#i probably watched this the morning after it aired in the US
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Ad Interim. | No Service
logline; The days and doubts and desires; the air, underneath the shoe.
[!!!] series history, this is the ninth; the amount of links are getting nauseating just go to the landing LMAO.
Spotify Playlist, if you like to listen while you read. I listen to it when I write :) Constantly gettin’ added to. I listen to this playlist too much in my day to day now, fr.
portion; 3k+
possible allergies; you're almost ten chapters in, you know very well by now that these two are rife with anxiety and insecurity.
pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader (gets she/her'd mb)
fun fact: i finished this one 19 hours after the last chapter, whoops, but let it sit in my drafts to give some breathing room and do some rework
It is t-minus three days, until the worst Friday of your life.
But today’s Tuesday, and though you feel a touch uneasy, you figure it’s probably just the breakfast from yesterday at La Mattina settling in your stomach— Or, at least, hope it is.
You’re at home, sitting on your couch, pensive, haggard, leaned over. Elbows to knees, prayer hands to face, staring at your phone on the coffee table in front of you.
Just send it. Just send the text. Don’t be a fucking wuss. You’ve re-written it in your notes app like five fucking times— He does not care this much, he doesn’t even have basic reading comprehension— Okay, that’s mean— But it’s just not that deep. Just fucking! Send it!
Actually no, no, upon sixth review, the paragraph you had written out was way too intense, way too presumptive. Backspace, backspace, backspace—Just say hi. Let’s just start with Hi.
‘Yooooooooo’
Are you fucking possessed? Good Lord. How is he already typing he never used to reply this fast, what the fuck—
‘Are u fucking haunted?’
‘Fuck is yooooooo’
‘Yooo to you too, cousin’
Faster texter now, but Richie is still the same guy, at the end of the day.
‘this is a loaded fucking question’
‘but do you think you’ll be free any time this week?’
‘not unless ur dead or dying’
‘are you dead or dying?’
‘not that I’ve heard’
‘but I was thinking maybe we could like, get food or smth’
‘chat one on one. Been a minute, yknow’
That was too much. You didn’t need to do all that. Now he’s gonna go well who’s fault is that? And it’s yours. You know it’s yours. And then you’re gonna have that fucking conversation— Which is what this whole meet up thing was supposed to be about in the first place—
‘heard’
‘can’t get time off but fak needs to have his training wheels ripped’
‘could have dinner at the bear this week? Like 2 hours. Then I can watch him and keep him from shitting the bed’
‘and still get to do a fucking one on one, you corporate speak ass’
‘I didn’t know how else to fucking say it alright!!!!!!’
‘Dinner @ bear sounds good to me’
‘but probably ask carm/syd first if it’s cool’
‘yea yea I’ll fuckin check in with daddy don’t worry’
‘that sucked for me. That sucked to read. Go to jail.’
‘already have.’
‘I’ll let u know a time when I know. See u chip’
You heart it. The classic signal that it’s the end of a conversation. Holy shit. You did it. You actually texted someone that you miss that you miss them— Not directly, but you know Rich knows. And specifically, to book a dinner, to talk about what happened, to apologize for it. That’s pretty fucking huge. Which means—
It’s time to eat a whole freezer cake and lay in your pyjamas all day and interact with not a single soul on this entire planet. You’re absolutely at your social limit, for the day. Maybe you’ll talk it through with Mikey, actually. To the air, more accurately, but, y’know, same thing.
You’re gonna get dinner with Richie. You’re gonna get dinner, with Richie, this Friday. And it’s not gonna be awkward or weird, at all.
It is t-minus two days, until the worst Friday of Carmen’s life, so far, at least. There’s always next year.
But today’s Wednesday, and though he feels a little nerve-wracked, he’s pretty sure it’s just because the kitchen was so fucking dysfunctional this morning, and now that their prep’s off, the tempo of the whole fucking day is off, and they're behind on two tables. And fucking seriously this time, can someone get him a fucking marker that fucking works.
Okay, maybe it’s a little more, than nerve wracked.
Sydney is ever the intuitive, and always correct, at the station next to him— Because yes, they’re still down a hire since the meth guy, so now Carmen is on line.
She can tell, that somethings wrong with him, something’s always wrong with him. “Take your ten, Chef.”
Carmen shakes his head, obviously, there’s still prep to catch up on. And if he doesn't do it, it's not gonna get done, and even if it does get done, it's not gonna get done right. He’s pressing the dead sharpie down on the tape, like if he just brute forces it, it’ll start to work. “M’good, Chef.”
“Carmen.” She turns to him fully, stopping her work. And so, he does too. “Take your fucking ten.” She deadpans, she’s not taking no for an answer. She rubs her fist over her heart.
Carmen takes a beat, before nodding, doing the same. “Heard, Chef.”
He needs to look over expense reports that he can’t quite comprehend, anyways.
He really needs his sister. He steps into his office. Despite the fact that they re-constructed just about everything in the restaurant, this musty office remains the same. Untouched. After caving down walls, they had to cut the budget somewhere. He’s glad though, that it's untouched. It might be crowded, poorly organized, have an off smell (probably because of the birth in here, just a few weeks back), but it’s exactly as his brother left it, and that helps him feel… Connected, somehow.
What the hell is Var vs Budget? He’s googling every other word, here. He’s more than grateful, that before going home on mat leave, Sug set up a good enough automated Excel sheet that he could just plug in numbers and it did all the calculating for him. Doesn’t mean he knows what any of the numbers mean, but, they’re there.
He knows that red equals bad. Natalie told him that very specifically. Which did seem like she was calling him fucking stupid, but he let it go. There’s a lot of red. That’s a lot of bad. Well, not a lot, but like, a third of this is red. That’s probably more than it should be. How many months do they have again? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
He is never gonna get to pay himself, he’s never gonna be able to pay Syd, he's never gonna get her a star, she’s gonna live with her dad for the rest of her life, you are never gonna get to work here, you’re gonna work as a bottle girl for the rest of your life, he’s never gonna get his shit together so he’s never gonna get to call you his, he’s gonna have to hand the deed to Cicero and then fucking everyone is gonna to lose their jobs and he’s still gonna be him. He’s still gonna be him. Carmy Berzatto, the chef that lost everything, little brother to everyone's hero who blew his brains out. Starless in Chicago, unable to feel anything more than sorry for himself. Carmen’s gonna die as Carmen, and nothing more. At the end of the day.
Take a deep breath, Bear. Relax.
He’s catastrophizing. You told him that. He forgot to look into it. He googles that, instead of another business term he doesn’t understand.
‘Fixates on the worst possible outcome and treats it as likely, even when it is not.’
Well, it does seem pretty fucking likely that he’s doomed to fail and fall into a Sisyphean nightmare of opening restaurants and falling on his fucking face, dragging everyone he loves down with him with his stupid failed pipe dreams. He's no better than his brother.
He tries his best to think of whatever level-headed bullshit you'd give to him, right now, tries to taste the hot chocolate, the lavender and cardamom coffee. He smells your shampoo, in his hair, that helps.
Maybe, maybe it’s just been a bad week. Maybe there will be a lot of bad weeks, maybe there won’t be. Maybe things will be fine, maybe they won’t. You and Syd will still succeed, even if he fails. Everyone will, even if he fails. He has a very capable crew. And while he cannot escape the thought that failure is around the corner, at the very least, he is comforted by the idea that at least he will be the only one sinking with the ship he commands.
The thought of drowning alone is still impossible to rid of. Though.
But you’ve sent a text. And isn’t that a wonderful distraction?
Your connection results in response to his, from this morning, of course. You actually got it today. He swells with what feels like pride, and despite the fact that no one's looking at him, he has to hide his smile with his hand, embarrassed by how happy he is, when he sees the photo you’ve sent, just now. A selfie, sitting next to an oven, Other Tony’s oven. You’re holding a fried wire in your hand.
The text below it is a wonderful salve, ‘If you ever fuck up your ovens, I’ve got like, 10 thermocouples in my personal stock now :))’
So good to him, too good to him. Too good to anyone. ‘Heard.’
Carmen so, so fucking desperately wants to ask you to come to The Bear, right now. You’re only two blocks away, at La Mattina. You’d come, if he asked. He knows that. But he also knows that even if you calm him down, in the long run, it’ll set his day even further off tempo, he’ll be distracted the rest of his shift, and that’s the last thing he needs. He can handle this himself.
‘:)’ For levity. Or something. He’s trying. You give it a heart, so that means he’s done something good, he’s pretty sure.
There’s a knock at his door. Richie does not wait for an answer before coming in. His knocks are more like warnings, really. Carmen’s quick to tuck his phone away, he knows it’d be perfect cannon fodder to be teased into oblivion.
“Aye, cous—”
Carmen does not let the man get a word in inch wise, “Who’s on expo?”
Richie grimaces, this fucking song and dance, again. “Syd.”
“Who’s on her station, then?”
“T.”
“And hers?”
“She’s doin’ fuckin’ both Carmy— And—” Richie pulls a sharpie out of his breast pocket, throwing it at him. Carmen catches it. “Fuckin’ works. Alright?”
Marker works, and the system works. He catches the double meaning, too. Carmen nods, “Heard.”
“Christ.” Richie looks to high heaven, looks to his best friend, really, to give him strength. “Can I take my fuckin’ turn now?”
“Yeah, yeah, go ‘head.” Carmen turns to his desk, looking over the excel sheet, again. He can’t imagine Richie needing all of his undivided attention, right now, he’s not you.
Speaking of you, he can’t find your repair expenses anywhere on here. He needs to text Sug, about that. No, she’s got a fucking baby, he’ll at least look for a physical copy, first.
“I need to take two hours, on Friday.”
“Huh?” Carm’s head snaps up. Okay, maybe he does need to give his full attention to Richie, right now. “Eva got a fuckin’ recital, or somethin’?”
“No, no, uh— Chip wants to get dinner.” Rich scratches his nose with his thumb. “Thought since Fak's been training to host f'like, the whole fuckin’ month, could do dinner 'ere, let him do a run on us. Two birds, one bullet, y’know.”
“It’s stone.”
“I’m not fuckin’ high, cousin—” “No, it’s— Alright.” Carmen closes his eyes, hand over his face, deciding this is not the fight he wants to choose. “Tony’s getting dinner with you?”
“If I’m allowed, your fuckin’ Majesty.”
If it were up to Carmen? He wouldn’t be. But you specifically asked. Why, he has no idea. Carmen crosses his arms. “Yeah, yeah, s’fine. Just start at like, a not peak time. Like 4:30? Then when rush starts after 5 Fak’ll have a lil' momentum.”
“Heard. I’ll tell ‘em.” Richie nods, turning to make his way out.
Carm’s leg bounces, a tick that he’s pretty sure he’ll never get rid of. “… Ey Rich?”
He stops, turning back to Carmy, “Yeah, cousin?”
Carmen taps the end of the sharpie on the table, not looking at Richie, “What’s uh— Why d’you call Tony ‘Chip’?”
Ever so slightly, Richie’s brows furrow. “Did'j'ya ask her?”
Carm shakes his head, “S’why I’m asking you.”
Richie takes a beat, head rocking to the side, “Y'should ask her, she’ll tell you.”
Carmy squints, at that, “Is it fuckin’ dark or somethin’, cousin?”
What’s so secretive about Chip? He figured it would be some stupid inside joke with chocolate chips, like Sug with the salt mix up. Richie swallows, frowning just a bit. He clearly does not know how to answer this question, which just makes Carmen even more curious.
“S’ not dark, kinda, it’s just, y’know. Personal.” Since when the fuck did Richie have respect for personal? Probably since he sent him to stage. Goddammit.
“Did you not coin it?”
“Mikey did.”
Oh.
Huh.
Mikey got to do that first, too, eh?
“But, y’know, ask her, she likes you well enough to tell you, I think.” Richie shrugs, palms out. “Kinda tells stories like that better than me, anyways.” That's high praise— Not in the sense that Richie's a great storyteller, but that he's willing to admit it, for you.
“Oh, she doesn’t bury the fuckin’ lead?”
“Oh, fuck you.” But it’s true, so Richie’s amused. There’s something nice, about being known. Even if it’s to tease.
There’s a lull of silence. Quite frankly, Carmen’s hoping that Richie’s general disdain of silence will force him to confess your nickname backstory, just to fill the void. It doesn’t. Instead, it just gears him up, in the worst way, able to read the look on Carmen’s face.
“You really wanna fuckin know, huh?” Richie tilts down his head, teasing. Carmen groans. Oh dear god, why him. “Oh, fuck, you fuckin’ like her, don’t’chu, cousin? You fuckin’ dog.”
“Shut the fuck up, Rich—”
“Aye, Chip’s a real catch, I gettit— Works hard, plays nice, cleans up good— Y’have my blessing.”
“Didn’t ask for it.”
“Aye,” Richie snaps his fingers, pointing at Carmen like he could smite him. “Don’t gimme no talk back, she was my boy first, a’right? One bad word from me, n’ your lil’ fantasy—” He gestures an explosion with his hand, making a ‘pop’ sound with his lips.
“Gone, cousin.”
Carmen leans back in his seat, playing with the sharpie in his hand. He’s essentially Kubrick staring down Richie, but the guy is unaffected. “Friday, 4:30, two hours. If Fak fucks up, you’re on deck.”
“Heard.”
“Jeff, can I please get an all day, baby?” Baby is Tina’s new HR approved version of ‘for the love of fucking god’ She’s definitely at her limit, meaning Syd’s definitely at her limit on expo. Richie starts to step out, walking backwards.
“You comin’ cousin?”
Carm scratches his nose, straightening up back to his desk. He wishes he could go back to the kitchen, where he knows he’s good, instead of in here, with some goddamn spreadsheets that he cannot comprehend beyond bad. “Uh, one sec, I just need to finish this fuckin’—” He shakes his hand in the air, “Whatever the fuck this is.”
Richie nods, tapping the doorway on his way out. “Heard… g’luck.”
Carmen does not look at the spreadsheets. No. He thinks. He doesn't think about business.
That wasn’t true, was it? A phone call from Richie wouldn’t be the end of him, end of you, would it? Carmen is on the losing playing field here, practically everyone here has more history with you than he does. If he had a��� lapse in behaviour, and it got back to you, would that ruin him? God, even his work family ruins things for him. Or could. Which means they will. Catastrophizing.
Whatever. What the fuck ever. He needs to find your invoice. After some flipping through last month’s file, he finds a sticky note from Sug between loose pages.
‘reminder: ask carmy 4 tony invoice’
He squints. You said Nat took care of it. Maybe it’s an old sticky note, he’ll text her about it, it’ll be a solid forty hours before he’ll get a response, anyways. Mom stuff. He really needs to go visit his niece again, soon. Maybe this weekend. Take Richie’s car. But then he'll probably will be forced to take Richie, too. Maybe he should just ask you, instead. Let Nat thank you for the heating pad she’s been loving, properly. Have dinner, all together, in an actual family home, instead of just each other's apartments. That'd be nice.
Yeah. Yeah. He’ll ask you on Friday, when you come for dinner. He grabs a pad of paper, biting the cap off his sharpie. He’ll make you something off menu, on Friday. You’re coming before the rush, anyways, he’ll have time to play, on Friday.
He’s gonna do right by you, this Friday.
Tomorrow, you’ll be getting dinner with Richie, and it’ll be the worst Friday of your life.
But right now, it’s Thursday night, and you’ve finally finished Carmen’s piece for The Bear. You know you told him if he didn’t like it, he didn’t have to put it up, but admittedly, if he doesn’t like it, you will be crushed.
One big white canvas.
Nine perfect squares, perfectly equidistant from each other at all angles.
Each square a snippet, a photo transfer. The squares themselves are messy, sun damaged, bleach stained, light flared. All twinged blue and yellowish. But so perfectly cut and curated.
Each image, something new. Starting at the top left, it’s The Original Beef. Then, the inside. Then the booths.
Then the second row, the sandwiches, held in hands.
The center photo. You've taken almost all of these photos on a disposable from yesteryear, but this is the one you like the most.
Mikey. The only transfer completely unbleached, unaltered, unruined. He’s holding two cut outs. One, Food & Wine and the other, a small section in the off off off pages of the New York Times.
Both specifically the one’s that mentioned Carmen, winning Best Chef and the James Beard.
Mikey was so proud. So so proud, silently, just with you— Couldn't look soft. Carmen does not know this photo exists. No one does. You hope this piece will act as the catalyst for you to be able to talk about the elephant in the room you’ve yet to open for him.
Right next to Mikey, is a balloon on a pipe— A photo you grabbed from Sydney and printed. You can only imagine the stress you could’ve eased, during their fire safety test. C’est la vie. Fak got to prove himself.
And on the last row, the new, ritzy, booths. The Seven Fishes dish— Also a photo you stole from Sydney. And finally, The Bear’s sign. Taken at night, lit up in all its neon glory.
Though the images are disconnected, starting from Mikey in the center— Clean, the flaring and staining grows more intense at the pictures in the corner. Just bordering on illegible. It all feels interconnected, woven.
It’s Carmen. Or, at least, you think it is. That’s what you were trying to achieve. You took inspiration from the way his brain works, the way he cooks messy but produces orderly, the way he’s grown something out of what was barely more than nothing. The way love and grief is at the center of everything. He’s awfully inspiring.
You’re excited, to show this to him tomorrow, on Friday. Hopefully all goes well, on Friday. You’re coming before the rush, you’ll probably have a little time to talk, on Friday. You won’t be able to get into everything, no, you’ve promised most of your bandwidth to Richie, but you’ll make a good start, on Friday.
You’re gonna do right, by Carmen, on Friday.
Tomorrow.
HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE
i've still got 2k of beats to cover for the next chapter, and have 7.9k already written out, for it. This is going to be fun. lmao. I'm genuinely very very excited for you to see it, when it comes out. Cannot believe I thought like 4 chapters ago that'd this next chapter would be the one to be released next. I almost briefed over all of these past few chapters to be nothing more than snippets in a chapter, I would never forgive myself if i went through with that plan, fr.
Anyways, no time for the future, this is NOW!! I hope I described Tony's paintin' good. I think it'd be nice. MBMBAM reference in the intro, are you fucking HAUNTED? ARE YOU FUCKING POSESSED? Love griffy, had to. Carmen CANNOT stop having anxiety attacks, someone get him on prozac frfr.
Tell me your thoughts or I'll eat my hat, I'm gonna need some words to chew on while I write, anyways. Hitting a wall choreographing this back half of chapter ten my GOD. Also oh yeah, silly aesthetic thing. I dunno if anyone noticed or cared, but i do a different ombre banner when it's carmen's perspec-- Did it last chapter too, aint that cute?
Also, I must finally give in, I was lazy to do taglists, but have folded, so here u are mfs. If you'd like to be added, you gotta leave me an essay somewhere. It's the RULES! Well, leave an essay and also ask to be added to the taglist that is but IT'S THE RULES!!
@anytim3youwant @navs-bhat @whoknowswhoiamtoday @gills-lounge @slut4supersoldiers @sinceweremutual @itsallacotar @catsrdabestsocks101
fully added people that never asked to be on here, you're just like, top fans, so i thought it would be nice, but if you WANT TO BE TAKEN OFF LET ME KNOW I'LL DO IT IMMEDIATELY ALSO IF I'M FORGETTING ANYONE WHO ASKED PLEASE DO REMIND ME
#carmen berzatto#carmen berzatto imagine#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto x you#carmen x reader#carmy berzatto#carmen x oc#carmen berzatto x female reader#carmy x reader#the bear fanfiction#the bear x reader#the bear fx#the bear hulu#the bear#fanfic series
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— Brat
nsfw mdni :3 | dom!brat tamer!bsf!vernon x fem!reader | 1.1k
!! overstimulation, brat reader, slightly controlling, loud moaning(f), fingering, doggy, petname (babe), dirty talking, maybe others but it should be fine lemme know if you care !!
- this came to me in a dream not vernon but this lol, vernon seemed perfect for the role, written at 4 am in the morning don’t even worry about it. neo culture technology
Finally, the day had come for your monthly movie night with Vernon, you had a whole system you operated so it could be a fun experience for both of you. Picking out of a box filled with movies titles you had both submitted throughout the past few months, you both picked a movie then decided which one out of the two you would see that night, sometimes going for both.
This night was no different, you had decided on a movie for the night together, sitting on your respective sides of the couch. You let your legs lounge on his lap, resting your back against the arm rest, not paying mind to his playful poking on your thighs as the movie begun.
Most of the first hour, you sat in silence just throwing in a funny remark here and there for giggles, then came the scenes. After watching so many movies the sex scenes, bothered you less and less, you’d usually take the opportunity to say something dumb about it but your focus was elsewhere. The touch was delicate, faint almost, his fingers running up your thighs, it was hard to think coherently with the uncensored scenes in front of you.
“No one is screaming that loud, that’s hilarious” you force the words out trying to get your mind off the soft touches, your voice caught his attention and his roaming hand stopped.
“Some people get really loud to be honest” he says, nodding to himself before turning to you, you narrow your eyes at him trying to figure out if he was talking from experience or just generally.
“Like you’ve had someone screaming in bed?” he laughs at your confused expression answering your question with a nod, amused by the fact that you find it impossible.
“I’m sure you do” there was no way, you had never experienced it so it didn’t seem probable to you, simply agreeing reluctantly to your friend’s baseless claims.
He looks at you closer brows furrowed as he leans in, his hands perfectly wrapped around your thighs sliding further up, stopping inches away from your bulging lips.
“You think I’m lying?” a soft laugh of disbelief escapes his mouth, his eyes scan your face genuinely curious, watching you blink away before speaking up.
“I’m just saying any one can fake pleasure” you finally say looking back at him, a hint of shock under his smile, his lips twitching as he lets out a scoff.
“Fuck, I didn’t know you were such a brat”
One glance down between your legs, it was so obvious how badly you wanted it, for his hand to move closer to press against your aching clit just begging to be stimulated. That didn’t matter, he watched as your breaths grew bigger, your hips moving closer subconsciously drawn to the touch of his hand just resting on your thigh.
“Nonie… please” that was all he needed, your whole body begging for him to make you lose your voice to his touch. The sudden pressure sends a jolt to your spine making you arch your back, just from his fingers rubbing through your thin panties. The sound of his laugh mocking you only adding to your pleasure, letting him pull down your shirt’s neck for your pretty breasts to fall out, you really were all talk so easily letting yourself get used.
You couldn’t keep your eyes off him, his thumb brushing against your nipple before pinching the sensitive skin sliding down to the base holding onto it as his lips met your pebbled nipples, his wet tongue pressing on it making you suck in air from the feeling. So distracted by his kisses, the feeling of his fingers slipping inside your wet skin caught you off guard, a soft moan leaving your lips.
“Don’t fake it for me, I know you can take more than this” his hot breath against your ear as he spoke, placing a soft kiss on your jawline, pulling his fingers out completely covered with your juices bringing them to your lips, pulling down your jaw to open your mouth for him.
You find yourself moaning on his fingers as you suck on them, enjoying your taste on his soft fingers. His smirk as he takes out his fingers makes you weaker than you already were, rolling over on your belly ready let him take your pussy.
Getting rid of all your bottom clothing, you bend over his legs keeping your ass up for him to use to his content. A light smack against your ass the feeling tingling to your desperate pussy, he slides his fingers back in fucking your tight pussy sliding in a third finger as he quickens the pace, your noises are barely quiet as his fingers rub swiftly against your spot, hitting you so perfectly you have to dig your head into the couch to mute your pleading.
“I want you to hear yourself,” you feel his hand grab around your jaw lifting your head up, as he places his fingers against your clit stimulating it with fast back and forths making you legs grow weak, trembling uncontrollably, weak taps against his wrists for him to stop only for him to push you further.
Your pleading becomes more desperate as you near your release point, he can feel you tensing so hungrily around his fingers, loving how easily you crumble, cussing out his name as you pour out on his fingers. He wastes no time making you kneel on the couch, spreading your legs out so he can get a better view of your throbbing pussy, standing right behind you.
“You’re so fucking hot baby, I’m gonna make you scream my name tonight” It was a promise, the sound of him taking out his cock made your pussy beg, missing the hot feeling of being fucked by a rock hard shaft.
Your hands grab each side of your ass pulling them apart for him to see how desperate your pussy was for him to fill it up, the scoff that escaped his lips was so telling. In a heartbeat you feel him thrust deep inside you making your back arch, his hand wrapping around your throat as his thrusts continued.
“Fuck… talk to me baby” with every thrust you feel you body grow weaker, the only sounds able to leave your lips are desperate wails from the overstimulating pleasure, his cock hitting harder against you repeatedly in only a second.
Your words are inarticulate, you can’t even tell how loud you’re screaming till he gags you with his fingers, muting your cries as you cum your whole body stiffening around him, grabbing your ass and squeezing it against his dick filling up your used hole.
You let your body relax on the couch completely disheveled, watching him take his seat beside you, pressing play on the remote to resume the movie.
“Let’s finish the movie now”
#svt hard thoughts#seventeen smut#svt hard hours#svt smut#vernon smut#vernon hard thoughts#hansol smut#hansol x reader#vernon x reader#vernon hard hours
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I think Drunk In Love could have multiple parts it would be so good
Mmmm this is getting good, part 3? ;)
𝐃𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐊 ’𝐍’ 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 — 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟐 ¹⁹⁸⁵
— 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏
The sound of metal clinking and the scent of something burning startled me up. Rubbing my eyes to get rid of the last bits of sleep, I grew aware that I was in the living room, laying on the couch. The previous night's events came with force. James.
I pulled myself off the couch and strained my back's tightness. The sunlight was just rising, casting the thin curtains with a gentle shine.
With his back to me, he was standing in front of the toaster in only his boxers as I followed the sounds to the kitchen. His hair was a tangle, and he was grumbling to himself while he played around with the toaster, attempting to use a fork to retrieve a burnt piece of toast.
I paused in the doorway, amused and uneasy at the same time. He at first was too preoccupied with his challenge to see me. FI cleared my throat, and he turned around, his eyes growing in a surprise.
"Good morning," I said with a slight grin.
"Hey," he said, seeming sheepish. "I’m sorry about this. I tried to make breakfast, but..."
"It's okay," I said as I went into the kitchen. "Need some help?"
He gave up on the toast after glancing at the toaster and then back at me. "Probably. I think I've already ruined it."
I chuckled quietly. "Let me see." Taking the fork from him, I was able to lift the burnt toast. "There you go."
He sounded relieved as he grinned. "Thanks. This is not my specialty."
"Don't worry. I tried to keep the talk light-hearted despite the uneasy air that persisted. "Everyone has their talents," I added. I was thinking about last night all during that moment, and I was wondering if he knew anything.
"Do you remember anything from last night?" I couldn't help but ask as we worked to prepare another plate of toast.
He scowled, looking contemplative. "Tiny bits. mostly fuzzy. Why?"
My heart sank a little bit. "No reason," I pretended to smile. "You were just pretty out of it."
Rubbing the back of his neck, he laughed. Yeah, that's what I thought. Sorry if I started any shit."
"Not at all," I blurted out. "Just glad you made it to bed in one piece."
A quiet crept over us, thicker than it ought to have been. I couldn't help but overthink everything. Did he see any meaning in that kiss? Probably not, since he couldn't even recall doing it. It was merely a drunken mistake, in his opinion. Even though it was only a brief, drunken moment, it was something I had secretly been wishing for.
I was making an effort to ignore those thoughts as we sat down to eat our toast. Sitting opposite him while feeling both incredibly close and yet completely separate was unpleasant. I thought what it would be like if things were different as I watched him sip his water with his eyes half closed. If my feelings for him were the same as his feelings for me.
For now, though, I had to make do with what I had. I hoped it made it to my eyes as I smiled at him. "Thanks for breakfast," I whispered.
His expression softened as he turned to gaze at me. "Thanks for lastnight.”
"Anytime," I answered, more suggesting than he probably realized.
I couldn't resist glancing at him as my thoughts kept going back to what had happened the previous night.
Raising an eyebrow in that playful manner he had, he noticed me gazing. "What's up?"
I wasn't sure if I should bring it up, so I hesitated. However, before I could stop them, the words began to come out. "Do you remember throwing up last night? And me bringing you to bed?"
He shook his head slowly after looking puzzled for a moment. "Not really. I remember getting way too fuckin’ drunk and everything getting pretty fuzzy after that." He smiled sheepishly. "Guess that explains how I ended up in bed instead of on the bathroom floor.
I faked a grin despite an ache of disappointment. "Yeah, no problem. You were really out of it."
He chuckled, obviously embarrassed. "Sorry you had to deal with me."
We sank back into silence, but my thoughts were anything but peaceful. I kept wanting to ask him if he had any other memories, but I just couldn't bring myself to. It seemed too delicate to bring into the harsh light of day the memory of his lips brushing against mine, the way he looked at me right before he passed out.
But even as James talked about the band's plans and the songs they still needed to practice, I was unable to avoid feeling a little frustrated.
I wanted to scream at him, to remind him of that kiss and convey to him the value of it for me. I knew it wasn't fair, though. I doubt he even realized he was kissing me; it hadn't been his intention.
My mind kept wandering. The memory of his kiss was persistent, the way he’d so effortlessly called me pretty. Drunk words are sober thoughts, Right?
"Hey," James's voice snapped me back into reality. "Are you listening?"
I blinked and gazed up, feeling my cheeks go hot. "Sorry, what did you say?"
He set his guitar down, looking at me with knitted brows. "You've been spaced out all morning. What's up with you?"
Shit, I knew he could tell. As much as I wanted to refrain, I simply couldn’t.
I took a deep breath before speaking. "Actually, there's something. It’s about last night."
#mustainegf#reqs open#metallica#fanfic#request#fanfiction#smut#metallica x reader#metallica fanfiction#metallica fluff#james hetfield x you#james hetfield x oc#james hetfield fluff#james hetfield smut#james hetfield x reader#james hetfield imagines#james hetfield fic#james hetfield fanfiction#james hetfield#metallica smut#metallica imagines#oneshot
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Hey there! With everyone posting their post-s3 Hacks fics now, I figured I'd shake things up a little with this multi-chapter X-Files AU! You don't need to have any knowledge of the original show (though there are Easter eggs dropped in for those who do) - this is more my playing in the world of the show but telling my own story than of trying to recreate the plot of TXF beat by beat.
Updates every Sunday unless the tag starts quieting down in a few weeks, in which case I'll probably bump to 2x/week updates :)
Chapter Preview:
Ava glances down at the slip of paper in her hands again. “B10.” The letters are scribbled in blue pen. The fuckers hadn’t even bothered to type up her new assignment on real letterhead or anything.
In the elevator, Ava’s finger hovers over the button for the basement level for a long moment before she jabs at G. If they’re not even going to pretend like this assignment is anything other than the death knell of a once-promising career, she doesn’t owe them a full 9-5 workday either. Besides, she’s pretty sure that the cute barista who works the morning shifts at Dolcezza was giving off flirty vibes last week, and she could really use the pick me up after the week she’s had. Not that she’s more than a day into it. Fuck.
Still, a good matcha latte is enough to fix most days a little bit, and even though Sam hadn’t been working, Ava decides it was the right decision. She almost isn’t resentful as she stabs at B and feels the elevator trundle down to the rarely used basement level of the Hoover Building.
Even though she’s pretty sure the janitorial staff hits all the floors, the air down here feels dusty. Like, call a doctor and order an inhaler levels of dusty. She sniffles a little as she peers down the hallway until she finds office 10, which she thinks might actually be the only office down here. With a grunt of effort and a bump of her hip, she manages to shove open the heavy door without having to put down her latte or her phone or the Post-it. She’s busy enough celebrating her small victory that she barely notices the other body in the room until a loud, “Excuse you,” startles Ava enough to have her latte slipping from her hand and crashing to the floor.
“Fuck!” Ava yells, watching as eight dollars spills across the carpeted floor—and, oh god, carpet? No wonder it smells like the 70s down here.
“Are you just gonna watch that? Pick it up!”
Ava jumps into action, grabbing her mostly empty cup from the ground and tossing it into the trash. It’s only then that she properly notices the woman who’s been yelling at her. She’s dressed impeccably in black suit pants, heels, and a satiny blouse thing, and Ava wonders how the hell she got lost and ended up down here instead of wherever she belongs. Ava’s bet is on legal. Maybe HR… A shame. She’s pretty hot, but probably way too into rule following and chain of command shit to be fun.
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Since the aos tag feels like we're back to circa 2016 with the bad takes, here's my contribution for a better blast from the past 😁
The Laws of Inferno Dynamics (still the coolest episode title), aka the finale for the Ghost Rider's pod, aired on December 6, 2016.
It had Quake, Slingshot and Ghost Rider working together (much too briefly). Family drama with a side order of quantum physics. The (already sentient, fight me) android once again saving the day. A barbecued villain, extra crispy. The USS Mackelena leaving port full speed ahead. The USS Philinda entering their LMD Phase (v. 1.0 😁).
And this Queen Goddess returned to the fold:
Money quote:
Eli: I am becoming a god.
Robbie: You better be. Because the devil is coming for you.
And then the show didn't come back until January 10.
The hardships we endured... 🤭
#agents of shield#aos season 4#aos 4x08#agents of s.h.i.e.l.d.#daisy johnson#i probably watched this the morning after it aired in the US#breakfast with aos#i really miss it
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𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬
Carlos Sainz x reader
Word count: 2.5k
Warnings: Smut, feeling guilty about sexual thoughts, age gap, I think that's it?
Notes: Heyyy, Carlos??? Hope I read this request right! Probably changed it a bit. This is more from Carlos perspective than anything else
Request Don't know if you are taking any requests or not, but how's best friend brother's with Carlos Sainz when suddenly having ons with the reader and Carlos been wondering how having her in his bed
Pt 2 here
Carlos breathed in the familiar hot air as he stepped out of his car and onto the gravel of his family home. He had finally touched down on home ground and planned to spend the majority of his summer break here.
He smiled to himself as he watched the big house and the green grass. He loved this house, he loved their summers and he was excited to spend some down time with his family.
Ana and y/n should be there already, Blanca maybe but she could also arrive later. His parents weren't home, he knew that already but they would come in an hour or so.
Someone was home at least judging by the open porch door and small talk coming from the other side of the deck.
Carlos walked over the grass, trying to see who was there but he opted to take in his bags first. He had just stepped into the big hallway when he saw a figure from the big window. Ana was there and.. who was that? All he could see was a beautiful woman, hair moving in the wind and a beautiful figure on the deck. Carlos swallowed before moving away, it was rude to stare.
Who was that? Was that.. no it couldn't be Y/n, could it? But who else would be here to stay for the summer. It was always Y/n.
Carlos' mind ran on high speed as he tried to process who else it could be because this was certainly not the Y/n he remembered. No, last summer you had been this, very cute sure, but nerdy little girl who had barely graduated school and was now working at the downtown café whilst studying in university.
You had always been sweet and cute but he had never ever seen you as attractive. No this, this was surely someone else. Maybe one of Blankas work-friends. It could not be you.
Carlos forced the thoughts away as he marveled into the house, his house. It was hot, summer and he was settling for some downtime before the next part of the season began, that was the focus he reminded himself of.
He opted to start on food, eyes flickering back to the garden to try and get a look at whoever it was out there but they had disappeared from the kitchen view. Maybe that was for the better actually.
"Carlos!"Carlos flinched at the sound of his name, too deep in thoughts to realize someone had entered the open kitchen from the patio-doors in the living room.
He turned around with a wide smile as he recognized your voice opening his arms to hug you which you welcomed with a giggle.
