#this is the only thing getting me through this class

[magpiepills]

Take It Easy

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ MDNI

Pairing: Joel Miller x virgin f! Reader

Word count: 4k

Summary: you’re a virgin with a crush on your best friends dad and you’re determined to make him your first.

Warnings: SMUT! PWP, PIV, fingering, tiddy stuff, oral (f receiving) virginity loss, alcohol, dubious consent on a little of this, age gap, tiny bit of daddy, creampie, Joel is kind of a creep, fetishization of youth, big dick Joel. Dirty talk, sweat pants, Sarah lives, idk what else. Typos galore, not edited, hardly beta’d at all, straight up pornorgraphy. Don’t read smut for the morals.

A word from the author: well, here we go. Big dick Joel getting real nasty with his daughter’s virgin friend.

MASTERLIST

Turgid Members notification blog

At 9 AM a bead of sweat trickled down Joel’s temple. It was a cold day, highs only reaching into the 40s. Rain was expected and he had called Tommy to take over the job site for the day, blaming a terrible migraine triggered by the weather, probably.

With no one else home and no place to be, Joel could devote himself to the task that had been hanging over him for two weeks.

You had the day off too. Classes didn’t start up again until after the new year, despite everyone heading back to campus with their clean laundry and gifts from their parents and grandparents. Sarah included. You and your best friend since 11th grade had arrived home on the same day and spent days together at your parent’s house making cookies and wrapping gifts and watching movies and drinking too-sweet amaretto sours in her and her father’s kitchen. Now she’s gone and you’re left behind, one more thing to finish up before you could get back to college life.

Joel was focused and diligent, careful and patient, but determined. His tongue slid across his bottom lip. “Just relax,” he reminded you. How could you, at a time like this?

You hadn’t been relaxed since the first night back at Sarah’s dad’s house, since you first saw the width of his shoulders, the size of his biceps, or his big dark eyes. There was no relaxing when you saw him size you up as he grabbed himself a beer from the fridge, when he spoke to you and Sarah, but only looked at you when he said to be good. All you wanted was to be good for him.

You campaigned hard. Arching your back, ass out, bright pink fabric of your thong showing above the waistband of your sweatpants while you leaned over the counter eating pizza and flipping through Sarah’s stack of magazines in the Miller family’s cozy kitchen.

“Save me any?” Joel asked, sidling up behind you, reaching for the greasy pizza box and letting his hand drag over your exposed skin, the side of his pinky finger just barely reaching under the waistband of your panties. Your cheeks heated as he smiled at you, chomping his pizza and, unbeknownst to you, semi hard in his jeans.

Of course Joel didn’t mind Sarah bringing friends home, especially little things like you, with bodies like yours that played havoc on his self control. Ones that were eager to flirt with an older man, ones who didn’t know what they were asking for.

You thought you knew. Sure Sarah was your friend, but you were still human and her dad was hot. You might not be experienced, but you had a whole treasure trove of dirty stories you read between classes and studying about how an older man could treat a younger woman. Those stories occupied your mind. You masturbated, imagining a handsome man who took charge of you like the imaginary ones, you whispered “daddy” as you came, just like the women in the stories, thrilled with the naughtiness of it all.

Now, here you are with this handsome older man, already going gray, and you wondered if he would like it if you called him daddy. You imagined how the word would sound if he said it.

You’d harbored a little crush on Joel since you first saw him at Sarah’s high school graduation party. You’d watched him from across the yard all night, wanting him to see you, but not wanting him to all at once. You never imagined he might look at you with the same carnivorous hunger in his eyes.

Of course he’d seen you, how could he not? You’d shown up looking way too beautiful for your own good then made eyes at him all night. He’d spent the entire party avoiding you so he wouldn’t be tempted to drag you up to his bedroom and wipe that fucking temptress look off your face. He knew he couldn’t.

When Sarah called to tell you about the date she had planned with some guy, you encouraged her. Told her to see a movie, dinner, anything. You helped her pick an outfit and did her eyeliner for her. When her date picked her up at seven, you were on her doorstep at seven thirty, playing dumb and looking for the jacket you’d left behind. Of course he invited you in to get it, and offered you a drink.

“You’re twenty one now, ain’t ya?” He winked at you as he poured two shots of whiskey and slid one over to you.

“Close enough,” you mumbled, low so he didn’t hear.

He watched as you swallowed the burning liquid, fixated on the way your throat moved as you obediently swallowed what he gave you. You grimaced, shaking your head and sputtering at the taste. Joel grinned and poured another and put it in front of you. “Second one goes down easier.” He was right. It went down easy, and it made you feel warm and relaxed.

You leaned close to talk, tilting your head, your eyelids heavy. “I didn’t really need my jacket,” you confessed. “Kinda just wanted to see you again.”

Joel held his liquor much better than you, but he played along, feigning ignorance. “Yeah? What do you want with an old man like me?

Of course, after that it wasn’t safe to let you leave, so you sat with Joel on his couch, a movie playing in the background. Joel pulled your bare feet onto his lap and spread a blanket over you both. Your eyelids were heavy, and you couldn’t help but stare at his profile, the curve of his nose, the fullness of his lips.

He turned to look at you, and smiled. “You gonna keep statin’ at me all night?” You licked your lips and nodded. “You can do more than look if you want to, pretty girl.”

Joel’s arm reached across the back of the couch, making the room feel smaller, the air warmer, and what happened next inevitable. He leaned over, taking more of your space, and tilted your chin up. The kiss started tender and soft, something sweet, not innocent but with no hint of how reckless he would be with you. He was so big and strong, and you felt so vulnerable and small with his arms around you, his hands roaming over your body and his tongue slipped into your mouth.

He took your hand in his and guided it to his lap, letting you feel the size of his hard cock, straining beneath the fabric. “Look what you did,” he panted, breaking away from your lips. “That’s all you. You keep comin’ over here teasing me and then I gotta go take care of it on my own.”

You gasped at the size of him, feeling the length, the thickness through his worn denim. You’d only seen pictures, and having a cock in your hands was thrilling and new. You went to unbutton his jeans, eager to take it out and see it for real when he stopped you. “Uh-uh. You ain’t ready for that yet.”

He knew you were a virgin. He’d heard you telling Sarah how frustrated you were, poor thing. The thought of being the first to have you had given him two weeks of fantasy material to jerk off with. He thought of you on your knees, mouth open obediently. He thought of you bent over the back on his couch, bare pussy showing under the hem of a short skirt. He thought of the way your cry his name when he filled you all the way up and came in your tight little snatch. He was ate up with his dirty ideas.

Sarah’s dad lifted your shirt instead, pulling it up over your tits and kissing the tops of each breast, silently reminding himself to not rush. You made soft sounds of pleasure as he worked slowly, kissing, licking, nibbling gently, pulling the cups of your bra down so he could circle your nipples with the wet point of his tongue, flicking them, sucking them, making you whimper. You’d never felt a mouth there before, and your panties were soaked already. Joel seemed to know they would be.

“You makin’ a mess for me? Let me have a look.”

“Mister Miller,” you warned him, giggling and nervous as he unbuttoned your jeans and tugged down your zipper. You held your breath as his hand slipped down the front of your damp panties. He felt the soft strip of hair you’d left over your mound, the rest of you bare and inviting.

Joel chuckled when he discovered how wet you were. His fingers were immediately covered in your slippery wetness.“Goddamn, sweetheart. All this just ‘cause I played with your tits?”

His teasing embarrassed you, until he put your hand over his erection again. “Think you can take him?” You nodded, wide eyed and he thrust against your palm. Joel laughed again. Even for an experienced woman he knew he was a lot to take. He never got tired of the whines and hiccuped breaths as he drove his cock into them for the first time. He twitched at the thought of you, eager and new, dripping wet but tight as a vice around him.

You kissed him again, pulling him down on top of you, but his hand never left your pussy. He rubbed over your slick vulva, and delved between your folds to draw out more of your arousal, spreading it around, circling your clit, teasing you into a panting mess. You closed your eyes and gripped his tshirt in your fists as you came. It was even better than when you do it yourself.

“That good, baby? You like coming like that for me?” Joel watched your dazed, loopy smile drop in surprise when he brought his wet fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean and hummed at the flavor of you on his tongue.

He had his middle finger poised to slip into your pussy, beginning the task of opening you up just enough to let his cock do the rest when a pair of headlights swept across the room. Sarah was home.

Suddenly feeling much more sober, you and Joel scrambled to right yourselves and you grabbed the jacket you’d accidentally-on-purpose left behind to help explain why you were here, alone with her father. He grabbed a beer and turned on the tv, feigning interest in a show about crab fishing.

Sarah was confused by your presence, as you’d expected.

“What are you doing here? Is everything ok?” She was so sweet and concerned, and what you really wanted to do was ask her what she was doing here, wasn’t she supposed to be on a date? You waved it off, holding your jacket up as explanation.

Sarah shrugged. The two of you went to her room, closing the door behind you for a post-date recap while Joel was left alone on the couch, cock still hard.

Two days passed before you saw him again. When you came over to help Sarah pack up for the drive back to school he was there, in the same place on the couch where he had pushed you further than anyone else ever had.

As your best friend of the last almost two years tried to decide what she needed to take back with her and what she should leave in her room, you excused yourself to the bathroom. Joel saw you go in and waited behind his bedroom door for you to come back out. When you passed, his hand reached out and grabbed you, pulling you into his room and held you against his warm body, letting you feel the bulk of his erection in his sweatpants as he kissed you.

“I’ve been waiting for you to come back,” he whispered low in your ear. “Me and you have some unfinished business.”

You instantly burnt with your need for him, nothing else was as important as feeling him, kissing him, touching him, finding out what else he might do to you.

Joel’s breath was warm and his mustache tickled your ear. “I want you here first thing in the mornin’ you understand? I’m not done with you,” he palmed your ass roughly, pulling you against him. He had a mind to just toss you onto his bed and sort you out right here and now. He was certainly hard enough, and he was sure if he checked you’d be dripping wet for him.

Down the hallway Sarah called for you, snapping you out of whatever was happening or could happen with just a little more time. You should feel guilty. You let your best friend’s dad finger you. You almost fucked him. He’s twice your age and she’s your best friend, but your traitorous pussy didn’t care. You wanted to find out what else he would do. You helped her finish packing, and went home to touch yourself under the covers in your own childhood bedroom.

You’d been nervous, barely sleeping all night, horny and excited and worried that you didn’t have any way to contact Joel to make sure he hadn’t changed his mind.

When you woke up you showered and put on the cutest panties you’d packed, a soft cotton bikini with a heart on the back that said “Lucky You” in bold letters. You hoped they wouldn’t be soaked by the time he got his hands on them. You misted yourself with vanilla body spray and practiced looking cool, which was the opposite of how you felt. You felt like a goofy, awkward teenager. You were acutely aware of your inexperience. You dressed in a snug pair of jeans that hugged your ass and a soft white sweater, and tamped down the guilt of driving to Sarah’s house with the intention of fucking her dad.

Sarah was already gone when you got back to her house the next morning. You arrived at eight thirty, just as Joel had instructed.

Any lingering nerves or doubt vaporized the instant he opened the door. It swung open, warmth and the smell of coffee rushing out. Joel was still in his sweatpants and a soft white tshirt, obviously slept in. He filled the doorway, looking you up and down, practically licking his chops like a hungry wolf. It was reassuring to see the way his pants were already beginning to tent. It made you feel bolder.

“Good morning, Mister Miller,” you batted your lashes at him, tilting your head flirtatiously.

“Get your ass in here,” he grumbled, checking the street for any boring eyes. Luckily most of his neighbors were at work. He shut the door and locked it before turning his attention back to you.

There was no formality or polite small talk before he was on you. His lips on your neck, sucking hard enough to mark. His hands pulling impatiently at your jeans, tracing his fingers down the back seam to cup your pussy.

“You smell good,” he said. “You get dressed up to come over here and fool around with an old man?”

“I came over for you.” You rubbed your nose against his shoulder, leaning into him, feeling his warmth and strong, sturdy body.

“I’m old enough to be your daddy.”

As if you needed the reminder.

“I don’t care, Mister Miller. I like it,” you said, emphasizing your point by grinding harder against the thick curve of his cock.

You reached for his waistband, eager to see and feel everything that was promised. You were ready to drop to your knees, but he stopped you again. “I told you you’re not ready for that.”

“Can you get me ready?” You asked so sweetly that Joel thought he thought he surely must be dreaming.

“Yeah baby. I’ll get ya ready. Come on.” Joel took you to his bedroom and sat you on his freshly washed sheets. He took off your sweater and tossed it onto a chair in the corner where his own laundry was already piled. He kissed you and unsnapped your bra. He took off his own shirt and threw it behind him. You covered your chest with your arms, but Joel pulled them away.

“Uh-uh. Don’t be shy now. You like teasing older men, walking around my house looking good enough to eat, looking at me like you do, I’m gonna take my time.”

Your body lit up when he climbed over you and pushed your tits together with his big, rough hands. He licked across your nipples, teasing them to firm points with his tongue, sucking each one, squeezing and kneading your breasts. When he had enough of that, when you began to roll your hips, he popped the button of your jeans with ease. He tugged them down your legs and held your thighs open wide. You knew you’d soaked your panties. The look on his face told you.

“Are you nervous?” he asked. You shook your head no. “Has this pussy ever been licked?” Another shake of your head. “No? Well I’m gonna fix that right now. Hold your knees up for me, baby.

You bit your lower lip and held the back of your knees. You could feel your pussy blooming with need. Joel hooked his fingers under your panties and pulled them off. He read the words aloud. “‘Lucky You,’ he laughed. “Yeah. Lucky me.”

On his tired knees, he licked your puffy cunt. He sucked and slurped and hummed happily as you panted. His tongue pushed into your entrance, a hint of what was to come. He flicked his tongue quickly over your asshole, then through your slick, sticky folds to suck your clit. You moaned and thrashed, you dug your heels into the edge of the mattress until he shoved your knees back up and looked at you pointedly from between your legs.

You could have come from this alone, his lips and his tongue, but he pushed one finger into you, then another. Even when you fingered yourself it wasn’t this intense. Your orgasm came quickly, radiating over your body, seizing your muscles.

Joel stood, wiping his face with the back of his hand and smiling proudly down at you.

“Did good, baby. Pussy’s so sweet I could eat it all day.”

You laughed. Feeling almost as buzzed as you did from the whiskey. “Will you?”

“Is that what you want?” Joel stroked his cock through his sweatpants, a wet spot had darkened the gray fabric near the tip, and he seemed even bigger than you remembered.

“No,” you sat up on the bed and looked up at him. When you tried this time, he let you reach into his pants. His cock was hot and firm, with smooth, soft skin, you pulled it from his sweatpants and stared. Your fingertips didn’t touch when you held his cock in your fist. You slid your hand up and down in a gentle, timid stroke, quickly gaining confidence and Joel watched you explore him with glassy, half lidded eyes and a bead of precum leaking from the thick, blush pink head. In a daring moment of impulse, you licked it up, savoring the forbidden taste of him on your tongue.

Joel had to stop himself from holding your hair and shoving his cock into your throat. Patience, he reminded himself. He had to give you time. He knew you’d be taking him in every hole soon enough. An eager girl like you. A bad girl. A cock hungry little slut in the making and you were his to mold.

“That’s good, baby. That’s real good, but if you keep that up I’m gonna come and we don’t want that, do we?” Joel stepped back and kicked off his sweatpants.

You were both naked now, fully bared to each other, his body graying now, with scars and years of wear and tear, yours, young and new and untouched by anyone but him.

He got into the bed beside you, pulling you up to kiss him, the smell and taste of your pussy clinging to his mustache. He deepened the kiss and rolled on top of you once more, the time positioning himself between your legs. You felt his cock, heavy and long against your folds. He slid against you, rocking your hips, and you mirrored his movements, coating his turgid member in your wetness.

His deep, husky voice was so sexy, low and rumbling against your lips. “You feel so good. Can you feel me? Feel how bad I need you?

“I feel you Joel,” your voice strained. “You’re so big.”

“You can take him, baby. You’re ready. You did so good for me. You want it? You want daddy’s cock? You gonna be a good girl and take it for me?”

“Yes. I want it. I want it, please,” you begged in a haze.

Joel dragged his cock head through your folds again, gathering your slick, and nudging against your tight, virgin hole.

“Relax for me baby. Let me in,” Joel urged impatiently and you tried, but he was so big. That word floated in your head. Big. Everything about him was just so big. You closed your eyes and breathed deeply until he managed t fit the first inch and a half inside.

“Come on, you’re doin’ so good. Focus right here.” He sucked his thumb into his mouth, wetting it with his saliva and pressing it against your clit. It helped a little, but you couldn’t ignore the stinging, overwhelming stretch of him in your impossibly tight little cunt.

It took several beats of your heart pounding in your ears to work him all the way in, inch after throbbing inch filling you completely. You didn’t dare move. You let Joel take control. He had to focus too. You weren’t the first virgin he’d ruined but he wasn’t as young as he used to be. He inched out, and pushed back in. Out, then in, keeping a steady pace as you got acclimated to his size.

You did, slowly relaxing, relishing in the warmth of his body, the pain washed away into pleasure. Each stroke of his length into you stoked your growing orgasm. It was nothing like you’d ever felt. You began to feel crazy over it. You slipped your hand between your bodies and rubbed your clit the way you did when you were alone.

“Fuck yeah. Make yourself come. Let me feel you,” Joel encouraged, his temples glistening with sweat. He needed to come. He wanted to do the right thing. He wanted to make this good and keep you coming back but you felt so damn good. He wanted to mark you with his cum like no one else ever could.

You whined, his words, his voice were what did you in. You came hard on his cock. It was a smooth, rolling, heavy feeling, instant addiction. The feeling was soon followed by Joel’s orgasm. He didn’t stop to ask where, he just pushed deep and released inside, cum held in place with his softening cock and the weight of his body collapsing on top of yours.

What now, you wondered. You’ve fucked him, what now?

He rolled off of you and kissed you, then for a few moments you lay side by side in silence. His cum dripped out, adding to the mess between your legs.

“You ok,” he asked. “I didn’t hurt you did I? I know it’s a lot. You’re not bleeding are ya?”

“I’m fine, Joel.” You wondered if you should leave now. You went to the bathroom and cleaned yourself up. You didn’t look any different in the mirror now that you weren’t a virgin. You didn’t look like someone who would have sex with their friend’s dad, either.

You went to find your clothes and purse so you could leave, but Joel was still in bed, holding his arm up for you to get back in with him. He had no intention of letting you leave soon.

“I thought I could make us some lunch before we try again.”

[aurorawritestoescape]

NAUGHTY THOUGHTS

Professor Joel Miller x f!reader || 1,3k

Summary: you’re failing Prof. Miller’s class and he finds a punishment for you.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, lil bit of fluff, big legal age gap (reader’s in college), power imbalance but reader is an initiator, f!oral, edging, pussy pronouns, just the tip, unprotected piv, creampie, professor kink. Pics are only for the mood, reader has no physical description but she wears a skirt.

A/n: huge thank you to @megangovier for this ask and for the idea. Megan, you keep inspiring me with your requests and I’m so grateful! ILY!💞 Kisses to @milla-frenchy for beta-ing and workshopping the story with me😘 And thanks to the Fantastic 4 trailer for ‘the horny’ and for the hot professor image. I hope you will like this story. Love you all!❤️ dividers by @/saradika-graphics

MASTERLIST || more professor kink

“Another F. Are you happy with it, miss?”

You are standing in front of Professor Miller in his classroom without a trace of guilt on your face. He’s leaning against his desk, scolding you like you’re a silly little girl. Whatever.

“What’s the problem? I’ve given you extra time to revise for the test, helped you with the material and you’re still failing my class.”

You bite your lip, hands clasped in front of you, staring up at him with your Bambi eyes. Your head is empty and your pussy is on fire. You barely hear him. Who could think about grades when there are men like Professor Joel Miller in this world?! Ugh!

“I’m very disappointed. You’re a clever girl but you just don’t seem to care.” He makes a pause and then orders, “You're staying here. Think hard about what makes you fail and then write that you won’t do it again. Until you fill the whole board.”

“Are you making me write lines? It’s not an elementary school, Professor,” you laugh with your brows raised. He walks to his chair, glares up at you and gruffs,

“I don’t care. Go ahead.”

You shrug and saunter to the blackboard. You take a piece of chalk and write in beautiful cursive —

I won’t dream about Prof. Miller’s cock in my pussy anymore.

“Fuck!” You hear him curse before he bolts from his seat and wipes the sentence off with his palm.

“The hell you thinking about? What if anyone sees it?” He’s looming over you, so big and broad and your clit twitches. Your voice sensual and soft, you reply,

“You told me to write the reason I’m failing your class. And it’s the fact that I want you to fuck me, Professor.”

“Stop it,” he hisses, staring daggers at you. While he’s close, you use the opportunity to glide your hand over the expanse of his strong chest covered by a crispy white dress shirt.

“I’m sure you want it too, Professor. You already know what she tastes like, why not feel her too?”

He’s glaring down at you, seething heat coming off his body, his heart booming under your palm. He looks like he’s about to slap or kiss you. You’ll be fine with both options.

Pushing him further, you gently take his big hand, bring it under your skirt and press it to your lacy panties.

“See how soaked I am?” Your whisper makes him shudder. “This is the reason why I don’t hear a thing you say during the lessons.”

He mumbles a ‘fuck’ as you rub his fingers against the lace and moan at the sensation.

In a second his face softens and he falls on his knees in front of you.

“I hate you— I hate you— I hate you—,” he chunts under his breath, pulling your skirt up and you gasp when he presses his face to your covered pussy. He pushes his nose right against your puffy clit and breathes you in. You smile, your fingers running through his curls.

“More,” you moan, bucking your hips into his face and Professor Miller orders with steel in his tone, “Get on my desk, you menace.”

He gets up and you see a huge bulge tenting his black pants. He yanks your panties down your legs and you step out of them with a smirk, then perch your naked ass on the edge of his desk.

He’s standing in front of you, palming his big hard-on, as you lift your feet and plant them on the surface and then spread your folds with your fingers, showing him your crying hole.

His eyes pitch black, his lips wet, he swallows loudly, watching you trace your soft entrance with a pad of your finger, inviting him inside.

“Please, fuck me,” you purr.

He shakes his head.

“No. I can’t. I won’t.”

You sigh deeply and your eyes well up with tears.

“Why? Am I not pretty enough, Professor?”

You see a glimpse of sympathy in his expression but it vanishes as fast as it appears.

“Don’t play with me. I see what you’re doing. I’m not putting it inside you.”

You scoff with annoyance and wipe your tears off with your hand.

“Fine. Make me come, then.”

He shakes his head, angry at you or himself but probably both and bends over to your blooming pussy.

He’s not wasting his time, his lips latch straight to the source of your waterfall - your sopping hole, and he laps at it with his hot tongue, drinking your essence, growling and moaning against your cunt.

“Oh, Professor—so good— don’t stop,” you whimper, tugging at his curls, pushing his mouth closer to your buzzing pussy.

His tongue is dancing over your clit and you arch your back in pleasure, but the moment you feel the heat rise up in your core, he rips the climax out of your hands. He moves his lips to your mound and gently bites your flesh. Your pussy is aching, hungry for a release, but he does everything except makes you come— he peppers kisses along your inner thighs, traces your entrance with the tip of his tongue, kisses your folds all over. He’s torturing you, punishing you for your brattiness and the edging soon makes you whine.

”Professor, I wanna come. Can I come?”

”I don’t know. Can you?” He mocks as his eyes snap up at you, before he continues kissing your folds.

“May I come, sir?” you correct yourself with a shaky voice. You feel his smile twist his face and spread your pussy lips. Professor pulls away to sting you with his smirk but his face falls when he sees your glossy eyes and flushed face.

“Fuck, baby,” he mumbles before his mouth flies to your poor clit and he begins rubbing it with a flat of his tongue, finally giving you the pressure and the sensation you’ve been craving so much.

After the edging, an orgasm hits you like a wave, your back drops on the desk and you cover your mouth with the back of your hand, cutting down a loud moan that’s rising from from deep inside you. While you’re shaking and jerking under the caress of ecstasy, Professor keeps licking your pulsating pussy, thirsty for your cum, generously flowing into his mouth.

You’re panting heavily, still lying down, smiling in a haze of an afterglow, when you see him hastily get up, his hand wrapped around the base of his stiff cock, leaking and engorged.

“Put it in, Professor,” you murmur, massaging your puffy pussy. “She’s so wet and warm. Just for you to use.”

