#and wait hold on has my house always been this warm it is midnight and i am Sweating in the living room
Note
Can we please please please get a part 3 for stay with me where they actually fuck? Love your stuff btw absolutely amazing ❤️
Stay With Me | Rhysand (III)
Rhysand x Plus size reader
It's been a week. Rhysand's patience has worn thin. So has Y/N's.
Warnings: Mature themes (18+), swearing, and smut.
MASTERLIST - 1 and 2
PART ONE
PART TWO
Are you awake, darling?
I stared at the note that appeared on my nightstand fifteen seconds ago, the luxurious, broad sprawl telling of who had sent it. The word darling made my stomach coil – like I could hear Rhys purring it in my ear.
I fought my smile as I turned, dropping my bare legs off the side of the bed, and grabbing the quill that had appeared with the note. It was slightly warm, and I envisioned Rhys holding it, smirking like the fiend he was.
I am awake.
Missing me already?
I could feel my anticipation thrumming in me as I sprawled the words before neatly dropping the pen beside it. It vanished the moment I released it, wisped away to wherever Rhys lounged and for some reason, I could practically hear the rumbling laugh that would escape him the moment he read my teasing response.
My smile grew when the note reappeared not even thirty seconds later. I grabbed it with shaking hands, and I could feel the heat blazing through my blood and bones and veins at his words.
I always miss you; you know that.
And while I usually am the most patient male, that patience is starting to wear very thin.
I want you, darling.
He had been patient. So had I. One week since the Hybern attack, one week since I had sustained that injury and Rhysand had taken care of me – in more ways than just my leg. One week of stolen touches and yearning glances and pleasuring myself to quell the urge to seek him out.
I didn't want to be patient anymore. The ache between my legs wouldn't let me be.
Then why aren't you here?
I'm waiting, High Lord.
The note vanished and not even a second later, I heard the distant sound of wings thundering. I felt Rhysand's dark, obsidian power misting over Velaris stretching from the Town house to the House of Wind.
Call it impatience, call it confidence, call it whatever you want but my body was alight at the power of him, the need of him. And as Rhys thundered closer and closer, I took off piece after piece of clothing. My socks, my nightshirt, my underwear, my bra, everything, until I was bare sat upon my bed desperately needing to be touched.
My thighs clenched when Rhys landed on my balcony, the ground and walls shaking with the impact of his arrival. I could see his silhouette outlined by the moonlight and sheet of stars above as he stalked on silent feet toward my door, looking like a God that shouldn't exist.
The curtain parted with a phantom wind, and I felt my nipples pebble and my core soak as it danced into my room, brushing my skin like a lover's touch. Rhys ducked under my door, powerful wings tucked close to his back and violet eyes gleaming like midnight constellations.
"You beautiful, wicked thing," Rhys groaned as he slid into my room, eyes latching onto my naked figure sitting patiently atop my sheets. I felt his magic thrum at the sight of me, eyes razing across my bare flesh. "You couldn't wait two minutes?"
"I waited one week, Rhys," I lifted my chin defiantly, feigning arrogance. Even as every long step he took toward me made me tremble. "I'm a patient female but not that patient."
"Tsk tsk tsk," He clucked his tongue tauntingly at me, his thick brow raised in a challenge. I traced his long, lean angles, the broad muscles of his shoulders, and that infuriating smirk as he came to a stop before me. "As much as I love your eagerness, darling, I didn't say you could undress."
I moaned when his ringed hand came forward, cupping my aching breasts and squeezing it in his palm. His chest rumbled appreciatively as it spilt from his hand, another moan slipping from me when his thumb brushed over my taut, sensitive nipple.
"Perhaps I should punish you?" Rhys mused softly, eyes transfixed on my breasts, his forefinger and thumb clamped around my bud, abusing it, and watching me gasp. I craned my neck up to meet his towering form, cruel amusement in his eyes. "Unlace my breeches."
A firm, powerful command – his High Lord's voice. Gods, it made me wet. Rhys smirked at the spike in my pulse, the pleasure that coiled through me at his authority.
I was more than eager to follow his command, my hands moving to his slacks, tugging furiously at the laces. I could feel his hard length under my fingers, twitching and straining against the material, begging to be let free.
Rhysand released my breast, and I would have whined in protest had he not begun tugging the ties at the back of his shirt, striping the material from his wings and chest, revealing acres and acres of beautiful tan, tattooed skin as he discarded it.
I whimpered as I tugged the last lace, my pussy clenching around nothing as Rhys's thick, hard length slipped free from his pants, slapping back against his stomach, nearly hitting my face in the process. My mouth watered, actually watered at the sight of him.
"This is meant to be a punishment, darling," Rhys chuckled darkly, fingers gently folding into my hair and tilting my head to meet his eyes. He grinned at the heady intent on my face. "You shouldn't look so happy about it."
"You’re about to let me suck your cock, Rhys," I breathed, my voice rasping and hoarse. His hand tightened in my hair, fisting the root as I purred the word cock. I eyed his length, the red angry tip, the small pearly beads of pre-cum, the strong veins that danced on the sides. "How is that a punishment?"
"You're not sucking my cock, my love," Rhys smiled – it was not a comforting sight. No, it was dark and terrifying. I gasped when the tip of his cock traced my lip, his eyes glinting as he pushed it slowly into my warm mouth. "I'm going to fuck your throat."
He slammed the rest of his length into my mouth until he hit the back of my throat, and I was gagging and moaning and choking for air.
"Good girl," Rhys moaned, his cock stretching my mouth until my jaw ached and he seated so far down my throat I could feel every twitch. He pulled out after several seconds, beads of spit and cum lacing my lips and down my chest as I gasped for air. "Such a good girl."
I hummed at the praise, even as I felt my lungs burning from the lack of oxygen. But Rhys tasted so good, and he was moaning so loud as I slipped him back into my mouth, my throat going lax as he shoved his length in until he maxed out.
I gagged, desperately breathing through my nose as his hips rolled, every stroke dragging his pulsing cock in and out, hitting the back of my throat again and again. Rhys growled, a pure sound of pleasure, one of no control as he truly fucked my mouth raw.
Tears streaked down my face, drool dripped down my chin and onto my breasts and Rhys's hand fisted my hair brutally, keeping me in place while he drove his hips into my mouth. I moaned at the feel of him, every ragged breath he took making me that much more eager.
"That feels incredible, darling," Rhys hissed, his voice shaking as his climax neared. His cock twitched in my mouth, and I let my tongue graze along his shaft in a way that had him cursing. "This mouth is better than I had imagined."
I could feel my arousal leaking down my thighs at his words, and my eyes rolled when Rhys bucked his hips forward, burying himself so far, that my nose brushed the trail of hair at his navel. I could smell his sweet scent, addictive enough that it distracted me from the burning in my lungs, the full feeling of him shoved down my throat.
"Fuck," Rhys swore, and I whined as he tore my head back, his wet, angry cock slipping out. Air rushed into my lungs, spit dribbled down my chin and then Rhys was upon me, his head ducking down and crashing his lips to mine.
I could taste the wine in his mouth, could taste the possession on his tongue as he shoved it past my swollen lips and into me, battling and furious and needy. My fingers clawed and scratched along his marble skin, tracing the hard muscles and rippling abs, memorising the perfect feel of him.
"Rhys," I whined against his lips, breathless as his large, ringed hands kneaded along my body, grumbling in approval as he palmed the flesh at my hips and back and thighs, his eyes stark with lust as he pushed me to lie on my back.
"I know, I know," He crooned, a tint of arrogance and appreciation in his voice as he settled onto the bed, his arms bracing his towering figure over me, his hands guiding my thighs around his lean hips. "I'm impatient too, darling. I know you need it; I've got you."
My back arched as he grazed his nose along the side of my neck, his magnificent wings erecting high behind him as he inhaled the sweet, sweaty scent of me. I was breathless as he touched my skin, touched my flesh like I was a dream come to fruition.
"Cauldron, I wish I had time to get my head between these soft thighs," His teeth scraped my nipple, his hands parting my thighs as he rubbed his tip through my soaking wet folds. "I'd have my tongue fucking your sweet hole until you came all over my face. Until you were begging me to stop."
For a second, I nearly begged him to do exactly that, nearly begged for the feel of his tongue and teeth, for the burn of his skilled fingers slipping inside me. But then he rubbed his hard length against me again, smearing my wetness and I couldn't wait another moment.
"Stop talking Rhys,” I snarled, my fingers curling around his short raven hair, dragging his face up to mine. He chuckled at the ire and frustration behind my words, behind my touch as I pressed desperate kisses to his lips, "I want you to fuck me. Now."
“Such dirty words for such a pretty mouth,” Rhysand laughed against my lips, a hint of violence tinging his tone, his touch, as he toyed his tip against my swollen clit. “I’ll have to think of a better punishment to remedy that. But right now – “
I screamed as he drove his hips forward, shoving his hard, pulsing length into me in one forceful thrust.
“Rhys!”
An explosion of pain and pleasure, like stars erupting through my core as Rhysand forced his way into me, stretching my sore walls, languishing in the wetness of my arousal until he maxed out. Pain and pleasure – it was all I knew.
“Cauldron, you’re fucking incredible,” Rhys growled into my ear, his hands bruising against my waist as he forced my flailing body against the bed. He pulled out to the tip, the sound filthy as he pushed back in, moaning as he did so. “So fucking incredible.”
“Rhys, oh Gods –“
I was crying out for him as his pace picked up, my walls moulding around him perfectly as he fucked me, that pain fading into pure, unfiltered pleasure. He grunted with every roll of his hips, his lips suckling my pulse point and reverberating his noises against me, through me.
Rhys scraped his canines against the junction of my throat possessively, marking me as he fucked his hips against me again and again, tits and body jolting with every stroke. I keened when he threw my leg over his shoulder, kissing my knee before he sunk so deep, I thought he’d tear me in two.
“Right there,” He panted, sweat coating his forehead as he grinned down at me. I gasped, breathless as he pressed a hand down on the stomach – pressed down on the imprint of his cock shaped there. “You feel how deep I am, darling? Feel how far my cock is inside you?”
“S-so deep,” I blubbered, my words half caught between a sob and a moan as my walls fisted tighter and tighter, that familiar pool filling within me, filling more and more as Rhys whispered those dirty words and fucked me raw. “It’s so deep, Rhys.”
‘Look at you’ Rhys’s rumbling, arrogant voice filled my mind, mixed in with his stark arousal and overwhelming praise, ‘Crying for me, all fucked out and ready to come around my cock.’
His lips slammed against mine, all biting teeth and furious, exploring tongue and I could feel my orgasm ripping down my spine, feel it building at the apex of my thighs as he hit a spot within me, again and again and again. Something that felt so fucking good.
‘Come for me, darling,’ Rhys commanded through my mind, a bolt of obsidian power sparking along my nerves and through my whole body. I yelped, crying out at that feeling.
He sent another bolt, in tandem with the sweet, brutal roll of his hips and suddenly I was coming.
“Rhys, Rhys –“
White hot power splitting my core in two, strong enough that all I could do was arch my back and curl my toes, letting my body turn stiff and hard as Rhysand rocked into me, longing out the pleasure for what felt like hours.
I was coming and coming and coming. I couldn’t fucking breathe as Rhys ruined me.
“That’s my girl,” He gritted out, kissing my cheek, my jaw, my neck, teeth and spit and tongue as he fucked erratically into me. His climax was close, I was fluttering around him so furiously, that I knew he was close.
“Fill me up, Rhys,” I begged him, my orgasm dwindling and all my nerves endings on fire as he stroked and stroked and stroked. Rhys whimpered – actually whimpered, as I dragged my hand through the inner part of his wing, trembling behind him from the contact. “Want you to fill me up so bad.”
I touched his wing with a whisper of a caress again and again, until Rhys was cursing, until his beautiful body was trembling against me, and he was making noises I would kill, actually kill, to hear again.
“You beautiful – “ Thrust. “Cruel – “ Thrust. “Wicked –“ Thrust. “Thing –“ Thrust.
His hand brushed my clit as he rocked his twitching cock into me, harder and faster now. I felt the dwindling tendrils of my first orgasm before they began erupting like flames as a second barrelled into me.
“Rhys – “ I sobbed his name, scratching my nails along the talon atop his right wing. And as my core exploded with another all-consuming climax, Rhys reached his peak too.
He reached that peak roaring.
“Fuck –“ He curses as his climax hit him, obsidian mist erupting from him and blanketing the room as he halted inside me. I moaned, my walls clenching and unclenching as I felt him spill endlessly inside me, his wings and body tensed and shaking under my hands.
Our moans and releases were furious and strong enough that I felt the posters of my bed shaking, Rhysand’s face buried in the crook of my neck, moaning, and panting for breath as his hips came to a total stop. My walls pulsed, and his cock twitched in response as if our orgasms had become one.
Rhys laughs roughly against my throat, his canines grazing my sensitive skin as he collapses against me, both our chests rising and falling in shattered waves. It reminded me of that first day in the cabin, how he had been so euphoric as I ground against him until he came.
“That was a good day for me,” Rhys sighed, head lifting so his violet eyes met mine. So bright, so happy. “Almost as good as last week when you came all over my hand.”
I blushed, his grin broadening at the sheepish smile I gave him. He dipped his head, kissing my lips sweetly, a satisfied groan rumbling through him as his tongue gently explored mine.
“I hope you’re aware that this means you’re stuck with me, darling,” Rhys smirked, forehead resting against mine. He was still inside me, and it felt more than right. His eyes glinted, daring me to challenge him. “No male will ever touch you again.”
“Is that a decree, High Lord?” I gnawed on my lip, giggling at the way his eyes narrowed. My giggle erupted into a laugh as Rhys began peppering kisses against my cheek and jaw.
“Yes,” He growled, nipping my skin with his teeth, “That’s an order. With the penalty of death for any male who does otherwise.”
“Good,” I grinned, my heart skipping at his dark, tempting words. I cupped his jaw, bringing his eyes back to mine. “Because if another female so much as looks at you, Rhys – I will pluck her eyes out.”
“Fuck, I love it when you get violent,” He groaned, fingers digging into my waist possessively. “It makes me want to do very filthy things to you.”
“I’m all yours, Rhys,” I smiled, a hint of sincerity mixed with lewd intent in my eyes. “Do with me what you will. Unless you plan to be somewhere else tonight?”
His eyes flashed, stars exploding, shadows coiling, and I felt him harden in me again, my walls stretching inch by inch until I was soaked around him.
“I’ll be here, with you,” He whispered, his nose brushing mine and I whimpered when he rolled his hips, stroking his cock inside me slowly. “I’ll always stay with you.”
----------------------------
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𝟏𝟏:𝟏𝟐𝐏𝐌 | 𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐍𝐀 𝐊𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐀𝐖𝐀
Title: Little Black Dress
Summary: Working for Bonten has always had it's perks, like the anonymous gifts you receive every morning. But surely your secret admirer and the Boss you're sleeping with can't be one and the same... right? (see a/n at the bottom) reblogs appreciated! Link to masterlist here!
cw: fem!reader, boss/employee relationship, pet names (pretty girl, good girl) izana and reader both have a sir kink (I'm sorry), alcohol, assumed unrequited feelings (he's a bit dense and awkward), jealousy, implied panty stealing, unprotected sex, ptv, possessiveness, thigh riding, foreplay, a hint of degradation (it's not much promise), biting, marking, orgasm denial, breeding, hair pulling, light choking, loads of praise, it's pure filth i'm sorry. MDNI. This is my first time writing NSFW so be nice yeah?
You and Izana like playing games.
The kind where you pretend like you’re using each other for some purpose or other, ravenous appetites that you sate till you’ve had your fill, two equally gluttonous, hungry people who don’t mind the copious sex and the copious money and all the splashed cash that you think might suffice enough for you not to talk about the type of relationship you have.
Maybe it’s because he’s your boss, and you’re his subordinate and you have long foregone that boundary that separates you as something more but you’ve never questioned it, why he calls you into his office to sit you on his lap with his fingers dancing over your skin, a ghost of a touch that often slips between your legs. By accident of course, as if it’s your own needs and desires that he’s relieving, and not the fact that his skin thrums and his stomach jumps when you buck your hips against his hand to chase the friction he’s denying you by pulling you along to cynically laugh at in desperation.
Maybe it’s because in the late hours, long after the sunset has bled into a cobalt blue night, he finds you still here, at work in an office, the dress he gifted you still sitting pristine in a box on the desk, looking over accounts and reports and emails that you’d sworn couldn’t wait till morning.
And maybe that’s how it had started, closer to midnight, and he’d found you for the first time, in the dress you’d been sent by an anonymous sender that swelled from where your hips were flush against the fabric, all curves and shadows and accented silk that had his cheeks flushing, as if he hadn’t stolen into your house to read your sizes during your absence.
Not that he’d stopped after that, and perhaps if you’d bothered to check your undergarments drawer you’d have noticed the worryingly thin stash of black lace panties that you could swear wasn’t half as short in supply last time you checked.
Some habits are hard to break, no? And really, did it matter when there was always something on your desk to make up for it at the end of the week? A pearl necklace, coral shell pink and rose gold that sat against your skin, jade earrings and dainty Rolex watches that the others marvel at when they catch your eye in the mornings, all sleep and slumber still caked under their eyes marred by half-shadows.
‘That’s Pretty,’ Ran says and holds up your wrist to the light, your palm now stroked by his long and lithe fingers, the callouses grazing the sharp indent of your wrist, enough to have you sucking in a breath when he grazes your knuckles achingly slow, torturous in the way he likes. ‘Someone get that for you?’
You’re too drunk on his touch to notice the dark and heavy glint in his eye, violet rays that splash over your arms, roaming over the silk that hugs your body, the curve of your neck where the amply applied concealer hides the heavy purple bruises left by your boss the night before.
‘Yeah, an anonymous sender,’ you say and flush when he smirks, half hidden by the way his mouth ghosts over the veins in your wrist, soft and warm breath that tickles your skin down to your stomach where the ache settles unremittingly.
‘Uh-huh… They’ve got a good eye. Pretty things for a Pretty Girl huh?’
You pretend it means nothing when the others let their gazes slide over and away from you, some forbidden thing, when Izana walks into the room, a stiffness that permeates the air then and never a moment after, once he has left and they release a collective breath trapped in equally lustful lungs.
‘Something came for you this morning,’ Kakucho says, a card slid over the table, a boutique name you don’t recognise, and a velvet box inlaid with burnished gold. You feign surprise, a raise of your eyebrows, as if it’s something new, as if Kakucho hasn’t had the conversation so many times already.
‘Why not just tell her how you feel?’
And Izana scoffs, turns towards the window where the rain falls in droves, a darkened shadow against the grey velvet curtains, the thin slap of it on the roof where it drowns the aching pulse of his heart against his ribs. It should be easy, everything else considered. He’s killed before, bled out in the snow and lived, but it seems trivial when he considers the frown that could accompany your rejection, a slice of fresh pain across his lungs that he’s convinced could be enough to kill him outright.
‘Again?’ you say, and the thin gold chain slips out onto your palm, the light dancing on the marbled ceiling, a shaft catching on Kakucho’s ivory white eye. ‘There’s never a return address so I can’t even give it back.’
‘Someone must really like you,’ he says, offhandedly, his waistcoat shuffling as he lifts a coffee cup to his lips, turning away towards the mahogany table as the others shuffle towards the door, a smirk hidden behind the hair dancing against his cheek.
‘Mhm, I don’t really deserve all this though, and I don’t even know who they are.’
He turns, an eyebrow raised over the lip of the cup, a graze of his gaze along your collarbone where the dainty chain sits, a kiss of gold on your skin. ‘You deserve that and more, clearly someone else thinks so too.’
Often, you wonder if there is a game being played here, a cat and mouse that you can never grasp, constantly clutching at the end of the string as it’s pulled. They never seem worried and it should bother you, would bother you, if you didn’t feel so safe in the warm encompassing circles of their arms, your heart cradled by their rough hands, a soft touch and graze along your cheek that you pretend is only ever part of the job.
Izana finds you like that on the same night, the rain slapping against the windowpane, the soft and tinny clink of it that slips in through the open window, smooth jazz that fills the empty space in your office, underlaid between the scratch of your pen on paper and the click of your nails on the keyboard.
He knocks once, a whispery, ‘It’s me,’ that slips underneath the draught at the bottom, before the door swings, a creak on the hinges and the soft pad of his feet on the beige carpet. He holds a hand against the door, as if he’s ashamed of the sound, a frequent glance back at the empty corridor, where the overhead lights seem to pull the shadows closer, a quiet beckon into the safety of your office.
‘Izana sir,’ you say and lift your head from behind the monitor, the blue light pulling at the taut skin of your cheeks, where the tiredness clings to your skin, a thin sheen of exhaustion curling at the faint shadows under your eyes. ‘Is everything okay?’
It’s not uncharacteristic, though the two of you like to pretend it’s new every time, like it’s the very first instance of him coming to you for comfort, for warmth, a quick grab of your light that he eats so ravenously, that he wishes he could swim in and perhaps if you believed in yourself anymore, you could admit that it wasn’t just that you were convenient to sink his teeth into, that maybe you were something more.
‘Mmh? Yeah I’m fine.’ He teeters on the edge, a foot inside the office and not, a hand on the doorknob, his body angled so that he’s both inside and out, a step from foot to foot with apprehension. He curses himself then, inaudibly, for biting his lip, his hand clammy against the door, the hesitant shift of his suit that seems inexorably loud in the otherwise quiet building. He hears a laugh, somewhere far off, Shion and the Haitanis receding towards the exit, the full and raucous giggling that falls to an abrupt stop when the doors close, the tinny plink of the rain that patters on the window. ‘You’re still here?’ he says, for something to say, a furious press of his nails into his palm at his own lack of tact, and it burns that he’s nervous and hiding it this many months later, as if he hasn’t stolen into your house to run his lithe fingers along your sheets, his mind marvelling at the indent of you on the mattress.
Your eyes fall over him, the sharp angles of his cheekbones, the honey of his skin where the streetlight sits so perfectly, the silver glow of his hair that kisses at his cheeks. ‘Y-yeah, I didn’t want to leave this until morning.’ Your tongue trips, in the way it always has around him, a thick and heavy film that coats your teeth. ‘Come in, I’ll get you a drink.’
You stand, and he moves, the door clicked shut as he lingers along your desk, his fingers drumming on the velvet box, a bare and quick glance at the gold trim. He knows you like pretty things, and maybe he finds it easier like this, copious gifts and sex that he hopes is enough to tell you what he can’t, the complicated tangle of his feelings barred behind the trapdoor, and really, Kakucho is right, he could tell you how he feels, and then wait for the inevitable hurt that he is so sure is coming, the icicle of pain and rejection you’re sure to stab into his heart, because he is just your boss, and you are just his employee.
You turn away from him towards the drinks cabinet and he allows a single moment to marvel at how the dress clings to you, a slip of a thing that licks at your thighs, a little shorter when you reach upwards for the glasses in the cabinet, the lacey trim of your stockings slipping into view. Maybe it’s shameful, how you wear the things without knowing who they’re from, as if you don’t know how he’ll tear it off you, run his hands along the insides of your thighs to feel the silk and satin on the backs of his scarred hands, a harsh tug of your hips to pull you flush against him.
‘You should have gone home,’ he says, a lie of course, slipping effortlessly through his teeth, and you only smile over your shoulder, a thin and watery thing that has his throat aching.
‘I don’t mind.’ You hold two glasses in one hand, and pull the decanter off the shelf with the other, the amber swirl inside lightning to gold when you move past the window again, copper light that weaves through your dress and his hands itch, a harsh and aggressive clench of his fists against his sides.