His face fell however when he looked at you after you had stepped away. What the fuck had happened over winter?
The before young, teenage-looking girl had really grown into a young looking sure, but gorgeous woman. Face more mature-looking, smile as captivating as always and your body. Carlos had to force himself to look at your face as you were dressed down in only a small skirt and a bikini-top from having been sunbathing and swimming all morning.
Fuck it was you, how?
He quickly averted his eyes from your body to look at your face
"Hola Y/n" he smiled warmly as you hugged him in greeting. "We thought you came but we didn't see you" you smiled as you watched the counter top that was filled with ingredients. "Sorry, I planned on going out but..."
That Ana came out was perfect timing because Carlos had no idea how to finish that sentence. "Carlos! Why didn't you come out to greet us?!" she scolded as she wrapped her brother into a warm hug, Carlos stuttered, what he wanted to say, or the reason for it was not something he wanted to say at all so instead he shrugged. "I was about too" he said instead , ignoring the look Ana gave him and the food on the counter.
Ana dropped it quickly, the excitement of seeing her brother taking over the weird behavior and she soon proceeded to ask him a million questions but it was all like usual with the Sainz siblings.
You were happy, content in stretching out on the sofa and listening to their chat during the evening and when the night came you gladly welcomed the soft bed in the Sainz's guest room.
-
Carlos wanted to hit the person of his family that had suggested a boat day. He loved being on the boat and he loved being with his family and the boat was a tradition in your summers. You used to take the boat out to a small little island only an hour away and spend the day swimming, laughing and grilling before going back home in the evening when the light had already gone away and the city lights illuminated in the water.
However the only thing he could concentrate on all day was you in your tiny little bikini that barely left anything to the imagination. If he was realistic it was a normal bikini, but it was still tiny and he could barely keep his eyes off of you.
When you had been exiting from the water with your hair drenched and dripping with a huge smile on your face he had stared so long that Blanca had hit him in the back of the head with a scolding look and Carlos had coughed, looking away feeling guilty.
It was a nice day, the sun grilling your skin and everyone was happy that summer had finally arrived. Carlos' parents grilled over the open fireplace as everyone settled down, chatting lowly and laughing.
He enjoyed it, laughing and joking with you and his sisters, chatting with his parents. Swimming in the hot sun. It was a great day but when the time came and you decked the boat and walked up to the villa Carlos felt like he would snap off the tension in his body.
-
He still couldn't really grasp it, couldn't grasp how attracted he suddenly was to you.
He groaned as he collapsed down on his bed, his head in an awkward position against the headboard. He let out an annoyed groan and flopped down in an ungraceful movement.
He felt annoyed, tight like a string as he tried to sit more comfortably. He was hard in his sweatpants and that annoyed him more than anything else. He felt ridiculous, like a teenage boy watching a pornmagazine for the first time. All this for only a little bikini, it was ridiculous but he couldn't help it, couldn't make it go away.
He closed his eyes, groaning when the only thing he saw in his head was just in that stupid little bikini. He couldn't help it when his hand crept down his body, his mind telling him it was wrong but the satisfaction he felt when he finally wrapped his hand around his cock pushed away all those thoughts until the only thing he could think about was dirty dreams.
At first the pictures were more okay, if there were something like this in picturing his sister's younger friend while jerking off.
It was you, in that bikini you had stropped around in all day, your smile and your elegant figure. Then it was your lips, then it morphed into your lips wrapped around his cock and from there on he was screwed.
He pictured how you would look as you sucked him off, he could picture the look in your eyes as you would’ve licked over his tip, he could almost hear the sounds you would make as he pushed your head that slight bit further.
He pictured laying you down on his crisp white sheets, pictured how he would pull your legs apart, could hear your moans in his head.
He could almost taste her on his tongue, see her face contorted in pleasure. His mind wandered further and further away from reality as his hand moved up and down his shaft. He would feel guilty, he would feel so guilty afterwards but right now, at this moment he only felt pleasure and his thoughts only added to his arousal.
It was wrong, he knew it, but he didn't feel it. It felt fucking amazing, the pictures, the imaginition he had made him harder than he'd been in a long time.
He pictured your face as he would fuck you, imagining how hot you would feel around him, how tight you would be. He pictured the sounds you would make as he made you orgasm, the picture stuck in his head as he finally released with a long groan, head falling back as the relief finally washed over him.
Only then did the realization hit and he felt disgusted over himself. The cum on his skin added to the sick feeling in his chest. It was not normal. It was disgusting. Jerking off to Ana's best friend who was many years younger than himself just because he'd find out she'd been growing curves. He felt a tight feeling in his stomach, like he would need to throw up. He hurried into the bathroom and jumped into the shower like he was on fire.
His skin was red where he had roughly scrubbed the cum of his skin and he felt slightly better when he dressed in clean clothes and shook the water off his hair. Maybe it was okay.
The guilt however came back full force once he saw you on the sofa with Blanca, gossiping and laughing. He had to look away to swallow the lump in his throat that had formed.
-
You were sprawled out in one of the outdoor chairs next to Blanca in the hot sun. You had just been taking a dip in the ocean and was now drying up on the big deck of the Sainz's house.
"Do you think Carlos has anything against me?" you asked Blanca randomly, noticing the way she jerked up in her chair to give you a wild look.
"Que?! Carlos loves you silly" she waved you off. Summer at Sainz, anything with the Sainz's had been always consisting in your life. You and Ana had met in kindergarten. She was two years older than you but somehow you had stuck together throughout school and then throughout adulthood. You had spent every summer since then here, in the amazing villa with her family. You had traveled with them, watched Carlos's races, you had been a part of them forever so maybe you understood her wild look but still. It had felt like something was bothering him these first couple of days. He had been acting slightly... stiff around you.
"I know... I don't know why but it's just.. he has been so awkward with me, barely spoken to me alone" you shrugged and Blanca hummed. "I think Carlos is having a bit of a crisis" Blanca grinned as she leant back in the soft chair
This time you sat up to give her a look. "What do you mean? Is something wrong with his racing?"
Blanca laughed and shook her head with a huge grin on her face. "No, not about racing" she calmed
"I think little Carlos is having a crisis about how gorgeous you have become" she smiled before adding "You have always been gorgeous, but over the winter..." she made a face expression as if to express the change and you giggled, it was true. You had matured in your body a lot over the winter, felt more comfortable, more secure.
"I don't think that's it though" you hummed, waving it off. Carlos was a formula one driver, he could basically chat up and model he wanted, and have the most gorgeous girls. He had many options, he would never choose you, his sister's friend.
"I think it is, I've catched him staring a bit too long and often. And every time I catch him with a slap on his head he looks extremely guilty"
You giggled at that, leaning back into the seat "I'm pretty happy with that reason to be honest" you smirked at Blanca who shook her head with a grin on her face "Watch it"
-
The next few days were fine, he still got a semi everytime you walked around in your mini bikinis and those shorts that showed all of your ass but he tried to control himself, felt he succeeded okay.
It was on the fourth day he snapped again. You had been taking a walk from the restaurant you had eaten at and stopped to buy ice cream and take a dip in the ocean.
You were yet again wearing only your bikini top and those tiny shorts that felt unnecessary to even have on because they didn't hide anything in Carlos's mind. Your hair was once again wet, dripping down your back and then it was the ice cream.
He knew it was just in his head, but it felt like you were provoking him, licking the tip of it in such a way he almost wanted to moan.
When he came back home he immediately walked up to his room and into the shower. He couldn't stop the images of going wild. Once again you were on the floor looking up at him with those big innocent eyes and licking the tip of his dick just as you had been the ice cream.
He could feel the tip of your tongue, could hear the small sound you surely would make at the taste of his precum that was pearling at his tip, he slid his thumb over it, imagining it was your tongue and he moaned loudly. He gripped his cock harder, slowly moving it down, imaging it was your mouth sinking down on him. The picture was so hot he jerked in his hold.
He sped up eventually, eyes closing to savor the filthy imaginations that were playing in his mind, like a slideshow. He could feel your touch, hear your voice and see you. It was all too much and he soon came over his hand, for the second time thinking about you.
He sighed as he let the water run down his body, cleaning him up and he let his head fall back against the tile. Maybe it was what it was. He would move on eventually, not get hard at the mere sight of you. It would be fine.
Carlos didn't fight it anymore, there was nothing he could do about his body's reaction. He sighed deeply and shrugged to himself. He lost the battle and he was really fucking attracted to you. Maybe that was just how it was now.
#f1 imagine#f1 imagines#f1#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#ferrari#carlos sainz#carlos sainz x reader#carlos sainz fanfic#carlos sainz fanfiction#carlos sainz imagine#carlos sainz imagines#carlos sainz oneshot#carlos sainz fluff#carlos sainz smut#carlos sainz angst
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Illyrian Males
Pairing: Cazriel x Reader
Summary: Cassian and Azriel make a bet to see who can get Y/N first. But is she already seeing someone?
Word count: 13k oops
Warnings: M/M before you get to readers involvement, smut, 18+, dubious consent if you squint
a/n: It wasn’t meant to be this long but I couldn’t keep the bat boys off each other so…
———————————————————————
You swirl the last of your drink around your glass, enjoying the cool night air flowing through the House of Wind. The door to the balcony lies open where Feyre and Mor just left with a sleeping Nyx. Mor was escorting Feyre and the Prince of the Night Court back to the River House before returning home herself.
You know the High Lord would have escorted his lady himself had Feyre not insisted. “Stay and enjoy more time with your family, you work too hard.”
Now it was only the Ilyrrian brothers left with you in the small sitting area. You watch as Rhysand, Cassian and Azriel grin at each other like children who are up to no good. It warms your heart to see them happy and spending time together after everything you’ve all been through. You decided it’s time you excused yourself for bed and let the boys have their night together. You down the rest of your drink before standing.
“I’m off to bed, keep the volume down you lot.” You give them a smile and turn, making your way down the hall.
Cassian watches Y/N leave. His initial stare is innocent, noting her stride and balance, indicating to him how much she’s had to drink. But as she retreats down the hall he can’t help that his eyes fall to her swaying hips. The dress she’s wearing perfectly hugging her curves and the thought of tearing it of-
“You’re fucking Y/N” Rhysand states and Cassian whips his head round to him. Rhysand’s expression is relaxed as his eyes flick between him and Azriel. As if he had stated something as obvious as ‘the sky was blue’’.
Cassian looks across at Azriel. He was sure the same confused expression was plastered on his own face.
You fucked her? Cassian asks through their shared mating bond.
Of course not. Did you? He questions back.
Cassian doesn’t bother replying, he knows Azriel can feel his confusion and suspicion all the way down the bond.
“What are you talking about?” Cassian turns back to Rhys who was silently watching their exchange.
“In the hundreds of years I’ve known you, both of you, I’ve never seen either of you look at someone like that,” he nods to the hallway you disappeared down “except each other.” He pulls his drink to his lips, hiding a small smirk.
Cassian wills his cheeks not to warm, having been caught out lusting after someone who wasn’t his mate. But Rhysand had said both of them? Had Azriel also been watching you leave with more than just friendly affection in his eyes? He spares a glance to Azriel who is already watching him, head tilted in consideration.
“Well I don’t know what you think you’re seeing but you need to get your eyes checked old man.” Cassian stands and pats Rhysands shoulder as he moves past him to the small bar against the wall. He really needed to be doing something with his hands right now and pouring another drink was the perfect excuse to get out from under the scrutinising eyes of his mate and High Lord.
“My mistake.” He chuckles and quickly moves on to discussing plans for a boys night out.
————————————————————————
Azriel towels off his damp hair in the mirror. It was now well into the early hours of the morning, Rhysand having only just headed home for the night. He probably should have just gone to bed, but he does his best thinking while soaking in warm waters.
He tracks one of his shadows in the mirror as it swirls up his bicep and curls around his ear, whispering to him.
Cassian leaving his room….
Another shadow brushes the back of his neck
...coming to see us.
Azriel always used his shadows as sentinels, guarding the hallway outside his room. As much as he would like to give Cassian his privacy, his shadows seemed to be just as obsessed with the Illyrian warrior as he was. Often reporting his comings and goings without request.
He wraps a towel around his waist and moves into his bedroom looking for something to wear. With trained Illyrian hearing he could now pick up on Cassian’s footfalls down the hall. They’d kept their separate rooms, as no one except Rhysand was aware of their mating bond. Their ability to communicate silently through the bond was a massive advantage in combat, they didn’t want to risk anyone finding out about it and that information spreading across courts. But they couldn’t have really hoped to keep it from Rhysand with how often he was inside their heads.
Azriel senses Cassian open the door and walk in as he’s pulling underwear out of a draw.
“I’m changing asshole” Azriel glares at him over a shoulder.
“What? Have something I haven’t seen before?” Cassian rolls his eyes and throws himself into the armchair in the corner of the room, letting his head fall back in exhaustion.
Azriel takes a moment to appreciate Cassian’s bare torso and follows the cut of his muscles that disappear beneath soft grey pants. He drops his eyes to the floor noticing his shadows already slithering along to the General. Cassian lifts his head and looks him up and down waiting for him to drop his towel. Azriel feels his cheeks warm under the intense gaze. He racks his mind for something to distract Cassian with, that would allow him to change in peace, and remembers Rhysand’s comment about Y/N tonight.
“So, you’ve finally grown bored of me and have moved on to eye fucking our roomate?” Azriel raises an eyebrow at him. That did the trick. Cassian drops his face to the floor where shadows now swirl around his ankles, slowly climbing his covered calves. Azriel quickly drops his towel and pulls on his underwear. He softly closes the drawer with his hip, he wouldn’t need anymore clothing tonight with the heater of an Illyrian that was Cassian sharing his bed.
“Rhysand definitely didn’t think it was just me.” Cassian lifts his eyes back to Azriel, cheeks flushed with the slightest of pink. Azriel makes his way to the edge of the bed before replying.
“So what if I was?” Azriel leans back on his hands, shoulders flexing under his weight. Cassian’s eyebrows shoot up. He stands and strides across the room, shadows still clinging to him, almost at his waist now.
“Are you saying I don’t satisfy you anymore?” Cassian bends over him, leaning large strong hands on Azriel’s thighs. Azriel feels him squeeze ever so slightly.
“Maybe she’d actually be able to follow instructions.” Azriel smirks up at him. Referencing all the times that Cassian has failed to follow his commands. Hands up, no touching until I say. Stay quiet baby, you don’t want the others to hear you. And Azriel’s personal favourite. Don’t finish until I tell you to.
Azriel leans forward, brushing his lips against Cassian’s ear as he whispers “Or maybe I keep imagining her lips wrapped around your dick as I take you from behind.” Azriel watches the shiver that runs down Cassian’s spine. He slides his hand up Cassian’s inner thigh, scattering the shadows there, until he lands on the Illyrians rock hard length.
Cassian suddenly pushes him backwards and Azriel slides further up the bed. He climbs the mattress pushing Azriel’s legs apart as he settles himself between them. His pupils are blown wide and his wings pump once behind him in a show of dominance.
“You think her tongue, her warm pussy, would have you moaning the way you do when you’re fucked out on my cock?” Cassian growls as he shoves down his pants, releasing himself from their restraint. He pumps himself and Azriel can only bite his lip in anticipation as he watches Cassian’s hand make two long strokes.
Azriel bucks his hips up, pinned under Cassian’s hungry gaze. Cassian’s lips raise in a half smirk and he swiftly removes Azriel’s underwear. His eyes never leave Azriel’s as he slowly reaches out to the bottle on the nightstand and lubes his fingers. Azriel knows he’s doing it on purpose, wants him to squirm for a moment before giving him what he wants. He finally leans over Azriel, reaches down and slowly circles his hole. Azriel closes the distance between them, capturing Cassian's bottom lip between his teeth, a silent plea to hurry up.
Cassian pushes inside him with two fingers, pumping quickly, already spreading him open. Azriel drops his head back into the pillow with a moan. Cassian knows he likes to take his pleasure with a side of pain, so wouldn’t take too much care in opening him up. Azriel shifts his legs up a little giving Cassian better access.
“That smart mouth of yours has nothing left to say?” Cassian murmurs against his skin as he kisses down his exposed neck. Azriel only lets out a soft moan in response.
It’s only a couple of more strokes with skilled fingers before Cassian’s lining his head up with Azriel’s ass. He enters him in one swift motion that has Azriel arching off the bed. Cassian sets an unrelenting pace that has him seeing white behind his eyes. A calloused hand wraps around Azriel’s length and gives him swift pumps that match the deep strokes inside him.
Azriel can barely think straight with Cassian consuming every nerve. Cassian shifts back on his knees a little, dragging Azriel with him.
“You think Y/N could read your body like this?” Cassian continues his unwavering thrusts as his grip on Azriel’s cock tightens. Azriel feels it then. Feels soft gliding strokes across the inner part of his right wing and he can’t stop the whine that escapes him.
Cassian, the cocky bastard, chuckles above him. Azriel reels in the last of his focus to retort.
“I wouldn’t need her to, she’d be riding my face right now.” Cassian’s dick twitches inside him at the comment and the Illyrian above him lets out a low possessive growl. He pulls out of Azriel and quickly flips him on his front, lifts his hips and thrusts back into him hard. Cassian bends over him trapping his wrists to the bed.
“Now you get to cum untouched.” Cassian sneers at him.
Azriel has lost the power of speech, the new deeper angle has him coming undone. Every stroke has Cassian dragging over that sensitive bundle of nerves inside him. Azriel isn’t concerned how his comments might land with Cassian. Every time he mentions Y/N he can feel Cassian’s lust flaring through the bond.
A few more snaps of Cassian’s hips have them both exploding, Azriel moaning into his pillow before they both collapse in a pile of sweaty limbs.
“Now I’m going to need another bath.” Azriel huffs, rolling onto his side facing Cassian.
“Sucks to be you” Cassian smirks and Azriel punches his bicep before leaning in and kissing him gently.
————————————————————————
Cassian pulls back and speaks into Azriel’s mind, too exhausted for more words.
It’s weird isn’t it, that we both started… noticing Y/N at the same time?
Just noticing? Azriel chuckles. Is that all it is, is it?
You know what I mean. Cassian physically rolls his eyes at him.
It is a little strange. Azriel admits as he rolls on his back, staring up at the dark ceiling. Too bad for you she would pick me over you.
As if! Cassian gives his arm a shove with his elbow.
Want to bet? Loser has to go down on the winner for a month straight. Azriel turns his head back to Cassian, eyebrows raised in challenge. Cassian quickly glances down between the Shadowsingers legs. He quickly debates how much damage Azriel’s considerable length could do in that amount of time.
Make it two weeks and you’re on. Cassian narrows his eyes. Are we talking, taking her to bed? He lets his features fall then and lets his wariness flow through the bond. He’s unsure how’d he feel taking someone to bed without his mate.
Let’s just go with getting her to agree on a date. Azriel reaches up and strokes the back of his fingers down Cassian’s stubbled jawline. Pure love vibrates through him from the threads that lay between them.
You’re on. Cassian leans forward and seals the bet with a quick kiss.
———————————————————————
A week passes and Cassian can’t stop thinking about the bet they made. He didn’t want to act too soon, didn’t want Azriel to think him too eager in going after Y/N. But who was he kidding? He found himself back in that sitting room, weekly drinks in full swing, watching Y/N bite her lip, holding in a laugh to the story Amren was telling her about the boys.
You’re drooling. Azriel teases down the bond. Cassian forces his eyes away from her and to the drink in his lap.
I am not. He scoffs. He looks up at Azriel sitting across from him, mischievously staring at him with knowing eyes. A bead of condensation runs down Azriel’s glass and he watches as Az strokes a long finger up the side wiping it away. God those fingers. He can almost feel how’d they brush his skin, how they’d pull at his hair and dig into his hips. How Cassian would take Azriel’s finger into his mouth, running his tongu-
Unless you want me to show you what these fingers can do to you right here, in front of everyone, I suggest you stop. Azriel’s eye’s darken as he shifts uncomfortably in his seat.
Who’s drooling now? Cassian smirks at him.
Y/N’s laughter brings him back to the room. The others are almost doubled over at the story Amren just finished. Rhys starts topping up glasses with the bottle of wine in his hand, but Y/N holds up a hand when he reaches her.
“I think I need some water and maybe a snack.” She explains as she stands and heads through the door and down the hall to the kitchen.
So you haven’t talked to Y/N yet. Worried she’s going to say no to you? Azriel has obviously recovered from the images Cassian had thrown down the bond moments ago.
You haven’t either. Cassian quips back.
Oh no, I’m happy for you to go first. I want to give you a fighting chance. Azriel teases. Cassian, never one to back down from a challenge, puts down his glass and makes his way to the door.
As he’s leaving he feels a mix of amusement and curiosity flow through the bond between them. Followed by a small tug of jealousy. Cassian smirks to himself, Azriel should be jealous, he was about to lay the charm on so thick, no fae would say no to him. But as he reaches the hallway he turns and winks.
Fuck me later asshole. And watches as Azriel visibly relaxes at his words.
————————————————————————
You slice the block of cheese in front of you, carefully avoiding your fingers. You can’t imagine the ribbing you’d get from the boys if you turned up to training tomorrow with a bandaged hand from slicing cheese.
Your vision wobbles ever so slightly and you decide it’s probably best not to push your drunken state and carefully put the knife down. You slide a couple of pieces of bread and cheese onto a plate and turn to go back to the sitting room when you find an Illyrian in the way.
“Want some bread and cheese?” You offer out the plate to Cassian.
“Sure.” He smiles broadly. He enters the kitchen completely, pulling his wings in tight through the doorway. He takes one look at the few pieces on the plate and scoops every last one into his hands.
“Cass!” You smack his shoulder lightly as he turns away chuckling, throwing pieces into his mouth.
“Sit, I’ll get you some more. Wouldn’t want you to slice a finger off with that cutting technique.” He gives you a wink as you take a seat at one of the stools pulled up to the high table in the centre of the kitchen. How long had he been standing there watching you struggle?
You take a moment to focus on Cassian at work. Broad shoulders and muscled biceps were on display tonight through a tight black t-shirt. Muscles under the tan skin of his forearms ripple as he makes light work of preparing your midnight snack. Your eyes start tracing the swirls of Illyrian tattoos that cover his arms, you’ve seen him shirtless more times than you could count, so you know where they swirl across his chest. But beyond that, where those lines lead you could only imagine… No you shouldn’t be imagining. You catch yourself having leant forward on the table following the imagined lines and play it off as intense interest in his slicing technique.
You can not be having those kinds of thoughts about one of your best friends. Someone you lived in the same house as and someone who was fucking one of your other best friends. Of course they don’t know you know that. You don’t even know how you’d begin that conversation.
Hey Az, hey Cass. I was heading back from the library late one night when one of your shadows caught my eye. It seemed to be beckoning me and I thought something might be wrong so I followed it. Turns out, when I approached the sound of your hushed voices, they became moans and I thought you guys were either going at it or one you had finally decided to stab the other..
Okay stabbing was not the imagery you needed right now. Regardless, that was months ago and ever since you’ve been picking up more and more on the looks the two Illyrians share throughout a regular day. Something was definitely going on between the two of them and you weren’t going to be the one to bring it up.
Cassian pulls over the empty plate you discarded on the table between you. He piles on pieces of cheese and bread, but instead of pushing it back towards you he picks it up and walks around the table. He stops right beside you and you turn to face him.
He places the plate down beside you and leans on his elbow against the table.
“Sorry I stole your snack.” He pouts jokingly at you.
“Apology accepted.” You say as you pluck a piece off the plate. “Would you like some more?” You offer him after downing two more pieces and picking up a third.
“I’d love some.” He leans forward slightly and opens his mouth for you. His playfulness catches you off guard but you quickly recover and reach out to hold a piece of bread and cheese to his mouth.
He takes them from your fingers and before you can pull away, he catches your thumb as well. Without breaking eye contact his teeth gently graze the pad of your thumb. You freeze a little and let out a small gasp that you hope he doesn’t notice. He smirks and leans back.
“An interesting snack of choice.” He nods down at the plate, a smile still playing in his eyes.
“Uh.” You stumble a little bit, trying to recover from whatever the Hel that was. “It was just what was lying around.”
“The best midnight snack is the one that takes no effort.” He pushes off the table and heads to the next room that holds an ice chest for the cold foods. It gives you a minute to clear your head, you turn back to the plate to determine what exactly just happened when movement catches in the corner of your eye. You turn just in time to see two of Azriel’s shadows cross paths in the darkness of the doorway.
What kind of game do these two think they’re playing? Well if that’s how it’s going to be, then game on.
Cassian returns to the kitchen, a bowl of strawberries in one arm and a smaller bowl of fresh cream in the other. He was about to make this way too easy for you.
He returns to stand next to you, placing the bowels on the table pushing the plate of bread and cheese out of the way. He picks up a strawberry, dips it into the cream and brings it up to his lips.
“See, so easy and I could eat this whole bowel in one sitting.” He places almost the whole strawberry into his mouth and bites it off before the stem.
You follow his lead and bite through a cream dipped strawberry. It really was delicious, you might even make this a new favourite. You both sit in silence for a few minutes, taking turns dipping and eating strawberries.
Azriel once taught you that sometimes all you had to do to get someone to talk was to sit quietly and wait for them to fill the silence. As if on queue…
“So I was thinking.” Cassian picks up a strawberry and rolls it between his fingers. “How about you go to dinner with me and I can show you some of my other favourite food combinations?” He glances up at you. So he wants to take you out to dinner? You might be playing the game now but you still weren’t sure what the end goal was. Had they caught you staring a little too long at Azriel’s chiselled torso during training? Maybe their aim was your total and utter humiliation to teach you a lesson about coveting something that wasn’t yours?
“Oh, uh.” You fake a little flustering. Okay so maybe you didn’t need to fake being flustered when an Illyrian, that literally looked like a winged god, was asking you on a date.
“I’m flattered but I’ve actually been seeing someone recently.” You let the lie roll off your tongue and pretend to be extremely occupied selecting the perfect strawberry.
“Really?” Cassian straightens and you don’t miss the way his wings puff up a little. “Why haven’t you introduced him to everyone?”
You shrug and pick up one of the largest strawberries, coating it in a thick layer of cream.
“Oh you know, it’s not that serious yet. Just a bit of fun.” You bring the strawberry to your mouth and the cream is already beginning to run onto your fingers.
You stick out your tongue and run a long stripe through the cream. You feel Cassian stiffen next to you. Just as you suspected, way too easy. You quickly finish off your strawberry, leaving you with two fingers covered in cream. You suck them into your mouth and turn to Cassian with wide innocent eyes as you pull them out past your lips.
“Thanks for the midnight snack Cass.” You smile and hop off the stool and leave him staring after you in the middle of the kitchen.
————————————————————————
Another shadow slips through the cracked door. It slides its way along to join the others currently swirling around Azriel, slumped in an armchair in the corner of the room. With no candles lit in Cassian’s bedroom, he may as well be invisible.
The newly returned shadow slides around his neck.
Gone, Cassian alone.
Seconds later Cassian pushes open the door and then clicks it shut. He strides across the room, pieces of his hair coming loose of their bindings as he braces his hands on the desk, leaning over the mess of paperwork.
“Didn’t go as you planned then huh?” Azriel speaks up from his shadowy hiding place.
Cassian’s shoulders stiffen in surprise but quickly relax as he turns.
“How many times have I told you not to do that?” Cassian leans back against the desk folding his arms across his chest.
Azriel commands all of the shadows to disperse.
“Just because you got rejected doesn’t mean you have to take it out on me.” Azriel smirks at him. Enjoying for a moment that Cassian finally found someone who would say no to him.
“Please, she didn’t reject me, she’s seeing someone.” Cassian rolls his eyes. And fuck the way Azriel wants to bend him over and spank his ass red raw for doing so.
A shadow glides over Azriels shoulder.
Never seen her with a male.
“Do you think she really is seeing someone though? I’ve never seen or scented another male around her.” Azriel crosses his ankles out in front him, chin resting on intertwined hands.
“I don’t know. Maybe she wants to keep it quiet. But one thing I do know, she wanted to say yes. You should have smelt her Az.” Cassian grins widely. Flashes of strawberries, cream and Y/N’s tongue filter through their bond.
Azriel is left stunned for a moment at the images he’s being fed. Cassian pushes off the desk and sits opposite Azriel on the end of the bed.
“Well maybe she was holding out for another Illyrian.” Azriel teases him. “I hope you’re ready to deliver on that bet.”
Cassian scowles and then another memory is bursting through the bond. Cassian has Y/N’s thumb in his mouth, grazing his teeth along it before flicking it with his tongue. Her eyes are blown wide and her breaths are short and uneven.
Azriel growls then, pushes from his seat and is standing in front Cassian in two long strides.
“If you wanted to put something in your mouth baby, you should have just said so.” Azriel towers over him. He watches as Cassian runs his tongue along his bottom lip, Azriel can practically see the cogs turning in his mind, probably weighing up the risks of continuing to be a brat.
Azriel reaches out and grabs his chin firmly before he has time to decide.
“Be good, and open for me.” Azriel murmurs softly.
Cassian drops his mouth open into Azriel’s hand. Azriel strokes along his jaw with his thumb. His other hand reaches into his pants freeing himself.
He rests the head of his cock on Cassian’s awaiting tongue. The warmth of Cassian’s mouth immediately shoots through him and he can’t help the small groan he lets out.
Cassian sits with his jaw slack, looking up at Azriel with round innocent eyes.
“Please, don’t act like you don’t know what to do with it.” Azriel scoffs. “Show me what that pretty mouth can do.” Azriel releases Cassian’s jaw and slides his hand to the top of Cassian’s neck.
Cassian’s lips wrap around him then, a calloused hand gripping along his base. Azriel moans as his tongue laps at the precum beading at his head. For a moment he loses himself to the warmth of Cassian’s mouth, letting his head fall back. His focus narrows in on the tightness of Cassian’s grip, on the way his tongue rolls around him.
“Think you can take all of me tonight baby?” He flicks his eyes down to Cassian's head, bobbing up and down his length. The only response he gets is a muffled groan that sends vibrations through his dick, Azriel bites his lip to stifle his moan.
He leans forward entering Cassian’s throat, slowly at first allowing him to adjust and pull back if he needs. But Cassian relaxes and takes every inch that Azriel gives him without complaint. Azriel moves a hand to the front of Cassian's throat, feeling the bulge of himself sliding deeper. He could come undone right then and there but he knows he has a task to do tonight. Knows he needs to smooth over the bruises to Cassian's oversized ego after your earlier rejection.
“Look at you Cass, no one else could take me like this.” Azriel murmurs. A tear breaks the corner of Cassian’s eye at the strain of taking his length. Azriel swipes out a thumb, smoothing it over. He starts rocking back and forth down Cassian’s throat.
“Keep those eyes on me, want to see how beautiful you are.” Cassian eyes flick up to Azriel through damp lashes. “Fuck you were made for me baby. Your body is perfect, your mouth, those hands, that ass are all for me.” He growls. In response Cassian tightens his throat around Azriel and that has him coming undone with a moan. He shoots white strands down Cassian’s throat and coats the inside of his mouth. Cassian laps at Azriel’s over sensitive head, cleaning every inch as he slowly pulls out.
Azriel leans down and kisses him deeply. He can taste himself on Cassian’s lips. He drops to his knees between Cassian’s legs and finally releases Cassian’s dick. He gives it a few quick pumps to relieve him of the building tension.
“Fuck, Az!” Cassian’s moan is scratchy, his voice wired out after having Azriel down his throat. And damn does that have Azriel’s dick throbbing again.
“Lay back, let me take care of you.” Azriel pushes gently on Cassian’s abs, but he needs no encouragement to fall back onto the sheets.
Azriel leans forward and runs his tongue from base to tip. He quickly works Cassian to the edge, he knows every nerve, has them mapped out in his mind and traces them with ease. When Cassian is bucking up into him, forcing him to relax his throat, to focus his breathing, he reaches up and strokes that place on the inside of Cassian’s warm leathery wings.
“Azriel!” Cassian cums through clenched teeth. Azriel is sure to suck him dry, before stuffing him back into his pants.
He rises and leans over Cassian, wings splayed.
“Now let’s see what that pretty mouth craves.” Azriel smirks. Cassian closes his hazel eyes, focusing. Racing down the bond, Azriel catches a montage of all the times Cassian has knelt before him. His own cock down Cassian’s throat or in his hands and Azriel’s heart pounds at how beautiful Cassian makes him look in his memories. Azriel crashes his lips into Cassian's, breaking the flow of images. He sends his own thoughts down the bond.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
Cassian’s response is singular.
Mine.
————————————————————————
Two weeks later you're in the training ring with your favourite Illyrians. You’d be lying if you said there wasn’t a little extra swagger to your step these last weeks. You’d beat the boys at whatever game they had tried to play with you. Hadn’t let yourself be caught out by your little fantasies that they may have started suspecting. It gave your ego a much needed boost.
You refocused on the Shadowsinger just in time to block the blade that came swinging down at you.
“You’re distracted.” Azriel says straightening. “Do you need me to ask Cass to leave?”
You both look over to Cassian’s slumped form against the far wall. He was sitting shirtless, legs stretched out in front him. You’d all stripped down layers during the heat of training, it left the Illyrians shirtless and you down to a sweat soaked singlet. Your eyes followed sweat beads rolling over heaving muscles as he caught his breath.
“Please the only thing he could distract me with is his overinflated ego taking up too much space.” You wave your hand around gesturing to the air.
“Ha ha you’re both very funny.” Cassian says dryly. He picks up the towel next to him, pushes off the ground and walks out of the room without another word.
If you were being honest it wasn’t the general who was distracting you today but rather the Illyrian right in front of you. If Cassian relied on glowing looks and charm to win him affection then Azriel relied on broody arrogance and touch. From the moment he walked in this morning he’d been upon you. Small brushes of a calloused hand correcting your grip, taps to your side to widen your stance, a hand held out and gripped just a little too long as he helped you stand from a fall.
You returned to your combat. Making quick slashes forcing Azriel onto his back foot. But he was far more skilled than you were and you weren't stupid enough to think you’d won the upper hand. You narrowed your eyes at him, waiting for him to make his move when you felt the cool whisper against your skin. A dark shadow curls around your neck and slides along your collarbone. It’s quickly joined by another sliding around your ear. You don’t flinch. Don’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you react. You respond with a thrust of your sword which he easily dodges with a small pivot. Before you have a chance to retract your arm a shadow curls around your wrist and squeezes.
Your breath stutters and then your cheeks flush, because you know how closely he monitors an opponent's breathing. Suddenly his leg swings out and catches the back of your knee. You drop your blade as you fall backwards trying to regain your footing but a muscular arm catches you before you hit the ground.
Azriel holds you up a foot from the ground like it’s nothing, grinning at you. And suddenly you realise maybe the game wasn’t over after all. Maybe Azriel, the cunning spymaster he is, was just lying in wait for the right opportunity to mess with you all this time.
“Cheater” you glare up at him.
“You should expect an opponent to use every tool in their arsenal” He chuckles softly.
He stands up, rightening you both but keeps an arm wrapped around you, a hand resting at the small of your back.
“I guess you need to resort to that if you’re worried you’ve lost your touch and were about to lose to little old me.” You grin wickedly, folding your arms across your chest.
You catch darkness flash across his features and then you see nothing at all as a shadow wraps itself over your eyes.
You drop your arms to your side, your body automatically preparing for a fight that isn't coming. You never feared Azriel, only left awed at what he was capable of. You feel a brush of air and then the fan of his breath on your neck as he leans in from behind you.
