#wine gift bag ideas | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rebeccccccaaa · 7 months ago

Text

Poker Face!

_______________

Spencer Reid x Reader

:: It’s game night at Rossi’s, a little pasta al dente, poker chips from Emily’s place, and a little too much Italian red wine. Poker after hours becomes a new playing field when you and Spencer decide to finish your game of blackjack back in his place. ::

:: warnings :: smuttt! and super mushy gushy fluff, sex under the influence (both parties drank alcohol), strip poker (kinda you’re playing blackjack), afab!reader, no mention of contraceptives oops...

:: authors’ notes :: i didn’t realize until i finished the story that spencer probably has his own poker set, he’s literally from vegas; anyway thanks for all the love on my last fic too sweet, hope you guys enjoy this one just as much <3

WC~ 3.1 k

________________

“Ok, ok! That’s enough!” Emily shouted, swinging her glass around.

“Careful, Prentiss. This carpet is fine Italian wool. Gifted from my first mother-in-law,” Rossi scolded, Hotch chuckling beside him.

“You guys are relentless,” she continued.

“I can beat him, I know it!” you shouted, your eyes comically wide.

“No shot, sweetheart. Reid is literally banned from every casino in Vegas, you think you can really beat him?” Derek commented.

“I may not be banned from Vegas casinos, but I never lose Blackjack,” you argued.

“Honey, you’ve lost eight games in a row!” JJ shouted, laughing and holding her stomach.

“Nevermind that! I’m gonna beat you Reid, if it's the last thing I do,” you narrowed your eyes playfully at Spencer, who sat as dealer with a giant grin on his face.

“I hate to interrupt this incredibly captivating game of Blackjack, but I’m kicking you out. It's late and an old man’s got to get some rest,” Rossi interrupted, erupting a series of ‘Boo’s’ and groans.

“Come on, come on. Call your DD’s, call your taxi cabs. Or if you want to stay, you can start washing the dishes,” he bargained.

Suddenly, all at once, everyone stood up practically scrambling and giggling like kids to avoid cleaning up. Penelope, Emily, and Derek hopped into a cab and Hotch drove JJ home then himself considering he hadn't anything to drink that night. That left you and Spencer, lingering on the sidewalk nudging each other in a fit of giggles.

“I assume you’re gonna take a cab?” he asked you.

“That’s the plan.”

“So we can share since I don’t live far from you. I’ll walk from your place,” he suggested.

“Oh no, no. Look what I snatched when everyone started leaving,” you pulled out the briefcase of poker chips that Emily had brought for that night out of your tote, “We’re going to your place and finishing what we started.”

“Oh boy, you have no idea how long it's gonna take. We’re gonna be up all night!” Spencer laughed, and you gasped.

“You’re an asshole,” you shoved him, before calling a taxi.

You squeezed in the back of the cab, legs bumping against each other. You felt your skin light up, you’ve always felt a certain way about Spencer. I mean who wouldn’t? Well actually, not a lot of people. You always tried to hide the pangs of jealousy or your faces of reluctance whenever the women you were working with or interviewed on cases would flirt with him, unnecessarily albeit. This happened more often than you care to admit or notice.

You walked into Spencer’s apartment, tossing your bag on the couch before falling to your knees and putting the briefcase on his coffee table. You opened it up and began shuffling the cards, quite intensely to make sure Spencer wasn’t going to cheat. You knew he wasn’t, his brain was too smart, but you did it for confidence instead.

“Do you want anything to drink?” he asked from the kitchen.

“Whatcha you got?” you asked.

“I’ve got a couple of beers, probably a little old. Oh, I still have the bottle of wine that Rossi gave to us for the new year,” he told you.

“Oh! Bring the wine! We’ll drink the beers later,” you winked at him, “Let’s get the fucking party started.”

It was late into the night now. You lost count how many times you’d lost to Spencer already. Just a couple of hours passed, and the wine was almost finished. You and Spencer couldn’t stop laughing and wiggling around. As Spencer shuffled the deck, a request you made him do after every turn, you came up with a devilish idea. One that would definitely get you in trouble should the outcome be anything other than what you would hope.

“Ooh,” you cooed, mischievously.

“What?” Spencer questioned.

“Oh, nothing, just had an idea,” you were smirking, or rather trying really hard not to burst into laughter.

“This can’t be good,” he mumbled, shaking his head.

“Why don’t we spice things up, shall we?”

“No, no way,” Spencer already knew what you were going to say.

“Strip Poker!”

“No!” he shouted, a big smile on his face contradicting his words.

“What, you scared? Scared that suddenly I’m starting to beat you and you’re gonna have to take all your clothes off?” you teased.

“No, I am a gentleman and I’m not gonna sit through watching you take all your clothes to prove a point,” he argued sassily.

“You are way too confident for your own good, Dr. Spencer Reid. You’re just chicken.”

“Ok, fine then. You dealer, or am I?” he asked, pouring the last bit of wine into your cup.

“Why don’t you hit me this time,” you said.

“You got it,” he responded, “Care to shuffle while I grab the beers?”

“Of course. About time we crack those open,” you smiled widely.

Now sitting down, face to face. Staring intensely at each other for a moment, hints of mischief and amusement in both your eyes. As you shuffled the cards well, Spencer couldn’t help notice the way your eyes were practically sparkling in the warm light of his apartment. How soft your skin looked in the light too. He doesn’t know when it happened. If it happened just now, or maybe he’s always felt this way about you.

Maybe it was those times where he felt a little more protective over you than the others on more brutal cases. The feeling of responsibility for you, to guide you, when you first join the team since you were the same age. Or maybe it was when you let him practically talk your ear off about peculiar facts regarding the case you had wrapped up. The small smile of your face knowing he thrived in these moments. The sweet giggle you let out when Morgan and Prentiss groaned knowing he would begin yet another tangent.

Yeah, it was definitely then he realized how special you were and how much he wanted to keep you in his life; in more ways than one.

But in this moment, when you handed him the cards with the most devilish smirk on your face, Spencer felt a wave of avidity, longing for you more than he ever has before. He felt so conflicted about the game you were about to play. He respected you so much and yet craved to see you, to have you, in this very way for so long already. He didn’t know what to do. He dealt the cards however, entertaining the idea, and you tapped the table for cards before taking a big swig of your beer.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, Spencer’s breath hitched.

You took off your earrings first and Spencer quirked an eyebrow.

“What? Were you expecting me to take off my shirt right away?”

“No,” he shrugged before giving you the deck to shuffle again.

“I swear to-” you cursed, pulling off one of your rings this time.

Your shoes came off, then your socks. All your accessories were scattered on the table before you. The last game you stood up unbuttoning your pants. Spencer clenched his jaw, averting his eyes downward as you peeled your pants down your legs. It took quite literally everything in him to not drool over you. You sank back down to the ground, the bottom half of your body shielded by the table and Spencer looked back at you again. He dealt the cards. You asked for a card, and Spencer knew then you would lose. The probability was certain. When he hit Blackjack and you didn’t, Spencer gulped and you sighed in defeat.

Staring boldly at Spencer, you disrobed your last garment that would give you some kind of modesty. Your bra is on full display with nothing else but your pair of underwear. You had a crucial decision to make if you ended up losing again and you were seriously considering that would be the case, the butterflies erupting violently in your belly.

“We don’t have to keep going,” Spencer cleared his throat.

“And why would I do that?” Maybe it was the alcohol in your system that gave you this sudden courage, this seduction. You were starting to have fun seeing Spencer squirming on the couch, the bobbing of his Adam’s apple. You suddenly wanted to egg this round on as long as you can.

“Ok, then,” he muttered, as he dealt the cards, slowly this time.

Spencer had a face down card, assuming it was a value of ten like always, and an eight. You had a seven and a three, you were fucked. You needed an ace and you’d hit blackjack, or you could build up; but that’s risky. Maybe Spencer can go over. You had a chance, you know it. Your chest was moving fast and shallow, but your face was stoic and firm. Spencer on the other hand was antsy; his eyes frantic and his leg bouncing. You knew he was staring at your chest. You planned to use it to your advantage. Was it fair game? Yeah, yeah it was. It wasn’t your fault he was distracted.

“Hit me,” you egged.

“You got it,” he responded.

A five. Fuck.

Spencer hit himself and he drew a seven. Those are bad cards. He most likely went over and you might actually finally beat him.

“One more time, boy wonder,” you snapped. A six. A beautiful six of hearts.

“I stand,” he mutters, probably knowing he lost.

“Let’s see those cards, baby,” you teased.

“You first,” he told you, and placed your cards.

“Blackjack, baby!”

Spencer laid his cards revealing his seven and eight and underneath a nine, he busted; the cards of course. You won, you finally won. You jumped up in celebration, prancing in your undergarments around the room giggling and cheering.

“I did it! I fucking did it! I beat the boy genius, fair and fucking square! You lose Spencer, loser!” you shouted taunting him and he couldn’t help the smile painted in his blushing face; he almost forgot you were prancing around almost naked in the middle of his apartment.

“I- I was distracted,” he shuttered.

“Damn right you were,” you joked, squeezing your breasts to flaunt them in his face.

“It wasn’t fair game,” he bantered.

“It wasn’t fair game, my ass. I won and you lost, and you’re being a sore loser,” you mocked as you walked towards him like a panther, playfulness and seduction dripping from your tongue.

Spencer took the moment you walked near and grabbed your wrist yanking you to stumble into his lap. You were shocked, surprised, a little turned on. You held onto his shoulders, your breathing a little quicker than before. You tried to convince yourself it was from the celebratory dance and not the growing bulge from Spencer that poked you from beneath.

“I told you, I was distracted,” he told you, his hands finding a place at their hips. Fingers caressing delicately the hem of your underwear.

“Blah, blah,” you whispered.

“Don’t give me that.”

“Now, Spence, I believe there is something you have to do, is there not?” you whispered.

“What’s that?” he bantered.

“You lost.”

“Right, unfairly I might add,” he joked.

“If all you’re gonna do is talk, then let me do the honors,” you told him.

“Be my guest.”

Your fingers pulled gently at his tie he wore, pulling over his head and tossing it to the side on the floor. You started unbuttoning his shirt, Spencer staring with heavy eyes at you as you did so.

“I thought we were only taking off one item. We should play another round then if you want my shirt off,” he teased you, bringing his hands to gently hold your wrists.

“Like that’s gonna happen,” you rolled your eyes playfully.

Spencer relaxed against the back of the couch as you unbutton his shirt all the way. You brought your lips down to kiss softly at his collarbones and his shoulder. Moving along his chest to kiss the other side. His hands moved slowly against your hips, fingers sliding between the fabric of your underwear and your skin. Your skin erupted in chills, a tingle running through your spine making your ears feel hot. You dragged your nose along his strong jawline before nipping your teeth playfully against his cheek.

He brought his hands up, fingertips tracing your spine until he reached your bra. He skillfully unhooked it leaving you a bit breathless for just a second but a second too long. You could feel it, without even needing to look at him, to know he had such a teasing smile on his gorgeous face. You wanted nothing more than to kiss it off him.

You shrugged your bra off, tossing behind him giving him a playful wink which made him chuckle. You brought his hands to your breasts as you pulled his head towards you by the back of his neck to kiss him feverishly. Something you both had wanted to do for quite some time now. You wiggled your hips a bit, feeling the prodding against your center, which made Spencer groan lowly in the kiss; his hands squeezing your breasts hard in discomfort.

“Fuck, you’re gonna drive me insane,” he told you.

“Let me say hi to your little friend, Spence. Or do you want to play for that too?” you taunted him.

“God, no. I couldn’t wait a whole other hour for you to beat me again,” he bantered making you scoff and roll your eyes; his hands shot straight to his zipper to pull his pants down just enough for the both of you.

You were practically itching to get your panties off. Standing up suddenly, both you and Spencer reached instinctively to pull them off you, his lips attaching themselves to your soft belly and hips. He freed himself from the constricting fabric of his pants and pulled you down, or rather yanked you to him. You couldn’t help the bubbly laugh that came from you making Spencer smile blissfully.

You bite your lip as you reach between your bodies, lining Spencer up against you perfectly. The warmth radiating from you was driving him crazy. It took everything in him to not suddenly take control and rut his hips against you. You sank slowly down on his length, not so little, you thought yourself.

“Oh jeez, I feel like I could come already,” you gasped, the pressure building in the pit of your stomach felt already overwhelming. Maybe it was the fact you hadn’t had sex in years. You felt starved of this kind of touch, this kind of intimacy. The kind of feeling of Spencer’s cold fingertips touching and gliding across your skin like you were glass. Yeah, that was the feeling you didn’t know you needed, you didn’t realize you craved so much until this very moment.

“I’m a bit embarrassed to admit the same,” he chuckled breathlessly, “If you don’t start moving, I’m not gonna be able to hold myself back any longer.”

You took this as the green light to start rocking your hips back and forth. One hand resting against his cheek and the other stabilizing yourself against the frame of the couch. Spencer’s hands rocked with you, his way of helping and understanding the rhythm you were going. He started, with gaining confidence, to buck his hips into you and that’s when the pleasure began to build. You panted heavily above him, moans every now and then escaping your mouth to echo against the walls of Spencer’s small apartment.

“Shit. You feel so good,” he breathed out, “I thought I’d last longer.”

“Please, please don’t come yet,” you begged; bringing your forehead to his. You could see his skin becoming shiny with sweat, his cheeks flush with redness. Spencer, determined to make you come before him, or at the very least with him, reached between your thighs rubbing fast and swift circles against your clit. Your hips jerked with pleasure and Spencer’s name dripped from your lips like honey.

“Oh, that’s it,” Spencer whispered. His free hand came up and pulled you in a passionate and sloppy kiss. His tongue entwined with your and you moaned wildly as did he. His brain was fuzzy, not that your’s wasn’t also, with the sounds of sex, the rhythm of your hips, the warmth of your slick soaking his fingers.

“I’m close, fuck I’m so close, Spence,” you whined.

“Let go, sweetheart.”

“Ngh!” you moaned loudly. You dipped your head forward resting your forehead in the crook of his neck. Your bodies were so close, your bare chests pressed against each other. You both could feel the other’s breath and slowly you began to match each other’s erratic rhythm the closer you got to your climaxes. You messily pressed your lips against Spencer’s one last time before the wave of electrifying pleasure overcame you.

When you came down from your high, all you could feel and hear in that moment was Spencer. His soft pants brushing your ear, his arms cradling you close, his subtle leg shaking from what you assume was him also coming with you.

“That was really good,” you giggled.

“It really was,” he agreed.

“I’m gonna tell everyone about this,” you whispered wickedly.

“What?” Spencer questioned fearfully.

“I beat you in Blackjack,” you reminded him, making him laugh loudly.

“Give it a rest you would?” he sighed.

“No way. I’m gonna tell everyone. And everyone’s gonna tease you because I beat you fair and square. Unless, you wanna admit that my boobs were distracting you from your card counting tricks,” you teased.

“Alright, you won fair and square,” he smiled blissfully at you, his eyes soft and gentle in the warm light.

You giggled sweetly bringing him in a tender kiss, definitely not for the last time that night. Your bodies were entwined for the rest of the night until the tepid sunrays peaked meekly through the curtains of Spencer’s bedroom window. The two of you sharing giggles between the sheets with his arms embracing you the way they had been all night. Needless to say, blackjack continues to be your favorite poker game. Especially now more than ever.

#criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #mgg fluff #mgg x reader #mgg fanfiction #mgg smut #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

2K notes · View notes

signedkoko · 9 months ago

Text

Signed with Love - Hazbin Cast

What is this? - A valentines gift to my lovely readers! Its valentines/love letters from your favourites 🖤

Series Parts Overlords & SIns - Here! Helluva Cast - Here!

Sup bitch,

Looking for a valentine, cupid told me ur my soulmate, so how about you be mine?

You know I love teasing ya babe, but really, I got a reso for that restaurant you love, I'd tell you what to wear but the less the better.

Lova ya hot stuff

ORIGINAL DICKMASTER

Salutations my lovely doe!

Another opportunity to show my dear just how much I love them, what more could I ask?

I'd offer my cooking, but I know you don't have quite the palette for venison. Instead, I've prepared a private dinner, catered to by a lovely cafe a good friend of mine runs.

I'll be there to get you at half past two,

Hiii ❣

I hope you don't mind me asking but I REALLY wanted to be the one to ask if you'd be my valentine?

I haven't decided what we should do yet, I was thinking rock climbing, or how about a fancy dinner? Ahh I have so many ideas! We can talk about it later!

Thinking of you always,

Charlie (Morningstar, Princess of Hell, Manager of the Hazbin Hotel (now booking!!), potential valentine of you!)

Heya girly,

I'm not one for holidays, but I know you reallllly wanted to try this one out. So! be my valentine?

I'll bring you to that great viewpoint I hang at, maybe show you how I make some of my arsenal. Just dress comfy, it's going to be a lot of moving!

You better be swooning already!

Your favourite 💣

Hey,

I'm thinking this year we could try something new. As stupid as it sounds, will you be my valentine?

I've got a stack of rental movies and one empty ass theatre room. Still sure no one realized we even have one, but what the hell, right? Let me know what you think and we can go pick up some drinks before.

Looking forward to it,

Husker

Hiii ❣

I know you told me not to go crazy this year, but how could I not! So, valentine...

I left a bag with this note, it's got a few outfits for you to pick that will match mine! Just be ready by 6 tonight, we've got a lot of stops. Drinks, dinner, a performance at Ozzie's, and a reserved spot in my bed tonight.

Happy valentines day,

Yours truly

I pray this letter reaches you,

Maybe you don't expect it of me, but you deserve to feel as special as everyone else this valentines.

So, I've got a surprise dinner set up for us this valentines. If you are willing, dress nice for four tomorrow and I can take you for a flight before it. Just don't wear anything that might fall off.

Your angel,

Lt. Lute

Dearest serpentine,

It would be ever so joyous to accompany you this valentines, if that is okay of course!

My egg bois have insisted upon serenading us and treating us to a nice dinner in my war machine. I promise you it is in prim and proper shape for such a day.

Yours sincerely

(Future) Overlord Pentious

Hey hun,

You've talked a lot about valentines recently, and while I know we said we'd overlook it, I feel like you deserve to know how much I love you.

When you get the chance, I've got a bottle of wine and a free night to decide what we want to do. Just swing by after eight?

See ya valentine,

Vaggie

Authors Note - Ahahaha can you tell I don't write Adam much? Either way, part one of the valentines series 🖤 If you don't have a valentine this year, please allow me to be yours! Or let me know which of these folks you'd accept a letter from 🤭

2K notes · View notes

sluttywonwoo · 1 year ago

Note

thinking about ji coming home from the studio hyped as fuck knowing he made another banger and he wants to celebrate but you’re asleep. good thing you told him he can fuck you in your sleep so he does just that. spooning you from behind while he slowly moves in and out and softly caresses your thighs and shoulders so you don’t wake up. hnnng. -💛

they popped the fancy champagne tonight. it was a bottle they had been saving for a special occasion, a gift from someone with more money than they knew what to do with.

the track they’d been working on was far from perfect but it was finished and that was a huge feat in itself. chan, changbin, and jisung had been wrestling with the song for months. they kept pushing it to the back burner, telling themselves they’d save it for the next comeback, the next album, the next single. they would’ve tossed it had all three of them not been convinced it was good. it had the potential to be a title track if they could just figure out what was missing.

well, tonight jisung did just that and they celebrated like one of them had just won the lottery, drinking the sparkling wine out of paper cups from the water dispenser.

“it’s getting late, you should get home if you want to ride that high,” chris advised, giving jisung a knowing look.

the other two producers were well aware of how jisung liked to work off his adrenaline. you called to tell them as much, cursing them out over the phone for making too many good songs because you were tired of waking up sore.

jisung could feel heat creeping up the back of his neck and blossoming on his cheeks but he didn’t try to deny what his leader was implying because they both knew it was true. changbin even threw in an (un)helpful “go easy on her!” as jisung packed his bag and walked out the door, leaving a couple very confused staff members behind.

he was still buzzed when he made it home. he doesn’t drink often so he’s a bit of a lightweight but he stopped in the kitchen and filled a glass with water from the sink in an effort to rehydrate and prevent any hangover symptoms come morning.

the bedroom is dark. the whole house is dark but jisung had been holding out hope that maybe you had just tucked yourself away for the night and were still awake. maybe you were cozy in bed with a book or scrolling through your phone while you waited for him. he had no such luck.

he curses under his breath when he sees you curled up on your side beneath the covers, sighing quietly to himself. you’re even snoring softly. he should’ve asked his driver to go faster… but he didn’t want to stress the guy out. he doesn’t even know how long you’ve been asleep so it might’ve been in vain anyway.

jisung figures he should get ready for bed too so he takes a quick shower and brushes his teeth before slipping back into your room to grab something to sleep in. light from the bathroom spills into the bedroom, illuminating your side of the bed. he couldn’t tell before, but now that he can see you properly he realizes your shoulders are bare.

he blinks a couple of times just to be sure he isn’t seeing things.

jisung is used to you not wearing pants to bed but you usually wear one of his t-shirts because you get kind of cold during the night.

is it possible you’re… completely naked under there? jisung’s dick twitches at the thought.

he’d taken a cold shower in an effort to resolve his… excitement but it didn’t really help. he’s still half-hard and the idea that you’d been waiting for him like this is enough to make even more blood rush to his cock.

he quietly tiptoes over to his own side of the bed where he pulls back the blankets to reveal your sleeping figure.

his breath catches when his suspicions are confirmed. you had in fact, not worn anything to bed.

it had to be a sign, right? you’d talked about it before— several times, actually. your sex drives are pretty equal, which is kind of surprising considering how horny jisung is. but since he’s always working, you don’t get much time to indulge each other in that way. at least, not as much time as you’d like.

a solution you’d offered was sex while one of you was sleeping. jisung immediately agreed to it. he would let you do anything you wanted to him. but he was more hesitant to be the one to initiate when you were sleeping.

he knew it was a fantasy of yours, he knew it was a fantasy of his, it just felt so wrong to take advantage of you when you were unconscious.

but this feels like the perfect opportunity. he was already full of adrenaline and you’re naked in the bed you shared and his cock is starting to ache with how hard he is…

“fuck it.”

he decides against pajamas for the time being and crawls into bed with you. if you’re already naked he might as well be too.

jisung lets out a sigh of relief when you don’t wake up to the movement of the mattress. you shift a bit in your sleep as he gets settled but that’s it.

your warmth draws your boyfriend in, closer and closer until he’s practically spooning you. he’s hardly breathing because he’s scared of waking you up but in order to continue with his plan he has to move you. he starts with a hand on your hip before bringing it down to your knee so that he can part your thighs, pausing when he finds you’re already wet.

fuck, had you fallen asleep touching yourself?

“were your own fingers not enough, baby?” he whispers, condescension dripping from his voice even though you can’t hear a word he’s saying. “don’t worry, i’ll take care of you.”

jisung still wants to make sure you’re stretched enough for him so he slips one finger inside of you, then two. they’re met with little resistance but jisung keeps them in for a little longer, stroking up on that spot that makes you gush.

he works you up but doesn’t push you over the edge because he knows cumming will definitely wake you up. once he’s satisfied with his efforts, he inches even closer to you until his body is flush with yours.

since you fuck in this position all the time, it’s easy for jisung to line himself up and push into you.

he makes a quiet sound of relief when he bottoms out and has to fight the urge to bite and/or kiss your shoulder like he usually would. you let out a little sound of your own and jisung imagines the way your face must be scrunching up as you adjust to the feeling of being full. his hips stutter forward involuntarily at the thought and he freezes… waiting to see if he’s woken you up.

he doesn’t start moving again until your breathing evens out, caressing your thigh with his calloused palm to soothe you as he builds momentum.

it’s a lot slower than the sex you usually have but it’ll definitely be enough for jisung to cum. just the idea of fucking you in your sleep turns him on so much that he’s having trouble holding back even now when he’s barely started.

