#v nice and amber like

[hellishjoel]

wild like the west

3.3k / pairing: cowboy!joel miller x cowgirl!reader

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summary: joel and his cowgirl warnings/information:  MA 18+ (minors DNI), implied but unspecified age gap, joel is technically reader's boss (so power dynamic stuff), swearing, dirty talk, pet names (baby girl, brat, etc.), unprotected p in v, pussy pronouns, asphyxiation kink, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, clean up on aisle reader's stomach, reader is described having hair but otherwise (I believe) reader is a blank slate, no use of y/n, barely edited A/N: I unfortunately have not stopped thinking about a game joel miller x yellowstone crossover, and I feel like he would like this to be his long, happy life. I also haven't written for joel since may which feels like a sin! sorry baby!

It doesn’t matter how many ass bruises you get, or the pain of repeated thrashes to your knees from getting bucked off; this unruly horse will bend its spirit to your will. 

Half the job of purchasing new horses for the Miller Ridge Ranch is breaking them in like a pair of new shoes. 

Any cowboy, or for you, cowgirl, knows that a horse can sense your personality and fear from a mile away. If you sprout fear, it won’t trust you to be the guide on its back. It’s a mutual thing to trust one another. It’s the trust Joel thrust upon you after loyally working at the ranch for a handful of years. Sure, you were young, but you had a good head on your shoulders.

He perches his cowboy boot on the low fence rail, teeth gnawing at a toothpick as he watches you with careful eyes. The morning dew settles over the long grass and tall trees, untouched by man, fostered by nature. With the sun clawing at the horizon, the land turns from a pale blue to a beaming orange glow.  It’s beautiful here, peaceful. You imagine this is the life that Joel always wanted, craved. He’s not from around here, he’s got too much Southern twang to be from these northern Montana woods. 

Life guided him up here and he never turned back. 

You can feel the horse grow agitated under your haunches, whinnying with anxiety as it takes a few rough steps backward in the ground-up dirt. 

“S’okay, boy, take it easy, easy,” you coo in a gentle voice that lets the horse breathe through its panic. You grip the colt’s mane at the very base of his neck, right by the horn of your saddle, gently scratching that sweet spot that seems to bring him some tranquility.

You’re the only one who seems to calm these beautiful boys. 

“You got a habit of gettin’ in’ta trouble before it even knows to start lookin’ for ya.” Joel’s southern drawl rumbles deep from his chest, stepping into the training ring and crooking his first two fingers in your direction. 

“I got it, Joel,” you say insistently, guiding the horse by a little squeeze of your boots to its belly in Joel’s direction. 

“Know ya do.” Joel stops at the horse’s chest and pats its neck, large and calloused hand stroking down its coarse mane as he stares up at you, squinting from the morning sunlight. 

His eyes are starkly brilliant in this light, typically a dark brown, now a glowy amber under the brim of his black cowboy hat. “You know that part of learnin’ how to be a cowboy is lettin’ them break in their own horse. Hop down.”

A sigh leaves your parted lips as you unhook one boot from the stirrups and throw yourself off. Taking the reigns, you walk with Joel back to the main fence. 

“You’re too nice to ‘em. I hired you to be a bit more…” He pauses indefinitely, tilting his head.

“Ruthless. I know.” Your eyes connect, both hardened after years of this long life. One day of being a cowboy felt like a year at any other job. 

The plan was plain and simple, a route you’d taken a hundred times with a crew that changed on and off for the past couple of years. The cattle were in need of fresh resources, lush grass to graze on, and streams of pristine crystal water. Up through the valley they’d go. 

The cowboys and cowgirls were gathered on their horses, Joel sat atop his beautiful black mare, eyes piercing his crew even behind his tinted sunglasses. Any season besides summer in this state demanded thick, warm work wear. Joel adorned a chocolate brown Carhartt and thick denim jeans under old, worn-out brown chaps. 

“I want Wyatt and Jack to take front, Bo and Sadie, swing, Jess and June on the flank, Tucker and Sammy on the drag. Wear your bandanas, it’s gonna get dusty back there,” your eyes flick up to a string of confused faces, “any questions?” 

“Why do we have to go through the valley? We’d have to push hundreds of cows through open water,” Bo mutters, disdain for a woman making all these choices for him, perhaps. 

“Yeah, n’I can’t swim. Never learned.” Another pipes in. 

“Then you’re a goddamn idiot,” old man Wyatt gurgles up a chuckle. Wyatt has been a cowboy longer than you have been alive. He raised you up to be tough with a streak of kindness that could never be washed away. He gives you a tight nod of reassurance as you sigh weakly. 

All this tomfoolery seems to be a bit much for Joel’s taste. “She’s takin’ questions about the plan, not your ‘pinions on it. I tell her what to do, she tells ya’ll what to do. You question her, you question me. So do as she says, or you answer to me.”

Joel’s always had a tight hand on the crew. He intimidates them. He is their boss, after all. They have a problem with you or this ranch or anyone else, they answer to him. Joel takes off his sunglasses and narrows his eyes on Bo, the newest cowboy with a pretty big mouth on him who bucks just as bad as your new colts. And his dead eyes are set on you. 

The rest of the crew sets off towards the direction of the cattle herd, everyone except Bo. 

Your head jerks upward in his direction, your own eyes narrowed. “You wanna say somethin’?” You ride alongside Bo, who seems to be wrestling with his stupid thoughts. But before he gets a chance to say anything, Joel intervenes. 

“Got a fight in you? It starts an’ ends with me.”

Bo looks between both of you, simply scoffing before he backs his horse off and trots along towards the crew. 

The view from the top of the valley is beautiful, all yellow and golden, with a pale blue sky and tall trees that harbor the secrets of the forest. Joel used to tell you it would whisper to him, warn him. Your chestnut-colored horse stands tall next to Joel’s, and both of you are overseeing the herd and the crew working together. 

“Not as bad as I thought this was gonna be,” Joel mutters, turning his head in your direction. You’re unrecognizably quiet. He’s never known you to be so still. 

He watches as your fingers anxiously twirl your horse’s mane. “You undermine me in front of them, and they don’t respect me, Joel.” 

So that’s what got you so stiff. He takes in a deep breath of mountain air, crossing his wrists over the horn of his saddle and glancing over at you out of the corner of his eye. Your hair blows in the wind, gentle and flowing. Almost graceful if it wasn’t in this wild west. Your beauty was city beauty, he was surprised you ever found your way out here. 

“Bo’s as green as grass. He needs to learn not t’talk to you like that. And if he needs to learn from me, so be it.”

Keeping your lips zipped, your eyes scan the points that use the dogs to guide the herd in the right direction. The swings and flanks work the mid to back-mid to maintain movement, and the drags stationed at the back ensure that any loose stragglers keep up. 

Joel rolls his eyes and sighs, reaching his hand across to your horse’s reigns, keeping your horse tucked to his side. 

“C’mon, Cowgirl. Spit it out.” 

“You go about defendin’ me, it looks like we’re sleepin’ together,” you gripe, “and I don’t need our crew slingin’ the slander that I got my job fuckin’ the boss. I don’t want that shit, Joel.”

Joel shifts his jaw from side to side, silent as he usually is. His tongue muscles over the right words, the words that will settle that ball of uncertainty you have nestled in your gut. 

He settles on the truth. 

“We are sleepin’ together.” 

Shaking your head, you steal your reigns back from Joel and gently nuzzle your boots against the horse’s underbelly. “Well, maybe that should end.” 

Joel watches on with a small smirk as your horse is set in motion down the grassy hill. He shouts loud enough for his voice to carry down from the high ground. “You set those boys straight, or I’ll have to keep doin’ it for ya.”

You sling back your middle finger in his direction, both of your horses riding side by side now as you follow the crew through to the valley. 

Joel sighs upon entering his large, private cabin, resting his cowboy hat to air out on a hook by the front door. His clothes wreak of his musky sweat, and the shower calls his name. He walks stiffly. Joel’s thick thigh muscles are as strong as iron from riding his horse, and his back cracks each time he inhales.

But he can’t deny that this life was made for him. 

Training to be a carpenter, earning pennies on the dollar to work in the hot Texas sun, and for what? Building someone else’s dream property? He had his own dreams. 

The ranch was his dream.

He always had a profound appreciation for nature and the outdoors. 

Fuck the city, fuck car horns honking obnoxiously, fuck the traffic. He found more fulfillment in listening to the wind flutter through the trees and would much rather hear the moos of his cattle than impatient commuters at six in the morning. 

Plus, he’s never felt more free or independent. This was his land, and he made the decisions on how it was run. Hiring the sassy cowgirl from the metropolis just happened to be a nice bonus on lonely nights when there wasn’t much left to his whiskey bottle, and the ride into town was more than twenty minutes for a new one. She sated him all the same, better, even.  

Despite years of riding and wrangling, you’re so fucking soft. You have soft eyes, a pretty voice, and satiny thighs. Your lips are plush against his weathered ones, and you don’t seem to mind sitting in his lap with his rougher-than-barbwire hands feeling over your body. 

But in turn, you’ve made a little soft spot in his wild like the west heart of his. And he swore he’d never settle down; you seem to have the same intentions. 

Things were easy. Nice and easy. Almost routine. 

The bunkhouse would be busy with cowboys and cowgirls playing card games, drinking their beers, singing to the music on the radio, and talking nonsense. You’d slip out after dark and wind up upstairs in his bed. 

He recalls you saying something about how his bed is more comfy than the ones in the bunkhouse. 

“Whatever you say, darlin’.” 

Tonight was no different. Fresh from his shower with a towel secured low on his waist, he hums curiously at the sight of you sprawled out across his bed. No more than a minute later, you are tugging it loose from his frame and letting it pool around his ankles. 

“Thought you said you were done,” Joel muses with a hint of teasing. You sit up from the bed on your knees and wrap your arms around his broad trap and shoulder muscles. 

“I ain’t a quitter,” you mutter against Joel’s mouth, feeling his tongue glide along yours as he explores you freely. 

He sheds your clothes, feeling your freshly showered skin and hair under his rough palms. He can’t help but touch you like you’re his, like he owns you. But no man can possess the wind. 

You kiss as he slips you under the bed’s cool sheets, drunk on the way you move so pliantly under his guidance. His lips move to the slope of your neck, his greying whiskers scratching your skin before he washes over the irritation with more kisses. 

Joel’s hands slip between your legs, cupping your clothed center in one hand. Your eyes light up at the friction, mewling up a moan of his name as he massages over the wet spot growing on your panties. 

“She’s already soaked, darlin’. You been thinkin’ ‘bout this?” Joel muses, sitting up properly to peel your shirt off your body, two fingers curling around the hem of your panties and chucking them mindlessly on the floor. 

“Joel,” you whisper breathlessly as he’s about to slip down between those pretty legs of yours. 

“What?” He asks, damn near annoyed. 

“I can’t wait,” you beg breathlessly, his eyes meeting yours. “I-I can’t, I’m beggin’ you, please. It’s been a long day.” 

Joel sighs but ultimately nods. It’s not what he wants, but sometimes you both need a quick fix. 

Joel’s body parts your legs, a grunt escaping the depth of his throat as he ruts his hips against your own. 

“Good idea,” he mutters against your mouth, leaning down and distracting himself with your kisses as he lines his length up and down your soaking center. 

You sharply inhale as he enters and the sound is music to his ears. He feels your nails carving into his back muscles as he sinks himself in deeper deeper deeper, both of you panting with eagerness by the time his hips are flush with your own, lost in where you end and he begins.

You let out a string of moans as he reels himself back, only to return to your depths with a snap of his hips that releases a shrill whine of his name from your throat. His forearms are buried in the fluff of the pillows on either side of your head, forehead against forehead, his hips grinding against you now. 

The friction is enough to make your head spin. You can feel the coarse hair of his happy trail tickling your already anxious pearl. 

“Fuck,” you huff out, letting your hands slip down his back, knowing that if you want him to pick up the pace, you’ll have to ignite his fire. In one quick movement, your hands drag themselves up Joel’s back, your nails creating etched lines that raise red once you finish at the very tops of his shoulders. 

Joel releases a long, low groan in response as his eyes snap open to meet yours. The sting of pain creates heat along Joel’s spine. His jaw is wound tight as he brings his large hand to wrap around your pretty throat, thumb on your chin to force you into staring straight at him. 

“Such a goddamn brat,” he growls, adding pressure to the column of your throat as he begins to pound into you harder and harder with each thrust of his hips. You cry out his name, a cacophony of your panting moans and your slick squelching against his hips fill your ears. The ecstasy of losing just a smidge of air is enough to make your eyes roll into the back of your head. 

He’s obsessed with the way your eyes gloss over in lust, your body jerking up the bed with each powerful thrust he gives you. Your mouth hangs open, gasping for air that’s just out of your reach. 

“You take it, baby girl, you keep takin’ it. She’s so fuckin’- goddamit, so fuckin’ good for me,” he pants, feeling the warm air dissolve against your skin as Joel begins to swell fatter inside of you. 

Perfectly slick and warm, he loses himself in your pussy. You squeeze and choke him, his orgasm only building as you whimper how good he feels. 

“Holy fuck, Joel, please please please, right there, ohmygod you’re gonna make me-” you gasp, your back arching off the mattress as you grip onto his forearm that’s still holding your delicate throat, your other hand gripping the hair at the nape of his neck. He knows to squeeze a little harder as you fall apart, the euphoria of the combination sending you over the edge. 

Joel’s holding on for dear life, always focused on putting you first, always trying to prove your jokes of him being an old man wrong. But he can’t deny he’s nearly finished twice now, your pretty cunt all nice and warm for him. 

What’s wrong with pushing you over the edge a little?

Joel abandons the hold on your throat as you still are witnessing the aftershocks of your orgasm, his two thick fingers circling over your swollen clit. 

Joel smirks as your eyes snap open, your jaw dropping wide as you silently scream in pleasure. He nods sadistically, smirking as he overstimulates your already twitchy clit.

“You’re gonna give me another, right here, right now,” Joel grunts, stilling his hips as he’s buried to the hilt inside you, feeling your pussy clench around his cock as your gasps and strangled moans fill the room. 

“Fuck, Joel I don’t think I can,” you cry out, bracing the wrist of the hand that’s still working figure-eights around your pearl. Joel watches as your chest rises and falls quickly, nipples at peaks as you continue to clench repeatedly around his cock. 

 “Know you can, baby, cum on this cock again. You’re a strong cowgirl, ain’t’cha? You been thinkin’ ‘bout this all day, getting this pretty girl drilled by me, know ya have.”

And he’s right. Shamefully so. Denying Joel looks good in and out of his cowboy attire is just nonsense. The way he rides his horse with his thighs snagged tight around its middle, gnawing on his toothpicks to ward off the need to smoke a cigarette or chew; at this point, it’s everything that he does that turns you on. 

And maybe that’s why it’s so easy to give him a second one. 

Your nails pierce into his skin as your hands grip his biceps, mewling and moaning something wrecked, feeling the warmth gather deep in your belly once more. 

“Keep fuckin’ me, I didn’t say to stop,” you pant.

Joel disguises his laughter by meeting your lips with his own, giving you messy kisses that taste better than perfect ones. His hips and fingers work in tandem to force you over the edge. You’re shaking under him, your thigh muscles twitching with excitement, legs wrapping around his middle as he grows closer to his own finish. 

Just as he feels like he’s going to give way, he can feel your pussy clenching around his aching cock, his tip brushing so perfectly against that spongy spot that sets your insides alight. 

“Fuck,” he grits, ripping himself loose of your perfectly wasted cunt as he yanks over his length. One, two, three more times, and he’s spilling warm spend across your belly. The pretty splatters are like a Jackson Pollock. He stares in awe at how pretty you look getting finished on. 

The bed dips as he falls into place beside you. He doesn’t lay idle. He reaches for some tissues from his bedside table, politely wiping away his mess as you stare at him with lustful eyes. You were so fucked out. Sorta cute. 

“Quit,” he mutters, avoiding your eyes. 

“You ain’t as old as I thought you were.” You whisper, a smirk tugging on the corners of your mouth. 

Joel chuckles softly at your familiar tease. He's heard it countless times, but it never ceases to make him roll his eyes and pull you closer to him. He kisses your forehead affectionately, his voice carrying a hint of playful banter.

“You gonna keep remindin' me about my age every chance you get? Don’t stop ya from comin’ back each night.”

You lay your head on his chest and listen to his heart thump. 

Joel’s got one arm slung around your shoulders, the other on your thigh that’s draped across his middle. His strong hand works slowly into your tired muscles. You play with the greying curls on his chest, taking note of the dark, nearly black ones still speckled throughout. 

“Goodnight, old cowboy.” You say, patting his chest, hearing his slow laughter rumble from his chest. 

“G’night, pain in my ass.” 

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[kaisacobra]

I See You - Tara Carpenter

Part 2 of I Dare You

Summary: At one of Amber's infamous parties, Tara's feelings get more and more complicated as she starts getting to know you.

Warnings: Fem!Painter!Reader, slow burn, mentions of sex, alcohol and partying, minor angst, non canon/high school

w.c: 6.9k

So, the glitch in the matrix seemed to be lasting much longer than you anticipated.

You did your best to forget the interaction you'd had with Tara and, honestly, that hadn't been such a difficult task. You still had a life, after all, and the rest of your day was divided into making preparations for the volunteering you'd be doing at the hospital during the weekend, studying and trying to make any progress on your painting.

Unfortunately, the last task proved itself to be annoyingly impossible, no matter how hard you tried. You'd tried everything from throwing random brushstrokes at the canvas to staring at the blank space while upside down in your bed, which filled your brain with blood but not with ideas.

There came a point when you had to admit defeat, at least for a day, and you picked up your phone to try to distract yourself from what seemed to be your greatest artistic failure. Your plans were to doomscroll through all possible social media and try to get the slightest bit of inspiration, but your attention was grabbed by a text notification coming from your Instagram.

From the username, it was clear that the text had been from none other than Tara Carpenter, which made your heart race a little in response. Your profile was a bit hard to find because there were no photos of you, which meant that Tara specifically had to look for you for a while. What's more, your profile was basically an exhibition of your artwork and the idea of someone other than your friends and teacher looking at all your projects made you a little anxious.

The texts themselves contained nothing much, apart from Tara apologizing for taking your pen (which you didn't even remember lending, to be honest) and then trying to strike up a conversation by asking you about Freddy vs Leatherface. Even so, noticing that she'd made an effort to keep on talking to you left you swooning.

You answered, of course. It would be rude to leave someone on read, wouldn't it? And besides, you were already planning to procrastinate anyway, so why not be nice and talk to Tara for a few minutes?

Who cares if minutes became hours, right?

And when school started the next day, you felt lighter, somehow. To your relief, no one seemed to remember your disastrous stumble the day before (probably because few people remembered you in general) and so you didn't have to deal with any giggles or weird looks.

You were in the middle of getting some books out of your locker when a familiar pen levitated into your field of vision. Your gaze followed the tanned arm that was holding it and you were met with long eyelashes and a sly smile.

“I'm a woman of my word! Here's your pen.” Tara raised the object towards you, making a funny reference to the text she had sent you the day before.

You rolled your eyes in amusement, although you couldn't hold the expression for long due to the corners of your lips lifting involuntarily. You took the small item from her hand and quickly put it in your bag. “Thanks, it's good to know you're not a thief. Did you at least bring one pen today?”

She understood the light, false accusatory tone in your voice and raised her hand, showing two fingers raised in a V. “Haha. Just so you know, I brought two today.”

It was amazing how instantaneous and right that conversation felt, almost as if it was the kind of thing you did all the time and not for the first time. Talking to Tara was surprisingly easy and you could see at least a friendship blooming between you in the near future.

If it weren't for the fact that she hangs out with the most insufferable people in the world, of course.

The reminder of Tara's group of friends hit you like a thunderbolt and made your chest ache for some reason. The words of both Ethan and Mindy echoed in your head, warning you to be careful, but a large chunk of your mind also insisted on reminding you of Anika's more positive opinion on the topic.

You turned to your locker again, pretending you were looking for something that didn't even exist. “I could never manage with just one pen.” You added politely, not wanting to leave Tara's joke unanswered just because your thoughts were getting muddled.

“I know. Artist and all, aren't you?” The girl nodded and you could see out of the corner of your eye as she leaned on the locker next to you, crossing her arms while still looking at you with a thoughtful expression. “Hey, don't you feel like going to a party tonight?”

Your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as you processed what she had said, but Tara remained completely unbothered by your side. As far as you knew, the Carpenter girl didn't usually throw parties, but Amber Freeman did, and she'd instituted a very specific rule about them ever since she'd thrown the first one during your freshman year:

Invite only. No losers allowed.

And, as far as you knew, in Amber's opinion you were included in the word “losers”.

“I don't think so.” You shook your head. “Amber's throwing this party, isn't she? I don't have an invitation and I don't even like parties that much.”

Tara laughed out loud at that, causing a few heads to turn in your direction and your cheeks to heat up like coals. “I'm inviting you, ain't I? and seriously! I've never even seen you at the boring school parties, how are you supposed to know if you like parties or not without ever having tried them?”

Okay, you weren't expecting Tara to rebut your arguments or be so insistent about your presence. Was it getting warmer or was it just your impression? “But... I don't even know anyone who's going, I'll probably just stand in the corner the whole night. And also, I have an appointment the next day, I can't, like, go wild...”

Unexpectedly, Tara let out an even louder laugh, this time even wiping away a tear that ran down her cheek. “Go wild? You're hilarious.” She controlled her breathing, still keeping a bright smile on her face. “You don't have to drink if you don't want to, no one's going to force you. And about the being alone part, you can invite those friends of yours. Amber won't mind, she wants more people at her parties anyway and she refuses to call sophomores and below.”

You looked at her with surprise and suspicion. Invite your friends? Did Tara remember that your friends included Mindy Meeks-Martin? Like, basically Amber's number one enemy, Mindy Meeks-Martin?

Tara finally noticed your wary expression and sighed, uncrossing her arms and raising both hands in a peaceful gesture. “Look, Amber said I could invite nice people and I think you're nice. She'll be busy with other things anyway, she probably won't even notice that your friends are there.”

You bit your lower lip, considering your options. On the one hand, parties weren't exactly your natural habitat and you still had your doubts about whether or not you were welcome there. On the other hand, Tara had been so kind to you lately and... for some reason, you wanted to explore it a little further.

“Can I give you an answer later? I'll ask my friends if they're going.” That's what you decided to answer, choosing to leave your conflicting future in the hands of your dear companions.

Tara nodded a yes and complemented the action with a shrug. “Okay. But even if they decide not to go, I think you should give it a chance.”

Suddenly, the bell for the first period echoed in the corridors, waking you both up to the fact that you had to be in your classrooms in a few seconds. As lockers closed and teenagers ran to avoid being late, Tara lazily turned around and started walking away, ending your interaction.

But you didn't want it to end so soon. In a impulsive act, you raised your voice. “What should I wear?”

Tara turned as soon as she heard you and her eyes slowly traveled up and down your body as a smile worthy of the Cheshire cat broke out on her face. “Wear something pretty! But I think you were already going to do that anyway.”

System crash. Your brain shortcutted. Did Tara had just...? No, she couldn't have possibly... checked you out? Were you seeing things?

As Tara's back got further and further down the corridor, you ran back to your classroom, muttering on the way, “God, I'm really not your strongest soldier.”

_

“I need to ask you something.”

You were extremely nervous. Your fingers kept drumming on the table and your brain was desperately trying to think of a way to convince your friends to A) go to Amber's party with you and B) not think you were out of your mind.

Tara's words (and her actions, by the way) really made you consider that crazy possibility. On any other occasion, you would have denied it as quickly as possible and then run away, but you were finding that Tara Carpenter could be extremely convincing.

Mindy swallowed a piece of the sandwich she was holding, making a dismissive gesture with her hands. “I’ve told you before, we have no interest in a throuple.”

Sitting next to her with her feet propped up on her girlfriend's lap, Anika raised an eyebrow and smiled playfully. “Who says we don't?”

“What?!” Both Mindy and Ethan shouted, although the girl clearly got the joke and was just going along with it, while the boy seemed really bothered by the idea. You and Anika let out a loud chuckle and you smiled at her in appreciation, knowing that she had joked around just to make you less nervous.

With the mood more relaxed, you took a deep breath and said the words in rapid fire, fearing that they would never come out if you lingered too long. “Tara invited me to Amber's party and she said I could invite you guys. Would you go with me? Please?”

“Absolutely not.” Mindy quickly denied your request, putting on an angry expression. “And why would you want to go to a party like that, anyway?”

“That's right, only assholes go to that kind of thing.” Ethan agreed with the girl, looking equally annoyed by your suggestion.

Your eyes turned to Anika in a plea for help and she nodded almost imperceptibly. Opening her famous warm smile that reached her eyes, she grabbed Mindy's arm and pouted. “Pleeeeeeeeeeeease, I've always wanted to go to a party like this. We can just go and laugh at people being dumb.”

“We can laugh at people being dumb at school literally all the time, I don't need to be at Amber Freeman's house for that.” Mindy objects, but it's obvious that she's already starting to give in to her girlfriend's charms by the way her face looks more peaceful.

Anika looked in your direction and you understood that you would have to stay in that ping pong game of arguments until the other two gave in. “Amber won't even notice we were there! Tara said there would be too many people for her to handle.”

“Aaaand,” Anika added, moving even closer to Mindy, almost sitting on her lap on that narrow wooden bench. “Our theme for the A.V club project is literally young and reckless! What's more young and reckless than Amber's parties?! We'll get some great material if we go!”

Mindy considered the proposal for long seconds that left you on the edge of your seat. You knew Ethan would probably go if you all did, so it was really all in the Meeks-Martin girl's hands.

Finally, she sighed and rolled her eyes, slipping an arm around her girlfriend's shoulders. “Okay, I'll go. But I’m warning you, if Amber even looks in my direction, I won't answer for myself.”

Anika squealed, grabbing Mindy's face and pulling her close to kiss her cheek, which clearly got the girl flustered even though she only replied with an “alright, alright”. You smiled at this, feeling a mixture of amusement and relief at knowing that your friends had agreed to embark with you on this madness.

Ethan hadn't necessarily agreed yet, but when you looked in his direction, he sighed dramatically, so that his brown curls moved with the wind. “If you're both going, I think I'll go to keep y/n company. So she won't be a third wheel and won't be bothered by idiots, you know?”

You thanked the boy with a pat on the shoulder and his smile automatically widened. Across the table, Mindy laughed. “Oh, I don't think you have to worry about y/n getting third wheeled, Ethan. Tara invited her, did you forget?”

“Holy shit. I have to tell Tara.” You remembered your conversation with the girl earlier, rushing into her DMs and completely ignoring the jokes and teasing from the girls in front of you.

You just hoped they could also ignore your completely flustered behavior.

 _

We're going!

A simple message had made Tara's day a thousand times better. She'd forgotten how insufferable Amber could be on party days, as well as the fact that Liv had spent the whole day acting like a pick-me-girl because Chad had been spending much more time on his phone than with her lately.

She'd put her best Casanova act into play when she'd spoken to you earlier, but somehow your sense of humor made her break character and just act like herself, which was something she couldn't remember doing so freely in a long time.

Of course she had appealed for a bit of her charm at the end, but she just couldn't hold back when you had opened up such a perfect opening for her to flirt.

“You should really thank me, you know that?” A familiar voice whispered close to her ear and soon pale arms wrapped around her neck in a grip that bordered on uncomfortable. “I basically handed you your challenge on a platter by letting you invite those weirdos.”

Tara was annoyed by the comment and she quickly disentangled herself from the hug, bumping into Amber and her devilish expression. The shorter girl huffed, fixing her clothes and hair as if that was the real reason she had walked away.

At least this time she didn't turn red. That was progress.

“Shut up. If anything happens, it'll be my merit.” Tara slung her bag over her shoulder, walking along with Amber and the other students to the exit after another tiring Friday of classes.

The taller girl didn't even mind Tara's protests, shaking her head as if she didn't believe the freckled girl’s words. “Anyway, at least you'll be busy while I'm doing someone and won't be bothering me the next day.”

They walked out the door and fortunately Tara could already see Sam's car parked not far away. The girl turned her face in the opposite direction of her friend’s, pretending it was due to the sun and hoping Amber hadn't seen the pained expression on her face. “Whatever. See you later, Freeman.”

“See you later, Carpenter!” Amber shouted back, but Tara didn't turn around to wave goodbye and kept her head down until she reached the old sedan her mother used to drive. At least that was until she was no longer sober enough to hold a steering wheel.

Inside the car, Sam raised her head when she heard the door open and close after Tara got into the passenger seat. She started to back out of the parking lot, occasionally glancing at her younger sister who seemed to be upset beside her. “So... how was school?”

“Don't fucking start.” Tara muttered, putting on her headphones in a quick move to isolate herself from the world and from an older sister who suddenly wanted to be there for her after abandoning her alone with an alcoholic for a year.

She closed her eyes and leaned her head on the window, trying not to think about how Amber really got on her nerves sometimes, or think about the guilt that was starting to rise up inside her after being rude to Sam for nothing. Why couldn't her mind stop working for just one minute?

But as she tried to make her own thoughts go blank, a pleasant memory surfaced. Tara remembered your conversation earlier, the way you could understand each other's moods and how genuinely happy she was that you were going to the party for her.

Maybe, if she just kissed you and hid the real reason behind everything, you could even be friends after all. Maybe she could even convince Amber that you were a nice person, so that you could hang out with them.

Of course, these were only wishful thinking, but Tara wanted peace and, at the moment, the utopian idea of having you around gave her that exact feeling. 

_

“Okay, now give me a spin.”

You turned in your place at Anika's request, being mindful to not to get out of the sight of your phone camera, which was leaning awkwardly on your desk. Your room was a mess of clothes scattered all over the place, highlighting your intense search to decide on the perfect outfit to wear for the party.

“So?” You asked your friend, who had her attention split between the video call and her own elaborate makeup.

Anika seemed to finish her analysis on your look while you were about to start trembling with anxiety. You trusted the girl's fashion sense more than anything and you swore you could have started crying if she said that your outfit wasn't good. Fortunately, her response was a positive nod and a satisfied grin. “Oh, you look so cute!”

You looked down, once again staring at the outfit you had chosen, which was a comfortable one, but neat enough to let people know that you had put some effort into dressing up.