“Wait until you have to fight me blind sweetheart, no one’s ever walked away from that.” He whispers softly.
You work to calm your stuttering heart, with your vision gone you’re forced to focus on the sound of his voice and the movement of his body with a new found intensity.
“Even Cass?” You question, hoping to distract him from your compromised position.
“Ha, I guess Cass has come close.” He chuckles and allows the shadow to fall away from your face. He steps around in front of you again.
“Only Rhys has ever bested me in a fight of total darkness, but who would expect anything less from the High Lord of the Night Court.” He shrugs in acceptance.
“Well how about a heads up next time you bring shadows to a sword fight?” You bend down, scoop up your fallen sword and start to make your way to the weapons rack.
“Let me make it up to you, have drinks with me tonight?” He follows closely behind you.
“Like a date?” You ask. This was starting to drive you mad. Were they really so cruel as to torture you just for having a little crush. What you wouldn’t give to have either Illyrian be genuinely interested in you. Azriel had to be asking you out. If it was any other day it would just be a casual; Drinks tonight, you in? not the mystery riddled Have drinks with me tonight? in that low sultry tone of his.
“Why not?” He asks. You can feel him standing right behind you as you secure the training sword on the rack.
“I’m actually seeing someone, but thanks.” You parroted what you said to Cassian a couple of weeks ago. But it doesn’t have the same gusto, instead you can hear your own voice laced with defeat.
“Really? Because I don’t think you are. I think you’re lying.” He teases. Your back stiffens, you can sense that he’s still only a step behind you. Did he, did they, really think that no one could be genuinely interested in you? Of course he wasn’t wrong. It had been an age since your last real date but you hadn’t really made yourself available. Preferring to throw all your energy into your work, your training and your family.
You decided then you were going to do something that would probably be considered dangerous. But it was time you got back at Azriel for all the touches; from him, from his shadows, during training. You quickly turn around to face him before you lose your nerve.
“Sorry to burst your bubble then, obviously you're not the great spymaster you think you are.” You give him a smile and go to leave the training ring. As you step around him though, you intentionally don’t leave enough space, forcing your bare shoulder to brush against the warm leathery surface of his wing.
He growls, a low feral sound that rolls from deep in his chest and for a second you think you might not actually make it back into the house alive. You don’t stop walking though and you don’t look back as you head inside.
————————————————————————
The bedroom door slams back against the wall with a crack and Cassian freezes with a spoon halfway to his mouth.
“She should be fucking dead.” Azriel snarls as he strides into the room. Cassian wondered how it was going up in the training ring, had waited in Azriel’s room to find out and by the looks of the spymaster, not very well.
“Did she insult your shadows?” Cassian smirks, placing his bowl down and standing from the armchair. It wasn’t often that something or someone got Azriel this worked up. Cassian couldn’t wait to hear exactly what Y/N had said.
Azriel glares at him and then suddenly Y/N’s face is flashing down the bond. Cassian sees through Azriel’s memory how she secured her sword to the rack, turned and insulted Azriel’s skills as a Spymaster. Cassian chuckles, he’s going soft if he’s getting that worked up over that little comment. But then she brushes past him and he feels it like he’s actually there in the moment, she…
“Your wing?” Cassian stands gaping at him. Even though Y/N wasn’t Illyrian herself she knew how they were affected by their wings. She knew that outside of healing, and training to fly as a youngling, nobody touched an Illyrian’s wings except their most intimate partners.
Cassian ran a hand through his hair. “Well she’s not afraid to break the rules is she.”
“I almost broke something.” Azriel grumbled.
“I’m surprised you didn’t retaliate, you could have had her pinned, cowering on the floor in two seconds.” Cassian shrugged.
“Slight problem.” Azriel grimaces and motions to his hips. Cassian can now make out the bulge straining Azriel’s leathers. He doesn’t let Cassian respond as he storms for the bathroom. “Shower. Now.”
Cassian follows him into the bathroom and leans against the door, watching Azriel’s back as he practically tears his clothes off.
“You better be undressed by the time I turn around.” He says over his shoulder. Cassian rolls his eyes but starts striping down. Y/N really managed to get him in a mood.
“Roll your eyes again and see what happens.” Azriel growls and then steps into the shower, steam already filling the small room.
Azriel likes to be in control. And as much as Cassian likes to push his buttons, to force him to let go sometimes, he can’t help the small thrill that runs through him at the thought of his mate in his most dominant state.
He steps into the shower and Azriel has him pinned to the wall in an instant. Azriel’s mouth is on his, then on his throat sucking and nibbling and then he drops to Cassian’s chest swirling his tongue around his nipple. Cassian lets out a soft moan and drops his head back against the wall. His hips make an unintentional thrust, silently begging for Azriel's mouth elsewhere.
Azriel straightens, sliding a hand up Cassian's chest and wrapping it around his throat.
You’ll be good for me, won’t you Cas? Azriel’s dark voice whispers through Cassian's mind. One hand still wrapped around his neck the other trails down the broad muscles of his abs and grips his cock.
You’ll let me take you. Let me fill you and fuck you so hard you won’t be able to sit tomorrow?
For a second Cassian considers a snarky response but he sees the shadows swirling in Azriel’s eyes. He knows what Azriel wants from him. Not to be Cassian the battle worn warrior or Cassian the Illyrian General, but the Cassian who would drop to his knees and do anything for him. The Cassian that exists only for the Shadowsinger.
Yours Az. Cassian practically whimpers back. Always need you. Please.
Fuck Azriel’s barely touched him and he can hardly string a proper sentence together.
Good baby. Azriel practically purrs in his mind and then steps away from him. Instantly Cassian wants to reach for him, to feel Azriel’s body against his, but he resists.
Turn around, hands on the wall. Azriel commands him.
Cassian obeys. Placing both hands to the cool wall as warm water rushes down half his body.
He only just settles his stance when Azriel suddenly enters him with two fingers causing him to cry out in pleasure. He’s not given time to adjust as Azriel begins moving, stretching him.
That’s it, let me hear how much you like it baby.
Cassian bites his bottom lip attempting to stifle his moans. Azriel removes his fingers and Cassian whines at the loss of contact and starts to turn to face him.
I said hands on the wall. Azriel's sharp voice winds through his mind.
Cassian obeys, forcing his palms firmly into the wall and gritting his teeth. When it came to intimacy Azriel couldn’t be more different to Cassian. He was all about the pleasure of delayed gratification but Cassian wanted everything yesterday. He hears Azriel shifting behind him, he leans his forehead on the wall for balance as he drops a hand between his legs.
Hands. On. The. Wall. Azriel’s voice growls and Cassian quickly returns his hand.
Suddenly Azriel enters him in one swift motion, forcing Cassian’s hips to buck forward. He groans at the intrusion and tears prick at the corner of his eyes as Azriel begins quick thrusts.
Look at you. The Great Illyrian General becomes a whimpering mess when he’s getting fucked on my cock.
The instant fullness is almost too much, he feels his feet slip along the floor. But he’s surprised to find that Azriel isn’t there with a steadying hand. Now that he thinks of it, the only point of contact is Azriel’s length sliding in and out of him. He needs more, he always needs more.
“Oh god, please” Cassian moans “Please touch me, let me move.”
“It’s not the gods you should be begging to.” Azriel growls.
“Please Az…” Cassian begs. Azriel hasn’t paused his quick thrusts once and Cassian can barely string a sentence together. A dark chuckle enters Cassian's mind.
Oh no, what was it you said? “Now you get to cum untouched”. Memories from weeks ago flood his vision when he had Azriel flipped over on the bed. He should have known the bastard would take his revenge for that sooner or later.
When Azriel thrusts forward again he brings his body with him, forcing Cassian flat to the wall, trapping his wrists with his own hands. Cassian’s cock is aching for attention and being pressed between the wall and his body is enough to have him on the edge.
“That’s it baby, cum for me.” Azriel whispers into his ear and Cassian’s vision goes white with pleasure as he releases his load onto himself. Azriel is right behind him as Cassian’s ass squeezes him to his release. There’s a moment when the only sound is their heavy panting and then Azriel grips Cassian's shoulders and spins him around. Suddenly Azriel’s lips are on his.
So good baby, always so good for me. Azriel’s voice purrs in his mind.
For you Az. He replies. Too exhausted to open his eyes just yet. He feels a cloth being dragged along his front, cleaning him.
You’re okay? I didn’t hurt you? Concern and fear floods down the bond from Azriel. Even as one of their tamer love making sessions, Azriel is always worried he’s pushed too hard, taken things too far.
Give me some credit Az. He flicks his eyes open and meets the intense gaze of the shadowsinger. You know I’ll take whatever you give me. He lifts a hand to brush along the Illyrians' chin. And I’m more than okay.
————————————————————————
The next day Azriel has laid out his knife collection on the dining room table for polishing. You hate when he polishes weapons where they eat. He doesn’t want you to know how worked up he got about the wing incident yesterday and this is a perfectly indirect way of getting back at you. Of course Cassian is sitting at the end, swinging in his chair with his feet on the table, not wanting to miss a second of the inbound confrontation.
Azriel doesn’t need his shadows to alert him to your footfalls in the hall as you approach.
You let out a small huff and he smirks softly before raising his face to meet you.
“Good morning Y/N” Azriel greets you cheerily.
“Why are you polishing on the table again, Spymaster?” Your eyes narrow at him.
The use of his formal title spurs something inside of him. His retort is on the tip of his tongue when Mor waltzes in.
“Morning!” She announces to the room but strides to your side. “You ready to go?” She holds out a bent arm to you.
“Where are you going?” Azriel tilts his head slightly, caught off guard in his lack of knowledge. There was no indication until now that you had any plans today.
“You didn’t tell them?” Mor looks to you in surprise.
“It’s none of their business.” You smile softly at Mor but hope she catches the wicked glint in your eye that begs her to play along. Thankfully she doesn’t elaborate any further about today's plans.
“Well Windhaven awaits.” She offers you her arm once again and you take it. You both hurry from the room but not before you hear Azriel's quiet questioning,
“Windhaven?”
And the snap of Cassian’s chair returning to the ground.
“Why didn’t you tell them about visiting the female Illyrians?” Mor whispers as you descend the stairs of the House of Wind far enough to pass the wards that restrict winnowing.
“You know they’ll assume the worst, probably worse than the worst.” She giggles at the realisation.
“Good.” You exhale. “They’ve been getting on my last nerve, they deserve it.” You join in with her soft giggles before darkness consumes you both.
“Why is she going to Windhaven?” Azriel turns on Cassian.
“I don’t know you’re the Spymaster, you tell me.” He snaps back.
“I’ve not heard anything. Rhys hasn’t mentioned anything, surely he would send one of us if anything was required there.” Azriel stands and paces along the room.
“Then maybe she wasn’t sent.” Cassian slumps back in his chair and stares absently at the ground. Azriel freezes and spins on his heel.
“If she wasn’t sent, why would she go?” He slams scarred hands down on the dining table.
Cassian flicks his eyes up to Azriel, a look of defeat flashes across his face.
“She did say she was seeing someone.” Cassian murmurs and the room becomes frighteningly still.
“There’s absolutely no way she is seeing a fucking Illyrian.” Azriel stands to his full height, wings shooting wide as he stabs a finger at the doorway you had disappeared through.
Cassian stands and gestures down at himself. “Az, we’re Illyrians.”
“You know what I fucking mean Cass” He strides forward and grasps the war lords shoulders “These are our Windhaven Illyrians, theres no civilised courting, there’s barely civilised conversation. Whoever it is, is going to tear her apart.” He moves his right hand to rest on Cassian’s cheek, letting the panic show on his face and flow through the bond. They’re going to tear our Y/N apart.
Cassian's eyes widen in realisation and fear now flows freely from both ends of the bond. There’s no conversation then, just the scuff of knives being sheathed as they prepare to leave for Windhaven.
————————————————————————
You appear in the middle of the Illyrian war camp and immediately bundle your cloak closer. The wind and snow were so harsh here you don’t know how the Illyrians could stand it. Squinting against the wind you can make out the small cottage that was your refuge just down the path. You give Mor a small nod of thanks and hurry on your way.
Your task today was to try and convince more female Illyrians to step into the training ring. To convince them that even if their wings had been clipped, and they could no longer fly in the legions, it was still worth knowing how to defend themselves. Many of them across the camps were still concerned about backlash even though their High Lord had been personally seeing to anyone who went against his rulings.
You almost reach the corner of the building when you hear the jeers.
————————————————————————
Azriel winnows them onto a small rooftop of one of the dozen semi permanent buildings in Windhaven. They immediately spot Y/N hurrying down the road. They were only a few moments behind her and Mor, as they had the advantage of quickly flying through the ward barriers of the House of Wind before winnowing.
They duck low to remain out of sight and watch as Y/N almost makes it to the small cottage on the outskirts of the camp before the jeers ring out. A group of four Illyrians jostle each other as they make their way over to where she has halted.
Cassian clutches at the metal roof causing it to groan as a low growl rips from his throat.
“If they touch her I’ll carve their hearts out of their chests myself.” He snarls.
Azriel firmly grasps the back of Cassian’s leathers to stop him from taking off.
“Calm yourself, they might be who she is here to see.” Azriel hates that he has to admit it. But now that he is here, has eyes on her, he’s in his element. Lying in the shadows, watching, waiting, that was his forte. Unfortunately Cassian was more act first, ask questions later.
Y/N stands stiffly as laughs ring out from the group. She looks comfortable enough. Her arms relaxed at her side, a soft smile on her lips. But in a moment everything shifts. The male at the front of the group reaches for her and she twists, drawing a blade in the same moment.
Azriel releases his grip on Cassian and launches for the group drawing weapons at the end of the road. He doesn’t know if Cassian has even left the rooftop yet as his fist collides with a stubbled face.
————————————————————————
You twist around, shove a small blade into the side of the Illyrian who lunged at you and stomp a heel into the back of his knee, causing him to fall forward. You catch the blur of another pair of black wings and your heart freezes for a moment. Four young, barely trained Illyrians you had a chance against, but another larger Illyrian joining the fray slashed your chances drastically. You almost fall to your knees when the glint of blue sirens catches the sun. Azriel was here, you don’t know how, but he was here. Suddenly the Illyrian at your feet is ripped from the ground and tossed down the path. Cassian stands in his place.
He reaches tentatively to your face as his eyes scan you widely.
“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” He growls. You blink at him in surprise before replying.
“No, I’m fine.” You confess as Azriel expertly takes down the Illyrians that have turned on him. Cassian’s red siren’s are flaring, his chest heaving in deep breaths and you recognise the panic in his eyes. The panic for you.
“Cassian. I’m okay. You’re here with me.” You reassure him. He begins to relax and gives you a short nod.
“CASS!” Azriel bellows as the last of the group charges directly towards you. Cassian shoves you back and takes the brunt of the hit. Sending both Illyrians crashing through the wall of the cabin.
Suddenly a loud crack rings out across the camp and you swear time slows ever so slightly as Rhysand steps out of the darkness. His deep violet eyes hold none of their usual sparkle. He takes only a moment to assess the situation and strides towards you. He gently takes up your hand like he’s done many times before and nods once to Azriel as darkness consumes your vision.
You land softly on the plush carpet of Rhysand’s study. Seconds later Azriel appears with Cassian.
“Care to explain why I’m about to pay for repairs in Windhaven?” The cool stare of the Night Court’s High Lord falls upon his Illyrian brothers.
Azriel’s wings flare in challenge but you step forward before he can get out his first word.
“Actually, that might be my fault. I got into a little… altercation with some of the Illyrian trainees.” You play down how dangerous the situation really could have become.
“Little?” Cassian questioned. “It was four against one, you were lucky we were there!”
“I had it under control!” You ball your hands into fists at your side. “And why were you even there?”
But it’s Rhysand who replies first. “You went alone?”
You lock eyes with him for a moment, before turning away. You didn’t feel like trying to explain how hurt you had been by Azriel and Cassian’s games lately, that you had just wanted to get a little space. It felt like they were laughing at your poor love life at every turn and just for a moment you wanted them to assume you may have had a suitor. Even in a place like Windhaven.
“You sent her?” Cassian takes a half step forward.
Rhysand’s eyes flick quickly between the three of you. “I need to get back, make an example of these trainees to assure this doesn’t happen again and repair yet another building.” His gaze settles on Cassian. “You three stay here until you figure this out.” He’s gone by the time you turn around.
————————————————————————
“What were you doing in Windhaven?” Azriel folds his arms across his broad chest and leans against the wall.
“Why were you tailing me?” You answer with a question of your own.
“We thought…” Cassian shifts his weight uneasily “We thought you might be meeting with someone who wasn’t… safe for you.”
“Safe for me?” You could feel your blood begin to boil. First the games, now they want to directly meddle in your love life too?
“They’re Illyrians Y/N! They don’t care about you! You're seriously delusional if you think anyone in that camp is worth your time!” Cassian furiously points back towards the mountains outside the study window.
“Right because Illyrian brutes are only good for fighting and fucking!” You throw back at him. Azriel narrows his eyes understanding the insult that was just thrown at them.
“That camp is full of dangerous males! They’d love nothing more than to discard of you when they’re done! If you’re seeing one of them, it's over.” Cassian growls and you see red.
“You don’t get to tell me who I can and can’t see!” You storm towards him and jab a finger into his chest.
“So you are seeing one of them!” He steps back and throws his arms up. You turn on your heel, heading for the door ready to be done with this conversation for good.
“What does it concern you if I see an Illyrian?” You snarl as you head back towards the door.
“Because it’s not us!” Cassian chokes out and the room immediately stills.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Cassian’s thoughts rush down the bond. The fear of his confession mingled with the fear that he’s messed things up with Azriel. That he’ll lose two of the most important people in his life in one fell swoop.
Never. Relax. Azriel tries to soothe him but his heart is also racing out of his chest. Cassian’s confession may as well have been his own. The reason he couldn’t stand to think of Y/N with an Illyrian, or any male for that matter, was because it wasn’t him.
“I’m done with these games.” Tears threaten to prick your eyes but you fight them back. Your heart feels like it’s shattering. You glance over your shoulder, afraid that tears will begin to fall if you turn to face them completely.
“Just because the two of you are happy together,” You see the surprise ripple through them “Doesn’t mean you get to mess with me for fun.” Your bottom lip begins to tremble but you lift your chin in defiance.
“I’m packing my stuff. I’m going to go stay with Mor for a bit, just… leave me alone.” You sign and reach for the door handle.
————————————————————————
As you begin to pull the door open Azriel can feel his heart crack and splinter. The pain and sadness that they have caused you struggles to consume his chest and he doesn’t fight it. He lets it wash over him.
“No.” he gasps, squeezing his eyes closed against the sharp pain that rips through him. As he blinks them open he notices Cassian has stumbled to Rhysands desk doubled over in pain. But when he looks across at you standing in the doorway he sees it. A golden thread splits away from you, towards them both. Glowing just as bright as the one that connects him to the Illyrian warrior.
You stand frozen and wide eyed across from him.
Y/N Azriel takes a tentative step forward, testing the connection down the bond. Cassian straightens but remains silent.
I don’t understand. You blink back and forth between them. You two are…
We are. We have been mates for centuries. Azriel explains as he moves closer.
We can’t lose her Az. I can’t… Cassian’s voice waivers in the back of his mind.
I know. Azriel agrees. You drop your gaze to the floor, trying to unravel this mess, unaware of their private conversation.
Sweetheart, we never meant to hurt you. We were competing for your attention for our own gain and I’m sorry. We never thought for a second that it was the chaffing of a mating bond. I never thought the Cauldron would find me worthy enough of a second bond, they are so rare. Especially with you. I’m so sorry Y/N. If you let me, us, we’ll spend the rest of our lives making it up to you. Azriel confesses everything he has as he stands before you. He feels like he just placed his heart in the palm of your hand and is waiting for you to crush it between your fingers as you remain with your head down.
The Cauldron has blessed you with a mate after all… two mates. Males that you have been through so many ups and downs with during these last few years. And surely those years could trump the last few weeks of misunderstandings?
Okay. You lift your eyes to his as tears begin to spill over.
Azriel envelopes you first in his arms and then his wings. It wasn’t the confession he gave you but by the Mother he would take it. He meant what he said. He would do anything to mend what they had broken before they even knew they had it.
————————————————————————
Azriel winnowed you and Cassian back above the House of Wind. The three of you spent the rest of the day and evening discussing what had happened over the last couple of weeks. You confessed how you knew about their relationship. They confessed to their bet. They apologised over and over again. You confessed to catching on to their games early on.
“So you were never actually seeing anyone?”
“No, I haven't even been on a date since before the war.” You laugh and shake your head a little. A wave of jealously rolls down the bond and your eyes flick to meet Cassian’s.
You’d forgotten, for just a moment, about the mating bond. Well mating bonds. Lounging in the sitting room of the House of Wind with Cassian and Azriel felt like any other evening. The same usual banter flowed between you, but now when you took in their breathtaking smiles and low rumbling laughs there was no guilt to chase down your thoughts. You took in Cassian’s leathery wings stretched wide behind his low backed chair. You slide your eyes over his broad shoulders and the corded muscles of his exposed arms, landing on those Illyrian tattoos that you followed in the kitchen all those weeks ago, realising you might get the opportunity to finally follow their full trail across his skin.
Sweetheart Azriel shifts in his seat as his purring voice enters your mind. You might want to work on putting some shields in place. Your focus is pulled back then and you realise Cassian is gripping the armrests of his chair, his chest heaving in deep breaths, pupils blown wide with arousal as he pulls up the side of his mouth in a smirk.
Don’t listen to him baby. He’s just jealous. I was quite enjoying the appraisal. You blink in surprise as Cassian’s gruff voice enters your mind, startled to find that communication could flow openly between the three of you. That would be something you would have to delve into more later. Right now you could only focus on the Illyrian war lord across from you who had hunger rolling off him like a man who hadn’t eaten in months.
At Cassian’s words you realise you haven’t felt anything from Azriel’s side of the bond. Ever the cool, calm and collected one he was probably shielding everything from you right now and you found that it rubbed you the wrong way. You let your eyes fall on the Shadowsinger then, determined to have him drop his walls for you.
His deep black wings rise and fall behind him as he notices your attention. Your eyes trace along the top of his right wing until your attention falls to his throat, the way his adam's apple bobs has you swallowing dryly. You imagine placing your lips to the skin there and a shiver rolls through you. A shadow slides over his shoulder and curls low around his neck, almost vying for attention. You imagine what it would be like to not only have calloused hands pawing at you but smooth shadows as well and that’s when he snaps. His wall drops and his arousal twists and mingles with Cassian’s down the bond.
I thought you might be… opposed to my shadows in that scenario. He admits quietly. But having the bond so open you could easily read between the lines. He thought you might have been afraid of them. Of him.
You don’t scare me, Shadowsinger. You let admiration flow through the bond along with your words. In a blink of an eye Azriel is crowded over you, arms braced on the sides of your chair.
Really? He smirks down at you in challenge. It takes you one breath to recover from his sudden appearance, then you lean forward and place your lips to his neck in a featherlight kiss.
He groans and leans heavier into his arms.
Y/N we want to do this right. The normal way. Take you on those dates we asked you on. Cassian pleads with you. Interesting that when one loses their restraint the other finds it. You wonder if that's the bond at play or if that's just how Cassian and Azriel have always been.
Which part of this has been normal so far? You question as you send memories to both of them down the bond. Flashes of Cassian flirting in the kitchen and Azriel’s lingering touches during training. You also add some moments they’d never seen before; your lingering eyes catching on straining muscles as they spar shirtless in the training ring and the moment shadows led you to the sounds of them together, arousal shooting through you.
The world shifts beneath you then as Azriel lifts you from your chair. You wrap your legs around his waist and then his lips are on yours. There’s no delicacy to the kiss, it’s forceful, bruising, claiming. Soft sheets meet your back and you open your eyes to find Azriel has laid you down in his bed. His mouth moves to your neck, trailing kisses down to your chest before rising off the mattress. Shadows begin to swirl up your arms, replacing the touch of their master, as if he couldn’t bear to let you go for even a second. He turns to Cassian who has taken up residence leaning against the doorway.
“Nice of you to remember that I exist.” Cassian smirks at him. Any guilt you would have felt is quelled as you notice some of Azriel’s shadows linger around the Illyrians wrists and collarbone. Azriel strides across the room and grips the back of his neck.
“As if you’d ever let me forget.” Azriel whispers against his lips and kisses him. The kiss is gentle at first and you can’t help but feel the happiness that radiates from them. You’ve never seen them so open, relaxed and just… them.
Cassian is the first to push it further. Their lips still connected he shoves Azriel back into the room and kicks the door closed with his heel. There are hands in hair, gripping hips, mouths tugging on bottom lips and a soft whine escapes you as you watch your two favourite Illyrians devouring each other. Suddenly two pairs of dark eyes are on you.
Don’t worry baby, we haven't forgotten about you. Cassian's voice enters your mind as he moves towards the bed. He reaches back and pulls his shirt over his head, then climbs over you. He leans down and captures your mouth with his, taking his time to savour the moment. Then he spins, pulling you above him and props you up so you straddle his lap.
Wasn’t there some tracing you needed to do? He grins broadley up at you. You flush slightly at his reference to your errant imaginings but take in the swirls of Illyrian tattoos that wrap around thick muscles. You feel Cassian stiffen and then relax with a sigh as your tongue meets tanned skin. You trail across his shoulder, down his broad chest, pausing only to flick your tongue over a stiff nipple. He bucks up into you with a small moan. You continue down past chiselled abs as you move further down the bed finally reaching the line of muscle that disappears behind his waistband.
He watches you carefully as you begin to untie his pants. Finally you free him, curling your fingers around the velvet wrapped length. Suddenly a memory is forced into your vision. Cassian’s view in the kitchen, watching you devour strawberries dipped in cream. His focus is singular as he watches your tongue swipe up through the cream.
The room comes back to you and you smirk up at him laid back against the headboard before dipping your head down and running your tongue up the underside of him and flicking at his head.
Fuucckkk his moan reverberates in your mind as he throws his head back on the pillow. I’ve been imaging that for weeks and nothing even came close.
His reaction spurs you on and you get to work sucking him into your mouth, exploring with your tongue. You experiment with how deep you can take him and allow your hand to cover any part of the shaft that's not in your mouth. He continues to make small noises as the bed dips beside you. You look up to find Azriel already undressed, Cassian leaves your mouth with a small pop as your mouth falls open.
Oh please, he already knows he’s pretty. We’ll never hear the end of it now. Cassian teases.
Azriel leans forward and grips your chin gently forcing you to sit up.
As much as I was enjoying the show sweetheart, you are wearing far too many clothes. His hand trails down your front and rests at the hem of your shirt.
May I? He cocks his head in question. You nod silently, all words lost to you as your brain swims with arousal.
Words baby. Cassian props himself onto his elbows. There’s so much we want to do with you but we need to know you want it too.
Your eyes flick between Cassian and Azriel. Again surprised to find that Cassian was the one with more control. In the ring, on the battlefield, on a mission, it had always been the other way around. You pull your shirt over your head and reach back, releasing your bra, letting it fall into your lap.
I always thought actions spoke louder than words. You finally reply.
There’s my girl. Cassian reaches out, gripping around your hip, pulling you on top of him once again. And don’t worry, you’ll find out soon enough why I’m left in control here. I don’t want to release Azriel onto you just yet. A shiver runs down your spine at the promise behind the words.
Azriel lets out a soft growl behind you as Cassian finds your lips. Suddenly there are hands everywhere. Cassian paws at your chest and rolls your nipple between his fingers, swallowing your moans in his mouth. Azriel positions himself behind you, quickly removing the rest of your clothes with a moan.
So fucking pretty. He runs a calloused hand up your inner thigh and you flush at the image he must be seeing of you bent over Cassian. His fingers run through your folds and settle on the bundle of nerves. You can only focus on not collapsing on top of Cassian under the assault of both Illyrians.
Azriel shuffles behind you and you feel his tongue flick against you and then swirl around you. He gently explores with his fingers, slipping a finger inside you as Cassian begins sucking marks on to your neck, your chest, anywhere his mouth can reach.
As quickly as Azriel’s tongue was on you, it vanishes and it's when Cassian knits his eyebrows together you realise, Azriel is using his mouth to pleasure you both.
While Cassian is briefly distracted you take the opportunity to return some of the marks to his own neck. Azriel then changes tactics and rubs Cassian’s head, slick with precum, against your clit as he adds another finger to the first, stretching you open as he pumps them in and out.
Please. You whine, already so close to the edge. Need you.
Azriel wastes no time as he sits up and lines Cassian up with your entrance. You slowly sink backwards feelling Cassian stretch you open until you sit flush over his hips.
Ride me baby girl, I’m all yours. Cassian purrs and you begin to bounce on top of him. Soft moans escape his lips as you move and you feel like you're glowing from your ability to bring him so much pleasure.
You lean over him, deepening the angle when the room darkens. Azriel leans over you both and whispers in your ear.
“Do you trust me?” His breath tickles your skin.
“Yes” You moan as Cassian slides deep into you again.
Azriel grips your hips and stops your movement as Cassian's length slides out of you, his head hovering at your entrance. Azriel enters you with a snap of his hips. You were glad you were stretched already as you take his large thick length in one quick thrust. He pulls out still holding you steady as he allows Cassian to buck up and enter you again.
They find a rhythm so quickly that you think must only come from being connected for so many centuries. You moan and whimper into the space between Cassian’s shoulder and neck. It feels like there isn’t a moment when you aren’t filled by either of them as they both fuck you hard and fast.
Cassian reaches up and pulls you away from his body so you hover above him.
Want to hear you baby. Want to see you as we make you fall apart. Come for me Y/N.
Your body obeys without you even thinking as you clench around them as they continue to enter you over and over again. When you’ve ridden your high, Azriel backs away enough for Cassian to pump into you a few more times before finishing himself, seated deep inside you.
There’s a few moments to catch your breath as you sit up and then Azriel is back, one hand your hip the other softly wrapping around your neck.
Do you have another one for us sweetheart? For me? The deep rumble of his voice raises the hairs on the back of your neck.
Always. You whimper as his hands trace circles across your sensitive skin. He pulls you off Cassian and leans you back against his chest as he kneels on the mattress. He lifts you to enter you from behind again-
No Azriel freezes as soon as the thought enters your mind. You panic realising he thinks you want him to stop. No, Azriel. You lean your head back on his shoulder to meet his eyes. I want to see you, want to touch you.
Azriel’s eyes soften and he lays you on the bed next to Cassian.
Both so pretty. He murmurs as he lines himself up with you, appreciating the view of you and Cassian laid out before him. And mine. A darkness swirls in his eyes at the claiming and a thrill runs through you. Cassian trails his fingers up your thigh as Azriel enters you.
His thrusts are quick and hard. You let your hands explore up his stomach, across his chest and down his arms as sets an unrelenting pace. It isn’t long before you’re on the edge again but Azriel doesn’t give any indication that he’s anywhere near finished with you.
You drove him near mad that day after training. Cassian whispers into your mind. He’s sensitive to touch, I’ll show you where it affects him the most.
Cassian settles in the back of your mind then and gently instructs you to reach out for his wings. You do as he says and brush a hand along the inside of the warm membrane. A growl rumbles through Azriels chest as he tips his head back. You continue to follow Cassian’s detailed instructions learning the places that pull moans from Azriel’s lips.
A few moments later, Azriel is practically panting above you, pupils blown wide as his hips continue to snap into you. You feel your own tension building alongside his own.
Go with him, baby girl. Cassian purrs as he reaches down and presses firmly on your over sensitive clit. You see white behind your eyes as you finish for the second time tonight.
————————————————————————
You're curled between two Illyrian bodies as only the sounds of soft breathing fill the air. You’ve never felt more safe or more satisfied for that matter. You wonder how things are going to be from now on. Whether your bond will remain a secret like theirs has. Laying on your side, you take in Azriel’s sleeping form and wonder what Cassian meant about ‘releasing Azriel’ onto you. Your pulse quickens, imagining all the things the three of you could get up to together. Cassian’s hand tightens on your hip from behind you as Azriel blinks open his eyes. You flush, clearly they weren’t as asleep as you thought.
Cassian leans in to whisper at your ear.
“Firstly, I’m glad you feel both safe and satisfied because that’s what we’re here for.” His nose brushes along your neck. “Secondly, we’ll figure out the bond together. Nothing will be decided without you.”
Azriel leans forward and whispers against your lips. “Thirdly, you’ll learn soon enough what happens when I get to play my way.” He kisses you softly and Cassian trails kisses down your spine. You know for certain the first thing you're going to do is learn how to block these two from your mind.
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clarisse la rue x reader — percy jackson and the olympians
[fem!daughter of apollo reader]
[part 2 to the trees]
summary: clarisse is being weirdly standoffish, and you’re not one to cave to that, no matter how much you like her. and no matter how things go, you still have to get your weapons from the forest.
warnings: swearing, arguing, fighting, monsters, PINING BUT THEYRE IDIOTS, everyone’s so mad at each other rn, kissing (AHHHH), canon typical violence, again probably slightly ooc clarisse but hey i love her anyway
word count: 3.2k
(uhhh so this is probably not what anyone was expecting for part two but this is how i alway a planned it, so here it is!! tag list in reblogs and also thank you for the love on the trees! i love you all so much <3 and i’d die for you just like clarisse and this dumb bitch here would die for each other)
(this is much more enemies to lovers than the first one btw so have fun)
———————————————
the day after capture the flag was always a little tense. of course it was. half the camp had just lost, and not many people at camp were good losers, especially not those who got their butts kicked.
this time, though, there was a new level of tension in the air.
ares kids didn’t often run the flag over the line themselves, and those who did were crowing about it at breakfast, then all morning too.
curiously, clarisse wasn’t. she was eating in silence, picking through her eggs like she was searching for something.
you’d never seen her like that before. no one had. but, it seemed you were the only person to notice. you always were, and you were okay with that.
your brother nudged your arm and shot you a questioning look, but you brushed him off with a smile.
why was clarisse so down? she’d won. what did she have to be upset about? was she mad at you? did you do something to piss her off in the tree? she hadn’t seemed exactly happy when she left.
stuck in your thoughts, you didn’t realise she’d met your eyes until your brother elbowed you.
“ow! what do you want?” you snapped, rubbing your rib cage tenderly.
“clarisse is staring at you,” he said with wide eyes. “dude… what did you do?”
“nothing,” you scoffed and stood up, taking your empty plate to the stack of dirty dishes, trying—and failing—to not look at clarisse as you left.
“y/n, wait up!”
you slowed down for sam as he jogged to catch up to you. there was a newfound bitterness in your mouth when you saw him. you’d never liked him, not like he’d liked you, but you’d never felt like you wanted to be away from him. not like you did in that moment then. but where would you go? to clarisse? yeah, right, she’d laugh in your face, regardless of whatever happened—or might have happened—in that tree.
“what’s up?” you asked. you couldn’t help your voice being drier than usual.
“just wanted to see how those arrows did you? were they good? i can make some more, if you want.” he looked almost eager to do so.
you smiled kindly. he really was sweet. “they were great, thanks, sam. best arrows i’ve ever used, even if i didn’t get too much of a chance to use them.” your steps faltered. “i did leave one in the forest though. i’ll have to get that later.”
your eyes locked on clarisse as she walked towards you down the path. two of her siblings were behind her, laughing, but she wasn’t. in fact, her jaw was set tight and she was glaring. at sam.