He grunts and, breaking his own rule, pushes his cock into your cunt but only to the tip. He drops his head down and moans, his chest rising and falling fast. You give his fat head a squeeze with your walls and he immediately starts spilling his hot cum inside you.

“Yes,” you purr triumphantly, “Give me all of it, fill me full. Let’s hope no one notices your cum sliding down my thighs later.”

He growls but doesn’t tear his eyes from his thick member twitching in his hand, pumping his sperm into your cunt, rope after rope.

When your core is stuffed with his load, he pulls out slowly, trying not to hurt you. With half-lidded eyes, he watches a pearly globe of his seed slide out of your hole, then scoops it up and pushes it back inside you.

You slowly sit up, drunk on the cock and the orgasm and give your professor a satisfied smile.

He looks pleased himself and leans in to kiss you. His lips gently caress yours as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Love tasting myself on your lips,” you mumble, pulling away, and he sighs.

“I bet. Bad girl.”

He helps you to slide off his desk and fixes your clothes.

When you both look decent except for your flushed faces, you hug him and whisper in his ear,

“I’ll see you Tuesday, Professor Miller.”

He curses and you giggle, walking to the door. You unlock it, send him an air kiss and leave the classroom.

Thank you for reading! Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed the fic!💞

MASTERLIST || more Professor kink

Tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @joelmillerisapunk @pascaltesaye @fruityreads @itwasntimethatdidit40

[purinfelix]

you're no good for me, but baby i want you - n. riki ✶⋆.˚

summary: after growing tired of his constant teasing you made up your mind not to give Niki anymore of your attention, but you should've known that he wouldn't let you go that easily - and is willing to go to desperate measures to get you just to look at him ──── delinquent Niki x class president reader || sfw but a little suggestive, kissing/making out, so much tension like so much, enemies to lovers sorta? || w/c: 2.7k

a/n: okay i'm trying to get better at writing longer fics/ones that actually have closure bc looking back i realise i kinda always leave u guys on cliffhangers LOLL - also i rlly tried to avoid making this too cliche given the trope i hope it worked !!! actually really like this one so i hope it doesn't flop rip

‘Bad boy’ felt too cliche - at least for your liking. You preferred to refer to Niki as what he was, a delinquent, a troublemaker, someone who skipped most of his classes and spent the rest dosing off or arguing with the teacher. But no matter what you called him you were sure of one thing, he pissed you off.

To be honest, you had absolutely no interest in the sorts of things a student like him got up to in his own time, but it was the fact that he insisted on dragging you into his business that irritated you the most. You weren’t sure why exactly he kept targeting you, maybe it was because he just wanted to mess with the class president or because you seemed like an easy target to him - whatever reason he had didn’t make it any less tiring though.

Skipping classes was one thing, but his constant breaches of uniform code meant that you were running out of warning slips - and patience. It didn’t help that whenever you did, he would only look you up and down with an amused smirk, brows raised as if daring you to continue telling him off - which only worked to make you stumble over your words.

That’s why you had made the decision to stop giving him anymore of your attention, and the most recent time you had seen him sporting his signature look - no blazer, dress shirt half unbuttoned and several silver earrings, you chose to ignore him. You simply walked past him in the hallway without so much as a passing glance, hoping it would tell him to stop wasting your time and causing trouble.

Little did you know, he would misinterpret your signs to mean the exact opposite.

The next morning when you were waiting at your desk you heard a wave of hushed murmurs coming from down the hall, and couldn’t help but feel partly responsible. A loud thud sent the classroom door flying open and a couple of his friends filed in with amused grins - and it was only when Niki followed them in did you see why. Not only had he gone and messily bleached parts of his jet black hair, but he now donned a piercing straight through his right eyebrow which, judging from the pink tinge surrounding it, was both brand new and self-made.

You were unable to stop your neck from craning as your eyes followed his figure, watching as he sauntered over to his desk in the back corner of the classroom, threw his books onto it and sat down. The expression on his face showed that he couldn’t care less about being there, but his eyes trained on you as if waiting for you to make a move.

You hated that he knew you so well, because before you knew it you were out of your seat and at the head of his desk, arms folded with a stern expression on your face. You can’t remember exactly what you said but it must’ve been harsh, and loud enough to summon the attention of almost the entire class, and your teacher who stormed into the classroom shortly after to tell the two of you off. It must’ve also been harsh enough to earn the two of you an after-school detention, which was your very first - though it clearly wasn’t Niki’s.

So that’s how the two of you had ended up alone, in an empty, hot classroom - waiting as the minutes of your detention ticked by agonisingly slowly. Irritated was an understatement. It was taking every ounce of self-control you had not to turn around and punch Niki right there and then. You kept your fuming to yourself, at least for now though, while you worked silently on an assignment, determined to at least make good use of being stuck here for the next hour or so - even if it meant spending it in a tense silence.

Niki didn’t seem to share the same sentiment, having sat himself in the chair right beside yours and kicked his feet up on the desk, twirling a pen in one hand as he hummed softly to himself. You were trying your best to ignore him, and he was trying his best to make that very difficult.

“What are you working on?” he asked curiously as he leaned in over your shoulder.

“Just an assignment,” you shot back curtly.

“Ah of course, what a goody-two shoes,” he scoffed as he sat back.

“Rather a goody-two shoes than a good-for-nothing delinquent,” you mumbled under your breath, though not quiet enough to escape his ears.

“A delinquent? Is that really what you think of me?” he asked in faux-offence, “I’m hurt.” You turned slightly, just enough to see the dramatic pout he had formed across his lips, his brows curving upwards and his piercing going with it.

“Whatever,” you huff, feeling both irritation and exhaustion rise in you, “it’s your fault we’re here in the first place anyways.”

“Oh yeah, my fault that you started a petty argument.”

“Your fault for dyeing your hair that stupid colour and getting that piece of metal jammed in your face!” You cry out, fully facing him now as you felt your face burning hot, “I mean seriously, all I did was ignore you once, and you go ahead and did something ridiculous like that?” Gesturing to his piercing and new hair, you can’t help but feel even more infuriated at the sight of his smirk which only grew as he watched you from half-lidded eyes.

“What makes you think I did it for you?” He asks teasingly, and you suddenly feel your bravado begin to crumble - he’s right, who are you to assume that?

“Well, I-” you stutter, but he interrupts you.

“Well maybe I did,” he laughs softly, “that depends on whether you like it or not.”

“That is so besides the point, Niki,” you whine, “it’s against uniform policy.”

“Oh c’mon, you think it’s a little cool,” he taunts, and you turn back around in your seat, chewing your bottom lip as you’re determined not to give him a response which you’re sure will only fuel his ego.

You sit in silence for a bit, and you can tell he’s watching you carefully in the way he leans in, keen eyes trained on your expression - almost as if he’s trying to figure out what you’re thinking. But that’s a challenge even you’re struggling with right now.

He’s the one to break the silence again. “I am sorry about getting you a detention though, that wasn’t what I meant to do.” You blink in disbelief because for the very first time, he sounds almost as if he really means what he’s saying.

“Is that an apology?” you say, gasping to show your surprise, though this quickly dissolved into a soft laugh.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t let it get to your head,” he sighs, “I just couldn’t sit here and watch you sulk for the next hour.”

You can’t help but smile to yourself, feeling the tension between the two of you melt away at his apology, just enough for you to want to keep talking to him - even if it means neglecting your homework, for now. Your eyes move over his face, his sharp jaw, his eyebrow piercing glinting under the warm classroom light.

“Did it hurt?”

It’s a stupid question, you know, but it’s the only thing you can think to ask as you fiddle nervously in your seat. If you’re being completely honest, you do think it’s cool, you’ve always thought his piercing were cool - and right now you want nothing more than to reach out and feel them for yourself. But your common sense stops you.

“Well, duh,” he scoffs, sitting back in his seat as his eyes fix on yours, “figured a smart-ass like you would’ve been able to guess that.”

“Just asking,” you grumble defensively, though your curiosity urges you to keep talking. “If it hurt, why’d you do it?”

“Well, you like it, don’t you?” He asks, “that’s all the reason I need.”

You’re tempted to tell him off again, but something about his tone catches you off guard - it’s oddly earnest, and he says it with such a simplicity that makes you really believe that maybe he’s telling the truth and you’re unable to find the resolve to spoil this moment

“Can I feel it?”

He’s almost as shocked by your request as you are, and even as it leaves your mouth you’re unsure entirely why you’re asking it. His eyes widen in a way that you can’t help but find a little cute, even as you’re struggling to process your own thoughts.

“Sure,” he replies, a little too quickly, almost as if he had been waiting for you to ask him that, but can’t believe you actually did. You turn in your chair to face him, your arms coming up awkwardly to bridge the distance between you both but it’s clear you’re still too far.

You’re about to lean forward more in your seat to reach him, until you notice his hand coming down to grip the leg of your chair and it isn’t until you feel yourself moving and hear the faint screech of the legs against the floor that you realise that he’s pulling it - pulling you closer to him.

Once you’re close enough he stops, though his hand doesn’t leave the back of your chair, instead resting there as if trapping you in with him as he leans down as that his face is level with yours. You try not to overthink the way your knees are touching, or how this is your first time seeing him this close and how he’s even better looking up close. Carefully, you bring your hand and pray that he doesn’t notice the way it trembles, as your thumb grazes his thick brow gently. Even though you wish he didn’t, he keeps his eyes open and you can feel the weight of his gaze on you as your fingers close around the small metal ball.

“It’s cold,” you mumble, not sure what else to say to fill the air between you two.

“It’s metal,” he says matter-of-factly, letting out a small laugh at your fascination with it.

“You didn’t need to to do this just to get my attention, you know,” your eyes focus on the piercing as you speak, unable to look him in the eyes when admitting something that feels like a confession.

“I had to get you to look at me somehow.” You’re again amazed at how he can say such earnest things with such a serious face, and even as you look away you know his eyes are on you.

“Most people would’ve just said hi or something, not put a brand new hole in their face,” you sigh, fingers moving to tuck a stray strand of bleached hair behind his ear.

“Well most people wouldn’t be here now with you touching their face, so by my standards my plan worked better.”

“Did that plan have to include getting me my first-ever detention?” You ask in annoyance, though you can’t help but laugh softly at his simplicity.

“Well, not at first,” he admits, “but at least we’re alone, hm?”

“Because you need me alone to talk to me?”

“No, because I need you alone to do this.”

You’re pretty sure if you weren’t already leaning towards him you would’ve fallen backwards from the forceful way his lips crash into yours - and if not from that then the sheer shock of just that. Luckily for you though, he already has an arm snaked around your waist, keeping a hold of you and pulling you closer.

It shocks you though that, despite the initial force, Niki’s kiss is gentle, almost as if he’s easing you into something he knows you’re struggling to accept. He’s experienced, that’s for sure, but you can tell in his movements that he’s holding back from pushing you any further.

You don’t even realise it but your hands are cupping his face, caressing his strong jawline and pulling him closer to you. You open your mouth to talk but the only noise that comes out is a breathy gasp and if you weren’t so caught up in the feeling of his hands in your hair you might’ve stopped to feel embarrassed about how desperate you sound for him right now.

“Niki,” you mumble against his lips, unsure of what to do as you feel your mind struggle to comprehend what’s happening.

“Want me to stop?” he says in between heavy breaths, and even though it sounds like a taunt you know him well enough to know he’s being serious.

You shake your head in response, but decide to have a little fun of your own while you can. “When have you ever cared what I want?”

“Oh, you have no clue,” he hums in a low whisper as he leans back in.

“And when have you ever listened to what I’ve told you to do?”

“You’re right about that,” he smirks, pressing his lips to yours again, this time with the reckless abandon you’ve come to expect from him - almost as if he was waiting for your permission to let go. You thought you would’ve felt a little predictable, pathetic even, for having fallen so easily into his trap and giving him much more than just your attention at this point. But from the way his hands roam your body, grasping for more of you as he whines against your lips you smile to yourself at the realisation that really, he’s the one who’s fallen into your trap.

This sense of control is what finally calms your mind, even if it still struggles with just how ‘wrong’ all of this sounds against how right his lips on yours feel. The sound of footsteps echoing down the hallway however forces you to tear yourself away from him, though his hands don’t leave your body as you strain to figure out who it might be.

“Shit, it’s the teacher,” you say under your breath, pulling away from him to smooth down your skirt. Niki clearly doesn’t care, but still lets out a soft sigh as he hangs his head, leaning back in his chair.

“Tomorrow,” you continue suddenly, “I want the eyebrow piercing and the bleached hair gone.” You know you’re being harsh, but you also know that, given what just happened, you can’t afford to be nice.

“Wh-” he says suddenly, looking at you in disbelief, “I thought you liked them though.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you say firmly, “they’re still breaking like ten different uniform rules.”

“Just when I thought I’d finally broken your guard down,” he groans.

“Well, they’ve served their purpose already, haven’t they?” you taunt lightly, bringing a hand up to swipe at your bottom lip which you can feel is a little plump from him biting it. His eyes watch attentively as you do, and he lets out a soft laugh followed by a nod in agreement.

“You’re right,” he exhales, “but now I’m thinking if I keep them in I might keep getting lucky.”

“Niki,” you sigh.

“I mean, maybe if I had a reward for following rules I might feel more motivated,” he hums, looking away as he feigns innocence.

You pause, thinking to yourself for just long enough. “I’ll be studying in the library after school, maybe if you do as I say I’ll let you join me.”

“Studying? That’s what we’re calling it now?”

“Take it or leave it.”

“I’ll be there,” he laughs, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied smile - one that you can’t help but share even as the same teacher who gave you both this detention comes in to tell you you’re free to go.

You watch as he swings his bag over one shoulder coolly, tossing you his signature smirk - only this time, it doesn’t just annoy you, it lingers, sticking to your thoughts in a way you don’t want to admit. Because you know you should be mad, you should roll your eyes and remind yourself that he’s still the same infuriating troublemaker. But as he walks away the only thing you find yourself wondering is if he’ll actually show up tomorrow, and worse, if a part of you wants him to.

[blueberry016]

I took computers as an elective back in 8th grade specifically because I figured it'd be a more involved elective than my old school's elementary computer class. Nope; it was just as easy; and I was spending the good majority of my hours there doing fuck all because I finished early. Now; this class was hosted using Google Classroom; which also let me check in and do assignments earlier than intended. And me; being a kid who was tempted by the forbidden fruit of getting through a class months earlier than intended - went for it, and started doing assignments meant for the week ahead in one sitting. Fast forward to halfway through the class. I am months ahead of everybody else; but I've yet to complete the class as a whole for some reason. I go to check why; and what I see's fuckin' absurd. The assignment? To change my profile picture. One of the first assignments ever handed out in class; and one I knocked out immediately, or so I figured. Turns out; no. The teacher SPECIFICALLY noted that the change wasn't valid because I didn't run the image through the specific filter website she wanted us to use before uploading it.

Now; to any teenager or adult who knows their goddamn worth in their field: that reasoning reeks of bullshit. But I comply; begrudgingly, running it through the website and uploading it. The teacher still refuses to mark the assignment as done; after a few day's work. It's at this point I realized I was being deliberately neutered; in hindsight to not threaten the school's metrics. And I; being the shithead child I was - decided there was only one logical solution. Confront her over it in the middle of class. She doubled down; claiming the assignment somehow still wasn't valid; and I just fuckin'. Snapped; then and there; done with her bullshit. Five words came out of my mouth. "I wish I could slap you." As you can imagine; administration quickly got involved with her screeching about this. I was threatened with suspension; I THINK expulsion was tossed around once; while my mom scrambled to pick up the pieces of what the hell everything was about. Once she heard my side of things; though; it was very clear she knew the school was high on their own supply as well. Luckily for my dumbass; there was a bit of a "smoking gun" that made them shrivel up and backpeddle on making me out as a pariah. The communication about refusing to grade the one assignment was one thing; but what the district had a harder time weaseling out of was direct confirmation over email that this teacher went out of her way to ignore my IEP; which she was directly informed of. Rest of that semester I didn't have a class for that hour; and administration very clearly wanted me anywhere but the hallway she was in. Bonus: The middle child; my little brother; hit middle school a few years ago. Someone who either was ignorant of all of this or just didn't care decided to throw him into this teacher's homeroom class, which prompted my mom to pull rank with the admin again to switch things up to prevent any retaliatory funny business. She was not punished for any of this; best as we can tell.

when i was a kid i got a 90% on my kindergarten "what are your favorite things?" test because for the question "what is your favorite animal?" i wrote down "puma" and it got marked wrong because my teacher said a puma isnt even an animal its a kind of shoe

[writeriguess]

neemaaa

can i request a katsuki x reader where they are secretly in a relationship? they get caught making out by their friends and then get teased the whole time

Unveiled

Your heart was pounding in your chest, a mix of excitement and nervousness thrumming through your veins as you pressed yourself against Katsuki Bakugo. His lips were hot against yours, moving with a fervor that sent a shiver down your spine. One of his hands was gripping your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, while the other cradled the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair. Your arms were wrapped around his neck, nails grazing the nape of his skin, earning a low groan from him that you felt reverberate through your entire body.

This was risky. So damn risky.

Your friends could walk in at any moment. Hell, they were supposed to be here already! But the adrenaline, the sheer thrill of sneaking around, made it impossible to care. You had been keeping your relationship with Bakugo a secret for months, slipping away in between training sessions, sneaking into each other’s rooms at odd hours, exchanging heated glances across the common area when no one was looking. It was exhilarating, having this little secret between just the two of you.

"Tch, you taste good," Bakugo muttered against your lips before diving back in, deepening the kiss. You couldn't help but melt into him, fingers tightening against his skin as you pulled him closer.

That was when it happened.

The door to the empty common room slammed open with a loud BANG.

"OH MY GOD!" Mina’s voice practically echoed through the room, followed by the distinct sound of Kaminari’s laughter and Kirishima’s deep chuckle. You barely had time to react before the two of you jerked apart, but it was too late.

You were caught.

Bakugo's face was a mix of horror and absolute rage, his entire body tensing as if he was about to explode—not figuratively, but literally. You, on the other hand, were frozen in place, eyes darting between your very smug-looking friends.

"YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!" Kaminari wheezed, clutching his stomach as he doubled over with laughter. "I THOUGHT YOU HATED EVERYONE, BAKUGO!"

"Shut the hell up!" Bakugo barked, his face turning an alarming shade of red.

Mina smirked, her arms crossed as she leaned against the doorway. "Secret relationship, huh? Oh, this is juicy. You guys have been sneaking around this whole time? How long?!"

"None of your damn business!" Bakugo snapped, but his reaction only seemed to fuel their amusement.

Kirishima grinned, slinging an arm around Bakugo’s shoulder despite the clear and present danger of being blown to smithereens. "Man, this explains so much! You've been way less of an asshole lately."

"The hell I have!"

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. "Can we just pretend you guys didn't see anything?"

Mina gasped dramatically. "Oh, absolutely not. This is the best thing that's happened all week!"

"Yeah, we're never letting you live this down," Kaminari added, grinning wickedly. "So, tell me, Bakugo, how long have you been secretly making out with our dear friend here?"

Bakugo twitched, his fists clenched, and for a moment, you genuinely feared for Kaminari’s safety. "You wanna die, Dunce Face?"

"Relax, man, I think it’s kinda cute!" Kirishima piped up, and Bakugo turned his death glare toward him instead.

Mina was practically vibrating with excitement. "Oh, I can’t wait to tell the others! You know this means the whole class is going to grill you, right?"

"Don’t you dare," you warned, but it was futile.

"Oh, I dare," she teased, winking. "I give it five minutes before everyone in 1-A knows."

Bakugo groaned loudly, dragging a hand down his face. "I swear to god, I will kill all of you."

But the teasing didn't stop there. By the time the rest of your classmates found out, it was pure chaos. Sero and Kaminari wouldn't stop making exaggerated kissing noises every time you and Bakugo were in the same room. Todoroki, in his usual deadpan tone, commented, "I always assumed Bakugo was incapable of romance. This is surprising."

Momo and Iida, on the other hand, seemed genuinely happy for you both, though Iida did remind you that public displays of affection should be kept to a minimum.

It was insufferable. It was embarrassing. It was never-ending.

And yet, despite all the teasing, Bakugo still found ways to sneak you away, to press you against the walls of empty hallways, to steal quick, heated kisses when no one was looking.

"They can tease all they want," he muttered one night, his lips brushing against yours, "but that doesn't change a damn thing. You're mine."

And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

[connorsui]

UNLIMITED ACCESS!

This was wonderfully requested by my beloved @madam8 who gave me such a beautiful idea for a sylus date and I couldn't let go of it until I completed it 😭😭🩷🩷 like it's so cute that even when I was studying I kept thinking of new ways to end the fic or new scenes to add into it. --- it was ...AAUGH- my heart ...tho I do apologize for how long this one took out ur girl was busy trying not to fail classes 💀💀 ...lol 💅🏻

p.s if you see my corpse surrounded by flowers anywhere you can blame it on this ask ✨️ I LOVE IT

It started, as most things with Sylus did, with...

extravagance.

He had a habit of planning nights that felt more like events—private rooftops overlooking the shimmering city skyline, candlelit dinners in places that required reservations months in advance, evenings where the very sky seemed to bend to his will.

Luxurious. Impeccable. Always grand.

And while you loved those moments—loved him—there was something else you had been craving lately.

Something... simpler.

So one evening, as he idly twirled a glass of dark liquor between his fingers and casually mentioned taking you to a private villa on an island, you leaned into his space, resting your chin on your palm, and asked—

"Why don’t we do something more…plain? Just for the day—I mean."

Sylus stilled slightly, red eyes flickering toward you, waiting.

"Don’t get me wrong, I love our dates," you continued, "but I think it’d be nice to just do something fun. Silly, even. Maybe a little childish?"

A playful smile curled at your lips.

"Just… something where you don’t have to rent out an entire skyline to impress me."

He raised a brow, surprised. "You wish for something plain?"

You grinned. "Exactly. So let’s just have a normal date. Like—oh! What about an amusement park? Or an arcade? Or the fair!"

Sylus exhaled through his nose, setting his glass down with a measured movement. "Your ideas are enjoyable… I wouldn't mind indulging in them."

"Yeah! It’ll be fun, I promise. We can see what rides you like, if you’ll actually tolerate roller coasters, or if you’re one of those people who insists they’re too predictable." You smirked. "Oh, and you have to try winning me something from one of those carnival games."

He regarded you with that ever-neutral gaze, quiet and considering, before finally murmuring—

"For you, I wouldn’t mind fulfilling that request."

You smiled, pressing a playful kiss to his cheek, already excited for whatever simple, carefree date he would plan.

Or so you thought.

Because somehow—somehow—things escalated.

Instead of just buying tickets like a normal person, Sylus had decided the best course of action was to…

Buy. The. Entire. Damn. Park.

Your favorite amusement park, to be exact.

And now here you stood at the entrance, staring up at the massive sign that should have been buzzing with families, groups of friends, and screaming children running past in excitement.

Instead, it was silent.

The ticket booths? Closed. The parking lot? Void of life.

The only people here were you, Sylus, and the staff, who stood patiently, waiting only for the two of you.

You turned to him slowly, your brain still buffering.

"Sylus… I—when I said I wanted a fun day with you… this isn’t exactly what I had in mind."

Sylus, as usual, looked completely unbothered. "Did I get the wrong park?"

You blinked. "…No, but—Sylus, what—" You gestured at the empty surroundings, struggling to form a coherent thought. "You didn’t have to—How did you even do this?"

He tilted his head, as if you had asked a genuinely confusing question. "I bought it."

You took a deep breath. "No, I know that, but why?"

Sylus blinked at you, expression calm yet calculating, like he was trying to gauge whether you were actually upset.

"Would you prefer a different one? I can acquire another if this one isn’t to your liking."

You choked. "Acquire—Sylus, I meant let’s just have a normal day at the park! With other people! Like… buying tickets, not—not monopolizing an entire amusement park for us!"

He hummed thoughtfully. "That would be inconvenient. I don’t like crowds."

Your brain short-circuited. "Okay, fair, but I’m not even sure how to react to this." You ran a hand down your face, staring at the vast, empty park. "Do I just… accept this? Should I ask you to sell it back? Is it even going to open to normal people when we're not here?"

Sylus exhaled softly, fingers curling beneath your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. His red eyes, sharp yet steady, held an intensity that made your breath hitch.

"I wanted you to have the best experience," he murmured, his voice low, deliberate—like he was peeling back the layers of his thoughts just for you. "No interruptions. No strangers ruining our time. No one else pulling your attention away."

His thumb ghosted along your jaw, his touch as careful as it was possessive.