“so wet for me, baby. need me all the time, huh? even in your dreams.”

“ji?”

fuck, he’d pushed his luck too much with the talking. his mouth was always getting him in trouble.

you try to turn around but jisung holds you in place. “shhh, baby it’s okay. go back to sleep.”

“when did you get home? did you finish the song? ah- what… what are you doing?”

you know what he’s doing, even in your half-awake state. still, you want to hear him say it.

“i’m um… i, do you want me to stop?”

you shake your head and let your eyes fall shut again.

“don’t stop, feels good.”

“thank god,” your boyfriend groans, wrapping his arms around you in a full embrace, relieved that he can touch you as much as he wants to now.

“we finished the song, baby,” he tells you between kisses to your neck. “rushed home to celebrate with you.”

“i’m s-sorry i fell asleep!” you whine.

“nothing to be sorry for, my love. came home and found you all wet and needy… worked out perfectly, wouldn’t you say?”

“i missed you,” is the only response you offer.

“yeah? were you wishing it was me touching you instead of yourself?”

“yes,” you whimper, “couldn’t… couldn’t cum.”

jisung pouts and lets the expression seep into his voice. “poor thing. i bet you were so frustrated.”

“mhm.”

“what about now though, baby? think you can cum for me?”

you nod, almost head butting your boyfriend.

“‘m so close…”

“already?”

“i woke up with your dick inside me, what do you want from me?”

jisung laughs. “sorry, babe. you’re right. should we cum together? do you think you can hold it a little longer?”

“i’ll try,” you promise.

“that’s my girl.”

#answered #anon #lils 💛#stray kids smut #skz smut #han smut #han jisung smut #jisung smut

2K notes · View notes

honeyedmiller · 1 year ago

Text

Birthday Girl | Joel Miller

pairing: fiancé!joel miller x fiancée!f!reader

rating: 18+, minors do not interact

warnings: lots of fluff, sweet fiancé joel, no outbreak, smut (birthday sex heh— f oral receiving, unprotected piv, fingering), joel talks you through it, praise, pet names (baby, darlin’, my love, princess), no use of y/n.

word count: 2.1k

author’s note: so today’s my 25th birthday and this is extremely self-indulgent. i’d love for someone to do this for me on a birthday in the future 🥹 also sorry for any mistakes, it was written rather quickly. this wasn’t revised. hope y’all enjoy <3

synopsis: Joel gives you a sweet surprise on your birthday.

divider by @saradika-graphics 🤍

“Baby. Baby, wake up.” The deep vibrato of Joel’s soft voice woke you, eyebrows pinched together as you slowly blinked open your eyes to wake up.

You mumbled something incoherent and Joel chuckled, knowing you didn’t like to be woken on days you got to sleep in.

“Get up, birthday girl, I have a surprise for you.” Joel kissed your forehead, then your nose, followed by one that lingered on your lips. You smiled against his lips and stretched your arms above your head, stiff joints popping in the process.

“What time is it?”

“It’s nine. I know you like to sleep in a little later, but I have something for you downstairs.”

You blinked your eyes fully awake as they adjusted to the ample rays of sun shining through the curtains in your shared bedroom. Your gaze shifted to Joel and it immediately softened. The man you love more than anything stood before you with a crooked smile on his face and messy bed hair; body adorned with those delicious gray sweats you loved on him so much and a green t-shirt you always thought he looked good in.

Just the sight of him nearly made your mouth water, but you checked yourself to behave as you’d just woken up. He held his hand out for you to take, and your soft digits slotted in his as he helped you up gently from bed. He tugged your hand to follow him downstairs, and you complied easily.

As soon as you got downstairs, you saw rose petals atop the coffee table with two gift bags and a bottle of your favorite wine.

“Joel, baby,” You grin, looking at him. “All for me?”

He chuckles and squeezes your hand. “‘F course, my love. But let’s eat breakfast first.” He pulls you into the kitchen, and a sweet aroma fills your nose. You look down at the island, seeing all of your favorite breakfast foods. Joel even made a plate of chocolate chip pancakes with whipped cream on top in the form of a smiley face.

You get teary-eyed at his sweet gesture, not ever getting used to the idea of someone caring so much for you on your special day. To him it could’ve just meant making breakfast and buying a couple of gifts, but to you, it meant the whole world.

“Thank you so much, Joel. This is so thoughtful.” You wrap your arms around his torso, giving him a chaste kiss.

“I love you, darlin’.”

“I love you too handsome.” You grin up at him, enjoying the intimate moment of being wrapped in his embrace. He moves his hands down to your ass and taps it softly, slightly separating his body from yours.

“Let’s eat breakfast.”

After breakfast, Joel insisted that you opened your presents with a promise that you’d be able to drink your wine in the evening with dinner. You tucked your legs under yourself as you leaned back against the couch, Joel handing you the first gift bag. You smile up at him and thank him, opening it carefully.

You removed the black velvet box tucked inside, opening it to reveal a pretty gold watch with an emerald green face that you’d been wanting for awhile. You gasped in awe, admiring the beautiful piece as you rotated it in your hand.

“It’s so beautiful, Joel. Thank you.” You kiss his cheek, carefully placing the watch back into the box. He hands you the next one and plants a heavy, warm hand on your bare thigh, rubbing circles into your soft skin. You open it up to find a gorgeous lavender lingerie set. The soft lace slides over your fingertips as your eyes spark with something darker, full of desire as you look back up at Joel.

“I love it. Thank you, Joel.” You sit up on your knees to face him, taking his face in both hands as you bring him in for a kiss.

He immediately reciprocates, wrapping his arms around your waist as he coaxes you to lay onto the plush carpet beneath you. You untuck your legs and open them for him so he can easily slot his broad body between them. He deepens the kiss as he cradles the back of your head, his other hand moving underneath his oversized t-shirt you were wearing.

“Y’should wear the set on our honeymoon.” He breathes against you, breaking your lips for a few seconds before reattaching his lips to yours. You didn’t have time to respond so you moved your hands up to his thick curls, giving them a small tug.

His calloused hands travel up until they reach the soft, pillowy flesh of your breasts, squeezing generously as he toys with one nipple between his index finger and thumb. You moan into his mouth, bucking your hips up to feel that he’s already rock hard in his gray sweats.

Arousal was already thick in your panties, and you were dying to be touched by Joel.

“Joel, please.” You whimper, needing his fingers, tongue, cock, anything to ease the ache in your core.

“What the birthday princess wants, she gets.” He teases, nipping your collarbone before sliding his hands up your body to remove his shirt from you. He moves one hand down your sternum, skating his fingertips over your skin. Goosebumps rise at his touch, and he looks down at you with a knowing smirk.

You take your bottom lip between your teeth, pleading with your eyes as best as you can. Joel’s gaze softens as he moves down to kiss you, moving his lips down your body. He makes sure to stop at each of your breasts, swirling his hot tongue around the pert buds before sucking lightly. You moan louder this time, the sensation shooting straight to your core.

“Fuck, Joel.” You’re breathless and soaking, canting your hips up. Joel finally moves down, nipping as he goes, kissing your tummy a few times before moving down to your clothed core. He groans at the dark wet patch he can see through your panties. He runs his knuckle over the soaked fabric, causing your body to jolt slightly at the contact.

Joel chuckles and moves down to kiss your clothed core, sticking his tongue out to lick the lace material. He was driving you crazy with his teasing, eliciting a whimper from your throat. He taps your hips twice, hinting to lift them up for him. You oblige instantly, and he easily slides the material off of your legs before spreading them again, tossing them over his shoulders.

Your glistening heat was met with his gaze, and he looked up at you. You card your fingers through his hair, stopping at the crown of his head. He smiles at you and wastes no more time, moving to give your exposed heat a kiss. You softly moan at the contact, continuing to run your hands through his soft hair.

He pokes his tongue out to lick your folds slowly, teasingly, lovingly. He was taking his time with you, lapping up your arousal at a languid pace. His tongue prodded into your entrance, fucking you slowly with the muscle. The curve of his nose was rubbing against your already sensitive clit as he did so, causing you to tumble toward your climax much faster than you’d anticipated.

Then again, you’d never met any man who could get you off as fast as Joel can. His skillful tongue knew exactly what it took to make you shake with pleasure, mouth constantly willing to praise your body over and over.

You were looking forward to it for the rest of your life.

You gripped his dark curls to signal you were close, still being shy about talking too much during intimate moments like these with him. Joel always tried to coax you, but he knew you and your body so well by now that he could tell you were on your way to an orgasm before you could even make a gesture.

“That’s it, pretty girl, there you go.” Joel coos, replacing his tongue with his fingers as they prodded your entrance. His fingers curled up to hit that sweet spot that drove you absolutely insane.

“J-Joel, god, fuck—”

“I know baby, I know. Feels good doesn’t it?”

Your brain couldn’t even conjure up a coherent sentence, so all you could do was nod desperately. The white hot coil brewing in your core was about to snap, waiting impatiently to take over your whole body with pleasure.

Joel brought his mouth down to your clit and sucked it a few times, finally sending you over the edge. Your legs shook as your cunt spasmed, head fuzzy with euphoria.

“There you go. That’s a good girl, let it all out. I’ve got ya.” Joel smeared his slick lips against your inner thigh, nipping your skin softly. The drag of his scruff had your skin on fire, sensitive to the touch.

It took you a minute to come down from your high, finally catching your breath as you stared at your fiancé with glossy eyes and a fucked-out gaze.

“Want more, baby? Need my cock too?” Joel smirked, that same smug look seeming to be permanent on his face.

“Please,” You croaked out. “Need it so bad. Need you so bad, baby.”

“Usin’ your manners n’ all. I’m all yours, darlin’.” Joel tossed his t-shirt over his head, stripping himself of his sweatpants and boxers as well. He was painfully hard, pre cum seeping from the weeping head of his cock.

Your gaze shifted back up to his as he hovered above you, a soft look in his eyes that made you fall even more in love with him. He placed one hand by your head to steady his arm as he took his other one to stroke himself before lining up with your slick entrance. His eyes flicked back up to yours, and you gave him the smallest of smiles to let him know it was okay.

He slowly slid into you, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, legs mirroring your arms as they wrapped around his torso.

He leaned down to kiss you and you both sighed into each other as he reached the hilt, starting off by slowly rocking his hips. He kept whispering sweet praises in your ear— takin’ me so well, you’re so beautiful, love you so much, can’t wait for you to be my wife.

Your wedding was only a few months away, and the thought of spending forever with your best friend in the whole world meant everything and more to you.

Joel’s head dropped to your shoulder as his pace picked up, breathing ragged as his hips snapped into yours.

“God, you feel so good Joel. No one ever compares to you, my love. Can’t wait to—” You squeeze your eyes shut as you feel your second orgasm slowly start to build. “—Can’t wait to be your wife. Spend the rest of my life with you.” You cry, hands moving to his back as you slide your fingers down to the plush of his ass.

His hips rocked violently into yours at this point, groaning at your words.

“My wife.” He grunts, and the slide of his heavy cock in and out of you at an unforgiving pace had you seeing stars.

“M-husband.” Your words were slurred, absolutely cock drunk on the man pounding into you. That same coil wound up tightly, and Joel could feel you squeezing him. He moved a hand down to your clit, giving you that extra push you needed before you were diving over the edge, orgasm crashing down like waves kissing the shore.

You chanted Joel’s name over and over, clenching around him to bring him to his end. His hips started to stutter, and he leaned down to nip your collarbone with kisses before burying his head in your neck as he reached his high.

His thrusts were sporadic, filling you up with everything he had to offer. He slumped down, cradling your body as if you were a fragile flower in a field of thorns.

Joel always made sure to let you know how much he loved you, even if it wasn’t through words. His actions said more than enough, loving you like you’ve never been loved before.

He kissed the crown of your head as he slipped out of you, catching his breath.

“Happy birthday, my love. I’ll be sure to make this year the most special you’ve had yet.” He squeezed you in his arms as reassurance following his sweet words.

And you, of course, knew that Joel Miller would lay down the whole world at your feet if he could. You had your best friend and lover all in one by your side, and that’s all you could wish for this year, and the many more to come.

tags: @party-hearses ; @ilovepedro ; @bastardmandennis ; @nostalxgic ; @tinygarbage

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagines #joel miller one shot #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #fiance!joel #pedro pascal imagines #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal one shot

1K notes · View notes

evermoreal · 10 months ago

Text

it always leads to you ࿐

pairing: simon riley x reader

genre: dad’s best friend au, fluff, smut, a touch of angst

cw: smut - this is 18+ minors dni, age gap (ghost is in his 40s, reader is in her 20s), fem!reader, reader is implied to be shorter than ghost, unprotected sex (bad idea!!!!!), praise kink (excessive use of ‘good girl’), oral (m & f receiving), face-fucking (he’s gentle abt it), ummmm a man that is Not ghost makes unwanted sexual advances, small mention of blood (someone gets a cut on their forehead). please lmk if i missed anything !!!!!!

summary: coming home for the holidays is both a blessing and a curse — cheesy music, bittersweet nostalgia, and simon riley, your father’s best friend and the man you’ve had a stupidly big crush on for years.

author’s note: hiii!! um a Few things . firstly, i seldom write smut & when i do i never post it. i have put off posting this for so long bc i was so nervous — it was originally meant to be a christmas gift to u guys 😭😭 n e ways we Prevail. also i despite being Obsessed w him i’ve never written for ghost !!!! i want to do soo much more for him & the other cod men, so if u have any reqs/ideas, my asks are always open !!! love u guys soooooo much i hope i enjoy ! 💋💋

word count: 11k (sorry 😭)

credits: title is from tis the damn season by taylor swift, and the beauuuutifullll render/edit of ghost is by user dwisesz on twitter!

before you met him, you’d heard endless stories. for as long as you could remember, your father recounted tales of his friend ‘ghost’ from the army. every time he came back from deployment, there’d be something new — ghost’s snipe from 2,700 meters away, ghost making your dad laugh so hard beer came out of his nose, ghost making a new recruit cry simply by staring at them.

there were others, of course, too; gaz, who your father had quite the soft spot for; john, who quickly became your favourite when you met him a few years ago and he snuck you a sip of wine at dinner; soap, who was new to the team but had enough passion to carry an entire army on his back.

ghost, though — he was your dad’s favourite. though he claimed to be too honourable for favourites, the way your father spoke about him made it clear. a simultaneous respect and affection woven through every recounted story.

it was a shock you didn’t meet him until your freshman year of college. your father and ghost’s leave fell around the same time, and your father had invited him to stay with your family. your father never revealed much about ghost’s history, but you knew it was dark and splattered with blood. he was alone now, and though he claimed he preferred it that way, he’d accepted your father’s invitation.

from your bedroom, you’d heard the front door creak open, and without so much as a breath you were bounding down the stairs, bare feet smacking against the hardwood. your father was in the midst of putting down his bags when you threw your arms around him. “dad!”

he reciprocated immediately, pulling you tightly against him. “hi, honey. i missed you.”

as you pulled back, he patted your head, and you spotted a shadow along the floor. following it toward the still-open door, you found a broad, menacing figure, blocking most of the sunlight. he was nearly as wide as the doorway, and the top of his head just barely made it under the threshold. over his face was hidden by a black balaclava with the faint impression of a skull along the front, faded with age and use. despite the endless stories, you were immediately intimidated, and stepped closer to your father.

your dad squeezed your arm, chuckling. “lieutenant, this is my daughter.”

looking between the two of you, simon took a slow step forward, and extended his hand. his movements were careful, like you were a wild animal he didn’t want to spook.

hesitating briefly, you slipped your hand into his. the warmth of ghost’s hand bled through the gloves he wore as he squeezed yours once. “nice to meet you, sweetheart.”

“it’s nice to meet you, um, mr ghost.” you had to crane your neck to look him in the eye.

a low, raspy chuckle rumbled from his chest, and beneath the balaclava, his eyes creased into tiny half-moons. “just simon is fine, love.”

and, really, he didn’t even give you a chance. there was no warning, no preamble. in an instant, fear ignited into something far more dangerous — attraction.

with a warm stomach, you smiled, and tried your hardest to keep it from growing too wide. “right. um. simon. yes.” you bit your cheek. “i’ve heard a lot about you.”

finally releasing your hand, he murmured, “terrible things, i assume.” his wink was quick and cheeky and certainly wasn’t meant to release a swarm of butterflies in your stomach, and yet . . .

“mostly,” you joked, and beside you, your father laughed. it was a rude awakening — ice water splashed over your silly little daydream. this man was only a few years younger than your father — in no universe would he give you a chance, and in no world should you want him to.

as quickly and as unassumingly as you could, you excused yourself, claiming you were in the middle of packing — which was mostly true. you were due on campus in less than two weeks, and if you didn’t start now, you’d leave it until the night before and end up forgetting something.

initially, you’d dreaded spending two weeks under the same roof as simon. it was a surefire plan to end up embarrassing yourself, because you’d never really been able to act normally around a crush, especially one in the shape of a 6-foot-whatever behemoth. yet, as the days went on, that dread steadily began to lift. despite your school girl crush, simon was easy to talk to. a lot of the time he was quiet, but his eyes never wavered from you, listening intently and humming where it mattered. he was fun, too — he recommended good movies, took you shopping while your father ran errands, taught you the best places to hit a man if one attacked you.

(a picture of simon, dramatically curled up in pain after you’d accidentally kicked him in the balls during a lesson now sits in your phone’s ‘favourites’ folder).

two weeks went by far too quickly, and before you knew it, your dad and simon were lugging your belongings up and into your dorm. not a single bag was left for you — you were tasked with the important duty of telling them what went where. when all was said and done, simon handed you a tiny piece of paper with a ten-digit number scrawled messily across it.

“in case you ever need me,” he explained, warm brown eyes peering at you beneath terribly long lashes. “i know your dad’s always there, but — just in case.”

then, he’d patted your head and squeezed your shoulder, murmuring a, “good luck, kid.”

and, though he was lovely to look at and talk with and exist around, you knew it would never be anything more. no matter how desperately a silly little part of you wished it. he spent time with you because he didn’t have anyone else. never had a daughter or a niece to spoil or playfight with. it was endearing, the way he interacted with you. wholesome and innocent and if that was all you’d ever get, you’d be happy.

— ∘♡༉∘ —

college was a lot. it was simultaneously the best and worst time of your life, passing by at both a snail’s and bullet’s pace. somehow, you ended up halfway through your final year. the holidays had rolled around, leaving you on a train, weaving over the tracks as you made your way back home.

in the years you’d been away, you’d kept in contact with simon. he joined your family for every holiday, and beyond that, you texted him often. sent him photos of your proudest grades, spirit days, or yummy meals. he’d even occasionally text you first, asking how your classes were going, if it was raining there like it was here, if you got home safe on the nights he knew you went out.

the landlord he’d rented his shitty apartment from ended up selling the place and simon had to relocate, finding a place only a few minutes from your dad’s. they loved to bug you, now — sending selfies and videos. to occupy themselves on their offtime, they’d opened a car repair shop together, and it only got worse.

you weren’t supposed to be home until tomorrow, but you were feeling homesick and your bags were already packed. before long, you were stepping out of a taxi, bags in hand, and ambling up to the shop.

the reception area was tiny, sweetly decorated for the holidays and playing some generic christmas station. leaning against the desk was soap, slyly flirting with the blushing woman behind it.

his eyes lit up upon seeing you. “the fuck’re you doin’ ‘ere, lass?” he questioned far too loudly. immediately, you shushed him, and he caught on. “ooh, i love surprises. they’re back in the garage, workin’ away. y’want me t’film it?”

giggling, you shook your head, accepting the quick side hug he gave you. when you slipped through the garage door — opening it bit by bit, never too quickly lest it creak, soap returned to the customer.

the garage was stocked with cars in disrepair and various parts you couldn’t name if your life depended on it. the stench of motor oil, cigar smoke, and antifreeze stung your nose as you made your way over, where simon was wheeled beneath a car, thick thighs flexed inside oil-stained jeans. your father was turned away from you, bent over a shoddy metal table table and observing an array of papers. an ancient radio sat next to them, croaking out a rock song from your childhood.

“one of these days, i’m gonna teach you to use spotify,” you called, voice bouncing off the cement walls and ceiling.

a bang proceeded your words, and in the same instant, your father turned around, exclaiming your name and wrapping you in the world’s tightest bear-hug.

“we were supposed to pick you up tomorrow!” he said, voice muffled to your ears beneath the suffocating squeeze of his arms.

“figured i’d surprise you,” you supplied, stepping back from his grasp once it loosened. immediately after, you were enveloped by simon, who stunk of grease, cheap cologne, and tobacco. you inhaled; it was lovely.

“my favourite college student,” he murmured into the top of your head. “how y’been, trouble?”

when you pulled away, a dark splotch caught your eye. a small but growing patch of blood stained the top of his balaclava, turning the black fabric a murky shade of brown.

“shit! you’re bleeding!” you yelped, stepping away from him and searching your surroundings — there wasn’t much for medical supplies in a garage.

beside you, your dad was laughing; a deep, wheezy sound. “did y’hit your head?”

simon grunted, shooting you a playful glare. “if college doesn’t work out, kid, y’ve got an easy spot on the one-four-one. you’re quiet as a mouse. scared the shit outta me.”

despite yourself, you snorted. “i’ll keep that in mind. d’you guys have any bandaids?”

“there’s some in the office. bottom drawer of my desk,” your father replied, voice tinged with amusement.

“thank you, dad. simon, come. i took a first-aid course in high school.”

obediently, simon followed, keeping just a step behind as you moved through the garage. from his table, your father called, “we’re going out for dinner tonight, don’t make plans!”

“sir yes sir!”

simon and your father’s office was a small room just off the garage. carpeted, with off-white walls and dusty blinds letting in yellowish rays of sunlight. dusty photos hung from the wall; a few of you and your father; the 141; a german shepherd simon adored.

moving to the desk, you bent over and dug through the mountain of junk in the bottom drawer. the box of bandaids was shoved into the corner, bent and creased. simon copied your movements, rounding the desk and sitting on the worn desk chair.

“d’you know if you have anything to clean it with? hydrogen peroxide, saline, any kind of antiseptic?” you questioned, opening the drawer above it, which contained only invoices and a chequebook.

humming, simon stood, moving to the cabinet and pulling out a bottle of whiskey. at the roll of your eyes, he chuckled. “it works, doesn’t it?”

“i suppose it does,” you replied, collecting the fast food napkins you’d spotted while searching for the bandaids. then, after he’d sat once more, you softy placed your fingers at the bottom of simon’s balaclava. “may i?”

whenever simon’s eyes met yours, your breath hitched. every single time. whether it was because of that stupid crush that never went away or because his gaze were simply so intense, like an entire world existed within small pools of deep brown. pulling you in, drowning you. it was impossible to look away.

again, he hummed, granting you permission. gently, you rolled the fabric up, revealing his face inch by inch. this wouldn’t be the first time you’d seen his face — he spent far too much time around you to hide it. he still wore it more often than not, though, and every time he bothered to tug it off, it was like seeing it for the first time. roman nose, full lips, the scar across his brow, the prickly dusting of facial hair along his jaw. it was a shame he hated photographs — you’d frame it if you had any less sanity.

in your distraction, the tension had grown thick, humming in the silence of the room. clearing your throat, you took the whiskey from him, turning it over in your hands. “this stuff is shit.”

his face twisted. “how the hell d’you know what whiskey tastes like?”

snorting, you uncapped the bottle, and began to soak the corner of a napkin. “y’know, riley, i’ve been legal for a while now.”

his lip twitched, forming a crooked smile. “i know. it’s hard not to. y’keep growing. every time i see you, you’re . . .”

he trailed off. placing a gentle hand on his forehead, you tilted his head backward, and began to gently wipe at the cut. “i’m what?”

imperceptibly, he shook his head, careful not to jostle you. “more of a woman.”

you barked a laugh at that, and his smile grew. “more of a woman? what does that mean? i had tits when i met you, simon.”

simon rolled his eyes. “that’s not — what i meant. you’re . . . not a kid. you’re meaner now, for one.”

resuming the cleaning of his wound, you pouted. “mean? you wound me. maybe i’m just not scared of you anymore.”