Receiving compliments had never exactly been your strong suit, but as much as you felt awkward about Anika's comment, you couldn't get Tara's recommendation out of your head. “Yeah, but do I look pretty?”

“Of course you do! Cute, pretty, it's all the same!”

You frowned, still feeling annoyed. Fashion had never exactly been your forte and that fact was your Achilles heel at the moment, since you still weren't convinced that “cute” and “pretty” were the same thing. In your opinion, Tara seemed to be the type who liked pretty girls, but not cute girls.

Or maybe it didn't make any sense at all and you were just going crazy at the thought of spending the next few hours in a house full of people you either didn't know or didn't like. Besides, when did you start caring about the kind of girl Tara liked?

“I can hear your thoughts from here, you know?” Anika called out, making your head snap out of that internal cycle of overthinking. “Is this all to impress Tara?”

“Ugh.” You grunted, flopping onto your bed oblivious to the dozens of clothes that were crumpling under your body. “No? Maybe? I don't know.”

You felt ashamed of the situation, even though you knew Anika wasn't the judgmental type. Your feelings were still confusing and you definitely didn't feel ready to admit that you thought about Tara more than you should, but there was also no way to hide something that was so obvious.

“Hey, it's okay, you know? Actually, I'm glad to see you're interested in someone.” Anika replied kindly, which made you work up the courage to sit up, staring at your friend's genuine expression through the screen. “I know you're worried about Mindy and all, but Chad's always nice to me when I go to their house and it was super easy to do some school work with Wes for our calc class.”

She continued, “What I mean is that Tara could still be a nice girl for you, no matter how much there's this Romeo and Juliet thing going on between our groups.”

“It's not that. I mean, it is a bit, but also...” You sighed, trying hard not to run your hands through your hair and make it look messy. “... I don't think she'd be interested in me. I mean, she's been giving me these signals but, I don't know, maybe she does it with everyone?”

Anika tsked, shaking her head and giving you a playful smile. “I've never heard of Tara being a player.”

You groaned again, turning your face away as if the act would somehow stop you from feeling so flustered. Anika laughed in response. “Just enjoy the moment! You already know she's the straight forward type, don't you? If she wants something from you, I'm sure she'll get it.”

“Anika!” You shrieked, appalled by what she was inferring. Your entire face seemed to be engulfed in lava as your friend laughed even louder at the clear shock you expressed.

“What?! The world needs more people like that, you know? That's why I'm going to take the initiative to run away to a corner with Mindy at the first opportunity and-.”

“Ew! No! Stop talking! Please, you're my mother figures!”

_

The walls of the house seemed to shake under Tara's fingers as she leaned on it, making her way to the bathroom in slow, crooked steps as she cursed quietly at the amount of people crowding into the hallway.

They were screaming with joy, slurring the lyrics of the extremely loud song that was playing on the huge speakers in the living room, echoing throughout the house and possibly the entire block. Thank God, Wes had already taken care of his mother.

Tara groaned the whole way, feeling like pushing away all the sweaty, alcohol-altered people who bumped into her shoulder, unable to see properly through the colored lights that made the place look like a nightclub. She sighed in relief when she finally found the bathroom, opening the door and locking herself inside without caring about the noise it made.

She turned on the lights and leaned on the sink with both hands, leaning over to look at her reflection in the mirror, with tired eyes and her bangs sticking to her forehead from sweat. God, how could she have been so shaken up by a measly hour of partying? She used to be able to take a lot more.

But she also knew exactly what had led up to it and the smell of alcohol on her lips wouldn't let her lie. She thought she was going to have more fun, but her evening became much more difficult after she saw Amber stick her tongue down the throats of at least three people right in front of her, making a point of giving Tara a thumbs-up afterwards, almost as if she was trying to annoy her friend on purpose.

Tara tried everything to make herself less bothered. She'd danced, she'd watched some people play 7 minutes in heaven, she'd even flirted with a few people just for fun, but in the end, what had stopped her blood from pounding furiously in her ears had been the beers stocked in Amber's basement fridge.

She stopped after the third one, after she felt tipsy enough. She didn't want to be her mother's daughter, who didn't know her own limits and fell asleep on the living room carpet because she didn't have the strength to walk to her own room. And the drinks helped for a while, but now that the sweat had evaporated the effect of the alcohol on herself, her headache left her one scream or punch away from going insane.

Tara splashed water on her face, oblivious to the fact that her makeup was getting smudged or her bangs got even wetter. At this point, she no longer cared about much other than surviving the rest of the night.

Once she had pulled herself together, she sighed and left the bathroom, expecting to be dragged into the living room by the crowd of teenagers dancing and jumping around like wild animals, but instead she ended up being bumped in the opposite direction, almost knocking her off balance.

“Oh my God, I'm sorry!” Gentle hands rushed to hold Tara up before she fell and she followed the length of the arms with her eyes until she bumped into a familiar face. It was you, who was now staring at Tara with a frown. The girl couldn't help herself and looked you up and down, mentally appreciating the way you were dressed.

You quickly took your hands off Tara's shoulders, rubbing them anxiously. The girl felt a tug in her chest as she remembered that she had invited you and you most likely should have spent all this time looking for her, while she was drinking and whining about not having the attention of the biggest bitch in Woodsboro. Drunk and abandoning people? Wow, the Carpenter women's genes never fail.

“I didn't realize you'd already arrived.” Tara broke the awkward silence, mentally thanking you for being upstairs and being able to talk without having to shout over the hip hop track playing in the living room.

You looked away, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Yeah. It's been a while.”

Tara nodded, feeling a little disappointed in herself as she realized that you had clearly been annoyed by her absence. She tried to strike up a conversation again, wishing she could somehow put a smile on your face. “What brings you upstairs? Not enjoying the energy of the party?”

“I was looking for the bathroom.” You sighed, hugging your elbows. “Actually, I was more looking to escape to the bathroom, because I was planning to hide there until my friends decided to leave.”

“You really don’t like parties, huh?” Tara joked, but the smile on her face hardened when she realized that you hadn't laughed along with her.

Tara felt terrible. Sure, you'd only had a few interactions before, but all of them had proved that you could understand each other easily. Now, Tara didn't know if it was the party, if it was her or something else that had made you look so uncomfortable, but she was determined to make it up to you for being an idiot.

“You know, I think I have a better hiding place than a small bathroom.” She leaned towards you, as if she was sharing a secret. “Are you interested?”

You scrutinized the girl's face and she couldn't help but be disappointed that you didn't even seem to be affected by your proximity as you usually would. Your arms were crossed as you felt suspicious of her offer. “Don't you have to go back to the party?”

Tara made a dismissive gesture with her hand and started walking down the large hallway, looking for a specific room. “Nah, I've been to so many of these that it's lost it’s spark to me.”

Technically, it wasn't a lie. Tara was sick of that party and she'd love to have a distraction from the fact that Amber was now probably at her body count number 100 and Tara wasn't talking about dead people. But then again, she felt strangely committed to making you have at least a little fun and she really liked your company.

Maybe it was just because she felt bad for having invited you in the first place. Yeah, that must be it.

She opened Amber's bedroom door, barging in without hesitation and heading straight for the window, opening it all the way. Behind her, you seemed slightly alarmed by the idea of simply invading the personal space of a girl who could make your life a living hell. “Uh…”

But before you could really protest, Tara put one leg out of the window, glancing in your direction with a playful smile. “Trust me. You’re not scared, are you?”

“I’m not scared, but trusting you? After you invited me to a party you’re trying to escape?” you replied, making Tara's smile widen as she realized you were starting to open up again. “And what are you doing at the window, Rapunzel?”

Tara chuckled, pointing your way. “Wait and see.”

In a swift motion, she raised her hands to the roof platform above her head, pushing off Amber's window with her feet to gain enough momentum to pull herself up with extra effort from her arms. Still holding onto the edge, Tara hung upside down, looking at you through the window with her bangs sticking up. “So, are you coming or not?”

You snorted lightly with the sight, shaking your head as you approached the window. “I’m no Spider-Man. If I fall from here, it’ll be your fault, and I hope they write it down as homicide.”

“Good to know you have so much faith in me.” Tara answered, kneeling on the roof tiles and extending her hand for you to grab. You hesitated for a few seconds, and honestly, Tara couldn’t blame you for it, but she kept looking at you expectantly, trying to communicate with her eyes. Let me make things right with you.

She almost sighed in relief when you finally grabbed her forearm, letting her help you up slowly, pretending not to notice how her hands ended up on your hips. All in the name of making your night a little less boring, of course.

But wow, your body felt... warm.

It didn’t take long for you to pull away from Tara, clearing your throat and sitting on the roof beside her. It would be hard to stand for long due to the slope, but the spot was comfortable enough for you to sit or lie down without the risk of rolling off.

The roof was quite high, not tall enough for you to see the entire city, for example, but high enough that the people below you looked like tiny ants. Ants that were dancing, having fun, and throwing cups of beer at each other.

“Do you come here often?” you broke the silence, but Tara saw the exact moment you winced, realizing way too late the double meaning of your words. “I didn’t mean… I wasn’t…”

“It’s all good.” Tara laughed, considering saying something to tease you even more, but she ultimately decided against it , feeling a bit sorry for your embarrassed state. “And no, to answer your question. I used to spend a lot more time up here before, but now…”

She let the sentence trail off, lost in her own thoughts. Maybe the last time she had been on that roof was the day Sam had gone to rehab, two years ago. Which, looking back now, was probably around the same time Amber stopped being a caring friend and started being the friend that thought Tara complained too much.

The two of you remained in a comfortable silence for a few more seconds—or as quiet as it could be with two massive speakers blasting music two floors below. Tara glanced to the side, staring at your face, which seemed more focused on the starry sky, illuminated only by a few beams of moonlight.

Like she had felt in the car earlier, that sight gave her peace. It wasn’t like looking at Amber, which made her feel like her organs were being squeezed and thrown into an erupting volcano. Looking at you made her feel like a sea breeze was brushing against her face, a comforting, peaceful gust of wind.

Tara’s eyes drifted down to your lips, and she had to run her tongue across her own. Amber’s challenge lingered in the back of her mind, and she was tempted to test if your kiss would be a better distraction than the cheap beer she’d grabbed from the basement.

But suddenly, Tara felt self-conscious. Maybe it was the fact that the idea had been Amber’s, and she was still too annoyed with the girl to give her the satisfaction of being right. Maybe it was because she could still taste the alcohol in her mouth and didn’t want you to taste it too.

Or maybe it was something else. Something gentler and softer that even Tara couldn’t quite describe yet.

“Oh, look!” Tara snapped out of her own thoughts when she saw you excitedly pointing at the sky. “You can see Orion so clearly!”

She followed the direction of your hand with her eyes, feeling confused about what exactly she was supposed to be looking at. That particular night was cloudless, which made the vast array of stars shining in the dark sky exceptionally beautiful.

You noticed the lost expression on the girl’s face beside you and chuckled. “Orion? The constellation?”

“Oh, yeah. I… I know.” Tara just nodded, feeling a bit embarrassed for not being sure what you were referring to. She knew what a constellation was, of course, but she had never studied them in much detail, and in her eyes, all she could see in the sky were random stars, beautiful but completely scattered.

You laughed again, not buying Tara’s excuse for a second after seeing how confused her eyes looked. Gently, your hand held hers as you started pointing out the constellation with both of your hands joined together.

“See those three stars close together? That’s what we call Orion’s belt. It’s much easier to spot the rest of the constellation starting from there. Up there, kind of making a triangle, you have Meissa, Betelgeuse, and Bellatrix, and if you look to the side, it kinda looks like he’s holding a bow.”

Tara wanted to pay attention to your explanation, but her brain turned to mush the moment your hands got entangled, and her heart started pounding like the drums in a heavy metal song. You, on the other hand, seemed completely unaware of the action, which made Tara feel even more like an idiot.

Wow, what was in those drinks?

“You really know a lot about this,” she said, trying to sound normal, even though her voice felt like it could crack at any moment. You smiled at the comment, letting go of her hand to play with your fingers in your lap.

“One day, I had this brilliant idea to paint constellations on my bedroom ceiling—or at least most of them—and I had to do a ton of research to make sure it looked right.” You laughed, and Tara realized she wanted to hear that sound more and more.

“It’s cool that you’re a painter. It’s different.” She wanted to keep the conversation going, eager to learn more about any detail you were willing to offer, but she didn’t exactly know what to say. For someone who usually had no trouble expressing herself, Tara seemed to have forgotten her entire vocabulary.

Luckily, you seemed to be in the opposite situation, feeling comfortable enough to keep talking. “I guess so? I’ve never thought much about it before. Painting is a lot more than just a hobby for me—it’s more like a safe haven, you know?”

Tara nodded instead of giving a verbal response, especially because she knew exactly what you were talking about, but she didn’t have the words to express how much she needed a conversation like this—so simple, yet so healing.

She reached into the pocket of her jacket, slowly pulling out her phone. “Can I take a picture of the constellation?” Tara asked, mentally kicking herself when she heard how vulnerable her voice sounded.

Her tone didn’t go unnoticed by you, and you looked at her with a bit of confusion, but soon after, your eyes softened, shining with kindness—almost as bright as the stars above your heads. “You don’t have to ask me to take pictures of the sky, but do you want me to point it out again?”

“Sorry, old habit.” She shook her head to snap out of it, feeling her cheeks heating up as she started opening the camera app and aiming it upward. “But yeah, please.”

Slowly and gently, you took Tara’s hands again, working together with her to make sure the constellation was perfectly centered. You were close enough for Tara to catch the pleasant scent of your perfume, but she forced herself to stay focused on the picture you two were trying to capture.

After a few successful shots of Orion (which Tara planned to edit later to make it more visible and color-corrected), the two of you lay down side by side, admiring the night’s beauty in another moment of shared, comfortable silence.

_

Now, the silence inside Sam’s car wasn’t as comfortable.

It was the first time Tara had asked Sam to pick her up from a party, especially as late as 2 AM, considering the younger Carpenter always used to sleep over at Amber’s once everything wrapped up.

But after you left, Tara completely lost the desire to stay. The music was dull, she had no interest in drinking or playing any games, and she definitely didn’t want to be around her friends anymore.

She sat in a thoughtful silence, her head resting against the window, watching as the asphalt disappeared behind the car doors. The soft hum of the engine served as background noise since Tara didn’t have her precious headphones, but she’d spent enough time around loud music for the night anyway, so her ears were begging for a break.

“Did you… have fun?” Sam asked cautiously, as if Tara were a wounded animal that might lash out at any moment. The younger girl sighed, feeling guilty for being the reason behind the hostile distance between them.

She already felt guilty about enough things. Maybe it was time to start lifting some of that weight off her shoulders.

“I guess I did.” She nodded, watching Sam’s surprised expression at her genuine response. The look made her seem younger, reminding Tara that Sam wasn’t that much older than her. Now that she thought about it, she couldn’t remember seeing Sam so carefree since she’d returned, but her anger hadn’t exactly allowed her to notice the little details. “I had a good time.”

“Good,” Sam replied, trying to hide a satisfied smile from tugging at the corner of her lips. In the passenger seat, Tara did the same, feeling a tiny bit of happiness from the small progress they’d made. Small steps were important.

The car fell silent again, but it felt less heavy, and Tara figured it was because Sam was tired and still had to focus on the road for at least another 10 minutes. Taking advantage of the pause, the younger Carpenter pulled her phone out of her jacket pocket, going straight to her gallery and searching for the pictures she had taken earlier.

Most of them were of the sky, capturing the fateful (and now familiar to Tara) constellation of Orion, which made her think of the feeling of your hands on hers. Two others, however, were a bit more personal for her.

She zoomed in on the photo, staring at the profile of your face bathed in moonlight as you smiled brighter than the stars. She had taken the picture in secret, an impulsive urge to capture not just the moment, but you. Tomorrow, she could blame it on the alcohol, but tonight, she would give herself the privilege of gazing at your carefree expression for a few long seconds.

You had probably spent hours talking on the roof, and yet it still didn’t feel like enough. Tara wanted more. She needed more. Even though she’d never considered herself to be possessive or clingy, she couldn’t help but want to explore every little piece of your world as if it were the most beautiful piece of art.

A sudden thought crossed her mind, and Tara quickly opened Instagram, this time taking her time to scroll through and really appreciate each of your paintings. As she studied the pieces you had displayed, she mentally kicked herself for not having done it sooner. It was clear that you drew inspiration from the Renaissance, and that people were your greatest muse. There were few self-portraits, but Tara recognized some of your friends in the works.

She was so captivated that she felt a strong urge to knock on your door and ask you to tell her the story behind each one, just for the pleasure of hearing your voice. But, well, it was 2 AM, and she didn’t even know where you lived.

And, of course, she wasn’t that crazy.

Still, she decided to slide into your DMs, sending you five of the photos you had taken of the sky, taking the opportunity to wish you a good night. Would sending a heart emoji be too much? She decided against it. The photos would be enough.

But Tara still wasn’t satisfied with her exploration, so she ventured into your stories, looking for anything that could give her more reasons to talk to you. It turned out to be a great decision, because she struck gold.

You had posted an announcement from Woodsboro Central Hospital earlier, calling for volunteers for a special event dedicated to bringing joy to children hospitalized with cancer. The flyer said that any help was welcome, from telling stories to dressing up as superheroes, and Tara couldn’t stop wondering what you had signed up to do.

Without wasting any time, she navigated to the hospital’s profile, hoping they were still accepting applications even though she was texting them literally seven hours before the event.

Hi, I’m interested in volunteering! Would you need a photographer?

[asumofwords]

Midpoint - Michael Gavey x Reader

Synopsis: The semester break came along quicker than you thought it would, and you decided to stay on campus for the break to get ahead in your studies. What will happen when you go head-to-head with a certain ill-tempered maths student in a war of pettiness?

Warnings: This fic is 18+, readers discretion is advised. Arguing, pettiness, name calling, low blows, tension, degradation, ripped stockings, finger fucking, rough fucking, fucking in public, p in v, creampie, cum eating.

Word Count: 8.7k

Notes: Hello my angels, Happy New Year, heres to all the filth that will continue to come from the cesspool that is my mind. Thank you all for your patience, I have been so excited to write for Michael, and so I hope you enjoy this as much as I have writing it !! heheh ;) <3

Part 2

There was a soft amber glow that cast over the library, the dark wood warming with the golden light that peaked through the windows, patches of wooden floors illuminated in some spots with coloured lights from stained glass windows.

For the most part, the library was empty bar three other students who had stayed behind for the break, getting ahead on their work for the next semester.

You were one of them, and with the sheer size of the library, you wouldn’t have known there were others inside if you had not seen them when walking down the endless isles of books in search for the ‘British Working Class Movements’ for your history course. 

It didn’t take long for you to find it, and by the time you settled into a secluded corner down the back, the sun had already begun to set. You flicked on one of the green and gold table lamps and began to read, periodically taking notes on a page as you went.

It wasn’t that you needed to study ahead, it simply gave you something to do whilst the break droned on, few students having stayed behind making it lonely, but a bit more bearable than making the long trip home.

You loved the library, the stained wood, smell of old books lining the walls, and the quiet of the place was a nice haven to get away from the usual hustle and bustle of college. Everyone always seemed to be in a rush to either their next class or their next party, and although you weren’t a loner per se, you didn’t always feel like being in the constant lights and sounds that came with socialising. And so the library was the one place, besides your dorm, where you could have a nice piece of solitude.

Settling over the page, you gained a steady rhythm. Read about one movement, then write anecdotes as you went, taking the time to pause, re-read, and really absorb the information as much as you could. It was fascinating, and you enjoyed learning as much as you did.

By the third hour of continuous reading and note taking, your hand began to cramp, and so you decided it was time for a short break. You stood up from the desk, stretching your arms above your head, a small sigh escaping your lips as your back cracked and muscles pulled. You twisted your upper body to each side, softly grunting as you felt your back click again and again, sighing loudly as a particular pop took away an ache that had settled between your shoulders. You continued on with your languid stretches, trying to get some of the stiffness out of your body from being hunched over the desk for so long. 

You wondered how much more time you should spend writing notes, or whether you could go back to your dorm and laze about on the bed. Luckily for you, you didn’t have a roommate, and were able to make the space feel much like your own. You didn’t have too much furniture, the room not allowing for it, just your essentials and a few trinkets here and there that you had collected. Your real pride and joy however, was a Peace Lily that you had saved from sure death. Now, it sat proudly on your study desk, growing dark green leaves and flowering its soft white flowers.

The idea of going back to your dorm seemed tempting, after all, you didn’t really have to be studying, and you had just recently bought the new Harry Potter book and wished to read some more of it, make a nice cup of tea, sink into your sheets and get lost into a fantasy world.

A soft jangling came from between one of the large book shelves, and soon a man peeked through. His icy blue eyes caught yours and you watched as he assessed you from where he stood, albeit awkwardly, gaze dragging up and down your body.

He was tall and lean, with sandy blonde hair that sat messily atop his head. He had a sharp aquiline nose, and lips that pulled up naturally in its corners.

You recognised him from somewhere, but where you couldn't be sure.

Perhaps he was in the same classes as you?

He continued to stare at you, shirt tucked into his pants, small carabiner attached with a USB dangling from a belt loop, his tongue pushed into his cheek.

“You right?” You asked, shifting on your feet, wondering if he needed something from you.

His lips pursed as he looked at you from down his nose, “Are you?”

You furrowed your brows, “Huh?” 

“You've been moaning in the back of the library like a tart.” 

You bristled, “I beg your pardon?”

Who the fuck-

“Some of us are trying to study.” His arms were stiff by his sides, and before you had the chance to reply, he spun on his heel, shoes squeaking loudly in the aisles as he marched away.

“What the fuck?” You whispered to yourself, feeling angry and also slightly embarrassed about the encounter.

Had you been making a lot of noise? 

You didn’t think so, especially since the library was essentially empty anyway. You had even chosen the furthest corner of the floor as well, tucked away behind rows of books and out of sight. 

You sat back down at the desk and tried to continue writing notes, but instead, you found yourself feeling far too self conscious, and wondered if you were even breathing too loudly. But before you got too self critical, you remembered that the library was practically empty, and you had specifically chosen a spot the furthest away from the other three students.

If your stretching and little sighs had disturbed him, he was either hanging around your area, or had the hearing of a bat. 

So after about an hours more of study attempts and a half a page more of notes, you decided to call it a night, packing away your belongings before taking the book with you, not bothering to check it out. 

As soon as you got back to your dorm, you headed straight to bed, not feeling in the mood to make a cup of tea or even open your new book, no longer looking forward to enjoying yourself and settling in. Instead you laid on your back staring at the ceiling, stewing about how the man in the library had spoken to you, and vowing that if you saw him again, you'd give him a piece of your mind. 

And by your luck, you did see him again. 

The very next day.

You got to the library around midday, deciding that you weren’t going to do a late night of studying, deciding to have a relaxing night in to pamper yourself, maybe even watch a movie in the common rooms if the tv free, or do as you had intended the night before; a cup of tea and your book, and maybe even some ‘me’ time.

The library, despite all its windows and the suns rays peeping through, was cold, and as soon as you stepped foot into it a chill ran over you. You walked through the endless rows of books, not seeing a soul as you climbed the stairs to the second floor, dust settled into the crooks and corners of the staircases and bannisters, the smell almost overwhelming, until finally, you saw him. 

He was sat in the centre of the room at one of the large study desks, multiple books opened around him as he furiously wrote down notes and equations. His head didn’t lift at the sound of your footsteps, too busy in his own little world studying for God knows what, so much so, that it was a wonder that you had even managed to disturb him the day prior, which now only seemed to fuel your anger.

You were never one to back down.

You walked straight to him, toes almost kicking the leg of the table as you looked down at his neat writing, his hand flying across the page in rapid succession, no calculator in sight despite the lengthiness of the equations.

It was impressive, you noted begrudgingly, the way he worked so swiftly, and just was you were about to gain his attention, he spoke to you, hand not once slowing as he worked. 

“What do you want?” 

It wasn’t rude, just as it wasn’t polite. If anything, it was abrasive, like the rough cobblestones outside, and not once did he look up at you.

It caught you off guard.

Your mouth opened and shut as you tried to think of something to say.

Was it really worth being hot headed and saying something the day after?

Would he even remember?

Or would you be embarrassing yourself further?

Ultimately you gave up, deciding that there was no point to saying anything anymore, sighing in resignation as you walked around the length of the table continuing to yours. 

You got about three steps away before he spoke again.

“Remember that you’re in the library this time.”

You spun, staring daggers into the back of his head, hand gripping the strap of your bag, “What the fuck is your problem?” Your chest heaved in anger, waiting for him to turn around or answer you, but he didn’t.

The sandy haired man continued his endless equations, leaving you standing behind him as though you had spoken to a ghost. It was maddening, the rush of your blood loud in your ears drowning out the steady scratch of his pencil.

How dare he?

He was just like all the others, like every other man on campus who felt they could speak however they like at any woman as though you were beneath them. 

You stood there for what felt like minutes, but was mere seconds.

Realising that you weren’t to get an answer from him, you continued on your way to your secluded little table, stomping through the aisles, your footsteps echoing loudly in the space on the wooden floor.

When you got to the table, you all but threw your bag down, the heavy textbook slamming onto the wooden surface, making a large bang.

Never in your life had you been so agitated, ripping the chair away from the desk, letting the legs scrape on the mahogany floor. 

One after the other, you yanked your books out of your bag, your notebook and pens, throwing them onto the table without a care. You could feel the heat of your anger creeping up your neck and into your face, and despite your attempts to calm yourself by studying, you ended up just re-reading the same paragraph over and over again, not once absorbing it. 

By the time you decided to give up, the sun had begun to set, and so you hastily scrambled to shove your things back into your bag, not even bothering to tuck your chair in softly, throwing it against the desk and storming out the way you came.

He was still in his regular spot when you stalked past him, his head turned down as he read through his notes, multiple empty chocolate wrappersw spread across the table. 

“Fucking asshole.” You muttered as you walked past him, not bothering to spare him a second glance as you huffed and stormed away, hoping to find some peace in your dorm. 

When you got to your dorm, you were so hungry that you began to feel sick. Realising that in your anger you had forgotten to eat, you wandered down to the pub not far from campus and got a cheap little meal, eating quietly in the corner, a telly playing a soccer game on the screen in the back. 

There weren't many patrons that night, but you could hear the pool table being used in the distance, the loud clacking of the balls being sunk, drowning out the soft sound of the telly. The pub stunk of stale beer and cigarettes, ring stains on all the wooden surfaces from sweating glasses.

It was still early when you finished, and so you made the decision to check out the commons and see if a tv was free.

The night air was cold as you walked back to your dorm, your teeth chattering in your skull as you sped walked, wrapping your arms around yourself to get back into the warmth of the old building. Lights illuminated the old stone walls in a yellow light, casting shadows on the cobblestones and bare trees around you.

It would have been spooky if you weren’t used to it by now, and could understand how first years would become spooked at night alone, walking through the courtyards.

As you made your way towards the common room in your building, you couldn’t help but think about the man in the library. His sandy hair, blue eyes, sharp features and sharper mouth. Who needed a heater when you had this man to fire you up? You could almost hear his grating tone as he mocked you, his glasses shining in the library as he looked down his nose at you.

He made you feel small, unwanted. But you had worked hard to get into Oxford, and you, whether he liked it or not, had earned your place. 

It wasn’t unlike the men you already knew in STEM to be somewhat assholes, especially towards women or any degrees they deemed ‘unfit’ or ‘unworthy’. You had heard many scoffs and sneers at the Arts students, or English Literature kids, especially if it was women, from the STEM boys who seemed to hoard together like a bunch of flies. Or better yet, like a Rat King, unable to break the connection between each other despite how much they fought it.

It was, to follow the pun, a rat race.

The hall was dark as you walked to the commons, but from the window of the door, you saw the tale tell sign of the telly being on. You wondered momentarily if it was anyone you knew that had stayed back, perhaps one of the girls.

Maybe you could settle down with them and watch whatever mind melting soap opera was on, and lull yourself into a stupor. 

The prospect of talking to someone almost dissolved your sour mood, and by the time you opened the door, peering into the flickering light illuminated room, a small smile had begun to pull at your lips.

But that smile was short lived as your eyes met a pair of pale blue ones.

You watched as his lips pulled down in recognition of you, his head turning to look back at the telly. Your heart began to race in your chest again, the door clicking shut behind you, the soft sound of Doctor Who’s theme song filling the room, the screen reflecting off of his rectangular lenses. 

It didn’t help that the small drinks you had at the pub seemed to ignite your previous disdain for the man, as well as dampening your, for a lack of a better word, cognition.

In that moment, you were at a loss of what to do. You wanted to watch tv, but the idea of being anywhere near him infuriated you. Yet, at the same time, you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction by leaving, indicating to him that you had given up, and that he had won.

“You going to stand there all night?” He teased cruelly, eyes not once turning back to you, locked on David Tenant as he ran through an abandoned warehouse.

You bristled, teeth grinding down against each other as you stormed past him, “Fuck you.” You dropped down onto the cushion on the other end of the couch. 

From the corner of your eye, you could see his lips purse slightly, obviously hearing you.

No matter how much you tried, you could not get comfortable on the couch, and it wasn’t because the couch had a natural groove from the many people who sat in it, or the obvious stains on the covers and arms, some recognisable, others dubious, nor the permeating cigarette smell that emanated from deep within the foam, but rather because he sat all too comfortable beside you, watching a show you wished you could watch alone.

You shifted against the arm again for the umpteenth, huffing softly in the room. Your ass had fallen asleep because you sat ramrod straight and refused to relax, tucking your legs beneath you not leaning back. No matter what you did, you could not settle, body gearing up for a fight.

When you shifted again, it seemed to pull his attention away from David Tenants doctor.

“You gonna keep huffing in the corner like a baby?”

Your already fragile thread of patience snapped.

“What the fuck is your problem? Have I done something to you? I don’t even know who you are.”

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say to him. The man sneered, leaning towards you on the couch, “My problem is vapid little cunts like you. Getting by on mummy and daddy’s money whilst the rest of us have to work to stay here. You just party and fuck each other like rats.” His cold eyes razed up and down your body, watching as your face morphed from anger to offence, and then, to rage.

You shot up from your seat, moving to stand over him as he looked up at you, face barely containing his hatred. 