There is a slosh, amber swirling into the crystal and a glass handed over, a murmured thank you that’s lost underneath the undulating slap of the rain on the roof. He watches you over the rim, the fold of your legs, one on top of the other and alluringly splayed out so that your stockinged foot grazes his ankle, your bare arms kissed by goosebumps prickling across your skin. The gold chain sits on your collarbone, a single flash of light on your otherwise bare skin.
‘How come you came? I thought you’d have…’
He tilts his head, the sweep of his sharp white hair falling against his nose, the dress shirt slipping open as he lifts his glass to tease the patch of golden honey skin on his chest, his tie skewed. ‘What?’
‘Just….’ You suck in a breath, a quick slip of your gaze from the haunting violet burn of his eyes, to the marbled ceiling, the silhouette of him spreading his thighs on your sofa burned onto the roof, a dark shadow of opulence that has the heat crawling along your flushed skin. ‘I thought you’d be going to see a girl that’s all.’
He raises an eyebrow, a twitch of his mouth that you try not to linger on, full and pink lips glistening with a thin sheen of whisky, the translucent shine of them that you think tastes of sugar and vanilla, honey and warm coffee.
He shifts, lifts his hips to adjust his dress pants and your eyes fall, unashamedly, on the prominent bulge half hidden by the darkness, a single shaft of copper light dancing on his thigh, and you can’t help it, the way your teeth bite at your lip hard enough to hurt, a blinding flash of pain and arousal that pools in your tummy. You hate it, the betrayal of your body that comes so easily, the fold of your veins and control that comes from a few simple actions, the dance of your heart against your ribs.
‘Would it matter if I was?’ he says and leans back, the amber swirling along the crystal of the glass, raising it to his lips where the warmth of his breath mists against the surface, the imprint of his perfect lips now flecked with the heady taste of whisky, the ice clinking at the bottom of the tumbler.
Your eyebrows shoot up on instinct, the flush of embarrassment, spreading along your exposed cleavage, where Izana’s eyes drift lazily before flitting back to the pert mouth where your faded red lipstick still sits. ‘N-no, obviously not, I mean yes- no- I’m not sure.’
‘Hm? That makes no sense. So which is it?’
Your heart thrums against your ribs, an embarrassment so loud you’re convinced he can hear the ringing in your ears, the thin and tinny pressure that has red blooming across the nape of your neck. ‘I- I only mean…’ Your tongue is too heavy for your mouth, a weight that has the words drying on your whisky-flecked lips. ‘...that, if you went to see a girl, you’d be allowed, and it would be your right.’
He hums, a slow roll of his neck, where the sharp angles of his clavicles slip into view, the golden sand of his skin now catching the copper glow filtering through the window and you squeeze your thighs together in some attempt to subtly relieve the ache slowly building there.
‘So, you wouldn’t be jealous?’ he says and spreads his legs wider, his arms moving to rest on the back of the sofa, the faint warmth in his chest now simmering with a growing heat.
‘Should I be? Is that what you want?’
‘Maybe. But why would you get jealous? Don’t you have the others to give you the attention you want?’
You burn at the tone, the teasing lilt and airy whisper that melts against your skin, the silhouette of him with the rain-dashed window slicing across the pristine and pressed white shirt now unbuttoned at the collar, the sleeves rolled to the elbow.
Your tongue aches when you lift it to run over your teeth. Faintly, in some recess of your head, you hear a door slam, undulated by the thwack of the rain on the window, the occasional click of shoes on linoleum and the screech of tires beyond the 19th floor window and it’s so far away, so quiet when you’re here so high up and the ringing in your ears has a constant hammer to your skull.
You lick your lips and his eyes flick to your tongue peeking out. ‘That’s true but, what if it’s not their attention I want so much?’
‘Oh? And whose attention do you want?’
You bite the inside of your cheek, uncross your legs and cut your eyes to the decanter on the table, the empty glass still poised between two lithe fingers and there is a beat, a long and draining silence that swallows the air between you while you let it drift and hang, your eyes flitting between the violet haze roaming your skin and his lips where the aftertaste of whisky lingers.
‘Here.’ You pick up the decanter and stand, using one hand to smooth down the front of your silk slip, a barely perceptible shake that you’re quick to hide as you lean over to steady his waiting glass. ‘Let me refill that for you.’
He watches, a wolf eyeing prey, a heat between his legs that has his mouth drying, uncomfortable and thick as the tension dragging through the air.
You make to turn, the decanter set onto the table when he grabs your wrist, a tight squeeze that has your ribs closing around your heart. You turn back, a less than subtle squeeze of your thighs together, where his eyes flick from the crease in your dress, to your lips parted with the thin sheen of whisky.
‘I don’t think you answered my question,’ he says, his voice a low hum as he strokes a slow circle onto the dip in your wrist. ‘I asked whose attention you wanted.’
Your tongue drags along the roof of your mouth, your palm clammy and curled into a loose fist, the warmth in your blood beating at your skin. ‘Yours, only yours.’
‘Mhm, really? I don’t think I believe you.’ His lithe fingers dance along your forearm before he pulls, harshly, a tug that has you reaching an arm out to cage him between you and the sofa. Your heart punches against your ribs. Your warm breath fans the tip of his nose, a hairdbreath from your parted lips as you gasp, your thighs now straddling and pressing him to the fabric of the sofa.
‘It’s true, I swear,’ you whisper, your silk slip riding up towards your waist, panties now brushing the rich polyester of his dress pants. ‘I’m yours, I belong to you.’
‘Not to Ran? I’ve seen how he looks at you.’
You shake your head, adamantly, the shuffle of your slip matching your bated breaths. ‘Not to Ran, only to you my Izana.’
He runs his hands along your thighs, a press of his fingers into your skin, the rough pads of his thumbs tracing a line to the swell of your ass before he pulls you closer still, a slow and languid grind against his quickly hardening cock, the press of it against your clit that has your panties dampening.
‘That’s right, I own you, so are you going to let me have you?’ And he bites hard on his lip when your hands come to tangle in his hair, a harsh tug that has a quiet gasp slipping between his lips. Your mind crumbles too quickly, and you find yourself rolling your hips, a glide along his thigh, the wetness pooling in sticky warmth, your panties clinging to your skin, the patch on his charcoal dress pants now darkening with your arousal.
‘Yes, yes I- I need you,’ you gasp, sparks of pleasure rolling against your clit, and it’s too much, the ringing in your ears is too loud, the fog in your head has your eyes fluttering, the piercing violet gaze slipping and out of view.
He groans, his grip tightening around your thighs, your soft and supple skin spilling between his fingers, silver rings that burn cold where they graze the sensitive inside of your thighs.
‘What do you need? Tell me, I want to hear it.’
‘Please, don’t make me say it,’ you whisper, breath caught in your throat where one ringed hand slides to squeeze lightly at your neck, the faint pulse and quicken of your heartbeat sending waves of pleasure along his spine.
‘Mhm, you have to.’ And he drums his fingers down your shoulder blades. ‘Use your words for me, you can do it.’
‘I need- I want- just want you to fuck me, please.’ You almost whimper at the soft sultriness of his voice hot on your ear, the warm dance of his rough fingertips along your skin, tracing a line from the curve of your breasts to your hips. He squeezes, thrusts up once, a light bump of friction against your aching clit, chuckling when you moan unabashedly at the sudden jolt.
‘Good girl, such a good obedient girl for me aren’t you? Does it hurt?’
You nod fervently, your mouth latched to his neck, hot kisses and bites that elicit shivers along his skin. He likes this, you know as much, the tit-for-tat, the teasing and pulling at you, drawing along your pain till it satisfies him, and you’d feel angry about it if the pleasure didn’t feel so hazily sweet after.
‘It hurts, Izana please, just wanna feel you inside.’ And it does, a heavy and dizzy ache between your thighs that has you shamelessly grinding on his now drenched dress pants for the barest lick of friction.
‘Mhm I know, you poor thing, am I being too mean by keeping this from you?’ he says and dips his head, a flick of his tongue along your exposed collarbone, the scent of your perfume lingering on your skin before he eagerly takes your nipple in his mouth and sucks, bites, and slides his tongue over it, alternating between both while you tug at his hair wound tight in your fist. ‘You want me to make you cum?’
‘Please sir.’ Your breath is caught in your throat, your soaked panties clinging to you, the slick of your arousal pooling between his thighs and yours.
He almost laughs, giddy with the heat from your skin, all warmth and hot anticipation that has him lifting his hips to pull his dress pants down as you eagerly tug at his belt, your hands shaking when you fiddle with the clasps, your lips bitten raw in need.
‘You sound so sweet when you beg like that- it almost makes me not want to let you.’
You freeze, the warmth in your blood chilling with the subtle undertone and the delicious promise of your pleasure in his waiting palms and you keen in response, palming at his hard cock leaking pre-cum till he’s slipping your panties to the side with a loud groan against your neck.
You’ve done this before obviously, it’s a common occurrence, him finding warmth in you, between your soft thighs, the trail of purple marks left on your neck and chest, his tongue lapping at your slick and fingers in your throat to gag on, the shaky convulsing and spasm that he controls by pinning your legs to your chest.
He kisses you, softly at first, a single moment in which he lets you hold eye contact, your dazed and watery expression where the reflection of him with his shirt pulled open and his hair in your hands peers back at him. He lets his tongue gently slide along yours, a light trace of it along the veins of the underside, a soft bite on your reddened lips, a suck on your tongue that has the saliva pooling at the corner of your mouth.
‘You’re so pretty, you know how badly I want you?’ And he teases the tip of his cock through your folds, the slick coating it in a translucent sheen. You yelp when he thrusts in one go, half of his cock slipping into your warm pussy. You grab at his shoulders for support, your eyes scrunched in partial bliss and pain. He knows you like the stretch, the burn of his cock inching its way in and it’s why he’s so tantalisingly slow with it, millimetre by millimetre, the brush of the vein on the underside pulsating warmly inside.
You mewl and bunch his shirt in your hands, knuckles white and squeezing at the fabric, practically drooling on his shoulder as he lowers you down, your slick webbing on his thighs.
‘It’s too much, I can’t do it, I can’t Izana,’ you say despite yourself, despite the forceful squeeze of your walls sucking him in, the delicious thrum of pain and dizzying pleasure rolling along your clit.
‘Shhhhh, yes you can, you know you can, be a good girl and relax, you can do it,’ he says, his ragged breath fanning the nape of your neck, hands bruising at your hips in his firm grip. ‘Look at how you’re sucking me in already, my good and obedient girl.’
You hardly have time to register the praise before he pulls you firmly, with his hands held tight around your hips, flush on his cock, the force of it stealing the breath from your lungs, a gasp pulled from your throat as your eyes squeeze shut.
‘Izana!’ you tug harshly on his hair, a groan spilling past his parted lips as you adjust to his size, the electrifying zing of pain rolling with the stretch of him inside you. Your breath comes hot and fast, your chest pressed to his. He grazes his lips along your breasts, a slight bite and playful nibble on your nipples that has your pussy squeezing him further.
‘Relax, let me make you feel good.’ He sighs, a bubble between a moan and a whine as he begins a languid grind of your hips on his.
You try to lift your hips, a bit of breathing room from the hot and heavy air, to slow him down from where his cock kisses at your cervix, the press of it that you feel inching towards your tummy and you’re biting down hard on his shoulder in the process, your broken whines pressed to his skin. It aches and he’s slow about it, a lazy drawl of him dragging through your walls, the vein zigzagging and pulsating and licking at your aching pussy.
He pulls your thigh higher, hooks it further on his waist, and his cock presses deeper still, till you’re babbling a broken version of his name, your mascara smeared on the white lapel of his shirt.
‘Ah- Izana, please, more, need more-’ and it comes out as a whine and a whimper, your clit brushing against the rough fabric of his pants and you moan at the friction of it, at the way he throws his head back and bounces you on his cock, all shame foregone, the chase of your pleasure that has him eagerly panting your name.
‘You’re such a-’ he pants, his eyes clouding with lust, a dip of his gaze from the bliss written across your face to the place where his cock disappears inside you, ‘a- greedy girl aren’t you? So greedy and needy, and all mine, only mine.’
‘Only- hah- yours sir.’ You’re breathless, the air stifling hot, warm with the scent of perfume, sweat and sex, your hands finding purchase in his shirt now pulled entirely open, his hair now messy and curling around his ears.
‘Sh-shit, oh fuck- you feel so good around me, so fuckin’ perfect-’ a drawl almost, his head thrown entirely back, the languid and lazy grind of his cock now picking up speed, a ruthless thrust that has your voice breaking, grasping at him, the flexed and taut arms that keep you pressed to his chest.
‘You’re too deep ‘zana!’ And in your delirious haze, you’re minutely aware of the wet slap of skin on skin, the renewed effort to keep him inside despite the pooling of your slick soaking down to the sofa, and it’s all so wet, so dirty, that you almost don’t notice how he pulls your hair back by the root, the silver rings grazing your neck till he presses his lips to yours and swallows the moan now rolling along his tongue. He bites you hard, a yelp that has your clit pulsing and your legs tightening, and his groan is breathy, high pitched,
‘You’ll take it like my good girl won’t you?’ You’re doing so well f’me.’
‘Zana! Please- please- just like that-’ You rake your nails along his back, a scratch against his spine that has him arching off the sofa, pushing further into you, his thrusts forceful and rough, the air blown from your lungs, the shaky and dizzying gasps along the shell of his ear.
‘I know, I know, you’re so pretty like this- never letting them have you, you belong to me,’ he says and punctuates every word with a harsh thrust, your breasts bouncing and a hand coming up to stroke the curve of your spine under your dress. You shiver, a mewl and a whine as your orgasm creeps along your nerves, your clit pulsing and tingling, the drag and graze of his cock kissing at your cervix and your mind reels, the pounding in your ears so intense it drowns out the dirty squelch of your hips meeting in every harsh thrust.
‘Feels good-feels so good- don’t stop ‘zana,’ you say, pressing your nails into his skin, and in your daze, grabbing at his face to press a kiss to his bitten lips, your saliva smeared all over his chin, pooling in your mouth as your tongue sucks at his, a kiss that’s all teeth and high pitched whimpers that he captures with his lips latched firmly on yours. You see your saliva dribbling down his chin, shiny pearlescent tears streaked onto your cheeks, black caked mascara on his neck from where you’ve eagerly pressed your skin to his.
‘Say it,’ he says, his hand around your throat squeezing in time with your racing heart, a loud punch against your ribs. ‘Tell me you love me and I’ll let you cum. Tell me I’m the only one.’
‘You are!’ you fervently nod, clutching his shirt, the bounce and slap of your hips against his creating a messy and slick squelch. ‘I love you- I love you- I love you,’ you say, eager to chase the sweet and delicious high now teetering before your eyes.
‘Louder.’ He grabs your hips, grinds his cock back and forth, dragging it along your slick walls, a shaky hand snaking between the wet and warm mess of your bodies to rub smooth circles over your puffy clit. ‘Want to hear you scream it, or I won’t let you cum.’
You whimper into his shoulder, your hoarse and tired voice choking out the words muffled by the now decorated skin of his neck. ‘I’m yours! I belong to you, only you- please let me cum ‘zana.’ You don’t think of the possible embarrassment of being heard, the assistants running to and fro in the corridors hearing you moan so loud it has your neck flaring with heat, or that your faded lipstick is pressed to his collar, your sticky arousal pooling on his thighs, the indent of his fingers pressed into your hips.
‘Do you deserve to cum? Tell me,’ he says, the squeeze of your walls around his cock making his head spin, a delirious and dizzying rush of blood in his ears and you hate him, a ferocity of such loathing that has you squeezing impossibly tighter around him, shameless and broken moans spilling past your parted lips.
You’re minutely away of the brush of your dress hiked to your waist now clinging to your sweat-slicked skin, the shimmering black now folded in creases from where his hands have bunched it in his eager grasp and you gasp when his cock grazes your cervix just right, messy and wet enough to have him slipping out from where his thumb presses to your tingling clit.
‘I deserve- I deserve it- I’ll never misbehave sir- I’ll do anything, just let me cum, please.’ And you rock against him in selfish need, pushing yourself further against him on the sofa, hoping to chase your orgasm into peaceful bliss.
He groans, latching his mouth to your neck and biting hard, the tug on your hair baring your clavicle for him where he lets his teeth graze your sweaty perfumed skin. ‘Good girl, that’s what I like to hear, you sound so pretty like that.’ He thrusts messily, once, twice, his thumb rubbing tighter circles on your clit. ‘Go ahead and cum for me, all over my cock, let me feel you.’
It’s messier still, wet and gushing all over his abdomen, soaking into the fine hairs of his navel when you do cum, all translucent pearly arousal slickening his thighs, you rocking your hips to ride out the high and smearing it further, your body slackening, the hand around your throat squeezing enough to have your mind numbing and falling apart.
‘Izana, sir…’ Your parted mouth sighing and whimpering his name as the bliss washes over you, heavy and thick enough to have your eyes fluttering against his neck before he languidly aims a punchy thrust, his cock twitching against your pulsing walls.
‘There you go, that’s a good girl, I’ve got you- you going to take my cum now? Let me breed you like the good girl you are?’ he says and stills your hips, an arch to his back as he sucks in a heavy and choked breath, the squeeze of you wrapped around his cock that has his hands shaking on your hips.
‘Mhm, want you to fill me up ‘zana, I’m all yours.’ And you press further against him, into the sofa, the rough fabric against your thighs eliciting a shiver that runs across your spine.
‘Sh-shit, That’s right- all mine, gonna give you a baby and make you mine forever,’ he moans and his hips jerk, a strong and sloppy thrust against the ache inside you before he spills entirely, thick and warm rivulets of heavy cum now seeping between your legs, the soft skin of your thighs coated in a shiny white sheen.
He rides out the high, a punctuated grind that has your clit tingling with the friction, your name falling from his lips in divinity, in a soft and breathy whisper, hoarse whine bubbling at the back of his throat as his features settle into bliss, peaceful pleasure that has his lashes shivering against his cheek.
You come down together, a moment of brief quiet, the air permeated with the lingering aftertaste of sweat and perfume, warm and cloistered, the rain beating on the windowpane, gentle lashings of ice and wind that have the trees creaking beyond the glass.
He runs a hand along your spine, you sitting still there with your head resting on the apex of his chest, smooth and littered with bites and broken capillaries under the skin, a garden of blooming reds and pinks and purples that’ll fade to a violet hue by morning, the thin sheen of sweat curling his white hair at the back of his neck, sticky and plastered to his nape.
There is little talking in these moments, just the faint and steady breaths taken in time with the other, the rhythm of his heart beating wildly against your cheek and you, gathered in his arms while the ringing in your ears subsides, a tick-tock of the wall clock and the peaceful transient bliss pervading the space between your breaths, soft sighs and shy smiles that you’re eager to hide against the swell of his shoulder.
He clears his throat, a circle traced across the fine bones in your spine. ‘Are you okay? Was it…good?’ he says, the veil of his barrier broken for the moment, the shaky timbre of his voice that has your heart aching, resting gently in his palms where it has since the day you’d met, and you’d first tasted him all those months ago, sweet and honeyed and full of promise.
You lift a hand to touch at his cheek, the back of one shaky finger following the proud and pronounced arc of his cheekbones, his straight nose, the bloom of his full and pink lips now bitten down by the both of you. ‘It was good, Izana sir, really good.’
‘You’re….happy? It didn’t hurt?’
‘I’m happy and no it didn’t hurt.’ You pause. ‘Well, not in any way I didn’t like.’ And your thumb catches on his lips, a kiss pressed to the indent of your wrist, the veins jumping under the warmth of his talented mouth, a heat flaring across your skin now hidden by the moon sprinting behind the clouds.
You stay like that for a while, the rain beating against the window, so high up and far, away from the Haitanis slipping into a car on the road, the screech of tires half hidden by the heavy pounding of thunder booming across the sky.
‘Think he’s gonna tell her soon?’ Rindou says and spares a glance at the window of your office, far away from prying eyes, the darkened interior illuminated only by the patch of moonlight where your open laptop sits faded to black.
‘Mhm, maybe. But you know how he is, he thinks no one can tell he’s in love with her.’ Kakucho says and stubs out a cigarette against the top of a street bin, the rain dashing against the bonnet of the car.
‘Anyone could, especially after all those gifts, he’s not really as subtle as he pretends to be.’ This from Ran who leans languidly back against the drivers seat while the others crush their half-finished cigarettes and throw them haphazardly into the trash, the single slice of moonlight falling from your window leaving only the darkness of the night to swallow up the interior.
‘Yeah well, don’t let him hear you saying that, he’s trying in whatever way he knows. Only reason he hasn’t told her is because he thinks she’s going to reject him.’ Kakucho pulls open the passenger door and slips in, the collar of his black coat now frigid with cold. Rindou stretches his legs out behind them, pulling his door shut against the biting wind nipping at his cheeks, a shiver breaking out across his skin.
‘I guess you’re right. I wonder if she knows they’re from him.’ Ran says and revs the engine of the car, a sound you minutely hear under the layers of rain and wind whipping at the window, the two of you settled for the moment, a weak and watery peace you know can never last, that can only survive till morning, where you know that you’ll slip into the title of employee once more, where he is cold and far away, warmed only by the slightest touch of your knuckles to his as you pass in the corridor, strangers again till the night comes.
…That and you expect to find a new gift on your desk when morning comes too.
You’ve always known a little more than you let on haven’t you?
a/n: hi everyone (god I'm nervous), this was a submission for @sleepysnk sugar daddy collab (of which you can find here, i'm sorry I am so late, i've been very busy between working and finding a new job but I hope you like it anyway) as always, feedback is welcome but pls be nice and constructive about it. (I'm embarrassed enough just to leave my digital footprint here like this lmao) I love u all x
nsfw taglist: (let me know if you'd like to be added) @blackfire2013 @haitaniapologist @nikokopuffs @mochimiyaas @mingodaddy @longlivebaji @sin-and-punishment @keiskyutie @bertholdts--butt @tetsutits
#tokyo revengers#tokyo rev#izana kurokawa#izana x reader#tokyo revengers x reader#tokyorev x reader#kurokawa izana
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Home. | Sebastian
sebastian x reader
she/her pronouns
song recc: let the light in by lana del ray
word count: 719 words
whenever i say not edited (literally every post) i at least read through it once but this has no reread whatsoever and was written in one night, i just needed to write about seb cuddling someone on a couch tyvm :) happy new year loves <3
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for those of us out there still looking for our homes <3
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and for those of us who have found it: welcome home.
Sometimes home became too much.
Was it even truly home if that was the case?
Where he was going now felt more like home.
The basement had become too stuffy for him. It didn’t help hearing footsteps above him, nor had coming upstairs and seeing Demetrius.
Perhaps, after meeting her, he was no longer content with staying in the dark. To stay trapped and confined. Quiet. Walking on eggshells and memorizing schedules so that he’d be able to leave the basement with no one around.
That was fine, though. Now he was going home. To somewhere safe.
Even the walk there made him feel better, he could breathe again, unlike in the basement where he felt that he was suffocating.
Sure, it was past midnight and a little cold, but he couldn’t complain. He was thankful she lived close, and he looked forward to the warmth of her home.
It was both a physical and an intangible warmth that she carried with herself even outside of her home. Her arms felt welcome and safe, he’d never felt judged or uncomfortable there.
Now he was at her doorstep, all he had to do was knock. Perhaps it was rude of him to show up so late. She was always working hard, especially recently with her plans to restore the Community Center that she had told only him about.
Here his mind went, racing and doubling back over itself. He stood paralyzed at the door, fist relaxing and clenching again.
