#to all of you on here!! i would be nothing without you

[rafesangelita]

…INTRODUCING DILF!RAFE X HOUSEBUNNY!READER AU

⋆𐙚₊˚🐰⊹♡

DILF!RAFE X HOUSEBUNNY!READER who spend their days fucking like rabbits. whether rafe had her clinging onto his bed sheets for dear life, or muffling her screams while he drilled into her poor cunt, he knew he had hit the jackpot when she was deemed useful in more ways than one. housebunny!reader who worked as a cart girl at the country club for only two days before rafe whisked her away and turned her into his pretty maid. with his kid out of the house for school, rafe enforced a strict dress code that kept her catering to him in mini skirts, thigh high stockings, heels, and maybeee a lacey bra (he preferred her to be topless most of the time). dilf!rafe who took care of absolutely everything; hair appointments, lash appointments, nail appointments, wax appointments, he made sure to always have his bunny in tip top shape, according to his liking.

DILF!RAFE X HOUSEBUNNY!READER who always get concerning glares whenever they’re out in public. here you have rafe always dressed in business casual, his clothes ironed flat without a single wrinkle in sight, courtesy of housebunny of course, and then you have the girl at his side that’s all glitz and glamour, her outfit drawing the attention of every single person in the same room. dilf!rafe who has an intense housewife + breeding kink, always telling bunny that he’s gonna keep her in the house forever while he’s balls deep inside of her. she never opposed the idea, the vision only making her warm, velvety walls clench around him even tighter. housebunny!reader who made rafe’s favorite meals, loving the way he nodded approvingly while he chewed. “you’re just too good to be true.” her heart is fluttering in her chest at his words, the praise not going unnoticed. dinner was always delicious, but dessert was even better.

DILF!RAFE X HOUSEBUNNY!READER who are sooo playful behind closed doors, rafe finds himself full on giggling before he’s masking his laughter with a serious expression so bunny doesn’t think he’s too soft. dilf!rafe who has the music taste of a frat boy in college, cursing under his breath as bunny sings along to the explicit lyrics booming throughout the house. “pretty girls don’t have filthy mouths.” he’s reminding her, smirking to himself when he see’s her sparkly lips come to a stop. housebunny!reader who does literally everything rafe asks her to do. “..sooo you want me to walk around with bunny ears, and that thing?” rafe is living for the hesitation on her face, and the fact that he knows she won’t tell him no. the following night, he manages to get the cute little bunny tail right where he wants it, housebunny!reader loving it more than she thought she would..

DILF!RAFE X HOUSEBUNNY!READER who plan bunny’s outfits for the week (it’s just an excuse for her to give him an unsolicited fashion show). “i would rather you wear nothing at all..” rafe grumbles when she comes out of his closet in an assortment of clothing. housebunny!reader who slips pink sticky notes into rafe’s pocket before going to work so he could find them throughout the day. ‘can’t wait to be your slutty lil’ bunny later ♡’ rafe is excusing himself from his meeting, sending her a text message that easily gets her needy. ‘just read your note. you‘re gonna be so fucked out by the time i’m done with you.’ she shoots him a quick ‘promiseee? ૮꒰◞ ˕ ◟ ྀི꒱ა’ before squealing in excitement when he reacts to her message with a thumbs up. it’s not long before rafe gets home and has her legs on top of his shoulders, her knees knocking against her chest while he’s wiping away her tears of pure unadulterated pleasure with his thumb.

DILF!RAFE X HOUSEBUNNY!READER who are equally as nervous to have rafe’s son back home, unsure of what the small boy might think. housebunny!reader who nearly cries when she overhears little ray say she looks like a princess with her ‘pink puffy dresses’. dilf!rafe who is relieved and overjoyed that his boy adores her so much, since that was all he was waiting for in order to make her his, officially at least, since he already thought of her as such. housebunny!reader who wakes up to the smell of breakfast wafting up from downstairs, her eyebrows knitting in confusion as she wraps her fluffy robe around her body. “what are you doing?” she’s taking in the view of a shirtless rafe drinking out of a coffee mug, taking her bottom lip between her teeth. “making you breakfast since you’re not just my house bunny anymore..” at his words, you smiled. “just bunny then?” he hummed, “just bunny.”

[hairmetal666]

It's Wayne that goes with him when he buys the truck. He offers to go with him. Uses one of his few days off to do it.

On the way there, it strikes Steve that his own father would never do this with him. The man hadn't even bought the Beemer himself, just sent an assistant to take care of it. And here Wayne is, driving them to a used car dealership, humming along to some old country-western song on the radio.

It takes three dealerships for them to find it, but Wayne is patient, stoic, takes careful note of the cars that catch Steve's interest. He asks the salesman if he can pop the hood, peers at the engine, kicks the tires. He asks questions Steve would never think of, about adjustments to the odometer, history of repairs, if it was in any accidents.

Steve never considered wanting a truck, doesn't think it's his style. But he's walking the lot at the third dealership, and he sees it. It's a Chevy, blue and white, a few years old. It's in good condition, but was obviously used for work.

He walks towards it.

"You like this one?" Wayne asks. If he's surprised, he doesn't show it.

"Yeah, it's--yeah," Steve nods.

Wayne does his checks, asks his questions, gives a nod of approval.

It's the first car he takes on a test drive.

He barely has it on the road before he knows it's the one. It surprises him. He always thought he was his true self in the BMW, but now--the engine has a throaty grumble to it, can feel it rumbling through his foot on the pedal, and it's--it's--perfect.

"This it?" Wayne asks as they pull back into the lot.

"Yeah, yes. It's. Yeah."

"Well, let's get to hagglin."

Wayne is, of course, an expert haggler. By the end of it, he's got a couple thousand dollars knocked off the asking price, Steve more than within budget.

They drive back to Wayne's little house on the outskirts of Hawkins, the one the government gave him, the sun just disappearing behind the horizon.

Eddie stands on the small porch, wide smile on his face.

"Wow, Wayne," he says. He wraps an arm around his uncle's shoulders. "You really did a number on him."

"It's a solid vehicle, Ed."

"Never took you for a truck man, Harrington," Eddie teases.

"Can't you see how gorgeous she is?"

Eddie raises an eyebrow, his smile not faltering. "Wow, it's true love then."

"Looks like it. Wanna come for a ride?"

There's only a second where Eddie hesitates, but then he's running inside to grab shoes, tripping on his way to the truck.

---

It happened like this:

Eddie Munson died in the Upside Down in 1986.

He's reanimated by Vecna for the final battle, a puppet to do his master's bidding.

When they win, when Vecna is dead in a pile of dessicated vines, they can't find Eddie. Scour the Upside Down for him and come up empty. They have to assume he's dead, like everything else there, kept alive only by Vecna's power. None of them want to leave without him, but the world is destabilized, they can't stay, El has to close the gates.

That night, Steve pulls the battle vest from under his bed, sobs into the blood-soaked denim, the grief from the loss just as fresh as March of '86.

He and the kids, they go visit Wayne. It becomes a regular thing.

Two weeks after the end of Vecna, Wayne calls him. He's panicked, near hysterical, nothing like the man Steve's come to know.

He goes, fast as he can, to Wayne's house. All the lights are off, the front door ajar, and he runs, clattering into the living room.

Wayne is in the recliner, face pale and strained, and on the couch--on the couch--

Eddie Munson.

His hair's lank, his skin sallow, the light in his eyes dim, but it's him. Unquestionably.

Steve does the only thing he can think of, calls Hopper. He shows up a little while later with El and Will.

"I called Owens," Hopper says.

"Why would you do that?" Steve is angry.

"Look, kid, I get it. But none of us are equipped to deal with this."

He's right, so they wait.

It doesn't take the doctor, El, and Will long to figure that Eddie is Eddie, even though his heart beats a little slow and his skin's always cold and his blood is slightly the wrong color. He's still at least 75% human, and that's enough.

Only those six people know. It's dangerous to tell anyone else when the world still thinks Eddie Munson is a serial murderer. Owens asks for time to clear his name, and they have no choice but to agree.

After two days, Steve thinks he should give Eddie and Wayne space, but as he rises to go, Eddie's hand grips his wrist. "Stay?" He asks. Steve doesn't leave.

It's hard, keeping the secret from the rest of the kids, Robin. He wants to tell her, more than anything. About how they share a bed most nights, how he's memorizing the shape of Eddie's body in a way he shouldn't, how the gentle desire turns to profound longing--but Eddie's safety is the most important thing, so Steve keeps it to himself.

---

They go out in Steve's truck almost every night, always on backroads. It's the only way Eddie can leave the house.

It's Steve's favorite thing, the only time Eddie seems truly happy. They roll the windows down, turn the music up, and whip around deserted farm roads. Sometimes, Eddie will stick his head out the window, shout out into the night.

Steve is in love with him.

He has no idea if Eddie feels the same, figures it doesn't matter. He'll harbor this flame for the rest of his life without complaint because Eddie is alive.

He thinks he's done a good job at hiding his feelings, thinks he's able to avert his gaze, hide his blush, when Eddie comes out of his room in only his boxers, thinks Eddie hasn't noticed how Steve's eyes linger when they share joints lying in the bed of the truck.

Except tonight--tonight--they're driving back home, and Eddie, he's been quiet, distant, fidgety, and now he reaches out to turn down the radio, which has Steve's stomach in a knot.

"You--Steve, you've been so great. To me and Wayne, and--you're family, you know? To us, you're--but--"

And Steve thinks this is it, that Eddie noticed, that he's being let down easy, and he wants to throw up, cry, but Eddie's still talking.

"You have a life to live, right? You're--you're 23 and you're not stuck here like me, and I know Robin is ready to go and the kids are--they're going to college soon, and you shouldn't stay here for me, I'm--"

"What?" Steve says.

"What?" Eddie echoes.

"I don't want to leave," Steve says.

"But--"

"Where you are is where I want to be."

"I'm in love with you," Eddie says. Cover his face with his hands.

Steve pulls the truck to the shoulder. His hands are shaking.

"You love me?"

"I'm sorry." His apology is muffled. "I didn't mean--I know this fucks up--"

"Eddie." He says, soft. "Look at me?"

One deep brown eye peers up at him. "Eddie, I--I'm hopelessly in love with you."

Both eyes now, mouth a bright curve. "You mean it, Harrington?"

"Fuck, can't get enough of you, Munson."

"You know, if I thought for a second anything like was possible, I would've--fuck, I would've made a move ages ago. I would've--"

"Shut-up," he whispers against Eddie's mouth. "Kiss me."

---

And later, Robin will ask if he has someone, and he'll say yes, and she'll ask, soft, "is it him?" and he'll nod, and they'll both cry.

Later, a news report, Eddie Munson's body was recovered from the bottom of Sattler Quarry, bearing the same wounds as Vecna's other victims.

Later, Chief Powell will hold a press conference, say they're looking for a man named Henry Creel, wanted on suspicion of killing his mother and sister and the aggravated assault of his father with an MO that matches the 1986 killing spree.

Later, Steve will shave Eddie's head, Eddie crying softly as the hair tumbles to the bathroom floor. Steve will kiss the tears away, one by one, say, "I know it's hard to let go. But we'll move away, to a place where people say 'you look like that guy, that Eddie Munson,' and you'll say, 'I get that a lot,' and your hair will grow back, if you want it to."

Later, they'll invite everyone to Wayne's , everyone except Dustin, busy in Boston with an internship, and Eddie will be there to welcome them.

Later, he and Eddie will take the truck, drive up to Boston. And Eddie, he'll spy Dustin first, walks up to him and says, "Pretty metal tattoos, little dude," and they'll all cry until Dustin stops to yell at them for keeping the secret.

Later, Steve and Eddie will leave MIT--Dustin screeching that they have to call him every night promptly at 8pm still ringing in their ears-- in search of their future.

[celestiamour]

MEOW MEOW MEOW SE-MI SMUT X F!READER PLL,ZZPLZLZZ IM ON MY KNEES PLZ

ft. se-mi x f! reader — squid game

╰₊✧ an examination of piercings turns into something more┊0.8k words

contains: smut!! dom se-mi & sub reader┊tongue piercing, receiving oral, one mention of needles, innocent reader, se-mi is older & called “unnie”

➤ author's note: glad to see the girls getting just as much love as the boys in my inbox

“did they hurt?” you asked, gently holding your friend’s face in your hands and admiring her like a newly discovered painting from the renaissance era. it was mesmerizing how the light shone off the metal, and you couldn’t stop staring, even going as far as to run your finger over the little star of her nose piercing in awe without thinking. it was so damn cute how fascinated you seemed to be by these decisions she made nearly a decade ago in her teenage years.

normally, se-mi wouldn’t have let anyone put their hands on her and would probably punch them if they went anywhere near her face. yet here she sat in her bed allowing herself to be adored by you. she wondered if this was how cats felt when being coddled by their owners, the spoiled white persian kinds you see in movies with diamond collars and more toys than what they know to do with. “no, it was just like a pinch.”

“i couldn’t imagine that— having a needle pierce my skin, i mean,” you shivered. “my ears were pierced when i was a baby, but even then, they’re a little crooked because i wouldn’t stop crying.”

she giggled at the thought of it. “it’s not the needle that’s painful, it’s the healing process. the days after i got my tongue pierced were the worst, i couldn’t eat for days.”

“you have a tongue piercing?”

humming to confirm, she cheekily stuck out her tongue to show off the metal pierced through the muscle, even flexing it to flaunt the jewelry. it was extremely amusing to see how flustered you were becoming even though you tried not to show it.

“why did you get it pierced when it’s not even visible all the time?”

“cause it feels good for…”

“feels good for what?” you asked innocently, tilting your head in a way that made her want to eat you alive.

“well… it’s kinda hard to explain, but i could show you if you like…”

you didn’t have the foggiest idea what she was talking about at first until you found yourself flipped on your back with your shorts dragged to your ankles along with your panties and her head in between your shaking thighs, sliding her hot tongue between your folds and savoring the taste collecting on her palette. this wasn’t something best friends did, but you made no attempt to push her away and allowed her to do as she pleased.

“s-se-mi unnie…” you whined out, fingers finding and tangling with her dark locks yet also doing the contradictory action of wiggling your hips away. you’ve never felt this way before, knots twisting in your stomach and fire spreading under your skin as you try to wiggle away from the foreign sensation that felt too good to be real.

“ah, ah, ah, don’t run from me, you taste so fucking sweet.” her grip on your legs tightened as she pulled you closer to her, swirling the cold pierced metal across your throbbing clit and enjoying your moans like music. “i wish we had done this sooner, don’t you? god, i don’t think i could ever get enough now that i’m here.”

you couldn’t even verbalize a proper answer with nothing but pathetic whimpers falling from your mouth, eyes flickering between her and the ceiling as they rolled back with tears threatening to drip down the waterline. did things like this always feel so good, or was se-mi simply an expert who knew your body better than you did yourself with age and experience? silly little questions you would ponder if you weren’t getting your brains fucked out by just her tongue, making her wonder in return how you would handle taking her strap when you were already going crazy like this. (you have no idea how long she’s been fantasizing about having you like this, sitting in this very bed thinking about your soft skin and lips against hers with her hand crammed in her pants.)

“fucckk, ‘m gonna- ngh!!” god, you didn’t know the word to match your oncoming orgasm, you just knew a peak was about to be reached thanks to her talented tongue.

“you’re gonna cum baby,” she chuckled. “don’t be scared, just let yourself go for me.”

suddenly her plush lips wrapped around your delicate pearl and sucked hard, and like activating a button, you cried out in pleasure and unraveled all over her face, back arched and hands tugging on her hair. she gladly licked up the messy remnants with a smirk, proud to have made you climax in less than five minutes.

“you did soooo good for me baby,” she drawled and pressed a few sloppy kisses on your twitching cunt as a reward, “think you can give me one more?”

[cherry-coloureddfunk]

And When You Move, I'm Moved, joel miller

𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡ daddy kink, p in v, riding, dirty talk, soft joel, hurt & comfort if you squint, praise kink, use of pet names ( baby girl, sweet girl, etc )

it's past christmas but I had this idea and fell in love with it and procrastination will be the death of me...

The night seemed to drag on forever.

It was almost 12:35, and Joel hadn’t come home yet— a broken promise that he had whispered in the morning, with a kiss to the tip of your nose, crossing his heart that he’d be back in time to hold you once more and open presents.  

Supplies were running low in Jackson, including penicillin and other medications that would be useful for a rainy day. Selfishness claws at the edges of your thoughts each time he has to go, a relentless whisper that begs him to stay—to choose the warmth of home and the safety of you over the unknown out there. It gnaws at your resolve, urging you to tell him to forget about the world, to let it fend for itself, and to stay here where it’s quiet, where it’s just the two of you.

Instead, you put your heart’s desires to rest, giving him a meek nod as you kissed the lips, which you came to know as your own goodbye. It wasn’t fair. However, nothing was ever fair when it came to your Joel.

At his core, your Joel was a giver— the kind of man who would give until his knees buckled from beneath him, and even then you were sure he’d pour what little remained of himself into the world. He bled for you, his devotion etched in every sacrifice he made, and though he’d never admit it, he bled for Jackson too, an unspoken loyalty for the town he called your home. 

So if Jackson needed something, Tommy and him were always the first ones to act. 

And all you could do was wait.

But the worst part wasn’t waiting. It wasn’t the fear of hypotheticals or counting every star in the sky and praying on each one that he’d be alright. It was the knowing. Knowing that one day your Joel might not find his way back into the safety of your embrace. That one day, the fucked up world around you might win. And it was as obvious to you as it was to those around you— you wouldn’t be able to endure that. The possibility of leading a life without him because to you, he is the world.

 Joel is the sun and moon, and the stars are him. 

You shift subconsciously on the bed, hands gripping the white sheets, a desperate attempt to ground yourself from this nightmare. You wanted to wake up. You wanted to wake up in his arms, the feeling of his breath fanning against your neck— a tangible reminder that he was yours. You longed to trace the outline of his nose with your eyes like you always did when he was fast asleep next to you— not wanting to surrender to sleep because that would mean another moment spent without him. 

And yet, somehow, even in sleep, you still dreamt of him. Always him.

Then, amid the deafening silence that accompanied the dark, the door creaked open slowly. You blinked in an attempt to focus on the figure that lingered in the doorway. It stepped through, gently shutting the door behind, and you saw him— Joel, Your Joel. 

The exhaustion on his face doesn’t go unnoticed; bright eyes now sunken, and the pink plush lips you had kissed in the morning were red and irritated, no doubt from the harsh weather. Eyes bloodshot from fighting sleep. 

“Joel…” You could finally breathe, rushing to your feet. You leaped out of bed and wrapped your arms around his neck. Pressing your face against his jacket's material, you felt his heart's rhythmic beat. He was here. He was safe.

“M’okay.” He soothed, lips brushing the top of your head as his arms came around you, “M’here, baby. M’here.”

You guide him to sit at the edge of your bed, standing between his legs as they rest on either side of you. He reaches out slowly, arms wrapping around you to pull you into his lap by habit. Once you’re there, you get a closer look at his face with the help of a nearby lamp. Small cuts adorn his face, and a prominent one that you notice lies on the bridge of his nose. 

Tommy and him weren’t the only ones searching for supplies. 