“I don’t have ‘mummy’s and daddy’s money’, I’m here because I worked hard to be here.” You hissed, hands clenched into fists at your sides, “You know nothing about me.” 

“I know you’re friends with Felix Catton and every other vapid, useless cunt that hangs off of his every breath.” His voice lowered, hatred simmering behind his light illuminated glasses.

Your brows furrowed, “Felix and I have a class together. Assigned seating. We walk there together. If-” You straightened, looking down at him before it hit you.

A laugh of disbelief flew from your lips, and soon enough the cocksure anger melted away from his sharp features, replaced by confusion.

“Wow.” You huffed, a bitter laugh filling the air, “You’re jealous.” His eyes narrowed on you, “You’re jealous of Felix.” You watched as his mouth snapped open, “Maybe if you weren’t so-“

“-I’m not fucking jealous of those nobodies.”

Snorting, you shook your head, “Nobodies… Yet people know their name. I don’t even know who you are.”

You waited for him to give you his name, to finally tell you who this infuriating man was, the credits of Doctor Who playing in the background as you stared at each other. Your chest heaved, but all you felt looking down at him was irritation.

“Your anger is misdirected." You growled, "I thought you would be smarter than that.”

The man's jaw ticked, “I thought you didn’t know who I was.”

“I don’t.”

You turned away, suddenly drained from the whole interaction. You didn’t bother to turn back and look at him, or even say another word. You wanted to go to bed, no, needed to go to bed and get away from the man on the couch before you tore your hair out.

As you opened the common room door, his voice called out to you.

“Y/n L/n.” 

The way he said your name sent goosebumps rising on your skin, each syllable pronounced slowly, as though he was savouring your name on the tip of his tongue. Your hand paused on the door as you pushed it open, looking back at him. 

“And who are you?”

Before he could answer, you left, slamming the door shut behind you. You marched straight back to your room, hands in such tight fists that your nails left half crescent moons in the flesh of your palms.

You lay awake most of the evening staring at the ceiling with the interaction on your mind.

He knew you by name, even thought you were friends with Felix, and whilst you weren’t not friendly with him, you wouldn’t say you were closely acquainted. You drank at the same parties sometimes or saw him down at the pub, but the only one-on-one time you had with him was in class. 

Whoever this man was, and whoever he thought you were, he was wrong. And now he was going to regret it.

You knew he would be there, in fact you betted on it, getting up extra early to go to the library to do the one thing you planned on doing that day.

Piss him off.

If there was one thing that men hate the most in the world, it was not being in control, and that was doubled if it was with a woman.

You sat at the table he always did, spreading your textbooks and papers, pens, notes, snacks, water bottle, and even IPod Nano on its surface. You had brought extra things with you today in your bag to spread across the table, some things not even needed to study, but used to take up more space and soil his little territory.

The sun had barely even risen by the time you laid it all out, but you knew it would all be worth it.

And it was, because not even fifteen minutes later, he arrived to the sight of you at his desk, humming as you looked at your notes.

His feet stopped not too far from your (his) table, watching as you met his gaze, devoid of emotion. You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling, watching as he clenched his teeth in irritation.

He was almost shaking with anger.

Got you.

You kept the image of innocence, looking back down at your notes as you tapped your pen against the tables surface loudly. You could see his fists clenching in your periphery at his side, his pale green button up shirt with long beige pants shifting side to side as he stood angrily watching you.

“What are you doing?” The blonde’s voice cut through the quiet of the library, irritation evident in his tone.

You didn’t bother to look up, pen still clicking rhythmically against the table, “Hm?”

“You think you’re clever, don’t you?”

Placing the pen on your page delicately, you looked up, “Pardon?”

The mans cheeks flushed an angry red as he stared down at you, lips pulling into a tight line, “Whatever you think-“

“-I’m sorry,” You interrupted him, leaning forward to look up into his eyes sweetly, “Do I know you?”

The man leant forward and sneered, “Gavey.”

“Gavey?” You titled your head, biting your lip softly in thought.

Why did that name sound so familiar?

“Yes.” He grit through his teeth, looking down at your spread notes and gear.

Then it came to you.

“Gavey! Michael Gavey!” You beamed up at him, leaning slightly forward on the desk.

Now you knew why he was so familiar.

“You’re the maths genius.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. Anyone who had heard about Michael Gavey knew about his stellar intellect when it came to maths, and unfortunately for him, they also knew about his little antisocial outbursts, “You yelled at Oliver on O week.”

You watched with delight as the anger fell momentarily from his face, and embarrassment replaced it. You leant further forward, putting both elbows on the table as you rested your chin on your hands, looking up at him through your lashes.

“Is it true then? You can do any sum just in your head?”

If it was true, he needed to be studied by a team of scientists.

And maybe a behavioural therapist.

Michael stood taller, proud to have been recognised for this part of him as he watched you bat your eyelashes at him. His shoulders rolled back, eyes glimmering with determination behind his glasses.

Men were so easy.

You just stroke their ego a little and their guard comes down immediately.

“Ask me.” His voice was soft, confident, waiting on bated breath to show off his born skill.

You smiled, “Alright. Seven-hundred-and-eighty-nine multiplied by six-hundred-and-fifty-four.”

Without missing a beat, “Five-hundred-and-sixteen-thousand-and-six.”

“Divided by twelve.”

“Forty-three-thousand point five.”

“Times nine.”

“Three-hundred-and-eighty-seven-thousand-and-four point five.”

You leant back in your chair watching him. It was impressive, and if he wasn’t such a prick, you would have openly praised him. But you didn’t have it in you in that moment to give him anything but a lengthy stare, using the time to get a good look at his face without the sneer.

He was handsome, a long face framed nicely by his ‘devil may care’ hair. You wondered if he even bothered to brush it in the morning. The longer you looked at him the more you could see how his sharp features and soft lips would in fact get him the attention he so desperately craved, if only he wasn’t as insufferable as he was. In fact, the more you thought about it, if things had been different, perhaps you would have pursued him, maybe even asked him out for a drink.

Instead, he had made an enemy for himself, and being petty at this point was a hobby for you that you took great time and pleasure in doing, especially if it was for assholes who made the first move unwarranted. 

“Hm.” You tapped your pen against the table, “How do I know it’s correct and you're not just making it up?”

This seemed to anger Gavey.

“I’m not making it up. I do the sums,” He narrowed his eyes, “In my head.”

“I don’t have a calculator to confirm this. For all I know, you could be lying.”

The anger was back, “I’m not lying. I’m never wrong.”

“Sure.”

“I’m a genius.”

“Uh huh.”

Then came the vitriol, his shoulders tensed in rage, “What would you know anything about maths? You’re a History and Philosophy major.” Michael scoffed, seeming to think that his disdain for your degree would upset you in the slightest.

You sighed loudly, pulling the earphones from your Ipod to begin putting them in your ears. You looked at him pointedly, putting a sad little smile onto your lips. 

Show time.

“It’s a shame, you know.” You said sadly.

“What?” Michael responded, over-eagerly.

The earphones sat in your ears and you scrolled down to a song you wanted, letting the music begin to play loudly just to piss him off, the noise turned up high enough for him to hear the lyrics. You didn't show it, but it was too loud, and most certainly hurt your ears, yet it was worth it to see his nose scrunch up.

“That you’re a snob.” Your voice rose over the music in your ears, unable to hear anything but the loud bass line that bounced in your head, “You’re actually cute when you’re not sneering at me.” You let your eyes drop back to your page, ignoring his presence as you strummed the pen loudly against the wood of the desk, unable to hear if he responded, but also not bothered to hear him. You had ended the conversation just the way you wanted.

And it would drive him nuts.

What you hadn’t seen was his mouth opening and shutting multiple times as a blush spread across his cheeks. He stood idly by, utterly unable to produce a single word or sound bar clearing his throat. Michael disappeared from your periphery as he left to sit at the table at the end, dropping into his seat to begin his studies.

But it proved to be fruitless, because as he attempted to settle into the endless stream of equations, all he could hear behind him was the tinny sound of your music blasting from your earphones and the steady grating tap of your pen.

He tried, in vein, for over an hour to focus, before giving up and storming out of the library. It was only then when you lifted your head, smiling at his retreating figure in triumph. 

I win.

Not a word had been written on your page, and not a thing had been absorbed in your head. You lowered the volume of your music, a ringing settling into your ears, before packing up your things to go back to your dorm, deciding that a job well done was deserving of some respite, and in your good mood you would actually read your book.

You spent the rest of your day and better part of your evening reading, lounging, and snacking on some chips as you snuggled into your sheets. 

Being the creature of habit that you were, you ended your triumphant day going to the pub to have another cheap meal and a drink or two, spending a considerable amount of the evening chatting up another student who had also stayed behind during the break.

He was cute, and funny, and although he hinted more than once that he would like to continue your evening back in either one of your dorms, you didn’t have the energy to entertain a potentially dull night of barely there pleasure. 

He smiled too wide and had too much confidence to really know what he was doing, and you felt immediately that he would be the type to get his and leave you high and dry. So you parted, promising emptily to get another pint together soon enough, though you knew it wasn’t your stellar verbal company that he wanted.

Sinking into bed that evening was an easy and pleasurable experience. You crawled into your sheets, smile on your face and victory on your tongue. Your tit-for-tat was successful, and now you could finally just focus on your work, and not the sandy haired Michael Gavey who seemed to invade your every thought. 

-

The sun trickled through the curtains by your bed, a warm stream of light hitting your face. You woke with a stretch, body slowly waking up with the day.

You didn’t have much planned after yesterdays success, and didn’t have a want to do much at all, but there was only so much lounging in bed one could do over the many weeks of break, so you decided to go back to the library, at least for an hour to make up for yesterdays losses (despite the personal win). 

You looked around your room and settled on a skirt and some tights with a turtle neck sweater, unable to find anything else as a pile of dirty clothes had slowly accumulated in the corner. You made a note to yourself to take it to the laundromat later with some coins and your book. 

The walk to the library was the same monotonous one as it always was. The same stone walls, the same dark wooden detailing and floor, the occasional beautiful stained glass window, and the ever strange silence of an empty college. There was a light layer of frost on the grass outside, and you wouldn’t be surprised if it would snow. The trees were bare except for a handful of orange and brown leaves, hanging on for dear life, or perhaps, holding on with dead fingers.

Rigor mortus of the petiole.

The steps creaked beneath your feet as you made your way up to your usual spot, the library cold as it always was, causing you to wish you had brought a warmer jacket with you. When you got to the landing, you expected to see him, sandy hair, glasses slipping down his sharp nose, hunched over the same textbook as he wrote out his equations with dizzying speed, but the tables were empty, and the aisles were barren, and all that was in the library was you.

Briefly you wondered for a moment if something has happened to him. Had he gotten sick? Too ill to crawl out of bed, laying in his sheets with a fever and no one to comfort him?

You frowned at the thought. 

Why did you care?

His ego was likely too bruised to show his face, and was hidden in another alcove or other smaller library somewhere else, or perhaps even in his room.

Maybe he even had friends, and decided to spend the day with them, likely another student in STEM. 

You could have sworn you saw him and Oliver Quick in the pub one night together.

You walked past his empty table and continued down the end to where your little nook was, grazing your fingers along the spines of the books as you went. Each ridge another spine, each spine another thousand upon thousand of words that had been read, dissected, and rewritten by many a student. You liked to think about how many hands had touched the pages, how many eyes had skimmed the words, how many bags, beds, tables, couches, cars or trains they had been in over the years, and how many times you had read them, or held them in the same spot.

You emerged from the isles to your nook.

It was not what you had expected that morning.

Certainly not what you had expected any morning come to think of it, but even so, your steps halted and your heart began to quicken, anger slowing creeping up your neck, heating your face.

He was sat at your table.

Your table.

His glasses had slid down almost to the tip of his nose, a long slender finger daintily pushing them back up to the bridge, lips pouted in their natural pout as his hand flew about his notes, writing equation after equation in a speed that would intimidate even Einstein. Michaels hair was disheveled, as though he had run his hand through it multiple times, as he contemplated the pros and cons of sitting there. 

He must have landed on the pros.

“What are you doing.” You bit out, an irritating sense of dejavu seeping into your bones.

Michael didn’t look up at you, your feet almost pushing through the floor, anger rooting you in place.

“Hm?” Came his noncommittal reply.

It set you off.

“You’re in my seat.” You hissed, swiftly stepping towards him.

The light from the window beside him cast shadows across half his face as he looked up at you, he sucked his teeth loudly, “Your seat?”

“Yes.”

“I see.” His head dipped back down to his notes, his blue eyes looking up at you from under his lashes as his hand continued to write, “This is a public library. It’s a public seat.”

You stormed forward dumping your bag atop his hand, his pencil scraping across his notes on the paper, “You know exactly what I mean.”

His jaw ticked, steely blue eyes flicking to where you dumped your heavy bag atop his notes and own text book.

“I’m sorry, I’m not tutoring on break.” His tone all too demeaning as he over pronounced each word.

Your hands slammed down onto the desk as you leant forward towards his face, “I don’t need a tutor and you know it, you miserable little cunt.” Anger boiled inside of you, building and building, ready to burst. 

Michael bristled, “Who the f-“

“-Oh, fuck you, Michael. You’re a miserable piece of shit, thinking you’re above everybody else, sneering at anyone who dares to be happy. I’ve seen you, always sulking about in the shadows because no one can stand to be around you.”

The silence was almost deafening.

Oh God.

That was a low blow.

You had taken it too far.

You swallowed thickly, suddenly feeling very guilty, “Michael,” You started, “That was-“

A pale hand lifted in front of your face, the man standing almost near silently in front of you. He went from below you, to towering above in a split second, his sheer size double your own. He stared down his sharp nose at you with a look of contempt, the rage behind his eyes flickering with barely held restraint.

“Do you want to know what I think?” His voice was low, lower than you had ever heard it go, emotion almost drained entirely from it except an icy edge which sent the hairs on the back of your neck on end.

You stayed silent, watching as he stepped away from the desk, chair scraping on the wood to come towards you slowly, your heart beating like a drum behind your ribs.

Though you could step back, his eyes kept you glued to where you were, head craned up to look at him as he came closer, the tension in his jaw growing with every passing second.

It was unnerving, and everything within told you to run, but something made you stay.

Call it guilt.

Or intrigue.

His hand dropped to his side, slow, calculated steps coming closer, each one as silent as the next as his cheek twitched whilst looking you over.

“I think,” He began, a foot away from you, voice low, “That you’re just desperate enough to accept the scraps that they give you, because you fear if you don’t,” Another step, taking him toe-to-toe with you, “That you’ll be a nobody like me.”

Your mouth became dry, lips slightly parted as a tinge of hurt spread through your chest.

You shook your head faintly, “I don’t think you’re a nobody.”

A brow lifted, “You called me a nobody.”

“I was wrong.”

“Wrong because it was hurtful? Or wrong because you have more in common with me than you do with them.”

You shook your head, “Why is it always about them?”

“It is always,” He sneered, “About them. I have watched you take what little you can get from them like a beggar. Talking to Felix in the hallways, doing his homework for him, smiling at him like a dolt.”

Your eyes widened in surprise.

“I’ve seen you.” His shoe bumped against yours as he leant forward, “You’re nothing to them. How long was it before they even learnt your name?”

“Stop it.” You whispered, feeling tears prickle in your eyes.

Michaels head tilted, “Why? It’s the truth.”

“It’s not.”

The sandy haired man clicked his tongue at you, head tilting, “You and I both know that’s not the truth, is it? What did Farleigh call you again?”

A lone tear fell down your cheek, leaving a wet track in its path. Your lip wobbled as you tried to keep your composure.

You didn’t know how he knew.

You didn’t know how he could have known what Farleigh had said to you that night, drinking in the pub together.

You hadn’t even meant to join them, but their table grew bigger and bigger until it swallowed your own and soon enough they were buying you shots. It was never a regular thing, you were never quite in the circle, but not quite out of it either. More-so lingering in the nothingness of neither here nor there. 

Michael looked at you pityingly, not in a way where he held empathy for you because of it, but in a way where he pitied you for being the way you were. It was demeaning. Cold. 

Detached.

“Parvenu.” His lips pronounced each syllable slowly, darkly, and it made you ache.

Another tear fell as you took a sharp intake of breath, sniffling roughly. 

Shame built inside of you. 

It was humiliating to relive that moment, let alone with Michael. And now that you knew he had witnessed or heard it, you wondered who else may have been there to hear Farleigh’s degrading comment and snort of a laugh followed. The way he would raise his brows at you the rest of the night as if to say ‘See? You don’t belong here, and we can all see it’, ‘We let you here because we can’.

“I don’t understand-“

Michael interrupted you, "-You let them walk all over you, and for what? Parties and accolades?” The corners of his lips turned downwards, “They don’t even respect you. Do they know that you’ve stayed behind on break alone? Do you think they’ll think of you in their mansions? Do you think Felix would ever-“

“-You talk about them as if they’re irredeemable, but they’ve been far nicer to me than you have.” Another tear fell, and your stomach tied itself in knots. 

The anger seemed to simmer in his eyes, “They don’t deserve you.”

Your brows pulled down in confusion, “What?”

“You let them use you, chasing after their fleeting affections. It’s pathetic.”

Anger began to simmer inside of you, “Pathetic? You know what’s pathetic?” You leaned up on your toes, “The fact that you have so clearly been watching me, and everything that I do, and not once have you tried to be my friend. Do you know what’s pathetic?” Your voice began to rise, heat inside of you rising with it, “Your anger and hatred of them clearly stems from jealously and embarrassment because they would never talk to-“

Your eyes widened in shock, his lips crashing against yours as he yanked you forward, hand at the back of your head pulling you in tightly. You were so in shock, you didn’t know what to do, standing stiffly in his arms as the other circled your waist and pulled you against him. 

It only took a second for your brain to come to with what was happening, your eyes sliding shut as you kissed him back roughly, all teeth and vitriol as you bit the soft flesh of his lips roughly. He hissed, pulling you closer, your feet stumbling against his as he backed you towards the wall of books beside the desk. 

Your spine hit the shelf roughly as he shoved you back, both of you panting before you grabbed his shirt angrily, yanking him back towards you. You were so furious, so almost feral that you needed this more than you would have thought.

There was something about him, something about him that made you want to pull your hair out and also sit on his face to silence him. 

His kisses weren’t skilled, but they were filled with passion as his teeth clashed against yours, a fight for dominance ensuing as you let a hand slide up into his hair and pull. A grunt came from deep within his chest as you yanked at the roots cruelly, hoping it would hurt him. Heat built in your gut rapidly, the need for him growing stronger with each passing second. 

The hand on your waist slid down further, pulling up your skirt as his fingers pressed against your clothed core. You gasped into his mouth, hips thrusting forward from the pressure. With the other hand disappearing from the back of your head, it met the other between your legs, hooking into the gusset of your tights before you heard a loud rip, cold air immediately hitting your core. 

You gasped loudly, Michael taking advantage as he slid his tongue into your mouth, flicking it upwards against the back of your teeth. He tasted faintly like chocolate, and it was a taste that you didn’t mind at all. His fingers immediately sought out your centre, sliding impatiently between your folds to gather the wetness from your entrance. 

His movements were sloppy, yet focused, drawing it up to your clit as he rubbed fierce circles into it that bordered on painful. You nipped his bottom lip harshly again, yanking his head back and away from you to look at his face as two long digits circled your entrance. 

The pupils of his eyes were enlarged, almost swallowing the blue of his iris whole. His cheeks were flushed a dusty pink, and lips a deep red after your bites. The glasses upon his face were slightly skewed and lightly fogged, the hair atop his head sticking up in different directions from your rough handling. You didn’t even get to observe him for longer before he roughly shoved the two fingers inside.

“Fuck.” You hissed, back arching towards him, shoulders roughly pushing into the bookshelf.

A mean smirk pulled on his lips as he crooked his fingers against the front of your walls, quickly thrusting his hand in and out with dizzying speed. Your breath caught in your throat, brows pulled down as you looked at him, low whine falling from your lips.

“So wet already.” Michael teased, thumb lightly brushing your pearl, a spark of intense pleasure shooting up you. 

You pulled his head back towards you, moaning into his mouth as he continued to fuck you with his fingers, the sound of your arousal loud in the both of your ears. Michael pulled up one of your legs, hooking it around his hip, the cold metal of his carabiner pressing sharply into your inner thigh. Pleasure began to wind tightly in your gut, his long fingers reaching parts of you, your own couldn’t. 

Panting against his mouth, your hand flew behind you to grip one of the wooden shelves, elbow bumping against the spines of the books.

His pace never once faltered, all those hours of quick equations all day boosting his hand strength and stamina. You were surprised that he even knew what he was doing, but the questions floated aimlessly in the back of your mind, not quite sticking.

Your nails dug into the wood of the shelf, hand falling from his hair to his shoulder as your head fell backwards against the shelf, your peak barreling towards you.

“S’close. Please.” You whined, rolling your hips into his hand.

A mean laugh broke your peace, his fingers pulling out of you sharply, preventing you from reaching your release. Your eyes flew open, brows furrowed in frustration as you looked at him, smug smirk on his lips as he brought his fingers up to his mouth, sucking on the arousal soaked digits. 

You moaned weakly looking at him as he did it, hips rolling towards him in an attempt to get him to touch you again. Michael lips pouted at you as he pulled his fingers from his mouth with a wet pop.

“Touch me.” You breathed, pulling him towards you with your leg, the zipper of his cargo pants pressing against you sharply. You sighed, rubbing your centre against his pants, a wet patch no doubt beginning to stain the front of them. 

“So desperate.” He cooed at you, your core clenching at his words as your eyes fluttered.

The hand that had been inside of you quickly made its way to the front of his pants, the other joining as he hastily undid his belt, not pulling it through the loops, followed by his button and zipper. Michael hastily reached into his pants and pulled out his hardened length, the tip pink and weeping, veins crawling up the sides.

You swallowed thickly as you looked down. 

Oh shit. 

Michael was very well endowed.

You didn’t know what shocked you more, the fact that he had such a sizeable cock, or how he thrust it up into you without warning. The stretch was bordering painful and you cried out loudly, Michaels hand slapping across your mouth to stifle the sound. 

“Quiet.” He hissed, pushing in to the hilt, the tip of his cock brushing against your cervix. Your eyes screwed shut as you whined into his palm, your walls struggling to accommodate him as he slowly pulled out, each vein and ridge catching on your inner walls deliciously.

The slow heat inside of you began to build once more. 

Michael thrust into you sharply, your head banging against the back of the shelves as he kept his hand against your mouth, the other holding your hip against him. He set a brutal pace, fucking into your slick walls without abandon as he chased his own pleasure, punching the air out of your chest. 

“Fuck.” He hissed, forehead pressing against your own as he looked down to where you were joined, the leg you stood on stretched on your tippy toe to meet his height as he fucked you, “Your cunt is fucking tight.” 

“Mmm.” You moaned, eyes slipping shut as the coil within your gut began to wind rapidly, each brutal thrust stretching you wide against him with painful pleasure. 

“You gonna cum?” He panted, his eyes shutting behind his glasses that slid down his nose, “Can feel you squeezing my cock. Fuck.”

You nodded desperately beneath his hand, eyes opening to meet his steely gaze as he pulled his head back to watch you, the book shelf creaking as he fucked you against it.

You were so close, so fucking close. 

“Go on.” He commanded, “Cum on my cock like a little slut.”

Your core clenched around him, blinding white pleasure coursing through you as you came, his hand falling from your mouth as you moaned loudly, the noise echoing in the library.

“Shit, fuck. I’m gonna-“ Michael’s thrusts stuttered as a long moan burst from his lips, the warmth of his cum filling you.

You whined, hands gripping his hair as you crashed your lips against his, kissing him lazily as you both panted, his cock throbbing inside of you as your walls squeezed every last drop from him. 

Michael pushed as deep as he could go, the warmth of his cum beginning to leak around the base and down your thighs as you pulsed around him. Your mind was blank, fuzzy warmth spreading through your limbs in a soporific manner. He broke away from the kiss, breathing heavily as he looked down at you, glasses slightly foggy.

You searched his eyes and his face before a smile cracked on your lips. Michael mirrored it with a lopsided grin, huffing as he breathed out deeply.

Feeling a burst of confidence, you let a hand brush between your legs, swiping some of his cum that had dripped onto your thigh up to your mouth. You licked it off your finger slowly, opening your mouth to let him see the mess on your tongue before swallowing.

Michael’s adams apple bobbed, his cock twitching inside of you, “Fucking hell.”

You huffed another laugh, leaning forward to kiss him again, sliding your tongue into his mouth so he could taste himself as well as you on his tongue. He hummed loudly, dropping your leg to cradle your head in his hands. 

When you broke away once more, you couldn’t help but notice the glaringly obvious. 

Michael Gavey just fucked you in the library.

His tongue wet his lips as he looked at you, “Was that good?” A beat, “For you?”

“Yeah.” You breathed, “You?”

“Yeah.”

Silence began to stretch between the two of you before you shifted your hips, Gavey took the hint and slowly slid from your walls, causing you to whimper from the overstimulation. He tucked himself into his pants as you righted yourself, looking down at the gaping hole in the gusset of your tights.

“Well this will be an interesting walk home.” You mused, a hum of a laugh tickling the back of your throat.

Michael snorted, “Made quite the mess.”

“You did.”

Michael smirked, “It wasn’t all me now. I can’t take all the blame.”

You let your skirt drop, smoothing it down as you stepped away from the bookcase, looking back up at him.

“I suppose not. There was effort on both ends here.”

“There was.”

You nibbled at your lip, the unspoken words just at the tip of your tongue, “Michael-“

“-27. We’re in the same block.” His eyes searched yours.

Room 27? Why-

“Did you want to get a drink?” Michael blurted, shifting on his feet awkwardly as though you hadn't just fought and angrily fucked against a bookshelf. 

You looked at him closely. There was no sign of insincerity in his eyes.

He was offering an olive branch. 

You let a smile wash over your face, enjoying how his own came to match it.

“Sure."

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to any tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! <3

Taglist: @magnificentdelusionr @twglitching @fan-goddess @mydemimonde @itsshizyne @4v1d-m3t4l-3nj0y3r @liv-cole @lcecgg @sepherinaspoppies @marihoneywk @trashy-panda777 @bellaisasleep

[hier--soir]

whole new can of worms

joel miller x f!reader

rating: explicit, 18+ mdni summary: two friends decide to blow off a little steam together. warnings/tags: [18+ minors DNI] fwb!joel, famous HOG joel miller lmao, age gap [20 years], language, alcohol consumption, established friendship, guitar playing joel!!, oral [f and m recieving], p in v sex, starts slow and careful and ends up rough oops. word count: 6.9k (nice) series masterlist | masterlist a/n: okay LOOK. i’m working on a final part to this little impromptu series, but I got very side-tracked with the idea of a prequel and then the most smut I’ve ever written just fucking spilled out of me. this is the first time they had sex, ladies and gentlemen. you get the beginning before you get the end. enjoy. also, this moment from tlou pt 2 game is what i was picturing for the beginning when joel is playing the song. dont watch if you don't want to, its from a cut scene very late in the second game. zero spoilers, just joel miller strumming that damn guitar in a way i'll never forget. this is part one of my fwb!joel series. you can find the other parts here: two, three, four.

“Play that one I like.”

Joel offered no verbal response, but sat up straighter in his chair, fingers adjusting along the fretboard of his guitar. You relaxed into your seat, closing your eyes and taking a long sip from your glass of amber liquor.

He began playing and you smiled happily, goosebumps breaking out across your skin as the familiar tune filled the air between you and your friend, melding with the sound of rain softly pattering against the roof of his veranda. You kicked your feet up onto the table between you, the tense muscles in your legs aching from the stretch.

“Get your feet off the table,” Joel muttered, fingers never ceasing on the instrument. “Animal.”

Your eyes stayed closed, but you stuck your tongue out in his direction, smirking a little and keeping your feet up, knowing he didn’t really mind.   

Both of you had endured a long fucking day.

Winter was fading into Spring, and the trees and plants in Jackson were slowly but surely beginning to bloom again. It meant you were spending more hours in the green house than out on patrol, and you weren’t complaining. Tending to the garden relaxed you, connected you to nature and to one of the food sources in the commune that helped put a little bit of food on everyone’s plate each week. Working there made you feel connected to the town, and you loved it, truly. Except, for when a thunderstorm happened.

They’d scared you for as long as you could remember. Since you were a kid, thunder and lightning had made you want to crawl under the covers on your bed and hide away until the loud noises disappeared. But as a full-grown woman, you weren’t afforded such luxuries. Rain, hail or shine, the people in Jackson depended on each other, and you couldn’t duck out of a shift because of a silly little phobia.

When the rain started pouring down on the glass roof of the greenhouse you hadn’t been surprised. Only a few weeks into springtime, the town was still shaking off the remnants of a bitterly cold winter, and a little rain was still common. It was only when the first crack of thunder sounded that you’d stilled, hands frozen gripping a heavy pot, an unwelcome shiver racing down your spine. You’d had to work for hours, the sound of rain pelting against the roof accompanying you, with flashes of lightning appearing out of the corner of your eye all day.

When all was said and done, you’d trudged through the downpour to Joel’s house and arrived on his doorstep looking like a drowned rat, only to find out that he’d spent his afternoon stuck outside on patrol, in the very weather you were so upset about.

He’d opened the door with damp hair, bundled in warm clothes, the tip of his nose a light shade of pink from the cold.

“Whiskey?” he’d asked.

You nodded. “Whiskey.”

And so the pair of you had ended up on his porch, under cover from the residual spit of rain, forgetting all about the shit day through good company and good alcohol.

As Joel strummed the last few chords of the song you sighed glumly, cracking an eye open to watch him. He set the guitar down gently and reached for his glass.

“So beautiful,” you murmured. “Wish I could play.”

“And then what use would I be?” he chuckled. “Can’t have you learning guitar; I’d have no one to play for anymore.”

You watched him closely. Staring into his glass, you could see him mulling the words over in his head. Ellie had hardly spoken a word to him in weeks, and you could see the toll it was taking, although you never pried. Clearly, something had happened, and although you and Joel were close, you hadn’t wanted to insert yourself into whatever drama had consumed his little found family. It made your chest hurt though, to watch him miss that girl. He’d always loved playing for her.