“i could come with you?” he suggested. “watch your back. keep you safe, you know?”
clarisse scoffed as she passed. “she doesn’t need you to keep her safe, tool-box.”
that was a little mean. sure, sam carried his tool-box everywhere, but you never know what might need to be fixed! despite yourself, you had to hold in a laugh. your eyes were alight with amusement as you locked gaze with clarisse.
she looked proud of herself, a jaunty grin on her lips. you couldn’t help your gaze dropping to them briefly. she smiled wider. it was infuriating. she now knew what her effect on you was, and she was using it.
“if she needed someone to protect her, she’d come to me, right, angel?” she tilted her head.
your mouth was infuriatingly dry. you nodded. “uh—“
“whatever,” sam snapped. “come on, y/n. let’s go.”
you kind of wanted to stay, but his grip on your arm didn’t leave any room for an argument. you trailed after him as he left, glancing over your shoulder just in time to see clarisse’s face darken with anger.
“angel?” sam scoffed. “who does she think she is?”
“uh…”
“whatever. gods, she’s just so—“ he turned and faced you, almost causing you to bump into his chest. you’d never seen him so intense before. “stay away from her, y/n. seriously. she’s bad news.”
“she’s nice to me,” you protested.
“she’s not nice to anyone. don’t be naive.” he turned on his heel and started to walk away, then turned back, his face softer. “come on. do you want to learn how to weld? you said you did last week.”
did you? you didn’t remember that. but you did vaguely remember a conversation with sam that you spent zoned out and staring at clarisse as she trained, so that was probably it. “oh, no… i have to… train…”
he looked disappointed, but nodded. “okay, that’s cool. maybe another day. or maybe, we can… go for a walk together? or even have lunch on the beach?”
you nodded absently. “maybe.”
“great, it’s a date!”
you frowned. “it’s a what?”
he looked happier than you’d ever seen him. he even kissed your cheek before walking off, a new spring in his step. you stood there for a moment, eyes wide, wondering what the hell just happened. then you heard a scoff from behind you.
when you turned around, clarisse was walking away.
“clarisse,” you said softly, jogging after her. “clarisse, wait!”
“go hang out with your boyfriend, l/n.” she snapped, her arms crossed as she walked. “he’s probably waiting for you so you two can make out in that sweaty little sex dungeon they call a workshop.”
your eyebrows shot up. “okay, first of all, i’m pretty sure it is actually a workshop, and second of all, he’s still not my boyfriend!”
she scoffed again but didn’t answer, stomping up the steps to the ares cabin and stopping at the top, looking down at you.
you felt small under her gaze, but you didn’t back down.
“what are you doing here?” she asked after a moment.
“you said i could come get a new dagger,”you said.
she rolled her eyes and leaned on the porch railing. “and?”
you frowned, looking up at her. “and… i’m here to get one?”
she regarded you for a few seconds in silence, then, just as she was about to speak, a new voice called out.
“clarisse, are you giving out girlfriend privileges already?” one of her brothers, marcus, you thought, stepped into the doorway of the cabin and peered around her to look at you. he looked like a stereotypical son of ares: buff, tall and mean. “that’s cute.” he continued, looking at you like you were an animal in a zoo.
“she’s not my girlfriend,” she scoffed like it was the most ridiculous thing in the world.
well, that hurt.
“yeah, we’re just—“
“we’re not even friends,” she added hurriedly, not even looking at you. “she just thinks she’s special.”
your jaw clenched. that really hurt. “i don’t think i’m special,” you snapped. “i think i want you to honour your word from yesterday or go and get my dagger out of the forest for me.”
“not my fault you forgot your dagger,” she studied her nails nonchalantly.
“but if you hadn’t thrown my dagger out of a tree and tossed my new arrow aside like it was trash then i wouldn’t have forgotten. and maybe if you hadn’t leaned in like you were about to kiss me, maybe i wouldn’t have forgotten either.” your gaze was as sharp as hers was, meeting in the middle with fire and lightning crackling between you.
she stepped forward, face to face with you. for a second, you thought she’d punch you, but you didn’t back down.
then she laughed. it wasn’t at all like her laugh in the tree the day before. this was her cold, cruel laugh that she usually saved for her victims. with a start, you realised that’s what you were: another victim of clarisse la rue. your heart broke for a split second before you pulled yourself together and straightened your back, meeting her eyes.
“kiss you?” she snickered. “get your head out of your ass, angel, you’re not all that because you can shoot a bow and climb a tree.”
you stepped closer to her, so you were right up in her face. “and you’re not all that because you scare away everyone who cares about you, just because your daddy’s a little mean. you don’t need to be a bitch about everything.”
you regretted it instantly. you’d gone too far. you knew that.
her face dropped and a hurt look flashed through her eyes, but it died as soon as it came to life.
you stepped back and turned, marching away.
“where are you going?” she called after you. “we’re not finished here!”
“you have something else to say to me, clarisse, you come find me!” you shot back, your voice hard. you didn’t start arguments often, but goddamn did you finish them.
you stomped into the forest, determined to find your dagger and arrow so you could prove to both clarisse and sam that you were capable of more than just shooting arrows from trees and running away from fights.
it was darker today. the clouds that covered camp half-blood permeated through the forest, leaving a heavy weight suspended among the trees. the air felt thicker, even, and the birdsong seemed quieter than usual. was there something around? something hanging in the air, waiting to attack you? drag your body back to camp and leave it on clarisse’s doorstep like a cat bringing in a dead bird?
or was your fear just because you were alone instead of with the rest of camp.
whatever it was, it put you on edge.
there was a clicking sound behind you, like someone was cracking a joint, but when you turned, no one was there. you weren’t foolish enough to call out.
you could feel a chill going down your spine, and that’s when you knew: the first shoe had dropped.
your eyelids fluttered and you nearly dropped to the ground, but you leaned heavily against a tree to catch yourself. typical. go out on your own, thinking you can take care of yourself and you get hit with a premonition. how’s that for fate?
you let the feeling wash over you; the pure panic of the near future and the warm grip of a hand on your wrist, like someone was pulling you along.
the future was not looking promising.
there was another clicking sound behind you as you finally managed to straighten up, much closer this time.
you turned around.
the bushes were rustling.
you suddenly realised what that clicking sound was.
mandibles.
two ants the size of german shepherds burst through the foliage. myrmeke.
there was the other shoe, dropping real hard.
“shit!” you stumbled backward, reaching for a weapon. you had no weapon. “double shit!”
you turned and ran.
the ants were fucking fast. they could have caught up to you if you weren’t so agile, turning and springing off in different directions every few steps, sending them careening into trees and rocks. that was the only thing keeping you alive.
where even were you? you didn’t recognise this area. hopefully you weren’t running directly for their anthill. that would be a real twist of fate.
then you burst into a new area, this one with a large tree—a large tree that you recognised.
“yes!” you exclaimed, dashing for the trunk. you found your dagger easily, then your discarded arrow too. you didn’t know what good they’d do against the myrmeke, considering that their shells were as hard as armour and, while force was good in some cases, you had to admit that sharpness may have helped you against them.
you couldn’t run anymore. your screaming lungs told you that. you couldn’t climb either. the ants could climb better than you and you’d be a sitting duck up there, no matter how high you went. but maybe, just maybe, you could hold them off until they got bored or someone realised you were missing.
it wasn’t easy, but you managed to deflect and dodge the myrmeke’s attacks. they were fast, but you were faster. you even managed a swipe at one of their legs as you rolled past, but all it did was leave a tiny chink in its armour.
you were beginning to lose hope.
honestly, what you wouldn’t give for a spear right now. your blunt dagger and slim arrow were about as good as a toothpick against these monsters.
just as you were backed against the tree that you’d once found a safe haven, you heard a battle cry. you could have sobbed from relief, but instead, as the spear-wielding figure landed on top of one of the ants, driving her weapon into the gap between its armoured plates, you took your opportunity to stab your arrow with as much force as you could into the other ant’s gaping mouth, slipping it precisely between its mandibles and, hopefully, into its brain.
it jerked back in pain and screeched, the sound making your ears ring, but it didn’t die. instead, it looked rightfully pissed off, and now it had an arrow sticking from its mouth.
as your saviour pulled her spear from the ants back, a warm, brown liquid sprayed on you. it smelled like ants always did after you crushed them, just a million times worse. you wondered if this was revenge for all the ants you’d murdered in your life.
“gross!” you exclaimed, wiping it off your face.
“grow up, bows, we gotta go!” clarisse. your saviour was clarisse. of course.
just as you were about to protest, two more myrmeke crept out of the forest towards you.
she gripped your wrist, right where that warmth was in your premonition, and dragged you away, making you drop your dagger in the rush.
“i dropped my—“
“save it!” she snapped, pulling you along.
the desperation in her voice kicked you into gear and you started running faster, alongside her now.
you didn’t use the same tactics as before. instead of dodging, you just ran as fast as you could and prayed that the myrmeke would be slower. clarisse seemed to know where she was going, at least.
“you’re such an idiot!” clarisse yelled as they ran.
“we’re doing this now?” you panted incredulously.
“you could have died!”
“we’ll both die if you don’t stop yelling at me!”
finally, gloriously, you breached the edge of the forest and stepped into camp. the myrmeke wouldn’t follow you there.
you dropped to you knees, panting and staring into the forest. clarisse was standing in front of you, her spear ready, just in case.
you’d stepped into a quiet part of camp up behind the amphitheatre, so there was no one around to see you, and no one around to help you. you had a feeling that if the myrmeke didn’t kill you, clarisse wouldn’t hesitate.
once it was clear that they weren’t following, she rounded on you.
you were still on your knees, your legs too tired and shaky with adrenaline to stand, but she didn’t seem to care.
“what were you thinking, going in on your own?” she snapped.
“well i wasn’t expecting to get attacked by killer ants within the camp’s borders!” you protested.
“everyone knows they’re there.”
“i forgot, okay? i’m not perfect.”
“oh, i know.” she rolled her eyes.
“gods, would you just fuck off?” you finally stood up, face to face with her. “you’re horrible sometimes, you know that? i can’t believe i’ve defended you.”
“i don’t need your defending.”
“and i don’t need your help!”
“you would have died!” she yelled, emphasising every word.
“but i didn’t!” you shouted back.
she rolled her eyes and stepped closer, anger practically radiating off her. “yeah, thanks to me. you’d be dead if i hadn’t followed you in there—“
“why did you follow me?” you asked suddenly, voice harsh.
“what?”
“why did you follow me?” you asked again, slower. “i didn’t ask you to look after me, clarisse.”
there it was again. that slightly relaxation of her shoulders when you said her name. it drove you nuts. you didn’t know if you wanted to kiss her for hours or throw her to the myrmeke.
she tensed up again and turned to leave. “whatever. i’m done here.”
“i’m not!” you gripped her shoulder and pulled her back around. to your surprise, she didn’t pull a weapon on you. “why did you follow me, clarisse? was it the same reason that you were flirting with me yesterday? and why you’re so protective of me? and why you hate sam?”
“i wasn’t flirting with you,” she grumbled. “and i hate sam for… personal reasons. and i’m not protective of you! why would you even think that?”
“that’s all bullshit and you know it,” you sneered.
“gods, you aggravate me!” she exclaimed.
“you didn’t have to come help me,” you scoffed, stepping back. “i didn’t ask for your help.”
“and i didn’t want to help you!”
“then why did you? huh? you could handle not winning a fight? you wanted to finish the argument on your terms?” your eyebrows were raised and your face was cold. “or were you gonna beat me up but the giant killer ants got to me first?”
she looked like she was about to explode with anger. “because i love you!”
the air escaped from your lungs in one sharp moment, and it looked like hers did the same thing.
“what?” you asked, your voice softer.
it was silent. she looked like she was trying to find something to say, but couldn’t. her mouth opened and closed weakly, and she shook her head, lips pressed together. you wanted to kiss her.
so you did.
she tensed up as your hands came to her waist, pulling her body and lips against yours hard. then, finally, she relaxed. she dropped her spear at your feet and raised her hands to your hair, threading her fingers through the strands. she was a softer kisser than you’d expected, but it was definitely her. it was all her. the tug on your hair, the underlying, undeniable harshness of the kiss, the spear that rested against your foot. it was perfectly clarisse. you could have kissed her until the sun went down and the ants came and carried you both to their anthill, and if you stayed kissing her like this, you wouldn’t even mind.
when, finally, you pulled away, you were both breathing heavily. all of the tension from the fight hid dissipated, leaving only a warm sparkling in the air, like a mirage around her face in the sunlight. maybe that was a sign? or a vision? whatever it was, it was heaven-sent.
she was smiling. she looked softer like this. gods, you loved it. it felt like fate, and you knew a lot about fate. fate was fickle. fate was cruel. fate brought you the arguments, the myrmeke, the terror. but fate also brought you this. this girl who was glowing in the sun like she was made of pure rays of light. the girl with a spear that she laid down at your feet and would save you barehanded if you asked. the girl who had sunk into your arms like she was made to be there.
“do you think i can get that new dagger now?” you asked cheekily, playing with the hem of her camp shirt. “i mean, i have girlfriend privileges now, right, babe?”
clarisse rolled her eyes, but she was still smiling. “shut up, devil.”
“ooh, devil. that’s new,” you teased. “i like it. it’s apt.”
“it sure is.” she looked down. “i’m… sorry, by the way.”
“me too,” you nodded. “i didn’t really mean any of that, you know?”
“‘cause you like me,” she said in a teasing voice.
“yeah, ‘cause i like you, or whatever.” you kissed her again, smiling against her lips. “and i know you like me too, because you so did nearly kiss me in that tree yesterday.”
she shrugged. “maybe. maybe not. guess we’ll never know.”
you found out at the next capture the flag game. and the next. and the next. she would go out of her way to find you, defeat you, then kiss you before running off to win the games. and honestly, you didn’t really mind.
fate was a fickle thing, but with clarisse by your side, no one could touch you. sam left you alone, people started treating you better, and you had everything you could ask for. her.
and whenever you two argued, you’d go into the woods together and kill some ants. after all, what says ‘couple’s bonding’ quite like murder?
#clarisse la rue#clarisse la rue x reader#clarisse la rue x y/n#clarisse la rue x you#pjo#pjo tv show#pjo x reader#percy jackson#percy jackon and the olympians#dior goodjohn
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Stick it Out to the End
summary: michael is desperate to get into oxford's prestigious bullingdon club; unfortunately for him, they command him to do the impossible to gain admittance
pairing: michael gavey x bimbo!reader
warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, bimbo reader, mentions of hazing but nothing horrible/extreme, virgin!michael, breast/nipple play, praise kink, piv sex, protected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it), oral sex (f receiving), consensual filming, dirty talk, cursing, what i hope is saltburn-esque humor, mild size kink, mild angst but happy ending, let me know if i missed anything!
word count: 12.7k
a/n: images in the header are for aesthetic purposes only & are not used to describe the reader! she's back and she's long as hell but what else is new!!! this is my first time writing bimbo!reader and while she wasn't super bimbo-y, it was fun getting my feet wet! hope y'all enjoy!
likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!
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Michael
Michael couldn’t help but feel his heart speed up in his chest as he wound through the quiet corridors clutching tightly to the cryptic note he’d found stuffed in his pigeonhole that morning – just a page torn out of a standard notebook covered hastily written red ink; wholly un-intimidating as far as cryptic notes were concerned. Really, he was surprised to see they didn’t put more effort in; with as secretive and imperious as this little club was, he had been expecting some sort of extravagant stationary, perhaps even some gold embossing.
Coming to a stop in front of an unassuming janitor’s closet door, he narrows his eyes behind the gold frames of his glasses, staring at the door with a nearly accusatorial expression. Michael swivels his head once more, his brows furrowed as he checks and re-checks every door in the vicinity before turning back to the one he stands before. Scoffing, he unfolds the note with a little irritated sigh and quickly scans the page again, mouthing the words to himself for the millionth time that day.
The riddle had been easy enough to figure out, some trivial little lines about dead men walking, the mob, finding God, and looking to one’s heart pointed right toward some hush hush basement beneath the Merton College Chapel. That, and it didn’t take a genius to see that each line consisted of a specific number of words, pointing him right to the very door he stood in front of now – 129.
Fucking amateurs, he’d thought after cracking the code in under half an hour. But that was earlier. And now, as he stares at the stupid dull grey janitor’s closet door in front of him, Michael can’t stop the little tendrils of doubt from creeping into his periphery. He’s sure this is the right door and positive this is the right place and yet… janitor’s closet. He checks his watch, 11:50 PM on the dot, and glances up and down the dark, shadowy corridors once more, half expecting one of the twatty rich assholes to jump out and start snickering at him, making fun of him for thinking that a no one like him would’ve ever received an invite to a club like this.
Shaking his head, he reaches for the doorknob anyway, he’s come this far so he may as well. He freezes a little when it actually turns and his blue eyes go wide when he pushes the door open, shivering a little as he’s met with a wall of cool, dank air – eau de basement, just as he’d expected. A little actually impressed sigh passes his lips when he pokes his head in, an apprehensive smile blooming on his lips as he takes in the eerie red lighting spilling up the stairwell from the God-knows-what downstairs.
He winces as the door squeaks when he tugs it open but he doesn’t stop, emboldened now as he knows he had been right once again. He takes the stairs quickly, probably too quickly given that he hasn’t a fucking clue what or who could be down here, but before he can dwell on the idea too much, he’s faced with another corridor. This one, unlike the ones upstairs, is narrow and brick-lined and leads in only one direction, straight to another closed door at the other end.
Michael squints against the bright red light coming from a spotlight that had been haphazardly set up on the stone floor and walks down the hallway, his steps speeding up as he hears the janitor’s door above him open and close once more. His breath hitches a little as he opens the second door and quickly steps inside, like ripping off a band-aid.
He freezes once more when a strong hand latches onto his shoulder and quickly jerks him further into the room, making him yelp as he stumbles, trying to keep pace with whoever the hell is leading him.
“What the –”
Before he has time to so much as blink, his back thuds against a brick wall and finally he looks up, the vicious scowl he’d prepared morphing into a look of disturbed confusion as he eyes a row of other students, about fifteen and all men from the looks of it, dawned with black –
Oh, Christ, are those ski masks? He thinks as he eyes them up and down, How fucking banal… at least it’s not hooded cloaks. He nearly rolls his eyes as he scans the rest of the room, taking in the dim lighting interspersed with blues and greens from more of those stupid party boy spotlights. Glancing to the side, he sees another boy in his year, some guy he only knew from a few classes and passing glances in the hallways, but even still he’s comforted to not be alone down here, no matter how cliché this whole affair seemed.
His blue eyes snap forward as the door, the only door, to the room is opened once more and some other poor sap is hastily dragged across the room, only to be smacked on the wall to his left. Again, it’s just some other boy Michael knows from classes, though he doesn’t know why he expects any different – it’s not as if he knows many people outside of the forced proximity of a lecture hall. Which was really his only reason for putting up with this bother, for seeking it out in the first place; a quick flash of him placing a tightly folded up sticky note with his name and pigeonhole number in an old, beaten up copy of King Lear in the library played in his mind – the price he seemed to pay for loneliness.
Distantly, the bells of the chapel began to chime, signaling the hour. Once, twice, and eventually twelve times – midnight. Time to start the show, Michael surmises.
“Welcome, initiates,” one of the hooded men says in a tone that makes Michael glare judgmentally, his voice pitched down like some idiotic knock-off Darth Vader. He steps forward from the row they stand in and holds his arms out open at his sides, “Consider this your first foray into the Bullingdon Club.”
Again, he has to bite the inside of his cheek to hold in a scoff. This was all just so… juvenile? He was beginning to sincerely doubt that this was the über clandestine club that granted its members all sorts of connections to various businesses, societies, and insider information that even the richest of the rich couldn’t buy.
Unfortunately, his face seemed to betray more of his emotions than he intended and the masked boy steps forward once more, his dark eyes zeroing in on Michael.
“You,” he says gruffly, pointing a finger in his direction, “Something you wanna say, initiate?”
Out of habit, he pushed his glasses up on his nose before he spoke, perhaps foolishly bold given the situation.
“Doesn’t this all seem a bit much for three people?” He scoffs, shaking his head slightly, “I mean, masks, really?”
The hooded boy stops for a second and studies Michael closely, one hand on his hip, “What’s wrong with the masks?”
“Well, what’s the point? There’s, what, fifteen or sixteen of you? And three of us?” He asks, glancing around the room, which he now realized very clearly used to be some run-of-the-mill storage room, probably forgotten about by now.
The boy laughs sarcastically and shrugs his shoulders a bit, his voice back to its natural pitch, “It wouldn’t really be a secret thing if we just invited half the student body, mate.”
Michael supposes his reasoning is sound and says as much with a little hum and nod of his head, eyebrows raising dismissively.
“Anything else?” The masked boy asks, crossing his arms over his chest.
“The masks don’t really disguise you lot that well,” he observes, pointing at one of the other boys standing in the row, “That’s Harry from Multivariable Calculus.”
“Shit…” Harry mutters under his breath, the sound carrying through the concrete room. A few of the other boys in the row lean over and place comforting hands on his shoulders and murmur words of encouragement, much to Michael’s dismay.
“Why’re you here, initiate?” The lead boy asks, turning back to Michael.
“Dunno,” he shrugs again, pushing his glasses up his nose, “Friends, I guess.”
A couple of the boys in the row make little noises, mutters of empathy that make the blond’s eyebrows furrow together in confusion as he glances up and down the line.
“And this was your first thought? A secret society?” Harry from Multivariable Calculus asks with a little laugh, “Not like… chess or something?”
“Don’t really like chess…” Michael says with a little shrug. Apparently a good enough answer for Harry, who makes a little noise of understanding and nods his head.
After another moment, the lead boy clears his throat, which shuts up the rest. “Anyway,” he says, his voice falsely low once more. “Each of you will be given a task…,” his dark eyes glance between Michael and the other two boys as he paces in front of them, “Perfectly customized to challenge you, to push you to your absolute limits.”
The masked boy pauses his little speech and gestures back to three of the other boys standing in the row behind him who then step forward and walk over to the dank brick wall that Michael and the other two boys stand against. He studies the boy that walks towards him carefully, his eyes narrowing in suspicion when he notices how much shorter he appears to be.
Finally, the boy comes to stand before him and presents a plain white envelope, though Michael’s lips spread into a hateful smirk when he sees an all too familiar pair of old, beat up trainers on the boy’s feet.
“Oliver?!” He hisses meanly, shock lacing his voice as he jerks back the hand he had reached out for the envelope, wincing as his elbow collides with the cool wall behind him. He glances around the room, noting the few pairs of eyes that were on him, before fixing his gaze on the boy before him once more with a harsh glare, “You’re in Bullingdon?”
The boy in front of him hesitates for a second, cutting a sideways glance toward a taller boy that was busy presenting an envelope to the boy to Michael’s left, before he sighs and looks back at him, blue eyes peeking out of the holes in his ski mask. “Yeah,” he huffs, shrugging his shoulders defensively, “How’d you know it was me, then?”
“You look like a goddamn twelve year old!” Michael jeers, his voice low and vicious as his hands curl into fists at his sides, “How’d you manage to get into this club anyway?” He questions, seething, “They only let you in if you have the money or the marks and I know for a fucking fact you don’t have either.”
Oliver sighs again and rolls his eyes, which makes him see red and grit his teeth, although he doesn’t miss how the shorter boy’s eyes cut to the side again quickly. He opens his mouth, but before he can get a word in edgewise, the blond cuts him off with a little mocking laugh.
“Don’t tell me that’s fucking Catton,” Michael groans lowly with a shake of his head, breathing heavily as he feels the same sense of anger and betrayal he’d felt all those months ago well up in him once more, transporting him right back to the stupid damn pub, “You’ve got to be bloody kidding me, is this shite little club only full of cunts?”
“Look, I’m –”
Oliver starts to speak again, only to be cut off when the head boy traipses over to where they are, coming to stand ominously behind him with his arms clasped behind his back. His dark eyes dart between the two boys before he speaks.
“Problem over here, lads?”
“No,” Oliver answers quickly, staring warily up at Michael as he practically shoves the envelope into his arms, “Just complete the task, initiate. You have thirty-six hours.”
Before Michael can blink, Oliver turns his back and stalks back over to the other boys, taking his place in the row once more. The head boy looks Michael up and down appraisingly before nodding to the letter in his hands with a sly smirk.
“I can’t wait to see how you fare with that one, Gavey,” he says, his voice low and threatening, as if he’s in on the most delicious joke, “Remember, thirty-six hours, initiate.” He chuckles softly and departs, returning to stand in the center of the room.
Everyone stands still for a moment, Michael and the other two boys to his left and right holding their respective envelopes nervously, unsure if they were supposed to open them now or not. Thankfully, the head boy clears his throat, commanding all eyes to him once again.
“Initiates,” he says slowly, his voice no doubt already hoarse from this little farce, “Failure to complete your tasks will result in a permanent ban from Bullingdon; no second chances. We expect results as well as proof of those results,” his dark eyes scan over the three boys once more, one corner of his mouth turned up into a mean smirk, “We’ll be seeing you back in this location Sunday at noon. Your thirty-six hours begin now… have fun.” He finishes with a taunting laugh before turning and exiting from the room, the old door creaking as he pulls it open before disappearing into the faint red glow of the hallway, followed by the rest of the fifteen boys in an orderly line.
As soon as the old door closes, the sound of paper tearing echoes around the dimly lit basement as Michael and the other two boys hastily tear open their envelopes. Pulling out a little slip of paper, his eyes go wide as a wave of dread washes over him. His eyes scan over the paper again and again as he nervously shoves his glasses back up his nose once more, silently willing the chicken-scratch words on the paper to somehow change, to give him some other command.
His heart is pumping so loudly in his ears that he misses it when one of the other boys tries getting his attention, his head snapping up suddenly as a hand waves in front of it.
“Oi!”
“W-What?”
“What did they give you?” The boy asks, nodding at the scrap of paper in Michael’s hand.
He clears his throat and tries his best to come off as casual, though he hardly cares with the way thoughts begin racing through his mind. “Oh, um,” he starts, glancing down to read over the paper once more, “I just uh, have to sleep with someone is all.”
The other two boys gape at him for a moment before groaning frustratedly. The one that had first spoken to him holds his paper out and smacks it disdainfully with the back of his hand.
“What the hell?” He asks gruffly, glancing between his paper and Michael, “Why’s yours so bloody easy?”
“For real,” sighs the second boy, rubbing the back of his head, “Ours are damn near impossible. They must already be decided on you to go so soft. How am I meant to steal the fucking Selden Map from Bodleian?” He laments, brows furrowed as he stares down at the paper in his hands.
“Yeah, and I have to transfer ten thousand pounds out of the chancellor’s bank account and into mine!” The first boy sighs, shaking his head, “At least your mum’s head of conservatorship here, you can at least get within a stone’s throw of the map. I have to commit fucking wire fraud!”
The two boys grumble for another moment as Michael silently descends into a tailspin, his blue eyes unfocused as he stares at one of the dingy brick walls of the basement, trying desperately to formulate a plan, any plan. He merely glances up as the other to head for the door, spitballing ideas for each of their tasks.
“Isn’t your dad the president of Julius Baer? Can’t you just get him to pull strings?”
“Oh, yeah, fantastic idea! I’ll just ring him and ask the old man to commit a felony! What could possibly go wrong there?”
Michael tries to tune out their bickering as the three of them ascend the staircase and trail out into the hallway of Merton College Chapel once more; the two other boys don’t pay him any mind as they continue whispering amongst themselves, their voices trailing quietly down the hallway as he leans with his back against the cool metal of the janitor’s closet door.
Sighing, he reads over the directive again, his blue eyes catching on the sharply scrawled letters of a very familiar name, one that makes his cheeks flush and his heart race. He swallows nervously, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.
How could they know to do this? He wonders sheepishly. It’s not like he’d mentioned her to anyone; hell, he’d never even said so much as three words to her! No, his pathetic little crush was entirely in his mind.
Too much of a coward to even say hi, he bemoans, trying to stave off the sense of shame he felt as he considered how many times he’d finished with her name on his lips, her pretty face and soft curves and sweet smell and little girly outfits whirling around his head since he’d spotted her on the first fucking day; he’d pined ever since and she didn’t even know he existed! How could she?
This is fucking impossible, he thinks miserably, wishing that he had any other task. He’d rather steal the Queen’s own goddamn family jewels than this. He glances at his watch once more and groans when he sees it’s almost already two in the morning; pushing himself up off the door, he hangs his head as he scurries back to his dorm room, thoughts spiraling as he plots.
You
A laugh bubbles up past your lips as you sway your hips, your whole body vibrating as “Umbrella” blasts through the speakers while you dance with your friends, partying to celebrate the end of term.
“You can run into my arms, it’s okay, don't be alarmed!” You sing happily, yours and your friends voices mingling together with another peal of laughter; you take another sip of your drink as you move along with the beat of the song, savoring the fizzy strawberry daiquiri as you begin to feel a bit warm from the little rush of alcohol, already on your third drink of the night.
You smile proudly as you spot Felix in the crowd, his hazel eyes already fixed on you, or well, fixated on your chest. His attention makes you preen and you bite your lower lip, the sickly sweet taste of your cherry lip gloss filling your mouth as you purposefully bounce up and down on the balls of your feet.
The thin straps of your pastel pink dress hold on for dear life as your chest heaves enticingly, and you giggle when you see those hazel eyes widen just a bit, no doubt tracing over the glittering chain of your necklace, following down to where it settles, a little sparkly pink diamond nestling temptingly at your cleavage. You teasingly wink, blushing a little when you get a wink back, and go back to dancing with your friends, knowing from experience that Felix preferred to approach rather than be approached.
You dance with your friends for a few more moments, grinding up against any warm body you can find as a raunchier song begins pumping through the speakers, before you feel eyes on you yet again. Smiling at the attention, you glance around again, the low, colorful lighting of the pub making it hard to tell exactly which direction your admirer’s coming from.
Your eyes flit over a few familiar faces, you can’t help but sigh in relief when you notice that Oliver’s eyes are thankfully planted firmly on someone that is not you, though a confused little crease forms between your brows when you realize that Felix’s aren’t either. Turning your head, you sway along to the music still as you look around quickly, your feet beginning to ache finally from the precious little satin Chanel heels buckled around your ankles.
Your eyes finally lock onto an unexpected gaze, a fresh wash of pink coloring your cheeks as blue eyes glance shyly away from you. A little giggle titters past your lips as you lean over to one of your friends, patting her shoulder to get her attention.
“You know who that blond guy is? With the glasses?” You call over the music, nodding over in your admirer’s direction as he stands awkwardly back against the wall by the entrance, clutching a still-foamy pint.
She glances over before turning back to you with a little shrug. “Michael something, I think!” She says, her breath warm as she leans in closer so you can hear her, “I thought Oliver knew him!”
Your eyes immediately find the brunette, predictably following Felix around like a lost little puppy, before you look back over at Michael. You can’t help but feel a bit bad when you see him quickly look away from your direction again before staring intently into his pint glass, one hand shoved in the pocket of his khaki pants.
“I’m gonna take a breather for a second!” You yell over the loud music, leaning in close and cupping a hand over her ear.
“Aw, babe, come on!” She pouts playfully, tilting her head at you, “Stay longer!”
You shake your head with another little laugh and gesture at your feet, “These are sooo cute but they’re killing me!” You laugh, finishing off the last sip of your drink, “I’ll be over by the notice board!” You tell her, blowing a kiss as you walk away from the dance floor of the small, cramped pub.
Finally, you reach the little area by the front door and lean back against the wall, taking in a much-needed deep breath as you pull your little tube of lip gloss out of your bra and carefully reapply some more, smirking when you glance over out of the corner of your eye and see a certain blond boy already shyly eyeing you.
Rubbing your lips together with a little pouty pop, you tuck your gloss back in your bra once more before slowly approaching Michael, prettily manicured hands clasped behind your back to help shamelessly push your chest out more. His wide eyed stare makes you giggle and blush as you study him, eyes flitting appreciatively up and down his lithe frame; so much potential hidden away under a little button down and khakis.
“Haven’t seen you here before,” you tease, smirking when he blushes and all but chokes on his beer, coughing for a few seconds before finally speaking.
“I… Me?” He asks awkwardly, glancing around for seemingly anyone else you could be talking to.
Lucky for him, you find his awkwardness endearing. Truthfully, you had for months, never missing the way his eyes always happened upon you in a crowd. There was something impressive about the boy, something that had made your mind drift to him on more than one occasion, even if you were already under someone else.
“Of course you, silly,” you laugh softly, leaning against the wall next to him and tilting your head curiously, “You’re Michael, right?”
His eyes go wide again and nods wordlessly before finding his voice. “Yeah, Michael,” he says with a reserved little smile, “Gavey! Michael Gavey…” He adds awkwardly, cheeks flushing even more when you giggle, seemingly charmed by his inability to string two words together. He nods as you introduce yourself.
“I know,” he says before blinking, eyes going wide behind his gold framed glasses as he awkwardly glances away, “I just… I mean I’ve heard your name before, that’s all.”
“That’s all, huh?” You echo with a flirty little giggle, twirling a lock of hair around your finger as you let the moment linger, just wanting to push him a little. “What’re you reading?” You ask curiously, cocking your head to the side a little.
“Maths,” he nods quickly before looking down into his pint glass once more as if fizzling beer is the most interesting thing in the world, “I don’t really like it all that much, though… I mostly only picked it because I’m good at it.”
“Ooh,” you coo softly, nodding along with his words as you watch him carefully, “You must be wicked smart, I can’t do maths to save my life.” You comment with a little giggle, biting your lip when he seems to perk up at that comment and looks up at you with a little grin.
“I can do it in my head,” he says lowly, an unexpectedly cocky edge to his voice that has your heart picking up in your chest, “Ask me a sum,” he says, a challenging glimmer in his eyes.
You hum softly, biting your lip as you think for a second, “Uhm, seventy-two plus a hundred and thirteen?”
“One eighty-five,” he chuckles after no more than a second before scoffing a little, “Come on, give me one that’s hard, love.”
Love? The little pet name makes you raise an eyebrow before you laugh softly. “What do you mean a hard one?” You giggle, shaking your head, “That one was hard!”
“That was hard for you?” He teases, making your cheeks tingle as a pink flush settles over your skin, “What’re you reading, then?”
“Art history!” You chirp proudly, chuckling nervously when you see him roll his eyes a bit, “What? Something wrong with that?”
He shakes his head dismissively, quickly polishing off the last of his pint before setting the empty class on a table and turning back to you, pushing his glasses up his nose with a grin, “Ask me another one, then. Biggest numbers you can think of.”
You don’t know why, but something about his little challenge has you blushing again, like he’s testing you somehow. But still, you take a moment to think of some numbers, biting your lip and quirking your eyes up toward the ceiling.
“Six hundred thirty-two times… eight hundred ninety-one,” you hum, cocking your head to the side as you watch him closely. His eyes seem to glaze over, only for a second, before once again he’s spouting off numbers like a calculator.
“Five hundred sixty-three thousand, one hundred and twelve.”
Your eyebrows raise at that as you gawk at him. “Wow…,” you breathe after a moment, blinking as you stare up at him, “You’re, like, super smart, then?”
“Suppose so,” he says, smiling shyly again as he tucks both hands into the pockets of his khaki pants.
You study him for a moment as the conversation lulls, finding something endlessly fascinating about the boy; the way he could swing from being so cocky and self assured to shy and awkward makes your stomach do summersaults. Turning your head, you spot your group of friends still dancing and you look back at Michael with a little sigh as another upbeat song blasts loudly through the pub.