You cup his face gently, fingers ghosting the gray whiskers of his beard. He leans into your touch, eyes closed, completely melting at the contact. He shudders at the feeling of your lips pressing against every knick that taints his skin. Whoever did this to your Joel, you wish the weight of their cruelty returned tenfold—a life heavy with regret and haunted by shadows, never to know the peace they carelessly stole from him.

“C’mon, baby girl, let's get you to bed.” He rests his forehead against yours, fingers caressing your sides with a feather-light touch, “S’real late.”

Ever the giver. Even in the quietest moments, he pours what’s left of himself into you.

You shake your head gently, fingers coming up to undo the buttons of his winter coat. Once the constricting material is off, his shaky hands work on his favorite green flannel. He curses under his breath as his hands tremble. They feel numb and stiff from the biting cold, refusing to obey his commands. Frustration flickers across his face as he struggles with the flannel buttons, his breath coming in shallow puffs of irritation.

"I can't... damn it," he mutters, the words edged with a helpless kind of anger—his fingers fumble, clumsy and uncooperative. 

Placing your hands over his, you offer him a sympathetic smile and take over, undoing each button for him. He shrugs off the flannel, leaving the sight of his broad chest in front of you, revealing another scar, though this one is more familiar. It lay above his lower stomach, and you’d seen in passing within these same four walls when the man in front of you whispered filthy things into your ear, the weight of his naked body against yours, holding your hand as he fucked you into the mattress he was now sitting on. 

Still, on his lap, you moved to work on Joel’s pants, using your hands to rub at the top of his inner thigh gently. His grip on your sides tightened slightly as he let out a strained breath, peering at you through hooded eyes. Now, standing between his legs, you peel off his jeans and boxers, throwing them to the side of the bed to deal with another day. 

Joel’s hand comes to toy with the thin strap of your nightie; his fingers dig under the silk, slowly dragging both straps down your arms to reveal your naked body to him. His eyes dance along your chest, admiring the swell of your breast and the sight of your nipples that harden from the chilly air in the room. He pulls you into him, kissing the valley of your breast to the exposed skin of your neck. You giggle softly at the familiar beard scruff tickling your soft skin. 

Your hand drifts between your bodies, finding his aching cock. Wrapping your hand around his girth, he twitches in your hand with a low moan. You knew what he needed– Relief. And you’d be more than willing to provide that for him. 

“Take those off f’me, baby.” He removes his hands, letting his eyes drift to your panties, the only thing shielding all of you from him. You hooked your fingers around the soft cotton material, yanking them down so they could pool at your legs. You stepped out of your panties and closer to Joel, watching his hefty hand stroke up and down his cock, watching you unravel yourself for him and him only. 

“Wanna take care of you daddy.” Your hands find his shoulders, rubbing them to soothe the ache he felt from the day. Joel did so much for you. He kept you safe and full in many ways without expecting anything in return. You’d never lift a finger as long as he was around, and that was apparent from the first time he took you to bed and made you cum two times with his fingers and once with his mouth. Sometimes, you wanted him to be selfish because he deserved it more than anyone.  

“You’re so sweet, baby girl.”  He smiles up at you, still pumping his cock. Your eyes fall to his length and the bush of wiry hairs above it, “Gonna ride daddy’s cock n take care of him real good? Make him feel better?” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“Spit on daddy’s cock, baby.” 

You lean down to his length, eyes meeting his as he gives you a nod of approval. You gather the salvia in your mouth, letting it fall from your lips to his length. Joel’s eyes darkened, watching your spit drip down the head of his cock onto his shaft. 

“One more time.” 

You spit once more, and Joel removes his hand completely, arms reaching out for you. You step towards him, letting his hands find their way onto your hips. He pulls you into his lap once more, positioning you to his liking– both of your knees on either side of him as your wet entrance hovers over his cock.  Your nails dig into his shoulders when you feel the hot tip of him rub against the wetness of your core.

“Fuck, baby.” He groans, eyes closed. His hands hold you firmly in place. “She’s dripping onto me– filthy girl gonna ruin these sheets.” 

You whined, trying to move yourself onto him, but Joel was stronger, able to manipulate you however he wanted. You let out a sigh, just wanting anything he would give to dull the ache between your thighs. 

Joel tsked, “Be patient baby, m’gonna make you feel better.” He moves you forward just enough so  his tip catches at the notch of your cunt,  “Daddy spoils you so much that you're always used to getting your way, hm?”

You gasped, burying your face into the crook of his neck at the feeling of his cock against your clit, “No, Daddy, m’your good girl, promise!” 

Joel’s hand gently cupped your face, his fingers softly caressing your skin as if to reassure you that he was just teasing. He knew you were spoiled objectively but loved being the one to indulge you. More than that, he loved how much you needed him. It gave him a sense of purpose, something he would never tell you himself. He thrived on being the one you turned to, the one you trusted to take care of you. Knowing that you relied on him, that you needed him in ways no one else could. It wasn’t just indulgence; it was connection, it was love, and it was everything he never knew he craved. 

With his other hand, Joel moved you back to your original position hovering above him as he guided you to sink onto his cock. Joel’s hand was steady on your head, forcing your gaze to meet his own, already pushing you further down on himself. You moaned at the slight ache fading into pleasure from his size, splitting you open. 

“You’re doing so good, baby, y’almost there.” Joel sighed, eyes glancing down to where your bodies met. He was painfully hard from the sight of him completely stuffing you full, “Gonna give you some more.” 

“Daddy.” You whined, body slumping forward in Joel’s grip as he pushed you down so you could take all that he was giving you. He was thick and hot inside of you, his member pulsing at the feeling of being where he’d longed to be– and almost always ended up every night.

“I know, baby girl, I know.” He soothed, kissing your cheek. He let you move against him a bit, letting you feel how deep he was inside you. Your gaze cast downwards to see where you disappeared inside of him, his cock buried snugly in your warmth. 

Joel’s hands guided you up and down, setting the rhythm for you to mimic. You held a death grip on his shoulders, rolling your hips on top of him, a little cautious, not wanting to disappoint him. Joel noticed your apprehension and offered you an encouraging smile, his warm and steady gaze melting away your nerves. He knew how much you wanted to be his good girl, but to him, there was nothing you could ever do that would disappoint. Even if you faltered, even if you stumbled, in his eyes, you could never truly fall short.

“Fuck, look at you. Got the prettiest thing in all of Jackson bouncin’ on my lap.” He praised you with a moan, throwing his head back and focusing on how well your body always took him, “Doing such a good job for daddy.” 

You watched Joel’s eyes rake all over your naked form, moaning when you’d sink back down onto his cock. His hands had reclaimed their place at your sides, moving you against him at a faster pace. One of your hands came to rest on the side of his face as you asked breathily, “Like this?” 

You rode him at the pace he wanted, pulling his forehead to rest against your own, wanting to feel him as close as possible, though it probably wasn’t possible. Close would never be enough for you. You’d always want more when it came to Joel. The dark hairs at the base of his cock brushed against your clit whenever you sank onto him, spurring you on further. 

“So fuckin’ sweet to me.” He nodded, confirming your earlier question, one hand gripping at your breasts as he licked at the nipple of the other. His tongue swirled around the bundle of nerves making your back arch in pleasure. He loved how you wanted to please him. You really were his good girl. He pulled his mouth off with a pop, “S’just what you needed huh? My perfect girl’s little pussy was just beggin’ t’be full o’me?” 

You wanted to respond, but the feeling of him engulfing you made it impossible. Your face contorted the feeling of euphoria rushing over you when you felt Joel’s hips move upward on their own accord, meeting your movements to fuck you even harder. 

Joel.

Joel.

Joel. 

It was like a mantra in your head. It was all too much. 

‘Daddy, I– I think m’ gonna-” You whined into the crook of his neck. Joel knew your body well enough that he didn’t need you to tell him when you were close; he always felt it. He felt your hot tears drip onto his chest, bringing his hand up to tangle into your hair as he kept up his powerful thrusts into you. 

“Cum for me baby girl, s’okay you can do it.” He breathed out, his hand stroking your scalp, “I’ll take care of you. Let go f’me.” 

So you did. You came hard, trying to muffle your cries by covering your mouth with Joel’s shoulder, which was damp from your tears. Your walls gripped Joel’s cock, throbbing as you came undone on top of him, eliciting a deep groan from the back of his throat. With what little energy he had left, both of his hands came to grip the undersides of your thighs as he fucked into you. 

His hips stuttered, a sign to you that he was going to come as well. Your walls squeezing him allowed that final push he needed as he emptied himself into you. 

You were both left wrecked. Heavy breathing against sweaty skin pressed against each other. Joel’s arms enveloped you, gently rubbing your back as you tried to catch your breath, “Stay inside, please?” 

“Okay, baby,” he chuckled, burying his nose in your hair and taking a deep breath. Your head rested on his shoulder as he held you close, keeping you pressed firmly against him. “Do you still want to open presents?”

“After round two, definitely.”

[consistantly-changing]

[Image descriptions in order: screenshots of reblogs on this post.

Images in the first reblog:

moregaythanyourealized: i was at an antique store in Austria once and when I went to check out they guy was like "Oh, that was my wife's. Oh well, she'll be okay without it!" I felt a little guilty]

[takk: #bought a ceramic seal at an antique store and the woman at the counter said 'do you know what this is?' and i said 'a seal?' and she said #nothing else]

[vintagegarf: #this has happened to me multiple times #I tried to buy a lamp they were using for light that got unplugged #they let me buy it but i had to haggle for a bit]

[tackyflamingosarah: I was in a local used bookstore once and they had an original finalized script for The Breakfast Club. That was pretty cool to see. Still have no idea where they got it from]

[shakespearerants: #ahahaha throwback to the one time I went into THEE most expensive antique store in the city to ask about a ring that was haunting me #and the about 90 year old sales lady a. didn't recognize the peice b. immediately told me if she'd have seen it earlier she would've kept i #for herself c. turned the tag around and was surprised to find a price in her own handwriting d. deduced I don't have a job by my manicured #for-once hands e. offered me a 100€ discount because she liked my vibes f. immediately invited me to come to her property and meet her #horses after I expressed the slightest interest. when I say property I mean castle with grounds. when I say horses I mean own private stud. #OH YEAH and this whole interaction started with her wanting to throw me out of the store as soon as I walked through the door bc she had a #private client coming in 10 minutes. #vladi speaks]

[cosmic-courtroom: #me when i find radioactive glass in some random persons booth and it's just labelled 'green glass $2.50' like. #stares. girl. and the owners of the store see my blacklight in hand and go 'oh so is it [uranium/depression] glass??' and i flash it with #light and sometimes it's the brightest shit they've seen like. Hey That's a Really High U Concentration Actually.]

[agdab: #this was how i got a cursed ring #i had to bury it in a graveyard to get rid of it]

[chikinan: #still thinking about the cow fetus]

[horneboy: #omfg no i got a 60s soviet union biscuit tin from a vintage shop #and the guy was like wtf whats this never seen it before #and i was like it's your shop blud]

[thirdchoiceurl: #love when they ask why I picked something out and I get to tell them about all the uranium they have]

[Images in the second reblog:

abyssalterrors: #me w my collectible nsync marionnete puppets #jt i WILL find you]

[therebloger22: #the employee going i don't think we have postcards cause postcard lady hasn't been in lately and then here i come with postcards]

[ghostphy: #i once tried to buy a little Pikachu figure from a thrift store #and they would NOT sell it to me #because they were convinced it wasn't from the store #so they just took it and kept it #like. ok]

[phi-says-bullshit: One was at an antique store, he asked "where did you find this?" I said, in a bucket marked a dollar? And he gave me a handful of things from the bucket for free. What a score]

[tinygreenbug: #one time i bought an atrocious lamp because it was only $4 and i thought it was funny and she went 'oh thank god']

[chrono-of-june: #me: waltzes up to the counter with a pink frilly parasol and a gruff also plush #*gruffalo #the lady there: ?????]

[mothmanns: #one time i found a little ceramic piggie at the antique store #not my first but one of the early ones #and i fell in love with him instabtly even though he is missing an ear #and i took him up to the counter and said 'i know hes broken but i love him so much' and the owner smiled at me #and she said 'he was broken when he got here but i kept him because i knew someone special would want to take him home' #and she gave him to me for free and also i cried #im looking at him rn !!!]

[speakingofdoorknobs: #I once found an autographed photo of the Professor from Gilligan's Island at an antique store #yes of course I bought it how could I not?]

[bubsu: #i went to an antique store with a basement and nothing had price tags #also you could only access stuff on the perimeter of the absolute pile of stuff #i took a pic of chairs i wanted and the guy was like oh yeah i remember those i sold them and then bought them back #couldnt buy them lest i find him in my apartment taking his chairs back in the middle of the night #also they were $400]

[stan-pines-mullet: contrary to mom n pop thrift stores, where you can go to the deepest corner of the shop, find a tunnel created by chairs and dressers, crawl into it, be meeted by diverging paths but eventually picking the path less trodded, and at the end you'll find like a cute lamp or something and bring it to the desk and shes like "ahhh yes the lamp" and probably tell you exactly when she got it and who gave her it".]

[Images in the third reblog:

fairyundead: #Or the store is owned and staffed by just one dude who knows exactly when and where he got each and every item #And while he's ringing you up he tells the story of how he found the item and how he had planned to do XYZ with it #He seems almost sad to let it go but when you're like "you don't have to sell it to me?” He's like no no it's yours now #And it makes the item just a bit more special to you whenever you see it]

[idyllic-idioms: #bought a hat at the charity shop yesterday and the guy at the checkout was like #is this hat yours #and i was like ????? #and he was like did you find it in this building or bring it in yourself #and i was like oh yeah it was in that bin over there #and he was like hmm interesting]

[sleepysuccubi: #either that or they have extensive knowledge about the random Pyrex bowl you found in the basement]

[ereborne: #when I got my cuteass little teapot I wanted a little trivet to keep on the floor in the corner of my room for my teapot to perch on #and the first of the little antique/consignment shops we went to didn't have any trivets we could find #the second one I found a trivet in the first main room and I was much encouraged! I marked its position in my mind and kept looking #and by that point my family had gone farther in (an acknowledged fact that I am always the slowest and should be left) #and the lady behind the little desk asked if she could help me with anything so I told her I was looking for a trivet #but also we were all just there to poke around no worries and she was like 'oh well I don't think we have any trivets but enjoy!' #and I was like 'ah well you do have at least one. right here. on this shelf maybe two yards from where you spend all your time' #very funny to scoot a milkjug aside and lift a bunch of plates to show a little cast-iron maple leaf trivet and see her be like oh!!!!!! #that is the trivet I ended up buying but they did have at least four in the shop. maybe more hidden where I didn't see them #and also actually we never went to the other floor so who knows how many there! but yeah at least four and the first in that front room

mariedemedicis: #quoth queue quoth i]

[dreamshappytrail: #this happened when i bought a clown once #cashier had. never seen it before ???? #so they let me have him for free :3]

[roominthishell: #this happens in normal shops too if the customers are insane enough #ive had people come up to me with our wall decorations that we like nailed onto the wall trying to buy it #and i have to be like 'where did you get this from????']

[uncivilliberties: I bought an eight inch tall cast iron Michelin Man coin bank the other day and the cashier looked at it blankly for a full thirty seconds and then just whispered "what"]

[everlastingrandom: #me every time I find a new lead crystal piece #that guy at the counter is like 'we had that in the store???' #and I'm like yeah man #:3 treasure hunting]

[wierdrocks: #bought a framed cross stitch when i moved #and the guy at the antique store squinted at it and was like #i... sold this #were there two?? #guess there were two]

[lachlame: #bought a sword at a thrift store one time #had a price tag and everything #but that cashier swore on a stack of bibles that theyd never seen it before]

[Images in the fourth reblog:

lichensings: #a friend of mine when she found a doll that looks exactly like her in the back #(they let her have it for free)]

[fisherkings: #once someone semi accusingly asked if i got my sweater there and i said no and she said hm. well i wish we sold it. okay?]

[ivytwines: #the walk of shame to show them the rando booth you picked it up at]

[aquilathefighter: #the awkward description of which booth and what dusty corner of said booth #listen gertrude i like to DIG through all the musty crap]

[obfuscatingintelligence: #i found what i think was a Christmas tree topper from the Soviet Union #hammer and sickle and everything #still no idea how it showed up in small town lowa]

[turtledactyl: #my friend once found a large jar of various stones and jewelry and the person working was like idk where you found that but its uhhh $20 #there was like hundreds of dollars worth of stones and cabachons in there]

[pumpkabitch: #i know ive reblogged and tagged this before about this #but i wanted to look at this little gold frog in a case and the guy opened it took the frog out and said Ive never seen this thing before]

[goosefeathered: #one time it was a rat #the only thing worse than being a customer is being the customer that finds that rat #she put it in a jar and gave it to me? #i let it go in a creek #weird day]

[berry-femme: #me like hello I want those three musical ceramic wall masks please #and they're like #the what now.]

[comradecrab: #that one lamp shaped like a ship i bought with little sails and an anchor #at least five older ladies crowded around me to watch me see if it turned on and cheered when it did #cashier was like i swear i have never seen this in my life anyway that'll be $15]

[Images in the fifth reblog:

ectogasm: #found this absolutely fucking DELIGHTFUL antique store in keyport the other day #just packed to the gills #some of the strangest shit just piled onto shelves #religious pamphlets from 1895 thrown into a bin stacked next to a shelf that had uranium glass plates and an old box of antiseptic dressing #nixon political pins and a BOTTLE OF MERCURY and antique rolls of film #i wanted to move in #anyway i bought a pair of earrings and had this exact exchange w the shop owner]

[thesunshookwithjoy: #shout out to the lady at the antique store who said 'what the hell is a gyroscope' while we were buying said gyroscope #and then I think just guessed at the price #it's really cool though it's from an old boat]

[midnight-herald: #LITERALLY #there was this antique store in boston i would go to after moving #because there was so much good kitchen stuff in the basement that the owners forgot about #so they'd cut me a crazy deal #i'd be trying to add up how much for everything i had grabbed based on what the signs downstairs said #and the guy working the counter would just look at this shit and me with my calcualtor (not even joking) and say '$35' #ever september we would do this song and dance #got a rlly nice cast iron skillet from him this way]

[shower-man: #everytime i come up to check out with the dustiest crustiest doll that looks like it no longer believes in light]

[bohello: #"oh yeah theres a mannequin in the bathroom btw" after getting jumpscared by the mannequin]

[tyronetoastertime: #me when I got my hand caught in a bear trap at an antique store]

[ghxsttowns: #i love tiny cutlery. like tiny tiny. and whenever i find any in antique stores and go 'hi how much will it be for this' theyre like damn #those are minuscule where were they ??? u can just take them Imao dont worry]

[songsfordustmites: #usually they dont comment on my purchases but last time they did #yes there are captain kangaroo records out there. yes i did get a great deal on that bag of colorful thread. #yes the little toy that i bought is so cute. thats why i bought him.]

[cookinguptales: #I also love the opposite #when you bring some little tchotchke up to the front desk and they're like oooh do you know what this is #and you're like yes it's a little kitty with a pumpkin and I love him #and they're like THIS is a FIGURINE that came packaged in TEA and people COLLECTED them #and you're like fascinating thank you I've named him timothy]

[maximum-snoot: I briefly worked at an antique mall in highschool, the kind where they rent out spaces to different vendors and whatnot... Well one day a customer brings this skull up to the register and like, that's fine, a lot of vendors have the occasional animal skull, but we had to be like UHHHH WHERE DID YOU FIND THIS because it was a fucking PORPOISE skull, which is EXTREMELY illegal to own and even MORE illegal to sell and I guess the vendor who was trying to sell it somehow didn't know this??? So we had to be like "Sorry, you can't buy this. Nobody can buy this. We shouldn't even have this. Please don't tell the authorities."]