"I wanted today to be ours. Every moment, every ride, every second—only for us."

Your heart squeezed at the weight of his words.

Sylus was always confident, always in control—but this was different. This wasn’t about power or extravagance.

This was about ...you.

He had done this for you.

Damn him.

Damn him and his ability to turn something so ridiculous into something that made your heart melt.

You sighed, pressing your fingers against your temples before looking up at him again. "You really don’t do things halfway, huh?"

His lips twitched, almost smirking. "Would you expect anything less?"

You huffed, shaking your head. "Not at all."

His hand slipped from your chin to your wrist, fingers curling around it as he tugged you toward the entrance.

"Then let’s stop worrying about it and enjoy it as much as we can."

You let him pull you forward, your brain still catching up to the fact that this was happening. That you were about to experience an amusement park that was literally all yours for the day.

And honestly?

You weren’t going to complain.

But as you walked in, something felt... strange.

The park was…alive?

Despite the complete absence of other guests, the workers were still here—acting as if today was a completely normal day.

Vendors stood at their booths, flipping burgers, making cotton candy, lining up pretzels under warming lamps. The game stalls were manned, workers casually leaning against counters, ready to hand out prizes.

The park’s parade performers were still marching down the street. A princess in a poofy dress waved at you. Mascot characters moved in synchronized greetings, despite the fact that no one was here but you.

It was… surreal.

Sylus squeezed your hand as you slowed to take it all in. "I told them to proceed as usual. It would’ve been eerie if everything was frozen."

You turned to him. "So… it’s like the park is still running, but we’re the only ones who get to experience it?"

He nodded. "Yes. Don’t you think it’s better this way?"

You inhaled deeply, looking around again.

Sylus watched you carefully, his sharp eyes scanning your face. "Are you alright?"

You hesitated, then let out a quiet laugh.

“Of course! I mean—” You hesitated again, glancing around as your expression softened. “It’s nothing wrong, I promise! I love that you did this, I do, but…” You exhaled, running a hand through your hair before looking up at him again.

“I just—I wanted this day to be special not just for us entirely, but to have a moment together surrounded by everyone and everything.” Your voice was gentle, thoughtful. “The chatter, the energy, the crowds moving past us. The chaos of it all.”

You shrugged, a little sheepish. “I know you don’t like being around too many people, and I love that you wanted to make this day perfect for me, but part of what makes an amusement park so special is the shared experience, y’know? That feeling of being one in a sea of people, laughing together, screaming on rides, getting bumped into by kids running past, standing too close in lines because there's no choice…”

Your words trailed off as you searched his gaze, unsure how he’d react.

For a moment, Sylus didn’t say anything. His red eyes remained locked onto yours, unreadable, but there was something contemplative in the way his fingers idly traced over your knuckles, as if considering your words carefully.

Then, finally, he exhaled through his nose—slow and measured, his grip loosening ever so slightly.

“…I see...I- ” His voice was as calm as ever, but there was a shift in his tone.

He glanced around, taking in the completely empty pathways, the stalls with no customers, the parade performing for no one but you two. The sight of the workers, stationed and waiting, but missing the usual life of the park.

Sylus was pragmatic. He saw a problem, he solved it. Simple. To him, the best way to ensure you had an amazing day was to remove all obstacles—the crowds, the noise, the inconvenience of waiting in lines or dealing with other people.

But now, as he watched you, something seemed to click.

“…Would you like me to open the park?”

Your eyes widened. “Wait—you mean, like, right now?”

He nodded once. “If it would make you happy.”

Your heart stuttered. "Sylus—I didn’t say all that just to guilt you into—”

He raised a brow. “It’s not about guilt. You wanted to share this moment with people and I took that possibility from you” He pulled out his phone as if he could undo an entire park shutdown with a single call—which, knowing him, he probably could.

You stared at him, then let out a disbelieving laugh, reaching to stop his hand before he could dial. “Okay, hold on, let’s think about this rationally—”

Sylus merely looked at you, waiting for what you were bound to say next.

You exhaled, lacing your fingers with his properly. “Look, it’s okay. I love what you did, and I will enjoy this day with you.” You squeezed his hand. “I just needed a moment to process it, that’s all.”

Sylus was silent for a moment, his red eyes scanning your face as if committing every little twitch of emotion to memory. Then, his gaze flickered past you, landing on a nearby booth.

A teddy bear stand.

Without a word, he turned, gently tugging you along by the hand.

You blinked in surprise. “Wait—where are we—?”

He stopped in front of the booth, staring at the rows of stuffed bears lined up in varying sizes, from tiny keychains to ones nearly as tall as you. His jaw was set, unreadable, but his grip around your hand was firm.

“Sylus?” You tilted your head at him, watching as he eyed the game—a classic ring toss setup.

“I failed to give you what you really wanted,” he murmured, almost to himself. “You should at least receive something in return.”

Your chest tightened at the way he said it.

Soft, but laced with frustration.

Like he was genuinely bothered that his attempt to make you happy had missed the mark.

“Sylus…” You squeezed his hand, stepping closer. “You don’t have to win me anything—”

He ignored that, already rolling up his sleeves with practiced ease. His focus was entirely on the game now, eyes narrowing slightly as he studied the distance, the weight of the rings stacked beside the booth’s attendant.

Your lips parted in disbelief.

Sylus said nothing, simply holding his hand out for the rings. The worker—completely unphased, as if watching an overpowered, absurdly rich man win rigged carnival games was just another part of the job—wordlessly handed them over.

You sighed, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. "Sylus, you really don’t have to—”

The first ring landed perfectly on the bottle.

Your mouth snapped shut.

Another.

And another.

Without missing a single shot.

The worker gave a small, almost-impressed nod. “Pick your prize.”

Sylus turned to you, expectant.

You stared between him and the game, caught between laughter and disbelief. “This your way of an apology gift?

“And would that change anything if I said yes?”

“Sylus –”

You huffed, shaking your head before pointing to one of the bigger teddy bears—one with a white soft, plush face and an oversized red ribbon around its neck.

Sylus retrieved it without hesitation, turning to face you fully as he held it out.

“ you sure you didn't have me in mind? ” he said simply.

You giggled at him, your fingers curling around the soft fabric as you accepted the gift. “mayyybee”

It wasn’t about the bear. It wasn’t about the game.

It was him.

Sylus, who never half-assed anything. Who overthought in ways you weren’t always aware of. Who, despite his arrogance, still hated feeling like he had let you down.

Your heart squeezed painfully.

“…You’re too much at times” you murmured, hugging the teddy bear to your chest.

He exhaled, shaking his head. “Says the one getting emotional over a stuffed animal.”

You shot him a playful glare, but when he reached out, brushing his fingers against your wrist, you softened.

“....Still,Thank you, for everything-- I mean” you murmured.

Sylus didn’t say anything, but his grip lingered—just for a second—not thinking of letting you go.

But as you continued walking, you caught the way his fingers brushed against his phone once more, a brief flicker of thought crossing his expression.

You narrowed your eyes. “Sylus.”

“Hm?”

“You’re not secretly opening the park back up again ….behind my back…are you?”

His lips curled, amused. “...perhaps”

[rezwrites]

If it is okay, can I request Agatha x innocent reader + corruption kink?

Agatha wants to be Reader's everything, she has opted for the slow way and tries to be patient but when she discovers that Reader has not yet had her first kiss, Agatha can't help but spring into action. Agatha teaches her how to kiss (a tongue kiss) and then more

Plsss

Agatha and corruption, hell yes.

Warnings: MDNI+18, dubcon, gaslighting, coercion, legal age gap, fem-bodied reader, reader wears a dress, fingering(r!receiving) nicknames(dear, honey, baby, babydoll, princess)

taglist: @harknessshi

The doorbell sounded at Agatha’s front door, with an accompanied rap of soft knocks. Agatha swiftly opened the door revealing you, bearing a huge smile on your face holding a pyrex dish in your hands, “Hi, Agatha! I brought cookies.”

“Hiya, dear. That’s very sweet of you.” Agatha stepped aside, letting you in her home. The two of you met through your mom, Agatha being your mother’s friend from spin class. The two of you started an unlikely friendship after bonding over a movie franchise. Due to your mother being out of the house so much you mostly spent your spare time at Agatha’s. She would help you with your schoolwork when she could, and you’d offer to help her with anything in return, however Agatha would always insisted that you didn’t have to do anything.

Offering Agatha the container, you slipped your shoes off by the door. Opening the air-tight lid Agatha picked up a cookie, taking a bite. She let a low groan out as soon as the sweetness of the cookie hit her tongue. “So how are your classes? Oh, how is it going with that girl you like?”

“Classes are good. Things are going well, but it’s getting to a point where she wants to start being.. intimate.” You sat down on the plush gray couch, moving the pillow out of your way.

“Well, that’s good isn’t it?” Agatha sat next to you, setting the cookies down on the coffee table.

“Yes, but I’ve..,” you trailed off clamming up, shoving a cookie in your mouth. Tears began to well up in your eyes.

“Honey?” Noticing your demeanor, a frown appeared on Agatha’s face. She took your hands, placing them in her lap, “you know you can tell me.”

“I don’t know how to kiss, or do anything of that nature, so I’ve been avoiding it,” The tears started spilling as you shied away from Agatha, “It’s embarrassing.”

“Oh, honey.” Guiding you into her lap Agatha held you until you calmed down, periodically sniffling. Agatha’s mind was sent into overdrive upon hearing this revelation of yours. She figured you never had sex before, but now knowing you never even had a kiss elated her. Leaning back Agatha wiped away any stray tears, “I can show you, so you have a little experience. Only if you’re comfortable with it.”

Your eyes widened, breath stuttering as you looked at her. Opening and closing your mouth you struggled to find an answer, heart pounding in your chest. It was such an out of place invitation. Yes, you wanted experience but with Agatha? She’s your mother’s friend, but she was also your friend. You could trust her, right?

Once you gave a soft nod Agatha’s smooth hands cupped your face, her eyes flickering between your lips and eyes watching your reactions, “If it gets too much, tell me.”

You gave a weak whimper in agreement, closing your eyes. Agatha slowly moved in closer, allowing you time to change your mind. Her nerves are jumping with excitement to be your first kiss. Dejection hit her like a truck when you told her about your crush on your classmate a few months ago, however she persevered trying to sow tiny seeds of doubt about your crush. Now that she has you like this, she refuses to let this opportunity slip through her fingers. The overwhelming urge to be your first pushed her forwards, soft lips melting into yours.

Due to her close proximity her light perfume invaded your senses, the heat of her body radiating around you. Unsure of what to do with your hands, you placed them on her jean covered thighs for stability. Slowly, you fell into a steady rhythm. Her tongue lightly tapped at your lips asking for entrance, startling you.

Agatha kept her hands on your face, keeping you from going too far, “It’s alright. You’re fine, honey.” Relaxing, you slightly parted your lips allowing her tongue to slowly wriggle its way into your mouth. It was strange having her warm, wet muscle rub against yours, but not unpleasant.

“See, that wasn’t so bad.” Agatha pulled back, swiping her thumb across your bottom lip. Agatha enjoyed watching the dazed look on your face as you processed everything, “It was nice, right?”

A slight nod was all you could muster. You looked so small avoiding her gaze. She watched you shift, thighs flexing and rubbing each other. Oh, this was too perfect. She held back a sinister smile. Even if you didn’t know it, you were practically offering yourself to her on a silver platter.

“Would you like me to help you with that, too?” Agatha whispered, gesturing to your fidgeting.

You prominently shook your head, pulling your dress skirt down to your knees. The kiss was enough as is. It was nice, but anything more would be wrong. Shame bubbled up in your chest, desperate for a way out.

“It’s natural for your body to react like this. It’s not wrong, or weird.” Agatha’s hand fell on yours, fingertips grazing the skin of your inner thigh.

“Sweetie, I wouldn’t want you going into this kind of situation freaking out. Girls don’t like inexperience,” Her voice full of concern matched with a pout, “You don’t want to push your crush away do you?”

“No.” Your eyes widened in fear of that possibility. More thankful now that Agatha is willing to show you, but you still have doubts, “What if I don’t like it?”

“That’s why we need to find out. Would it make you feel better if you saw how I’m touching you? It might not be so scary then.” Before you are able to get an answer out, Agatha picked you up from your spot on the couch carrying you to the back of her house.

Crossing into her bedroom Agatha placed you in front of her full-body mirror. “Go ahead and take your clothes off, sweetie.” Agatha ordered, striding over to her nightstand.

Releasing a shaky breath you pulled your dress over your head, keeping it close to your body. Watching Agatha approach with a bottle of lube in her hand, a pit began to sink in your stomach. Setting the bottle down, she helped you unhook your bra. Tossing your clothes onto her bed she admired you in the mirror, releasing a low gasp, “Babydoll, you’re so beautiful. Your crush will be so lucky.”

Not lucky enough to be your first though, she thought.

Pulling her sleeves past her elbows Agatha sat on the floor with her legs spread, patting the spot in front of her. The softness of her purple sweater met your back as you settled down. Lithe digits slipped under your chin, tilting your head towards her, lips meeting again. Finger pads gingerly danced across your shoulders, traveling down your arms, and across your chest. A soft moan fell from your lips once they ghosted the top of your breasts. Agatha fully fondled you, pinching your nipples. Opening your mouth to squeak, Agatha took advantage to push her tongue into your mouth, swallowing any noises.

One hand continued twisting your nipple, while the other trailed down your torso. Once Agatha’s mouth left yours you sucked in as much air as possible. Her nose dragged along your neck, before attaching her mouth to your throat, sucking hard.

Agatha stared intently at the mirror taking in every dulcet sound, and movement you made. Her hand stopped on your lower stomach just above your panty-line, azure eyes fixated on the growing wet patch over your cunt.

Releasing you neck with a quiet pop, Agatha spoke in a honeyed voice, “You got this wet from kissing, and some touching? It must’ve felt good, hm?” The tips of her digits ghosted over your the seems on your panties, teasingly, “Let me take these off, babydoll.” Lifting your hips Agatha’s thumbs looped into the sides, dragging the material down your legs.

Once your panties were off you kept your legs shut, shyness getting the better of you. Agatha’s hands crept to your inner knees as her body leaned closer to you. Her breath fanned over your earlobe, “Don’t hide from me, princess. We’re already this far. It’d be a shame if we stopped now.”

Closing your eyes you took a deep breath, allowing her to part your legs. Her hands fell to your hips, drawing circles for a moment. The bottle cap snapped open, hearing her squirt some lube on her hand, “Watch me, baby. Take note of what feels good.” Eyes fluttered open, gazing at Agatha’s hand creeping closer to your core. The cool liquid spread over your pussy, between your folds, slickening them.

Her fingers ran up your lightly circling your bud. Sucking in a sharp gasp, you grasped the hand that was resting on your hip. Agatha halted her movements, “Calm down. It’s just your clit, it’s very sensitive whenever you’re aroused.”

Mumbling a “felt good,” Agatha hummed in acknowledgment, resuming patterns on your hip; helping to relax you. Feeling your body slump back against her chest she continued exploring your pussy, noting each hitch of breath or facial twitch. She’s sure you can feel her heart pound in her chest, excitement seeping down to her own core. How she wished she had her strap on, the perfect position to watch your pussy split around her cock, but her fingers will have to do for now.

She rubs the entrance to your cunt before easing a slender finger in, your hole tightly gripping her finger. You shut your eyes, squirming at the new sensation, odd and uncomfortable. Quickly you slammed your legs, trapping her hand. “Come on, princess, open up for me,” Agatha urged.

You shook your head frantically, a low cry erupting from your chest. She watched the tears prickle your eyes, despite them being clenched shut. “Baby,” Agatha sighed, with a hint of disappointment, “you need to relax, or it will hurt worse.” She slid her finger out cupping her hands behind your knees, placing your legs on top of hers. Her thighs prevented you from closing your legs, from hiding yourself from her. Beginning to weep, tears fell down your face, landing on your chest. Agatha shushed you, “No, princess, there’s no need to cry.” She kissed your tears away, licking the saltiness from her bottom lip, fingers returning to your entrance, “Deep breath.”

Not waiting she sunk her pointer finger in halfway, before adding a second digit. Groaning at the stretch and slight burn, more tears slid down your cheeks. Placing her other hand on your chest, Agatha assures, “I know it feels weird for the first time. It’ll feel good soon, I promise.”

Her fingertips grazed over a textured spot, causing your hips to jerk backwards. Agatha’s hand on your chest stilled you, “Shh, princess, it’s okay. Just keep breathing.”

Overjoyed she found that spongy wall, Agatha swore to bully that spot until you’re crying through your orgasm. She wants you to see that your little infatuation won’t be able to give you this kind of pleasure mixed with pain. That’s even if you continue seeing that girl after this encounter.

You forced yourself to release a long slow breath, accompanied with a shiver down your spine. Her fingers plunged back into that same spot, expelling a squeal from you. The end of each deep thrust was coupled with a curl of her fingers, working in tandem of her thumb circling your clit. The coil in your lower stomach tightening.

The pleasure built up too fast for your mind to comprehend. Attempting to pull away and close your legs, Agatha spread her thighs wider. A hard slap rang in your ears as the pain in your breast radiated. Agatha’s tone turned to stone, ”Stop squirming. Don’t make me have to hold you down.” You froze in fear, knowing Agatha is the type of woman to always follow through. Noticing this, her voice immediately softened, “I don’t want to have to do that, princess.” She used the back of her hand to soothe the stinging pain.

Her thrusts started up again, pace switching from slow to fast every few minutes, keeping you on edge. Breaths became ragged and short, hands flying to her thighs; unintentionally pushing yourself back against her chest. “Good fucking girl,” Agatha grunted, picking up her pace, heavily focused on that sweet spot of yours. Overwhelmed with pleasure, tears streaked down your face. Unrestrained moans resounded from you as your legs shook, coil breaking. Agatha watched you fall apart in her arms, pride swelling knowing that that no one could ever top this.

She removed her fingers, slowly rubbing your clit as you came down from your high. Once your breathing evened out she helped you stand up on your shaky legs. Guiding you to the conjoining bathroom she stopped you in front of the sink, retrieve something from the closet. Catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror you spotted all the tear tracks that ran down your face, how disheveled you looked. Agatha dropped a small cloth in the sink, running water over it.

“It was really good, but a lot.” You spoke up, voice hoarse. Agatha thought you were the cutest thing looking up at her with big, wet eyes and a little pout.

Agatha sported a small pout of her own, hands cupping your face, “I know. I got carried away. I’m sorry, princess.”

Wringing the washcloth out, Agatha gently ran it over your face; the warmth making you feel a little cleaner than you were before. Agatha didn’t bother cleaning between your legs. She wanted you to go home feeling your stickiness the whole way.

Agatha had a light smile when the washcloth was pulled away from your face, “You did very well for me though. I’m so proud of you.” As she planted a soft, slow kiss on your lips, warmth grew in your chest. A whine of displeasure followed when she stepped away, leaving a chilled space around you. She came back with your clothes in hand, helping you redress; pressing butterfly kisses to your face.

“It’s gotten late, sweetie. You should get home before your mother does.” She states, walking you to the door. A steady hand stayed pressed to your lower back as you put your shoes on. Hold the door open for you she planted a quick peck on your lips, before sending you off.

[fr0stf4ll]

A court of Shadows and Moonlight - Part 13

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the wake of looming war and changing traditions, a gifted healer returns to the Night Court after centuries of wandering the continents. Tasked with stepping into Madja’s legendary role, she must guide reluctant healers, soothe wounded warriors, and face the entrenched prejudice of Illyrian leaders. But as she mends torn wings and broken spirits, an unexpected bond awakens between her and the Night Court’s enigmatic Spymaster. With rivalries simmering and a dangerous threat looming on the horizon, she must reconcile duty and desire, learning that true healing can extend beyond flesh and bone—if she dares to embrace the light hidden among the shadows.

word count ; 10k

Trigger warning; violence & mention of death

notes; hello lovely people, here is the new chapter ! A bit longer than usual but let me tell you that this one is heavy (and I did cut some of it to put it in the next chapter because I was a bit scared that it would be too much for one chapter). Anyways I tried to do a fun chapter, well ... you guys will see with your own eyes that I always need to make things a bit dramatic (only a little °°333). I think it's really the chapter I enjoyed the most writing so far so I hope that you will enjoy reading it <3. See you all next week, love you <333

thank you again @ailoda for you post it made me freaking emotional <333

previous ✧

The warm glow of the living room lights filled the townhouse, casting a cozy ambiance over the gathered Inner Circle. It was dinner day, and the entire group—Feyre, Rhysand, Cassian, Azriel, Amren, Nesta and Mor—had joined you for an evening of food and conversation. It had been a few days since you went back home after the incident and  Feyre had personally come to you that afternoon to invite you, her warm insistence leaving little room to decline. You were drowing in your work trying not to give a thought to the bond and the fact that you hadn’t seen Azriel since. 

You’d opted for a simple yet comfortable outfit: wide, high-waisted black pants paired with a loose, long-sleeved blue top with a high collar. The fabric was soft and warm, perfect for the cool night air.

The room was alive with chatter and laughter, and you found yourself caught up in it, smiling despite the exhaustion still lingering in your body. Cassian and Mor were on either side of you, bantering animatedly about Velaris nightlife.

“You mean to tell me you’ve never been to Rita's?” Cassian exclaimed, his eyes widening in mock horror.

“I think once when I was younger, but ever since never.” you replied, shrugging. “I’m too busy saving lives to hit up bars, apparently.”

“It’s not just a bar,” Mor interjected, her hands gesturing wildly as if to emphasize her point. “It’s the bar. Best drinks, best music, best people—it’s a Velaris institution.”

Cassian leaned forward, grinning. “Mor’s right. Even Amren’s been there. It’s practically a rite of passage.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” you said, smirking.

Mor wasn’t satisfied. She nudged your shoulder, her voice taking on a pleading tone. “Come on. We’ll go together when you’re better.”

You chuckled. “Alright, but I don’t know when I’ll have time.”

“When?” she pressed, her hazel eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“Next month, probably,” you answered, trying not to laugh at the look of disbelief on her face.

“Next month?” she repeated, incredulous. “Why next month?”

“Because next week, I’m going back to Windhaven,” you began, ticking the events off on your fingers. “Then I’ve got meetings with the priestesses, and then Starfall is coming, and after that—”

“Okay, okay!” Mor interrupted, throwing her hands up in mock surrender. “I’m going to have to kidnap you just to get you out for one night.”

You laughed openly this time, shaking your head. “Fine, I’ll pencil you in when I can.”

Feyre approached then, her soft voice cutting through the lively banter. “Y/N, do you think you could join me for a painting class on Friday afternoon? And don’t you dare tell me you’re too busy with work.”

You raised a hand, pretending to look wounded. “I wasn’t going to say that. But I can’t make it—not because of work, though.”

Feyre raised an eyebrow, clearly curious. “Then why?”

“It’s my weekly tea time with Madja,” you replied simply.

Cassian immediately perked up, his brows shooting up in interest. “Tea time with Madja?” he repeated, leaning forward with an amused grin. “That’s adorable. What do you two even talk about? Healer issues? New techniques?”

You swatted his arm lightly, shaking your head. “Hey! Just because I love my job doesn’t mean that’s all I talk about. We talk about... other things.”

“Like what?” Mor asked, smirking as she sipped her wine.

You tilted your head, feigning mystery. “That’s between me and Madja.”

Cassian let out a bark of laughter. “I’m picturing the two of you having a serious debate over tea about how to fix my dumbass when I inevitably crash into something.”

“Cassian,” Feyre interjected, rolling her eyes, “Y/N does far more important work than managing your antics.”

“Thank you,” you said to Feyre, giving Cassian a pointed look. “And for the record, Madja and I have very enlightening conversations. You’d be surprised how insightful she is about life in general.”

The group shared a laugh, and for the first time in what felt like ages, you let yourself relax. The lively chatter continued, shifting topics seamlessly as plates of food and glasses of wine were passed around. For once, you weren’t talking about healers’ matters or politics—you were just a part of the group, laughing and enjoying the moment. 

The peaceful hum of the room shifted the moment Elain entered, Lucien trailing just behind her. You were talking to Feyre and didn’t immediately notice the change in atmosphere until Rhysand’s voice broke through the casual chatter.

“Y/N,” Rhys said smoothly, gesturing toward the two newcomers, “allow me to introduce Lucien.”

You looked up, your eyes meeting Lucien’s in a moment of mutual surprise. “What are you doing here?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself. The corners of Lucien’s mouth twitched into a small, amused smile, and he stepped forward to give you a brief hug.