“D’you wanna get out of here?” You ask, smirking when he looks up at you shyly.
“W-What?”
“My dorm’s only, like, a minute from here,” you flirt, sweet and enticing as you make him blush somehow more, “We could go somewhere more… quiet?”
He stares at you for a moment, shocked that you’re asking him of all people to come back to yours before he nods and nervously runs a hand through his wheat colored hair, unsuccessfully trying to act casual. “Yeah, yeah, I can do that.”
“Yay!” You giggle happily, flirtatiously grabbing one of his hands as you saunter past him, heading for the exit, “C’mon, it’s like a five minute walk!” He nods wordlessly and you can’t help but smirk as he follows you like a lost little puppy.
True to your word, it’s only a few minutes later when you and Michael reach your dorm room, after you’d stopped for a minute at the entrance to your hall to chat with Farleigh, who seemed very interested in the nerdy boy following at your heels. You just couldn’t wipe the smirk off your face as you and Michael left him standing at the doors, mouth open and a wicked little gleam in his eyes; no doubt, he’d immediately scurried off to the King’s Arms.
The door to your room opens with a tiny squeak, blasted old building, and you all but prance inside, turning back to the blond boy still lingering in the doorway with a smile.
“Am I going to have to invite you in like a vampire?” You joke with a little laugh as you bend down to quickly undo the buckles of your heels, letting out a relieved sigh when you finally step out of them, leaving you in frilly white ankle socks.
Michael finally steps into your room with a huffed laugh and quickly kicks off his shoes, you smirk when you see his Star Wars themed socks. “‘M no vampire, love,” he quips, gold framed eyes darting around your room as he looks over every detail. You grin at the little blush on his cheeks and perch on the edge of your bed to watch him, head tilted ever so slightly.
“It’s, uh, it’s cute in here,” he observes, his voice a low hum as he takes in your frilly, lacy curtains, plush white rug, and equally girlish floral bedding, all encased in the faint pink glow of the heart-shaped fairy lights strung up around the room, “Just like how I imagined…” He breathes, so lowly you doubt he meant to say that bit aloud.
“Like you imagined?” You echo with a little giggle, quickly reapplying your lip gloss before setting the little tube on the corner of your desk.
“I just… I – It’s just very… you, is all I meant,” he stutters, running a hand through his hair awkwardly, the apples of his cheeks flushed a dark pink.
His awkwardness is so endearing, you can’t help but grin. The more time you spend with him, the more interesting he seems to become; this bumbling, nervous boy is so different from the one you’ve seen on campus so many times. On campus, he’s comfortable, quiet still, but with a definite air of confidence – clearly in his element as he prowls through bookshelves in the library or explains some complex math formula in the quad.
“So, you think about me often, then?” Your voice stays sweet, innocent almost, though you can’t help but tease him; he’s so pretty when he blushes.
“No!” He answers quickly, whipping his head toward you from where he’d been studying the various pictures tacked up on the walls, everything from boy band posters to stills from Clueless and Legally Blonde. “I mean, yes, sometimes, I…,” he fumbles again and pushes his glasses up his sharp nose, “I think about you a normal amount.” He says finally, glancing at you quickly before looking away.
You hum softly and stand before walking toward him with a kind smile, though you don’t miss the way he keeps glancing down at your cleavage, or the way his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat when he swallows nervously.
“A normal amount?”
“Mhm,” he nods, gaze unsure as you come to stand in front of him, teeth biting into your plush lower lip as you twirl a piece of hair through your fingers, “As much as I think of anyone else.”
“So…,” you breathe, drawing out the word as you reach up and fiddle with the collar of his button down shirt, the turquoise gingham a bright blue blip among all the blush tones of your room, “Every time I’ve caught you looking at my tits in the library or in the quad or in the hallways… that was just a normal amount?”
You giggle as his eyes go wide, his lips opening and closing like a fish out of water. Deciding to take mercy on him, you run a finger down his chest, playfully fiddling with the buttons on his shirt.
“Relax, I’m not mad,” you shake your head, smiling when the tension in his shoulders visibly eases, “Why wouldn’t I want a cutie like you staring?”
His lips part at that as he sucks in a little breath, blue eyes widening behind his glasses. “You think I’m… cute?” He asks breathlessly, heart pounding under your fingertip.
Your teeth sink into your bottom lip once more as you nod, cocking your head to the side just slightly as you peer up at him. “‘Course I do, honey, what’s not to like?”
Again, he gawks at you, blinking in shock and swallowing nervously.
“I –”
“I do have one question though…,” you tease, pouting a bit as you slowly and carefully undo the very top button on his shirt, relishing the way his breath hitches in his throat.
“Y-Yeah?” His voice breaks, making you giggle while he blushes somehow deeper.
“Mhm,” you nod, undoing the second button and pausing when you find a splash of hair across his chest, the same shiny wheat color as the hair on his head, causing a familiar knot to begin twisting itself up in your belly, “Why were you at the end of term party?”
He blinks for a second, evidently taken off guard. “I… W-Was it invite only?”
His question nearly makes you snort and you shake your head, the corners of your lips twitching as you try not to laugh. “No, sweetie,” you peer up at him through your lashes as you rest your hand against his bare chest, smirking ever so slightly when he shivers, “I just meant, I haven’t seen you at parties before… doesn’t really seem like your kind of thing.”
“I, well,” he stammers, the bottoms of his glasses fogging up from the heat radiating off his cheeks, “I just –”
“It’s for that club, yeah?” You ask finally, giggling at the shocked expression on his face.
“How do –”
“You lot are not nearly as sneaky as you think,” you laugh cheekily, bouncing excitedly on the balls of your feet, “Plus, I heard Felix and Oliver whispering about something to do with tasks a few weeks ago… and boys are very bad at keeping secrets once you get their cocks out.” You add with a little giggle, taking Michael’s hand once more and dragging him over to your plush bed. You sit him on the edge before all but climbing in his lap, smiling cheekily as you straddle his thighs, your knees digging into your soft bedding.
“So,” you start, holding onto his shoulders to balance yourself and smiling a little when he finally touches you, lightly resting his hands on your hips, “What’s your task, hm? I heard they made them, like, particularly brutal this year.”
“I don’t think I should say,” Michael murmurs with a little shake of his head, making you pout.
“Oh, come on!” You bounce on his lap a little, not missing the way his eyes seem to be drawn to your breasts like magnets, “I want to help! Is it something at the King’s Arms?”
“N-No, I really don’t think –”
“I know they keep the important rugby trophies there,” you think aloud, still playing dumb, just wanting him to say it, “Is that it? D’you have to steal one? One of the boys that works there owes me, I could get him to let you in after hours…” You prattle on, speaking faster and faster as Michael shakes his head beneath you.
Finally, he seems to reach a breaking point and his grip on your hips tightens. “I have to fuck you!” He blurts out before sighing.
“Oh, really?”
“I… I have to fuck you –”
“Mhm?”
“And prove I did somehow.”
“How interesting!”
He narrows his eyes at that and peers up at you suspiciously, studying you carefully. You can’t help but giggle, loving the way you feel when his eyes are on you, and you smirk when he finally blinks in realization.
“You… you knew this whole time, didn’t you?”
A sly smile spreads across your lips as you nod, squirming excitedly on his lap. “Like I said,” you chuckle with a little shrug, “Not. Sneaky!” You tease, punctuating each word with a little boop to the tip of his nose, unable to resist.
He stays silent for a moment, gazing up at you with a strange mixture of awe and unease before he finally speaks through a deep sigh. “So, I suppose this is the part where you tell me to leave?”
Well, that comment throws you off. You cock your head to the side, confused, as your eyebrows furrow together. “Why would I ask you to leave?”
He sighs again and grits his teeth, looking dejectedly at the floor. “Come on, love,” he mutters, looking anywhere but you, “I-It’s not like you’d ever want to –”
“Ever want to what?” You ask with a frown, gently grabbing at his chin and tilting his head up, forcing him to meet your gaze, “You think I don’t wanna fuck you, honey?”
“Well, I –”
“Michael,” you say pointedly, raising your brows as you smirk slightly, staring deeply into his blue eyes, “I’m the one that came onto you, yeah?”
“I… I suppose.”
“Mhm,” you hum, nodding your head as you run your fingers through his short hair, not missing the little sigh that leaves his lips when you push yourself closer to him, your chest pressing tightly against his, “And while I’m not thrilled at our first time being for some stupid little task –”
“It’s,” he cuts you off shyly, shaking his head ever so slightly, “It’s – I’ve never…” He stammers, nervously gripping at your waist once more.
You can’t help but smile softly, so charmed by him over and over. You nod your head knowingly, raising your brows just a bit. “I know, honey,” you whisper reassuringly, “We don’t have to, I’ll let you take a pair of my panties or whatever else, but we don’t need to do anything.”
He sighs up at you again, so taken with you he feels like he could scream, and shakes his head more, grabbing at your hips tighter, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. “N-No, I… I want to,” he nods, swallowing anxiously, “I do, I just… don’t really know what I’m doing.”
You nod again, listening carefully as he speaks. “So, is it all new or…?”
He shakes his head and smiles a little, shyly, though the sight of it still makes that knot in your belly tighten further, making you blush on his lap while butterflies swirl around inside you. “I’ve kissed before,” he says lowly, chuckling awkwardly as he seems to get bolder, causing you to shudder when he lightly rubs his hands over your waist and hips, “And done… hand stuff.”
You giggle at his boyish explanation and bite your lip when you smile at him, wiggling in his lap as a heat begins to settle at the apex of your thighs. “Can I kiss you, honey?”
His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat again, making you want so badly to press soft, glossy kisses to it, but you resist, determined to make this good for him.
“Yeah,” he nods eagerly, blue eyes fixated on your lips.
You smile softly before leaning in and finally pressing your lips against his, both of you sighing at once. One of his hands stays at your hip while the other comes to rest in the small of your back, pressing you more tightly to him as your lips move together, his motions surprisingly fluid and practiced.
You make a small noise in the back of your throat when you feel his tongue licking at your bottom lip, and eagerly allow him access with a little sigh. Your fingers busy themselves with unbuttoning the rest of his shirt, making him shudder beneath you when you skim your hands over his bare chest and stomach as his tongue flows with your own, the bitter, coffee-ish flavor of the pint he’d had earlier still on his tongue.
Impatient, you pull back long enough to look at him for reassurance, smiling when you earn a little nod. You kiss him once more before tugging his shirt off, flushing when he groans lowly as you trail kisses down over his jaw and neck before swiping your tongue greedily over his Adam’s apple, making his breath hitch.
“F-Fuck,” he sighs brokenly, bolding tracing over your thigh until his fingers are tucked up under the silky, baby pink material of your dress. His touches make you shiver as goosebumps bloom over your skin, making you whine against the pale column of his throat, “Can I?” He breathes, fingers toying with a strap of your dress while the others slowly inched the bottom of it up higher and higher.
“God, please,” you mewl, nodding against his throat, your head on his shoulder. He shudders at the feel of your breath on his neck and nods once before tugging at the bottom of your dress. You sit up to help him, whining when you feel his hard length pressing against your thin, lacy underwear, “You don’t need to ask, Michael. Want you to take me however you want.” You whisper as he tugs your dress over your head, blue eyes meeting yours for a second as he nods before they skim lower, widening as he takes you in on his lap wearing only a bra and panties.
“Holy shit,” he breathes, making you giggle shyly as you lean in and softly kiss over his cheeks, “You have…you’re – you’re perfect,” he sighs, brazenly cupping your breasts, skimming his thumbs over your nipples through the thin pink fabric of your bra and smiling proudly when he feels them harden at his touch, “You’re perfect, but these are… holy shit.” He repeats, his voice breathy and mesmerized as he takes in your chest for another moment while you softly card your fingers through his golden hair.
You gasp through a little giggle when you feel his length twitch, even through his trousers, and wiggle on his lap, blushing when the movement earns you a broken groan. “Yeah?” You whisper cheekily, watching as he marvels at your chest for a second longer before quickly unclasping your bra and shrugging out of it, tossing it down onto the floor with his shirt and your dress, “What about now?” You tease, proudly arching your back as you bite your lip.
He groans again, louder than he has all evening, and instantly ducks his head down. The feel of his soft lips wrapping eagerly around one of your nipples makes you cry out, gasping sharply as he sucks at the sensitive bud before he runs his tongue over it. You cradle the back of his head in your hands, fingers lightly pulling at the short strands of hair, as he switches from one breast to the other, kneading whichever one is free with his hand.
Needing something, anything, you finally pull him off of your chest after a few moments, laughing when he all but whines, and smiling even more when you take in his disheveled appearance – blond hair sticking up at odd angles from where you’d run your fingers through it, cheeks flushed as his glasses sit crooked on his nose, and his blue eyes staring up at you hungrily.
You shift back on his thighs just enough to snake a hand between the two of you and he gasps when you cup the bulge pressing against the zipper of his khakis. “You want me to suck your cock?” You ask cheekily, lightly squeezing at his length.
He surprises you by shaking his head no,gulping slightly with an awkward laugh before answering. “I do, I really fucking do, love,” he breathes, kneading at your breasts as he stares up at you sheepishly, “B-But I really want to last and if you… if you suck it, I –”
“Okay, okay,” you stop him with a kiss, “We’ll table it for next time.”
“N-Next time?” He questions, fighting to keep his eyes open as you press kisses against his neck once more. You nod against his shoulder and press kisses up to just beneath his ear.
“I’m not letting you go that easy, honey,” you whisper, chuckling when he shivers. You spend another moment softly kissing and biting at his neck before speaking again, “Have you ever eaten anyone out?” You question, pulling back to look at him.
He shakes his head, his eyes flicking between both of yours as he looks up at you. “No.” He answers simply, his voice hardly a whisper.
You can’t help but smirk coyly and cock your head to the side, running a finger through the little patch of hair on his chest just to see him shudder. “You wanna try it?”
He nods eagerly and surprises you once again by quickly swinging you around, maneuvering you until your head rests on the pillows of your bed. You squeal at the movement, laughing with him as he settles over you, his narrow hips slotting easily between your thighs as you silently marvel at his unexpected strength, the shock of it going right between your legs.
“You want me to lick your pussy?” He asks lowly, grinning when he sees your eyes widen ever so slightly.
“You’re quite something, huh?” You breathe, still gazing up at him in surprise.
“Observant,” he shrugs, smirking as he sits up, kneeling between your legs, “You aren’t the only one who is, love.” He teases, quickly undoing his belt and trousers and groaning as he pushes them down his thighs, stopping at his knees.
Your eyes go wide at the size of his length, it’s clearly very impressive and it’s not even out of his plaid boxers yet. That smirk stays plastered on his face as he leans back down to hover over you, hastily removing his glasses and sitting them on your desk before sloppily kissing you for a moment, surprising you yet again by trailing wet kisses down your neck.
“Michael…” You sigh dreamily, arching your back toward him when he starts kissing over your chest. He groans from deep in his chest, mouth pressed against the fat of your breast.
“Fucking hell,” he curses, teasing your nipple again with the tip of his tongue, “Say it again, love.”
His simple command sends shivers down your spine and you mewl, squirming underneath him, “M-Michael!” You moan again, fumbling over your words as he sucks at your breast again before he lifts his head.
“Good girl,” he purrs with a sly, easy smirk that makes your heart jump, a soft sigh tumbling past your lips. He shifts further down the bed, kissing down over your ribs and stomach, his confidence seemingly growing every time he presses his lips against your skin; the thought makes your head spin.
Finally, he hooks his fingers into the lacy sides of your panties, and his eyes peer up at you as he tugs them down over your hips before flinging them onto the floor. “Oh, my God…,” he sighs, staring greedily at your pussy, a broken groan sounds from his throat when you spread your legs more.
You bite your lip and giggle, smiling shyly as you tangle your fingers in his hair once more. “Like what you see?”
He nods his head rapidly, making you chuckle again as he stares up at you, an almost pained expression on his face. “I… uh, w-what now?”
He’s so endearing, you can’t help the little sigh that leaves you and you sit up a little, leaning back on an elbow as you use your other hand to spread your center open. You bite your bottom lip once more when he whines a little, seeing you all spread out before him, flushed folds already slick and shiny.
“Lick here, honey,” you whimper as you skim your fingers over your clit, so keyed up from only a few kisses that you gasp a little when you feel yourself clench; Michael looks like he may pass out.
Ever the dutiful student, he gives you one last look before diving in. Your head falls back with a whiny gasp as his tongue snakes over your clit, just as you’d instructed. A long, shuddery moan leaves him, vibrating against your cunt and you watch as his blue eyes all but roll back in his head.
“Just like that, Michael,” you praise, tugging at his hair ever so slightly, which only serves to make him moan more. Your chest heaves as you watch him, determined not to let your eyes squeeze shut while he licks and kisses and sucks at your pussy like a man possessed, “Holy shit!” You whimper loudly when he pushes his tongue into you, groaning lowly when he feels your walls clench around it as he presses his nose perfectly against your clit.
“You taste so good,” he gasps, wrapping his hands around your thighs to keep you exactly where he wants. He peers up at you through blond lashes as he feasts on you, sucking eagerly at your clit and savoring the way you shiver and squirm from his motions.
Unbelievably, you already feel that warm, familiar tug in your belly beginning to grow, making your whole body feel flush and taut. “Just like that, just like that,” you whine urgently, grabbing onto his hair tighter and guiding his mouth exactly where you need it, your eyes finally rolling back and fluttering shut, “Holy fuck, don’t stop!”
Michael grunts as you tug at his hair, his own hips rutting greedily against your pretty bedding — cock throbbing so hard there’s no doubt he’s leaked through his boxers. He watches you carefully, studying your movements and reactions as best he can while he rhythmically licks at your clit.
“Oh, shit!” You cry not even a moment later, your whole body seeming to stutter as your muscles finally relax. You mewl as your high finally washes over you, savoring the way Michael groans into your cunt as he feels it contracting on his tongue. Your eyes stay squeezed shut as shivers roll up and down your spine, shuddered cries leaving your lips.
Just as his touches begin to border on overstimulation, you have enough wherewithal to push him away, and he releases your center with a lewd little pop.
“Was that good?” He asks through a breathless laugh, swallowing as he looks up at you, evidence of your arousal still shining on his lips and chin.
“Good?” You huff, eyebrows raised as you gaze down at him, “You’re sure you’ve never done that before?” You question in disbelief, chest still heaving.
He smiles shyly, already pink cheeks seeming to flush deeper from your praise as he chuckles. You cup his cheeks when he leans over you again, whimpering as you taste yourself on his tongue.
“You’re unbelievable.” You sign as he kisses down your neck again, making him chuckle against your skin.
“Just observant,” he grunts, shuddering when you wrap your legs around his trim waist. You gasp as his length brushes over your still sensitive pussy, impossibly hot and hard even through the thin fabric of his boxers. His fragmented sigh makes you smile and you tug his head up, blushing as you look up at him.
“You ready, honey?” You breathe, giggling when he nods his head again eagerly, his hips stuttering instinctually against your center. “Here, let me…” You trail off, the two of you separating for a moment as you lean over and pull open the top drawer of your desk, pulling out a pack of condoms and tearing one off before laying back down.
You watch enraptured as he kneels between your legs again, pulling down his boxers finally. “Holy…” you gasp when his cock finally bobs free, twitching up to rut against his lower stomach; he’s long and thick, curving a little as veins run up the underside, leading to a flushed, leaking head. He smiles shyly again at your attention as he shuffles awkwardly out of his trousers and underwear, kicking them off and onto the floor.
You hand him the condom and watch as he rolls it on, giving him a little reassuring smile as he does. Once it’s securely in place, you pull him back to you, eagerly kissing him once more and wrapping your legs securely around his waist. Both of you moan in unison when his length glides through your folds, the head catching perfectly on your clit.
He pulls away with a little gasp, hovering over you as he glances down at your hips. “S-So, I just…” He trails off, watching as you reach down with one hand, grunting softly when you wrap your hand around his cock.
Carefully, you position him at your entrance and angle your hips a little. “Go on, honey,” you encourage with a soft smile, running your other hand over his chest.
Nodding once, he presses forward and swears he sees God. “F-Fucking hell,” he groans, loudly sighing your name as he carefully guides himself into you, absolutely in awe at the way your hot cunt grips him. His eyes squeeze shut, his hips resting firmly against yours as his chest heaves, breaths coming in short, sharp pants.
You aren’t fairing much better, head spinning at the way he splits you open, pressing incessantly at each and every sensitive spot within you. You pant against his neck as he stills, pressed deeply within you.
“D-Do… fuck, do I just…?” Michael stutters, giving half-hearted little thrusts to test the waters.
“Yes!” You answer instantly, anxiously nodding up at him as your hips wiggle against the bedsheets, making him swear and shudder above you, “Just move, honey, do what feels good.”
He groans again and gives a little nod before experimentally moving his hips again, pulling out more this time before pushing back in. “Shit,” he breathes above you, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he grunts with each roll of his hips.
You pant underneath him, spurring him on by pressing your feet against his backside, urging him to move faster and faster as the frilly lace from your socks tickles his pale skin. “You’re doing so, so good, oh, my God,” you breathe, your voice high-pitched and whimpery as you tangle your fingers in his hair again, knowing by now that it drives him crazy.
Above you, Michael’s hips slowly but surely begin to stutter, his thrusts starting to peter out as his breathing picks up. “I’m —!”
“Wait!” You blurt suddenly, smiling wickedly as he comes to a screeching halt, pushing himself up enough to stare down at you with wild eyes, “I have an idea…” You tease with a little giggle.
“W-What?”
“You have a phone, yeah?”
“…Yeah?”
“One that can, like, take video?”
“Yes?”
“Grab it,” you laugh, pushing him off of you with a laugh. He rolls his eyes with a smirk but does as you ask, clumsily pulling himself from your heat before stumbling over to where his khakis had landed. He shuffles about for a second before pulling a silver phone from the pocket of his trousers.
“Now what?” He asks curiously, positioning himself back between your thighs, cock twitching meanly.
“Film me.”
“What?!” He gapes at you, brows creased.
“Film me, honey,” you giggle, biting your lip conspiratorially, “For your little task, you need proof, yeah?”
“Well, yeah, b-but I can just take your panties or something, I don’t —“
“Or you could bring back something better…” You smirk, shrugging your shoulders playfully, “We don’t have to but… it could be kinda hot?”
He pauses for a moment, eyes flicking between you, your pussy, and the phone in his hand before he nods once, curtly. “We… we can try it.”
“Yeah? You wanna?”
“Yeah,” he quips, catching you by surprise as a mean little smirk spreads over his lips, “Wanna see the look on Catton’s face when he sees you creaming on my cock.”
Your eyes widen and you huff out a shocked laugh, a zing of electricity lighting behind your eyes. “You’re insane,” you say softly, an endeared smile on your lips.
He snickers, his whole demeanor seeming to change before your eyes as he transforms from this shy, stuttering boy into an astonishingly cocky man. “You like it, love,” he teases, grabbing his dick and positioning himself at your entrance yet again.
“Wait!” You giggle again, blushing as he groans.
“You don’t want to anymore?”
“No, no, not that,” you assure him, affectionately running your hand down one of his shockingly muscular arms, “You can film me… on one condition.”
“‘N what would that be?”
“Take me on a date.” You breathe, suddenly shy. You know he’ll agree to it, but even still, your heart pumps wildly in your chest.
He stares at you for a second, blinking dumbly as he processes your request. “You want me to take you on a date?” He asks, flushing so deeply that the soft pink hue cascades all the way down to his chest.
Giggling, you nod your head, giving his forearm a reassuring squeeze. “You need to start giving yourself more credit, honey.”
He sighs at that, a little astounded huff, before he’s suddenly grabbing at your calves and pushing your legs up toward your shoulders, all but bending you in half, anxious to get his cock back into you. You gasp at the movement, and chuckle at his eagerness, a sound that morphs into a whiny moan when he slides back home.
“Christ,” he grunts, shoulders heaving as he gets used to the way you feel around him once more, “Y-You feel so good, love, fucking perfect.”
“You’re so big,” you whine, nodding as you look at him like he hung the stars in the sky, “You’re so good, Michael, you have no idea.”
He groans above you, hands shaking as he grabs for his phone, flipping it open and quickly opening the camera as his hips rut into you, making the springs of your bed creak softly.
As soon as Michael gives you a little nod to let you know he’s filming, you truly put on a show — or well, you at least stop trying to quiet yourself down and be conscientious of the people in the rooms next to you. The way he has your legs bent back makes him feel somehow bigger and causes his cock to hit that sensitive spot within you with pinpoint accuracy every time he thrusts in, making you clench around him and moan loudly each time he moves his hips against you.
You watch as he angles the camera down a bit, no doubt pointing it at the spot the two of you are joined together, letting the camera record his cock sliding in and out of you. When he moves it back up, however, to get your face as evidence, you plaster on the cheekiest grin you can muster.
“H-Hi boys,” you tease breathlessly, smirking as you lean up on one elbow. You wave with your other hand before blowing a kiss to the camera, which makes Michael cockily laugh.
“Fuck, I gotta…” he mutters after a few more seconds, carelessly dropping his phone down on the bed before roughly grabbing at your thighs with a bruising grip, one that makes you mewl and arch your back toward him. The two of you moan and whimper in unison as he begins thrusting wildly, seemingly too worked up to care about anything but cumming.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You chant over and over, head spinning as he bullies your sweet spot.
“That’s it, love,” Michael murmurs, his voice gruff and low as he stares down at you, strands of his hair sticking to his forehead; he looks wilder than you’ve ever seen him, the thought only serving to push you closer and closer to the edge. “S-Shit, that’s it. Fucking come for me, cream on my cock; please, please, please,” he murmurs, leaning down to press desperate kisses against your neck and collarbones.
The new position causes his pubic bone to rub deliciously over your clit, making you seize beneath him with a loud whine. Your toes curl, heels still pressing into the small of his back. “M-Michael, holy fuck!” You practically squeal as your high finally washes over you once more, stars dancing behind your eyelids as you go lax and pliant underneath him.
The feel of your walls pulsing around his cock has Michael reeling, his hips somehow thrusting even faster as he both desperately wants to cum while also never wanting this feeling to end. “C-Cum, honey, cum,” you pant softly, cupping his cheek with one hand and turning his face toward yours.
That does him in and the rubber band in his belly viciously snaps, making him shudder above you as his thrusts come to a halt, cock twitching wildly inside you as he empties himself into the condom. You watch him in awe, taking in every detail from the way his nose scrunches up as his eyes squeeze close to the way he whispers your name over and over like a prayer.
The two of you lay in silence for a moment, his breath warm against your neck as he slumps against you trying to catch his breath.
Eventually, you can’t help it anymore and let out a breathless giggle, which only intensifies when he props himself up on an elbow to peer down at you with a smirk.
“Something funny?”
“Just,” you breathe, trying to calm yourself enough to get words out, “Just… wow,” you finally say, giggles petering out as you look up at him, the soft gleam in his eyes makes your heart clench in your chest.
“Good wow?” He blushes, looking down between the two of you as he pulls himself from your walls with a little hiss.
“Very, very good wow,” you confirm, grinning as you watch him pull off the condom before he peers up at you with a sheepish grin. “Tie it off, honey,” you instruct, smirking as he does just that, before nodding to the little wastebasket by your desk.
He gets up with a groan and quickly tosses the condom in the trash before turning back to you, the bashful look on his face making you blush.
Unable to resist, you grin at him and spread your arms with a giggle, wordlessly inviting him for a cuddle, which he gladly accepts. The bed creaks slightly as he lays back down, relaxing his head on the pillow just beside yours. Again, the two of you stay silent for a moment, content to merely gaze at one another, before he shyly looks away and sighs.
“I…,” he starts, blue eyes blinking and flitting around your room as he gathers his thoughts, “Thank you,” he finally says, looking back at you with a little half smile.
Your brows furrow at this as you grin at him. “What’re you thanking me for?”
“Well, f-for… this,” he says, gesturing vaguely at the two of you before sitting up just slightly and fishing around in the blankets for a second. “And this,” he sighs, holding his phone up before twisting around to set it on the corner of your desk, turning back to you. “I just… I know you didn’t have to, is all, so…”
You cock your head to the side as you prop yourself up on an elbow, eyes narrowing as you study him closely. “And people have the nerve to say I’m thick,” you joke, lips spreading into a wide grin as you gaze down at him, “I wanted to do all this, Michael. I’m the one that came onto you, remember?”
“W-Well, yeah, but —“
“No buts!” You laugh, pressing a finger against his lips as you shake your head, “I have eyes too, you know.”
“What does that mean?”
“You haven’t been the only one watching someone for months,” you giggle shyly, pressing your forehead against his, “I meant what I said about that date, too.”
His arms wind around your waist, holding you tight as he processes your words with a dumbstruck smile, blushing under your gaze. “Whatever you say, love,” he concedes finally, pressing his lips against yours sweetly.
He yawns tiredly when he pulls away from you after a moment, which only makes you yawn as well, and you glance over at the little clock on your dresser. “Christ,” you gasp, turning back to him, “I didn’t realize it’s already almost four… you can crash here, if you want?”
He considers it for a moment, knowing he has to be back in that stupid little basement by noon and making a mental map of where exactly your dormitory is in relation to the Merton College Chapel. “I… I can stay, yeah,” he finally nods after a moment.
“You’re sure?”
“Love, I’m not sure my legs work well enough yet to walk out of here anyway.”
Michael
Groaning, Michael slowly blinks his eyes open, rubbing them softly as he sits up in bed with a yawn. Blindly reaching over for his glasses, he’s confused when he doesn’t feel them in their usual spot and finally opens his eyes properly.
He stares, confused for a moment as to how exactly he somehow got transported into what appears to be Barbie’s damn dream house, before the events of last night come flooding back to him.
“Holy shit,” he breathes when he turns his head and sees your still-sleeping form beneath your flowery sheets, your hair tousled wildly on the pillow as your shoulders rise and fall evenly still with each breath. Looking around, he finally spots his glasses and puts them on before reaching for his phone, and cursing again when he sees the time.
11:47 AM.
He practically falls out of your bed as he tries to extricate himself from the sheets, and he hears you wake with a start behind him as he grabs wildly at his clothes on the floor.
“Michael?” You ask questioningly, your voice still hoarse from sleep as you, frankly fucking adorably, rub at your eyes before fixing him with a curious look.
“Gotta, shit, gotta run,” he explains quickly, cursing as he nearly loses his balance trying to tug his trousers on, “Need to be at Merton Chapel in, like, Christ, ten minutes!”
“Ohh,” you giggle softly, watching with amusement as he finishes getting dressed, hair and clothes so disheveled that he’s sure he looks like the very definition of the walk of shame.
Just as he’s tugging his shoes on and making a mad dash for the door, you stop him. “Here,” you smirk, holding out the same lacy pair of pink panties you wore last night, “For proof,” you explain, nodding to the phone in his hand, “Along with that. Should be more than enough,” you giggle proudly.
He smiled sheepishly as he pockets your underwear. “T-Thanks,” he nods, turning to leave before you stop him once more.
He can’t help but blush when you lean in and press and quick kiss to his lips, your cherry chapstick rubbing off on him some. Pulling away, you playfully smack his chest with a little grin. “Go get ‘em, honey.”
Nodding, he smiles again before finally pulling your door open and bounding down the hallway. “I’ll text you, love!” He calls, peering back just before he rounds a corner, “About that date!”
It’s 11:58 on the dot when he flings the basement door open, only to be pulled over to the same stupid dank basement wall, his back hitting it once more with a dull thud.
Glancing around, he sees the ski-masked boys again, all fifteen of them, standing in a row with the head boy slightly out of line. To his left stands one of the other initiates, clutching a black tube of some sort.
The basement stays silent for a moment before one of the masked boy’s watch alarms goes off just as the bells in the tower begin to chime.
Once, twice, all the way up to twelve. Noon.
Right on cue, the head boy steps forward even more and looks between Michael and the other initiate. “Your friend couldn’t be bothered to show his face, then?” He asks, dark eyes peering at the boy next to Michael.
He scoffs and shakes his head, glaring at the head boy. “He’s still at the bank!” He snaps, “All the way in bloody Switzerland,” he kicks at the dirty stone floor as he explains, “Dickhead,” he finally mutters lowly under his breath.
“Shame,” the head boy quips, clasping his hands in front of his waist, “Some men are simply not cut out for Bullingdon.”
The boys in the row behind him nod knowingly, each making some little noise of affirmation until the head boy quickly stops them, holding a fist up by his head, bringing it back down to his side when they shut up.
“So, initiates, what’ve you got?”
The boy next to Michael steps forward first and hands the black tube to the head boy with a sigh. “There,” he says, gesturing to it, “There’s your bloody map. My mum could get sacked for that.”
The head boy pops open one end of the tube, a document sleeve Michael now realizes, and gingerly extracts a rolled up piece of parchment from it, unrolling it just enough to confirm it's what they asked for.
“Well done, initiate,” he nods, seemingly impressed as he flashes a smile at the boy, white teeth gleaming creepily through the slit in his ski mask. Carefully, he rolls the document up again before sliding it back in the tube, “Your commitment to Bullingdon will take you far. Welcome to the fray.”
The boy stands still for a moment, eyeing the document tube with an almost regretful expression before curtly nodding and taking his place back against the wall.
“And then there was one,” the head boy murmurs, dark faze fixed on Michael, “I seem to remember we gave you quite the… interesting task indeed, initiate. How did you manage?”
Smiling damn near arrogantly, Michael all but skips up the head boy and proudly pulls your panties from his back pocket, letting them dangle from his index finger. “See for yourself.”
The head boy grabs them by the edge and studies them for a moment, turning back to the row of boys behind him with a questioning glance. The boy Michael knows already to be that cunt, Oliver Quick, glances between him, the panties, and Michael, before cutting a sideways glance to a tall boy standing next to him.
“These could be anyone’s,” the head boy says, turning back to Michael as he shakes his head, “You could’ve nicked them from your sister or something, we’ll need more than this, initiate.”
“Don’t even have a sister,” Michael quips, shrugging his shoulders with a little frown.
“Okay, like, your cousin or something then –”
“Don’t have a female cousin,” he says with a shake of his head, “All boys.”
“The point still stands!” The head boy finally snaps, making Michael bite the inside of his cheek to hide a little laugh, though the corner of his lips still quirks up in a smirk, “You haven’t got any proof, do you? Is that why you’re stalling?”
Huffing a little laugh, Michael finally lets himself smirk meanly and steps closer to the head boy as he pulls his phone from his pocket, flips it open, and navigates to his video gallery. “Is this enough proof?” He teases, pressing play on the most recent video.
The picture is small and grainy but there’s no doubt as to what’s happening as the sound of your pretty whimpers and moans echoes around the brick basement, along with the wet smack of Michael’s cock driving into you again and again.
The head boy stares at the screen still as curiosity gets to a few of the boys in the row behind him and they all come crowd around Michael’s phone, eyes widening behind their ski masks and mouths falling open.
The tallest one, the one Oliver keeps glancing at, lets out a long sigh as he peers down at the small screen and brings a hand up to his head as if he were going to run it through his hair before remembering the mask he has on. With him this close, Michael finally notices the little silver barbell stuck through his eyebrow and shivers as his lips curl up into a sadistic Cheshire cat smile, a tidal wave of savage pride crashing through his system.
Finally, fucking finally, I get something he wants, he thinks as your breathy moans continue to pour from the speaker of his phone, tinny and muffled in some spots where he’d accidentally covered the microphone, but beautiful, beautiful and because of him.
