#weight remote display

[cordeliawhohung]

mafia!ghost learns that shy!reader is a virgin the hard way...

mafia!141 masterlist

Physical touch used to scare you. There was something about the way that someone else’s flesh against yours that made your skin crawl, like they were soaking up every thought and memory you have ever had. Stealing the very essence that made up the fiber of your mussels and the mass of your brain. Maybe that’s what made it so nice; why people enjoyed it. Being vulnerable, allowing someone to behold the soft meat that you hid underneath clothes to never be seen or kissed was liberating. 

Things were different when it came to Simon. When he touched you it felt more like your bodies were intertwining together, where nerves knotted into one and blood mixed so violently that it clotted. It was sharing memories, whispering thoughts rather than stealing them. And you craved his touch. Craved the soft brushing of his fingertips against your arm or the way his hands gripped your hips, and you wanted more of it. So much so that you began to dream of it. 

You’d dream of what his lips would feel like against your neck, teeth grazing against the tender skin that throbbed with your pulse while his hips grinded into yours. You wanted that pressure, that all encompassing weight to crush you, to grind away at you until you were open and bare for him. And you wanted more. More and more until it was too much, and even then it still wasn’t enough, always close, always teetering, always…

And then you woke up. 

It always ended up like that. You would always wake up right before the ending, and you would find yourself laying in bed as a pent up and sweating mess. Usually you would roll over and pick up where your dream left off, taking care of yourself the only way you knew how with your fingers on your clit, but that time you couldn’t. Because you weren’t in your bed, you were in Simon’s. 

What had been a night to binge a good TV show turned into a series of just one more episode until both of you were too tired to move. Rather than take you home, he carried you into bed where you spent the entire night with his arms wrapped around your waist and your back pulled into his chest. He wasn’t there when you woke up, but you could hear the distant sound of water hitting tile somewhere down the hallway outside of his room, which meant he wasn’t far. 

Surely you could have risked it. Could have dipped your hand into the shorts Simon let you sleep in and made quick work of yourself before he came back, but the idea of him walking in on you like that was repellant enough. Caught with your hands between your thighs like a whore was a risk you weren’t willing to take. So you laid there, scrunched up on your side while your thighs pressed tightly together in an attempt to soothe the throbbing in your cunt. If anything, it only provoked the feeling further, and to make matters worse, you were smothered in the scent of nicotine and Simon’s cologne. 

It didn’t take him long to emerge from the shower, and when he entered the room he was half naked and strutting around like he had never heard the word modesty in his entire life. A plain towel hung low on his hips, and the only reason it was even remotely secure was due to the fact he held the knot just below his navel. His hair was still wet and sat in heavy clumps that he attempted to brush out with his fingers as he approached your side of the bed with a smile. 

“Mornin’ love,” he hummed. His weight sank into the mattress next to you, pulling you into his gravity while his fingers brushed against your cheek. “Sleep alright?”

You nodded your head and hummed in response, but somehow your voice felt pitchy and nearly whiny. You couldn’t be blamed. Not when each and every one of Simon’s tattoos were on display for you and you were engulfed in the fresh scent of his body wash and shampoo. Warmth radiated from his hand that ignited a fire that ate away at your stomach, and you found your thighs squeezing together once more as you attempted to bury yourself further into the mattress and blankets. 

It was just because you had just woken up, surely. Simon had never seen you first thing in the morning like that before, and you prayed he would chalk it up to some early morning quirk of yours. Judging by the smirk that blossomed on his face, you knew he saw right through you. Like he could smell the arousal seeping from your body. 

“Yeah?” he prompted, voice purposefully teasing in the most wicked way that made your thighs shift. 

He chuckled at your pathetic response, and you wanted to be snarky but the words got caught in your throat the moment his hand slid from your cheek and down to your shoulder. Fingers hooking underneath the blanket, he carefully pulled it down as if he was undressing you, and to make it worse, he didn’t take his eyes off of yours. 

“What’s got you all hot and bothered, sweetheart?” he asked, tone purposefully low as he dipped his head closer to yours. 

His hand continued to run lower as he moved more of the blanket off of you while he explored your legs. And you tried to reply to him, tried to think of something to say but nothing would form properly in your mouth or your brain, so all you did was stutter. Unforgiving, Simon wasn’t making it easy on you at all as his hands drifted between your legs. Before you could stop them, you found your knees splitting apart, legs opening up as if you had been burnt by his touch. 

Inviting himself in, Simon fully hopped up on the bed with you, hips settling between your legs while his arms rested on either side of your head. Spiky clumps of still wet hair rubbed against your cheek as his lips latched onto the side of your neck. Blood gushed through your veins and arteries so powerfully you were certain you’d burst at the seams, but no reaction in your body could distract you from the heavy and firm weight that settled on your lower stomach. 

Simon’s towel had come off. 

“Words, love,” he said, breath tickling your neck. 

With so many emotions and thoughts swirling in your mind they all started to blend into one massive mess. You wanted, needed, something to help get rid of that aching feeling in your cunt, and yet at the same time the pressure inside of you built up so quickly you felt like you would pass out. Torture, that’s what it was. Needing something so terribly bad and not knowing how to ask for it. 

“Simon,” you stuttered out, throat tight. 

“Me?” he repeated, lips finally tearing away from your neck. 

He pushed himself away from you until he was on his knees and sitting back on his haunches. You felt small laying underneath him like that, and your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as you stared up at him, eyes widening at the sight of him. Thick corded muscles in his bicep flexed and pulled as he pumped at himself while the sticky sound of precum accompanied the movement. Looking down between your legs you saw the way he was nestled there, thick thighs spreading yours apart while the leaking tip of his cock threatened to ruin your borrowed shorts. 

It was then that you noticed the silvery sheen that decorated his glands. At first you thought it was the trick of the light, some sort of wetness that just reflected back the dim sunlight that peeked through the blinds. Then you realized they were piercings. Several of them, to be in fact, all surrounding the head of his cock like a crown. You sat there in awe for a moment as you watched his fingers lazily twist and tug at his tip, length hardening with each bit of stimulation.

“I’ve got you this worked up?” he teased, which had your attention returning to his face. His free hand rested on your thigh before slowly snaking up to your hip inch by burning inch. He gripped the waistband of your shorts and gently began to pull down, exposing the soft flesh and bone that laid underneath. “Sorry ‘bout that, love. Guess I should do something to make it up to you, huh?” 

It wasn’t until the shorts had nearly slipped past your pelvic bone that you realized just exactly what you were getting yourself into. More so, what you were getting Simon into. You had never had sex before, and even more, you hadn’t told him. Should you just stay quiet about it? Would he be upset if you didn’t tell him that he was the one taking your virginity? Did he even want to be with someone so clumsy and inexperienced? Vicious thoughts began to swirl around your head, and before you knew it, your hand reached out and grabbed his wrist, instantly making him cease his movements. 

“I’ve never…” you blurted out before the air seemed to leave your lungs. You swallowed hard as you saw the confusion twist onto Simon’s face and you suddenly wished you hadn’t spoken at all. “I’ve never… like… had sex before.” 

Simon was silent for what felt like an eternity. He slowly raised your shorts back up over your hip as he wetted his lips with his tongue. Gears started to turn so furiously in his head you feared you had broken him. Any moment he would topple over with nothing but smoke and brain goo pouring out of his ears. Instead, he tilted his head to the side as if a curious dog. 

“You’re a virgin?” he said, confirming what you had already told him. 

For some reason, him putting it so bluntly was more flustering than the fact you had a naked man hovering over you. Ashamed, your legs began to instinctively close, only to be stopped due to Simon’s body still being in the way. 

“Sorry,” you muttered, eyes glancing anywhere in the room but him. 

“Sorry?” he repeated with a chuckle. The mattress shook as he began to shift to the side where he removed himself from between your legs before collapsing on the bed next to you. Thick, tattooed arms wrapped around you as he planted a quick and surprisingly soft kiss on your shoulder. “Nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout.” 

“I killed the mood,” you retorted with a whine. You wanted to thrash around, kick your legs against the mattress, throw a fit, do something because of how frustrated you were that you, once again, fucked something up. Instead you settled for pressing the palm of your hands against your eyes with a heavy sigh. “Maybe it’s for the best. I’m too dumb and clumsy for this shit anyways.” 

“Hey,” Simon said, tone sounding almost like a warning. 

Without so much as straining, Simon raised a single hand and grabbed both of your wrists before carefully pulling your hands from your face. He propped himself up on his other arm so that he leaned over you halfway, obscuring your vision so that you had no choice but to look at him. 

“Sorry,” you apologized yet again before he had the chance to chastise you further. “I just- I want to, I do. It’s just, I get anxious and start to overthink and just…” 

It hadn’t even hit noon and for the millionth time that day your words died before they ever fully formed. His eyes were just so goddamn pretty, and you found it difficult to even think when he looked at you. Couple that with the fact he was naked and pressed against you, you were surprised you even got that much out to begin with. 

“Quit puttin’ yourself down, sweetheart. I’ll go slower next time,” he assured you as his hand let go of your wrists. “It’s alright to be nervous. That’s why we talk ‘bout these things, yeah?” 

His softness and understanding caught you off guard, though you weren’t sure why it did. Throughout your time together he had been nothing but soft, kind and considerate. An asshole for sure, and cocky as all hell, but maybe that’s what you liked most about him. So you nodded your head in agreement and mustered a quiet smile that had him rewarding you with a quick kiss. 

He didn’t fully pull away from the kiss, though. Gentle fingers brushed against the side of your face while his lips ghosted against yours in a smirk. Just like that, he had you falling apart at the seams again.

“Next time, I’ll go so slow you’ll be begging for it.” 

consider this my way of edging you guys <3

[howtofightwrite]

Have you read GRRM books? He claims swords needed to be “especially designed for women’s hands” how true is this?

About as true as all of those, “girl guns.” Because, as you know, a woman cannot hold a Glock unless it's pink or sky blue. Which is to say, not even remotely true.

You might get a situation where a child would be unable to operate a weapon designed for adults because the grip is too cumbersome, but even this is going to be something of an outlier. Even years later the Nicholas Cage's line from Lord of War (2005) sticks with me, when describing the AK he narrates, “...so simple a child could use it, and they do.”

Just like basically any other common grip you encounter in your daily life, from screwdrivers to steering-wheels and cell phones, selling smaller, or more colorful ones, is strictly a marketing gimick.

Now, is a legitimate context, but it doesn't really have anything to do with the wielder's sex. If they had the money, the time, and the desire for a perfect grip, they might commission a smith to produce a grip specifically for their hand. Though, the only place I've ever come across this was in competitive fencing. I have seen cases where someone modifies their blade's grip with tape or other materials to better fit their hand, or the addition of a leather (usually shagreen) wrap over their grip, but even that is somewhat unusual. (Shagreen is leather from a shark or ray, and it grips the skin, making it easier to hold, especially when wet.)

Ironically, girl guns do illustrate the one case where have some weight: Weapons as fashion accessories.

I know I've complained about weapons (particularly handguns) as fashion accessories in previous posts, but the truth is that using weapons like this is not new behavior. In the early modern era, one of the ways the rising middle class liked to display their status was with a sidearm. (In this case, referring to a sidesword or, later, a rapier.) I've looked specifically into women carrying sidearms at that point in history, but it really would not surprise me in the least if they did, and if there were, that at least some of those swords were specifically designed to be more delicate and, “feminine,” per their owner's tastes. (Though, to be fair, a more delicate grip on a rapier would be fairly impressive, as the grips tend to be pretty thin.) This is a case where you might want to look into it further, if it really catches your interest, but I've never really run this down before.

If you're still dubious, feel free to wander into nearly any HEMA event, and you'll have a better than average chance of a woman being willing to prove this idea false with a Zweihander, that may in fact be taller than she is. (Historically, Zwiehanders could be over 2 meters long, and chances extremely good that you're shorter than 2 meters.)

I know I'm regurgitating previous posts here, but it really is worth remembering that swords are much lighter than people think. Zweihanders are some of the heaviest battlefield swords from history, and even the heaviest examples weigh less than 9lbs. Women in HEMA can, and do, use them effectively. Swords aren't about being big and heavy, they're about being a (in this case) seven foot long razor blade.

Since we're on the Zweihander specifically (and this may also apply for some of the other greatswords, such as the Scottish Claymore), this is a case where you might have a custom weapon forged for you. However, in this case, that's more about the right blade length, then worrying about the grip being too thick or too thin. Ideally, you want the blade length to match your height (roughly), this is because of the drills with the weapon itself, though you could adjust to a longer blade if that's what you had.

Now, to be clear, the idea of someone, particularly a noble, having a blade custom forged for them specifically isn't strange. That's something that did happen, both at the noble's request, and also as diplomatic gifts from other nations. Examples of the latter resulted in beautiful art pieces that you would never take into battle.

If you had a situation where you couldn't use a sword because the grip was too large (for, whatever reason), there are ways to fix that. In an ideal situation, you could simply pop off the pommel and grip, and then replace the grip with one that was a better fit to your hand. If the tang itself was the problem (this is the metal core of the grip, and is part of the blade, which the pommel attaches to), you might be able to shave (or file) down the tang, and then replace the grip with a new one, fitted to the now smaller tang. I'm not particularly wild about modifying the tang directly, simply because there is a (minor) risk of reducing the structural integrity of the sword in the process. Though, replacing the grip (especially on a sword with a threaded pommel) is very doable, and unless someone, somehow, screws up catastrophically, it should be a pretty trivial modification. (Again, replacing a sword's original grip with a new shagreen grip does make a lot of sense if the owner wants that improved grip.)

But, to the original question, it's not really a thing.

-Starke

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[fuctacles]

Under pressure

For @subeddieweek Day 1 | M | 1177 | accidental subspace, non-verbal communication, sleepover, Steve-instinctive-Dom-Harrington | Ao3 Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 | Ao3

Eddie avoided fights because he was a coward. A pussy, even, he'll admit. But there was a whole other reason for him avoiding sports.

He wasn't a big fan of physical contact. 

But since he's become better friends with Steve Harrington, he's been discovering things about himself. Things he wished would have stayed hidden. Forever.

The first time, it was a tussle for the remote. Eddie refused to watch another episode of whatever the fuck capitalist media was trying to spoon-feed them, while Steve was adamant there was a plot that he was invested in. One elbow to the gut and some pulled hair later, he landed underneath the guy, his weight pinning him to the ground.

Melting his bones.

Soothing.

"You okay?"

Steve sounded concerned about Eddie's sudden silence, and his mind scrambled to salvage his dignity. All he could manage was a groan, which Steve thankfully interpreted as a sign of pain and not the sudden weakness that it was. 

He instantly hopped off of him, apologizing.

Eddie has been avoiding and yearning for the touch ever since.

He had never considered Steve like that, but apparently being sat on was the biggest turn-on for his poor little dick, and now it was all he could think of at night.

His doom comes when he has to sleep over after a night of drinking. Steve insisted they share a bed, that it was alright, and Eddie foolishly believed him. 

It is fine until Steve rolls over to put away his glasses. 

"Shit, sorry. I just gotta..."

They didn't think this through, because Eddie was the one next to the bedside table, the one Steve was trying to reach. He almost crawls over Eddie to accomplish it, his weight heavy on top of him, pressing him to the mattress and making his mind go blank. 

He bites his lip so hard he probably draws blood, but it doesn't stop the whimper Steve's body literally pushed out of him.  Steve freezes. 

"Are you alright?" He drops the glasses and shoots up. "Did I hurt you?"

Eddie can't answer. His brain is screaming at his mouth, but he can't manage a single word, all he can think of is Steve's body back on him, that weight pressing him down, immobilizing him. He could probably reach pure bliss with just that.

When he doesn't get an answer, Steve pulls on his shoulder to flip him on his back. Eddie whines in protest but doesn't have enough control over his muscles to stop him. His shame gets put on display and Steve's eyes widen.

"Eddie?"

His pupils are huge as he blinks owlishly up at his friend.

"You okay?"

Eddie nods.

"Do you need anything?"

You. On me, against me, in me.

He shakes his head slowly, not breaking eye contact. This seems to frustrate Steve.

"Eddie, come on," he groans. "Clearly something's wrong. Do you need water? I can bring you some." He moves to stand up, but Eddie's in the way. He has to throw his leg over him, and Eddie presses his eyes closed, begging his body not to react.

It's enough to alert Steve, though, and he freezes hovering above him, mid-movement. 

"Huh."

It's a soft sound, barely there, and Eddie decides to keep his eyes closed. Maybe if he does, whatever realization Steve has gets forgotten, and he moves on, brings him the damn water, and maybe throws it on him like on a horny dog. Maybe that would help him.

But no, the ‘huh’ is followed by Steve settling down on his hips.

Oxygen escapes him in a whiny breath, and his body presses up without his control, seeking that delicious weight of another body. 

"Want to make out about it?" Steve asks out of the blue like any normal person would in these circumstances. But Eddie doesn't answer him, he can't, and he doesn't know. He can only stare and writhe under him, making tiny sounds of need he can't comprehend. Steve frowns down on him, partially concerned, partially curious. 

"Don't feel like talking?" he asks. Eddie gives him a nod. He hums. "Can you answer some yes or no questions? Nod for a yes and shake your head for no."

Nod.

"You can blink twice if you don't know or don't want to answer. Okay?"

Nod.

"What do you do if you don't want to answer?"

Eddie blinks twice.

"Good. Great." Steve smiles, and Eddie mirrors it through his haze. "Are you feeling alright?"

Nod.

"Do you need water?"

Shake.

"Do you need the bathroom?"

Shake.

"A snack?"

Shake.

Steve considers him, perched on top of his body. Eddie tentatively reaches up, palms resting on his thighs. Steve's gaze follows his fingers, where they just rest with no ill intent, only there to touch.

"Will we talk about it more in the morning?"

Eddie hesitates. Does he want to talk about it? To bring his shame to the light of day, confess the budding crush on his friend? But Steve doesn't seem angry, he's not kicking him out of the bed. He's being soft and gentle and trying to understand. Maybe in the morning, they could understand it together. Tentatively, he nods.

That eases Steve's frown a bit, but he sighs when another problem hits him.

"I don't know what else to ask," he admits with a huff. 

Eddie wants to help, so he slides his hands up, towards his hips, and tries to convey as best as possible where he wants him. He stares into his eyes, begging him to understand.

"Want me to lay down on you?"

He nods furiously, excited to get what he needs. 

Steve looks down. It's a minuscule movement of his eyes, but it's there. He will know if Eddie's hard when he moves, but he needs the heads-up. The bulge in Eddie's sweats is noticeable but not fully there, to Steve's relief. Having his friend under him in such a pliant state is already overwhelming as it is, and he knows Eddie will feel his own chub when he moves. 

"We're just sleeping tonight, alright?" Steve clarifies and Eddie nods without hesitation. "And cuddle a bit, I guess." Eddie nods again.

He moves, watching his friend’s face for any sign of distress. Eddie’s hands slide around him in an embrace that's more comforting than Steve's ready to admit, and soon they're chest to chest, legs tangled, and he has to crane his neck to maintain eye contact.

"That alright?"

Nod.

Eddie's hands squeeze him minutely and Steve settles down against his shoulder, finally resting his full body weight against him.

The man underneath him sighs, and it's like his whole body deflates. He makes a content sound in the back of his throat, and Steve wants to cry. It's so endearing and so comforting to have Eddie trust him like that. To have him turn into mush in his presence. 

He hopes he's not overstepping when he presses his nose to Eddie's neck, inhaling him and softly caressing his skin when he murmurs a "goodnight, Eds."

[fourmoony]

GOING TO SLEEP WITH A MARAUDER AND YOU'RE IN BED, HES SHIRTLESS AND READER AND HIM JUST TALK AND KISS AND ALL THAT FLUFFY STUFF THANKS LOVELY

this went a little angsty! thanks for requesting :)

cw: mentions of chronic pain, painkiller use, mentions of car crash, brief mention of post-car-crash-trauma, scars

remus lupin x f!reader, 1.5k

Remus is propped against your pillows, the room glowing with the light of the television, when you exit the bathroom. He turns the volume down when he hears the door click shut, turns his head until he’s looking at you with a tired smile. He looks so soft, buried in your nice, clean bed sheets; hair a mop of curls that’s starting to rest on his forehead the longer he avoids going to the hairdresser’s. His eyes bleed with exhaustion from a busy day.

You’d spent the morning in a cafe with Sirius, the afternoon at the park with Harry, and the evening having dinner with Hope and Lyall. It’d been nice, both in company and in weather, but the excessive walking and being on the go has taken it out of Remus. That much is obvious by the way he has a throw cushion tucked under his knee, poking out from under the blanket. He tries to throw the blanket over his leg, tries to hide the obvious admittance of pain.

You slide into bed next to him, a frown on your lips. “You’re in pain?” You ask, pulling the shoddy attempt at a cover up job back until his elevated leg is on full display.

Remus jolts with the blast of cold air, his stomach muscles flexing. The skin of his torso is on full display, the moonlight coming from the window showcasing his skin in a silvery light. There hasn’t been a day since you met Remus where you haven’t found his beauty astonishing. He is truly the most stunning person you’ve ever come across, even if he refuses to believe you when you tell him. The scar on his hip bone juts out from the band of his boxers, followed all the way up by a collection of raised scars that litter his skin like constellations.

Your fingers brush the particularly jagged scar across his rib cage as you lean in to look at Remus’ swollen knee. He huffs, clearly irritated that his plan of hiding the pain has been foiled. His knee is warm to the touch, the skin around it swollen. “I’m always in pain, dove.” Remus replies, flatly.

You hate that it’s true. Your boyfriend has good days and he most certainly has bad days, but he never has days where he’s not in some sort of pain. Remus’ illness has taken a lot from him; his childhood, at times, his social life, his freedom. You think maybe Remus thinks if he lets you know how bad it can truly be, it’ll cost him you, as well. It doesn’t seem to matter how many times you remind your boyfriend that it won’t scare you away, it never seems to stick.

“Okay, tough guy,” You scoff, finding that Remus often responds better to sarcasm and tough love than being babied or fussed over, especially when it gets bad, “fancy getting up to get me a glass of water?”

“Get it yourself, lazy girl.”

You can’t help the startled laugh that falls from your lips, eyes wide as you catch the sly grin on your boyfriend’s face. Remus laughs soon after, leans forward to press a loving kiss to the crown of your head. His own way of saying you know I’m kidding. You do know he’s kidding, so you kiss the underside of his jaw in return.

“Take some pain killers, baby. You know they’ll help, even if only enough to help you fall asleep.”

“Already have.” Remus chirps, pulls you by the shoulders until you’re resting across his chest.

Your boyfriend runs like a furnace at all times, the familiar feeling of warmth mixed with the signature scent of his shower gel has your muscles uncoiling as you relax into him. You’re cautious of putting all of your weight onto him until he shifts, further into the pillow mountain he’s created and pulls you along with him. He breathes deep at the relief he must feel from the new angle, reaches onto his bedside table for the television remote.

“Any requests?” He asks, words mumbled into your hair.

His arms are tight around you, thumbs brushing where they meet in the middle of their waist. You settle in, hook your leg over his good leg. One of his hands slips to the curve of your bum at the opportunity you’ve presented him, a gentle, nonsexual touch, but intimate nonetheless. “Not really. Just whatever you like.” You hum quietly.

He turns the volume back up a smidge on the sitcom you both like. His touch is soft and feather like, a comfort that pulls you fast stead towards sleep. The slow rise and fall of your boyfriend’s chest has your own breaths syncing up, lips turning every now and then to press kisses over his heart.

“Do you ever think about the crash?” You ask, eyes focussed on his raised knee.

Remus doesn’t startle. He might have, at the beginning of your relationship. He’d only told you in bits in pieces, back then, that he’d been in a terrible crash as a boy; the reason for his terrible joint and muscle pain.

You feel him shake his head, lips still firm against your hair. He presses a kiss there, then dips his head until he’s closer to your ear. His voice is quiet, tired, perhaps a little sad when he speaks; “Not as often, now. When I was a teenager, when I was in constant pain because I was growing all the time - yes. I thought about it every day and I thought about how unfair the world was, how unfair my life was.”

“What changed?” You ask, quietly.

He’s silent for a moment, only the sounds of his breathing and the quiet drone of the television can be heard. You can tell he’s thinking it over, a sense of unpleasant nostalgia somewhere in the way he audibly swallows and the slight twitch of his fingers against your skin. Eventually, he sighs, “A lot of things, really.”

"I changed doctors, for a start. They're much more understanding of my condition at the one down the road, much more patient and less skeptical of whether I'm faking it for the free codeine."

You laugh a little at the idea. Half the time, Remus refuses to take pain killers at all. "I like Doctor Frank, he's nice." You tell your boyfriend, who hums in agreement.

"He is," Remus agrees, "And then there was becoming an adult. Hard enough without carrying around so much anger. I was sort of forced to just let it go. Accept that this was my life and I was still capable of so much despite my illness."

You can't help but smile at that. Remus is the gentlest person you know. He's rough around the edges, a sarcastic, smart ass and a mean flirt, but he's gentle, all soft beige cardigans and old library books, gentle touches and even gentler kisses. Your boyfriend has never once dared to raise his voice at you, even in his moments of utter agony. He's kind and has a big heart and you can't imagine fifteen year old Remus, angry and hateful and mad at the world. It wouldn't have suited him.

So, you're proud of how far he's come. Even if he still deals with the trauma of the crash, the hatred he has for the scars it left him with and the pain he lives in. It's less. It's dialled down to one, maybe a two on his bad days. Your Remus looks at the world like a challenge, now. A challenge to overcome, to be the best he can be, to keep fighting. You love him so, so much, and you place a kiss to his heart as the feeling washes over you. Bright and light and floaty.

"And you, dove."