“no, you’re not mean. always been a sweetheart.” his eyes fluttered shut beneath your ministrations. “you were scared of me?”

you giggled, and placed the bloodied napkin in the trash. then, you dug out a bandaid. “no, not really. nervous, maybe. intimidated.”

“is my handsome face really so daunting?”

this time, your laugh was lacklustre — he’d hit the nail straight on the head. “you’re bigfoot in a skull mask. before you spoke, i was a bit nervous.”

“but you’re not? now?”

peeling the parchment from the back of the bandaid, you met his gaze. “no. why would i be?”

this time, it was simon that looked away. you delicately placed the band-aid over the cut, before he said, “thank you, angel.”

you smiled, and, like you were drunk of the proximity of him, placed a quick, daring kiss to the band-aid. “if i wasn’t such a generous nurse, i’d say you owe me. you’re lucky.”

simon breathed laugh, and if you didn’t know better, you’d think the tops of his cheeks were pink. clenching and unclenching his jaw, he murmured, “lucky indeed.”

— ∘♡༉∘ —

in hindsight, believing your high school friends were capable of growing up was one of your less intelligent ideas. call it boredom or stupidity, but when a few of your old friends invited you out to the bar, you were compelled to accept.

it, unsurprisingly, went dreadfully. the first half of the night was fine — the first round of shots was purchased by one of the sweeter ones. you caught up over murky-coloured cocktails, swapping stories about your new lives and reminiscing over your old ones. the alcohol warmed your skin and loosened your limbs. the night went on and the amount of patrons doubled; you recognized a lot of them from old classes or bus rides or kindergarten friendships.

a boy from high school, one that hadn’t said a single nice thing to you in the entire four years, approached you with something that was supposed to be a smirk. you were polite at first, nodding along to his slurred words, exhaling when he attempted a joke. he dragged a hand over your thigh, and when you shifted away he easily followed. you excused yourself, muttering something about using the restroom, and he took it as an invitation.

“y’like it public, huh? never took you as the type,” he garbled, sliding off the barstool and following your movements. “i like whatever you like, baby.”

“no, i — actually need to pee,” you stated, glancing around the bar for your lost friends. he stared at you for a long minute, eyes narrowing.

“mm, fine. i’ll — i’ll pull up my car, we can head back to my place.”

“no, i—” you began, eyeing his sleazy grin and glazed-over leer. “i don’t want to go home with you. i’m not interested. i’m sorry.”

it takes a few moments for him to wrap his head around your words; each one spelled out across his face as it’s processed. finally, his expression twisted into a sneer.

“should’ve fuckin’ known not to waste my time with you,” he barked, unfocused eyes glaring daggers at you. “once a whore always a whore, huh?”

the most embarrassing part of this was the tears. you didn’t let him see them — too prideful to let them fall before you muttered a “fuck you,” and escaped out the side door.

the night air was freezing, twinged with the sharp bite of early winter. without a jacket or alcohol — you’d sobered up as soon as his hand touched your leg — to warm you, you were left hugging yourself, digging your phone out of your purse.

you could have sobbed when a red battery symbol lights up the screen, before flickering back off, dead. you just might have had you not spotted a pay-phone a few meters away.

there were only a few coins in your purse. had it not been kept for just-in-case situations like these, there would be none at all. shoving a few into the coin slot, you dial the number you’d had memorized from childhood.

it rang several times, wind whistling in your other ear, before your father’s voice stated, “sorry, can’t reach the phone. leave a message.”

a choked sound left your throat. what the hell were you supposed to do? most of your friends had split off into tiny sub-groups, and you were too ashamed to ask any of them for a ride. there was the option of asking a bartender to call a cab, though the idea of that was, for no real reason, profusely embarrassing. then, you remembered the one other phone number you’d memorized.

you don’t really know why — there was no reason for you to remember it, especially over any other phone number. yet, when he’d handed you that crumbled sheet of paper, your eyes had traced over the shapes of the numbers, and for some reason committed them to memory with no further effort.

whatever the reason was, you didn’t feel like questioning it. you were merely thankful you did. with cold fingertips, you pressed the digits into the payphone.

he picked up on the fourth ring. “who’s this?” was the greeting.

“it’s me,” you replied, and you barely were able to finish saying your name before he was cutting you off.

”what’s wrong? are you alright?”

huffing a quiet laugh, you said, “‘m fine, simon. i just—” you sighed, clutching the phone tighter in your hand. “i went out with my friends, an’ i—i’m just not having a good time. i tried to call my dad, but it’s past ten, so he’s passed out. i’m sorry—”

“where are you?” he asked, and there was a rustling in the background.

there were only a few bars in town—he knew immediately where this one was. “i’m on my way, i’ll be there in ten. are you in a safe spot, sweetheart?”

“i’m in a telephone booth. my phone died.”

“of course it did. would you be willing to go in an’ ask the bartender to use the phone?”

“no.”

“alright. okay. just stay on the line with me then, okay? d’you have any extra change, in case y’run outta minutes?”

”yeah. i should be good. i’m—listen, si, i’m really sorry—”

“if i hear that word come outta y’r mouth again we’re gonna have issues,” he said, and you laughed despite yourself. “‘m glad you called. now i’ll get t’see your pretty face.”

a girlish giggle sounded from your chest, and if it weren’t so damn cold, you might’ve been embarrassed. “i hate bars.”

“y’go to the wrong ones,” he replied. “one day i’ll take you out to one of my favourites. show you a decent drink.”

“my drinks are decent,” you argued. there was a whooshing sound on the line, and you panicked. “you’re not driving your motorcycle, are you?”

“didn’t have anything else with me,” he said. “y’got a problem with my harley, trouble?”

“your harley is a death machine.”

simon chuckled. “i’ll drive slow with you.”

“you should be driving slow now.”

another laugh. “i’ll be there in three.”

“simon!” you admonished. “you said ten!”

“that was four minutes ago.”

shaking your head, you said, “your lack of self-preservation should be studied.”

in the few seconds he took to reply, your teeth clacked together, and simon swiftly asked, “are you chattering?”

your lack of response served as one on its own, and he continued, “doll, what’re you wearing in this telephone booth?”

“um,” you started, chewing your bottom lip. “a skirt.”

“and a jacket?”

“uh.”

“christ,” he swore. “your lack of self-preservation should be studied. it’s not even 5° out.”

“jackets are a lot of work to carry around in a bar,” you argued, though you knew it was fruitless. “and i wasn’t really planning on spending any time in a telephone booth.”

“y’should always prepare for the worst,” he stated. “what if i hadn’t picked up, hm?”

“you always pick up.”

for a short moment, the other line was quiet, with only the quiet whoosh of the wind brushing past the speakers. then, “yeah, i do.”

the way he said it — so tenderly, like an admission — had any response dying on your tongue. your heart felt oddly warm, and didn’t quite know what to do with yourself, curling and uncurling the phone cord around your fingers.

“‘m here, trouble,” simon said, saving you from further awkward silence. a headlight glared against the glass of the phone booth, hallowing fingerprints and rain stains. squeaking out an, “okay,” you hung up the phone with a click and stepped out.

he was off his motorcycle already, immediately tugging off his jacket and wrapping it around your shoulders before pulling you against him.

“god, you’re a fuckin’ ice cube, sweetheart,” he said. he held you like that for a while, arms wrapped so tightly around your frame that you worried you’d morph into him. not that you minded — he was warm.

afterwards, simon cupped your cheeks, tilting your head upward as he examined you, as if you were ill or injured. furrowing his brow, he asked, “were you crying?”

you attempted to look away, ashamed, but in his grip it proved futile. “not much.”

“what happened?” he asked, and there was something in his voice, laced in the low rumble of it, that sounded threatening. it wasn’t meant for you, that was clear — he’d never direct anything hostile toward you. before he had even the barest idea of who or what made you cry, he was already furious at it.

“it’s nothing.”

“tell me,” he demanded. then, softer, “please. i just — need to know.”

moving your gaze from a far-off shape in the night towards his, you were unable to keep it from him. “i—this guy. i went to high school with him.”

a spark lit his gaze. “what’d he do?”

for a few breaths, you were quiet, trying to sort the words into something only mildly wrath-inducing. “he wanted, um, to take me home. i didn’t want to. he got upset.”

the spark caught, lighting his gaze into a furious blaze. even beneath the balaclava, you could see his jaw clench. he stepped away from you and set on a warpath toward the bar.

“simon—no,” you yelped, hurrying to catch up with him. it was a difficult task—your shoes weren’t comfortable and his long legs moved swiftly. finally, you caught his leather sleeve in your grasp. “don’t. please, don’t.”

at the sound of your voice, soft and warbled, he stopped, turning to face you once more, and whatever he saw on your face had his eyes softening.

“i don’t want to deal with him any more than i already have,” you said, staring up at him. “i just—i just want to leave. can we go to your house, please? i don’t want to be alone. i don’t want to think.”

the neon bar lights cast strange shadows across your frames, illuminating you in various bright colours as you stood, gazes caught in one another. simon seemed to fight with himself for a moment, fury and something far more tender battling for authority. the latter won out; he exhaled a long breath, hand cupping the back of your head and pulling you into him once more.

“let’s go, yeah?”

you nodded, following with your arm wrapped around his as he led you to the bike. attached to the back was an extra helmet, which he placed atop your head, adjusting it with a heady stare you couldn’t meet. the helmet smelled like pine and tobacco and vanilla and simon — it was everywhere, and you blissfully drowned in it.

when it was to his satisfaction, he tugged his gloves off and pulled them over your fingers. they were large and loose on you, and they were still warm from his skin. afterward, he pulled his own helmet back on, and held a hand out, helping you onto the back of the machine. large hands adjusted your hips, manhandling you into the right position, and it took everything in you not to make some sort of embarrassing squeak.

“okay,” he murmured, bent over your shoulder. “i’m gonna sit on the front here. you’ll have your arms wrapped around my torso, okay? and you’re not gonna let go, at all. yeah?”

you nodded. “mmhmm.”

“i need to hear your words, love.”

meeting his gaze for the briefest second, you repeated, “i won’t let go.”

“good. i won’t too fast with you, but if y’need me to pullover, just let me know, yeah?”

another nod, and this time he gave you a pointed look. “i’ll let you know,” you stated, lips just barely twitching.

with a gloved hand, simon pat your helmet and mounted the bike. after the briefest moment of hesitation, you wrapped your arms around his middle. even through the leather, he was warm; you couldn’t help but burrow a bit further into him. with merely a glance at simon, it was obvious he was built — far more than any other man you knew. to feel it beneath you, though, was an entirely separate thing. he was solid and unyielding but not harsh; a thin layer of fat kept him just soft enough.

“good girl,” he praised, patting the hands you’d entwined in front of his belly. you pressed your eager grin between his shoulders.

the motorcycle rumbled beneath you, and, slowly, he eased the gas, weaving through the tightly-crammed parking lot. just as he was about to exit the lot, he asked, above the exhaust, “you alright?”

“mmhmm,” you hummed, cheek pressed against leather. then, “yes.”

with that, he accelerated onto the road, joining the late-night traffic. the wind whistled in your ears and bit at your exposed legs; you pressed yourself further against him, and his back vibrated with the sound he made in acknowledgment. above, yellowish streetlights warmed the pavement and passing cars. gas stations and markets and various homes passed by in a colourful blur.

at a red light, while you sat still, simon’s hand came down, brushing over your knuckles in slow circles. the movement was featherlight and you wondered if it was unconscious — as soon as it flicked back to green, he moved the hand back to the handles without any acknowledgment.

the ride to his place was closer than it would have been to yours. simon lived in a small, red brick townhouse, far enough from downtown to be quiet, and close enough to access it without any hassle. he could afford better, though he opted for this because ‘it was all he needed.’ a stove to cook on, quiet neighbours, and a bed to sleep in — these were his only requirements.

steering the motorcycle beside the curb, he parked it there, and leaned backward into you. “how was that?” he asked. the world seemed strangely quiet without the hum of the engine.

“fast,” you said lamely, honestly. “not as bad as i thought, but i still prefer cars. they have walls. and heat.”

simon laughed, shaking his head. the sound echoed through his shoulders, which you were still pressed against. “when i get you a jacket i’ll make sure it’s heated.”

the idea of simon purchasing you a leather jacket to ride with him more often — it made your face heat up and your cheeks ache with a restrained grin. you were barely able to get yourself under control before he was sliding off the bike and offering a hand to you. even with his help, maneuvering your way off with mostly-numb legs was a difficult task. you just barely were able to land steady-footed on the pavement. as if simon knew this, he kept a hand on the small of your back as you walked up the steps to his home.

inside, it smelled like simon. pine, english breakfast tea, and something unique to him. the only thing missing was the stench of a cigarette; you knew he refused to smoke inside.

the decorations were minimal yet cozy; it was surprisingly neat. besides the pair he’d just kicked off, the shoes were lined up along the wall. you’d been inside very few times, and never long enough to observe. in the living room, the lamp was still on, bathing the room in warmth. there was a cup of tea on the coffee table, only a few sips left. beside it was a novel you didn’t recognize, dog-eared halfway through.

every detail felt important, like a glimpse into him. had the bar not left you feeling sticky and unkempt, you could have stayed here observing for hours. yet, your shirt felt suffocating across your chest, and the nape of your neck felt sweaty despite the earlier chill.

“um,” you began ungracefully. “do you mind if i use your shower? i feel . . . icky.”

his lips twitched at your choice of words, and he nodded. “yeah. lemme show you the bathroom, sweets.”

following him up the stairs, he directed you to the bathroom, pulling two towels out of his linen-closet. then, he said, “shower’s fuckin’ complicated. too fancy. lemme get it started for you.”

you watched as he ducked in, fiddling with buttons and knobs until steam danced over the glass doors. afterward, he looked back at you, peering at your figure. “that’s not very comfortable.”

you followed his gaze, glancing over your outfit. “well, no.”

he huffed. “i’ll get y’something of mine,” he stated, and made his way toward the door. “i’ll leave it on my bed, yeah? just down the hall. if y’need anything, sweetheart, just shout. i’ll be downstairs.”

giving a soft smile, you nodded and said, “okay. thank you, simon. really.”

“no need. i’d let y’live here if it meant never going to that fuckin’ shitehole again.”

“it wasn’t that bad of a bar.”

he gave you a dead-pan stare. “shite. hole.”

amused, you rolled your eyes, and pushed the door shut. on the other side, you heard a chuckle — the smile that bloomed on your face at the sound was unbidden.

it’d be a lie to say it didn’t feel strange to strip in simon’s house. the fact that only a few walls stood between you sent a strange thrill through you. it was in your best interest to ignore it — your heart and body had incredibly inappropriate reactions to the man, and tonight they seemed to be at an all time high.

he was being kind, nothing else.

once your clothes were peeled off and discarded on the tiled floor, you stepped into the shower. immediately, the warmth enveloped you, melting the tension out of your muscles and washing it away.

simon didn’t have much of a selection when it came to soaps. you were thankful he had a decent face wash, though — at least there were no three-in-ones.

the body wash smelled lovely — that dizzying, woodsy scent native to simon danced alongside the steam in the bathroom as you lathered it across your skin. though it was tempting to stay for longer, you didn’t want to waste too much of his water. you stepped out, and wrapped a shockingly soft towel around your abdomen.

the house was quiet when you stepped out of the restroom, clothes collected in your hands as you padded toward simon’s bedroom. this was the one room you hadn’t yet seen, though you could have predicted quite a bit of it. neat, minimal decorations. a king-sized bed because anything smaller wouldn’t fit him. folded atop were joggers and a sweatshirt.

it wasn’t a surprise you had to roll up the pant legs until they were ridiculously cuffed at the bottom. the sight of yourself in the mirror made you snort; you were drowning in simon’s clothes. butterflies swarmed your tummy, too—you were in his clothes, like you belonged to him. the train of thought was dangerous, you quickly looked away.

exiting his bedroom, you heard a quiet, continuous popping sound. padding down the stairs, you followed it into the kitchen where simon stood, collecting a bit of butter and a salt shaker.

though your steps were quiet, simon’s eyes were on you before you even stepped inside the room. his gaze swept your figure, dwarfed in his clothes, lingering just long enough for you to catch it before he was shifting it away, jaw twitching beneath his balaclava.

after a moment too long, he said, “hey, trouble.” his voice was low. “making popcorn. there’s tea.” he gestured with his chin to the counter where two mugs sat, one of which you’d gifted to him nearly three years ago now. a black cat was painted on the front, a grumpy expression wrinkling it’s little face (“it reminds me of you,” you’d said). in a significantly less interesting mug was your tea, several shades lighter than his black.

“thank you,” you murmured against the lip of the glass, wincing slightly when a sip burned your tongue.

“do you—” he began, taking the popcorn out of the microwave and pouring it into a bowl. “how’s a movie sound?”

you grinned. “it sounds lovely.”

“there’re dvds in the cupboard out there,” he explained, sifting the butter and salt through the popcorn. “take your pick.”

a snort. “why am i not surprised you still use dvds?”

simon raised a brow. “i spend half my life in barracks. netflix is a scam, love.”

“sure,” you said, grinning impishly. “grandpa.”

despite your teasing, his movie collection was vast. a lot of them you hadn’t heard of, though you picked out a familiar one, presenting him with your choice when he joined you in the living room.

“diehard, hm?” he gave a crooked smile. “tis the season, i suppose. you have good taste, sweetheart.”

“i know,” you stated proudly. “but you should keep complimenting me.”

simon huffed a laugh, and placed the disc in the dvd player. “i already feed your ego too much.”

making yourself comfortable on his couch, you agreed, “you really do.” then, when he procured a blanket and draped it across your lap, you snorted. “this isn’t helping.”

placing the popcorn between you, simon tugged off his balaclava and shoved a few pieces in his mouth, saying, “sorry, sweets. can’t help it.” his smile was lopsided and boyish, charming. the tv flickered on, basking the room in a blueish glow, before simon clicked ‘play’ on the movie.

together, you watched the opening scenes of the movie. a few jokes were muttered back and forth, but, other than that and the sounds of the film, it was quiet. the popcorn was delicious, lathered in an unhealthy amount of butter and salt, you shovelled it into your mouth.

the tea, too, was lovely. warm and sweet, and, combined with the comfort of simon’s presence, you were sleepily lulling back into the plush couch. with low eyelids, you tried to make yourself comfortable, manoeuvring your body this way and that. huffing, you stared down at the couch, searching for a decent position, when you spotted simon’s lap.

all muscled and soft, he’d make the perfect pillow. would he mind? you sincerely doubted he would. it was innocent, after all. you simply wanted to relax. the only one it might be awkward for was you, and if you could get past your stupid crush for a single hour, it’d be perfect.

after one more moment of doubt, you stretched yourself out and hesitantly laid your head on simon’s lap. beneath you, he tensed for a moment, and you just about thought you’d fucked everything up before he relaxed back into the couch. a large hand made a home on your back, running soothingly up and down your spine.

laying against simon like this — it was so peaceful. your mind hushed to a low hum as you nestled further into him, eyes trained on the screen. his fingers trailed upward, tracing a pattern on the nape of your neck and returning south.

the movie was entertaining, though you felt yourself slipping into sleep. occasionally, simon’s fingers would slip over a ticklish slip of skin, and you’d shiver, causing him to exhale a chuckle.

slowly, as your mind quieted, so did the sound of the film, until it was an unintelligible mumble. the world started and ended with simon’s thighs beneath your cheek, and his hand against your shoulders.

against your eyelids, the screen was bright, lighting them up uncomfortably. huffing sleepily, you pressed your face into simon’s lap, burrowing further in an attempt to make yourself comfortable. beneath you, something firm prodded against your cheek, and at once you were very awake.

simon, suddenly, stiffened. the hand on your back halted, fingers hovering over your skin before dropping away completely. “oh, fuck—christ, sweetheart, i’m so sorry. i’ll drive you home, okay? or—i’ll call a cab, if you’d rather that—”

“simon.” the word was firm enough to catch his attention, quieting him if only for a moment. your mind swam—a mess of confusion, lust, excitement, and need. when it proved too difficult to sift through, too impossible to cohere, you voiced the one word you could manage:

“please.”

despite the long-forgotten movie being your only source of light, the reaction simon had was the clearest you’d ever seen. his breath hitched, chest rising and falling rapidly. his gaze, so dilated it was almost entirely black, narrowed on your face. it darted between your features, like he was searching for some sort of hidden meaning in your words, like he didn’t quite believe you.

in retaliation, your hand, trembling only slightly, came up and grazed the too-large tent in his trousers. immediately simon’s hand gripped your wrist, squeezing his eyes shut and inhaling sharply.

“kid—” he said then, and the word was wrapped in molten heat. it was gravelly in a way you’d never heard before, a rumble in his chest. goosebumps broke out along your skin. “don’t start something you’ll regret.”

“i’m not,” you stated bravely, daringly. you adjusted your position, only to face him better, and he did not let go of your wrist. you hoped he couldn’t feel the rapid thrum of your pulse beneath his thumb. “please, simon. i want this. i’ve wanted this.”

that snagged on something in his brain; caught his attention and held it. he stared at you, intense as ever. behind his gaze was a dilemma; a war you could only see traces of. after a few suffocatingly long moments spent beneath heavy tension, something won out, and the grip on your wrist loosened.

immediately, with years of want behind your touch, you grazed your hand over his clothed length once more. the breath in your chest stuttered when you grasped it, feeling just how big he was beneath your fingers.

a sound rumbled in simon’s chest; a groan of sorts. exploratorily, you tilted your head down, holding his burning gaze as you brushed your lips over his trousers.

“fuck,” simon cursed, hand grasping the back of your skull. he didn’t push or move you at all; he simply held it there, like he couldn’t bare to not be touching you himself.

the button of his trousers was difficult to undo with shaking hands, but you managed, pulling down his fly barely seconds after. with uneven breaths, you delved beneath the band of his briefs, pulling him up and out of the fabric.

the sight of simon’s cock was enough to get you off on it’s own; too thick for one of your hands to wrap around it, long enough that it bobbed against his shirt as you stared, too entranced for embarrassment. he was uncut, and there was a mound of curly, dirty-blond hair at the base, trimmed just enough to stay out of the way. you exhaled, breath ghosting along his length. the grip simon had on you tightened

again, you looked up at him. simon’s gaze was unwavering, as if looking away was some sin he was too pious to commit. it was then, as he gazed down at you with a burning gaze, that he seemed to read something in your expression. a pleading, a search for guidance. whatever it was, it had him speaking. “go ahead, sweet girl. get y’mouth on me.”

like his words triggered some sort of instinctual response in your body, your mouth was immediately moving. you licked a long, languid stripe from base to tip, revelling in the warm, salty taste. then, your lips wrapped around the head, suckling slightly before descending another inch.

“fuck,” he cursed again, hand moving in soothing circles against the back of your skull. “good fuckin’ girl. such a good listener, aren’t you?“

the words pulled a whimper from your throat. you released his dick for the briefest moment, a string of saliva connecting you, before wrapping your lips around him again, hollowed cheeks taking as much as you could manage. the fact that it was only half was disappointing.

“christ, angel. y’mouth is — heaven. fuck.” the choked sound of his voice only emphasized his point. when you made another noise, something between a whimper and a whine, he chuckled, and said, “like me talking to you like that? telling you how good you are? fuck, y’re so sweet. my sweet girl.”

moaning against him, you attempted to take more. betrayed by your gag reflex, you pulled back, choking, eyes glistening with tears.

simon cooed, hands cupping your jaw and thumb brushing over your cheek, wiping away a tear that’d escaped. “oh, angel, y’don’t need to take so much so fast. you’re doing so well. lemme show you. is that okay? can i help you?”

swallowing the excess drool in your mouth, you nodded, and his eyes crinkled with a smile as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“words, love.” though his voice was soft, it was a command. “thought i taught you this already.”