[Images in the sixth and final reblog:

zooophagous: #"i got it from the booth full of santa claus decor" #i also love the random booths that are selling clearly brand new items and handmade soap #like girl youre lost this place is for mildew covered magazines and racist salt and pepper shakers]

[autisticmisabel: #my favourite thing is when they're so confused about you wanting whatever useless knick knack #that they just give it to you because they can't think of a reasonable price #it's happened to me twice now i think]

[goomygoomygoomy: #me at river market all the time #'where did you even get this' in a dark corner of the basement floor dw about it]

[quillkippsisalilbitchandilovehim: #one time i asked the guy behind the cash desk about something and he tried to walk over before realising he was literally trapped behind the #desk because of all the stuff piled up around him. had to help this dude climb out lol]

[catskincass: #when I bought a pair of vintage rare binoculars for pennies because they put the decimal in the wrong place]

[siixxeyes: there's an antique store across the street from my house. i collect vintage poodle related things (i show poodles) and i found a really gorgeous poodle brooch from the 60's. the owner looked at me and said "where the fuck was this?" and proceeded to write down my name and put the word POODLES next to it. i get a phone call every few weeks when they either find something or get something new.]

[asstrainmcfucktruck: #'who let you into the forbidden relics section' 'fred??' 'NOBODY NAMED FRED WORKS HERE']

[carneflower13: #not even the creators of the labyrinth are truly aware of what lurks within it #memes]

[zzazu: #once found a 300 year old history book and the store owner was like #where did you find this? weve been looking for this for 8 years]

[night-creeps: #the best and only time I went to an antique store #i was like 3/4 years old #i dont remember if i was with my mom or my aunt #but near the counter they had their small/ easily steal-able things in a glass case #and i saw this set if two wooden cats that are vaguely reminiscent of lucky cats #but they were painted black and with slight floral detailing #and i was obsessed with cats as a kid #and in my brain i was like convinced they were super valuable because they were in a glass case #and the lady who owned the place thought i was adorable and let me hold them #and i was begging to get them but was told we couldnt #but the lady gave them to me anyway #now that im older im p sure they arent that valuable #and i only have one becayse i gave tge other to my best friend in elementary school #but I was so wowed as a kid that the lady let me have something i was convinced was extremely valuable]

/End ID

i love antique stores you go to check out & theyre like “where the hell did you get this”

[covenofagatha]

hiiii <33

Could you write something about Agatha being a little insecure about being older than the reader?

Maybe they're at a party and someone the reader's age is going to talk to her and Agatha feels jealous and a little insecure, but pretend not to feel anything?

Then they go home and the reader shows Agatha that she loves her more than anything :)

If it's not too much to ask, the reader could have an obsession with Agatha's breasts and... really like eating her out? (like, a *really* big obsession) (sorry, Mrs Fletcher is on my mind a lot lately)

sorry for the details, lol, this came to me in the middle of the night

and by the way, I love your writing <33 you write very well

and I'm looking forward to the but you are my stepmother update :D

kisseess <3

I may have changed the setting a little bit (I've been watching Succession and was influenced lol) but hopefully you like! Also, Mrs. Fletcher literally changed my life so I completely understand

I combined this one with another request for being obsessed with Agatha’s breasts

Happy New Year to everyone!

Glitter on the floor

When Agatha gets jealous at the company New Year's Eve party, you remind her that she has nothing to worry about

Word count: 4300

Warnings: oral sex, oral fixation, breast fixation, marking

“Do you think anyone would notice if we just leave before the party even starts?” You ask, throwing a stress ball up in the air and catching it without even looking. 

You’re laying on your back on the couch in Agatha’s office and she snorts from her seat at her desk. 

Unlike you, when Agatha said she was going up to her office to quickly read over a contract before the company New Year’s Eve party, she meant it. You had just followed her up here to see if she was willing to get up to any funny business. 

“You don’t think they would notice that the CEO and General Counsel of the company aren’t at the company party?” Agatha asks amusedly, sarcasm dripping from her tone. 

Spellbound Network is a multi-billion dollar news conglomerate that Agatha Harkness is the Chief Executive Officer of. She’s absolutely ruthless and doesn’t hesitate before tearing anybody and everybody down. Nothing will stand in her way of world domination. 

As General Counsel, you’re a little less important, but you know that Agatha is right. The last thing you need is people speculating. 

The two of you have been involved in a more than professional relationship for seven months now. It all started when you offered to stay late to help her finish up with some end-of-quarterly reviews before the deadline and the two of you had ended up going out for drinks when you had finally finished. Agatha had let her hair down and told you just how stressed she was, and you had stupidly told her that you could help her relieve some of that stress. 

She had raised an eyebrow and you had taken it as a challenge. The next thing you knew, she was calling a car and the two of you were making out in the backseat on the way to her penthouse. 

It had grown into a relationship, a relationship that no one else in the office knew about. Things were getting pretty serious, and Agatha had even brought up you moving in with her. 

But you roll your eyes anyway. “It’ll be boring,” you drag out the last word slowly, sitting up to face her. “Wouldn’t you rather go back to your place, or even just stay up here?” You give her an impish grin and a wink. 

It’s a lost cause. Agatha has never let you touch her nor has she touched you in the office. 

She fixes you with a glare. “If you’re not going to behave, you can go downstairs and help set up for the party.” 

You hum in acquiescence and you’re about to resume your position on your back when Agatha leans forward and props herself up on her elbows, pushing her visible cleavage together. 

Your mouth runs dry. She’s wearing a long black dress with a low neckline that puts her breasts — that you may or may not be obsessed with — very much on display. You wouldn’t be surprised if she did it to tease you. 

“Agatha,” you whine, trying to sound pathetic so she’ll take pity on you. You can practically taste her skin with how badly you want her. 

She knows what you’re thinking, as always. “Stop,” she says without even looking up from her desk. “You aren’t going to goad me into touching you. Hasn’t worked any other time, isn’t going to work now.” 

You pout. “What are you talking about? I’ve never tried to.” It’s a bold-faced lie and you both know it. 

“Oh yeah?” She asks, at last looking up at you. “So when you got me that vibrator for the Secret Santa at the Christmas party, ‘not realizing that it was a public gift swap’; that wasn’t an attempt to work me up? Or when you just happen to come in here almost every day and knock over my pens so you have to bend down and shake your ass in my face?” 

You can’t help but chuckle at the reminders of your brazenness. To be fair, you had genuinely thought that the Secret Santa swap would be done in a group but then the gifts would be opened alone. And much to your surprise, you were wrong and when Rio Vidal, the head of Human Resources, had announced that it was time for everyone to open their gifts, you had quickly dragged Agatha upstairs, making some excuse about a phone call about a breaking news story. 

She had been furious at almost having to open your gift in front of the entire staff, and instead of having a very Merry Christmas Eve, courtesy of your generous gift and a well-placed bribe to the person who had actually drawn Agatha in the swap, she hadn’t touched you at all that night. 

But Christmas Day was much better, when she had put you on your knees for almost an hour and you made her cum four times with just your mouth. 

“You’re not letting those go anytime soon, are you?” You mutter. 

She throws a paper clip at you. “Go downstairs and stop bothering me,” she orders, fondness still in her voice. 

You huff a big sigh, one that tells her that just because you’re obeying doesn’t mean you’re happy about it, and walk over to place the paper clip and stress ball back on her desk. You straighten out your own dress, a long maroon one, and lean over to press a chaste kiss to her lips. 

To your surprise, she lets you do it and she even deepens it, flicking her tongue against the entrance to your mouth. When she pulls away, her eyes are dark and you’re about to ask her to reconsider, but she ushers you away with her hand and turns back to the contract. 

There’s not very many people in the lobby where the party is taking place, so you stand alone at a table and accept a glass of champagne from a waitress. It’s only ten pm and you know most of the staff won’t get here until closer to midnight, which would’ve been smart. 

If only Agatha hadn’t insisted that you and her come in for the entire day and get ahead of all the stuff that’s coming up in the new year. She didn’t even let you go back to your apartment once you both had finished, instead letting you shower in her private adjoining bathroom. 

And she wonders why you’re already so bored; you’ve been at the office for fourteen hours. 

Still at least two more to go. 

You take another glass of champagne and set it down next to your already half-empty glass. You’re going to need it once more people start showing up. 

It’s not that you don’t like them, it’s just that…if the building was on fire, you’d only really think or care about saving Agatha. 

“Hey there, General Counsel,” Rio says, slinking up to you. 

You smile. She’s an oddball, but her wry sense of humor sometimes is the only thing that gets you through business trips. Besides Agatha, of course. 

And it’s not exactly a secret that she has a bit of a crush on you. On paper, it would make more sense than you and Agatha. Rio is your age, and for all intents and purposes, doesn’t have any power over you, nor you her. 

But you’re in love with Agatha, and older women have always been more your type anyway. You’re perfectly happy with being friends with Rio, and it seems that Rio is content with your relationship now too. 

“Hey, Rio,” you greet, lifting your glass in a silent toast to her. She lifts up the other one and smoothly downs it in one gulp. 

And then the elevator dings and Agatha steps out and you forget all about Rio and everyone else. Your eyes follow her as she glides through the lobby, not even looking at you once, and she picks up a plate of caviar while the Chief Financial Officer, Jimmy, goes to talk to her. 

Rio taps her fingers to the rim of the empty glass. “So, I heard Harkness is thinking about acquiring Hex Industries for better tech.” 

“Water cooler gossip,” you say dismissively, not wanting to talk anymore business for the day. You’ve done enough with that with Agatha. And then you lower your voice conspiratorially. “But I did hear that Jimmy got divorced again?” 

It sends Rio into a fit of giggles and the two of you swap the details you’ve heard from various people and try to piece together what really happened. It does make the party go by faster and before you know it, there’s only about an hour before midnight. 

You cannot wait to go home with Agatha and forget all about work and this party and just focus on her. Ever since she changed into the dress she’s wearing tonight, you haven’t been able to focus with how delicious her breasts look in it. 

Some might call it an oral fixation, some might call it mommy issues, but there’s no denying how much you love to suck on her nipples. And to eat her out. 

Fuck. You can’t be thinking about that. Rio is saying something, something now about Tony, the Chief Operating Officer, and you’re shifting your weight thinking about the sounds Agatha makes when you get your mouth on her. 

You look around the room and you find her, standing alone, nursing her own glass of champagne. But what startles you is that she’s already watching you with a strange look on her face. You give her a small smile, your heart filling with adoration for the older woman, but she looks away. 

“Will you excuse me for a second?” You say to Rio, who nods. You walk over to Agatha and slide up next to her, your hand brushing against her lower back. “You okay?” You murmur into her ear. 

Agatha clears her throat and rolls her shoulders back and you have to make a pointed effort not to stare at her boobs that get pushed forward. “Just ready for this party to be over,” she says, voice clipped. 

“Oh yeah?” You whisper, cocking an eyebrow. “What do you have planned for when we get home?” 

She looks at you, finally looks at you, and you can see a guarded look in her eye. “We’ve had a long day, and this party won’t be done until after midnight. I’ll probably turn in.” 

“Oh, Mommy, your age is showing,” you tease mockingly in a hush, wearing a dramatic pout, another joke about how much older she is that she usually rolls her eyes at and then makes a comment about how much you like it.  

But she stiffens today. “Well, you’re more than welcome to go home with Rio if you want someone your own age.” The retort hits you like a punch in the gut and you’re left dumbfounded as she walks away, heels clacking on the floor. 

Is she…jealous? Surely Agatha can’t be, she knows how much you want her and love her. She knows how willing you are to show her. 

And maybe, just maybe, she’ll let you remind her right now. 

You check your watch. Forty-five minutes until midnight. You can feel her gaze from across the room, but when you try to make eye contact, she pretends like she isn’t looking at you, and you make the executive decision to try something that will probably backfire. 

Pulling out your phone, you pretend to take a call. You can feel her air shift; she knows that if someone’s calling you this late, it must be something urgent. You nod like you’re listening and then after a minute or two, you put your phone down. 

You meet her eyes and tilt your head toward the elevator, your heart beating rapidly in your chest. This could backfire. She could get so mad at you. 

But you have to try. 

Agatha excuses herself from the small group of people that have congregated around her table and she follows you into the elevator. 

“Who was that? What’s wrong?” She demands, and you almost feel bad for making her this panicked. 

You shake your head. “Just wait until we get to your office.” You think it should be a hint, but she doesn’t pick up on it. Instead, Agatha chews on her bottom lip and tosses her hair back over her shoulders. 

The doors ding open on the sixtieth floor and Agatha trails behind you, hot on your heels, as you take her to her office. You tell her to get on the couch while you draw the blinds to the glass windows facing the interior of the building, just in case anyone should happen to walk by. The television is on outside in the hallway and you can faintly hear the sounds of the New York Ball Drop show. A little over thirty minutes left. 

“What is going on?” Agatha asks again, clearly exasperated by you dragging this out. 

You turn around and almost moan at the sight of her sitting with her knees pulled up under her and her elbow propped up on the couch. This time, you really can’t help your gaze from darting down to her breasts and she snaps her fingers to get you to focus. “Rio’s just a friend,” you say bluntly, and Agatha scoffs. 

“What does this have to do with anything?” 

You slowly walk over and kneel down in front of her, pulling her legs out so that her feet are on the floor and you rest your chin on her knee and look up at her through your eyelashes. “There wasn’t a call,” you confess, already wincing on the inside at how she’s going to react. Her face remains stoic. “You were bothered by Rio and I talking.” It’s a statement, not a question. 

But Agatha jeers. “Is this your excellent counsel that I pay you so much for? That I’m bothered? Don’t think I don’t know about the little crush she has on you.” 

“So what if she has a crush? I don’t like her like that. You know I only have eyes for you,” you say, slowly inching the hem of her dress up her legs, waiting to be rejected. 

Her hand slides up your head and fastens into your hair, tilting you back so you can look straight at her. “Oh yeah?” She asks, daring, challenging you to go further. 

 You swallow hard. “Let me show you?” You offer timidly, praying it’s the right answer and you’re not reading this wrong. 

Agatha growls, a guttural noise deep in her throat, and she yanks you up and kisses you, nipping at your bottom lip. Her tongue forces its way into your mouth and you moan at the feeling, settling into her lap with your legs on either side of hers. She tugs at your hair and the sting makes you keen, only making you need her more. 

You can’t even wait, you’ve been on edge for too long, and you trail your lips down her neck, scrape your teeth against her collarbone, and then she helps you take the straps of her dress off. 

The second her breasts are free, you’re on them like you’re starving and they’re your salvation. You cup both of them with your hands, feeling the sturdy weight of them, and you knead softly, running your thumbs over both nipples. The dusky rose color stands out against her pale skin and you watch with fascination as her nipples harden under your gentle touch. Part of you still can’t believe she’s letting you touch her in the office. 

Not that you’re complaining. 

You swoop down and take one into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the little bud, and Agatha’s back arches off the couch as her fingers dig into your hair to keep you there. You’ve never felt more content in your life than like this, and you happily suck on her as the most delicious sounding noises fall out of her mouth. 

Her free hand finds your hip just as your fingers tug at her nipple that isn’t being occupied by your mouth and you can make out what she wants. Without moving away from her, you shift and place a leg in-between hers, able to feel the heat radiating from her pussy through her underwear and dress. 

“Fuck,” you mutter brokenly when she grinds up against your knee and you can feel just how wet she is. 

Agatha huffs out a chuckle. “You love sucking on Mommy’s tits so much, don’t you?” She asks and you switch sides and hum against her skin. “Mommy loves it, too.” 

You groan and take a break from directly stimulating her, instead, opting to lightly bite at the skin around her nipples, taking extra care to mark the curvature under them. She’s especially sensitive there, and her little gasps only spur you on. 

After you’ve left sufficient proof that you were there, you pull back and admire your work and you sharply inhale. Her breasts are absolutely painted with red marks that will surely fade into bruises by tomorrow and her chest heaves, a ragged look in her eyes. Agatha is still undulating against your leg and you can visibly tell how turned on she is. 

“Am I convincing you yet?” You ask, your voice coming out a little hoarse, and Agatha barks out a laugh. 

Her wicked grin has a thrill running inside you and she shifts underneath you until you figure out what she is trying to do. It’s a bit awkward, but she manages to turn her body so that her legs are on the couch horizontally but you’re still on top of her. 

She hums thoughtfully. “Think I might need a little more. If you’re willing, that is.” 

Only too willing. You can’t help yourself from leaning down and giving her a hard kiss, pulling away and sucking one nipple and then the other roughly until she moans, and then you move down her body and bunch up her dress at her hips. You put your hands on her shins and guide her legs up so they’re bent, her heels on the couch. 

And then you settle between her open legs and mouth at her sopping cunt through her underwear. A groan tears out of you before you can stop it at tasting the wet fabric, thick with her scent which you’ve become addicted to. You suck on her underwear, pulling the moisture out of it, and Agatha jerks underneath you. 

“We don’t have all day, pet,” she says tightly and you can hear the television outside saying there’s fifteen minutes left until New Year’s Day. 

You chuckle at her impatience and finally pull down her underwear. You wish your dress had pockets so you could store it for later, but you made do for just throwing it somewhere in her office. 

And then you drag your tongue up her slit and absolutely lose yourself in the taste. There’s something so indistinguishable and indescribable about it, and you lazily explore her pussy, getting as much of her wetness as you can into your mouth. You vaguely realize that she’s wrapped a leg over your shoulder and her heel is digging in, the sting only turning you on more. 

Small gasps are pulled out of Agatha’s mouth and her hips buck, trying to get more stimulation, but to no avail as you are completely focused on just licking her slowly. You moan into her and the vibrations make her whimper, but you almost don’t even hear it. This is your favorite place on earth, between her legs, and you don’t want to ever leave. She’s so warm and wet and responsive against your tongue and you fucking love it. Love getting her wetness all over your face, love feeling her clench around your tongue, love the taste and smell and how she reacts when you lap at her clit. 

You do that now, and her thighs tighten around your head and she sighs like she’s finally getting some of the relief that she needs. 

“I love your pussy,” you say, but the words are garbled. She lets out a muffled sound and you look up through hooded eyes to see her head strewn back in pleasure, dark hair fanned out beneath her, bottom lip between her teeth, and her fingers tweaking her raw nipples. The sight makes you moan against her again and her hips jump. 

She looks down to meet your gaze and you feel the fire inside you only being stoked more when you realize that almost all the blue in her eyes is gone, entirely swallowed up by dark desire. “Please,” she begs, sounding more needy than she ever has since you’ve started sleeping with her. “Mommy needs this so bad.” 

And the only thing you love more than tasting her with your mouth is making her cum with your mouth. 

So you oblige, thrusting your tongue inside her and almost losing all composure when her walls flutter around it. She lets out a loud whine when your nose brushes against her clit and you keep doing that, curling your tongue inside her and moving your head up and down so she can get some desperately needed stimulation to her clit. 