“Good to see you too, Y/N,” he replied lightly, though his voice carried an undercurrent of genuine warmth.

The room’s dynamic shifted again as Elain gravitated toward Azriel, who was leaning against the back of the couch. Lucien, perhaps instinctively or perhaps by choice, found his way to your side. The juxtaposition didn’t go unnoticed, though no one commented on it—at least not aloud.

You handed Nyx back to Feyre, who smiled gently at you, her expression tinged with curiosity as she glanced between you and Lucien.

“I take it you’ve met before?” Rhys prompted, his brow lifting slightly.

You nodded, still a little thrown by Lucien’s sudden presence. “Yes, we breafly met when I was in Autumn centuries ago.” you explained. “And then again in Spring—he arrived a few weeks before I left.”

“Small world,” Lucien said with a faint grin, though his sharp gaze flickered to Rhysand, ever aware of the High Lord’s looming presence.

The conversation meandered for a while, touching on casual topics. But then Lucien turned to you, his tone shifting slightly and quietly asked you. “I heard about the healer meeting in Dawn. Did you have a chance to speak with the head healer of Autumn?”

Your expression softened, though a shadow passed over your features. “I did,” you said, your voice quieter. “She’s doing better, don’t worry. But, very honestly, Lucien... she won’t be in her best shape if she stays in Autumn. It’s slowly killing her.”

The room stilled, the weight of your words settling heavily in the air. Rhysand’s eyebrow arched, and you felt an unfamiliar sensation—a gentle yet deliberate tug on your mind. It was the first time Rhys had ever used his abilities on you like this, and though it was unsettling, you allowed it, letting him in.

What was that about? his voice sounded in your mind, calm but edged with concern.

The High Lady of Autumn tried to kill herself, you replied, the words laced with quiet gravity. 

The thought landed heavily in Rhysand’s consciousness, and though his face betrayed nothing, you felt the ripple of shock that coursed through him.

Shit, he muttered in your mind, his tone uncharacteristically unsettled. Does Eris know?

Yes, you replied. He’s keeping it quiet, but it’s caused even more division within Autumn. The tension between him and Beron is... palpable.

Rhysand’s silence spoke volumes as he processed the information. You could feel his thoughts flickering through the implications, his strategic mind already piecing together the broader picture.

And what do you think? he finally asked, his tone quieter now.

I think she needs to leave Autumn. Rordan their head healer told me that Day might be an option. But it’s her decision to make, not ours.

Rhysand’s agreement hummed softly through your connection. Keep me updated on her situation���and anything else from Autumn.

You nodded slightly, breaking the mental link as Lucien’s voice drew your attention back to the room. “And do you think she’ll leave?” he asked, his expression unreadable.

You shook your head, offering him a faint, tired smile. “I don’t know. I hope so. But it’s her choice.”

Lucien sighed, his posture stiffening slightly. “It’s complicated,” he murmured, his tone heavy with unspoken thoughts.

“Yes,” you agreed softly. “It is.”

Though the conversation shifted to lighter topics, the weight of what had been discussed lingered in your mind—and Rhysand’s—as an unspoken reminder of the cracks forming in Prythian’s foundation.

You turned to Lucien with a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Oh, by the way, Lila says hi.”

Lucien froze mid-sip of his drink, his eyes widening in a mix of panic and exasperation. “No. Not her again,” he muttered, setting his glass down with more force than necessary. “Why does she still talk about me?”

You burst out laughing at his visible distress, the kind of laughter that left you breathless. The others turned their attention to you, curiosity lighting up their faces. Cassian raised a brow, leaning forward. “What’s so funny?”

You wiped at your eyes, still giggling. “Oh, it’s just... let’s say that during the healer meeting at least the nights we spent talking with the girls, Lucien was a very… popular topic. Let’s just say Lila is quite taken with Lucien.”

“Taken?” Lucien interjected sharply, lifting his head to glare at you. “No, Y/N. Let’s call it what it is—obsessed. I am terrified of her.”

Rhysand, clearly amused, leaned back in his chair with a chuckle. “What does she look like?”

You smirked, ready for the volley of descriptions. “Well, she looks like Tamlin—”

“But with boobs,” Lucien interjected, deadpan, cutting you off.

“And she’s short, like Amren,” you added, grinning as you gestured downward.

Lucien groaned again. “Short, running everywhere, and screaming.  Always screaming.”

You burst into laughter again, shaking your head. “Don’t get me wrong—she’s an incredible healer. Honestly, one of my best students. But... she’s something, that’s for sure.”

“That’s putting it lightly,” Lucien muttered, rubbing his temples. “Do you know about the closet incident?”

“Oh gods, yes!” You exclaimed, grinning wide. “That was hilarious when she told us about it. The way we had to make her drink for her to be able to admit it, but don’t dramatise everything Lucien it was just her way to show her affection right?” you looked at him amused.

“She tried to lock me in a closet to stop me from leaving the Spring Court Y/N?” 

"Well that sounds oddly familiar?” said Feyre looking at the booth of you. 

Cassian’s laugh echoed through the room. “What is it with Spring Court and locking people ? First Tamlin, now this?”

You nodded, struggling to suppress your laughter. “Apparently, she thought it was the only way to get him to ‘listen.’”

You wiped tears of laughter from your eyes. 

Rhysand leaned back, still chuckling. “So, to sum it up: she’s like Tamlin, but with boobs, short like Amren, runs everywhere, and... locks people in closets.”

Cassian doubled over with laughter. “You’ve got to introduce me to this Lila. She sounds like a riot.”

Lucien glared at him. “You can take my place if you’re so curious, I’m sure she would love you.”

The room burst into laughter again, the lighthearted banter a welcome reprieve from the tensions that had been looming. Even Lucien couldn’t help but laugh, though his mortified expression lingered.

On the other side of the room, Azriel leaned against the couch, his shadows curling restlessly around him like dark, living whispers. His gaze lingered on you and Lucien, watching the way you laughed with an ease that felt almost foreign to him. You looked carefree, radiant even, as if the weight of the world had momentarily lifted from your shoulders. Lucien’s animated gestures and your bright laughter filled the air, a stark contrast to the tight knot of unease growing in Azriel’s chest.

He shouldn’t feel this way. He couldn’t feel this way.

Azriel shifted slightly, trying to quiet the tumult within him. Elain was seated beside him, her delicate fingers brushing against his thigh in a silent question. He turned to her, her soft gaze meeting his, and he forced a small nod. “I’m fine,” he murmured, though the words tasted like a lie on his tongue.

But he wasn’t fine. Not even close.

He had wanted to cross the room, to come and sit beside you, to feel that inexplicable comfort that always seemed to radiate from you when you were near. Now that he knew about the bond, everything felt more tangled, more painful. The knowledge weighed heavily on him, suffocating in its clarity. How could you sit there, so normal, so composed, when you had known about this bond for longer than he had?

The thought ate away at him. How had you managed to keep it hidden? How had you endured the ache of it, the pull, without letting it show?

Azriel’s gaze flicked to Elain briefly, guilt tugging at the edges of his thoughts. He shifted subtly away from her, a small, almost imperceptible movement. Out of respect for Lucien, yes. Not that he’d cared before—but now, now he understood. He understood the quiet agony of seeing someone he cared about so deeply sitting with another. It twisted his insides in a way he hadn’t expected.

But it wasn’t just about respect. It was about you.

His shadows coiled tighter around him, reflecting the storm in his mind. He didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to untangle the mess of emotions that had overtaken him since discovering the bond. And the hardest part was the longing—to be near you, to hear your voice, to feel that connection that had only deepened with the knowledge of what you truly were to him.

You were laughing again, the sound clear and unguarded. It was a sound he hadn’t realized he craved until now, and it only added to his torment. The way you leaned slightly toward Lucien, your smile bright, as if there was no weight of a bond tethering you to him. As if he didn’t even exist.

Azriel’s jaw tightened, his wings shifting slightly as he glanced at the floor. He needed a moment, a reprieve from the chaos in his chest. From the knowledge that while you laughed with Lucien, he was the one standing in the shadows, lost and unsure.

You had barely met Azriel’s gaze when Lucien raised an eyebrow at you, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement. “Right, let’s not talk about the Spring Court, Y/N,” he said, his tone almost teasing.

“How much time did the two of you spend in the Spring Court together?” Feyre asked, her curiosity piqued.

Without missing a beat, you and Lucien answered in unison, “Three weeks.”

The synchronization caught everyone off guard, and a ripple of laughter swept through the room.

You rolled your eyes dramatically and added, “And that was far enough, if you want my opinion.”

Lucien smirked, leaning back in his chair. “Yes, far enough after nearly killing Tamlin, burning part of his estate, and getting proposed to by his last general.”

The room fell silent, and all eyes turned to you. You stared at Lucien in disbelief, your mouth opening and closing for a moment before crossing your legs and taking a deliberate sip of your wine. “That’s so fake,” you said finally, your tone nonchalant. “I didn’t light the fire. I was just there when it happened.”

Rhysand raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing as he leaned forward slightly. “And tell me, Y/N, just how many people have proposed to you?”

You nearly choked on your wine. “What do you mean, Rhysand? Please.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying himself. Everyone’s attention shifted to you, eyes wide with intrigue. You glanced at Azriel, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, and asked accusingly, “Did you tell him?”

Azriel shook his head immediately, his voice steady. “No, of course not.”

Cassian and Mor, ever the instigators, leaned closer. “Wait, wait,” Cassian said, grinning. “Who else proposed to her? Go on, Rhys. I feel like this is going to be good.”

Rhysand’s smirk widened, his violet eyes gleaming with mischief. “Well,” he began, drawing the word out dramatically, “our sweet head healer of the Night Court could have become the Lady of Dawn, if she had wanted to.”

The reaction was immediate. Mor screamed, her voice full of scandalized delight. “You were with Thesan? Y/N!”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Yes,” you admitted reluctantly, “and that’s all you’re going to get to know. End of discussion.” You shot Rhysand a black look, though he only laughed, clearly pleased with himself.

“Well,” you said quickly, trying to change the subject, “it’s not to interrupt, but I’m pretty sure dinner is ready, right?”

Feyre crossed her arms, a knowing look on her face. “If you think you’re going to escape this conversation, Y/N, you’re wrong.”

You sighed dramatically, looking up as if to appeal to the Mother above. “Oh, for the love of the mother,” you muttered, but the room erupted into laughter, the tension giving way to warmth and camaraderie once more.

During dinner, to everyone’s surprise, you found yourself seated next to Azriel. He had deliberately taken the seat beside you, leaving Lucien to sit next to Elain. The shift in seating arrangements caught more than a few curious glances. Elain’s worried look flickered toward Azriel, while Lucien, seated on her other side, raised an eyebrow at the change.

You tried to ignore the questions bubbling in your mind, though it was hard to brush aside the unexpected energy between you and Azriel. While you had resigned yourself to the fact that Azriel cared deeply for Elain, perhaps even loved her, this sudden change left you puzzled.

Amren’s sharp voice cut through the quiet hum of conversation, drawing everyone’s attention. “Is this a new table, Rhysand?” she asked, gesturing to the elegant woodwork beneath her plate.

Rhysand smirked, barely looking up from his plate. “Yes, it is. Y/N and Azriel broke the last one.”

You choked on your wine, coughing violently as heat crept up your neck. The room went silent for a heartbeat before Cassian burst out laughing, followed closely by Mor’s cackling. You covered your mouth, trying to recover as all eyes turned to you.

Amren’s silver eyes sparkled with amusement as she leaned forward slightly. “Well, girl, a High Lord, a General, and now a Spymaster. You’re going for all of them, aren’t you?”

Your jaw dropped as laughter erupted around the table. “Oh, please shut up,” you groaned, burying your face in your hands. You didn’t even dare to glance at Azriel, though you could feel the heat of his gaze lingering. The sharpness of Elain’s eyes, however, was impossible to miss. Her displeasure radiated from her in waves, her expression tightening as she glanced between you and Azriel.

“I’d like to point out,” Cassian added with a grin, “that I wasn’t the one who broke a table for once.”

“That’s not something to be proud of, Cassian,” Nesta muttered beside him, though a faint smirk tugged at her lips.

The table settled back into a hum of conversation, though you couldn’t shake the tension that simmered beneath the surface. Every now and then, you caught Azriel glancing your way, his expression unreadable. And while you tried to keep your focus on the food in front of you, you couldn’t help but feel that this dinner was only the beginning of something far more complicated.

The flow of the dinner had been pleasant enough, though Azriel sitting beside you brought an odd energy you couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t uncomfortable, not entirely—but it was different. When it was just the two of you—working, talking, sharing quieter moments—it felt natural, even easy. But tonight, the dynamic felt... forced. Questions swirled in your mind: Did he sit next to you to make her jealous? Why let her mate sit next to her, then? You brushed the thoughts aside, trying to focus on the lively conversations around you.

Dessert was served, and you were half-listening to Feyre and Nesta talk about some shared anecdote when Elain stood abruptly, excusing herself. The movement caught your attention. Lucien’s worried gaze followed her, and when you glanced at Azriel, you noticed the same concern etched into his features. That expression.

The unease it stirred in you was compounded when Elain began moving around the table. Her steps faltered slightly, her balance uneven. You frowned, your healer’s instincts kicking in.

“Elain?” Feyre’s voice held a note of alarm as her sister stumbled closer to where you were seated.

You turned in your chair just in time to see Elain falter entirely. Without thinking, you shot up and caught her as she collapsed, her weight sudden but manageable in your arms. Her head lolled against your shoulder, and a collective gasp rippled through the room. All conversation ceased.

“Elain!” Feyre and Nesta rushed to her side, their faces pale with worry. Lucien moved swiftly to her other side, his hand hovering uncertainly as if unsure whether to touch her. Azriel was right behind him, his shadows curling protectively around him, his expression a mix of alarm and dread.

“Elain, can you hear me?” Feyre’s voice was tight with fear as she knelt beside her sister.

And then it happened. Elain’s eyes snapped open, but they were no longer the soft brown you were accustomed to. They were white—bright, glowing, and unseeing. The sight knocked the breath from your lungs, your grip tightening reflexively as the unnatural glow emanated from her.

“Elain,” Nesta whispered, her voice breaking as she grasped her sister’s hand.

“What’s happening to her?” Lucien demanded, his tone panicked.

You steadied Elain in your arms, trying to process what was happening. Your mind raced as you scanned her for any immediate signs of injury or distress. There was none—nothing physical, at least—but the way her body trembled, her unfocused eyes, sent chills down your spine.

“She’s having a vision,” Azriel said, his voice low and tight. 

Feyre nodded grimly at your question about Elain’s visions. “Yes,” she said, her voice tight. “But... she’s never reacted like this before.”

Elain’s body began trembling more violently, her breathing escalating into rapid, shallow gasps. You quickly moved, lowering her to the ground into a safer position, your movements precise and practiced. “Everyone step back,” you said firmly, your voice cutting through the panic in the room. “Give me space.”

The others obeyed, though their worry was palpable. Feyre knelt near but didn’t interfere, her face pale with fear. Lucien and Azriel hovered nearby, their expressions equally stricken. Nesta stood frozen, her hands clenched into fists.

Elain’s trembling worsened, transitioning into full-body spasms. You glanced sharply at Feyre. “Does she usually react like this?”

Feyre shook her head quickly. “No—this has never happened before.”

Your jaw tightened as you assessed her condition. “Alright,” you murmured, more to yourself than anyone else. With a swift motion, you opened Elain’s mouth and carefully inserted two fingers to hold her tongue down, ensuring she wouldn’t swallow it during the convulsions. Then, your free hand hovered just above her head.

You closed your eyes, focusing your power as it began to flow from you. A faint glow radiated from your hand, and your hair lifted as if caught in an unseen breeze. A hush fell over the room, everyone holding their breath as the air grew heavy under the weight of your power. Azriel’s sharp gaze was fixed on you, his shadows coiling around him in tension.

Elain’s spasms began to subside as your power guided her, pulling her gently from the grip of the vision. The glow from your hand intensified briefly before dimming, and her breathing evened out. Slowly, her body stilled.

Elain’s spasms began to subside as your power guided her, pulling her gently from the grip of the vision. The glow from your hand intensified briefly before dimming, and her breathing evened out. Slowly, her body stilled. But as the connection between you and her held firm, something shifted—a thread of her vision snagged onto your mind.

It happened so quickly that you didn’t have time to prepare. One moment you were guiding her back to reality, and the next, you were pulled into the recesses of her mind. Shadows enveloped you, thick and suffocating, until the world reshaped itself into the fragments of her vision.

The ground beneath you was barren, cracked, and lifeless. The air smelled of ash and decay, and the sky above was a swirling void of darkness. There were no stars, no moon—only an oppressive, smothering emptiness. Fires burned in the distance, their flickering light revealing the skeletal remains of a once-thriving land. This place had been wiped clean of life, erased by a force too terrible to comprehend.

You turned, searching for Elain in the chaos. And then you saw her. She stood just ahead, motionless, her expression vacant and unseeing as if she were a mere observer in this apocalyptic scene. You tried to call out to her, to reach her, but your voice was swallowed by the void. She didn’t seem to register your presence, her eyes fixed on the horror unfolding around her.

Your chest tightened, and you were about to take a step toward her when something else caught your attention. Movement in the periphery—a figure in the shadows. It was... you.

At first, you thought it might be a trick of the vision, a warped reflection, but the figure stepped into the light, and there was no mistaking it. It was you, yet not. This version of you was eerily calm, detached. You looked the same, but your expression held an unsettling stillness.

Then the change began. Blood trickled from your nose, then your ears, your eyes, and your mouth. The crimson streaks contrasted sharply against your pale skin, but you didn’t flinch or react. Instead, a faint smile curved your lips, haunting in its serenity.

Elain, still oblivious to your presence, stood frozen, her hand lifting to her mouth in silent horror as she watched the scene unfold.

And then, the darkness took shape. A hand, inky and unnatural, emerged from the shadows, its long, clawed fingers reaching toward the chest of the vision-you. The smile on your face remained as the hand struck in one swift motion, plunging into where your heart should have been.

You felt it. The phantom pain. The void. The absence.

You crumpled to the ground, lifeless, and the darkness seeped into the cracks of the earth, spreading like a disease. Elain whimpered softly in the vision, her form trembling as she stared at your fallen figure. 

The pull of the vision began to loosen, dragging you back to the present. You blinked, gasping for breath as you returned to your body, the sensation of your heart still pounding in your chest grounding you. Elain stirred beneath you, her breathing shaky as her eyes fluttered open.

Your mind reeled, the memory of what you had seen burning fresh in your mind. You didn’t know what the vision meant, but the chilling image of yourself—bleeding, smiling, heartless—was not something you would soon forget.

You exhaled, opening your eyes to see Elain staring up at you. Relief flickered in the room—until, without warning, her hand lashed out and slapped you hard across the face.

The shock reverberated through the room as everyone froze. You blinked, stunned by the sharp sting on your cheek. Slowly, you stood up, gripping the back of the chair nearest to you as if to steady yourself, your knuckles tightening against the wood. But your face remained calm, your expression carefully composed.

“Well,” you said dryly, your voice steady despite the racing of your heart, “that’s a new one.”

Feyre and Nesta immediately moved to Elain’s side, helping her sit up as she began to regain full awareness. “Elain, are you okay?” Feyre asked, her voice soft but worried.

Lucien stepped forward, his golden eye flashing with unease. “What happened? Why did she—”

“I don’t think she knew what she was doing,” you interrupted, your tone calm and measured, giving nothing away. You flexed your fingers subtly against the chair, grounding yourself as you continued. “It’s normal for someone to act unpredictably when coming out of a vision that strong.”

Feyre and Nesta gently guided Elain toward the stairs, murmuring reassurances as they helped her to her room. Lucien followed close behind, his expression tight with worry. Azriel, however, didn’t move. His gaze remained locked on you, golden eyes scanning your face with quiet intensity.

Slowly, you let go of the chair, shaking out the tension in your fingers. Your cheek still stung faintly, but it was nothing compared to the weight pressing heavily against your chest.

You sighed softly, glancing at the mess of plates and half-eaten desserts left on the table. It felt like the room itself had absorbed the tension of the evening, the air heavy and stifling.

Mother above, what a night. You straightened, smoothing down your sleeves as you regained your composure. 

Azriel crossed the room in a few swift strides, his shadows curling low around his feet. His hand lifted slowly, hesitating for the briefest of moments before his fingers brushed against your arm—light as a whisper but enough to make your breath catch.

“Are you okay?” His voice was low, almost a murmur, his thumb grazing your sleeve in a subtle, grounding motion.

You blinked, surprised by the question, by the weight in his tone. “I’m—” Your words faltered, the concern in his eyes throwing you off balance. “I’m fine.”

Cassian, ever the mood breaker, smirked. “Great catch, Y/N,” he said with a chuckle.

Azriel’s head turned slightly, casting Cassian a sharp side-eye that practically dripped with unspoken warning. His shadows flared briefly, wrapping tighter around his boots. Cassian raised a brow, but wisely said nothing more.

You tried to smile at Cassian, though it barely reached your eyes. “Thanks, Cassian” you said softly.

Azriel’s fingers tightened briefly on your arm before releasing you. His touch lingered like a ghost, the warmth of it seeping into your skin. His golden gaze remained locked on yours, searching, as though trying to read something written just beneath the surface.

“I’m fine,” you repeated, softer this time, more for him than for anyone else.

He studied you for a second longer, his shadows curling and unfurling around him. His thumb brushed the back of your hand in a fleeting gesture that felt more like a promise than a reassurance.

“Good,” he said quietly, his voice steady but thick with something you couldn’t quite place. “Let me know if… you need anything.”

For a moment, it felt like you were the only two people in the room, the air between you charged and warm. Then Azriel stepped back, his eyes lingering on you for a heartbeat longer before turning toward the others.

You turned to Rhysand, your voice calm but serious. “How do her visions usually go?”

Rhysand leaned against the edge of the table, his brow furrowed. “Not like that,” he admitted. “She usually comes back to herself without shaking or... whatever that was tonight.”

You nodded, thoughtful. “You’ll need to monitor her closely if this keeps happening. What happened tonight—especially the shaking—is essentially her brain short-circuiting, going on and off repeatedly. I stuck my fingers in her mouth not for pleasure but to prevent her from swallowing her tongue.”

Cassian let out a startled laugh at your bluntness, but you continued without pause. “I helped her out of the vision, but it could be the content of this particular one was too violent, causing her to react that way.”

Lucien, standing stiffly in the doorway, finally spoke. “And if it’s not controlled next time? What happens then?”

You met his gaze evenly, your tone steady but grave. “Asking me that is like asking what would happen if you put a soldier in a war field. There are options, but death is one of them. She could stay in the shaking state without being able to come back to herself or choke—but those are worst-case scenarios.”

The room was quiet as you continued, your voice calm but firm. “It could also completely be a one-time thing. But this is why it has to be monitored carefully.”

Amren leaned back in her chair, her sharp eyes on you. “Well, at least that was clear.”

You smirked faintly at her dry remark. “Clarity is what I aim for.”

Azriel’s eyes lingered on you, his shadows curling faintly around his shoulders as he listened intently.

“I could examine her further,” you added after a moment, “to see if there’s anything else that might explain what happened tonight. But I’d wait until she’s less shaken by it all. Right now, forcing her into anything might make things worse.”

Rhysand nodded, his expression thoughtful. “We’ll keep an eye on her and call for you if it happens again. For now, let’s give her some space to recover.”

Everyone seemed to agree with that plan, though Lucien still looked troubled. The room slowly eased out of its earlier tension, though the weight of what had just occurred lingered in the back of everyone’s minds.

Azriel’s gaze lingered on you, his golden eyes dark with worry. As the room shifted its attention to Feyre and Nesta returning, he leaned closer, his hand brushing lightly against your arm. The touch sent a ripple of awareness through you.

“Are you sure you are okay?” His voice was low, barely audible over the quiet murmurs of the others.

You blinked, caught off guard by the genuine concern in his tone. Was Azriel truly worried about you?

A soft smile tugged at your lips, and you shook your head lightly. “Don’t worry. A little slap isn’t going to kill me,” you said, throwing in a wink to lighten the mood.

Azriel’s lips quirked ever so slightly, but the tension in his shoulders didn’t ease entirely.

Feyre’s voice broke through the moment. “Elain’s sleeping now,” she said, her tone carrying both relief and exhaustion.

Lucien exhaled audibly, a wave of relief washing over his features. Feyre turned to you, her expression warm with gratitude. “Thank you for your help, Y/N. I don’t know what we’d have done without you.”