“please,” you whispered. “show me how,” his face was close enough to see the thin wrinkles around his eyes, the soft dusting of a five o’clock shadow over his jaw. “wanna make you feel good.”

simon’s lips curved before they pressed against yours, all gentle and soft like you’d break if he were any rougher. it was inebriating to be treated so reverently, hands holding your jaw like you were something precious. simon made you feel like you were.

his lips moved languidly. he took control of it easily, guiding your lips with his own. he didn’t escalate it, didn’t shove his tongue into your mouth like so many other boys had. he kissed like he found pleasure in this alone.

arms tangling around his neck, you gently ran your nails over the nape of his neck, where fabric met skin. simon groaned, softly nipping at your bottom lip. you giggled.

as much as you adored this — you’d kiss simon for hours if he’d let you — you were getting impatient. you’d gotten a taste for him, and you were quickly becoming addicted.

when you pulled away, he let you, stare darting between your kiss-swollen lips and glazed-over eyes. he watched your gaze trail back down to his crotch, and chuckled quietly.

“eager thing, aren’t you?” he questioned, leaning in to press one last kiss to the corner of your mouth. “go ahead, trouble.”

you didn’t need to be told twice — keeping your head on his lap, you laid out on your belly, across the couch. his hand found your head again, and this time, he gently guided you forward, allowing your lips to find his cock once more.

“that’s it, love,” he murmured. he had you stay like that for a while, suckling contentedly on the head and lapping your tongue over his slit.

“if y’need to come up for air, tap my thigh, alright?” he instructed. you nodded, before correcting yourself, allowing him to slip from your mouth only to voice, “okay.”

simon exhaled, the sound shaking towards the end as your long laved the underside of the head. “good fuckin’ girl.”

though you’d blown guys before, this — simon — was different. something about him, his scent or the sound of his voice or simply his presence, created a haze that had your mind going cloudy. with your lips wrapped tightly around his cock, your world started and ended with simon riley.

little by little, he inched you down his cock. never too quick and never too much. in that moment, he seemed to know your body better than you. always stopping just before your gag reflex was triggered, just before your limit was reached.

“look at you, breathing outta your nose. you’re a natural.”

your breathy moan vibrated against simon’s cock; his thighs tensed, though he didn’t buck his hips or push you down. he continued his languid pace, inching you down only when you could handle it.

“so good,” he muttered. at this point you’d taken more than half of of him. breathing steadily out of your nose, you used a spare hand to grip the remaining length, pumping it in time with your mouth. “fuck. ah, angel, ‘m gonna cum if you keep tha’ up.”

spurred on, you hollowed your cheeks and took another inch, blinking away tears. his pelvis barely a few centimeters from your nose, now, and with one last deep breath, you swallowed back the rest of his cock.

“fucking christ—!” simon swore, pulling you off of him as gently as he could manage. you sputtered, coughing and sniffling as tears ran freely from your eyes.

“oh, none of that now, love,” he cooed, big hands cradling your jaw as he kissed away your tears.

“did i do something wrong?” you asked. your voice was raw.

“no, no. of course not, love. you could never do anything wrong,” he stated, pressing a lingering kiss to your hairline. then, he chuckled, warm breath ghosting along your skin. “‘m not as young as i used to be, pretty girl. ‘n if i’m finishing tonight, i want it to be in this sweet cunt.” to make his point, he cupped you over your panties, which had become embarrassingly wet over the last bit. sensitive, you whimpered, curling further into him and grinding down. “how’s that sound, hm? y’gonna let me fill y’up?”

vehemently, you nod, gripping the wrist that’d snuck up your skirt for support. “please. yeah, yeah. i want that, si.”

with shaking hands, you gripped the bottom of your top in an attempt to yank it off. swiftly, simon stopped you, one hand large enough to catch the both of yours. “mm-mm. if ‘m gonna fuck you, ‘m gonna do it proper. y’deserve better than a shitty couch, dove.”

in the next breath, you were swept up into simon’s arms, legs wrapped tightly around his torso. a high-pitched squeak escaped you and tapered into a laugh as he carried you up the stairs, towards his bedroom.

“such a gentleman,” you joked, toying with the collar of his shirt.

“i try’,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your palm when it cupped his jaw.

after closing the door behind him, simon gently dropped you on the bed. you giggled as you bounced, bracing yourself on your elbows and looking up at him. for a moment, simon stood, gaze locked on your frame, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.

“fucking hell,” he cursed, finally. “you’re a dream.”

“a dream?” you echoed, grin simpering into a smirk. “y’been dreamin’ about me, riley?”

in a single, fluid motion, simon tugged his shirt off. he was a mass of muscle, age just barely softening his edges. tattoos ran up his arms and across most of his chest, where hair the same shade as his happy trail grew.

“‘course i have,” he answered, like it was obvious. then, he kicked off his slippers and fit himself between your legs, arms bracing himself just inches above you. “making me act like a fucking teenager again, wakin’ up to wet boxers.”

the thought of simon having wet dreams about you made your head spin. dumbly, you blinked up at him, and found yourself unimpressed with the balaclava still covering the upper-half of his face.

“can i?” you asked, voice quiet enough you wondered if he’d even be able to hear it. his small smile, though, gave him away. he nodded.

little by little, you rolled the offending material upward, revealing every mesmerizing inch of his face. tossing it to the side, you took a long moment to admire him: the long blond lashes, the sloping scars, the light spattering of freckles, his crooked nose.

“y’so pretty,” you stated, honestly. rose blossomed across his cheeks and nose, leaving you with a wide grin. simon pressed a kiss behind your ear, though you had a sneaking suspicion it was to hide his face.

“think that’s supposed t’be my line, love,” simon replied, gently nipping your throat. as you giggled, he continued downward, kisses growing sloppier as they reached your collarbones. then, he pulled back, fingers slipping over the hem of your shirt. he met your gaze for a brief second, searching for the permission you’d always give him, and tugged it off.

left in only the lacy scrap the lingerie shop deemed a bra, simon stated openly at you. this time, it was your turn to squirm, hands instinctively reaching to hide your face. easily, he caught your wrists.

“no. no. i wanna see you,” he said, squeezing your arms once. “cover your face and i stop, alright?”

huffing, you kept your hands at your side, and he twitched his lips. afterward, he smoothed large hands across your skin, over your stomach and ribs, cupping your chest. “so gorgeous.” he squeezed. “fuckin’ hate the idea of you going out in somethin’ like this when i’m not with you. no more. if y’wearin’ this, it’s for me, yeah? no one else.”

biting your lip, you nodded, not trusting your voice enough to speak. simon disagreed with your decision, seeing as he pinched your side. “no one else,” you affirmed.

“good girl.” he drew out the words, eyes trained on your chest, before he was reaching behind and unclamping your bra with his fingers. sliding it off, he tossed it haphazardly into the growing pile of clothes on his floor.

simon wasted no time in resuming his assault on your skin, leaving a kiss here and a bite there. he swirled his tongue over your tits, paying special attention to your nipples, playing with one while he had his mouth on the other. little marks littered your saliva-soaked skin when he reached the top of your skirt.

one more glance at you and he was tugging it down, along with the flimsy nylons you’d worn. swiftly, he pressed an open-mouthed kissed to your cloth-covered cunt, easily keeping your hips down when they tried to buck.

the air was cold against your soaked cunt when he peeled back the fabric, pulling it over your ankles and discarding it on the floor. as had become his habit, simon took a moment to admire you. eyes blazing and turning the skin beneath it warm. your hands fisted the blankets as you resisted the urge to cover up.

“so pretty,” he said, moving backward down the bed and climbing off it. then, he tugged you with him, earning a tiny yelp, before kneeling at the end of it. “wanted t’taste you for fucking ever. y’gonna let me, sweetheart? hm? you gonna let me taste your sweet cunt?”

nodding, you squeezed your eyes shut and breathed, “please, simon.”

his fingers, warm and steady, trailed up your thighs, pulling a shiver from you. “spread your legs a little wider for me, baby. there y’go. good.” then, slowly, they inched towards your centre, spreading you open. you didn’t have to look to know he was staring.

all at once, his tongue was on you, licking a long stripe up your folds and over your clit. you moaned embarrassingly loudly, trailing off into a long whine when he didn’t let up. your fingers knitted themselves in his blond waves, tugging as gently as you could manage. he groaned in approval, the sound vibrating through your cunt and sending your back arching.

“fuck! simon,” you yelped. his hands held your legs apart when they attempted to close, overwhelmed by pleasure.

he slipped away from your heat only to say, “keep sayin’ my name.”

whining, you pushed his head back into you, and he chuckled, resuming his ministrations on your cunt. simon was talented with his tongue — something jealous burned you at the thought of how he got so good. the thought was quickly scrubbed from your brain, though, when he flicked the tip of his tongue over your clit, circling it once, twice, before descending again.

“please,” you whined, though you didn’t know what you were asking for. his pace had slowed, now, sloppily making out with your cunt like it was something he could worship. “simon . . . ”

the pleasure was inescapable; your body was torn between grinding down on his mouth and trying to wriggle away from it. it didn’t help that he was doing it so leisurely; tongue moving languidly through your folds and over your clit like it was for his pleasure instead of yours. that thought got you off all the more.

your legs trembled, winding around simon’s head and damn near suffocating him — not that he cared. when you glanced down, he was watching you, nose shiny as it brushed against your clit. simon smirked — you could feel the movement against you.

had you been in any other state, the sound you made as you tumbled over the edge might have embarrassed you. as it was, though, you didn’t have the mind for anything other than pleasure as your back bowed off the bed and your legs tightened around simon’s skull.

he was saying something — you only understood bits of it, but it sounded like a mindless litany of praise. “there you are, there we go. so good, so fucking good.”

he paired each praise with a kiss to your cunt until you were trembling from overstimulation, just pushing past the edge of too much. simon climbed up the bed and pressed wet kisses across your face; when he licked into your mouth and you tasted yourself, you moaned.

“you’re a fuckin’ vision, sweetheart. never knew you’d cum so pretty. y’gonna let me see it again? hm? y’gonna let me fuck you, baby?”

you were nodding before the words were even out of his mouth, snaking your arms around his neck and kissing him deeply. without breaking it for longer than a few seconds, simon moved the two of you further up the bed until your head rested against his surprisingly soft pillows.

simon groaned appreciatively when your nails scraped against his skull. you grinned, and breathed, “you like pain just as much as me.”

simon chuckled, biting your chin. “maybe. when it’s you.”

“what was that you said earlier? something ‘bout feeding my ego?”

another laugh, and he joked, “i’m too far gone, now, i think. i’m just here to serve.”

“prove it.” your lips curved into a lust-drunk smile. “fuck me.”

with one last peck against your lips, simon smirked, and said, “yes ma’am.”

he leaned over you, then, tugging open the creaky drawer to his bedside table and fishing around. “shit.”

“hm?” you hummed, following his gaze to the foil packet between his fingers.

“‘s fuckin’ expired.” simon’s brow furrowed, and he brought the packet closer, squinting. you grabbed it from him, tossing it on the floor.

“i don’t care,” you said, probably stupidly, but the thought of not fucking simon right now had something foul twisting in your belly. “want you.”

running broad hands over your legs, simon gazed down at you, like your expression would say otherwise. you rolled your eyes. “i’m clean. i’m assuming you’re clean, if your condoms are expired.” simon pinched your side, and you giggled. ”please? want you to fuck me, simon.”

simon exhaled, and shook his head, smirking. “yeah?” he asked, fingers trailing over your belly. “y’want me to fuck you? cum in this little cunt?”

“yeah, yeah. please. want that.”

his lips press against yours again, hands continuing their journey downward until he was exploring your sensitive folds. you whimpered, quietly, but simon caught the sound and tutted. “i know, sweets. but i’ve gotta stretch you. don’t wanna hurt you, right? not tonight.”

lubing his fingers up with your slick, he started with his middle, circling your hole before slowly pushing inward. your earlier orgasm had relaxed you already, and he was able to add a second in no time. he explored for a moment, pumping his fingers in and out, curling them upward until he found that spongy spot that had your head rolling back in pleasure.

“there it is,” he said, and though your eyes were squeezed shut, you felt his smirk against your skin; heard it in his voice. “that feel good, pretty?”

the answering nod you gave was shaky and sudden, hands gripping onto his forearm for dear life. “fuck me, si. please—want your cock.”

“i know, i know. one more finger, how about that? then we can give you what you need.”

with a groan, you nodded, and sent him a short glare. he snorted, and muttered, “so impatient.”

“been waiting for fucking years,” you argued, though your point might’ve been lost in the quiver of your voice. “‘m allowed to be a little impatient.”

“years, hm?” his third finger prodded at your entrance. “guess i should hurry, then. poor thing.”

the way you dug your nails into his skin was both in pleasure and retaliation. three thick fingers pumped slowly in and out of you, curling in a way that had your thighs shaking.

finally, he slipped the fingers from you, the whine you gave turning into a moan when he plunged them into his mouth instead, savouring every bit of you. “so fuckin’ sweet.”

when simon’s fat tip ran through your folds, you tensed, and questioned if three fingers would really be enough. “simon . . . ”

though his voice was strained, he stopped, glancing up at you. “yeah, sweetheart?”

“i don’t—” his tip ran over your clit ”—fuck, i don’t know if you’ll fit.”

simon tsked, the hand not controlling his cock coming up to brush the hair out of your face. “don’t gimme that, sweets. you can take it, i know you can.” he kissed your jaw. “i’ll make it fit, yeah? how’s that?”

shakily, you exhaled, meeting his gaze. truly, you didn’t know if it’d wavered from your face all night. his eyes were so sure — you could do nothing but believe him. it’d fit. you nodded.

“yeah, yeah. there’s my girl.” again, his lips were on yours, tongue licking into your mouth. minty toothpaste, tea, and cigarettes overwhelmed your senses as his thick tip pushed inside, swallowing every moan you gave.

when he’d made it a few inches, simon pulled back. “how’s that?” he questioned. “y’okay, lovey? want me to keep going?”

you couldn’t nod fast enough. there was a bit of pain, but the pleasure of the stretch won out easily. tangling your hands in his hair, you yanked simon back down for a long, messy kiss. really, it was more so a clash of teeth and tongue and heavy breathing than a kiss, but you digress.

by the time simon was fully sheathed inside you, it felt like he was in your fucking lungs. he gave you as much time as you needed to adjust, though the way his fists clenched and unclenched beside your head proved how greatly he wanted to move. digging one of the legs wrapped around him further into his skin, you urged him to.

“fucking christ,” he groaned. simon dropped his head for a moment, hot breath fanning over your neck as he slowly rocked in and out. “y’so fucking tight.”

“m’not tight, you’re just huge,” you argued, a furrow in your brow. simon bit the juncture between your throat and shoulder—you giggled, the sound delirious.

propping himself up on his forearms once more, simon slowly pulled out, leaving only his tip inside of you, before swiftly thrusting back in, setting a harsh, steady pace.

little high-pitched sounds came from your chest with every thrust, cock abusing that spongy spot inside you that lit fireworks behind your eyelids. with the way you were clawing at his back, you’d be surprised if simon didn’t look like he was mauled by a wildcat tomorrow.

“so good. gripping me like a fuckin’ vice. swear it was like you were made for me,” he breathed, teeth grazing over your ear.

sense had long since left you — you only nodded, murmuring back, “for you, f’you.”

maybe the way his cock kissed your cervix would have you cursing tomorrow, maybe the way your back bowed with pleasured tension would have you hunching over in the morning — you didn’t care. right now, your world consisted of simon’s searing brown eyes and the toe-curling pleasure he supplied.

“feels so good.” your words were breathy, punctuated with a tug to his hair.

“yeah?” he questioned, smiling lopsidedly. “good. gonna fucking ruin you. you’ll never be able to take another cock without thinking of me—thinking of how good i made you feel.”

shaking your head, you whines, “no. no one else. only you.”

simon growled, thrusting especially hard as he licked and sucked at your throat. “yeah. you’re mine, aren’t you? my girl.”

“yours,” you nodded. “‘m yours, f’rever.”

simon groaned out a slew of curses, cock twitching inside of you. one hand reached down toy with your clit, making quick, slippery circles. “want you to cum again, baby. ‘m not gonna last much longer and — fuck — i need t’see it again.”

you’d already been dancing along the edge — his thick fingers and raspy words were a harsh push, leaving you dangling by one hand.

your eyes rolled back into your head, and his other hand was swiftly gripping your chin, gently shaking you. “on me, love, keep y’r eyes on me.”

with great effort, you kept your hazy gaze on his face, which was twisted in the effort to stave off his orgasm. you whimpered, and murmured, “say it again. say i’m yours. please.”

“oh, sweetheart,” he groaned, head dipping into the crook of your neck for a moment before finding your eyes again. “you’re mine, ain’t ya? my sweet girl. yeah. an’ i’m yours — always will be.”

the second the words left his mouth, you tumbled over the edge. your entire body shook, curving inward and wrapping itself around simon like it was trying to burrow inside him. in the haze of it, you heard simon shout, before warmth was spilling inside your cunt, filling you up to the fucking brim. if simon wasn’t simon, you were sure the grip you had on him would’ve broken something by now.

when you came back to, the world was quiet — soft breathing echoed through your ears, his and yours indistinguishable from each other. simon’s head was buried in your neck, the weight of him just bridging the edge of uncomfortable. it was bliss.

eventually, he rolled over, cock pulling out with an equally disgusting and enticing squelch. his spend leaked out of you, dirtying his sheets. neither of you minded, it seemed — he easily pulled you across his chest, pressing his lips to your warm forehead.

“y’with me, lovie?” his voice was barely more than a murmur.

you hummed, hand moving upward to trace over his sweat-soaked chest. “i think so.”

a quiet laugh vibrated in his chest, breath dancing across your face. you smiled in turn, crooking your neck to gaze at him. keeping in theme with the rest of the night, simon was already staring at you — his eyes seemed to shine when they found yours, and his lips curled up in a rare smile. you were met with the embarrassing urge to take a picture.

“you’re a mess,” he stated, chuckling quietly as his eyes darted across your face and body.

narrowing your eyes, you pinched his pec, and his chuckle became a laugh. “a beautiful mess, sweetheart. ‘s the prettiest you’ve ever looked, i promise.”

you rolled your eyes, and argued, “‘s your fault.” then, attempted to sit up — though his strong grip on your shoulder kept you down. simon frowned. “where d’you think you’re going?”

“i need to pee,” you stated, and he let you up with a huff. “then i need to fucking shower, again.”

simon made a sound. “how ‘bout i run you a bath, hm? lemme do the work.”

smiling softly, you glanced back at him. he took your hand that lingered on his chest and brought it to his mouth, pressing kisses over your knuckles. “that’d be lovely.”

simon stood, and when you looked over him, you smiled. hair mussed, lips swollen, skin glazed in sweat — he was just as much of a mess as you. in a single movement, simon swept you into his arms. with a yelp, you clung to him, and he carried you, bridal-style, into the bathroom.

placing you on the lip of the bathtub, simon left for only a moment to dig through his linen closet, and returned with a wash cloth. after running it under warm water in the sink, he helped you up once more and gently ran it between your legs.

afterward, while you used the restroom, simon ran the bath, using that intoxicating body-wash as bubble bath. spotting his back, which was covered in bright-red scratches, you giggled, feeling only a little bad.

“i’d say sorry for y’back, but really i look no better,” you stated. hickies and bite-marks littered your skin, decorating your neck, chest, and thighs.

snorting, simon moved to look in the mirror, eyes tracing the pinkish abrasions trailing from shoulders to spine. “i’ll wear ‘em with pride.”

once the tub had filled, steam dancing around the mound of bubbles, simon, again, helped you up. his skin was warm, and if the bath wasn’t so enticing, you’d be tempted to stay here, pressed against him.

easily, he lifted you up and into the bath, following you not long afterward. it was a shock he could fit all of his limbs in the tub, even moreso when you could fit between his legs. it was a bit squishy, but you couldn’t have traded it for anything — laying against his chest while his hands ran up and down your body. thighs, stomach, chest, arms — he touched you softly, reverently, lips pressing behind your ear.

“did you mean it?” you asked. the quiet hum of your voice seemed loud in the silence of the room.

“mean what, love?”

swallowing, you played with his fingers, and supplied, “that ‘m yours. that you’re mine.”

simon exhaled, and you could feel the small curve of his lips against the back of your neck. “i meant it.”

675 notes · View notes

augustinewrites · 8 months ago

Text

based on this

your frowning face appears in the mirror as wriothesley fixes his hair for the third time that afternoon, admiring how the gel he’d borrowed from clorinde was surprisingly adept at slicking back his unruly hair.

“we can’t be late,” you remind him, fiddling with the collar of your dress. “father despises tardiness…”

“awe, are you worried i’ll make a bad first impression?” he asks, finally turning to face you. “don’t worry, sweetheart. parents love me. well, maybe not my foster parents. but i’m always a hit with other people’s.”

the comment about his…colourful past goes right over your head. you really are worried. “it’s not you i’m worried about. father can be…intense.”

“i work in a prison. it can’t get more intense than that,” he reminds you, grabbing the gift bag sitting by the door. “besides, once we pull out this bad boy, he’ll be so impressed that he’ll ask me to join you for lunch next week too.”

of course, he had no actual idea if the wine navia had chosen was any good. though his wallet had come back significantly lighter, so that had to mean it was halfway decent.

“wriothesley,” you say, still looking deeply concerned. “you do know that father is–”

“intense, babe. i know,” he sighs, cupping your face in his hands and placing a kiss between your furrowed brows. you try to wriggle out of his hold, but he doesn’t let you, gently keeping your focus on him. “don’t worry, alright? i’ll shake his hand, we’ll talk about safe topics like the weather and how great the aquabus is. i’ll even use my best table manners when the food comes.”

his thumbs gently brush your cheeks as you sigh, shaking your head slightly. “i just really want you two to get along.”

“i can be plenty charming when i need to be,” he says, only letting you go to pull the front door open. “besides, who wouldn’t want a duke as a son-in-law?”

______

business at café lutece is unusually empty today, wriothesley observes. all of the tables are reserved, but remain empty at the height of the lunch rush.

you don’t seem to notice this, fingertips drumming the surface of the table

“quit fidgeting,” wriothesley murmurs, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“i’m just nervous,” you mutter, knee beginning to bounce. wriothesley chuckles, stilling it with a firm hand.

you look up at him, smiling as you place your hand over his. “thanks.”

the waiter comes back with the tea he’d ordered earlier, leaving a teapot and two small jars of sugar and milk. he’s in the middle of pouring you a cup when you suddenly sit up.

“father!”

“oh shit,” the duke mutters, quickly getting on his feet. he glances down at his outfit briefly, making sure his buttons are done up properly and his sleeves are rolled neatly before holding out his hand. “it’s nice to finally meet you–”

wriothesley’s open stance shifts into a protective one, immediately putting himself between you and the knave.

“well, isn’t this sweet,” the harbinger says, clearly more amused than threatened.

wriothesley looks back at you, incredulous. “your father is a fatui harbinger?!”

“all children of the house of the hearth refer to me as such,” she answers, gracefully pulling out and taking a seat across from him. “sit, your grace, and prove to me why you should continue to be allowed to court my child.”

_____

sitting face to face with the knave was equal parts exhilarating and nerve-inducing. exhilarating because she was the knave. skilled in combat and espionage and one of the highest ranking harbingers.

nerve-inducing because she was your father. and as much as he wanted to engage her in a battle of wits and fisticuffs, that was not something one did with their father-in-law.

“i trust business at the fortress is going smoothly, your grace?”

wriothesley casts the harbinger a wary look over his teacup. “you can read about childe’s status in the report i had sent over last week.”

“well, you know better than most that information from inside sources is much more valuable.”

both their gazes drift to you, and you send him an apologetic look.

“oh, relax,” the woman across from him laughs. “i was simply making conversation. since i’m short of time, however, i will make the point of our visit quite brief.”

she leans forward, clasping your hand in hers across the tabletop as she fixes wriothesley with a paragliding glare.