“Fuck, baby, your mouth is so good,” she practically sobs, and you can feel her throb. She never takes long, which is almost a shame because you’d stay between her legs forever if you could. Building her up, feeling her legs tremble around you, that’s half the fun right there. 

But she needs it, and you can hear that it’s getting closer to midnight. Only a few minutes left. 

You double the intensity, dragging your tongue over her clit again and again, feeling it pulse. You slip a hand between your own legs and groan at the wetness you find, fingers strumming at your own clit through your dress and soaked panties. Nothing gets you more turned on than Agatha’s pussy in your mouth, absolutely coating your face. 

She’s pinching her nipples now and you almost lose your rhythm from wishing you were the one doing that to her, but you don’t falter. Wetness is dripping out of her cunt onto the couch below and you almost smirk at the thought of seeing the stain tomorrow.  

Agatha better let you fuck her in her office more often. You clench at the thought of being under her desk, eating her out while she’s going through contracts or in a meeting or having lunch. Anytime you can. 

“Fuck, fuck, baby,” she chants and you can hear the minute countdown start. You lick and suck and nip and her hips are moving furiously, grinding on your face and you can’t breathe but you don’t even care because she tastes so fucking good. 

“Five…four…” You shove your tongue inside her and curl it up, stroking against the spongy spot that makes her gasp. “Three..two…” You scrape your teeth against her clit and she keens. “One…Happy New Year!” 

You suck her clit into your mouth hard and that does it. She goes flying over the edge, wetness gushing out onto your face, and you blissfully lick her through her orgasm, not even realizing that she’s too sensitive until she’s tugging at your hair, pulling you away from her. 

She brings you in for a kiss, a tradition when the clock strikes midnight on January First, but also something she always does when you eat her out, moaning at the taste of herself on your lips, and you don’t even care that you haven’t cum yet. You clasp her cheeks and your tongue sweeps into her mouth until you finally have to break apart to breathe. 

“What a way to start the new year,” you joke and she laughs and fluffs her hair. She looks like a thoroughly-fucked mess, but also the hottest you’ve ever seen. You soften and press a gentle kiss to her lips. “You know I love you, right? I don’t care about how old you are, you know I fucking love that. You don’t have to worry about Rio, or anyone else, no matter if they’re my age or not. I want you and only you.” 

Agatha smiles and kisses you again, and then kisses your nose. “I want all your midnight kisses, baby. I love you too.” It’s the most romantic thing she’s ever said. 

And of course you immediately have to ruin it with a joke. “Office sex isn’t that bad, hm?” She pokes your side and you giggle. 

“Let’s get back downstairs before anyone notices that we’ve been gone for so long,” she says. 

You whine but reluctantly get off her when she pats your hips and she finds her underwear that was thrown to the ground. You both fix your make-up in the mirror and then you’re back in the elevator, descending the sixty floors. If anyone asks, you’ll say it was an emergency with an acquisition. But you doubt anyone will. The champagne is flowing and it’s a party. 

Before the doors open, Agatha takes your hand, squeezes it three times as if to say I love you and then there’s a ding and it’s back to reality. 

But she gives you a wink meant only for you when she toasts to the company and all the good things yet to come and a warm feeling fills you. 

What a way to start the new year, indeed. 

[plumeria1]

A morning with Vi

Note : English is not my language. I can't believe Night routine with Jinx has passed 100 likes thank you so much 🥹

Pairing : Vi x fem reader

Content : Fluff

Warning : None

Summary : Vi and You have a morning talk.

Modern!au Vander and the others are alive (Vi was in jail for another reason, honestly I didn't think of anything)

The day Vi got out of prison, her sister Powder came to see her, and Vi was delighted to see her brilliant little sister in perfect health. She had grown so much. Vi was proud, soon Powder would be heading to university to pursue an engineering program.

Vi held Powder in her arms for a long moment, but when she stepped back, she saw you. She was so surprised, you, her best friend since childhood, were there. You had confessed your feelings to each other one month before her arrest, you had promised to wait for her and you kept your promise.

That night, she didn't leave your side for a second; it was a long moment full of tenderness, your hands exploring each other's bodies all night long.

You spent a long time admiring her tattoos, running your hand over them and and kissing her freckles.

You didn't let go of each other, spending the whole night cuddling and talking about everything and nothing. She had told you everything that had happened in prison.

Since that day, she had moved into the small apartment you shared with Powder, and you never left each other's side.

1 year later :

After another passionate night, you had once again pushed the blanket to the foot of the bed. You lay in Vi's arms, her head resting on your chest as she always did, one of her legs was draped between yours and her fingers traced lazy patterns on your arm.

Vi lifted her head from your shoulder and looked at you with a tender smile. You look at her curiously.

-Why are you smiling ?

-Because I realized something.

-Oh really? And what is it ?

-Well, every time we make love, you always push the blanket to the foot of the bed.

You laughed, knowing it was true.

-It's because of you, you're too warm. And you do things like that too.

-Really?

-Yes, you always put your head on my chest and stay there for some minutes without saying a word. I want to know why.

Vi sighed, closing her eyes, as if debating wether to answer.

-It reassures me. When I was in prison I was alone, so when I rest my head on you I listen to your heartbeat. It reminds me that you are here and it makes me feel better.

You placed your hand on her head, gently running your fingers through her hair.

-I thought you were going to say something silly, but actually, it's a very romantic way to say "I love you."

-I also do it because your breasts are soft and comfortable.

Your mouth fell open in mock outrage before both of you burst into laughter. Vi loved that sound more than anything.

-You know, when we make love, you do something that I love.

-Mm?

-It's when you scratch my back with your nails, it stings a bit but it means you like what I'm doing so it worth it.

-How could I not like it when you do that with your mouth?

-What do you mean by that ? She pretended not to understand.

-You know, when you-

A knock at the bedroom door cut you off. You sighed, starting to get up but Vi held you back.

-Don't go, let her knock.

From the outside of the door, Powder voice called out.

-Vi, open up, there's a package for you. You need to sign.

Vi groaned dramatically, reaching for her clothes scattered on the floor. She opened the door and turn you back with a little smile.

-Go back to sleep, I'll be right back.

You winked at her with a playful smile.

-I'll keep your spot warm.

She closes the door and you get back into bed, taking her place, and now, deprived of your girlfriend's warmth, you pull the warm blanket over yourself. As you fall asleep, you think about how lucky you were to have her in your life.

Thank for your reading 😉 I hope you liked it

[tuttle-did-it]

With you on all of this. I wanted to like Deanna. But the show seemed to decide that if Riker liked her, that was enough to make us like her.

But if I had been on this ship, I would have found it offensive that someone could just drill into my brain like that. I would have avoided her like the plague-- because I do find it quite invasive to have someone know how I was feeling and why-- all the time. I would feel incredibly vulnerable around someone like that-- if she was as powerful as they say, she could easily not only detect what people were feeling, but also influence that. I would hate being near someone like that because I am possessive of my thoughts and feelings. Certain topics-- especially tv-- sure, I can talk about feelings about that. But real life stuff? My past, traumas, etc? Those are mine. And someone seeing through them and announcing them to the whole bridge crew whenever she felt like it-- or even having the ability to do that-- I would steer clear of her.

And instead of them just insisting it is moral and fine and giving us what-- one single episode where they acknowledge how much power she could have over someone, how vulnerable it could make people around her? How easily she could fuck people over if she wanted to? Play with that a bit more. Have people uncomfortable around her. Have her trying to deal with crew who avoid her like the plague. Have crew who refuse to work with her, have some fucking conflict *somewhere.* have her do something bloody unethical where she crosses a line because she is so powerful and it causes actual problems instead of 'he's angry, captain,' and 'what do you think?' And 'how does that make you feel?' Either she's powerful and there are consequences for that power, or she os not powerful and there are consequences for that, too. But you're right-- everything she says, Beverly could have figured out as well.

Or, hell-- when Troi loses her powers, give her 12 episodes where she is trying to get it back. Where she has to prove she is more than just a lie detector machine. Where she has to become more. Data advanced from his programming. But none of the others ever did. And it was the worst with Troi. Give us a whole season where she has to prove she's more. Where sometimes bits of her powers are coming back, but then they blink out again. Where she just has to work for it and prove that no, she deserves to be there even without the powers. She is good enough to be there without them. Then, maybe she gets them back, maybe not. I honestly think she'd have been a better character of they *didn't* return. Shed have to find *something* more to say than 'he's angry, captain.' 'They're hiding something, captain.' It just makes him look incompetent not to see that. So take away her powers and make her work for it.

She's not a good therapist. I've gone to therapy, a lot. And the advice she gives people is worse than the shit you'd see from chat gpt. She's a terrible therapist. At least make her competent. At least hire a psychologist who can say 'she needs to dig deeper here, she can't just say 'and how does that make you feel?' Thats awful therapy. Barclay was a mess before she met him, but her 'counselling' just does absolutely nothing.

I wanted to like Troi. I genuinely have tried for decades to find something I like about her, some story about her I can care about. And there is just nothing for me. I cared more about Tasha in s1 and 'Yesterday's Enterprise' than I ever cared about Troi. I cared more about Ro Laren in her debut episode than I ever cared about Troi. More about Pulaski in a single season. More about Beverly in a single scene than I ever cared about Troi. Which is sad and absurd because she's in the show twice as much as these women-- maybe more of them all put together. She had to ability to be such a great character. The writing failed, hands down. But the other actors brought something more to their characters, made them feel more real and fleshed out despite the shoddy scripts. I don't feel the same with Marina. I genuinely would have preferred to kill off Troi and keep Tasha (had Denise wanted to stay, I get why she didn't) or to have Beverly or Ro in more often. Troi is one of the most useless characters I've ever seen in Trek. Which is sad cos Trek has quite a fee useless characters.

Agree with Odo comments as well-- it was a stroke of genius that they made Odo a shapeshifter who could be anything. Except he can't because he's bad at it. And it hurts him. Was it for budget reasons and to avoid plots becoming way too easy? Yes. But they did something with it that pushed his storyline forward and gave him conflict. And it gave him an inner trauma that he needed to fix-- to the point where he does things *very* against his own ideals and morals just to try to get answers about who he was, and where he came from. By making his talent his trauma, they invited that story, that discomfort of others around him, his own discomfort about himself and his people, that was just a brilliant way to deal with it.

They *eventually* did the same thing with Wesley-- his genius (which they could only show by making all the other qualified adults around him very stupid-- eventually became his trauma. Became the thing that hurt him and kept him distant from others. And it actually worked really well! It was sad they waited til s7 to give him those cracks and issues, but there were a few tiny fractures in earlier seasons do when it did happen, it made sense. It actually ended up being a fantastic story arc. The thing that made him special was also the thing that hurt him.

There were no consequences to Troi having 1000+ worth of people's emotions every day other than her getting a bit tired and needing some chocolate. Okay? And? We met another Betazoid who completely fell apart just being around one person, let alone a ship of people. And I cared more about Tam in that one single episode than i ever cared about Troi. Make it harder on her. Make it hurt her sometimes. Make her talent her achilles heel. They did it with Tam. Data. Odo. But they couldn't do it with her. So they just stuffed her in spandex and had her say 'and how does that make you feel?' For 7 years.

But DS9 was the only legacy Trek that wasn't desperately allergic to consequence. I wish DS9 had more consequence-- poor O'Brien should have had at least a couple mental breakdowns. But they did what they could with the formula at the time.

star trek characters will literally go through the most life changing traumatic multidimensional extrasensory eldritch hell torture imaginable and then they're fine and the next episode they gotta deal with a guy who is bald

[hazelfoureyes]

I'm not taking requests from anon but …. I will….always accept inspiration in my inbox. Just don’t expect a direct response.

I’m alive. Boooooy has shit been difficult and every day I kinda panic but I think survival mode is finally shutting off. I could list all the shit but why? It's not like we arent all wading through varying piles of shit on a weekly basis lately.

Curiosity

Alastor doesn’t believe sex can feel all that great for the ones being fucked. You offer to educate him on the matter with a little hands on learning. Everyone wins.

「Warnings/Promises: Alastor x PussyHaving!Reader (has pussy and is called girl but I mean…I don’t know their business), casual virginity loss, non-sexually repulsed alastor, insulting but highly accurate bowling ball analogy, cervix smooches, creampie because dessert is a necessity, friends with questionable benefits, missionary position, science???, almost fingering, thumb (Singular), empty death threats, saliva as lube」

Minors I will yeet you back into the year of the dragon if you ignore the MDNI 🐉

Alastor’s hooves kicked playfully, slowly, in the air behind him as he rested on his belly. Two clawed fingers kept your lower lips pulled apart as he stared inquisitively at your self consciously twitching entrance.

“People’s things fit in here? I could see fingers, sure. A thumb, maybe…”, he mused, watching you clench around nothing. He learned from Angel more than he liked to admit and things seemed to fit the best for human and hellish anatomy alike. 

A large digit prodded, his head lifting and eyes meeting yours from between your spread thighs. His look was waiting for your approval or dissent. You nodded, sighing out another educational tidbit, “It feels best if things are slick.”

Alastor paused before wrapping his tongue around his thumb and coating it with viscous black saliva. Thumbpad facing down, his curved claw slipped into you easily. The natural roundness of the edges kept you from any cuts, but you had a feeling it’d be easy enough to do harm if he wasnt mindful of how he moved it. 

You could feel his other fingers pressing flat against the bottom of your ass. Instinctively you tightened around the digit.

“It's snug.” He sighed, vindicated. It was far too small a hole to fit anything more without tearing. Therefore: painful. 

“Well, it stretches quite a bit. It can adapt to alot. You - ergh - people can use soda cans and twelve inch dildos even for pleasure.” You rested on your bed, naked from the waist down. Your conversations together were always very open and without shame, neither of you worried to offend the other with questions about sex and gender. So when Alastor mused he couldn’t understand what the pussy-possessors among society got out of sex (he could understand the pleasure of a good squeeze on a cock, even if he hadn’t ever experienced anything beyond a hot mouth and a tight fist) the conversation just naturally progressed to your own personal sex education class. He’d only ever seen such anatomy in medical texts.

He cackled, “You are naive if you think that is true.” 

“Alastor, who's the expert here? I - can you remove your thumb? I feel like a bowling ball.”

Too quickly he took back his finger, your shoulders lifting slightly from the bed from the sudden loss. He paused a moment before adding, “You and a bowling ball have the same number of finger-able holes.”

Your glare went unnoticed, Alastor shifting onto his elbows again.

“Do you think people would willingly have sex if it was always uncomfortable?” You were lifted up on your elbows now too. Locked eye to eye with a very smug deer demon. 

He hummed, humans were animals and all animals followed instinct. “Maaaaybeee.” He teased, eyes breaking contact to look again at the now closed lips. “Regardless,” a wicked grin, “I can’t imagine it fitting without damage and pain.”

A stalemate. 

“You have seen people have sex, right?” You asked.

An uncomfortable pause.

“Why on earth would I watch people have sex?”

Surprise, then confusion, but finally you settled on intrigue.

“Okay, do it. I’ll show you it feels good for me and you can wipe that smile off your face.”

He tutted, “Never.” Alastor saw your flash of insult, “to the smile. Delivering pain is a hobby of mine, no matter the vehicle!”

When he sat up on his knees you shot up and you blurted out, “Wait. Do you have like, hell syphilis or something? Are you clean?”

His hair bristled, “Do YOU have syphilis?!”

“No.” You said it plainly.

Head shaking imperceptibly, a subtle ‘no’ mixed with a silent ‘then why would I?!’ telegraphed via his glaring red eyes, “Me neither.”

A bad start. Speaking of…

“Do you know how to start?”

“Is it much different than my thumb?”

I hope so. 

“Not really.”

He sighed away the remnants of agitation — was he clean?? Really? — and unbuttoned his pants. When his hands paused on the elastic of his underwear your head tilted curiously.

A step you’d both forgotten, cocks inherently had no bones like helpful fingers. Why was the prospect of handling himself mortifying but entering you wasn’t? Very rarely did he find you someone to have any concerns about and never had he felt an ounce of judgment when he admitted his blind spots and areas of naïveté. 

But this was… a step beyond. Almost humiliating in a sense, the source of the feeling was buried deep and obscured by time and disinterest.

“I’ll help.” Sitting up further, your hands went forward before you yanked them back into your bubble, “If that’s alright.”

Perfect, if he wasn’t able to get it up it’d be your fault and not his, he thought.

Nodding, he let his hands come to rest at his sides as he sat back on his legs.

The newness was evident in how he didn’t consider the mechanics of the position. You struggled a little to get this black underwear down his hips enough to release his very unaware cock.

Lifting his hips again and allowing you to pull the briefs down as far as needed (which seemed too far, honestly), you finally had eyes on something you’d been passably curious about.

It wasn’t that he was unattractive but there was a guilt to lusting over Alastor. He’d made it painfully obvious he didn’t find anyone at the hotel sexually interesting. It just isn’t his bag, as Husk had explained. Perhaps liquor had your eyes lingering a little too long on the resident villain.

Nervous and sweaty palms seemed beneficial as you held his soft member. They always felt so silly like this. How useless. Floppy. Your amused smile wasn’t comforting him an ounce.

It twitched, Alastor’s hands fighting to not come to his face and let him disappear away.

“Cute.” You whispered as you wrapped a hand around the Newtonian fluid-esque cock. You didn’t see his horrified face, focused instead on the feel of his foreskin sliding beneath your fingers. Alastor’s attention, too, shifted. He needed to breathe normally and that required all hands on deck (no puns intended). He’d never let anyone in death touch —-

A soft glow of blue flickered somewhere deep in his mind, a sloppy memory of a drunken slip up

It’d been what felt like a lifetime since he’d let anyone put their hands on his body. 

And due to that time his body reacted quickly and soon you had a handful. You both took a relieved breath then, the hurdle mounted. A little shock of pleasure to your core as you stroked his now firm cock made you shiver. It was hot in your hands, how much of that heat would you feel in your guts soon? Would he put it in and just—- pop it out like he had his thumb?

You’d shoo him away shortly after and finish things yourself in that case.

Alastor’s hands lost the battle and came to cover his lower face. That hidden grin showed teeth and he clenched his jaw to keep from letting a mewl slip. His cock was leaking so much it was embarrassing him. 

“Now you’re just playing.” He hissed.

He wasn’t wrong.

Wordlessly you came to lie on your side, a roll to your stomach interrupted as you considered things. With a glance back at the virgin you decided basic was best and returned to your back. Nothing too exciting. 

“Whenever you’re ready, then.” The smugness oozed through your tone. You knew he didn’t know enough to figure out what ready was. 

Alastor parted your legs further with his own widening thighs as he lowered his center to line up with you. He recalled you telling him the hole was very close to the bottom and it hadn’t dawned on him how low that was until the muscles of his thighs burned with the split. How was he going to move like this, he wondered.

Another recollection — wetter is better.

And though he could see a glistening wetness readying to drop down between your cheeks, he wasn’t experienced enough to know just how much your body could self lubricate. So for good measure and out of a sweet ignorance he spit into his palm and rubbed it down his cock from head to root.

The sound made you clench again. Why was that so hot? You’d never kissed, nor held hands. But now his sweat and cum would be fucked into you. 

Another clench as that lightning lit up your core, back bowing slightly with the sensation.