Suddenly the door swung open and he was momentarily blinded by warm, soft lighting.
Had he already knocked without realizing it? Maybe he’d just been waiting this whole time.
“Sebastian!” Arms wrapped around his neck, he hadn’t even made it inside yet but her warmth erased any presence of the frigid air. He felt a warmth spread from his heart to the rest of his body, further calming him down on the inside as well.
“Come inside, it’s cold,” she pulled him inside by the arms, closing the door softly behind him. “I thought I heard someone on the deck, I should really just give you a key at this point, I’m so happy to see you,” she smiled, still holding onto his arms as she faced him.
He was still a little shocked, perhaps by the quick change of events. How one person could make such a difference in his life, he could never understand. Already, the world seemed brighter and better from just a few actions. “You would trust me with a key to your house?”
“Certainly I would, my love,” she brushed a stray hair from his face. “You’re welcome here whenever you’d like. Even if I’m not home or sleeping, my door is always open for you. You’re lucky tonight, I just got home from the desert and couldn’t quite sleep yet. I’ve just been on the couch reading a book.”
“Can…Can I stay with you tonight?” he mumbled, melting into her touch.
Her face narrowed with concern; again, such a simple gesture that was so rare it made him want to wrap his arms around her and whisper ‘thank you’ and ‘I love you’ over and over.
“Of course. Is everything all right? Do you wanna talk about it?” When he shook his head she cupped his face, giving him a quick kiss. “That’s alright, Love. Go ahead and sit down, do you want coffee? Tea?”
“Tea, please.” He responded, making his way to her couch. She followed behind quickly after with two steaming mugs, a tea bag hanging out of each one.
She laid down on the couch and he was quick to collapse onto her, his head resting on her middle, arms wrapped around her waist, and the rest of his body laid between her legs.
She ran a hand through his hair, humming softly as she picked up her book with her other hand.
Everything felt perfect in such a peaceful moment. Gone were any feelings of frustration or discomfort that had built up in one day. All was forgotten in her warmth.
Perhaps home wasn’t even a place, but a person; he could be happy anywhere as long as she was with him.
When he needed help and was craving home, he didn’t need a place, he needed her.
He was home.
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Forever and Always
hi babes! this, as you can see, is not a fic based on any of the (!!) absolutely amazing requests you have sent me, which i will be working on tomorrow. it is tho something i started writing about a month ago and finished tonight. do let me know your opinion on this piece, i’m always open to feedback! apologies if i made any mistakes in this fic, english isn’t my first language
also don’t get fooled by the title this isn’t based off the taylor swift song, although there is a couple references to her music :)
summary: Your mate, Azriel, finds you walking back from work in a storm after overworking, yet again.
genre: fluff
warnings: none, reader overworks herself (unsure if this counts?)
word count: 1573
enjoy!! :)
The streets of Velaris were covered in rain and, as you stared through the window at the way the water seemed to put a glow off the pavement, all you wanted to do was to finally be over with the paperwork and get to bed. You’ve been a part of the inner circle for over five hundred years now, as you joined it at the same time as Mor - after the incident in Autumn. Your job always has been dealing with paperwork, because you all in all weren’t the one to fight, or go to missions, really.
After a while you decided it was time to get home, and looking at the clock you realized it was nearly midnight. Turns out walking home in a literal storm, while being excruciatingly exhausted, is not a nice experience, to say the least. But through the mist and your state of being-half-asleep you managed to make out a winged figure landing just in front of you. After hearing him say your name, you all but collapsed into his arms. He chuckled.
“Tired, my love?” You looked up at him, humming, and a frown appeared on his face. “You shouldn’t overwork yourself like that” he sounded worried and a smile was threatening to show on your face “What, are you worried about me, shadowsinger?” Azriel was still frowning so you continued “Whatever are you doing here anyway?”
Before you could even blink he picked you up and as you screamed in surprise he said “Taking you home” his voice was deep and low, yet somehow loud enough to tear through the sound of wind surrounding the two of you.
You got to the House of Wind, where you’d been living recently, and you readied yourself for Azriel to put you down, but when he didn’t you looked up just to see him completely unphased, as if unaware of your stare. His hold on you was firm, yet still gentle, as if afraid that you would disappear from his arms if he didn’t hold you close enough.
He placed you down on the bed and as you opened your mouth to say something, you heard his warm voice “I will run you a bath” he said as he headed for the bathroom “Oh, no you don’t have to it’s-” “I want to. You’re awfully exhausted, sweetheart, and you look as though you’re about to pass out. I wish to take care of you, if you’ll let me” You stared at him with wide eyes, and all you saw in his was care and love. He walked up to you, kissed your forehead and entered the bathroom. You felt your heart warm up, blood rushing to your cheeks and you realized how lucky you are to have this. How grateful and content you are with the life you got to live. You thought about the spymaster in the room next to you, and unconsciously, you smiled. Because you’ve waited your entire life for him, for your mate, and for that romance novel kind of love.
Soon enough however, your trail of thought was interrupted “May I expect you to come here tonight, love?” Azriel said in a teasing tone, and you looked up to see him leaning against the doorway, yet you didn’t meet his playful stare, instead deciding to settle your eyes on the smile on his lips “Whatever could be going through that mind of yours?” you met his gaze smirking as you replied “You hope it’s you, do you not?” “It’s the only thing I dare to dream about” You shook your head, hiding the blush that threatened to slip onto your cheeks, and entered the bathroom.
The sight awaiting you there made your heart warm. Azriel had run you a bath, he even used all your favorite scented oils. You turned to send a tired smile his way, and started undressing yourself. He however crossed the room in three strides and helped you unbuttoning your shirt
“So fond of the idea of taking my clothes off?” you teased but he, without stopping the swift movements of his hands said “Always am, love” you rolled your eyes, but as he was done and offered a hand to help you into the bath, you took it, your eyes never leaving his. Twin flames, souls, and four hazel eyes. You got comfortable, basking in the hot water and Azriel’s contrasting cool shadows delicately caressing the skin on your neck and cheeks. The window was very slightly opened, the cold midnight air flowing in and the presence of Az made you oh so calm. You felt the corners of your mouth rise into a smile as he gently poured some water on your hair and started washing, massaging your scalp. You couldn’t help but humm at the sensation, and felt Azriel sending you love and adoration down the bond you two shared. The shadowsinger noticed you slowly closing your eyes, dozing off. He could not help but smile, could not stop the blood from rushing onto his cheeks at how safe you felt around him. At the fact that you trust him so much, feel so comfortable and, well, safe with him. Him, who for years felt so unworthy of your love, of you. For he was the shadowsinger, the feared spymaster who’s past, present and future he thought to be forever stained with blood and scars - his own and that of his enemies. Yet, in came you with your dazzling smile, charming personality, and you never, not for one second, seemed to put any mistrust in him. As if you saw him, sensed some sort of invisible string between the two of you and just refused to let go. Even when he tried to pretend not to reciprocate your love - for your own safety, you saw right through him and his antics. You got him figured out, and even though he never saw you coming, he will never be the same, this love so brave and wild, you so brave and strong. He admired your features, the round of your cheeks, how you looked so gentle and light, completely peaceful falling asleep in a bathtub. He kept this oath to himself, to you, that he would never dare lose that. Never would end this age of golden, good and simply just right love. He, whatever might be happening, would never let this end, would never give a reason for your trust in him to break. And he swore to keep this oath just as close to his heart as he kept you.
As Azriel finished washing you, he took you into his arms, holding you close to his chest, and gently placed you on your shared bed. You stirred lightly, yawning “What’s going on?” he glanced down at you from his place next to your wardrobe where he was picking up something for you to wear, a slight smirk daring to slip onto his face “You fell asleep in the tub” he stated. “Oh.” you said flustered, because fuck, you really must’ve been more exhausted than you had thought “Sorry, Az” you frowned.
“Sweetheart,” he was now standing directly in front of you, and placed a tshirt, of his, on the bed next to you “you seriously need to stop overworking yourself like so. You know, not only is that not healthy for you, but also you are wasting time I could be spending with my amazing mate” he slightly teased, but there was a seriousness in his eyes and voice that you didn’t miss “Working. Doing important court work, darling, is not wasting anyone’s time, certainly not yours” you countered, which followed by a long yawn made this whole argument of yours seem less serious. You dropped your gaze to your lap, frowning, but Azriel put his warm hand under your chin, willing you to look up at him “I’m sure you’d hate me barging into your office and carrying you out of there the next time you work too long?” he said in his teasing mannear, but you genuinely wondered if he was actually capable of doing such a thing. You groaned loudly, throwing the shirt Azriel prepared for you over your head, and got under the soft covers. Az stood in front of you with a fond expression adoring his features, but after a moment he too got into bed. You turned the night light off as your mate made his way to you on the bed, placed his arms on your waist and cradled you close to his chest. You couldn’t stop the contented sigh leaving your lips at how well your bodies melted into each other. As if tailor made to fit together. He kissed the back of your head humming and tightened the grip on your middle as he extended his huge wings to drape over you, making you even warmer.
“Az?” you asked quietly
“Yes, love?”
“Thank you for taking care of me tonight” you said, sending him feelings of warmth and adoration. “It’s all a pleasure” his voice was gruff and laced with sleep “And you know I’ll gladly do it until the end of time, sweetheart” and you knew he would.
“I love you” you whispered, settling in, finally falling asleep. But you swore that through the mist of dreams already surrounding you, you made out his quiet response of “I love you too, forever and always.”
#acotar x reader#azriel x reader#azriel fluff#azriel#azriel shadowsinger#azriel x you#azriel acotar#a court of thorns and roses#cassian acotar#rhysand acotar#velaris#acotar fandom#acotar fanfiction#acotar#azriel fanfic
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Wait Up For Me
Summary: After a long day in the ER, Carlisle wants nothing more than to come home and hold you close. It’s way past time that any human would be up but a small part of him hoped to catch you awake. Somehow you always knew when he needed you most.
Carlisle Cullen x Reader (Masterlist)
Word Count: 1k
Warnings: talk of child’s death in first paragraph, briefest mention of forgetting to eat, stress
A/N: I was listening to Wait Up For Me by Brett Eldridge earlier today and this hit like a lightning bolt. Carlisle is the love of my life so getting to (in writing) comfort him just warms my heart. All the heart eyes for this man.
Gif credit goes to @icimdekikaranlikk <3
“All I wanna do
is wrap my arms around you
Don’t go to sleep
Wait up for me”
The first thing he noticed when he arrived within hearing distance of his home was the stillness. The shift he just finished has been taxing. The little girl had passed despite his best efforts to save her life and he felt helpless. He was an immortal being; he should have been able to work faster or harder to save her but even his inhuman talents were no use tonight. All he wanted to do was hold you, to bury his face in your neck and wrap his arms around your warm body. He knew you would probably be fast asleep but his undead heart silently prayed to a God he had long since believed in that you had gotten your nose stuck in a book.
The quiet hum of the car’s engine was the only noise besides the ever present flutter of the leaves in the wind and creatures in the night. His eldest son might have loved the twilight but he was becoming more entranced with midnight. The time of night when everything is sleeping and quiet and calm. He has begun to find solace in your favorite time of day; it brings memories of moonlit dances to your favorite songs and stargazing on clear nights where you point out constellations. Tonight was no different. Thankful for his enhanced senses, he spent most of his drive staring out at the moon. She was beautiful tonight, sparkling against a backdrop of small stars. He briefly considered waking you to pull you out into the forest to spend time admiring the view.
As soon as his car was pulling into the driveway, he searched the home for any lights. His children were all out hunting for the weekend so the only movement in the house would have been you but there was none. The tinted windows lining the home were all reflecting the forest back at him.
Bypassing the light switches, he strolled into his home in the dark. He stopped briefly to hang his scarf and scrubs in the rack next to the garage before peering into the kitchen. There were no dishes on the counters but he could smell the scent of food and took comfort in the fact that you remembered to eat dinner. Living with vampires set your internal clock to a weird schedule as you found early on in the relationship. Thankful of his immortality and lack of need to eat, he silently sped towards his bedroom.
The second he reached the first floor housing his study and room, he was met with disappointment. By the steady beating of your heart, he could tell you were asleep.
Not wanting to wake you, he slipped into the bathroom off of his study to shower. He liked to rid himself of the hospital smells as soon as possible so they didn’t linger in his home to bother his children. Since you were asleep, he had no reason to rush. He washed and rinsed quicker than a human would but still slower than his normal routine when he knows you’re waiting.
After slipping into fresh clothes, he toweled his wet hair and made his way to the bedroom. The moment he walked through the door he could tell you weren’t asleep. Your breathing was slow and steady along with your heart beat; anyone that didn’t know you as closely as he, would assume you were dreaming but your hands were clenched around the pillow you held to your chest. The sight of you snuggled up under his covers never failed to send sparks under his skin.
With a grin, he threw the towel at the hamper and walked over to your sprawled out form, “Hi sweetheart”.
Your eyes opened in the cutest little squint as you realized he was right in front of you. He knelt before the bed and moved a hand to push back a strand of hair from your face as he smiled at you sweetly.
“Hi” you whispered back, voice cracking from lack of use. He gave you a moment to yawn and wipe your eyes before he handed you the glass of water from your nightstand. You sat up and took a sip before handing it back to him with a wiggling hand. As soon as it was down, you were reaching towards his arms to pull him onto the bed.
He went willingly, letting you guide him to lying partially draped over your body. His head found its favorite place to nose at your neck. You had asked him once if being so close to your pulse bothered him but he found himself loving his enhanced senses in those moments. Always having the definitive proof that you were there and healthy and breathing set his mind at ease. You smelled the most like yourself there. That area held no perfumes or lotions with added smells to change your unique scent. Whenever he got the chance, he loved being able to watch you squirm in delight as he buried his face beside you.
Tonight, he guessed, you were warned by the resident pixie as to his needs and kept yourself up for him. He took a moment to run the tip of his nose gently up and down your neck. His ear found a home against your pulse and he peppered soft kisses along the hollow of your neck and collarbone. You would giggle slightly at each kiss, a hiccup like sound meshed with chiming bells that he recorded in his mind to listen to when he missed you.
Somehow you always knew what he needed. You didn’t ask about his day or anything else, letting the only noise come from your hands. One rocking back and forth in shapes down his back while the other toyed with the quickly drying tips of his hair. The silence didn’t hang heavy between you, it settled like morning dew in a way that only years of friendship could foster. Later on, he would ask about your day, tell you how much he loved you, how grateful he is for you, but for now, he let the soft caress of your touch lull him into a stillness that he spent centuries searching for.
#mads writes#mads writes twilight#mads writes comfort#mads writes carlisle#Carlisle Cullen#Carlisle Cullen x reader#Carlisle Cullen x oc#Carlisle Cullen x you#twilight#twilight fanfiction#carlisle cullen fanfiction
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All Dust and Stone [AO3]
Armand/Daniel - Mature - 6,956 words
Happy New Year! Here is some angst!
It's New Year's Eve, 1988. Daniel's been a vampire for over three years and the others have left the Night Island. Armand has become distant and cold, and Daniel is not about to ring in the new year without at least trying to fix things between them, frustrating as that may prove to be.
I really love the period after Queen of the Damned on Night Island (and just like.. Night Island in general is one of my favorite places). There's so much potential for all kinds of stories set in this time and I love all of it. Anyhow, I really enjoyed writing this fic and I hope you enjoy it too! It's angst with a happy ending, at least.
Excerpt:
The sea was dark. Daniel liked to watch the white caps on the waves but tonight it was little more than foam rolling up on the sand. The ocean was calm, unlike the turmoil in his chest.
He sat on one of the balconies in the gleaming white villa, the one that jutted off the upstairs sitting room adjacent to his mortal bedroom. He’d spent countless hours out here nursing a beer and smoking cigarettes, waiting for the sun to set. And now he hadn’t seen the sun in over three years.
The Villa was quiet. Only Armand remained. The others had all left gradually, drifting away one by one until finally it was just the two of them again. Daniel and Armand on their massive island. Alone, together. Sometimes more one than the other.
This week it was alone. They had spent Christmas in front of the fireplace together after each of them had gone hunting on the mainland separately. They’d exchanged gifts and that, at least, had warmed the room. The fact that they could still get thoughtful presents for each other was something. Daniel had clung to that, and clung to Armand that night before he’d passed out in the coffin they usually shared, desperate to hold onto that love and warmth.
But it was gone when he’d awoken alone and found the house empty. And now Armand was a ghost again, disappearing out onto the waves in his sleek black speedboat, or remaining in his office in the Villa like he had too much work and couldn’t possibly spare a second.
Tonight was New Year’s Eve, on the precipice of 1989, and they had no plans. Normally, Armand would be throwing a large party for those left in the Villa, but Daniel apparently didn’t count and anyway, he seemed reluctant to invite any of the others back.
Only Marius had made any noise at all about returning and Daniel hoped he would, if only to break up the miserable tension that seemed to hang throughout the house like a dark, damp fog. Daniel had traveled with Marius a few times and that had been good, not least because Armand always followed him around like a needy cat when he got home, eager to keep him in his sights. He thought about ringing up Marius again, but Daniel worried if he left now, he’d come back to an abandoned house.
He tapped his fingers on the glass table next to his chair. He missed being able to get drunk like a mortal. At least if he could get wasted, he could enjoy the fireworks at midnight and then go pass out.
No, fuck this, he thought. He wasn’t going to spend New Year’s Eve alone and brooding, while Armand did the same elsewhere inside.
Daniel stood. He went to his mortal bedroom and put on a suit. Charcoal gray with a lighter gray shirt and purple tie that would bring out his eyes. He combed his short ashen blond hair, though it usually fell automatically into place now that he was a vampire, and checked his face out of habit. No stubble, of course. He’d been freshly shaved before he was turned. He studied his pale skin, his violet eyes that shone with preternatural light. How many nights had he looked into this same mirror, searching his face for new creases and lines, his head for gray hairs, for more signs that old age and death were closing in?
Now he had what he’d wanted: the body and visage of a young man, dead at thirty-two, frozen forever with the Blood. And he sure as shit wasn’t going to sit around all night and waste it.
Armand was in his office. The door was closed. Daniel paced back and forth a few times, debating whether to knock or just open it. Armand had to have heard him so he opted for the latter and yanked the door open.
Armand looked up from his computer with mild curiosity. He said nothing. He’d cut his auburn hair short, which he did often these days, and he wore a gray hooded sweatshirt that was too big for him. One of Daniel’s. That was surprising, but maybe he’d merely grabbed something at random. Rings decorated nearly every one of his pale fingers, even his thumbs.
“It’s New Year’s Eve,” Daniel said.
Armand blinked. He said nothing. Just stared at him with those big, amber eyes of his.
“Come on, we’re going out.”
“No,” Armand said, firmly. “Please close the door.”
Daniel folded his arms across his chest. “No.”
Armand’s eyebrows rose and his face screwed up for a second in confusion before flattening out to his usual blankness.
Read the Rest on AO3
#daniel molloy#armand#devil's minion#armand/daniel#queen of the damned#vc fanfic#vc fic#tvc#daniel/armand#danmand#vampire chronicles#vc#my fic#night island#night island era
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hi! i recently found your blog and i love your work!
can i request an eddie x fem!reader fic where it's the reader's birthday and eddie's the very first one to greet them on their special day? it could be a platonic or romantic duo, i'd love to see whatever you write!
i may be projecting a little bit here cause i just turned 20 and it's been a dream of mine to get birthday greetings at midnight bur nobody has ever done that, even when i make sure to do it to my family and friends ❤️🩹 i get that they aren't required to do it, u know? but it must be nice to feel that people care enough to remember.. sorry for this little rant btw i guess i'm still a tiny bit upset but i'll be ok!
please let me know if u aren't interested in writing it! love u and i hope you have a beautiful day, sweetheart
I'm so sorry that you were let down, especially on your birthday. I'd love to write this for you <3 you've always got a friend here!
Warnings: none, all fluff <3
WC: 640
--
11:56 PM on the night before your birthday, you were still awake. Not celebrating, but studying for a major chem test you had tomorrow. In your opinion, it should be illegal to take tests on your birthday, but your teacher disagreed.
You rub your eyes, fighting sleep as you quizzed yourself using flashcards.
THWACK!
Well, that certainly woke you up.
"What the..." you mumble as you hurry to your bedroom window. Did a bird fly into your house?
You peer down and see that it is in fact not a bird, but rather, your best friend Eddie.
"Eddie!" you whisper-shout, "what are you doing here?"
"Let me in and I'll tell you," he calls back softly. This wasn't the first time you've had to sneak him in or out of your room; he'd come over after you had a fight with your parents and keep you company, or you'd fall asleep cuddling, his warm embrace hugging you tight. And to avoid any confrontations or uncomfortable conversations with your parents, he entered and exited using a bed sheet.
You grab it now and lower it until the bottom knot hits the ground. Eddie climbs up while you hold it as tightly as possible.
"Thanks," he grunts and swings his legs over the window ledge. He brushes some non-existent dust off of his pants and glances at his watch. "With 30 seconds to spare!"
"Can you tell me now what's so important--" you start indignantly, hands on your hips.
"Hold on," he interrupts, putting up his pointer finger to stop you from speaking. It's easier to let him indulge in whatever crazy scheme he's concocted, so you stand there and wait.
"Five...four...three...two...one. HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" He hugs you and gives you a little spin.
"You snuck out at midnight, disturbed my studying, and scaled the side of my house to wish me a happy birthday?" you ask between peals of laughter.
"That is correct."
"And you're aware that it will still be my birthday in eight hours when we see each other at school?" You cock your eyebrow.
"Yeah," he says with an exaggerated sigh, "but then I'd risk not being the first to say it." He pauses for a moment and bites his lower lip nervously. "And I wanted to give you a present."
"A present? You should've led with that, Munson," you tease. "Would've just let you in the front door."
Eddie clears his throat. "Okay, close your eyes," he instructs, and your eyes flutter shut. You're worried you might fall asleep standing up.
"I hope you like this, because, well, no refunds," he says shyly, and before you can respond, his lips are on yours. You feel his hands on your face, thumbs caressing your cheeks. Instinctively, you put your own hands around his waist, pulling yourself into his chest. It's almost painful to break the kiss.
"Whoa," you finally say, stumbling back a bit. He laughs as he catches your arm to help you balance.
"Good 'whoa?' Or bad?" he questions, though he can tell from the smile on your face that it's clearly the former.
"How did you know that's exactly what I wanted?" You look into his deep brown eyes and lace your fingers through his.
"Well, um," he says, turning a cute shade of crimson, "I asked Robin for ideas and she said 'to make-out with you,' and then she got that guilty look when she tells you something she shouldn't have, y'know?" he rambles, "and then she goes 'don't tell her I said that,' and I said, 'she wants to kiss me?' and she said, 'duh, now go away.'"
You nod, unable to hold back a grin. "Sounds like Robin."
Eddie gives a small chuckle, swaying back and forth. "So, was it a good gift, or..."
You kiss him again, heart fluttering. "The best."
--
#eddie munson fluff#eddie x reader#eddie x you#eddie munson#eddie stranger things#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x reader#stranger things fanfic#eddie munson stranger things#stranger things#eddie munson fanfic#fanfic#fluff#request#requests
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[Hamilton AU] Keep Me in Comfort For All My Days
Leon (Hob with amnesia) is sick. Mr. Murphy (Dream) takes care of him.
This is a @dreamlingforukraine fic commission for @bazzybelle . ✨️ Thank you for your generosity and your patience 🙇♀️ I hope you like it! 😊
The title is from the song, "Non-Stop" from the Hamilton soundtrack.
CW: period typical homophobia. Contains fluffy fluff. 🖤
Some stuff you need to know if you opted not to read the story on AO3:
Hob has amnesia and is going by Capt. Gideon "Leon" Roberts.