“if you ever hurt my child, or she comes to any harm whilst in your care, there is not a corner of the ocean dark enough for you to hide.”

“father!” you gasp. “you said you wouldn't threaten him.”

it’s almost eerie, how easily the dark expression slips off her visage. “that wasn’t a threat. c'était une promesse.”

#wriothesley x reader #genshin x reader #genshin fluff #wriothesley fluff #genshin x you #fem!reader

990 notes · View notes

reflectionsofacreator · 8 months ago

Text

“You know, it’s generally not the best idea to sneak up on a vigilante. Let alone someone like me,” Red Hood drawled as he rest his hand on his gun holster.

The floating teenager chuckled at him, and it sounded tired. “Yeah, I’m not known for ‘em, sorry.”

He was about the same age as the girl with the undercut, maybe around seventeen to nineteen, and the dark bags on his pale cheeks were highlighted by the glowing toxic green eyes that stared straight at him. A fringe of white hair floated around his head like it was moving through water, just barely hiding how his ears swept up into a point and when he grinned at Jason, all his teeth were pointed. He was wearing a black body suit that Nightwing would be jealous of, with white accents that highlighted his lean, masculine frame.

“You with them?” Hood asked, and jerked his chin in the direction of the van.

“My sisters, yeah,” the guy said with a shrug. The motion seemed a bit wrong somehow, but Jason couldn’t figure out why. “Sorry, I know I should have better manners than this, but things’ve been… uh. Bad. I meant to bring you a gift and ask if they -- if we could stay here, but uhm…”

“A gift.” Red Hood stated, and didn’t move save to cock his head curiously to the side.

Green Eyes rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly and lifted up his other hand in a half shrug. “Sorry, I don’t really have much to offer, and I’m so sorry about messing up the vibes of your haunt. You probably felt us for hours, huh.”

He didn’t react to that, save to let his considering noise drag through his vocoder and render it a staticky, low pitched hum. It unnerved a lot of people, but surprisingly the teen only winced and didn’t look scared.

“Yeahhhh I was kind of afraid of that,” he huffed. “Okay. My name’s Phantom. I promise I’m not trying to mess with your haunt, I’m just… trying to keep an eye on my sisters after everything that happened. Keep em safe, you know? I swear they won’t get into trouble, we just need a place to live.”

“What about you? You going to get into trouble?” Hood asked and shifted his stance to be about ten percent less threatening. It worked, because Phantom brightened, literally his eyes flared, and he looked a bit more at ease.

“Me? Naw, I’m just going to haunt my sisters and that’s it. Won’t get into trouble, I promise.”

“The fuck you mean, haunt your sisters? You some type of ghost or something?” Hood huffed.

Phantom winced.

“The fuck.”

-dry wine rebirth, ch 1

Summary

Learning that the new family of maybe-metas had their dead brother for a ghostly protector was not on Red Hood's bingo sheet, and Jason getting roped into a date with one of the sisters was even less on that damn thing. But something's off with the Nightingales, they're running from something, hiding, and it was the same thing that killed their brother, Jason's sure of it - and Phantom's ominous warning that he might be next is getting under his skin.

Hm. Hm. Yeah no, I don't have a defense for this. I got sucked into this niche little crossover. I dunno how much brainspace this is gonna eat, but have what I've gotten so far.

#dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #danny fenton #jason todd #creator writes #fic: dry wine rebirth #dead on main

572 notes · View notes

artists-ally · 8 months ago

Text

{Confess Your Lust} Reader x Azriel

You all can thank @riddlesb1tch for this. I have no regrets. It's just pure filth, but I know my whores like this 🥰 Rose this is all for you so you're the only one I care about liking it. Hope you all enjoy, title is from this song. highly suggest listening to while reading btw

Word Count: 4,682

Warnings: SMUT. Minor Dom/Sub concepts, bondage, degrading, teasing, orgasm delay/denial, overstimulation, Az is your pretty little good boy and you're gonna let him know ;)

Tagging: @riddlesb1tch @thelov3lybookworm @librafairy @needylilgal022 @bubybubsters @harrystylesfan2686 @justdreamstars @cyrygher @berryzxx @thehighladywrites @xaithings