Could overlords sense blood pressure or hear heartbeats? You werent sure, but suddenly you worried about it. You had to close your eyes and focus only on your breathing, unaware it was your turn to hide your true reactions. If you started panting now he’d laugh so hard he’d go soft.

But the truth was, you could begin beatboxing and he wouldnt notice it. He was scooting closer, lowering and then raising his hips again to find a position that he could hold.

Thank Lucifer he never wasted time with this before. 

Finally he lined up and let his held breath go. His cockhead was slick and slipped up between your lips and headbutted your clit when he tried to press in. 

Your shocked scream was stifled into a gritted cry, bringing the back of your hand up to silence yourself. It hurt a little at first but that faded quickly. You whispered a single, “fuck.”

If he wasn’t already cock out Alastor would have just left. But, that would mean saying he was wrong and failed. Which wasn’t going to happen so he slid his cock back down the way he went and pressed into you with false confidence he knew it would go in. 

He gasped when he breached your lips. You were so hot. And that snugness was back, head and just an inch of shaft sheathed but his brain felt like most of his body was being tightly embraced. 

You felt him twitching, and tried to fight back the instinct to tighten around him to feel that little bit of movement even better. It didn’t work.

He hissed a “don’t” when you clenched around him, but you barely heard it over your own little moan. Alastor leaned forward and let his hands rest on either side of your ribs. Head hidden behind long and hanging bangs you couldnt see how his face twisted in concentration. He could cum like this, just one little movement and he was sure he’d finish. Not a normal problem for him, but it's easy to have a 100% win rate for a game you played just a few times before.

Alastor’s body was stick straight above you. 

His body wasn’t touching you except for the cock in you. It was odd, like he was hovering. Would he fuck you without touching you? That seemed so like him.

“Well, color me surprised.” He finally spoke, words breathy. He didn’t smell an ounce of blood so he knew you hadn’t torn. Your body was relaxed beneath him, your upper chest flush. When he looked up you were peering down over your cheeks with parted lips. He’d seen such expressions before in paintings deemed too salacious for museums in his time. 

“It feels even better when you’re moving.” You offered. He didn’t have to continue now that you’d proven your point but you really wanted him to. You’d not been fucked in ages and this was a situation that wouldn’t happen again. “But if this is enough proof…” you trailed off. 

He could imagine it. The feeling of that tender and somehow gripping flesh hugging him tightly as he moved forward more…. And pulled out. His glands would catch, wouldn’t it hurt you then? Wouldn’t he be scraping your delicate insides?

Alastor began pressing further in. Your hands gripped the sheets slightly, your walls were pushed open by his now steel hard member and you could feel a pool of heat low in your womb. You needed him to hit it, to thrust forward and rut against your cervix. But you had to take it slow, this was about him answering his questions first and foremost. 

“It won’t go any further…” he leaned back and inspected the situation. Two inches or so remained out in the cold. 

You shifted your hips and could feel the resistance. “If you start,” you needed a second to gather yourself before saying the rest, “thrusting properly now you’ll be able to get the rest in soon.”

His brow cocked. 

He’d have to trust you on that one and simply keep going. There were still more ways to move within you, to see if the piercing friction really could make you feel good. A moan broke through his defenses when he pulled out until the glands of his cock felt caught on your entrance. 

Alastor’s body crumpled, the pleasure made his muscles go weak. It was as if he couldn’t control them at all. Dangerous. 

His hips bucked from the sensitivity, thrusting forward. Alastor’s head fell back with a sharp gasp. Before he could worry over how he looked his hips were starting a shaky and mistimed pace. Head falling forward again so he could look down at where you were joined, he groaned. His cock was disappearing, girth holding your cunt open as it clamped down against him.  

Alastor felt dizzy from the physical rapture and a helpful redirection of blood. His body was light; bright and weightless.

What a treacherous sensation. He could almost understand rakes* now. 

Your first real moan reminded him why he was doing what he was. Face shooting up from the shadow of his hair he watched yours. Your brow was furrowed slightly, but apart from how hard you were biting your bottom lip he didnt see anything pained in your expression. Your sounds definitely did not say you were being harmed in any way. 

As his cock pulled against your entrance again and rammed back in, he gained new ground just like you’d assured. Another hungry thrust and he was flush with your body. You choked out a noise and gripped the sheets hard. 

“Painful?,” he opted for a single word to avoid his voice cracking with uncontrolled radio static. Alastor slowed his pace out of caution, he enjoyed pain but not like this. He’d only been trying to shock you earlier with his comments when he said otherwise. 

Your hips rolled, pressing him deeper and rolling your eyes back. It earned you a flipping of radio stations softly in the air around you. A babbled, “No, no,” before you could find the sense to look at him, “You’re doing so well. It feels so good. Don’t stop.” Another roll of your body to feel his leaking slit digging into your cervix. That white hot pleasure was fading now to something less mind numbing but still worth chasing. He had you split open down the center and you needed to feel him moving deep within.  

‘Well, Fuck,’ Alastor thought. The mechanics didn’t make much sense but he was seeing undeniable proof. He shifted his hips until his lower stomach was pressing down onto you and let his own normally unwanted instincts take over. You asked him to not stop, after all. 

Fluidly now he could fuck you, lower back activated and driving himself home deeper. Soon he was grunting softly each time he bottomed out. Animalistic auto-pilot kept his pace even and punishing. 

A slurred ‘feels s’good’ tumbled from your still parted lips. 

He watched your neck muscles strain and face redden, you were holding your breath and he couldnt understand why. 

Eyes slipping closed he focused on your warmth, and he could hear the sound of his skin sticking and popping free from your core. A faint wetness to his thighs came into focus from the fuzzy edges of his mind. He felt like he was melting from the center outward. 

Alastor failed to say anything when his climax mounted because it blindsided him. He leaned back for leverage and held your thighs for grip. A few harsh slaps of his skin into yours, your body rocking up slightly with the force before you felt his own warm wetness filling you. A sensation that came in waves with each twitch of his cock. When his body stuttered and a few more thrusts chased his semen deeper into you, your feet kicked out in an uncontrollable spasm of pleasure. 

You took in a deep breath and pulled him closer with your legs as soon as you regained control. Alastor’s turn to fist the sheets, you working your thighs and core to ride him from your place on your back. A few more sharp inhales, pressure mounting to a daunting peak before you could make that string snap. It took a frenzied self fucking with Alastor’s now oversensitive cock but you managed to find some relief with a small orgasm.

Alastor didn’t need you to announce it for him to understand. A modest wave of embarrassment hit, not only was he woefully incorrect but the pleasure was apparently so great you’d chase more friction to reach your orgasm on a cock before just taking your own hand. Was it impolite to not have offered to help?

Your body went slack, muscles disengaging as your sweaty thighs and ass slid from his lap and down his legs. He was still bent over you and cock buried half in you, catching his breath.

“I suppose I should eat crow now. Your little flower is far more accommodating than I gave you credit for!” He pulled out in one go and you felt the rush of his seed spilling out after him. “Though you must admit there was a little discomfort.”

With a heavy sigh you nodded, “Sometimes a little bit makes it feel even better…” a swoosh and a twinkle was heard just past your knees but you didn't move to open your eyes.

A clawed finger booped your nose, “If you value your afterlife…”

A sharp stare to the fully dressed and unsticky radio demon knelt between your legs, you rolled your eyes at the empty threat he always gave you after your unfettered talks, “I won't tell a soul.”

“Good girl!”

*a rake is a rakehell (hell raiser), considered loose with morals for chasing women and drink.

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ⋆Masterlist.ೃ࿔*:･

˖  ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

@eris-norwega @reath-solia @catticora , @angelicribbons , @xalygatorx

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei ,  @moonmark98

, @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog ,

@thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk  , @whateverlololo , @psipies

@howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf ,  @fizzled-phoenix   , @star-kujo-platinum

, @a-case-of-attachment, @multifandomfanatic02 @watereddownmilk   , @bontensbabygirl  @smoky000

@hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain

@harley2223-blog  , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby@dontfuckbutimfab @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12

[babejinxy]

In love with you - part 3

Pairing: Powder x fem!reader

Warnings: friends to lovers, SMUT, kissing, fluff

Synopsis: Powder had been your best friend for years, the two of you met when she was running from the cops when she and her brothers broke into and blew up an apartment in Piltover and you helped them escape. What you never imagined, is that the love of your life was always right there in front of you…

A/N: This is a fic about Powder from the alternate universe, it has nothing to do with Jinx.

🌟 English is not my first language, so I apologize if there are any mistakes.

Part 1 Part 2

💙 @brocoliisscared @bbybubbles @cattjull

You went after Powder who was leaving the last drop, “hey Powder, wait a minute”, you called her and she stopped looking at you with a frown and crossed her arms. “Look, I'm sorry okay? I should have told you, I know you're mad but…”, you didn't have time to finish because she interrupted you, “I'm not just mad, I'm upset too… why...Why her Y/n?”. She actually wanted to ask, “Why anyone else and not me?”, but she held herself back, she wasn’t ready for that, maybe she was too scared for that.

What would you tell her? That you still loved Cait? Maybe you did, or did you think so? Would you say that you were confused and didn't really know how you felt, or would you just say that you couldn't be alone for too long? Yes, your best friend knew all of this, she knew about your potential to easily give yourself to anyone because... because you had this fear of ending up alone, this fear of not being good for anyone, the fucking fear that no one would ever be able to love you.

“I went out with her last week, we went out to dinner and then we went to her house, it’s just… a casual encounter is no big deal.” If you knew how you were breaking Powder’s heart into a million little pieces at that moment, you would definitely condemn yourself.

“It’s not a big deal?”, she said perplexedly opening her arms, “Y/n we’re talking about the girl who cheated on you, she hurt your feelings, if you don’t remember how you felt at the time I do, I comforted you… your whole life I was the one who was by your side and not her, I’m the person who would never leave you alone, never”.

You approached her and held her hands, “I know and that’s why I’m so grateful to have you in my life, you’re my best friend Pow Pow, I love you and I don’t know what I would do without you.” She squeezed your hands in hers, knowing that you loved her in some way meant a lot to her. “I just want to see you happy, I don't like Caitlyn sorry honey, but I don't like her especially after what she did to you.” You started to wonder, “why is it so hard to find someone like Powder?”, someone like her would never hurt you, she was wonderful, but she was your best friend.

“You know Y/n, you deserve someone who likes you just the way you are, someone who knows how to value you, someone who knows how lucky they are to have you, you know someone who… who wakes up every fucking day and says “holy shit, I’m dating Y/n and no one else in the world is that lucky only me”, do you understand that?”.

You felt like crying. Powder always made you feel special. She was the only person who made you see your own worth. You held back your tears and pulled her into a tight hug. You felt her wrap her arms around your waist and hold you close. She was so close to your face, she just needed to move a little more and her lips would be on yours.

You pulled away from her, “Thank you for that, sometimes I need someone to remind me of that.”

“Yes, I know… and I’ll always be here to make sure you don’t forget.” She smiled and caressed your cheek with her thumb. fuck she wanted so badly to drag you to the dark corner and kiss you right now, maybe you would kiss her back, maybe you two would reveal your feelings, then she would take you to her house and taste you, maybe she would…

“Oh there you are,” Ekko’s voice took her out of her reverie and you looked at him - who you soon noticed was sad - Powder rolled her eyes and put her hands on her waist, he always appeared to interrupt the moment and that was already making her irritated.

Ekko approached you and held out his hand handing you a piece of paper folded in half. “Someone wants me to give this to you,” he said, his voice still dejected, he didn’t look at Powder once. You took the paper and frowned, “what is this?” you asked. “I have no idea, a guy asked me to give this to you, and before you ask, I don’t know who the guy is either, I’ve never seen him around here before.”

You were a little confused, curious and at the same time worried that this could be something serious, but Powder knew exactly what it was, some guy at the bar flirting with you and wanting to buy you a drink, how she wished she could tell all of them that you were not available because you were hers. “Well, good night girls,” Ekko walked away from you two and continued on his way with his head down.

You ignored the note for a second and looked at your friend, “You dumped him, right?” You were referring to Ekko. She shrugged, “Sort of… but he wasn’t like this when we got here.” You curled your lips, “So what happened?” She had a hunch that maybe he noticed her advances on you, but she couldn’t tell you that.

“You really don’t like him, do you?” you asked curiously. “He’s just my friend, the fact that I went out with him once doesn’t change anything… wouldn’t you go out with any of your friends?” You didn’t quite understand the question, you didn’t know if she wanted you to answer or if it was just a rhetorical question. In fact this was just a way to know what you would say even though she was afraid of the answer.

You thought for a second, you never went out with any of your friends, maybe because you liked them just as friends, maybe you just needed to think a little more or just look at Powder right in front of you before saying what you said. “I wouldn’t go on a date with any of my friends, those things rub the friendship”.

Powder felt a tightness in her heart, maybe after that the best thing to do was for her to try to get over you and have you just as her best friend, but how would that be possible when you were her dream? And every day that passed, this passion for you only grew and took over her every second she spent by your side. “Well, I guess it depends on how both feel about each other,” she said finally.

“Yeah, maybe… I mean… no,” you closed your eyes, getting confused about your words, “I don’t think it’s that simple… anyway, let’s see what’s here?” you said, opening the piece of paper in your hands as quickly as possible, ignoring your heart beating erratically once again. Of course you blamed it on your anxiety to read what was written on the note Ekko handed you.

You unfolded the paper and Powder approached you to read what was written, you read it out loud, “Hey pretty girl, I've been eyeing you all night, can I buy you a drink?”, you were holding back from laughing, Powder on the other hand, wasn't very comfortable with it, “if you accept, I'm the guy sitting alone at the table on the right corner, I'll wait for you”.

You looked at your friend and laughed, “These guys don’t know when to stop,” she said crossing her arms. “Oh come on, you’re just jealous because I got the note and you didn’t,” you laughed, mocking her. “Pssh, as if,” she said, pushing your arm away slowly. “He might be cute,” you said, looking at the note. Powder felt her body boil with jealousy, but she held herself back. “Do you want to go back there and see if he’s still there? If he is, I won’t judge him.” As she said this, her eyes widened and she looked at you from the corner of her eyes, a chill ran down her spine, how could she have let that out loud?

You looked at her with furrowed eyebrows, “Of course not,” you said, crumpling the note and throwing it behind you somewhere. “Tonight I want to have fun with my best friend, without any disloyal ex-girlfriends or barflirts, just you and me… our sleepover, remember?” You held out your hand to her. Surely if she could, she would grab you and kiss you right now. But instead, she took your hand, intertwining her fingers with yours.

“Part three of the night: braids in your hair,” you said laughing. “Okay, you’re silly,” she said pulling you closer to her, wrapping her arms around your waist…

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁

It's been three days since the day you went to the movies with Powder and Ekko. You've had time to think about what Powder had said about Cait and you've been ignoring her calls ever since. Today was Saturday, the day of the party in Zaun at The Last Drop. You got ahead on your academy work and told your parents that you couldn't attend their party because you had work to finish.

It was night and you were finishing getting ready for the party when your hexphone vibrated and it was a message from Cait, you read it in the notification bar,

“Hey princess, sorry to be insistent, but I'm not going to give up on you... I'm sorry for what I did to you, I can fix things, give me a chance to change everything. Please give us a second chance. Are you going to your parents' party? I hope so! I need to see you! I still love you baby, don't forget that.”

You couldn’t say it didn’t affect you. Powder was right in what she said before, but what if Cait had changed? What if she really still loved you? People make mistakes and fuck things up, but they’re also capable of change, aren’t they?

For a minute you thought you could go to your parents’ party to talk to Cait. But then you looked at the picture frame on your dresser that held a picture of you and Powder and you knew in that exact moment that she was the one you were supposed to be with tonight. You didn’t know why you felt this way, or why your heart was beating so fast inside your chest. You and Powder had been friends for years and you had been with her countless times, but tonight felt different. You didn’t know why, but you felt like you had to be with her.

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁

You went to Powder's workshop - where you knew she would be - and found her in front of the mirror grumbling about not being able to get her eyeliner right, she didn't even notice you had come in.

“Do you need help with that?” She immediately looked in your direction and glanced at your short white layered mini skirt and your low-cut silver top that really showed off your beautiful round breasts. “Damn,” she thought.

You approached her and took the eyeliner pen from her hand, “ok, head up, eyes closed,” you said standing between her legs - she was sitting on a stool in front of the mirror - she did as you said and you held her face while you applied the eyeliner to her right eye.

She was clasping her hands together, she wanted to hold your waist, in fact she wanted you to sit on her lap while you fixed her makeup, she had dreamed about this so many times. Your soft tickle on her skin, your scent taking over the entire space, fuck she just couldn't take it anymore. Then she raised her hands and held your waist and you didn't care at all.

“Ok, I think this is good, you like it?”, you got out from between her legs and she took her hands off your waist, turning on the stool to look at herself in the mirror. “I couldn’t have done it better,” she said, admiring her eyeliner—now perfect—thanks to you.

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁

Arriving at the party, you two joined Claggor and Mylo. ​​“Hey, Y/n, I’m glad you came,” Mylo said, laughing awkwardly as he scratched the back of his neck. “So… do you want to dance? Or have a drink?” Before you could answer, Claggor elbowed him and then looked at Powder furtively. Mylo had irritated her, in every way, since they were kids. Of course she loved him, but to her he was a jerk and she knew he had no chance with you, so she wasn't bothered by his advances towards you. “Maybe later,” you finally replied.

You looked around and saw Gert passing by carrying a tray with drinks, your gaze met hers and she gave you a mischievous smile, you smiled back and looked down, you thought she was a very pretty girl.

After a while, Powder went to talk to Vender and you were alone for only half a minute until you heard a female voice behind you, “I thought it was impossible for a girl like you to not be accompanied, but since you're not, lucky for me then”, you turned around and came face to face with Gert. “Be careful, I might be alone for a reason,” you said smiling. “What reason?” she asked, tilting her head and looking from your lips to your eyes. “I might be a heartless lunatic who hurts everyone I come into contact with,” you joked. She curled her lips, “You’re worth the risk, doll,” she said, grabbing a strand of your hair.

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁

While you flirted with Gert, Powder leaned against the counter and watched you smiling and letting Gert touch your arms, hair, hands... every party ended like this, you met someone, started dating that person and it wouldn't last more than three months and you would suffer from the lack of someone you didn't even like that much just to make up for the lack of self-love that you should have and didn't have or for the fear of ending up alone.

She wished didn't love you so much, she wanted to see you as just her best friend, but you were so much more than that and it hurt her every day. If you only knew that these people would never love you like she does...

Powder was so distracted looking at you that she didn't notice when Vender leaned next to her on the counter, but he was inside. "Why don't you ask her to dance?" he asked, making the blue-haired girl jump in fright. “What? No! Why would I do that?”, she said, frowning in an attempt to hide it. Vender smiled, “I know that look, you like her.” Powder’s heart could jump out of her mouth at any moment. “She’s my best friend, of course I like her,” she laughed nervously. “Powder…”, she took a deep breath, she knew there was no point in denying it, Vender knew.

“Is it that obvious?”, she asked, still looking at you. “Why don’t you tell her?”, she took her eyes off you and looked at Vender with a frown, “Are you crazy?” Vender she is my best friend, if I tell her she’ll get weird and we won’t be friends anymore, I can’t lose her.” Vender sighed, looked at you and then said, “Look Powder, if she really is your friend nothing will change that. Nothing is more important than a friendship and you not wanting to tell her that you love her for fear of losing the friendship between you proves that. But I still think she should know, you should know… she might feel the same way about you, isn’t she worth it? Isn’t she worth the risk?” Powder didn’t answer, she just remained thoughtful and looked back at you.