Dream is masquerading as a rich foreign lord named Mr. Thomas Murphy to better keep an eye on him.
This AU is also an American Gods crossover. Hob!Leon is living in a two-storey house (called Reverie House), and his housemates are Slavic gods (The three Zorya sisters and Bielebog/Czernobog).
They have a Caucasian shepherd dog who answers to Little Bear and Ovcharka (which literally means sheepdog). 🐶
Leon blinks groggily awake, and the first thing he sees is Mr. Murphy reading a book by his bedside.
A glance towards the window shows him that it is currently dark out. A fire had been lit, but it is a small thing, and he is thankful that it is. He feels like he's burning up.
He could hear the muffled sounds of Mr. Czernobog and Ms. Polunochnaya talking downstairs. And if Ms. Polunochnaya is awake, then it must be around midnight.
He must be dreaming. Because while everything else seems normal, his room has this hazy quality about it, and there is also Mr. Murphy's unexplained presence.
Were he really awake, Mr. Murphy would not be in Reverie House in the middle of the night. And for that matter, he wouldn't be sitting by Leon's bedside, of all the places to sit and read.
So yes. This must be a dream. A dream where he is allowed to look upon Mr. Murphy for a long time without anyone to judge him negatively for it.
Mr. Murphy looks as stunningly beautiful as always. But in the low firelight of Leon's room, he looks otherworldly. His blue eyes now so dark, his raven black hair unbound, the skin of his neck and collarbones showing, his shirt unbuttoned...
Leon should look away. He should not be having these thoughts about Mr. Murphy's sharp jaw, his long eyelashes, his lips that looks so soft--
Mr. Murphy's eyes flick towards him then, and it causes him to blush. Lord have mercy on him. What was he thinking? It's a good thing Mr. Murphy cannot read minds, or else he would have thought Leon dirty and unnatural.
"Good evening, Captain Roberts," Mr. Murphy says. Leon tries not to melt from the sound alone, but it is difficult. The sound of Mr. Murphy's voice is a balm to his soul ever since he first heard it. "How are you feeling?"
Leon opens his mouth to reply, but only a croaking sound comes out. Before he could even begin to feel mortified, Mr. Murphy is already moving.
"Here, allow me."
Without another word, Mr. Murphy stands up and leans over Leon to prop him up in bed, then sits down beside him and pours water into a glass waiting on the bedside table.
Leon did not have time to voice his protest before one cool hand went to gently hold his nape while the other held the glass in front of his lips.
Leon is feeling about ten thousand things right now, from pleasure to panic, all contributing to him feeling unreasonably warm in the face. Mr. Murphy's cool hand on his nape feels good on his heated skin. He wants to lean against it, but keeps himself still and focuses instead on getting hydrated.
When Mr. Murphy suddenly withdraws the glass before Leon could drink his fill, however, he whines and leans his head forward shamefully, chasing the glass with his lips.
"Slowly," Mr. Murphy says. Leon manages a nod, and the glass is offered to him again. When he has drank his fill, Mr. Murphy withdraws the glass again and, to Leon's shyness, wipes the corner of his lips with his thumb.
"Mr. Murphy," Leon says. He does not fail to notice that his voice still sounded hoarse, like he had not been speaking for a long time. His limbs also felt weak, and the room might be swaying slightly around them. Are they on a ship? Why is Reverie House on a ship? "Am I dreaming?"
The corner of Mr. Murphy's lips tilts up at his words, and Leon finds his gaze focused there. What would it be like to make Mr. Murphy smile? What would his laughter sound like? How lucky Leon would be if he got Mr. Murphy to laugh because of something amusing he said.
"You are not dreaming," Mr. Murphy says. "But you do have a fever."
Oh. That explains a lot. Leon leans back further into the pillows to help the room stop spinning.
"Mr. Czernobog has informed me that Ovcharka found you collapsed in the fields while it was raining," Mr. Murphy continues, and this time there is censure in his voice. "What were you doing?"
Oh. Leon blushes, remembering. "I was sketching."
"Sketching," Mr. Murphy repeats dubiously. "You were sketching the field?"
Leon blushes even harder. It makes sense for Mr. Murphy to sound dubious. Soldiers don't sketch, and common-born soldiers certainly do not indulge in the arts during their free time. "I was sketching wildflowers," he says to his hands on his lap. "Because...when we first met, do you remember? You said you like them best of all the flowers. And I saw that there was a patch of particularly beautiful wildflowers in the fields when I was walking by and..." He sounds so silly. A lovesick fool. "I didn't want to simply pluck them from their homes and give them to you in a bouquet, especially when you mentioned that you love their determination to live despite the harsh environment they're in. And, well... I thought to sketch them instead. And give you the sketch, when I finished."
In hindsight, it was incredibly stupid of him to do that. He is no great artist, and the sketch itself must be heavily waterlogged by now, if not torn completely. His heart grew heavy. He really did give that sketch his all.
Mr. Murphy, who has listened quietly throughout Leon's entire explanation, remained silent for a few more seconds before he says, "You sketched wildflowers so you could give the finished piece to me? Instead of simply taking the flowers? Because of what I said about them?"
Leon nods miserably. Even Mr. Murphy thinks he's ridiculous. And the sketch he had so lovingly done must be torn to pieces by now. Because Ovcharka might have found him, and perhaps Mr. Czernobog had carried him back home, but there is no way his sketch survived. Mr. Czernobog is not a man who appreciates art, and would have left Leon's papers and pencils behind because it's a higher priority to get him home, and Ovcharka would have trampled all over his things with her large paws, not knowing the damage she was making and only worried for Leon.
Leon does not blame either of them for his loss. Mr. Czernobog, despite his stern appearance and curt words, is a kind man, and Ovcharka is a good and loyal dog. It is not their fault, but his. For taking too long, for staying out too long, and for not paying attention to the darkening midday skies.
"I will ask the Zorya sisters if your things have been retrieved," Mr. Murphy assures him. "But that is a task for later. For now, I wish to know how you are faring."
Leon wants to tell Mr. Murphy not to worry about his silly little sketch, but his throat closed up at the last second. "I'm fine," he says instead. "Or, I will be. Fevers never really keep me down for long."
"Oh?"
There was a curious note in Mr. Murphy's voice, but Leon is still too out of it to be certain he heard correctly. "Yes," he says. "I have contracted a fever a few times during the war. Some of my fellow soldiers die from it but," he chuckles grimly, "not me. I was even shot in the shoulder, but I healed pretty quickly from that as well. Minimal scarring and no pain afterwards. Hence the nickname Lucky Leon."
He does not mean to sound bitter or ungrateful to be alive. But for every time someone calls him that, Leon thinks about every other soldier who died from the same thing he has survived, and he feels rotten. Why should he survive when more deserving men die of such simple wounds and sickness? They have wives. Children. Loved ones they long to return to.
Leon had none of those. Still has none of those. Perhaps if the war happened now, he would have the Zoryas to think about while he and Mr. Czernobog are drafted to go to war, and Mr. Murphy is someone he would fight to return to, but the men he fought with had actual families waiting for them. Children who will never see them again. Wives who will never kiss them again.
So why should he be the one to survive?
He felt Mr. Murphy's hand touch the back of his on his lap, and stay there. "You have a dark look in your eyes," Mr. Murphy says gently. He's always so gentle with him. Leon does not know what he has done to deserve it. "I guarantee thinking dark thoughts will do you no good. And," A pause. "I, for one, am glad you have not succumbed to illness or grievous injuries."
Pleasure suddenly suffuses him due to Mr. Murphy's words, and he feels guilty. He does not quite know what to say to that, however, and so he simply says, "Thank you. I too, am grateful to be alive."
Because surviving the war means I got to meet you.
Mr. Murphy's hand is delicate and fine boned, but it feels right resting on top of his own rough one. Leon longed to turn his hand, palm facing up, and intertwine their fingers together, but does not dare to. Mr. Murphy will not welcome it. And he would be taking advantage of his friend's kindness if he were to attempt something like that.
"Would you like to have some soup?" Mr. Murphy asks. "The older Zoryas have prepared a vegetable soup earlier. I could have a bowl brought up for you, if you wish."
Leon blinks quickly a couple of times to help him not be overcome with emotion. Mr. Murphy is so kind and considerate. How lucky his wife must be, whoever she is.
If only Leon were a woman, he could have...
Well, not marry Mr. Murphy, certainly not. Mr. Murphy is a rich and important lord, and Leon is just another soldier, common born, and one just lucky enough to survive the war. But were he a woman, and were he pretty enough, and rich enough, he might have caught Mr. Murphy's eye and...
There is an image that surfaces in his mind. Him, dressed in rags, watching a long-haired Mr. Murphy walk away into the night. He wanted to kiss him, but knows that he shouldn't. He knows it would not be allowed. He is too dirty and worthless. Not fit for his Stranger at all--
Mr. Murphy's hold on his hand suddenly becomes tighter, and he has inhaled sharply.
Leon blinks, and the weird vision and the thoughts accompanying it disappears. "Mr. Murphy?"
There is a strange emotion in Mr. Murphy's eyes, and he is looking at Leon like...
Like how Leon wants him to look at him.
With hunger and barely concealed yearning, his body only being held back from moving closer due to propriety.
His heart flutters in his chest. 'I want to kiss you,' he thinks. 'I want you to stay with me. Never leave me again. Please. I will die. I will suffer endlessly.'
Mr. Murphy's other hand, the one not holding Leon's own, has risen to cup his jaw, and Leon could not look away. Mr. Murphy's eyes, a darker blue in the low light, looks even darker now, almost close to black. There seem to be stars twinkling from deep within them, like glittering jewels at the bottom of a lake at midnight.
"Mr. Murphy..." Leon licks his lips unconsciously, and watches as Mr. Murphy's gaze stray on his tongue. He looks like he is about to lean in and...
Leon's heart is beating so fast in his chest. Is he hallucinating? He knows it could happen at the peak of one's fever. For the sick person to see strange images, as well as imagine all their wildest dreams coming true.
He would do anything for this to be real.
Mr. Murphy leans forward, closing the distance between them, and his lips press against the corner of Leon's mouth, the very same corner his thumb had touched earlier.
Leon gasps, and his unoccupied hand reaches forward to clasp Mr. Murphy's expensive coat. His intention is to pull him closer, but he is too weak to do so right now. He wants to turn his head and capture those lips in his, but his heart is now pounding in his head, and the room is tilting dangerously--
"Mr. Murphy," he moans, high and embarrassingly transparent in his desire. "I want--"
He is delirious. He wants everything. He wants his Stranger, who is right here, impossibly, at his bedside, kissing him.
'Love me. Please, love me. I am here. I have been waiting for you for so long. My Stranger. My Stranger. My love. I love you. I love you.'
Mr. Murphy groans against him, pressing their bodies closer together, and his breath smells so sweet, like the scent of home. A place where one is cherished and adored. Leon feels his toes curling under the blankets.
He turns his head to kiss him back, to kiss him properly, and his lips grazed against Mr. Murphy's own before the room tilts on its axis and he is suddenly overcome with vertigo. He turns away and fights against the bile rising in his throat.
Mr. Murphy holds him tighter, but this time he is only assisting Leon so he could rest fully against the pillows. He too, has leaned away now, and his eyes are only full of concern.
Maybe there is something more in them after their kiss, but Leon cannot decipher it properly. He has managed to stave off retching, but he is still too disoriented to think.
"I will have some soup brought up," Mr. Murphy says as the room slowly stops spinning. He sounds apologetic, and Leon knows he must surely regret...
"I will not leave you," Mr. Murphy assures him, and squeezes Leon's hand. Leon manages to squeeze weakly back, earning him a small smile.
"I will call for Little Bear," Mr. Murphy says, and Leon is about to ask him how, because Ovcharka is a bit stubborn sometimes, when Mr. Murphy whistles a thin high note. A couple of seconds later, Ovcharka comes bounding in, woofing softly, then grinning her silly dog's grin at Leon when she saw that he is awake. To Leon's surprise, she does not jump on the bed like she sometimes does, and instead sits on the floor.
"Little Bear," Mr. Murphy says, "Will you please let Zorya Polunochnaya know that Captain Roberts is in need of something to eat?"
Ovcharka woofs softly once more before she pads out. Possibly to do the task.
"You know she can't understand all of that, right?" Leon asks. The room is stable once more, but he still feels dizzy. He is pretty sure that dogs can only be taught simple commands like sit and stay and roll over; not fetch a human to get some food for another human who is currently sick. And how would Ovcharka even convey that to Ms. Polunochnaya?
Mr. Murphy simply smiles at him, just his tiny one, but to Leon, every smile feels like the entire universe lighting up. "Perhaps. But I intend to stay with you, and so I have entrusted Little Bear to go get you some food."
Leon imagines Ovcharka carrying a tray with her mouth, balancing apples, and huffs with laughter. "You're funny, Mr. Murphy," he says, before his eyes slowly droop closed, and before he knows it, he is fast asleep.
--
When Leon wakes up, it is still dark outside, but Ms. Polunochnaya has just entered the room. When she notices that he is awake, she beams at him. Her face is glowing softly, like moonlight. She is holding a tray filled with fruit slices and a bowl of vegetable soup, as well as a pitcher of cold water and some eating utensils.
And Mr. Murphy is still sitting beside him on the bed, not having moved from earlier. He is still holding Leon's warm hand in his pleasantly cool one, but now their fingers are intertwined.
#dreamling hamilton AU#dreamling#the sandman#my writing#dreamlingforukraine#good job my thumbs#bold of me to call this a hamilton AU when not a single hamilton character is in sight rn#oh well 🤷♀️ the fluffy fluff was my priority and I feel like I have delivered ✨️
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Trying to upload once a week on YT and I haven't even made the trackart, but I'm excited about this one if anyone knows where to find a higher quality off vocal please let me know
EDIT: Trackart and lyrics!
Part of the Evillious Chronicles by mothy(AkunoP)
Referenced pricechecktranslations' transcript and octosan's translyrics
UST by by NeeMiSo
Cover, Mix, Thumbnail + Trackart, Translyrics by glitterbees
Notes!
I'd be remiss not to thank octosan for their translyric of "Madam Merry-Go-Round is she" in the chorus, which proceeded to get stuck in my head for several days straight until I made this.
I gave Alice the royal We both in reference to her position, Queen of Levianta, and the OSS novels.
This is also where I had a bit of fun with host/ess as in 'hosting a party' and host as in 'a whole host of people'. Happy coincidence!
Also given the novels and Alice's identity as MotC/Irina and variations therein: calling her a Clockwork gear seemed thematically and literally appropriate, like the figurine made to dance in a music box
Rather than noting how Alice's face is familiar, I leaned into the novels again (can you tell I just read Punishment and part of this is my processing it) with the way nobody has actually seen the queen's face in Quite Some Time. Until Gammon, anyway.
Alice's hands are certainly not pure by the end of Evillious, but technically time is transient here, making it impossible to know if this is facetious or not. Seemed apt. Plus holding a smile in your hands is just a dash of unreality that fits the vibe I think, as representation for the abstraction of interpersonal warmth and comfort
I'm still not positive just which "vow" Alice is talking about here, so I tried to leave it ambiguous
Final verse, same as the firt! Only with a few words mixed around, nodding to how on some level Alice is aware of her fate to repeat over. And over. And-
Where should we go next on our tour of Evillious?
Lyrics!
Welcome, all,
to your new happy place!
Pardon Us as We undo
these chains binding you to one time and space.
Here's a tip from your Host:
See the house brimming with ghosts!
Give the ferris wheel a spin,
don't be shy, tonight is yours so strap in.
But hey, if you find you need a break
from the flurry of fun and games,
our cold cradle will hold your weary frame….
Madam Merry Go Round are We,
Ruling the park as the reigning queen.
Madam Merry Go Round are We,
always caught in the same machine.
From the top of the carousel you see
in ever shifting Utopian glee…
Madam Merry Go Round are We,
spinning through all the old worlds debris.
Madam Merry Go Round are We.
Nonetheless, We keep the same routine.
Round and round as it whirls fro and to,
don't fret about a thing that you thought you knew!
So then if you
want your wish to come true,
I'm afraid you'll have to wait.
So sit back, relax, and join in the queue.
What's that gleaming through the shade,
but the famed Shadow Parade?
They've been marching their whole lives
to the beat of an end they've yet to find.
And as the clock strikes the midnight hour,
see, desire for this in your power!
It's just the role of your Hostess to oblige….
Madam Merry Go Round are We,
Beautiful face hidden by a screen.
Madam Merry Go Round are We,
lost as a forgotten memory.
In her hands pure as driven snow,
there she holds a smile warm and amiable.
Madam Merry Go Round are We.
Even if you think your love is key,
Madam Merry Go Round are We.
Those fleeting feelings are all a dream.
As a vow made between two on both sides
never lasted for long and was left behind….
Madam Merry Go Round are We,
Ruling this land as the reigning queen.
Madam Merry Go Round are We,
Clockwork gear trapped in the machine.
At the top of the carousel you see,
in ever rhyming Utopian glee,
Madam Merry Go Round are We.
Spinning on through the new world's debris,
Madam Merry Go Round are We.
Every cycle the same routine.
Even if you have no way home,
You should have known the only fault here's your own!
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The days when I wait for you
I hope to see you again and be able to take away all your pain and tiredness.
↓ Portuguese version ↓
Warning: Sadness, mention of near death, trauma. And I don't speak English so there may be spelling mistakes.
The front door was closed hours ago, no one has been through it since. Lying in bed looking out the window, catching a little glimpse of the street lights makes you feel alone.
Hoping to feel better, you hold your sweatshirt sleeve, taking a deep breath, feeling frustrated when his scent didn't come, just your scent. Michael… when are you coming back?
Michael never takes more than a few hours, his shift starting just before midnight and ending at six in the morning. Michael was usually there around seven in the morning, you would always greet him in the living room, sitting on the couch waiting for him to arrive before breakfast got cold, but today he didn't arrive, there were no hugs, there were no words of comfort There wasn't her scent… there was no Michael at the door waiting for a hug. There was no one to eat the breakfast you had made, so the breakfast was there, untouched, just like the lunch you forced yourself to eat at least a little bit, still hoping that Michael would arrive for lunch. you did it, when it didn't show up either you kept it in the fridge, not wanting to waste it.
If a day has passed, you are starting to conflict with your own thoughts. Is Michael okay? Did something happen to him?
Is he… ..dead?
Your call to Michael never came, it was just that woman on the cell saying the cell was off, or programmed not to take calls, you wanted to curse her, even if it wasn't her fault, even if it was just a recording.
It was raining, the cold weather making it all the more dreary. It was almost night again, you hadn't slept in hours, anxiety was slowly consuming you, thinking slow and tired, you were exhausted, you just wanted this nightmare to end and you could see Michael again.
When night came again you went downstairs and sat on the sofa, waiting for him again. When midnight arrived you were losing hope, wondering if it wouldn't be right to call the police and say that Michael is missing, but you gave up when you thought he might come back overnight.
So you kept it on the couch, with no one home starving and sleepy, you cringed as the thunder rang loudly echoing off walls that felt emptier than usual. The noise of cars on the street made you pay attention, hoping that at some point the noise was Michael's car. When you were about to be taken by sleep the noise of the keys woke you up, almost immediately you got up and walked towards the door, as soon as the door opened you faced the person behind the door.
“Michael…” Her almost desperate voice called out to him at least twice, hoping it wasn't a hallucination due to lack of sleep.
“It's me.” He replied, his tired, soggy figure standing in front of you, waiting for your reaction, Michael didn't dare move as you looked at him.
“I thought I was dead.” Your voice sounded low and broken, so you were crying as you held Michael's face. "Are you okay? Are you hurt? Why did you take so long to get back?!" You asked through sobs. Michael didn't answer, he just pulled you close carefully and hugged you, holding back your tears biting his lips almost making them bleed.
Michael was as desperate as you were, he was almost killed, narrowly escaping the ambush. He didn't want to make you more upset by telling you this, so he just kept silent.
"I'm sorry, I ended up getting you soaked too" Michael walked away from you seeing your clothes soaked, he tried to lighten the mood with a tired smile, trying to comfort youI
don't mind having my clothes dripping." You pouted with a sigh, bringing Michael into the house and closing the door, giving up on asking any more, knowing Michael wouldn't answer any more for now. "Let's take care of you first."
You took Michael to the bathroom, filling the tub with hot water.
"I'll get you warm clothes, remove these in the meantime."
"But what about you? Your clothes are wet too." Michael pointed at you, feeling bad that you were taking care of him more than you. You may not know it but Michael noticed you hadn't slept.
"You are more important to me, Michael. I can take care of myself later.” You walked out of the bathroom and into the bedroom looking for some clothes for Michael to wear. When he returned to the bathroom Michael was in the bathtub with his eyes closed.
“Take a shower with me.” Michael asked, pleading with his eyes, remembering a puppy wanting attention. You stared back at him and ended up giving in, taking off your clothes and getting into the bathtub with him.
“Never disappear for so long without telling me again.” He murmured, washing Michael's hair, letting his fingers run through his strands. "You didn't tell me you were hurt..." She looked down at his arms, small cuts and scrapes all over his arm. You hadn't noticed before, but Michael had a slightly deep cut on his cheek. Her heart sank as Michael arrived. In that state, you blame yourself for the bruises inflicted on every part of your body, blame yourself for your troubled mind. You shouldn't let him go to work when you know he could end your life in seconds.
Freddy fazbear would be the undoing from Michael, you knew but you couldn't stop him from walking out the door every night, you knew he would go even if you insisted he didn't, he had his goal and he wouldn't stop until he accomplished it. But you can't see"
"I'm sorry, I've been worrying you so much every day" Michael lowered his head letting the fat tears roll down his face.
just get out of this place, I can't see you dying little by little Michael. come a day when and you don't come back, please.” You begged hugging him.
"I'm sorry my love… but I can't afford to leave all this unfinished" Michael wrapped his arms around her waist hugging her tighter.
“When will this end Michael? This nightmare where are we living, will it end?”
"I'm not sure..." Michael hid his face in the crook of her neck "I hope so"
As soon as you lay down on the bed turning off the bedroom lights Michael grabbed your waist, laying his head on your chest listening to your heartbeat, feeling your heartbeats syncing, making you calmer. You clung to him as if you could lose him, stroking the damp strands of hair.
"I can't lose you Michael." You whispered, taking a deep breath, smelling Michael, that smell that made you forget about your problems.
"I can't lose you either, you're the only person that matters, my only family." Michael tilted his face up to his eyes sleepy looking at you. “I love you, you know that don't you?”
“Yes”
“I will always come back to you no matter what”
“Fulfill your promise like you always do Michael. Please”
“I will”
Michael always came back to you no matter what.
Even when his life almost slipped away for his fingers he managed, he kept his promise, he came back to you alive.
After all, you are Michael's home. And he is yours.