Summary: Azriel requested a very special birthday present. And who were you to tell him no.

~~~~~~~

“Cassian, as long as I’ve known you, you’ve gotten me a dagger for my birthday.”

“Yup,” he grins.

“You know it’ll never suffice to Truth Teller, right?”

“An Illyrian can hope,” Cassian sighs, a relaxed smile on his face. “I know they all go in a drawer at the bottom of your dresser.”

Azriel rolls his eyes, but thanks his brother anyway. He appreciates them, but they hold no candle to the pretty piece of steel sat on his thigh.

Mor had gifted him a new pair of boots and a matching belt to go with them. They were of sleek leather, polished so well he could see his distorted reflection in the curve of the toe. He might have to set them aside for a special occasion so he doesn’t ruin them with training and missions.

Rhys and Feyre gifted him a custom made weapons display case. It had racks and shelves for all his favorites, as well as drawers for the ones Cassian constantly gifted. It was complete with a throwing pad on the side to practice different strikes as well as a sharpening stone. He’d never admit to anyone but himself, but it made the back of his throat string.

Amren promised him a night out at Rita’s, and coming from her it was quite generous.

Buy my gift… it was something to be shared between my mate and no one else. They didn’t need to know the secret behind the look in my eye. It was waiting at our newly constructed home, just like I promised. Just like he had asked.

“That’s it from us, I don’t see another one here,” Cassian looked around the rubble of discarded bags and decorative paper, not finding any other boxes. “Did Yn already give you hers?”

“No,” I said, sipping my glass of wine. “It’s back at the house. But he already knows what it is.”

“He does?”

“He does?” Azriel furrowed his brows, clearly not remembering the conversation the two of us had several months ago.

Azriel sauntered into the dining hall, hands fisted at his sides, wings tucked in close. “Can I talk to you?”

The sudden spring of worry in his eyes made me put down my book, following him to a nearby couch to sit on.

“What’s up, my love?” I asked tenderly, locking a piece of hair behind his ear.

“If I asked you to do something for me- to me… would you?”

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean, Az,” I cocked my head to the side, getting a better look at his eyes. Those wicked shadows blocked some of his tan skin, so I gently nudged them out of the way.

“I umm- I was thinking that we might change some things up. I’ve had a lot of thoughts about these things and I want them. And I want to see if you could want them too.”

“Okay,” I nodded, waiting for a response.

“I want to try using some toys. On me.”

Well, that is not where I thought this was going to go at all. Utterly shocked, but not opposed to the idea, I asked him to elaborate. And by the Cauldron did he. He went into detail of what he wanted, why he wanted it, how he wanted it… it sounded like a dream come true.

“I’m so happy you told me about this. Yes, I’d be more than happy to fulfill these fantasies with you,” I smiled eagerly. “I promise I’ll make it special for you. Just like you did for me.”

Azriel still didn’t seem to get it, so I flashed a mental image down the bond, watching his brows unfurrow and raise up his face. It was almost ridiculous how far they went up. Nobody else said anything as they watched the interaction.

“Oh.”

“Oh… what? What did she get you?” Rhys prodded his brother, Azriel not breaking our eye contact. I just smirked, winking in his direction before turning back to the wine. Mor spared me a curious glance, but I gave away no details. The others didn’t need to know what happened behind those closed doors.

“Just something to play with later,” Azriel swallowed, throat working down and then back up. Only I would be able to note the change in his scent. “Time for pastries?”

I giggled as he deflected the question and moved onto another topic. It was another hour or so before anyone made a move to leave, but as soon as Cassian rolled out, his hands were all over me.

“Are you being serious?” His hands were cupping my cheeks, a desperate plea to his voice.

“Of course, my shadow. Go on up, get yourself ready. I’ll be up in a little bit, okay? Send word when you’re ready,” I instruct, moving out of his reach to begin cleaning up some of the mess left behind from the small party.

“Won’t you come do it for me?” His strong arms wrapped around me, the soft scent of his wings wafting in the air. “I could really use your help.”

“I thought you wanted me to take control?”

“I do, that’s why I-”

“Didn’t I give you an order?”

“Y-Yes, I just wanted-”

“Then go. Don’t make me ask again, Azriel.”

“Yes my lady,” he obediently replied. I watched him go up the stairs, shadows lingering behind before darting after him. Once I heard the door click softly shut, I continued my work around the living area and the kitchen. I didn’t have any desire to be cleaning, I just needed to build up some tension. For this to work as he wanted to, I needed to do the unpredictable. Which would be really fucking difficult since he is basically progammed to know every turn and corner.

I threw out trash, packed dishes in the sink, scrubbed them clean and put them away. About five minutes ago he sent a shadow curling my way, enticing me up towards the play room. I ignored the urgency of the call, deciding I’ll go when I want to. And he’s just going to have to wait.

Azriel isn’t the most patient creature in this world, that’s for damn sure.

Making him wait this long would be torture.

Precisely how I wanted it to be.

Finally, after another ten-ish minutes of stalling, I make my way upstairs. Purposefully being as loud as I can without stomping up the stairs. My heels click gently across the hard stone. As I near the door, I am hit with a wave of arousal coming from the room. It’s thick and tastes devine on the back of my tongue.

The sight of him sitting in the chair, wings facing me, arms ready and waiting behind his back is a marvelous sight. I can’t help but smile. He looks so pretty.

“I thought you forgot about me,” Azriel said, a smirk in his tone. “Is it time for my present yet?”

“So impatient, all of you Illyrians,” I snorted, rolling my eyes as I made my way to the wall in front of him. Hung up, there were various toys and playthings. All could be used for pleasure or pain, depending on the mood. “You’ll get it when I say you do. Give me your wrists.”

I held the bundle of rope between my palms, stalking back over to Azriel in his chair. As I pass around to where his hands are locked behind his back, I make sure to tell him he’s allowed to safeword if and whenever he needs to.

“I know, my love, thank you. I know you’ll take care of me,” he smiles gently, offering his lips.

“You asked to be overwhelmed, so I’m not going to stop unless you give me the word. I want you begging me to stop, remember? You’ll sound so pathetic and pretty when you whimper,” I smiled sickly sweet, pecking his lips with my own. “Ready?”

He gave a firm nod, hazel eyes locking on my body as I pulled away.

Back at the wall, I open the drawer in the chest, finding those two boxes I hid away weeks ago. How he never found them, I’ll never know, but I’m so glad. One was a vibrating cuff. The other was a dildo.

After taking them out of the box and sanitizing them, I left them there for Az to see, but not to use yet. No, I wanted the anticipation to do the work for me. Rather than giving him what he wanted, I made my way over to him and trailed my fingers around his frame.

Every flick of my finger sent goosebumps slithering across his skin. Up his neck… down his arms. That sensitive place between his wings twitched as I trailed through it, delicately applying pressure on the muscle.

“Fuck, baby you… you can’t tease me like that.”

“I think I can do whatever I want,” I replied. “You are tied up at my mercy, aren’t you?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Good boy,” I smiled, threading my fingers through his thick hair, latching onto his scalp. I pulled to the side, watching his body move with the force. His chest rose and fell, I could feel his heartbeat down the bond. Wicked. Powerful. Anticipating my next move.

I slid into his lap, feeling just how much he needed me through his pants. I leaned just far enough away that he couldn't capture my mouth with his. He tried twice to kiss me, but each time I leaned away, a sick smile on my lips.

Azriel scoffed, “I just wanted a kiss.”

“I know you do, but I didn’t give you permission, did I?” I mocked, leaning in closer and closer. “Your pleasure belongs to me tonight. I decide when you get what you’ve earned. And all you’ve done so far is complain that I haven’t given you anything. That’s not how good boys behave is it?”

I can see the fire in his eyes, those two sides of his personality fighting each other head on. This desire inside him to be taken care of, to be set free by my control versus that blistering need to be in control of everything.

I’ll break him free with my bare hands if I have to.

“Don’t be shy, my shadow. You can say it, it’s okay. No one can hear you besides me. Unless you want everyone to know just how much you need me.”

“I’ll behave,” he recites quickly. “Please.”

“Look at you, begging for it already,” I smirked, standing up from my place in his lap. He groans, cock clearly straining against the fabric covering his legs.

I circle him. Like a predator to its prey. “You look so pretty tied up, my shadow.”

“When I asked you to play with me, I didn’t expect to be tortured.”

“Tortured?” I spun around to see his hazy eyes. “Oh, my sweet love, I haven’t even touched you yet and you’re already begging? Don’t be so pathetic, Azriel. You can take more, can’t you?” I nodded his head for him, fingers fisted in his hair. “Yes you can, good boy.”

I quickly walked around to see his pink cheeks, heated with humiliation. I had no intention of going easy on him the first time.

In a swift motion, I sheathed the blade at his thigh, cutting away his pants, leaving him just in his undershorts. He gasped, eyes going wide as roughly pulled them down his hips. “Y-Yn what are you-”

“Quiet,” I demanded.

Azriel shut his mouth, panting heavily as I fisted his cock in my hand. His head tipped back in pleasure, and I almost let myself enjoy it for a second before I ripped my hand away. Those fierce hazel eyes were back on mine in an instant, silently begging for more. He made a wounded sound when I walked away, grabbing the vibrating cuff from the dresser.

“Let’s play a game, okay? I put this on, and you aren’t going to cum. If you take it like the good boy I know you are, then I’ll give you something else to play with. If you cum… well, you’re just not going to stop.”

Azriel looks genuinely afraid. Like I might break him if I go through with this. I’ve never wanted to break something so badly just to put it back together again.

I kneel in front of him, spreading his knees apart. I can see the generous amount of gel he’s used to work himself open for later. His body is glowing, vibrating with tension. I spit on his dick, enjoying the sight of him flinching as it hits his hot skin.

Being extra agonizing, I blow some cool air on his tip to really watch him jump. I giggle, sliding the cuff over his length. The pale blue color is a stark contrast to his bright red skin. There is a button near the bass to turn it on and to switch the intensity. The gentle purr of the toy comes to life with a quick tap, and Azriel damn near falls out of the chair.

“Relax,” I say, forcing his knees down. I looked up at him, chest unmoving as he held his breath. “Breath Azriel.”

“I- I can-can’t,” he chokes. “Fuck Yn, it’s too much.”

“It’s only on the first setting, you’ll get used to it. In thirty seconds I’m going to put it on the next setting,” I warn, watching the way his body quivers slightly.

My mates eyes are slammed shut, teeth clenched together. His cock gently pulses with the vibe, slick trickling down his shaft in a steady stream. To be a little extra mean, I run my tongue up the length.

“Oh gods Yn…” he pleads, head tossed back. His chest is on display, perfectly cut muscles constricting with every breath.

“You’re being so good, Azriel,” I praise, relishing in the way his body relaxes into the words. “Just a little longer.”

I stand, walking to the corner of the room to the closet. I quietly wheel out the next part of his surprise, setting them aside for when I need them. When I come back, I notice the sheen of sweat lining his chest and torso. It glimmers in the low light, catching at all the right angles.

I stroke my hands up and down his shoulders, working the tense muscles. He relaxes into my body and I travel further. Over his chest, over his abs, down his thighs. When I reach his cock, I press the next button and turn up the intensity.

Az growls. In a way I’ve never heard him before. He curls in on himself, kicking his feet against the floor.

“Don’t act like you don’t love it, Azriel. I know you want to be my good boy and take your birthday present so well. You’re gonna take it until I tell you you’ve had enough.”

“It feels so good,” he moans. His thighs are shaking, his cock flushed almost purple. “M-More.”

“And now you’re begging for it? Gods, Az you are so easy for me. I’m sure if you'd found this before tonight, I would’ve caught you with it, huh? So fucking desperate.” I can’t help but tease him, he makes it so easy. And he is being so good for me, why not give him what he wants? “You asked for more, Azriel.”

I click it up another notch, watching the way it sends shock waves through the muscles in his thighs and abs. He’s open-mouth panting now, unable to take a breath without whining. He starts shaking his head back and forth, eyes blinking rapidly.

“You’re not allowed to cum, Azriel. I didn’t give you permission.”

My reminder makes him sob. “Please, please Yn. Fucking please let me cum. Fuck I-I can’t- Yn I can’t-”

“You’re going to,” I demand, pushing the hair out of his face. “Because I told you to. You wanna make me happy, right? I won’t be happy if you cum. You don’t wanna disappoint me, do you?”

He shakes his head no rapidly, sweat dripping down his face.

“Then don’t cum. It’s not that hard.”

Azriel cries out, the noise coming deep within his chest. He tries to cross his legs to relieve the pressure, but I force them to stay open. He shakes and writhes, wings slanted behind his back in a mess of shadows. He cannot sit still, but I don’t reprimand him for it.

The room is filled with the sound of his harsh breathing and the hum of the vibrator. It’s filled with the scent of his sweat and breath.

“Yn- Yn turn it off.”

“No.”

He curses, a colorful menagerie falling from his wet lips. “Please please please please please please.”

The sound of him begging, truly begging, makes me grin in a sinister way. This is exactly how I wanted him. A whimpering, desperate mess for me to play with.

I turn it off.

Azriel blows out a breath, body still writhing. His cock stands tall, a deep shade of maroon. I know one flick of my tongue would send him over the edge. And having that kind of power over him feels incredible.

After letting him rest for a second, I decide it’s time for some real fun. I pluck the dildo off the dresser and stand in front of Azriel, waiting for him to look up at me. When those hazel eyes meet mine, they’re glassy and full of pleasure. Almost too much. He looks drunk with his cheeks so rosy and ears flaming red. He looks so adorable all fucked out like this.

“Stand,” I commanded, watching the words register on his face.

His knees tremble, but he manages, stretching his taught legs. The sight of him shaking so vividly would normally scare me. But right now it's… it's beautiful. I made him this way, and this ache between my legs couldn't be stronger.

The cup on the end suctions to the metal chair when I place the dildo down. “Sit.”

“Yn-”

“Sit,” I snapped, eyes hardening. Azriel swallowed, looking from me to the chair and back. “Don’t make me ask again. I told you to sit. So sit down. Now.”

He turned back around, standing above the chair. Slowly, incredibly slowly, he lowered himself to the chair. His arms were bulging against the ropes, veins running along his biceps throbbing with his pulse. But he sits. All the way down.

With a proud smile, I drink in the way he sits. It's so rigid. His chest barely moves with his quick breaths. His eyes are screwed shut.

“Azriel,” I taunt, my voice sickly sweet. “What's got you breathing so hard, hmm? Are you in too much pleasure? Does it feel too good?”

His mouth gapes open, but he doesn’t say anything.

“You’re at a loss for words with how good you feel. So fucking pathetic, completely fucked out the first time you’re taking a toy?” I click on the vibrator again, starting at level two. He thrashes, then grunts, tossing his head back. “You can take it. You’ve been such a good boy. You’ve been pleasing me so much, Azriel, did you know that? You’re making me so happy. Keep being a good boy and I’ll let you cum.”

“Yn…” he breathed, head falling back to meet my eyes.

“What do you need, my shadow? More? You want more?” He shakes his head no, but remains silent. “You can do better than a pitiful shake of your head. Tell me what you want, Azriel.”

“Yn… Yn…” he chants, my name a plea of desperation. It's airy and full of need.

“That’s it, baby. Tell me what you need, I promise I’ll give it to you.”

With bleary eyes, he looks at me. “Please let me cum.”

The words are broken and a little slurred, but he told me what he needed. So I’ll give it to him.

“Such a good boy, Azriel. Telling me how much you need to cum. I’ll make sure you do, baby. Just keep taking it for me. You’re doing soooo good.”

I kept talking to him, praising him for how good he’s taking everything I’ve given him. Azriel is babbling and pleading like a total whore. While he drones on and on, I wheel out the surprise I set in the corner. Three long, vertical mirrors are set around him so he can see every angle of his perfect body.

So he can watch himself come undone without me even touching him.

“Azriel, look at me baby,” I commanded. He settles his gaze on me, then the mirrors. “Don’t you think you look so pretty?”

The way his body slumps in the chair sent chills down my spine. He spread his legs, admitting the cuff constricting his cock. Azriel pushes on his toes lightly, bobbing up and down on the dildo. “Fuck I- Yn I look so…so-”

“I want you to keep your eyes locked on the mirror. Don’t look at anything but yourself. This is all for you, take it all in, my shadow. Enjoy watching yourself fall apart for me.”

Azriel nodded.

I circled him slowly, amused at how… delicate he looked despite the harsh reality of his current fate. He was tied up, more vulnerable than ever. And yet he looked so sweet and simple. And devastatingly ruined.

At the first touch to the leathery material of his wings, Azriel jumped. He shouted and swore.

“Relax, Azriel.”

“I can’t handle it when you touch my wings, Yn. I’m not gonna be able to hold on,” Az pleads. I touch him again in the same spot. He shudders and grits his teeth. “Yn please.”

“Eyes on yourself, Azriel.”

With a deep, controlled breath, he pulls his eyes back to the mirrors. As I touch and explore the most sensitive parts of him, he twitches in every direction, effectively screwing himself further on the dildo. I take the curve of my nail and trace a vein running in his wing. Fibers in his muscles seize.

In the mirror, I can see the cuff working nicely. His chest is coated in sweat and it takes all my strength to not run my tongue from the tip of his cock to the base of his throat. Instead, I continue to tease his wings.

Azriel has this one specific spot right at the base of his wing that drives him insane. The moment I begin to move my hand, he begins to moan uncontrollably. He begs and whines and begs again for me to make him come.

“Are you watching yourself, baby?” I ask, locking eyes with him in the mirror. When he nods, eyes cast down at his body, I stroke his wing. Twice. And tears spill down his face.

“F-Fuck Yn I need to cum. I need to cum, fuck PLEASE let me cum please please please,” Azriel chants like I’m a long forgotten god. As if I would be able to grant all his wishes and desires. And it fills me with a fire I’ve never felt before.

“You’ve been such a good boy, Azriel. Go ahead. You can cum, let go.”

The second I gave him permission, he came. His whole body convulsed with the force. His legs and torso shivered, ecstasy pouring out of him with every whine and curse.

“Fuuuucccckkkkk,” he mewls, watching his cum slide down his cock, spreading over his thighs. The cuff keeps vibrating, drawing out his pleasure. “Turn it off turn it off turn it off-”

“Don’t you wanna see how far you can go? You look so pretty when you cum, I could keep watching you forever, my dear. Why don’t you do it again, okay? You’ve earned it, go ahead and cum for me, just once more.”

His whole body is flush, the same beautiful color as his aching cock. He strains against the ropes and for a minute I think he’s going to break free. But he falls slack, a steady wave of whimpers as the cuff continues to drain him. The flow of it never stops.

After a few more seconds to enjoy the show for myself, I turn off the vibrator. I gently slide it off, the majority of his seed landing on my fingers. I make a bog show of licking it off for him.

Azriel is lost in his mind somewhere when I begin to undo the ropes. I massage his shoulders, working blood back into his extremities.

“You did such an amazing job, my love. I am so proud of you, I hope you had as good of a time as I did.”

Azriel stayed quiet, but he nodded his head, gulping down air. He was shaking, but judging by the way the bond felt, he felt nothing but euphoria. I had done exactly what I was asked, and he loved it.

While I kneaded his shoulders, kissing up and down his back, he recovered. While I was strong, I wasn’t strong enough to lift a fully grown Illyrian warrior and carry him to the bathroom. Currently, he’s in no condition to move under his own volition, so we’ll take our time until his strength is restored.

“I love you so much, Az. My beautiful, strong mate. You did such a good job, such a good boy for me.”

“Mmm,” he hummed, a lazy smile on his lips. “Love being your good boy.”

“You are, you did so fucking good Azriel. It was so hot watching you cum like that,” I smiled, kissing his forehead, then his lips when he pursed them to me. “Feeling good enough to get to the bathroom? The tub is waiting, ready for you.”

My mate nodded, “Only if you’ll come in with me.”

Giggling, I slung his arm over my shoulder. “Of course I will. Stand up slowly, take your time. I’ve got you.”

With a few hisses as he stood up off the chair, wings splaying out to help him keep his balance, I guided him to the bathroom. He could stand just… not super well. We stumbled, but made it to the tub in one piece. I left him to climb in as I stripped, adding some salts to the bath.

“I don’t care about that, just get in, my love.”

Illyrians, not known for their extended patience, but they are known for their incredible brutality and bravery.

As well as their wingspans.

Before he could yank me in with my clothes on, I swept them away with a flick of my hand and climbed in. Azriel guided me to sit in his lap, face to face. His warm, scar-flecked hands caressed my body. It wasn’t in a particularly sexual manner, but I was far too turned on to not let a whimper slip. But he didn’t smirk or crack a teasing joke, he just continued to roam my body.

It seemed to calm him, the edges of ecstasy fading away from the bond one strand at a time. His heart rate slowed and that glaze over his eyes faded away.

“Feeling okay?” I asked, stroking my hands up and around the tattoos on his shoulders and chest.

“Mhmm,” he nodded. “Just… wow. My body feels so tingly.”

“Now you know how I feel when you make me cum multiple times.”

Azriel smiled, sending my heart tumbling in my chest. “Guess I should be a bit more gracious with you, shouldn’t I? Considering now you have what you need to retaliate.”

“I think you’d like it if I retaliated,” I grin. “I’m glad you had a good time.”

“Good time? I’ve never felt so satisfied in my whole life. Thank you for giving me that experience.”

I smiled so wide it hurt. “Of course, my shadow. But the next time you want to have a ‘new experience’, don’t hesitate to wait so long to tell me.”

“I promise,” Azriel whispers, cupping both sides of my face with his hands. Our foreheads lean in together. “I love you.”

“I love you more.”

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #azriel #acotar fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel imagine #azriel acotar #azriel x you #smut #acotar smut #azriel smut

640 notes · View notes

readychilledwine · 9 months ago

Note

hi, i’ve recently found your blog + wow, you’re writing is amazing! i have an idea for i would like to request, i hope that’s okay.

reader has just came home from book club w nesta, gwen and emerie at the house of wind. reader is mated to az - they’re been mated for about a few years. still reader has met nesta, reader almost always has her nose in a book - smutty book to be exact. reader is kinda embarrassed by this bc she wasn’t one to read smutty books before meeting nesta. az is starting to question why reader is always so invested in a book or why he has hardly seen reader for the last couple of weeks. az picks up the book reader is currently reading behind reader’s back & starts to get a little jealous maybe? az may confront reader about the book? i’m not to sure about the ending, but i do know az would do something like asking reader what their favorite scene & they could reenact it or something of that nature. i could totally see az teasing reader just a little bit as well.

i love for you to put your own spin on this. thank you 🩷🩷🩷

Book Boyfriend

Summary - Azriel has gotten a little tired of your reading habits.

Warnings - Az is a kind of a dick

A/n - I went the spicy mad Az route, and don't worry. Per Liz tradition, it's open for another part.

Azriel could have burned the damn book in your hands. You hadn't set it down in 3 days.

3 fucking days of you and Nesta curled into each other, drinking Rhysand's expensive wine, reading that stupid thick book.

He knew you loved to read. Books and book related gifts had been his go-to gifts for you since the mating bond snapped 100 years ago. But the obsession since Ness was made was unbearable.

He never had to fight for your attention until now. He felt a shoulder brush his. "Ah, they're in the "We don't want Cassian to know we're reading smut," pose."

Azriel froze, feeling down the bond and trying to get to your end. You had it locked down, but there was a soft blush on your and Nesta's cheeks. "How do you know its smut?"

Cassian sighed. "It's all they read, Azzy. Have you not noticed?"

His shadows darkened. You had hardly kissed or touched him in 3 days in favor of a smut novel? He could show you things, do things, most authors would only think of in their sick dreams.

He felt himself paling under Cassian's gaze. Was he not pleasing you anymore? Was he not performing to your expectations? You always seemed content, spent, and overjoyed when you two had sex.

"I need a fucking drink." Azriel stormed away. Slamming the door to your shared chambers shut. He took on look at the crystal whiskey decanter and decided to drink until you came to the room.

Azriel woke up to soft footsteps and the feeling of a blanket getting laid across him. He heard you sigh, falling into bed, then that faint creak of an unbroken in book spine opening.

Meaning you had a new book. A new smut novel to ignore him with. A new fake boyfriend to imagine between your thighs.

Azriel stood on shaking legs, and he went to bed. Watching as you snapped to book shut and set it on your nightstand title down. "Did I wake you?"

"Yup." He curled into the bed facing away from you. It was childish, but if you weren't happy, you could have just told him instead of replacing him.

When he woke up, raging headache and all, you were gone. But the book wasn't. He reached over and grabbed it, cracking the spine out of spite. 55 chapters in, and Azriel was bored. If he tried to fuck you on a table covered in paint, you'd glare at him about the mess. About getting paint 1000 places you shouldn't.

So why the hell were you reading a book about it?

It was late into the evening when you returned. Azriel had finished the book, marking specific things he wanted to confront you about. He didn't stand as the door opened, didn't greet you as you came in with a few bags. You were all smiles, dolled up in a pretty dress. Your hair was loosely curled, and makeup was done.

"Where the fuck have you been?" It came out as harsh as he expected it to. "I take a week off and you have hardly spent time with me."

He watched you jump, eyes going wide as you took a few steps back. "Nesta wanted to go into town. We lost track of time. I-"

"Lost track of time? Aren't you the female who taught Rhysand how to properly track the stars and sun?" He stalked toward you, book in hand. "Did you two go to find more vitriol like this?" He held it up, watching as your cheeks flushed and you went to reach for it.

"Azriel-"

He lifted it above his head. "You haven't touched me in weeks. You've kissed me maybe once. Hell, yesterday you were content to leave me on the damn couch. I can see why though, you're sitting here getting your needs met by some fictional fae lord instead of me. If you aren't happy anymore just tell me."

Shock hit your face slowly, mind whirling and emotions pouring into him from the bond. "Azriel, it's a book. Not another male."

That wasn't enough for him. "And how many times have you pleasured yourself to this book? Thinking about the main character between your thighs?"

You sighed. "To that one? Not a single time. I haven't gotten to read it and you already damaged the spine." The sadness in your voice made him pause, lowering the book until you could grab it.

You were always so gentle with your books, caring for them and placing them somewhere safe. Bookmarks never sat in them for too long out of fear of damage. He watched you stroke the spine, going to the bookshelf and placing it in the spot it would belong in to match your color based organization.

"Is this really about a book, or is something else going on?" You wouldn't look at him, wouldn't say his name. He could hear the soft tremble. "I'm sorry I made a friend. I'm sorry I've been spending time with Nesta instead of you. But she gets it. She gets how feeling like you don't belong in this family feels," a stab to his chest. "She gets how feeling out of place among you all feels," the stab turning into a gapping wound that had him leaning against the couch. "She gets what it's like to have a mate that is busy and expects you to be here waiting."

You had ripped his heart out. In 100 years, this had never come up. There had never been signs. "Y/n-"

He watched in silence as you held a hand up, moving to grab some clothes and a hair brush. "I'm going to sleep in a guest room tonight. This could have been turned into something beautiful, Az. We could have used these books to inspire fun in our bedroom," your hand ran along that damaged book. "Instead, you disrespected my belongings, accused me of an unthinkable act, and made this about your fragile ego."

You left the room, silence falling in the wake. Azriel stared at the book he had damaged. It was a first edition. A soft shade of blue with swirls of darkness. He walked to it, head hung in shame.

It was an escape. A way for you to cope with your feelings. No different than him training, and he had ruined it.

And now, he checked his calendar, he had 4 days to make it up to you before he, Cassian, and Nesta were gone for a month.

Leaving you alone all over again with nothing but an empty house and a book boyfriend.

General tag list:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho

@mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered

Azriel Taglist:

@elle4404

💕 As always, comment or message me if you'd like to be added to a taglist💕

#acotar #acotar x reader #send asks #send anons #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel shadowsinger

593 notes · View notes

bruhnze · 2 months ago

Note

Yo solo digo que deberías hacer una historia basada en esta canción.

Or what we know in the world of fanfiction as a song-fic. Sorry, I have intrusive thoughts sometimes

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

To the anons who sended requests like this one, I hope this made you happy aswell :)

Summary: Lucy Bronze gets an invitation to a special speakeasy. Should she go? It is her last chance to use the invitation because she is leaving Barcelona in a couple days…

Warnings: sub!Lucy, smut, smut, smut, dom!Ona, I feel like I should say a BDSM warning.. things get…freaky. use of words like slut/toy/etc.. 50% AU (only bcs Ona is no footballer). Also, there is some Spanish in this, for continuity purposes it is not translated but I have made sure everything can be understood from context (i think).

Vino tinto y una súper Nova

Wordcount: 13k, i really cant keep it short damn, this was supposed to be 5k max.

Lucy stared at the little black card in her hand for what felt like the thousandth time since she had received it three months ago, her mind racing. She would never, right? The thought echoed in her head as she traced the dark red letters on the card with her finger. Elixír Oculto.

The name alone had an intoxicating allure, a whisper of something forbidden. A speakeasy in the heart of Barcelona... how could she resist? The idea was undeniably cool, almost too tempting to let the opportunity go to waste.

When she had done some digging online, the secrecy surrounding the place had only heightened her curiosity. There wasn't much information, but the description she'd found told her everything she needed to know and more.

"Indulge in an intimate atmosphere where connections flourish, and desires are whispered between sips of the finest vintage. At Elixír Oculto, we offer an exclusive, invite-only experience where boundaries blur, and the night unfolds in ways only your imagination can envision. Here, every encounter is as unforgettable as the last, curated for those who seek more than just the ordinary. Discretion is our promise, and a magical experience is our guarantee."