You nodded, brushing it off lightly. “I’m just glad I was here when it happened.”

Rhysand’s eyes flicked between Feyre and Nesta, his expression sharpening. “Did she tell you anything about her vision?”

The two sisters exchanged a weighted look, Feyre biting her lip before she finally spoke. “Yes,” she said hesitantly, glancing at Nesta for confirmation.

“It’s not good,” Nesta added, her voice steadier but no less grim.

The room fell silent again, everyone waiting for Feyre or Nesta to elaborate. The weight of whatever Elain had seen hung heavy in the air, and you couldn’t help but feel the knot of tension coiling tighter in your chest. Azriel’s hand lingered on your arm for a moment longer before he pulled it away, his expression hardening as he braced for whatever was coming next. 

Feyre exchanged a tense glance with Nesta, the silence thick and suffocating. Then, with a heavy sigh, Feyre began to explain, her voice trembling slightly.

“She told us about what she saw… about death, war, and darkness sweeping over everything. But the most terrifying part was…” Feyre’s voice broke, and she looked at Nesta to continue.

Nesta, ever composed, took over. “She saw you, Y/N. In the middle of it all. And…” She hesitated, her steel facade cracking for just a moment before she forced herself to say it. “She saw you...”

The room fell deathly silent, everyone frozen in place. Azriel, standing beside you, visibly tensed, his golden eyes narrowing as he processed the words.

You straightened, your expression unreadable. The weight of their words wasn’t new to you. You had already seen it yourself in Elain’s vision, and now, hearing it spoken aloud, it only cemented what you had felt.

“I know,” you said quietly, your voice steady but filled with an edge of resignation.

Every head in the room turned to you, confusion and shock flashing across their faces.

“You know?” Feyre asked, her voice almost a whisper.

You nodded slowly. “I saw it too. I’m not sure how, but when I guided Elain out of her vision, pieces of it came to me. I saw what she saw.”

Azriel’s voice cut through the stunned silence, sharp and filled with tension. “Saw what? What exactly did you see?”

You turned to face him, your gaze unwavering, though the effort to maintain your composure was immense. “I saw the moment I die, Azriel.”

The breath seemed to leave the room all at once. Even Amren, ever-unflappable, looked taken aback. Cassian, wide-eyed, shifted uneasily in his seat. Feyre and Nesta exchanged another tense glance, while Rhysand’s expression hardened, his jaw tightening.

“What do you mean, you saw yourself die?” Azriel pressed, his voice low and strained, his shadows coiling around him like a living entity. His hand hovered near your arm again, as though he wanted to hold on to you, to ground himself in your presence.

You gave a bitter smile, the weight of the truth pressing down on you. “Exactly what it sounds like. She saw me die, and so did I. What do you want me to say? It’s not a matter of if, but when.”

Azriel’s jaw tightened, and the raw emotion in his eyes was almost unbearable to look at. “You can’t just… accept that,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, yet filled with an edge of desperation. “There has to be something we can do. We can stop it—”

“You think I haven’t thought of that?” you interrupted, your tone sharp but not unkind. “I’ve lived long enough to know that sometimes, no matter what you do, fate has its way.”

Rhysand’s voice broke through, calm but commanding. “What exactly did you see, Y/N?”

You hesitated, the image flashing in your mind. The darkness, the war, and that final moment when everything stopped, and you fell. “I saw the world in chaos—death everywhere. And then I saw myself... my blood, my heart—gone. I felt it as much as I saw it.”

Azriel took a step closer to you, his shadows curling protectively around him. His golden eyes were locked onto yours, filled with something you couldn’t quite place. “I don’t accept that,” he said firmly. “We’ll find a way to stop it. Whatever it takes.”

For a moment, the room was quiet, everyone digesting the gravity of the revelation. Then Amren, leaning back in her chair, spoke up, her voice cool but filled with an edge of challenge. “If fate has marked you, Y/N, then the question is not if we can stop it, but what it will cost.”

Her words hung heavily in the air, a reminder of the uncertain path ahead. You swallowed hard, the weight of the vision and its implications pressing down on you. But even as the room seemed to drown in its tension, you squared your shoulders, lifting your chin.

“Whatever happens,” you said softly, “it doesn’t change what I need to do now. We have time—maybe not much, but enough to prepare.”

As the heavy silence settled in the room, you could feel the weight of everyone’s gaze on you. Rhysand’s sharp violet eyes held yours for a long moment before he finally spoke, his voice steady but laced with an undertone of unease. “Y/N,” he began, “would you allow me to see it? The vision?”

You hesitated, the thought of someone else witnessing what you had seen unsettling, but you nodded nonetheless. “Go ahead,” you said softly, standing your ground. Rhysand approached you carefully, his movements deliberate, as though he didn’t want to startle you.

His mental touch was gentle, like a soft whisper brushing against your thoughts. You let him in, showing him the fractured, haunting glimpses of the vision—darkness, war, your bloodied form crumbling to the ground.

When he pulled back, his expression was tight, his jaw clenched. A faint twitch betrayed his composed demeanor.

“Don’t pity me, Rhysand,” you said, your tone firm, though there was a flicker of something softer beneath it. “I died once. I’ve been blessed by the Mother, and I’ve accepted that one day, that favor will need to be returned.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and final. Azriel’s golden eyes locked onto you, his shadows coiling tightly around him. His expression was unreadable, but the look in his eyes was anything but. It was a mix of disbelief, worry, and something else you couldn’t quite place—something that made your chest tighten.

The tension in the room shifted, the atmosphere changing as people slowly began to disperse, their expressions ranging from solemn to thoughtful. Conversations were hushed, and one by one, the Inner Circle left to retreat to their rooms or find solace in other parts of the house.

You needed air. The weight of the vision, the discussions, and the gazes filled with unspoken questions were too much. Slipping out quietly, you made your way to the garden of the townhouse. The cool night air brushed against your skin, soothing in its simplicity. The stars above were bright, scattered across the inky sky like a promise of something eternal.

You found a bench near the center of the garden and sank onto it, tilting your head back to take in the view. The stars twinkled softly, distant and untouchable, yet strangely comforting. For a moment, you let yourself breathe, the crisp air filling your lungs as you tried to untangle the storm of emotions swirling inside you.

The quiet of the garden wrapped around you like a comforting blanket. After some time, you felt a presence approach—a familiar one—and moments later, a warmer jacket was draped over your shoulders. You turned your head slightly to see Azriel sitting down beside you, his movements careful and deliberate. He didn’t speak, didn’t try to fill the silence, and instead, he leaned back to look up at the sky, mirroring your own posture.

For a while, the two of you simply sat there, the stars above a quiet audience to the unspoken words lingering between you. Eventually, unable to bear the weight of the silence any longer, you turned to him and asked, “Aren’t you going to ask me what I’m doing here?”

Still gazing upward, Azriel’s voice was low, steady. “Once, someone told me that sometimes no words need to be spoken. But if you want to talk…” Finally, he turned his head to look at you, his golden eyes catching the faint moonlight. “I’m here.”

A small laugh escaped you, soft but genuine. “Are you actually quoting me?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

Azriel’s lips twitched into the barest hint of a smile. “Maybe.”

Your laughter faded into the cool night air, replaced by a quieter moment as the gravity of everything settled back in. After a moment, Azriel’s voice broke through the stillness, softer this time. “How?”

You turned to him, your brow furrowing slightly. “How what?”

“How can you accept what you saw so easily?” he asked, his gaze dropping to the ground as though the question was too heavy to lift.

You hesitated, unsure how to answer, then sighed. “I don’t know, Azriel. I really don’t.”

He exhaled softly, the sound tinged with frustration, and his voice was almost a whisper when he spoke again. “Don’t behave like your death won’t affect other people.”

Your breath caught at his words, and when you turned to look at him, his hand slowly reached out, his fingers brushing against yours before curling gently around your hand. His touch was warm, grounding.

“Like it won’t affect me,” he added, his voice barely audible now, but the weight of his words settled heavily between you.

Your eyes widened slightly, your heart stumbling over itself as you processed the raw honesty in his voice. You turned your gaze back to the sky, swallowing hard against the lump in your throat. After a long pause, you found the courage to ask, “When did you figure it out?”

Azriel’s grip on your hand tightened just slightly, as though he was anchoring himself to you. “Figure what out?” he asked, his tone cautious, even though you both knew exactly what you meant.

The bond hummed faintly between you, a quiet rhythm you’d learned to live with but had never fully embraced. You turned back to him, meeting his gaze directly, and whispered, “That I’m your mate.”

The moment stretched between you, heavy with emotions you had never allowed yourself to fully feel. Azriel's words hung in the air like an unanswered prayer, and when he finally spoke again, his voice was soft but resolute.

"The moment we nearly died on our way back from Dawn," he said, his gaze unwavering.

“Oh,” was all you could manage, your voice barely above a whisper. After a pause, he tilted his head slightly and asked, “And you? When did you know?”

Your throat tightened as you glanced away, searching for the courage to speak the truth. “When I saved your life at the House of Wind,” you admitted softly.

He was quiet for a moment, his golden eyes fixed on you. “Oh,” was his only response.

And then the question you had been dreading fell from his lips. “Why? Why haven’t you said anything?”

You turned sharply, your face a mask of incredulity. “Are you seriously asking me this now, Azriel? Look at you—with Elain.” Your voice broke slightly, but you steadied yourself. “I barely knew you at the time. What would you have wanted from me then? You loved her—or at least you thought you did. What would you have done if you were in my place?”

“I don’t love her,” he said firmly, cutting through your spiraling thoughts.

You shot him a sidelong glance, disbelief clouding your features. “Azriel, this—this is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you. I don’t want this to be forced.” You took a shaky breath, your voice trembling. “You deserve someone better, much better than me. And definitely not someone who’s... who’s destined to die soon.”

He tried to interrupt, his expression pained, but you raised a hand to stop him. “No, please. You’re one of the kindest, most selfless people I’ve ever met. You’ve dedicated your life to protecting others, to doing what’s right. And I—I just can’t, Azriel. I can’t give you what you deserve.”

You turned fully to him now, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears. The heaviness in your chest felt unbearable, as if the weight of your fears and regrets were finally demanding release. “I work with death every day,” you began, your voice trembling but growing stronger with each word. “Every single day, I watch it take and take and take. I’ve seen families shattered into pieces—mothers begging me to save their children, lovers screaming for someone to bring their person back.”

Azriel’s gaze softened as he took in the storm of emotions pouring from you, his golden eyes following every movement as you began to pace. “I’ve had fathers collapse in my arms because I couldn’t save their wives. Sisters sobbing, clutching me like I was the only thing keeping them tethered to this world. And I...” You paused, pressing a trembling hand to your chest, the lump in your throat growing unbearable. “I can’t—I won’t—be the reason someone else ends up in that position because of me.”

The words tumbled from you, raw and unfiltered, as though they’d been waiting for this moment to escape. “Do you know what that’s like? To carry that? Every mistake, every failure—it haunts you. It lives inside you. And knowing that one day, I’ll be the one taken... that I could leave someone behind, someone I care about... I can’t do that to anyone, Azriel. I just can’t.”

Your steps faltered as the rawness of your confession left you breathless, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself as if you could hold yourself together through sheer will. Azriel remained silent, his eyes following you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. His shadows stirred softly at his feet, as though they wanted to reach out to you but were unsure how.

“Why do you think I’ve always left?” you demanded, turning toward him suddenly, your voice rising. “Why do you think I’ve never stayed anywhere for long? Why do you think I’ve never let anyone get close, too close to me? Why do you think I’ve never been able to have something... someone real?”

Your voice cracked on the last word, and you could feel yourself unraveling. “I’m terrified, Azriel. I’m terrified of death—of what it takes, of what it leaves behind. It’s not just the pain or the loss... it’s the emptiness it leaves in its wake. And I can’t bear the thought of someone else feeling that emptiness because of me.”

Snow began to fall softly around you, the first flakes catching in your hair and melting against your flushed cheeks. You barely noticed, your heart hammering in your chest as the emotions you’d kept buried for so long spilled out in a torrent. The cold air stung your lungs, but you welcomed it, letting it ground you.

Your knees buckled, and you sank to the ground as though the weight of your confession had finally crushed you. The snow gathered in the folds of your clothes, a stark contrast to the heat burning behind your eyes. “And I’m just so, so sorry that I’m your mate,” you choked out, your voice cracking as tears spilled freely down your face.

Azriel knelt beside you without hesitation, his movements slow and deliberate as though he were approaching something fragile. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you into the warmth and steadiness of his chest as your sobs wracked your body. You clung to him, the snowfall around you a quiet witness to the storm raging inside you.

“I’m so sorry, Azriel,” you whispered again, your voice muffled against his shoulder. “I’m sorry I’m your mate. I’m sorry I can’t be what you deserve. I’m sorry for... for all of it.”

His arms tightened around you, his shadows curling protectively, almost soothingly. His voice was low and soft when he finally spoke, the words barely audible over the sound of your own broken breathing. “Don’t you dare apologize for being you,” he murmured, his tone steady, even as his own emotions threatened to break through.

The snow continued to fall, blanketing the garden in a quiet stillness that seemed to echo the rawness of the moment. Azriel’s warmth surrounded you, his presence grounding you even as the storm inside you raged on.

Azriel froze for a moment, his golden eyes locking onto yours, filled with something you couldn’t quite name—something that made your chest tighten. Slowly, almost reverently, his hands rose to gently cup your face, his calloused thumbs brushing away the tears streaking your cheeks. The tenderness in his touch made your breath catch, your heart thundering in your chest.

He tilted your head up, his shadows curling softly around your shoulders, as though they were trying to reassure you in their own way. “Look at me,” he murmured, his voice steady but laced with raw emotion. The words were both a command and a plea, grounding you in the storm of your thoughts. “Just... look at me.”

For a heartbeat, everything else fell away—the snow, the cold, the pain. It was just him, his golden eyes burning with an intensity that made your knees tremble even though you were already on the ground.

And then, without warning, his lips were on yours.

It wasn’t just a kiss; it was a lifeline. Gentle at first, as if he were afraid you’d shatter under his touch, but then deeper, insistent, grounding. A warmth spread through you, chasing away the chill of the snow, as if his very being was pulling you back from the edge. Your eyes widened in shock, your mind struggling to process what was happening. But then, as the bond between you pulsed like a drumbeat in your veins, you melted into him, your hands clutching at the fabric of his tunic as if letting go would undo you completely.

The bond roared to life, the connection between you blazing with an intensity that stole your breath. You felt it in every fiber of your being—a tether that had always been there, humming quietly in the background, now surging forward with undeniable force. His shadows wrapped around you, cocooning you in their embrace, a silent promise of safety and devotion.

The kiss broke, leaving both of you gasping for air, your foreheads pressed together. His hands didn’t leave your face, his thumbs still brushing against your skin, as though anchoring you to the moment. The bond pulsed between you, vibrant and alive, and you swore you could feel his heartbeat echoing in time with yours.

Azriel’s voice, when he finally spoke, was a low murmur, trembling with a quiet intensity that sent shivers down your spine. “Are you done?” he asked, his lips quirking into a faint, almost teasing smile. “Because it’s my turn to talk now.”

His words hung in the air between you, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt something other than fear—hope.

Azriel’s gaze pierced through you, deep and unwavering, as though he was stripping away every wall you had ever built, leaving you bare before him. The snow continued to fall around you, cold and relentless, yet you barely noticed it. The world seemed to shrink to just the two of you, kneeling in the snow, your breaths mingling in the frosty air.

“Y/N,” Azriel began, his voice low but filled with a vulnerability you’d never heard from him before. “You are the person who’s made me see the world differently.” He paused, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. “The first moment I laid eyes on you, I felt... something. It was like I was drawn to you, like there was this force pulling me toward you, even though I didn’t understand it.”

His words were heavy, laden with emotion. You couldn’t look away, caught in the raw honesty of his confession.

“It took me months to figure out why,” he continued, his shadows curling faintly around him as though reflecting his inner turmoil. “Why I felt like I could tell you things I’ve never even told my brothers. Why, when I was with you, I didn’t feel like I had to hide the parts of me I’ve spent centuries locking away. It was as if you could see me—truly see me—and not turn away.”

Your heart ached at his words, your chest tightening with the weight of his emotions.

“I didn’t understand it at first,” he said, his voice softening. “Why I ended up at the clinic that night of the solstice. Why I fell asleep so easily in your space, a place that felt more like home than anywhere else has in years. Why, in Dawn, every moment I spent away from you felt wrong, like I was missing something vital. And then...” He hesitated, his jaw tightening. “When I saw you with Thesan, I felt this rage, this jealousy that I couldn’t explain. And that night, when the storm came, I accepted that I would die—because being with you in that moment, even if it was the end, felt right.”

His voice cracked, and you felt your breath hitch as his words pressed against the tender parts of your heart.

“And then you saved us,” Azriel whispered, his shadows curling around you both now, a silent embrace. “And the bond snapped into place, and everything suddenly made sense. And gods, I’ve hated myself every day since for talking to you about Elain—for putting you through that pain without even knowing it.”

You couldn’t stop the tears that slipped down your cheeks, and you reached up, placing your hand on his face. His golden eyes closed briefly at your touch, leaning into your palm as though it grounded him.

“And tonight,” he went on, his voice trembling with emotion, “when I saw you with Lucien, I felt it again. That jealousy. The way you smiled, the way you laughed with him... I wanted to be in his place so badly it hurt.”

His voice dropped to a whisper, thick with self-loathing. “And I know I don’t deserve you. Gods, I’ve been the worst to you. But, Y/N, you are everything I didn’t know I needed. You are smart, strong, considerate. You light up the room just by being in it. You make everyone around you better, just by existing. It is so, so easy to fall in love with you.”

Your breath caught in your throat, his words wrapping around you like a balm to your battered soul.

“And even if it’s for a year, or a month, or a single day,” Azriel said, his voice breaking, “I want to spend it with you. I want to be close to you, to be by your side, for however long we have.”

He reached out then, his hands trembling as they cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away your tears. His gaze burned into yours, his bond thrumming with a quiet, steady pulse that matched your own. “Please, Y/N. Let me be with you.”

You let out a small, shaky laugh, the sound soft and almost disbelieving as it fell between your lips. Your head dropped forward, resting gently against Azriel’s chest, his shirt dampening slightly with your tears. The both of you had shifted completely onto the ground, no longer kneeling but sitting in the snow. You were nearly in his lap, his arms instinctively wrapping around you, pulling you closer as though he feared you might disappear.

“I-I just don’t want you to feel obligated because of what happened tonight,” you murmured against his chest, your voice trembling. “I don’t want this to be out of pity.”

Azriel stilled for a moment, and then his hands cupped your face with such gentleness it made your breath hitch. He tilted your head upward, his golden eyes meeting yours, before leaning down and kissing you again—deeper this time, the connection searing into your very soul. It wasn’t hurried or desperate but deliberate, a kiss that held every unspoken word, every ounce of feeling he hadn’t yet been able to say.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested lightly against yours, and his hand moved to your shoulder, grounding himself in your presence as his scent wrapped around you. His shadows curled around the both of you like a protective cocoon, their touch faint and reassuring.

“Never, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice raw and barely above a whisper. “Never out of pity. I’ve long made up my mind about how I feel about you. Even if everything feels like a mess—if everything is wrong—I will never fall in love with you out of pity.”

The last words were so quiet, they were almost inaudible, but you heard them. And they wrapped around your heart, filling the cracks you hadn’t even realized were there.

Your hands moved on instinct, slipping inside his jacket as you hugged him closer, seeking his warmth and steadiness. Your palm pressed gently against his back, and your fingers began tracing soft circles at the base of his wings. Whether it was to reassure yourself that this moment was real or to offer him comfort, you didn’t know. Maybe it was both.

Azriel let out a quiet sigh, his chin resting lightly against your head as he held you. The snow continued to fall around you, the icy flakes melting against the shared heat between you. Neither of you spoke for a long time, the silence filled with the steady rhythm of your breathing, the faint pulse of the bond humming quietly between you.

For the first time in a long time, you felt something you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel in years: safe. And in Azriel’s arms, with his shadows weaving around you, it felt like you’d finally found the place where you belonged.

don't hesitate to comment if you want to be added to the tag list ;)))

tag list : @angel-graces-world-of-chaos @bravo-delta-eccho @messageforthesmallestman @celestialgilb @tiredsleepyhead @annamariereads16 @arcanefeelingz @fuckingsimp4azriel @adventure-awaits13 @diaouranask @rcarbo1 @6v6babycheese @goodvibesonlyxd @sa54va87to90re12 @firefly-forest @babypeapoddd @hailqueenconquer @daughterofthemoons-stuff @lilah-asteria @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @judig92 @pinklemonade34 @sourapplex @wickedshadowsinger @shinyghosteclipse @rose-girls-world @leptitlu @acourtofsmutandstarlight @feyrescanvas @dreamloud4610 @plants-w0rld @tele86 @dragonsandrinks @making-it-big @itsbonniebabe @motheroffae @azrielswhore @casiiopea2 @whyucloudingmymind @onebadassunicorn @prettylittlewrites @moondustxy @panickedmushroom @ly--canthrope @xlosttdreamss @phoenix666stuff @runningoncoffeeandchaos @zanaorian @prettty-thing @wxveysun @aslut4percyjackson @ailoda @byteme05 @elisabethch82 @

[lunaswicked]

Sweet Talk

Paring: College!Jimmy Uso x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5k

Summary: Two roommates— You and Jimmy—find yourselves caught in a whirlwind of tension, desire, and unspoken feelings. What begins as teasing and frustration between you evolves into a night of unexpected intimacy that blurs the lines between hate and attraction.

Tags: enemies to smutville😫, roommates, 18+, p in v, teasing, dirty talking, 9 incher jimmy uso, dickstressing, AND WHATEVER ELSE, ENJOY😋

You and Jimmy rarely saw eye to eye. It wasn’t that you outright despised each other, but the two of you had a way of constantly butting heads over the smallest things. Maybe it was because you were both stubborn, or maybe it was because neither of you ever backed down from an argument. Either way, there was always a tension between you—one that never seemed to fade no matter how much time passed.  

Both of you were college students, navigating your own paths, yet your lifestyles couldn’t have been more different. You poured yourself into your studies, determined to excel in every class, while Jimmy had an almost single-minded obsession with football—both playing it and watching it. If he wasn’t on the field, he was glued to the screen, yelling at players who couldn’t hear him or analyzing plays with the kind of intensity most people reserved for final exams.  

When he wasn’t fixated on football, he’d be locked in his room, spending hours on whatever video game he and his twin brother, Jey, were obsessed with that month. It was almost impossible to get a word in when he was deep in competition mode, his focus unwavering as he trash-talked through his headset. Sometimes, it felt like college itself was just a background noise in his life, something he did because he had to—not because he cared.  

But despite all of that, you knew Jimmy was smart. In fact, he was one of the smartest people you knew, even if he didn’t always act like it. He had a sharp mind, a quick wit, and an ability to break things down in a way that made even the most complicated subjects seem simple. The problem was, hardly anyone ever got to see that side of him. He didn’t apply himself the way he could have, and more often than not, he played the role of the carefree guy who only lived for football and video games.  

"I'm not going. I got lab tomorrow," you said into your phone, shifting against the pillows as you tucked yourself deeper into bed.  

Bianca groaned dramatically on the other end. "Girl, you always busy! Every time I call, it's the same thing—lab this, assignment that. And don’t even get me started on how you be stuck in that house with Jimmy all the damn time."  

You rolled your eyes, even though she couldn’t see you. "First of all, I am not stuck with Jimmy. We just happen to live in the same space. Not like I have a choice."  

"Uh-huh, sure. And yet, every time I ask you to come out, you got an excuse, and he's always somewhere in the background, being annoying," Bianca shot back. "One day, imma just pull up and kidnap you, no warning."  

You laughed, shaking your head. "And do what? Drag me out in my pajamas? Not happening."  

"Don’t test me. I’ll snatch you right up, bonnet and all," she teased. "Seriously, though. You need a break. When’s the last time you had fun? Like, actual fun. Not school, not arguing with Jimmy—fun."  

You hesitated, chewing on your lip. It had been a while since you let loose, but between school, deadlines, and dealing with Jimmy’s daily antics, going out just felt like another task on your already overflowing to-do list.  

"Exactly," Bianca said, as if she could hear your thoughts through the phone. "Look, just think about it. Even geniuses like you need a night off."  

You sighed, glancing toward your closed bedroom door, where you could still faintly hear Jimmy and Jey shouting at their game. "I’ll think about it."  

"That’s what you said last time," Bianca huffed. "I ain't falling for it again. You better show up, or I will come get you."  