Links: Portuguese version | Spirit Fanfic
#michael afton x you#five nights at freddy's#fnaf#fnaf x you#fnaf x reader#michael afton#michael afton fnaf#michael afton x reader#fnaf x y/n#michael afton x y/n#micheal afton#michael afton imagine#fnaf afton#elizabeth afton#mike afton
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find the word tag CCCXVI
I'm getting the itch. the fanfiction itch. been rewatching a show I love and I think I might need to write something for it. but I also just wanna write dirt in the doing. but I also don't wanna write anything at all. but I think that's just right now sleepy talking. right now sleepy has a headache and has consumed a lot of painkillers. and needs some food other than goldfish and kinder bueno. @ashen-crest
wood (youth story supplemental - R's route)
These are massive, some kind of dark wood and carved with what could just be decoration but have always too closely resembled specific symbols that everyone is afraid to touch. Not that you ever need to, because if you’re like me, the door will open when you reach them without prompting. Somebody who knows how to program organic material built the doors a long time ago to open when they sensed humans with powers nearby. And that brings us back to me, a perfectly ordinary human who happens to have powers, walking into my school on the first day of a new year, ready to rediscover how little I mean to the universe.
fire (dirt in the doing)
Jet gently pries her hand off his shoulder and isn’t surprised when she latches onto his fingers instead. “I’m not interested in-”
“I said extra bed, didn’t I?” Rune has fire in her voice for just a moment before it dies down and he’s reminded just how weary the both of them clearly are. “Please, Jet. Come home with me.”
He blinks. “You remember my name?”
She lets out the softest laugh. “I’m very good with names, and I heard Shadow call you that a couple of times last week when I dropped by.”
crackle (summon story supplemental)
“Erin, did you just get home?” Zan asked her with sleep in his voice, one arm up over his face as he blinked in the hazy candlelight of the front room.
She shrugged her bag off her shoulder onto the stones, the soft huff of its landing sounding louder in the midnight quiet. The rest of the house was silent, save for the crackle of the fire beyond both of them. Zan adjusted to the light and peered at her questioningly, seeming so much younger than his confident, daytime self.
warm (youth story supplemental)
Mark waited, fidgeting only a little while Nyks leeched energy from his skin and gradually passed back through the cushions until he was actually sitting on them.
Mark scooped him up as soon as he could, holding him quite awkwardly in a hug. "Do you wanna, um, do you need me to like, sit with you? Closely?"
"If that's okay with you," Nyks said rather breathlessly. "That was very tiring."
"Okay," Mark said again, sitting them both back down on the couch but leaving one arm over Nyks' shoulders. "Is this good?"
"It's fine."
Mark relaxed marginally over the next several minutes, until at last he was in a normal person posture.
"You're warm."
"Thanks?"
Poor Mark. He really was awkward. "It's helping."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." But this time it sounded like he was smiling.
in between crackle and warm I had a mini crisis because I thought I lost all my poetry because scrivener did a tiny crash thing because my laptop updated, I think, but the recovery file wasn't necessary and was useless because it had nothing in it, and the regular file still has everything, and it's fine, everything's fine, I'm fine.
panic, pressure, play, prick. BONUS: passable, particular(ly). @ellatholmes @ettawritesnstudies @writting-in-blood @blind-the-winds @gwens-fiction @pepperdee @josephinegerardywriter @woodhousejay OR ANYBODY
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By Your Side Inspired by - [By Your Side, Jones Blue ft. Raye]
I was waiting for Leo at our usual meeting spot. The abandoned church near the graveyard. I heard the car horn. I turned around and Leo was came out of the car, wearing all black, his dark hair falling on his forehead
"Hi," he says as he approaches me.
"You're late," I replied.
"Aye, I was waiting for my sister to leave for her night shift. That's why I got late" he explains while pulling me close.
"Here, your coat you forgot in my car last time" he says as he puts the coat on me. "Let's go" he drags me towards the car.
We got in the car, I put on the seat-belt.
"Where have they gone this time?" he asks.
"Dad has gone for a business trip and Mom has called some random dude at home" I state.
He nods, I look out of the window. The whole week I stay in that house where no one really care about me. Whole week I wait for Saturday. When I sneak out of the house to meet Leo. The only reason I'm alive.
I shift my gaze towards him. His sharp jawline, pointy nose, pale skin. If it wasn't him, I would've been dead.
"Is there something on my face?" he asks while taking a quick peek at me.
"No, I just noticed you look paler" I say.
He smiles slightly, "It's because of the weather" he informs.
I nod and turn my attention to looking outside the window.
My thoughts come to a halt. I check the time it's midnight.
"Let's begin our night" he says with a smile, I smile back.
We got out of the car. He comes to me and holds my hand.
"How can your pale hands be so warm?" I ask.
He just smiles and we both move towards the museum entrance.
"It's closed" I say.
He looks at me and takes out his phone, he texts someone. The gates open, I look wide eyed at Leo. He pats my head and takes me in.
We entered inside, the lights were dim but enough for me to see everything. I always wanted to come to a museum when nobody is there. I look at the marble statues. I move towards the first one in the row. I take out my phone. It was a broken statue, only the torso survived.
"Nice abs," Leo comments.
I roll my eyes and start exploring the room.
We have been wandering around the museum for an hour or maybe two.
"Hey, you want coffee?" he asks.
"Yup" I reply.
There was a vending machine. I look around, it's so peaceful just roaming between these centuries old statues. One day we'll also become like them a statue having a body which doesn't have a soul.
"Here coffee" he hands me the can.
Thank u" I say.
I took a sip. It's cold, it's already freezing and now this. I rub my arm with my free hand.
"You cold?" Leo asks.
"A bit" I responded.
He pulls me against his chest, he wraps coat around me. I can hear his heartbeat clearly. I snuggle a bit close to him. My nostrils fills with his cologne.
"Who is there?" someone shouts.
I step back and look at Leo.
"Let's go" he says and takes my hand in his. We both ran towards the exit. I could hear the faint sound of footsteps following us. We open the exit gate, stairs....really. We both first look behind and then at each other.
"Don't fall," he says.
I nod, and we both start sprinting down the stairs.
We were almost at the end of the stairs, Leo missed a step causing him to fell down. My heartbeat increased, I rushed towards him.
"Are you ok?" I ask while helping him get up. His knee was scraped.
"I'm ok" he assures.
We both got out of the building, the door opened to an alleyway. We walk out of the alley and it opens to a street. We walk on the empty street. I noticed a park.
"Let's go there" I say while pointing towards the park.
He nods, we both go to the park. I made him sit on the bench. I kneel down and take out the first aid box from my bag.
"Say something you don't look good like this" I say while rolling up his jeans, so I can clean his wound properly.
"It never mattered to me what others say, but if I think that it means what I say doesn't matter either" He says.
I look at him confused.
"I don't need to matter to everyone but I need to matter to someone" his pale blue eyes looking deep into my ocean blue ones.
"Whatever you say, whatever you do it matters to me. YOU MATTER TO ME" I say as I brush off the locks that are falling on his eye.
"You could have just gotten into trouble because of me" he says while tucking my loosened locks behind my ear.
"Then we would've been in trouble together. I can't unmatter you, you're the sole reason why I want to live" I say as I break eye contact and put the band-aid on his knee.
I unroll his jeans and sit beside him.
“What about your car?" I ask.
"It was of my friend that works at the museum, don't worry" he informs.
I nod, he rests his head on my shoulder.
"Elanor" he calls.
"Hmm, yes Leo" I say while looking at the fountain.
"Thank you," he says.
I frown, I look at him. He gets away and holds my right hand in his left hand.
"I should be the one to say that" I say.
He gives me a small smile, "Let me finish dumbo" he says while putting his index finger on my lips.
I just nod, "Thank you for being on my side, when I was down. Don't ever leave my side" he says.
I smile widely at him, I hug him tightly, he tightens the hug.
"You also, don't ever leave my side" I say.
He nods, we both get away.
"Let me walk you home" he says while getting up, I get up with him.
"Next Saturday I'll take you somewhere" I say.
"Okay" he says and holds my hand.
As we walk through the silent night.
by. GKS
#writer on tumblr#short story#writing#writing aesthetic#spilled words#emotions#museum#coffee#you matter#by your side#inspiration#blue eyes#marble statue#Dark Aesthetic#love#silent i love you#dark acdemia
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2:36 AM, the fourteenth of april. silky, spring-raw hair, golden eyes, the scent of fresh honeysuckle and rosemary—a sugary mixture that had once been planted in her mother’s blossoming garden, hand brushing through her long, thick auburn locks as she watched the sunlight’s petals fall from the sky, dancing across the lawn’s emerald grass like a million golden butterflies and setting in a brilliant blaze over the treetops. bathed in amber light, I smiled, love-struck eyes amid the field of easter tide’s blooms, my hand combing through the thick tresses with gentle strokes; [Liebe] beautiful. silent, yet ever-present / intoxicate me delicately, quietly. / I stood there, helpless, craving more. until my knees buckled beneath me, the heat, pollen, and fragrant wind combining to make me woozy—until I fell onto those same, dreamy arms that always held me dear and never let go. a whisper in my ear, a soft touch to my rosy cheek, a caress to my back that set off a thousand little shivers as the world turned upside down—my own personal fairy tale.
12:47 AM, the seventeenth of july. a full belly, flushed cheeks, my heart thudding with adrenaline. (...) meine liebe’s birthday. her unadulterated glee filled the room, my lone soul; the way her gaze softened upon mine and all the flowers of spring’s breath and all its petals burst forth in that one look that I feared I would be swept in it forevermore, yet knew I was already caught—dearly, irrevocably caught. “dearest, I love you.” her voice which has always been musical and honeyed lulled me into bliss; she smelled of vanilla, of strawberries and wildflowers, and of her favorite, freshly squeezed lemonade, and of the sweetly-laced july’s first kiss. sweet, so sweet that I wanted it to last long—longer than the night and far—a hopeless desire worth risking for. I wanted to be selfish just for once, to hold her and be held still. [Traum] “touch me”, I begged a simple plea, yet the only one I could utter. should she not wait for the clock to tick past midnight, should she stay with me until the very end of seventeen: until my lips went numb and limbs turned to putty.
this morning, still the day of seventeenth: I saw her mother tending her garden, honeysuckles in her hand glowed in the dawn, and a picture of her own daughter bloomed before my very eyes—the reason I awoke and all the flowers ran out of water at sundown; my hands shook violently as I reached out to grab them, as they fled from my grasp, their petals drooping lifelessly, wilted and dry, the stems crumbling away to dust. I was fooled, yet again by my mind’s despairing demands—her mother was wearing black. I felt hollowed out, empty like a cauldron that had been drained of its contents and left to fill again by the next flood—a waterlogged vessel with holes in its walls where water leaks out into the cracks; an old house in need of repair, broken windows, and leaking foundation. / the house that’s too much of a wreck to fix. a poetic madness.
I remembered her. I remembered her on the exact day of her birthday. to the dreams that were once carved of beams and now broke me whole, you haunted me in my dreams and I had fun while it lasted, and until I woke up no longer brushing her hair. I was no longer looking at her, adoringly, with a smile etched on my face. the sun was no longer there. seventeen was not fun anymore—like it used to be. I want her to be here, I want to love her, again; the taste of bile and tears, of blood and sorrow caught in my throat. I felt as though my ears would burst from their pressure—from the longing in my heart. the weight of my grief is crushing my chest, crushing my heart—oh, to be greedy of the fleeting again, I want to dream of her every night: until my skin turns pale with death, until my bones turn to dust, until my veins turn to blackened ink.
7:49 PM, the nineteenth of november. my thoughts wander, my mind lost in daydreams of spring’s warm breezes; a mellow blanket tucked around my shoulders, cozy kisses pressed against my cheek and forehead, the warmth of home and laughter filling me up like a hot milk at night, and a girl, auburn locks, golden eyes, that smell of vanilla. (...) I am hurting, yet delicately; slowly, until I am no more but the fragments of myself scattered across my autumn-scented bedsheets, drifting in the cold sunbeams of november. / stop it. you are hopeless. / I talked to God—I asked Him, “how am I to feel when I wake up every morning, without her beside me? how do I find comfort when the world is so lonely without someone to care for it so tenderly? God, how will I live? can I truly live?” the answers did not come fast enough—they came too slow. he could not give them to me—but then again, He could not exactly give them to anyone either, could he?
and it hurts, oh Heavens does it hurt, to know that there is nothing I can do; so violently do I feel. Liebestraum, you were a fantasy on my lips, yet an ache in my bones.
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Yb(TeddyBear) x Reader
"Before I go, I wanted to get you something special." Your dad says, turning around to rummage in his bag. You watched his back in curiosity, wondering what he would have gotten his 22-year-old daughter. He was going on a business trip for about 2 weeks, but every time spent away from you, your dad always got you something. Mostly plushies, or some childish stickers. It started as a kid, your dad would always have to leave due to business trips, so it's kind of sweet he still does it.
"Tada!" He excitedly says, turning around while holding a large plush in his hands. In his hands, he held a rather large stuffed bear. It wore a black vest with a blue shirt, housing a rather cute black and white heart. It's fur was grey, with large blue eyes.
You smiled at him, thinking that the bear was incredibly cute for just being a stuffed bear. "Aw dad, he's so adorable!" You squealed, taking the bear from your dad's hands. He puffed out his chest in pride due to your reaction.
"I bought him in the cafe next to your work, they said he was one of a kind. I'm pretty sure he has a name too, check the tag." You rolled the tag on the bear's back around and looked at the tiny words. Your boyfriend- Peter!
"So your names Peter huh?" You smile and hold the bear to your chest. "Thank you dad, this is much better than those paw patrol stickers from last time." You playfully roll your eyes as your dad clutches his chest in a playful manner.
"You hurt me Y/n, I thought that was your favorite show." He fakes his painful expression as you laugh.
"Yeah, from like when I was 5!" You shout at your dramatic dad. Once the giggling fades, you move in to hug him. "Stay safe, ok?" You mumble into his chest. Your dad wraps his arms around you, pulling you tighter in.
"I'll be back before you know it." He kisses the top of your head and lets you go, moving to enter his car. As he drives off, you wave goodbye. Returning your focus on the bear in your arms, you smile as you run your fingers through his soft fur. Entering the house, you make your way towards your bedroom.
Placing the bear on your bed, you settle him between your pillows before leaving the room. "What to do now.." You mumble just as your stomach growls. Food, of course. You hadn't even eaten breakfast. It was just 5 minutes past 9 AM. Your dad usually leaves early on business trips, so you wake up to say goodbye.
Entering the kitchen, you go to prepare some food. The day moves on as you do your usual activities on your off days. Clean the house, get some groceries, dread going to work the next day. You decided to try and relax, preparing a hot enough to melt your bones bath. Perfect.
You stripped in the bathroom, setting your clothes on the counter before realizing you forgot one thing. Wrapping a towel around your nude body, you enter your room for a candle to light. You then notice how your bear was suddenly not on your bed. Your brows furrow as you stepped closer to your bed before feeling a soft plush under your foot. You yelp and scramble backward, tripping on your own feet before falling on your ass.
You moan in pain as your rub your pained butt, looking forwards at the monster that tripped you. It was.. Peter? "Peter? How did you get on the floor?" The window wasn't open, preventing the breeze from coming in. Even though you don't think a little breeze would knock over a plush bear. Your exposed legs closed as you move to crawl towards your bear.
In doing so, your towel got caught under your knee, pulling it down from your chest. There you sat, crawling towards your bear in the nude. You didn't really care, there was no one else but you home and besides, you walked around this house naked before. You got to your bear, taking hold of its.. Hot body?
Was it in the sun or something? His fur felt warm as well a pink tint on its cheeks. Maybe you just didn't see the pink outside. You stood up, holding the bear to your chest before placing it back on your bed. "Now you stay there, alright?" You say, pointing a finger at the grey bear before grabbing the items you need, making your way back to the bathroom.
The day went on with no more predicaments. You relaxed in your bath, ate as much as you wanted without annoying comments.. And soon enough the day was coming to an end. Changing into your pj's, you stripped once more in your room and threw on a t-shirt and some shorts.
Washing your face, you hopped back into your room and jumped onto the bed. Bouncing up and down with your new teddy, you smiled before pulling out your phone. You brought the bear under your arms, looking as though you're cuddling it as you scroll through social media.
Eventually, you got tired and put away your phone on the nightstand. Turning off your light, you rolled over, away from the plush before falling asleep. As the clock reached 12, your bed suddenly bore new weight.
Your bear disappeared from view, instead, a man took its place. Beside you, the man silently watched as you slept. He wore the same as his stuffy counterpart, but with the addition of black pants. Blue eyes, almost suffocating, stared at your unconscious body.
Feeling his grin widen, so did his boxers. "Oh darling, I almost couldn't control myself after that show you pulled earlier.." He whispered as his hand ghosted your cheek, almost touching your warm skin before stopping himself. He got off the bed, making his way to the other side, towards where you've turned.
Leaning down, his face stood in front of yours. His breathing turned heavy as he stared at your face. Cheeks dusted with red blush, a large tent formed in his pants. Soon, the pounding of his cock beneath his clothes became too much for him. Growing annoyed, he figured he can just relieve himself while watching you..
The next day was busy. Having to get up early, get ready for work, and whatnot. Thankfully, the shift seemed to end quickly. Although you hate it when it gets super busy, it does make the time fly by. When you got home, you kicked off your shoes and headed straight for the shower.
Walking in your room to grab your pj's, you smile as you spot Peter on the bed. "Hi Peter, did you get lonely when I was gone." You asked the stuffed animal.
...
Why are you talking to a plushie.
After your shower, you flopped down on your bed. Grabbing the bear, you set him on your chest as you stared into your phone. Peter couldn't see your face but did feel your breasts underneath him. Rising up and down from your breathing, he watched you as scrolled endlessly.
The first week went by quickly, your routine being work, shower, lounge around. Maybe do some chores here and there, obviously you had a little more control when your dad was out, and do some snack trips.
All the while, every night when the clock hits 12, your little bear would turn into a 6'5 man. Who is awfully obsessed with you. He wishes you would take him everywhere, feeling anger every time you leave him on the bed. But it's to be expected, you still only know of his toy form. That would change this week.
Only having a week until your father gets home, he doesn't want to miss his chance to introduce himself. He doesn't know why he waited this long anyway, I guess it's just so fun to watch your sleeping face as he.. Uh, does his 'activities'.
As of right now, it was about 11:50. Just 10 more minutes. He could wait that long. You had already gone to bed, sleeping like an angel, but facing away from him. He grumbled as the clock took its time ticking.
But alas, it struck midnight. He stretched his stiff body, staying in the same position every day unless you readjusted him. He moved his weight off the bed, walking over to the side where you lay before kneeling down.
He smiled as he leaned in close, feeling your soft breaths through your nose on his. Watching you sleep was a ritual, but recording every detail of you was a way of art. The way your nostrils flared slightly as you breathed out, your lips growing dryer throughout the night, and your beautiful open eyes..
Opened eyes?
The first thing you usually woke up to was either your nightstand or the ceiling. Not a pair of large, blue eyes. Wait, blue eyes? You shot up, away from the strange man as you scooted to the other side of your bed.
"Who are you." You shakily spoke, feeling around the bed for anything you could use as a weapon. In doing so, you realize your bear is now missing. Your eyes now pierce the stranger on the other side of the bed, not daring to move as he stares at you. Wait a minute..
He looks familiar. His clothing reminds you of your bear. As well as his eyes.. And skin too?? "Peter..?" You whisper, furrowing your brows. His eyes light up, a grin spreading across his face.
"Yes! I'm your boyfriend." He comes up on the bed, sitting in front of you as confusion racks your brain.
"Wait- Are you really my stuffed bear?" He nods. "But how? You're a stuffed BEAR! Not a human? Are you a cursed bear or something?" You look at his skin, trying to find any markings of curses or what not when he grabs your hands softly.
"I'm not cursed. I turn into a human at midnight each night." He smiles, rubbing his thumb over your hand. "You're really cute when you sleep." Bringing your hand up, he rubs his cheek against your palm, all the while as he stares at you.
Your mouth opens, flabbergasted at what you've just been told. Your bear can turn into a human. Each night. And he's been staring at you while you sleep?? "How come you didn't tell me before? You could have just woken me up."
"You're always so busy in the mornings, and I want you to get your beauty rest.~" He mumbles, rubbing his face into your hand. You let it happen, a bit weirded out but I mean, it is your bear. Your bear.. That saw you naked... MULTIPLE TIMES.
OH MY GOD.
Your cheeks suddenly flush, remembering all the times you've been naked in your room the past week. The first day burns into your mind. He takes notice of your blush, grinning as he guesses what you're thinking about.
"You know, I've seen your body so many times yet you have never seen mine." Great observation dude, this is the first time I'm learning about it too.
"What are you saying?" His rubbing stopped, seeing him lick his lips before bringing his head up. My hand falls onto my lap as he grins.
"If you want.. I could show you." He's offering to show you his body? Actually, you've never seen a man's body. In-person, of course. It's not like you haven't had boyfriends, but you never got close enough for 3rd base. This- your teddy bear is now offering to show you his junk.
...
You were a little curious.
"I've listened to the videos you watched, and albeit I'm still furious that you would look at other bodies while pleasuring yourself but, I've only ever heard male voices." Your face burned in shame. Completely forgetting most of the time that your bear was right beside you as you touched yourself, he was right.
Your history consisted of mostly guys jerking off. You just found it fascinating and fucking hot, how they came. The different ways they would touch themselves too, and their small groans of pleasure.. Thinking about this is getting you a little wet..
"Oh um well.." You didn't know what to say. 'Yes, I wanna see your dick.' ?? God you were such a virgin. He watched you with a smirk, watching as your eyes zoomed everywhere but his eyes. He could tell you wanted to say yes, but you were just too embarrassed. Cute.
Slowly, he grabbed hold of your hands and placed them on his chest. You let out a quick 'eep' as you felt his hard chest. Looking up towards him, his encouraging smile allowed you to run your hands over his shirt. Your hands were a bit shaky at first, but you kept telling yourself this was alright. It was your stuffed bear anyways.
Moving one hand down, you poked his belly button, making him laugh a bit. That seemed to ease you, moving your hands more freely around his chest. You got curious, wanting to see under the vest and shirt.
You inched your hands down, looking up at him as you do so. You flick your fingers under his shirt, slowly pulling it up. He stared at you and grinned, allowing you to do so. "My, so eager.."
"Shh!" You blushed as you lifted his shirt up. He took off his vest as you placed your hand just below his collar bone, holding up the shirt as your other hand cautiously touches his free skin.
His skin was cold, and grey. Flinching at your first touch, you watch in awe as his stomach clenches before relaxing. His belly button was small, a cute innie. Your hand moved up from his hips towards his nipples. They were a darker shade of grey than him, small as well.
You ran your fingers over his right one, instantly becoming hard from your touch. Your cheeks flushed with heat and color as he arched his back, pushing his chest out towards you. You softly pinched one, making him let out a soft moan. You immediately release his nipple and throw your hands up, shocked. His shirt fell after your hand left, as his eyes stared at you in confusion. "Did I do something wrong, darling?" His whispered voice made you want to writhe in excitement. You made a guy feel good! Even moan! Your fantasies were coming true, and oh boy were you gonna milk this.
"N-no.. I just got a little excited." You mumble, fanning yourself with your hands. His face morphed into one of pure delight, his cheeks dusted with the same pink as you. Lifting his hand up, he pulled his shirt up and grabbed one of your hands, placing your palm against his chest once more.
"Then by all means.. Continue to explore." You felt your legs twitch as you got even more aroused. Now with another free hand, you used both to play with his nipples. Twisting, flicking, pulling, all the while a large tent was forming under his pants. You wondered what it would feel like licking his nipples.. Should you- ask?
...
"Can I.. Can I lick them?" Peter almost creamed in his pants. Figuring you were too far though, he grabbed your waist and pulled you upon his lap.
"You can do whatever you want with me. I'm yours." He answered, begging in his head that you would do much more than lick his nips. You licked your lips as you stared at his swollen nipples, moving your head closer towards his chest before your mouth was almost touching one of them.
You opened your mouth, lolling out your tongue before giving a quick flick onto one of them. Peter's body flinched at the cold contact, creating a jolt of pleasure straight to his pelvis. You pulled his nipple into your mouth, twirling it around your tongue. He let out more moans, encouraging you to do more.