Your lips curl upward at his words, spoken so soft you're not really sure if you were supposed to hear them. Remus pulls you impossibly closer, holds you tighter as he ducks down to your ear, breath fanning across the skin and leaving goosebumps in its wake.

"If there was ever something to live for, something to not be angry about. It's you. The way you love me, your patience, your laugh, your smile. I think you were the universe's apology for that crash." Remus presses a kiss to the side of your neck when he's done and it sends a shiver through you.

There's tears in your eyes. Blinding you until your boyfriend becomes a blurred cheeky grin amidst the blue light of the television. But you're happy. So happy and so in love.

But you can't fight the urge to tell Remus, "Your consolation prize."

His startled laugh is music to your ears, a softness breaking through the storm clouds of your heavy conversation. He tuts a moment later, kisses you for the millionth time, "I prefer God given solace."

You roll your eyes. The man doesn't believe in God, but you'll take the compliment, you decide, as you curl back into him.

"Thanks for opening up. I know it's hard."

You feel his shrug, "Anything for you, dovey."

[queenimmadolla]

drabbles! how about reader and eddie telling penny and wayne theyre expecting maple?

𝐑𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫!𝐃𝐚𝐝!𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐱 𝐌𝐨𝐦!𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐭!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 (don't have to read but you'll want to)

“I’ll tell them. It’s fine.” Your voice sounds so defeated over the phone and Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. He hates it, hates that he’s the reason for it. 

  Here he is, telling you everything’s gonna get better, that the two of you will be okay—that your family will be okay, and already he’s had to let you down. 

  After a particular nasty fight that led to a comforting tryst, you were pregnant again. Giving Eddie his third baby. And all he’s given you lately is disappointment.

  “This leg is just three weeks, baby.” He promises, voice urgent because you have to believe him. Things have gotten shitty between the two of you but Eddie’s determined to change them, needs you to know that, “I’ll make it home on our off days.”

  But he won’t be home when you’re telling his kids they’re getting another sibling. It’s fucked. And he wants to argue, tell you to just wait until he gets back in town this week—but the thing is, even though he’s promising and desperately hoping he’ll be able to make it, it would be just his luck for something to happen at the last minute.

  He wants to punch a wall until his bones tear through the skin of his knuckles.

  “Okay, Eds.” Still defeated, but you don’t sound like you hate him, a change from recent phone conversations and you’re short with him so he knows you don’t want to talk to him for much longer.

  He does take a few moments, eyes still shut as he hones in on your breathing. Trying to imagine you right next to him instead of thousands of miles away.

   “I know things aren’t as pleasant as we want them to be. I swear to god, they’re gonna change. I’m not losing you. I’m not. I love you, baby.” He whispers, voice low and raspy. He’s fully expecting the love you, too followed by dial tone, so Eddie practically starts silently weeping when he gets more than that.

   “I love you, too, Eddie.” It doesn’t sound distant, as though you were already mentally out of the conversation. You’re still present for it, and it doesn’t sound like a weight on you. 

  The dial tone doesn’t come, you’re waiting for Eddie to end the phone call. A change.

  With a faint sniffle, and after a few more moments of comforting silence, he does.

  You hang the phone back on the receiver then pad over to the living room. The tv is on, some animated film displayed on the screen that manages to hold your children’s attention. Not much could do that as of late.

  “You guys got a minute?” You ask, making yourself comfortable on one end of the couch. Your five year-old son, Wayne, moves over to you and practically wraps your arms around him as he cuddles into your side. 

  Penny mutes the TV with the remote and you know you have their full attention.

   “I know things have felt a little weird lately, but I don’t want you to think it’s a bad thing, okay? Things are just changing.”

   “Like what?” Penny asks, giving you the perfect opportunity. This has to be a good, has to be a positive thing happening for them even though you had no idea how to feel yourself. 

  “Like the amount of troublemakers under my roof.”

  Penny’s gasp is loud and dramatic, eyes wide in excitement as she immediately catches onto your meaning. 

  “ARE YOU GONNA HAVE A BABY?!”

  Wayne’s face is the opposite of Penny’s, mouth wide open and looking downright offended with the level of side-eye he’s giving you. His top lip is curled in disgust, gums and teeth on display. You would have thought you’d just stolen his childhood instead of just telling him you’re pregnant.

  Oh, boy.

  At least, you’d have something funny to break the ice with when Eddie called in a few hours.

divider ℗ cafekitsune ♡

[writing-wh0re]

“My pathetic little baby, all tied up.”

♥pairing: sukuna, gojo, toji, nanami & geto

♥ summary: “The JJk men and their favourite sex toys”

♥ warnings: smuty 18+ blurbs, use of sex toys: bondage, ball gag, dildo, wand vibrator, cock ring, remote vibrator, sex toy in public, oral (male and female), unprotected sex, praise kink, slight degradation, breif mention of creampie, use of petnames: baby, pet, princess, sir and daddy.

♥ wc: 1,742

♥ masterlist

♥ Taglist

♥ Sukuna - Sukuna had surprised you with a few sex toys, always wanting to test your limits, see how many times you could cum for him. However his favourite is bondage, he loves tying you to the bed, your wrists and ankles tied with silk restraints. Your mouth gagged with a smooth silicone red ball. Sukuna doesn’t believe in blind folds, wanting to make sure he can see your reaction to everything, the way your eyes roll back when he touches you softly, so soft that if you weren't touch starved you wouldn’t feel it. You’re thankful he doesn’t like blindfolds because nothing gets you more wet than watching him jerk off to your restrained body. 

Sukuna loves eye contact. It is intense and it sends goosebumps over your skin. He keeps his gaze locked on you while he teases himself, pulling his length, his thumb brushing against the head of his cock, a smirk dances across his lips as you whimper, pulling on the silk. 

“Please sir.” You whimper is barely audible against the ball gag, small waterfalls of saliva falling from the sides of your mouth. 

He would be lying if hearing you beg wasn’t the best thing he’s heard in centuries. His cock twitches in his hand at your pleas. Sukuna is quick to move closer to your body, running his finger nails up and down your thighs. He pinches the smooth skin as jolts shoot through your body. 

“My pathetic little baby, all tied up.” 

“Begging like a whore” 

“So desperate for my touch.” 

You nod, wiggling your hips, you glistening pussy on full display for him. 

He hovers his hand over your mound close enough to feel the warmth of his skin. His other holding your chin between his fingers keeping your eyes locked with his, you don’t dare flick them away, needing him to touch you. 

Your moan vibrates against the gag strapped to your lips. His finger slowly drags across your clit, the movement sends a shiver down your spine, having been untouched for days and bound for hours. 

“Fucking soaked for me aren’t you pet.” 

You nod as his speed picks up, your head falls back out of his grasp, your eyes fluttering closed. 

Sukuna tuts, pulling his hand away from you, wrapping it around his cock again. 

“You pulled away baby, now you’re watching me.” 

You groan against the gag, your body falling hot, frustration filling you as you watch him jerk his dick. His head tilts back, lips parted and muscles flexing, your name falling from his lips. You wiggle against the restraints, needing to be touched. 

Sukuna laughs, leaning over your body as he continues to pump his cock. His lips brushing against your ear, his warm breath fanning against your cheek. 

“Pathetic.” 

| | 

♥ Gojo - Gojo had felt that when you’re fucking it’s not fair that you aren’t all the way filled with cock. So when he bought you a dildo, it only felt right to use it while you sucked his dick, he loves being able to control it, having you moan around him as he slips the silicone in and out of your drenched cunt. 

“Fucking look at you baby.” 

Your head hangs off the side of the bed, your legs spread wide. Gojo’s body is hovering over you, one arm supporting his body weight as the other plays between your legs. Slipping the purple silicone cock in and out of you, he pulls it from you, using the tip to circle your clit. 

You moan around his cock, earning a moan from his lips. You lean your head further back, taking him deeper. He thrusts his hips into your throat, your gag causing him to slide the dildo into you roughly. Your body jolts at the action as he coo’s you. 

“Such a good girl.” 

Your eyes water, lips hallowing around his cock, your tongue swiping side to side. 

Gojo is fixated on your pussy, watching your cunt swallow the purple toy, your walls tight around it, covering it in a sheen of wetness. 

Your brain short circuits when you feel his tongue flick against your clit. 

“Fuck ‘toru.” Your nails dig into his thighs, a groan vibrating against your pussy. 

“You’re so hot baby, taking two cocks.” 

Your hand wraps around his dick, pumping him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around the tip. 

His lips suck against your clit, your legs shaking as he angles the dildo to hit your g-spot. 

“Just like that.” 

Gojo continues flicking his tongue on your clit. You slip his cock past your lips, hollowing your cheeks around his member. Your legs close around him, his free hand holding them open as his tongue speeds up on your clit. Your body falls hot and tense, your mind cloudy as you cum around the silicone. Your moans are muffed as they vibrate around his cock.

Gojo kisses your clit, slowly rocking the dildo in and out of you, his eyes never leaving the silicone that’s glistening with your cum. 

He looks down at you, your cheeks flushed, spit covering your lips and his cock disappearing into your throat. 

“So good to me.” He pulls back, leaving the dildo buried inside of you. Both of his hands hold your face as he rocks his hips using your throat to chase his release. 

| | 

♥ Toji - Toji loved nothing more than making you cum, he loved the sounds you make for him. 

Only him. 

So you weren’t surprised when he came home with an array of sex toys to trial. You favourite being the large wand vibrator. Although Toji was mean when he used it, he would always press it against your clit while fucking you but the moment you were close he would take the toy away. 

“What baby, is daddy's cock not good enough?”

He would taunt you, he would want you to tell him how much you needed him, how good he made you feel. He loved the wand just as much as you do, he loved that it made you vibrate against him. But he wasn’t about to be replaced by a toy. 

God forbid he ever saw you use it when he wasn’t home. 

“Feels good daddy, so good.” 

Toji smirks, his thumb caressing your face before placing the toy between your bodies, swirling it around your clit, pressing it against the bundle of nerves as he thrusts into you. His thrusts rocking the wand, your body wiggling at the overload of pleasure. 

Toji feels you tighten around him, moving the toy away as your pussy squelches, a frustrated groan leaving your lips. 

“Daddy, please, need to cum.” 

Toji only chuckles, fucking you faster. Your moans fill the bedroom in a chorus the sound of him fucking your tight pussy accompanying them. 

“Since you said please.” Toji smiles, flicking the wand up a speed and placing it against your clit. Your back arches off the bed, his lips wrapping around your nipple, teeth pulling on the skin. 

“Cover my cock baby, cum for daddy.” 

| | 

♥ Nanami - You were warming Nanami up to the idea of sex toys. You’re thankful he was open to it and was willing to try the cock ring, one that had an attachment to brush against your clit. 

“Feels so good.” 

Nanami had your legs pressed against his chest, ankles resting on his shoulders. His hands wrapped around your hips, your fingers digging into the comforter. 

“Fuck.” Nanami throws his head back, moving his hands from your hips and wrapping his arms around your legs, pulling you closer to him, his cock slipping deeper into your pussy. 

The ribbed nub of the cock ring brushes against your clit roughly with each thrust, the vibrating swirling around Nanami’s cock, transfering to you. 

“F-faster” You whimper. Nanami chuckles, turning the cockring up one speed and thrusting into you faster. 

“Think you can take it baby?”

You simply nod, wonton moans falling from your lips. Nanami’s muscles flex with each thrust, his arms tightening around your legs as they twitch within his grasp. The humm of the cock ring fills the air, both of you moaning and breathless. Nanami keeps his pace, he accompanies the nub of the cock ring with his thumb, rubbing circles on your clit. 

“Going to fill you baby.”

You moan at his words, wanting nothing more than to feel his cum fill you. Having it slowly drip out of your pussy, feeling him inside you for the rest of the night. 

| | 

♥ Geto - You loved when Geto was in control, especially when he would use the remote controlled vibrator on you while you sucked his dick. You didn’t expect for him to suggest wearing it to the supermarket, intrigued and turned on, you agreed. 

Thankfully the small buzz was hidden over the music, pa system and people within the supermarket. 

“Fuck.” You whisper, gripping the shelf that houses the spices. 

“What is it baby?” Geto fringes concern, a few patrons walking down the aisle past you. You smile weakly at the couple as they walk past you quickly. You shoot daggers at Geto, his sly smirk across his face. He takes your hand from the shelf, lacing your fingers together. 

“Doing so well.” 

He increases the speed, your nails digging into the back of his hand as you bite your lip. Geto pulls you to his chest, kissing the side of your head. He pulls away from you, slowing the pace down and taking the shopping cart down the aisle. You breathe deeply before following behind your tall boyfriend. 

Your legs start to feel weaker, the vibration sending tingles down your body. 

“Geto.” Your voice strains as you hold onto the shopping cart, the speed having increased. 

“My name always sounds so pretty on your lips baby.” 

“Please.” 

Geto smiles at you, brushing your hair away from your face and placing a kiss on your forehead. 

“You’ll have my cock soon enough princess.” 

Your eyes lock with his, leaning forward to softly peck his lips before he pulls away from you. A few people are now in the same aisle as you. 

“C’mon baby, we dont have much left on the list.” Geto smiles, pushing the cart as the vibrator continues its speed, a mix of up and down patterns now flowing through you. You hope to god you can make it through this, needing, wanting and borderline begging to cum.

Taglist: Happy New Year's Eve ♥

@zagreusdaughter @sunshinemunchkin @alina02 @veryspookybatbabe @maybesandohnos @mathletemadison @themoonis-beautiful-tonight @skarlettmikaelson @darling2800 @reynaandeny @uwiuwi @anythingandeverything97 @fckve @nyx2021 @alexxavicry @thehumanistsdiary @anonreaderas @i-love-scott-mccall @a-hidden-gem @addymartinsstuff @alliereece @miyaluvvsyou @gabbag00l @peterpan-neverfails

[bellaxgiornata]

As Luck Would Have It [1/2]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3.5k [Part Two]

Warnings/tags: Humor, fluff, and a charming, teasing Matty

Summary: Stressed out while working on a dead-end case at Nelson, Murdock, and Page, Matt isn't too thrilled when Foggy interrupts and asks him for a favor. Despite his annoyance at another task being added to his list of things to do, Matt is shocked when the potential client Foggy asks him to call turns out to be a wrong number. What's even more surprising is how much Matt enjoys chatting with the woman on the other end of the line.

a/n: This is going to be a short, two part piece. It's light and fluffy so I hope y'all enjoy it! Feedback/reblogs are always appreciated!

Matt Murdock One Shot Tag List: @pazii @shouldbestudying41 @kmc1989 @ebathory997 @yeonalie @shiorimakibawrites @xxdrixx @wkndwllf @leikelle @pinkratts @lazyxsquirrel @1988-fiend @marvelcinematiquniverse @carstairswife @stilldreaming666 @kiwwia-wiwwia @willwork4dilfs @will-delete-this-later-probably @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @theetherealbloom @yarrystyleeza @dramaholic18 @ladywholikesreading @sleepysleepymom @tartbeanpuzzles @harleycao @sunflower-tia @gamingfeline @juskonutoh @kezibear @ninacotte @withyoutilltheendoftheline @justanerd1

Matt’s fingers slid across his braille reader, his brows furrowed together in deep concentration as he focused on reading the digital document displayed on his laptop. This entire case had been draining him lately, only managing to aggravate him as he continually hit legal wall after legal wall trying to figure out how to help their client. What made things worse was that he knew what was really happening behind the scenes in this case that he, Foggy, and Karen had been working on, but he also knew that Matt Murdock wasn't supposed to know about any of that.  

With a vexed grunt he raised a hand from off his braille reader, running it through his hair in agitation as he blew out a frustrated breath. Tired of reading the same thing over and over with no new way forward, Matt pushed his chair back from the desk in annoyance. The desk lurched a few inches across the floor at the force as Matt grit his teeth together. 

He wished he could use the information he'd uncovered last night as Daredevil. That would have solved all of his problems and easily saved their client. But of course, none of that evidence was remotely admissible in court. So while he knew where the truth lay in this entire case, he was still currently helpless to use the law in his fight for justice. Though he was certainly determined to keep picking through detail after detail in search of something he could use to his client’s benefit.

The sound of footsteps approaching his office door caught Matt’s attention and his head shifted to the side. Matt pushed all thoughts of his frustrating case out of his mind as he focused on the noise. Barely a second later the sound of Foggy’s unmistakable heartbeat registered in his ears just before two knocks sounded against his door.

“What do you need, Fog?” Matt called out.

He heard the door handle twist, the door to his office opening as Foggy stepped inside. Matt didn’t have to exert much effort studying him to notice how stressed Foggy currently was. His blood pressure was quite clearly elevated this morning along with his cortisol levels–he could practically smell the stress in the faint bit of sweat on Foggy’s forehead. So apparently Matt wasn't the only one having a shitty day at the firm today. At least he wasn't alone in that.

“Hey, Matt,” Foggy began hesitantly, stopping just inside his office before shifting his weight back and forth along his feet almost nervously. “I know you're busy running yourself into the ground for the Richmond case, and I know how frustrating it's been to keep hitting a deadend. But…” he trailed off for a moment, Matt catching the faint waver in his tone. “I was actually hoping to ask you for a favor this morning.”

Matt’s head tilted curiously to the side, his eyes narrowing behind his glasses at Foggy. Leaning back in his desk chair, he lowered his hands down onto his lap and attempted to keep the annoyed fidgeting of his fingers hidden from his friend. The last thing Matt wanted right now was another task added to his agenda for the day. All he wanted was to make headway on this case before it drove him insane.

“What kind of favor?” he asked, trying to keep the edge from his tone.

Matt heard Foggy take a few more steps forward into his office, stopping just in front of his desk. The sound of something like a small slip of paper faintly rustled between Foggy’s fingers as he stood there. 

“Elliott got a call a bit ago from someone by the name of Edgar Philips who was potentially interested in hiring us,” Foggy began to explain, setting the paper down onto Matt's desk before sliding it across the surface towards him. “And the case sounded… interesting to say the least. But the thing is, Karen is out today dealing with the Rodriguez building permit thing, and I'm about to head over to the courthouse. So I was…sort of hoping you could call them back and handle the consultation? Somehow fit them in today?”

Matt could hear the way the muscles in Foggy’s face had contracted, sounding like he'd almost grimaced when he had asked for the favor. His heart rate had accelerated just a bit, meaning Fog was clearly anxious that Matt would decline to help take on even more work today. Truthfully he wanted to decline calling this possible client because he was already swamped with the Richmond case, but maybe taking a few minutes to focus on something else would benefit him. Maybe stepping away for a bit before coming back to things with a fresh mind would help him see things a little differently. Clearly he wasn’t making any progress this morning doing what he had been doing. 

With an exasperated sigh, Matt slid his hand across his desk to where he’d heard Foggy set the slip of paper. His fingers felt around the wooden surface for a second before he found it.

“Yeah, I'll make the call,” Matt told him, pulling the paper towards himself. 

Foggy let out a relieved breath, the sound of his entire body relaxing impossible for Matt's ears to miss. At least he could make Fog's day a little better.

“Great, seriously! Thank you, buddy,” Foggy said in a rush. “You have no idea how helpful that is right now. I've already got so much to do today, I really didn't know how I was going to fit that call in. And you know how bad the reception can be at the courthouse.” Foggy laughed good-naturedly, his mood already lifting. “But hey, before I go, did you need me to read that phone number off for you? Or dial it even?”

Matt's fingers ran over the indentation of Elliott's pen marks on the paper. Despite how scatterbrained their new secretary often tended to be, he at least appreciated that the man had a heavy hand when he took notes from the calls he answered. It at least made things easier for Matt to read without too much extra assistance–something he loathed having to ask for if he didn’t need to.

“No,” he answered with a shake of his head. “I can make the numbers out just fine. Don't worry about me, Fog. Just go take care of what you need to. I'll deal with this Edgar Philips.”

Foggy’s hands clapped loudly together, Matt picking up on the sounds of his feet as he already began to back out of his office. 

“Thank you, Matt, you're a life saver!” he exclaimed. “You know, more than you usually are.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Matt said with a grin. “Can you just shut the door again on your way out, though?”

“Can do!” Foggy replied. 

Matt swore he heard the air shift as Foggy sent him a salute. Chuckling lightly at his best friend's ability to lighten the mood, he heard the sound of his office door closing before he heard the muffled sound of Foggy’s footsteps as he began making his exit from the office. 

For a minute Matt sat in his chair, listening as Foggy said a brief goodbye to Elliott before leaving. Then the usual ‘silence’ of their office returned. Though it was never truly quiet to Matt because he could still hear the hum of the lights in the building, the almost constant tapping of Elliott's fingers on his keyboard in the room over, and even the incessant buzzing of a fly that had been trapped in the office since yesterday afternoon. 

Foul mood slowly returning, Matt's fingers ran over the pen marks on the slip of paper still in his hands. Glancing down towards it, he wondered what the interesting case that Foggy had mentioned was actually supposed to be about. To Matt, interesting just translated to complicated, which was the last thing he needed right now. Though whatever it was, he figured getting the call out of the way would be the best course of action for now. Afterwards he’d be free to continue working on the Richmond case for the rest of the day, hopefully without any further interruptions or distractions.

Shifting in his chair, he slipped his cell phone from out of his dress pants pocket, the electronic hum of it louder now that it wasn’t muffled by fabric. He raised it to his mouth before speaking a few voice commands into it, then he took a second to recite the number he’d been given from off the paper. Sitting back in his chair, Matt listened to the familiar dial tone as he held the phone to his ear, but surprisingly it only managed to ring twice before someone had quickly answered.

“Seriously, Lindsey, I said I’d call afterwards,” a distinctly annoyed and hushed female voice came over the line. “There’s nothing of interest for me to report yet and now you’re just making me even more nervous. At this point my armpits are going to be as sweaty as my hands.”

Sitting forward in his chair, Matt rested his elbows along the top of his desk. A small grin slipped onto his mouth as he tossed the little slip of paper somewhere among the mess of papers before himself. He hadn’t expected that to be the response to his call, but now the person on the other end of the line had captured his undivided attention.

“Maybe you should try using more deodorant then,” Matt cheekily suggested.

A surprised gasp met his ear, the sound making his smile widen further. Clearly whoever he'd gotten ahold of had just now realized they were in fact not speaking with Lindsey. 

“Oh, shit,” came your clearly embarrassed and still hushed voice as the realization that you were speaking to someone else settled in. “I'm sorry, I totally thought you were my friend calling back. I didn't check the caller ID because I didn't want my ringtone to make any more of a nuisance than it already had been making because it's so loud. I swear I don't ever hear it if I don't have the volume up so high. But now I am incredibly regretting the decision to not just have taken the two seconds to look and check the number first.” 

There was a pause where you loudly cleared your throat over the line. Matt found himself still grinning at the word vomit that seemed to keep coming from you with no end in sight, his irritation at having to make this call quickly vanishing. His left hand began to absently fiddle with a pen from his desk as he listened to you ramble on further.

“Clearly you're not Lindsey and now I'm absolutely mortified,” you continued in a rush. “But for the record, I am wearing deodorant. A lot of it actually. I'm just nervous and it makes me extra sweaty, alright? I don't like job interviews. They terrify me.” Your voice dropped to an even quieter tone as you continued on, Matt not remotely interested in stopping you because you had easily become the most fascinating part of his day. “And I dislike when you have to sit and wait in those stiff plastic chairs while the secretary keeps shooting you random smiles from their desk like you're not about to vomit all over the floor from nerves. I swear they make you sit outside the office for at least ten minutes like it's some sort of extra secret test before the actual interview takes place. Are they supposed to be judging how I sit and do nothing? Or how I handle intentionally being asked to show up at a certain time but am purposely made to sit and wait? I swear, it’s done on purpose.”

“So what I'm gathering from all of that,” Matt finally began when you had paused to take a breath, still grinning as he spoke, “is that you are not the Edgar Philips I am looking for, nor were you the one who most likely tried contacting the law firm of Nelson, Murdock, and Page earlier this morning on his behalf. Am I correct in that assumption?”

There was a very long pause on your end of the line after he'd spoken. Matt waited patiently for you to respond though, his left hand still leisurely flipping the pen back and forth between his fingers.

“Did you say…law firm?” you hesitantly asked. 

“Yes, I did,” Matt replied. 

“So you're a…?”

“Lawyer, yes. One of the partners, actually,” he answered easily. “And one who must have somehow gotten the wrong number it appears, judging by your response.”

“Yeah, I uh–” you cleared your throat again, “–I definitely didn't call your office today. And I am certainly not Edgar Philips.”

“Ahh well, my apologies,” Matt said, setting his pen back down on his desk before sitting back in his chair. “I'm sorry to have interrupted your day, especially at such an inconvenient time as right before a job interview. I suppose I shouldn’t further distract you.”

There was a small part of Matt that almost felt reluctant to end the call already, dreading having to ask Elliott for help with the clearly incorrect phone number so he could get in touch with the actual Mr. Philips before going back to that irritating Richmond case. You'd been an amusing distraction this morning at least. 

“Actually you've somehow managed to calm my nerves,” you replied. “Apparently embarrassing myself with a stranger has now made me feel less like vomiting.”

“Any less sweaty?” Matt teased, unable to help himself.

You laughed lightly over the line, the sound a pleasant one that seemed to ease the tension from Matt’s own body. Something about your voice and your way of immediately speaking to him as if you'd known him for longer than two minutes had drawn him in.

“Maybe a fraction less, thank you for that,” you answered. “You uh, you have a calming voice, whichever part of Nelson, Murdock, and Page you are.”

Matt's brows quickly shot up onto his forehead in surprise. No one had told him that before.

“I do?” he asked.

“Mhmm,” you hummed back. “You know, if you ever need money, you'd be great at calling people and talking to them until they relax before they have to do something they're nervous about–like going to a job interview. Or maybe even attending events with them to keep them calm or something. You know what I’m saying?”