You smiled, shaking your head. "We’ll see, B. We’ll see."  

She let out an exaggerated groan but didn’t push it further. "Fine, but don’t think I’m letting this go. I’ll call you tomorrow, and you better give me a yes."  

"Goodnight, Bianca," you said, smirking.  

"Mmhm, whatever. Goodnight, miss I got lab."  

You hung up, staring at the ceiling with a small smile. Maybe she had a point.

Your stomach let out an impatient grumble, loud enough to make you sigh in frustration. You hadn’t eaten in hours, and at this point, there was only one thing that could fix it—a slice of your favorite vanilla cake with extra whipped cream. The thought alone was enough to get you out of bed, pushing aside your tiredness as you made your way down the hall toward the kitchen.

The house was quieter than usual, with only the faint hum of the refrigerator and the distant noise of the TV from the living room. Normally, Jimmy would be in there, glued to whatever game had his attention for the night, but the lack of his usual shouting made you pause. Maybe he had finally gone to bed for once? That would be a miracle.

But as soon as you stepped into the kitchen, that hope vanished.

Standing by the open fridge, fork in hand, was Jimmy—mid-bite, chewing your cake like he didn’t have a single care in the world. Wearing a fitted black shirt with yellow shorts that showed too much thigh.

You stopped dead in your tracks, your brain needing an extra second to process the sheer disrespect of what you were witnessing.

"You gotta to be fucking wit' me," you said, your voice flat.

Jimmy turned his head slowly, fork still in his mouth, his expression completely unbothered. He raised an eyebrow as he chewed, finally swallowing before answering. "What?"

Your arms crossed tightly over your chest as you stared him down. "That was my cake, Jimmy."

He had the nerve to glance down at the plate in his hand, then back up at you with a smirk. "You sure about that?"

You let out an exasperated breath, stepping closer. "Yes, I’m sure. I’ve been thinking about that cake all damn day. It was the last slice!"

Jimmy shrugged, taking another slow, deliberate bite, as if to rub it in. "Was the last slice. Past tense."

Your jaw dropped. "You are actually the worst person I know."

He chuckled, licking a bit of whipped cream off his fork. "Damn. All this over some cake?"

You threw up your hands. "Jimmy, I needed that cake."

"You needed it?" he repeated, clearly amused. "You make it sound like life or death."

"It is!" you shot back. "I’ve had a long day, and all I wanted was to sit down, enjoy my damn cake, and go to bed happy. But noooo, because somebody just had to be greedy."

Jimmy leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, looking entirely too entertained. "Sounds like a you problem. You shoulda got here faster or sum."

"Or you could’ve just not eaten something that wasn’t yours," you snapped.

He shrugged again. "You ain't put yo name on it."

Your eye twitched. "We don’t do that in this house, Jimmy. Because normal people have respect."

Jimmy let out an exaggerated sigh, rolling his eyes as he scooped up a piece of cake with his fork. Slowly, deliberately, he strolled toward you, a smug smirk playing on his lips.  

“Here,” he said, holding the fork out in front of you, the fluffy vanilla cake and whipped cream practically taunting you. “You wanna bite?”  

Your arms folded over your chest, and you scoffed, giving him a sharp glare. “I’d rather die before I eat off of you,” you shot back, your voice dripping with defiance.  

Jimmy chuckled, tilting his head as he took another step closer. “Dramatic much?” he teased.  

You held your ground, eyes locked onto his, but the way he was staring at you—intense, playful, like he was daring you—sent a strange shiver down your spine. 

He took another step, closing the space between you, his free hand lazily slipping into the pocket of his shorts. He was close now, too close. You could smell the faint mix of his cologne and the sweet vanilla lingering on his breath.  

“What’s wrong?” he murmured, voice low, taunting. “Scared you’ll like it?”  

Your stomach tightened, but you forced yourself to scoff again, turning your head to the side. “Please, as if.”  

Jimmy let out a soft chuckle, lifting the fork slightly. “Then prove it.”  

You swallowed, glancing at the fork, then back at him. His eyes held something unreadable—dark amusement, challenge. You could feel your own stubbornness warring with the stupid, undeniable craving in your stomach.  

Your eyes flicked back to the cake, the whipped cream looking way too good to pass up.  

He smirked, sensing your hesitation. “C’mon, I ain't got all night,” he murmured, voice smooth, teasing.  

You clenched your jaw, irritation flaring, but your hunger was stronger than your pride. Damn it.  

With an exasperated sigh, you snatched his wrist, steadying his hand as you leaned in. You hesitated for half a second before finally parting your lips and taking the bite off the fork, your tongue barely brushing against the metal.  

Jimmy stilled.  

Your eyes flicked up to his as you pulled away, chewing slowly, the sweet vanilla and cream melting on your tongue.  

For a moment, neither of you spoke.  

His expression darkened just slightly, his smirk fading into something slower, heavier. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips as he stared at you, watching the way your lips closed around the fork before you finally pulled back.  

Something about the look in his eyes sent a heat crawling up your neck, your stomach twisting in a way that had nothing to do with the cake.  

You swallowed, shifting on your feet. “Happy now?” you muttered.  

Jimmy’s smirk returned, slow and knowing. He tilted his head, his voice dropping an octave.  

“Could’ve just said you wanted a taste,” he murmured.  

Your breath hitched, but you quickly covered it with an eye roll, shoving his wrist away as you stepped back.  

“Shut up, Jimmy.”  

He let out a low chuckle, his smirk never fading as he twirled the fork between his fingers. His eyes stayed locked on yours, dark amusement mixed with something else—something heavier, something that made your pulse tick faster than it should have.  

"You act like you hate me," he murmured, stepping just a fraction closer, his body heat now palpable. "But here you go, eatin' off my fork."  

Your throat felt dry, but you forced yourself to roll your eyes. "I was starving, Jimmy. Don’t flatter yourself."  

He tilted his head slightly, eyes flickering between your lips and your gaze, his smirk deepening. "Mmm, nah. I think you just wanted to see what I taste like."  

Your breath caught, heart slamming against your ribs.  

"You are so full of yourself," you muttered, stepping back, but you barely moved an inch before he closed the gap again, this time with purpose.  

The air shifted—suffocating, electric. You could hear the faint drip of the kitchen sink, the hum of the refrigerator, but it all faded beneath the way Jimmy was watching you. Like he had all the time in the world to unravel you piece by piece.  

"You sure about that?" he murmured, voice low, velvety smooth.  

His free hand brushed against your hip—not fully touching, just ghosting over the fabric of your shorts, enough to send a shiver through you.  

You should have stepped away. Should have said something cutting, something to kill whatever this was. But your body wasn’t listening.  

Jimmy noticed.  

His smirk flickered into something darker, his fingers grazing up your waist, featherlight, testing, waiting for you to stop him.  

You didn’t.  

A slow, knowing hum left his lips. “Thought so,” he murmured, voice dropping even lower.  

Your breath came a little quicker, your skin tingling beneath his touch. Your body was betraying you, leaning into the heat of him.

His fingers finally landed on your chin, tilting it up slightly, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes were unreadable—dangerous, teasing, but there was something else simmering beneath them. Something that sent your stomach twisting in the worst, best way.  

"You wanna taste somethin' sweet?" he murmured, his thumb barely brushing over your bottom lip. "I can give you more than just cake."  

Your breath hitched, fingers tightening at your sides.  

You just stood there. Frozen. Trapped under his gaze.  

Jimmy leaned in, slow enough for you to stop him, to push him away, but you didn’t. The warmth of his breath ghosted over your lips, his presence consuming every inch of space between you.  

Every nerve was alight, your breath coming shallow and uneven as Jimmy inched closer, the space between you shrinking to nothing. The scent of vanilla and his cologne wrapped around you, thick and intoxicating.  

"You gonna stop me?" he murmured, his lips barely brushing against yours as he spoke, his voice low, teasing.  

You should’ve. But you didn’t move. You couldn’t.  

His thumb dragged over your bottom lip, slow, deliberate, like he was testing you, waiting for any sign of resistance. When he found none, his smirk deepened, and then—  

His lips brushed yours.  

Not a full kiss, just a whisper of contact, enough to send a sharp jolt straight through you. Your breath hitched, and Jimmy noticed.  

"You’re shaking," he murmured, his free hand sliding up your side, fingers grazing your ribs, your waist—barely there, but enough to make your skin erupt in goosebumps.  

"I’m n-" You swallowed hard, but the words died in your throat.  

He took advantage of your hesitation, closing the distance entirely. His lips pressed against yours, slow at first, testing, teasing. His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you closer, his body heat seeping into you, his hand tracing up your spine like he wanted to memorize every inch of you.  

The moment you responded, the moment you gave in and let your lips move against his, it was over.  

Jimmy deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping over your bottom lip before slipping past, claiming your mouth like he had every right to. His grip turned possessive, his fingers digging into your waist as he pressed you back against the counter.  

You let out a soft gasp against his mouth, and he groaned in response, swallowing the sound like it belonged to him.  

"You taste better than that damn cake," he muttered against your lips, nipping at your bottom lip just hard enough to make your stomach flip.  

A shiver ran through you, and your fingers instinctively gripped the front of his shirt, holding onto him like he was the only thing keeping you upright.  

"Jimmy, we cant—" you breathed, but it came out weak, needy, nothing like the warning you meant for it to be.  

"Shhh," he murmured, his lips trailing from your mouth to your jaw, then lower, grazing the sensitive spot just below your ear. "I got you, baby."  

The nickname sent a new wave of heat through you, your body arching into him before you could think twice about it. His hands slid lower, fingers pressing into your hips, gripping you like he had no intention of letting go.  

"You still wanna act like you hate me?" he whispered against your skin, his breath hot, his voice dripping with amusement and something deeper.  

You should’ve said yes. Should’ve pushed him away. Should’ve told him this was wrong.  

But the only thing that left your lips was a soft, breathless whimper.  

Jimmy chuckled, dark and knowing.  

"Yeah," he muttered, his teeth grazing your skin before he kissed you again, slower this time, deeper. "That’s what I thought."

You knew it was a bad idea, knew you were crossing a line that could never be uncrossed, but still, you couldn’t stop. The feel of his lips against yours, the way he held you close, the pressure of his body pressing against yours—everything felt too good to resist.

You’d always found ways to make excuses, to stay just out of reach. The random times you’d bug him when you needed something opened, pretending it was just too difficult for you to handle on your own. You'd act annoyed, making a big show of how "helpless" you were, even though it was never actually hard. It was just an excuse, a reason to get him close to you. He’d always tease you about it, calling you out on how dramatic you were, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes when he did, something you’d always ignored or tried to explain away. 

Then there were the times he’d bring girls over, just to sit around in the living room, loud and carefree, as if they didn’t matter to him. The jealousy it stirred inside you was a dangerous thing. You’d play it cool, roll your eyes and pretend you didn’t care. But you did. You cared so much that it burned. It wasn’t about them, not really. It was the way he’d be with them—too casual, too friendly, not even a hint of what he shared with you. He’d stay in the living room with them for hours, laughing, talking like you weren’t there, almost like he was flaunting it. 

Every time he brought a girl around, he’d still somehow find ways to be around you. He wouldn’t let you slip away completely, not with the way he’d casually touch your arm when passing by, or the way his eyes would seek you out in a room full of people. It was almost like he wanted you to be jealous, wanted to see that spark of emotion flash in your eyes when he paid attention to someone else. But he never made a move on them. Not really. You had to wonder if he was testing you, pushing your boundaries to see how far you'd go. Or maybe, in some twisted way, he was giving you the space to make a move of your own. 

Now, there was no going back. 

His lips pulled away just long enough for you to catch your breath, his forehead resting against yours as you both tried to steady your racing hearts. His fingers were still tangled in your hair, and his other hand had drifted to your lower back, pulling you closer into him. You could feel the heat of him through the thin fabric of your clothes. You could feel everything.  

“You know this is crazy, right?” you whispered, your voice shaky, unsure if you were asking him or telling yourself. 

His eyes met yours again, dark and intense, and he gave a small, crooked grin. “Yeah,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your lip again. “Maybe it’s what we need, ma.”

That was the problem. It wasn’t just about him. It wasn’t just about you. It was about both of you. And maybe you both had always known this would happen. Maybe you both had been waiting for the other to make the first move.

His hand slid up beneath your oversized tee, fingers trailing against your bare skin, igniting a trail of heat in their wake. Your breath hitched, your body reacting to his touch before your mind could catch up. And god—he looked so damn good in those glasses. He rarely wore them, but when he did, it did something to you, something dangerous. It wasn’t just the way they framed his sharp features, or the way they made him look even more intense. It was the way they added to that quiet, confident arrogance of his—the way he knew exactly how they affected you.

Your lips parted, and without even thinking, you bit down on your bottom lip, trying to contain the rush of anticipation flooding through you. His eyes darkened at the sight, his pupils dilating with hunger. A low, guttural moan rumbled from his chest, deep and intoxicating, sending a shiver down your spine.

Before you could process it, he moved—swift, effortless, like he’d done it a thousand times before. His strong hands gripped your thighs, lifting you with no effort at all. You gasped, your arms instinctively wrapping around his shoulders as he set you down onto the cool marble countertop. 

He didn’t hesitate. His lips crashed into yours again, hungrier this time, more demanding. His hands gripped your ass firmly, pulling you flush against him, and you could feel every hard line of his body pressing into you. Your fingers tangled into his hair, tugging just enough to earn another groan from him, the sound vibrating through his chest and into yours.

“Fuck,” Jimmy mumbled against your lips, his voice thick with something between frustration and need. His hands roamed your sides, fingers digging into your skin like he was trying to ground himself. Your breaths mingled, heavy and uneven, as your hands moved instinctively to the hem of your shorts, pushing them down until they slipped off your legs and pooled onto the floor.

It had been over a year—too long since anyone had touched you like this. And yet, a single kiss from the one man you swore you couldn’t stand had you wetter than anyone ever had. It didn’t make sense. It was crazy. But you didn’t care.

Jimmy broke the kiss, his gaze trailing down your body until it settled on your yellow lace thong. The way his jaw clenched, the way his eyes darkened—it sent a rush of heat straight through you. You didn’t even have to look down to know how hard he was. His breathing was labored, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he undid his pants, never once breaking eye contact.

“You hate me for real, huh?” His voice was low, teasing, but thick with something deeper, something desperate.

Your eyes locked onto his, and you forced out a soft, defiant, “Mhm.” But it came out as a whimper, betraying the war raging inside you.

His smirk was slow, knowing. “Yeah?”

Before you could say anything else, his pants and boxers hit the floor, and your breath hitched.

Your pulse pounded in your ears, your fingers twitching against the countertop as anticipation curled low in your stomach.

And that’s when you felt it—the hard press of him against you, only the thin lace of your thong keeping you apart. A sharp gasp slipped past your lips, swallowed instantly by his mouth as he kissed you deeper, his hands gripping your thighs, keeping you locked in place. Your fingers curled into his shoulders, nails digging in as a shudder ran through you.  

“You still hate me?” he murmured, his voice teasing but rough, his breath hot against your lips.  

Your eyes fluttered open, locking onto his, clouded with a mix of defiance and something dangerously close to surrender. “Ye—yeah,” you mumbled, though the tremble in your voice betrayed you.  

His smirk was slow, knowing. His grip tightened, his fingers flexing against your hips. “Bet”  

Before you could say anything else, he stretched you—slow, deliberate, making sure you felt every inch of his dick claiming you. Your mouth fell open, a soundless moan escaping as your body arched into him. His forehead rested against yours, both of you caught in the moment, breathing each other in.  

Your hands clutched at his back, nails dragging along his skin as he pulled you impossibly closer, filling you to the hilt. The heat, the tension, the months of unspoken rivalry and buried longing—it all exploded into something neither of you could stop now.  

And you didn’t want to.

Jimmy moved slowly, setting a rhythm that had your breath hitching with every deep, calculated stroke. You were used to men who rushed, who chased their own pleasure without thinking about yours. But Jimmy—he took his time, like he had something to prove. Like he wanted you to feel every inch of what he was doing to you.  

A shaky breath escaped your lips as your fingers curled against his shoulders. “J-Jimmy…”  

His grip tightened on your hips, his mouth ghosting over the shell of your ear. “What, baby?” His voice was thick, teasing, but there was something raw beneath it.  

You swallowed hard, your body betraying you as you arched into him. “I—” Your words faltered, another breathy whimper slipping free as he rocked into you again, slow and deep.  

He chuckled lowly, his lips trailing down your jaw, pressing lazy kisses along your skin. “You always talk back, always got somethin’ smart to say,” he murmured, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. His hands slid up your sides, fingertips brushing under your oversized tee. “But look at you now… all quiet for me.”  

Your nails dug into his back, frustration bubbling in your chest. “Shut up,” you muttered, your voice barely a whisper.  

Jimmy smirked against your skin, his grip tightening. “Nah, you love this shit,” he murmured. “Ain’t nobody ever taken their time with you, huh? Always quick, always rough… but that’s not what you need.”  

You bit your lip, refusing to admit how right he was.  

He pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes, his expression dark, hungry. “When a man really wanna fuck a woman, he don’t rush it. He wanna feel that pussy. That’s the whole fuckin�� point, mama.”  

A shudder ran through you, your breath coming out in short, uneven gasps. He was ruining you, and he knew it.  

“Tell me you still hate me,” he whispered, a smirk playing on his lips as he rolled his hips just right.  

You wanted to. You wanted to hold onto that last shred of defiance. But all that left your lips was a shaky, breathless moan.

His grip tightened as he leaned in, lips brushing over the shell of your ear. “Say it,” he murmured, voice thick with control. “Tell me you don’t hate me, baby.”  

Your breath hitched, every nerve in your body on fire. “I—I don’t hate you, Jimmy,” you panted, barely able to form the words as his dick hit every sweet spot in your body.  

He hummed in satisfaction, his hands gripping your thighs, keeping you right where he wanted. “Mmh, I know,” he rasped, his dark gaze locked onto yours. “You just needed some dick, didn’t you?”  

Your heart pounded, fingers digging into his shoulders. You didn’t answer, couldn’t. But he wasn’t letting you off that easy. His fingers tilted your chin up, forcing your eyes to meet his. “Say it.”  

A soft whimper escaped your lips, your head nodding before you could stop yourself. His smirk deepened, his grip tightening as he watched you unravel beneath him.  

The tension coiled tighter, every inch of your body wound up and desperate for release. “Jimmy—Yes…” Your words trailed off into a shaky breath, eyes fluttering shut as the pressure built.  

He read you instantly, his voice dropping to a low whisper. “Cum on this dick, baby. I got you.”  

And just like that, you shattered, a breathless moan slipping past your lips as your body gave in. He held you through it, his hands steady, his eyes never leaving yours.  

“Damn,” he murmured, pressing his forehead against yours as you caught your breath. Jimmy didn’t let up. His grip on you was firm as he pulled you down to your feet, spinning you around with ease. His hands guided you, pressing your front against the counter as his body crowded you from behind.  

“Arch that back for me,” he murmured, voice thick with command.  

You obeyed without hesitation, your fingers gripping the cool surface as he slid inside of you, teasing, taking his time. Your breath hitched, a desperate whimper escaping your lips.  

“Damn,” he groaned, sliding an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. “Knew you just needed me to take care of you.”  

Your head fell forward, your lips parting. “Please…”  

He smirked at the way the word rolled off your tongue. “Yeah, baby?”  

You couldn’t form the words. Your thoughts were a blur, tangled in the heat of the moment.  

He chuckled darkly, his fingers trailing down your spine. “Mmh, all that attitude, all that ‘I hate you’ talk—where it at now?”  

You bit your lip, trying to hold on to whatever fight you had left, but it was useless. His fingers slid lower, finding your clit with ease. A sharp gasp escaped you, your body trembling under his touch.  

“Thought so,” he muttered, his lips brushing against your shoulder. His fingers moved faster as he coaxed you closer to the edge. “And you ain’t done yet, baby. You gonna gimme another one before I let up.”  

A desperate whimper slipped from your lips. “Yeah?”  

He hummed in satisfaction, his fingers working fast but firm, knowing exactly how to unravel you. “Yeah,” he confirmed. “And you gon’ take it.”  

Your body tensed, heat pooling low in your stomach as the sensation built higher, stronger, consuming every part of you.  

“Jimmy—” Your voice broke, your grip on the counter tightening as a wave of pleasure crashed over you, leaving you breathless.  

A deep groan rumbled from his chest, his arms holding you close as he followed, his breath heavy, his hands still gripping you like he wasn’t ready to let go just yet.  

“fffuuuckk,” he muttered, pressing a slow, lingering kiss against your shoulder. “Good girl.”  

Your knees felt weak, your breath shaky, but he held you steady, his lips ghosting over your skin as if savoring the moment.  

“You still hate me?” he murmured against your ear, his voice teasing, smug.  

You let out a breathless laugh, too dazed to even pretend anymore. “Shut up, Jimmy.”  

His chuckle was low, knowing. “ight.”

The night unfolded in a blur of tension and connection, each moment between you and Jimmy pulling you deeper into something unplanned. You moved through the apartment together. His dick was inside of you in the living room, slow and intense, his hands exploring with a mix of desire and tenderness. Every room, every new position felt deliberate.

It wasn’t just about the heat between you—it was the quiet tenderness in his touches, the way he’d pull you close, his hand brushing through your hair. With each passing moment, it became clear: this wasn’t a fleeting thing. Whatever had sparked between you two, it was something deeper than you’d expected. And as the night ended, you couldn’t help but wonder where it would lead.

[parker-artio]

So I’ve said it a couple times, but I come from a huge family, which is mostly foster family. But I’m from a small town and live in a five bedroom house (one for my mom, one for my brothers, one for my younger sisters, one for my older sister since she’s 18 and can’t share a room w/ foster kids, then mine.)

But rooms aren’t anyone’s hiding spots- Yk what I mean, when you need to destress and get away from everyone but your room is too obvious- so, it got me thinking.

The Wayne manor is massive, all of the bat kids definitely all have that spot. The hiding spot.

So here’s what I think all of them are!

Dick: He had three. The one he lets everyone know about, the one he only lets his siblings know about, and his secret one. He trusts them to only come annoy him in the first one, because he only ever uses it when he crashes out (it’s his best past-time). This one I think would be an ‘on the nose’ place, like his bedroom closet, in the ceilings, on a random chandelier, on the roof, somewhere where they would think to look (they being Bruce and the other adults.) The second is more likely a not so obvious place, but everyone would consider thinking about it. Like, the guest room next to his room- but not just the room, like the closet, or under the bed in there, maybe the shed in the backyard. But his place- the place he tells no one about, that’s the attic. He’ll go up there and hide under and behind a fortress of boxes and pillows and blankets he’s slowly added to since he was 9. No one questions when he goes into the laundry room with a full tote of blankets and pillows or carry’s around cleaning supplies upstairs.

Cass: She hides in the pool house. No one knows. No one finds out.

Jason: When Dick told him about his hiding spot(s) he immediately scoured the library for a hidden spot, his logic was: it’s an old house, there’s gotta be a hidden room somewhere, right? And there was. So when he disappears into the library for three hours and someone goes in after him and doesn’t find him anywhere, they assume he’s escaped through the library in the window.

Tim: He grew up in an old house, he knows all of the hiding spots. Which is how he knew there was a hidden door under the left stairs that led to a panic room, which’s he’s officially transformed into a safe haven, and no one but him can get into or out of. He’s gotta pad lock with a code he can’t even remember. Good thing for patterns.

Duke: When he moved into his room (pretend Bruce is fostering him and he doesn’t live w/ his cousin okay?) He always heard a weird sound coming from his closet. At first he thought it was haunted and refused to put anything in there, but one day when it actually happened during the day and not at night he decided to inspect it, and found a small vent, just big enough for him to crawl through. He obviously went into it, he found himself in a small room where all of the vents connected, just above the batcave- which is where the noise came from. He added a few battery powered fairy string lights, and a small beanbag with a blanket and chair.

Damian: He insists he doesn’t need one despite everyone saying it would be beneficial. But if anyone claims when he goes missing for hours when the barn lights are on, he denies it all. But as he gets older, he doesn’t keep hiding the fact that the barns his hidden space- and a room where he hides the animals from Bruce when he first smuggles them into the house. But no one knows where that is.

BONUS:

Barbara: She used to have a hiding spot in one of the many hidden cliffs in the batcave where she has a very nice fluffy pillow and her baby blanket with a fluffy blanket to accompany it. Her backup-laptop a very strong charger, and a couple books for her college classes. But she can’t get up there, so it’s kinda a hidden relic stuck in time. Now she hides in an unused room back by the back door with enough space for her to move around in her wheelchair, but no one knows where it is.