Softly biting into his skin, he continued to be at your mercy. You released him from your mouth, looking at the bite marks encased into his skin. You grinned, staring at his flushed face. "I didn't know you were so sensitive." You teased, trailing a finger around his abused nipple.
He smirked, deciding to say nothing but look down. Following his gaze, you suddenly realized that you were subconsciously grinding against his knee. You opened your mouth but closed it after not knowing what to say. God, how desperate were you?
"Didn't know you were so horny y/n." He let his shirt fall and grabbed your waist, moving you back and forth faster on his knee. You jolted and moaned, the feeling of someone else pleasuring you was far better than you expected.
"Mmm.. Oh god.." You clutched onto his shoulders as he swayed you, your shorts doing little to nothing in resistance, which you thanked. You jolted every time you moved, your breathing heavy as you felt nothing which you've felt before. You wanted more.
"Peter.. Do you wanna do it?" You moaned into his ear, still clutching onto his shoulders. He stopped moving you, softly pushing you off his knee and onto your back. Leaning over you, his wide blue eyes stared into yours. Rose dusted his cheeks as his tongue licked his lips.
"I've been waiting since day 1 to do this to you, darling." He leaned down, rubbing his head against your breasts. You bit your lip as your thighs trembled in anticipation. You could see his cock against his pants, trying to escape.
This would be your first time seeing a real cock. In person. Up close. And very, very, personal. He removed his head, touching his fingers against your shirt before pulling it off you. He stopped to admire, watching as your chest rises and falls, remembering the time he had sat there. God, you were so warm.
He moved down, pulling down your shorts. Easy enough, but he stopped at your underwear. Dragging his fingers over your clothed slit, you whined at the consistent pounding of your clit. "Patient love, like I have been.." He growled as he continued pushing into your clit. Due to how wet you were, your underwear soon became drenched at the constant pushing. He soon takes off your underwear, coming over you once more as he leaned down.
With the underwear in his hands, he takes a long lick up the cloth, sapping up all your juices. You watch, mouth agape. That was fucking hot. He smirked at your blinded reaction, too red to move. Throwing the panties on the ground, he pushed your legs up before spreading them apart.
Resting in front of you, it was now time for the grand show. "Are you ready to take me all dear?" He purred, reaching for his zipper.
"Yes! I want your cock inside me, please!" You cry, all the teasing from him was too much for your virgin self. He chuckled as he unzipped his pants, his cock almost protruding from his boxers. You breathed heavily as you stared at his erection. Such a pervert.
He brought down his boxers, pulling them down to his knees. There, his cock stood at full attention. "Is it- uh, always this big?" You gulped, seeing the size. He laughed, bringing a hand to your cheek, swiping his thumb against your skin.
"Only when I see you, darling."
"Will it fit?" You question.
Like an idiot.
"Of course it will. Don't worry, you'll only feel a little bit of pain. If it hurts, I'll take it out, alright?" He promised, giving you an oscar worthy smile. You relaxed a bit, trusting him enough to stick it in you. Just like your doctor.
You breathed out and nodded, confirming you still wanted to do it. He positioned himself over you, his tip touching your entrance. "Just relax, alright?" He leaned down, giving you the first kiss of the evening. Your lips mushed together, you being a bit less experienced but still, it was romantic.
Pulling away left a string of saliva, turning you on even more. He stroked himself over your slit before slowly pushing himself inside. The tip was alright, but past that it started to hurt. You grabbed onto his arms and squeezed, stopping him immediately. He nuzzled into your neck as you breathed, trying to relax.
As soon as you were ready, you nodded against his head. He kissed your shoulder before pushing himself further in. You breathed in and out, trying to relax. "I'm- in." He panted, resisting the urge to destroy you.
"Your so- b..big." You moan, clenching his arms. He chuckled, sweat growing on his forehead.
"Thank you dear, you're the perfect fit for me." He waited until you were alright, slowly pulling out as you gave him a nod. Pushing himself back in, you gasped. Continuing to do so slowly, pain turned into less pain before it turned into pleasure.
"F-faster." You moan into his ear. He complied happily, turning up the heat with his hips. The slapping of skin commenced in the room, panting and moans swirled around the 4 walls as sweat dripped.
His thrusts were hard, pushing himself in and out of your wet hole. His cock shone from your juices as he panted in your ear. Him being inside you excited you, but hearing his groans and pants? You thought you were already close to cumming.
His hands suddenly went to your hips, gripping into your skin as he pounded harder into you. Was he already close? His thrusts suddenly went wild, pounding into you harder and harder. You saw his thighs start to shake before he lets out a long, low groan.
Hot liquid shoots into you, leaving him blinded with pleasure. His hips go into auto as he pumps his seed into you, filling you up before he stops. Pulling out of you, a trail of liquids follows him out. Great, now you'll have to wash your sheets, but to be honest, that was far from your worries.
You hadn't even cum yet! You felt him all up, let him in and you don't even get to cum?? He lays next to you, panting. You watch as his breathing slows from hurried gasps. "Had fun?" You mumble, staring into his eyes.
"Yes, you felt amazing darling." He lifts himself up, before rolling to hover over you. You're trapped under his arms, smiling at what's about to happen. "Don't think I haven't felt your glares at me, I'll get you to cum too, dear~" He smirks as he leans down, head before your entrence.
Is he gonna..? After he put it in?!
That's hot.
You grin as you felt his hands trailing your thighs before clutching onto them. You start to feel his breath on your clit, waiting in anticipation for what's to come. You squeal as you felt the first lick. His long tongue spreading along your whole slit. It's so wet and warm, mixing with his own cum. He doesn't seem to mind though, lapping it all up along with your juices.
You moan as he gets into it, taking your clit into his mouth as he sucks. Placing a hand on his head, you softly urge him into you further, making him suck harder. Biting your lip, you muffle your moans as he twirls your clit along his tongue.
You buck your hips into his mouth, your breasts bouncing along with your body. You place your other hand onto your tit, rubbing and squeezing your nipple. It seems to boost your arousal, suddenly getting more and more sensitive.
You jolt and tremble under his tongue, squealing as the pleasure overwhelms you. You squeeze your tit hard, pushing his head into you as you buck widely into his mouth. Crying out as you cum, you see white. When that fades, you're left dazed. Your hands move back beside your hips, sprawling out onto the bed as Peter holds his head up from his job well done.
Licking his lips, he smiles as he sees you passed out from pleasure. He cleans you up, putting yours and his own clothes back on before tucking you under the bedsheets. Just as the sun rose, he gets back into his usual position, beside you.
Your dad comes back after a week since the incident. Well, the 'first' one at least. "Y/n! I'm home!" You run downstairs to greet your dad, pulling him into a hug. "Welcome back dad." You smile.
"So, did you like the bear?" He asks as he sets his coat on the rack. You grin, nodding.
"He was great companionship!"
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—midnight getaway. (m)
⟶ pairing: jung wooyoung x fem!reader
⟶ genre: sprinkle of youtuber!wooyoung + fluff / smut
⟶ words: 6,488
⟶ rating: 18+
⟶ summary: a “romantic” getaway surrounded by your friends leads to an interesting night alone with wooyoung
⟶ warnings: pwp, wooyoung says baby a lot bc he’s in love, some teasing woo, exhibitionism, doggy style, sort of praise kink, ass play (fingering, fem!recieving), breast play/fondling, finger sucking, riding, unprotected sex, creampie
⟶ note: this is the first fic i’ve written in a while and my first ateez fic no one come for me pls also this is dedicated to the lovely @kithtaehyung !! thank you for always encouraging me and my wooyoung antics!! 💛
p.s. this is shamelessly inspired by this wooyoung selfie!!
“Ugh. You obviously like her.”
The begrudging sigh comes from Yeosang, narrowly giving Wooyoung a heart attack when he realizes that you’re still within earshot. This wouldn’t have been so much of an issue had Yeosang not been so clearly talking about you to Wooyoung, though he barely has any time to recollect himself. Instead, sprawled out on the poolside of the villa the group had rented out for their week-long vacation in Jeju Island, Wooyoung firstly decides that he has no idea what Yeosang’s talking about.
“We’re just friends,” Wooyoung retorts.
“A friend you invite with you on a romantic getaway?” Yeosang asks with a wolfish grin.
Wooyoung shakes his head. He can still see you through the windows of the villa, now in the kitchen talking to Hongjoong. You’re all bright-eyed and glowing from the sun, in a swimsuit you had been putting to use just a few minutes ago when you took a dip in the pool. “Some romantic getaway, considering there’s seven idiots in the same house as us. Also thought this trip was meant to have no distractions.”
Which isn’t really a lie, because while their trip to Jeju was mostly for their YouTube channels, it was also meant to serve as a well-deserved break for the boys, and their leisure work of choice wasn’t exactly taxing and the majority of their trip so far has been spent simply enjoying themselves. Hongjoong had been so adamant too that there would be nothing to hinder them during their well deserved break. And of course you jumped at the offer to tag along when Wooyoung asked you, because you were his best friend but, moreover, his best supporter when it came to his passion and his videos.
“Yeah,” San hums nonchalantly from within the pool. He had been one of the few to jump in with you earlier, “but I don’t think friends flirt with each other on a daily basis.”
“Not to mention your video was all about her,” Jongho adds from beside Wooyoung. “I thought we were supposed to be promoting tourism in Jeju, not Y/N.”
That was a bit of an exaggeration. Sure, you had featured in a lot of the video Wooyoung had only just posted for his “Our Side of the Story” series he was doing (mostly daily vlogs, or aesthetic short films that you’ve always loved ━ much like the others, who have found a way to incorporate their love for music, dance, cooking, and everything in between in their vlogs), but you always made an appearance when you were so close with him. His viewers were used to it by this point, safe for the occasional questioning comments as to whether or not you two were dating. This video in particular saw you having the most fun in a while, frolicking the streets of the city, sprinting across the beach into the shallows of the ocean to try and splash Wooyoung with water; shaved ice shared between you and him and the way you snuck a bite of his when he was preoccupied, bike rides along the waterfront, and clambering along hiking trails so you could pose in a field of flowers that you had so desperately wanted to see.
Now, Wooyoung gives a roll of his eyes. “Funny. I don’t know what you guys are talking about.”
“Yeah, sure,” Yeosang sighs again. “When are you gonna tell her the truth?”
“The video already kind of did,” Jongho points out tauntingly. “If I was Y/N, I would have already realized.”
“Yeah━” San is beaming now as he clambers out of the pool, “but if you don’t want her, Woo, can I make a pass at her? Y’know, just to help take her off your hands━ Ow! What the hell?”
San jumps suddenly when Wooyoung chucks one of the pillows off of the lawn chair at his head.
“Keep your hands off her━” Wooyoung chastises. It’s meant mostly as a joke, but he worries when he recognizes a small part of him seems to care a little too much.
The others seem to find it funny at least, erupting into howling laughter that’s quick to fade when you wander back out to the pool and throw yourself next to Wooyoung.
“They’re definitely starting to catch on.”
Wooyoung lets out a weary sigh, though you’re starting to find it difficult to focus as he continues to kiss down your throat.
So, maybe if any of the boys walked in and saw the both of you in such a compromising position, they would be indescribably confused while also preparing to point an accusatory finger at Wooyoung for technically lying to them. But it isn’t really a lie, and certainly not one neither he nor you were keen on keeping for very long. It’s just that it seemed a whole lot easier to keep your newfound two month relationship with Wooyoung a secret for a small while.
It was mostly to give the both of you enough time to enjoy yourselves thoroughly without the prying eyes of your friends (who, while always supportive, are already passionately invested in your lifelong friendship with Wooyoung, pointing out his feelings for you even far before he could decipher them), their vlogging lifestyle, and their fans, while also waiting for the proper time to expose the truth. After the Jeju trip, you had both promised each other. But that plan was beginning to look more and more faulty as time passes.
What was supposed to be an innocent trip to Jeju with your friends turned into a tricky game in which Wooyoung had entirely different plans that consisted of you only. Specifically, how many times he can find you alone away from the boys to have his way with you. By now, night has since fallen and, after a short duration of time unwinding around a small bonfire in the backyard, the boys had all since retreated to their own rooms. You’re positive most are already long asleep and the ones that aren’t are beginning to nod off, exhausted after a long day and drowsy with liquor from the night of drinking. You’re fortunate Wooyoung at least first chose to find you alone in your room of the villa, but you still panic. Because Wooyoung should be sleeping in his shared room with Hongjoong down the hall from yours, yet here he was.
“My video today probably didn’t help,” Wooyoung adds.
You hum in response. “I don’t know if sneaking into my room will help with that either.”
At this, Wooyoung grins wide. “It’s fine. Hongjoong’s passed out cold. You should hear his snores. Plus━” He presses a kiss to your shoulder. “I couldn’t sleep without wondering how quickly you can cum.”
You nearly choke as you hear the words fall from Wooyoung’s mouth.
But it wasn’t his fault ━ he has needs too.
The first night of your trip called for a joyous celebration at a nearby restaurant that resulted in everyone being blissfully drunk by the time you returned to the villa. You had gotten so dressed up for the occasion that Wooyoung hated to see it go to waste, adorned in a pretty floral sundress ━ one that has always been his favourite (and, no, he promises that’s not solely because of how nice your boobs look in it, though that’s definitely a plus). If the boys could hear his thoughts now, they’d certainly pick him apart.
The house, however big and spacious it may be, is certainly not empty. Even just next door to your room is the shared room both Mingi and San are in. This is a fact you choose to remind your dear boyfriend of now. “The boys are sleeping.”
“Screw the guys,” Wooyoung groans into your neck. His strong arms slide around your middle from behind, pulling you into an all too familiar and warm embrace. He’s caught you just before you can shed your dress and slip into something more comfortable, all radiant and shimmering from a day out in the sun. You melt almost immediately against his chest as he nibbles on the skin just below your ear, on the corner of your jaw. He whispers ardently, “You look really pretty today. You always do, but especially today.”
A gentle smile spreads across your face. You instinctively reach out behind you to rest your hand on the nape of his neck, fingers tugging at the hair there. “I wore this dress just for you. I know it’s your favourite.”
“Yeah, because your tits look amazing in it,” he snickers. As if to emphasize this, he reaches down slyly to cup one of your breasts over the material of your dress, giving it a squeeze.
“Well, now you’re just trying to distract me into bed with you.”
“Is it working?” he asks hopefully, a smug grin on his face.
You snicker, fidgeting in his hold to face him and patting at his shoulder. “Maybe if we weren’t surrounded by a group of seven drunk men who could potentially hear and walk in on me sucking you off at any moment.”
But Wooyoung has already waited all day for the boys to leave you two alone. Waiting any longer may as well have felt like an eternity in a certain type of special hell that he wasn’t exactly keen on.
“And?” A sudden smirk stretches across his face. He leans in close to you, lips brushing faintly against your ear. “You didn’t have a problem letting me fuck you against the practice room mirror the other day.”
You swat lightly at his chest, scoffing suddenly. “Wooyoung!”
But he has a point. In all fairness, it had been his idea to take you against the practice room mirror when the boys had gone home and you were dropping off food to your poor boyfriend still working late at night. You certainly hadn’t complained then when he had you coming around his cock with the practice room door left unlocked. It’s such a Wooyoung thing to say too, being that he’s not often caught off guard, especially when he’s so blatant and confident about all things sex.
“Can’t you keep it in your pants for one night, Woo?”
“No, he’s in pain,” he pouts childishly. He bites playfully at the tip of your nose.
You sputter for air, dissolving into a fit of laughter. “You did not just call your dick a he━”
“Okay, I’m in pain,” he corrects. He starts kissing down and back up your neck. “It’s not my fault you look extra hot today. Besides, you looked like you were having so much fun today. Is it so wrong for me to want to keep pampering my beautiful girlfriend?”
“With your dick?”
“Yes, with my dick.”
You snort.
“And━” He drags out the word purposely, a playful twinkle in his eyes. “I don’t even want you to suck me off, by the way. All I want is to fuck you senseless right now.”
Oh.
His words send a nerve right down to your core. Your thighs instinctively press together at the thought.
All things considered, you’re not any better. There was no denying how devastatingly attractive your boyfriend always looked, but especially today. A well-deserved break and the Jeju sun did him well, with a beautiful tan starting to glow on his face, free of any make-up or cover-ups. The usual stress of city life and work doesn’t weigh heavy on his brows anymore, and though his hair has gotten longer, it’s a neat and pretty mess ━ a little unruly from the sun and chlorine, and from having taken it down from its half-ponytail, but pretty nonetheless ━ with the under half of it bleached blonde and the top half dyed black. Dressed in nothing but a casual old t-shirt and a pair of board shorts, he’s both wholesomely cute and yet sexy at the same time.
And, while you are surrounded by a group of rowdy boys, Wooyoung isn’t necessarily wrong. He always seems to have a knack for making anything romantic enough if he tries, attributed to his charming ways. A night of lovemaking (or whatever he has in mind) in your room with a beachside view is, all things considered, kind of romantic.
You purse your lips now. “Think they’re all asleep?”
“With how wasted they are? Absolutely,” Wooyoung says brightly. “I tripped over a shoe in our room and Hongjoong didn’t even move.”
It’s risky, sure, but the sudden yearning to be with Wooyoung was almost debilitating. There was no doubt you could both get away with having sex in a packed house, right? Either way, it doesn’t really seem to matter. You’ve already been persuaded, and Wooyoung knows.
He pulls you in for a kiss and you let him get carried away for a moment, reveling in the way he needily nips and sucks at your lower lip. Then, finding a second of clarity, you can be heard saying against his mouth breathlessly, “We’ll have to be quiet.”
“Mmm,” he hums distractedly. “So quiet.”
But that was like asking Wooyoung not to breathe. It’s this passing thought, and the way he pulls and tugs you over to sit on his lap as he sinks onto the edge of the bed in a desperate haste, that has you giggling. He leaves a trail of sloppy kisses down to the underside of your jaw and then along your throat.
You tug at the hair at the nape of his neck as you begin to rut your hips against his slowly. “You look really handsome today, baby. It’s nice seeing you so relaxed for once.”
His stare meets yours suddenly, all sparkling and awed. He grips your waist and presses you a little more firmly against his hips so you can feel his semi-hard dick against your inner thigh. “Ugh,” he sighs, “say that again and I’ll bust a nut right here and now.”
Another giggle meets his ears, but this time it’s a little less focused as it splinters off into a whimper the longer you continue to grind against him. You decide to humour him. “I saw your vlog. It was pretty.”
He audibly whines now, his heart threatening to burst through his chest. “Yeah? I worked hard on it.”
“Is that how you see me?” You think back to the video and how you looked, the soft music overlapping it all.
“Yeah,” he deadpans, “like that piece of washed up kelp you tried throwing at me today━”
“You’re so━”
“I’m joking. Of course that’s how I see you, but that’s only a fraction of what you look like to me. A camera doesn’t do you justice.”
“So you think I’m pretty?” You snicker.
“So pretty.” He kisses you again, this time a little more earnestly. He sighs dreamily against your lips, “No, actually. If my dick isn’t in you in the next minute, I’m gonna go insane.”
A delighted simper sounds from you. “Don’t even have to cum, just as long as you do━”
Your jaw drops open as you find an angle that has you pushing your clit against his clothed dick just right. But even though you had so innocently offered to only get him off, part of the fun was seeing how quickly and how many times he could make you cum before finishing himself off. You deserve it, after all.
“God, you’re such a good girl,” he moans. He takes a moment to appreciate you in your current state. You, straddling his lap, eager hips moving against his with your brows pinched in concentration, the pretty material of your dress hiking up around your thighs. He reaches down, palms rough as they grip at the soft flesh of your thighs. “Look at you, already so needy for me. It’s so fucking sexy.”
Wooyoung fidgets beneath you. He burrows his face in the crook of your neck, nipping at your throat.
“How do you want me first, princess?” he asks sweetly now, peppering kisses along your throat, tongue soothing the marks he’s left behind. “Want my fingers in you?”
“N-No━” You croak. “Just wanna feel your dick.”
Excitement prickles at the tips of his fingers as he massages circles against your hips. “In your mouth or in you?”
“In me,” You rasp. “Now. Please, Woo━”
He marvels for a moment at how he’s so stupidly in love with you and your pretty words despite them having such dirty implications, and he hastens to please you. A wolfish grin tugs at his lips as he smothers them against your mouth, but then the giddy sensation of finally getting to have his cock buried in your walls overcomes him. He murmurs into a wet kiss, “As much as I love this dress, let’s get it off of you.”
He hastens to help you shove the straps of your dress down your shoulders, then off your arms. Then, he watches as you stand up to shimmy your way out of it, the material pooling at your feet, exposing your figure and the fact that you’re not even wearing a bra. The swell of your breasts meets his eyes first, and you’ve barely just kicked your way out of your panties when he’s pulling you onto his lap again, warm mouth latching onto one of your breasts. His lips wrap around your nipple, teeth nibbling on the sensitive bud. He can’t seem to get enough, moving to bite and suck at the soft flesh all over, shifting from one to the other, then down the valley of your breasts. A moan falls from your lips, hands pulling harshly at his hair as you push him further into your chest.
“Wooyoung…” You whine. “We gotta be quick.”
Though he wants nothing more than to mark up your chest all over, he relents only when he remembers that the boys are nearby. “Okay, okay━ Here━”
He grabs at your waist, shifting you around until you’re on your back splayed out beneath him. Towering over you, he pushes the material of his shorts down, pulling his aching dick from the tight confinements. Your eyes fall to the way he fists himself hurriedly, tip all red and glistening with precum, and the one prominent vein bulging along his length. You bite at your lip, legs instinctively spreading wider for him.
“Are we really gonna do this?” he asks, excited. “With the guys here?”
“Think it’s too late to ask when we’re both already naked,” You giggle. You remind him again, this time a little weaker, “Just remember to be quiet.”
He hums in response. Then, he teases you by running the length of his hard dick against your slick folds, already dripping with slick arousal.
“God, baby,” he groans, “you’re so wet already.” He taps the tip of his cock against your pussy, the sudden jolt sending your head spinning. As he rubs himself on you, the sticky wetness glides along the prominent vein of his length and spreads messily out to the top of your inner thighs. “Did I do all this to you?”
“Woo, no teasing,” You chastize in a small whine. A shiver runs down your spine at the feeling, and you hate having to resist all his teasing touches. “What if someone tries coming in?”
He flashes you a shit-eating grin. “Let them. If it’s Seonghwa, even better. I can finally get payback for when he purposely ate some girl out on my bed.”
You snort lazily, stifling your giggles. “Focus, baby.”
“I am focused,” he says smugly. He emphasizes this by pressing his dick a little harder against your folds, teasing the tip of it against your entrance. “With you spread out like this for me, all sexy━ Fuck, I’m so focused.”
But what he doesn’t tell you is that the thought alone of one of the boys walking in on the both of you is enough to excite him to no end. He can imagine it now, one of them wandering into the room while you’re writhing beneath Wooyoung, taking his dick so well, moaning nothing but his name. He yearns to feel you all at once, hurrying to please you.
Without warning, he pushes himself into you, cock stretching you wide in just the way you both like. Almost immediately, low gasps and groans sound from the both of you.
“Ah, f-fuck! Woo━” You smother your sudden cries with a hand clamping over your mouth.
“Shit, I know,” he sputters for air. His voice is heavy in your ear, a low grunt only for you to hear. “You feel so fucking good, baby━”
His head is swimming even just at the way your walls wrap around his tip so snug. He pushes himself into you the rest of the way, bottoming out with a sudden forceful and indulgent thrust when━
The headboard slams against the wall, exceptionally loud.