“Good thing I’m lazy then,” you mused softly. “Swear I couldn’t play an instrument with a gun to my head. I’ll need to keep you around.”

“Works for me,” he said, refilling both your glasses. “You on the patrol roster tomorrow?”

You shook your head, accepting the glass with a grateful smile. A slight buzz warmed your insides, fighting to keep your body temperature up as the cool breeze licked at your exposed hands and face. “Nope, I’m a free agent tomorrow, no responsibilities.”

“God damn,” he rolled his eyes. “Gonna be stuck out there all alone with Tommy.”

“Devastating,” you grinned. “I’m way better company.”

“Too right,” Joel agreed. “What’s your plan for the day, little miss no responsibilities? Still reading that book I found you?”

Probably masturbate. The thought zipped through your mind so suddenly that you felt your chest warm, and you cleared your throat softly.

“Yeah,” you replied. “Probably just read for a while. Dinner at Maria and Tommy's, remember?”

You hoped he didn’t see through the lie, because the truth was that you were embarrassed by yourself. Only a few days before you’d been struck by the realisation that you hadn’t had sex, or even been touched intimately by another person, in months. In fact, you noted sullenly, it had been half a fucking year. And you were struggling. It was your longest dry spell in a while, and every night lately you’d found yourself tangled up in your bed with your hand in your underwear, wishing desperately that someone, anyone, else was there with you.

Trying to ward off the unsavoury thoughts filling your mind, you took a deep gulp of whiskey and shut your eyes, contemplating asking if he had any cigarettes laying around.

Suddenly, a deep groan pierced the air between you and your eyes shot open. What the fuck?

With wide eyes, you saw that Joel was gripping his right leg tightly, thumb rubbing deep circles into the skin above his knee cap, and you forced yourself to relax. A sound of pain, you realised. But your heart had stuttered in your chest, because as out of character as it would’ve been, with your eyes closed it had sounded like a vaguely sexual noise. You rolled your eyes, willing yourself to get a grip. But it had been so long, and the sound of a man groaning in any way was enough to light a fire in your stomach.

“It’s the cold,” he noticed your stare. “Makes my knee ache.”

You nodded knowingly, eyes watching as his large hand gripped his thigh, applying pressure to the tender area.

“What’s up your ass?” Joel asked.

“Huh?” your gaze flashed up to meet his and found him watching you closely, eyebrows furrowed.

“You’re frownin’,” he said. “Gone all quiet suddenly.”

“So are you,” you huffed defensively, face warming. “You always fucking frown, I can’t do it one time?”

“No,” he grinned cheekily, stilling rubbing his knee. “I frown enough for the both of us. You can figure somethin’ else out.”  

You let out a begrudging chuckle and felt the indent between your eyebrows relax.

“Seriously,” he pushed. “What’s wrong? Is it too cold? We should move inside.”

“No,” you cringed, scratching the side of your neck awkwardly. Lowering your legs off the table you sat up a little straighter in your chair. “It’s good out here, I like it. I’m just… distracted, I don’t know.”

“What’s on your mind?” he sipped his whiskey.

Without needing any more prompting, you gave up on beating around the bush. “When’s the last time you had sex?”

A choked sound escaped him, and he swallowed quickly, coughing into his elbow. “Christ, what?”

“I’m not,” your cheeks were on fire. “I’m not thinking about you having sex, relax. I was thinking about me having sex. Or not having sex, to be more precise.”

He coughed again, an awkward expression flashing across his face.

You and Joel had been friends for a few years now, since he and Ellie returned to Jackson and decided to settle in the commune. After being friends with Tommy for a few years before that, you’d fallen into a natural friendship with his older brother. It was no secret that there was 20 odd year age difference between you and Joel, but in a post-apocalyptic world, it had never phased either of you. Friends were friends, and an age gap didn’t impact much. But sex was a topic that had seldom come up in conversation over those few years. Here and there maybe, but never in detail, and never so candidly.

“I almost walked in on Shae and Petra fucking the other day,” you continued plainly. “She was late for patrol, so I went over to see if she’d slept in, and I could hear them from outside the fucking house. Stood there like an ass for a minute, just listening like a creep.”

Joel watched you closely, and you noticed his hand gripped his glass a little tighter, fingertips white from the pressure “You… listened?”

“Don’t look at me like that,” you cringed, rubbing a hand over your face shamefully. “Just for a fucking second. Hadn’t realised how long it had been, and it was like my feet wouldn’t move.”

“I see.”

“You better not tell a soul about this,” you pointed at him threateningly. “I’ll end you if anybody finds out, Miller. I swear.”

“I believe you,” he snorted, holding his hands up in surrender. “My lips are sealed.”

You relaxed a little, relieved to discover that he wasn’t going to be as awkward about it as you’d first feared.

“How long has it been?”

Your eyes ticked up to stare at him again. “Like, six months or something.”

Joel let out a low whistle and nodded slowly, sipping from the crystal tumbler in his hand. “You poor soul.”

“Oh, come off it,” you scoffed in disbelief. “Don’t tell me you’re having sex and I’m not? This just keeps getting worse.”

“Fuck you,” he drawled mockingly, that deep Texan accent making you grin. “Would it be such a surprise if I was?”

“S’just bullshit,” you glowered, picking at your nails in frustration. Traces of soil still lined the creases in your palms and you rubbed at it furiously, in a fruitless attempt at cleaning them.  

“I’m not,” is all he said, and you frowned at him in confusion. “Havin’ sex,” he added with a smirk. "And it's been longer for me, so quit your whinin'."

You raised your eyebrows, appreciating the honesty. “Well thank god I’m not the only one.”

“Don’t know when I would,” he shrugged simply. “And who would I be having sex with, anyways? Spend all my fuckin’ time on patrol listening to Tommy talk for hours, or I’m sleepin’, or I’m with you.”

The thought itched so suddenly at the back of your brain, and you fought against it, shaking your head ever so slightly to push it away. Don’t think that. But it was persistent, and after a few moments of silence, your mind was filled with thoughts of you and Joel Miller fucking.

Admittedly, it was something you’d thought about once or twice when you’d first met him. He was a handsome guy, and his arrival in Jackson had definitely caused a stir among the women in the commune. But you’d fallen into a friendship so quickly, so comfortably, that the thought had never reared its ugly head again. Until now.

You watched him for a moment. His hair was dry at that point, and short messy curls framed his face and neck. He had neat dark facial hair, with sweet specks of ashy grey mixed in here and there. That familiar scar on the bridge of his nose. Lips that had gone a darker shade of pink from the cold, that you’d never realised looked quite so… plush. Eyes trailing down, your gaze raked over his hands. Long, calloused fingers that wrapped around almost the entirety of his glass. the warmth in your stomach spread downward, and you knew you should feel embarrassed at where your brain was taking you, but you couldn’t stop yourself. Images flashed through your mind of his hands gripping you like that. Fingers leaving marks on your thighs, on your neck. You shivered, looking away quickly.

“Fuck,” you sighed quietly, not even caring if he heard.

“Hey,” he said softly, assuming you were upset. “Someone’ll come along. We could talk to Tommy about setting you up or somethin’.”

You hummed noncommittally and turned in your chair to face him head on. Joel noticed and adjusted his position to do the same, raising an eyebrow. “What’s that look?” he asked, eyebrows pinching together.

Jesus, here goes nothing.

“What if we fucked?”

Joel stared. His jaw clenched almost imperceptibly, and he put his glass down on the table with a soft clink.

“What?” he said lowly, his voice taking on a sudden gravelly quality.

“I mean,” you searched desperately for the words to explain yourself, licking your lips nervously. “You said it yourself, we’re so busy, right? Always working, or sleeping, or we’re hanging out, you and me. So, what if we just… blew off a little steam together?”

His eyebrows had raised so dramatically you thought they might disappear into his hairline. It wasn’t often you managed to shock Joel, and you laughed gently at the astounded expression that decorated his face.  

“You want to blow off steam… with me?” he pointed lamely at his chest.

“Don’t sound so incredulous,” you joked. “You’re a catch, Joel. You know the teens call you a HOG, right? Hot old guy.“

“Shut up,” he held up a hand to silence you, his eyes squeezing shut tightly as you laughed at his embarrassment. “Don’t want to hear that shit.”

“It wouldn’t mean anything, Joel,” you reassured, veering back on topic. “We could just… help each other wind down after a long day.”

You watched each other in silence for a moment, and you noticed him shuffle slightly in his seat, hand gripping his knee once again. For a minute, you worried that you’d upset him. The friendship you two shared was strong, and you always known you could confide almost anything in him. He was trustworthy, and valued your word above so many others. But maybe this was over the line.

As you were about to speak again, about to take it all back and apologise for even suggesting it, he finally opened his mouth.

“It wouldn’t mean anything?” he clarified. “This won’t affect our friendship.”

You shook your head quickly. “Nothing at all. No strings, bud. Final offer.”

With a deep, rumbling sigh, Joel snatched his glass off the table and downed the remainder of its contents before standing up. “Alright then.”   

You’d been in Joel’s room a hundred times over the years. Hauling him out of bed for patrol after he’d accidentally slept in, or rifling through his chest of drawers to steal a thick pair of socks. But never for this reason. The pair of you stood awkwardly at the foot of his bed, staring at everything other than each other, as the air crackled with palpable tension.

Joel scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, and you smirked, unfamiliar with seeing him being unsure of himself.

“If you don’t want to, we can just forget I ever sai-“

“Just taking your fuckin’ clothes off,” he grunted, staring you down suddenly. Wide eyed, you felt a rush of heat through your thighs.

“Jesus,” you breathed. “Romance isn’t dead.”

He huffed out a laugh and your shoulders relaxed, happy to see a crack through his tense façade. Your tugged off your sweater, and then your shirt, tossing them over the chair in the corner of his room. Working quickly, you undid the zipper on your pants and pulled them down your legs until you were left in your underwear, a thin white singlet, and your socks.

You reminded yourself that Joel had already seen you naked, thinking back on a time when the two of you had gone skinny dipping in a lake you stumbled across on patrol the summer before. But this was so different. This wasn’t a random moment of spontaneity. And at the lake he'd been a gentleman, averting his eyes for the most part out of politeness, but now? Now he was watching your every move.

Silently, he undid the strap off his watch and placed it on the top of his dresser, before working to undo the buttons on his shirt. After he had tugged it off, you let your eyes trail over his exposed skin, and with no fabric covering him, you could see how quickly his chest rose and fell.

“Hey,” you said quietly, stepping forward and placing a hand on his chest. You felt his heart race under the warm skin and smiled. “It’s just me. Let me help you relax, okay?”

His tongue darted out to wet his lips quickly, and you wondered what it would be like to kiss him. You didn’t dwell on it though, and leaned forward to drag your lips across the skin of his neck. He smelt like rain and pine needles, and you inhaled deeply, pressing soft kisses along his pulse point. One of his hands landed heavily on your waist and his thumb begun rubbing encouraging circles over your hip bone. You hummed against his skin, pressing your chest against his. Exposed to the cool temperature, your nipples pebbled underneath your shirt, and from his exhale you knew he could feel them pressing against his bare chest.

With a slight tremor in your hand, you trailed your fingers down his chest. Through the soft hair smattered there, over the thick jagged scar on his stomach, to his belt buckle. Joel shivered lightly, gripping your waist a little tighter. You worked quickly to undo his belt, and then you dragged his zipper down. With a low sigh, you rested your hand over the front of his pants. He jolted slightly, hand sliding around your back to hold you tighter to his chest. With your face hidden in his neck, you couldn’t see his reaction, but you took the firm pressure of his hand on your back as a clear sign to continue. You palmed him gently through his pants, listening to the little puffs of air that rushed out of his nose as he kept his breathing calm. A surge of confidence rushed through you, and you stepped away, letting your hand fall away from him. His arm dropped from your back to his side, and he watched with bated breath as you lowered yourself onto your knees in front of him.

You gripped the waistband of his pants and started to drag them down his legs, helping him step out of them. Wearing nothing but a tight pair of briefs, it was impossible not to stare. You could see the shape of him through the dark fabric, your mouth salivated. More, you needed to see more. Without wasting a second, you tucked your fingers into the band of them and pulled them down slowly, giving him the chance to stop you if he wanted to. But he didn’t. He watched you with hooded dark eyes, chest moving with deep controlled breaths, his bottom lip tucked into his mouth. With his underwear gone, Joel’s cock finally came into your sight. He was only half hard, you realised with awe, and your stomach tingled as you realised what you were in for. Reaching out, your traced your fingers slowly over his hip bones, smiling as goosebumps broke out across his skin, before gently wrapping your fingers around him.

A shaky breath escaped from his nose.

“Is this okay?” you asked quietly, hand stroking softly along his length. He nodded jerkily. “Why don’t you sit on the bed?”

Joel dropped heavily onto the edge of his bed, and you moved forward to rest on your knees in between his parted legs, placing your hand back over him. The air in the room had turned humid, and you could feel sweat forming on your back out of anticipation. The only light source came from the moon shining in his window, bathing the both of you in a pale light.

“You’re so handsome,” you sighed wistfully, gripping him tighter. “I’ve always known it, but seeing you like this is different. So handsome, Joel.”

He reached out and placed a hand on your shoulder, gripping your skin and massaging the knotted muscle at the top of your back. You groaned appreciatively, and without another moment’s hesitation, you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his thigh. No more fucking around. You needed him.

Your hand stroked him firmer, tighter, but your mouth was salivating, desperate to taste him. So you dragged wet kisses along his leg until you reached his abdomen, and then you brought your wet mouth to hover over his cock. You heard his breath hitch and smiled devilishly, staring greedily at his ruddy tip, marvelling as a drop of precum leaked out of him. Painfully slow, you pushed forward and pressed a kiss to it, tongue darting out to swipe along him and taste his salt. Joel hissed in surprise, gripping your shoulder tighter as his other hand moved to the back of your head. Not putting any pressure there, just holding you. Lathing your tongue over his head, you moaned lowly at the taste of him. Salty and warm and masculine. You could feel your underwear sticking uncomfortably against you from how wet you were. Closing your eyes, you cupped his balls gently and pressed wet kisses down his length, dragging your tongue over the pulsing vein that ran from base to tip, and basking in the short gasps that flew out of his mouth.

“Stop teasin’,” he grumbled, and you looked up with a smirk to see his dark eyes glaring down at you.

“Sorry,” you lied, before taking his head into your warm mouth and sucking gently. Slowly, you pressed forward, taking more of him in. You felt him swell against your tongue, getting harder from the stimulation, and you hummed around him. He was so big. Maybe bigger than anyone you’d been with, and you struggled to take it all. He was so thick and heavy in your mouth, it was all you could think about. Consuming every thought, every feeling; all you could focus on was the weight of him on your tongue. You worked on creating a rhythm, bobbing your head and taking as much of him in your mouth as you could, while your hand gripped him at the base, stroking him at the same time.

And finally, finally, he made a sound.

“Fuuuck,” he groaned, drawing out the vowel as a heavy breath he’d been holding escaped his lungs. His fingers dragged through your hair roughly, gripping the back of your head. You pushed yourself forward, taking more of him in until he was pressing into your throat, and you swallowed tightly around him. “Christ, feels so fuckin’ good.”

Seemingly against his will, Joel’s hips bucked upward off the bed and you gagged around him, tears springing into your eyes. He moaned lowly, cursing under his breath at the feeling of your throat contracting around him. Unable to help yourself, you removed your hand from him and lowered it down your body, slipping your fingers underneath the band of your underwear and dipping into the wet heat between your own legs. Breathing harshly through your nose, you moaned around him as your finger brushed your aching clit. You pulled back and worked your tongue over his weeping slit, enjoying the way his grip on your hair tightened as you paid close attention to the most sensitive part of him.

“You’re drivin’ me insane,” he ground out, and you glanced up to see him watching you reverently, eyes wide and glossy, cheeks flushed. “So fuckin’ hot. God, you have the prettiest mouth, how did I never notice that? Never fuckin’ thought about how good my cock would look between your lips until it was happening. I’m a fuckin’ idiot.”

Your cunt pulsed against your fingers and you whimpered, taking him back in your mouth as far as you could. God, the way he spoke made you fucking ache for him. after so many years of knowing him, hearing his voice every day, you’d never have imagined him saying things like that to you. But the weight of him in your mouth was delicious, and his words only spurred you to push forward, forward, forward, revelling in the way he groaned as your nose brushed the dark curls at his base. Tears leaked out of your eyes, rolling down your cheeks from the effort, but you didn’t stop. You slid a finger inside yourself and gagged around him again, eyes rolling back in your head at the intoxicating sensation of having something inside both your mouth and your pussy.

“Takin’ me so well,” his thumb brushed across your cheek, wiping away the tears. “God, I’m in your fuckin’ throat, baby.” The pet name made your stomach tighten, and you moaned as more slick formed around your fingers.  

“Shit,” he choked out suddenly, losing all composure. “Are you fucki-“

You moaned, eyebrows furrowing as you fucked your hand and bobbed your mouth up and down quicker over his length.

“Stop,” he ordered, saying your name firmly. “I- Stop, I’m gonna come.” You ignored him, making a high-pitched sound around him as you felt the hot coil in your stomach begin to tighten. His hand gripped your hair tighter, and he pulled you off him.

You blinked lazily up at him, eyebrows furrowed dejectedly, lips parted. A string of saliva hung in the air between your bottom lip and his tip. You dragged your fingers out of your underwear, chest heaving with heavy breaths.

“Jesus, don’t fuckin’ look at me like that,” he groaned and broke eye contact, gripping your shoulder to pull you up off the floor. “Get up.”

Pushing gently on your shoulders, he nudged you forward onto the bed, and you crawled up before collapsing with your heads against the pillows. His bed was softer than you’d anticipated, and everything smelt like him. The pillows, the duvet. God, even if this was a one-time thing, you’d never forget that smell. He followed you, settling with his legs in between yours, and placed his palms on your stomach, pushing the thin material of your shirt up and over your breasts until it was bunched around your collarbones. Your heart pounded heavily in your chest, and you were aching for him, begging him with your eyes to just please, do something, anything.

And Joel was on you before you could speak, his fingers tracing and over your nipples, squeezing the weight of your breast in his palm before latching his lips onto you. He sucked your painfully tight nipple into his mouth, tongue lazily swiping across it, driving you insane. You sighed heavily, running a hand over the skin of his back and holding him to you. His teeth grazed the sensitive skin ever so lightly and your back arched off the bed. Moving over, he shifted his ministrations to your other breast, his eyes closed as he wet your skin with his slick mouth. And then one of his hands was drifting down your stomach, tickling over your skin, under it met your underwear, and he was cupping you through the fabric. Your hips stuttered upward, and he groaned into your chest, trailing his fingers over the soaked material.

“So fuckin’ wet already,” he muttered into your skin, and you nodded franticly against the pillows. “Did you get this turned on just from havin’ my cock in your mouth? Had to touch yourself?” Surprise zapped through you once more, ecstatic to learn just how much he loved to talk during sex. It was one of your favourite things, and it had always killed you to have sex with someone who was just silent the whole time.

“Yes,” you breathed. “Wanted you to finish in my mouth.”

He bit down onto your chest in response and you cried out quietly, eyes rolling back as he sucked a mark onto your skin with his fingers continued tracing feather light over your covered core.

“Maybe later,” his voice was strained. “Need to see you come first.”

He pulled the fabric of your underwear to the side, and then he was touching you with no barrier, and you trembled beneath him. You’d forgotten how good it felt to have someone else’s hands on you.

Joel groaned as he dipped his middle finger between your warm folds, gliding it up and down along your core, getting it covered in your slick. He swirled the tip of his finger around your entrance and you whimpered, hips grinding desperately against his hand. But he didn’t go inside you. His finger moved back up, all the way up, and swiped gently over your clit and you let out a pathetic moan. Such a small, miniscule touch had your stomach tensing painfully, ridiculously close to orgasm after so much time.

Bringing his face up to rest beside yours, he sucked your earlobe into his mouth gently, before murmuring in your ear, “I want to taste you.”

You didn’t say anything, too stunned by the feeling of his fingers against you, until he probed you for a response, purring your name into your ear.

“Need to hear you say it,” he encouraged. “Tell me what you want.”

“Please,” you begged, eyes shut tightly as he rubbed soft circles around your bundle of nerves. “I want you to taste me.” A grunt of frustration left your mouth as his hand disappeared and you opened your eyes to glare at him, but your mouth fell open, awestruck, when you saw him raise his soaked digits to his lips.

“Like this?” he goaded, sucking your slick off himself and groaning.

“Please,” you repeated, mouth dry as you watched him hum around his middle finger. “Need your mouth on me, your tongue, I-“

“Okay,” he soothed, moving down the bed in an instant. “That’s all I wanted to hear.”

He spread your legs apart, fingers splayed as he held your thighs against the bed, displaying your weeping centre for him to see. A deep sound echoed though the room, and it took you a moment to realise it had been Joel. His dark eyes stared at the spot between your legs, and he dragged his fingers through the coarse hair that covered you.

His movements were torturously slow as he leaned down, pressing sloppy kisses on your hips, along the inside of your thighs, until finally his hot breaths were fanning across your core. You clenched around nothing, whimpering at how empty you felt but knowing it would have to wait.

It was like stepping into a warm bath. The second his tongue was on you, fire raced through your veins, warming your body from head to toe. A sound of relief slipped from your lips, and your eyes rolled back as he licked a broad stripe up the entire length of you. A raspy groan vibrated against you as he pressed a messy kiss against your pussy. You looked down and gasped at the sight of his eyes already on you, watching you and your reactions to him.

“Taste so fuckin’ good,” he drawled against you and you twitched at the sensation of his lips brushing against your clit. His thumbs pressed against your folds, holding you open for him to see everything, and he lathed his warm tongue against your clit, circling it until you were moaning and tensing your thighs against his hold, muscles screaming at you to press against his head and hold him to you.

You whispered his name over and over as if it were a prayer. As if you’d forgotten all other words in the English language and his name was your only salvation. His tongue dipped inside your entrance, prodding firmly until you whimpered and begged him to please, please, let you come.

He ate you out like a man possessed. Like you were his last meal and he intended to savour every god damn second of the experience. He was ravenous, lips and tongue working together to make every muscle in your body tighten until you were gasping. At some point your hand had drifted behind his head and you found yourself tangling your fingers in his hair, pulling it tightly as his mouth moved against you.

“Joel,” you groaned. He hummed against you, movements never ceasing. “Oh fuck, Joel, I’m gonna come.”

His eager moan into your cunt was all it took for you to be catapulted over the precipice and drop into your orgasm. Your body was on fire, vibrating against him as you trembled through it, moans and cries leaving your mouth as your way of thanking him. His hands held your thighs in a vice grip, and there would no doubt be marks there tomorrow to remind you were his fingertips had dug into your skin. As your body relaxed into the mattress again, he pressed a final kiss to your clit before pulling back and dragging his face across your thigh, wiping the remnants of your slick off his facial hair.

“Fuck,” he rasped, grinning up at you with glistening lips.

“So good,” you agreed, nodding as you tried to catch your breath.  

“Almost came all over the sheets,” he admitted and you laughed, beckoning him towards you. He stumbled a bit, one of his knees buckling below him on the bed, leading him to land awkwardly on top of you.  

“Shit,” he groused. “Sorry, bad fuckin’ knee. You’ve got me all bent out of shape.”

You chuckled lowly, pulling him up to lay beside you on the bed. “Let’s not put anymore pressure of them then, okay?” He watched you carefully, curiously, as you turned on your side and then moved backwards, pressing yourself flush against his chest.

His cock pulsed against your ass, and he wrapped an arm around your waist, hand splayed on your stomach to hold you against him as he rutted forward. The feeling of his wet tip dragging along your skin reignited the fire in you and you whimpered, lifting your leg only to push it back and drape it over his waist as much as you could.

“You want it like this?” he asked urgently, hot breaths fanning across your sweaty neck. He pinched your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, tugging on it gently.

You nodded, and waited as he pushed his body a little lower on the bed. His hand disappeared from your chest, and you allowed yourself to pout a little, only because you knew he couldn’t see your face. And then his left arm slithered underneath your shoulder and wrapped loosely your neck, gripping your opposite arm to pin you against him. His free hand gripped his cock and pushed it forward until he was sliding his head between your folds.

Both of you sighed at the sensation and you gripped his arm in anticipation. You could feel his torso moving against your back as he breathed, the soft hair on his chest tickling your skin.

“You ready?” he asked and you grunted, pushing back against him again.

“Joel,” you said in a dangerously low tone. “If you’ve ever cared about me, you will stop teasing and fuck me right now.”  

He laughed darkly, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “Yes, ma’am.”

He notched his tip at your entrance and you gasped as he pressed forward, pressing himself inside of you. It took what felt like minutes for him to bottom out, and when you felt his hips pressing against your ass, you tried to relax. The burn was intense, and you cursed yourself for not anticipating a little bit of pain after such a long dry spell. Joel held still, fingers stroking carefully over the skin of your shoulder, understanding that you needed a second.

“Fuck,” you choked out. “Joel, you’re huge.”  

He let out a gravelly sound into the back of your neck, body shuddering against yours. “You’re takin’ it so well though,” he gritted out. “So tight around me, grippin’ me so good.”   

He pulled back a touch before pressing back into you, and you moaned deeply. That was all the confirmation he needed to continue, pulling almost fully out of you before moving into you harder, stronger, and beginning a steady pace. Your body jolted forward with every one of his movements, but his arm around your neck held you firmly, never allowing you to go too far.

Curses drifted from your mouth, and you hid your face in his arm, biting down on the muscle of his bicep to stifle your sounds. You clenched around him suddenly and his hips stuttered forward, slamming into you in a way that made your stomach tense deliciously. He was so fucking deep, the angle allowing him to glide against your g-spot with every thrust.

“Fuckin’,” he moaned. “You’re so good, bein’ so fuckin’ good for me, aren’t you darlin’?”

You writhed in his arms, accepting the brutal pace he’d set. His skin connected with yours over and over, a satisfying smack, smack, smack sound filling the air.

“J-Joel,” you sobbed. “Oh my fucking god, I-“ He cut you off, gripping your chin and swiftly tugging your face upward so he could see you, and then his mouth was crashing down on yours. He groaned into your mouth, tongue pressing against your lips to part them and then tangling against yours. His lips were soft and wet and you didn’t even care about the odd angle your neck was twisted at as you moaned into it. His thrusts didn’t let up for a second, even as you murmured desperate sounds against each other’s lips.  

“C’mon,” he grunted into your mouth. “Give me another one.” His hand dropped to grip your neck, the sensation only heightening the feeling of him inside you. Liquid heat was spreading in your abdomen, curling through your veins, turning your entire body into jelly. His free hand drifted down your stomach and then his middle finger was dragging across your clit, and a harsh cry spilled from your mouth.

“Shit,” you gasped, face contorting as you felt yourself near your end. He was fucking everywhere, holding you against him by your neck, pounding into you while his fingers circled your clit roughly, and the coil in your stomach just snapped. You yelled his name, body tensing up as he pushed into you, wet squelching sounds filling the air as he fucked you through your orgasm.

“Say my name,” his voice urged in your ear, and you happily obliged, chanting his name like a mantra as he worked your body through it. Within a minute he was groaning frantically, and then he pulled out, and you could feel his come coating your back as he finished. You glanced over your shoulder to see him. His mouth was ajar, soft curses falling from his lips as he gripped his cock, angling it towards you as he painted your skin with his spend.

“Sorry,” he rushed out breathlessly, wide eyes meeting yours. His shoulders shook with the intensity of his orgasm, adrenaline pumping through his veins, and you smiled at the sight. But he looked concerned, eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you warily.

“For what?” you frowned softly, rolling forward onto your stomach to free his arm that was trapped underneath you. “What’s wrong?”

“Came on you,” he clarified. “Should’ve asked first.”

A grin split across your face and his eyes lit up when he saw it, face relaxing again. “Ever the gentleman,” you chuckled. “It’s fine Joel, it was hot.”

His body relaxed and he dropped down to rest on his back, looking at you with a soft, curious expression. “It was,” he agreed quietly.

For a moment the pair of you just laid there, gazing at each other in a moment of wonder, before you suddenly became aware of how much colder the room was now that it was over. You shivered slightly, lifting to sit on your knees. Joel’s eyes trailed over your exposed body, gazing at your breasts, and your stomach, before resting on your face again.

“I’m gonna shower, and then hit the road,” you told him, cringing at the prominent ache between your thighs as you stepped off the bed. You picked your clothes up off the chair in the corner and turned back to look at him. “I’ll see you tomorrow night right, dinner at Maria and Tommy’s?”

He was watching you in a daze, eyelids heavy with drowsiness, but he nodded slowly. “Yeah,” he drawled. “Dinner at Maria and Tommy’s.” His eyes suddenly widened and he rolled over, reaching underneath his pillow before revealing a piece of small dark fabric. Your underwear. He held them out in your direction.

“Keep them big guy,” you winked, and he laughed deeply, dropping them back onto the bed.

You padded towards the door, ready to pop into the bathroom and then head home, before a thought struck you. Resting your shoulder against the doorway you looked at him again, smiling at the sight of him lying naked and fucked out on the bed, eyes closed as he breathed deeply. He looked about as relieved as you felt.

“Hey Joel,” you said quietly, and his eyes flashed open, raising an eyebrow at you. “Between us, right? Probably best if we don’t tell anyone else this happened.”

He nodded once, smiling lazily. “Between us.”

part two

[mysmuttyself]

My care for you

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Rating: 18+

Summary: When Y/n's baking session is interrupted by the magnetic presence of Dean Winchester, their encounter in the kitchen heats up far beyond the oven's temperature.

Tags: Smut, p in v, kitchen sex, pure filth, improper use of pie, possessive Dean, dirty talk, established relationship,

Word count: 809

A/N: This is basically just me pining for Dean freacking Winchester. I baked i pie last week and i got inspired. Please be nice English is not my first language. Enjoy ;)

Everything was ready. The dough had been stored in the fridge to chill. Y/n expertly sliced the apples, the knife gliding through the fruit with practiced ease, she then drizzled them with lemon juice, before pouring the slices in a pan to simmer with sugar and cinnamon.

She was just adding the last touch, a sprinkle of nutmeg, when she felt two strong, calloused hands surround her just below the waist. His scent enveloped her, a combination of musk and amber, strong enough to weaken her knees.