Matt couldn't resist the laugh that slipped out of his mouth, his head tilting to the side. “Is that an actual thing that exists? Because it almost sounds like you're just describing a male escort,” he pointed out.

“ No !” your harsh whisper came over the line, the embarrassment in it causing Matt to chuckle again. “Oh no, that's not–no I didn't mean it like that! I swear! Is that even legal in New York City? Though I suppose maybe you don't live here since this is a wrong number and all... But no! That’s not what I meant!”

Matt relaxed further back in his chair, finding that he'd been enjoying this unexpected conversation with you this morning far more than he could’ve thought. He truly didn't want to end the call even though he knew he would need to soon. Though he found himself wishing for an excuse to talk to you again already.

“I do live in New York City actually,” he answered. “And male escorts aren't supposed to be getting paid for their time in the way that you're currently thinking about, so yes, they are actually quite legal.”

“I imagine as a lawyer that owns your own law firm, though,” you began, “you don't exactly need a side hustle as a male escort. And that–that’s a joke, by the way,” you quickly clarified. “You know what? Just forget I said that, I'm just nervous for this interview. I'm rambling.”

“You are, but I'm enjoying it,” he told you. “But our law firm tends to take on lots of cases pro bono, so truthfully, I could probably use a side hustle. I'll keep your vote of confidence as a male escort in mind if I ever struggle to continue paying my bills.”

The bark of laughter followed by your soft curse under your breath had Matt’s cheeks hurting from how wide his smile had grown. 

“Despite how entertaining this call has been, I should really go,” you said. “I imagine they should be calling me back soon and I probably shouldn’t be sitting here looking like I’m having so much fun on the phone judging by the frown the secretary just gave me. I’ve never had one frown at me before and I’d really not like to mess up my chances here. I kind of really want this job so I can actually do something with my degree.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll do just fine, but either way, I wish you luck,” Matt replied. “I should probably get back to work myself, but I’ll admit that you’ve been a pleasant distraction from a case I’ve been struggling with myself, so thank you.”

“Then I wish you luck as well, stranger,” you replied. “I hope you make some progress on your case.”

“I suppose if I don’t, there’s always other viable career options for me that I’ve recently had my eyes opened to,” Matt teased.

He enjoyed the sound of your laugh over the line one last time before you told him goodbye. Almost reluctantly Matt ended the call, lowering his phone down onto his desk. His smile faltered as he once more overheard the sound of Elliott’s fingers typing on his computer. With a defeated sigh he pushed his chair back, rising up to his feet and accepting the fact that he’d need to ask Elliott for help dialing Mr. Philips correctly.

“Matt, this is–” Foggy began but quickly stopped himself.

Matt sat back in his chair, a triumphant smile spread wide across his mouth as he continued to listen to both Karen and Foggy rifling through the documents he’d had printed out early this morning. The three of them were currently sitting in the conference room while Matt proudly sat back, enjoying the sound of the pair of them getting excited over what he’d discovered yesterday afternoon. Apparently taking a step away from the case for a little bit had been just the thing he needed to do to come back at it with a different angle.

“Dude, this is exactly what we needed for that Richmond case!” Foggy finally exclaimed, his head darting up towards Matt. “You’re brilliant!”

“Ahh, well,” Matt said with a smug smile and a shrug of his shoulders. “Just doing my job, Fog.”

“This must have taken a lot of creative thinking,” Karen muttered, still flipping through the papers. “Hell, Matt, I think you just saved this whole case.”

Matt had been about to respond, tempted to make another cocky comment, but the sound of his phone receiving a text cut him off. Brows furrowing together slightly, he slipped his hand into his pants pocket and pulled his phone out. Holding it up to his ear and muttering out a command, he slid back his chair from the conference table before rising up to his feet and walking a few steps away from Foggy and Karen. 

He frowned slightly at the number the automated voice began to read off in his ear almost immediately. It wasn’t one he had recognized. Why would a strange number be texting him? Though when he heard that same automated voice begin to read out the text message he’d received, a small smile easily slipped onto his face.

“Just wanted to let you know that I was offered the job already this morning,” the automated voice read into Matt’s ear. “Apparently you’re my good luck charm, stranger. So thanks for the chat. Hope you made some progress on your case, too.”

For a moment Matt just stood there in shock, holding the phone to his ear and grinning like a fool. He hadn’t expected to ever hear from you again, and he certainly hadn't anticipated the burst of pride at your news. And apparently you’d also been his good luck charm because after he'd dealt with the real Edgar Philips, he finally made a break on the case that had stumped him for weeks. 

Without a second thought, Matt turned around to face both Karen and Foggy, lowering his phone to his side. “Hey, I’ve got to respond to this message,” he told them. “Do you mind if I handle this back in my office now?”

“No, no,” Foggy answered distractedly, the air shifting as he clearly waved Matt off. “Go do your thing, buddy. We've got plenty to focus on at the moment.”

Trying to fight back the growing smile on his mouth as he maneuvered his way back over towards where he'd been sitting, Matt picked up his cane that had been resting against the table. As he navigated his way out of the conference room and back to the privacy of his office, he already began thinking up a response to your message. And he also wondered how strange it would be if he called instead of texted you back.

[ilovenatasharomanoff2-0]

Can you please do a fic where there is angst and smut like scenario, Natasha is always busy with work and always ignoring R which lead them into an big argument and nat got a little bit carried away and slap R but then she realized what she has done and want to show R how much she loves her

Lately

Pairings: Intersex Natasha Romanoff x Fem reader

Warnings: Angst, cunnilingus, one tiny slap, idk, small? Mentions of Natasha having a dick

Word count: 2.2k

11:45.

11:45 was the time your girlfriend entered the city apartment. The atmosphere was dim and moody as all the lights had been turned off, except for the TV that illuminated the room with a random show in the background. As she entered, Natasha carefully placed her computer bag on the floor and slipped off her shoes before proceeding to the living room. She scanned the area, searching for a trace of your presence on the inviting white couches.

Not being able to find you Natasha finds the Tv remote and stops the show that's playing.

With a faint sigh escaping her lips, she takes a few steps down the dimly lit hallway, her heart pulsing with a mix of hope and trepidation. As she approaches the entrance to your shared bedroom, she can't help but wonder if you'll be there, awaiting her arrival with open arms. Natasha slowly turned the doorknob to the side to see your sleeping body on the mattress, a smile engulfing her face as she watched your body move up and down slowly.

She was happy to see you still in the bed. Your relationship had been rocky for the past two weeks. It took a toll on both of you in the long run.

Natasha made her way to the closet to change out of her uncomfortable work clothes. She opted for a comfortable compression shirt and cozy sweatpants. She returned to the bed and noticed that you were already resting peacefully. She quietly crawled into bed beside you, wrapping her arms around your warm body. The feeling of your presence gave her a sense of comfort and security that she desperately needed. These small moments of closeness were what she cherished most about being with you.

As you gradually stirred from your slumber a few hours later, you instinctively turned to your side and noticed the vacant space on your bed, prompting you to groan in disappointment. you quickly got out of bed and headed straight to the bathroom to begin your morning routine. You meticulously brushed your teeth and hair, feeling revitalized and refreshed. Splashing some cold water on your face, you headed out of the room to try and find Natasha.

After a couple minutes of trying to find her, you see her in the home gym she designed for you two. She was wearing a White wife beater and blue Nike tracksuit pants. Natasha was doing pushups with the workout video displayed on the Tv in the room.

You slowly enter the room, pushing the transparent door open and looking down at her.

"Where were you last night." You ask her, with a serious tone, not being happy with her at the moment.

"Oh, I was still at work. Fury gave me more paperwork to do as soon as I was packing to go home. I'm so sorry baby." She replies, looking back at where you were and standing up to go and hug you.

You scoot back from the hug and look up at her face. "Natasha, i'm always so sick of you never being here. You know it affects me too, right?" You ask her, your eyes tearing up because you missed her so much.

"Yes- I know that y/n. it affects me too, you're not the only one getting hurt by it." Natasha responds back to you, pinching the bridge of her nose and closing her eyes.

"You know, why are we even fighting right now y/n? It's 8:37 in the fucking morning y/n. 8:37!" She says to you, walking away to go take the weights off of the barbell she was using.

"I don't know Natasha - maybe it's because I miss my girlfriend, but she's never here when I need her the most." You say back to her, covering your face with your hands and letting out a frustrated sigh.

"Well, I honestly don't know what the fuck you want me to do y/n. Do you wanna go talk to fury for me? Tell him to cut back my fucking hours at work? Huh?" She asks, anger building up in her voice as she drops the weight, she was holding to look at you.

"Are you even listening to me right now Natasha!?" You tell her, a small smile coming over your face as you were in disbelief with what she was saying.

"Are you even listening to me y/n? I love you and I do want to spend time with you, I do. I just - don't know what you want me to fucking do." She yells back at you, walking a little closer to your body and standing infront of you.

"It's not that hard to do what i'm asking Natasha. To spend time with me? Okay yes, maybe I do want you to come home early one day. What's wrong with that? You're literally gone for so many days of the week and i'm always here wondering about how you are, if you're okay, worrying over you. And then when you do come home, I never get to see you - spend time with you! It's not fair Natasha." You yell back out to her, tears falling down from your eyes now.

"And you know what Nat-"

You were cut off when you felt a stinging sensation come over your face. Your hand immediately going to touch the skin that had been touched.

"What the fuck Natasha." You tell her, your eyes widening as you looked up at her once more. The skin now turning red from where her hand made impact.

"Y/n I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it. Please I'm sorry." She says before bringing you close to her body. Her eyes watering up thinking of what she just did. You didn't hug her back, you couldn't.

"No Natasha what the actual fuck is wrong with you?" You ask her as you walk away to the door.

"Wait-Where are you going y/n? Please, I'm sorry y/n."

"I'm gonna go stay at Wanda's for a few days Natasha." As you spoke to her, tears streamed down your face and you had to pause to catch your breath between each word. Leaving the gym to go pack a bag.

Natasha stood still in the now quiet gym, her mind consumed with thoughts about the recent events that had just transpired. The weight of her actions seemed to weigh heavily upon her heart, and a solitary tear trickled down her cheek. She never intended to cause any harm to you, and the realization of what she had done filled her with disgust and remorse.

You on the other hand got a random bag you found in your shared closet and threw some clothes In there. You already texted Wanda about what had happened between you and Natasha. Once you were done packing you immediately left through the front door, grabbing the car keys off of the accent table and unlocking the car.

After the incident with Natasha, you sat in the car, completely motionless. Tears flowed down your face, and you couldn't help but feel hurt by her actions. Although you knew she didn't mean to hurt you, you couldn't understand why she acted the way she did. Being around her at that moment was an unsettling experience, and you couldn't shake off the feeling.

"Shh, it's okay y/n. I promise." Wanda tells you, holding you close as you cry in her arms.

"I-I just don't understand Wanda!" You seem to convey to her, lifting your head to meet her gaze. Your eyes are swollen and discolored due to the extensive amount of crying you have gone through.

"I think she really is sorry y/n. She keeps on texting you and trying to call you. I know Natasha would never want to hurt you on purpose, y/n/n."

"I know, I know. I don't know what to say to her after that."

"Well, stay here for a couple hours, huh? We can watch some movies and order some, okay? But you have to talk to her y/n.

After quiet contemplation, you slowly and carefully shift your weight, gently lifting yourself off Wanda's body. As she rises from her bed calmly, she extends a compassionate hand towards you, guiding you towards her bathroom. She helps you delicately wash your face, ridding it of any traces of stubborn, dried mascara that stubbornly clung to your delicate skin.

-

"Feeling better?" She asks you, playing with your hair on the couch.

"Mhm. I'm gonna start heading out Wands." You tell her, shifting from your comfy position on her couch.

"You want me to walk you out?"

"No, it's okay; thank you so much, Wanda. I'll text you later.

"Of course, Y/n. It's gonna be okay, I swear.

As you leave Wanda's house, you lower your head and take a slow stride toward your vehicle. The memory of Natasha invades your thoughts, causing a wave of longing to wash over you. You can't help but admit that you miss her dearly, despite the difficulty in comprehending her actions.

As you approach the entrance of your shared apartment, you can feel your heart rate increase as nervousness courses through your body. Your gaze shifts down towards your phone, noting the time displayed: 9:34. As you unlock the screen, you are greeted with a barrage of missed calls and messages from Natasha, causing your attention to shift towards the digital notification center.

With a heavy sigh, you inhale deeply before grasping the key that had unlocked the door and stepping inside. As soon as you entered, you noticed Natasha sitting at the bar, her delicate frame perched on a high stool. Her hands were clasped on her head as if deep in thought, and she looked up as soon as she sensed your presence.

"Y/n?" She asks to you. Her face was filled with red. You could tell that she had been crying a lot.

You remained silent, your body motionless in the hallway.

"I, I'm so sorry y/n. Please."Natasha approached you with a hint of distress in her demeanor. Her arms wrapped around your frame as she drew nearer, seeking comfort and solace. In response, your arms naturally embraced her, offering a reassuring and supportive presence.

"Please y/n."

"I know it was an accident, Natasha; it's okay, Nat, I forgive you."

You perceive the sound of Natasha's sniffles and experience a dampness on your shoulder caused by her tears.

"I'm sorry. Let me make it up to you, baby, please." Natasha continues to weep inconsolably while you offer a comforting embrace. Your gentle touch caresses her back in soothing circular motions, providing a sense of relief from her emotional pain.

"Natasha, you're crying in my arms right now."

"N-no, please."

Before you can respond Natasha starts kissing up your neck. A low moan escapes your mouth.

"Nat."

She quickly drops to her knees and pulls down your sweatpants. She kisses up your thighs, her fingers making their way to your clothed clit. Rubbing the sensitive muscle slowly.

"Please let me show you how much I love you. Please y/n."

"Mmm-okay..." You tell her, Natasha takes that as her sign and pulls down your lace panties. You were already soaking wet. A grunt leaves Natasha's mouth as she moves her face to your cunt. She sticks her tongue out for a second before licking your folds. One of her hands returns to your clit and starts rubbing again, this time faster.

"Natasha!" You moan out, your hands coming to meet her head. Taking a hand full of red hair and pushing her closer to your cunt. Natasha lets a small whine and pushes her nose beneath the hood of your clit. She shakes her head left and right, moaning at how you taste.

She starts to move her hips back and forth, humping the air. Her cock grows each time she hears one of your pretty moans. The hand holding your thigh moves down to her loose boxers. She quickly grabs her cock and moves her hand up and down, wanting to release it whenever you do.

"Feels so good, Nat, mm!" Your head was thrown back as your hands gripped her hair harder.

"Could e-eat you out all day."

"Fuck! Natasha, I'm so close." You moan out to her, her finger stimulating your clit moves even faster. Her head moves closer to your cunt. Her grunts and groans add to your stimulation.

She's lost in eating your pussy. Her hips move faster, and so does her hand, a sign that she's also close.

"Gonna cum!" Your hips buck into her face. The finger on your clit moves to your hips to keep them stable. Natasha's hand moves faster and faster in her boxers. Loud grunts leave her mouth as she looks up at you, your face contorted in pleasure.

With one more guttural moan, you come undone on Natasha's tongue. A whine erupts from her mouth as she shoots her cum in her boxers simultaneously with you.

She pulls her face away from your cunt. The bottom half of her face is filled with your juices. Her full face is covered in red. The silent room is filled with your loud breaths.

"Fuck, come here."

[pin-k-ink]

PARAMOUR ⋆✦⋆ hoshina soshiro

synopsis ➸ hoshina is used to getting strange messages as a well-known member of the defense force, but a sexy photo from a random number really catches him off guard. what starts as something casual soon becomes an obsession

tags ➸ strangers to lovers, male mastúrbation, semi-public sèx, dirty talking, bíting, rough séx, manhandling, fingêring, sqùirting, cunnìlingus, overstimúlation, unprotected sèx, multiple orgàsms, spánking, anàl fingèring, hair pulling, slight asphýxiation

wc ➸ 9.1k

The deafening silence of the empty office pressed in on Soshiro from all sides like a smothering weight. He let out an audible groan, dropping his forehead into his upturned palm as boredom gnawed at his already frayed nerves.

Seriously, what fresh hell was this endless stack of paperwork even for?

He eyed the precarious towers of manila folders and disheveled reports littering his desk - each one housing enough dull legalese and procedural jumbo to induce the kind of brain-melting boredom even seasoned bureaucrats would balk at. Fuck, at this point he'd almost welcome a random kaiju attack in the middle of downtown just for the sheer distraction.

At least kicking some oversized lizard's ass would briefly scratch that primal itch simmering beneath his skin - the one begging for furious physicality, adrenaline, and the raw thrill of combat after weeks trapped behind this goddamn desk.

A humorless chuckle rumbled up from Soshiro's broad chest at the mere thought. Yeah, because getting flattened into a fine red mist by a rampaging leviathan's club-sized fists was definitely preferable to revisiting the third subsection of this month's payroll audit one more...fucking...time...

He squeezed his eyes shut and dragged both calloused palms down his stubble-lined jawline, barely restraining the urge to howl out his rising frustrations to the empty room. This shit was supposed to be a means to an end - a temporary detour strengthening his administrative credentials. Not some sadistic exercise in lobotomizing his last shreds of patience and morale with each passing hour.

Just as the thought crossed his mind to start browsing apartment listings for some remote mountain monastery, a sudden shrill beep sliced through the stifling silence like a thunderclap.

Soshiro jolted ramrod straight in his creaky desk chair, hand instinctively whipping out to snatch up his vibrating cellphone with the honed reflexes of a lifelong combatant. Eyes narrowed and hyper-focused, he scanned the bright display with a mixture of apprehension and deeply buried need for some, any external stimuli to crack this stagnant purgatory wide open.

12:37 AM...

So much for that hoped-for kaiju attack interruption. It seemed a mundane text notification would have to scratch that itch for now, no matter how minuscule. He swiped his thumb across the illuminated screen to reveal the sender—and felt his brows knitting together in a bemused frown.

Unknown Number?

Well, that was...unusual, to say the least. The mysterious digits blinked up at him innocently from the display, unlisted sender with zero context beyond those stark alphanumerics. No name, no identifying icon or thumbnail - absolutely no context whatsoever to indicate whether this could be a legitimate communique from JAKDF command or, at worst...spam?

Despite himself, Soshiro's curiosity spiked as he stared down the glowing text preview like a viper coiled to strike. With little else capturing his rapt attention at present, solving the mystery of this bizarre late-night message had suddenly become priority numero uno.

Besides, you never knew - maybe the universe was feeling generous and decided to toss him an intriguing lure during this agonizing dry spell after all? A tempting breadcrumb leading somewhere far more tantalizing than dredging through paperwork until his mind liquefied completely?

Curiosity rapidly snowballing into outright temptation, Soshiro swiped open the strange notification before rational thought could intervene. He barely registered the loading symbol flickering across the display precursor before—

"What the everloving fuck..."

The sibilant curse punched through his parted lips of its own accord as his vision abruptly swam with eddies of smooth, unmarred skin. Shapely feminine curves blurred together in tantalizing motion across the small screen - a tangled vista of exposed backs and sensual valleys utterly devoid of context beyond sheer gratuitous indecency.

That is, until Soshiro's stare honed in on the breathtaking centerpiece with visceral intensity and everything fell into deliriously filthy place.

There, brazenly showcased against the dimness of some half-glimpsed bedroom backdrop, the gloriously unobstructed view of a stranger's pert little ass packed into lacy crimson lingerie flooded his senses with molten lust. His mouth went instantly dry as the tantalizing hint of a matching negligee top riding up hinted at the feminine bounty lying just out of eyeshot overhead.

It wasn't just some indiscriminate thirst trap or porno clip blasted to his device...no, this was clearly a meticulously framed personal photo angled with lush, sensual deliberation for maximum impact. Soshiro found his hungry gaze skating down the indecent thigh gap and sleek inward curves with unstoppable greed despite himself.

Just as he gulped down a fresh inhale to reestablish equilibrium, the glowing words accompanying the scandalous photo finally swam back into focus at last.

Wait! Oh god, I'm so so so sorry! I didn't mean to send that to this number, please delete right aw—

Soshiro couldn't bite back his derisive snort quickly enough, already envisioning the startled panic blossoming on his mystery admirer's flushed features. How precious...his angelic little minx was simply begging for forgiveness after doling out such glorious sin completely unbidden, wasn't she?

Well, far be it for him to disappoint such a winsome supplicant desperate for penance. With a few deft taps, he fired off a response dripping with his signature insouciance and devil-may-care mirth. Can't rattle the cage too harshly too soon, after all...not when such interesting prey was already slipping into his web of its own delicious volition.

You know, most girls avoid sending nudes to randoms like the plague. I'd hate to think my night's entertainment was a total accident...

Send. Soshiro leaned back in his squeaky desk chair with a lewd grin painted across his rugged mug, shamelessly giving the scandalous photo one more unhurried perusal in all its provocative glory before clicking the save button.

His appreciation of feminine beauty aside, a delicious new game had fallen into Soshiro's lap - one he had no intention of dismissing so easily, not when the howling boredom had left him starved for stimulation. With a low hum of simmering relish, he swirled the scotch beside his overflowing inbox patiently, waiting to see how this encounter would unfurl.

The reply pinged through quicker than expected, those same mystery digits blinking across his lockscreen accompanied by a fresh message preview:

Well if you insist on holding me hostage... maybe return the favor so we're not total strangers? ;)

Soshiro couldn't quite suppress the rakish grin tugging at the corner of his lips as he swiped the notification open. So his coy little minx was feeling emboldened after the impromptu nude's unintended delivery, was she? Doubling down on baiting him into an equal display rather than beating a hasty retreat with her tail between her legs?

He had to give the girl credit - she definitely had a spark of audacity burning beneath all that stammered apology. A fact that only served to stoke the rising flames of Soshiro's prurient interest more intensely. After all, what was life without chasing down the occasional daring conquest to really get one's blood pumping hot and hard?

Rather than firing off a response, Soshiro leaned back in his desk chair and allowed his burning gaze to slowly wander back up toward the scandalous photo still illuminating his device's display. That flawless expanse of soft skin sculpted over those delicious feminine curves...the lush crimson lace cupping such an exquisite ass it practically deserved to be bronzed...god, he could perfectly picture palming every lush inch while grinding his throbbing—

A tiny grunt of arousal nearly punched free before he could bite the sound down. Soshiro shifted subtly, suddenly and keenly aware of the uncomfortable tightness rapidly straining against the front of his trousers with every heated exhalation.

Fucking hell...just the sight of this random thirst trap was already fully capable of reducing him to white-knuckled want like some overeager virgin again? What strange power did his mysterious online woman wield to already have him half-delirious without even so much as a face or name to attach those stunning assets to?

Still, even as his smirk deepened with rueful self-awareness, Soshiro found himself cradling his swiftly swelling cock through the fabric with his free palm. He shamelessly drank in the image anew, allowing the full effect of such raw, lush indecency to blossom in heated flushes across his skin.

Just watching that tempting bounce of ass cradled in those clinging crimson ribbons was enough to make pre-cum drool from his straining tip already. To reduce the normally unshakable monster hunter to such a pathetic, needy state pulsing with single-minded longing.

And wasn't that just the bitter irony of it all? After countless brushes with the most catastrophic behemoths to ever tread this earth, finally some faceless online tart had him untethered and howling for relief like a bitch in heat...all because she'd slipped him a tantalizing peek at her sweet little body wrapped up in silk and sin with no thought beyond teasing him mindless, surely.

Well...two could play at that particular game of torment, couldn't they? Because Soshiro wasn't one to leave any challenge unanswered once the gauntlet of temptation was thrown...no matter how salacious the battlefield.

With a few decisive swipes of his thumb, he typed out a reply already dripping with dark promise:

Careful now...you don't want to go whetting a strange man's appetite without being fully prepared for the consequences, little one. Why don't you keep those pretty pics coming and we'll see if you're entertaining enough to earn your peek later...?

Soshiro could only imagine the scandalized shiver rippling down his anonymous admirer's spine at his blatant disregard for propriety. Could picture the hunger dawning behind those wide, naive eyes as she realized this hunt had found its predator ready to prowl regardless of innocence or intent.

Grinning like the wolf he was, Soshiro fired off the challenge before sliding his free hand down to fully unfasten his belt buckle. The telltale hiss of leather parting and metal clanking punctuated the sudden silence like a thunderclap. He didn't even try to stifle the groan of relief surging through him as he popped his swollen cock free of its confines.

God, the mere anticipation of watching his little mystery slut send even more scandalous pictures had him painfully rigid...aching with the sheer need to thrust into something warm and wet and tight. Something that would milk his heavy cock for all it was worth until he exploded into ecstatic release and stained that perfect skin with his filthy, sticky claim.

Shameless, depraved fantasies aside, Soshiro knew it was far more satisfying to draw this little game out with slow, calculated precision. To make his unknown admirer dance in just the right way before offering the ultimate reward of a face and name to put behind those tempting curves and sinful lingerie.

Besides, a little patience would make the eventual payoff all the more savory, wouldn't it?

The rhythmic tapping of Soshiro's pen ricocheted off the office walls with maddening consistency once more, each percussive beat drilling deeper into his skull. He squinted down at the seemingly endless cascade of forms and files proliferating across his desk in fresh waves - the mere sight enough to rekindle that special breed of existential torture reserved solely for bureaucratic busywork.

At least this time around, a delicious new distraction kindled in the back of his mind like the cherry-red ember of a cigarette glowing defiant in the gloom.

His mystery online admirer had fallen conspicuously silent since their heated exchange the previous evening. No response to his boldly suggestive demand for further entertainment, no follow-up photos teasing the identity behind that world-class ass shot seared into the backs of his eyelids whenever they drifted shut.