Lucy frowned, her heart beating a little faster. She wasn't really considering this... was she? A sex club? But then again... these were her last days in Barcelona. Maybe this could be her little farewell gift to herself, a night of adventure. It had been too long since she'd done anything like that. But could she really go through with it? Was she truly going to sleep with someone who might be paid for it? Shouldn't she just pick up someone at a bar instead? But then again, who knew if the people there were paid or not?

Maybe, just maybe, everyone with an invite was just like her - someone just looking for a bit of fun, a brief escape. She could meet someone on the same wavelength, someone who wanted what she wanted: a night of no-strings-attached pleasure.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. She had played all her games, packed all her bags... didn't she deserve a little adventure? Five more days in Barcelona, one more night to herself. What was the harm in just taking a peek inside this speakeasy? If it turned out to be nothing, she could simply turn around and leave, laughing about it later.

But what if it wasn't? What if it was everything the card hinted at and more? Lucy glanced at the card again, feeling the pull of the unknown. Maybe... just maybe... this was exactly what she needed.

Lucy stepped into the shower, letting the hot water trail over her, washing away the tension of the day.

She took her time, scrubbing herself thoroughly, feeling grateful once again for the laser hair removal she’d undergone. Smooth skin was a necessity in her line of work for her, where shared dressing rooms were the norm. But it also came in handy for those unexpected moments of.. fun, the ones she hadn't had in far too long.

By the time she finished, it was around 7:00 PM. She sat naked on her bed, her damp hair wrapped in a towel, scrolling through her phone absently. Cooking? Or ordering in and going out? The question lingered as her eyes drifted back to the little black card lying on the nightstand. Ordering in and going out to where, exactly? Was she really going to that club? She asked herself.

She shook her head, making a quick decision. Sushi. Might as well savor some of Spain’s delicious fish before she left. After placing the order, Lucy stood in front of her nearly empty closet, groaning in frustration. Everything's packed... Was she really about to dig into her suitcase for something to wear? All this for a night at a sex club? Pathetic, she thought, but with a sigh, she unzipped the suitcase dedicated to her formal wear anyways.

She went through the neatly folded clothes, searching for the least wrinkled option. Finally, she settled on a brown suit. Not her first choice, but it would do.

At least she hadn't packed her jewelry and didn’t have to dig for that. Small victories.

Glasses or lenses? She hesitated, then opted for glasses. If there was ever a time to pull a "Clark Kent," this was it. With any luck, no one would recognize her there.

Loose hair, she decided. It was different from her usual look, but she slipped two hair ties onto her wrist just in case - always good to be prepared.

Back in the bathroom, she leaned into the mirror, the only one left in her apartment. She couldn’t check her entire outfit, but at least she could perfect her makeup. A touch of light foundation, a sweep of mascara, a hint of blush, she kept it simple.

She smiled at her reflection, feeling a flicker of confidence. You’re Lucy Bronze. She reminded herself, taking a deep breath. You can do whatever you want. You’re going to this club because you deserve it, and because you want it.

She practiced a wink, her attempt at charm feeling a bit rusty. Why was this so hard? she groaned, shaking her head with a small, self-deprecating laugh. She really needed to do things like this more often.

With a splash of her favorite perfume, she sealed the deal. The scent was subtle but intoxicating, just enough to boost her confidence.

She walked into the kitchen, turning on some music to give herself a little pep talk in the form of a dance, well, something resembling a dance at least, but no one could see her here anyways. She needed to get in the mood, shake off some nerves.

No alcohol, she reminded herself. She was still a professional athlete, after all. Even though a drink might ease her anxiety, she wasn’t about to compromise her principles just because she was nervous. She was still in season, and there was no room for slacking off.

Lucy exhaled slowly, pulling herself together. No liquid courage needed. She could do this on her own. She wasn’t going to waste this invitation - she was going to embrace it. And if she was honest with herself, she knew she wanted this.

Lucy took a deep breath, standing inside of what looked like just another ordinary bar. This should be it, right? she thought, glancing around. It didn't look like anything special, but then again, that was the point of a speakeasy.

Her fingers brushed over the little black card in her pocket, the red letters Elixír Oculto barely visible in the dim light. Oh, right... the 'vino tinto' thing, she remembered. The guy inviting her had mentioned something about asking for the red wine specialties. Maybe that was the theme of the club?

Lost in thought, she nearly jumped when a voice interrupted her. "Señorita?"

She looked up quickly, a friendly smile on her face. "Oh, sorry, I was just... uhm..."

The bartender chuckled, recognizing the uncertainty in her expression. "Ah, inglés," he said with a warm smile. "Welcome to our bar. What can I get you tonight, beautiful?"

Lucy felt a light blush creep up her cheeks. Damn, why am I so easy? she thought, flustered. "Uhm..." She hesitated, then held up the card. "Red wine?"

The bartender's smile widened as if he had been expecting this. "I thought so," he said with a knowing nod. He gestured for her to follow him. "Come, I'll show you the wines we have in stock."

They walked through a door behind the bar, descending into a dimly lit wine cellar. The air was cool, the scent of aged wood and fermented grapes heavy around them. The bartender reached for the only bottle on the shelf that wasn’t covered in dust, pulling it gently. The sound of a mechanism clicked, and a hidden doorway swung open. He stepped aside with a polite bow. "I wish you a very good evening, ma’am."

Before Lucy could respond, he was gone, leaving her standing at the threshold of the hidden hallway. This is so freaking cool, she thought, her excitement growing. It was just like in a movie. She walked down the narrow corridor, the exposed brick walls adding to the clandestine vibe, until she emerged into a lavish, red-lit space.

The atmosphere was intoxicating. To her left, a sleek bar was manned by two bartenders who moved skillfully, mixing and pouring drinks with effortless grace. Directly in front of her was a stage where men and women danced sensually, their movements captivating.

Plush chairs were arranged around the stage, some already occupied by persons who watched the performance with rapt attention.

"Puedo ayudarla, señora?" A mans voice spoke softly next to her.

Lucy jumped, startled out of her thoughts. "Uh, I was invited," she said with a nervous chuckle, turning to face the man who had approached her. "First time." She offered.

"Ah, inglés," the man said, echoing the bartender from earlier with a friendly smile. Lucy couldn’t help but laugh at the coincidence of them reacting exactly the same.

"I asked if I could help you," he clarified. "But I see, you’re new here, so of course, I’ll assist you."

Lucy nodded, feeling a bit more at ease.

"First, we need to stop by the hall over here," he said, gesturing to the right as he began walking. Lucy followed closely. "You don't have a coat, but if you'd like, you can leave your jacket here. If not, that's fine too." He pointed to a row of small black lockers built into the wall. "Devices go in here."

Wow, this is serious, Lucy thought, realizing just how secretive the place was. "Okay," she agreed, slipping off her small bag. She started to take out her phone but was gently interrupted.

"No bags allowed either," the man said kindly. "You can place it in the locker and take the key with you."

"Alright," she replied, securing her belongings. The man shut the locker for her and handed her the key.

"Perfect. Now, you’re free to enjoy a drink at the bar. Did you see where it was, or would you like me to show you?"

"I’ll go by myself, thank you," Lucy smiled, feeling a bit more confident as she took the key.

"If you need anything, just ask someone with this," he said, pointing to a wine-red handkerchief peeking out from his breast pocket. "Enjoy your time at Elixír Oculto, beautiful." With a final smile, he walked away.

Lucy blinked, a bit taken aback. Did they call everyone beautiful here, is that just part of the charm? she wondered as she made her way to the bar.

"Uh, could I get a whiskey glass with ice... but with iced tea instead?" she asked awkwardly, feeling a little out of place. "No alcohol," she added quickly, clarifying her request.

The bartender raised an eyebrow but complied without question. Lucy felt a bit of regret - she should’ve grabbed some cash from her bag. How was she going to pay for this? They’d probably let her settle the bill with card when she left.

She thanked the bartender with a smile and took a sip. Yep, iced tea.

"Hello," a soft voice said from behind her, accompanied by a gentle touch on the small of her back.

Lucy stiffened, her heart racing. Is it starting already? She carefully lowered the glass from her lips, afraid of choking, and turned to look.

The woman beside her wore a sharp suit, a wine-red handkerchief in her pocket just like the man from earlier. Ah, she worked here.

"Hi," Lucy replied, realizing she’d been silent for too long. Wait, did she just speak English?

The woman smiled warmly. "The gentleman from earlier mentioned you were English," she explained.

Wait, had she said that out loud? Lucy wondered. Or was her face really that readable?

"It’s normal to feel a bit nervous your first time here," the woman continued, her tone reassuring. "But I want to make sure you’re comfortable."

Lucy nodded, trying to steady her breathing. "T-thanks."

"We’re all about creating magical evenings here," the woman said, her voice soothing. "If I may take the liberty to make an assumption, I’d like to suggest our other room."

Lucy tilted her head, not quite understanding. Another room? Sure, why not? But what was this other room?

"This room is for women who like men," the woman explained, gesturing toward the stage, "and men who like women." She looked at Lucy with kind eyes, no judgment in her gaze. "But we also have a room where women dance for women only."

Lucy swallowed hard, her breath hitching slightly.

"If my assumption is -"

"No, no," Lucy cut in, offering a reassuring smile. "You’re correct. That would be more up my street."

"Perfect." The woman smiled, her eyes twinkling. "You can follow me."

Lucy quickly got on her feet, leaving the red bar chair behind.

The woman led her through another corridor, these walls were also lined with exposed brick. As they reached a pair of dark red curtains, the woman held them open and Lucy was greeted with an even more enchanting room than before.

Or maybe it was just the fact that this room was for women only that made it feel so captivating. The space exuded a warm, inviting glow, with plush furnishings and soft, ambient lighting that made everything look almost dreamlike.

Lucy took in the scene with wide eyes, her earlier nerves beginning to ease as curiosity and excitement took over.

The room was mesmerizing, with a stage prominently set in the middle. As she looked around, she noticed four women on the stage. They weren’t exactly dancing like what was happening in the other room; two were just sitting and drinking something, but the two that caught Lucy’s eye were engaged in a more intimate display. Lucy felt a flush rise to her cheeks. She absently fidgeted with her collar, loosening it to help her breathe a bit easier.

“Señora?” The woman who had guided her in gently touched her arm.

Lucy turned back, her face warm. “Oh, sorry. I’m just feeling a bit hot,” she said, demonstratively removing her jacket.

The woman smiled understandingly. “I was just saying, if anything here makes you uncomfortable, don’t hesitate to let them know.”

Lucy blinked, a little taken aback. She couldn’t imagine those beautiful women being a bother at all. “Oh, thanks. I’ll keep that in mind,” she replied awkwardly.

“Choose a seat,” the woman continued with a friendly smile. “And if you finish that iced tea, just let me know, and I’ll get you something - anything you like.”

Lucy felt a flush of embarrassment. Did she know it was iced tea? She chuckled nervously. “O-okay, thanks.”

The woman laughed softly. “We rarely serve alcohol here. We do have it for those who want it, but we often welcome athletes or models who don’t drink, but even otherwise, we don’t judge.” She reassured Lucy with a warm smile.

“Oh, great, I’m an athlete. Thanks,” Lucy said, her cheeks still tinged with color, assuring the woman she wasn’t just someone with an alcohol problem or something.

The woman’s eyes twinkled with curiosity. “I’d love to know more, but I’m not allowed to ask,” she said, holding up her hands playfully. “Have a great evening, beautiful.” She gave Lucy a wink before walking away.

Lucy watched her go, a hint of self-consciousness creeping in. Damn, I should’ve just owned the iced tea. I’m a professional athlete, damn it, why did I let myself feel so awkward? She sighed, feeling a bit unsettled.

The girls had now spotted her, all four pairs of eyes were trained on her. Lucy made her way to one of the chairs, forcing a smile as she went to take a seat, deliberately choosing a spot not too close to the platform. She draped her jacket over the backrest and surveyed the room.

The platform was only slightly raised, just below knee height, with a lower step running around its edge. In the center stood a plush red sofa and four poles were evenly spaced around it.

The room had a inviting, but over all very red, ambiance. Around the platform were chairs similar to the one Lucy was sitting in. Behind her was a wall lined with booths - small tables surrounded by benches. The lighting was soft and atmospheric, with a brighter spotlight focused on the center of the room, were the platform was.

As she glanced back at the platform, she noticed two of the women had begun dancing on the poles, those who had been touching each other earlier. Lucy’s attention was drawn to another set of curtains behind the platform. That was not the hallway she had came from right? She shifted her gaze, only to cringe slightly when she met the eyes of the woman who had guided her in. Damn, why is this so awkward? she thought.

The woman gave a reassuring nod, and Lucy forced a smile in return before turning her attention back to the platform.

A moment later, a woman approached her. “Eres tan hermosa, primera vez aquí, no te reconozco,” she said, her voice soft and inviting.

“Uh, l-lo siento, soy i-inglés,” Lucy replied, feeling flustered. “I mean, I can understand, pero no hablar muy bien. But yes, first time.”

The woman smiled warmly. “You’re pretty,” she said as she moved behind Lucy, her fingers lightly tracing along Lucy’s arm before resting gently on her shoulders. She leaned in, whispering against Lucy’s ear, which made her shiver. “Would you like a little show?”

Lucy nodded, her eyes drawn to the girl still lounging on the red sofa. She found her to be the most captivating of the four, though all were undeniably beautiful.

“Yeah, that would be -”

“Perfect,” the woman interrupted with a mischievous smile. “We’ve been dying for some audience.”

Lucy’s attention was drawn to the girl lounging on the red sofa. As if she sensed Lucy's gaze, the girl stretched languidly, her movements effortlessly graceful. The dim lighting bathed her figure in a soft glow, accentuating her features and adding a sensual allure to the scene. She was really pretty.

Meanwhile, the girl who had approached Lucy earlier had selected a new track - something with a more seductive rhythm than the background music that had been playing before. Lucy’s eyes darted between this change in atmosphere and the girl now rising from the sofa with a confident, almost mischievous smile.

The dancer approached the pole closest to Lucy with deliberate, measured steps. While the other three women continued their synchronized dance around their poles, Lucy found herself completely captivated by the girl who had drawn her in from the start.

With an almost hypnotic grace, the girl returned to the sofa, her body swaying to the rhythm in a way that was captivating, truly. She traced her fingers along the plush red fabric, creating a tantalizing scene. The background music seemed to fade away for Lucy, leaving her entire focus fixed on the dark blond-haired dancer.

The girl’s performance was a seamless blend of elegance and sensuality. Her movements were fluid and confident, a blend of seductive dance and playful tease.

Occasionally, her gaze met Lucy’s, each glance filled with a promise that was both alluring and mysterious.

The dancer’s use of the poles were masterful, their bodies contorting in ways that was mesmerizing and purely art, if Lucy could give her opinion about it.

All four of them could dance, but as Lucy tried to focus on it all she couldn’t help herself staring at the brown eyed girl.

The performance was captivating, drawing Lucy deeper into the fantasy of the evening.

As the show progressed, the girl’s movements grew more passionate and intense. Lucy watched, entranced, as the boundaries between reality and fantasy seemed to dissolve, the room around her fading into insignificance. It felt like she had walked right in to a Hollywood filmset.

When the performance reached its climax, the girl struck a final pose. Instinctively, Lucy placed her glass on the table beside her and clapped, genuinely impressed.

Wow, she thought. Just for this private show, it was worth it. Damn, these girls are fucking amazing. She found herself wondering if it was okay to think of them in an objectifying way. Regardless, she couldn’t deny the sheer amazement of the experience.

The girls gathered together, their giggles filling the room. “Thank you, thank you,” they chimed with an adorable accent, clearly pleased with her applause. They made a playful bow.

Lucy’s gaze fell on the shorter girl again, who was now smiling directly at her. As the four of them stood together, it was evident that she was the shortest. She smiled at Lucy, then turned to her companions, and they began to speak rapidly in Spanish. Lucy tried to follow their conversation.

“Está claro que le gusta Ona,” one of them said.

“No podemos ir todos juntos?” another replied.

“María!”

“Bueno, pfft, Ona te la llevas.”

Lucy caught a few words and felt a thrill of excitement. Were they discussing her? Did she understand correctly - they were deciding who would be with her? The thought made her feel giddy. She really hoped the shorter girl was called Ona.

Jeez, she thought. Was she really thinking about this like that?

To her surprise, it was indeed the shorter girl who approached her. Lucy straightened in her chair, her curiosity piqued.

"Hola, hermosa," the girl said confidently, her voice carrying a hint of playful seduction. "Can I take a seat?"

Lucy glanced around, momentarily flustered. Her heart raced as she processed the unexpected request. Her initial thought was, In my lap? Really? It felt like something out of a fantasy or a cliché.

Unsure of how to accept with words, she simply nodded, her cheeks warming slightly.

With elegant movement, Ona settled into Lucy's lap. As she adjusted Lucy's collar, straightening it, she said, "The other girls think you’re interested in me."

Lucy’s heart raced. So, this was Ona.

"Is that true?" Ona whispered, her breath warm against Lucy's ear. "Would you like to come with me?"

Lucy glanced back at the platform. The other dancers had returned to the sofa, lost in their own interactions. "Mhm, I think you’re a very good dancer," Lucy said, trying to keep her voice steady.

Ona’s eyes sparkled with satisfaction. "Follow me, preciosa." With a charming smile, she stood up and beckoned Lucy to follow her. Her tight braid swinging back and forth as she turned.

Lucy quickly grabbed her jacket and hurried after Ona, her excitement growing as she moved toward the curtain. Only at the curtain she realized she had left her glass behind.

Ah, fuck that iced tea, Lucy thought, amused with herself, as her gaze lingered on the woman’s miniskirt, which left little to the imagination. She couldn’t help but wonder what was hidden underneath. Bronze! she scolded herself internally. Get a grip - don’t be a creep.

“This is -” the woman began, but then paused, turning around.

Lucy quickly snapped her gaze back up to meet the woman’s eyes. Shit, caught.

The woman chuckled mischievously. “Like what you see?”

Lucy nodded, feeling like a teenager caught doing something naughty. God, why is everything going so terribly rough?

“This is my room,” the woman continued, starting over with a smile. “After you.”

Lucy stepped through the door as Ona held it open. “Thank you, Ona,” she said, taking in the spacious room. A bed with red sheets dominated the space, and a large, perfectly fitted closet lined one wall.

As she looked around, she realized Ona hadn’t followed her in. The woman was still standing in the doorway, her expression suddenly serious.

“How do you know my name?” Ona asked, her tone stern.

Lucy looked at her, confused. “Oh ehrm, the girls- they were-” she stammered, pointing back towards the main room.

“You heard?” Ona’s expression shifted to something more mischievous. “How much did you hear?”

Lucy’s eyes widened. “I don’t know, not much. They said Ona was going with me?” she offered hesitantly.

Ona smiled and finally stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. “Okay then, Ona it is. But I’d like to know your name too then.”

“Of course,” Lucy said, draping her jacket over her left arm. “Lucy.” She extended her hand.

Ona chuckled, taking Lucy’s hand and bringing it to her lips to place a soft kiss on her knuckles. “Very formal, huh? Nice to meet you, Miss Lucy.”

Lucy nodded, feeling a bit flustered. “Y-yeah, nice to meet you too.”

The room here had the same kind of music playing as the other room, only quieter.

“So… do you work here?” Lucy asked, breaking the silence, as Ona moved further into the room, which felt like a luxurious hotel suite. Probably not the best conversation starter, Lucy thought, biting her lip.

Ona’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Work?” She laughed softly. “No, baby, I do this because I love it.”

Lucy frowned. “So you don’t get paid?” she blurted out before she could stop herself.

“This is a private club for attractive people, by attractive people,” Ona explained matter-of-factly. “I understand you are someone who likes to know the details.” She chuckled. “When you get invited here, it’s by someone who’s been a member for a while and earned the privilege of handing out a card. It’s a pretty big deal to receive one,” she smiled. “Being a member is free; we call it ‘pretty privilege.’ But most members make donations. I also get a cut from those donations, and sometimes people make a specific donation just for me. When that happens, I get it all.” She sat down on a leather couch and leaned back, eyes locked on Lucy’s. “I’m under contract with this place,” she continued with a smile, “so what you said is probably true. But I prefer to see it as an arrangement that lets me live out my life’s passion.”

Lucy nodded, captivated by Ona’s every word. “What is it?” she asked, genuinely intrigued.

Ona grinned, a flicker of mischief in her eyes. "Well, it goes hand in hand with Elixír Oculto’s motto - helping people experience a magical evening. But my personal passion is making dreams come true, even the ones you never knew you had."

"Wow," Lucy murmured, letting the words sink in. Achieving every dream you have, even the ones you’ve never thought of before. It was poetic, inspirational.

“Don’t be afraid to take a seat, cariño,” Ona’s voice was soft but commanding, her smile so hypnotic that it made Lucy’s heart skip a beat. Those dimples, perfect teeth and scattered freckles. They could tell her this woman was send right from heaven and Lucy would believe them.

Lucy nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and settled into the leather chair half-facing Ona. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from her. God, this girl was stunning.

Ona’s grin widened, her amusement clear. “Afraid I bite? I mean, I won’t… not just yet.” Her chuckle was warm as she patted the spot beside her on the couch. “Come closer, hermosa.”

Swallowing, Lucy stood up, leaving her jacket draped over the chair. She moved to sit beside the Catalan, nerves dancing along her skin. She fidgeted, scratching at her wrist in an attempt to calm herself.

Ona noticed and gently took Lucy’s hand, her touch soft and reassuring. “Don’t be so nerviosa, beautiful,” she whispered, tracing the inked skin on Lucy’s wrist. “You’ll hurt your pretty tattoo.”

Lucy glanced down at their intertwined hands, then back up at Ona.

“Show it to me,” Ona said, nodding toward the tattoo.

Without hesitation, Lucy unbuttoned her sleeve and rolled it up, revealing the intricate design she was so proud of.

Ona’s fingers lightly traced the ink, her touch sending a shiver down Lucy’s spine. “English, with a tattoo that says família?” she teased, a playful lilt in her voice. “Estás segura de que no hablas español? Did you just say it so you could eavesdrop?” She chuckled, her eyes twinkling. “Or did you just have a bad tattoo artist?”

Lucy laughed softly, shaking her head. “No, I’m half Portuguese… but I don’t speak it that well either, to be honest.”

“Hmm,” Ona mused, her fingers still lingering on the tattoo. “Okay then, what brought you to Spain?”

Lucy smiled, a hint of nostalgia in her eyes. “I worked here, but now I’m heading back to England. It’s been amazing working in Barça, and I wanted to end my time here with something special. I was invited here by a photographer from work. He thought I’d enjoy this place. Guess I owe him a thank you.”

“Hmm, okay,” Ona said, catching the subtle compliment with a knowing smile. “So, you’re a model?”

Lucy chuckled, shaking her head. “Not really. I guess I am sometimes, but it comes with my real job - I’m an athlete.”

Ona’s interest piqued as she shifted, settling onto Lucy’s right thigh, her legs resting between Lucy’s. “Really, what sport?”

"Guess," Lucy replied with a playful smirk, finally enjoying a moment of being the one in control.

Ona’s finger traced lines on Lucy’s muscular upper chest, down to her shoulder and bicep. “Hmm, the muscles make me think something like.. rugby,” she contemplated. “But I’m not sure.”

Lucy chuckled. “It can feel like that sometimes, but no - it’s football. I played for Barça.”

Ona’s eyes widened slightly, a glimmer of amazement slipping through her composed exterior.

“And what was the shoot for? The one where you got the invitation?” Ona asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

“Underwear,” Lucy admitted, feeling a bit awkward as she wasn’t supposed to reveal it yet.

“Hmm,” Ona grinned, her finger now tracing the buttons on Lucy’s blouse. “Now I’m curious what the photographer saw when he gave you that card.”

Lucy’s breath hitched as Ona began undoing the buttons. “Is this okay, bonita? Can I?”

Lucy nodded eagerly, her thoughts screaming for Ona to take it all off, right then and there.

Ona smirked as she revealed Lucy’s rock-solid abs. “Was it a Calvin Klein shoot?” she asked, eyeing the matching bra and the sliver of fabric peeking out from above Lucy’s pants.

“Uhm,” Lucy grimaced. “I signed a confidentiality agreement… I’m not supposed to -”

“My lips are sealed,” Ona assured, miming locking her mouth and tossing away the key. “But I will enjoy the photos if I ever come across them.” She winked cheekily and continued tracing her fingers over Lucy’s exposed skin, the touch light and teasing.

Lucy’s breath hitched again as Ona’s hands slipped beneath her blouse, sliding it off her shoulders with that same practiced ease. Quickly, Lucy undid the last button on her sleeve, leaning forward to help Ona remove the blouse completely.

Ona chuckled softly at Lucy’s eagerness, enjoying the way Lucy seemed to hang on every moment. As their faces drew closer, Lucy’s gaze locked onto Ona’s lips, her desire surging as she leaned in for a kiss. But just as their lips brushed, Ona pulled back with a playful chuckle.

"I can tell you’re used to being the one in control," Ona teased, her eyes gleaming with amusement.

Lucy blushed, the rejection making her feel suddenly shy again.

"But it doesn’t work like that here," Ona continued with a grin. "Well, it can, but that privilege has to be earned."

Lucy nodded, feeling a bit uncertain.

Ona smiled warmly, placing Lucy’s hand on her knee. "Oh, come on baby, don’t worry. You didn’t do anything wrong - it’s just one of the rules," she explained, her thumb brushing across Lucy’s bottom lip. "You can kiss me anywhere except on my mouth," she added, cupping Lucy’s cheek. "I’ll teach you all the rules along the way, hm?"

Swallowing, Lucy nodded again, her nerves settling slightly.

Ona chuckled softly. "You haven’t bitten your tongue, have you?"

Lucy shook her head. "No, I understand."

A knowing smile curved Ona’s lips. "You’re so eager to please, aren’t you?"

Lucy’s cheeks flushed.

“Kiss my neck querida.”

Lucy hesitated for a moment, glancing at Ona, who was comfortably seated on her lap, her neck now tilted to one side, invitingly exposed.

Leaning in, Lucy let her lips brush softly against the warm skin, savoring its softness and the intoxicating scent. God, her skin was so soft, and damn, did she smell good.

Encouraged by Ona’s subtle cues, Lucy began to place delicate kisses along her neck, listening intently for any sign of pleasure she was bringing. When Ona tilted her head back, giving her more space, Lucy grew bolder. She added a teasing flick of her tongue, a gentle scrape of her teeth, her breath warm against the damp trail she left behind.

Ona chuckled as she felt Lucy getting lost in the moment.

Lucy pulled back slightly, curious about the reason of Ona’s amusement.

"I can already tell this will be a great night," Ona murmured, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "You’re doing very well so far."

A wave of confidence washed over Lucy at the compliment, and she smiled, feeling more at ease. Ona stood up, and Lucy’s eyes trailed her every move, captivated by her grace. God, she was stunning. Clad in leather boots with a heel, a miniskirt, and a little top. Ona didn’t wear much already, but Lucy couldn’t help but imagine her wearing even less.

Ona moved to one of the closet doors, her back to Lucy as she opened it. Lucy couldn’t see what was inside, but her heart raced when Ona returned holding a leather rod with a small feather at the end, bundled with little strings of leather. Was she going to get hit?

But instead of using the rod, Ona casually walked to the kitchenette and opened the mini-fridge. She retrieved a bottle of water and poured two glasses, adding a few ice cubes to each. Returning to Lucy, she placed the rod on the coffee table and handed her one of the glasses.

“Water,” she said simply, taking a sip from her own glass.

Lucy awkwardly accepted the glass and took a sip, trying to calm her nerves.

“How can we get you relaxed, amor?” Ona asked, settling herself onto one of Lucy’s legs again. “You’re so tense.” Her fingers traced lazy patterns on Lucy’s skin. “What’s making you so nervous?” She leaned in, her lips brushing softly against Lucy’s jaw. “Is it because you’re letting go of control for once?” Her voice dropped to a whisper, “It can be amazing, hermosa,” she assured, placing another kiss just below Lucy’s ear. “I know you can be so good for me, hm? Just let me take control.”

Lucy swallowed hard and nodded, “Y-yeah, i-it's just... new.”

Ona pulled back slightly, studying Lucy’s face. “New? Completely new? You’ve never…?”

Lucy chuckled, her nerves easing just a bit. “Oh no, I don’t mean that… I mean having sex with someone in a setting like this.”

“Sex?” Ona’s voice was serious, her tone unreadable.

Lucy’s heart plummeted. Had she completely misread the situation? But just as panic set in, Ona’s lips curved into a mischievous grin.

“I’m jokingggg,” she giggled, leaning against Lucy. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist.” She cupped Lucy’s face gently. “You should’ve seen your face.”

Lucy exhaled shakily, trying to regain her composure.

Ona took the glass from her and set it beside her own on the coffee table. Then, she shifted her position, straddling both of Lucy’s legs, her knees planted firmly on either side. She pushed Lucy’s hair behind her ears “Sorry I teased you, sometimes I can’t control myself.”

She smiled as Lucy stayed silent, “You’re okay, Lucy. Don’t beat yourself up. It’s good that you said this is your first time. We can talk everything through as we go.”

Lucy hesitated, then lifted her hands, which had been resting awkwardly at her sides. She was eager to touch Ona, but unsure of the boundaries. “Can I…?” she asked, her voice trailing off as she tried to figure out how to navigate this.

Ona’s eyes sparkled with amusement at Lucy’s sudden eagerness. “Yes, you can put your hands on me if you like,” she said, smiling. “Good job for asking first.”

Lucy’s smile widened, relieved that she’d finally done something right. No, she reminded herself, she’d done well with the kisses too - she shouldn’t be so insecure. Her heart pounded as she gently placed her hands on the warm, bare skin of Ona’s thighs, feeling the smoothness beneath her fingertips.

Ona subtly grinded on Lucy’s lap, tracing a finger from her chest to the tip of her chin, ‘’are you going to let me have some fun with you, let me play with you?’’.

Lucy hung on every word, every movement the beautiful woman made. There was no question in her mind - she would do anything Ona asked. She nodded eagerly, her wide eyes full of obedient anticipation as they locked onto Ona’s.

Ona’s thumb once again grazed Lucy’s bottom lip, letting it pop gently a couple of times. She smiled, her mind already dancing with thoughts of the fun to come. “Soy la maestra tonight, sí?”