"De" said Y/n in a plaintive tone. She had leaned his head against his solid, muscular chest. "Would you like me to finish this pie for you?"

Dean's lips curved into a playful smile against her neck. He continued to stroke the skin around her ribcage.

"I know baby, it's that you look so damn hot when you cook for me my favourite plate, so caring and sweet, good enough to eat."

He peppered kisses along her neck, and she melted in his arms.

As Dean continued to trail kisses down Y/n's neck, his hands moved lower, slipping under the hem of her shirt to caress the soft skin of her stomach. Y/n's breath hitched, a shiver of anticipation running through her as she leaned back into his touch.

"Dean," she moaned, her voice barely above a whisper, "what about the pie? I could burn the filling"

Dean's smirk only widened as he murmured huskily, "Screw the pie, sweetheart. Right now, all I want to do is fill you up"

She just had the time to turn off the stove before he spun her around, pressing her against the kitchen counter with a hungry urgency. His lips crashed against hers in a heated kiss, tongues tangling as desire surged between them. Y/n moaned into his mouth, her fingers tangling in his hair as she surrendered completely to him.

Dean's hands roamed eagerly over her body, pulling the fabric of her skirt up.

“Look at the mess you made baby, is this all for me?” He asked moving the dampening panties to the side to reveal her wet core. Y/n arched into his touch unable to answer, aching for more as he started to tease her, rocking his till clothed shaft against her wet folds.

"Dean," she gasped, her voice thick with need, "please..."

Her plea hung in the air like a silent prayer, her heart pounding in her chest as she waited for his response. Dean's darkened gaze met hers, a flicker of primal hunger flashing in his eyes as he leaned in close, his lips grazing her earlobe with a tantalizing whisper.

“Tell me what you need sweetheart” he breathed, his sultry low voice sent shivers down her spine.

“I need you, I need your cock” Y/n begged him. A primal growl rumbled from deep within Dean's chest. His desire for her burned hot and fierce, matching the intensity of her own need.

"Then you shall have me" Dean husked, in one swift motion, he freed himself from his clothing, his throbbing length springing eagerly into view. Y/n's breath caught in her throat at the sight. He was beautifully thick, if a cock could have been defined pretty, it was Dean’s.

Without a word, Dean positioned himself between her trembling thighs, his hands gripping her hips possessively as he guided himself to her slick entrance.

“Are gonna be a good girl? Take me nice and deep?” He asked her in a so very low tone.

“Yes, yes, Dean please” With a slow, torturous push, he entered her, the sensation of their bodies joining sending waves of pleasure coursing through them both

Y/n gasped as Dean filled her completely, every inch of him stretching and filling her in the most delicious way imaginable. She clung to him desperately, nails digging into his back as he began to move with a rhythm that was both primal and intoxicating.

With each thrust, Dean drove Y/n to the brink of ecstasy, his name falling from her lips in a breathless mantra of desire.

“Tell me that you are mine” His words, laden with desire and command.

"I'm yours, Dean," she gasped, her voice trembling with need. "All yours."

With each thrust, Dean claimed her as his own, their bodies moving in perfect synchrony. When Dean's calloused hand reached to stimulate her clit, it was too much for Y/n.

She exploded in a climax of lust, and Dean reached his own orgasm a couple of thrusts later, moaning her name.

They looked at each other for what seemed like endless seconds. Then he finally smiled and said, “Looks like we worked up an appetite” murmuring as he reached for the nearby apple pie filling. He sucked on his finger and then fed it to her.

[bktoluver]

Bathroom Rendezvous

Logan Howlett x f!reader

Summary: When meeting a stranger in a bar leads to some interesting happenings in the bathroom

Warnings: 18+ , afab!reader, public sex (bar bathroom) , p in v, unprotected p in v, fingering, smidge of praise if there’s more lmk and i will add them

Word Count: 1,432

not proof read besties 🫶 I watched the new Deadpool and Wolverine movie the other day which led me to binge the xmen movies which led me back to my thirsting over wolverine

The bar was dimly lit, filled with the sounds of clinking glasses and hushed whispers. Amidst the crowd sat a lone figure, hunched over the bar and nursing a glass of amber liquid.

As she approached the bar, she couldn't help but feel drawn to the mysterious stranger. He exuded an air of danger and intrigue that she found irresistible. She slid onto the stool beside him, flagging down the bartender with a flick of her wrist. Her gaze kept drifting back to the man beside her, who seemed lost in his own world.

Finally, after several long moments of contemplation, the man glanced her way. Their eyes met, and she felt a shiver run down her spine. There was something almost predatory about his gaze, like a wild animal sizing up its prey. But despite the chill running down her spine, she couldn't tear her eyes away. There was something mesmerizing about him, something hypnotic.

The man raised an eyebrow at her, but didn't look away. In fact, his gaze only grew more intense as they locked eyes. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke. “You're staring," he growled, his voice low and deep. She swallowed hard, feeling a thrill run through her body at the sound of his voice. It was rugged and raw, like gravel being crushed underfoot.

“I know," she replied softly, holding his gaze. She didn't bother denying it. If anything, she wanted to stare at him even more, soaking in every detail of his handsome face.

There was a moment of silence as they continued to regard each other. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the man leaned in closer to her. “What's your name?" he rasped, his breath hot against her ear. She shivered involuntarily at the sensation, goosebumps breaking out across her skin. The smell of alcohol on his breath mixed with his unique scent sent waves of pleasure coursing through her body. She could feel herself getting wet just from his proximity alone.

She licked her lips nervously before responding. “It's y/n," she murmured back, her voice barely above a whisper. Part of her couldn't believe what she was doing, allowing herself to be seduced by this strange man in a bar. But another part of her knew that she didn't care. For once in her life, she wanted to throw caution to the wind and indulge in her desires. And somehow, she knew that this man could give her exactly what she needed.

She could feel his breath hot on her neck as he leaned in closer, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating off his body. “Well Y/N," he purred, his voice low and seductive. “I'm Logan. It's nice to meet you."

Y/N found herself becoming increasingly drawn in by Logan's charm. He had an intensity about him that was impossible to ignore, like a magnet sucking her in relentlessly. As they continued to talk, she found herself feeling more and more reckless, less concerned with the consequences of her actions. All that mattered in that moment was the electric connection she felt with this mysterious stranger. Before she knew it, she was leaning in close to him, almost subconsciously closing the distance between them. His musky cologne filled her nostrils, sending shivers down her spine.

She wasn't sure who initiated it - whether it was her or him. Perhaps it was inevitable from the start. Before either of them knew it, their lips were locked together in a ferverent kiss. It happened so suddenly, so unexpectedly that neither of them had time to resist. One minute they were sitting side by side at the bar, and the next they were stumbling into the cramped confines of the bathroom. There was no hesitation, no second thoughts. Only desire.

She pressed herself up against him, her curves molding perfectly to his muscular form. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her in closer as their lips crashed together once again.

He trailed his fingers along her spine, feeling her body tense up beneath his touch. She responded eagerly, gasping as he teased her sensitive flesh with featherlight strokes.

“Tell me what you want," he growled in her ear, his warm breath causing goosebumps to erupt across her skin. She could feel his rock-hard length pressing against her thigh, threatening to unravel her sanity. She whimpered softly, biting her lower lip as she struggled to find the words.

He chuckled darkly, the sound reverberating through her chest. “Come on," he urged, biting down gently on her earlobe. “I know you want it. Tell me what you want." His voice was a rough whisper against her ear, making her toes curl in delight.

“Fuck..." She breathed heavily, trying to gather her thoughts. “I want you," she managed to stammer out, finally finding her voice. “Inside me... please..." She pleaded with him, her tone breathy and ragged.

Hearing those words sent a rush of heat surging through his veins. With a low growl, he grabbed hold of her hips and turned her around so that she was facing away from him. Her hands bracing herself against the grimey sink.

He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of her panties and began tugging them down, exposing her glistening folds to the cool bathroom air. He paused for a moment to appreciate the sight of her naked ass bent over in front of him. He reached forward, tracing his fingers slowly along her slit, reveling in her sharp intake of breath as he grazed over her clit. Slowly, sensually, he slipped two fingers inside of her, curling them upward to find that special spot deep within her walls that caused her to moan loudly in pleasure.

As he thrust deeper inside of her, her cries filled the small room. She arched her back towards him seeking even more depth and pressure. Grasping onto the edge of the sink as every inch of her body hummed with ecstasy.

“Oh god," she moaned, tossing her head back as a spasm ran through her body, writhing against him desperately

Logan withdrew his fingers from her slick channel and reached down to free his hardened shaft from the constriction of his jeans.

Her eyes darted up to the grungy mirror above the sink as she caught sight of his reflection in it. She stared for a moment at his thick erection before focusing on the deep hunger in his eyes as he looked back at her bare behind.

“Good girl, spreading yourself open like that..." Logan grunted behind her as he teased her slippery hole with the fat head of his cock. Slowly he pushed forward, stretching her wide as he began to fill her quivering hole with a deep groan of satisfaction.

she let out a throaty moan as she felt her pussy stretch around him, enveloping his cock. Pinned against the sink with his heavy breaths fogging up the mirror.

He held himself deep inside her for a moment longer before starting a slow steady rhythm. Each long stroke forced her body flush against the porcelain sink as he pulled out and pushing back in.

He watched in the mirror as she dropped her forehead to rest upon her arms crossed along the sink ledge.

“Look at us, beautiful." He commanded softly as he began thrusting harder.

Her gaze shifted upwards reluctantly at his request. Meeting his eyes through the greasy mirror as he hammered into her wetness mercilessly.

Her breathing came heavier in tandem with her increasing pleasure. Her chest rising and falling rapidly as every muscle in her trembling body began to coil tightly towards climax. Moaning louder with each powerful pump of his swollen cock.

Logan watched as her pleasure built slowly until with a sharp cry that echoed through the room, she squeezed her eyes shut as orgasm exploded through her core outwards in waves of pure electric ecstasy that set her nerves ablaze. She felt boneless - pliant - like she could melt into him completely.

He continued driving into her convulsing channel in firm thrusts fueled by mounting need. Slapping hard against her reddened flesh until his own climax erupted forcefully, gushing deep within her tender folds. Panting ragged gasps shook his frame as he bucked erratically for several heated pulses.

When they both had come down from their highs they broke apart. Wiping down hastily before readjusting their clothing properly. Zipping up his jeans buttoning up his shirt while avoiding eye contact. No words were spoken between them. Just lingering heat remained from their recent activities.

[starlyxn]

Heavenly Pleasure ♡⁠

⋆｡˚✩ : Angel!reader x Occultist!Kazuha

⋆｡˚✩ , genre: smut, nsfw

⋆｡˚✩ , synopsis: Kazuha wants to try summoning a demon, yet to his surprise he summons an angel?? You're curious about human love, so he decides to teach you just how it is to "love" <3

⋆｡˚✩ , cw: fingering and oral (f receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, usage of pet name (angel), reader is really innocent and lowkey turns into a whore at the end lmaoaoao, your angel wings are sensitive for some reason and uhh I also added aftercare :3

⋆｡˚✩ , note!!: there are 2k words + omg this is my first time ever writing I'm sorry if it sucks lmaoaooaoa

Kazuha was a college student who specialized in literature. He was pretty popular and attractive, he was also amazing at poetry. You would never expect that such a nice guy like him would be interested in occult.

Last night he took one of the occult books he found in the library and tried to do a ritual to summon a demon. Was he really expecting it to work? Well, no. But he still wanted to give it a try.

It's the middle of the night when he wakes up in a cold sweat. He feels a strange presence next to him and sees a pale, feathery, human like creature sitting on the edge of his bed, giving him a sweet smile. It was you.

So.. how exactly did this happen? Well, yesterday while Kazuha was doing the ritual, he got some stuff wrong and instead of summoning a demon he summoned an angel. You heard his call and came down to earth to see your summoner.

Kazuha looks at you in shock. "What the hell..? Is this a dream? It gotta be..." You look at him with a sweet smile. "No, it's real!! I'm the angel you summoned last night!" you declare.

Kazuha's mind was racing with thoughts as to why an angel would be in his room right now.

"An angel? So the the ritual I did actually worked??" He seems to think about the situation he's on right now, panicking a bit. "Fuck..! How do I get rid of it..?!"

Get rid of it?? Oh.. did he mean me? You frown when you realize he infact did. "You wanna get rid of me..? Why?" You look up at him, your eyes staring into his amber ones.

He seems to notice your sadness and reconsiders his decision, immediately trying to make you feel better, after all he wouldn't wanna sadden an angel. "N-no! I mean.. uhh..." He looks away thinking of what words to use next. "I don't know... What do I even do with an angel..?"

Why would he call you if he doesn't know what to do with you? You were clueless. "Well... I don't know, you're the one who summoned me after all, so.. you decide what you wanna do." You say and smile at him again.

"Well, you do have a good point..." He was still unsure about what to do with his unexpected visitor. "So.. what's your name?" He says, trying to make some small talk. He was quite charming, yet also incredibly awkward.

"I'm [name]" you say. He smiles at you. "What a pretty name, fitting for an angel such as yourself." He looked at you more closely now, taking in your pretty features. He thought you were extremely pretty but well.. being an angel probably helped with that.

After a short pause he notices how he has been staring at you and blushes, looking away in embarrassment. "I'm Kazuha..." is what he stammers out, refusing to look you in the eyes. You smile at him, you didn't mind the staring at all! He was pretty cute... "That's such a pretty name!!" You say happily.

This just makes Kazuha's face go a deeper shape of red. "Oh, thank you..." He says with a gentle smile on his face. Then after a few seconds he awkwardly shuffles in his place. "Are you like, here to judge me or something..? You know, since you're an angel and stuff..."

You're a bit taken aback by his question. "Oh no, of course not! I'm here because you summoned me!!" He sighs happily. "Well that's a relief, though... How did I even manage to summon you?" You just look at him and dryly answer. It didn't make sense to you that he was even asking that in the first place... "With the ritual."

"Right, right... So you're like a real celestial being from up there?" He points up to the ceiling. You giggle a bit at the way he's acting. "Yup!! Straight from heaven!!" You stand up and do a little spin to show off your wings and halo. "See?"

Kazuha looked at you and smiled, seemingly impressed by your features. "Archons.. you look as if you're straight out of a book or something..." He couldn't help but stare a bit longer, admiring your beauty.

You just give him a sweet smile in response. Kazuha's heart skipped a beat at your sweet look. "So you just.. hang around looking pretty?" He chuckles awkwardly, obviously not used to holding conversations with the supernatural.

You giggle at his question. "I guess so..? I'm still pretty new to all of this to be honest." You blush a bit. He thinks a bit and then opens his mouth to ask another question. "Anyways.. I summoned you, you're here and you'll do anything that I want? Right..?" You nod at his question.

This was a once in a life time offer for Kazuha. He looked you up and down, he seemed to be mesmerized by the beautiful details of your feathery wings. You wait patiently for his request and after a moment he stands up, a bit nervous to ask you what he wishes for.

He points at your wings. "Can I take a closer look..? Or like.. you know... Touch them?" You smile at his request and accept. "Of course you can!!"

Kazuha approached you and started gently caressing your wings. He carefully checks out every detail of your pretty feathers while gently grazing his fingers across them.

You let out a little sound. It felt weird to have your wings touched... Kazuha's face flushed a bit when he took notice of your sound. "Does it feel good..?" You feel your face heat up by his touch. "It feels a bit.. weird..? It's kinda sensitive... But good!" Kazuha looks at you with a gentle smile. "I'm glad it's good..."

Kazuha understood that your feathers were sensitive and he didn't wanna make you feel uncomfortable but the sounds you make and the way your body reacts to his touch was just mesmerizing... I mean, it couldn't be a sin right..? He was just caressing you, gently... Not at all sexually!! Well, just.. just a bit maybe...

His hand travels from your wings to your soft cheeks. You giggle a bit at his touch and the way he's blushing "That's not my wing.." He blushes a bit and looks into your eyes. "Am I allowed to touch you elsewhere..?"

Well, what could possibly go wrong? He seems like a nice guy!! Right? You smile at him "Sure, go ahead." His hand travels over your soft features and eventually ends up on your inner thigh, his face flushes red when you shiver at his touch.

"Are you okay..? I-I can stop.." You shake your head, "No no.. continue.. it just felt a bit weird." He looks at you a bit guilty, knowing that what he was doing just had to be a sin, get he couldn't hold himself back. Well, I mean, he didn't fuck you yet so it's okay!

His hand reaches up higher and you open your legs out of instinct, letting him see up your dress. He notices that and his thumb softly presses on your clothed clit making your eyes open wide as you whine at the feeling. Your face feels hot.. your whole body does actually.

"Kazuha.. It feels weird when you touch there..." He stops his motion on your clothed cunt which makes you.. rather sad. "I.. I should stop then..." Before he can pull his hand away you get a hold of it, pulling it against yourself again. "No.. don't stop.. I want more... I'm just not used to this..."

His face grows red and well, the color in his face isn't the only thing that grows. Yet you don't notice the growing tent in his pants. You were too focused on this new sensation you had discovered. Kazuha pulls against your panties "May I?" You nod, he knows better than you when it comes to this stuff so you put all your trust into him.

He mutters something under his breath after he takes your panties off, you didn't quite get what he said but it sounded something like "so pretty.." Kazuha rubs your clit and lowers himself down until he's facing your bare core, before you can mutter something about how this is embarrassing he starts licking your clit.

Which results with you moaning out his name. He places his middle finger right infront your entrance "I-Ill put my finger in..." You were a bit confused. "In..? In me..?" He blushes even more when you look at him with those innocent eyes. "Y-yes.. it'll feel good for you..."

"O-okay... I'm ready then" He gently pushes his finger in, "Archons... You're so tight, yet also wet..." he starts to rub your insides gently and latches his tongue back on your little bud. You moan and clench around his fingers, "Ah! It feels good..! M-more..."

"Needy.." he smiles and pushes his ring finger in too, watching the way your body takes him in. He fingers you with wet squelches and sucks on your clit. You shake as a weird feeling engulfs you, it felt good, almost too good. It's like there's a coil in your stomach, about to snap.

"Kazuha.. too much... I feel like I'm gonna..." You didn't know what it was, but there was something... Kazuha immediately understood that you were about to cum. And so.. he stopped. "Why..? Why did you stop..?" You whine at the lost of contact.

"I want your first time coming to be on my cock, angel" Your face grows hot at his dirty words. "So vulgar..." You look away and try to hide your flushed gaze. "Sorry, angel..." You smile at him "Never said I didn't like it..."

He grins and undresses both you and himself. He begins playing with your perky nipples making you softly sigh at his touch. "You're so pretty angel..." Your eyes travel down to his erection. "Kazuha..." You mumble his name. Your hand goes to his cock, you rub your finger over his head which was already leaking precum.

"Fuck.. angel... I can't take it anymore... Can I, can I fuck you..?" Fucking..? What was that again... "What is that..?" Oh, that's right. You were an angel, literally from heaven. Of course you didn't know what that was.

"Um.. I wanna make love to you... Do you know what that is..?" Love.. love... The word left a sweet taste in your tongue. "Love... I've always wondered what it is like to love. I heard so much about it, yet never felt love..." He smirks at your words, so cute and innocent.

"I'll teach you all about it then, don't worry angel, you'll feel a lot of love tonight." He climbs on top of you and aligns his cock with your wet entrance. "I'll be gentle... But make sure to tell me if it hurts, okay?"

Before you can answer he pushes himself in, feeling your soft walls engulfing all of him. You moan and grip his sheets, looking up at him and then back to where you are connected. His hips stutter and he hisses when he's finally all in.

"Fuck.. angel, you're so tight..." You grip his arm with one of your hands and look up at him with pleading eyes. "Huh? Oh, you wanna hold my hand?" He gives you a sweet smile and gently places his hand on top of yours, intertwining his fingers with yours as he starts moving his hips slowly.

"So, ah.. fucking cute... Even while you're being fucked by me..."

"Kazuha.. it feels good when you ahh.. move..!" Kazuha's pace picked up as you said that, his thrusts getting harder and deeper. His wet lips met yours in a passionate kiss, your tongues tangling together as you shared your mutual pleasure. The sound of your heavy breathing and wet slapping of flesh on flesh filled the room, creating an erotic symphony.

Everything after that was a haze, Kazuha was kissing and licking you all over, it felt like you were melting from the pleasure. The only sounds you could get out being moans and whines. Everything was a blur, the only thing you could think of was Kazuha Kazuha Kazuha...

Until you suddenly got that weird feeling in you again, everything feeling even more sensitive. Kazuha could already feel you were close by how your thighs started shaking and how you were clamping down on him.

"Ah–!♡⁠ Angel..! I'm ahn– I'm gonna cum too, fuck.. cum– cum with me..!♡⁠" You moan shamelessly and hold on tight to him, something in you screams that you want.. no, need him to do whatever that cumming thing was inside of you.

"Kazuhaa!♡ Cum– cum inside of me!!♡⁠♡⁠ Ahhnn..!♡⁠ Fuck– faster!! Ohhh– keep going.. just like that..!" He seems to get even more aroused, if that was even possible. He snaps his hips against yours fast and hard, making you shake with each thrust.

"I thought you were ahh–!♡⁠ Supposed to be an angel... Yet you're saying such unholy things right ahn– now! Did I fuck the innocence out of you, angel?♡⁠♡⁠♡⁠" You can't even answer and only manage to blabber some words about how you're gonna cum and then your orgasm washes over you. Kazuha finishes with a loud moan, his warm load filling you up and painting your insides white.

The only thing you could hear now was the panting of you both. Kazuha pulls out of you and lays beside you. "You did so good angel..." He tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. "It felt like nothing I've ever felt before..." is what you say, tired after what you just did.

"You really made me feel like I was in heaven." You just smile at him and he suddenly stands up. "Noo.. don't go..!" He giggles when you say that "I'm gonna get a wet towel to wipe you off. I'll be right back!"

After a few minutes he's back and starts gently wiping you off, getting rid of the sticky mess you two created. Especially between your thighs.. both your and his cum dripping down your them. He gets you all clean though!!

He also rummages through his closet and takes out a few clothes and put them on you. They were warm and comfortable, plus they smelled just like him... "I hope you're comfortable right now..." He smiles at you and takes you in his arms. "More comfortable than I ever was before..." You mumble and cuddle up to him.

He looks down at you, adoring you. "Get some sleep angel, I know you're tired. I'll be here in the morning, still laying right beside you." ...you wanted to tell him something. What was it..? Oh! "I love you..."

He freezes at your words and looks at you, dazzled. "I– I love you too..." He said, still not believing that you just told him that. He hugs you tight and caresses your soft hair, massaging your scalp until you fall asleep in his arms.

[cocteaucherry]

fuckboy!suguru x reader

a/n-something I wrote in like two days, :p

cws- geto is fr a douche, nipple play, nipple piercing, tongue piercings, unprotected p in v, 18+, geto with tattoos, mention of bodily fluids, slight coercion, reader uses she/her pronouns

fuckboy!Suguru who was the sweetest boy through your years of high school.

His hair was relatively long and his face was still developing, he’d offer to help you study for upcoming quizzes and would often invite you out for coffee study dates.

The summer after graduation Geto had cut contact with most of his friends (other than Gojo and Shoko) you didn't look too deep into it, I mean he was cutting social ties starting fresh, turning over a new great leaf. Oh how wrong you were

That fall you attended your local college excited to enter a new chapter, a few weeks into your first semester everything had gone calmly until you saw him.

He was more sculpted, his raven hair cascaded down his back and, how did he get jacked in a matter of months? Although to be fair he always wore baggy clothes. To add onto his new look was a long dragon sleeve tattoo and a cool metal ball pierced through his tongue.

You wondered where this pivot came from until the rumors and whispers began, many people regaling with tears how he fucked, led them on then broke it off with swift quickness.

A pang of disappointment rang through your body, over a boy you hung out with a few times was crazy your mind told you but you couldn't care.

fuckboy!Suguru who approached you in the dining hall with a sickeningly sweet smile and his usual hushed tone, “Y/N, long time no see.” a fake smile generated on your face as you listened to him try to powder and egg you on.

“I think we should catch up this weekend whaddya’ think?”

“I don't know..”

“Come on pleasee, it'll be like old times.”

“Fine,”

“Saturday at five good?”

Fuckboy!suguru picking you up in his surprisingly nice black Jeep, for being a douche he had a suspiciously clean car. He wore baggy jeans and a tight black t-shirt, his muscles looking as if they're trying to bust out the tight fabric but your eyes are brought to his chest.

Four small metal balls on either side of his nipples and you were gobsmacked.

“It's rude to stare, angel.”

You were bought out of your gaze, a heat creeping up your neck, you hadn't registered the nick name he gave you.

The date with Suguru had gone surprisingly well, you held your breath for the level of sleaze he could give off but so far nothing came.

So how come you found yourself on his couch sloppily making out with him?

His lips attacked and bruised yours aggressively, his large hands running over the slight exposure of your skin, small grunts came from his mouth as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

In the back of your mind this went against all your morals but at the moment you didn't care.

Fuckboy!Suguru who had you ride his thick, aching cock in the comfort of his bed, you whimpered as you struggled to slam your hips down completely on his length.

His amber eyes scanned your body as his muscles tensed as he felt you clench around him. Rough hands came to your soft bouncing breasts as he squeezed a nipple aggressively in-between his fingers, “Feel how hard you make me angel?” he cooed using his other hand to slap his hand harshly on the fat of your ass.

“Letting me fuck this tight pussy on our first outing too? tch.” he clicked his tongue latching his mouth onto your erect nipple, he swirled the tip of his tongue around purposely moving the cold metal around the space.

Whines escaped from your mouth as you pleaded, “S-Sugu, let me cum please,” you moaned continuing to bounce off his cock.

“Mm should I?” he mumbled pulling off your nipple to smirk at your sweaty face, “Don't know if you earned it,” the grip on your ass getting harsher each second.

Fuckboy!suguru who edged you for about two hours that night but came about four times all over your face, tits, and ass.

Fuckboy!suguru who left you naked in his bed to smoke outside as he ran into his white haired roommate hair tousled, “Suguru, do you always have to do this shit here? I'm not getting any sleep.” he groaned, rubbing his eyes.

Suguru smirked, holding a cigarette in hand as his sweatpants hung dangerously low on his hips, “You'll be fine.”

“Who’s on the roster tonight?”

“Cute girl, met her in the dinner hall.”

“Huh, might’ve been the quickest fuck you've gotten usually you wait a week or two what's different?”

Suguru shrugged while walking towards the balcony, “No idea, just met her this week.”

Satoru raised an eyebrow with a grin, “Sugu~ y’know you're a terrible liar right?”

I feel like I could've gone a lot more extreme but I didn't wanna hurt my own feelings)

[wutheringcaterpillar]

hey can you write for Cillian being jealous over his wife/fiance / girlfriend who's 20 years younger after her co worker was flirting with her in a party. After they headed home they had a fight and a hate/rough/ jealousy fuck but ended up hugging eo like nothing happened because it was the first fight fuck they had and they enjoyed it

Thank you for the request, hope you enjoy!

Warnings: age gap (20 yr age difference), rough sex, jealousy, p in v

After finally wrapping up the movie you were filming, Cillian arrived with you to an after party in celebration held at the studio. He had been so proud of his brilliant, beautiful wife and was there to show his support.

The evening carried on quite well, the writers and producers carrying on casual conversation with Cillian and asking of his filming endeavors and what he thinks makes a script flourish and stick out with great potential to become a huge hit.

After a few drinks at the bar, he excused himself to the restroom, giving you a peck on the cheek.

That was when Jake approached you. He was around your age range, early twenties and he was a close friend of yours ever since the first of filming. It was rare he was dressed up and seeing him so was quite a breath taker, he was quite handsome.

“Hey! There’s the star!” He welcomed you with open arms into a warm hug, causing you to smile widely. You had never been complimented so much in a day and honestly it was very wonderful and made you feel appreciated, not that Cillian didn’t but it was nice to hear from co workers and strangers too.

“Did you see the scrapbook Carly made of some fun moments we had on set? She really made it for you with it being your first film an all.” When you shook your head no, Jake walked you over to the table.

Cillian exited the bathroom only to find you not where he expected you to be, spotting you over by the city view window, Jake standing next to you with his hand settled on your lowerback.

Making his way over, he could hear Jake make a comment to you about how out of all other actresses he’d worked with, you had been the best. The comment made you smile and giggle, causing a deep discomfort to settle over Cillian like an impending storm.

“Oh, honey hi! Jake was just showing me the scrapbook Carly made, so sweet of her isn’t it?” Cillian smiled and nodded pleasently, hiding the building jealousy as Jake swayed closer to you. As a man himself Cillian knew that Jake was looking at you with lustful, scheming eyes before turning his attention to him.

“You have a hell of a wife here, quite talented she is, and beautiful might I add.” Jake winked toward you, causing your cheeks to burn an amber shade of red while Cillian stood there with his eyebrows raised that this man had the audacity to make a such a motion in front of him. 

Lapping his tongue over his lip and chuckling darkly, his arm flexed behind your shoulders as a way of claiming his territory, looking Jake directly in the eyes.

“I’m well aware what I have. I feel I must inform you, your zipper’s down and you lusting over a married woman makes you look quite pathetic and desperate, guess that comes with young age and stupidity. You had her in a scene, fake might I add. I have her daily, now go check your trousers  and yourself little boy before you try hitting on my wife again. We’ll be leaving now.” Embarrassment spread over Jake’s face as he looked around the room, seeing if anyone else noticed.

Cillian grabbed your hand, dragging you out of the party as you yelled goodbyes and thank yous’ to all of your co stars.

He had never acted like this and you were more than pissed at his actions. As an actor himself he should know how to compose himself and realize that you were a grown woman who loved him and never gave him a reason to believe you’d cheat.

The car ride was silent while tensions were high. Shifting your legs, you held the position facing the window not even wanting to make eye contact with Cillian. How could he embarrass you like that? 

Meanwhile he continued driving, knuckles wrapped white and tight around the wheel, jaw clenched in anger.

Arriving home, you bursted through the door in an angered storm, lips pursed in disgust. Cillian simply scoffed, yelling behind you as you climbed the stairs to the bedroom after taking your heels off

“Did you even care that I showed up for you? Cause it looked like you were too wrapped up in Jake’s fucking flirtatious remarks to even notice I was there.” Turning around in fury, you pointed your finger, pushing his chest lightly while you stared at him with venomous eyes.