She thought that maybe Vender was right, it was time to tell you. And seeing Gert getting closer and closer to you encouraged her even more. “Vender, give me a drink,” she said without taking her eyes off you. Vender smiled and handed her a glass of alcohol. She drank it all in one gulp and then looked at Vender smiling, he patted her arm encouragingly, “now go talk to her…”

Leave comments, my loves!

Happy New Year, everyone 🌟🥂

[rizsu]

LOLLIPOPS ꢾ꣒ OLD DREAMS ex!sukuna ryomen x reader.

+ love, ‘su: in this sukuna’s that one ex who just won’t leave you alone bc hes annoying // toji sneak but he's like irrelevant !,×&&÷

the store’s dead. nothing but the whirring of vending machines and the music softly playing from the speakers can be heard. you’ve been behind the counter for the past five hours—you’re sweaty, bored, and experiencing the consequences of sitting on a random upside-down bucket for hours with nothing to support your back besides random moments of fixing your posture.

you double-tap the glass on your phone, sighing as you saw the time. it’s 08:30 p.m exactly, just thirty minutes before you can clock out. time felt slower than usual—the lack of customers and WiFi helped in dragging the time.

rolling your shoulders back, you stretch your neck to the sides, desperately trying to release tension. tension that’ll easily build right back up. there’s truly nothing to do. you’ve made paper airplanes, chewed on half a pack of gum, doodled on the wrappers and gave yourself tattoos, took multiple five-minute naps—the list can go on.

a “ding!” prevents you from succumbing to your boredom. immediately, you fix your posture, dusting off your shirt before you scanned the store for whoever just walked in.

so far, all you’ve seen is a man dressed in knee-length pants, a loose tank top, and an unlit cigarette tucked between his ear as if it were a flower.

another “ding!” came in, effortlessly moving your attention towards the glass doors. another man walked in. this one’s decorated in black from head-to-toe. full-length sweatpants, a hoodie, a cap, and a face mask. with an attire like that, you felt a bit threatened. what if he’s here to rob the village convenience store that runs on life support?

the scenario withers away immediately when you saw him walk to the previous man. seems like they’re friends. shrugging, you grabbed a random flyer from the desk, folding it back and forth to make a makeshift fan.

the men lingered around for a while, strolling through the four aisles before they walked up to the front. the one without the suspicious outfit places his items on the wooden desk: six beers, a pack of cigarettes, and a lighter.

he’s probably in his forties, you mentally judged based on his items.

“your total’s twenty-two dollars.” you bagged his stuff, sliding it towards him once you placed everything in it.

“thanks,” he nods, sliding a twenty-dollar bill and a five-dollar bill your way. “keep the change.”

“‘kay.” you gave him a nod back, not caring about the extra three dollars.

the all-black outfit man didn’t seem to follow his friend, though. you shifted uncomfortably on the bucket, waiting for him to say something, but it looked as though he’s a silent one.

“i clock out in, like, eleven minutes sir. is there something you need?” you questioned, lacing your voice with a touch of attitude.

he takes his cap off, then lowers his mask. the familiar hair colour and tattoos that adorned his face made you audibly show your fight-or-flight reaction. the “oh fuck,” left you quicker than you expected.

“it’s been a minute, yeah?” he spoke, looking down at you.

your face twisted into an expression of disgust before you brought forward the customer-service smile. you remembered that you’re still in the store, and there are unfortunately working cameras.

“been a minute of you wasting my time, sir! please leave!”

“sir?” he tilts his head at the unfamiliar title. were you drawing a line, or were you acting as if you don’t share a history with him.

“yes, sir.”

shifting, he places his hands into his pockets, slightly leaning back to appear nonchalant—as if he’s not bothered by the act you’re putting on.

“y/n l/n, did you really think moving back to your hometown would stop me from coming?” a condescending tone oozes from him. the mention of your full name didn’t fail to make you shiver.

swallowing back the chain of insults that threatened to flow, you dug your nails into your fist, gritting your teeth.

“keep it cute, sukuna.”

“there we go,” sukuna smiles, “i don’t dislike sir, but i prefer my name.”

you automatically rolled your eyes, unfazed by sukuna’s taunting. you’ve been through it for two years, after all.

the sound of the bell followed by the glass doors opening disrupts the moment between you two. the man with the cigarette re-enters the store, looking at his friend up and down with eyes filled with judgements.

“talk about cockblocking,” sukuna mumbles under his breath, waving his friend off before turning his attention back to you. “i’ll see you tomorrow.”

“we don’t have enough time for you to be tackling a cashier.” he clicked his tongue, gesturing for his friend to leave his position and exit the store.

you kept quiet, watching the two fade into the darkness of the night the moment they exited. once you were certain you couldn’t make out any figures, you let out a long, exasperated sigh.

“stupid fucking job and a stupid fucking ex.”

──────

sukuna’s a man of his word. you know this—everyone knows it. it’s exactly why you shouldn’t have greeted him with a “what the fuck!?” and slam your apartment’s door in his face. when he said he’ll see you tomorrow, he genuinely meant it. you don’t know how he knew of your apartment complex and your door number, but he’s here now.

poking his inner cheek with his tongue, he gave your door three obnoxious knocks again. the sole purpose of the knocks was to annoy the neighbours which would then pressure you into letting him in. you’ve always been wary of making sure everyone else is comfortable and sukuna’s glad you’re still the same in some ways.

just as he predicted, you quickly opened the door, immediately cursing at him.

“can you be fucking quiet?!” you whisper-yelled, holding onto the damp towel that was once wrapped around your hair.

“if you let me in,” sukuna whispered back, shrugging at your annoyance.

“no.”

a firm rejection. you prepared to close the door (again) with full force but it wobbled back when it met sukuna’s foot that prevented it from being closed on him (again).

“very disrespectful. who raised you?” he clicked his tongue in disapproval, placing a hand on the door to force his way in.

you were ultimately defeated. there was nothing left for you to do but stand there wondering whether it’d be a good idea to report a home invasion with a side of harassment.

sukuna allowed himself to be amazed by your little home. the colours alone scream your name. he observes every detail, ignoring the voice in his head that’s telling him how it would’ve been had you two not break things off.

“nice place.” a compliment.

“tell me something i don’t know, you undiscovered demon.” an insult.

‘undiscovered demon?’ the insult lingers in his mind for a bit. your… peculiar ways of naming people truly surprises him.

ignoring your burning gaze, sukuna takes his shoes off before sitting himself on your sofa. he shuffles a bit to make himself comfortable: leaning his head back, closing his eyes, and stretching both hands on the top edge of the backrest.

a frown decorates your face. walking towards the kitchen, you grab the disinfect spray and sneak up behind him.

feeling you near him, sukuna raises an eyebrow, “got me a drink or what?”

you hummed, fighting back a mischievous smile as you sprayed disinfect like it’s body mist. the attack makes him jolt, turning around to curse at his offender.

“what the fuck was that about?”

“get out of my apartment, sukuna.” you leaned on a leg, placing a hand on your hip to emphasize that you’re serious.

a minute of silence welcomes itself. you can see sukuna thinking about what’s the best action he can do in this moment.

is it: (a) leave like you said to. (b) get back comfortable. (c) suggest something else.

“maybe if you let me reminisce and sleep with you again.”

clearly, he went with option c and a tablespoon of shameless-ness.

“what– wait– huh?!” you spluttered, bewildered at the audacity of the man who claims to have been in a past relationship with you—even when you’ve preached about not knowing him!

sukuna shrugs, shifting around in the sofa to make himself comfortable again. only this time he’s laying down.

“my hand gets tired too–”

“have some class!” you cut him off, throwing your hair towel at him. you can’t ignore the heat that’s settled in the back of your head.

by the time you regained your calm, sukuna’s already on his way to a nap. he even rolled your towel to use it as a pillow.

closing your eyes, you inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. there’s really no winning with sukuna.

[fieldofdaisiies]

A Bargain pt. 2

paring: Azriel x Reader | type: angst | words: 4,5k | warnings: this story explores a little darker themes like the loss of eyesight due to fire. thank you so much for beta reading @moonlightazriel 💛 here you can find part one (I'm sorry it took me forever to write the second part)

Heart rapidly thrumming against your ribcage, you follow the shadowsinger, listening to every step you take, your fingers not once lifting from the railing. 

Every sound, every scent, settles into you, making you hyper aware of your surroundings. Except for light and darkness there’s nothing your eyes can tell you, so relying on your other senses is what keeps you alive.

"We‘re almost there." Azriel’s low voice sounds in front of you but he seems closer now, no longer and having stopped so you could catch up with him. 

It‘s time now for the  doubts to come creeping into your mind at full force, making your palms grow damp and cold sweat break out on the back of your mind.

You know Gwyn will be here and you are safe, but you haven’t left the library in… you haven’t since you arrived here all those years ago.

Speaking of Gwyn—you feel her presence immediately when the first strays of sunlight fall upon you, warming your skin and making an involuntary smile appear on your lips. It has been so long without feeling sunlight on your skin.

"You came," Gwyn’s voice sounds beside you as her fingers gently take your hand into hers, and she guides you along. "I‘m so glad you did, although a little sour that it took Azriel to convince you and that I wasn’t persuasive enough." She laughs, a playful note in her beautiful voice that makes you join in.

Listening to her and the other priestesses sing has cured many moments where the dark memories threatened to reach the surface.

You allow her to guide you to a place where more people are, your mind tells you that, feeling the presence of at least ten other people. The other priestesses who begin to silently greet you, the warmth and kindness in their voice palpable.

"I‘m Nesta Archeron," the last female voice tells you. "I‘m Gwyn‘s friend and—"

"You won the Bloodrite alongside her. I have heard all the stories about you! It‘s a pleasure to meet you, Nesta Archeron." You are scared the excitement in your voice will scare her off or make her believe that you are strange, and for the first time in a long while you are happy you can’t see her expression. But she takes you by surprise, gently taking your hand into hers, the one Gwyn formerly was holding. 

"And I‘ve heard stories about you, Y/N Y/L/N. It‘s my pleasure to meet you." She is smiling, you can feel it and mirror her expression.

As you let all the sounds, the scents, the noises settle into you, you slowly find your grounding in the now new surroundings. You haven’t been here before, you know this, but somehow it is still part of your home. Both Gwyn and Azriel have explained exactly where you would be going and what it looked like — a training field for the Valkyries and the Illyrians.

A male voice, loud and commanding, shakes you out of your thoughts. It comes from somewhere further away and you remember it. You have heard it somewhere before. It‘s Cassian, the general of the Illyrian armies and Nesta Archeron‘s mate talking. 

He is giving some instructions that all make no sense to you before he claps his hands and people begin to move around you, shuffling into probably every direction. 

You can feel how your throat clogs up, making it hard to breathe and swallow.

Suddenly the doubts come back, making the back of your mouth ache.

Leave! Go back to the Library! a voice loudly says in your mind, making you want to move but your feet are you rooted to the ground. It feels like something is keeping you here, making it impossible for you to lift your feet—like an invisible pull that wants you to stay.

You feel like everyone is rushing around you, away from you, toward you, you don’t know. Your head starts to spin, fingers curling towards your palms in an attempt to steady yourself. It fails until—

A soft brush, featherlight and barely palpable makes the skin of you upper arm tingle. Azriel’s shadows, undoubtedly. 

He is close as well, you feel his presence before you hear his voice. 

"Are you alright?"

"I am!" 

He can sense the lie, you know it. You can feel it. He moves closer, stepping into you and his hand lands on your elbow. "Tell me, do you want to return?"

You want to go back down to the Library, but at the same time you also want to prove to yourself that you are stronger. That you won’t just give up. You can do this, you can face whatever Azriel has planned for you. You are a fighter.

You want to be strong. You can be strong.

"No…no, no I don’t," you splutter, knowing your voice is shaking as much as your knees. "I want to stay and try out what you have planned for me … remember we have a bargain." You lift your arm, the one he is not holding, wiggling it.

"I don’t want you to do something you are not comfortable with just because—"

"What’s my first task?" You swallow your worries, your doubts, the fear, amd now step even closer. There is really no distance between the two of you but the closer you are, the easier it is for you to read people. Your palm lands flat on his chest, feeling the fabric of his Illyrian leathers and the solid muscles beneath.

"You are here, Azriel, and so is Gwyn. You promised to keep me safe and so did Gwyn. I know I‘m protected and nothing will happen to me." You know and really want to believe it, but it is hard, and not yet completely possible. But that's alright, as long as Azriel believes you that you are alright. 

Additionally, you know a bit of nervousness is always healthy, without it you would do the most reckless things without a second thought.

At first you start with some grounding exercises—Gwyn helps you with them, while the Illyrians train with the other priestesses, but you can always feel a certain shadowsinger’s presence close to you. Taking off your shoes, you can feel the soft grass beneath your feet when you start on some grounding exercises. You‘re mostly doing these exercises for balanace in the first days of training and they really help — in all honesty, you start to like doing them more and more; your self-confidence grows.

You have been so afraid, so terrified of going outside, but slowly the tension starts to ease and you realise that your life has so much to offer that you would have missed had you stayed in the Library forever. 

You are very grateful for Azriel, and Gwyn. Without them you would have never gone this step. 

Especially without Azriel, and the bargain you made. 

Absently, your hand reaches for your upper arm, traces over the place where you think the tattoo is. Azriel’s fingers on your skin still linger phantom touch, and tell you where your bargain tattoo is. 

A smile appears on your lips as you allow yourself to enjoy the moment, until—

"I think we should go a step further today." Azriel‘s ever so gently takes yours into his, holding on lightly. "Of course, only if you want to."

"What does it include?" you find yourself asking, tipping your head back slightly so the sun can warm your skin again.

You may not be able to see anymore, but you can still feel everything and you will take pleasure in it.

"I want you to try out something, show you how good your balance already is. I want you to try and walk over a beam."

A beam!

"How far up is it?" The question immediately bursts from you.

You hear a small laugh from him before he answers. "Not that high and I‘ll always be by your side. Just like my shadows."

Drawing in a deep inhale and letting it fill your lungs, you decide to trust him. He won’t  let you fall, or get hurt. You know this.

"I won’t let you fall, Y/N.“ He squeezes your hand. "I would never let you fall.“

You want to trust him, you really do, but for a moment your doubts gain the upper hand. It is a huge step, and you need a moment to consider it. 

Inhaling deeply, you listen into yourself. Into your heart, the soft thrumming of it telling you that you don’t need to be afraid. Azriel is here for you, he will make sure you are alright no matter what.

So, you allow him to guide you over to where the beam is, a soft wind caresses your face as Azriel helps you climb up a few steps.

The wood is smooth beneath your bare feat, cool, when you take your first step onto it, not once letting go off Azriel’s hand. 

"Are you ready?“ the shadow singer asks beside you and you dip your chin, your jaw set so tightly you’re unable to answer. 

With another deep inhale, you once again steady your breathing, but the faint creak of the wood beneath your foot sends a jolt of unease through you.

Another cool breeze brushes your face, and then you take a step forward, now both your feet resting on the beam, one after the other.

Another step forward. Another brush of the cool breeze against your face. Your breath catches as you suddenly see a bright light in your vision and you’re taking right back to the fateful day. 

Fire. Nothing but unbearable heat and blinding light, like icy spikes piercing your skin. The brightness was overwhelming until everything went dark. Blank. Plain. No colour. No shape. No figure. Only darkness. And deafening silence.

Your steps waver, too slow, too uncertain, and your body starts to tremble. You loose your footing, slip, your weight tilts and your balance is lost. 

Panic spikes when you start to feel how you are falling and— 

Strong hands catch you. Your body is pressed against a solid chest as quick breaths escape your lips, your demeanour shattering, laying the panic within you bare.

“I’ve got you. Don’t worry, you’re safe,” Azriel says against the top of your head, his voice steady and low, but you can barely hear it over the buzzing in your ears. 

Your breath hitches and you bury your face in his shirt, hoping that listening to the soft thrumming of his heart will calm your own. 

But it doesn’t help. The memories are back, the fear you felt when you stood atop the beam brought back memories you never wanted to revisit. Hot tears spring to your eyes and sobs rip itself free, leaving your trembling lips. 

“Azriel, I’m sorry,“ you whisper and pull away. “I can’t. I can’t do this.”

Frustration coils within your stomach, and you step back lifting your hands to cover your face.

He reaches for you, however, tugging your hands away from your face and pulling you into him again. And you let him to it, let him embrace you in his warm, tight hold. 

“Don’t apologise. Never.“ You can feel him rest his cheek against the top of your head. “It was my fault. It was too soon, we should have given it more time.“

You don’t want him to blame himself or feel bad about the moment. You don’t even want to cry, it feels silly and excessive, but you can’t stop it. There’re so many unresolved emotions within you that you kept hidden and locked away for so long, sometimes it is hard to just stop them from rising to the surface and shattering through the shell.  

As your tears start to become less, and then sobs grow quieter, you can hear footsteps coming closer. 

A soft palm lands on your lower back and then in a calm voice, Gwyn says, “You’re allowed to be scared.“

You pull away from Azriel, so you can turn to her.

“You’re allowed to be scared, but today you must also be proud. About everything you’ve done, you’ve achieved in such a short time. I’ve fallen of the beam so many times even though I still have my eye-sight. You walked almost half of it without using your eyes. Y/N, when you go to bed tonight, I want you to be proud of yourself for what you have managed to do today. Don’t let the fear win the upper hand. Never!“

>>>>>>>

"You shouldn’t think about what happened today," Azriel’s deep voice sounds over the great expanse of the rooftop training area. It brushes your goosebumps-covered skin and you turn to him.

You‘ve heard him approach a while ago, his footsteps something you remembered very soon.

"I meant what I said, you shouldn’t be proud of yourself and look forward to doing better next time."

He is close then, so close you can feel the warmth of his body. 

"My step-brothers poured oil over my hands and set them on fire. I have never felt greater physical pain than that day. I grew in an abusive household with a step-mother who would delight in locking me into the basement for hours, sometimes days. 

"I remember often thinking that my life would end right there and then, that I didn’t have an ounce of happiness within me and that I would never be able to live a normal life."

He swallows roughly and the first tears fall from your eyes as his words, his revelation, sinks into you.

"And then I met Cass and Rhys. They showed me how good life can be, what love is and … that no matter what I should never give up. They showed me what I am capable of, the things I could do. They showed me my strength and I learned to understand it. I wanted to be strong, never weak again, never vulnerable again. I was strong and I was ready to prove it to everyone, especially myself."

Without a further thought, you reach for his hand, taking it gently into yours and squeezing softly. "Azriel…" 

The words die down in your throat. After everything he has revealed, you find it hard to answer him.

Gods, the things he has experienced… 

Your heart is crying for him too, loud and unyielding and a shiver courses through you—not from the cold of the evening wind, but because you can feel his pain.

"I don’t ever want to be weak again either," you whisper after a moment of silence, and close your burning eyes.

"What happened? What happened that day?" Azriel‘s voice is hoarse, as if he struggles to speak too.