After a moment, the video ends, the tiny phone screen reverting back to it’s little thumbnail as the head boy peers up at Michael, the rest of the club members taking their places back in line, though he can’t help but notice that Felix’s broad shoulders are slumped now and Oliver stands ever closer to him, like some kind of fucked up bodyguard.
“I’ll be damned, initiate,” the head boy sighs with a shake of his head, “I really didn’t think you had it in you.”
He watches as Michael merely nods and pockets his phone again, holding it tightly in his fist even still. After a second, he smiles widely and claps a hand on his shoulder, shaking him slightly.
“Welcome to Bullingdon.”
Some time later, Michael finally exits the basement, a few of the club members, sans ski masks now, nodding goodbye to him as they disperse across campus, meeting adjourned.
He wasn’t really sure what he’d been expecting from the initial meeting but it was mostly them prattling on about where exactly they had all their grubby little fingers, poked in seemingly every facet of society from Parliament to local newspapers.
Braggy cunts, Michael thinks as he ambles outside, glancing up at the sky as he steps into the Mob Quad, surrounded by stony old buildings.
Smiling to himself, he pulls out his phone and quickly finds your number in his contacts list, blushing when he sees you’ve taken the liberty of adding some girly heart emoticon next to it. He hardly has time to press it against his ear before you answer.
“Well?” You demand with that now familiar giggle, some unfamiliar pop song playing in the background.
“I’m in,” he confirms, nodding to himself as he slowly walks in the direction of his dormitory, “Thanks to you.” He smiles like an idiot when you laugh.
“Don’t sell yourself short, honey,” you tease, he can picture your bright, glossy smile in his head, “You earned that spot.”
Michael merely shakes his head with a happy little sigh. “So,” he starts, clearing his throat and pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “About that date… I was thinking the King’s Arms? Tonight at six, if that works?”
“Oooh, tonight at six,” you repeat teasingly, an image flashing in his mind of you twirling your hair around a perfectly manicured finger, “Someone’s quite eager, hm?”
“Can you blame me?”
“Hmm, I suppose not,” you giggle, pausing for a second, “It’s a date then.”
“Fantastic,” Michael sighs, trying with every fiber of his being to sound casual and cool about the whole thing, even as his heart threatens to beat out of his chest.
“See you tonight, Mr. Bullingdon,” you tease, making a little kissy sound into the phone before hanging up.
Michael pauses for a moment, standing to the side on the pavement as he nods to himself. If it weren’t so fucking cheesy, he’d raise his fist in the air, victorious, à la Judd Nelson at the end of The Breakfast Club.
Instead, he flips his phone back open and navigates back to your video. Sighing, he stares at the little thumbnail for a second before deleting it, pocketing his phone once more, and continuing back to his dormitory.
He has the real thing now.
taggled lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @wickedfrsgrl @echos-muses @imawhorecrux @avidreader73 @marvelescape @rae-11 @ms-morningstarr @chaotic-fangirl-blog @grsveeth0m @twglitching @hb8301 @delulumhaggy @burntliquorlips @fan-goddess @cl-0-vr @kittendoll05 @beautbuck @eponaartemisa @trshngyn @brettlovessuckingcocks @alerisc @moonriseoverkyoto @wolfdressedinlace @do-double-g @kennafild
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#michael gavey#michael gavey fanfiction#michael gavey fanfic#michael gavey smut#michael gavey x reader#michael gavey x you#michael gavey x y/n#michael gavey x bimbo!reader#bimbo!reader#bimbocore#saltburn#saltburn fanfiction#saltburn fanfic#saltburn fic#saltburn smut#michael gavey fic#ewan nation#ewanverse#emerald fennell#ewan mitchell#my writing
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all mine | l.n
summary: friends with benefits situations are all fun and games until someone starts catching feelings.
warnings: language, sexual themes, fluff, kinda fwb!au, college student!reader, idk this kinda sucks
masterlist | listen
₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊
the two of you had been up for an hour or so, way before the sun had started to rise and shine in through the windows of his bedroom. the same sun that lit up the boy in front of you so perfectly that he almost looked angelic. the way his eyes shone in the lighting, the mix of blue and green suddenly entrancing you as he hovered over you.
your hands came up to run through his messy curls. you smiled softly at the fact that the soft tangles were your doing, beings your hands were just buried in his hair a few moments prior. then, your mind wandered and thought how you could live the rest of your life contently if it meant you would be waking up next to him every morning.
he moved his head to the crook of your neck, placing kisses along the skin as you tilted your head to give him more access to the area. yeah, you could get used to this every morning.
you knew he’d never think the same way, especially when you were the one who made it very clear that it was a no strings attached situation. he’d never feel the same way because even you weren’t supposed to feel this way.
however, as he moved to rest his chin on your chest so he could look up at you, it was all you could think about. and he could tell the gears in your head were turning when your smiled softly faded, eyes still locked on his.
he cocked his head to the side, an eyebrow slightly raised as he looked over your facial features, “you okay?”
you blinked, nodding and smiling softly, shaking your head in efforts to get the thoughts to dissipate, “hmm? yeah, sorry, just kind of zoned out for a second.”
he knew you better than that, shifting as he moved to lay next to you, head resting on his palm, “i know that look, you’ve got something on your mind. sure you don’t want to talk?”
it wasn’t fair. he was so kind, gentle, caring, all of it. and you couldn’t even call him yours.
you nodded, “yeah. thanks, though.”
he hummed, reaching over and grabbing his phone from the nightstand. you held a mental debate with yourself on if you should stay and bask in the warmth and comfort of not only the boy next to you, but the way too comfortable bed you were laying in.
“wanna make breakfast, or go get something or whatever?”
mind made up: go before you slowly start entering the hole you were slowly but surely digging for yourself.
you threw the comfort off your body, wincing slightly at the cold air around you. god, this is so hard. it shouldn’t be this hard.
“‘m gonna go, actually,” you said, grabbing your clothes from last night off the floor, shoving some things back in the overnight bag you happily packed after classes yesterday, “‘ve got some homework.”
he tried to mask his frown, knowing he shouldn’t be upset about the fact that you didn’t want to stay. you probably shouldn’t anyway, but he really wanted you to.
there was nothing lando loved more in the world than you and your company. was it worth breaking the agreement? worth losing a friend and someone he could talk to? maybe, maybe not. he knew what he wanted, and it was you. however, he couldn’t quite put a finger on what you wanted.
he had even wondered if he was the one you’d think about at night when you couldn’t sleep, staring up at the ceiling. because you were the one he’d always manage to think about. it was always you.
you were slipping on your shoes when he came back to reality, “i’ll drive you home.”
you nodded, watching as he got up from the bed and grabbed the hoodie that sat on the floor. the same one he wore last night, the one you were desperately pulling him closer by after a few episodes of the show the two of you had started last week.
he tugged on a pair of sneakers, grabbing his phone and wallet before leading you through his house. you trailed behind him, really not wanting to go back to the house you shared with your roommates, but you had to. if you stayed here any longer, every single line you both had made clear a few months prior would be crossed. a friendship would be jeopardized.
simply, the thought of ruining everything wasn’t worth it. was it?
he grabbed the keys to the mclaren sitting in his driveway, “do you have everything?”
you patted the pocket on your hoodie, feeling your phone and taking a glimpse inside your bag, “looks like it.”
he nodded as the two of you walked out of the house. he opened the door for you, just like always did, closing it behind you. he climbed in on the drivers side, starting the engine.
“you sure you’re not hungry or anything? don’t want a coffee or a tea?”
you looked over at the boy next to you, smiling softly and shaking your head, “‘m okay, thanks though.”
he nodded, pulling out of the driveway and handing you his phone to play music. you started playing the playlist you had made on his spotify account, a mixture of both of your favorite songs.
however, the music you were playing wasn’t even being paid attention to as you both were in deep thought the whole drive. both thinking about the other and how you both desperately wished things could be different. how you were both feeling the same way towards each other, just the other was too scared to admit it first.
he pulled up in front of the house, a soft sigh leaving your lips. partially out of relief because you were home and you could work on the work you’d been stressing about all week, but partially out of disappointment.
“want me to walk you up?”
you grabbed your bag, shaking your head, “no, ‘s okay,” you smiled softly, “thanks for, erm…”
you trailed off when your eyes met his. he laughed, noticing the slight blush rising to your cheeks, “don’t have to thank me.”
you nodded, “right, sorry.”
“don’t have to apologize either,” he smiled, “i’ll uhm… see you later?”
you nodded, desperately wanting to lean over and kiss his cheek, like you normally would’ve. but you knew if you did, you would eventually start kissing his lips and you’d never stop.
“yeah, i’ll see you later.”
you opened the door, climbing out and shutting the door before walking up to the house. he watched you make your way up to the door, fishing for your keys in the mess of the bag. you put the key in and turned around, sending him a small wave.
he waved back, pulling away once you walked inside the house and shut the door. you let out a breath, leaning against the wood for support and running a hand over your face. after giving yourself a second, you made your way into the living room.
“oh my god,“ the brunette, sarah, said with a teasing smile, “you’re able to walk after a night at lando’s? what a miracle.”
you flipped her off, causing the blonde, ashley, to snort from her place on the couch. you hung your bag on the barstool, sitting down and grabbing the bowl of cereal from sarah.
“oh, yeah, sure,” she mumbled, throwing her hands up in the air, “i wasn’t eating that.”
you gave her a look, shoving a spoonful of cereal in your mouth.
“you’re awfully quiet,” ashley said, entering the kitchen now as she stood at the coffee maker, “you alright?”
you were silent for a minute, both your roommates looking at you with concerned looks before you spoke up, “i don’t know.”
they both had the same expression, eyebrows raised, “what do you mean?”
you dropped your head onto your arm as you groaned. the two girls looked at each other confused before ashley questioned you, “y/n? what’s going on?”
“i like him.” you said sitting up.
sarah rolled her eyes, pulling the bowl of cereal back towards her, “well, yeah, tell us something we don’t know.”
“no, i mean,” you huffed, “i like like him.”
“okay,” ashley said into her coffee cup, “and what about that?”
“i can’t!”
“what do you mean you ‘can’t like him’?” sarah said, mouthful of cereal.
“i can’t like him because if i like him, it’ll be breaking the rules. and he’ll never like me back because of ‘em,” you said, “i wish i never came up with them in the first place.”
sarah snorted, “hold on,“ placing the spoon in the now empty bowl, “you think he doesn’t like you back?”
“i don’t just think, i know.”
ashley looked over at sarah and the two girls snickered. you gave them confusing looks.
“what? what’s so funny?”
“y/n, i love you,” ashley said, “but you’re an idiot.”
“it’s a good thing you’re really pretty because you’re completely oblivious.” sarah agreed. you sent them both confusing looks.
“what’re you talking about?”
“y/n, come on!” ashley laughed, “open your eyes! this man doesn’t like you, he’s in love with you.”
you gave them blank stares before you shook your head, “no, there’s absolutely no way-“
“think about it,” sarah said, “would he show up and bring you flowers every time you two go out? would he stop by and bring you a coffee, or a tea, or something to eat, which he’s literally memorized the orders for by the way, every time you’re studying? he knows you well enough to know that if you’re focused hard enough, you forget to eat and that you can’t study without some form of caffeine.”
“plus, the way he looks at you,” ashley added, “his face literally lights up every time you enter the room.“
you felt your heart go to your throat, but you somehow managed a croaked out response, “you think?”
“please,” ashley said, “we know. plus, ‘ve asked him.”
you and sarah looked at the blonde, a simultaneous, “you what?” slipping from your mouths.
ashley shrugged, raising her hands in mock defense, “i just wanted to know!”
“what did he say?”
“when did you ask?”
she put her coffee mug down, “it was the other night, he was watching you two laugh and dance at that stupid, lame ass party we went to. he was literally watching you the way they do in movies when they love someone,” she said, “so i asked him, ‘do you like her?’ and he nodded and kind of blushed a little bit before he was like, ‘maybe a bit more than that’.”
“oh my god,” sarah said, looking over at you. you sat there in shock for a minute before looking at your friends.
“what do i do? what do i say?” you asked the two girls looking at you.
“just talk to him, tell him how you feel,” ashley said, “it’s not like anything could go wrong, you already know how he feels.”
she had a point.
₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊
it was evening now, the sun setting through your curtains as you sat at your desk. you hummed along to the music playing through your headphones, scribbling down the rest of the notes you needed for this week.
you tilted your neck to the side, trying to fight through the aching pain in your muscles as you had sat at your desk all day. the music got quieter for a second before a soft ping rang through your headphones.
lando
how’s schoolwork going?
you smiled softly, clicking on the notification before typing back a response.
pretty good, actually. kind of wish i had taken a break to go out to get dinner with the girls.
you went back to your textbook before the woosh came through this time, another text popping up in the messages between the two of you.
have you not eaten today?
you looked at the clock, 8:30pm. well, shit…
guess i was too wrapped up to realize 😅
the bubble appeared on his side of the conversation, another sound playing through after he sent his message.
fancy some dinner company, then?
you smiled again, and if your feet weren’t tucked under your legs, you were sure you’d be probably be kicking them. god, he had you whipped.
as long as you bring something good.
he was quick to respond this time.
be there soon.
and he was a man to his word, showing up to your house almost forty minutes later. he had texted you that he was pulling up so you could open the door for him. once you opened the door, you smiled at the boy who stood with a bag of food in his hand.
“hey,” he smiled back at you. you stepped aside to let him in.
“hey,” you said, the two of you making your way to the kitchen as he set the bag down on the island, “whatcha get?”
you tried peeking in the bag but he pulled it away from you before you could look. you looked up at him as he sent you a teasing smile.
“close your eyes.”
“lando-“
“just close your eyes,” he chuckled back. you huffed, a soft smile on your face nonetheless as you closed your eyes. he pulled the takeout container, placing it in front of you before he fished out his.
“okay, open.”
you glanced down at the counter and your smile got wider. your favorite dish from your favorite restaurant sitting in front of you. your eyes met his as he smiled at you.
“you went all the way across town?”
“yeah,” he shrugged, popping open the lid to his dinner, “that’s what took me so long. sorry about that, by the way.”
you shook your head, “it’s okay,” you said, opening your own container, “i just… thank you.”
you smiled up at him and he swore he’d do the drive a hundred times if it meant you got to look at him like that.
“don’t have to thank me.” he said for the second time that day.
the two of you ate and made some comfortable conversation. most of them being jokes and the other giggling at them. he followed you up the stairs to your room after, the door closing behind him.
you sat down at your desk as he plopped onto your bed, “how much do you have left?”
you hummed, skimming through your notes and checking the check list on your computer, “another page or so,” you glanced over at him, softly wincing from the pain in your neck, which didn’t go unnoticed by him.
“your neck sore?”
you nodded, digging your fingers in the muscle to try to relieve the pain, “yeah, guess that means i’ve been sitting here too long.”
he got up from his spot before coming up behind you, his hands brushing yours to the side as he dug his finger tips into the aching muscles. you let out a soft sigh, letting him rub away the soreness, “god, that feels good.”
he smiled softly, “‘s it helping?”
you nodded, “yeah, actually.”
he continued for a couple seconds before you turned around to look at him in your chair. you searched his eyes as you tried to read them, but you got too distracted by the color of them to fully assess. he smiled softly down at you, raising an eyebrow slightly.
“what?” he asked, a chuckle following after.
“do you think about that night?” your mouth was moving before your brain could filter it, “the night we made that agreement?”
he shrugged, sitting back down on the bed now, “i mean, kind of, but not all the time.”
“do you regret it?”
he furrowed his eyebrows at you, “why would i regret it?”
you looked down at your hands, “because i do,” his heart dropped, but you immediately snapped your head up, “not like that! not like that at all. god, that’s not the way it was supposed to sound coming out of my mouth.”
you took a deep breath, his facial features becoming unreadable, “then how did you mean it?”
“i mean, i regret giving us these stupid rules,” you said, “like the one where it’s supposed to be ‘no feelings involved’, that sort of thing.”
he sent you a questioning look, his heart skipping a beat with hope, hope that you’d feel the same way, “why?”
“because i may have broken that rule.”
he searched your eyes, immediately his heart jumping up to his throat.
“so did i,” he said.
you smiled at each other from your seats before he was pulling you towards him, mumbling a soft, ‘c’mere,”
you straddled his thighs, wrapping your arms around his neck as one of his grabbed your waist while the other cupped your cheek. he leaned forward and kissed you softly, your hands finding the curls on the back of his neck.
he was the one to deepen the kiss, his tongue licking at your bottom lip before sucking and nibbling on it softly, knowing exactly how to make you weak. and it was working as you found yourself softly moaning into his mouth. he moved his hand from your hip to your ass, grabbing at it playfully causing you to giggle.
you broke the kiss, “i already knew how you felt, i just wanted to hear you say it.”
he sent you a look, silently asking how you would’ve known before his eyes widened. you laughed softly as he rolled his eyes.
“fucking ashley,” he mumbled against your lips.
no one could wipe the smile off his face even if they tried. you kissed him passionately, pushing back on his chest as he laid back onto the mattress and brought you with him. you hovered over him as you bent down, kissing him again. his hands found their place on your hips yet again, you absentmindedly moving against his hips gently.
he hummed contently against your lips, fingers moving under the hoodie you were wearing, a different one than the one you had on earlier, “is this mine?”
he brushed a piece of hair behind your ear as you bit back a smile, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip, “maybe..”
he laughed, shaking his head as he pulled at the bottom hem, helping you out of it, “you look better in it anyway.”
#lando norris#lando norris fluff#lando norris imagine#lando norris x reader#lando norris x reader fluff#lando norris x reader imagine#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 x y/n#formula 1 imagine#mclaren formula 1#mclaren#ln4 x reader#ln4#ln4 imagine#ln4 fluff
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Text
Country Club Rivalry
PATRICK ZWEIG X CHILDHOOD FRIEND READER (some Art x reader)
NOTES : GOD, how I tried to make this an Art x Reader because I'm an Art GIRLIE, but Pat just had to come out on top for this one, truly…"
WARNINGS — 18 + content mdni, fem!reader, not proofread
wc: 5.3k
description:
When three friends work at the same country club, things are bound to get messy—especially when they have a bet about who can win over the reader first.
The Oakridge Country Club was bustling with its usual summer energy. Guests lounged by the pool, chatting under the striped umbrellas, while golf carts zipped along the winding paths. The sun blazed overhead, casting sharp shadows on the clay tennis courts where Patrick and Art were finishing their morning lessons.
You stood at the server station near the patio, jotting down drink orders on your notepad. It wasn't your first summer at the country club, but you still enjoyed the easy rhythm of the job—the way the breeze rustled through the trees, the laughter of kids playing by the pool, and the familiar faces of the regulars.
Patrick waved at you from across the tennis courts, his hair tousled from teaching. He was grinning like he always did when he'd just finished a good session. Art stood beside him, spinning his racket in his hand, looking relaxed and effortlessly charming.
"Hey, how's your section?" Patrick called, jogging over with Art trailing behind. He was wearing his usual tennis gear, white shirt, and shorts, with a blue visor to keep the sun out of his eyes.
"Pretty good," you replied, glancing at your notepad. "Mrs. Anderson is on her third mimosa, so I'm expecting a big tip."
Art laughed. "Better watch out, she's got a mean backhand when she's tipsy. I saw her smack a golf ball into the pond last week. Her caddie still hasn't recovered."
Patrick chuckled, shaking his head. "Classic Mrs. Anderson. Did you know she was a tennis champion back in the day? She could probably still give us a run for our money."
Art leaned in, lowering his voice. "Speaking of giving people a run for their money, I heard you've been racking up the tips lately. What's your secret?"
You shrugged with a playful smile. "Just being nice to people, Art. You should try it sometime."
Patrick laughed and nudged Art's shoulder. "Yeah, Art, maybe if you focused less on flirting with every guest and more on your job, you'd make some tips, too."
Art feigned shock. "Me? Flirting? I don't know what you're talking about." He turned to you with a charming grin. "Do you think I'm a flirt?"
You raised an eyebrow. "A little, but that's your thing, right? I mean, it's not like you're betting on who can get the most milfs phone numbers or anything." Clearly sarcastic.
Patrick shot Art a look, then quickly turned to you with a smile. "Yeah, nothing like that. We just... like to keep things interesting."
Art nodded, but you noticed a brief flicker of guilt in his eyes. It was subtle, but it made you wonder if there was more to their competition than met the eye.
"Well, whatever it is, just don't bring any drama into my section, okay?" you said, playfully tapping your notepad against Art's chest. "I've got enough to deal with without you two causing trouble."
Patrick raised his hands in mock surrender. "No drama, I promise. We'll be on our best behavior."
Art winked. "Scout's honor."
You rolled your eyes but couldn't help but smile. Despite the teasing and the occasional competitive streak, you knew they meant well. It was just another summer at the country club, where the days were long, the sun was hot, and anything could happen.
Anything.
---
The Club had settled into its evening rhythm by the time you reached the bar. Fairy lights twinkled overhead, casting soft glimmers on the stone patio. The air was warm and fragrant with the scent of blooming jasmine and freshly cut grass. A live band played classic rock covers, the gentle strum of guitars mingling with the murmur of patrons relaxing after a day of golf and tennis.
Patrick was at a corner table, nursing a glass of whiskey on the rocks. He looked up from his phone and waved you over, a broad smile lighting up his face. He'd changed out of his tennis instructor uniform into a casual blue polo and jeans, his hair still damp from a quick shower.
"Hey, there you are!" he said, using his foot to pull out a chair for you. "I was starting to think you forgot about me."
You shook your head with a grin. "Please, I could hear your bad jokes all the way from the kitchen. Had to come and see what was so funny."
Patrick laughed, setting his phone aside. "You know I'm hilarious. You just pretend not to appreciate my sense of humor."
You took a seat and glanced around. The bar was lively but not overcrowded. A group of older couples was playing cards at a nearby table, and a few teenagers from the tennis program were playing darts in the corner. It felt like the perfect end to a busy day.
"So, what are we drinking tonight?" Patrick asked, gesturing to the menu. "I've got whiskey, but I hear the margaritas are pretty good."
You considered for a moment. "Let's go with the margaritas. I need something fruity after today."
Patrick flagged down the bartender, who quickly mixed up a pitcher of margaritas with a generous splash of tequila. He poured you a glass and handed it over with a mock bow. "Your drink, my liege. May it bring you all the fruitiness you desire."
You raised your glass with a chuckle. "Thank you, William,” you turn towards the brunet “To Patrick, who somehow managed not to break any tennis rackets today. It's a new record!"
Patrick clinked his whiskey against your glass. "And to you, for not spilling any drinks on Mrs. Anderson. She's still mad about last summer's 'mimosa incident.'"
You rolled your eyes, remembering the time you accidentally spilled a tray of drinks on Mrs. Anderson's white dress during a particularly hectic brunch. "Don't remind me. I had to run for cover like I was in a war zone. I thought she’d have my head.”
Patrick laughed, the sound warm and familiar. "You should've seen her face. It was like you'd ruined her entire day. But hey, at least you got to keep your job."
As the two of you shared stories and relived old memories, the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm orange glow across the patio. The band transitioned to a slower song, adding a mellow vibe to the evening.
Art arrived a little later, his tennis gear replaced by a button-down snap back and jeans. He had a confident stride and a smile that seemed to draw attention wherever he went. He slid into the seat next to you, his presence bringing a shift in the energy at the table.
"What's up, party people?" he said, his voice smooth and inviting. "I hope you saved some margaritas for me."
Patrick handed him a glass. "Of course, wouldn't want our little Arty to feel left out.” He added leaning into Art smirking. “What took you so long anyways, Shelly needed some one-on-one time to work on her underhand? Or what. ”
You smirked. "You really think He’s that charming, huh?” she turns towards Art looking into his eyes “What’s your secret hmm? Is it the cologne?"
Art leaned in with a grin. "It's all about confidence. And maybe a little bit of cologne. But mostly confidence."
Patrick rolled his eyes. "Right, because confidence is what you exude. You should've seen Art on the tennis court today. He was so confident he almost hit a kid with a tennis ball."
Art raised an eyebrow. "Almost. That's the key word. No harm, no foul."
The banter continued, the three of you falling into an easy rhythm. Art's charm contrasted with Patrick's laid-back, cheeky style, and you found yourself enjoying the playful back-and-forth.
As the evening progressed, you noticed Patrick watching Art with a hint of unease. It was subtle, like a flicker in his eyes whenever Art made you laugh a little too hard or leaned in a little too close.
---
"All right, we're here. Try not to break anything, okay? Last time you were here, my mom couldn't find her favorite vase for a week."
Art smirked, stepping inside. "That wasn't my fault! How was I supposed to know it was on top of the fridge? Who puts a vase on the fridge, anyway?"
Art dropped his bag in his Patrick’s room and looked around. The place had an eclectic charm—walls lined with tennis trophies, faded concert posters, and family photos. A stack of video games sat beside the TV.
Patrick led the way into the kitchen, grabbing a couple of beers from the fridge. He tossed one to Art, who caught it with ease. "So, what are you in the mood for? I was thinking pizza, but we can order something else if you're not into it."
Art popped open the bear and took a sip. "Pizza sounds good. Just no anchovies, okay? That stuff is nasty."
Patrick laughed, opening his own soda. "You're missing out, man. Anchovies are a delicacy." He grabbed the phone and dialed the pizza place, ordering a large with pepperoni and sausage. "There, something a bit more your speed. Happy now?"
Art nodded, leaning against the counter. "Yeah, that'll work. So, you ready for tomorrow? Two-on-two is serious business. We can't afford to slack off."
Patrick waved a hand dismissively. "Please, I'm always ready. Besides, we've got the advantage. I mean, have you seen the other teams? Half of them can't even hit a backhand."
Art chuckled. "You're so modest, Patrick. What would you do without me to keep you humble?"
Patrick shrugged with a grin. "Probably win more matches.”
Art threw a punch at Patrick's shoulder, and Patrick pretended to wince. They both laughed, the kind of easy camaraderie that came from years of friendship and shared jokes. But there was also a subtle tension in the air, like they were both aware of the unspoken rivalry that had been growing between them.
"So," Patrick said, leaning back against the kitchen island, biting his lip "you and […] seemed pretty chummy tonight. What's the story there? You trying to make a move, or what?" The familiar smirk making its way to his face.
Art raised an eyebrow, his expression guarded. "We're just talking. Nothing wrong with getting to know someone, right?" He finished wetting his lips.
Patrick smirked. "Sure, nothing wrong with that.” He shrugged. “But you're not just getting to know her. You're flirting, and we both know it." He took a couple steps forward “Basically eye fucking her, to be honest” He only smiled.
Art shrugged, trying to play it cool. "Oh, come on Pat, maybe, She's just fun to be around, you know. No need to be gross." Art gave him a wry smile. "You know me. I just go with the flow. If she likes hanging out with me, who am I to complain?"
Patrick leaned in, lowering his voice. "Or maybe, you think she's interested in you. Is that what this is about? You think you've got a shot?" His eyes scanning arts face.
Art met his gaze, his expression calm but with a hint of challenge. "I don't know, man. Maybe I do. What does it matter to you huh? You think you've got the inside track because you've known her longer?"
Patrick grinned, his eyes glinting with mischief. "I mean, it doesn't hurt. We've got a lot of history. I'm charming, good-looking, and I've got the best jokes. What's not to like?" he goes back to lean on the counter. “Besides, I’ve seen the real her, all of it, kinda gives me a little advantage don’t you think.”
Art halts, stops chewing his gum, straitening himself up. “What’s that supposed to mean Patrick.”
“Exactly what it you think.” He kissed his teeth, kicking off the counter and going back to looking inside the fridge.
Art chuckled, but there was a hint of envy in his laugh. "Well, if you're so confident, maybe we should make it interesting. How about a little bet? See who can win her over first?"
Patrick waved his hand dismissively. "Little Arty wants a bet he’ll lose?” He chuckles. “No games. Just a simple bet. May the best man win."
Art held out his hand, and Patrick shook it with a grin. The bet was sealed, but there was an underlying seriousness in Art's eyes. As they waited for the pizza, the two friends continued their banter, but there was a new edge to their jokes—like the stakes had just gotten a little higher.
---
A week after their doubles match, the annual Oakridge Country Club gala was in full swing, the ballroom bustling with elegantly dressed members and guests. The chandeliers sparkled overhead, casting warm light onto the neatly set tables, while smooth jazz played in the background. You stood near the entrance, surveying the glamorous crowd, your fitted dress drawing approving glances from a few partygoers.
Art was the first to spot you, leaning against a wall with a cocktail in hand, chatting up club regulars. He was dressed in a sharp suit, but he carried himself with a boyish charm. His grin was wide as he motioned for you to come over, his eyes moving from your head to your heels in a way that felt like a visual undressing.
"Wow," he said, raising his glass, "you clean up nice. I was expecting you to show up in your waiter outfit or something. I'm glad you went with the dress, though. Much more... appealing."
You gave him a playful smirk, stepping up to the bar. "Thanks, Art. I do my best to impress." You glanced at his drink. "Are you trying to get a head start on the partying? We haven't even hit the dance floor yet."
He took a sip, his gaze lingering on your lips. "Hey, I like to loosen up a bit before the main event. Keeps things interesting. Besides, you can't blame a guy for wanting to enjoy himself, right? You gonna help me enjoy my night and keep me company?"
Patrick, who was laughing with a group nearby, walked over just in time to catch Art’s comment. He gave Art a look of mild disapproval, then turned to you with a sly smile.
"Don't listen to him. He's just trying to get you alone so he can talk your ear off about his latest tennis game.” Patrick shrugged, looking at Art with a smirk. "So boring. I was thinking we could have some real fun; you know? A little adventure never hurt anyone." He leaned closer, his voice barely audible over the music. "Besides, I know all the best spots around here. Private spots. You'd love it."
Art shook his head, clearly not amused. "Come on, Patrick. We're here to enjoy the gala, not to sneak off like we're in high school. Why don't we all just enjoy the party and see what happens?"
Patrick grinned, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Sure, sure. Whatever you say, Art. But if you change your mind,” he turn towards her. “You know where to find me. I'll be the one having a good time." He turned to you with a suggestive wink while walking backwards to god knows where.
Art rolled his eyes, then smiled at you in a more relaxed manner. "Sorry about him, he’s not really allowed to leave the house. He's a good guy, but he doesn't always know when to tone it down. If you want, I can keep him from getting too out of hand. I wouldn't want him to scare you off." He says mocking Patrick as he walked away.
You laugh full heartedly glancing at Patrick, who was already chatting with a couple of other guests, his flirtatious demeanor on full display. " Thanks so for watching out for me. It can get a little overwhelming with him around." You continued smiling.
Art nodded smiling, his expression kind. " I was thinking we could get some food, maybe hit the dance floor. What do you think?" Art suggested, leading the way. "I'm sure Patrick will join us once he's done charming the entire room."
Patrick shot Art a mischievous look but didn't follow immediately. You could tell he was reveling in the attention, his flirtatious behavior attracting more than a few curious glances from the other guests.
The band switched to a slow, romantic melody, and Art extended his hand to you with a charming smile. "Care to dance?" he asked, his eyes warm and inviting.
You nodded, accepting his offer, and he led you onto the dance floor. His touch was gentle yet confident as he pulled you close, swaying to the music with practiced ease.
As you danced with Art, you felt yourself relaxing into his embrace. His presence was comforting, his movements smooth and graceful. You couldn't help but smile as you looked up at him, feeling a somewhat new sense of closeness.
Halfway through the song, Patrick appeared out of nowhere, a cocky grin on his lips. "Mind if I cut in?" he asked, his eyes twinkling with excitement.
Before you could respond, he swept you away from Art, taking you into his arms with a boldness that made you some type of way. His touch was hot, his body pressed close to yours as he guided you across the dance floor.
"So, you replacing your best friend with that ginger?" he asked, his voice low and suggestive. "Boring you to tears yet?" He raised a brow.
You laughed, unable to resist his playfulness. "Hmm maybe. He's actually a great dancer, unlike some people."
Patrick smirked, pulling you even closer. "Yeah, but can he do this?" With a sudden flourish, he spun you around, his movements fluid and confident. "Do I need to remind you why I’m better.” He paused.
“How, I’m better.”
You chuckled rolling your eyes, enjoying the thrill of dancing with Patrick. He was unpredictable, to say the least, his smile contagious. But as much as you were drawn to him, you couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for leaving Art behind.
Patrick reached into his breast pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and offering you one with a sly grin. "Care for a smoke?" he asked, lighting his own with practiced ease.
You just shook your head with hesitant smile. “I really shouldn’t, Pat. You know I’m trying to quit.”
He looks you up and down with a seductive look.
“We’ve all got our guilty pleasures, darling.”
As the song came to an end, Patrick took your hand, leading you away from the dance floor and out onto the club’s private beach. The cool breeze off the ocean felt refreshing against your skin, and the sound of the waves crashing against the shore was soothing.
You hesitated for a moment, then accepted the offer, taking the cigarette from him and inhaling deeply. The nicotine hit you like a rush of adrenaline, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of exhilaration as you exhaled a cloud of smoke into the night air.
"So, what do you think?" Patrick asked, his eyes searching yours. "Having fun yet?"
You nodded, feeling a sense of liberation wash over you. "Yeah, I am. Thanks for... you know, stealing me away." You added motioning to the cigarette.
Patrick grinned, leaning in closer. "Anytime, sweetheart. Just say the word, and I'll whisk you away to paradise."
You laughed, feeling a flutter of excitement in your chest.
Patrick decided to sit down in the sand, his cigarette glowing in the darkness as he exhaled a cloud of smoke. You sat beside him, savoring the familiar scent of his cologne.
He took a long drag from his cigarette, then shot you a sidelong glance. "You know, I was just thinking about that first summer at tennis camp," he said, his voice low and playful. "I mean, it's where it all started, right? Just a couple of kids swinging rackets and making trouble."
You smiled at the memory. "Yeah, it's crazy to think about how much has changed since then. Who would've thought you'd actually make it big in tennis? Meanwhile, I could barely keep the ball on the court."
Patrick laughed, a warm, hearty sound that cut through the night air. "Yeah, well, I guess I had a little more motivation to stick with it. You were off climbing trees and playing in the woods, and I was stuck with a bunch of coaches yelling at me to hit harder."
"Hey," you replied with a smirk, "it's not like I was useless. I remember showing you all the best spots to hide when you wanted to skip practice."
Patrick nodded, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, I remember. You were the queen of avoiding responsibility. If it weren't for you, I'd probably have become a strait-laced tennis prodigy. Instead, you dragged me into the wilderness to make forts and find weird bugs."
You both chuckled, reminiscing about those lazy summer days when tennis camp was more of a suggestion than a requirement. But then Patrick's expression turned sly, and he leaned in a bit closer.
"Speaking of weird things from our past," he said, his voice dripping with playful insinuation, he nudged you. "You remember that bet we made? The one about if we were both green by the time you turned 16, we'd, you know, be each other's first?"
Your face grew warm at the memory. It had been a silly bet between two best friends who figured they'd never find anyone else in their small circle. But the fact that you followed through with it made it more than just a joke.
"Yeah," you replied, pretending to be nonchalant, "I remember, Pat we’re not that old. It was a dumb bet, but I guess we kept our word, didn't we?"
Patrick nodded, a cheeky grin spreading across his lips. "We sure did. And you know, I wasn't expecting it to be so... memorable. I thought we'd just laugh about it later, but it was kind of nice. You know, like a rite of passage or something."
You laughed, trying to deflect his innuendo. "A rite of passage? Yeah, right. More like a hilarious disaster. I mean, you had no idea what you were doing."