Still, the blessed anticipation of further correspondence made each in terminable hour hunched over these godforsaken requisitions just a little more bearable. The potential for some wicked mischief to unravel amidst the tedium sat there like a baited hook, only needing to be set and reeled with the right provocation...

A wry grin tugged at the corner of Soshiro's mouth as the notion solidified. Why not test those tantalizing waters and see if his conquest could be lured out from whatever shadows she currently stalked? Give the poor girl's nerves one more tweak to see if sparks flew in either direction again?

With a few deft strides across his cramped office quarters, Soshiro freed his cellphone from where it rested on the windowsill and thumbed open the strangers' thread without preamble. The suggestive photo she'd teased him with the night before winked up at him from the display impishly, daring him to indulge in another lascivious perusal and rekindle those delicious embers of want.

Smirking despite himself, Soshiro wasted no time in firing off a barb of his own in retaliation:

You know, a guy could start feeling insecure when his favorite anonymous admirer deprives him of their...artistic talents for so long at a time. Figured you just got cold feet about properly entertaining me again later tonight?

He punctuated the deliberate provocation with a few choice emojis - tongue poked out in saucy challenge beside the peach icon for good measure. Let the girl chew on the not-so-subtle reminders of what scorching delights awaited should she decide to keep pushing those buttons purposefully.

The response was nearly instantaneous, buzzing through with a lively ding that kickstarted Soshiro's pulse instantly:

Lol yeah right you wish! For all I know you're just some wrinkly old perv fapping to me behind that screen...what makes you think you've earned another show after that?

He barked out an audible laugh at the saucy rejoinder, already eagerly firing back another round:

Guilty as charged on that second part, although I can promise my appreciation for the female form hasn't dulled with age one bit. As for earning my keep though...? That's exactly why I keep asking nicely for you to come up with some better reference material, babe. Gotta be prepared in case you live up to my wildest hopes after all...

The banter flowed like a raging current between them after that, punctuated by lulls where Soshiro could practically envision his mysterious chat partner stewing in feverish consternation over what salacious retort to fling back into the fray next. All the while, his eyes kept skating back to that tantalizing photo as if magnetized - drinking in the sumptuous lines and valleys with helpless relish as his neglected cock rapidly swelled.

Before his mind could fully register the passage of time, Soshiro's wristwatch began chirping out the late hour. Startled, he glanced at the device in shock - only to find nearly an entire evening had fled by in the blink of an eye while their flirtatious volleys dragged him deeper and deeper into temptation's swirling vortex.

Around him, stacks of overlooked paperwork blanketed every conceivable surface like the fallout of some administrative apocalypse. The forgotten chaos was a stark reminder of just how thoroughly this torrid game of tease and chase had eclipsed every other distraction vying for his attention mere hours ago.

Yet despite the damning wake of unfinished busywork surrounding him, Soshiro couldn't quite muster the appropriate shame or regret over being so thoroughly derailed yet again. Not when the hunger gnawing at the pit of his belly felt so sweetly sated for once - if only by the mere prospect of his sultry correspondent finally revealing her true tantalizing colors in the flesh rather than suggestive neon...

He sank back against the desk's unforgiving edge with a ragged sigh, absently palming the impressive swell tenting his pants shamelessly. There'd be no blissfully obliterating climax to cap off the evening's indecencies tonight, he acknowledged - not without a few more chess moves needing to play out first amid this deliciously charged stalemate.

But the sweet anticipation of that final reckoning, of bending this faceless siren to his whims and uncovering whether she was truly worth his deepening ardor? Why, that singular promise alone would sustain Soshiro through a thousand more agonizing, soul-sucking paper prisons if required.

After all, he wasn't some wet-behind-the-ears ingenue to be so easily caught up in a few torrid heat waves and saucy nothings fired across the digital ether. No, he was a creature of focus and discipline honed to an unyielding edge through endless trials of mind and body alike.

So the mere fact that this mysterious hedonist had already captivated his attentions so thoroughly was worth every second of unbearable restraint flexed...for now. Until the dam inevitably cracked and every unspoken longing could be drowned out in the rapturous floodwaters they'd summoned together with each lurid photo and breathy promise whispered out across the glowing night.

The digital flashing of the bedside clock seared 3:17 AM into Soshiro's bleary vision as he blinked himself awake yet again. A ragged sigh rattled up from his chest while he scrubbed both palms over his stubbly jawline in aggravation.

Another goddamn sleepless night starring down the barrel of his cellphone like an addict seeking that next hit of delirious, addictive sin...

Except his particular vice took the form of whispered indecencies typed out in rapidfire beside the tantalizing bounce of a strangers' ass packed into skimpy red lace. The image alone was practically tattooed behind his eyelids at this point despite the weeks having slipped by since its fateful arrival.

With a low growl, Soshiro rolled over onto his side and thumbed open his phone's lockscreen to reveal that familiar thread glowing from the display. Sure enough, those same mystery digits blinked up at him innocently amid the suggestive emoji exchanges and playful taunts that had rapidly become his sole beacon during the tedium of long, empty nights.

A tendril of frustrated heat coiled low in his abdomen as he gave the photo one more relentless perusal from top to bottom. How many more agonizing nocturnal hours had slipped by with his calloused palm chafing over his aching cock to this lone cherished trophy while sweating through fevered fantasies about getting his mouth all over those tantalizing curves in the flesh?

Too damn many to tally, that was for certain. And all without a single new breadcrumb to stoke these relentless hungers further beyond her unashamed goading and the occasional saucy comeback fired off across the digital divide.

A sudden volley of renewed buzzing from the device clutched in his free hand made Soshiro's eyes blow wide with a startling clarity. There it was again - the telltale signal of his elusive siren resurfacing to tease and taunt in equal measure no matter the hour.

He didn't bother checking the incoming missive at first, content to simply drag the moment out as long as humanly possible. To savor the frissons of electric expectation crackling over every hypersensitive nerve ending while his thumb hovered over the notification icon.

Whatever delirious promises or filthy demands awaited this time, Soshiro would commit each syllable to memory like divine scripture before inevitably spiraling further down the lust-maddened rabbit hole keeping his addict's hungers in perpetual torment...

My my, somebody's grinding that axe pretty hard again this evening, aren't they? Just couldn't resist seeing if I'm still in heat for you...?

There it was - that same impertinent lilt wrapped around every irreverent turn of phrase that made Soshiro's spent cock twitch with renewed interest. He pictured her pretty lips curved around those brazen taunts with dark amusement, lush and kiss-swollen from his attentions while coy innocence swam in her siren's stare despite the increasingly indecent game taking shape.

I figured you'd lost my number by now, baby. A girl could start getting insecure if her biggest fan went totally dark for days like this...

He fired back the retort immediately, eager to goad her into leaning into the charged heat steadily building between their forms once more across the miles. Wasn't often he encountered somebody so thoroughly game to trade blistering salvos without breaking stride.

On the contrary, gorgeous...felt like giving you breathing room before my thirst started feeling too heavy to bear. Figured you could use a break from me obsessing over that sweet little peach in your last shot.

Thankfully, her saucy reply was instantaneous - complete with a choice peach emoji of her own that made Soshiro's cock pulse between his thighs eagerly.

Awww, how considerate of you handsome! But you must know by now there's no such thing as 'too thirsty' for this lil peach when it's earned the privilege ;) I'd say we're WELL past due for you to sample the fruit while it's still ripe for the picking...

Soshiro swallowed hard, already picturing the scene with visceral intensity - him pinning that perfect, shapely ass down onto his tongue to suck and lave worship into every lush crease and sinful fold while she came undone above him. So lost to rapture that those taunting words melted into litanies of shattered prayer under his relentless tongue...

A sharp trill from the distress alarm made him startle abruptly from the spiraling fantasy, blistering promises already curling across his frayed psyche like lush vines. With an indelible groan of deepest resignation, Soshiro dragged himself upright and off the mattress to retrieve the summons that could only mean one inevitability.

Duty calls...again. Of-fucking-course it did.

The acrid stench of smoke and residual chemicals clung to Soshiro's sweat-damp form like a noxious shroud as he stalked away from the smoldering wreckage. Shrugging out of his suit's top layer, he gulped down deep, ravenous lungfuls of the cool night air in a vain bid to flush the bitter aftertaste of industrialized ruin from his mouth.

Mission success, at least on their end - the kaiju contained and any trapped civilians successfully evacuated before shit hit the fan. Soshiro chanced a glance over his shoulder at the ravaged factory and the kaiju carcass being meticulously cordoned off and documented by the cleaners. Just another harrowing Monday night at the defense force, really.

God, he couldn't wait to scrub the stench from his pores and collapse into some semblance of a recharge before inevitably being summoned topside again. Maybe he'd even get to avoid any further bullshit detours lobbed his way for once tonight...

"Hoshina!"

The sharp bark of his captain's voice sliced across the makeshift staging area, shattering that naive respite before it could fully take root. With a resigned sigh, Soshiro turned to find Mina waving him over from where she conferred with the medic lieutenant. Of course...he really should've known better, shouldn't he?

"Got a final errand for you before you check out," Ashiro rasped out without preamble as soon as he drew within earshot. "Low priority, but Arashi could use an extra hand to see one of the evacuees squared safely away. Downtown address, probably nothing more than a five-minute shuttle."

She passed him a folded slip of paper that Soshiro took automatically, already anticipating a protest bubbling up from his wearied bones. Only the full weight of Ashiro's expectant look gave him pause - because damned if the woman didn't have a preternatural way of dismantling his gruff impulses to reckless defiance before they could even unfurl fully.

Still...a damn glorified taxi service tonight of all nights? When they'd just survived another raging monster while scores of their boys risked permanent lung damage in the chemical factory? Soshiro felt the muscle in his jaw tighten imperceptibly as reason warred with the ingrained soldier's discipline inculcated over decades in the field.

Ashiro seemed to read his burgeoning objection plain as day across his set features. Before he could voice it brazenly, she stepped closer and pinned him with a pointed look from beneath her disheveled bangs.

"Look, I get it - this detour seems small after the clusterfuck you just hauled us through," she murmured, just loud enough for his ears alone. The candid solidarity laced around her normally brusque tone gave Soshiro pause once more.

"But this particular civilian..." Ashiro paused before continuing more quietly, regret pulling at the creases around her mouth. "Let's just say they've had about as shit luck as any of us trudging through that hazardous waste tonight. A bit of consideration beyond our call of duty ain't exactly gonna kill you, now is it?"

Soshiro stared back evenly for a long moment, unsure of how to parse the vague implication underscoring her simple request yet unable to dismiss it cavalierly all the same. At length, he broke eye contact with a curt nod and made to turn on his heel.

"Should've known you'd never steer me wrong, captain..." he rasped, already orienting toward the nearby transport vehicle that would complete his obligation. "I'll see our stray home safe and be back before morning briefs start...long as they don't decide to make themselves too difficult."

For some reason, a faint smile seemed to tug at the corners of Ashiro's expression at that proclamation. But all she offered was a brisk "good to know" before dismissing him to his task without further elucidation.

Not that Soshiro wasted too many brain cells lingering on her cryptic reassurances anyway. No, with the prospect of a solid night's rest twinkling before him like a shining beacon, his churning thoughts had already veered toward more...salacious distractions lying in wait.

Specifically the luscious little siren who'd been haunting his restless nights with a relentless drip-feed of illicit photos and ever more suggestive taunts volleyed across the digital ether at all hours. His fiery temptress who remained utterly shrouded in mystery beyond the tantalizing hints of feminine curves spilling over from lingerie or the occasional flashes of soft skin, tormenting him with what he still couldn't claim despite months of breathless pining.

But soon...oh so very soon if the unspoken promise lingered in her most recent teasing salvo. Soshiro refused to believe that their game of increasingly sinful escalation could continue on indefinitely, not with the way her messages had taken on an insistent urgency as if stoking the smolder of each imminent collision.

The real question was, would Soshiro expend his considerable resolve to ignore her unanswered provocation until they next crossed orbits? Or would he break down first to text her some lewd goad, unable to stand being rendered even temporarily adrift of her siren's attentions for another night longer?

He'd just settled into the grimy shuttle's cab, already reaching for his cellphone tucked in his pants pocket when his eyes flickered over the expectant figure seated across from him amid the vehicle's gloom. Soshiro felt his formerly resolute focus rupture completely as all context scattered from his muddled psyche at the sight of the woman staring straight back at him with undisguised pique.

You...

He knew those pouty, lush lips immediately despite the shadows obscuring most of your figure - the same pillowed contours that had starred across countless lurid photos fired off without context nor identity attached. The exact sumptuous mouth that promised to lave unrestrained worship across his cock in delirious soliloquies whenever he tormented himself with those forbidden snapshots late into the night...

As if magnetized, Soshiro's unblinking crimson stare roamed over the rest of your features in a slow, scorching perusal. That flawless visage and familiar cheekbones so tantalizingly obscured across his grainy camera roll now sprang into sublime clarity before him. And those molten eyes, blazing with unabashed annoyance and challenge in equal measure from beneath thick sooty lashes...

It couldn't be, and yet the impossible truth slammed into Soshiro with the force of a physical blow, stealing his labored breaths despite himself. Because somehow...some way...his indecently worshipped digital goddess had manifested into the flesh right before his stunned senses.

A shrill chirp from his jacket shattered the weighted trance, alerting him to another text undoubtedly languishing from his torrid muse amidst the darkness. Yet there was no need to check the sender ident now - not when Soshiro had finally placed the alluring pieces into their deliriously complete puzzle at last.

Your head swiveled sharply at the sudden vibration, irises flaring wide before locking onto his transfixed stare with that same razor edge he'd hungrily committed to fantasy. The undisguised surprise mingling with the annoyance etched across your striking features made Soshiro's mouth go instantly dry.

"Well?" you huffed out that smoky alto woven of sin and temptation itself, upper lip curling into a petulant sneer as he drank you in helplessly. "Are you just gonna sit there staring at me like a creep all night? Or do you plan on telling me why in the hell I'm being detained after getting checked over for—"

Soshiro couldn't bite back the low, rasping chuckle that punched free from his broad chest before you could finish your indignant diatribe. He watched in mounting delight as confusion and shock rippled over your stunning visage in turn, replacing the fiery censure with naked befuddlement.

Rather than giving voice to the thousand fevered thoughts whirling through his muddled consciousness, Soshiro allowed his eyes to drift down your seated form deliberately. To roam over the sumptuous curves cradled by those snug little skirt and lush thighs splayed carelessly before him with open greed.

And there, positioned at the perfect vantage point to torment and tempt from the shadows, winked that unmistakably familiar glint of rose-gold metal clinging to the subtle flare of your hip. He locked on the stylishly sleek phone case with ravenous intensity, as if mesmerized by the scant glimpses of lingerie-clad flesh all over again for the first time.

Only now, the reality of his indecent muse's identity grounded the feverish imaginings into sublime truth made manifest before him. That sinful soliloquy would drip straight from your plush lips with tangible smokiness rather than mere pixels spun into fantasy across dimly lit screens...

You bristled as that low, heady laugh swelled anew in response to his ravenous assessment. Every line of your body tightened, drawing his eye inexorably from the elegant column of your throat down to the gentle swell of cleavage unintentionally accentuated beneath thin cotton.

"Okay buddy, I'm not sure what your deal is here," you snapped, crossing your arms defensively over your chest in a subconscious flare of modesty. "But if you don't knock off the creeper staring contest in about three seconds, I'll—"

But Soshiro cut off your indignant threat with a few precise strides forward into the shuttles cramped interior. Your eyes blew comically wide as he loomed into your space without ceremony or preamble, forcing you to crane your neck back to meet his piercing ruby regard from beneath shuttered lashes.

"Careful now, sweet cheeks," he rumbled, pitching his voice into that liquid velvet rasp that made you visibly shudder despite yourself. "Can't go making threats like that against the Vice Commander of one of the city's finest frontline combat division, now can you?"

He watched your throat work convulsively on a sharp inhalation, entire body tensed as every muscle hummed with sudden hyper-awareness. Yet rather than retreating or shrinking beneath his implacable proximity, you seemed to draw every ounce of sultry defiance forward in one single glare of molten incredulity.

"You've got to be kidding me..." you rasped out in naked disbelief. "There's no way you're—"

"Hoshina Soshiro, in the scorching flesh after being subjected to your torments day in and out," he crooned, deliberately pitching each word into the lower registers that stroked over your hypersensitive nerve endings. "Although I have to say...not a single nude or vulgar emoji barrage could ever hope to capture how utterly exquisite you are up close like this, gorgeous."

At last, blessed recognition dawned behind your widening eyes alongside the flickering embers of unmistakable heat. Soshiro watched with relish as your spine straightened from its defensive hunch, shoulders squaring instinctively as you studied him with ravenous consideration anew.

"Then I have to say, you put those brooding hero shots all over the news to absolute shame, stud..." you murmured with a subtle shift closer to his looming silhouette that drew a predatory growl from somewhere deep in Soshiro's chest.

He responded by closing the remaining distance until your parted thighs cradled his muscular bulk with barely a sliver of space for propriety between. Threading one meaty palm into the lustrous tresses cascading down your back, Soshiro tilted your head until your gazes locked and mingled harsh breaths in the electric divide.

"Well then," he husked against the velvet pout of your lips with molten promise flowing from his tongue at last. "Now that the masks have fallen completely...how about we get this firestorm started properly for once, kitten?"

You swayed into his hulking frame with infinite grace, nose brushing his in a deliberate tease that made his engorged cock throb between clenched thighs. Yet rather than finally bridging that last electrified inch, you simply cracked one corner of your mouth higher in a smile sharp enough to sunder atoms.

"Mmm...thought you'd never ask," you purred, smoky voice caressing over Soshiro's nerves like a physical brand.

Unable to resist claiming a taste after so many agonizing nights spent fantasizing, he surged forward to seal his mouth over yours in a searing glide. You moaned shamelessly into the velvet heat of his insistent tongue delving between your parted lips to plunder and map every slick crevice with greedy fervor.

"Fuck..." Soshiro groaned without breaking the filthy glide of your mingled breaths. "Taste even sweeter than I imagined, baby girl."

He punctuated the growled praise by dragging you forward with the hand fisted in your silken hair. Your plush chest crushed against the sleek bulwark of his torso as your throats undulated in shared rapture, allowing zero space for propriety to linger between your rapidly aligning forms.

"Easy there..." you managed to pant out against the scorching brand of his mouth, all honeyed sin. "We've still got a few things to sort out before the real fun even starts..."

Soshiro snarled wordlessly in response, free hand snapping out to cinch around the lush flare of your hip and grind your molten cores together mercilessly. The delirious friction of your bodies sliding in sinful tandem made you both keen out twin whimpers of blissful torment.

Rather than relent beneath the bruising onslaught of Soshiro's feverish demands, you allowed one elegant fingernail to trail from the nape of his neck all the way down the bulwark of carved granite at his nape. Every flex and shiver of tensed muscle rippling beneath your teasing caress drew a fresh hiss through his gritted teeth.

"Like...how does a sweet little tease like me end up on your very important list for playing naughty delivery girl, hmm?" you purred against the heated line of his stubbled jaw, eyelashes fluttering against his cheek deliciously. "Last I checked, my selfie skills didn't quite qualify as acts of civic duty, handsome..."

Soshiro allowed himself to be tugged into the sensual sway of your taunting seduction, relishing how every sultry note bleeding from those honeyed lips seemed to vibrate straight through to his throbbing length grinding against your soaked heat at last. When your mouth skated over his in a ghosting brush, teeth raking his bottom lip in passing, his ragged groan punched up from somewhere primordial stirring awake in his abdomen at last.

"Your guess is as good as mine, gorgeous," he husked against the sinful pout you presented like forbidden fruit begging to be devoured. "Although if you really think I'm gonna waste the first taste of this sweet pussy on dull conversation..."

He emphasized the vow by slamming his hips up against yours in a visceral grind, fitting the swollen ridge of his cock directly between your molten folds with devastating friction. You jolted against him with a shattered whimper, head lolling back in unmistakable ecstasy as every lush curve undulated with rising fever.

"Then you've got another thing coming, don't you kitten?" Soshiro growled with merciless intent, already shucking his jacket down over his forearms to free up hands dedicated solely to mapping out all your most scorching hollows in graphic worship.

Before you could peel back another insolent retort, he sealed his mouth over the frantic thrum of your pulse and sank his teeth into the soft skin of your neck in a vicious bite. The sound that ripped from your chest could only be described as a keening howl, torn free as if by force and ringing throughout the small space.

Soshiro's answering snarl of savage victory was muffled against your neck as his fingers clawed into the plush flesh of your thighs and forced them wide in one brutal shove. In response, you simply curled your calves around the hard slab of his lower back, anchoring him into place with no room to spare between your joined bodies.

"Fucking hell, baby girl..." he ground out through clenched teeth as you rocked and writhed against his grinding cock, seeking friction like a mindless creature. "If this is your way of trying to get me fired...it's fucking working."

"Not...trying anything..." you managed to gasp out in broken fragments, eyes rolling back in their sockets with every roll of his hips grinding his bulging arousal directly over the soaking fabric of your panties. "Just...fuck...wanted...to give my hero a proper thank you for—"

"By teasing the ever loving shit outta me all these weeks?" Soshiro bit off with another punishing rock of his hips that punched a breathless cry from your chest. "I'd call this a downright hostile fucking reception, princess. So tell me...how do you plan on making it up to me?"

As he spoke, one hand slid around the curve of your hip and dove beneath the elastic of your panties to stroke the molten slit of your folds directly. Your choked off moan echoed through the small space, accompanied by a fresh flood of molten arousal drenching the pad of his index finger and the sensitive flesh around it.

"Holy fuck...soaked to the goddamn bone already," he snarled with vicious approval, allowing his fingertips to glide across your engorged clit before dipping just a fraction inside the clutching entrance to your molten channel. "This tight little cunt has been waiting for my fat cock from the start, hasn't it, baby? Just like the rest of you..."

The next ragged sound that punched from your chest could only be a whimpering sob of affirmation as he sank one digit to the knuckle, stretching the tight band of muscles clenching around him desperately. His answering snarl was a feral, animalistic sound - more beast than man as he began to fingerfuck you with a punishing rhythm that sent your bodycareening forward.

"I asked you a fucking question, kitten," he growled into the sweaty column of your neck, relishing the frantic thrash of your body as he crooked his finger inside you and scissored against the molten walls. "And you better have the right answer ready by the time I get my tongue in this pretty little pussy, or else..."

You keened at the filth pouring from his lips and the wicked curl of his finger against that spot deep inside you, writhing and undulating into his touch in a sublime dance. Soshiro allowed his free palm to snap up and cinch around the fragile bones of your throat, exerting the barest hint of pressure against the thrumming artery as his mouth hovered mere inches above yours.

"Or else what?" you dared to rasp, lips brushing his with a teasing nip. "Gonna spank me like a naughty schoolgirl, Vice Commander?"

Soshiro responded by adding a second finger to the first, wedging his way inside your tight heat with a guttural groan and a fresh rush of sticky arousal. Your choked off cry rang through the shuttle car and beyond as his thumb slammed down on your engorged clit and pinched in a rolling, ruthless grind.

"Not today, baby girl," he husked with savage relish, watching in rapt delight as the molten heat pooling between your legs began to coat his wrist with every pistoning pump. "Today, I'm just going to make you cum so many times you're damn near passing out from it. Because the second you're done squirting all over my fingers and face like a filthy little whore, I'm gonna fuck you stupid."

Your eyes blew wide at the crass threat, pupils dilating so fully that only a thin rim of iris remained. You whimpered brokenly against his lips, hips rolling with wanton abandon as his fingers plunged into your soaked pussy again and again.

"That's it, sweetheart..." he rumbled, free hand winding into your silken locks and yanking back until your gaze met his in the dim lighting. "Fucking cream all over my fingers so I can taste your sweet cunt just the way I've been dreaming about for weeks now."

As if triggered by his command, your entire body jolted and quivered in his arms, arching off the seat in a violent shudder as a deluge of fresh arousal coated his fingers and palm. Your inner walls clamped down on his digits like a vice, milking his knuckles as a flood of clear fluid gushed down his wrist and soaked the seat below.

The keening cry that ripped from your chest was utterly debauched, and Soshiro drank it in with unhinged fervor as he rode out your orgasm with relentless fingers. Without wasting a moment, he withdrew his hand and hauled you up until his massive bulk sprawled across the bench.

When you could finally see through the dizzying haze of aftershocks, Soshiro held up the two fingers still dripping with the evidence of your arousal, smearing them obscenely across his tongue. He let loose a primal, guttural growl at the flavor, and then his mouth was on yours again.

The kiss was all raw, feral hunger - teeth clashing and tongues dueling as his hands shoved beneath the hem of your shirt to palm your breasts. You arched into his touch as if electrified, and then his mouth was tearing away to suck the pebbled peak of your nipple directly through the damp cotton.

"You've got ten seconds to tell me why I shouldn't toss you onto the floor and fuck you stupid, baby," Soshiro snarled against the lush curve of your breast, nipping and suckling until you were keening and bucking up into his hungry maw.

"Because...oh god..." you panted, fingers digging into his shoulders with bruising force. "Because y-you promised to eat me out first…"

Soshiro reared up at that, the molten embers in his ruby eyes igniting into a full blaze. Without ceremony, his hands hooked beneath your ass and dragged you forward until your knees draped over his shoulders. "So I did, baby..." he growled, mouth poised directly over the sodden fabric of your panties.

With no further preamble, his teeth sank into the soaked lace and yanked with brutal strength. He tossed the torn fabric aside without a glance, too enraptured by the slick, puffy lips of your glistening sex mere inches from his face.