"I was an apprentice at a locksmith near Sangravah. When the Hybern soldiers came they destroyed everything in their way." You need a moment to breathe as slowly the memories return—one after the other, and each more painful. 

"I don’t exactly remember what happened, but one male came close to me, turned to the fire I had just lit, put a torch in it and set the whole place on fire. I wanted to run, but couldn’t escape fast enough. The windows burst and the glass splinterd …"

You know he can imagine the rest.

"I‘m so sorry." His hand trembles on yours and you can hear the tears in his voice. 

"I was just lying there, everything hurt. I was at my lowest point until Morrigan found me."

You can hear him swallow, roughly, before clearing his throat.

"Do you trust me when I tell you that after our bargain is completed you will no longer feel weak."

"I trust you." And you really do. It‘s no lie. You trust him and you know yourself that the training, all the exercises you do for balance and to sharpen your focus, are beneficial for you and your wellbeing.

You blow out a long breath, tipping your head back, your eyes facing the sky above you, and despite not being able to see you know it is covered in a million stars.

"Speaking of the bargain," you begin and a sheepish smile forms on your lips. "You haven‘t completed your task yet."

"You really want me to sing for you?" He chuckles softly.

"It‘s part of the bargain, and you know what happens when you don’t fulfill your part." The smile turns into a grin.

"Well, so shall be it." Azriel tugs at your hand and together you sit down on the ground, so close your shoulder is resting against his. 

Do you think I'd give upThat this might've shook the love from meOr that I was on the brink?How could you think, darling, I'd scare so easily?Now that it's doneThere's not one thing that I would changeMy life was a storm, since I was bornHow could I fear any hurricane?If someone asked me at the endI'll tell them put me back in itDarling, I would do it again, ah, ahIf I could hold you for a minuteDarling, I'd go through it again, ah, ahI would still be surprised I could find you, darlingIn any lifeIf I could hold you for a minuteDarling, I would do it again, ah, ah(Francesca by Hozier)

For a moment you don’t know how to react, eyes wet with tears. His voice is more beautiful than you could have ever imagined and it touched your heart and soul. A shiver runs through you, not from fear or cold, but from the beauty of his voice and the words he sang to you. 

You swallow, and draw in a deep breath. Your fingers tremble and then you say, “Thank you.” You don’t really know what exactly you are thanking him for – him singing to you, the training, getting you out of the Library. Probably all of it, and your heart begins to glow. You know you are falling in love. Falling in love with the shadowsinger and it’s a beautiful feeling.

"Can I … I would like to touch you." Your eyes are still wet with unshed tears from how beautifully he sang.

A soft cough slips through Azriel’s lips.

"Your face. I would like to trace your features to create a picture of you in my mind," you immediately clarify when the innuendo in your request screams loudly at you in your mind.

He doesn’t answer, not in words, at least. His hand closer over yours before he brings it to his face. You feel the stubble on his chin beneath your palm, and then start to explore. Gently, you trace his eyebrows, his jawline, his nose and lastly, his lips.

He is beautiful, you know it without actually seeing him. Stunning, most definitely.

A sigh that has him parting his lips, fetches you back and you realise your thumb is still resting on his lower lip, no longer moving.

"Thank you." You pull your hand back, and heat flushes your cheeks. "I like you, Azriel."

There‘s a pause and Azriel doesn’t answer. It doesn’t unsettle you, you don’t expect him to say it back, you just wanted him to know. 

"I like you too, Y/N," he finally admits. Once again you can hear the smile in his voice. And the honesty. And you can feel how his hand reaches for yours again, gently taking it into his much bigger one, lacing your fingers. 

“What a coincidence,” you snicker, leaning into him. "And I like this." A small pause. "Being here with you on this quiet night."

Now, Azriel is the one to lean in, you can feel the press of his body against you and then he leans his head against yours. 

"I like this a lot too," he whispers and his voice sounds a little sleepy.

"Maybe we could do this more often?" Hope laces your voice as you pose your question.

With a small laugh he agrees and you know that you have never heard him so joyful before.

>>>>>>>>>

“Let’s do it differently this time.“ 

Azriel is standing so close, his chest almost touching yours and even though you have hugged him the day before, this feels different now. More intimate. Yesterday his arms offered comfort as you cried, today … it feels different.

“Close your eyes,” he murmurs. “Feel the way the wood feels beneath your fingertips. Listen to it, feel it, imagine it.”

You let your fingertips brush over the wood until you feel a much bigger hand wrap around your, its calluses scraping against your skin. Azriel is guiding your hand over the beam, slow and deliberate. 

“Think about how you feel, think about how it will feel beneath your feet, imagine yourself walking over it. Be in the moment and forget about everything else, about your fear.“

Easier said than done, you want to say, but you allow yourself to trust him, to follow his lead and let his words settle into you. 

Your fingers curl around the edge of the beam as your imagination sharpens. You have done a lot more grounding and balancing exercises in the days between your almost-fall and today. The confidence hasn’t returned fully, but partly and so you find yourself standing right next to the beam once more, ready to face it again. Soon. Not yet.

“You don’t have to see it. You just have to feel it,“ he whispers and he is so close you can feel his breath against your ear. “Be in the moment and feel it, every step. And when you’re ready, we’ll try again.“

You do as he tells you, almost as if becoming one with the beam. Underneath your palm you feel the faint humming of the wood, and become hyper aware of ever little splinter, every hole and every fibre.

Your breath evens out, your mind sharp and focused, the task ahead a clear vision within your brain and a sense of willingness fills you.

You want to do it. You want to manage walking this beam. Not for anyone but only for yourself. You want to prove it to yourself that you are ready, that you can do it.

And so, in a voice full of confidence, you say, "I‘m ready to try again."

A proud hum sounds from Azriel, his hand slipping away from yours so he can give you space to turn. He once again helps you climb the few steps, and so you find yourself in a similar position again as a few days ago. But this time you won’t let your fear win.

Your breathing steadies as you place one foot in front of the other and take a small break, balancing yourself in the moment, feeling the wood beneath your bare foot, becoming one with the obstacle ahead of you.

"I know you can do it," Azriel says from beside you, his presence as grounding as ever. "Don’t let your fear win. Never let it take the upper hand."

Determination takes root in your chest, and you step forward, each movement deliberate, strong and still careful.

"Use your senses,“ Azriel says. "You may not be able to see, but you can always rely on your hearing. On what you feel."

Your focus narrows, sharpening as you start to move with the beam — it sways and you sway with it. 

"That’s it!" Gwyn cheers from the other side of it. "Move with it! Find your rhythm."

And you do as told. One step after the other, always in balance, every movement in sync with your breaths. Your puls starts to hum —not with fear, but with confidence— as you walk, forward and forward until you stop. 

You stop and give yourself a short break to arrive in the moment. To grasp what is happening. You’re truly doing this and a smile blooms on your lips.

"Don’t overthink,“ you can hear Azriel say beside you and you give your head a small, barely there shake.

"I don’t,“ you hum. "I’m just enjoying the moment. I can do it!“

If he answers something, you don’t know because you start to walk again, driven by confidence and a fire within your soul that you thought has long died down.

You know it’s only a few more steps, you know it without Azriel having to tell you. You can feel it, you can see it in your mind. Every last step you take is measured, your muscles remembering every movement you practiced even though the beam starts to wobble. 

You won’t stop, you won’t give up and you won’t fall this time. You can feel a small shift, knowing that now you’re almost at the end the beam will start to sway even more. But you’re not afraid. You breathe through it, and keep going.

Until!

Strong arms catch you before you can take the next step, lifting you off the wood and onto the ground, a heartfelt laugh embracing you like a warm coat. "You did it, Y/N! You fucking did it!“

"I did,“ you breathe, and it sounds almost a little like a question. Like you can’t quite believe it. But then joy fills you, every fibre of your being and a smile breaks out on your face. "I did it!“

He takes your hands into his, squeezing them lightly and you can hear the smile in his voice when he says, "Yes, you did it“. 

There’s also pride in the shadowsinger’s voice and it does something to your heart. 

Bliss spreads throughout your entire body, raw and overwhelming, and before you can stop yourself, you rise onto your tiptoes and press a kiss to his cheek—or at least, to where you hope his cheek is. 

He stiffens immediately, you can feel it, his demeanour shifting. 

Azriel’s shadows start to swirl frantically around the two of you as heat flushes your skin.

“I—uh…” His voice falters, and Azriel clears his throat.

If you didn’t know better, you would say you could hear Gwyn snickering in the background. 

The smile on your face turns into a big grin, you just can’t help it. "Thank you, Azriel!“ You take a step closer to him again. "Thank you for helping me and showing me what I am capable of!“

"You don’t need to thank me. This was all your doing! I took no part in what you managed today!“

"But you did, Shadowsinger!“ you insist, closing the distance between you and pressing your palms flat against his chest. "You showed me how to find confidence in myself, you gave me strength and you … sang for me. So let me thank you! Let me show you my gratitude.“

"I sang for you because I wanted to, Y/N. And I helped you because I knew that there was so much you could do and that you have the strength to do something great,“ he hums and it sounds joyful. "But if you insist, will you allow me to take you out for dinner?”

tags (crossed-out I couldn't tag) : @juulle987 @marimorena06 @danikasthings @younxii @nightcourtwritings @mrofontaine @lunalilyf @whor-3-crux @tired-all-the-time @anni-was-here @j-pendragonx @hollyismentallyillhelp @famousbasementpainter @lena-davina @red-highlady @thesugatoyourtae @azrielsbabyg @aroseinvelaris @moony-thoughts @wrensical003 @cherryjain17 @moonfawnx @crushedcloudsx @devilsfoodcake22  @valeridarkness @mulansaucey @cynicalpotato95 @eerievixen @feyretopia @brekkershadowsinger @girasoli-e-sorrisi @kennedy-brooke @highladyofillyria @theworthlessqueen @marina468 @illyrian-dreamer @eos-princess @courtofjurdan @a-frog-with-a-laptop @insufferablebookaddict @cadiawrites @bookishbroadwaybish @tele86 @fuckingsimp4azriel @berryzxx

@cataclysmica @its-sam-allgood @sstrohma @sidthedollface2 @anuttellaa @vaf24 @arcticfoxxes @rcarbo1 @lilah-asteria @velarisnightsky444 @weirdo-fun

[celestiamour]

haiii >_< could i request a myunggi (player 333) x fem reader. reader meets him at the games and falls for her because of the way she takes care of junhee and her baby (player 222)! i hope this isn’t too vague 🙈 do whatever ur heart desires with this!

ft. lee myung-gi x f! reader — squid game

╰₊✧ falling for your kindness towards jun-hee & his faults┊0.5k words

contains: fluff! newly established relationship, past myung-gi/jun-hee but not anymore obviously, reader is very kind

➤ author's note: love girls supporting girls, but the reader is kinder than i am, i would have beat his ass (another short one, i’m so busy omfg i hope to have a proper fic coming soon)

it seemed a little strange to him at first when he realized how much attention he was paying to your interactions with his jun-hee, but truthfully, he was nervous about it all. you had only been dating for two weeks, and he had no idea how you would react to being told that his pregnant ex-fiancee was in these death games with the two of you. he’s surprised you didn’t tear his head off when it was revealed he had a little over a billion won in debt compared to the hundred thousand won he lied to you about, and you were only in this shit because you wanted to help him out too.

it’s only now that he’s noticing that your kindness seemed to have no bounds and that your sincerity was like that of an angel. when you first approached her, he half expected you to start a fight like most of his previous partners did when meeting each other: establishing their position as his girlfriend, telling the other to back up, and maybe even getting physical if they both were in a bad mood.

yet you did none of that, coming to her with all genuine smiles and concern for her well-being.

at first, she was a bit stand-offish for obvious reasons as she’s seen you plenty of times with the ex-youtuber, but once she saw your persistence to make friends with her, she eventually gave in and even smiled that myung-gi is a lucky man for having you in his life. after all, she couldn’t stay indifferent towards someone who went out of her way to help make makeshift accommodations for her pregnancy whether she needed extra food when eating for two, another pillow to sleep comfortably, or a buddy to go to the bathroom with. there was nothing you wouldn’t do for her and sometimes you even spent more time with her than your boyfriend. 

“aren’t you mad?”

“what do you mean?” 

“aren’t you mad at me for having a pregnant ex-fiancee? aren’t you jealous?”

“well, you didn’t know about it until we got here. besides, she said she doesn’t want you back anyway even if you are the father.”

“right, but… what about me keeping the severity of my debts a secret?”

“you didn’t want to worry me, i forgive you! listen, we’re all human and make mistakes, i’m not mad at you about anything. i just want to get out of here alive and use the money we earned surviving to pay everything you owe back then we can start being a real couple without all that on our shoulders.

he stared at you with his mouth slightly agape and shook his head lightly. there was nothing negative in your tone, nothing indicating that you didn’t care or that you just wanted to get the matter over with, you really were accepting the apologies made for his shitty past decisions out of the pure kindness of your heart. it made his own soar like a bird gliding along with the wind, feeling like he had the chance to improve and finally be the man you deserve. 

[pencil-n-pen]

Princess ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚

⊹‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

leon kennedy x fem!reader

Summary: Being an independent woman and a full time student is all fun and games until final’s season. Luckily, your not-quite academic rival Leon Kennedy is there to pick you up when you fall.

cw: Female pronouns and description used for reader but nothing detailed (no skin color, eye color, hair type, body type, etc.) This is basically just an x reader for my independent eldest daughters who do nothing but their absolute best all the time everyday and deep down want a hot guy with beefy arms to let them relax for a minute. So i guess expect the related issues that come with being an eldest daughter?

Tags/tropes: hurt/comfort, dom! leon if you squint, leon’s very touchy, leon being a gentleman!! probably ooc, i kinda struggled finding his voice :/

wc: 3.3k

a/n: wowee so i’m not rlly looking to be a full time author or anything but i could NOT get this idea out of my head and i figured i could give back to the tumblr fic community <3 here’s to everyone who wants hurt/comfort without smut, incest, or a needlessly specific reader! hope everyone’s recovering well from finals!

— ‎ ‧₊˚ 𓂃౨ৎ

The first time it happened, it honestly, truly, was an accident. A mistake, if you will. You would never willingly fall asleep on a random guy at a party. That is all kinds of bad for a number of reasons.

However. There were some… extenuating circumstances.

Finals. They’re a make-or-break for the first semester. Mostly just a break. In the sense that you contemplated how upset your parents would be at you if you dropped out and if the subsequent disowning would be worth it.

You did finals the same way you did everything. You worked. Studied. Borderline obsessed over it. Romanticized it so you could push through when the other’s resolve started dropping. Stayed home. Your friends bemoaned your “no-fun attitude” but they’re crying over their grades and you’re not, so.

Well. Actually you’re definitely crying over your grades, almost every day in fact. But not because they’re bad. Just because you’re tired. Really tired. The kind of tired that makes people have public breakdowns. But you can’t afford to have a public breakdown because you have to succeed at college and you have to work in order to stay on top of your bills and be able to send some money home to your family and make sure you have time to call your parents and make time for your sister to call you and vent because you didn’t have a you at her age and you wish you did so you have to be there for her and your friends need you to be there for them not to mention planning for how you’re going to use your degree after you graduate and—

Most of the time you try not to think about it.

So finals were over. And everyone wanted to celebrate. And you did, you promise. You’re totally the party girl type. Totally. (Maybe if you say it enough times it’ll come true?)

You don’t hate parties. You like dressing up and going out. It’s fun! It’s just… not your idea of an unwind. Not after you nearly ran yourself into the ground for a month straight for the sake of academic validation. You’d prefer to sleep for 72 hours straight. And maybe watch a movie at home in the sweatshirt you cried over your textbooks in. Maybe over a glass of wine? You’re not really sure. Relaxing never really goes well for you. It’s either depression-bed-rotting or full productivity.

Needless to say, you weren’t exactly thrilled to find yourself at this party. You’re not really sure how your friends convinced you.

But you’re here, in makeup and an outfit you like (you’re thankful this isn’t one of the ‘put on a tight dress and dance’ parties) and you just honestly want to go to bed. It’s a house party, so it’s not nearly as crazy as some of the other parties you’ve been (read: dragged) to, but still.

You’re on the couch, ignoring the smell of alcohol in the air and pretending the pounding baseline of the music coming from the speaker in the kitchen isn’t starting to give you a headache.

Ada Wong, a girl you’ve hesitantly dubbed your party friend, is sitting on your left, while the guy you can never quite tell what he is to her, is sitting on your right.

Leon Kennedy.

On a good day, Leon Kennedy is a smart, brooding, annoyingly capable guy who you share some of your classes with. On a bad day, he’s the bane of your existence. On a really bad day, you fantasize about all the ways you could kill him and turn the experience into a really good term paper.

It’s complicated. You’re smart. He’s smart. You tend to clash because neither of you like backing down from a challenge.

But right now, in this moment, at this party, the only thing you can think about is how fucking tired you are and how warm he is.

The music is so loud it drowns everything out in your brain. The few thoughts that make it through the overwhelm of sound are fuzzy and staticky. The cling and slip around in your head like syrup. The worst parts about parties are, funnily enough, working to cancel out the main reason you can’t fall asleep in your own bed at night: overthinking.

That and the fact that you haven’t sleep in forty-eight hours. An energy drink and an iced coffee count as a full nights sleep, right? You’re sure the heart palpitations are normal.

You manage to keep up with the steady flow of the group conversation, but as the night wears on, talking becomes harder and harder and just plain processing the words being said slowly turns into an impossible task. At some point, someone else squeezed onto the couch— you think it might be Chris? Ada did say he was coming late— so now you’re pressed against the one and only Leon Kennedy, and he’s radiating heat like a furnace.

Like you, he opted for a slightly more casual approach to the house party. Of course, he’s a guy, so his wardrobe was probably never that big, but still. It’s nice to see someone else in a sweatshirt and jeans.

You at least put on your favorite jeans! You call them your hot jeans, for self explanatory reasons. So what if you’re wearing an oversized sweatshirt? It’s cold!

You jolt in place, not realizing your eyes had slipped close and the conversation had continued on without you. Something prickles in the back of your head. An instinctual sort of thing.

Don’t fall asleep in public places.

Don’t fall asleep at someone’s house you don’t know.

You know the owner of the house, you think. You’ve been here once or twice. But you don’t know everyone at the party and where your friends have gone because they’re not in the group talking here and you should probably stand up soon, to wake yourself up, don’t let your friends down, don’t be that girl who falls asleep at the party, don’t—

You jolt again.

Wake up. You tell yourself. Leon’s looking at you out of the corner of his eye, but you ignore it.

It feels like a record skip. You’ll blink, and the conversation isn’t the same as when you first closed your eyes. The song isn’t the same. Were the lights always this bright?

“Whew!” Ada whistles from above. When did she stand up? “Someone’s got final’s exhaustion written all over their face!”

The group laughs and you do too, but it sounds different. Leon doesn’t. Why isn’t he laughing?

You jolt again. Harder this one. A full body shake. You wince as your knee knocks into Leon’s.

“Sorr—“

“Stop that.” He grumbles, and oh. A warm, solid hand snakes around your waist and pulls you closer. Closed to that warm, stupidly comfortable side.

This is wrong. It’s Leon. It’s Leon. You can’t. And this is a party, and your friends are here—

“Stop being stupid,” You can feel his chest rumble from where your cheek is pressed flush against it, and when did that happen? He picks up your left arm and drapes it across his stomach, then picks up your right arm and wraps it around his lower pack. “Squeeze.”