Patrick raised an eyebrow, his grin growing wider. "Oh, come on, it wasn't that bad. Besides, you were just as clueless. At least I managed to keep my cool, mostly."
You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't help but smile at his cockiness. "Mostly, huh? If I remember correctly, you tripped over your own shoes and nearly fell face first."
Patrick groaned, but his eyes sparkled with amusement. "Okay, maybe I was a little clumsy. But you have to admit, it was an experience neither of us will forget. And hey, we did it together. That's gotta count for something, right?"
You nodded, feeling a mix of nostalgia and fondness. "Yeah, it does. I'm just glad it didn't ruin our friendship. It could've been awkward, but it wasn't."
Patrick leaned in, his gaze locking with yours. "Of course it wasn't. We were best friends. We still are. And besides, even if it was a bit awkward, it was worth it. You know, just to say we did it." He flicked the ash from his cigarette, then added with a wink, "And hey, I was your first. That's something not everyone can say."
You laughed, pushing him lightly on the shoulder. "Yeah, well, don't let it go to your head. You still have a long way to go before you become a pro. But if you need any advice on how to avoid tripping over your own shoes, I'm here for you."
Patrick grinned, taking a final drag from his cigarette before tossing it into the sand. " If you ever want to make another bet, I'm always up for it. " He Looks at you seductively, his eyes full of mischief. " I think if you were to give me another chance, you’d find that I’ve improved quite a bit. " He gives you his signature smirk.
You scan his face trying to find sincerity in his words, not sure how you’d feel if he was. “What are you trying to get at Patrick?”
“Nothing at all.” He raised his hands in a surrender, cigarette in mouth looking away. “I’m just saying, I feel like I deserve a redemption arc,” He takes his cigarette putting out in the sand. “I wasn’t the most…giving you can say.” He looks back at you, under his brows. “And I just want to show you that I’ve changed, for the better.” He offers a smile.
You just nod your head in fake agreement. “Uhh, how much have you had to drink tonight pat? Is it time to call you a cab?” You questioned with a week smile.
“Oh, shut up, I’m dead sober.” He said leaning in. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "Besides, what's life without a little adventure?"
You felt a shiver run down your spine at his touch. It was a simple gesture, but there was something in the way he did it that made your heart skip a beat. Patrick had always had a way of pushing boundaries, but tonight, he seemed more deliberate, more intent.
"Adventure?" you replied, your voice slightly breathless. "Are you planning something?"
Patrick's smile grew, his eyes locking with yours. "Maybe. But you know me—always full of surprises." He stepped closer, his hand resting lightly on your waist. "But I promise, it'll be a good one."
You felt a rush of heat at his touch, the closeness between you stirring something deep within. Patrick leaned in, his lips just inches from yours. "So, do you trust me?" he whispered, his breath warm against your skin.
You hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "No I don’t, Patrick, because I know you. Why? What are you up to?"
Patrick's gaze grew more intense, his eyes fixed on yours. "I just wanted to try something." He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, tentative kiss. It was gentle at first, a teasing touch that sent a jolt of electricity through you.
The kiss deepened, the heat between you building as Patrick pulled you closer. His hand slid around your waist, holding you firmly as he kissed you with a newfound intensity. The sound of the waves seemed to fade away, replaced by the pounding of your own heart.
Patrick's other hand cupped your cheek, his touch gentle yet assertive. His kiss was slow and deliberate, each movement a carefully orchestrated dance that left you breathless. As his lips moved against yours, you felt a rush of desire, a connection that seemed to transcend words.
When he finally pulled back, his eyes were dark with emotion. He looked at you, his lips slightly parted, as if he was trying to read your thoughts.
“Show me.” You said looking him deep in his eyes barley a millimetre away from his lips.
“Show you what darling?” He question with a smile gracing his lips
“How you’re better than Art.”
That’s not what he was expecting at all. Maybe a ‘show me how you’ve improved.’ But certainly not you using his own words against him, That’s for sure.
That didn’t stop Patrick's smile from getting bigger though, as he moved his hands all over you, bringing you in for another wet and sloppy kiss. He slowly laid you down into the sand using his teeth to slide up your dress around your waits.
He slowly kissed your stomach stopping at the hem of your thong. Moving it to the side, he slides one of his digits up and down your slit.
Looking up to you with a sly smile, he lets out a contented sigh. " Give me some of this sweet pussy."
With the excited flattening of his tongue, he dives right in, right there, on the beach.
Before you even having a chance to fully lay down, Patrick slides his arms beneath your legs and pulls you in.
As you begin to grind into him and yearn for more of his tongue, you play with one of your tits.
Suddenly too shy to look him in the eye, you reach down and tug on his hair. You can feel your cheeks getting hot with shame at how quickly you folded for him.
“Tongue fuck me, please, Pat. When did you get so good at this?”
he consumes you. his hands are playing with your ass and thighs. He kneads the skin and spreading you out.
He trust his tongue into your entrance and explores your pussy. Less than a minute later, your walls start to twitch around his tongue. He takes in all your cum. When he looks up back at you, he just gives you a sly smirk.
Patrick rolled onto his back beside you, his chest heaving slightly from the intensity of what just happened. You try to get your breathing back to normal when suddenly you let out a random laugh.
Patrick turned his head, raising an eyebrow. "What's so funny?" he asked, his voice low and smooth, but his face still wet from your essence.
You shrugged, trying to stifle your laughter. "I don't know, it just hit me—how did we end up here? One minute we're at the gala, and the next we're... well, doing this." You gestured at the beach, and your unruly appearance.
Patrick grinned, rolling onto his side to face you. "Maybe it's fate," he said, his voice soft and playful. "Or maybe it's just because I couldn't resist pulling you away for a little... private time." He winked, his cheeky grin only growing wider.
You rolled your eyes, but there was no denying the warmth that spread through your chest. "Or maybe it’s because you and Art have a weird little bet going on, and for some reason, I’m in the middle of it." you replied, a teasing edge to your tone.
Patrick frowns sitting up to look at you properly. " You know about that?" He’s confused.
You let out a chuckle. "Patrick, I’m not a dumbass, like i said, i know you. And i know Art, you guys have been total try hards for the last week, sure, you’re just a whore and will flirt with anything that has a vagina, but even Art was over doing it." You swatted at his shoulder, trying to hide your smile. "Patrick, seriously," you said, though your tone lacked any real reprimand. "You always push your luck, you know that? You leaned in a little closer, your eyes locking with his.
Patrick's grin softened, his eyes reflecting the moonlight. "Yeah, well, sometimes you need a little excitement," he replied, his hand resting on your hip, a gentle reminder of his presence. "And you can't deny that you like it when I take charge. Right?" His fingers traced a light pattern along your hipbone, his touch both playful and suggestive.
You sighed, the subtle tension between you becoming more palpable. "Maybe," you replied, your voice low and teasing. "But don't think I'll always let you get away with it. Sometimes, you need to earn it."
Patrick laughed, a deep, rich sound that seemed to carry on the breeze. "Oh, don't worry," he said, his eyes narrowing with that familiar mischievous look. "I'll work for it. You just let me know when you want me to turn on the charm." He leaned in again, his lips hovering near yours, the warmth of his breath a tantalizing invitation.
You closed the gap, letting his lips meet yours in a brief, soft kiss. It was playful but laced with an underlying intensity, a promise of more to come. When you pulled back, you saw the surprise in his eyes, followed by that trademark grin.
"Consider it a preview," you said, giving him a gentle nudge. "But don't get too cocky, or I’ll make sure you lose this bet."
------------------------
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#art donaldson fic#patrick zweig fic#patrick zweig x you#patrick zweig smut#patrick zweig x reader#patrick zweig#challengers fic#mike faist x reader#challengers#art donaldson x reader#josh o'connor#josh o'connor fic#x reader#wannab3-writer
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In my neverending quest to keep Pampérigouste from achieving her dreams, I have launched a formal investigation into her last escape, which I had no explanations for at the time.
I figured it out! At the far far end of her pasture, near the road, a few fence posts have become more or less horizontal (the ground is quite wet / muddy there so they've never been very stable, especially with Pirlouit using them to scratch his forehead)—so instead of a high jump + long jump combo to get to the road, Pampe just had to clear the long jump over the ditch. Which is still impressive.
I also suspect that she chose to escape from this place near the road on a snowy morning as a deliberate strategy, knowing the snow plough would erase any traces of her jump, thus preventing me from discovering where the weak spot in the fence was. Well done.
You need 2 people to fix these fence posts so in the meantime I decided to kill two birds with one stone: cut all the broom and thorny bushes in this corner of the pasture and use them to form a discouraging barrier. I set to work earlier this week, and here's the same place as above, mid-process:
When I texted my mum to tell her about my new thorn-based anti-Pampe plan of action, she said "Like the Maasai who make fences with thorny acacia branches to keep out lions!" and it made me feel even more confident. I mean, I have neither acacia nor Maasai fencing techniques but my thorny shrubs are pretty aggressive, they pricked my fingers even through my thick work gloves—which felt satisfying in an anticipatory way. Excellent! prick Pampe's nose exactly like this. How could a llama not be deterred by a fence material that deters apex predators?
Vexingly enough, she seemed quite supportive of my efforts. At one point she breathed some warm air against my shoulder in a gentle, patronising way.
We were engaged in psychological warfare all afternoon—every time I stepped away from my vegetal fence, feeling like it was now good enough, Pampe would immediately come to inspect it, cheerful and impatient, which sapped my confidence so I would go and add a few more shrubs. (Note that I sort of plaited the first / biggest shrubs with the pre-existing fence so they don't go flying on the road, and so Pampe can't just push them aside.)
On the right: Poldine, looking for little fresh leaves to eat amidst the chaos.
On the left: Pampérigouste, thinking.
(At this point the barrier was only 20% thorns, and 80% broom—the fact that she waded through it without a care and didn't prick her belly made me go and add more thorny shrubs, and pack them more densely)
It's kind of fun watching Pampe think, honestly. Can I jump over this? Do I have enough visibility? Can I eat my way to freedom (again)? But these shrubs are disgusting. Am I above exploiting my daughter's lack of culinary discernment to achieve my goals? Maybe I should go back to my calculations re: probability of wild boar destruction.
I may have pincushions for hands after handling prickly bushes for two hours but I'm helping stimulate my llama's intellect and creativity and that's so important.
I tried to alternate broom and thorny branches so that the non-thorny broom became tangled up with thorns and brambles to form an impenetrable and incomprehensible wall. I will call it this method the salmagundi-fence.
Poldine is in awe of my vegetal installation.
Can I just say, compared to Pampérigouste who constantly has a devilish glint in her eye, Pampelune's face exudes wholesome politeness and moral goodness. It's still hard to believe they're mother and daughter.
I went home once my fence started looking like Maleficent's forest of thorns and Pampe had long stopped trying to wade through it, but I still felt antsy and ended up coming back one hour later to have my apéritif with the llamas so I could keep an eye on Pampe until nightfall.
... where is Pampe?
Oh. Here. No worries!
Still staring at the road. Still thinking.
...
With all that said, please admire my beautifully delirious Forest of Thorns-fence and let me know what you think.
#crawling along#llama drama#(i am not sponsored by kindle i just had it balanced on my knee)#in the photo where pampe is patronisingly praising my efforts you can see a remnant of the police tape from the jungle fence saga!#i should remove it. She was not intimidated by police tape for very long#if ever at all#anyway i've started planting a few interesting shrubs along the road to form a living fence but it's a very slow process#i'm ages away from reaching this part of the pasture
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{Show Me Where It Hurts} Azriel x Reader x Xaden Riorson
Sooooooo I had a thought. And then this happened. That's all I'm gonna say. Just two shadow daddies doing unspeakable things. Title inspired by this song. Enjoy!
Word Count: 7,238
Warnings: ACOTAR x Fourth Wing, alcohol, smut, MMF, Oral (m and f receiving), DP, dom/sub vibes, use of the nickname "pet", bondage, shadow play, degrading, spanking, choking, spitting, unprotected sex.
Tagging: @needylilgal022 @librafairy @cyrygher @agent-anna @thelov3lybookworm @blessthepizzaman @bubybubsters
Summary: After a miserably failed night out, you decide to head to a local bar to drink away your sorrows. Two males, one of them being your Court Spy Master, the other a stranger, approached you.
~~~~~
“Are you kidding me?”
“I understand your frustration but-”
“My frustration?” I shouted, eyes wide. “What do you mean he did book a reservation?”
“There has been no reservation made under that name. I am truly sorry, Yn. But it looks like he may have… done it on purpose?”
“No,” I shook my head. I could not fathom being stood up let alone whatever this was. “No this cannot be right. I-I spoke with him this morning, he said that our table was reserved for tonight.” The hostess offered me a kind look as the realization slowly settled in my bones. “Oh my gods… he set me up.”
“If I were you,” the pretty Fae came around her stand and took my hands in hers. “I’d find a way to forget about that damned male. He clearly is undeserving of you or your kindness. I wouldn’t sweat it, a pretty one like you won’t go unnoticed for very long.”
I tried to smile, but a grimace was the best I could do. “I feel like such an idiot. Thank you for all your help…” I paused to look at the little tag on her black tunic. “Jasmina.”
“My deepest apologies, Yn,” Jasmina waved as I exited the restaurant and the bitter Velaris air nipped at my bare shoulders.
What a fucking lame excuse for a male. How dare he stand me up on a date? He was the one practically begging on his knees to ask me. I should’ve known better. Males like him do not like females like me.
In an attempt to not let the night–or the fierce outfit I put together-go to waste, I went a couple streets over to a tavern. It had a nice ambiance and a surplus of good liquor. The dark, rustic interior greeted me with a ploom of warm air and the scent of cheap ale and wine.
After hanging my coat on the rack at the front, I weaved through the rather crowded space to hopefully snag a stool at the bar. I was lucky enough to get one at the end, only one person to my left and the wall to my right.
I just sighed. What a shitty day. I had spent a few hours getting read, and for what? To be made a fool? To be embarrassed? I shouldn’t have to pay the consequences for something I didn’t have control over. I swear to the gods that if I ever see what’s-his-face again I’ll put my fist through it.
“Evening, milady,” the polished man behind the counter said. He had a thick beard and a mustache that curled up on the ends. He had a thick accent too, probably from somewhere in the hills. “Celebrating tonight?”
“More like mourning,” I huffed, bracing my chin on my palm.
“Terribly sorry for your loss,” his eyes softened.
“Oh,” I gave a chuckle. “No, not a death. I just came in from what was supposed to be a date. Turns out I was set up and he wasn’t going to be coming.”
The male scoffed. “The boldness from some of the males in this city.”
“Tell me about it.”
“What can I get for you?” He asked, wiping a few glasses down and setting them atop a stack.
I looked at the board behind him, the list of crafted beverages going on and on. “Maybe something sweet?”
“Do you like cherries? Passion fruit, pineapple maybe?”
“Cherries are wonderful,” I sat up a little straighter. “I honestly couldn’t care less about what alcohol is in it. You had me at cherries.”
The male smiled, “I shall put in an extra just for you, darling.”
“Thank you,” I smiled and watched him get to work.
The tavern was far more crowded than I expected for a weekday. There were more people than tables and chairs to accommodate them. Some even sitting on the tables. But the hum of voices and clinking glasses was the type of ambient sound that could put me right to sleep if I laid my head down.
I felt incredibly comfortable and safe here. Not that I didn’t other places in the city, but something about being here was… calming. People were enjoying themselves, and it was like I was the only person in here with a scowl on their face.
The crack of billiards had my head turning the other way as I saw a group huddled around a green velvet table with colored balls scattered around. I recognized one immediately as our High Lady. And right beside her was the High Lord.
“This is called a cherry sour. It is made of distilled vodka and lemon. I added some cherry syrup to give it a little extra sweetness for you,” he said, placing the drink in front of me.
“It looks lovely.” I smelled it and it was strong. When I took a sip, it was like my brain blew up. The most strange combinations of flavors, yet somehow it all worked. The brutal burn of the alcohol mixed with the bitter lemon and sweet cherry made my stomach burn. “I see the High Lord is in tonight.”
“Yes,” he nodded, “he is here with the High Lady and a few of their courtiers. The commanding general as well as the Morrigan. And the shadowsinger is here… somewhere. He was with another male when he walked in.”
“I have visited other Courts before. I have never seen any of their High Lords step foot outside of their palaces to so much as wave at their people let alone live amongst them like Rhysand does.”
The craftsman nodded in agreement. “He is not the traditional Lord our continent has come to know, and that is what makes him a vital part of our city. He’s our founder. He built our sanctuary not for us but for himself, too. It is only fair that he dines and plays games where he chooses.”
“Have you ever met them?” I asked curiously.
“Of course, they are here a few times a month. Morrigan and Cursebreaker’s sister are in here more.”
I glanced again, finding a few more heads now joining them. The general, Cassian, was in conversation with a shorter male, his brown hair glistening in the overhead light. He had a tattoo on the side of his neck and it disappeared underneath the collar of his black shirt.
At first I thought it to be the shadowsinger but it wasn’t him. His hair was too light. The more I looked, the more I realized that he looked a little out of place. He had darker skin than either of our Illyrians, and he didn’t have wings. For just a second he turned his head and I caught a glimpse of a scar on his face. Above his left brow and below his eye.
He was very pleasant to look at.
“I will be back, I need to break up some ice in the back,” the bartender spoke generally to the crowd. In a second he was out of sight and out of mind. I could not stop looking at this male.
The curls in his hair looked soft and fluffy and I really wanted to run my fingers through them. Though he was shorter than the general, he was at least a head taller than me, if not a half more than that. Whoever he was…
That couldn’t be the shadowsinger, could it? From all that I’ve heard of the illusive male this did not match any of the descriptions. He was just as tall– if not taller– as Azriel, but the hair… It was too light. And now wings. No shadows. Our High Lord can summon his wings, maybe the others can as well? Plus, I’ve heard that the scars the shadowsinger has on his hands are rather brutal. This male didn’t have any scars on his hands that I could see.
The air around me cooled and I shivered, wishing I had brought my jacket with me. It was like a door just opened and a draft seeped in around me. Up my legs and around my ankles.
To not appear creepy I looked elsewhere, not finding any of the other males in the room as interesting as the one with the brown fluffy hair. There was a couple sitting in a booth across the room, very clearly struggling to keep their affection tame. Another was dancing together and I became painfully aware of just how awful my dating life had been.
I threw back the rest of my drink, just as the bartender returned and ordered a few shots of something stronger. Much stronger by the smell of it. The warmth of it spread through my arms and fingers and the room seemed to get a little rowdier.
“Before I pour another, milady, I would just like to ask if you have a safe way to get home,” he asked kindly.
I smiled at the tenderness in his voice. “Yes, I live right down the way in the set of townhouses by the Sidra. Two minute walk.”
“Excellent.” Another shot was placed in front of me.
I kept sneaking glances at our High Lord and Lady. They looked so magnificent. Like a true emperor and empress. And they looked so happy to be together. Not with just themselves but with the general and whoever this other male was. Perhaps someone from Illyria?
Again, the whole no wings thing was throwing me off.
Wait, where did he-
“Excuse me,” a deep, rough voice said from beside me. My eyes met the most beautiful set of eyes I’ve ever seen. A dark, almost black color with flecks of amber and gold. It was the male I had been gawking at for the past half hour. He had an accent like I’ve never heard before. “I am Xaden.”
I stared at his extended hand for a moment before shaking it. “Yn.”
“Yn,” he practically purred. “A very beautiful name.”
It was hard not to blush. “I don’t mean to sound rude but are you-”
“Hey, there you are. We were just about to start another game did you…” The Spy Master of the Night Court stopped right beside him. His hazel eyes locked with mine and my stare darted between the two. The two very attractive, tall, muscular males in front of me. “Hello there.”
“This is Yn,” Xaden introduced me. “I was just about to ask if I could buy her a drink but I think you had a question for me?”
All thoughts leave my brain. Just above the shadowsingers shoulders lay his wings, and curling around them were those infamous shadows. The most lethal male on the continent stood two feet from me. And he was looking at me like… I didn’t let myself finish that thought.
I cleared my throat, “I was going to ask where you’re visiting from. You have a very… foreign accent.”
Xaden smiled a little and I thought I’d collapse on the ground. “I come from Navarre. A place far from here.”
“I’ve never heard of Navarre,” I said truthfully. But if males like him came from there then maybe I need to visit.
“It’s not entirely accessible,” he folded his arms across his chest. His very muscular and sculpted chest. “I am just visiting a friend.”
I looked at Azriel, who, much to my surprise, hadn’t taken his eyes off me. I shifted in my seat. “You two are friends?”
“Only recently,” Azriel spoke and I felt his voice crawl down my spine. “Xaden here is the closest thing to me that his puny world has to offer.”
“Puny?” Xaden’s eyes went wild. “Take away your wings and siphons and see how well you do as Basgiath. I doubt you’d last five minutes on Sgaeyl in a basic flight maneuver.”
“Basgiath? S-Sgaeyl?” The names were so weird in my mouth.
“Basgiath is the name of our War College. And Sgaeyl is my dragon.”
His what?
“Riroson here thinks that I couldn’t mount and ride a dragon. I’d like to see you take on the Bogge or a Naga with those tiny daggers of yours,” Azriel broke his gaze away from mine to take a sip of whatever was in his glass. “Pathetic.”
“You have a dragon?” I most certainly didn’t hear him correctly. “But they’re-”
“Not where I’m from, they’re not. See, we don’t have magic like you do here in Prythian. Back home, we have to study, bond with a dragon, and then we get the ability to channel their power. Mine just so happens to be shadow-wielding. Apparently this one could feel it across our world and tracked me down. He’s been teaching me for a few years now.”
“And somehow you still can’t manage to winnow,” Azriel rolled his eyes playfully.
“Some of us haven’t had centuries of practice, asshole,” Xaden retorted. If I had known anything about Azriel, I fully expected him to flatten out this Xaden guy.
“You’re not Fae?”
“No offense, but who would want to live forever?” He shrugged. A valid response. It was only then that I saw the roundness of his mortal ears.
Azriel grumbled a curse. “I apologize for him. He is cranky after his long flight here. I’m Azriel, I’m not sure I introduced myself.”
“I know,” I forced myself to look anywhere but his gorgeous face. Easily the most attractive Fae I’ve ever seen.
“Are you here with anyone? I saw you walk in about an hour ago and haven’t seen you talk with anyone,” he asked.
He saw me walk in? “If my night had gone any better than yes, I would be here with someone. But, instead, he had other plans and never showed up for our reservation.”
Both of the males stood completely silent. I watched Azriel’s eyes narrow, his jaw clench. “Who was it?”
“It doesn’t matter.” I could feel that bubble of emotion rise up in my throat, pricking my nose and eyes. “He’s just some nobody I was seeing. His loss.”
“Biggest fucking mistake he’ll ever make,” Xaden scooted in closer, leaning his forearms on the counter. “What were you drinking? Next one's on me.”
“Oh, that’s kind of you but I would like to wake up in the morning without any regrets. A water will do,” I smiled sweetly at him and he returned it without a second thought.
I felt Azriel move closer to me and I could just barely see him in my peripheral vision. I tried not to look. It was so hard. All I wanted to do was look at him. Then he was closer. A lot closer. His arm across the back of the stool I was sitting in.
Oh gods his scent.
“For you,” Xaden slipped a cool glass of water in my hands. “To you, Yn.”
I blushed as I knocked my glass with theirs.
“Not to impose, but I would like to know more about this asshole who stood you up tonight. Because clearly he’s not right in the head for leaving you. Especially when you look so good.”
I couldn’t help the flush that spread down my neck and up my ears. “I don’t know, we met over the weekend and he asked if we could go on a date. I said yes. And I think what makes it even worse is that I was looking forward to it. I was excited to get all dressed up and go out for the first time in months. Now I just feel like a fucking idiot for getting my hopes up and wanting to-”
“Hey.” Xaden’s finger pulled my chin to look up at him. “You are not the problem. That mother fucker has another thing coming if he thinks he could’ve ever given you what you need.”
I’d like to focus on the latter part of that statement, but all I could think of was his face– inches from mine– and his other hand at my knee. My heart thrashed and I was so still I wasn’t sure if I was breathing or not.
“I think you’re scaring her, Riorson,” Azriel said from behind me. Then I became aware of just how close he was to me. He practically spoke right against my neck. A hand brushed at my right shoulder and I shuddered.
“If you’re willing, we’re offering.” Xaden has this gleam in his eye and a smirk on his lips.
I had to sit up a little so I could start seeing clearly. “I-I’m sorry ‘we’re’?”
“You don’t have to say yes,” Xaden grinned. “But, if you’d like to erase this guy from your thoughts, all you have to do is show me where it hurts. I promise I can make it all better.”
Is he asking what I think he is? I looked at Azriel who had the same look Xaden did. Full of mischief.
“You… You can’t be serious.” They were playing games with me. They have to be. There’s no way that our Court Spy Master and whoever this guy was from Navarre were willing to share.
“Az?” Is all Xaden said.
Fingers brushed my hair over my shoulder and tucked it out of the way. I gasped when Azriel kissed down my neck. I think I’m shaking, though it could just be my pulse beating so wildly through my veins that it feels like I’m shaking. But I definitely can't feel my fingers anymore.
Xaden stepped in a little closer and blocked most of my view of the rest of the bar. “May I?” He held out a hand. I swallowed and nodded as best as I could with Azriel gently nipping at my throat. Xaden quickly placed his mouth on mine.
I got lost in him. In both of them. All the bells and whistles in my body were going off at once. I’ve never done anything like this before. I had two of the most attractive looking individuals in the world right here. Both kissing me.
In a few seconds Xaden pulled from my mouth and Azriel went with him. I was suddenly so cold and needed them back exactly where they were. My thighs clenched together.
“What do you say, want to take out all your anger, your frustration and disappointment, on us?” Xaden asked softly, right into my ear. The way he pulled it between his lips made it very difficult to say no. Not that I wanted to in the first place. I’d be a fool to say no.
I nodded eagerly.
Azriel clicked his tongue and made me look at him. “Need you to say it, Yn.”
“Yes,” I said without a second thought. “Yes.”
Both of them chuckled. “Let’s get out of here.”
As we made our way down the street, both of the males on either side of me, I was burning with desire; every so often– about every three or four steps– one of them would have to pause, spin me around, and kiss me until I saw stars. They ‘just couldn’t help it’.
Not that I minded.
“Apologies if the place is a mess,” Azriel said, unlocking a door. It looked vaguely familiar, and when I looked up and across the street, I realized why.
“Hey, that’s my place right there,” I smiled, looking at the small rose bushes lining my little walkway.
“Would you rather go there instead? No pressure if you do,” Xaden’s hands went down my sides and hips as he spoke.
I nearly collapsed onto the floor. “No, no this is fine I don’t think I can wait.”
“Impatient, are we?” Xaden murmured into my hair.
“Well,” I blew out a breath as he nipped at my ear. “I’m not exactly dreading being taken to be by two males.”
“Hopefully we won’t ruin you for any other lovers.”
Was it bad that I hoped they would?
The door gave away and it was flooded with Azriel’s scent. A mixture of Xaden’s too, but it was hard to differentiate them. His was far more subtle than the shadowsingers. They guided me inside, lights coming on along the halls and overhead.
“Have you ever…” Xaden trailed off and I flushed a deep red.
“No, I’ve never done this before.” My laugh was a pathetic attempt to hide my nerves.
“Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of you,” Xaden grinned and gave my mouth what it wanted most. His tongue was hot against mine and I pressed as close to him as I could get. For a moment I couldn’t see or hear anything, and then we were in a bedroom that seemed far too massive for this little townhouse.
I looked around; a massive bed was standing right before me, dark curtains over a door that led to a balcony.
“Did we just-”
“Winnowing,” Azriel explained, pulling me out of Xadens arms and into his own. “This is far easier when we have room. Like Xaden said, we’re gonna take care of you. Any time you feel uncomfortable just tell us to stop and we will. We do this at your pace, you control it.”
Weirdly enough, my heart ached at the tenderness in his voice. But my body did not want to be in control. It wanted everything but. “And what if I said that I didn’t want to make any decisions. That I just wanted to feel and nothing else.”
I saw Azriel look up first, then felt Xaden press against my backside. I was squished between them and I thanked the Mother that I never went on that date tonight. But they looked at each other.
Azriel grinned. “You’re sure?”
“Absolutely. I need it.”
“Aww, you’re that desperate already?” Xaden pulled me into his body, one hand gripping my face to make me look at him, the other wrapped around my stomach. “We haven’t even touched you yet, pretty thing. Haven’t even tasted you.”
“What are you waiting for?” I have no idea where this boldness is coming from.
Xaden stepped away from me and laid at the top of the bed. “Come here, then.”
No turning back now.
I crawled to him on my hands and knees. The dress I was wearing did nothing to hide my ass any longer. Xadens hand reached out, and when I was close enough, he grabbed me by my throat and pulled me into his lap. Pulled my mouth on his. I let out a very pathetic noise.
His other hand made me sit right on his cock and I could feel everything that was waiting for me. I moved my hips in a circle and he let out a breath, his dark, almost gold flecked eyes looking at me with hunger.
The bed dipped and Azriel pulled my hair back so I looked up at him. “You don’t have to be ashamed if you want to scream our names while we fuck away the pain, Yn.”
I nodded, wanting to twist so I could kiss him but Xaden firmly planted my hips to his. “I didn’t tell you to stop moving, pretty thing.”
I obeyed him. It was such an odd angle; to have my head thrown all the way back but my hips moving. It made it hard to breathe.
“I think she’s getting impatient, Riorson,” Azriel said as if I wasn't even there.
“Yeah I can feel how wet she is.” Xaden curiously slipped a hand between my legs, a few fingers trailing the crease of my thigh. “You really are impatient, aren’t you?”
“Please…”
“Please what?” Azriel pulled my hair harder. “Come on, use your words, Yn. Don’t be shy.”
I whimpered. “Please touch me, Xaden.”
“How can I resist when you ask so nicely.”
Azriel released his grip and Xaden lifted up my hips, pulling down my thong. His fingers were cold against my pussy. I shivered. His fingers were so long. It took everything in me to not fuck myself on them. The shadowsinger remained behind me and slipped the thin straps of my dress off my shoulders.
“Arms up.” Azriel commanded. The dress was lifted off my body and I felt very exposed. But soon enough he was against me, his hard chest against my back. “Kiss him.”
I burned red at the tone of his voice. But I kissed Xaden with enough force to make him bite my lip, catching my tongue between his teeth next. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed my chest to his. I jolted as he brushed my clit and he let out a dark chuckle, doing it again and again.
“So easy,” Xaden muttered, pushing me on my back effortlessly. I watched as he stuck his two fingers in his mouth. “Fuck do you taste good, pretty thing.”
His massive hands spread my thighs apart after he threw my underwear somewhere in the room. Those brown curls felt just as soft as I imagined. I didn’t care if I was being desperate, I needed his mouth between my legs. The first pass of his tongue made me go limp. I let my head fall back, my knees parting even further.
My body welcomed him as he explored, tongue flicking, hands bruising my skin. Fingers brushed my chest, so faintly I thought I might’ve imagined it. Azriel had gone somewhere, but I was too focused on Xaden to care at this moment. When I looked down, those were not fingers playing with me, but rather tendrils of shadow circling around.
“What the-”
“Shhh, it’s okay, you’re okay Yn,” Azriel said from my right, standing further in the room. He was undressing, the fighting leathers he had been wearing folded neatly on a desk. His wings were... dear gods his wings were massive. “It’s just me. Nothing to be afraid of.”
Pleasure and fear coursed through me at the same time. My brain and body were on fire with emotions as I watched them drift and encase my body. They were cool to the touch, a stark contrast to the boiling temperature of my skin. As I watched, I settled. It was quite fascinating.
A sharp smack to the inside of my thigh had me looking at Xaden. “Focus on me.”
I nodded and I became aware of just how close I was to my release. I panted and writhed, itching for something to grab onto. Something to touch and yank-
My hands were above my head two seconds later and I was dragged to the edge of the bed.
“Hey,” Xaden shouted and another wave of fear crashed through me. “I was in the middle of something.”
“Well, it’s my turn, Riorson,” Azriel gritted his teeth, taking himself in his hand. “You can still have her legs for now. But I need to feel her mouth.”
Were they fighting for me? For my body? I smiled. So wide it hurt. I obediently opened my mouth and stuck out my tongue, enticing him further. In tandem, I spread my legs as wide as they could go for Xaden.
“You’re so well trained, pet.” Azriel wasted no time forcing his cock down my throat. I couldn’t breathe, but that’s how I wanted it. He thrusted in slowly, stopping when he was all the way, then pulled back out. “You take my cock so well, Yn. I’m so proud of you.”
“If you think her mouth feels good, wait till you get inside her pussy. She’s so warm and tight.”
I moaned around Azriel, knees fluttering off the bed as Xaden sucked my clit. The shadows continued to writhe around my nipples and I felt so exposed. I couldn’t keep still. My legs trembled and I felt that coil in my stomach clenching and clenching. I wanted Xaden’s cock between my legs more than his tongue, but I couldn’t tell him that with Azriel down my throat.
“Do you think she can take both of us?” Azriel asked, brushing a hand across my cheek, then it gently wrapped around my neck. I choked hard enough for tears to streak down my face.
“Hmm,” Xaden hummed around me and I thrashed. “Well, that was adorable. As for fitting both of us? It’s possible. Probably gonna hurt. Don’t worry, he’ll work you open on his cock so good you won’t have a choice but to take both of us.”
“We don’t want to hurt her, Riorson,” Azriel cupped my cheeks. “Unless you want us to, pet?”
I nodded immediately. He pulled out and I heaved for fresh air, eyes glossy as I looked up at him. “Don’t be gentle.”
The way Azriels’ eyes darkened should have made me afraid. Instead it filled me with a primal desire. The force of his hips was brutal. The slight salty taste of his skin was intoxicating. I gagged around him with every press of his tip at the back of my throat, tears burning down my face.
Without any resemblance of a warning, my release barreled through me and I shook, legs kicking out as Xaden continued to tongue fuck me until I saw stars. He kept going. He didn’t stop.
I tried to get him to ease, to let up but my hands were bound at my sides. That same cool feeling sliding around my wrists as it did my chest. It was so much. Already too much.
“Alright, she’s had enough,” Xaden finally pulled away from my throbbing cunt, caressing my thigh and the bruises there. His chin glistened with my cum, and he didn’t let any of it go to waste as his tongue dragged over his lips.
“I’ll tell you when she’s had enough. Get back up on the bed. Strip.” With a more than heavy shove, Azriel sheathed himself inside me one last time, held just long enough to make me panic for a breath. “Good girl, Yn.”
I hiccuped a small sob, already teetering on my breaking point. Azriel sat me up and pushed me down on my hands and knees. In front of me was Xaden. His very hard cock straining up. The shadowsinger’s hand fisted in my hair and I was forced to take his cock down.
“Stay right there, pet. Don’t move. You came without permission. Since you decided to be so greedy, you’re gonna get Xaden off while I punish you.” A merciless hand smacked my ass hard enough to make an outline of his hand. “Got it?”
I nodded around Xaden’s cock and yelped when another smack came down. Xaden groaned, his sculpted abdominal and chest flexing. One arm was behind his head, the other on my head. He was far more gentle than Azriel was, but I could see his control slipping as he thrusted up in time with Azriel’s hand on my ass.
“Fuck she feels good, Az,” Xaden praised, cupping my cheek. “And you look so pretty full of my cock. Gods I can’t wait to be in that pussy.”