Steph: She went into the batcave once and saw a door that was labeled ‘Batman only’ so obviously she went inside. The room was empty beside a small door and the shelves of backup generators. So obviously she went into the small door and found herself in a small cozy dark room. She’s managed to decorate it like her room, and even put a lock that can only be opened by her phone. Bruce definitely noticed the room was tampered with when he went to go get a generator, but he didn’t ask about it. He knows everyone has a hiding spot.

Harper: She doesn’t have a place, but she will go into the upstairs bathroom next to the upstairs living room and lock the door and sit in the tub. It’s very therapeutic.

Luke: He’s not at the manor or batcave enough to have a hiding spot, but at his mom and dads he’s got a small section of the basement where he terraformed into a small ‘man cave’ but in actuality he just sits in there on the gaming chair he took from his sister and listens to music or relaxes.

That’s everyone I can think of right now, I might add other characters in a pt. 2? Like maybe Maps, Tiffany, Kate, ect.

[dottowos]

hoc non est experimentum!

synopsis: Dottore’s segments are tired of waiting to take you for themselves and have decided to finally take matters into their own hands (with some reluctant sharing).

includes: four dottore segments w/ fem! reader

notes: You get railed by four of Dottore’s segments at once, that’s it, that’s the fic. Established relationship, they fight over you a bit, reader uses they/them pronouns, gangbang (Sigma, Beta, Alpha, Delta - see segments guide), oral (reader giving), handjob, titfuck, vaginal sex, one (1) gentle pussy slap, rough and soft sex, praise, creampie, consensual drugging (aphrodisiac), brief mention of consensual somnophilia, bit of dirty talk(?), aftercare, cuddle pile with the segments at the end <3. Minors DNI.

For as research-driven as Dottore’s segments appeared to be, they had their own desires and downtime they wished for - mainly due to a certain someone they all thought of dearly. That person was none other than you, their beloved, whom they all shared.

To them, you boasted the utmost loveliness - soft lips that spilled the sweetest of words and praises, gentle touches and caresses that soothed them - and of course, your alluring body that they couldn’t keep their hands off. For a long time, the segments had settled with regular touches like simple cuddling, hand holding, and even some thigh squeezing here and there, but needless to say, they desired something a lot more… heated than mere soft touches. But much to their dismay, you were… painfully oblivious to their advances.

It was indeed a bit frustrating despite their advances being rather straightforward, but you always assumed they were being extra touchy and clingy. Well, all of them save for Omega had this problem - the segments cursed that lucky bastard when he wasn’t around, they wanted their face between your legs too.

… Which was why they were at their wits’ end and had collectively come up with a sure-fire plan to fuck you.

—

When four segments appeared in your room together unannounced, without any arguments following them, you already knew something was up. They weren’t often seen together, except whenever they happened to collaborate on projects, but you had heard of no such thing lately.

“Beloved, we have something we would like you to try for us,” Sigma began with an even wider smile than normal, something you always took note of.

“Well… if all four of you feel the need to come to ask me, it must be quite important,” you replied, very much interested in what could warrant such urgency, not to mention the varying expressions across the segments - Sigma’s eager smile, Beta holding off his impatience, Alpha hiding his nervousness by acting aloof, and Delta’s continued seriousness, although his eyes were boring into you.

“See,” Sigma hummed, producing a vial from his pocket, “We’ve recently created this new… liquid. Of course, we’re interested in observing the effects it has on someone.” Although you understood the intent, you were confused as to why he couldn’t just test it on someone else, but Beta answered your question before you could say anything.

“You’re the only test subject we can test such a drug on,” his fingers drummed against the nightstand quickly, as if he was aching to pour whatever that strange liquid was down your throat already. Still, this only left you with more questions.

“What kind of liquid is this exactly?”

“An aphrodisiac,” Delta said bluntly.

An aphrodisiac, you thought. Aphrodisiacs… ah yes, you read about those in books sometimes. Aphrodisiacs… used to stimulate sexual desire. Aphrodisiacs… used to have sex.

… Wait. To have sex?! Immediately, you started sputtering and backing up.

“A-Are you trying to say what I t-think you are?! And wait, are aphrodisiacs even real? I thought they were fake!”

“Finally, you got it through that thick skull of yours,” Alpha rolled his eyes. “I was beginning to wonder if you were simply that dense or doing it on purpose. Seems as though it was the former.” Classic Alpha - his words always had some bark to them, although there was practically no bite as you always got your way.

“I mean…!! I just didn’t know all of you would be interested in me that kind of way-”

“Oh darling,” Sigma purred. “You’re too sweet for your own good. That won’t end well for you if you’re with us,” the segment slyly slid his hand down your thigh, making you gasp. You were already starting to have a tingly feeling between your legs, your mind racing with the possible scenarios they would put you in. Could you even survive taking four of them at once? Logically your mind said no, but your body was saying yes. Even if you couldn’t walk for a few days, it was a hell yes.

“Prime surely knows you’ve been fooling around with Omega, doesn’t he? Don’t I deserve some attention too?” Beta was the next to make his advance, hand tracing the collar of your neck, itching to sink his teeth into your skin. Your body immediately warmed at being called out for… ahem… certain acts with the older segment.

“He’s right. You were the one who said you’d give us all equal treatment. Or are you going back on your word now?” Delta added on gruffly, already knowing what your answer would be from when you very obviously squeezed your legs together.

“No, I would never…” You quickly rushed your words, heart racing from all of the segments so close to you, with not-so-pure intentions.

“At least try to relax,” it was Alpha who took some pity at your deer-in-headlights look. “The aphrodisiac should greatly increase your pleasure as well.” The other segments quickly peppered your exposed skin with kisses in an effort to make you comfortable as well.

“I’m okay, I was just… caught off-guard by this. But I want you all too… if you’ll have me,” you replied shyly, to which all of the men perked up. “Besides, I’m kind of interested to see if you actually managed to concoct a legitimate aphrodisiac.”

“Good… good. Willing test subjects are always the best to work with,” Sigma placed a kiss on your forehead before suddenly you were being maneuvered onto the middle of the bed. “Now before we test the aphrodisiac, let’s see that pretty body of yours.”

Before you could even utter a response, your clothes were being tugged off very quickly - but that was probably because there were four other people undressing you. In no time, you were nude save for your underwear, the cold air sweeping against you for a moment, but the segments’ warm bodies prevented you from shivering. All of them had their eyes trained on you - they had seen you nude before, having to attend to you sometimes, but it was obviously not in a situation like this, where you were laid bare and needy for them. Speaking of neediness…

Delta, whose chest was pressed into your back, pried your legs open despite your gasps and protests because you already knew your pussy was becoming an embarrassing, leaking sight. You whined as your damp underwear was on display for them all to stare at shamelessly, Alpha and Beta holding down one of your legs while Delta grabbed your arms, and Sigma let out a content sigh that was shared between all of them.

"So wet, and we've barely even touched you." Something clicked in the segment's mind as he held himself back from touching you just yet. "I think I know why. You're excited by the idea of being fucked by all of us at once, aren't you?"

“Of course they are,” Alpha scoffed. “They can never hold themselves back once they want something.”

“Give it to them already,” Beta demanded, who had already been palming and restraining himself, “before I fuck them right now.”

“Have some patience,” Alpha rolled his eyes. “We’ve barely just begun.” Normally Beta would have shot the segment an indignant look considering Alpha’s own lack of patience, but he was too needy for you to bother.

“If you’re out of breath just from this, I worry about how you’ll be able to take all of us,” Sigma teased. “But I know you will. You must be aching for our cocks, aren’t you, sweet thing? Burning for us to fill you up like the obedient toy you are?” Your throat had gone dry from how effortlessly filthy Sigma had become. Usually, his tone and words were always so sweet to you, but now he spewed such dirty things with that same gentle voice.

“Answer him,” Delta reached to give your breast a firm squeeze, which quickly elicited a response from you. Alpha and Beta quickly followed the older segment’s action, kneading the soft flesh with fascination.

“Y-Yes! I’ll be good!” You swiftly nodded your head to which Sigma chuckled.

“Good.” He then popped open the vial and gave it a little shake, watching the liquid swirl around. “Now open,” he grasped your chin and held the vial above your mouth, humming in satisfaction as you swallowed the aphrodisiac without a second thought (which, surprisingly tasted quite nice.) When a little bit dribbled down your chin, he quickly thumbed the excess and popped his finger in your mouth.

“Ah ah, now don’t you waste it. A lot of work went into this.” You could only blink at him, mouth ajar as you suddenly became very aware of the aching between your legs and your rising body temperature.

“It seems the aphrodisiac is already taking effect,” Alpha observed, tugging at your sensitive nipple. “Perhaps because you were already aroused?” Ever the scholar, he still questioned your reactions (or maybe it was a way to distract himself from the tightening in his pants.) But when he looked at Beta, the other segment was already slobbering on your breast, sharp teeth occasionally grazing your nipple to which you whimpered.

“You aren’t even trying to hide your true intentions…” Alpha sighed. After all, it wasn’t really an experiment (this time at least) but more so to satisfy the aching between their legs in the way they desired rather than resorting to their hands all the time. (There was a reason why they didn’t have a trusty clipboard…)

“Don’t act like you’re any better than us,” Beta scoffed, briefly taking a break from sucking on your tit. “You were more jealous of Prime than any of us.” Alpha only clicked his tongue in response before giving your other boob similar treatment as what Beta was doing. Delta, on the other hand, was busy kissing you and hardly giving you any time to breathe, making the other sensations all too powerful. You barely noticed his hiss when you unconsciously grinded your ass against his bulge.

Sigma watched your once cheery expression become half-lidded and lewd, before reaching for the band of your underwear. Even though your mind had gone elsewhere at his point, your breath still hitched at the feeling. Along with all the touching and the aphrodisiac, your underwear was so wet it was clinging to your cunt almost uncomfortably. Thankfully, the segment pulled it off and discarded it along with the rest of your clothing, haphazardly scattered on the floor. Instantly, the other segments paused whatever they were doing to gaze at your hole, entranced by your pretty pussy. 

You let out a moan when Sigma’s finger gently rubbed your opening, before slipping a finger in which you squealed at. Throwing your head back, you nearly kicked him were it not for the other's firm grip on your thighs.

“An exquisite reaction,” Sigma praised. “So sensitive… I wonder, is it because of the aphrodisiac, or has Prime been neglecting you lately?” The segment cooed before curling his finger inside of you, making your back arch. At your adorable reactions, the other segments simply couldn’t wait either. It wasn’t long before you felt another two fingers push inside you - but it wasn’t Sigma this time. Delta had quietly watched your pussy gradually become wetter, having the perfect view from behind you, and now he wanted to hear all the squelching your hole would make around his fingers. However, it seemed that Sigma had something to say about sharing your cunt with the others.

“Only I get to fuck their pussy today.” This bold statement automatically had the other three turning on him.

“Excuse me? And how did you decide that? I am going to taste them too,” Beta immediately rebuked Sigma’s statement.

“I’m older than all of you. Why would I not get to fuck them first?”

“Older? On what basis?” Alpha grumbled. “Sure, you may be closer to Prime’s age, but technically speaking, I’ve been around longer than any of you.”

“Well, it was me who came up with the idea of an aphrodisiac in the first place. I should get to go first then,” Beta piped in.

“And you would not have known that if I did not happen to mention their reading collection to you,” Delta cut in as well.

… They were really fighting right now despite being three fingers deep inside your cunt. That was simply wonderful (but expected to be honest). Normally you’d find it amusing but you just really wanted to come already.

“Stop fighting. You can have your turn next time,” you whined, wriggling around in their embrace, trying to get some pleasure from their fingers. 

“Oh? Already thinking about next time, are you?” Sigma chuckled before Beta squeezed your thigh.

“I told you that they wanted this. I bet [Name] has been thinking about this more than we thought,” Beta taunted you. “Dirty thing.”

“Regardless… I suppose I can let this one time pass,” Alpha huffed, (though he was actually pretty accustomed to being overshadowed by his older selves), and Delta grunted in agreement - although he was still going to finger fuck you. 

Now that that little spat was over, the two segments began moving their fingers inside you again, not exactly in unison though. Sigma was going slowly while Delta was plunging his in and out of you. The sensation was making your head reel and you could hardly notice the other two segments were already unbuttoning their pants. Tears sprung to your eyes as you dug your nails hard into someone’s arm - you couldn’t focus on who - that was sure to leave marks. 

Together, the differentiating paces successfully drove you crazy and you quickly came, juices running down their fingers. The sudden burst of pleasure, heightened by the aphrodisiac had you gasping and shaking, although there wasn’t much of that considering all four of them had a firm grip on you. You tried to catch your breath when a finger wiped the corner of your eye.

“Crying already? But hardly anything has happened yet,” Alpha observed.

“Leave them. It shows that the aphrodisiac is working. Not just one of your fantasies now, is it?” Delta teased you as he began to lay you on your back instead of his chest. You blinked as he rested your head on a pillow, wondering what was happening before you were suddenly very aware his cock was close to you, his underwear being the only barrier. Blinking again, you saw that the others were in a similar position, eager to come too.

“As much as I would like to play with you for a while longer, it seems like no one is willing to wait that long. Truly a shame,” Sigma sighed while discarding his pants as well. “But there’s always next time, right dear? Regardless, I trust you know what comes next.” 

You tried to formulate a response but you found your throat had gone dry at the fact that this was really about to happen.

“Don’t get nervous on me now. I know full well you can take it,” Beta was the first to tug his cock out, delighting in how you inhaled at the sight.

“I- I… um- mmph!” Before you could say anything, Beta’s hand rested on top of your head, the tip of his cock briefly nuzzling your cheek, before he properly parted your lips and thrusted into your mouth roughly.

“I thought I said not to be so rough to them at first?” Sigma sighed at his fellow segment’s action, before lining himself up with your entrance and pushing in. The sensation made you moan around Beta, in turn causing him to thrust again. Though he seemed impatient, the truth was he was still restraining himself - his pace would have been harsher if he didn’t feel a bit worried for you.

Refusing to wait around, Alpha and Delta grabbed your hands and wrapped them around their hardened cocks as well, a sign for you to start stroking them unless you wanted them to do it for you. You were quickly swept into their pace, both of your hands being occupied in no time. You clumsily stroked them, seeing as it was hard to focus while being fucked, but the two segments seemed as though they were more than enjoying it. Perhaps they’ve been pent up for too long.

Alpha had already begun biting his tongue to hide his needy pants, his previous calm and collected words quickly dissipating. If only you weren’t being fucked by three other people, you’d have teased him for his whininess. However, the segment also used that to his advantage, suddenly squeezing your breast and rubbing the head of his cock against your nipple. The sensation against your sensitive bump had your back arching and legs flailing, although they were securely hooked around Sigma’s shoulders.

You could already feel Alpha’s pre-cum leaking onto your chest - it was already impressive he hadn’t come yet, considering what Dottore was like back when he was a student, coming hard after some light arousal (and then getting tired, you had to ride his face to get yourself off.)

The segment eyed your breasts with fluttering eyes and a heaving chest, seemingly trying to consider what to do next in his hazy mind, before grabbing your other breast and squishing them together with haste. In no time, he bucked his hips closer, slipping his aching cock between the soft flesh. You were warm - even more so due to the aphrodisiac - and your tits enveloped his cock better than he could have ever dreamed of. Not bothering to retain his composure, Alpha continued to clumsily yet quickly fuck your boobs, squeezing and pulling at them at the same time. None of the others had bothered to comment on it, considering they were all more interested in fucking the other parts of your body.

Meanwhile, Delta’s large hand was wrapped around yours on his cock, moving it up and down for you, unsatisfied with your pace. It was fast enough that you were sure your arm was going to be aching for a day, but you were also sure that applied to your whole body in general.

Still, this was all so much to take in, having both your pussy and mouth fucked at the same time at a bruising pace had your eyes half-lidded and struggling to keep up with the segments, seemingly built with endless energy, but a particularly harsh thrust from Sigma had you nearly gagging on Beta’s cock, to which the segment tightened his grip on your head.

“I thought you said I was being too rough?” Beta clicked his tongue at Sigma’s hypocrisy, and the older one merely smiled.

“I simply want to make sure they’re awake to feel my cock properly. Don’t you feel the same?”

“It doesn’t matter. They’d be happy as long as they’re being fucked. You wouldn’t protest at all, would you? Letting yourself be used even when you’re not conscious?” Delta hissed, and Sigma let out a sigh as you helplessly tightened around his own cock, clearly enjoying the filthy words.

“Ah, now there’s a grand idea. Darling, I’d be happy to discuss the possibility of nighttime visits, if you like it so much. It would be lovely to see you wake up to being filled,” Sigma chuckled, and you couldn’t even respond to him since your mouth was full of Beta’s cock. 

While the two older segments were busy teasing you, you could also feel that Alpha was close to coming. His pace had gone sloppy and he had lost his grip on your tits, instead just humping them pathetically. Beta was in a similar state, speeding up his thrusts in a way you knew he was about to come as well, and Delta was wordlessly getting as much pleasure as he could out of your abused hand. You could feel your own orgasm building up too, especially when Sigma moved to rub your clit. With a squeeze of your thighs, he relentlessly pumped himself inside you without stopping.

“Now,” he stated, “I’m going to fill you up, and you’re going to come on my cock. Understand?” You blinked at him through pleading teary eyes, and he laughed. “Good. Perfect, my love.”

Only a few seconds after, Alpha was the first one to let go, coming all over your tits with a low hiss, quietened by biting his bleeding lip. It spurted all over your chest, running down the hill of your boobs onto your stomach, and the segment was left panting, lazily rubbing his softening cock against your soft skin. The liquid only served to make you more aroused, squeezing your legs around Sigma’s neck as a plea to let you come already. In response, as a way of saying ‘have patience,’ Sigma flicked his hand against your cunt, finger catching your clit, and the light pain with pleasure nearly had you choking again.

As if that was the trigger for Beta, he too suddenly pulled out of your mouth, and before you could question what he was doing, came on your face, globs of cum streaking down your cheek along with your tears, some dripping down your chin and landing on your chest. You hazily blinked at the white liquid coating your body, before some more was added.

Without wasting a second, Delta let go of your hand and popped his cock in your briefly empty mouth before your poor throat could even have a chance to recover. It only took one or two thrusts for him to empty himself inside your mouth, doing so with a groan of pleasure, keeping your head locked in place, and only pulling out once he was sure you had swallowed every bit of his cum. The last few minutes left you gasping and moaning, your noises now clear for all in the room to hear - including the cries that left your lips and the mashing of your hole.

“P-Please, I’m- ah, so, so, close-” Your words had lost coherent structure at this point, trying your best to convey what you really needed.

“I know. I can feel you,” Sigma dragged himself in and out of you, making sure you felt everything. “You’ve been so good to us. Of course you can come.” Along with his ramming, he quickly circled your clit, until finally, finally, you came hard, rolling your head back and an unrecognizable squeal tore from your throat. The feeling of you spasming around his cock had Sigma digging his hands into your soft thighs as he filled you to the brim, only pulling out after a few moments. Gently, he pushed his fingers near your sore pussy, humming as you made a soft noise of protest, just to make sure none of his cum escaped your oozing pussy. 

As you lay there used and twitching, your cunt stuffed full of cum, and your face and chest painted with it, the segments took a moment to admire how pretty you looked like that. Beta stroked your head, as if apologizing for his fierce grip, although he made sure to gather up his cum and press it to your lips, smiling widely as you obediently parted his lips for him to suck on his fingers. 

“Looks like the aphrodisiac isn’t as strong as we anticipated. What a pity.” Alpha had tried to recollect himself after that embarrassing display of neediness as if he wasn’t also tired from coming.

“Is it really? I’d say it was quite powerful. After all, they took all four of us with hardly any complaints. It served us both well.” Sigma chuckled as he gently lowered your legs from his shoulders onto the bed, pressing soft kisses to your thigh as he did so.

“It still could use some tweaking, however,” Delta stated. “I believe it hasn’t nearly reached its potential.” The segment had moved away to begin drawing a bath to clean you up.

“Regardless, you did exceptionally well,” Beta praised you with his sharp-toothed grin, and you only let out a soft noise of affirmation as you were lifted up to be cleaned.

—

The segments cleaned you up a few minutes after - you weren’t sure if your bathtub would fit all five of you but it did somehow. Surprisingly they were pretty cooperative, for the most part at least. Afterward, they changed your sheets and dressed you in some comfortable clothes.

“Here,” before you could react, some kind of syrup was being poured into your mouth. “For your throat,” Alpha said because a certain someone couldn’t hold back, although he didn’t say that part out loud. Sigma pulled your blankets up and tucked you in as well.

“What, are you all leaving?” You looked at them with sad eyes.

“We have been away from work for quite a while, love.” You pouted at his response as you tugged at his arm.

“You can’t do that. You have to stay at least until I fall asleep, all of you,” you stressed the ‘all’, reaching to grab Delta’s hand as well.

“[Name]-”

“Nope! I’m not listening!” You then pulled Alpha, who was the easiest to push around, into the bed with you.

And so, you now had the four segments cuddling with you, each of them touching your body in some way. Sigma and Delta were snuggled closely on each of your sides, but Alpha and Beta were left in the more uncomfortable positions, awkwardly laying on top of you and face cuddled into your chest. There were some grumbles from them but you quickly shushed them up. More importantly, you felt very warm and content with all of them holding you.

You had a feeling the four segments weren’t leaving you anytime soon, either.

[mxtantrights]

Beggin' on my knees, baby won't you please

paring: Johnny Storm x fem!reader a/n: okayyyy so like I watched the trailer like everyone else and remembered how much of a crush I had on the human torch. and I would say that while writing this I could envision both the new and old castings so you can read it as who you want! I might come back to this with another piece or two. (I write with a black reader in mind but this piece doesn't specify race, only gender)

Johnny Storm has stopped at almost nothing to get you to go on a date with him. He's persistent, he's flirty, and most dangerously he's not too far off from his goal.

You had been Sue's intern since you took her class a couple of years ago at the university. She had seen in you what she knew she had in herself when she was a student. The grit, the knowledge and the courage to ask why.

She took you under her wing fairly quickly. You found her to be more of a friend than a boss. She always listened to your ideas, though she never played favorites. And she valued your input on important things.

Such as the specs for the flight she, Reed, Ben, and Johnny would be on in the coming months.

You don't really have time to be going on dates with anyone, let alone with Johnny, when you were going to be sending him along with the others into space. It kept you up at night sometimes. If your calculations were triple checked. If you had tested every hypothetical.

That is why for the past week you've been avoiding Johnny. If you see him in the caf, you go the other way and get lunch from outside. If you see him hanging around your lab you wait him out. You're quick to leave with the other workers so he won't offer you a ride.

It's been going well.

Up until now.

You manage to take another peek into the lab. The glass window that appears across from your desk. And there he is. He's sitting in your rolling chair, waiting for you. He's playing with some sort of pen. rolling it between his fingers.

If you avoided him now, he would know for sure. And you have to get to work on a quick fix on confirming the materials needed for the rocket's fins.

With about as much confidence as a cactus in a ballon party. You roll your shoulders back and tug down the white coat that shrouds you. Then you walk over to the door.

As if he's got a heightened sense, he looks up at you as you step through the threshold. You duck your head down and walk over to him. On his face is a growing smirk.

He leans back in the chair, leaning a bit, meaning he totally un-stabilized it. You'll have to re-stabilize it once he's gone.

"Where've you been?" he asks.

You huff a bit at that. As you make it over to your desk you see that's he's rearranged some stuff. You make to move past him but he just rolls with you.

"Johnny, I've been around." you answer finally.

"I know, but just not around me. Which is a same." he pouts.

You chortle, "Oh my god. You can't be serious with that one."

"About as serious as you avoiding me, Specs." he says.

You rolls your eyes. There goes that nickname. To this day you still don't understand why he calls you that. You don't wear your glasses all the time. So what gives?

"I'm just trying to get everything right, Johnny. You are going to space in a few months." you explain.

Johnny opens his legs wider and rolls the chair closer to you. At this angle he's looking right up at you. It's warm and fucking dizzying and you have to remind yourself that even though it feels like the two of you are the only ones in the lab, there are other people here. Your coworkers. His coworkers.

Sue's coworkers.

"I know, but I miss seeing my favorite girl." he admits.

And it shouldn't like it does when he says it. Like he's sharing a secret with you in the middle of the night. Like he's telling you something that is treasured and safe. If only you could tell your stomach that.