You listen, and wow. Who has time to go to the gym this much and be an academic rival? You feel like you’re slacking. Maybe you need to make time to get some—

“I can hear you thinking,” He says, voice deep and rumbly. It’s honestly a miracle you can hear him over the music. It’s probably because your face is pressed against his chest. If you strain, you can feel the dull thud of his heart.

“You have a heart?” You say, half-delirious with exhaustion. It comes out more as a question than a statement

“Mhm,” He rumbles. “I am in possession of one. Great observation princess.”

You frown into his chest. “Why are you always so mean? You call me that stupid name. I’m not a princess.”

“I’m not mean. Whoever said princess was a mean nickname? You decided that on your own.”

“Then how come you call me that?”

“Because,” He huffs, repositioning to a more slouched position that’s more comfortable for your neck. The arm tightens around your waist.

It’s nice. It’s possessive. Protective. No one’s ever really done that for you before. Usually it’s you doing the protecting.

You don’t want to relax. You can’t. You can’t.

“Because,” He continues, “Princesses need to be taken care of. Especially smart, stubborn princesses who never pause for one second. Not even when they should.”

You should get up. Apologize for how weird you’re being. Have another coffee or energy drink. Join the party. Do something that isn’t this.

“Go to sleep,” He says, his voice like a warm blanket settling and slipping into your mind. “Nothing‘s going to happen to you while I’m here. No one is going to be mad at you for sleeping. And if they are, I’ll kick their ass. Go to sleep.”

It’s easy to give in after that.

You sag, boneless. Like a puppet with it’s strings cut. You inhale deeply, breathing in the deep, rich scent that’s distinctly Leon.

Just for a few minutes. Because Leon’s watching. He won’t let something happen to you. Just for a few minutes. You’ll get up soon. You will.

He tucks you closer to him. “Sleep.”

You’re out like a light.

—

“No way, she’s actually asleep?”

“Holy shit Leon, did you drug her?”

“I did not.”

“Well, thanks, for whatever weird magic-spell you cast. Seriously. We’re all starting to get worried about her. She doesn’t take any breaks and she doesn’t let anyone help. Last week a librarian found her asleep on the printer. Fully standing.”

“Hmm.”

“I’m going to start inviting you to our apartment if it means she’ll actually get some fucking sleep. It’s unsettling finding her in the same position as when I left like, six hours beforehand.”

“Don’t worry. She’s in good hands.”

—

It’s horrific, running into him in the library.

What makes it more horrible is the fact that you’re ugly crying silently in the English textbook section, because it’s always empty. You’re ugly crying in the English textbook section of the university library and Leon Kennedy just walked into the aisle.

You sniff, lifting your head from your knees to stare up at him from the ground. He has a knack for finding you at your lowest, it would seem.

“We’ve got to stop seeing each other like this, princess.”

“Oh?” You sniff hard, running a hand across your face as if that will clear up your red rimmed, puffy eyes, the tear tracks on your face, or the flush on your nose. The action at least wipes away the snot. “I wasn’t aware you ever fell asleep on me at a party. Did I ever find you crying in the English textbook section of the library?”

He tilts his head. “Why the English textbook section? It’s one of your best subjects.”

“It’s the emptiest section. Plus, anyone looking for an English textbook at this hour isn’t going to bat an eye at me.” You wrap your arms around your legs and hug them to your chest. “What are you doing here?”

“One of your roommates called Ada. They said you haven’t been home since this morning. They thought you might’ve been at hers, or with me.”

You snort. “It’s like they don’t even know me.”

He rolls his eyes. “I think they were hoping you’d be there. I think anyone who knows you knew you’d be here.”

“Crying in the English section?”

“In the library, dumbass.”

He stalks forward, leaning back against the bookshelf across from you and sliding his hands into his sweatpants pockets.

“Tell me. Is your pathological avoidance to asking for help conscious or not?”

You kick out, one shoed foot catching him in the shins. “Dick.”

He shrugs. “Just want to know. I can’t exactly gloat over scoring two points above you if you’re not in top form. I want a fair fight.”

“Is that what you're here for?” You ask suddenly, everything in your body going rigid. “You think this is funny?”

“No,” He says calmly. “I’m here because you’re being stupid again. You know what’s not healthy, or smart?”

He gestures to you. You, sitting on the floor, tears drying on your face. “This. Going out to parties to make your friends happy when you should be at home, sleeping. Studying for so long you end up looking like your boyfriend of eight years just broke up with you. Come on, princess. Where’s those brains you brag about?”

“They’re up here,” You tap your forehead. Against your will, your eyes burn, tears welling up, your face tightening. “And they’re tired.”

You drop your head into your hands, forgoing your silent crying of earlier in the place of open mouth sobbing. You can’t help it. You’re just so tired. So done with it all. With trying to keep up, with trying to make space, with trying to make time. With doing your best and it not being enough. You’re tired of being tired.

“Annnd there it is. Come here.”

He lowers himself to the floor next to you, tucking you close in a similar fashion as that night at the party.

“Come on, same thing as before. Hold onto me. Give yourself a minute.”

You wrap your arms around his middle, same way as last time, burying your face into his shoulder. Someone could see. Someone you know might see you crying and think—

He reaches a hand up and pulls the hood of your sweatshirt over your head.

“There. Now no one can see your face. Stop worrying. Just cry, princess.”

You sniffle. “I’m getting snot on your sweatshirt.”

“It’s had worse on it.”

“Gross.”

You can practically feel the eye roll. “Can you stop being dirty-minded and focus on something productive? Like crying? Or not crying, if that would make you feel better.”

You shift, so your head is lying against his shoulder instead of smashed into it like before.

“Why do you care if I feel better?”

Why do you care?

He shrugs against you.

“Told you,” He pushes your hood back a bit, tapping you on the forehead with his pointer finger. “My competition’s no fun if she’s not taking care of herself. How else is she gonna kick my ass?”

“I can take care of myself just fine. I don’t need you to swoop in here, Leon.”

“Mhm,” He says. “And i’m sure you do great at it, considering you’re still alive and kicking my ass at those stupid socratic seminars. Consider this… self-care. In the face mask, getting your nails done way.”

“Who taught you self care?”

“Ada. We have face mask nights.”

You jolt up. “Is she—“

“She’s not my girlfriend, we’re not fucking, no she’s not going to be upset or care in any way about this. Calm down.”

You begrudgingly settle back against him.

“If anything,” He continues. “She’ll be excited to see you at more parties in the coming months.”

You frown. “I never said—“

“You only go to parties if your friends physically drag you or when you feel confident enough in your grades and the general state of your life. It’s really easy to tell which version of you shows up to the party. It’s the way you dress.”

“How so?”

He shifts slightly. Guilt twinges in your stomach as you realize how uncomfortable he must be.

“You wear your pick-me-up pants when you’re dragged there. The ones that make your ass look great.”

You sit up with a gasp. “My hot pants?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Is that what you call them?”

Your brain catches up to the rest of what he said. “Hold on. Did you just say—“

“I said what I said. I’m assuming there’s a reason you call them your hot pants.”

He smirks, and you flush.

“Moving onto more pressing matters,” He tilts his head at you. “You have two options this evening. Either I take you back to your place and you sleep in your own bed, or you come to my place and we binge watch the Oceans movies until you fall asleep.”

“How did you know I like the—“

“The icebreaker for club thing. You said they were your favorite movies.”

You look up at him. “You remembered?”

“You were wearing your hot jeans.”

“You’re the worst.”

He scans your face for a moment, eyes sparking with mirth and a little something less innocent. “Maybe.”

You sigh and lean back against him, exhaustion from all your crying hitting you at once.

“Nuh-uh, no sleeping here. You gotta pick one. My place or yours?”

You frown into his shoulder. “Ugh. Fine. Yours, but only because I wanna watch the Ocean’s movies. You better not have a disgusting frat house.”

“I do not. I do have popcorn and ice cream.”

“Ada bought those, didn’t she?”

“Nope,” He says, nudging you with his shoulder to stand. You clamber in gracefully to your feet, your head starting to pound. “Chris likes to have movie nights. It pays to be well stocked.”

Your cheeks warm as a large, steadying hand finds its way to the small of your back. “How many of my friends are you friends with?”

“I was friends with them first.”

“Ass.”

He chuckles incredulously. “For having friends?”

“Yes,” You say, letting him pull you to his side while you walk to your table where you left your stuff. Probably not the best idea to leave your entire net-worth unattended, but whatever. You were going through it. “How dare you.”

“Mmm. I see. My apologies, princess. I’ll tell Chris and Ada.”

“You get on that.”

You can’t help but smile as he helps you pack up your things, passing you items across the table and carefully zipping up your pencil case.

“Don’t touch my papers, I have a system.”

“Is the system absolute chaos?”

“Shut up.”

Once everything is packed up, you zip up your backpack, but before you can sling it on, Leon’s arm darts out and snags it right out from under you.

Your expression grows pinched. “I can carry my own bag, Leon.”

“I know you can.”

“Give me my bag.”

“No.”

You groan. “Why do you want to carry my bag?”

“See, there’s this thing called chivalry—“

“Oh my god, shut up. When have you and chivalry ever been synonymous?”

He shrugs. “Ever since I met the girl in the hot jeans who regularly kicks my ass academically.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Mmm,” He hums, wrapping an arm around your waist and walking you towards the doors to the library. “And you’re stubborn. Come on. Brad Pitt and George Clooney are waiting for you.”

You sigh dramatically, hiding a small smile in your hand.

Maybe you could get used to this.

♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ

[ghostmoon1]

heard you were taking requests! Was wondering if you could do anything about Ghost x shy reader? maybe something about them being shy towards each other...that would be so cute, thank you!!

Hello anon!!

Sorry for taking so long to answer, motivation has been biting my ass lately, but I wanted to get this done for you!! If you want me to add more to it, feel free to request more, I love getting requests!! You have no idea how big of a smile I get seeing a notif pop up in my inbox!! Anyway, here I have a bit for you!! Enjoy <3

Ghost x Shy!Reader

Ghost struggles with physical affection, in some way or another. Not so much when you are alone- but when he’s around others. If anything, he’s shy about it. He wants nothing more than to give you the biggest hugs in public and kiss you like nobody is watching, but he's practically scared. He doesn’t care if others see, but what about you? Is that something you want? He will give you a small peck on the cheek in public, if you are lucky a peck on the lips. As soon as the blush creeps onto your cheeks, he suddenly feels his cheeks become warmer, unable to pull his eyes away from yours as he adores you for a moment before looking away all flustered, embarrassed and awkward. Who knew a sweet doll like yourself could do this to a man like Simon Riley?

He knows how often you would love to ask for something, even if it's small. He usually watches as you have an internal battle with yourself, bouncing back and forth between the idea of actually asking him or just letting it slide and dealing with it. So, whenever you're both out shopping and he watches your eyes drawn to this one plushie over and over, opening your mouth to speak but clamping it shut seconds later, he knows what he has to do. Without a word he reaches past your shoulder, grabs the stuffed toy and places it in the basket, smiling underneath his mask as you stutter in surprise, trying to convince him that it’s not needed weakly. He cuts you off, fingers gently taking your chin and lifting your head to look into his eyes, “I saw you eyeing it off doll, we’re getting it,” is all he says before strolling through the isles once again, leaving you a blushing mess until you scramble to catch up with him. You just can’t see the small amount of blush that has blossomed over his cheeks, flustered and giddy inside after seeing your reaction.

At home, when you both are snuggled up on the couch together watching a movie, he takes the opportunity to see you blush even more than he usually does. He pulls you slightly closer, letting out a long sigh as he admires you for a moment. He lifts your chin for a kiss, lips melting against yours as he savours everything about you. “You're beautiful…” he starts, peppering kisses over your face and relishing in the way you giggle and blush. “Just gorgeous… I could play with your hair all day,” he continues, sweeping a hand through your hair to prove his point. He thrives in way that you blush, trying to bury your face back into his chest, only for him to continue his array of compliments, seeing his perfect doll go all red and embarrassed.

Don’t start with how he treats you at takeout and restaurants. He doesn’t need his darling partner feeling a lil nervous about ordering their food! He holds your hand securely the whole time, leaning down to murmur in your ear, asking you what you’d like. The price? Don’t even look at that doll, he's got it covered. You’re not hungry? He’ll buy extra for himself so you can pick a few things off his plate. He orders with, well what you could call pride. He’s ordering for his wife/husband. His future wife/husband. If you both go to your usual place, he knows your order off by heart, even the small changes that you get that no one else would normally think of. He’s got you covered doll.

[tinythebunni]

older rafe and his disgustingly young gf!

Rafe was a busy, busy man. He was the CEO of a company so he was constantly busy. He still had to take care of his little sister Wheezie, but with his busy schedule he just couldn’t!

which is where you came in. Rafe hired you to babysit Wheezie while he worked his shifts. you only ever had a real conversation with Rafe during the interview. You were so nervous and panting because he just kept gazing at you in ways that made you feel all hot and bothered!

it didn’t help the shirt you wore was basically bursting at the seems! you took it to a dry cleaners the day before but they screwed up. :( Rafe couldn’t keep his eyes off you, palming himself throughout the whole interview. Using all of his willpower to stop from jumping over the table and fucking you right there. his questions were a bit redundant but he needed to keep himself calm. He knew he had to have you, so he hired you on the spot and that was that!

You rarely saw Rafe, only getting a few short glimpses before he left for work in the morning! when your babysitting was over he would come home, pay you, and walk upstairs without a word. it made you a lil upset, did he just not want you anymore? you knew the interview wasn’t just your imagination.

but what you didn’t know is that he did want you. so fucking bad. he had to rush up the stairs so he wouldn’t act on his impulses. but it was just so fucking hard with the skirts you wore and the pretty lashes that made every blink you took look like you were begging.

he had to get away from you as quickly as possible so he wouldn’t ruin what little respect you probably had for him.

eventually you got tired of it and just wanted him, regardless of the punishment. you started calling him Mr. Cameron and pushing him for small talk. everytime he responded you’d look up at him with your doe eyes and hands behind your back. pushing your chest out just a little bit and appearing submissive for him. you knew how men worked!

he got antsy very very quickly. Rafe loved how eager to please you looked, how dumb and fuckable you seemed to get when he was around. but he couldn’t ruin you. touching you in every way he wanted could ruin his reputation, but honestly he didn’t care anymore.

Rafe came home late one day, a hard meeting with an asshole CEO of another company ending in a yelling match, and having to come home just to remember Wheezie was at a friends house.

He thought you’d be gone by now, considering there was nothing left for you to do. but he was so fucking wrong. Rafe walked into the kitchen, looking for his bourbon. after pouring himself a glass, he walked into the dining room just to see you on the floor cleaning up.

the clothes you were in didn’t help, they fit you like a glove and leaved almost nothing to the imagination. you had on a tiny pink skirt, a lacy top with buttons down to the hem, and one of his jackets on.

you looked up, a smirk almost rising to your lips, but you knew you had to keep the act up.

“oh my! ‘m so sorry Mr. Cameron! i was trying to clean up the house for you but i broke a glass. and it was so cold i thought maybe it would be okay if i wore your jacket but i can-“

“shut the fuck up.” Rafe snapped. all patience lost. he took of his coat and unbuttoned his cuffs. you went to stand up but he stopped you.

“did i tell you to get up?” you shook your head, letting it drop back down. “exactly, stay on the fucking floor”

you clasped your hands in your lap, gazing down. Rafe circled around you as if to figure out his next move, while you tried not to make one.

“do you think this is funny? teasing me and practically whoring yourself out just to see if i’ll finally touch you?” you glanced up, wanting to explain yourself but he stopped you.

“eyes down. or you’ll be leaving here high and dry without my hands on you.” you listened to his every word, wanting nothing less than to please him so you could get exactly what you wanted.

Rafe walked over to a chair at the head of the table and sat down. he spread his legs and slouched, allowing yourself to see the bulge poking out of his dress pants. “come here.” he whispered. you hesitated for a second, before moving to stand once more.

“Jesus fucking Christ, how many times do i have to say don’t fucking stand up. i want you to crawl like the needy puppy you are.”

crawling over to him, you tried your best to keep your head down and stay quiet. you whimpered only slightly when you realized how dirty your knees must be.

Rafe lifted your head by placing his thumb under your chin. he leaned down, pressing a kiss to your lips. you moved closer, eager to get more of him, but he didn’t let you.

he shoved you back, landing on your palms with your chest pushed in the air. Rafe slowly unbuckled his pants, pulling off his belt. he stood up and grabbed you with ease, placing you on his lap and sitting down.

“c’mon baby take what you need. i’ll be nice from now on, swear.”

you nodded eagerly, unzipping his pants and pulling him out of his boxers. his tip was a flushed shade of pink, the slightest bit of precum leaking from the head.

completely losing your confident facade from early and stuttering only slightly you stroked him slowly, watching as his head tilted back in pleasure.

“can i suck you off please? wanna taste you!” you pleaded, cheeks flushed with need.

“nah baby, wanna cum inside you. just lemme fuck you first and we’ll see about that afterwards.” he mumbled, tapping your hips twice to get you to lift up.

he moved your panties to the side, sliding inside you without any warning. the pain was pleasurable and uncomfortable at the same time.

the first few movements of yours were slow, with him not almost as if he was still hesitant. still gripping onto the last little bit of decorum he had. but the second you let out that sickeningly sweet moan right by his ear, he couldn’t take it anymore.

Rafe grabbed your hips fucking up into without a care in the world. you moaned out loud, echoing through the house. tears welled in your eyes from the sheer pleasure Rafe was giving you. he moved his left hand to arch your back onto his chest, forcing his cock deeper into you.

“n-need you to cum first pup, don’t care about nutting right now. wanna feel ‘ya, fuck, cumming around my tip!”

you could only nod your head, the slightest bit of drool dripping out of your mouth. Rafe watched it fall, licking it up and moaning at the taste of you. he was so fucking gross.

“pleasepleaseplease baby, lemme kiss you”he mumbled against your lips, pressing closer and closer as he awaited your response. you were so fucked out you could barely respond!

he slapped your cheek, thrusting inside you with hard fast strokes, jackhammering into you.

“words baby, use them”

you whined out a yes and pressed your lips to his, surely bruising them.

Rafe snuck a hand around your front to press his thumb to your clit, putting pressure on it before rubbing it in circles. the hand he kept on your hip made its way up to your neck, choking you in the best way.

the difficulty and strain of not being able to breathe fully made your eyes roll to the back of your head. you could barely think with the lack of oxygen reaching your brain. Rafe watched as your eyes glazed over, smirking when he saw you wheeze out a whimper. loosening his grip only slightly, he pulled you closer to him.

“cum for me in the next 10 seconds or you won’t be able to breathe until i’m done.” he whispered in your ear.

starting the countdown, he watched as your hips met his every thrust. by the time he got to 6 you were ready to black out, but that rush of euphoria hit and you spasmed on top of him.

your back arched, a scream combined with a moan wrenching itself out of your throat.

the strength of your orgasm making you slump against him, coaxing his orgasm as he saw how pliant you became against him.

he rubbed your back, kissing up your neck as he let you fall asleep and letting your whole body become relaxed. Rafe patted down your ruffled hair and stayed inside of you, letting his cum plug you up. you were gonna be his forever.