"Fuck me…" he groaned, fingers clamping down on the ample globes of your ass and yanking your dripping pussy up to meet his parted lips. His tongue swept through the silken folds in a single, broad swipe that made your hips jerk and grind against his face with wanton desperation. Soshiro chuckled against the molten heat, dark and feral, before sealing his lips around the engorged bud of your clit and sucking it into his mouth.

"Oh fuck...fuck fuck fuck..." you chanted like a mantra, spine arching and undulating like a livewire as the wet, filthy suction of his mouth pulled a fresh surge of arousal straight from the molten depths of your cunt. Soshiro growled with ravenous approval, lapping at the nectar that poured out in a sticky stream with every roll of your hips against his lips.

He could feel the tight coil of your impending climax, the desperate clench and flutter of your soaked channel around nothing. Unable to resist, Soshiro's tongue plunged inside your molten entrance with single-minded focus, fucking you open as his nose bumped your swollen clit in a punishing grind.

"So good...so fucking good...oh my god, keep going," you gasped out in a torrent of words and moans, the filthy squelch of his tongue pistoning inside your soaked channel the only thing louder than the roaring thunder in your ears.

When his mouth latched onto the swollen bud of your clit again and sucked until his cheeks hollowed, you came with an unearthly scream that would have been heard throughout the entire complex if not for the loud thrum of the shuttle car and the heavy thump of rain against the roof.

Soshiro allowed himself to be ridden through the storm as you bucked and writhed against his tongue, his throat and jaw working to drink up the endless stream of clear fluid that coated his face and chin in a sheen. It took several long moments for the wild jerks and twitches to abate, and by the time they did, Soshiro felt certain you'd been completely emptied out.

"That was two, princess..." he growled, dragging your limp form upright until his mouth could reach yours again. You whimpered softly as his tongue surged inside, tasting yourself on his lips and the slick, velvety glide of his tongue.

"Such a good girl..." he murmured, allowing the pad of his thumb to drag down your jaw and trace the plush contours of your mouth. "So sweet and delicious. You gonna let me fuck this tight little cunt now?"

You nodded frantically, reaching down with shaking hands to claw the waistband of his slacks. With a low rumble, he lifted his hips and allowed you to shuck the offending fabric down his muscular thighs. When you finally managed to wrestle the thick length of his cock free, he hissed in a breath through clenched teeth as the air rushed across the exposed glans.

"F-fuck..." you whispered, eyes blown wide and unseeing as your palm slid down the velvet steel and gave an experimental stroke. Soshiro's only response was a guttural snarl, one hand clamping down on the base of his shaft as if to stave off his own imminent release. Just the sight of your soft hand gliding over his engorged cock, smearing his leaking precum over the pulsing head, was nearly enough to make him blow his load.

"Don't you dare, baby," he ground out through gritted teeth. "I'm not fucking coming anywhere except inside this sweet little cunt. Now turn around and stick that ass in the air for me."

A fresh rush of arousal coated your molten folds at the crass demand, and you complied without hesitation. Soshiro watched in rapt hunger as you scrambled off his lap and turned, bracing your forearms against the bench and presenting the flushed swell of your ass directly before his gaze.

"Good girl," he growled, the timbre of his voice sending a shiver of anticipation straight up your spine. His palms dragged up the supple curves of your hips, thumbs digging into the dimples at the base of your spine. He allowed his aching shaft to slide up and down the slick valley between your legs, gathering up the moisture that leaked from your slit to glide over the pulsing head.

"You have any idea how many times I've jerked off to this ass?" Soshiro husked, eyes riveted on the hypnotic sway of the round globes as he rolled his hips and ground his cock against the puffy lips. "Every night for the past three weeks, princess. This perfect, juicy ass has been starring in my wet dreams since the moment I saw it in those naughty, little panties."

You whimpered and rocked back against him, the swollen folds parting to accommodate the pulsing length grinding against them. Soshiro hissed in a breath as the fat tip caught on the clenching entrance and sank inside with an agonizing thrust.

"God, baby girl...your little pussy's sucking me in like a fucking dream," he snarled, fingers biting into the flesh of your hips as he forced himself to still inside the clenching grip of your cunt. You were so impossibly tight, and with the barest trickle of slick easing his way, Soshiro could have sworn he was about to die and ascend to the heavens right there.

"Please, Soshiro...need you to fuck me," you gasped, head lolling forward until your forehead hit the backrest. The angle of his thrust had the fat head grinding directly into the sensitive spot just inside your fluttering entrance, and the pressure was already driving you mad.

Soshiro obliged without another word, one hand fisting in your hair and the other digging into the soft flesh of your hip. He withdrew with agonizing slowness, hissing as the clinging walls of your cunt fought to suck him back in. Once he was nearly free, only the bulbous crown lodged inside the molten clutch, Soshiro slammed forward with a punishing thrust that had you screaming and jerking beneath him.

"Fucking shit, baby," he gasped, fingers scrabbling for purchase on your hips as you arched back into his every thrust, desperate for more. The sight of his massive, veiny cock splitting open the puffy folds of your pussy was almost enough to send him careening over the edge.

Soshiro allowed himself to bottom out a few times, sinking in to the root and grinding his hips into the soft cushion of your ass. On the third pump, he withdrew completely and slammed inside, reveling in the breathless cry that fell from your lips as his balls slapped against your clit.

"That's it, baby girl," he panted, leaning back and spreading his thighs to allow you to grind back into his punishing rhythm. "Fuck yourself on this cock...goddamn, your cunt is so fucking tight and wet. I'm not gonna last, princess."

You could only respond with a choked whimper, fingers clawing into the upholstery as the thick, blunt head of his cock slammed against your cervix. You nearly passed out when you felt something prod at the puckered rim of your ass, and then Soshiro's thumb was sinking inside to the knuckle.

"That's my girl," he crooned, twisting the digit and hooking the pad against the fluttering wall of muscle. The rest of his fingers were splayed out across the supple curves of your ass, spreading you wide open and allowing him a view of his cock sinking into your clutching pussy. He could see the way your juices clung to his shaft as it pumped inside you, the frothy ring of white forming at the base of his cock with every thrust.

"Soshiro...Soshiro, I'm going to—"

"Cum on this cock, princess," he snarled, his thumb popping free of your ass and his other hand slapping down across the plush flesh. Your shriek rang out through the shuttle car, bouncing off the walls as your inner muscles clenched down on the pistoning shaft.

The molten heat that pooled in the cradle of your hips boiled over and erupted, a geyser of clear, creamy fluid gushing down the insides of your thighs and soaking the bench below. Your vision whited out as you were sent hurtling over the edge, body jerking and undulating with every punishing pump of Soshiro's hips.

"God damn, baby...gonna make me cum," Soshiro choked out, his fingers clawing into your hips and lifting you off the seat with a single-minded determination. Your entire body was limp and lax, held up only by the vice grip of his hands and the relentless slam of his cock.

Your inner muscles were clenching in a desperate bid to milk him dry, and Soshiro couldn't have stopped his release even if he tried. With a savage snarl, he yanked you back against his cock, grinding his hips against your ass until his balls were flush with the sticky lips of your pussy.

His cock twitched and throbbed, a veritable flood of his seed erupting inside your soaked cunt. You moaned as his spend gushed and splattered against the delicate walls, and Soshiro's hips jerked with every new pulse that left his cock.

The sweaty aftermath found you both tangled together in a delicious heap against the narrow bench, chests heaving with satiated pants. Soshiro's large palm traced idle patterns along the slick planes of your back, raising goosebumps wherever his calloused fingers grazed.

Finally breaking the blissful quiet, he rumbled out a low chuckle against the nape of your neck. "Well...can't say I ever expected an escort mission to go quite like this."

You hummed languidly, leaning back against his sculpted chest with a contented smile. "Oh? And here I thought you Defense Force types thrived on beating expectations."

His laugh was rich and deep, vibrating against where you lay draped over him shamelessly. "Only when the surprises are as delightfully mind-blowing as you, gorgeous."

Craning your neck, you met Soshiro's molten gaze - admiring his dark, tousled hair and the way his toned torso glistened with a sheen of exertion. You couldn't resist leaning up to trail a series of teasing, openmouthed kisses along the sharp cut of his jawline.

"Speaking of surprises..." you murmured between kitten licks and nips. "Care to elaborate on how exactly we ended up...undressed and tangled back here, Vice Captain?"

Soshiro groaned at the provocative path your lips blazed, large hand coming up to fist in your hair and angle you closer for a deep, indulgent kiss. When you parted, he was gazing at you with a heavy-lidded smolder akin to a predator satisfied after devouring its prey.

"Seems there was one kinky little minx I just couldn't keep my hands off any longer," he growled, giving your lower lip a teasing nip. "Not after spending all those weeks talking dirty back and forth."

You shivered at the reminder of how this heated tryst had kicked off between the two of you - graphic messages and enticing photos swapped in the dead of night before you even knew his face.

"Something tells me you aren't exactly complaining though," you purred back, rolling your hips in a slow grind that made you both gasp.

His pewter stare darkened with renewed hunger, free hand spanning the generous curve of your ass to grind you more insistently against his growing cock. "Not one damn bit, baby girl. But how about I take you out for a real date this time before we get too carried away again?"

You blinked at him in surprise before the words clicked into place, followed swiftly by a surge of warmth and feminine satisfaction spreading through your chest. Here was the notorious Vice Captain, all rakish charisma and endless skill in the bedroom from what you'd just experienced...and he wanted to actually court you outside the sheets, too.

Allowing your most tantalizing smile to curve your lips, you ducked in for one more smoldering, openmouthed kiss that left you both dazed and flushed. "I'd like that, Soshiro," you breathed against the damp heat of his swollen lips. "But for now...how about we take care of the issue that's just started poking into my stomach again?"

[karasukarei]

Wind Breaker Omikuji!

The official twitter released an omikuji today! For those who aren't familiar, these are fortune slips you draw when you go to a remote or shrine! For the digital version, it's usually a gif that you tap to find out what your fortune is!

Try it out here!

The order I've translated things:

The quote is from the green part on the left

The next two lines are from the box on the right, telling you advice for the day

Sakura

"To me! No matter how strong my opponent is! Even if it's someone I owe my life to! I won't turn my eyes away! I won't turn away!"

Sometimes it's important to be honest with yourself! Today, it's probably good to daringly do what you've been thinking of doing.

Lucky item: omurice, anpan (red bean bun)

Suo

"It's been tough for you, hasn't it..."

Today will probably be a busy day for you. Take one step up the stairs to adulthood.

Lucky item: earrings, eyepatch

Kaji

"I'll do what I'm capable of doing"

Today, people will probably rely on you for something you're good at!

Lucky item: headphones

Sugishita

"... ..."

There are some days when it's important to stay silent....

Lucky item: Umemiya-san

Tsugeura

"What is you virtue?!"

As you display your virtue, what you've always wanted to achieve will probably come true today!

Lucky item: protein, dumbbell

Nirei

"I'll show you the way. All the way to the top!"

Today is the best day to help people. If there are people in trouble, let's help them!

Lucky item: secret notebook

Hiiragi

"It'll make me throw up blood"

It's a day when people around you will do whatever they want (t/n: the more accurate translation is to throw ones weight around, but I think we can all agree that the source of this stress is just a real airhead www). Don't be discouraged from doing what you believe in!

Lucky item: stomach medicine

Kiryu

"You're not going to be popular with girls like this"

With a gentlemanly temperament and assertiveness, it's a day when you'll become popular...?!

Lucky item: hairpin, earrings

Kotoha

"You can say 'leave it to me'"

It's OK to rely on others sometimes! If something is bothering you, you can depend on those around you.

Lucky item: coffee

💙Umemiya💙

Edit: I KNEW I WAS MISSING SOMEONE I WAS SO HAPPY I PULLED HIM I FORGOT TO TRANSLATE THIS

"Leave the rest to your big brothers!"

You'll probably discuss about other people's problems with them today! Warmly speak to them about it.

Lucky item: vegetables (especially tomatoes and peppers)

[bethanythebogwitch]

Wet Beast Wednesday: basking shark

I'm not feeling too motivated today, so, I'm going to discuss another animal that likes to take it easy: the basking shark. This shark decided it's not into that whole "hunt down prey and fight to live" thing and decided to become a filter feeder instead. It seems to have worked out too, as basking sharks can be found worldwide and are the second largest fish, surpassed only by the whale shark. There is only one extant species of basking shark, but a few extinct species have been discovered.

(image id: a basking shark seen from the side. It is a large, brown shark with a large head and pointed snout. Its mouth is closed)

Cetorhinus maximus is one of only 3 species of filter-feeding shark, the others being the whale shark and the awesomely-named megamouth shark. Basking sharks average 8 meters (26 ft) in length, but can reach up to 11 meters (36 ft). An average adult weighs around 4650 kg (5 tons). They have a typical shark body shape (which has led to them being mistaken for great white sharks), but the mouth anatomy is different. The mouth can open up to a meter wide and appears toothless, though it is actually filled with tiny, conical teeth that appear to serve no purpose in adults. The gill slits are longer than in most shark species and almost completely encircle the head. Like other filter-feeding fish, the basking shark's gills are also used to catch its food. It swims forward with its mouth open and as water passed over the gills, zooplankton and small invertebrates and fish will get caught in the gill rakers, from where they can be swallowed. The basking shark's favorite food is copepods of the order Calanoida, though they will also target other copepods. They can detect their prey with electroreception like other sharks. Because plankton is not known for being fast and adult basking sharks have no natural predators, they aren't known for being particularly speedy. A basking shark on the hunt moves at a blistering 3 km/hr (1.9mph). They can move in fast bursts of speed and occasionally can jump clear out of the water. It's not 100% clear why they breach, but it seems to have a few benefits. It can help dislodge parasites (which is a big issue for basking sharks. They are often covered with scars from lampreys and cookie-cutter sharks) and notably they breach more during mating season, so it may also be used for sexual display. Breaching and the resulting splash may also be used for long-distance communication and threat displays. I remember being a kid watching Shark Week and being told by the TV that great whites are the only shark species that breach and that was just not even remotely true. The basking shark has the lowest brain to body weight ratio of any shark.

(image id: a basing shark seen from the front with its mouth open. The mouth is very large and white on the inside. Its gill slits can be seen from the inside, looking like large slits in the side of the mouth)

(video: a basking shark leaping out of the water multiple times)

The name basking shark comes from their typical behavior. They swim slowly at the surface of the water while feeding, leading to sailors thinking they were basking in the sun. They were commonly called sunfish, but the name is no longer commonly used to avoid confusion with the ocean sunfish. While swimming at the surface, they sometimes spin around or swim belly-up. Basking sharks are migratory, traveling toward the poles in summer and toward the equator in winter. It was formerly believed that they hibernated over the winter, but it is now known that they spend their time in deep water. While migrating and in summer, basking sharks display social behavior. They will shoal in groups hundreds strong and can often be found in small groups of similarly-sized fish, usually of the same sex. Not much is known about basking shark mating. They are ovoviviparous, with eggs hatching internally and developing further inside the mother before the pups are born. Gestation is believed to take between 1 and 3 years and a few large pups are born at a time. Pregnant females are very rarely seen and they may spend their time in deep water. There is only a single reported example of a pregnant female being caught and it has 6 pups. The seemingly useless teeth may actually be used in utero, as the unborn pups likely feed on unfertilized eggs after their yolk sacs are consumed. This adaptation has been observed in other ovoviviparous sharks. While females have two ova, only the right one actually functions. The lifespan of basking sharks is estimated to be around 50 years.

(image id: a group of 14 basking sharks swimming in a circle, seed form above. It is believed that this is a mating display)

(image id: a juvenile basking shark seen from above. It can be distringuished from an adult by the snout, which is sharp and hooked)

Basking sharks are classified as endangered by the IUCN. They has historically been hunted for their meat, hides, fatty livers, and fins. While there is currently no commercial fishery of basking sharks, they are poached for their fins and have not recovered from overexploitation. Bycatch is an ongoing problem for the sharks. Multiple countries have enacted conservation efforts including legal protection and the enactment of protected areas where fishing is prohibited. Basking sharks pose no threat to humans. They also do not fear humans and have even been known to approach and swim around divers. Basking sharks also appear a lot in the pseudoscience of cryptozoology. I can go into why cryptozoology is a pseudoscience in more detail in another post, but its the study of alleged animals not recognized by science. Basking sharks show up a lot as globsters, unidentified corpses that wash up on beaches or are caught in fishing nets. Basking sharks are responsible for a lot of globsters due to the way their corpses decay. Large amounts of decay happen around the head, which can lead to the mandible bones hanging loose or detaching and the snout decaying to look like a small head on a neck. In addition, the claspers (reproductive organs) of male basking sharks are very large and can be mistaken for limbs. One likely example of this is the Stronsay beast of 1808. Described as a six-legged decaying sea serpent, it is likely that the legs were actually the jaw bones, fins, and claspers of a male basing shark. A more recent example is the Zuiyo-Maru plesiosaur (warning: picture below and it's gross). This carcass was pulled up by the Japanese fishing boat Zuiyō-Maru in 1977 and based on the pictures taken and the word of two Japanese scientists, was thought by some to be an example of a recently-deceased plesiosaur. While the carcass itself was thrown back overboard, some samples were taken for analysis and based on them and anatomical detains from the pictures, it was concluded that the carcass is actually a heavily-decayed basking shark. The "neck" of the carcass is the spine and brain case with the jaws having decayed and fallen off. Further anatomical details such as the presence of cartilage in the fins and body proportions support the carcass being a fin and do not support it being a plesiosaur.

(Image id: top: the Zuiyo-Maru carcass, a large, decomposed carcass hanging rom a hook. It appears to have a long neck and fins. Bottom: a diagram comparing the anatomical features of the carcass and a fresh basking shark)

[cameronspecial]

The Prince Consort And The First Daughter-In-Law

Pairing: FSOTUS!Rafe Cameron x Princess!Reader

Warnings:  SMUT, Swearing and Phelan being a dick

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 10.7K

Summary: Being together is all Y/N and Rafe could've asked for, but what happens when they have to deal with the drama of taking their relationship public. Will it stop them from taking the next step in their relationship?

A/N: Finally the second part of The First Son And The First Spare.

Masterlist

The pulse shooting through her core right now makes it hard for her not to let out the loudest possible moan she could. It takes everything in her not to grip the edge of the table to keep her composure, except that would look suspicious. Her eyes fall across the table to find Rafe already staring at her with an infuriating smirk on his face. President Ward looks over at her and notices she looks a little pale. “Are you alright, Your Royal Highness?” he asks. Rafe’s teeth flash at her, “Yeah, Princess, are you okay?” “I am. Thank you so much for asking,” she promises the pair with a tight smile. Her bottom lip sucks between her teeth slightly and the vibration in her underwear increase. “You’re lying,” Rafe mouths to her. She rolls her eyes at her boyfriend, straightening her posture. The meeting continues with the two whom the meeting is about paying very little attention to the content being diffused to them. She does something unprincess-like and crosses her legs over each other to try to placate the growing need between her legs. Rafe observes the shift in her weight and the remote vibrator that he placed in her underwear before the meeting starts to go faster. She didn’t know that was possible. She sends him a glare and stretches her leg out from under the table to kick him. 

His hand falls onto the bottom of his face to hide the laughter at the feeling of her foot digging into his shin. “And that concludes the meeting,” Xander announces, showing the last slide is just a thank you for listening. “Any questions?” He looks around the room and Y/N is begging everyone in the room to not ask anything. The universe answers her pleas and her mother rises from the chair. “If that is all, then the meeting is dismissed,” Queen Isabel states, leaving the room with Presien Ward in tow. Off to another meeting together. Once everyone else is out of the room, Rafe stands from his chair to show his hard-on is clearly on display in his pants. “Look what your pretty faces did to me,” he motions to his dick. She visibly bites her bottom lips as he goes around the table to corner her into her chair. His hands rest on her armrests, caging her in. 

The remote to the vibrator dangles between his fingers as he turns it off, finally giving her a break from the pleasure it provides. He uses a finger to raise her chin to look at him, “It drives me crazy when you bite your lip like that.” He smashes their lips together and she deepens the kiss by wrapping her arms around his neck. He twirls her around to sit on the table, slotting himself between her legs. As their lips fight for dominance, his hips grind his bulge into the growing wetness between her tights. She pulls them away with one last peck and her forehead rests against his. “We cannot do this here,” she excuses, avoiding his lips because of where it would lead. His lips continue to chase her, “Come on, I thought you wanted to be adventurous about where we do it.” “Yes, but not here. Where my mother or your dad can walk in on us,” she criticizes. He tries to reason, “I can lock the door, then no one would see us.” “I would need to be quiet though. Is that really what you want? To not be able to hear every little sound that I make as you please me,” she reasons, knowing that would be his downfall. Rafe sighs, “You’ve got me. Let’s go back to your house.” They arrange themselves to look more presentable and he rushes her to the car that the palace has given him during his stay here. Normally, Y/N wasn’t allowed to go on drives without a member of security in the car with her; however, Ward had been able to convince people that Rafe would keep her safe and that security could follow behind them in a separate car. Even if it wasn’t total privacy, it was still something. 

He holds the door open with a bow, causing a grin to form on her face as she slips into the passenger seat. He enters the driver’s side. The drive home gives her an opportunity to think over the meeting. When they told their parents nine months into the relationship about them, worry was obviously at the forefront of the Queen’s and President’s minds. They are both symbols of two different countries and the union of their two children will be finicky. Yet, they both saw the emotions in their children’s eyes and agreed to create a plan on how this was going to work. Hence, the meeting Y/N and Rafe just left. Queen Isabel was certainly a little more disappointed about the news, envisioning a life with Phelan for her eldest daughter, but her children’s happiness always comes first and she could see how Rafe brought Y/N to life. So far, only a select few people in the palace know about their relationship; to the public, they are just two best friends hanging out. 

———

The whole car ride is filled with slapping each other’s hands away from each other because it would lead to much more once their hands are on the other’s skin. At one point, Rafe has to warn her that she is distracting him from driving so that she keeps her hands to herself. He pulls into the driveway of Kensington Palace, running to her side of the car to drag her out of it. He tosses the key to the on-duty valet and they hurry to her bedroom. His body presses her up against the door. He stares at her with adoration in his eyes, “I love you, Princess.” “I love you too,” she whispers, smushing their lips together. His hand dips into her underwear, searching around for what he is looking for. He takes out the pink almost flat oval that has a little bump in the middle of it that was against her clit. He inspects how it shines with her juices. He carries it up to his mouth, licking it so it now gleams with his saliva. “You taste so good. I’m kinda jealous this is what got you all nice and wet for me,” he reveals. His tongue darts out to get any residuals of her on his lips into his mouth. She shakes her head, “You are the one who put that thing in my underwear and then proceeded to turn it up throughout the meeting.” “I said kinda. I enjoyed watching you squirm in your seat while Xander talked about how to make our relationship look optimal,” he mumbles with his lips on hers. “I’m going to be using this more often.” 

He places the device back into his back pocket. His fingers find themselves back in her panties, diving between her folds to wet them before pushing into her hole. Her mouth falls open and the breath she lets out hits Rafe’s face. He starts with one finger, bringing it in and out as she becomes a mess around him. “Is this what you’ve been needing, Princess? Just my fingers. Is this what you’ve been imagining while the vibrator was on?” he questions, kissing down her neck. “Answer my questions, Princess.” His fingers freeze in anticipation of her voice. Her pants fill the air, “No, it’s not what I was imagining.” “Then tell me what you wanted. What fantasy can I make a reality for you tonight, Princess?” he encourages with a nip at her soft spot. 

He continues the motion of his fingers and adds another finger to stretch her out more. She gets lost in the feeling of him. “Princess, come on. Tell me what you want.” She manages to gather the words, “I want you to fuck me from behind while I’m on all fours.” “Doggy-style. Wonder what the people of England would say about their Princess wanting to be fucked like a slut,” he chuckles. “It’s okay. I like it. I’ll give you what you want, only after you’ve come by my hands and my tongue. Then you are going to reward me with your pretty mouth, that is when you get to have your fantasy fulfilled.” He looks at her for confirmation that she approves of his plan and her head motions that she is. His thumb presses down onto her clit and this helps her to her first orgasm of the day. “I’m going to come,” she informs him. His eyes grow dark, “Go on, Princess.” Her adhesive walls close in around him and he can feel her unravel around him. He takes his fingers out of her, bringing them into her mouth to clean them. “Delicious. Could eat it for breakfast every day. Lucky for me, I get to have a taste right now,” he says, dropping to his knees. His hands find the top of her black pants and pull them down her legs. He pinches her underwear between his teeth, tugging them down her legs. He looks at the lacey pastel green panties in his hands and puts them in his back pocket. “A reminder of you for when I have to go back to the U.S.,” he justifies, which causes her heart to flutter at the thought. 

He starts by darting his tongue into her pussy. He is going to need to stimulate her clit more to get her to come again, so he might as well saviour this moment for himself first. “This feels so good,” she praises, threading her fingers through his hair to prompt him closer to her. He swipes down her walls to gather as much of her into his mouth. He groans against her, loving the way she pries at the strands of his hair. He gets his fill of her and moves on to her bud. He sucks the mound into his mouth, relaxing the suction a bit so that he swirls his tongue to arouse the erogenous zone further. She is sensitive from before, so it doesn’t take much to help her to her second climax. The flood of her arousal on his tongue persuades him to remove himself from her, not wanting to make her too sensitive for a third orgasm. 