I squeaked out an embarrassing noise when Azriel dragged his cock through my cunt, coating himself in my release. Just the tip of him had me stretching and I had to squeeze my eyes shut to block out the sting. With a snap of his hips, he slid in deeper and deeper and deeper-
“That’s it, pet. Take all of my cock. Good girl, Yn. Good girl.” His cooing made it impossible not to cry out around Xaden. As Azriel pulled back, slowly, he grabbed my hips and took me with him. I scrambled to try and keep Xaden’s cock in my mouth, but I was too far away now.
“Look at how desperate she is for you, Riorson. She wants your cock soooo badly she’s fighting me for it.” Azriel ran his nails down my spine. “How about we play a little game, pet. When I pull out of you, you have to keep your mouth on him or else you get a smack. How does that sound?”
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Xaden. He had a flush to his cheeks. The same primal hunger I had in my eyes. There wasn’t anything I wanted more than to have him come down my throat. A sharp crack rang through the room and I screamed.
“I want an answer. Now.” Azriel demanded, yanking me up and forcing me down on his thick cock.
“Yes yes yes,” I babbled. “Please let me make Xaden feel good.”
“You’re so pretty when you beg like that,” Xaden mumbled, dragging me back down to him by my wrist. I wrapped my lips around him and worked up and down. He was just as big as Azriel. But the shadowsinger was bigger.
Azriel’s hands on my hips hurt almost as much as the hand that smacked me. I’m sure it was bright red and swollen. Every time he thrusts into me, he forces my body back into him. A few times I was pulled off of Xaden and I got punished. New tears running down my face after every one.
“F-Fuck Az stop doing that,” Xaden growled out. “I barely have her for two seconds before you’re ripping her away again.” His two hands gripped the sides of my head, forcing me all the way to his pelvic bone. “Now stop holding back and fuck her like you mean it.”
“Think she can handle that?”
“Of course she can, look at her. Split open wide on our cocks, taking them like she’s been doing it for years. She’ll be fine, won’t you, pretty thing?” I nodded, blinking up at him. “See, she wants it. Such a good fuck toy. Such a good pet.”
“If you can’t, say so now, Yn,” Azriel gripped at my hips to pull Xaden's dick out of my throat. “Well?”
“D-Don’t… don’t hold back.” Gods my voice was raw. “Please don’t hold back. I need it.”
“See? Now go, I’ve been on the edge for the past ten minutes,” Xaden said rather impatiently.
I could not have prepared myself for the force of Azriel’s thrusts. Or the grip Xaden had on my head. I thought my neck was going to rip from my shoulders with how hard I was being pulled in opposite directions. I only got a breath every two or three drives of Azriel’s cock.
Both of them were a whimpering mess. Xaden especially. I prayed to the Mother that these walls were thick enough so no one would hear us.
Minutes ticked by and I became a limp mess. A mere boneless thing for Azriel and Xaden to play with. My arms were trembling beyond use and my legs and toes were numb with euphoria. I couldn’t keep myself up any more.
“Fuck, Yn,” Xaden panted, hips bumping into my nose every time he snapped his hips. “Gonna come.” I just let all my weight fall onto him, letting him go deeper and deeper down my throat. “You’re such a good girl, Yn. Such a good fucking girl.”
Azriel shoved his cock as far as it would go, forcing me to take all of Xaden’s cum down my throat in one go. I didn’t even get to taste it. Xaden fucked into my mouth, hands firm on my head as he continued to spill. I dared a glance up and I saw shadows, slightly different than Azriel’s, caressing his shoulders.
How the hell did I get so lucky?
I was pulled off of Xaden and I was completely limp. “What do you say to Xaden, pet?”
“Thank you,” I stuttered out as Az continued to fuck me.
“Good girl. Now clean him up so he can take my place.” On my own accord, I picked my heavy head up and lapped at his cock, gently cleaning him with tiny flicks of my tongue. Up and down and up and down. He tasted so good. Salty and tangy. “Still got more, Riorson? I forget you humans can’t reset as quickly as we can.”
“I have stamina that’ll put you to shame, Illyrian.” Xaden had a devilish grin on his lips. “My turn.”
Xaden’s hands wrapped under my arms, guiding me off of Azriel. I tried to get my legs to move, but it was a useless effort. I could barely think let alone tell my body what to do.
“Easy, Riorson. I know you’re eager. And trust me, you should be. Fuck is she tight.”
Xaden let out a teasing noise, pumping a few times to get himself hard again. “Aww I bet she is. Gonna take my cock next, pretty thing? Yeah you are, and you’re gonna take Azriel's, too. Come on, sink down and- yes just like that, yes Yn. Good girl.”
Riding him made this so much easier. He was far stronger than I was and helped me rock back and forth. It was wonderful stimulation for my clit, too. For a few minutes he bounced me up and down, filthy praises spilling out of him like it was his job.
“I told you,” Azriel’s voice was right up against the back of my neck. “Worth the wait.”
“What if I told you I didn’t want to share her anymore?” Xaden sucked on my nipple and rubbed my clit at the same time.
“Too late for that, Riorson. She’s all ours, aren’t you?” I felt the press of Azriel’s cock against my hole and jumped. “Relax. It’ll hurt if you don’t.”
I nodded, getting lost between the two sets of hands–the two sets of lips and tongues and teeth. I was one with the stars, completely suspended in a place I didn’t know but I sure as hell didn’t want to leave any time soon. I tried to remain still as Az slowly–very slowly– pushed in bit by bit. I was reduced to nothing but mumbling noises and begging whines.
“Should’ve asked Cass if he wanted to join us so she could have something to do with that mouth of hers,” Xaden blew out a breath. “Need something to suck on, pretty thing?”
I just nodded, too overstimulated to speak. I just needed. I don’t know what I needed but I needed it.
“Gods you really are such a good pet,” Az pulled my head back. With a firm grip on my jaw, it fell open and he spat in my mouth. The shock of it damn near pushed me over the edge. My eyes crossed and my vision blurred as he stuck his fingers in my mouth for me to suck.
It took several minutes but then I was balancing between both their cocks, vibrating with energy and a need so deep I knew the second they would move I’d come. And I’d keep spasming around them as they did as they pleased.
Hands expanded every inch of my body. “Ready?”
“Mhmm,” was the best response I could get out. Xaden pulled me towards him, then slowly pushed me back onto Azriel. Then Az slowly pushed me onto Xaden. I was weightless in their hands, practically being held up by them alone.
“You are doing such a good job, my pet,” Azriel pulled out his fingers, gripping my throat. “So tight and wet. That’s it, just relax. Let us take you, Yn.”
“She’s being so good, don’t you think she deserves a reward, Az?” Xaden plucked both of my breasts.
“Of course she does.”
My ears were ringing. Sweat soaked my hairline. I could feel Xadne and Azriel’s pulse against my own, and I swore I could’ve felt them all sync up for a beat or two or five. Endless shadows swirled across my skin, hands fighting for leverage on my hips. I knew I’d be marked and bruised in the morning.
“I got her here, you take care of her down there,” Azriel instructed. Both of his hands cupped my chest, pinching brutally. Xaden snaked his hand between our fronts and just barely grazed my clit before I was coming so hard my vision blacked out.
I screamed, throat burning with pain as I writhed and begged for nothing and everything. I cried out over and over as they continued to push me. Lips and tongue slid over my throat, Xaden’s forcing its way into my mouth to swallow my screams.
Azriel bit down on my shoulder and snapped his hips a few times, trying and failing to suppress his moans. It came from deep in his chest and it rumbled through me. “Gonna take my cum, pet?”
I couldn’t respond. No matter how hard I tried I couldn’t get words to form.
“Give it to her, Az. She needs it,” Xaden said for me. “Don’t worry, pretty thing, Az is gonna give it to you. Just be patient.”
His hips worked into me, fucking me onto Xaden. With one hand wrapped around my throat, the other on my side, Azriel came inside me, the thick, bitter scent sending my mind spiraling. His thrusts didn’t stop, even as Xaden warned him he was close.
Azriel stilled then, panting hot against the back of my neck. “You’re clenching so hard, pet. Such a good job at keeping it all inside you. Now do the same for Xaden. Let him fill you up, Yn.”
Xaden was far less controlled, those shadows over his shoulders whipping wildly as he fucked up into me hard enough to touch places he hadn’t yet. With a handful of movements, Xaden brought our hips flush together and he strained his neck, baring his teeth into the air.
His noises would’ve been enough to set me off again had I not been so previously spent.
It could’ve been hours that I laid between them, their cocks still buried inside me as they stroked my skin, stroked my hair and kissed me lazily.
______
“Yn.” A gentle press of lips to mine. My eyes fluttered open and Xaden’s face became clearer. “There she is.”
“She awake?”
“Mhmm,” Xaden kissed my forehead. “Feeling better?”
I wiggled my toes to see if the feeling had come back. I just nodded, snuggling in deeper to his chest. “Yeah.”
“Good good,” he wrapped his arms tighter around me. “You were so good for us, Yn.”
“The best,” Azriel seconded, and a warm body pressed up behind me. “You were pretty out of it for about an hour. We cleaned you up as best we could with you mumbling about how much you loved to please us.”
I flushed in embarrassment, putting my hands over my face. “Cauldron damn me.”
“It was quite adorable,” Xaden murmured, prying my hands from my face. “And you were incredible.”
“So fucking incredibly,” Azriel agreed, tucking in close behind me. I carefully flipped over, looking at the shadowsinger. “You did such a good job.”
“It was easy when I had you two doing all the work for me,” I smiled, leaning up to kiss him. “Still cannot believe I just did that.”
“Do you regret it?”
“Absolutely not.” I squashed down that possibility the second their hands had been on me. “It was perfect.”
“Don’t feel pressured to answer, but Xaden visits every so often to Prythian. When he comes back, how do you feel about doing this again?” Azriel asked cautiously. “If you would like some time to think about it then-”
“Yes.” Why would I ever say no to being worshiped? “Absolutely yes.”
Both of them chuckled, Xaden molding his body to fit mine, arm laying across my stomach. “Told you we might ruin you for anyone else.”
#azriel#acotar fanfiction#acotar#acotar fanfic#azriel shadowsinger#azriel x reader#azriel x reader x xaden riorson#xaden x reader#xaden riorson#fourth wing fanfic#fourth wing#fourth wing smut#acotar smut#fourth wing fanfiction
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(Did the poll say happiness and rainbows? Yeah but I’m having fun with my angst so here’s more! :) )
“No I want to see him.”
The officer looked at the man, who looked like he had just rolled out of bed, and she narrows her eyes, “As I had told you, sir, Mister Taylor asked for no visitors unless family. And are you related to Missus Taylor or Oliver?” The question was a mock because she knew the answer.
So, with a bite of a tongue Price relented, “Who’s your supervisor?”
“He’s out of office.”
“Fuckin- course he is. Where’s Riley?”
“Mister Riley is currently in questioning.”
Price frowned, “But you already questioned him.”
The officer shrugged, “Our lead detective thought it best to do a second round.”
“Then I want to speak to your lead detective.”
“You and everyone else, take a ticket.”
-
To say your hands were shaking would be an understatement, you had been sitting in Johnny’s car for a close to an hour and so far you probably lost half your body weight in tears. It seemed unreal, there was no way it was actually reality, after all you had been through. It was just….
You jolt when someone knocks on the glass window, only to see Eliza by the door and you let out breath, quickly getting out of the car and into her arms.
“T-they still have Simon in questioning and-and he’s not answering my calls-“
“I know, John’s taking care of it. Oh honey,” her voice was a bit rasped and she looks you over, “You look like a mess.”
Your chest heaves for air as you ramble to her, telling her about how they took you all to the station at four in the morning and how everything was working against your favor. You both sat on the curb outside, as Johnny’s car was an incubator, her arm loosely wrapped around your shoulders and hands holding the coffee she had gotten you.
“Johnny went-Johnny went to be with Ollie, they…they wouldn’t let me see him.”
Eliza scoffs at that, “Bastards. Keeping a child from his mother.”
—
In hindsight it wasn’t best idea.
However, it did do its job. What job was that? Who knew.
“Uh oh,” Ollie whispered from the other side of the conference table, looking to his biological father (who was currently doubled over while clutching his nose), “You made uncle soap maaad.”
“You fucking bitch!” Caleb practically screamed, “I’ll have your job!”
Johnny stood perfectly still for a moment, as if he wasn’t sure if he had just imagined he punched him or if it was reality and he then snapped into the situation, “Ah please, as i’ you go’ a job tha’s all high n mighty.”
It took about a minute before an officer came back in to check on everything, and thanks to a somewhat threatening stare Caleb had just said he got a bloody nose and everything was alright.
“Oliver, come on. We’re leaving.”
“But I don wanna go.”
With a tug and hoist Oliver was being carried on Caleb’s side, “Didn’t ask we have a flight to catch.”
-
“For the fucking millionth time she had Oliver when I met her.”
“According to these files Oliver was with his father.”
“Bullshit!!!” Simon snipped back, his anger growing with each second. Every file, data bank, Facebook post made it seem like Oliver lived with Caleb until he went ‘missing’ two weeks ago. “Look at the bank statements why would she pay insurance for a child she doesn’t even have?”
The detective sighed, “We did, Mister Riley, she’s not paying for any child’s health insurance.”
This was insane.
“Mister Riley, I am going to ask one final time: did you help Missus Taylor take her son?”
With a glare Simon leaned forward on the table, “Didn’t fucking take him, because he’s ’een here wit us for ‘is entire life.”
-
“Caleb?” You slowly move to stand up as you watch your ex husband carry your son out of the station, and within a millisecond your blood was cold, “Oliver?”
“Mommy!” The boy practically screeched at the sight of you, trying to pry himself away from the man’s grasp, “Mommy I don’t wanna go!”
Before you had the chance to get to the car Caleb was currently putting Oliver into, you were held back.
“Lassie, lassie easy-“
“Johnny let-let me go.”
Johnny, with close to zero effort, turns you to face him, “Leave it. It’s gonna be okay, go’ a plan yeah? Ollie’s gonna be in his bed tonight, promise.”
(Teehee, that’s all for now)
#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley imagine#simon ghost x reader#simon riley fanfic#simon ghost riley#simon riley x you#coco's chaos <3#cod x you#simon riley x reader#cod fluff#dad!soap#dad!ghost#dad!simon riley#coco’s pre k universe! <3#ghost simon riley#cod fanfic#cod price
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Surprise Baby | S.JY
「pairing」 : bf!jake x fem!reader
「word count」 : 1.2k
「synopsis」 : jake was deadset on making your birthday special even if that meant making you hang out with your friend until he was finished setting up his last birthday surprise.
「genre」 : suggestive & fluff
「warnings」 : kissing, pet names (baby, my love...), choking (if you squint), usage of a blindfold, implied smut, romantic shit, lmk if I missed anything!
「notes」 : this is going to be part one, I got super distracted towards the end and didn't want it to be trash, so I will be writing the next part probably tomorrow or the day after! also, thank you to everyone who sent me birthday wishes. it means the world; I love you all, sm!!! <33
The day had been nothing short of perfect. It started with Jake waking you up by littering small kisses all over your face and neck. The sweet scent of vanilla and cherries filled the air around you, meaning he had lit your favorite candle. His voice was thick with sleep but still rolled off his tongue like honey, coating your skin in a warmth only he gave you.
After fooling around in the sheets for the better part of the morning, Jake’s lips never gave you the chance to breathe. He finally slipped out of bed, telling you to stay put before bringing you a tray full of your favorite treats and a warm cup of coffee, knowing that you’d need the extra caffeine to get through what he had planned for the day.
You had started to lose track of the places that Jake had dragged you, too distracted by the lingering touches his fingertips laid on your skin and the smile that pulled on his lips. There was also something that he wasn’t telling you, the gleam in his eyes telling on him.
“Jae…” You let his name trail on, stealing his attention from the jewelry display case that you were standing in front of. “As much as I love shopping with you, I want to go home and have some us time.” Your hand snaked around his arm as you pressed yourself against his side, hoping that he would get the idea.
He smiled down at you, but you knew he wasn’t going to give in, causing you to pout. Chuckling, he took your free hand in his, pressing a feather-light kiss on the back of your knuckles.
“I have one last thing planned, but I need to get it set up.” He started, his eyes flickering to something behind you, “That means that I’m going to need you to hang out with Yeji for a little bit.”
You bit back a sigh as you looked behind you, seeing your best friend standing a few feet away, waiting patiently with a smile on her lips. Jake watched your face in amusement as your bottom lip jutted out in that very adorable pout that he absolutely adores.
The smile on his lips morphed into a smug smirk before he reached forward, grabbing your face, squeezing your cheeks causing you to look up at him with doe eyes.
“Be a good girl and listen. I promise you’ll love what I’ve got planned.” He whispered against your lips before placing a gentle kiss on the plump skin.
You nodded softly, leaning into his touch, hoping to fully connect your lips to his, but he pulled away all too soon, causing you to whine. The older male just chuckled before pressing a finger against your forehead, pushing you back softly.
“Go have fun, I’ll call you when everything is ready.” He smiled once more before watching your figure reluctantly retreat to Yeji’s side, who greeted you with a warm smile.
It felt like hours had passed since Jake left you at the shopping center to prepare things at home. At first, you had managed to distract yourself with idle conversation and window shopping (even if Jake had given you his card to use).
However, now you were finding yourself checking your phone every few minutes to see if there were any messages from your boyfriend, but much to your dismay there was nothing.
“You know, checking your phone all the time isn’t going to make it go any faster,” Yeji joked as she sipped on her coffee.
“I know,” you rolled your eyes before setting your phone down to drink a coffee of your own. I just wish he would hurry up. I hate surprises.”
“Well, give it a chance. I know you’re going to love this.” She giggles as you give her a deadpanned look.
“I just know you’re going to love this, meh, meh…” You mock the girl’s words, causing her to burst out laughing.
About an hour or so later, you finally got that text from Jake and were quick to bid Yeji goodbye and rushed out of the shop you two had been browsing through.
You were sure you had made it home in record time, surprised that you hadn’t been pulled over because you were sure you had been speeding down most, if not all, of the roads you took. However, it seemed that luck was on your side today because there was very little traffic, and you only hit maybe two red lights on your way.
Getting to the house, you didn’t even bother grabbing your purse or phone, too anxious to see what the quote-unquote surprise was that your lovely boyfriend had planned.
When you stepped inside, the apartment was eerily quiet. The lights were all turned off except for the hallway light that led to the kitchen. Your eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. You couldn’t remember a day that the apartment was this quiet with Jake inside.
Just as you were about to call out to the man, your eyes caught sight of the petals sprawled across the floor. Sealing your lips in a silly smile, you crept closer, realizing that they led to your shared bedroom.
“Jake,” you called out as you made your way to your bedroom door, which was slightly ajar, allowing you to see the soft glow of flickering lights. You were met with silence, though, the hairs on your neck and arms standing tall as you reached out to push the wooden door open.
You open your mouth to call for Jake once more when you don’t see him anywhere in the room, only to have your voice get caught in your throat when your vision goes black.
“There’s my birthday girl.” Jake’s thick accent filled your ears, causing a shiver to run down your spine. His warm breath against your neck told you just how close he was as if the feeling of his chest against your back wasn’t enough.
“Jake, what is all of this?” Your voice shook slightly, a sudden rush of excitement coursing through your veins. Your fingers wrapped around Jake’s wrist, pulling them from your eyes and allowing you to look back at him.
Jake didn’t give you a chance to fully turn your head as he pressed a kiss against the warm skin of your cheek, his hand wrapping around your neck softly. Your eyes fluttered closed as he continued to press hot kisses along your jaw before nipping at your earlobe.
“Do you trust me, baby?” His voice was husky, instantly making you drip in your panties, and all it took was a simple mumble of a ‘yes’ for your vision to go black once more. Your breath hitched in your throat when you realized that it was a blindfold, Jake’s slender fingers tying a knot in the fabric, not tight enough to hurt, but enough to keep it in place.
Having your sight cut seemed to heighten all of your other senses. You could feel all of the hairs on your body stand tall as Jake’s hand traveled along the length of your waist, tugging at the fabric of your dress until it pooled at your feet on the ground.
“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll take great care of you. Tonight is all about you, my love.” He whispered in your ear as his hand lay on the plush flesh of your stomach while the other moved to your jaw, tilting your head so he could press a searing kiss to your lips.
It was going to be a long night, but you couldn’t have asked for a better birthday gift.
@alvojake | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work
𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.
𝖙𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 : @heesitation @riftanswhore @yeonzzzn @yzzyhee @skzenhalove @seuomo @moonchus @enha-stars @ikeuverse @prized-jules @ro-diaries @yeonjunsfox @snoopypupp @wonnie99 @pockettwinzz @seunghancore @wonlvkay @enhaverse713586 @kimsaerom
#♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ :𝓴𝓪𝔂 𝔀𝓻𝓲𝓽𝓮𝓼: :;#jake sim#sim jake#sim jaeyun#jaeyun#enha jake#enha jaeyun#enhypen jake#jake enhypen#jaeyun enhypen#jake x reader#jaeyun x reader#reader x jaeyun#reader x jake#enhypen x reader#reader x enhypen#jake smut#jaeyun smut#sim jaeyun smut#sim jake smut#sim jake x reader#sim jake fluff#sim jake imagines#sim jake fanfic#sim jaeyun x reader#sim jaeyun imagines#sim jaeyun fic#jakey baby
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betting on all three for us two
pairing: frat!luke castellan x reader
summary: you think you like being a little more friendly and a little less competition with luke castellan this year. a sequel to this fic
word count: 3.1k
warnings: none
author's note: frat luke my dearly beloved loser son who studies pre-med this is for you you know who you are i love you
1.
The fall semester comes at you faster than you’d like, this rapid change from a golden summer to the crisp air of being back on campus. You’re rooming with someone from an old anthropology elective you took, Silena finally moving into her sorority house. It should feel weirder, how everything has changed since spring break.
You take the opportunity to build new habits. Early runs, no caffeine after 2pm. Little things that make the day go a tiny bit faster, building blocks to fit around your class schedule. Silena schedules weekly lunches for the three of you and there’s this gravity to it all that you want to study.
It had been nice to be home for a few months. Your mom had missed having you there, being able to show you the new flowers she planted, how the lemon tree in the yard is twisting weirdly. Board games and family dinners and friends who never left your town. Being back home was resetting. Being back on campus was restarting.
Lee catches you as you leave the gym, offering to walk you to class if you’re heading in that direction. You smile, telling him that you have a late start and pretend he doesn’t frown when your phone buzzes. He mentions that he’s thinking of starting a study group for one of your classes and you tell him you’ll think about joining.
While he heads towards the main building, you make your way to the campus coffee shop - caught behind the early risers desperate for something to get them through their first lecture of the day.
“Can I get a flat white and an iced americano with caramel to go please?” You smile at the girl working the counter, stepping aside to glance at your watch.
You run through your schedule for today, ignoring the text that comes through. You know exactly what it says, the same thing every morning, and you don’t even bother to roll your eyes at this point.
“I can’t believe you ignored my text,” Luke says when you reach the courtyard between the library and the medical building. “Not even a flame emoji.”
You stop in front of him, drinking in the jeans and sweater combination he’s settled on today. It’s a really nice sweater, dark blue and a little baggy. You wonder how quickly he’d notice it going missing. Probably not as quickly as he’d notice the stupid hat he’s wearing go missing. His backpack leans against the bench, pristine.
“No one uses those except you,” you shake your head, handing him the iced drink. “What time does your lecture start?”
Luke tells you as if he really needs to. It’s this thing you’ve started doing since the semester began, acting like you don’t know his schedule as well as your own. As if the both of you haven’t fallen into this routine in just a few weeks. Like it’s not a highlight of your day.
Clarisse thinks it’s adorable. Chris thinks it’s hilarious. You think it’s nice to have someone to share your free time with, beyond whatever else you and Luke have. It had been a fear of yours, when Silena mentioned not sharing a dorm with you, that you would fall to the sidelines. That life would come with these new priorities for everyone and you would only be fourth or fifth on their lists, too cemented in the day-to-day that you’d be forgotten.
Morning coffee with Luke stops that fear.
“Did Silena tell you about the party on Friday?”
“I have a study group in the afternoon,” Luke says, swirling his plastic cup around so the ice clinks together. “If I do go, I’m showing up late.”
“Maybe I’ll keep my eye out for you there, Castellan.”
He laughs and it’s like summer again. There’s something insane about hearing Luke laugh like this, unbroken and loud, nothing like it had been over the phone while you were back home.
“You’ve got dinner with Silena and Clarisse tonight, right?” He asks, swinging his bag over one shoulder. You throw your empty cup into the trash can as you both start walking. “Is there any point in asking if you want to come round after?”
You knock his arm with your shoulder, laughing, and, instead of feigning hurt like usual, Luke just takes your hand in his, the skin a little colder than you expect. Gazing down at your linked hands, you bite your lip before sighing.
“If I’m home before eleven, I’ll consider it.”
Last year, when you first met him, you thought Luke only got that determined glint in his eyes when he was competing. That it was a sign of an unanticipated thrill. Since then, you’ve learnt that it’s not that at all. It’s this thing that ignites within him, determined and passionate and a little boyish.
You think it might be one of your favorite things about him.
“I will take that deal.”
2.
You wish you could say you were a little drunk. At least that way you would have something to blame. As it stands, you’re stone cold sober, maybe a little tired from class but nothing that can really be blamed for the lack of weight your actions seem to have right now.
The only thing you can blame, and you will, is the boy next to you, completely engrossed in the movie playing. They’d been watching it when you arrived, all settled on the couches and you assume this is something they do regularly, and at any other time you might’ve called it cute.
Not tonight. Not when you walked in to the discovery that Luke wears glasses and you didn’t know about it. It was something you played off, making a joke and settling into the cushions beside him. In the time since, Chris has left for his date with Clarisse and Charlie has pulled out some work to go through in the corner of the room.
“What’s up?” Luke asks when he realizes you’ve hardly moved in ten minutes, barely even breathing. And it’s the worst possible thing he could do, glance down through the frames with that small smile you’ve gotten used to and curls loose.
“Nothing’s up,” you let your eyes trail back to the screen. “This is a very cute tradition you guys have going on.”
Charlie lets out a little laugh from across the room. You feel the way Luke exhales against the side of your face. You think you’re able to go back to pretending everything is normal, make a joke and enjoy the rest of the movie. The second you feel Luke’s fingertips on the skin of your knee, gentle and warm, you know you can’t.
“You’re swerving,” he whispers, throwing a quick glance at Charlie to see if he can hear but the other boy is engrossed in his work. “Talk to me.”
“It’s nothing,” you bite the inside of your cheek when he nods encouragingly, incredibly aware of the patterns he’s tracing on your skin. “I just think it’s interesting that you’d choose to wear a hat all the time when the glasses are right there.”
“What?”
His hand stills and you wait. You wait and you stare at the shape of his jaw and you chuckle when it finally clicks, his adam’s apple shifting as he swallows the conclusion down. “Are you saying you like my glasses?”
You don’t like how uneven this all feels. Whenever you’ve been with Luke so far, there’s been this mutual balance that you’ve grown used to. Even before now, back when you were locked in silly competitions, you did it on even footing, the expectation that everything meant nothing and you wouldn’t be affected.
This, the way Luke grins around the realization, hand moving to rest on your thigh, is different. It’s heavier. It’s a loss after a winning streak and you’re kind of obsessed with the way it could drag you down.
“I just think that hat is stupid.”
“Yeah, okay,” Luke nods and you know, even if he doesn’t do it outright, he’s laughing. He’s categorizing the information you’ve just given him, placing it where it belongs in his mind, and it’s going to bite you in the ass. “Tell me more.”
“Luke,” you mutter, gritting your teeth. His fingertips brush against the hem of your shorts and, when you glare at him for it, he just shrugs. You throw a glance over in Charlie’s direction. Still nothing. “Are you insane?”
He tilts his head like he’s considering the question carefully. If Charlie were to look over, you know he’d assume you were locked in a debate about something silly - a staple of you and Luke - and it wouldn’t matter. He wouldn’t know for a second that you were holding onto Luke’s wrist, his hand itching to move just a little to the left.
You sigh and the boy beside you raises an eyebrow. You both know that you’ve lost this round.
When you press your lips to his bicep as the film credits roll, warm even through the fabric of his shirt, you mumble, “I really like your glasses.”
3.
You aren’t used to watching things from a crowd. You’re used to focusing on yourself, on your team - not watching from a distance, surrounded by people who are there purely for enjoyment. There’s no winning from the stands.
Luke doesn’t know you’re here. You’d sent him a text that morning wishing him luck, arranging to meet him when his debate was over. You hadn’t bothered to message him when your afternoon class got canceled, choosing instead to race across campus and find a seat in the dim auditorium they’re using.
There isn’t the crackle of energy you get from swimming, or from watching Luke during track sessions. It’s less intense, for sure, a balance between the fire you know exists within him when he’s competing and the confidence he has in his own intelligence. You’ve argued with Luke, stupid things that neither of you care to take too seriously, and this is just the next stage of that.
He’s got his glasses on, you note, when the debate gets underway. He’s wearing his lucky green polo, even if he’d never personally call it that, and he’s switched his smartwatch out for an analogue one. The cheap biro you’re used to seeing him use has been replaced by a fancy silver pen that he still taps against his thigh while thinking. He’s sitting straighter than usual, shoulders back.
It’s almost like meeting him for the first time, focused and confident and sharp at the edges.
You’re kind of obsessed with it.
An hour and a winning handshake later, you make your way through the small crowd leaving to find Luke in conversation with one of his teammates. She smiles as you wrap an arm around his waist from behind, the slight tension still lingering in his bones melting away when he realizes it’s you.
“What are you doing here?” He says, turning enough that he’s actually facing you now. The girl waves you both goodbye. “I thought you had class.”
“Professor Chase had to cancel. His daughter got sent home from school with a fever.”
Luke nods, pressing his lips to the top of your head quickly. “You didn’t have to come to my debate.”
In the few months you’ve known Luke, you’ve learnt more about him than you expected to. You know from summer that Connecticut means looking after his sick mother, that he’s hoping to introduce some new charity events to ksig, that he used to go to a summer camp growing up. You know that his dad never showed up for anything and that he sits in the stands of all of your swim meets regardless of whether it cuts into his study time or not.
More than all of that, you know that the way he’s gazing at you now, a cross between awe and something deeper, is going to drive you crazy one day. You hope he can read the same expression on your face.
“Thank you for coming,” he says when everyone is finally dismissed, an arm thrown across your shoulders as you make your way out of the building. You loop a finger around one of his, just because you want to. “It means a lot.”
“I told you I would,” and you had, months ago, staring at Luke’s bedroom ceiling, back when you were still caught in the casualness of it all. When Luke was just someone you pretended you weren’t trying to bump into at parties. You’d told him that you would show up for him if you ever got the chance. He’d rolled his eyes, throwing a blanket over you both and told you to go to sleep. He’d drifted off with his nose pressed against your neck. “I keep my word, Castellan.”
“I know.”
In the evening light of campus, you think it might mean something more. Buried under the timing and the bitter wind until it’s a promise only you and Luke could translate. Asking him about where he wants to go for dinner, you like that no one else could understand the depth of it.
+1.
Silena catches your attention as you enter the kitchen, grinning wildly and explaining her concept for tonight. Drew gave her permission to throw this week’s party, something themed and fun and it’s something she’s so proud of that you can’t help but grin back at her energy.
“Even Charlie came,” she tells you excitedly, handing you a drink. “I feel like tonight is going to be it.”
In all the years you’ve known her, she’s been counting down to it. You don’t exactly understand the fundamentals of what it is, if it’s a real thing or something she can just sense intrinsically. There have been moments where she’s thought of it before, mentioned it offhandedly before shaking her head - as if knowing she was wrong.
“What even is it?” You ask and, for the first time, she breathes deeply instead of shrugging it off.
“The beginning of the end,” she says and that doesn’t exactly explain anything. “Everything is about to change.”
You still don’t really get it, but she’s as confident in this as she is about her clothes, so you nod like you understand. She sends you away not long after that, turning her attention to the new group that’s just walked through the doorway, mentioning that you need to be in the basement in about an hour and you just accept your fate, moving into the next room and falling into conversation with Rachel.
*
Luke slips into the basement just as Silena starts yelling for everyone to do so, catching your eye across the room and waving. When you’re all instructed to sit down in a circle, you wonder exactly what Silena has planned for tonight. When she places a near empty bottle down in the center of you all, you laugh.
“Are we actually playing spin the bottle?” Chris asks, prompting a murmured chorus of agreement from everyone else in the room. Silena frowns at him.
“Wanna bet he ends up getting the most into it?” Luke whispers in your ear and you raise an eyebrow at him. “Loser has to buy the coffee tomorrow morning.”
“You’re on,” you bump your fist to his to seal the deal. “I think he’s gonna get bored by round 3.”
“Only boring people get bored of this game. It’s about drive.”
“It’s about power?” Luke lets out a laugh and Silena turns her glare to you. “Sorry.”
She starts to explain the rules of the game, as if you’re all twelve again, and you bite your lip harder with every comment Luke makes under his breath. It’s a little mean, a little stupid, and you wish you were fifteen again, playing a proper game of spin the bottle for the first time.
Nothing much happens for the first few rounds, Chris starting to grumble the longer the game goes on. Luke clicks his tongue when you point it out, cursing his best friend like this was the worst thing that could’ve happened to him.
Lee spins and it’s like cosmic interference when the bottle stops between you and Luke, the two of you glancing at each other and then back towards Lee.
“Should I spin it again?” Lee asks when no one says anything. Silena shakes her head and says, “You can choose or we can vote if that makes you more comfortable.”
“Please let us vote,” Chris shouts, animated and you narrow your eyes at him, ignoring the smug smile Luke gives you. “I’ll never ask you for anything ever again.”
Lee glances between you both again, at where your knee rests against Luke’s thigh and the beer you’ve been sharing for the past twenty minutes sits between you. “It might be better to vote.”
“Sure,” Silena smiles before silencing you all. “Everyone that wants Lee to kiss Luke, raise your hands.”
You raise your hand and Luke mumbles beside you, flicking your leg and you poke him in return. Anything to avoid kissing Lee Fletcher after two years of avoiding it.
“That is an overwhelming majority,” Silena says and you know, just by the way her eyes slide over to you, that she didn’t even bother to actually count. “Lee, you may now kiss Luke.”
There’s this moment where you think Lee is going to just leave but instead he stares at the boy next to you, the relaxed set to his jaw, the annoying baseball cap on his head, how he’s so unbothered by it all. You watch as something clicks in his mind, you really want to know what it is.
Whatever it was, it makes him grab the bottle again, ignoring Silena’s protests. It lands on the girl from Luke’s debate team and she straightens her back ever so slightly.
“Silena,” Lee says as he leans towards the girl. “I’m not going to kiss Luke or his girlfriend.”
“Damn straight,” Luke mumbles, grabbing your hand from your lap and holding it in his instead. It’s stupid and it really doesn’t matter to either of you, you know that, but there’s this way he says it - almost like it’s the worst thing he could’ve imagined - and it settles in your gut with the beer you’ve been drinking. “Me or my girlfriend.”
“I’d really like to meet her,” you say, laughing when he huffs and pulls his hat down on your head. When you push the visor up to see him properly, all rosy cheeks and compacted curls, you think you might have found it. Whatever it is.
Based on the way Luke’s nose scrunches and his eyes crinkle, you think he understands that too.
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