Lucy nodded again, her thoughts a swirl of sí, por favor, and gracias, already unable to think straight.

“Claro?” Ona repeated, her voice firm yet playful. “Because if you understand, I want to hear you say it.”

“Y-yes, claramente,” Lucy stammered, throwing in a bit of Spanish out of sheer confusion.

Ona’s grin widened. “Ah, perfecto. But next time, I want to hear, ‘Sí, maestra,’ okay?”

“Sí, maestra,” Lucy echoed, her voice certain this time.

"Good girl," Ona purred, a hint of mischief in her eyes. "Let’s see if you can keep that up." and stood up, taking the rod with her ‘’follow me’’.

Lucy followed her closely, Ona took place on the bed.

‘’On you knees hermosa’’. She ordered, leaving space between her legs.

Lucy swallowed, her heart racing, so this was it, it was happening. She knelt down, her hair falling infront of her face like a curtain, quickly she put her hair up.

She looked up, meeting Ona’s smile, ‘’well prepared’’ she said pleased.

Ona put her foot up and pushed Lucy’s shoulder with it, ‘’take these off’’.

“Sí, maestra,” Lucy said, her gaze already have drifted off to Ona’s legs, with her leg up like this a glimpse of dark red, laced underwear was revealed.

‘’Querida’’ Ona said sternly, ‘’you are not getting distracted, are you?’’.

“N-no,” Lucy licked her lips unconsciously, but pulled herself together, biting her lip ‘’uhm, no, maestra,”.

Ona pushed the sole of her leather boot a little deeper into the skin of Lucy’s shoulder.

Lucy got the hint and pulled the zipper down to take her left boot off, then she reached for the other.

After that she eagerly waited on the next command.

Ona spread her legs further.

Lucy didn't have a second thought about the fact that she was staring now, she was just admiring the view provided.

Ona noticed her looking, her smile turned into a grin, ‘’you are looking at me with hungry eyes’’ she chuckled.

Lucy briefly looked up, wondering whether that was something positive in Ona’s opinion.

‘’Well’’ Ona said, standing up ‘’do you want a taste?’’.

Lucy scooted back slightly, giving herself some space as her face was almost pressed against Ona, who had just stood up. “Sí, maestra,” she nodded eagerly, “please.”

“So well behaved,” Ona said, tipping Lucy’s chin up with her finger. “It’s almost boring. Are you a little boring, Lucia?” she teased, “But I don’t believe you’re all that innocent. Are you?”

“No, maestra.”

“Tell me what you want.”

Lucy blushed, she could think of a lot of things. ‘’u-uhm.. a.. taste then?’’.

Ona chuckled, ‘’oh my sweet puppet’’ she brushed her fingers through Lucy’s hair, ‘’how could I deny when you are being such a pretty obedient toy for me’’.

She swallowed, ‘’can I?’’ Lucy asked as she reached up to hook her fingers in the band of Ona’s skirt.

‘’Sí.’’

Lucy took the skirt and thongs off all at once, maybe by accident, maybe not. But she was just going to rock with it.

Now she was face-to-face, no scratch that, face-to-lips, with Ona’s heath. She looked up, ‘’can I maestra?’’.

Ona melted, she hadn’t expected the woman who carried herself so.. confident.. to be such an easy submissive.. but if she was honest she missed a bit of resist. ‘’No.’’

Lucy backed up, confused. No? Why not. ‘’w-why.. maestra?’’.

A soft chuckle escaped Ona’s lips. “Because, preciosa, I want to be in my comfortable chair.” She reached for the leather rod again, her tone playful but commanding. “And you will follow me like the good pet you are.”

Lucy instinctively moved to stand, but the gentle press of the leather rod against her shoulder stopped her.

“Hands and knees, hermosa. Come.”

There was a brief hesitation - was she really going to do this? But the light, insistent tap of the rod on her skin urged her forward. Lucy met Ona’s gaze, then slowly bent down, beginning to crawl toward the couch.

A light thump landed on her still-covered ass, prompting her to glance back at Ona.

“Too slow,” Ona teased. “I thought you were an athlete.”

Lucy gave a slight nod, quickening her pace as she continued to crawl.

Ona easily overtook her, settling into the leather chair with a languid grace, her legs spread invitingly. “Come, cariño. Your reward is waiting.”

Finally, Lucy reached Ona, her heart pounding with anticipation. She had been waiting for this moment ever since she decided to step into the speakeasy. Now, seeing Ona up close, a girl even more captivating than she had imagined, the desire was almost too much to handle.

It felt strange to be in this position - usually, she was the one in control. But giving up control felt natural with the way Ona guided her. From the moment she had entered the room, she knew this was what she wanted, she’d do whatever the Catalan would ask.

‘’You see what mess you created?’’ Ona asked rhetorical, ‘’clean it up’’. She said pointing at Lucy with the whip she was still holding.

Lucy nodded and wanted to lean forward but was restricted by the rod poking against her collarbone.

‘’Manners hermosa’’. Ona said looking at Lucy with a grin, the girl was locked-in on her center like it was going to walk away if she blinked.

Without looking up Lucy answered, ‘’sí, sorry maestra… please let me clean you up maestra’’.

‘’mhm, go on’’.

She leaned in, her focus on Ona’s thighs. Lucy knew she had talent and wanted to show Ona she wasn’t just another amateur, she wanted to be the best.

As she placed her hands on Ona’s inner thighs and moved closer to her wet core, she was met with a corrective tap, prompting her to pull her hands back.

On her hands and knees, Lucy lapped at Ona’s wetness, she groaned of pleasure as she tasted the girl. Damn, Ona didn’t just look incredible, she tasted amazing too - subtly sweet with a hint of something more. God, had she missed tasting a woman. But Lucy tried not to lose herself and alternated between kisses and teasing licks, deliberately avoiding Ona’s clit, waiting for her to guide her next move.

Ona considered her options. She wanted to savor the moment with this stunning woman but she also wanted to climax. She could come multiple times.. so.. she could play with the woman some more later right? After all, Lucy was an athlete - she likely had stamina for days.

Ona buried her hand in the brown hair of the kneeling woman, guiding her. "Show me what that pretty mouth of yours can do, belleza." Her voice remained steady and composed.

It didn’t take long for Ona’s resolve to waver. She couldn’t stifle her moan as Lucy’s skillful tongue worked its magic. Ona’s fingers dug deeper into the roots of Lucy’s hair, pulling just enough to keep her in place while still allowing some movement. Ona’s smile widened smugly as she felt Lucy’s moans vibrating against her core. Oh! this girl liked it a little rough.

Ona couldn’t deny it, this woman knew exactly how to use her mouth. She was enjoying this a lot, and if Lucy kept it up, she might even crack the top ten of women Ona had been with. The soft, eager whimpers coming from between her legs only fueled Ona’s arousal. The idea of a woman not just enjoying, but worshipping her body always got to her. God, Ona realized, she wouldn’t last much longer.

Lucy was lost in her own world between the strong thighs of the Catalan woman, oblivious to the moans she was drawing out as she brought Ona closer and closer to the edge. She only heard her own soft moans, and felt them echoing against the warm, wet skin. And fuck was she drunk on the taste of Ona’s arousal.

Lucy didn’t even notice the trembling legs squeezing her head until she was yanked back, forcing her to look up.

Ona grinned down at her, meeting the two dazed eyes staring back, looking at her with the most adoring eyes, like she was an actual goddess. It would’ve been almost adorable if not for the setting.

"That’s enough for now, my pretty mascota," Ona said, her voice playful but firm. "Come, help me up." She extended her hand.

Lucy rose to her feet and pulled Ona up with her.

The rod that had fallen beside the chair was forgotten for now - they were going to search out some new things anyways.

"Get undressed, my little muñeca follable," Ona whispered as she passed the slightly taller woman.

She made her way to the closet, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. This was one of her most prized possessions. Behind the doors, red velvet panels framed an array of black hooks and pins, displaying her collection of toys like weapons in a high-end gun shop.

As she opened the lengthy wooden doors, the little spotlights shot on and highlighted her collection of tools.

She turned around to the awkward but endearing sight of Lucy struggling to step out of her pants. Sensing Ona’s gaze, Lucy blushed, quickly discarding them and standing there in just her white boxers.

Mhmm, Ona's mouth watered at the sight. Lucy’s muscular, athletic build was a masterpiece, her tanned skin in contrast against the white fabric. The only thing she wore on her torso now was a simple gold chain, gleaming against her skin. In a different setting, Ona would have gladly let this piece of eye candy ruin her completely, or maybe, she'd allow that later.

Ona grinned as her eyes lingered on Lucy’s tight ass, the white briefs stretching across it as she bent briefly to place her glasses and rings on the coffee table. Hmm, that toned ass could only belong to someone well-familiar with working a strap. She blinked and chuckled, snapping herself out of her daydream. She couldn’t let herself get too distracted.

Lucy looked at the laughing woman and walked back toward her, eyes innocent and questioning.

Ona grinned. "You look so good-

Oh. Lucy blushed, caught off guard by the compliment, though pleased that Ona thought so. She knew her abs got plenty of attention from women, but it still felt good to hear it.

-I can’t wait to ruin you."

Lucy blinked, her steps faltering just before she reached Ona. The soft, promising tone in her voice sent a wave of heat through her body. Would she let her ruin her? No doubt about it. She’d let Ona ruin her and say thank you afterwards.

Ona chuckled. "Come on, don’t get shy again. You can choose a few things you'd like."

It was only then that Lucy’s gaze shifted to the two open doors or rather what had been hidden behind them. Her eyes widened at the sight of the array of sex toys on display. She’d never seen so many gathered in one place before, well, except for the couple of times she had visited an adult store.

Ona stepped back slightly, inviting Lucy to take a closer look.

Mesmerized, Lucy moved closer but hesitated as her hand reached out. She realized she probably shouldn’t touch everything.

Ona opened another door to reveal a selection of harnesses in various colors and materials: brown, black. Her gaze fell on a dark red one, her favorite. She took it and slipped it on, savoring the familiar feeling against her skin.

Turning back to Lucy, who stood there in awe, Ona couldn’t help but grin.

She positioned herself behind Lucy, standing on her tiptoes and pressing her harness-clad hips against the woman’s ass. She reached around and pointed at several straps, displayed from small to large. “Which one will I be wearing?” she whispered, brushing her lips against Lucy’s neck.

“Uhm…”

Ona gently bit down, a teasing nip. If she was right, this woman wasn’t shy about a bit of pleasurable pain. Her suspicions were confirmed when a soft, whiny gasp escaped Lucy’s throat. Mhm, this was going to be so much fun.

Ona reached around Lucy, cupping her perky breasts and teasing her already hardened nipples between her fingers.

Lucy’s vision blurred from the overwhelming sensations of Ona’s presence. Her hips pressed against her back, her teeth sinking into her neck and the way her nipples were being twisted. A moan escaped Lucy as electric shocks shot straight to her core. She tried to bring her hands up to cover Ona’s, keeping her close, but suddenly, everything was gone.

Blinking, Lucy saw Ona now standing beside her, gazing at the array of toys. “Choose, mi juguete. What will you let me play with?”

Lucy wanted to shout, Me! With me! but held her silence. Instead, she focused on the toys, deliberately considering her options. She wasn’t shy about receiving a strap, it was something she had enjoyed in relationships, though less so with casual encounters. But she certainly had nothing against it, especially this beauty, she could do what ever she wanted.

She reached out for a strap of a manageable size, glancing at Ona before touching it. Ona gave a smug smile, raising her eyebrows. “I’m guessing you have some experience?”

Lucy nodded, blushing as she recalled not only her experiences with other women but also her solo adventures. She handed the strap to Ona while keeping her gaze fixed on the endless lines of toys.

Her attention then shifted to a collection of butt plugs. Only recently had she started exploring these, and although she had never used them in front of someone else, the orgasms they provided were incredible.

"Ahh," Ona cheered, surprised by Lucy’s interest. "I wouldn’t have picked you as someone gustan las cosas por el culo." She let her hand brush over Lucy’s muscular ass before giving it a playful squeeze. "Well, choose one, hermosa."

Stepping closer, Ona reached for a decently sized plug with a bit of texture. "I recommend this one," she whispered.

Lucy shivered as goosebumps trailed down her spine. She took the plug silently, rolling it between her fingers, her body already reacting. God, she was so worked up. She was aching with desire, feeling a firm pulsation between her legs.

Ona surveyed the array of equipment for restraining and gagging, including her favorite, the gag ball. However, she had a feeling she’d enjoy the sounds Lucy would make even more. She put the strap on and took one of the whips from a pin, the whip was red with black. Matching perfectly with her. She was wearing a red harness with a black strap and she was still wearing her red top. Then she look a black vibrator, or her magic wand, how she liked to call it.

‘’satisfied?’’. Ona asked, she thought they could start easy as this was their first encounter after all, even though she found Lucy and her working together pretty good.

Lucy looked up, turning to Ona in surprise. Wtf? Satisfied, no she was not satisfied at all, she was dyeing-

‘’chose the toys you like?’’. Ona added, clarifying herself.

Ohhh. Lucy nodded, ‘’yes’’.

Ona chuckled mischievously, almost sadistic. ‘’Manners cariño, manners.’’ She shook her head sarcastically, ‘’oh oh,’’ she stepped closer, driving Lucy against the wooden door, ‘’it’s a shame I have to punish you now’’ she grinned as she saw Lucy swallow hard, but her eyes told Ona she didn’t mind this at all, ‘’you want to be punished?’’ she grinned.

Lucy blushed, remembering what she had to call Ona and anticipating on something that was definitely far from a punishment for her, ‘’S-Sí, maestra,’’

Ona chuckled, seeing the woman squirm against the wood, ‘’Beg me’’ she said, bringing her hand up to the woman’s neck, ‘’how bad do you want it?’’.

Lucy’s face flushed, her mouth suddenly dry, her lips still sticky from earlier. ‘’please maestra, p-punish me’’.

‘’Have you been bad?’’. Ona said, closing her hand around the thick neck.

‘’mhm’’ Lucy nodded, almost not being able to focus as Ona put a little pressure on her throat ‘’uh- yes.. maestra’’.

Ona grinned, ‘’desperate puta’’. She guided Lucy by her neck towards the bed, ‘’bend over, bend down on the bed like the puta sucia you are’’.

She released her grip.

Ona chuckled silently as Lucy almost face planted on the bed as she eagerly crawled on it.

She hovered behind her, letting her fingers graze over the ass that was sticking up in front of her. Sliding a finger under the elastic band of Lucy's boxers, she pulled it up before snapping it back against her skin. "And why is this still on?" she asked.

"You're not listening very well, are you? I told you to take it off," Ona said.

"Sí," Lucy mumbled as she got back up on her knees. "Sí, maestra, I-" She fumbled with the fabric, trying to shuffle it down her legs but struggling in the awkward position.

Ona pressed the whip against her shoulders. "Down. Leave it like that, if you're so desperate."

Her eyes were fixed on the impossibly slick lips of the woman bent down in front of her. She was a mess, the briefs she'd been wearing completely ruined.

Ona reached over Lucy, not bothering to keep the strap from pressing into her as she took the toy from her hands. Leaning over Lucy's back, Ona couldn’t help but admire the sculpted physique beneath her. This woman was clearly an athlete, but even among them, she was on the upper end of the scale. Broad, muscular shoulders and a body that was nothing short of stunning, it made perfect sense why the photographer had given her a card. She was captivating.

Letting her nails lightly graze down Lucy’s bare back, Ona whispered, “I think you deserve a little correction, don’t you?”

Lucy arched into the touch, her heated skin prickling in the cool air. “Mhm,” she murmured, biting down as Ona's hands kneaded her flesh. Every nerve in her body was on high alert, craving more of the touch she desperately needed.

Ona chuckled and leaned back, ‘’what was that hermosa?’’. She teasingly asked, letting the strands of leather travel along her back.

Lucy whimpered, ‘’si, maestra, I need-

Crack.

She arched as the whip landed firmly on her ass, she moaned into the bedsheets. Fuck.

Ona leaned down and kissed the spot that was now turning red, ‘’and what do you say now my toy? I gave you what you asked for’’. She said, amusement clear in her voice. She loved the way the woman seemed to enjoy this.

She bit down in the flesh of Lucy ass, as an answer stayed off, or maybe just because the skin looked so perfectly bitable, so tight, so round.

Lucy’s brain short-circuited. Was it.. thank you? Did Ona expect her to say thanks? ‘’Uh, t-thank you?’’ she said, a little unsure.

Crack.

‘’Thank you who, pretty?’’. Ona said, letting the leather strings of the whip tease over the sensitive prickling skin of Lucy’s ass after she landed another strike.

Lucy arched as she grabbed the sheet between her fists, whimpering from the impact. ‘’Thank you maestra!’’ she cried out.

‘’Very good beautiful.’’. She caressed Lucy’s ass, ‘’but you’re a bit of a messy girl, aren’t you?’’. Ona said as she changed the whip in her hand for the plug and swiped it along Lucy’s core. ‘’You are-’’ she chuckled as she saw Lucy’s body reacting to what she did, ‘’-a little wet muñeca, how come?’’.

Lucy breath shuttered as she felt the toy dipping between her lips, it was frustrating the way Ona teased her. ‘’You’’ Lucy groaned, ‘’Because of you maestra’’.

‘’Hmm.’’ Ona smirked, ‘’beautiful zorra, so eager, so wanting’’.

Lucy pussy tried to clutch on nothing but thin air at the dirty words Ona spoke. She stiffened as her cheeks were held and she felt Ona spit down on her asshole. God she felt dirty, but she enjoyed every bit of it.

A flat hand soothed her lower back, ‘’relax for me baby.’’ Ona cooed as she reached down to place soft kisses on Lucy’s cheeks. Lucy whimpered as Ona got lower and lower with her mouth, she wished the girl would eat her out, but Ona stayed away from her heath. Instead the plug was now circling her ring of muscle, teasingly waiting to enter.

With ease, Ona slid the toy inside, her smile widening as she watched a shiver run up Lucy’s spine. The girl let out a soft, almost grateful moan.

Stepping closer to the bed, Ona guided her strap through Lucy's wetness, teasing her mercilessly.

Lucy leaned back, desperate, aching for more, but Ona chuckled and stepped away. “Up. Come here,” she ordered, her voice firm.

It took Lucy a moment to process, her mind clouded with need, but she finally turned to look at Ona.

“Kneel for me, mi juguete,” Ona commanded, grinning as she watched Lucy’s dazed expression, her pupils blown wide. “You’ve made quite a mess.”

Lucy dropped to her knees in front of the Catalan without hesitation.

“Show me, princecita,” Ona murmured, cupping Lucy’s jaw. “Show me how pretty you look with your mouth full.”

Lucy swallowed hard - this was something new for her. She’d been on the other side plenty of times, the one wearing the strap, in control. But as Ona tapped the damp tip against her lips, she opened her mouth without hesitation.

Like a shameless slut, Lucy wrapped her lips around the plastic shaft, locking eyes with Ona as she did.

Ona could barely keep her composure. There was nothing quite like watching a strong, confident woman drop to her knees for her. She pulled back slightly, gripping the base of the strap as a string of saliva clung to it, then playfully tapped it against Lucy's cheek. Smiling wickedly, she murmured, "Imagine if people saw you like this, hm, the Lucy Bronze on her knees."

Lucy whimpered, all traces of shame long gone. She craved this, she needed it desperately. Her tongue flicked out, and she eagerly took it back into her mouth, determined to please Ona.

Lucy locked eyes with Ona as she took in as much of the length as she could.

Ona gently wiped away a tear that slipped down Lucy’s cheek. "Hmm, you've been so good," she murmured, stroking her jaw tenderly. "Now, stand up for me."

‘’Si maestra’’. Lucy stood up, watching intensively waiting for any other instructions. Hm, she wish she could take that top off of Ona.

She didn’t realize she was staring until Ona’s soft chuckle broke the silence. “You’re actually adorable,” Ona said with a smile, momentarily unable to hide her amusement. “What’s on your mind? Do you want to take my top off?”

Lucy blushed and looked up shyly. “Mhm, yes, you’re so pretty,” she replied softly.

Ona chuckled and drew Lucy closer by her hand. “Then take it off, bebé.”

With a smile and a racing heart, Lucy lifted her hands to remove Ona’s top. Ona raised her arms, and within moments, she was standing naked before Lucy, who also took the opportunity to finally kick off the briefs that had been dangling around her knees.

In awe, Lucy let her hands explore Ona’s bare torso, beginning at her sides and gradually moving up to her chest. She gazed at Ona with a mixture of anticipation and admiration.

Ona, rolling her eyes with a playful smile, asked, “What is it you want to say?”

Lucy hesitated, her eyes drifting to her hands. “U-uhm, can I?” she stammered.

“What is it, baby?” Ona tilted her chin up, encouraging her. “Tell me what you want.”

“Kiss them,” Lucy replied, her voice almost dreamy.

“Of course, pequeña,” Ona replied with a chuckle, charmed by Lucy’s timidity. Most athletes were quite full of themselves and self-absorbed, but this girl only seemed to have eyes for her. From the moment their gazes had locked at the beginning of this evening, she had been the sole focus of Lucy’s attention. It was cute.

Lucy surprised her by leaning down, starting with soft kisses at her belly button, and slowly working her way up. Between each kiss, their eyes met, intensifying the moment.

Ona’s chest rose and fell as Lucy moved closer to her nipples. Damn, this woman knew exactly how to affect her. A groan escaped as Ona’s head fell back, surrendering to Lucy’s touch.

Ona snapped back to reality as Lucy guided her toward the bed, trailing kisses along her neck until the back of her knees hit the edge of the mattress.

Ona slid her hand into Lucy’s hair, gently pulling her away as she tutted softly and talked in a stern voice. "Not good, hermosa, not good." Stepping to the side, she added, "You’re too distracting. Get on the bed, bend over."

Ona chuckled, her voice teasing. "Trying to take the lead, hm?" she asked, reaching for the whip. "Oh, so you wanted more punishment?" she added sarcastically, as Lucy whimpered when the leather met her skin again.

"That's fine," Ona murmured, her breath warm as she grazed her teeth along Lucy’s neck. "Next time, just ask, mi juguete. I love playing with you." She let her lips trail down Lucy’s spine before standing up straight again.

Crack.

Lucy moaned into the mattress, her ass more sensitive than before after each hit. She braced herself for more, but the expected impact didn’t come. Instead, she felt Ona press up against her.

Ona reached for the vibrator and, with her arm around Lucy, gently slid it across her wetness until she felt Lucy start to buck her hips. She grinned as she turned on the device, keeping it at its lowest setting.

At the same time, she aligned herself with Lucy’s entrance, having slid the strap through her slick a few times to ensure it was well-lubricated. It was definitely wet enough, she had to make an effort to maintain control and prevent slipping inside just yet.

If the wetness pooling between Lucy’s legs didn’t make her arousal clear enough, her soft, breathy groans into the bedsheet left no doubt that she was ready.

Lucy moaned as Ona entered her in one fluent thrust, completely bottoming out, pressing against the plug that was still inside of her.

Ona started thrusting as she felt Lucy had gotten used to the way she filled her up, starting with slow languid thrusts as she held the vibrator in place.

Lucy struggled to focus on all the sensations overwhelming her. She felt euphoric yet whiny, caught in a paradox of feeling both overwhelmed and unsatisfied. She craved more.

She cried out as Ona thrust harder and more deliberately. Fuck she was incredible, Lucy thought as every movement hit just the right spot. But she quickly realized that this wasn’t entirely focused on her. As her own orgasm built, the swears and murmurs behind her revealed that Ona was also nearing her climax.

“I-” She moaned, cutting herself off as waves of pleasure surged through her. She collapsed onto her forearms, her face pressing into the bed as her thighs quivered. The intensity of her orgasm hitting her sooner than she had anticipated.

Ona bit her lip as she watched the wetness gushing down between their bodies. She let the vibrator fall onto the bed, leaving it running as she gripped Lucy's hips, desperately chasing her own release. She was so close. She shut her eyes tight, concentrating on her peak, thrusting just right so the base of the strap pressed firmly against her clit.

Lucy’s walls convulsed around the strap, having moved past the initial waves of overstimulation, and another orgasm was already building up.

At the same time they cried out, waves of pleasure rippling through their bodies at the same time, jerkily Ona rode out her orgasm until she pulled out and collapsed next to Lucy.

Lucy was in a complete daze, her vision blurred, heart pounding so loudly she could hear it echoing in her ears. A wave of pure bliss washed over her, and time felt meaningless.

She couldn’t tell if it had been seconds, minutes, or longer. Time seemed to blur in her hazy state. Slowly, Lucy became aware of the gentle buzzing against her belly. With fumbling hands, she reached down, trying to turn it off. Ona chuckled softly and took it from her, switching it off with ease.

Lucy let out a deep sigh. "That was… fucking amazing."

Ona turned to face her fully, a satisfied smile on her lips. "Glad you liked it."

"And you?" Lucy asked, her voice a bit breathless.

"Mhm." Ona leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Lucy’s cheek. "Very good."

Lucy smiled, rolling onto her back, stretching out as contentment washed over her. She couldn’t remember ever feeling this satisfied before. As she sensed Ona moving beside her, she cracked one eye open and was met with a playful smile.

Ona reached out, lazily tracing patterns on Lucy’s chest. "You tired already?" she teased, though there was a faint note of disappointment in her voice.

Lucy hummed, savoring a few more moments of bliss before sitting up slightly. "Why?"

Ona chuckled, that familiar mischievous glint returning to her eyes. The athleticism was always a plus, models tended to tire too quickly for her liking. "Want to wear a strap? I think you’ve earned it." She smirked, already imagining how Lucy would womanhandle her, or perhaps she could ride her, propped up against those irresistible abs.

A slow smile spread across Lucy’s face. Oh, she definitely wanted to wear a strap. "Yeah," she replied, "I’d like that."

"Perfect," Ona said with a grin, standing up with the kind of ease that made it seem like she was just starting her day, full of fresh energy.

Lucy could feel her own energy gradually returning. As Ona removed her harness, letting it fall to the floor with the strap still attached. Lucy stepped towards her, removing the plug and laying it beside the discarded strap.

Ona didn’t seem to notice, already preoccupied with scanning her closet. Without looking up, she handed Lucy a harness, her mind focused on choosing the right strap.

With practiced ease, Lucy slipped into the harness, already feeling the familiar stir of excitement building again.

Ona turned to her with a grin, handing over the strap and a small bottle of lube.

Lucy raised an eyebrow as she took it. This girl was definitely experienced, but the size of the strap was... pretty big. She couldn’t help but smirk, though she kept any comment to herself.

It was a shame Lucy wasn’t allowed to kiss her, especially now. Ona looked so damn cute biting her bottom lip, intently watching her secure the strap. Truly a shame.

Unable to resist, Lucy leaned in, kissing the soft skin of her neck with eager lips. They stumbled into the wooden door, and Lucy caught Ona just before she could crash into it too hard, pausing her movements.

Their eyes met, Ona’s filled with undeniable lust. Lucy smirked. This girl truly had a passion, no doubt about that.

Lucy lifted Ona, carrying her toward the nearest wall, to not to let Ona’s back press against the rough wood.

Ona chuckled at how effortlessly the girl carried her. Cupping Lucy's face she pressed a soft kiss to her cheek before trailing her lips down to her neck, playfully returning the favor with a few teasing bites mixed in.

She paused, however, when Lucy pressed the lubed strap against her, a low groan escaping her lips as Lucy began to grind her hips. Held securely against the wall, Ona could feel the firm grip of Lucy's big hands on her ass, grounding her.

Her jaw went slack as Lucy slowly entered her, guiding her down onto the rubber strap. God, she loved the feeling of being filled like this.

Ona reached for Lucy’s hair, fingers tangling just above the nape of her neck, giving it a firm tug. Lucy groaned in response, but it didn’t slow her rhythm. Instead, she leaned in closer, her lips finding Ona’s neck once more, resuming her trail of eager kisses.

Lucy felt the urge to give Ona more, to feel even closer, the desire to kiss more of her skin was overwhelming. With that thought, she shifted, holding up Ona easily as she walked them towards the bed. Her movements slowed but remained deliberate, their connection never breaking even as she shuffled on to the bed.

Lucy eagerly latched onto Ona’s chest, her tongue tracing circles and lips sucking gently, every movement fueled by the soft sounds escaping the woman below her. Each moan spurred her on, her own thrusts becoming more insistent, matching the rhythm of Ona’s pleasure. Lucy’s focus was completely on her, reading every breath, every gasp, and responding with more intensity.

Ona groaned, a sudden idea flashing through her mind. She tugged Lucy up by the roots of her hair and, with a swift motion, rolled them both over. Lucy, caught off guard but intrigued, let it happen, eyes widening as she watched Ona straddle her waist. Instinctively, she tried to sit up, eager to continue her trail of kisses, but Ona gently pushed her back down, pinning her to the bed.

Without a word, Ona reached for the vibrator they'd used earlier, switching it on and positioning it against herself. As she began to ride Lucy, her left hand pressed firmly against Lucy’s toned stomach, steadying herself while she controlled the pace, her movements deliberate and intoxicating.

Ona's eyes squeezed shut, her breath hitching as she focused on the growing tension coiling in her core. The heat in her stomach tightened with every thrust, every brush of Lucy’s touch, pulling her closer and closer to the edge of release.

As Ona’s body faltered, Lucy’s hands tightened around her hips, steadying her movements. She continued to lift her up and down, her own hips rolling rhythmically beneath her, guiding Ona through every wave of pleasure.

With a satisfied hum, Ona eventually eased herself off Lucy and collapsed beside her, turning off the toy with a soft click. She exhaled deeply, sinking into the bed in contentment, her breathing gradually slowing.

Lucy rolled on her side to watch Ona, brushing a strand of hair out of her face.

Ona sighed and rolled her eyes, before turning to face her. "Lucy"

Lucy, still captivated by Ona’s beauty, smiled warmly. "Yes?"

Ona leaned closer, gently cupping Lucy’s face in her hands and squeezing her cheeks. "Hello."

Lucy chuckled, feeling a flutter in her chest. "Yes, hello. I already -"

"No," Ona interrupted, squeezing a bit harder. "I know that look. Put your brain back in gear for a moment."

Lucy blinked, momentarily confused. Her mind was engaged, or so she thought. Oh shit. Her heart skipped a beat as she realized she might have been caught up in the moment more than she intended.

Ona's grip tightened slightly. "You’re not falling in love with me," she said firmly. "This was fun, but it's just an act. We're not running away together, we’re not getting married on an island, and you’re not buying me presents." She released Lucy’s face and gave a reassuring smile.

Lucy’s frown deepened as she processed Ona’s words. Wait, was I really - she thought shocked, a mixture of surprise and embarrassment washing over her.

"But this was great," Ona continued, her smile softening. "If you ever find yourself back in Barcelona and have time for a night of fun, just ask for Nova."

"Nova?" Lucy asked, still a bit flustered. "Oh, is that your stage name?"

Ona nodded, a playful glint in her eye. "Sí."

----the end-----

I hope you liked it, I have never written a song-fic and i went a little of track (litteraly lol).

sorry, this was... a lot 🙈

#shoutout to professors who bake in their free time and share cookies during lectures #i wrote the ending in a tab next to some pcr calculations #did one 4 times and got 4 different outcomes #help #maybe i should start doing 1 thing at a time #ona batlle x lucy bronze #lucy bronze smut #woso smut #woso fanfics #lucy bronze x ona batlle #lucy bronze #lucy bronze x reader #woso #woso imagine #ona batlle smut #wlw nsft #wlw ns/fw

161 notes · View notes