“Fuck, Wooyoung━ Woo━” You grip at his arms. “The bed.”
His eyes meet yours, stunned momentarily as you wait and listen. A minute passes, but the house continues to remain silent.
“It’s okay. Even if they do hear, it’s not as if they probably won’t know what we’re doing,” Wooyoung points out, matter-of-fact. “We haven’t exactly been very careful lately.”
“Still,” You insist. Your walls throb around his hard dick, desperate for some sort of movement. “It’ll give me some peace of mind.”
His heart swoons at your timidness, and though he has fun teasing you, he would never actually want to risk getting caught by one of the boys (however many close calls he’s already had with you) or, worse, upsetting you to the point of no return.
In the next moment, Wooyoung pulls out of you, then pushes back in again, this time less forceful. He swears he tries to be wary of the bed and of making too much noise but, much to both of your dismay, while the frame doesn’t bang against the wall too noticeably, the bed still creaks beneath you.
Wooyoung grits his teeth. He tries again, then one more time, and though your head lolls back at the sensation of him stretching you wide, you meet his gaze with your own apprehensive hazy one. Even Wooyoung’s patience is wearing thin when all he wants to do is tear you apart ━ that, and the slight creak of the bed is enough to start driving him insane.
“Fuck this,” his pace stutters to a halt, “let’s get on the floor. Can you get on your hands and knees for me, baby?”
“Good idea.” Your heart jolts in your chest from the excitement.
Within a matter of seconds, he’s parting from you, leaving you momentarily stunned at the loss of warmth. He helps you to your feet so that the both of you can sink to the floor on your knees. Before you can drop into all fours, Wooyoung stops you by reaching out for the blanket on the bed and tucking it underneath the both of you, but mostly to soften the ground underneath your knees. When he catches you surveying him with a fond gleam in your eyes, he quirks a brow.
“What? It’s just so you don’t get too uncomfortable,” he says sweetly, peppering a few kisses along your shoulder. “Is this good?”
“Amazing.” Your heart swells at all his gentle touches. You catch his lips on yours, faintly murmuring, “I love you. Like, so much.”
You can feel his grin against your mouth. “You know I love you too. And as much as I would also love to hear you go on about how I’m the most perfect boyfriend, I need to be in you right now.”
A pretty giggle meets his ears, and he marvels for a second how you’re so quick to oblige. Propping yourself up on your elbows, your ass juts out in his direction. You give it a little tempting wiggle, and he hurries to position himself behind you. With one hand on the small of your back, he guides you back down his length.
“Ah━ Fuuuck━” He moans. “Arch your back a little more for me, baby.”
You do as you’re told, leaning forward just enough on your elbows and sticking your hips back to meet his as he sinks balls deep into your core. Then, he’s crumbling apart, all breathy panting as he tries to focus.
“Shit, baby━”
“Mmm━”
“You’re so tight. So wet. I’m not gonna last,” he pouts, as if it’s a genuine disappointment. He watches as he pulls out of your heat just enough before shoving himself back in, his dick covered in a glistening sheen of your arousal. You’re so damn wet, he wonders how he hasn’t slipped from you yet. His hands grip and tug at your ass, spreading you to see the way your cunt pulsates and stretches around his dick. So perfect, almost as if you were made for him. “Tell me. Wanna hear how good you feel right now.”
“S-So good,” You mumble drunkenly. “God, you’re so good, Woo. Fuck━!”
His gaze droops down to your breasts, bouncing with each thrust of his hips into yours. He reaches around and grabs at one of your boobs. The gentle shake of the soft flesh in his palms is always his favourite feeling, and he can’t help but squeeze at them now because, god, he really does love your tits. If he had all the time in the world, he would do anything to fuck himself between your boobs, and cum all over your chest ━ but that will have to wait for now.
“Ah━ Fuck━ Wish I could take my time with you right now,” he moans, planting sloppy kisses along your shoulder. “I can’t wait till we’re alone. Gonna take care of you so well, baby.”
“Y-Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he grunts. He reaches down with his other hand, thumb pressing against the tight hole of your ass. The sensation alone is enough to have you nearly keeling over, a strangled cry of pleasure ripping from you. “Want you coming on my tongue so bad. Gonna fuck you against every surface too. You deserve it. You’re always so good to me, princess.”
“Only for you,” You whimper. If he wasn’t so pressed for time, the affirmation alone would have been more than enough to make him melt in your very hands. But his dick is still so hard, and your pussy is still so wet, all he can focus on is not slipping from your walls with every thrust of his hips. “Ah, Wooyoung! Y-You’re so━ So hard━”
You bite harshly at your lip when a loud moan threatens to spill from you. You bury your face in the blanket around you, clutching so tightly at the material. A part of Wooyoung finds it amusing, if only because, if the boys are awake and don’t hear your lewd moans, there’s no doubt they won’t be able to hear the sound of skin against skin as his hips slap against your ass.
“Let me hear you, baby,” he coaxes now. “Moan out loud for me.” When you shake your head, he snickers. “Want it harder? Will that help you?”
He gives an experimental roll of his hips, a little rougher than usual. It sends you teetering forward, a broken groan tumbling from you that’s left muffled by the blanket. He can hear you mumble wantonly, “Don’t be a tease.”
A cheshire-like grin spreads across his face. “Here━ Come sit on my dick. Wanna feel you so deep━”
His words make you moan softly, followed by the way he pulls out of you just quickly enough to sit back against the bed. He tugs you onto his lap and you follow suit, spreading your legs further apart as you sink onto his leaking dick. Down, down, down, until it almost feels as if he’s hitting your cervix, and suddenly you’re not so sure you’ll be able to keep it together any longer. That, mixed with the way he’s gazing at you, all hooded eyed and alluring, you’re very close to dissolving into a mess right in his very arms.
“Ah━ Ah━ Fuck, baby━” You grip at his shoulders as you adjust to the new feeling, hips squirming above his. “Wooyoung, please━”
But your words fall short. The desperate plea that hinges in your voice fades into nothing more than the urgent need to feel more of him, to have him absolutely wreck you, as you begin to rock your hips back and forth on his dick.
“Please what, baby?” he taunts lazily. But he knows what he’s doing, slyly beckoning you to make a mess, and moan for him.
His palms are warm as they slide up your sides, then around your back, hugging you close to his chest. He thrusts his hips up just once into you, sending you into a haste that has you lifting yourself up and then back down his cock. As you adopt a steady and reckless pace that has you bouncing on his length, he watches your every reaction. The way your face contorts at the sheer pleasure, brows pinched so hard in concentration, teeth sinking into your lower lip. Your hands reach out to thread through his long locks, pretty blonde tresses running through the seams of your fingers. You tug lightly at the root, earning a low groan from him.
“Fuck, Y/N━” His head rolls back against the mattress at your quick pace. “You’re so fucking sexy━ So desperate for my dick━ Ah━”
He moans suddenly, only this time it’s less muffled than before. Whether he does it the first time to tease you or simply because he had gotten carried away, you aren’t quite sure. Either way, it’s enough to startle you, even amongst the daze you’re in.
“Wooyoung━” Your voice is a small warning, but it lacks any severity when it splinters into a whine. “Not so loud.”
“They’re━ Ah, fuck━ sleeping━”
You meet his mischievous stare with your own heedful one. Your pace slows, if only just, and you’re certain this time that when he moans even louder, it’s entirely on purpose.
“Woo!” You clamp a hand softly over his mouth, smothering the tail end of his crude groan.
The grin that forms on his face beneath your hand is evident of his amusement of his toying with you but it turns sluggish quickly. The sight to see is hot enough, with the drowsy lopsided smirk poking out from underneath your hand as he watches you continue to ride him, now a measured gyrating against his own hips. When he realizes you’ve chosen to keep your hand over his mouth, he reaches up to grab a hold of your wrist, his large fingers splaying out and then up over your knuckles.
“Come on, baby. It’s okay. Let it out,” he hums. He kisses at your fingertips, tongue swiveling around to suck on your digits delicately. “Not even one tiny moan? Let me hear that pretty voice of yours.”
He can feel your thighs begin to shake around him and, judging by the crescendoing of whimpers tumbling from your mouth, he senses you’re close. Your free hand still grips at his hair, this time a little tighter as you try to anchor yourself in place to rock your hips a little faster. Wooyoung hisses delightfully at the feeling, a small lethargic chuckle rumbling from deep within his chest.
Rough hands grab at your waist now, shifting you around abruptly until you’re splayed out on the floor on your back with him hovering over you. His length stays wedged snugly in your walls, never once slipping, and as he settles against your chest, he lifts one of your legs up and over his shoulder. An animalistic growl slips from him at your pinched face, and the way your cunt starts to squeeze around him. With this angle that his hips pound into yours, his cock hits so deep into your core, pummeling against your cervix again and again.
“H-Harder━ Wooyoung━” You pant. “Please━ I’m gonna━”
Finally, a moan sounds from you. Loud and unabashed, a little broken and exhausted, but beautiful to Wooyoung’s ears nonetheless. In fact, it’s so sexy of a noise that it’s enough to nearly push him over the edge but he relents, if only just for a little longer.
“Ah, there’s my favourite sound,” he smirks. His tongue lavs at the underside of your jaw, and your hand finds itself tangled in his hair once more. “Gonna be a good girl and let the boys hear you now?”
You try with all your might to silence yourself, but the task proves more and more difficult. A few more slams of his hips into yours, and you’re crumbling apart right before his eyes.
“Fuck━ Wooyoung━”
“That’s it, baby,” he grunts into your ear. “Cum for me.”
As you come, the sudden gush of wetness around your core coats his length and he almost accidentally slips from your cunt. You’re clenched so tightly around him, Wooyoung feels as if he has to gasp for air to stay focused. His eyes still stay trained on you, watching as your face contorts as you writhe beneath him. But it’s your shameless moaning that sets him off, albeit still softer than usual but much louder than he was expecting from you with the boys so close by.
“Ah━ You’re so fucking hot━” he whines. “Gonna cum━”
Every thrust of his hips sends you bobbing up and down, and as you come down from your high the pleasurable feeling of his hard cock still burrowed in your sensitive walls has you whimpering softly. Your legs try to separate further, beckoning him for more.
“Cum in me, Youngie,” you beckon dazedly. “Wanna feel it so bad━”
“Oh, fuck━” he gasps. “Can I?”
“Y-Yes.”
“You’re so good to me, baby. Aren’t you?”
His pace quickens, hips snapping into yours urgently. One final shuddering thrust and he’s overwhelmed by his orgasm, cock pulsating within your aching walls as his cum fills you up. He has to bury his face in the crook of your neck to muffle his moans, listening to the sharp gasp for air you take when you feel his release.
He rides out his high in a few more leisure rolls of his hips, though he seems more concerned now with kissing your throat slowly. He gently unravels your leg from his shoulder, then slumps against you like the comfortable heavy weight that he is. His dick lays softening still buried within your walls, now leaking with his cum.
“Have I ever told you how amazing you are?” You hear him sigh dreamily into your neck. “‘Cause you are.”
“Almost daily,” You concur with a giggle. Your own fingers smooth out his hair, fixing the messy strands, and he croons with delight. He leaves a trail of sweet kisses up along your throat, then your jaw, and then the corner of your mouth. Safe for the laboured breathing as you both try to calm your shrill hearts, you’re made aware so suddenly of just how quiet the room suddenly is. “There’s no way the guys slept through all of that.”
“I’m sure they did.” Wooyoung nibbles gingerly at your lip. “There’s nothing to worry about. Especially right now. I’m so tired. We can deal with the potential consequences later.”
You snort. “How did I know that’s exactly what you would say?”
You catch him smirking before he plants one last kiss on your lips. Somehow, he’s able to pry himself off of you long enough to slip into his shorts laying discarded on the floor before disappearing outside of the room into the darkened hallway. He returns moments later with a damp towel to help clean up the sticky mess between your legs, then tugs you back onto the bed with him.
“They’ll see you sneaking out of my room if you sleep here,” You point out through a yawn.
“I’ll get up before them,” he insists. “Just give me an hour with you, like this.”
You can’t resist the urge.
At the very least, you fall asleep first in his arms, his fingers playing with your hair. He must slip away from you at some point during the night, unraveling himself carefully from your sleeping figure to retreat to his own room. You’ll tell the boys eventually of your relationship with Wooyoung, you swear.
But for now, there, under the covers of the bed, you have all the time in the world to enjoy yourself with Wooyoung in pure, unadulterated silence.
In the morning when you wake up, you join your boyfriend with the rest of the boys downstairs in the kitchen for breakfast.
You’re the last to arrive, having wanted to take your time in the shower ━ a fact that Wooyoung laments, because he wanted nothing more than to shower with you to “save water” (which really just translates to more sex), but with only two bathrooms and nine people, the feat seemed impossible. Now, you sidle into the seat next to Wooyoung at the kitchen table, smiling down at him when his eyes flicker to you which seems to go unnoticed by the others.
“How was your night?” Yunho asks passively once you’ve settled into place. “Did you sleep well?”
You nod, as Wooyoung answers, “Best sleep of my life.”
“Yeah, I’m sure.” This amused offhanded scoff comes from San under his breath. It causes Mingi to almost choke on his sip of orange juice as he snorts into the glass.
“What was that?” Wooyoung asks.
“Oh, nothing,” San says. The smirk on his face says otherwise. “Thought we heard some loud noises last night. It was weird.”
Then there’s Mingi, leaning across the table to catch your attention alone. He shoots you a more merciful look, though he still seems entertained nevertheless when he whispers to you, “You have something on your neck.”
Your hand instinctively clamps onto your throat, over the spot Mingi points to as you mentally curse yourself. While you had been so preoccupied the night before trying not to make any noise, you forgot to warn Wooyoung against leaving any noticeable marks on your body ━ a bad habit of his, and your fatal mistake for forgetting to check the morning after.
The others are fortunately not paying attention, already absorbed in their own conversations, but the horror of so clearly being found out by San and Mingi sends you into a frenzy. It even seems to alarm Wooyoung judging by the way he starts laughing nervously, though maybe that’s because your knee bashes against his under the table and sends him jumping in his seat.
Clearly, you have a lot of explaining to do. Eventually.
The last thing you hear San say before he and Mingi howl with laughter seems to make even the charmingly confident Wooyoung slightly frazzled, and leaves you all the more confused.
“Some romantic getaway, huh?”
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Your Favorite — Part 1
Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader
Summary: When Y/N comes home from college for the summer to meet her mom's new boyfriend, she finds herself in a rather tough spot when she can’t stop thinking about him— And it seems he feels the same...
Category: SMUT (18+)
Content: Adults w/ age gap, masturbation (female and male), minor exhibitionism kink, oral sex (male receiving), penetrative sex, breeding kink (kinda? i think? 😅)
Word Count: 7.3k (do you see now why I had to make it a miniseries? alsdjfdk)
PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | MASTERLIST
DISCLAIMER: In this story, Spencer is dating Y/N’s mom while also having a sexual relationship with the reader herself. Because of that, there are obvious undertones of cheating, alongside some perv-y tendencies when it comes to a partner’s daughter. That being said, Spencer and Y/N’s relationship is consensual. However— If any of what I just forewarned is something that you think will make you uncomfortable while reading, please do not read! If there are any more disclaimers you think I may have missed, don’t hesitate to tell me! There is another post I made HERE with some disclaimers as well if you want to know more about what this story will entail.
NOTE: This intro is already too long, so I’ll just get this out of the way: you can find visual nsfw inspirations for this story over at @mercy-midnight, I’m working on a playlist for this story on my Spotify @/mercyburning, and I don’t know when part 2 and 3 will be out, but you can assume they’ll be here within the next few weeks.
———
JUNE 5th
I hate my mom's new boyfriend.
For the past three months she'd been telling me about this new guy who's "The One" as if "The One" hasn't been like four other guys in the past two years.
And as much as I'd love for my mom to find someone to spend the rest of her life with, I don't believe she'd ever find Mr. Perfect at this rate. Unless she spent more than a few months with them at a time before dragging me home from college for a weekend to meet them, I really don't see it happening.
It just sucks. Because every time she does this, every time I return home, I see the glimmering hope in her eyes and the diminishing spark in his, and I know. I know it won't last, and her heart will be utterly broken within the span of a few months.
I always thought maybe she just had terrible taste in men.
But this time around, when I begrudgingly walk through the door of my childhood home for the summer and see my mother clinging to a man who returns that glimmer in her eyes, I know she's picked a good one.
And I hate him.
His name is Spencer Reid, and he's a retired FBI agent who teaches full time at local colleges now.
He greets me with a bona fide, radiant smile, unlike all the others before, and it sets my insides on fire. And when we sit down for dinner, he's polite (but not in a fake way,) and he seems genuinely curious about my studies and my personality and my relationship with my mother. And when dinner is finished he offers to clean up while Mom and I settle in the living room.
I see the way he looks at me as I leave, a gentle, closed-mouth smile and eyes that linger a little too long on my exposed legs before averting, a glint of shame pooling within them, and it only spreads that fire in my belly.
Maybe I'd been imagining the whole thing, because deep down I wanted him to look at me the way he had... But it's hard to tell when my brain is mostly setting off sirens, blaring "THIS IS WRONG! THIS IS WRONG!" on a loop with blinding lights.
And they're even louder when my mom wraps her arm around me and lays her head atop mine. "Well, what do you think? He's great, huh?"
She's so lovesick, it hurts. It hurts even worse knowing that all I can think about is his big hands wrapped around my throat while he fucks me into the squeaky twin-sized mattress in my bedroom upstairs.
But I can't tell her that, obviously.
And so I decidedly hate him. And I have no choice but lie to her face, embracing her joy and hoping that I'll be able to survive this summer.
"Yeah, Mom. He's really great."
JUNE 19th
It's been two weeks and I can barely stand to be in the same house anymore.
I try to keep myself busy by going outside, to the beach or for long walks in the park; but it's too hot for my liking, and our town is so small that unless I want to spend my time in the grocery store or one of the three bars on Main Street...
I'm stuck either outside where it's hot and uncomfortable, or in the house where it's also hot and uncomfortable.
We have air conditioning, of course, but that's not the problem.
It's Spencer.
I thought by now my little crush on him would have gone, but the longer he hangs around the house, the stronger my feelings for him grow. They're not romantic—nor do I think they ever could be given the fact that if anything serious really were to ever happen between us, my mom would disown me for the rest of my life and murder Spencer with her bare hands—but that doesn't make it any easier on me.
Every day he just exists, right in front of me with that tug-able mop of hair, those warm honey eyes, and his hands that never stop moving. I swear, it's like every time he breathes, his hands are breathing too, challenging me to try and stop them.
But I refuse to touch him. Because I know the moment I do, all will be lost. I won't be able to control myself anymore. And if I don't drop to my knees and try sucking his dick at the dinner table, I'm sure I'll blurt out how I can't handle it anymore and that I need him, and either way I'd be royally fucked.
Right now he's in the dining room, teaching my mom how to do a disappearing card trick. She thinks it's utterly charming that he can do it at all, but mostly that he's patient and willing enough to teach her. And normally I'd agree, but I can barely look at them without wanting to waltz over, grab his wrist, and suck his fingers into my mouth.
It's truly pathetic.
So I try to focus on the television just a few feet away. It's one of those rare instances where I wish our house was bigger, because while I don't mind having less wall-space between rooms, I do mind not being able to watch TV without the kitchen table in my periphery at a time like this. And I think about going up to my bedroom instead for a moment, but I'd have to go past the kitchen, and I just know Mom is going to ask if I'd want Spencer to teach me his magic trick.
And I most definitely do not want that.
In another life, maybe, where he isn't a hot professor and rather an average-looking dude who's way too into fantasy football... But not in this lifetime.
So there I sit, concentrating so hard on Family Feud that my face hurts.
When I hear a flutter of cards and joyous giggling from the other room, it's more than my face that hurts.
It's also my chest, churning and tensing at the hands of the green devil.
Fuck!
I barely even know this man... I haven't really talked to him because I'm afraid that if I try to hold a conversation I'll snap. He's literally just some hot older guy who's dating my mom, and still, my whole body twists and aches with envy when they do anything together, and it fucking sucks. Not only because of the jealousy, but it's also the fact that my mom deserves to be happy.
This time it's different. This time, she's really found someone who returns her every loving gaze, who makes her laugh, who's kind and genuine and not a total douche. She's happier than I've seen her in years.
And the one time she finally finds "The One", every waking second of my life is spent longing for him fuck me.
But it's only been two weeks.
And it's also been nearly two years since I got laid, so maybe that's just my issue...
I figure it can't hurt, so in a spur of the moment decision, I turn the TV off and sprint towards the stairs, right past Mom and Spencer before they can ask questions.
———
I hardly even register the dimness of the light inside the house by the time I glide up the steps, fumbling with the key and trying to make my entrance as quiet as possible. Though, because I'm so used to the dark by this point, the light—no matter how dim—nearly blinds me. The door shuts louder than I'd have liked, and I cringe inwardly, pausing as if that will keep anyone from seeing or hearing me. Not like it'll matter, considering Mom and Spencer are the only ones that are staying here and they'd also been the only ones aware of my plans for the evening.
Well, somewhat, anyway. I told them an old friend invited me out and I probably wouldn't be home until late.
Regardless, that instinct of trying not to get caught coming in late at night is stronger than common sense. Throw a little cheap beer and some shots into the mix, and it almost feels like I'm a teenager again.
The only thing different now is that I have a pool of some stranger's cum soaking my underwear and a man in front of me who stands like an angel. An exhausted, almost scruffy-looking angel more like, but my point still stands.
"You're up late," Spencer observes. It's a simple enough statement— not really judge-y, but I can tell that regardless of his knowledge of my coming home late, he seems shocked to see me coming through the front door right now.
And it's hard to look away from him. Just like it has been for the past two weeks. Still, I try, just barely avoiding his eyes as I cross my arms and fight the urge to clench my legs together. "I'm a whore. What's your excuse?"
Maybe not the best thing to say. But like I said, common sense? Gone.
"O—oh... Umm..." Spencer stumbles through his words, obviously stunned by my response, and the look in his eyes kind of makes me want to curl up in a ball and die from embarrassment. Still, I stand my ground and wait for him to continue.
He settles on a short, "I can't sleep," and then there's nothing else.
"Ah," I express. One syllable. I don't draw it out, I don't exaggerate it... This is the first real conversation I've had alone with him, and I've made it extremely awkward, so I sigh and take a few steps forward, trying to walk past him. "Okay. Goodnight."
I only make it a few steps before he stops me, his hand reaching out to tap my shoulder. "Wait—"
The touch makes me jump, and he pulls it away immediately as I turn to face him. My heart is racing at the speed of light, my panties are soaked through, and if I'm not careful that whole 'no common sense' thing is going to bite me so hard in the ass I won't have one left.
"Can I talk to you?" His voice is barely audible, and the gentle rasp it has to it seems to make me even more wet.
I nod, not trusting myself to speak.
"Look, I um... Your mom has been totally transparent with me about her relationships, so I know that she's been through a lot of them in a short amount of time... And I know that must be a little difficult for you. Especially now that I'm here... And you've been... distant. And I know that I don't know you that well, so forgive me if I'm assuming anything, but I just want you to know that I don't have any intention of making things difficult for you and your mother."
Too late, pal, I think bitterly, the gentle authority in his tone setting my insides alight. I'm positive that voice could get me to do so many things...
That's the alcohol and sex talking, Y/N, just shake it and move on...
He starts again, but I cut him off with a short wave of my hand. "Look, I... I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I had a really long night, and I'm exhausted. I just wanna shower and go to bed."