“Well maybe if my husband wasn’t an insecure little jealous bitch this all could have been avoided, but wait maybe that comes with age like you said to Jake!” Shoving you against the wall with gritted teeth, he pulled his tie off aggressively while wrapping his hand around your throat. Your head bounced back against the sturdy wall.

In a heated wave of anger, Cillian’s eyes flamed like a blue rose set on fire while your eyes bore into his skull with a lustful fury.

Clashing his lips against yours roughly breaking the tension, your hand grazed up the back of his neck pulling him in closer needing to taste him. 

He lifted you off the ground effortlessly as you fumbled with his belt never breaking your lips from his, tongues exploring one anothers, moaning in between kisses.

His cock popped out from the tailored trousers, the thick head leaking with pre cum waiting ever impatiently to be between your wet folds.

“Take me. Go on take me before I-“ Cillian silenced your smirk words with his cock unexpectedly sliding forcefully into your tight hole making you gasp.

“Not so smart now are we love?” He began to plow irelentlessly into your cunt, your breasts falling shamelessly from your dress.

He wanted you to hear you moan, to beg for more because it was only him who you belonged to, only him who could pleasure you in such a memorable way.

Spreading you over the wooden dresser, his strong hands grasped at your thighs, slamming you down onto his cock, filling you with every singular inch of his girthy member.

Something about seeing him fuck you still in his tuxedo sent a thrill up your spine, maybe you needed to argue more if the sex was going to be like this.

Pulling him down, you buried his head in your breasts, ankles tying behind his back, pushing him further inside, as far as you could.

His tongue lapsed at your cleavage before moving to your nipples, sucking like a baby needed it’s bottle, nibbling at the delicate skin.

“Fuck Cil- more!” All of a sudden, the pleasurable thrusts came to a hault. He lifted his head, whispering in your ear with sarcasm.

“I’m sorry, what was that? You need more, from me? Why should I give it to you, you have Jake.”

“Cill, please! Just fuck me you stubborn ass, you know I’m fucking yours.” That’s all he needed to hear, but the thought of Jake’s hands on you still pissed him off.

Your soaked walls clenched to him desperately, squeezing and craving for more friction, a faster pace as your orgasm was nearing closer and closer with each passing second, each power driven ram into your aching cervix.

He didn’t know his wife could be anymore hot, anymore sexy than she was right now before his very eyes.

He flipped you over onto your stomach, pulling your head back by your hair, causing the once well combed strands to completely fall to ruins.

Your ass bounced back against him, the jiggling motion richocheting against his skin as he pounded into you relentlessly, his cock filling every inch of your dripping cunt.

“Cil-Cil I’m going to-“ You didn’t get to finish your sentence, hands gripping desperately at the sides of the dresser while your orgasm twitched with a majestic feeling of euphoria through your body. Coming completely undone beneath your husband who never failed to ensure you came first.

When he felt the wave of your alluring nectar stream down his shaft, with one last, detrimental pound you felt his cock pulsate inside of you, the stream of his seed watering your uterus. Your moans mixing together in a harmonious end to a fight.

Cillian was like a drug you’d never, ever want to quit.

Standing up, you fixed the strap of you dress, patting the fabric down and wiping the sweat from your forehead while he pulled his pants back up in a now tired haze. 

There was an awkward silence but no further argumentative statements or yelling, like the storm has passed.

“Let’s go to bed yeah?” Nodding, you followed him to bed, curling into his side falling asleep peacefully as if nothing happened.

[kckt88]

You Really Got Me.

Summary:

After being dragged to a club by his brother, Aemond meets the girl of his dreams.

Warning(s): Alcohol, Flirting, Banter, Kissing, Smut, Oral Sex M & F Recieving, Multiple Orgasms, P in V sex.

AEMOND TARGARYEN x Y.N

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Word Count: 3384

A.N - Shout out to @zeciex for suggesting I write this!!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

As the bass thumped through the club, Aemond Targaryen leaned back against the plush leather booth, a tumbler of amber liquid swirling in his hand. His older brother Aegon was at it again, prowling the dance floor in search of his next conquest, his laughter mingling with the music and the chatter of the crowd.

Aemond couldn't help but shake his head at Aegon's antics, a small smirk playing at the corners of his lips. Some things never changed, no matter how old they got. But then, his attention was caught by a figure sitting at the bar.

She was captivating, with long, dark hair cascading over her shoulders and a leather jacket over her dress only adding an edge to her ensemble.

Her fingers tapped against her thigh in time with the beat, a subtle rhythm that drew Aemond's gaze like a moth to flame and he found himself unable to look away.

As the music pulsed around them, Aemond felt a surge of courage wash over him. With a glance towards his brother, who was still lost in his pursuit, he made his decision. Setting down his drink, he straightened his jacket and approached the bar, a newfound determination in his step.

It had been a good few months since he’d last took a woman to his bed and tonight, he would take a chance, and see where the night would lead.

With a steady resolve, Aemond made his way through the pulsating crowd towards the bar where the captivating woman sat. As he approached, he couldn't help but admire the graceful way she moved to the music, her presence commanding attention.

Just as he was about to speak, fate intervened in the form of a misstep.

The woman turned at the wrong moment, her sudden movement catching Aemond off guard. Before he could react, their paths collided, and the contents of her drink went tumbling through the air, splashing across the front of his shirt.

"Whoa, I'm so sorry!" Aemond exclaimed, his hand instinctively reaching out to steady her as they both stumbled back from the collision.

The woman's eyes widened in surprise, a look of mortification crossing her features as she took in the mess they had created. "Oh gods, I didn't see you there," she apologized, her voice tinged with embarrassment.

"It's alright, really," Aemond reassured her, offering a warm smile despite the dampness seeping through his shirt. "Accidents happen."

Together, they shared a rueful laugh, the tension of the moment dissipating into shared amusement.

As they both cleaned up the mess, the woman offered a sheepish smile. "I'm Y.N," she introduced herself, her voice soft but carrying a hint of warmth.

"Aemond," he replied, offering his hand with a gentle shake. "Nice to meet you, Y.N, despite the unconventional start."

Y.N's smile widened, a glint of amusement sparkling in her eyes. "Likewise, Aemond. And I must say, you handle unexpected collisions quite well."

Aemond chuckled, a hint of colour rising to his cheeks. "Years of practice," he quipped, enjoying the easy banter that flowed between them.

Feeling a sense of camaraderie growing between them, Aemond gestured towards the bar. "Can I make it up to you by buying you another drink?" he offered, hoping to extend their conversation beyond the initial mishap.

Y.N's lips curved into a playful grin. "I suppose that would be fair compensation," she teased, a sparkle of mischief dancing in her eyes.

With a shared laugh, they made their way to the bar, the music and chatter of the club fading into the background as they continued to get to know each other.

As they settled into a more intimate corner of the club, Aemond and Y.N continued their conversation, their laughter blending seamlessly with the music.

"So, what brought you here tonight?" Aemond asked, genuinely curious about the woman sitting across from him.

Y.N's expression softened, a hint of wistfulness crossing her features. "Honestly, I was just about to leave," she confessed, her voice tinged with a touch of disappointment. "My friends bailed on me, and I didn't really fancy staying here alone."

Aemond's brows furrowed sympathetically, but a playful twinkle lit up his eye. "Well, I suppose luck was on my side then," he remarked with a charming smile. "Because you're not alone anymore."

Y.N's lips curled into a smile, touched by his sincerity. "I suppose you're right," she conceded, a warmth blossoming in her chest at his words.

As the night wore on and their conversation deepened, Aemond and Y.N found themselves drawn to each other in ways they hadn't expected. With each shared laugh and exchanged glance, the spark of attraction between them ignited into a blazing flame.

Aemond leaned in closer, his voice low and husky as he teased Y.N with playful banter. "You know, I must say, you're quite the captivating presence," he remarked, a hint of admiration in his tone.

Y.N's cheeks flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and delight as she returned his gaze, her eyes sparkling with a newfound confidence. "Flattery will get you everywhere," she quipped, her smile playful yet inviting.

Their flirtatious exchange continued, a dance of words and glances that spoke volumes without the need for further explanation.

Aemond couldn't deny the magnetic pull he felt towards Y.N, her wit and charm captivating him in ways he hadn't anticipated. And as he watched her laugh and playfully toss her hair, he knew that he wanted nothing more than to explore where this newfound attraction would lead.

For Y.N, the feeling was mutual, her heart racing with excitement as she found herself falling deeper under Aemond's spell. In his presence, she felt alive in a way she hadn't in a long time, her every nerve tingling with anticipation.

As the night progressed and the chemistry between them intensified, Y.N found herself drawn to the subtle intricacies of Aemond's appearance. With a gentle touch, she reached out to tuck a stray strand of his long, silver hair behind his ear, her fingertips lingering against his skin.

"You know," she began, her voice barely above a whisper, "You have to be one of the most beautiful men I've ever seen."

Aemond's breath caught in his throat at her words, a rush of warmth flooding through him at the sincerity in her gaze. He met her eyes, his own blue orbs reflecting a depth of emotion that words could scarcely capture.

"Thank you," he murmured, his voice tinged with a mixture of humility and gratitude. "That's-quite the compliment."

Y.N smiled, her gaze softening as she took in the sight of him. "I mean it," she insisted, her fingers trailing lightly along his jawline. "Your sharp features, the colour of your eye-it’s truly mesmerizing".

“-And the eyepatch and scar?” mused Aemond.

“Proves that you’re a survivor” replied Y.N smiling.

Y.N's gaze lingered on Aemond's profile, the soft glow of the club's lights casting gentle shadows across his features.

With a small smile playing at the corners of her lips, she couldn't help but voice her admiration.

"You know, Aemond, your side profile is absolutely incredible," she remarked, her voice hushed yet filled with genuine appreciation.

Aemond turned to face her, a faint blush tinting his cheeks at the unexpected compliment. "Really?" he replied, his voice tinged with a mixture of surprise and pleasure.

Y.N nodded, her eyes tracing the elegant curve of his jawline and the noble slope of his nose. "Yes, really," she affirmed, her tone earnest. "There's something about the way the light catches your features-it's like you were sculpted by an artist."

Aemond's heart fluttered at her words, a warmth spreading through him at the sincerity in her gaze. In Y.N's eyes, he felt seen in a way that went beyond mere physical appearance, a recognition of the uniqueness that defined him.

"Thank you," he murmured, his voice soft yet filled with gratitude.

Aemond found himself unable to resist the magnetic pull drawing him closer to Y.N. With a silent exchange of longing glances, they closed the distance between them, their lips meeting in a fervent kiss that ignited a firestorm of passion between them.

In that moment, the world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the sensation of Y.N's lips against his own, soft yet electrifying. Aemond's heart thundered in his chest as he deepened the kiss, his hands instinctively finding their way to Y.N's waist, pulling her closer to him.

Y.N responded eagerly, her arms winding around Aemond's neck as she melted into his embrace.

As their kiss finally broke, leaving them both breathless and flushed with desire, Aemond gazed into Y.N's eyes, a question lingering unspoken between them.

"Y.N," he began, his voice husky with emotion, "Would you like to-go back to my flat?"

Y.N's lips curved into a knowing smile, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. "Yes," she whispered, her voice filled with a quiet longing that mirrored his own.

With a surge of elation coursing through him, Aemond took her hand in his, his fingers intertwining with hers as they made their way through the throng of people towards the exit.

As they reached the door, Aemond fumbled for his keys, his fingers trembling with anticipation. With a satisfying click, the door swung open, and they stumbled into the dimly lit interior, their bodies pressed together as their kisses grew deeper, more urgent.

“A-Are you sure?” asked Aemond.

“Yes, I’m sure-“ replied Y.N as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him for another kiss, the tongues gently caressing one another.

Aemond’s hands then slipped her leather jacket off her shoulders and draped it over the back of a chair before he took her face in his hands and ran his tongue over her lips, eliciting a low moan from Y.N.

His long fingers sliding up the back of her neck and into her hair, his forehead resting against hers.

“So beautiful” whispered Aemond.

“I-I want to see you” muttered Y.N softly.

Aemond hesitated, he never took his eyepatch off around anyone except his mother, brothers, and sister.

But there was something about Y.N that instantly made him feel comfortable, so with a deep breath Aemond slipped his fingers under the strap of his eyepatch and pulled it from his head.

Y.N stood silent she stared at the scar the bisected his cheek, extending through his eyebrow. The sapphire that he’d placed in the eye socket, glinted in the moonlight.

“You are-so-beautiful” whispered Y.N as she leaned forward and placed a number of kisses along his scarred cheek and over the sapphire.

Aemond closed his eye in delight at the tender gesture, a contented sigh escaping his lips.

“Hmmm” rasped Aemond as he ran his thumb over Y.N’s bottom lip, his eye going wide as she opened her mouth and nipped at his thumb before sucking it into her mouth.

Aemond could feel his eye roll into the back of head, fuck his cock was throbbing.

“Please-“ moaned Y.N

Aemond removed his thumb and quickly shed his jacket before throwing it on the sofa.

Wasting no time, he pulled Y.N to him, his lips once again claiming hers.

He put his arm around her waist and kissed her passionately, deepening the kiss as she moaned into his mouth. His tongue pushing against hers.

Y.N ran her fingers across his lithe body. His muscles rippled under her fingertips.

She unbuttoned the white shirt he wore, placing feathery kisses on his sparsely haired chest as the shirt was removed.

Her fingers toying with the silver cross chain he wore.

Groaning against her creamy smooth skin, he kissed her neck, sucking on the delicate flesh as she leaned into him, enjoying his every touch.

Her dress felt heavy on her. She wanted to be rid of it. She wanted to feel his skin on hers. She reluctantly broke free of his embrace and turned her back to him moving her hair out of the way.

His fingers trembled as he grasped the zip to her dress and pulled it down, the sound echoed through the quiet apartment, and he pressed his lips to the back of her neck.

Using his long fingers, he freed her from the confinements of her dress, and it fell to join his shirt on the floor.

She wasn’t wearing a bra, which excited him to no end.

Goosebumps appeared where his fingers moved over her. Cupping her ample breasts from behind, Aemond pulled Y.N against his chest. Burying himself in the crook of her neck, sucking on the skin whilst his fingers massaged the soft mounds and played with her hardened nipples.

Aemond turned her to face him. Kissing her again, he trailed kisses down her body and took a rosy nipple in his mouth. Sucking on the aroused bud, he bit down lightly, earning a low moan from deep within her.

He continued his actions on the other breast and kissed past her stomach until he knelt before her. Her fingers in his hair tightened as he ran the tips of his fingers from her stomach down to her core.

Slowly he hooked his thumbs on the sides of her knickers and pulled them down.

 Fuck she was dripping, and it was all for him. He could not wait to taste her. Somehow, he knew she would taste delicious.

Y.N delicately stepped out of the lacy material, and Aemond's long fingers grasped her buttocks. His fingers dug into her delicate flesh.

He felt her lean in eagerly. Gently he swiped his tongue across her hairless pussy, instant gratification as her fingers tightened their hold on his head, and a low moan left her lips.

Aemond smirked. Using his tongue, he gained access to her wet, pink folds. She tasted fucking amazing. Aemond enthusiastically ran his tongue along her slit, flicking his tongue over her swollen clit.

Y.N effortlessly placed a leg on his shoulder, spreading her thighs for better access. Oh, how he welcomed it.

Her clit was a swollen mass of pleasure waiting to explode. He pressed his tongue hard on it and sucked on her pulsating womanhood. Again and again, he felt her squirm. He felt her heat, she was so close.

Y.N felt the flow of heat accumulate behind her navel as she hovered on the cusp of orgasm. She let out a loud moan as she intricately spun a bundle of nerves that exploded within her.

"Fuck!" Y.N cried and buckled under the weight of her release.

Wave upon wave of unbridled passion unleashed within her as an earth-shattering orgasm tore throughout her body. Her slick juices dripped down his lips and chin. He didn't stop until she was utterly spent.

Pushing his tongue further in, he fucked her with his tongue till her orgasm ceased.

"Aemond," whimpered Y.N as she began to wobble.

Smirking, Aemond rose to his feet and kissed her, letting her taste herself on his tongue.

Y.N regained her composure and keenly clung to him, returning his kisses while undoing the button of his trousers.

Not skipping a single step as she directed him backwards towards the sofa.

Kissing him full on the mouth, her fingers stroked his body, not missing an inch of flesh.

She marvelled at the feel of his body. It was so lithe and fit. Trailing kisses past his stomach, she came face to face with his sizeable bulge.

Biting down on her lip, kneeling between his legs she pulled his trousers and boxers down his shapely legs and threw them next to her.

Even in the dim light, Aemond could see she was impressed. His rock-hard shaft stood up, eagerly awaiting its reward.

Y.N bent her head and licked a line from his balls to his pulsating head.

Aemond groaned aloud as she clasped her fingers around his girth and moved her hand up and down the hard shaft. Y.N enjoyed his slow torture. She smirked and licked the underside of his cock.

"Y.N-" whimpered Aemond.

His eye closed, and he felt her tongue at his head, licking the pre-cum that oozed out.

Without warning, she took him in whole, deep-throating his length. Aemond knew he would not last, he could not hold back any longer, but gods he did not want her to stop.

She was sucking on him, her lips tightening around his cock as she built a beautiful pace.

"NO!" groaned Aemond and Y.N withdrew.

She barely had time to react. Before he grabbed her around the waist and moved her on top.

“I-have condoms-somewhere” mumbled Aemond.

“I’m on the pill and clean-“ exclaimed Y.N her eyes going wide as Aemond lined up his cock with her entrance and sheathed himself inside her with one hard thrust.

Y.N moaned as Aemond withdrew and entered into her repeatedly.

Faster and faster. Harder and deeper, his fingers digging into the flesh of her hips.

"Please don't stop," cried out Y.N

"I have no intention of stopping" growled Aemond, his feet planted firmly on the floor to allow him to increase the intensity of his thrusts.

A satisfied smile spread across his face as he quickened and angled his movements, so his cock rubbed on that special place inside her.

Aemond was mesmerized by the sight of Y.N’s breasts bouncing in front of him and unbale to resist any longer he surged forward, his mouth wrapping around one rosy bud.

His teeth and tongue teasing the stiffened peak.

“Gods-yes Aemond” shrieked Y.N as she bounced on his cock, her hands coiled in is long silver hair.

“That’s it baby-take it-take all of me” growled Aemond leaning back as he moved Y.N’s hips in time with his thrusts.

“Oh gods-” wailed Y.N.

“That’s it-FUCK Y.N” groaned Aemond as he took hold of her and quickly manoeuvred her onto her back, his cock never leaving the warm wetness of her as he began to pound into her, the sounds of skin slapping on skin echoing around his apartment.

“P-Please Aemond. Don’t stop. Don’t stop-“ whimpered Y.N.

“Come for me baby-come for me” growled Aemond as he felt her clenching around him.

“AEMOND” screamed Y.N as she exploded, her nails digging into his back.

Aemond held back for as long as he could, but his release was upon him.

Surrounded by her wetness, he closed his eye.

With a final hard thrust, he spilled rope after rope of his seed.

He muffled his groans into her mouth as she hung onto him, kissing him fervently.

Only once she milked him dry did he collapse on top of her. She held him close to her body, whispering words of comfort and satisfaction while running her fingers down his back.

The sweat on his back stung against the scraps her nails made.

As they lay entwined on the sofa, their bodies bare and glistening with the remnants of their shared passion, Aemond and Y.N savoured the quiet intimacy of the moment. The soft glow of moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle halo around their entangled forms.

Aemond's fingers traced lazy patterns across Y.N's skin, his touch tender and reverent as he explored the contours of her body.

With a contented sigh, he pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead, his heart overflowing with gratitude for the unexpected twist of fate that had brought them together.

In the stillness of the night, a silent thanks drifted through Aemond's mind, directed towards Aegon, who had unwittingly led him to the club where he had found Y.N.

Aemond couldn't shake the feeling that he didn't want this to be just another fleeting encounter. With Y.N nestled against him, her warmth radiating against his skin, he felt a longing stir within him—a desire to see her again, to explore the depths of their connection beyond the confines of this single night.

Gathering his courage, Aemond brushed a stray lock of hair from Y.N's face, his voice soft yet resolute. "Y.N," he began, his heart pounding in his chest, "I don't want this to end here. Would you-would you like to go on a date with me?"

Y.N's eyes lit up with delight, a soft giggle escaping her lips as she looked up at him with a sparkle of excitement. "Yes," she replied, her voice brimming with warmth and affection. "I would love to."

[mini-ism]

#— LIT CIGARETTES.

paring: gallagher x gn!reader (female anatomy, no use of “breasts”)

words: 3.1k

synopsis: gallagher meets a companion that he invites on a smoke break.

warnings: MDNI! intoxication, p in v, dubcon, alcohol, semi-forced smoking, smoking, cigarettes, kinda OOC?, choking, wrist binding, cunnilingus, light degradation, spanking.

DARK CONTENT AHEAD, DISCRETION ADVISED!!

flick, flick…,

the haze of fresh smoke covered his face as he leaned against the stone wall. the golden hour of penacony was ever-bustling. gallagher took a long drag from the cigarette, taking it out of his mouth with his index and thumb, ashing it slightly, and exhaling the smoke.

a cigarette every so often was refreshing, sometimes soulglad can be sickening. or at least to gallagher, though he might be the sole believer of that. damn near every night was the same, “can i get uh… soulglad?” another drunken patron slurred. the face of this patron is just as muddled as their voice. likely because every night, every person asked for a bottle of soulglad. gallagher obliged, as it was his duty, finishing wiping a glass, then uncapping a fizzy bottle of the drink, and passing it to them without a complaint or a mere word.

he took another puff, a longer one. he sighed, murky grey clouds leaving his mouth and nostrils. he put the cigarette back into his mouth, brushing his long, brown hair out of his eyes, savoring every intoxicating breath. he crushed he butt beneath his shoe, tobacco smearing onto penacony’s smooth pavement, watching it fizzle from existence. another benefit of the dream, one could assume.

he scratched at the stubble on his jawline, walking back into one of the many bars he frequently bartended at, bracing himself to serve more damn soulglad for the nth time tonight.

the chestnut-brown hair on his shoulders bounced as he strode back inside, music blaring a bit too loudly for his liking. he cracked his neck, then his gloved knuckles, and made his way behind the counter.

“how was your break?” a coworker inquired, “you smell like smoke.”

“it was alright, i guess. nothin’ too special.” he spoke, “is that a bad thing?”

music rang in his ears as he wiped down a few more glasses. the same coworker tapped on his shoulder after a few moments, “gallagher, look to your left. total cutie over there.”

gallagher wasn’t the type to pay attention to anyone’s looks. he listened. that was simply his job. he just so happened to look to his left, grumbling slightly. “i mean, they’re alright. what’dya want me to say?”

“come on, man, just have fun for once. i get that this is your job, but it never hurts to bend the rules a lil’, huh?” they responded, “i’ll give you like, 200 credits if you talk to them.”

“make it 500 and i might.” he joked, watching as his bartending partner pulled exactly 500 credits out of their breastpocket, slipping it into his pocket.

“do it,” they snickered.

he watched as you settled into your seat at the bar, waving to your friend from across the club. “anything i can get you tonight?” a voice rung from behind you, slightly raspy, yet smooth, and tired.

he was just as tired-looking as his voice led you to believe, “well, firstly, are you okay?” you asked curiously, hands resting on the edge of the marbled countertop.

“yeah, i’m alright. is there anything i can do for you?” he asked again, his amber-colored eyes focused on you, accented by his eyebags that happened to be deeper than oceans. he was visibly aged, and had scars littered all over him.

in the quiet moment you were investigating his appearance, he too was “checking you out.” you looked nice, now that you were in front of him. his vision wasn’t the best nowadays, but it suffices well enough to delineate all the delicate features painted onto your skin and your face. he liked that.

“could i get a crimson sunset?” finally, something that wasn’t a fucking soulglad.

“sure thing, not a problem.” gallagher grabbed a glass with his hand, pouring a mixture of syrups, drinks, and spirits into the glass masterfully. he smiled tiredly at you, passing the drink to you on a red napkin. the drink itself was a pretty red-orange color that faded into a deep purple.

“mind if i get myself a drink?”

“are you allowed to do that?” you replied.

“well, i mean, never hurts to bend the rules a lil’, yeah?” he answered, unintentionally charismatically.

his accidental confidence made you laugh slightly, “go ahead, mister…?”

“gallagher,” he said, pouring himself his own drink. he isn’t mixing it with anything, just straight alcohol from the bottle into the same type of glass you have in your hand, “no need to be so formal. you can just call me gallagher.”

“alright, gallagher, it’s nice to meet you.” you grinned brightly, taking note of the faint smile painting his features and lighting up his dull eyes.

“it’s nice to meet you too… ah…” he trails off.

“(your name).” you replied, giggling slightly as you take a sip from your drink, admiring the complex profile of gallagher’s mixing skills, “by the way, this is really good.”

“thanks,” he shuffles awkwardly, mimicking you by taking a swig of his own drink, “it’s really nothin’ though, just a lil’ bit of gallagher magic.”

he watches as you sip from your drink again, raising his glass again and finishing the rest of the liquid inside. he can feel the alcohol burning in his throat as he drinks it down hungrily, blurring his own mind as you start to talk again. he’s listening, but not a word is registering in his head. gallagher refills his glass with a more potent drink, leaning over the counter and propping himself up with his toned forearms.

“…and that’s how i ended up here, with my friend,” you finished off, the mix starting to get to your head too. he has no idea you could be such a talker, it almost makes him want to shut you up, but that’s not nice and he should play fair! he never does anyways.

“well, ain’t that a story!” he laughs, sipping on his own concoction again, flashing a grin, “here, lemme getcha another drink, it’ll be on me, hun.”

“thank you, gallagher!” you smiled drunkenly, watching him show off his mastery of mixology like it’s a performing art, pouring the beautiful mixture into your new glass.

“mmmn, what? you like the way i do that, eh?” he teased, leaning over the marble counter again, sliding you the glass, “so what if i do?” you teased back, your words starting to slur together to form one big super-word.

“i can do it again for ya, if ya like,” he breathed, his tired eyes starting to look more like bedroom eyes.

“really? can you?” you nearly begged, awe-struck at his sheer skill.

“yeah, i can show you everything i can do. ‘m not jus’ good at mixin’ drinks, y’know?” he said, sending a shiver down your spine, making your back nearly arch with just a single sentence. he looked at you again, greedily sipping his drink, his eyes imploring you to do the same without a single word from him. you do just as they say, watching the spark ignite within his pupils like a flick of a lighter. his lips curl into a smile as he finishes his mahogany colored concoction, a marvel of alcoholic creativity. you cough slightly as you finish up your own drink, the burn in your gut rising like a flame. it travels from your tummy all the way up your esophagus, tickling your lips with a sting.

“do you like it, babydoll?” he collects the glasses, putting them in the sink for later, “i hope you did. i worked really hard on making you a nice drink.”

you nod sloppily, words caught in your throat like the eager blaze that’s simmering within your body. words are barging into your mind, but you cannot decipher, nor string them together, properly. “that’s wonderful. would’ya mind joining me for a smoke break?”

“sure, we can do that…” you smile, your cheeks hot and your skin prickly with fire. gallagher walks out of the bar, helping you walk out of the bar with enough stability. he leads you back to the wall he stood against before, the golden hour much darker than before. you leaned against him within the alleyway.

“have you smoked before?” he asks, taking out a cigarette from the carton in his pocket, where the credits from before lie.

“nooo…” you slur, giggling against the wall as gallagher helps you up, the unlit smoke between his lips.

“…wanna try?” he asks again, lighting the cigarette, flick, flick, shielding the flame with his free hand.

you considered it for a moment. you never thought you’d touch a cigarette, nevertheless smoke it, yet here you are, “uh… sure…?” you said with a hiccup.

gallagher takes a long inhale of the cigarette, his lungs filling with smoke before he takes it out, filling your own mouth with smoke as he puts his lips on yours, gently cupping your jaw with his other hand.

he exhales the rest of the smoke, watching you cough with a weirdly sick pleasure, “you like it?”

just as you were about to whine and say ‘no,’ the rush of nicotine blurs your mind, you can barely muster up a whimper, let alone nod your head weakly. “thas’ good, hun.”

he passes you the lit cigarette, watching you take it between your fingers as you take a small puff, the paper that wraps the tobacco burning up. again, you cough, but the menthol soothes your throat a bit more this time.

“feels real good, don’t it?” he breathes on the junction of skin between your collarbone and your neck, the burn boiling over as you exhale, feeling his hot breath against your prickly skin.

gallagher takes the cigarette from you again, taking a long drag from it, and exhaling in front of you, a bit of the smoke tingling within your throat.

“gonna feel better sooner or later,” he murmurs, taking the cigarette out of his mouth and kissing the intersection between your carotid artery and your clavicle, tickling your skin with his raw, swollen lips.

you whine as his hands crawl up your body, feeling your chest and your covered up nipples. he’s getting handsy as he finishes the rest of the smoke, holding it in for longer, then exhaling in your face with a sinister chuckle, “you’s needy. i gotcha babydoll, don’t worry.”

you fall into him as he crushes the butt-end of the cigarette, the orange menthol filter dissipating out of existence. his gloved hands feel all over every inch of your torso, from your collarbones, to your low abdomen. gallagher plants more rough kisses onto you, picking you up and leaning you against the wall, your back facing him as your cheek presses against the cold, hard surface of the wall.

your vision is spinning as your intoxicated state seeps deeper into your mind and body, watching as he unties his pretty magenta-colored tie. gallagher binds your hands with the tie, keeping your hands behind your back, in place and secure.

“you wanna stay here like this? i’m not gonna ask you again, so you’d best tell me now if you don’t wanna go through with it.” he commands, his grip tight, but loose enough not to bruise flesh.

truthfully, you want to do this, your body does too. your words are failing you as you make little noises, your cheek scraping lightly against the ragged surface. you mustered up a meager, “wannit, gall… ger…”

“yeah, hun?” he whispered breathily, heat radiating against the shell of your ear, “you gonna be good f’me?”

“yessss…” you whine in response, shuffling against the wall, your mind buzzing with every possibility.

