrapping his arms around your waist. you snuggled against his bare chest, basking in the peaceful silence that enveloped you two.

after a few moments, you propped yourself up so you were face to face with kafka, a teasing grin spreading across your features.

“so, where did that come from, hm?”

kafka flushed red with embarrassment. unable to make eye contact with you, he stumbled over his words.

“well, uh- you know- i-i just wanted to make you feel good. but i didn’t wanna scare you or anything! a-and i didn’t wanna do too much, so i felt like this was a good place to start, ya know?”

you giggled, leaning in closer and fixing him with a sultry look.

“'a good place to start,' huh? sounds like you’ve put a lot of thought into this. tell me, do you have any other ideas about how you could put your powers to good use?”

you emphasized your question with a wink, relishing in the way kafka’s face became impossibly redder. he squeezed his eyes shut and pulled you snug against him so you could no longer look at him.

“you- you must be really tired! we should take a nap now!”

you laughed out loud, but conceded, ceasing your teasing for the time being so you both could get some well-needed rest.

the bedsheets needed to be cleaned, and you and kafka both were in desperate need of a shower. you also apparently had a lot to discuss with him about your latest discoveries in the bedroom. but all of that could wait until later.

for now, you were happy right where you were.