I expect more resistance, but Spencer only nods. I still can't bring myself to look him in the eye, though this time I catch his hands clenching at the bottom hem of his shirt. "I understand. Sleep well."
Without another word I turn on my heel and walk a little faster towards the stairs, and I'm about to take my first step when I realize he's followed me. His voice calls out my name softly from a few feet behind, and it stops me in my tracks regardless of my desire to get out of there as fast as I can. And then I turn around and finally look directly at his face.
Big mistake.
His eyes are on my legs again, trailing slowly upwards until he reaches my face. The light over here is dimmer, barely noticeable at all, though I swear I can see red forming on his cheeks.
"I like your dress," he says softly. It's almost meek, like he'd been afraid to say it but took a chance anyway.
It's such a random, small compliment, but with the alcohol and endorphins flowing through my body after the night I'd just had, it nearly makes me quiver.
It also makes me incredibly stupid.
An amused, almost sensual grin forms on my face as I make eye contact with him, and I feel myself throb at the way I can just barely see his throat move. He looks like a deer in headlights, afraid to make one sudden move.
"Turning to flattery to try and win me over, are we?" I say slowly.
I almost think he'll stumble over his words once more, but again he surprises me with a full answer. It's only three words but it's clear, and his voice is deep, and I want to fucking jump his bones right then and there.
"Is it working?"
This has to be the alcohol making me imagine things... I swear I didn't even drink that much tonight, but it has to be an obvious lapse in judgement. The drinking mixed with the sex mixed with the dirty thoughts I've been having about this man lately have to be what's making this feel real. It's all culminating into this one big fantasy (or delusion, more like), and all I need is to shower and sleep it off.
That has to be it.
So because there's no other reasonable explanation that my brain can conjure up, I take a chance and throw Spencer a wink before turning and sprinting up the stairs.
And it's that same seemingly undeniable reasoning for this illusion that doesn't keep my hands from wandering in the shower. Even though those warning sirens in my brain keep blaring, telling me that the common sense is still there for me to utilize, they're drowned out by my thrumming heartbeat and the repetition of Spencer's soothing, authoritative voice, guiding my movements.
Keep rubbing your clit for me, baby... Just like that, nice and slow...
Warm water cascades down the front of my body as I lean back into the wall of the shower, but that's not why I'm so warm. This heat radiates through my insides, spreading like wildfire and bringing out small whimpers and mewls that I know I'll have to contain in fear of waking my mom from her bedroom right next door.
But then the thought of her hearing me next door as I cry out her boyfriend's name only excites me more. I keep it quiet still, but just knowing that someone else is in the house while I'm having these thoughts right now (one of them being the object of said thoughts) is what finally brings me over the edge.
I finish my shower on weak legs, definitely overstimulated now, but also feeling even more tired. I know that the moment I lay down on my bed, I'll be pulled into the sweet, soft surrender of a deep sleep.
Nothing else has ever sounded so pleasant.
———
When I woke up that morning after, I was feeling surprisingly calm. Realistically I knew that my whole 'this has to be an illusion' montage had been less truth and more inebriated babble, and the longer I sat on it the more I thought it'd all turned out for the better.
Turns out, tipsily masturbating in the shower to thoughts of your mom's hot new boyfriend was a surefire way to get it out of your system, right?
Wrong.
It really had been okay at first. I thought about Spencer almost immediately, and yeah, he was still hot as fuck—But there wasn't this overwhelming desire within me to jump his bones when I saw him that morning, his hair messy and his hands clutching a cup of coffee while Mom made breakfast behind him.
But that good feeling I had about all of this? It lasts only about a split second.
Because the moment he looks up and sees me, the mug falls out of his hand and shatters to pieces. His eyes stay glued to me, even as my mother darts over to pick up the pieces of the ceramic that are scattered about the table and the floor. And when she turns back to grab a paper towel, he still stares at me, once again at my legs.
It takes me all of four seconds afterwards to remember that not only did I talk to him briefly last night, but I also flirted with him after he complimented me.
That whole part seemed to have slipped my mind when waking up, and now that his gaze is bringing me back to that moment, that 'this has to be an illusion' montage is starting to become larger than I'd remembered.
It isn't until he finally snaps out of it and starts to help my mom clean up the mess that I snap out of it, too, going back upstairs to clear my head and cool the heat radiating over my skin.
———
There's a knock at my bedroom door about an hour later, and it sounds different than my mom's usually quick two-knock succession. That means it's someone else, and unsurprisingly, my stomach tightens at the thought of seeing him again.
"Yeah?" I call out, turning in my desk chair and meeting Spencer's figure in the doorway. He's changed, a rather nice pair of slacks and a white button-up shirt clinging to his limbs.
"Can I come in?"
"Mhm," I say. I still don't know if I entirely trust myself to say anything more than a few words to him, and as he enters the room and sits on the foot of my bed, I wonder if he can tell.
He tries, really tries, to look me in the eye, but I know that it's hard. I've been in the same spot. And then he takes a deep breath before folding his hands in his lap.
"Y/N, I want to apologize... When we... talked last night... It was kind of weird, and then this morning wasn't really any better..." He can barely get out the words 'talk' and 'last night'... And then he avoids my gaze altogether, staring at the floor and trailing off, trying to put his thoughts together it seems.
And that's when it starts to click into place.
There's one thing that both last night and this morning have in common, and I've noticed it almost every time I've caught him staring at me. At my legs. It's happened almost daily since I've met him. And then, the night I come home clearly having just been fucked, waltzing past him, entertaining his fascination with my legs and then masturbating to thoughts of him in the shower, he finally starts dropping mugs.
He must also really feel something here. Something similar to my own feelings. And really, that should be a red flag, because he's my mom's boyfriend, and it's a goddamned fucking mess...
But fuck, it excites me.
I'm still wearing my pajama shorts, silky and lavender in color, and I use them to my advantage, slowly crossing one leg over the other and just barely gaining Spencer's attention back.
"Yeah, what was that, anyway?" I ask him, amusement dripping off my tongue.
I can tell from his reaction that he wasn't expecting me to ask. A few times he opens his mouth to speak and then closes it , stumbling before panicking. He's been pretty good so far at coming up with answers and explanations, so the fact that this time I finally seemed to have broken him down makes it all the more clear.
He must have heard me in the shower.
Right?
I'm almost completely positive that's what this is about. And there's one way for me to get the confirmation I'm looking for.
"So you heard me, huh?"
I try to keep my voice as plain as I can as not to give away my motives, and with my luck Spencer is so flustered that he probably wouldn't have even noticed it at all. He looks up at me, his eyes desperately trying to find something he can use to make up a lie, but in the end there's no use.
I've caught him. And he knows it.
"Yes," he whispers. He looks exhausted, guilty, and also a little like he wants to cross the barrier and kiss me.
Okay, maybe that part's just in my head. I really can't tell. But I do know that hearing me call his name out in the shower last night is what brought him to this point of severe distress. As much as that excites me, though, it also embarrasses me a little. Maybe if it hadn't happened we could have avoided further destruction.
It must read on my face, because Spencer perks a little. "Oh! Y/N, I'm not... I'm not mad or anything. I really didn't mean to overhear and invade your privacy... Really, I-I'm sorry."
The fact that he's apologizing to me right now, rather than acting all grossed out that I even did it in the first place, tells me he either feels guilty for not being able to help himself from hearing me, or he's just a good guy who loves my mom and doesn't want to ruin it because of a little mishap.
Either way, it's frustrating, because I don't know what to do.
Well, I know what I want to do, but I don't know if I should hint at it.
But then he does something. It's small, and no one would have noticed, but I've been fascinated with his hands since the moment I met him, so my eyes are instantly drawn there.
They're clenched so hard, his knuckles are nearly white.
He's nervous.
To ease his mind a bit, I hold off on poking the bear harder (though it's really tempting to see what will happen if I don't) and nod, trying to make myself look as apologetic and small as possible.
"It's okay... I... I won't make it awkward if you won't?"
His shoulders slump, and his body seems to relax. "Y–yeah. Yeah, deal."
He gets up off the bed and blurts one final apology before heading for the door, but that part of me that wants to poke the bear further makes me stand up and follow him.
"Spencer?" I call out.
He freezes and turns to face me, and I don't think he quite expected me to be as close as I am. I have to tilt my head up to look at him, and the angle gives me an added layer of this innocence I'm trying to achieve.
"I'm sorry, too..."
No the fuck I'm not.
Whether he can sense my lie or not, he doesn't show it. But I think he at least knows that I'm pitching my voice a little higher on purpose, and if that doesn't give it away, the way I'm staring at him sure should.
Still, he only nods and retreats.
All there's left to do is see what happens.
JUNE 25th
For someone who agreed not to make things awkward, Spencer sure can't keep his eyes off of me.
To be fair, I have tried to keep things fairly normal. I only really interacted with him if I had to, I kept my distance, and I saved my skimpier clothing for the strangers I was regularly going out to see almost every weekend.
My lustful feelings for him aren't as strong now that I've been getting some on a semi-regular basis and keeping myself occupied. I've been doing my part.
But I still can't shake him entirely.
Whenever he spends the night (which is surprisingly most nights), the occasional wet dream about him gets me frustrated when I know he's just down the hall and sleeping soundly next to my mom. On those days I try to cut as much interaction with him as I can, though it doesn't keep me from seeing the occasional stare he throws my way.
I wish I could say that I hate it.
But I don't, and it increasingly gets worse. It's only been a week, so there's still time, but honestly, I don't think there's any shaking him.
Today especially is one of those days where it's hard not to give into the incessant need to tease him and coax some stronger reaction out of him.
I talked to Mom earlier this morning about getting some new clothes, and she had this brilliant idea to have Spencer take me. "It would be a good chance for you two to bond a little, don't you think?" she insisted, nudging him in the side and silently pleading with her eyes for him to agree.
I could tell from the look on his face that he really wasn't ready to be alone with me again, but that only excited me.
"Yeah, I think that's a great idea," I piped up, positively beaming.
Mom was so excited for us to 'bond' and also that I was gladly inclined to go through with it that Spencer couldn't have said no to her even if he wanted to.
And I was pretty sure he didn't want to.
Yet here we are, sitting in the car, the air conditioning so strong it's blowing some of my hair into my eyes. I think it had been his way of punishing me for choosing today to wear a short skirt, something I usually refrain from nowadays unless I'm going out, and it makes me smile. I can't help it.
I also can't help the way my fingers play with my skirt, dying to tease him some more. I just want to see, to know for sure that I'm driving him mad.
"No offence, but you seem weird today... Is there something wrong?" I ask him, lifting my skirt just a smidge. The air from the car blows the fabric in waves.
"You're acting this way on purpose."
Well, I hadn't been expecting that answer... All this time he'd hardly been confrontative, and now he's full-on calling me out. It's plain to see that he's finally snapped, and I would have felt sorry about it if I didn't find it extremely sexy.
"What do you mean?"
"Y/N..."
My name on his lips is a warning. He's clearly annoyed, exasperated, and I'm loving every second. "Don't act oblivious. I'm not stupid, and neither are you. I don't want to make you hate me or anything, but you have to know where I'm coming from. I was willing to let the shower thing slide... And you said you were too, for that matter, so I don't know what's changed, but it has to stop now. Understood?"
Oh, all I want is to argue with him. I want to point out that none of this is really my fault because he's the one who hasn't been able to stop staring at me all summer so far. I want to tell him that if he wants this to stop he has to make it stop.
But that isn't going to give me any of the answers I'm looking for or further proof of my theory that he wants me just as badly as I want him. And I am not going to fuck this whole situation up by making a poorly-timed move on him.
I have to know for sure.
So, I fold my hands neatly in my lap, sigh, and look dead ahead. "Right... We said no awkwardness. I'm sorry."
Spencer seems to accept my apology and continues down the road.
When we make it to the mall I think he's calmed down. At least, he seems a little more comfortable around me, and honestly I'm okay with it. As much as his spiel in the car turned me on, it also exhausted me to the point of silence.
Even as we walk around each store in the mall, I just lead and he follows, not saying a word when I pick out a top or a pair of pants or whatever else I need. And when it comes time to pay, he takes the basket from me and pays for it with no question.
Near five bags of clothes later, I figure I could get used to this new dynamic.
But then we pass a lingerie store, and I remember that the main thing I'd needed was new underwear. I start to turn into the store, but stop suddenly, pausing awkwardly and deciding to go straight ahead instead.
"You don't want to go in?" Spencer asks.
I shake my head. "No, it's fine. I can just pick some up later, it's not a big deal."
He sighs then, nodding his head towards the sign. "If you need to go in, you can... I'll just wait out here if you're uncomfortable."
I really want to call him out, ask him if he's the one who should be worried about being uncomfortable. But so far this afternoon has been pretty decent, and I really don't want to make things any weirder than they have to be.
Besides... If my theory is right...
"Sure. Thanks. Uh, how am I gonna pay, though?"
"O—Oh... I'll uh... I'll just watch the counter and come in when you need me."
"Orrrr, you could just give it to me?"
This time I get a laugh out of him. "Not a chance. Go in, I'll wait."
I smile at him and hand him the bags to hold onto while I leave, and it fills me with absolute amusement that he'd just given me one more ounce of proof that I'm right.
He's gonna have to come inside and pay for what I bought. He could have just given me the card, and maybe he truly doesn't trust me with it (which I don't know why he wouldn't honestly), but he chose to come inside all the same.
I browse happily then, going through the displays and picking out things I need, but also things I know Spencer will like.
Specifically, I stumble on a pair of lavender panties, embroidered with flowery trim up top. The pattern from the outside is lace, but there's a thin layer of cotton underneath designed to be more comfortable to wear.
I've noticed that he can never seem to look away when I'm wearing anything, really, but it's more intense when I wear one of two things. Florals, and any type of purple. And these fit both of those bills perfectly.
Now there's just one more bill to take care of.
I stride over to the counter and turn around, finding that Spencer's caught my eye immediately. Either he truly had been paying attention to the counter the whole time, or he'd been watching through the glass, following me with his gaze to the best of his abilities. Either way, he blinks a few times and looks like he's gathering the courage to go in before actually taking any steps.
I laugh to myself, eager to gauge his reaction to this next step.
Surprisingly, he holds up well. The air between me, him, and the cashier is obviously awkward, but he doesn't say anything and barely looks at what she rings up. (I say barely because he tries extremely hard not to look at the purple pair I picked out, inadvertently adding another checkmark to my list of proof.) She tells him the total, he hands her the card, and within a minute, everything is in our possession and we're leaving the mall entirely.
I don't think there are any more steps to my plan today once we get in the car and I tell him thank you. (To which he responds a short and simple, Sure thing, and turns the radio on.)
But then there's a note taped to the front door, and it instantly gives me another one.
My Sweethearts,
I got called in on a work emergency and won't be back until 7. I would have called but I figured you were having a nice time and didn't want to interrupt! I'll bring home dinner, and then maybe you can tell me about how your day went. Can't wait to hear it!
XOXO,
Eve/Mom
I check my phone, seeing that it's almost 3.
Perfect.
But I don't want to give myself away too quickly, so I thank Spencer again for taking me out and tell him that I'm going upstairs to make sure everything fits right. He nods and lets me go, though not without lingering eyes. I can feel it.
The smile never leaves my face as I try all my clothes on. Once each article has been fitted, I throw it in a laundry basket and move to the next, until I get to the last piece.
The lavender panties.
As expected, they fit perfectly, and as I look at myself in the mirror I picture what Spencer would look like when he sees me wearing them.
That's right. When.
I throw back on my earlier outfit and grab the basket, acting as bored and normal as possible to find him sitting at the kitchen table, reading a book.
"Hey," I greet him, setting the basket in front of me once I reach the bottom of the stairs. "Everything fits good, I just need them washed now. Could you run these down to the laundry room for me? I think I'm gonna make something to snack on before Mom brings dinner."
It doesn't surprise me to see him look at my legs before my face, even if it is brief. I want to smile, but I hold back, watching him nod with a tight smile of his own.
"Sure."
He disappears and then I wait.
One...
Two...
Three.
I sneak as quietly as I can to the laundry room once I hear the washer door open. I hadn't specifically asked him to put them in the washer for me on purpose, and it looks like now he's doing exactly what I thought he might.
My head peeks around the corner, barely in his range of sight as I watch him empty the basket. He takes one item of clothing at a time and throws it in the washer, and halfway through the basket he stops, just to place a pair of my new underwear on the dryer beside him.
My heart races faster the more I wait for him to get to the end of the basket. Once he does, he pauses again, and I think I know exactly what he's looking for.
Still, he sets the basket aside and picks up the stray pair of underwear, a simple black cotton pair that I'd been getting for years, and drapes it over his hands. My thighs instantly clench, and I try so hard to remain where I am so I can see where he takes this.
He takes it straight to hell, apparently, tentatively pulling his dick out of his pants and gripping it firmly. I can barely see since his back is partially turned, but I see enough, and god he's so fucking pretty. My underwear dangle from his left hand while the other works slowly over his erection, a soft sigh falling from his lips.
I fight to let one of my own slip as my hand sinks down the front of my body, past the lavender cotton and lace that I know he just wishes he had right now.
And then, a few seconds later he's already coming, using my brand new underwear to catch each rope of it, and the sight nearly has me on my knees.
And because I want to catch him in the act, I quickly draw my hand away from myself and step into the room, barely giving him time to recover.
"You come fast."
Spencer looks utterly devastated when he turns to see me standing in the entryway to the laundry room, arms crossed and an amused smirk adorning my face.
"Y/N... I—I... I'm so sorry, I didn't... I..."
"Don't worry about it," I say, taking a step towards him and shrugging. "You heard me, and now I heard you... We're even. Besides, I... figured you might be looking for these."
He's still stunned, but he looks down all the same, watching my hands slip under my skirt and glide the lavender panties down my legs. I step out of them and hold the garment up on one finger, a soft smile still on my face.
"I picked 'em out just for you, you know," I tell him, tossing them past his face and into the washer. "I've noticed that you like purple."
This time he's quick to respond. "Y/N, we... We can't... This isn't right."
"Says the man holding my underwear soaked in his cum..."
He looks panicked again, extremely guilty, but if this isn't going to end in a total disaster, then I have to reassure him that I'm okay.
"Spencer, I'm not mad..." I take another step forward, and it feels much like trying to approach a wounded animal. I can see in his eyes and in his posture that this conflict is killing him, so I decide to show some rapport. "And I know... I know this is messy... I love my mom... And I'm sure you care about her a lot... But are we really going to ignore this? We tried that, remember? And now look where we are."
"I..." He swallows, shaking his head and trying to avoid my eyes. "I can't stop thinking about you... I can't..."
My hand finds his arm, and the light touch has him sighing out, an incredulous, breathy laugh escaping him. "Y/N, please... Don't."
"Don't what?" I ask softly, praying he won't turn me away. If he does, we're just back to square one, only the square is jagged, sharper than ever before, and in serious danger of injuring someone.
When he meets my eyes, I see nothing but a desire for something he knows he can't have. "Don't want me."
Now it's my turn to laugh. My knees start to wobble as I go down, keeping my eyes locked onto his, and I swear I see them dilate fully. I scoot in closer, sliding my hand up his leg and finding the words in my heart to finally say out loud.
"It's too late for that..."
My face moves closer, and the hand of his that doesn't currently hold my underwear flies down to gently tug at my hair, keeping me in place.
"If you do this... God, Y/N, I won't be able to stop myself..."
A smirk dances over my lips as I lean in, breath fanning gently over his exposed skin. "Don't."
He swallows. "Don't what?"
"Don't stop yourself."
I barely get the words out before his hand is completely pulling me towards him, and the second my lips press against the silky skin of his hard cock, he loses it completely.
His fingers thread through my hair as I kiss and lick my way softly up to the tip. Once I'm there, I swirl my tongue out and taste the small beads of cum that had remained after he came, a low, satiated hum radiating through my body and making him shiver under my touch.
And then I wrap my lips fully around the head of his dick, and there's no stopping the most beautiful sound I've ever heard come out of his mouth. It's a broken, desperate whisper of my name. The crack in his voice when he says it spurs me forward, and I take him deeper into my mouth until he hits the back of my throat.
That's when he tosses my underwear in the washer and uses both of his hands to grab my head, roughly guiding me along his cock and fully taking control of my actions.
The fire in my belly doesn't ease up, not even once he's decided that he can't take it anymore and pulls me off of him harshly.
And that's only because now he's fully turned over, finally given into these desires that have been plaguing him presumably from the moment we met.
"I want you stripped and in your bed, on your hands and knees within the next five minutes."
I get up off the floor and walk up to him until our bodies are flush, my arms reaching up to wrap around his neck.
"What are you gonna do to me, Spencer?"
He searches my eyes, and his own grow dark with the purest form of sin I'd ever seen. And when his hands come up over the back of my legs, and under my skirt to grab my ass and pull me even closer to him, I can't help the little mewl that slips past my lips.
He smiles, and if it hadn't been for the grip he held on me, I would have fallen to my knees. "Little girl, when I'm through with you, you'll have to come up with some excuse to your mom about why you can't walk straight... Is that what you want?"
The mention of my mom should send me running in the opposite direction, but his threat only prolongs that fire in my veins and makes me want him even more.
I tilt my head up and press a gentle kiss to his lips.
"Do your worst..."
———
Turns out he was very true to his word.
Sitting at the kitchen table is somewhat of a relief, but I try not to walk around as much when Mom gets home. She'd asked me almost immediately if I was okay, and I told her I was just hungry and needed to eat something.
She seemed to have bought it, rushing to the kitchen to unpack the fast food she'd ordered for us. Over her shoulder, Spencer gave me a sly smile, and it took everything I had within myself not to crumble.
Through bites of food, I only half-listen to Mom telling us about the stuff she had to do at work because most of the words I'm hearing are in my head— A loop of endless dirty talk that plants deep into the soil of my stomach and spreads out through my whole body. It infects me, like the most beautiful poison, and I never want it to stop.
"Tell me, sweetheart, you ever let a man come inside you before?"
His weight on top of me coupled together with the heft of his voice has me whining out in pleasure, each snap forward of his hips over my ass as he pounds into me from behind the most delectable burn I've ever felt.
"Uh huh," I answer happily, twisting my head to feel his cheek against my own. "That night you heard me in the shower... I walked through the door with a stranger's cum soaking my panties... And you know what?"
He grumbles, his hips hitting into me harder as he waits for me to continue.
"I wished it was yours..."
My legs clench together under the table and I take a large gulp of water.
I feel something graze over my bare shin, and I already know it's Spencer's foot, a silent reassurance of his presence and that no matter what, he'll always be here.
"Here's what's going to happen..."
He has me on my back now, my legs hoisted over his shoulders and bent back so I'm nearly folded in half. His hips are flush against mine and I can feel his cock throbbing as he comes into the condom.
"You're gonna make an appointment to make sure you're clean... You're gonna make sure you're on good birth control... And then the next time I fuck this pretty little pussy, you're gonna really know what it feels like to have a man come inside you."
Right... Like I really need a reminder of his presence.
I can practically feel it still inside me, taking up every inch of space my body could provide. And no matter how long I go without seeing him, I have no doubt that it'll always remain.
"But that's enough about me, I'm sorry." Mom's voice shifts and breaks me out of my fantasy. "So, how did your day of bonding go? You have fun?"
Spencer and I share a look, a smile spreading over his lips that makes me smile in turn.
"Yeah, Mom," I say. "It was great."
He nods in kind. "Yeah... We'll definitely have to do it again."
His foot grazing over my leg under the table cements the unwavering smile on my face, as does the way my whole body burns at the memory of him fucking me upstairs only hours before.
I don't even flinch or get sick to my stomach when Mom reaches over and gives Spencer a kiss.
———
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