He lets her loud breathing die down in advance of ordering her to kneel. She obeys his instruction, catching her breath and then removing the clothes from his bottom half. Her hand creeps under his button-up and traces over the lines of his abs. “Does my princess want to see what’s underneath?” he inquires. She nods eagerly and starts unbuttoning the bottom of his shirt. Rafe chuckles, taking care of the buttons at the top. He shrugs off the material and lets it drop to the floor. The tips of her fingers dance over his skin and while he is admiring the warmth of his fingers, she rams his full length down her mouth until he hits the back of her throat. Months of training have aided her in being able to take him completely. She hollows out her cheeks as she moves off of him to kiss the tip, leaking precum. Her tongue whirls around the head and she rubs her hands up and down his shaft. “Stopping teasing, Princess.” She lets him push her down on his cock, grabbing the sides of his stomach. Her thumbs dig into his abs whilst he drives himself down her throat. The corner of her eyes starts to wet from the force and she has to remind herself to breathe through her nose. He threads his fingers through her hair, using his other hand to wipe the tears from her eyes. “You are doing such a good job, Princess. I’m so proud of how far you’ve gotten,” he applauds. He can feel the tightening in him, which means he is about to come and he taps her cheeks as a warning. Her response is garbled by the body part in her mouth, closing her throat just when he starts shooting his cum in her mouth. She collects everything he gives her and swallows once he releases it all. 

He yanks her up by the bicep, spinning her around to shove her onto the bed. He assists her onto the bed with a push on her bum. She almost falls face-first into the mattress, except her hands come out to catch her. The bed dips under his weight and he sets her up onto her hands by hauling up against his crotch by the waist. A hand goes to her throat to press her flush against his chest. The other goes down to the ribbon that ties her shirt shut. Her turquoise silk shirt parts, revealing her matching green bra. Her shirt comes off and his hand leaves her neck to unhook her bra. He throws it into the dirty hamper. He runs his fingers through her fold to make sure she is prepared. He is satisfied with the result, so he aligns the tip of his penis with her pussy. 

She collapses at the feeling of him filling her up completely. His harsh pace gives her no time to adjust, which is how she likes it. In all the months they’ve been dating, the sole times their sex was slow and soft were either after they’d been through multiple rounds or he could see the exhaustion in her (the tiredness didn’t mean she didn’t desire him). His sharp thrusts slap against her ass, sending claps throughout the room. Her moans mix with his grunts. “Harder. Please, Baby. Harder,” she begs. He obeys. He plants one of his feet on the bed to provide more force behind his heaves and forces her down onto her elbows, creating a beautiful arch in her back that entices him to grip her by the waist. His grasp of her hip and the newly planted foot allows him to hit deeper spots within her. “Look at my beautiful princess coming undone by my cock. Such a smart girl’s brain turns to mush because of who is wrecking her pussy,” he teases, propelling his hips forward. She can merely return an incomprehensible babble. Both their previous petit morts have rendered their stamina shortened and he can feel the way she is clenching around him. He brings her up so their skins are touching. Her clit gets grounded by his fingers. His dick starts to twitch against her walls. “Come for me, Princess.” 

At his words, they both release the tension that has built within them. His pace slows to get them through their high. He collapses to his side, bringing her with him. Their heavy breaths cease and he slips himself out of her with a kiss to her sweaty temple. “So, how does doggy-style rate on your scale?” he asks, resting his arms over her waist. She snuggles back against him, “I like it more than missionary, but I don’t think it tops riding you. I don’t think anything could.” “Hm, I like it when you ride me too. Gives me an amazing view of your tits,” he agrees. She laughs at his statement and faces him. He looks down at her, kissing her nose and then her lips. 

The doorknob turns without any warning and in comes Princess Amelia. Y/N struggles to cover herself and Rafe with the blanket. He was no help whatsoever because he was too busy enjoying her struggle. “Lia, we were doing something,” Y/N shrieks, finally covered by the blanket. The younger princess shows no shame, “I waited until you guys were quiet.” Y/N’s jaw mouth falls open and her eyes turn wide. “Excuse me?! How did you know what we were doing?” An amused smile falls on Amelia’s face, “If you really wanted us not to know you were having sex, then you should’ve made your room soundproof.” Silent befalls the room for a second. Y/N’s brain races to continue her embarrassment. “Baby, please tell me my little sister didn’t just say what I think she did. This is all your fault,” she accuses, hitting his bicep as punishment. Rafe lets out a low laugh and moves away from his girlfriend’s attack. “What do you want me to do? Have a small dick like Phelan? Not eat out like you're my last meal? I’m sorry but neither of those things are possible, Princess.” Y/N screeches, “You could’ve locked the door. Why is this happening to me? What did I do wrong in my past life?” Her head falls into her hands while the other two occupants in the room smirk at each other. “It’s not our fault that you are easy to get a rise out of, Y/N/N,” Amelia points out, coming to sit at the edge of the bed. Wanting to move along from this moment, Y/N gets to the point. “What did you so urgently need Amelia that you couldn’t knock for?” 

“Nothing really. I just wanted to have some sister talk. I heard you guys are going public soon.”

Rafe howls at the non-urgency of the topic and Y/N gives them both her famous death glare. 

“Get the fuck out! Both of you!”

———

After being banished from her room, a very naked Rafe had to make a mad dash to Amelia’s room to not get caught with a lack of clothing. It would be the worst impression he could make on his, hopefully, future mother-in-law or the future king of England. Thankfully, Y/N throws his clothes out of the room for Amelia to bring to him. “How long do we think I’m in the doghouse for?” he quizzes Amelia, opening the door now that he has pants on. She enters with a pat on his back, “I’ve gotten the silent treatment from her for six months once. And I’ve never been her enemy. So…” “I should forget about being Prince Consort,” he concludes. A voice joins their discourse. “Don’t be ridiculous, Baby. I’m not angry. I just needed to get changed.” “It’s nothing either of us haven’t seen before,” Amelia notes. Y/N’s eyes rotate in their sockets, “We haven’t taken a bath together since we were kids and you were both annoying me so I had to throw you out.” Rafe’s head falls to her neck and he starts kissing up and down the column. “I’m so sorry I was being mean to you, Princess. Please forgive me,” he mumbles against her skin. Y/N giggles, “The Rafe I know doesn’t beg.” “Maybe the Rafe you know has learned he’d rather beg than have the possibility of losing you,” he offers. Her head moves from side to side, “I think I like the other Rafe better. He had more bite.” 

“Oh, yeah. Well, he isn’t completely gone. Just like how you will always have a stick up your ass, Princess.”

“I’m going to use that stick to start beating your own ass.”

“Spanking. Kinky. That’s another fantasy we haven’t tried out yet.”

Amelia’s laughter breaks the lover’s spat the two are having. “You guys are really the epitome of a loving couple,” Amelia jokes. Y/N throws a pillow at her sister, “Snide remarks are how we show we love each other. It’s the fire that made me fall for him in the first place.” 

———

Their relationship is made public to the world by one evening spent together at a charity event and one Instagram post to confirm the speculations to the world. Rafe, unfortunately, has to go back to the U.S. in the morning to get to class after news breaks out, leaving both of them to deal with their countries’ reactions alone. Rafe wakes up to multiple American news and gossip outlets gushing about the relationship. Y/N is exposed to the opposite reception. She reads countless articles examining how since her relationship with Rafe started, she has become less like herself and more Americanized. They condemn the fact that her speech has started to include contractions and that even if she is just spending a day out in public, her outfits have stopped always being the idyllic fashion. They long for the days when she was their perfect princess with Phelan. She is right; no one wants a princess, who wears jeans and a t-shirt. Nonetheless, she tries not to let the people’s opinions get to her because, at the end of the day, she is incredibly in love with Rafe. She isn’t very good at hiding her upsetness from him though. 

“I’m okay, Baby. I could care less what they think. The truth is that you’ve made me feel more comfortable being myself,” she confesses, biting a smidge of her lower lip. He gives her a tight-lipped smile, “If you are sure that you are okay, then I believe you. I have to go now, Princess. I have to work on a group project. I love you.” Y/N returns the sentiments and ends the call. It is nearing one in the morning, so she brushes her teeth and heads to bed. 

———

Her hair being pulled behind her ear brings Y/N out of her slumber. Her eyes open to Rafe crouched close to the bed and his face near hers. She rubs the sleep out of her eyes to make sure she isn’t hallucinating. Once her vision clears, she verifies that Rafe is really in front of her. She throws her arms around him. “Baby, what are you doing here?” His thumb traces over her lips, “I thought I told you that I don’t like it when you lie to me.” He raises her head and moves her over so she lies on his chest. “How do you always know when I am lying?” she mutters, playing with his fingers. He snickers, “It’s my superpower. Now, tell me what’s wrong.” “Nobody mentioned any of my so-called changes to be more American before they knew about our relationship. They hate that we are dating,” she sighs. The tips of her mouth form a frown that absolutely kills him. He laces their fingers together, “And do you think what they are saying is true?” “No. I’m not different because you wanted me to be, I’m different because you made me realize that I need to start living for myself in some capacity,” she divulges, feeling a rant about to burst out of her. Rafe can sense the quickening of her breath and he tries to soothe her by running his fingers through her hair. “They hate me,” she reiterates with a slight sob behind her words. 

He isn’t bothered by the tabloids' accusations. They have said a lot worse about him, but the disapproval from the public is something new for Y/N. She has always been the people’s princess and their sudden turn against her is understandably heartbreaking. “No, they don’t,” he reassures. She huffs, “They do.” “This is going to blow over. Pete Davidson is going to date another woman and the internet is going to go crazy for it,” he predicts, eliciting a chortle from her. “Who do you think he is going to date next?” she murmurs. He thinks about it, “I think it would be funny if he dated your mom. Do you want a stepdad?” She shoves his shoulder with a giggle. “I do not want him as a stepdad. That would make him your father-in-law,” she remarks. He feels like he is dosed with cold water, energizing him with the image of a future with her. “I think it would be fun to have him as a father-in-law.” Her worried expression has transformed into one of ease. “See, you have nothing to worry about. Now, should we get some brunch?” he suggests, lifting his head to clearly see her face. A smile grows on her face and she nods. He stands up, helping her up with him. His eyebrows wiggle as he tugs her into her bathroom. The showerhead spews water and he strips off his clothes, beckoning with his head for her to do so. He hops into the shower and she follows his lead. 

———

Her spoon forms a semi-circle from twelve o’clock to six o’clock before she lifts the utensil out of the brew and places it on the saucer. Rafe watches her bring the china to her mulberry lips. “You aren’t sticking your pinky out,” he comments, caressing the hand holding hers. She sets the cup down, “Well, I don’t have syphilis, so I don’t see a reason why I would.” His eyes form a saucer. “Is that what it means?” he postulates. Her head bobs with a playful smile, “That’s what some people say Louis XIV did in the 17th century.” “I see. Then I’m glad you aren’t sticking your finger out or else I would need to book a doctor’s appointment,” he kids. Her teeth peek out of her lips but are quickly blanketed by her petals. He tracks where she is observing and finds Phelan glowering at them. Rafe didn’t know the Duke could feel anything, except for indifference. “Ignore him, Princess. He is just jealous that I’m better,” he assures, leaning over to kiss her. 

A shadow falls over both of them. They separate to find Phelan towering over them. “So you are dating him,” he seethes. “You moved on fast.” He didn’t wait for a response from the couple. Y/N has never seen Phelan act in this manner. His emotions usually remain in check and he is always polite. “Hello, Phelan. How are you?” she greets, trying to de-escalate the situation. He ignores her pleasantries, “Were you seeing him while we were dating? Is that why you left after you broke up with me?” Rafe doesn’t care for the way that the other royal is scowling at his girlfriend but doesn’t say anything because he can see Y/N is trying to make amends. She doesn’t want to lie. Honesty is important to her and the secret of her cheating has been eating her up from the inside. “I kissed him twice whilst we were dating. I’m sorry,” she admits, looking down in shame. Phelan begins to quiver in anger and he points an accusatory finger at Y/N, which has Rafe darting to his feet. “You are- you are- you are a slut!” Phelan yells. Rafe lets out a low chuckle and cocks his fist. His fist connects with Phelan’s nose, causing blood to gush from the facial feature. Y/N’s chair scrapes against the tile and her hand falls to her mouth. “Shit. Shit. Shit,” Rafe swears as he comes to terms with what he did with a member of the monarchy in his presence. His hand grabs hers and he drags her to the car. Once they buckle in, Rafe starts driving nowhere in particular. “I am so sorry, Princess. This is going to cause you a whole mess and the magazines are just going to use this to further prove their point. I will make a public apologi-” he rants. 

She squeezes his hand on the gear stick to stop him. “That was fucking awesome. I don’t condone violence, but I’ve never had someone defend my honour. And Phelan certainly wouldn’t have done that if it happened while we were dating. Thank you. Although, I am a horrible person for cheating on him,” she explains in shame. Rafe places his hand on top of hers to stroke it, “Just because you made one mistake, it doesn’t mean that you are a horrible person. You were honest about the error you made and expressed genuine remorse.” “My brain says you are right. It’s simply that I feel like the whole world and my brain are against me right now and I don’t know what to do. Should I be the perfect Queen’s daughter again that they want or continue to be true to myself,” she pours out to him. He glances at her with worry, “What can I do to make you feel better, Princess? I’ll do anything.” “Take me away from here,” she requests, watching London pass by from the window. His head flicks up in understanding, “I know the perfect place.” As he continues to drive, her eyes shut to put her to sleep. He notices she is asleep and takes his phone out to make arrangements for their departure. He escapes the tail of their security agents. Years of sneaking out have taught him how to do so. 

Thirty minutes later, her eyes flutter open to see that they are on a tarmac. Rafe opens the car door and holds his hand out for her to step out. She can’t believe her eyes when she spots the private jet. “Where are you taking me?” she questions. “And this better not be on the taxpayers’ dollars.” He takes her into his arms, leading her toward the opening plane door. “Where we are going is a surprise and this flight is courtesy of Cameron Development, so no taxpayers will be disappointed,” he informs. She shows her approval, “Cool. We also have no luggage or anything so…” “We can take care of it when we get to our destination. I promise,” he guarantees. “I’m paying though. I can’t let you pay for everything, especially since my dad left me more than enough to help out,” she compromises. 

———

Tannyhill is identifiable to her because she’s seen it in pictures on his camera roll and it is as spectacular as it is in the photos. “Aren’t you worried that people are going to find us here? I mean the President’s son and the Queen’s daughter aren’t exactly inconspicuous figures,” she frets. His head wavers, “Nope, it’s a secret that you are here and they won’t as long as you stay on the grounds during the day. They won’t think anything of me being here because I come here every so often.” He opens the front door and lets her drink in the grandness of his childhood home. She rushes to a framed picture on the wall. She takes it in her hands with a soft look in her eyes and puckered lips. “Awww, you were such a cute baby. Look at that tiny bum.” He yanks the frame out of her grasp, placing it face down on the side table. “You do not get to see my embarrassing baby pictures. You should only ever imagine me as the man before you,” he warns. Her eyes find his, “How am I supposed to know what our baby could look like if I never see your baby pics?” She pushes the right buttons when he picks her up under her bum and twirls her around. Laughter fills the empty house. Her forehead falls on his. 

“Why do you always have to get me with the thought of a future with you?” he complains, kissing her nose. Her shoulders rise to her ears, “Because I love the idea the same as you do.” His face turns red and he hides it in her neck. He sets her back on the ground. “Aren’t you worried about our families? I’m sure they are wondering where we are,” she concerns,  playing with the hair at the bottom of his neck. He presses a kiss to her neck, “Nope. I called your sister and told her to relay the message that you are safe. Although, I expect our security team to be here soon.” 

“Okay, I’m alright with that. Do you think others will find us here if they come?”

“I don’t think so. I’ll have a talk with them about being inconspicuous. You are going to have to stay inside during the day while we are here. Are you okay with that?”

“Are you kidding? I can handle it. Not having to be in the public eye for anything will be good for me.” 

Rafe lets out a breath of relief. “I’m glad and I’ll be with you the whole time unless you get tired of me and kick me out or you need something. And then I can show you around at night. It will be like the town is ours,” he clarifies as he sets her down. She holds on to him, “I love the sound of that.”

———

Y/N is cuddled into Rafe’s side as he gets caught up with Grey’s Anatomy. Every time a medical scene comes onto the screen, Y/N will turn into Rafe’s shoulder to shield her eyes from the bloody scene. Rafe sees her do it for the fifth time since they started watching and it causes his abdomen to jiggle. “I’ve seen you not flinch at the sight of someone being torn open in a slasher movie and you are telling me that you can’t watch a doctor perform surgery,” he interrogates, pausing the show so he can look at her. She supports his statement, “What am I supposed to say? Surgery freaks me out so much.” “You are telling me that the idea of surgery is creepier to you than someone getting their head bashed in?” he repeats to her. She leans over him to grab a chocolate bar beside him, “Yes. You should’ve seen me the day before I got my wisdom teeth removed. I spent the night in Amelia’s room in hysterics at the thought of being cut open while I was unconscious.” He peeks back at the screen and switches it to Final Destination. “Baby, you didn’t have to change it. We can watch Grey’s Anatomy if you want,” she urges, trying to take the remote out of his hand. He keeps it out of her reach, “I don’t want to watch it if it’s making you uncomfortable, Princess. I can watch it by myself.” 

“Okay, well. We don’t have to watch something. Maybe we can think of another way to have fun,” she poses. She lifts from the couch with his hand dangling from hers. She keeps their finger connected as they walk up to his bedroom. Her eyes scan the room she hasn’t had a chance to examine. She spies one of his past Halloween costumes and it feeds the hunger between her legs. Rafe eyes her interest in the mask, picking up on the kindling it provides to her desire. He draws the item out of her hands. His head dips close to her ear, “Does the thought of me wearing this turn you on, Princess?” His breath hits her jaw and she grows insatiable at the thought of him fucking her in the mask. She can’t explain the want to see it on him. She can only explain that it’s a need for him to have his way with her whilst it is on. She doesn’t respond; instead, she falls back into his hold. Rafe grins and places the mask on his face. He trails a hand down her stomach to her core, beginning the process of relieving her from the burning sensation between her legs. Her neck cranes so she can catch the sight of him in the mask. She can’t believe she is going to let him have sex with her while he is Ghostface. 

———

After a week, Y/N had to phone her mother and talk things over with the Queen. To her surprise, her mom did not react in the way that she thought. “You cannot comprehend what I am about to say, Darling. However, it is how I truly feel. I understand your need to escape. I want you to take some time and to recharge. Your health and happiness will always come first,” Queen Isabel ordered her daughter. “I will try to hold back the world as long as you need. You may not know this, but I did the same with your father. I will tell you more about it when you come back.” Two weeks into their mini-vacation, Y/N got a little stir-crazy. So they took the first step by revealing where she was, yet it didn’t mean their getaway had to come to an end. Y/N has gotten a handle on ignoring the headlines of tabloids criticizing her “Americanization.”  

Y/N bikes to Hewyards. Three months on the island means she no longer needs a map to guide her to one of the only grocery stores in the Outer Banks. Rafe is going to have some friends over for her to meet. Topper and Kelce are finally in town, so she gets to meet them for the first time in person. As she approaches the store, she hops off her bike and shrugs the grocery bag in the basket onto her shoulder. She has enjoyed the months of solitudes she has had with Rafe. Her life got some sense of normalcy and she drank in every second of the experience. She refused to let him bring in a chef or maids or gardeners. She wanted to learn how to take care of herself. One time, he came out to the front yard to find her tangled up in the hose, soaking wet as the opening of the tube sprinkled water everywhere. There was another time when he found her screaming at the bed sheets because the corners of the fitted covers wouldn’t stay on. His favourite memory was Y/N attempting to cook dinner for them. She struggled with opening the jar of pasta sauce and when she heard the pop of the jar opening, the red paste came flying all over her. Rafe found her drenched in sauce and it led to a sensual evening, which resulted in overboiled pasta and two saucy lovers. Over time, she gets better at all of those things and she is excited to play host in a more domestic setting. 

She skips into the store, smiling at the older gentleman behind the counter. “Good afternoon, Your Royal Highness. Was the fish we picked out last time good for the tacos?” Mr. Heyward greets. No matter how many times she’s told him to call her Y/N, he insists on using her royal title. She beams at him, “It was fantastic. Tasted so fresh and Rafe loved them. Do you have any salmon? I want to make salmon with creamy dill sauce for dinner.” “I do, Your Highness. It’s just over here,” he signals, walking over to where they are held. “How much do you need?” He rips a bag off of the roll and waves it open. “Eight fillets, please,” she requests. Heyward’s eyebrows meet the start of his hairline, “That’s a lot of fish.” “Yeah, Rafe and I are having some people over tonight and I want to have two extras in case I make a mistake,” she clarifies, glancing around the empty store. 

The store’s owner bobs his head in understanding. He moves over to the till with Y/N in tow and tells her the cost. She hands over the money, taking the bag of fish in return. The fish falls into the grocery bag as she walks toward the front door. “Have a good day, Your Royal Highness. I hope your dinner goes as planned,” Heyward calls out. She turns back to him with a smile, “Thank you. You too, Mr. Heyward.” The warm breeze is starting to feel cool against her skin. The food she just bought is placed in the basket and she sets the helmet Rafe got her onto her head, clipping the buckle into place. She fell one time in front of him. It left a nasty scrap on her forehead and that is when he rushed to the store in a panic to buy her a helmet. She returns to Tannyhill to find Sarah and Wheezie unpacking their bags from the limousine. The girls gleam at the arriving princess. “Hey, I hope you don’t mind that we are a little early. We wanted to help with dinner,” Sarah says, regarding the mode of transportation Y/N is using. “You found my bike. I’m glad it’s being of use while I’m gone. Though, I don’t remember having a helmet.” Wheezie runs to give Y/N a hug, which she accepts. Y/N giggles, “You didn’t own one. Your brother bought it for me after I had an accident.” “Rafe is so soft on you. I knew he didn’t honestly hate you all those years. How could he when he had a picture of you hidden in his room,” Wheeze concedes, slapping her hands over her mouth at the confession she shouldn’t have revealed. 

Y/N pulls the younger girl from her body with a mischievous grin, “He has a picture of me in his room? Like in this house?” Wheezie removes herself from the royal's hold and runs inside to escape the questioning. Sarah, who isn’t as loyal to her vow to her brother, matches the other girl’s facial expression. “He has two pictures. One here and one at the White House. Before you ask, I will absolutely show you where it is.”

———

Rafe’s sisters are making the table pretty while the couple is getting the food ready in the kitchen. She holds the spoon up to his mouth and nudges it in. “How does it taste?” she seeks his approval. His lips smack against each other as he tastes the completed creamy dill sauce. He glances at the sauce and gives her a thumbs up. “Delicious, Princess,” he guarantees. She catches sight of remnants of the white sauce on his upper lip and a snicker passes her lips. “You got something over here,” she tells him, motioning over her own lips to further the message. His mouth turns to a crescent, “Oh, do I? Maybe you should have a taste of your own creation.” He kisses her, smoothing his tongue over her bottom lip to seek entrance. She allows him and this gives her a full taste of the sauce she fed him. Wheezie enters the scene, pretending to vomit. “Can you guys stop smooching and finish making dinner? I’m hungry,” she requests. Y/N turns to the younger girl, “Okay, okay. We are plating everything up as we speak.” Right on cue, the doorbell rings. “Wheeze, can you get the door please?” Y/N’s gaze finds that Wheezie already left to do as asked. 

Rafe sets in beside Y/N and transfers the salmon from the baking sheet to the pristine ceramic plates. She dips the spoon into the sauce, painting the white surface of the plate with the light beige sauce. She tries to mimic the aesthetic design of photos she has seen on food blogs earlier. Rafe observes her scooping the potatoes from the other sheet and laying them in a pile opposite from the fish. His warm hand rests on her hip, his breath fanning across her neck. “This looks incredibly scrumptious, Princess. I’m so proud of how far you have come,” he compliments, trailing her neck with his lips. Her head plops back onto his shoulder. Her hands thread through his hair, “I hope it doesn’t get anyone sick. That would be a nightmare.” “I think it’s fine. It looks cooked,” he reassures. 

“At least have dinner first before you guys go to dessert,” Kelce razzes with a snicker. Rafe flips his middle finger at the new arrivals while Y/N gives them a crooked smile. She removes herself from her boyfriend’s hold and approaches his friends with open arms. “Ahh, it is so good to meet you guys in person. You are right on time,” she shares, returning to the counter to grab some of the plates. Topper’s hand falls on her wrist and he takes the plates from her. “Go sit, Beautiful. Let us do the rest for you,” Topper offers. The doorbell rings again, causing everyone to look at each other with pointed eyebrows. Rafe steps toward the archway, “Who could that be? We are all here.” “It’s okay, I’ve got it, Baby,” she states, padding to the front door. A caramel-skinned woman stands in front of Y/N. Cocoa-brown eyes stare back at her and the licorice-coloured locks whip around the model’s finger. Y/N’s head tilts, “Can I help you with something?” The other woman’s top lip flares up and her eyebrows scrunch together. “I heard Rafe was in town. I just got back myself and I thought it would be a good time to see him again,” she announces, not waiting for an invitation before entering the house. Y/N’s mouth drops open as she closes the door and follows the intruder into the dining room. 

Sarah freezes at the sight of who enters the room, “Melanie, what are you doing here?” “I’m here to see your brother. I miss that asshole,” who Y/N now knows as Melanie responds. “What’s going on here? Why is the table set?” At this moment, the boys come into the room to find an additional guest. Rafe halts and because it is obvious that everyone is acquainted with the dark-haired beauty, Y/N feels the polite thing to do is to invite her to dinner. “Rafe and I are hosting dinner. We have an extra plate if you would like to join,” Y/N bounces the idea to the room. Rafe’s face remains void of emotions. Melanie pulls out a chair near the head of the table. The rest of the room mimics her action and takes a seat. Wheezie, who returned from the bathroom a second earlier, fetches the extra plate in the kitchen. 