"I want you to get to and from space safety, Johnny. If I hang out with you I'll worry myself about it." you confess.

Johnny nods his head, "Okay give me a day then."

"A day for what?" you ask.

"A day where that stress is less. A day where you don't itch to be sitting at this desk and working out things in that beautiful mind of yours." he continues.

The truth is there is no day that is less stressful for you. At several points in each day since this project was announced and your name was attached, you've felt the stress of it. While cooking dinner at home. While doing laundry. While trying to get sleep so that you could get to work.

It's always there.

It's going to be there until the crew comes home from space.

You can't let Johnny know that. He has his own things to worry about. You would hate to add to his plate.

"Sunday." you answer simply.

He nods his head again. And with a smile he gets up from his seat in your chair. It's slow and agonizing how he seems to go from looking up at you to being eye level with you. His gaze never leaving yours as he does.

"I'll see you Sunday." he adds.

[gold-onthe-inside]

blind date

who? spencer reid (s8) x blake!reader summary: you finally give into your godmother's insistence on going on a date with her colleague, if only to get her off your back, and find yourself having to break the heart of someone who could have been the love of your life. content warnings: not a happy ending (i warned you, you don't get to yell at me), reader is blake's goddaughter and a therapist. word count: 2.1k

You let out a slow breath before entering the restaurant, smoothing down your dress, still second-guessing your outfit - a purple dress matched with a dark velvet jacket and a black purse with a gold chain belt - as if you hadn’t spent your day looking up what women in their 30s wore on first dates. Not like it matters, you told yourself. You’d get through the date, politely tell the guy that he was great but you weren’t interested, and hopefully be home by 10pm. You turn your gaze to the maitre’d, telling him the table was under Reid’s name.

You had told yourself on the way that you couldn’t hold it against him if he was late — you still remember the coffee meetings your own godmother never turned up to — but it turned out he was earlier than you. Where you showed up to everything ten minutes in advance, he showed up twenty-five minutes.

You saw him first, looking into the silver ware and flattening down his hair and adjusting his tie, clearly nervous, looking up when he heard you thank the maitre’d. Spencer almost stumbled over himself as he stood up to pull your chair out for you and you feel an overwhelming urge to reassure him. “H-Hi,” he said, matching your awkward smile. “You look really nice.”

“Thanks,” you said softly, taking the seat and watching him take his, his hand splayed against his chest to keep his tie back. “You’re taller than I thought you’d be.”

His laugh is nervous, God help him, and he corrects the displaced silverware so they align perfectly before he looked at you again. “I, uh, I get that a lot.”

“Go on a lot of blind dates then?” you asked, sipping the water within reach, and you can see panic flash across his face.

“No! I mean, I’ve-I’ve been on dates before. Just um—” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “I meant I get the-the height thing, quite a bit. Not that there’s been a lot—”

“Breathe, Spencer,” you feel compelled to say as his face flushes. You’d meant to tease, not give the man a heart attack.

“Sorry,” he murmured, trying to get a grip on himself. God, how did Derek do this? “Um… Blake, sorry, Alex, told me that you’re a therapist,” he said, focusing on something concrete.

“Uh, yeah,” you answered, not sure how much information you wanted to tell him. Though, to be fair, he was a federal agent. He could have it found out anyway. “I work at a clinic in Georgetown,” you said, folding your hands in front of you and overthinking whether you should be crossing your legs or not. This was usually the point where the guy would ask if you could read his mind, or attempt to educate you on how mental health was a sham and everyone just needs to get some exercise, and that would be your cue to fake an emergency exit. Maybe you’d get home in time to watch some decent TV.

“Is it hard?” he asked, taking a sip of water before he leaned forward, his eyes sparkling with genuine interest. It was endearing, and surprising.

“It can be,” you answered, leaning in slightly. “Some days you get really, really good sessions, you know? And other days it’s…”

“Hell?” he offered and you let out a small huff.

“Try having a seven year old drawing on furniture with chalk,” you told him, watching him wince.

“I, uh… have a confession,” he said, leaning even closer, his voice a dramatic whisper. “I did that as a kid.”

"Understimulated in class, huh?" you asked, smiling at him a little more.

“A lot,” he admitted. “I learned to read very young, and… well, then everyone wanted me to read, and it wasn’t as fun anymore, you know?”

“Mm,” you say in agreement, but before you continue, the waiter comes, and you both order a glass of wine, and appetizers to split. “So, you must be dealing with a lot worse than pre-pubescent vandalism, right?” you asked, pulling apart the fried mozzarella balls with delicate precision, and you watch him think for a moment.

“I’m just trying to decide if the last case we worked would be preferable to handling a toddler, and I honestly think I’d prefer the serial killer,” he said thoughtfully and you couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of you.

"Yeah, no, I don't blame you," you replied, sipping your wine.

“What about you?” he asked between bites. “Did you know you wanted to be a psychologist from day one?”

"Uh... No, I actually thought I would go into linguistics, like Alex, but somewhere around my first year into undergrad, I realised that psychology was my calling," you said.

“What changed your mind?” he asked, tilting his head to the side and leaning his elbow on the table. You liked the way he gave you his full attention; his eyes hadn’t strayed from you since you’d gotten there.

“Uh, we used to have to do these case studies and we’d do these role plays where everyone had a presenting concern to work with, and I used to get this… high whenever I’d figured the client out. Like that moment where everything just… clicks into place. And I got addicted to it,” you said, your words and love for your job captivating.

“I know exactly what you mean,” he said, his smile widening. “I’m sure Alex’s told you that I have an… impressive memory. The cases we work on-the ones they don’t put in our files on purpose-I remember every single piece of information. It’s like the details don’t leave me. So when we finally catch the unsubs, the-the serial killers…” His voice lowers, leaning further over the table to you and he’s so close, you can almost smell his cologne. “That’s when it clicks.”

You stared at him for a beat, like everything else in the world had gone still, his soft hazel eyes looking affectionately into yours, and then the waiter comes over and the bubble between you two pops, springing apart like two teenagers being walked in on. You can see the flush come over his skin, just as the waiter places his plates in front of him, and focus on ordering your dinner, Spencer agreeing to whatever you ordered.

“So,” you started as the waiter left, and you could see the hint of a smile cross his lips. “Spencer, what do you do for fun?”

He hums a little, thinking. “I read, obviously, and I play poker, although I think half the team suspects I’m counting cards.” He leans forward. “Don't tell them, but I am.”

“You can count cards?” you asked, looking at him in disbelief.

He tilts his head to the side, and he looks like some kind of adorable dog, and your cheeks flush a little darker. “Is it that surprising?” Spencer asks. “I mean, if you know the math, it’s-“ He seems to stumble a little, like he’s worried he’ll bore you with the explanation.

“Keep going,” you prompt him, interested.

“I mean, it’s not foolproof,” he starts, the words flowing quickly from him. “You can’t really predict probability with any certainty. It’s just… really good guessing.” He smiles proudly. “I’m actually banned from a few casinos in Vegas.”

You sipped your wine, shaking your head. "You've gotta teach me how, cause I swear, Alex beats me every time."

“You play poker?” Spencer asked, and you nodded, taking another sip of wine. “Of course, you do,” he added, smiling. “You’re perfect,” he blurted, then started, his face flushing a deep colour.

You could fall in love with this man if you let yourself, and it’s a scary thought. Alex hadn’t been kidding when she said that Spencer was perfect for you. Then why was there this horrible pit in your stomach, like an anvil hovering over you?

The rest of the dinner went perfectly, Spencer pulling out your chair for you as you both prepared to leave. The air was crisp, just a little chilly — spring wasn’t quite ready to fully come out of hiding yet. There was a certain energy between you both; a sense of hope you had long forgotten, and as he walked you to your car, you couldn’t stop yourself from looking up and meeting his eyes.

You'd felt this way before... four years ago when you met the man you thought you'd spend the rest of your life with, and suddenly, the idea of going through that again... It scared the living daylights out of you. "This was really nice," you managed, looking at him.

“It was,” he agreed, his hands shoving into his pockets. “I’d like to see you again.” He said it casually, but his eyes betrayed him, like he was afraid you were going to refuse.

You swallowed, reminding yourself to take a breath. "Spencer, you're... really great. I mean, seriously, any girl would be lucky to go out with you," you said slowly. "But if I'm honest... I only came out tonight to get Alex off my back."

You can see the way it crushes him; the light in his eyes dimming. His shoulders drop and his head lowers, and you feel a wave of guilt overcome you, but your feet stay rooted to the ground.

“I’m sorry,” he said, but you know his words are meant more for his own failings than for you - you can see it in his body language, how he’s withdrawing into himself. What you expect is for him to walk away; instead, he looks back up at you, and you feel your heart break as your eyes meet his pained ones.

"I'm the one who should be sorry," you said softly. "I should never have..." You took a sharp breath. "I like you, Spencer. A lot, probably more than I'm ready for. But I just got out of a long-term relationship. I'm not ready to jump into another one, especially with someone who... who deserves a lot more."

“I-I don’t mind taking things slow,” he said, his voice soft as his eyes searched your face, and you knew he was telling you the truth. But he doesn’t deserve to be some kind of… emotional training wheels for you, as you work through a bad breakup. He deserves more than you’ve got to offer.

"Of course you don't," you said, with a tinge of fondness. "You're perfect."

"I think I'm far from perfect," he says, with a self-deprecating grin. "But I'd be happy to be, um... whatever it is you're ready for."

You don't want to say it, but he's really, really, really hard to say 'No' to, and the fact he was so genuine in wanting to be around you made your heart clench. You wanted to say 'yes' so desperately.

Maybe you should say 'yes'. Just to see what happens.

"It's a bad idea," you said reluctantly, your resolve crumbling.

"But it might be just what you need," Spencer said, and he's right - you hate it but you can feel the way he's pulling you in. The way those hazel eyes hold you; the way you just want to spend more time with him.

A mistake, you think to yourself, just as his hand slides down, his fingers slotting with yours. A glorious mistake.

"I don't want to do that to you," you murmured, even though all you wanted to do was kiss him and take him home and ruin him.

"Please," he murmured, stepping just a little closer, as if you had any resolve left at this point. "I'm a big boy. I can make that decision for myself."

The way he stepped so close to you made your skin tingle, and something deep within you tightened, and you were sure that Spencer could see it in your eyes. Your free hand lifted, sliding along his cheek. "I can't," you said, thumb gliding against his cheekbone. "I'm sorry."

Spencer stepped back, and you watch the way his face falls, your hand falling away to your side, but he nods, and the part of you that wasn't ready for this, was happy you'd made that decision. That he would stay safe and away from you - but then he leaned down, and before you can process what it was, he presses a warm kiss to your cheek. "I had a really nice time, tonight," Spencer murmured, and you can hear the sound of his footsteps leave before you can get your mouth to work again.

"Me too," you murmured into the air, sinking against your car, wondering if you'd just made the biggest mistake of your life, letting him slip through your fingers.

[zuzu-tries-to-write]

Katsuki Bakugo X Reader

Summary: Bakugo has spent years bullying you, masking his true feelings behind insults and harsh words. But when he finds out you’re dating someone else, something inside him snaps. Fueled by jealousy and frustration, he finally confesses—his way. With heated words, desperate kisses, and a possessiveness he can’t control, he makes it clear: you were always his. And now, he’s never letting you go.

(This one bakugo is a bit possessive but please don’t mind that)

Bakugo had always been a problem in your life. Since the first year at U.A., he had made it his mission to push your buttons, belittle your victories, and scoff at your every move.

At first, you thought it was just his personality. He was an ass to everyone. But as time went on, you noticed things—how he only seemed to get truly pissed when you outshined him in training, how he always had a comment about your friends, how his teasing was relentless when it came to you.

You had no idea why he was like that, and frankly, you had stopped caring.

Which was why, when Daiki—one of the second-year students from another class—asked you out, you said yes. He was sweet, kind, and most importantly, nothing like Bakugo.

The moment Bakugo found out, everything changed.

You weren’t expecting the confrontation to happen so soon.

It had only been a few days since you started dating Daiki, and already, your phone was full of texts from Ashido and Kaminari.

Ashido: Girl, I just saw Bakugo nearly murder a training dummy. WTF did you do to him?

Kaminari: Bro’s been pacing like a damn tiger in the lounge. He’s gonna explode.

You ignored the texts. It wasn’t your problem. If Bakugo was being a moody asshole, what else was new?

But you weren’t expecting him to grab you right outside the training hall and shove you against the wall, his arms caging you in before you could react.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” His voice was low, dangerous.

You blinked up at him, shoving at his chest, but he didn’t budge. “Excuse me?”

He scowled. “Don’t play dumb. You and that extra.”

Your stomach twisted. “Daiki?” You narrowed your eyes. “That’s what this is about?”

He let out a harsh scoff. “Of course it’s about that. The hell are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking I finally found someone who isn’t an asshole to me,” you shot back, frustration bubbling up. “Not that it’s any of your damn business.”

His jaw clenched. “Like hell it isn’t.”

“Why do you even care, Bakugo?” You pushed harder against his chest, but he still didn’t move. His whole body was tense, his crimson eyes blazing. “You’ve spent years making my life miserable, so why the hell does it matter to you who I date?”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, his fists clenching at his sides. “Because it should be me, damn it!”

The words hit you like a shockwave.

Your lips parted, but nothing came out.

His breathing was ragged, his chest rising and falling like he was barely holding himself together. “You think I just fuck with you for fun?” His voice was lower now, rougher. “You think I spent all this time chasing after you just to piss you off?”

Your heart was pounding. “What—”

“I didn’t know how to fucking say it,” he snapped, his hands slamming against the wall on either side of you. “I didn’t know how to—fuck—I didn’t know how to deal with you!”

You stared at him, stunned.

“You make me insane, okay?” His voice was raw, like the words were being ripped straight from his chest. “Every time I see you, every time you smile at those idiots, every time some loser gets too close to you, I wanna—” He exhaled sharply, his forehead dropping against yours. “I wanna fucking destroy them.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

“I don’t want anyone else touching you.” His voice was barely above a whisper now, but it was so much more intense. “I should be the one with you. Not him. Me.”

Silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating.

Then, before you could stop yourself, you grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him down into a kiss.

It was desperate, messy, needy. The second your lips met his, Bakugo let out a low, guttural sound, his hands flying to your waist as he slammed you back against the wall. His grip was firm, possessive, his fingers digging into your skin as his mouth devoured yours.

You barely had time to process before his tongue slid past your lips, claiming you completely. Your head spun as he kissed you harder, deeper, like he was trying to burn himself into you.

One of his hands slid up your side, gripping your jaw as he tilted your head back, giving himself more access. You moaned against his mouth, and he growled, pressing his body even closer to yours.

“Mine,” he muttered against your lips, biting down gently before soothing the sting with his tongue. “Say it.”

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him back in for another bruising kiss. “Yours,” you whispered breathlessly. “Only yours.”

His grip on you tightened, his breath hot against your skin. “Damn right,” he growled, before kissing you again, harder, deeper, like he never planned on letting go.

Bakugo’s breathing was ragged as he pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his grip on your waist still firm like he was afraid you’d disappear. His crimson eyes bore into yours, intense and unyielding.

“You’re not going back to him,” he said, voice hoarse but certain. “I won’t fucking let you.”

Your chest was rising and falling just as fast as his, your lips still tingling from the heat of his kisses. And the worst part? You didn’t want to go back.

You swallowed, your fingers still curled into his shirt. “Then what happens now?”

Bakugo let out a sharp exhale, his hands sliding down to your hips, gripping them like an anchor. “You’re mine,” he repeated, like he needed to hear it again. “And I’m gonna make damn sure you never doubt it again.”

His lips found yours once more—slower this time, but just as deep, just as needy. His hands moved over your body, memorizing every inch, every curve, like he was staking his claim. You melted into him, fingers threading through his hair as he pressed you back against the wall, letting his kiss say everything his words couldn’t.

When he finally pulled away, his smirk was cocky, but his eyes were softer—warmer.

“You should’ve known, dumbass,” he murmured, brushing his thumb over your swollen lips. “You were always mine.”

And this time, you didn’t argue…

[oh-phoenixx]

"Cauldron" - Jegulus microfic @into-the-jeggyverse - 706 words

-

“You need help with what?” Regulus sighed.

“The Draught of Living Death,” James repeated, an almost hopeful look in his eye which Regulus didn’t understand.

“Why do you need to make the Draught of Living Death? We do those in sixth year,” Regulus questioned, narrowing his eyes. “You’re a Seventh-Year.”

“Oh, er, yeah…It’s for, um…” James trailed off. Regulus gave him until the count of three to think of something, and when he didn’t, Regulus sighed once more.

“Yeah, I’ll help.” James’s face lit up at this, and Regulus rolled his eyes.

This is how, about a week later, Regulus ended up spending an evening with James in the Potions classroom. James was even more clueless than Regulus had anticipated, and he spent most of the few hours they were there simply covering the cauldron with his hand to stop James from putting the wrong ingredients in. 

The sixth-years, Regulus’s class, had made this potion only a few weeks prior, and so Regulus had it quite fresh in his memory. He only had to skim through the instructions a couple of times, and the rest was like muscle memory.

Regulus was just about to give James his next instruction when he noticed that it was already done. He looked suspiciously between the cauldron and James. “James?”

“Yeah, Reggie?” James grinned.

“Did you just add the Powdered Root of Asphodel?”

“Yeah, why?” James’s eyebrows furrowed.

“You have continuously failed to follow the instructions I give you, and yet you knew to add that without me having to tell you?” Regulus asked, tilting his head. 

James stammered out an answer that was something like ‘I made this last year and I remembered that part’, though this made no sense, as he had nearly messed up the entire potion so many times that Regulus was concerned for both their safeties.

Regulus knew James was lying about something, but he had been meaning to remake this potion anyway. His last version, while the second best in the class (the first best being Barty’s, as always), he did not feel entirely happy with. He knew he had made some mistakes here and there that Slughorn didn’t point out. So, even though James was clearly not being honest with Regulus, he didn’t stop ‘helping’ him with the potion.

Once the potion was finished, James smiled at Regulus, putting a hand on Regulus’s shoulder which Regulus glared at. James was undeterred, and moved his hand to ruffle Regulus’s hair instead. Regulus slapped his hand away and started to clean up. 

“Why did you ask me to help you make the potion when you already know how to make it?” Regulus asked, barely looking up from what he was doing. While he was glad to have another chance to make the Draught of Living Death, he did not enjoy being messed with. 

“Whaaaat?” James asked, pretending very poorly to be confused. “I’m not sure I know what you mean, Reggie…”

“Twice you followed steps that I didn’t read you, while the rest of the time you messed up the simplest of instructions that I did give you.” Regulus was becoming increasingly frustrated, just wanting a simple explanation from James as to why he was intentionally wasting both their time.

“I just…thought it would be an easy way to get you to hang out with me,” James mumbled, scratching his neck unsurely.

Regulus gaped at this, both confused and flustered. Regulus was not one to get flustered or to feel ‘butterflies in his stomach’. So what the fuck was this? He turned away so that James wouldn’t see the blush creeping up onto his face. “Why?”

Very quickly, James muttered, “IsortoffancyyoubutIdidn’tknowhowtosayit.”

If Regulus wasn’t blushing before, he most definitely was now. He turned back to James, too shocked to be embarrassed. “You- You like me?”

James nodded, looking around the room nervously. Regulus shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. He refused to say it back. He was too good for this type of thing, foolish crushes and blushing and dancing around feelings. And if, when James finally did ask him out on an actual date, he couldn’t stop himself from saying yes. Well…that would be no one’s business but his own.

[justmeinadaze]

Louder Than Hell (Eddie X Plus Size Reader)

A/N: This was a request by @spiderxbatty and she even drew me a little concept sketch so that's what's described in this little fluffy blurb. Enjoy! <3

Warning: Fem Plus Size Y/N, Reader's weight is mentioned very briefly in the beginning, Eddie defends her.

Word Count: 1003

Eddie Asks/Donate To Me

“HEY! Are you being mean to my girl, Jason?”, the metalhead shouted as he wrapped a protective arm around your shoulders causing all eyes in the lunchroom to turn towards the scene. 

Jason Carver always bullied you when he just so happened to remember your existence but because of his reputation he had seem like a “good guy” to the student body. Eddie Munson was someone you were very much aware of but had never had the nerve to speak to because unlike you, he was loud and forward. 

Add in the fact that he was utterly gorgeous with those gorgeous chocolate eyes and smile that had you swooning. 

You honestly thought he had no idea who you even were which is why you were surprised when he appeared seemingly out of nowhere to stand by your side. 

“No, Munson…I was just saying hello to Y/N here.”, the jock responded through gritted teeth and a forced smile. 

“Oh? I didn’t realize the term ‘fat’ meant hello. What language is that? Asshole?”

Jason glared at the boy as he took a determined stride forward. 

“Shut the fuck up, freak.”

Eddie’s sarcastic smile fell as he let you go to also take a step towards him, nose to nose with your tormenter. 

“Leave her the fuck alone and I will.”

They stared each other down before the jock mumbled something like “prick” under his breath and turned to go take a seat at their usual table. 

“Hey, sweetheart, you alright?”, he asks as his face softens. When you silently nod, his gentle eyes take you in from head to toe. “Not much of a talker? Well, that’s alright but remember, babe, ‘some like evil and some like power’…”, he quotes as he points in the direction Jason walked down before turning to point at your chest. “…and ‘some bleed in vain. Some get a bullet in the head instead.’ Don’t play that particular role. Be louder than hell.”

With that, he winks and heads back to his own table leaving you smiling as you watch him throw himself down into his chair. 

***

Eddie sighed as he exited Ms. O’Donnell’s class and dragged his feet to his locker where he slammed his forehead against the cool metal. 

“Get it together, Munson.”, he chided himself as he spun the combination and opened the door to a folded piece of paper falling into his palm. 

He rolled his eyes, thinking it was one of the other asshole jocks leaving him mean things again but when he unfolded it, he was met with a beautiful recreation of the theater masks that were on the Theater of Pain Mötley Crüe album. The faces were colored with the happy face being in pink and the sad being in blue with each side stating the words yes and no.

Above in the same font as the title on the record were the words “Eddie, Will You Be My Valentine?” At the bottom, was your name and locker number. 

The metalhead grinned wide, biting his lips before shame washed over at the fact that he didn’t recognize your name but as he leaned back and searched his mind, he remembered the lyrics he quoted to a beautiful young lady from said album. 

“Well, fuck me.”

***

You purposely waited an hour and half after school let out to go check your locker. A part of you was incredibly nervous about his answer but you also didn’t want him to be sitting there waiting for you to “let you down easy” like some of the other nice boys had done in middle school when you first started trying to date. 

You hated being pandered to and honestly it was slightly embarrassing.

Just say no and move on.

Exhaling a heavy sigh and closing your eyes, you popped open your locker… 

To find only your books and jacket. 

Tears stung your eyes as you nodded to yourself and began emptying your backpack. 

“Jesus, took you long enough.” You jumped at the sound of Eddie’s voice, dropping your notebook and pencils causing them to scatter at your feet. “Shit, sweetheart, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’ve been waiting here for you since the last bell and got antsy so I went to smoke really quick. I’m an idiot…let me…”

As he bent down to help you pick up your things, he noticed something on the sketch pad that stood out. 

“Shut up, Y/N, did you draw this?”, Eddie asks as he holds up the picture you drew of Tesla’s

Mechanical Resonance album, smiling when you nod. 

His fingers flipped through the pages, his grin growing at the other albums like Dio, Judas, and Alice Cooper expertly replicated. 

“Is this Poison’s Look What The Cat Dragged in?” Again, you nod. “Who’s in the…wait a minute…is this…Corroded Coffin? You’ve seen us play?”

“I…saw you at the talent show…in middle school.”

Finally hearing the sound of your voice has his head snap up as his grin softens to a gentle smirk. 

“Holy shit. She speaks.”, he teases making you blush as you duck your head. “These are amazing, Y/N. You are incredibly talented. Maybe you can show me more of your work over dinner on Friday.”

Your eyes light up as you nod.

“Can you say it for me, pretty girl?”

“Y-Yes, I’d love to have dinner on Friday.”

Eddie smiles as he hands you your notebook, reaching into his pocket to place a folded piece of paper on top as well. 

“I’ll see you then.” While backing away, he accidently stumbled into the wall missing the door he was trying to seamlessly exit through. “Wow, um, let’s pretend I did that smoothly.”

His face turns bright red when you giggle and he runs out the door to the parking lot. 

Hastily, you open the folded piece of paper to find that not only had he circled yes but also put his phone number at the bottom with crudely done drawing of rose beside it. 

#############