“thas’ good, so good already.” he smiles, you can feel his lips curl against your neck as he gives you another little kiss, his raw, rough lips grazing against your tender, needy flesh.

gallagher was buzzed himself, he’s always had a high tolerance for things like alcohol and nicotine, being high off life was almost entirely new. something he hadn’t felt in so long, and here you were, back arched, being all obedient. all for gallagher, bartender and bloodhound (that of which you were unaware of).

in a swift motion, he tugged your at your clothing, moving it out of the way, so he can paw at your undergarments. you looked so cute like this, wrists bound and legs spread. all of this just so he can see what awaits him, “my, my, you’re all wet.”

“nnnmh, yeaaah…” you heaved, you’re dizzy, needy, you’re hammered, and you’re vulnerable. how much more adorable can you get? his fingers traced circles around the dampened spot in your underwear. you’re soaked already.

gallagher pulled your underwear to the side, tucking it in the crevice between your lip and your asscheek, working his fingers on your wet slit. he took some of your slick on his finger, rubbing your clit with his dominant hand. he gave your pussy a self-indulgent slap, before teasing your entrance with a thick finger. wordlessly, it slipped in with relative ease, eliciting a loud moan to pass through your swollen lips. he chuckled at your reaction, pulling it out, then slipping the digit back inside.

another moan fell from your lips, throaty and whiny. his finger started to move inside you, at first unbent and quickly fucking you. you slid against the wall, knees buckling slightly, before gallagher’s free hand pinned you to the wall, keeping you in your place. his single finger curled inside you, hitting your spongy g-spot. you mewled, crooning at the sensation, practically seeing stars. your vision started to blur as black splotches started to cloud it, but all you could feel, think, understand, want, smell, need, was him. he continued fucking you with his finger, watching your legs shake and your juices drip down his finger and onto his gloved palm.

“feels real nice, don’t it?” he cooed, slipping in another digit without warning. his scarred, toned arm flexed with every movement, curling and slipping inside and outside of you. his fingers made their way to your clit, rubbing it with vigor and passion, before he spread your other lip with his thumb and put his lips to your pussy. he gave it a rough, sloppy kiss, pulling away to listen to you cry out. nobody could care any less, they were experiencing the dream. in all actuality, this feels like a dream within a dream, if that makes sense. you were just so amazing, you were alluring. definitely worth more than 500 credits. he gave your pussy another sopping wet kiss, his scratchy stubble rubbing against your skin, creating friction. his tongue darted to your clit, licking and sucking it between his lips and teeth. his thumb still held your cunt open. gallagher gave you a couple more long licks and kisses for good measure, savoring your every drop, relishing your taste, before standing up.

“ready, babydoll?” gallagher rhetorically asked before unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants (which happened to be the same magenta color as his tie). you nodded, drooling and zoning out. all you could understand was the pleasure he was giving you, all you could care about was how much more pleasure he could give you, “great.”

he pulled his thick cock out from his boxers, lining it up against your entrance, savoring the difference in size. your small, little cunt and his big, fat dick. how cute. gallagher re-adjusted you, spreading your legs just a bit further, then putting some pressure on the lumbar portion of your back, causing you to arch more instinctively.

without warning, the burning within your body had boiled over again between your legs, the stretch to accommodate his girthy dick nearly destroying you. you screamed, but nobody gives a damn, “scream all you want, babe, you gonna take it.”

gallagher pulled out again, just a little, to slam back into you, watching your cunt stretch as much as it could. he savored how warm and tight you were, tight as a vice could get. your eyes rolled into the back of your head, saliva dribbling your chin and onto your clothing. a loud crack, followed by a searing pain, flooded your senses. his palm made contact with your asscheek again, slapping it roughly for a second time, pushing himself into you with as much force as he could use before breaking you in half.

“you takin’ me so good, ‘m proud of ya, doll,” he chuckled, smiling again. gallagher had found a pace inside you, his hand snaking up to your throat and wrapping around it. he applied pressure to your jugular and carotid with his thumb and his other four digits on their respective sides. he sped up slightly, gripping your hips as air flow lessened.

gallagher continued to slam-fuck into you, speeding up with every thrust, chasing his high. his breath was hot and heavy, huffing in your ear as your vision and hearing fizzled out like the cigarette butt on the pavement. your breathing became ragged as he bullied your pussy ruthlessly, “you ever been fucked like this, huh?”

air rejuvenated your senses as he let go of your throat, you heaved a weak, drunken “no.”

“ain’t no dick good as gallagher’s, huh? good as mine, mmm.” he groaned, his hips colliding with yours faster and faster andfasterandfaster…, “gonna cum, babydoll. i ain’t pullin’ out, though.”

you hoarsely whined, your fucked-out brain needing more of him, any morsel of him is good enough, and it just feels so good, and youreabouttofuckingcumtoo…

“mmn, i’m cumming, hun. i’m gonna fuckin’ cum in you, you needy bitch. fuuuuckyeah…” gallagher’s grip on your throat tightened the moment the burning hot coil in your stomach loosened, allowing you to orgasm and scream out his name just as soon as he came. he groaned and huffed in your ear, his brown hair messy and clinging to his sweaty face, “feels so fuckin’ good, fuuuck.”

you let out a choked noise, prompting him to let go and pull out of you. he leaned over you, resting his forehead against his forearm, that of which was supported by the wall you leaned against. your knees wobbled, and before you could fall, gallagher instinctively held your abdomen with his other arm, tucking you against his chest. you stared at his scars, which littered his arm, as you came down from your intense orgasm.

“…you okay?” he asked with a newfound gentleness. he helped you back up as he untied your wrists and pulled up his pants, fixing his belt. he chuckled, “i bet you’re tired.”

“very,” you panted back in response.

“how ‘bout i clock out and carry you home, how’s that sound?”

“sounds amazing, gallagher,” you leaned against him as he lit another cigarette before walking back into the nightclub.

[sacrificialangelsblog]

Yuno Grinberryall X Fem! Reader

18+ MDNI!!!

SUMMARY: After a busy day in headquarters, Yuno wants attention.

WARNINGS: (Fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, possessiveness, F - receiving oral, slight teasing)

Gif isn't mine!

It was a stressful day in headquarters. Whether it was training, going on a small mission, or even doing household chores. Everyone was busy.

It was around 7:30 pm. Yuno and I were laying in bed cuddling as couples do. Him laying behind me, his arm around my waist pulling me closer to him.

I was laying in front of his body, my hands atop one another next to my head. My eyes were closed, taking in the warmth of his body that engulfed me. It was nice. Soothing even.

Suddenly I feel Yunos hand slowly sliding up my forearms, resting on my wrist, squeezing lightly. I didn't thing much of it until he squeezed harder.

I turn over, looking at him. His eyes were closed as he slides his hand back down my body to bring my right leg up to rest between his. "Is something wrong?" I ask, as his eyes remain closed.

"Mnm mnm" he mumbles, shaking his head no as he ghosts his fingertips down the side of my body, making me shiver.

I close my eyes again, his hand stopping for a moment to rest on my ass. I was only in a T-shirt and underwear, him just shirtless as I move my hand to push up against his chest lightly, making myself comfortable.

His fingers start to play with the waist band of my underwear, sliding his hand under them to glide over my hip and ass.

"Yuno..." I say quietly, my eyes still closed. "Yes?" He replied as if he was doing nothing.

"What are you doing?" I ask, getting slightly turned on at the closeness of his fingers and my core. "Touching you." He answers calmly.

I sigh to myself as his touches become rougher. Lightly gripping my butt causing my eyes to shoot open and a small gasp to escape my mouth. Him smiling to himself as if he was proud to get that reaction out of me.

"Why?" I ask another question. A bit confused on why he's touching me so sensually, yet making it seem so casual.

"Because you're my girlfriend, and I feel like touching you." The black haired boy says. Sliding his hand back up and down my body.

I can feel the heat boiling in my lower stomach and between my legs. A hitched breath escaping my lips as I feel my underwear getting wetter by the second.

His hand slowly moves lower, moving between my legs almost teasingly. Stopping on the middle of my inner thigh, rubbing his thumb against the soft skin.

His amber eyes open slowly to meet mine before he leans in to kiss me passionately. I instantly kiss back.

The kiss becomes rougher as I move my hand to cup his cheek, his tongue sliding over my bottom lip to ask for entrance.

When I don't open my mouth right away to allow him access, he squeezes my ass again, causing me to gasp as he moves his tongue into my mouth. Exploring it.

I moan into his kiss as he moves the hands that's resting on my inner thigh closer to my core.

He breaks the kiss, looking at me lustfully with desperation in his beautiful golden eyes.

"Is this ok?" He asks, bringing his hand up to start talking my underwear off.

"Mhm" I mumble, taking in his touch as I look down at his hand. "I need words, love." He says, wanting to have my full consent before moving further.

"Yes, please Yuno." I whine, wanting to feel more of him already.

He smiles to himself, proceeding to make of my underwear before moving to hover over me. He leans down to kiss me again, sliding his hand back up my inner thigh to meet my clit, rubbing deep circles into it. Eliciting a moan from my mouth at the sudden pleasure.

My arms move to wrap around his torso, my nails digging lightly into his back, leaving small crescent shapes in their wake.

He moves his free hand to remove my shirt, throwing it somewhere in the room before moving his head down to kiss my neck. Sucking and nibbling on the sensitive skin.

He leaves a few hickeys before moving farther down, kissing across my collar bone and down the valley of my breasts. Bringing one of my hardened nipples into his mouth, bringing another moan out of me.

My hand moves to intertwine with his hair, pulling lightly at his soft black locks, making him moan softly in response.

He moves down farther, kissing down my stomach, stopping at my hips before looking up at me to watch my reaction as he slides two fingers into my wet cunt.

I moan loudly, my eyes squeezing shut as my back arches at the feeling. His tongue replacing his fingers on my clit. Flicking and sucking the bud of nerves, erupting another moan from my throat.

He moves his tongue and fingers faster, causing my hips to buck into him at the overbearing pleasure. My hand tightened in his hair. Making him whine, sending vibrations throughout my body.

I can feel the pressure in my lower stomach creeping up on me, "Y-yuno.. mnmm.. I'm close." I moan as my legs begin to shake lightly.

He looks back up at me as his movements become faster. "Fuck Yuno, please dont stop!" I moan. One last flick to my clit and I was sent over the edge. Cumming on his tongue.

He continues his movements a bit longer to help ride out my high before pulling his fingers out and licking them clean. Bringing his head down to kiss me again.

"Did that feel good?" He asks, clearly proud that he made me cum. "Yes" I answer back out of breath.

He kisses me once more before sitting on his heels to unbutton his pants, sliding them off his body along with his boxers. Freeing his once confined member.

He moves back to hover over me once again, positioning himself at my entrance before slowly sliding in. Both of us moaning on sync at the feeling.

He doesn't move for a moment, embracing the feeling of my walls clenching around him as he lets me adjust to his size.

He looks at me deeply, as if to ask if it was ok for him to move now. I nod my head yes before he pulls out to thrust back in roughly.

"Holy fuck!" I moan loudly, screwing my eyes shut. His thrusts creating a rhythm, he moves his head down to kiss my neck again. Sucking another hickey into the skin.

"Your only mine.. no one else's." He moans into my neck. His thrusts becoming faster as his dick twitches inside me.

"Fuck.. yes.. I'm only yours Yuno." I moan, coming close to my second orgasm of the night. His thrusts start to become sloppy, telling me he's close as well.

He moans at my response, giving one last thrust before we both cum. Our juices mixing together inside of me.

He stays like that for a minute, enjoying the feeling of my walls pulsating around his cock before pulling out and falling back onto the bed beside me.

I turn to my side, laying my head on his chest, finally catching up to my breath as sleepiness washes over me.

"I love you Y/N." He whispers, kissing my forehead.

"I love you baby" I say back as I drift off to sleep.

End

Authors note: I hope you guys liked this. It's my first time writing something like this, so I'm sorry if it's not the best😭

[moraxsthrone]

Hello! I'm not sure if requests are open, so ignore if they aren't.

Could I request Hu Tao finding out that Zhongli is married after meeting a lovely lady (reader) who asks to speak with him?

hi hi! yes, i'm taking requests and SLND;LNOMG THIS IS SO CUTE 🥹 PLEASE i would wife the geo daddy down so hard. 😩😤 my blog is still new so this is the first ask i've gotten PLUS i just hit 200 followers, making this a v special 2-for-1 milestone deal for me sskkssssskkssk! thank you for brightening my day and for entrusting me with your idea, my dear. 💗 there’s quite a bit of crack bc that’s just where my brain went with this…i hope that’s okay. 👉🏼👈🏼

✧˖° pairing — husband!zhongli x f!wife!reader

✧˖° wc — 1k

✧˖° notes — sfw with a teensy little suggestive moment. crack. fluff. slight pda.

you enter the funeral home, allowing the door to close behind you with a soft click.

“oh hi! welcome to wangsheng funeral parlor! i’m hu tao, may i help you?”

you smile warmly. you’d heard your husband groan a lot about her. but he’d always given her the benefit of being nice and eager to please. “yes, i’m here to see zhongli, please,” you reply.

“oh, our consultant! ah, actually, i’m the director here and if you’re interested in planning for your special day, i’d be happy to help you with that! we have several attractive packages to choose from. in fact, if you prepay for your final arrangements today, i’ll give you a 20% discount!”

“umm…no, thank you. i just came by to bring him this,” you say, brandishing his dark brown leather wallet.

“aha, his wallet?!” she extended her palm, “i’ll make sure it’s returned to him! i’m certain mr. zhongli will be most grateful!”

“actually, i was hoping to see him…is he busy?”

“ahh, give me a moment. i’ll go check,” she says suspiciously.

as tao makes her way back to zhongli’s office, she wonders what else you could possibly be here to speak to him about if not funeral services. ah, yes! perhaps you want to request a reward for the ‘lost-and-found’ item! as often as he forgets his wallet, it’s about time he pay up for having it returned to him, if he even has any mora in it. “unlikely”, she scoffs to herself.

zhongli chokes on his tea and nearly jumps out of his skin at the loud, abrupt intrusion when the director bursts through the heavy, dark oak door. but before he can remind her, once again, to please knock before entering his office, she’s already speaking.

“mr. zhongli, there’s a lady here to see you! she claims to have your wallet?”

his amber eyes go wide as he pats his chest before opening the left side of his waistcoat and reaching inside the empty pocket. “ah, again?” he mumbles, standing from his desk to make his way towards the front of the house as tao follows.

his expression softens the moment he lays eyes on you. “oh, hello darling.” he smiles warmly, closing the distance between you just as naturally as it is for him to breathe. “thank you so much for delivering my wallet. i’m so sorry to have troubled you,” he frets before leaning down to kiss your cheek. 

you return his affectionate smile and hold his elbows as his fingers squeeze your shoulders lovingly. “think nothing of it, dea–”

“MR. ZHONGLI, WHAT’S GOTTEN INTO YOU??!! THAT IS ENTIRELY INAPPROPRIATE!! YOU CAN’T JUST WALK UP TO A LADY AND KISS HER LIKE THAT!! THERE’S THANKING A LADY, AND THEN THERE’S THANKING A LADY!! JEEZ…HANDSY MUCH??” 

torn from your loving exchange, you and your husband turn to look quizzically at the ashen director as her rant continues.

“DO YOU EVEN KNOW HER NAME??”

“ah, right,” zhongli says, straightening up. “hu tao, this is my wife, y/n…”

the girl's eyes nearly pop out of their sockets…

“y/n, i understand you made hu tao’s acquaintance upon your arrival?” he goes on, oblivious to his boss’s shock in favor of displaying proper social etiquette.

hu tao blinks twice before doubling over with laughter. “wife! th-that’s so funny, mr. zhongli! you had me going for a second there!”

clearing her throat, she does her best to straighten up. “ma’am, on behalf of wangsheng funeral parlor, i sincerely apologize for my employee’s untowardness. you’ll have to excuse his bizarre sense of humor. i honestly don’t know what’s gotten into him.”

you chuckle. “while it’s true that zhongli has a rather…unique…sense of humor, he is indeed my husband.”

tao’s smile drops and her eyes narrow. “prove it.”

you think for a moment then lift your left hand to enter the fact that you’re wearing a wedding band into evidence. but hu tao’s scrutinizing gaze shifts to zhongli’s hand to find his fingers devoid of any rings, save for the ones on his thumbs.

“aha! mr. zhongli isn’t wearing a wedding ring!” she points out, unconvinced.

“oh! i nearly forgot!” you exclaim, unclasping your change purse before fishing out your husband’s wedding band. “you left this on your nightstand as well, dear.”

“aha! so that’s where it was!” zhongli slips his ring onto his gloved finger where, much to hu tao’s chagrin, it fits perfectly. “what would i do without you, my love?”

“probably lose your head and forget to put on clothes,” you tease, wrapping your hands behind his neck. “not that i have any complaints about seeing you naked…” zhongli chuckles lowly as he leans in closer, folding his arms around the small of your back to pull you in before placing a gentle, yet deliberate kiss on your lips.

the director's paled expression turns bright red as she stares in shock and awe, hardly believing her own eyes. having been subjected to the intimate display of affection for long enough, she shields her eyes and clears her throat dramatically. “okay! i believe you! please stop now!”

you and your husband part, him straightening his tie while you smooth your skirt in an effort to compose yourselves.

“i apologize, hu tao,” zhongli says, a light pink blush dusting his cheeks. “y/n and i only entered our matrimonial contract a little over a month ago, so we’re still enjoying the honeymoon phase.”

“matrimonial contract? see, mr. zhongli, this is why i was convinced you’d die a bachelor. you lack any semblance of rizz!”

“oh, you’d be surprised how much rizz he possesses behind closed doors, miss hu tao,” you say in your husband’s defense with a mischievous lilt to your tone.

perplexed as ever, zhongli props his chin between his thumb and finger. “what in the name of archons is rizz?”

“exactly,” hu tao jokes, leaving him to look on in confusion while the two of you giggle.

“i’ll explain it to you later, dear husband,” you assure him, patting his chest. he may have six millennia of history under his belt, but you’ll never cease to be irresistibly charmed by his quaint oblivion on such contemporary topics.

zhongli m.list | main m.list

✧˖° if anyone reading this enjoyed it, please consider reblogging !! zhongli will give you another kiss on your cheek if you do teehee.

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Bluebird — Part V — (Azriel x Reader)

Hi! Sorry it took me a while to get this out! Hope this looong chapter makes up for it a little. Enjoy!

Warnings: None for this part.

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Azriel was close. 

His hands gripped the female’s full, sumptuous hips, fingers digging into the flesh. And in the throes of pleasure, he didn’t glance once at those hands he hated so much.

His head falling back, he released a deep, guttural groan; release stormed him. Coursed through his body. 

As his panting breaths evened out, the female flipped onto her back, shooting a sultry smile up at him. “Feeling a little better?” She asked. 

No. Not really. He nodded all the same, shrugging his shirt on. “Thank you.” 

In reality, the pleasure hall probably wasn’t the best place to come to in such a foul mood; he didn’t make for very good company. But he’d needed something — anything — to occupy him for a little while.

Sex, as it turned out, did not make everything better. 

As he finished dressing, he dipped into his pocket, producing a coin that he held out to the pretty, plump redhead on the bed. 

She blinked up at him. “That’s way too much.”

Azriel shrugged. “Buy yourself something nice.”

In all honesty, it was rare that he left the pleasure hall in a good mood. He found, despite the nature of the place, that fucking someone and leaving straight after made him feel like a wretch — even if that was what he’d paid for. 

He wasn’t sure why he continued to come here, really. He’d only started to do so upon Rhys’s encouragement, to sate the desires he felt around Elain. 

And maybe it was working. He hadn’t felt them recently.

“Thank you.” The female looked genuinely touched by the gesture. “See you soon?”

Azriel dipped his chin. He didn’t know if he meant it when he responded, “Absolutely.”

He left the private room, weaving his way through the dark, narrow corridors of the pleasure hall. A chorus of breathy, sultry moans followed him wherever he walked, and he found himself desperate to get back out to the main bar area. To cleanse his thoughts for a little while.

He was restless. Had been restless for over a month.

He’d abided by Rhysand’s orders — of course he had. There was no justifiable reason he could muster to overrule what the High Lord had said and continue his surveillance of the human villages. Of one village in particular. 

Everything had itched and pawed at him to go back, though. Every day, he thought of that piano music. The beautiful hands that played it. The fact that the sweet woman who had feared him so absolutely had also helped him. Showed him kindness.

It hadn’t been easy to stay away. But stay away, he did.

He ran a hand through his hair, heaving a quiet sigh as he made his way towards the bar. He needed a drink strong enough to chase away his thoughts, to remind him that everything that mattered was this side of the Wall—

But he stopped in the hallway. And almost scowled to himself at the sound of the piano music that snaked over to him. 

It was a male who sat at the keys, entertaining those nursing a drink around him while scantily-clad females sauntered in between tables, touching shoulders, coaxing punters to join them somewhere private.

The music was…clanky. Strange and off-kilter. There was nothing beautiful about it, nothing soothing and ethereal. The male’s fingers practically pounded the piano keys; he seemed to be under the impression that the louder he played, the better it sounded. 

Azriel didn’t care to stick around and hear any more. He knew the music that he craved, and where to find it. 

But Rhysand had given an order.

So he turned on his feet and went home.

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Az traipsed into the sitting room, slumping down into his usual chair. Cassian already had a glass of amber liquid waiting for him.

“You smell like sex.” The General commented.

The Shadowsinger downed the drink in one go, staring into the embers of the fire. The entire flight home, he’d heard piano music in his head, felt it in his bones — could have sworn it floated to him on a wind, coaxing him in the direction of the Wall.

He was desperate for it. For the music, and for the person who played it so stunningly. 

He was so, so sick and tired of being forbidden. 

Sworn off Elain and sworn off going near the human lands and sworn off having a fucking life. He didn’t mean to be bitter. Rhysand was his brother as well as his High Lord, and Azriel loved him dearly.

But it was easy for him to bark orders from the cushy comfort of his settled life. He had a mate; someone to go home to. Someone he could hold in the cold, long nights. Someone he could sound off to. Someone he could give his best and worst to. 

And judging by the direction things were going in with Cassian and Nesta, it wouldn’t be long before Cass had that, too. And gods, Az didn’t begrudge his brothers these things — not for a second. 

But could he not have, at least, the soothing presence of music? Something to fill that lonely, aching chasm in his life? And perhaps a…a friend, too. 

He dragged a hand through his hair, sighing deeply. The sound of a piano played distantly in his mind. Maybe if he just…allowed himself to hear it once more—

“What’s wrong with you?” Cassian studied him, a frown pulling at his features. “Is it—did you hear about Elain and Lucien?”

Az hated how quickly he looked up. “What of Elain and Lucien?”

“There’s been some progression in their relationship, apparently. I don’t know the details.”

Azriel stared forward, pursing his lips. Waited for that telltale sting of jealousy to wash over him. 

And it did. But it felt…different. Misshapen. Not jealousy about Elain and Lucien per se, but simply at the prospect of having another happy couple to smile around. Whilst he was restricting himself so thoroughly. It seemed…it seemed unfair. He hated it. 

He’d had enough.

Cassian seemed to be trying to puzzle out his expression. “What're you thinking?”

“Nothing.” Azriel sat up. “I just…forgot to do something.” 

“What—”

But Az was already rising from the chair, wings flaring. The music in his head seemed to increase in volume, like it somehow sensed his change of heart. 

He could look out for himself. He wouldn’t be doing any harm by travelling to a little human village. He didn’t need Rhysand to coddle him. 

He didn’t say another word as he strode from the room.

He’d made his mind up.

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You’d grown used to an ever-present loneliness in your life. It had, in fact, become such a being of its own right — an entity — that in a strange sort of way, it had turned into company. Loneliness was a loyal companion.

But it was nights like these that it taunted you. Reminded you that you didn’t have a life — desperate as you were to just…experience things.

Your village’s Summer Festival was a huge event every year. But you were only permitted to experience it by listening to the distant sounds from your backyard.

The only positive was that it drove all your usual punters away; every single person in the village would be out in the fields, dancing and drinking the night away; enjoying themselves. Everyone except you.

You’d begged your father to let you join, of course. But his response was the same one he gave every year; it’s just not safe, Y/N. I can’t spend the night keeping an eye on you. I’m more comfortable knowing you’re at home.

You tried to remind yourself that he was simply being protective, that it came from a place of love. Your mother’s brutal death at the hands of the Fae had traumatised him so thoroughly that he wouldn’t risk such a thing happening to you. And particularly not with the slayings of village girls still on everyone’s mind.

But it had been over a month, now, since the last killing. 

And the same amount of time, too, since Azriel had been in your home. Since you’d helped him.

You wondered if it was a coincidence that his absence had brought a sudden stop to the brutal murders.

Probably not. Which meant it was probably a good thing he hadn’t returned, despite a small, strange part of you hoping that he would.

You sighed quietly to yourself, feeling boxed-in in the confines of your small, concrete yard. Distant music floated to you on a summer breeze, accompanied by the smells of bonfires and roasting meat. At a higher vantage point, you’d probably be able to glimpse those very fires lighting up the fields. The fun that you couldn’t be a part of. 

It was…disconcerting, to feel the village so empty. Even your most trusted regulars had ditched The Bluebird Inn for the Summer Festival. It would be wise to lock yourself inside, perhaps lose yourself in playing your own music. You turned—

Darkness and shadows appeared before you. The scream that left you could have filled the entire village. 

Azriel stepped straight out of those very shadows — seemingly out of nowhere. You gawked at him, stumbling back a few steps.

He looked…ethereal. Perhaps just because this time, there was no blood or pain marring his features. But bathed in moonlight, you couldn’t deny how utterly stunning he was.

Nor could you deny the thrill that shot through you upon seeing him again.

His lips quirked up into a tentative smile. “Sorry — I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

You swallowed, looking around for some indication of where he’d even come from.

“…I saw you from above.” He studied you. “It seemed safer to winnow than fly down.”

“Winnow?” You were unfamiliar with that word. 

“It’s like…stepping through shadow. Directly from one place to another.”

Right. Because of course he could do stuff like that. For the same reason he had wings.

He wasn’t human. 

He was Fae. Perhaps even a human-slaying Fae.

You weren’t quite sure how to respond. 

But in that moment, his gaze flicked around inquisitively. “Where is everyone?” 

“It’s the village Summer Festival.” You couldn’t stop yourself from studying him. “Everyone will be down in the fields.”

“…And it’s not your kind of thing…or…?”

You hesitated; you didn’t really have any reason to answer him. And if he was, after all, responsible for the murders in the village, it didn’t seem wise to admit that you were here all alone, not a single other resident around to hear your screams.

But something — perhaps his Fae allure — coaxed the truth from your lips. “My father prefers that I stay home. He feels reassured that I’m safer here.”

Azriel pursed his lips, his intense, honeyed eyes seeming to narrow on you. What he was seeing or thinking, you couldn’t possibly know. You felt self-conscious under his gaze. Pathetic. Human. 

Vulnerable. 

And yet, none of that explained why you hadn’t yet gone running back into your home and tried to barricade the door, fruitless as the effort might be. It didn’t explain why, on some deeper level you weren’t sure you had access to, you didn’t want to do that.

“That doesn’t seem very fair.” He eventually spoke, his tone just as indulgent as his eyes. “Everyone having fun while you’re not.”

You shrugged a shoulder. “My father’s protective.”

He nodded. “So you can’t join the festival.” A slight pause had his eyes flitting upwards. “Have you ever wanted to fly?”

The question seemed so preposterous that you couldn’t stop yourself from snorting. As though the ability to fly was a normal, everyday thing. Here, in front of you, was a lethal being of a species you neither understood nor respected. Here, in front of you, was a potential killer.

And yet, instead of killing you — like he absolutely could have done already — he was asking peculiar questions. The sheer bizarreness of the situation had you a little dizzy.

“I can’t say I’ve ever thought about it.” Your eyes darted to his wings; you’d never seen a person with wings before. “Why would I have done?”

“Some people would like nothing more than to be able to escape to the skies. For that luxury, I’m very lucky.” He held out a gloved hand. “How about it?”

You gawked at him. “You’re offering to take me flying?”

“I am.”

“…Why?”

“You shared your music with me. That’s your escape.” Azriel’s eyes softened imperceptibly. “Flying is mine. So let me return the favour.”

Bad idea. Very, very bad. Accepting his offer could be akin to strolling freely into a lion’s den and asking it to maul. You didn’t know where he’d take you, or what he’d do with you there. Perhaps he would soar as high as possible and then allow you to fall to your death—

Somehow — foolishly — your intrigue, your excitement, that lick of pure thrill, were all far bigger than your doubts. 

Somehow, you knew that if you refused, and Azriel walked away, you would want him to come back. 

Standing in front of him was awakening something in you. Something that might be dangerous and risky and unwise. Something that you never would have imagined yourself giving in to. 

You were powerless against it. And when another bout of distant laughter reached your ears, you knew you’d made your decision.

The corners of Azriel’s lips flicked up, and he wiggled his fingers; like he’d sensed the exact second your doubts had faded into the background.

“…Alright.” You relented after a lengthy pause. “Show me how to fly.”

You slipped your hand into his gloved one. And you knew you didn’t imagine it as you both faltered at the odd sensation that seemed to encase the both of you. Azriel stilled for a moment, staring at you, your joined hands suspended in the air.

And then he was clearing his throat. Shaking himself out of his thoughts. “Can I—is it alright if I lift you into my arms?”

Another thrill soared through you, stretching from your head to your toes. So inexperienced you were with human contact — or rather, Fae contact. You’d never held somebody’s hand, never felt another’s body pressed against yours. And not for lack of yearning.

The fact that Azriel had bothered to ask your permission instead of just yanking you into his arms…it had your shoulders relaxing slightly. You nodded.

If he was a murderous being, he was a polite one, at the very least. 

His lips wore a soft, reassuring smile as he tugged you closer. And when there was barely a hair’s-breadth between your bodies, he fastened an arm at your back, moving the other one down to your legs.

It was an effort not to yelp at the contact. Not to balk from it. If Azriel noticed the way your body slightly trembled, he had the decency to pretend he didn’t. 

“It’s probably best if you loop your arms around my neck.” He cleared his throat again. “If you’re comfortable with that.”

You glanced down at the rigid way your arms hung down by your sides. Your cheeks reddened. “Right—yes—of course.”

You willed yourself not to shake like a damn fool as your arms snaked to join around his neck, and as the scent of cedar and frost shrouded you, and his warmth permeated you, his hair tickling your arm…you’d never felt so alive.

He seemed to read that thought, too. His mouth kicked up, and he leaned in closer. “Hold on tight.”

And then he took to the sky.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Everything was gentle at first.

The speed at which he carried you upwards. The flap of his wings. The coasting through the air. Gentle and slow. 

That didn’t make it any less terrifying. To begin with, anyway.

With every glance down, the ground moving further and further away, you felt your stomach lurch. To be so high up was unnatural. To plummet back down would be lethal.

But Azriel was a soothing presence pressed against you. He allowed you to adjust in your own time; didn’t force you to look when you weren’t comfortable looking. Didn’t speed up, despite the leisurely pace probably being so at odds with his usual way of flying. He was patient, and calming, and solid beneath your arms.

He seemed to sense when your fears began to abate. When they began to morph into curiosity.

He leaned in, his lips suddenly at the shell of your ear. “I’ve got you.” He reassured quietly. “You can’t fall.”

His deep voice was a heated tickle against the skin of your neck. And you…you found yourself fighting the impulse to gasp at the sensation. You knew your cheeks were scorching.

Even more so when he spoke again. “Look.” He whispered.

You followed his line of sight, your eyes finding the sprawl of fields below. The pyres that had been lit for the festival looked like arms of glowing fire reaching up to the skies. You felt yourself slacken in Azriel’s arms as you drank in the sight.

“I’ve been flying for a very, very long time.” He told you softly. “But I never tire of the views.”

You angled your face back slightly to look at him. “How long?”

His lips twitched. “Are you asking me how old I am?”

“Is that rude?”

“No. I’ve been alive for over five centuries.” He studied you. “How old are you?”

“I’m twenty-one.”

For over five centuries. You couldn’t even wrap your head around that amount of time. What he must have seen in that time. The amount of women he must have been with—

Why your thoughts went there, you weren’t sure. You hoped he couldn’t read minds. 

You allowed yourself to silently sit on the information for a short while; Azriel allowed you to, also. But as he flew, his dark, indiscernible gaze repeatedly made its way over to you.

Eventually he asked, “What are you thinking?” A strange quality lay in his tone, as if…as if he were self-conscious.

But it wasn’t exactly a secret that the Fae lived for such ludicrous amounts of time. Your initial shock over his age had already worn off.

And you answered honestly, “Doesn’t it get boring? Being alive for so long, I mean.”

Azriel paused. And then bellowed a great, unguarded laugh. “That’s what you’re thinking?”

“I think I’d get bored.”

Unless, of course, he was passing his time with things you couldn’t comprehend. Like taking the lives of innocent girls. Like splendour and indulgence and utter debauchery. 

Your stomach somersaulted as Azriel suddenly swooped. You dug your fingers into the strange, intricate leathers he wore, watching the peak of a hill grow closer and closer. 

“Where are we going?” You asked, your heart racing slightly. 

“To sit.” He answered, nodding towards the hill. “And enjoy the view.”

He landed with barely a thud and set you down gently, ensuring that your legs were stable before he pulled away.

It was so wildly inappropriate that you missed the sensation of his body pressing against yours. You quickly turned away before you could linger on the thought.

And your breath hitched in your throat. The view was just as exquisite from the hill as it had been from the sky. Lights dotted around and music and laughter and scents floating up to you. The air was charged with excitement, enjoyment. And your father had asked you to miss out on it all.

So naturally, you sunk down onto the feathered grass, tucking your legs beneath you. After a beat, Azriel sat beside you.

The two of you surveyed the sights below in complete silence. But your thoughts were loud and weighing. Thoughts of how, exactly, you’d ended up in a situation like this — allowing a Fae male to whisk you away into the sky whilst your father was none the wiser. If you were even safe, up here, with him. And why, exactly, you’d been so incredibly disappointed when he hadn’t returned over the last month and a half. 

You turned your head to look at him — and found him already gazing at you. His lips lifted into a soft smile.

“Why didn’t you come back?” You blurted. Your cheeks burned, and you cleared your throat. “To listen to my music, I mean.”

The smile slowly fell, a strange look crossing his face. “It’s a little complicated.”

“I’m sure my silly human brain can comprehend.”

His lips twitched again. He seemed to take a moment to think, his fingers absentmindedly pulling at the grass. “There is a…situation.” 

“A situation?”

He dipped his chin. “It’s the reason I was flying around your village to begin with. We had a tip-off that a group of humans are rising up against the Fae.”

Your body tensed.

He’d be right about that, of course. That group of humans was led by your father.

“We’d like to avoid trouble if we can help it, so…” Azriel cleared his throat. “I was in the area looking for information. And that was when I heard your music.”

Looking for information. It made a sickly, oily feeling overcome you. If he found your father — if he saw that he was building his cause against them — you had no doubt that that threat would be eliminated on sight. Your only remaining parent — the only person you really had in the world — would be taken from you.

You swallowed a lump down. “Did you garner any information?”

“I did.” Azriel nodded. “I learned that there’s a group of men that seem to be travelling from village to village and spreading their word. I was given orders to wait and see what move they made next. That’s why I didn’t return.”

No way would you tell him that your father was behind that very group. You weren’t going to give him up, let Azriel know exactly where he could find him. That’d be as good as killing him yourself.

But there was another reason, buried further down, for biting your tongue. One that surely complicated things. One that shouldn’t have bothered you at all.

You didn’t want Azriel to know that you were associated with that group. You didn’t…didn’t want him to think poorly of you. 

That was very troublesome, indeed. You shouldn’t have cared what he thought. 

You tried to shove your problematic feelings down, focusing on the view once more. It was best to steer the subject far away from your father. 

You sat back, leaning on your hands. And your voice was a mix of curiosity and mild accusation as you said, “There haven’t been any more murders in the village since you’ve been absent.”

Azriel’s eyes were a brand on your skin. “And I take it you’ve come to the conclusion that I must have been responsible for the ones that occurred?”

You lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. “I don’t know what to think.”

The following silence was so heavy and prolonged that you began to wonder if you’d offended him. Another thing that shouldn’t have bothered you — but did. 

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye just as he turned, angling his body towards you. He crossed his legs, and he looked…open. 

“My name is Azriel.” He said.

“I already know that—”

“I belong to one of the seven courts of Prythian — the Night Court. I’m a member of its High Lord’s Inner Circle, and I work as his spymaster. I’m also a very, very rare species of Fae called a Shadowsinger. I possess the ability to wield and control these shadows to my will, though they are their own entities. It also lends me the ability to hear and feel things that others can’t.”

So that’s what those shadows were about, then — the dark, wispy shapes that coiled around his person like smoke. You hadn’t seen much of them tonight; whether Azriel had made that so, or the shadows themselves had been hiding, you weren’t sure.

But now, they seemed to dance out towards you with fluid grace, tentatively brushing your arms with a cool, almost chilled touch. 

You couldn’t stop your curiosity piquing. Your fingers penetrated the dark, cold mist, and Azriel watched you closely, tentatively.

“I’ve been alive a very long time.” He said quietly. “The role I have to play is sometimes not easy. It’s forced me to do certain things that sometimes still chase me from sleep. I’m not without conscience. I don’t revel in such things.” He paused. “But I sleep at night knowing, at least, that I do not and would not do such things without reason. I wouldn’t kill for sport. I don’t harbour any particularly negative feelings towards your kind. I certainly don’t wish them harm.”

Your eyes lifted from the shadow tickling your arm, finding that honey-hued gaze. There was such sincerity on his face…such honesty. And also an undercurrent, perhaps, of…of pleading. As if he was trying to communicate words he didn’t have the nerve to say aloud; please don’t fear me. Please don’t think of me as a monster. 

“I have no ill intention, Y/N.” The way he spoke your name sent shivers down your spine. “I was simply following orders, and—”

The scream was loud enough to reach you at the top of the hill. It cut Azriel’s sentence off immediately. Your body fell still. 

In an instant, he was on his feet, gazing below at a view your human vision was too unsophisticated to see. And then another scream broke through the night; horrifying, blood-curdling.

“I should take you home.” Azriel’s voice was tight, commanding. “Now.”

You didn’t argue as you jumped to your feet. There was barely a chance to glance down as he swept you up into his arms again — not gentle like before, but hurried, worried — and took off. 

You were far too high up to see anything as Azriel flew, but his gaze was firmly on the sight below; the field that sat closest to your village. He banked so suddenly that your stomach lurched, and then he was landing on the roof of a building, pressing you tightly to him.

The commotion reached you clearer there. The sound of chaos and fear. Screams and charged conversation. 

“What’s going on?” You whispered, not even aware of the way your hands were clinging to the front of Azriel’s jacket.

“From what I can discern,” his eyes were alert, fierce, “the body of a girl has been discovered.”

Cold seeped into your bones. 

Another body. Another girl. 

Azriel listened closer. His voice was quiet as he spoke to you, “They’re saying she was still warm when they found her. That she was only at the festival around twenty minutes ago.” He paused. “Her name was Polly.”

Another village girl. You knew her briefly. She could only be a year or so younger than you were. And only twenty minutes ago, she’d been alive, enjoying herself—

You thought you might pass out. If it weren’t for Azriel’s strong arms keeping you upright, you were sure you would have done.

Twenty minutes ago. Azriel had been with you at that time. 

He truly wasn’t responsible.

You stared at him, feeling sick and cold all over. And as he glanced back at you, surveying your appearance, he seemed to understand what you needed without either of you speaking. 

“I’ll drop you back in your yard.” He slipped a hand through yours.

“Wait. I—” You swallowed. “Will it be safe for you? All these people around...”

For a moment, he was silent. He didn’t need whispering shadows to understand that you felt concerned for him. 

A hint of a smile appeared on his mouth, and he dipped his chin. “I’ll be just fine. I know how to stay hidden. It’s you I’m worried about.”

It’s you I’m worried about.

The words clanged around your head loudly as he swept you up. Within mere seconds, you were back inside your small, concrete yard, the awful sounds of panic growing closer. 

“Go inside.” Azriel said. “Lock the doors.”

You studied him. “You’re sure you’ll be alright?” You weren’t sure whether it was insulting for you to even ask him that.

But he had been shot by an ash arrow in this very village. Your worry wasn’t entirely unjustified.

“I promise.” He squeezed your hand once before pulling away. “I’ll come back as soon as it’s calmed down.” 

“…will you really?”

“I give you my word.”

In silence, the two of you stared at each other. Neither of you spoke.

But then the voices grew louder, and Azriel was straightening out. You were utterly still as he brushed the backs of his knuckles against your cheek.

Before you could react, he disappeared before your eyes.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

“Polly was killed tonight. The girl from the bakery.”

You were just slipping into the room, carrying your father’s nightly drink to him, when he spoke. At least two hours had passed since Azriel had dropped you home, and you couldn’t stop your gaze straying to the window. Wondering where he was. If he’d truly return.

“I know.” You placed the glass down —  and realised your mistake the second your father’s head snapped up. You cleared your throat. “I mean—I didn’t know it was Polly. But I figured something had happened from all the noise outside.”

That seemed to satisfy him enough. You released a deep, quiet breath as he took a long draw from his glass. He nursed the drink in silence for a while. 

“You see, now, why I don’t want you going out there.” he eventually said.

You bowed your head. “Yes, Papa.”

“The scumbag Fae are still picking our girls off one by one. I won’t have you meeting the same fate.”

Something inside of you twisted. There was nothing appropriate you could possibly say. You couldn’t exactly reveal that you’d met a Fae male who appeared to be different to the rest — or that you’d spent your evening with him.

So you shifted your thoughts elsewhere. To something that had been bugging you since Azriel had mentioned gathering information on your father’s group of rebels. I was given orders to wait and see what move they made next.

“...Papa?” You hovered awkwardly at the unoccupied armchair that sat opposite his.

“What is it, Y/N?”

You chewed your lip. “The cause that you’re building against the Fae. I was just…wondering how it’s going. What move you plan to make next.”

His light blue eyes flicked up from his glass. And for a split second, you wondered whether you’d made a mistake in asking. You’d merely been a silent supporter before, never taking too much interest, asking too many questions. 

But then those eyes seemed to soften. “You don’t need to be frightened, Y/N.” He said. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you. The cause is coming along nicely. Right now, we’re trying to gather enough supporters so that we can present ourselves — and our concerns — to the queens of our realm. We have a far greater chance of success with their support. That’s why I travel to the other villages. To gain more supporters.”

The human queens. This was big — really big.

It should have been a good thing. But it just made you feel…worried. Did Azriel know how big this truly was? Perhaps he did, and he’d simply not told you—

“You should get to bed.” Your father sliced through your thoughts. “Let me worry about these things, Y/N. Just do as I tell you, and all will be fine.”

You always had. Always would. Your father was the leader of your life; you merely followed.

“Yes, Papa.” You swallowed. “Goodnight.”

His response followed you all the way up the stairs. And as you got to your room, you found yourself wondering why you’d even enquired about his next move. It wasn’t exactly your business; he would do as he saw fit.

Surely…surely you hadn’t been asking in Azriel’s interests. Surely you wouldn’t feed such information to him.

The mere thought made you feel an oily sense of betrayal. You shut yourself in your bedroom, shaking the thoughts from your head. 

But you couldn’t stop yourself glancing at the window again.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *

You supposed he wasn’t coming back — not tonight, and perhaps not ever.

The thought had pathetically kept you awake. You sat at your dressing table, listening to the fear and chaos in the village eventually die down. Silence swept through once more, and you were restless, disappointed.

You’d enjoyed yourself tonight. The company, the conversation, getting to know Azriel a little. And you knew, now, that he wasn’t behind those murders. You knew.

Perhaps…perhaps he wasn’t so bad. Most Fae were, but perhaps he was just…different.

Which was why you wanted to see him again.

You sighed softly, standing from your dressing stool and tucking it in. There was no use staying awake, waiting to see if he would come back. You turned to your bed—

Cold, night-chilled shadows suddenly filled the room. And just like he had in the yard, Azriel appeared out of nowhere.

You reeled back, stunned, knocking into your dressing table. “Gods.”

Azriel’s lips quirked up. “I really must stop frightening you with my winnowing.”

“How—how did you know this was my room?”

“I saw you…through the window.”

You brushed past him, marching over to the window and yanking the curtains shut. You lowered your voice as you turned to him, “You flew so low with all those people down there?”

He stared at you — assessed you. And a strange look passed his face. “I was too high up for them to see me. Fae sight, though, is…better.”

Right. Of course. He could probably make out every miniscule detail through your window while he’d been a mere speck among the stars. Your shoulders relaxed slightly, your worry lessening a little. Shifting into…excitement.

Azriel took a step towards you. “I’m sorry for just…appearing, like this. I needed to check if you were alright.”

Your heart did a silly little flip in your chest. “I’m alright.” You paused. “...Are you?”

He smiled, inclining his head. “I’m very well.”

“Well…good.”

He chuckled quietly. “Good.”

You stared back at him, your lips begging to twitch up. And after a moment, you couldn’t resist your smile.

Azriel seemed to watch it grow on your lips. The way he studied you so intensely made you feel naked.

He edged even closer. “I enjoyed spending time with you tonight.”

Heat spread across your cheeks. You dipped your chin, attempting to hide your blush. “I enjoyed myself, too.”

“Well…good.”

You scowled at his light teasing. “Good.”

He was grinning widely, now, a glimmer in his eyes. He stopped just in front of you, close enough to touch. “When can I see you again?”

Never, you should have told him.  You are Fae and I am human; we have no business getting involved with one another. You should leave, and never come back.

But you didn’t want to say those things. And perhaps it made you a fool, but you weren’t thinking about preconceived notions, or bloody history, or your father’s cause. 

You were thinking about the giddy excitement you’d felt tonight. And how badly you wished to feel it again.

“Despite what happened to Polly, the festival seems to be continuing tomorrow night. They’re just increasing the security.” You played with your hands, the fire in your cheeks almost unbearable. “You could…you could come here and keep me company in the bar. I’ll be on my own…”

Azriel’s answering smile was so brilliant, you thought it might have knocked you breathless. 

“Tomorrow night, then.” He hummed. “I’ll be here.”

“Well…good.”

He snorted. “Good.”

There was a beat. You waited for him to disappear again, nothing but the chilled air and his pleasant scent left behind.

But then he leaned down, gently taking your hand in his. You watched, preternaturally still, as he lifted it to his lips and pressed a feather-light kiss to the backs of your fingers.

“Goodnight then, lady.” His breath warmed your skin. Your bones.

And then he was gone.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

azriel tags: @hanasakr @positivewitch @ruler-of-hades @brekkershadowsinger @nightscourtt @imperfect0angel @luna-1-3-5 @hyacinthoideshispanica @lucyysthings @lahoete @littlemoonash @blacksstarrynight @azriels-mate123 @ghostly-poetic @frieddesigninspiringquotesslime @a-frog-with-a-laptop @illyriansimp @morrie-rose @passingthroughfireandshadow @illyrian-dreamer @azrielsbabyg @96jnie @mich0731 @mulansaucey @truthtellerfanclub @acourtofbooksandmagic @insightsonmylife @basicbittywitty @curbside-cyanide @acourtofchaosandmess @123345566 @starrynights-frostbites @eos-princess @thesillyyogourt @ona-raising-07-l @acediahamartia @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @polli05927 @asdfjklbooks @azriel-luvr @amysangel @humanpersonlasttimeichecked @wildflowernightmere

[snugglesquiggle]

Juzi >:3

J narrowed her eyes, eyeing the two disassembly drones in the pod. N and V leaned against the wall, white sheets of A2 paper in their hands. V rolled her eyes, but N raised a finger, as if requesting permission to ask a question. What a waste of time — just ask.

“Hey captain, what’s this?”

“It’s your schedule for the next week. Memorize it, or keep it safe. I won’t be printing out another.”

“What’s the point of this?” V asked. J jerked her gaze to her other squadmate with a frown and a click of her tongue. As if I gave her permission to ask a question. “Fly around, kill whatever, drag em back. ’s worked just fine so far.”

“I selected our patrol routes so that—” J’s lecture was interrupted by a paper airplane sniping point-first into her temple. A pixel-vein popped above one eye, and her gaze snapped to the last drone in the pod.

Uzi sat in the pilot’s chair, legs kicked up on the console. She held a Nintendo Game Boy Advance® in front of her, buttons clicking — hands busy, as if she were innocent of the crime, but there was only one drone without a printed schedule.

She smirked, and J glared back.

“We’re robots,” Uzi said. “Just save it to a file and airdrop it. Thought you of all drones would be happy to use a spreadsheet.”

“We did use an shared database, until someone went in and gave themselves an entire month of time off, corrupting my access credentials in the process.”

V shot a dirty look at Uzi. “And you didn’t share it with anyone? Stingy little dork.”

“Hey, I earned it!” Uzi dropped her Game Boy®, crossing her arms. “Testing security is job too, you know!”

“Nice work, Uzi! Preventing hacks with hacking, I like it.”

N made a finger guns gesture, and Uzi smiled back.

J scowled deep enough you could hear it. “Enough,” she said. “N, V, get out. I need to talk with Uzi in private. We’ll conclude this meeting later.”

N gave a salute, while V glanced between J and Uzi and snorted. She left first, and N tailed after her.

J stalked forward, the stabs of her stiletto pegs resounding in the now-vacated pod. Uzi didn’t flinch at her approach. No, that smirk turned into a grin, even as the reflection of yellow eyes raced up her visor.

The murder drone loomed over the worker, and the worker lifted a hand and tapped J between the eyes where visor met synthskin.

“Boop.”

J grabbed the hand by the wrist and squeezed. The metal protested, and plastic bent.

“Uzi.” That voiced sibilant in her name was made both a hiss and a growl.

“Hey, J.”

Amber eyes stared, narrow and getting narrower.

The goth sighed. She amended, “Hey, captain.”

“That’s right. Captain. I’m in charge here. Do you think you’re doing this team any favors when you undermine my authority?”

“Yes.”

Eyes wide now, an eyebrow quirked. “Excuse me?”

“What, did you think having a stick up your butt all the time was helping more? I think things are going smoother now that everyone knows you even aren’t all strict business all the time.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” J’s tail rose now, tip pointing straight up.

“Come on, J. You suck at hiding it. You can’t even glare at me without blushing.”

J’s tail swished back and forth until she caught it, and carefully lowered it. “A small detail. A coincidence. Hardly a leak of confidential information.”

“And you don’t think anyone wonders why you let me get away with anything?”

“You do not get away with anything.” Behind her, J’s tail lashed.

“Yeah, I guess I have the bite marks to prove it. Think if I pull down my jacket it’ll clear that up for them?”

“Don’t you dare.”

“But how can you maintain your authority if the team doesn’t know what your punishment looks like? C’mon J, be consistent.”

“Uzi, I swear, if you don’t—” J’s words were low growls, lower and lower until it was just inarticulate sputtering. “Gah!”

A predator snarling and flashing teeth over her, and Uzi pressed her face closer. She could feel J’s hot breath on her face plate, and when she spoke, their exhausts fought for the air between them.

“Hey, J, it’s okay. You don’t have to use your words. I know it’s hard to think when I make you go off script.” Uzi reached up with her one free hand now, touching J’s cheek. “Honestly, probably my favorite exploit I’ve found. Just push the right buttons, and—”

Still growling, hissing. “Uzi. This was supposed to be a meeting. Keep it professional.” It was J who pulled back, standing up straight, looking down at the goth.

“A private meeting. I’m sure you had the most managerial intentions when you glared N away from me. Wanted to this meeting all to yourself.”

“Are you insinuating I’m… jealous?”

“I dunno.” Uzi glanced down at the floor, where her paper airplane had landed. “Why don’t you unfold my schedule and tell my how many of my assignments you’re supervising.”

J turned up her (lack of a) nose. She raised the pitch of her voice — no more undignified growling, instead composed and airy-toned. “But of course. You have a terrible work ethic and an appaling lack of experience. You—”

“So you’re taking a hands-on approach?” Uzi wiggled the arm still held in J’s death-grip.

Still high-pitched, if strained. “Only as is appropriate—”

“Kinda raising the same question you’re answering. Why’s your first thought about whether it’s ‘appropriate’?”

J released Uzi’s arm. “Because I would never—”

“C’mon. Just tell me what improper thoughts popped in your head.”

J screamed. Between the constant interruptions and allegations, her visor was a mess of bright blush ticks and throbbing digital veins. She was back to growl-sputtering. “If you don’t shut up, I’ll…”

“What? Kill me over a little teasing?” Uzi let the smirk drop. “Okay, J. If you want me to stop… just ask sincerely.”

J froze. A loading icon. Then she huffed, crossed her arms, and turned away. “I don’t need to ask you to stop. It’s just a little teasing. Really, that’s all you are. Little. Insignificant. Miniscu—”

That was when Uzi launched herself out of the pilot’s chair. The sudden motion drew J’s gaze back to the worker, and she didn’t flinch at irked-tensed, clenched-fist purple threat in front of her.

“Bite me! I’d rather be short, if the alternative is impractical stripper pole legs!”

“Remind me, how many missions have you completed?” J laughed, eyes tracking Uzi from the bottom of her visor.

“Quit looking down on me!”

“Maintaining eye contact is essential for—��

Uzi huffed. “Then how about this?” As she spoke, she was already acting, or otherwise J would have had time to react. Uzi jumped, arms and legs thrown forward, pouncing.

She held on by J’s shoulder, and wrapped her legs around her hips, shimmying higher as the murder drone yelped. Thrown off-balance, J’s arms were flailing before she even tried pulling the worker off her. And now Uzi was climbing higher, holding secure.

The momentum from Uzi’s pounce sent J backwards, and her stripper legs stilletto-heels struggled to find purchase on the pod’s metal floor. The stumble-fall didn’t end until J’s back was too the wall, pinned by Uzi.

A grin beneath purple eyes narrowed devious — held high, looking down.

“I,” J started, voice breathy. “We’ve gotten v-very off-track.”

“This meeting could’ve been a date,” Uzi drawled.

J still panted, cycling exhaust. It took a moment before she could speak was steady again. “I can arrange a sight-seeing trip downtown, tonight. Is that what it takes for you to accept the new schedules?”

“It’d be an improvement.”

“What else do you require?”

“Hm… how about a kiss?”

J stared at her — but she wasn’t blushing or breathing hot because she didn’t want to. A deep intake, then J parter her lips and leaned forward—

And Uzi leaned back, making J miss. Vein pop. Hiss. J leaned further, far as her neck would allow, and Uzi teased her like a dog on a leash. The goth brought her face back, and J darted after it, only for Uzi to keep dodging, laughing softly.

Then J reached up grabbed the goth with a fistful of hair, and shoved her face toward her scowling maw. Lips meet lips with almost palpable electric shock.

J’s tongue slipped forward into Uzi, inflicting this annoyance in retribution for playing hard to get, and Uzi bit back again J’s invasion, holding it there between her teeth, slowly increasing the pressure.

But J still had a fistful of hair, and now she pulled, until Uzi’s bite released itself to make way for a moan.

The seal of their lips didn’t break, and that touch persisted as Uzi melted into J’s embrace, teasing resistance falling away bit by bit.

Then it was interrupted by an abrupt tug on purple hair. Uzi was pulled out of her tongues-twined, arms-enwrapped sense-bath into cold, separate air.

The first sound she made wasn’t a word, but a whine. Then, “C’mon, J. Why’d you stop?”

“Mmm. Will you behave yourself around my team, now?”

Closed eyes opened to meet eye with J. The worker says, “No. Never. ’s too much fun.”

J’s lashing tail smacked against the pod wall. “Why do I even keep you around?”

Uzi smiled, and brought a hand up to caress her murder drone’s cheek. “Because. It’s something you can’t put into words or schedules. It’s just:”

And they kissed again.

[andrea-lyn]

Master Rec Post - Interview with the Vampire

well, it was inevitable, wasn't it? fourteen recs below for IWTV, primarily Armand/Daniel (any additions will be marked *NEW* in the future)

rock me like the rock of ages by exastris_scientia

The bathroom is the nastiest place Daniel has ever set foot in. Nothing but the word derelict comes to mind when he shuts the door, but not all the way because the hinges are sticky and squeak like hell when he moves the door, and he doesn’t want to get trapped in here and need Louis to come rescue him. Two of Daniel's personal interludes with Louis and Armand during the first interview, 1973. Any conclusions he reaches, he keeps to himself.

no devils evict themselves to the point of permanence by JanuaryWonder

Armand vowed not to listen in on Daniel's thoughts when he came to Dubai, but some still seep through the crevices in the wall he's erected around his mind. Or, the one in which Daniel remembers bits and pieces of a Devil's Minon-esque history with Armand and decisions need to be made, written from Armand's POV.

Bumblebee Mouth by Voidfavors

The rising sun bestowed him with a halo, and Daniel had to wonder about Armand’s flair for the dramatic. The spectacle he created was enough to make Daniel’s heart skip a beat. An attempt to bridge the gap between Devil's Minion and the AMC canon.

platform double suede by inthebelltower

Armand and Daniel pick up a third.

Garbage Island Utopia. by sunshineramblings

Daniel & Armand buy a house on Staten Island after leaving Dubai. Based off that commercial. You know the one.

Old Pains by EllaStorm

"It wasn’t a conscious decision, really, why would he make the conscious decision to move back towards the danger, the wounded, enraged, clawed, fanged danger, it wasn’t reasonable, it wasn’t cautious, it was – genuinely, just as fucking stupid as putting a needle in his vein and shooting himself to the moon for the first time in 1970 after that fucking Rolling Stones concert." In the aftermath of Louis’ swift departure to New Orleans, Daniel is left alone in the Dubai penthouse in Armand’s presence.

so ascends the flame by MountainsToRivers

Three scenes in Dubai, from Louis' departure to Daniel's turning. Armand had watched Louis leave. He was still on the floor, covered in dust, where Louis had thrown him—shape twisted at an almost unnatural angle, staring through the doorway, into the light. "You just had to keep pushing." He said it softly, amber eyes still unnervingly bright as they flicked to Daniel at last.

in the detail(s) by infinitevariety

A turning point. Immediately post-s2.

wake up missing me by dustyloves

"Yeah, congratulations," Daniel says. "You tortured me and my dick liked it, and I have to live with that forever. Are you proud?" "A little," Armand acknowledges.

bloodlust by mechup

Daniel hadn’t realized killing would be so exhilarating.

gibson girl by flowermasters

“Dark hair, slim build,” Armand said, feeling as if speaking might be the only thing keeping him from falling back asleep, from letting the boy go, from plunging into the blackened despair in the other room. “Small breasts, given her frame.” “Clinical,” the boy said. “Nice.”

care and keeping by katplanet (Currently a WIP, but def already worth the read!)

Louis shakes his head. “And now he's got you stepping on him.” Daniel picks his drink up and necks the last half of it. “I have not,” he says, “stepped on him, as of yet.” “But you want to.” “I think so?” Daniel puts the empty glass back on the table and scoots it out of their immediate limb radius. “I think I could want to. I want to want to.” “There you go,” Louis says, “tell him that. That'll set the mood.”

give the dog a treat before you take him out back and shoot him by shrek2enjoyer

Later, Daniel will struggle to remember what he sees in this moment. He might recall the vampire lunging at him, aiming for his neck with teeth ready to bite. In the late hazy nights where his mind holds less inhibition, he may think that the vampire was reaching for his shoulders, trying to find something to grab hold of so that he wouldn’t fall. On exactly one occasion he’ll contemplate the idea that the vampire was leaning in for a kiss. He will immediately discard the thought as proof that he needs to lower his dopamine prescription.

i'm old enough to face the dawn by exastris_scientia

The living room is dark and silent behind him, so he feels relatively secure in fishing the half-empty pack of cigarettes and lighter out of the pocket of his jeans. He doesn’t like to smoke in front of people as a general rule, since he almost never feels like explaining that technically he hasn’t been a smoker since 2005, he just keeps them around for especially stressful occasions. And this week has been the most stressful one he’s experienced since he got his Parkinson’s diagnosis. “I can’t say I’d recommend that,” Armand says smoothly from the space beside his elbow. Daniel jumps. “Jesus Christ. How long have you been lurking there like Nosferatu?”