Rafe doesn’t want to go sit at the head of the table beside Melanie, except the other end of the table isn’t set. The sole comfort he gets from sitting at his designed spot is that Y/N seats herself across from Melanie. A hush has fallen over the dinner guests and they dig into their food. A few minutes in, Melanie breaks the silence. “So who are you?” Her eyes pierce into Y/N’s skin. Y/N isn’t surprised the surprised visitor is clueless about who she is. In England, her face is plastered everywhere, so she is easily recognized by the people. In the US, being a less prominent topic means most don’t even know her name. She doesn’t take any insult from this; however, she doesn’t appreciate the tone of voice. Her eyes make contact with Rafe and she reassures him she is okay with handling the situation. “I’m Y/N. Rafe’s girlfriend,” she replies with tight lips. Melanie releases a single hm in mocking, “You mean the newest flavour of the weak. Rafe Cameron doesn’t do relationships.” The scraping of silverware on ceramic freezes and Rafe can’t be a wallflower in this conversation any longer. “Don’t talk to her like that. You don’t know a single thing about her or our relationship,” he condemns, fist tightening at his side. Y/N rests her palm on his hand and gives it a squeeze. Melanie’s eyes rattle in their sockets, “Please, you can barely handle a date with a girl. All you were able to have with me were hookups. Why is she so different?” 

“What’s different about her is that I wouldn’t be able to survive without her. If I lost her, my life would lose meaning because she is the only person who can truly understand me. Who can see past my labels. What’s different about her is that I plan on proposing to her. I have a ring and all I’m waiting for is the right moment.” 

The eight pairs of eyelids peel apart the farthest they go, allowing everyone to stare at Rafe. Y/N lets out a breath, “You are going to propose?” Rafe’s mouth scrunches. It seems he can’t wait for that perfect moment anymore. He stands up to walk to the end table pressed against the wall. He searches for something in the drawer and pulls out a small velvet box. He opens the box to display a golden band with one big round cut diamond and four small ones at cardinal points, creating something that resembles a star. It’s simple, yet very much in Y/N’s wheelhouse. A lifetime forced to wear only the most extravagant items makes her long for simplicity when it comes to something meant to be personal. Disappointment reflects in his eyes as he answers, “Yeah. I mean this isn’t how I imagined asking you. I had this whole thing planned out. And we’ve only been together a yea-” “Yes,” Y/N cuts him off, leaping into his arms to smother his face with kisses. His arms find his waist, “Are you sure? This wasn’t how I wanted to do this. I was hoping it would be more intimate and romantic. You can wait until I plan something out to say yes.” “I don’t need all the bells and whistles for our engagement. All I want is the promise of an eternity with you, Baby,” Y/N comforts, placing his hand on the ring so he can slip it onto her left ring finger. This may not have been how Rafe wanted to ask, but this moment couldn’t have been more flawless for her because it means she gets her forever with the man she loves.

———

Unfortunately, Y/N and Rafe can’t stay away from the limelight forever and they have to eventually get back to their homes. Rafe has moved into Kensington Palace; it made sense since the couple is now engaged. The once-lifeless room is now flooded with personality with the addition of his items. With the news of the engagement, the palace has gone into full planning mode and Rafe can see the stress Y/N is going under. Her dream of having a small simplistic wedding is chipped away with every meeting they attend and he hates that for her. The pair return from a meeting about their wedding cake. Hours were spent tasting different flavours of cake. It may seem like a child’s dream come true, yet it’s not that fun if the end result is plain vanilla with buttercream. Definitely not the couple's first choice. They get ready for bed in silence and lie beside each other once they are in their pyjamas. She lets out a sigh as she nuzzles her face into his bare chest. He pulls her into his hold, carding his fingers through her hair. “You aren’t happy about being strongarmed into choosing vanilla,” he speaks. Her head bobs up and down against him, “I get that vanilla is the safest flavour to choose… I was hoping to pick something more unique though. You know, so that our wedding isn’t lumped into all royal weddings that have come before.” 

“Right. Which one was your favourite?”

“Earl Grey and lemon or lavender and honey.”

“Hmmm, Earl Grey and lemon felt very much like you. I like the lavender and honey one too. It was flowery but not too overpowering.”

“Exactly. There was a nice burst of lavender and then the aftertaste of honey is perfect. Every day that passes, I’m reminded that no matter what I think, this wedding will never really be my own. Don’t get me wrong. I love you. I was just hoping our wedding could be something for us. Not for the media,” she confides, fluttering her eyes closed out of tiredness. Rafe stares down at his fiancée with his lips in a thin line. He presses his mouth against her forehead, “I’m gonna do everything I can to make your wedding dreams come true.”

———

A month later, Rafe declares he is taking Y/N out on a date. The strange part is he gets Amelia to help her get ready and insists that she wears a formal dress that she loves. This she finds strange because he is never so specific about what she wears. Amelia lets Y/N take the lead with the makeup, while she works on her sister’s hair. Amelia has a massive grin on her face as she curls a strand of hair around the curling wand. “Why do you look like you are bursting at the seem with news? What do you have to tell me?” Y/N inquires, looking at her sister through the mirror. Amelia’s shoulders rise, “Nothing. I’m just excited.” Y/N’s eyebrows arch and she brushes off the comment. Amelia will tell her the news when she is ready. Twenty minutes later, her sister leaves and Y/N is getting her dress on. A knock sounds throughout the room and Y/N calls out for Rafe to enter the room. As soon as he is in sight of her, his jaw drops with amazement. “You look absolutely stunning, Princess,” he compliments, coming to give her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. She shies away from his gaze, “Thank you, Baby.” 

“Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, where are we going though?” 

“That is a surprise, Princess.”

He takes her hand and leads her to the ballroom, which is unexpected to her. They step through the doors to be exposed to the most picturesque scene she has ever seen. Chairs are lined up in small rows and columns, leaving an aisle down the middle. A long string of flowers runs up and down the aisle that leads to the end with an arch. The arch isn’t heavily adorned with flowers, yet it is still beautiful. Bright flowers adorn the black arch at the apex of the arch and at the base. She can see the bare bones of the metal arch, so it doesn’t feel overwhelming. Her eyes land on Topper under the arch and confusion falls on her face. She notices people standing in front of the chairs, examining their faces. They are both of their families and closest friends, all dressed in their nicest attire. Her eyes land on Rafe again, swinging her chin to the side. “What is all of this, Baby?” A massive grin spreads across her face, “It’s our wedding, Princess.” 

“What are you talking about?”

“I asked your mom if we can have a secret, private wedding for us and the people we love. It took some convincing, but she eventually gave in to the idea.”

“What about the wedding we’ve been planning?”

“That is also going to happen. The sole difference is that people won’t know we already got married. That wedding can be the political one we have to have and this one can be ours. Before you ask, I paid for it with my trust fund, so none of the taxpayers' dollars went toward this.”

When she doesn’t respond, he worries she hates the idea and he completely misread her desire. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. This might not be exactly how you imagine our wedding, so I’m totally okay if you don’t want to go through with this,” he amends to make sure she doesn’t feel pressured. Her arms wrap around his neck to pull him into a hug. “I love it. Thank you,” she whispers to him. Rafe flicks his head up in the direction of the crowd and everyone gets into their places. To the side, someone on the piano starts playing the melody of “Rewrite The Stars” from The Greatest Showman. Rafe has always said it was their song because it felt like the perfect representation of their relationship. Being the children of two leaders of a country makes them star-crossed lovers in a way. It would seem preferential if a royal daughter is dating the son of another nation’s President; nonetheless, even with their seeming hatred for each other in the beginning, the pair finds a way to move the stars around for them to be together. Ahead of walking down the aisle, he gives her a kiss on the cheek. She can’t lie and say she doesn’t watch the way his bum bounces a bit as he walks. He gets in front of Topper and her mother comes to stand beside her. Queen Isabel holds her arm out for her daughter to take, leading the bride down the aisle with tears pooling in both of their eyes. The mother presses her cheek against her daughter’s. 

Isabel returns to her seat and the ceremony begins. It is now time to say the vows. “Now, Y/N. I’m going to let Cameron go first. Because you know, save the best for last and also to give you time to think up something better than him,” Topper proclaims, holding his hand out for Rafe to begin. The guests chuckle.

“My younger self definitely never thought that I would be marrying such a brilliant woman, let alone the princess I had a crush on growing up. And while the idea of me being your romantic partner had to grow on you, I was head over heels for you the moment I saw you. You’ve provided my life with such joy, laughter and love, which I will return every chance I get. Because we are both privileged with the lives we are given, it is hard to give each other things we can’t already have. But I promise to do everything in my power to help give you a life you feel like you have a little more control over. I love you so much, Princess. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.” 

Rafe’s hand swipes under his eyes to dry off his eyes and places his hand back into hers. Adoration reflects off of both of their gazes. She squeezes his hand while he brings her knuckles to his lips. Topper turns to her, “Damn, I didn’t know the groom could be so romantic. Now, Y/N, it’s your turn to one-up him.” The bride clears her throat.

“You first came into my life after I lost my dad and seeing you happy with your dad got to me. Even though I took my jealousy out on you, you were still able to look past it and helped me fall in love with you. You showed me that life could be more exciting than what I was living and every moment with you since that realization has been electric. I’m not afraid to stand up for myself because of you. I’m not afraid to ask for what I want and to take it because of you. Because of you, I can have a slice of normalcy that I have always craved and I am forever grateful about it. Now, as we embark on this next chapter of our lives, I promise to continue to be the woman you have helped me become and to stay by your side whenever you wish to grow as a person. My final vow to you is to always find a way to make you laugh, even if I have to say ass every second of the day. I love you, Rafe Cameron, and I am ready for the eternity we are about to enter together.” 

Rafe takes out the rings from the inside of his jacket pocket and hands them over to Topper. They exchange their rings with shaky hands and tearful eyes. “Please join me in congratulating the happy couple. I now pronounce you, husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride,” Topper declares. The room erupts with cheers as Rafe’s arm snakes around her waist to bring her to a dip. They stare at each other with love for a second before she arches her chin up to meet his lips. The connection of her lips sends shivers down her spine and it feels like they are kissing for the first time ever. 

———

In all honesty, hiding their marriage is easier than she expected. It may be because Y/N and Rafe have opted for wearing their wedding rings in matching lockets on chains while they plan their public weddings, yet she feels like there is still a shift in how they treat each other. They are going through the honeymoon phase all over again. Physical contact is always on display between lovers and it is as though the sole thing they can talk about is each other. Their family members would even argue they both have a certain glow to them. To add to that, the newlyweds have been going at it like bunnies. 

Fiction based on royalty is often wrong, except sometimes Y/N likes to read royalty romance novels because it gives her naughty ideas. Her most recent read? Twisted Games. She giggles as she makes her way down the dark hallway, hauling Rafe behind her. The sound of her giddiness halts once they get in front of the ornate gold and white doors. The door creaks as she pokes her head between the parted slit and double-checks that no one is inside the room. Even though the room has no reason to be occupied, with their high status, it is better to be safe than caught. She verifies the coast is clear and beckons her husband into the room. He chortles at the sight of her running toward the throne, still dragging him on the way. She pushes him onto the red velvet cushioned chair. The golden wood complements him in a way that only entices her more. There is a slight bounce to his landing. “It feels scandalous that I am on the throne,” he jokes, wiggling in his seat. Her knees cage him into place and dig into the fabric. His hands fall to the back of her thigh. He gives them a squeeze that makes a grin appear on his face. She brings her face near his ear, “You’re my husband. I think I can let slide such sacrilege.” He groans at the pressure of her crotch against the growing bulge in his gray sweatpants. 

He tracks his hands under her sleep shirt and takes it off. His fingers roll her left nipple between them, while he takes the right one into her mouth. He swirls his tongue around the bud and she grinds her hips against him. “I love it when you call me that,” he wails from the back of his throat. Heat rises to her cheeks, “Well get used to it, Baby. That’s who you are going to be to me for the rest of our lives.” One of his hands raises to slap her bum. “I don’t want it any other way, Princess.” He peppers her face with kisses before taking his own shirt off. They rid themselves of their bottoms in a heated kiss. Rafe tries to switch positions with her so he can go down on her; however, she stops him. He looks up at her with a wrinkle between his eyebrows. “I need you inside of me, now,” she explains. Her desire is evident in her voice and he nods. 

His hand goes between them so he can line himself up with her hole and she presses her hands against his shoulder as she sinks down onto his dick. They both moan at the sensation. It takes her a minute to adjust to him and then she begins to rise and fall on him. He grips her waist to help her movements. Her head is thrown back with her eyes closed and his eyes are focused on where their bodies connect. They move in tandem with each other until pressure has built up in the pit of both of their stomachs. Her walls clamp onto his spasming dick. She collapses onto him, pressing her chest against his. His arms pull her closer to him and he kisses her soaked forehead. “I am never going to get tired of this,” he pants into her ear. Her head snuggles into his neck, “What? The sex?”

“No. I mean yes, but I was talking about being with you. Having you as my wife is the best thing to ever happen to me and I can’t wait to be with you forever.” 

“I can’t wait for that either, Baby. I love you, Rafe.”

“I love you too, Y/N.”

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @victory-in-the-llama @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @rafeinterlude @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @kscorpio06

[c-e-d-dreamer]

Top Shelf Love: Chapter 2

A/N: Has anyone else been watching the Stanley Cup Playoffs? Just Me? I haven't decided yet who I want to be in the final ever since my Canes have been eliminated... Anyways! All this to say that it's been fun writing this hockey fic while watching hockey, and I hope everyone enjoys reading this latest chapter :)

Read on AO3 // Chapter Masterlist // Previous Part // Next Part

Cassian

Despite having played the Kraken in Seattle once last season, Cassian has to admit it’s pretty nice being on the home side of Climate Pledge Arena. Sure, playing in a place like Madison Square Garden most nights was a dream, one he held since he was just a boy, but there’s something to be said about all the upgrades and modernity that a newer arena has to offer.

Following the director of team services out of the elevator, they come to a set of frosted glass doors, the Kraken logo split between the two. As they step closer, the doors automatically slide open, revealing the locker room, and Cassian barely swallows down an impressed whistle. It’s certainly spacious, even for an NHL locker room, LED lights and the Kraken logo displayed on the ceiling. At least, he won’t have to worry about stepping on it here.

“Valdarez.”

Cassian turns just in time to see a tall man walking toward him, blonde hair cut short and beard trimmed to just a stubble along his cheeks. His grin is wide and easy, revealing the chipped upper tooth on the left side. It’s easy enough for Cassian to recognize the captain of the team, Fionn Donoch. He still remembers watching him lift the Cup back when Cassian was just a teen.

“Wanted to make sure I came down to meet you myself,” Fionn continues, holding out his hand for Cassian to shake.

“Are you sure you didn’t just want to come down and remind me who’s really in charge here?”

Fionn laughs good naturedly at the joke, slapping Cassian on the back. “You’re going to fit right in here. So, what do you think so far?”

Cassian glances around the locker room again, thinking back to the practice facilities he’d toured earlier. “Yeah, it’s pretty nice, all the fancy arena upgrades.”

“Definitely not the worst place to call home, right? Listen, they don’t have the ice down yet, but I can still show you if you want.”

At Cassian’s nod, Fionn leads the way out of the locker room. They pass through a glass lined hallway, Fionn explaining how during game days, it’s lit with blue LED lights, how fans typically line the other side, banging the glass and getting the boys going. Then they’re stepping onto the home bench and the arena floor, and Cassian gets to appreciate what the view will be from ice level. He turns slowly in a circle, taking in the stands, the scoreboards, the afternoon light streaming through the wall of windows.

He takes a deep breath in, and for a moment, he can almost hear it. The blare of the goal horn. The roar of the crowd. He can almost feel the cool bite off the ice against his cheeks. Can almost feel the surety, the peace that comes from having it beneath his skates, from the comfortable weight of a stick in his hands.

“Have you met with Miller yet?”

Cassian shakes his head of the daydream, turning back toward Fionn. “Yeah, I met with the whole staff earlier this morning.”

He and Fionn continue to talk shop, talk the system, before making their way together toward the garage and their cars. Or, in Cassian’s case, his rental car until he’s able to secure a new apartment and get all his things shipped out. He supposes he should check in with that realtor Eris connected him with again.

“If you need anything, don’t hesitate to reach out,” Fionn tells him, offering another easy grin as he hits the remote of his car. “Even if it’s just food recommendations.”

“Thanks, but I’m actually meant to be meeting up with a friend after this. She’s going to give me the whole tour of the city and all that.”

“She, huh? Let me know if I need to pass her number along to the wife. I don’t think they’ve done dues yet for this season.”

Cassian chuckles at the teasing smirk on Fionn’s face, the implication of his words. But then he thinks back to Nesta. Thinks back to the photos of her Instagram, to those icy blue eyes and that damn expression on her face. He can’t deny there’s been a low, simmering heat in his gut all morning, sparking at the fact he finally gets to meet Nesta, finally gets to witness that fire in person.

“Only if I’m lucky.”

~ * * * ~

Large, looping letters declare Grumpy & Sunshine Books above the door, the window display to the left of the door decked out with an artsy display of flowers and hanging book pages. Cassian glances down at the phone in his hand, the Map displayed on the screen there, confirming he’s in the right place. With a nod, he pockets his phone and presses forward, stepping through the front door.

The scent of paper and ink greets him as soon as Cassian steps inside, along with something vanilla. A candle that he can’t see? There’s a table display of books immediately inside, and Cassian casts them a cursory glance, taking in more looping text and what looks to be a variety of cartoon characters on the covers. He weaves around shelves and more table displays, past a wall of vines and succulents and a pink neon sign declaring Most ardently.

And at the very center of the store, Cassian finds the register and the woman he’s looking for bent over a book behind it. Cassian had known Nesta was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen since he first saw her picture, but seeing her in person is another thing altogether. Seeing her standing there in front of him almost has him wanting to drop down to his knees right there in the middle of the bookstore.

Her hair is braided back in an intricate updo, but with her head bent down, a strand of golden brown hair tumbles down her temple and kisses her jawline. Deft fingers brush the hair aside and behind her ear absently, further revealing the sharp cut of her cheekbones. When she turns the page of her book, her lips part, eyebrows jumping, and Cassian thinks he might give anything to see her eyes properly, to see if they spark and flare along with whatever she’s just read.

He’d give anything to have those eyes on him.

“Reading on the job?”

Nesta snaps her book closed, her attention finally rising, and Cassian gets his first look at those blue eyes he’s so often thought about. They’re a similar shade to Feyre’s, sure, and yet so different somehow. They seem to burn with a silver fire that leaves the cool shade of them looking like a storm roiled sea, especially when that gaze narrows on him, her lips pinching into a scowl.

Cassian doesn’t let the reaction deter him. If anything, it only stokes the embers in his own chest, beckoning him into the flames. He closes the final few steps between them, leaning against the register counter with a smirk.

“Nesta Archeron,” Cassian greets.

“Cassian Valdarez.”

His name falling from her lips shouldn’t sound as sweet as it does, especially with the clipped tone she speaks it, but a zing of electricity still skitters down Cassian’s spine nonetheless. What would it take to have her saying his name again? To have her sighing it? For him to taste it?

“So you do know me, then?” Cassian drawls, daring to glance down at her book. A Calanmai Secret. “And yet, you couldn’t answer any of my texts.”

Nesta crosses her arms, leveling him with a hard look that Cassian is sure is meant to send him running. “Most people would take that as a hint. Yet here you are. In my bookstore.”

“Feyre said you’d show me around the city.”

“Feyre asked me to show you around. I don’t recall ever agreeing.”

“I’m starting to think you’re the grumpy on the sign outside,” Cassian chuckles softly, hoping to at least earn the hint of a smile at his teasing joke.

Instead, Nesta settles both hands on the register counter, leaning forward. “Buy something. Or get out of my store.”

Cassian tilts his head, taken back by the harsh reaction. He’ll clearly have to work harder to get her to smile or laugh. Challenge accepted. Already, he can hear Az’s voice in his mind, making a dry comment about his taste in women. Already, he can see the way Rhys would roll his eyes.

“Fine,” Cassian says easily with a shrug, stepping back from the register counter. “The historical section is…?”

Nesta merely points to a bookshelf to his left, so Cassian turns his attention toward it. He grabs the first book within reach, the spine a blue and green. He’s intent on striding right back up to Nesta and proudly purchasing the book, but then he catches sight of the cover. Of the shirtless man that takes up the cover, the model’s skin clearly oiled up so every ridge of muscle is on full display. A tartan hangs low on the man’s hips, and just above the man the title is scrawled, Highland Escape.

“This… is not what I meant.”

Rather than direct him toward the historical fiction section, Nesta crosses her arms across her chest, her lips tugging up into a smirk. And, oh, there’s a real challenge blazing in her gaze now, that fire that had called to Cassian even in photo form sparking in her blue eyes. It’s beautiful, that look on her face, daring him to play.

He glances around the bookstore again, this time with fresh eyes. The greenery on the walls, the different table displays, the pink neon sign with an Austen quote. Of course. He’d heard of bookstores like these, ones that specialize in romance novels.

When he looks back toward Nesta, she has that same daring expression on her face, her smirk already starting to grow as though she’s won. As beautiful as it is, as beautiful as she is, Cassian refuses to back down. Heat flares through his chest as he fights back a smirk of his own, more than ready to keep this game of theirs going. He clears his throat and turns back to the shelf, sliding the book in his hand back into place. He takes his time reading the different titles along the spine before finally settling on a different book, tugging it free and sidling back up at the register counter.

“I’ll take this one,” Cassian tells Nesta with a grin, sliding the book across to her.

Nesta hums, glancing down toward the book he’s selected. Viking Bride. Cassian waits for the mask to slip, to see a hint of a reaction take over her face, but she’s nothing but cool and silent as she rings him up. The transaction complete, she tucks his receipt into the cover of the book, sliding it back over to him.

“Have a nice day,” Nesta offers, her tone mockingly sweet.

Cassian reaches for the book, his fingers brushing along Nesta’s own until she snatches her hand away. “You know, I’m beginning to think you don’t like me.”

Nesta snorts and rolls her eyes. “Whatever gave you that impression?”

“Oh, yeah, Nes, you’re a real ray of sunshine right now.”

“Don’t call me that.”

There’s no stopping Cassian’s smirk at earning that reaction, a little tidbit he tucks away, even as he continues, “but it’s not really fair, is it? I mean, you don’t even know me. This is literally our first time ever meeting. What could I have possibly done?”

Nesta’s face falls, a new emotion flashing through her blue eyes. It’s certainly the cool, haughty mask slipping away, but not how Cassian wanted. He frowns at the sudden change, but before he can even begin to attempt to decipher what that emotion is, what that expression could mean, Nesta turns away from him.

“If I give you a tour of the city, will you leave me alone after that?”

~ * * * ~

Nesta

Nesta doesn’t know what she expected. She knew, in the back of her mind, that despite never responding to a single one of Cassian’s texts, that that wouldn’t be the last of things. But she can’t say she expected him to show up at her bookstore. Didn’t expect him to stride in with a smirk and an easy confidence, to almost proudly buy a viking romance novel.

She wants to hate that he still looks as good as the last time she saw him at Feyre’s engagement party. His hair is loose, dark curls hanging around his temples and tumbling down to his shoulders. His eyes are a hazel as bright as Nesta remembers, a maze of greens and golds that seem to spark with a flickering flame. And that cocksure smile has no damn right being as attractive as it is.

She wants to hate the way he didn’t back down from her ire, from all the quips she threw his way. Instead, he only seemed to rise to meet her, seemed to enjoy it as though it was a game between them. She wants to deny the way his fingers brushing against hers sent a shiver ricocheting up her arm and down her spine.

And he doesn’t even remember her.

She’d felt stupid that night in New York, but she feels even more stupid now. She certainly hadn’t expected an apology or anything, but this is like a slap in the face. And on the heels of that churning feeling roiling through her gut is anger. It burns red hot through her veins, flaring like a wildfire that licks between her ribs.

“If I give you a tour of the city, will you leave me alone after that?”

Cassian clears his throat awkwardly, that cocksure smirk finally slipping. “You want me to leave you alone?”

“What are you doing here?”

Nesta’s attention snaps toward the new voice, finding Emerie standing just inside the door, her brown eyes narrowed on Cassian.

“Hey, how’s it going?” Cassian answers easily despite Emerie’s clipped question. He holds his hand out toward her to shake, but Emerie doesn’t take it. “I’m Cassian.”

“I know who you are,” Emerie tells him airily, stepping behind the register counter.

She reaches out as she passes, fingers curling around Nesta’s wrist and squeezing lightly. It’s a silent question out of view of Cassian’s eyes, to check that she’s alright. Nesta meets her best friend’s gaze and offers the smallest hint of a nod.

“You do? Are you a hockey fan, then?” Cassian asks, unaware of the silent conversation happening without him.

Emerie snorts at the implication. “No. There’s only one hockey fan in this bookstore, and it’s not me.”

“I feel like you don’t like me either…” Cassian comments quietly, tilting his head slightly. “Is everyone the grumpy on the sign? You might want to consider a new name if there’s no sunshine.”

“Gwyn is the sunshine, and trust me when I say you’re lucky that you don’t have to deal with her.”

Nesta has to press her lips together to keep from laughing at the way Cassian’s eyes widen slightly in horror. It’s certainly not a misplaced expression. Gwyn was one of Nesta’s first friends when she first moved to Seattle, and while the redhead is one of the kindest people Nesta has ever met, she’s also the fiercest. Beneath all the bright smiles and easy laughs there’s a viciousness that can and will be released, especially when it comes to those Gwyn cares about.

“I don’t know. You said there’s one hockey fan, right? And I’m guessing it’s this Gwyn. Maybe I do want to meet her. We can talk all things Kraken.”

“Gwyn’s a Nashville fan,” Nesta informs Cassian. “They’re her hometown team.”

And dedicated to her hometown team she is. Nesta doesn’t think she’ll ever forget the first time she and Gwyn went to grab dinner at a sport’s bar, the first time witnessing the way Gwyn ranted and shouted at the large television on the wall.

Nesta waits for Cassian’s face to drop again at this newest tidbit, but what she doesn’t expect is for his grin to grow wider and stretch across his face, for the golds of his eyes to glint. He looks like a child that just stepped foot into a candy store, like this is exactly what he was waiting for, and it has Nesta frowning in confusion.

“My brother plays for the Preds. Azriel. You know, if she wanted, I could probably get her a signed jersey.”

“Gwyn would absolutely lose her mind,” Emerie comments under her breath.

“And what’s the price for this signed jersey?” Nesta dares to ask, squinting suspiciously at Cassian.

Cassian shrugs a shoulder, all faux innocence. “Well, you clearly don’t want to give me a tour, so how about just dinner? You can give me a list of your recommendations then.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“A dinner for a jersey. Sounds like a fair trade to me. Don’t you think, Nes?”

Nesta sighs, shaking her head. “Fine. One dinner and in exchange, you’ll get a Nashville jersey signed. By the whole team.”

Cassian’s smile twists into a smirk, gaze flickering and darkening as he holds his hand out across the register counter. “It’s a bargain.”

Nesta already knows she’s going to regret this, but she reaches forward, sliding her hand into Cassian’s. His fingers curl around her own with ease, his grip surprisingly gentle. His hand is so large compared to her own, practically swallowing hers whole, and the callouses slide against her palm when she pulls her hand back. She has to forcibly shove down a shiver before it can skitter up her spine in reaction.

“Let’s go, then,” Nesta says, gathering up her things where she stored them beneath the register.

She and Emerie share one final look before Nesta leads Cassian out the door and back onto the street. Thankfully, it’s a short walk to one of the local restaurants that focuses on PNW cuisine, a good introduction for Cassian to the city and area.

“So, I have to ask,” Cassian begins once they’re seated at a small table near the back of the restaurant, the waitress vanishing with their drink order.

“Ask about what?” Nesta asks, not even bothering to look up from the menu even though she already knows what she’s going to order.

“About the bookstore.”

Nesta’s gaze flicks over the top of the menu in her hands, eyes narrowing. “Some people like to read, meathead.”

Cassian tips his head back and lets out a booming laugh, earning a few curious looks from the other tables. “Did you really just call me a meathead?”

“I’ve seen you play, seen you fighting other players on the ice.”

“Are you watching my games, sweetheart?” Cassian asks, leaning across the table to smirk at her, those hazel eyes of his glinting in amusement again.

Nesta rolls her eyes, leaning forward as well to sneer, “you wish. I told you, Gwyn is a Nashville fan. I occasionally watch a game with her.”

Cassian hums, and Nesta bristles at the way he continues to eye her. Something about those hazel eyes is almost unsettling, as though he’s looking through her in a way no one ever has. It takes everything within her not to shift in her seat, to simply turn her attention back to her menu.

“History.”

Nesta looks up again with a frown. “What?”

“History,” Cassian repeats, leaning back casually in his chair. “That’s what my degree is in.”

“I thought hockey players got drafted at eighteen? That’s what Gwyn has always said at least.”

“That’s true, but not everyone joins the NHL right out of the draft. I played for my college team for two years before I was finally called up.”

“And what? You magically finished your degree in two years?”

Cassian laughs again, this time a low chuckle that’s surprisingly warm, that practically wraps itself around Nesta’s limbs. “Lucky for me, there’s this really amazing thing called online classes.”

“Oh.”

Nesta doesn’t know what else to say to that, but thankfully, she’s spared when their waitress returns to their table, ready to take their food orders. When she steps away again, Nesta no longer has her menu to use as a distraction, has nowhere else to look except at the man sitting across the table from her. The low light of the restaurant cuts shadows across his cheeks and jaw, the candles on each table flickering in and deepening the hazel of his eyes. The large span of his hand is on full display as he curls his fingers easily around the bottle of wine he ordered, filling Nesta’s glass before he fills his own.

“You never answered my question,” Cassian tells her, setting the bottle back down. “About the bookstore.”

“I told you, some people enjoy reading. Myself included.”

“Yeah, but I remember Feyre talking about how you went to law school, that you’d be terrorizing courtrooms and making everyone regret going up against you. So, what happened? How do you go from lawyer to bookstore owner?”

The urge to lash out, to make a snapping reply that diverts the conversation, claws up Nesta’s throat. She rarely talks about it, about him. The reason she made the move to Seattle in the first place, leaving a gaping wound as big as the distance between them with her sisters. The reason the dream she thought she had, the dream she swore she always wanted, shattered between her fingers like glass, shards cutting deep and leaving her bloodied. The reason she retreated and fell back into the shadows, that Emerie and Gwyn had to pull her out.

There are days where it all still feels so raw, no matter how much time has passed. Days where a sickening feeling will churn through her gut as soon as she opens her eyes. Days where she can still hear his voice, still feel his hands. Days where the voice in her mind morphs into her own worst thoughts, into her mother’s clipped, cool tone.

“My life fell apart, and I decided to open a bookstore with my friends,” Nesta finally answers with a derisive drawl. “Happy?”

Cassian’s face falls, lips tugging down in a small frown. “What does that mean?”

Nesta doesn’t want his pity. It’s the one thing she hates most, people looking at her with pity in their eyes. As though they feel sorry for her, as though she’s weak. When she finally walked away, finally got out, she swore to herself that she would never be weak again, and she’ll be damned if she starts now.

“Last I checked, I don’t have to tell you my whole life story. I answered your question, did I not?”

“Nes–”

“You get one dinner as part of our bargain, remember? Do you really want to ruin it?”

—

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[superblysubpar]

Happy Friday! Could I request prompt #22 with Steve and shy!reader?

Steve’s mouth trails down your neck, the scent of spearmint on his lips hits your senses as his breath warms your skin. He drags one finger through your folds, a slow and teasing circle on the edge of your clit before he dips lower again. 

“St-Stevie-please, I-” you whine, cut off by a quick kiss as your fingers tug on his collar. 

“Hey.”

Steve smiles against your jaw, fully clothed and eyes roaming over your naked body spread out on your comforter. It should be embarrassing, the way you’re on display for him, but it’s just hot. Your eyes glaze over as you watch his keep devouring you. 

His fingers slip too easily up and down your slit, coating your thighs in more slick as he hums. “She likes it when I take my time with her, huh?”

“Yeah, uh-huh.” Body squirming underneath him as your teeth dig into your bottom lip, nodding frantically - desperate for the burning in your stomach to keep building. You feel crazy, greedy for his fingers to finally give you what you want. 

But not yet - you don’t dare give up this teasing and what it’s doing to you. You need it to last.

“Honey, wake up…”

Your head lolls to the side, eyelids fluttering as you make another sound. Louder, and one that shoots little sparks across his brain, neurons firing and lighting up a very specific spot. 

Jesus fucking christ. 

He knows that sound. Steve Harrington has made other girls make that sound. 

You’re having a sex dream. 

“Steve.” Your hips shift and roll against the couch you’re draped across, his name leaves your lips clearer than the first time he only thought he heard it. Your forehead wrinkles and your lips form a soft pout. 

Steve’s mouth drops open, his grip on the paper sack of greasy take out and the strawberry shake he brought over as a surprise slipping. 

You’re not just having a sex dream. You’re having a sex dream about him. 

Steve’s tongue licks over his bottom lip and he takes a deep, calming breath through his nose, eyes roaming over your figure. Your little cotton sleep shorts and a ratty band tee he’s seen you in hundreds of times seem teasing, cruel, fucking downright sinful now. 

It’s not like looking at you this way is like, uncharted territory, he is a man with eyeballs and a dick who really likes that one top you wear. Sue him for maybe having your face creep into his thoughts a handful of times while he’s jerked himself off. It’s not that weird for your best friend to turn you on occasionally.

His head tilts as you sigh in your sleep, his cock straining in his jeans. 

Okay, maybe a little more than occasionally. 

He curses under his breath when your hips roll again, squeezing his eyes shut. 

What does he do? Keep watching you? No, Harrington, that is so pervy. Think with your brain and not your dick.

 Leave the food and run home and replay this moment in his head forever in the privacy of his bedroom? Yeah, that’s a better idea. 

“Steve?”

Your best friend’s eyes shoot open, a strawberry milkshake in his hand coating it in condensation and you avert your eyes, looking back up at his face quickly. You’re disgusting, thinking about his wet fingers in your dream - pull it together. 

“He-” he clears his throat and looks down, deepening his voice, “Hey. Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Oh, um, that’s okay. You brought me food?” You sit up and pull your legs to your chest, suddenly aware that you definitely got more than a little aroused while sleeping. 

Steve sucks in his breath at the way your shorts reveal the start of the curve of your ass and looks up at the ceiling then the doorway, praying you can’t see his erection. “Uh, yeah. You said you had a bad day yesterday.”

“That’s really sweet, wanna eat with me? We can watch a movie or something?” Dropping your legs back down, you preoccupy yourself with finding the remote, body heating up as his weight makes the couch bounce when he sits next to you.

Right next to you. 

His thigh brushes the bare skin of yours, your shorts ride up slightly and Steve’s eyes track the fabric’s movement slowly, wishing he was wearing only his boxers so he could feel his skin against yours, stupid fucking jeans, why is he wearing-

“Steve?”

Your question derails his thoughts, and he turns his head, almost smacking his nose against yours. “Oh, shit, sorry, I’m…kind of close, huh?”

He doesn’t move away though, and you watch his adams apple bob, watch his eyes move slowly over your face until they meet yours. His voice comes out in a soft murmur, “I can…”

Maybe dream you is still occupying your brain, taken over, you’re not quite fully awake or something, because no way in hell would you normally have the confidence to do what you do next. 

Your lips brush his, parting over his top one in a short and over too fast kiss. You barely feel it, you want more. But you’re an idiot who just sort of kissed her best friend. 

Steve’s heart is thumping in his ears, he’s not sure he’s ever been more nervous in his entire life. He’s kissed loads of girls. He knows what he’s doing, he really does. But before his brain can sort out what’s happening, you’re already pulling away. 

“So-sorry,” you stutter, eyes going wide. 

He drops the food and shake on the coffee table, hand reaching towards your jaw, cold fingers cupping it as he pulls you back in. Steve’s mouth moves over yours patiently, like he’s tasting and memorizing. Softer than you expected, plush and warm, and so so so slow. His thumb brushes across your cheek, buzzes of electricity jolt through you, your stomach flips, your arms have goosebumps forming. 

Holy shit you’re kissing your best friend. 

Steve tries to relax, he wants to remember this, this isn’t like kissing other girls. He wants to take his time, but your lips fit with his like no one else's, his stomach is doing this thing that he can’t even explain and he almost busts in his jeans when you make a little gasp into his mouth when his tongue licks over your top lip. 

Holy fuck. 

Your fingers tug around his collar, soft cotton under the pads as you pull him even closer and Steve’s fingers curl around your chin, tugging down with his thumb so you open more for him. His other palm lands on your hip, and he actually can’t keep it still. He wants to map you out with his fingers and tongue, trace every curve and dip. His hand curls around your back, taking the hem of your shirt with a finger and now his skin touches yours. 

You pant against his mouth in an attempt for air but you can’t stay away, lips meeting again as your noses squish harder together. His tongue flicks against yours as his hand moves up your spine. Heated skin that reacts to his touch, your body actually shivers as his hand moves higher and his tongue works over yours a little messy and more than a little dirty.  

When Steve meets nothing the higher and higher he climbs on your skin his eyelids flutter and he gasps, “Are you, you’re not wearing-fuck.”

You laugh into his lips, and it’s like the sound pulls him back like a magnet. He hasn’t made out with someone like this since he was 16. Actually, he’s never made out with someone like this. He falls backwards on the couch, stretched out across it, taking you with him. Lips parting over yours as he squeezes at your sides, not daring to touch your boobs yet, sliding back down to your hips which you roll against him and he sees stars. 

When you breathe his name into his lips, gasping when the denim of his jeans hits you in just the right spot, you remember your dream and this isn’t it. This is real. This is your best friend.

“We, we should slow down,” you pull away, gasping for air. 

Steve squeezes his eyes shut, tongue licking over swollen and tinted red lips as he nods. “Yeah, yeah, okay.”

You hold yourself up, palms flat to the cushion on either side of his head, but your hips remain pressed to his, swearing you feel the bulge beneath you twitch. Both of your chests heave in attempts for deeper breaths and when he opens his eyes, your body heats up under his stare. 

Golden eyes taken over by his blown out pupils and you clear your throat, embarrassed you came onto him so aggressively after years of friendship. You try to ignore the ache in your stomach as he reaches up and tugs on your chin. Steve kisses you once, just a sweet and soft kiss, before his forehead knocks to yours and he wraps his arms around you in a hug with a groan. 

“Okay, I-I know we should slow down. We should talk about this.” He kisses your temple, your jaw, moving to your neck because he really, truly can’t keep his hands or lips off of you. Years of repressed feelings and what if’s bursting out of him. You hum an agreement and your hips roll again and he groans into your neck, his scruff scratching and tickling you as he gasps out, “But, um, I need to, fuck, promise you won’t laugh?”

Steve takes your silence as agreement and he speaks into the sweat kissed skin of your neck, inhaling your perfume he wants to fall inside of the bottle of and drown, squeezing his eyes closed, “I gotta go jerk off or something cause I think I’m gonna be in actual physical pain if I don’t.”

Your laughter shakes over his whole body and he has to ignore how the movement sends another wave of euphoria through him straight to his dick. He squeezes you, fingers digging into your ribs, making you laugh more as he accuses and whines, “You said you wouldn’t laugh!”

You push yourself up again with your palms, eyes sparkling, “I did not! I said literally nothing.”

He narrows his eyes and yours soften as you kiss him again, sighing long and heavy before you pull away. You nod and clear your throat, “Okay, but really, if you need to…”

Steve’s tongue licks out over his lip again, eyes bouncing between yours as he rubs his palm up your spine. You watch his cheeks begin to twinge pink, and then his ears so you ask, “What?”

He clears his throat and looks at your lips instead of your eyes, still rubbing up and down your back. “Were you, uh, having a sex dream earlier? About me?”

You try to fold in on yourself, tucking your chin down, trying to curl and hide away forever. How does he know?

Two of his fingers tap on the bottom of your chin, lifting it, his voice soft, “Hey, come on, talk to me.”

Unable to form words, you only nod, peeking one eye open and his cheeks flush darker. Steve’s hands move from your back to your arms still propping you up, rubbing up and down them as his hips flex, still painfully hard. “Have you, um, thought about…this, that, a lot? Like you and me?”

“Yeah,” the word is quieter than a breath and if your face weren’t right in front of him he may not have heard it. 

He nods and rolls his hips against yours, fighting a smile when your eyes flutter again. You watch his eyes continue to travel over your face, dark pupils still at the forefront as his voice drops into something raspier, gruff, deep from his chest after his neck extends and he clears his throat, “Have you…have you thought about me while touching yourself?”

“Steve,” you’re not sure if it comes out more as a scolding, embarrassed word, or more a plea for him to keep talking like that. 

Your entire body is on fire as he swallows loud enough for you to hear, hand moving up your neck and cupping your jaw again. Both of your bodies slide against one another as each of your breathing picks up again. His lips part over yours, other hand curling around the back of your neck. He breaks the kiss though and speaks against them before returning their movement. 

“Will you touch yourself? Show me how you do it?”

He nips at your bottom lip when you gasp at the question. You never thought Steve would be talking to you like this, not like the dreams you’ve had, not like what you imagine when you do exactly what he’s asking you to. 

His nose skims over your jaw when you don’t move away, when you don’t say no. His stomach flipping as he speaks quietly, “I wanna take my time, but I literally am gonna explode and if you didn’t finish in your dream I was just thinking-”

“Yes.”

[femscottlang]

Flustered- part one

Summary; After being recommended by Garcia to be the next technical analyst for the BAU, You find your ability to keep your personal and work life separate becoming increasingly more difficult. Your charming boss is not helping either. Your attempts to not show your affection towards her leads Emily to believe that you dislike her. 

AN; this is some serious idiots to lovers, misinterpretation shit (aka my favorite trope). Not canon for the sake of plot. 

Word count 1.5k

You had gotten through the first couple of weeks of the new job without a hitch. Of course, there were a couple panicked calls to Penelope when her security was a little too good, but nothing major.

Except for your boss and her indescribable ability to make your brain stop working. 

You stepped out of the elevator and took a moment to smooth over your hair and let out a shuddering breath. This had become a part of your work routine to try and make it through the day without having to hide in your lair until your face cooled down. You walked in, giving your colleagues a soft smile and hello, conveniently avoiding Emily's gaze, as you walked past them into your office where you saw a handful of case files on your desk with a sticky note on them. 

Pick one

You sighed and sat down, pulling the sticky note off and putting it aside. Your breath hitched as you smelled her perfume lingering on the sheet of paper. “Shit…” you muttered, immediately tossing in the trashcan to get it as far away as possible. You put your hands on your cheeks to try and calm the flush. 

After filtering through the cases you landed on a case of people being killed in their sleep by an axe in New Orleans. Selfishly, it was also the furthest away. Anything to gain distance between you and that patchouli perfume which made your heart beat fast enough to power the BAU jet. Emily Prentiss had an innate ability to make you choke up. You had dated plenty of women, mightve even been considered a bit of a player. You were never one to get flustered, until Prentiss. Her voice sent shivers down your spine in the best way possible. 

You shook the image of her out of your head and grabbed the folder and your tablet, walking into the bull pen “Conference room in 10” You said, holding up the wretched manilla sleeve as you went into conference room to display the images on the tv.

Emily leaned against the edge of Terra’s desk, her leg in a boot. She watched you beeline to your office, smiling at everyone except for her. She sighed and leaned her head back “What did I do?” she groaned, lifting her head and looking at terra for comfort. Terra let out a chuckle “I can’t help you here, Prentiss. Sometimes people just don’t like you and you have to live with that” she shrugged

“But she likes all of you! Is it because I'm the boss?” She rubbed her forehead

Her eyes followed you as you walked in and waved the folder “Conference room in 10” and as you walked out, scanning over your blouse and pencil skirt. 

 “She’s stuck with me for this case, I’ll be no help on the field with this boot on my foot” she grumbled as Terra got up and smiled “Maybe dropping that weight on your foot was a sign from god. You can finally bond with the pretty tech girl” she sneered playfully, which earned her a smack on the arm and a push towards the conference room as they made their way over. 

“What do you have for us?” Emily asked as she sat in her chair with a huff. You looked up at her like deer in headlights.

You stammered, fumbling with the remote “w-we have three sets of victims, all killed by being struck by an axe in their sleep. One set is a mother, father and two children, the next is a pregnant woman and her husband and the last is just husband and wife” You explained, flipping through the images while avoiding looking at the television. 

“This is clearly inspired by the Axeman of New Orleans, but this guy is significantly more successful. In the real case, the axeman never managed to kill most of his victims” You explained, looking around the room.

“Many believed that the axeman was a demon and that he was able to shrink, crawl under the doorway and grow back to the size of a normal man.” Spencer chimed in.

You shuddered “no demons please. I can barely deal with evil people let alone the supernatural”

“Oh Techie, don’t tell me you believe in ghosts” Luke chimed in with a laugh.

You frowned “A fear of ghosts is perfectly normal!” You insisted as Emily cut off the bickering “Wheels up in 30. “ She stated before looking at you “I will be staying here, I’m no use to you guys on the field with my boot.” Your eyes went wide “Here?” 

“Is that a problem?” She asked, you shook your head, scurrying back to your room as you prayed she would stay in her office. 

Just as you finished filing away the cases that were not chosen, you heard your door open. You looked up and watched Emily hobble in. You shut the drawer and turned towards the computer, pretending to look busy “What can I do for you, Ma’am?” you asked as calmly as possible.

She frowned as you turned away, pulling up a chair next to you and sitting down “I figured I would join you here, It doesn’t make any sense for us to be in two different rooms and I don’t wanna take you away from your equipment” She smiled at you “I’ve told you this before, you can call me Emily”

You glanced at her and immediately brought your eyes back to the computer “You’re right, it does make more sense.” You ignore her comment, afraid to even let her name come out of your mouth. You two sit in silence for a minute before the phone rang. You answered in faster than you should have.

“What can I do for you, honey bunny?” You asked, silently thanking spencer for calling 

“Uh need you to find who was at the Spotted Cat Jazz Club on Friday night. ” He said, papers shuffling in the background.

“Okay…” you murmured, beginning to type on your computer “do you have anything to help narrow that down? Friday night during spring break in a New Orleans jazz club. An ID scanner, camera footage? Anything? I’m no Garcia” You joked.

“Yeah I am having the club send footage and give you access to the scanner database” Luke interrupted.

“Thank you! I will get back to you as soon as we find anything” you said, hanging up and beginning to dig through the footage and ID numbers for a match as you felt Emily’s eyes burning into you. 

“Why would you say that?” She asked.

“Say what?” You glanced over at her before going back to the computer. She furrowed her eyebrows “That you’re no Garcia. She recommended you, that’s why you were chosen. You have done nothing but prove your abilities time and time again. You’re incredibly talented.” She placed a hand on your wrist.

You froze “Thank you, ma’am. I appreciate it” you said, looking at her thumb rubbing circles on your wrist.

“Why do you refuse to call me Emily?” she asked just as a match appeared on the computer “I have nothing against calling you by your name” You said, calling Luke to avoid this conversation going to a place where you'll have to admit the fact that her name causes your stomach to erupt in butterflies.

“Hey Techie, got anything good?”

“I always do. Willard Ross, arrested for agravated assault with a weapon.” You said, stiffening as Emily leaned in closer “The weapon was an axe…” She muttered.

“I am sending over his information right now” You said, pushing your glasses up.

“What would we do without you? Great work” Tara shouted over Lukes phone.

“I know, Go catch him” you said, hanging up with a smile. You turned towards Emily for the first time today “Good job, tech” she said, patting your shoulder. Your muscles tensed under her touch, yet she did not remove her hand or move away from you “But you didn’t answer my question.”

“I did, I-I have nothing against calling you by your name” You repeated, not daring to look beyond the screen in front of you. 

“Thats not an answer” she paused for a moment and watched your body language. Flushed cheeks, elevated heartrate, stiff, stuttering. A cheshire smile spread across her face. “Call me Emily.” She murmured. 

That was what finally made you spin around to face her, lips parted and eyes wide in shock. Your heart felt like it was pounding out of her chest.

“Did you not hear me? Call. Me. Emily” she persisted 

“Emily” you finally said, barely louder than a whisper. She grinned even wider, patting your cheek “Now was that so hard?” she cooed, rubbing her thumb across your jawbone as you leaned into her touch, closing your eyes “You really aren’t good at answering questions.” she chuckled, letting go of your face and leaning back in her chair.

“Please don’t tease me” You pleaded, turning back to your computer, “I really don’t think I could take it.” you said with a huff, pressing your palms to your face to try to cool down.

“How could I tease you? You’re such a good girl.” She practically purred.

Your breath hitched “Thats- I- Uh” your hands froze, shaking over your keyboard. Your eyes darted around the screen as you felt your chest rise and fall more rapidly “Thats hardly appropriate, Ma’am” You managed to get out. 

“Oh? Then should we finish this conversation at my house tonight?” She asked, tilting her head.

[cafedanslanuit]

SAEYOUNG browses Netflix on the couch while he waits for you to make the popcorn. It's a warm summer night and you have agreed that he will choose the movie while you take care of the snacks. Soon, you discover you are out of Dr Pepper, so you promptly return to the living room to ask him if he wants you to take a quick trip to the store or if he prefers to have one of your soda cans.

The small pops begin echoing in the kitchen, but you don't move from your spot as you observe your lover, dressed in grey shorts and a black tank top. His amber eyes are set on the screen, soft humming leaving his lips as he carefully goes over the different options for tonight.

However, the thing that catches your attention, what made you stop your racks in the first place, is the small chub on his stomach. The fabric of his clothes strains a bit around it, almost as if it doesn't fit anymore, and you wonder how you didn't notice it before, given you've been sharing a bed for a year now.

Slowly, your eyes start tracing the rest of his body. The new rosy tint that dusts his now fuller cheeks. The defined lines that used to run across his biceps, barely noticeable, now replaced by soft skin. The added plush of his thighs, almost inviting, on display thanks to his shorts riling up.

He's healing, you think. Without the crushing weight of being an agent and the need to be able to escape at any time, he can finally rest. He's done with running away, constantly pushing his body to the limit, and eating just enough to see another day.

You walk towards him before you can register and, in a matter of seconds, you've found a place on his lap, your face buried in the crook of his neck as you envelop him with a hug. His chuckle makes his chest gently jump, and you snuggle even closer.

"Hey," he smiles, leaving the remote on the side and returning your hug, just as tight. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," you hum. You take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of his shampoo for a few seconds before you pull yourself away. The moment his eyes meet yours, a smile draws upon your face. "I just love seeing you happy."

He doesn't reply. He knows your words carry more meaning than you're letting on, so he prefers not to ask, even if he appreciates the sentiment behind them. He knows you're right, after all. The last twenty years of his life have felt like fifty, and this long year still feels like a summer vacation that will eventually end.

However, whenever those thoughts come, he pulls you close, just like he's doing now, and focuses on the beating of your heart. More than slow breathing, more than a cold shower, your sole presence always manages to calm him down.

It means you're here. It means it's over.

It's finally over.

a/n: omg mysme content from me? in 2023? you bet &lt;3 the idea came during a convo with @requindeterre, as all good ideas come c: