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megamindsecretlair · 9 months

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Run it Back

Pairing: Tyrone x Black!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, Daddy kink, pet names. You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Smut, PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (male receiving), cum play, possession kink, size kink, breeding kink if you squint, all consensual. Degradation/Praise kink.

Summary: You forgot to check in with Tyrone and he calls while you're at the club. You rush home to apologize properly.

Word Count: 2,603k

A/N: Oh look, I'm zooted and feral again. This was so hot. I had a lot of fun writing it! Thank you all so much for all of your support and for reading! Goodness, how did this taglist get so big? ILY FRFR. Likes are always awesome. Please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers!

Taglist: @planetblaque @dayjlovesromance @sevikasblackgf @melaninpov @amyhennessyhouse @henneseyhoe @wakandas-vibranium @honeyoriginalz @justheretostan @black-fairy3 @superhoeva @jarfulloftears @hereformiles @montysstuffs @westside-rot @blackerthings @blowmymbackout @euphoric05 @miyuhpapayuh @nicolexnight @8ttached @judymfmoody

You dug your phone out of your purse as you danced to the music in the club. You were too turned up and had been having a blast with your friends, turning away guys but accepting the free drinks. Tyrone’s name flashed on your phone and you stopped dancing.

Your friend noticed and elbowed you to get your attention. You waved her off. Your stomach turned sour. Maybe you shouldn’t have had that third drink. Or was it the fourth?

“Hey, baby,” you said.

“The hell you at?” Tyrone’s voice was like a punch through the phone. He was mad. Scratch that. He was furious with you.

“Um, I’m a little busy,” you said. You knew he could hear the thumping music. There was no need to tell him where.

“You know what time it is?” He asked.

You looked at the screen on your phone. Shit! You were way, way past the time you told him you’d be home. You didn’t even text him to say you were staying longer. He loved that you were independent but it killed him when you were reckless with your safety.

“Baby, I’m sorry. We started dancing and they played all of my songs. You know like–”

“If you’re not here in ten minutes, I’m comin’ for that ass,” he snapped.

“Wait, I’m farther than that,” you said. Mentally, you thought about the route to your place with Tyrone. Even if you broke all of the traffic laws on your way over, there was no way to make it in ten minutes. The dread in your stomach gave way to hefty need. Your core ached and the hairs on the back of your neck raised.

“Nine minutes,” he said.

He hung up the phone and you got up. You didn’t say goodbye to your friends or stop long enough to breathe. You rushed out of the club and raced to your car. Your heart thumped in your chest and your hands shook.

You pulled out of your space and pulled into late LA traffic. They said New York was the City that Never Sleeps. So LA must be the City that Never Learns to Fuckin’ Drive. A car honked at you as if you were the problem. If a muthafucka ain’t got their headlights on, how the fuck you supposed to see them?

You made it home, barely legally. There were too many close turns and random cars enough to spook you. You thought you were going to get into an accident. But the closer you made it to Crenshaw, the more the traffic died down. Hood people knew when to take they asses home.

You straightened out your outfit as you got to the door. His car was still in the driveway. You wondered if he really would have come to the club and scooped you up. You didn’t need that embarrassment.

You got inside and listened out for where Tyrone may be. The living room and kitchen beyond were dark. You didn’t see a light upstairs either. Surely, he would have waited until you were inside, right?

A light popped on to your left and you jumped. Fear mixed with desire until you shook a bit. Tyrone sat in his favorite chair in the living room. A recliner that you both picked out. But more so him. He kept eyeing it and you knew that he never treated himself. His mind was always on the hustle and more money. You were trying to buff that rough edge of him. It wasn’t easy, but baby steps.

His hand was on his knee while the other propped up his head. The light had a thin shade so it covered a good portion of him. The other side was cast in shadow, giving him an eerie look.

You bit your lip and fought off shivers. If you thought you were needy before, you were downright feral as you looked at your man. Sometimes, you simply watched him. Watched the way he moved. The slow way he walked, his big hands, his wide smile, and his fine lips. His hair needed a little touching up. You made a mental note to do that for him tomorrow.

“Hey baby,” you said.

“Don’t ‘hey baby’ me. The fuck you doing out this late?” He asked.

“I didn’t look at the time!” You said.

“That’s not good enough. You think I like yelling at you?” He asked. He wasn’t really yelling. He never truly yelled. His voice went up in volume, that was about it. Tyrone held his anger inside. As if he were fueling his own angry battery.

“No! I’m sorry! I’ll do better,” you said.

“What you say?”

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” you said. That didn’t seem to appease him. He stared at you. He was still as a statue. Then his tongue darted out to lick his lips.

“Bust me this nut and maybe I’ll believe you,” he said. He crooked his fingers at you.

You took off your jacket and threw it onto the sofa next to you. You tossed your purse on top. You had chosen to wear a dress and you were so happy you did. You kept your heels on and slowly got to your knees.

You crawled across carpet. It was a short distance to his knees. He spread them as you got closer. You kept your eyes trained on him but in your peripheral, you saw his sweats tent up.

You stopped and knelt in front of him. You rubbed his knees as he looked down at you. “Get it nice and wet for me,” he said.

You leaned up further and started to untie his sweats. You could feel your arousal soaking your panties already. Your inner thighs tingled. You freed him and his dick twitched. You stroked him, always marveling at how it was both soft and hard.

Precum leaked on the tip and you ran your tongue over it. You were not supposed to be attracted to dicks. They were gross. And men hardly took care of themselves as it is. But Tyrone at least cared about hygiene. His hairs tickled your nose as you sucked him in.

Tyrone groaned and threw his head back. He settled further into the chair. You grabbed his meaty thighs and took in as much of him as you could. Your loud and filthy slurping noises filled the room. Tyrone moaned and it only turned you on more. You were doing this to him. And he was loving it.

His hands dug into your hair and gripped your head. He pulled you down further on his dick and you gagged a bit on him. You tapped his thigh twice. He let up some so that you could finally breathe. You tapped him once to let him know that you were okay now.

He continued to fuck your mouth. He once told you that he didn’t know which he loved more: filling your mouth with dick or sliding into the wet, hot heat of your cunt. Watching your eyes tear up or watching his dick disappear inside you. There were so many good options.

“Fuck, this mouth is good for somethin’,” he said.

Your pussy fluttered at the backhanded compliment. He was such an ass. A cocky muthafucka that ain’t never been told no twice. But fuck he was delicious. The line of his neck was visible since his head was thrown back. His eyes were closed and his mouth was slack.

You swirled your tongue around his slit while your hands worked him up and down. He twitched at the added sensation. There was enough of your spit to slide between your fingers and coat him while he drove into your mouth.

“Naw, I wanna cum in my pussy,” he said. He stood up abruptly and picked you up under your arms. You squealed. He knows you hated being picked up like that. You were a chunky girl your whole life. You wanted to quit it, but it didn’t want to quit you. You loved your body. You’d much rather have your gorgeous ass than be stick thin. Every blue moon, your insecurities flared up. You didn’t want him to strain something trying to lift you.

He’d only tell you to mind yo’ damn business. While he proceeded to pick you up any time he wanted. Especially in the bedroom. He made it his personal mission to toss you around as much as he could.

He dropped you onto his recliner. Your hands and knees dug unto the leather. It faintly smelled like him. Clean, earthy. Tyrone bunched up your dress in one hand. He leaned down and grabbed your ass cheeks. He wiggled them a bit and then gave it a light smack. Your pussy clenched and you moaned a little bit.

“You know Daddy worries about you, right?” He asked. He ripped your panties and slid inside of you in one powerful thrust and your head dropped to the chair. Your mouth dropped open in a silent scream. He stretched you out. You were ready for him but fuck, that sweet middle between pleasure and pain had you in a vise grip.

You nodded to answer his questions. “I’m sorry Daddy,” you said.

He smacked your ass, hard. You flinched and cried out. “I don’t believe you,” he said. He smacked your ass again and you nearly jumped off of the couch.

You started to beg him to forgive you. It truly had been a mistake. “You did this shit on purpose, didn’t you?” He didn’t let you answer. He smacked your ass again and kept smacking you. Your ass was on fire. The wind from his hand was starting to hurt you more than the slap did.

You relaxed and sagged against him. Once you were relaxed, he started to move again. He slammed into you hard and the momentum drove you into the chair. You felt every inch of him. The veins on his dick tickled the walls of your pussy.

“Fuck, you’re so deep,” you said. It was like the tip of his cock pressed up against your soul. He touched that deep, aching core of you. He hit it just right and continued to hit it. Your ass slapped against his thighs.

You didn’t know if your moans were louder or if his were. His thumbs dug into the top of your ass and you keened.

“Yeah, that’s it. Show me how sorry you are,” he said. “Let me hear it, mama.”

You gave him every sound you were capable of producing. Every moan and sigh. When he hit it how you liked, you made all kinds of incoherent sounds. Your body would jerk and twitch. He liked when you could barely shriek because he felt so good.

Your hand reached down to rub your clit. You were so close. You just needed something else. Tyrone’s hand came out of nowhere to slap your ass. “Shit!” You yelled.

Tyrone sucked his teeth and hit you again. “Move yo fuckin’ hand. Don’t touch my shit,” he said. He grabbed your wayward hand and brought it up behind your back. He bunched up your dress again and held it and your hand against your back.

He pushed into you more until your ass was the only thing in the air. He somehow slid deeper and you cried out. Your orgasm whipped through you, dragging you under and higher and inside out. Your eyes were clenched shut as you rode wave after wave.

Tyrone continued to chase his own orgasm. Your walls squeezed him and he twitched. He unloaded inside of you. He filled you up still. His hot cum pulsing inside of you. You felt a bit of him leak out and you groaned at the sensation. He stroked another few times before finally stopping and panting.

Your erratic breaths matched his and you both tried to come down. Tyrone pulled out and you both groaned at the sensation. He spread your ass cheeks so that he could watch himself leak out of you.

Your ass was still cresting the edge of pain. His fingers dug into it, making the pain flare in random bursts. You were so fucked out. You would have agreed to a twenty-four seven bodyguard if it meant that you never had to leave this headspace.

“You got the prettiest fuckin’ pussy,” he growled. He brought his hand up to rub along your clit and pussy. He pushed a finger inside of you and you moaned.

“Turn over,” he said.

He helped you get off of the recliner and then position yourself on your back. He gripped your thighs and pulled you to the edge. He bent down and entered you once more. “Can’t get enough of this shit, huh? You need more don’t you?”

“Yes, Daddy, fuck,” you moaned. You peeked over your boobs to watch some of him slip inside you. When he pulled out, he was coated into your juices. Glistening in the low light with it. Then he’d slide back into you and you threw your head back.

He had your hands pinned to the armrests and your knees crooked on either side of his arms. You couldn’t touch him. And more importantly, you couldn’t touch yourself.

“You owe me a few more,” he said. He pounded inside of you. You jerked from his powerful thrusts. Sweat gathered on his forehead. He leaned down and gave you a bruising kiss. His lips were warm and inviting. He pulled away before you could really enjoy it.

“Good girls get kisses. Yo ass been bad as fuck tonight,” he said.

That only made you wetter. He noticed and moaned. He leaned forward putting all of his weight on you. You were almost folded in half. You choked on the lack of adequate air but he was pounding into you and you just had to take it.

You had to take his thick cock however he wanted to give it to you. “Daddy, please,” you begged. You sniffled as your arousal built higher and higher. You tensed for half a second. That second seemed to stretch as you balanced on the precipice. Like a drop of water on the faucet after you turn off the water. You knew it was going to fall, it was only a matter of when.

You came with a loud scream, moaning in his ear. “Tyrone!” You yelled. He bit your neck, your shoulder, and licked away the sting. He kissed the sensitive spot below your ear.

He came right after you. It was like you were in sync. Hot jets of cum filled you up once more. You were truly a soaked mess right now. His cum slipped out of your pussy and dribbled onto your ass cheeks. The sensation was slow and tickled a bit.

He rubbed your sides and your thighs as you both calmed down. He nuzzled your neck. He kissed your cheek.

“I ain’t even half done with you yet,” he said.

You shook your head back and forth. “I can’t, Daddy,” you whined. You didn’t have the strength for another one. He lightly tapped the side of your face until you opened your eyes and looked at him.

“Naw, you can give me some more,” he said. He leaned down and bit your ear. You shuddered and clenched around him. “Be a good girl for me and take this dick.”

You nodded. Well, when he put it that way…

He pulled out of you. Then he went back in slowly. It was going to be a long night.

&&&

A/N: If you enjoyed this, there's more here: The Secret Tyrone Files

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queenhunter102 · 3 months

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NSFW

I mean it! this is not meant to be consumed/ read or seen by minors, this is WHOLE SMUT WITH LITTLE IF ANY PLOT, so please If you're a minor, stay away, Contents: Masturbation, edging? (Male), Orgasms(Of the male kind, ya' welcome Gaz),, Public sex (No like really, this man has his thang out and it ain't hidden), Public Masturbation, getting caught (Not really but kinda, Imma not tell who, as it is a secret, that you need to wait and see) Kyle pressed his head into the side of the convoy, as he bit his lip trying to muffle his moans, he had been working his cock for a little over ten minutes now, It had been aching for hours now, he was lying it had been days now. His hips began to move to press into the meat of his fist, his hips snapping to meet his fist, he always got like this, when it was coming to the end of his mission, every time without fail. Doesn’t matter if it was a week 3 days or six months, his cock began to ache and twitch anytime he dreamed of you, talked to you or hell looked at a picture of you. His moans got a little louder in the vehicle posting, his head constantly snapping up and scanning the area for anyone, he wasn’t usually this needy, this achy, this…desperate, he could hold off normally, could wait for you while he sank his cock into that sweet place he called home. But he hadn’t touched you before he left for his mission, god he was stupid for that, it was probably why he was so worked up, he didn’t have your body imprinted into his hands, his face, his chest, his thighs, no you were carved into his memory, his thoughts, his feelings but not his body, and it hurt him. He groaned as he lightly thumped his head off the door of the convoy, as his eyes rolled back thinking back to you, to the night you were so fucked out, so overstimulated that you wouldn’t let him bury himself to the hilt, no, you had let him fuck your thighs. He sighed as he remembered the soft feeling, dimpling effect his fingers had on them, how you whimpered when he brought your ass to his hips, while he moaned loud, his eyes snapped open when he heard a noise, his head looking for the source, but he was struggling while his hips kept snapping to his fist. In need and frustration, needing to find you, hold you, fucking ruin you, his eyes wander over to the ends of the posting he could see, he knew doing this in public was risky, he enjoyed risky behaviours, doing it in bathrooms, closets, anywhere really, but this was out in the open. All he could think about was if you were with him, he would have you bent in half inside the convoy, not casually screwing outside, where anyone could see you, but that made his dick twitch at the thought that you, his pretty baby, the sweetest creation, the one he dressed up and ensured that you had everything that your heart could ever desire. Dolled up, giving him a stark contrast to his job and the sweet thing he wraps around his battered and bruised body, while he ruins you, teasing you, edging you, he would whisper sweet nothings in your ear, how you are perfect, how the gods made you and then they broke the mould, his eyes rolled back as he thought about it how Simon or Johnny, or hell that little rat face Graves saw how sweet you looked pressed between him and the harsh world they lived him sent him over the edge finally. He moaned your name, as his cum spurted out, it stuck to the convoy’s door and covered his hand, while his hips and his legs shook from the force of the orgasm, he smiled when he felt his legs grow that familiar heaviness, he shivered as he stuff his overstimulated cock back into his trousers trying not to grunt to loud. As Kyle walked away, he hadn’t seen Philip, in the reflection of the glass, his eyes glassy and filled with the same need Kyle had mere moments ago.

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lunarw0rks · 10 months

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Old Bones | Chapter Ten

Summary: After fleeing a toxic relationship, you fear for your safety and hire a bodyguard. He's masked, impassible, and damn good at what he does.

Warning(s): referenced abusive relationship, PTSD/trauma themes, alcohol use, mild language, very mild suggestive content

Word Count: 5.3k

A/N: not proofread, enjoy your dinner y'all <3

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Breathless

“You have any idea what this is about?” Simon shifts the gear into the park, looking over at you with furrowed brows.

The truth was, you had no idea. All you knew was the police found Cal’s body, and you were asked to come here. Nothing more than that.

Simon didn’t take much pleasure in the summon slipped into your mail slot, either. Driving several hours at the crack of dawn to make it to the legal office on time, which of course you’d insisted wasn’t necessary.

You shook your head, giving a sigh of contempt. “No, I don’t.”

He didn’t have to give you the lecture, to not mention his involvement, to go along with whatever bogus story the detectives had come up with. It only took them a day to find him, and then within eighteen hours, you’re here—standing outside a corporate building with legal documents in your hand.

One minute, you broke down in front of Simon, spewing about how much you hated him, and then the next, you’re back in his truck for several hours at a time, all before the sun even rose completely.

No sleep, just nail-biting tension in the hours leading up to this moment. Not to mention, how bumpy things had gotten between you two since his death.

This meeting could be very good, or very bad, and you weren’t so sure you knew the difference between the two anymore. Perhaps Cal, even in death, organized a legal loophole for you to deal with after his death—nothing would shock you anymore, especially involving him.

The tall building was eerily similar to the office where it all went down; corporate chic and bland, only instead of being abandoned, it was bustling with suits and blazers. Lawyers and clients, detectives, mind-numbing coffee conversation bounced off the navy blue walls.

You’d never felt more out of place, despite wearing the most business-casual outfit you could find in your limited wardrobe. Outdressed and outnumbered; never a good combination, especially for someone with a mountain of secrets.

If they knew about Simon or all the carnage, you would’ve been in cuffs and read your Miranda rights, surely. However, no amount of logic could sway the nausea simmering in your gut.

The first person you see inside; a bubbly receptionist way too happy to be working there, especially in contrast to all the hardened corporate faces her co-workers maintained. “How can I help you?”

That beam on her face drops slightly when her eyes wander to your neckline, the half-healed bruises still visible on your skin, then the small cuts on your face you had no desire to cover. She nods to herself as if when seeing those marks, she knew who you were without asking for your name.

“You’ll be on floor twenty, room 3B.” She fishes through her drawers and then pulls out a slip of paper for you—your pass to the upper floors. Well, in examining the document, she guessed correctly when she saw your scars—it was indeed your information on the sheet.

With each ding of the elevator, you watched the small screen displaying each floor number as it increased. Finally, it reached twenty, then the doors whirred open.

It was louder up here than before, several offices and cubicles with appointments of legal counsel proceeding as you stepped out. Your feet carried you to section B, and then you followed the labels until you reached the room with 3B displayed on its metal plaque.

There were no viewing windows, leaving you no clue about the meeting you were walking into. It could be a group of lawyers, or even detectives, for all you knew.

With a few knocks and a small muffled voice behind the door, you open it. At the crowded desk sits a lawyer about your age, deep in concentration as she scribbles. Compared to the suits downstairs, she’s dressed much more vibrantly.

“You must be…” She raises her eyes, giving the same look as the receptionist when she saw your marks. You slide the paper across her desk, ignoring the feelings of humiliation plaguing you. Her freshly done nails fumble with the edge of the paper, reading your name, though she clearly had no need to verify.

“Is anyone going to tell me why I’m here?” You mutter with impatience, digging your fingertips into the strap of your bag.

“You might want to sit down first, as a precaution.” Her tone is light, but firm, like she’s been through this a hundred times with her clients. Your snappiness didn’t phase her a bit.

Now, the nerves had nearly become too much. The atmosphere of the place was bad enough, how cagey the paperwork was, and now, sitting down across from a lawyer.

She draws a line with her fingers, from the name on your sheet, to her stack of folders, until she finds your file. The flimsy cardstock cover wooshes as she opens it, then pulls out a muted green slip. When giving it your first glance, it takes a few moments before you figure out what it is—a check.

All of Cal’s assets are addressed to you.

Next, she lays out a few real estate sheets—estimates on his home, adding a small fortune to the number on the check.

“I’m sure it’s a shock.” To you, her voice is muffled as if it's coming through a wall, and there’s a loud ring filling your ears. Then, it was her rambling about legalities, his death, and your rights, all of which went right through you without a second of thought.

It was tunnel vision, blurring around the edges. From anxiety consuming you one second, to now a wave of awe. You peered down at the number stamped on there, how it must be a typo. More than enough to keep you comfortable, but not enough to run free forever. Still, it had to be wrong, right? After such a series of bad luck, things like this didn’t happen to you, right?

“Miss?” Her hand reaches across the desk, pushing the check further to you, brows knitted in concern.

You shake your head, eyes dry from your unblinking stare of revelation. “I don’t understand. This is all mine? But, Cal sued me, and I… I left him.”

“You left him because you feared for your safety, am I right?” She points a brief finger at your neck, the cruel reminder those marks still give you daily, even here. “You were still legally married, this money’s yours, ma’am.” She says it with a smile of pity, brows still contorted slightly.

You palm the glass table, holding the flimsy slip in your hands now as if touching it would make you actually believe her.

Her words wait until you’ve made eye contact again. “In the eyes of the law, you’re entitled to his assets, even after death. He didn’t have any arrangements in place, and you were merely the first one listed.” She skims through your folder once more, sliding some legal paperwork your way, along with a pen.

“Keep it, spend it, donate it, burn it. It’s up to you.”

—

The second you buckled yourself in, Simon pulled out of the spot and drove in silence, only giving brief scans your way throughout. His iron grip on the steering wheel was typical, but the staring was not, at least not when driving.

You hadn’t come out in handcuffs, or with a police escort home, so things couldn’t have gone terribly wrong—at least by his standards. But you were quiet and more distant than usual.

“Mind tellin’ me what that was about?” He stops at a light, only flicking his gaze to traffic every few seconds. Without the distraction of the traffic, playing cold shoulder with him was much more difficult.

You scoff at the question, not at him, then speak with cynical sharpness. “Well, my husband’s dead.”

Your joke did little to lighten the mood, only prompting him to shift his hips in the seat awkwardly, then stare harder. “Robbery gone wrong, I guess. Found on the sidewalk in front of his apartment, pockets empty, too.” The words are coated with irony, and you can only wonder how Simon managed to stage the scene so well—though, that was one thing you truly didn’t want to be privy to.

“Hm.” He nods, foot laying on the gas the second the light turns green.

For someone so good at hiding his feelings, he did little of it now. He was acting stiff and thorny, unlike his usual self entirely.

The ride goes silent again; past the cityscape, past the backroads and highways, even when the next town was several miles away. Currently, it was a dirt road stretching straight for eternity, and there were very few other cars. Until you looked at the small screen on his dash, you hadn’t realized just how long things had gone quiet between you two—clearly, it was so long that you would be home again in an hour.

“It was a check. His assets.” You finally speak, parting the tension between the two of you. For once, it wasn’t a disgruntled tension, only a hesitant, wordless one.

For several seconds, the gravel crunching under the tires fills your ears. Then, Simon turns his head for the first time in hours, cocking it, “enough to get you out of here for good?”

“What? Are you eager to get rid of me?” You cocked a brow. It was as if so much tragedy, so much of it had caused your snarkiness to come out. Of course, directed at the most humorless man on the planet, nonetheless.

He snarled under his breath and shook his head, disgruntled at how he set himself up for that one. If only he had the power of words on his side, he would say so much at once—and probably too much. It was a blessing and a curse at the moment, considering the setting, everything in the past, and the building of the future as his tires covered the miles back home.

All interactions hushed again, as the mind-numbing ride resumed.

The miles on each sign you passed decreased, soon becoming single digits instead of doubles. Now, with all these assets in your possession, and a home to sell, it seemed your options were both limitless and petrifying.

Would it be smarter to find a more upscale apartment, to stay in the city you still know?

Should you return to the home where it all began, and risk more harm to your fresh wounds?

Or, perhaps, you could take a page out of Simon’s book; live a life of misery, tormented by your own thoughts, only making it to the next day with a bottle to tie you over.

—

One thing you knew, or really, the only thing you knew was how much thinking you had to do. Just what you needed after going to hell and back—more time alone with your thoughts. But you weren’t truly alone, because Simon hadn’t left your side. Not since the night you told him to stay, not since you broke down in front of him.

“You gonna stop stirrin’ that thing?”

His monotone voice snapped you out of it, gazing down at your hand, aggressively stirring the drink in your hands; the way the metal scraped against the porcelain mug was like nails on a chalkboard. Somehow, you hadn’t noticed it when you were stuck in your mind.

You took the spoon out, no longer wanting the drink you made a point of grabbing when you arrived back home. You slid the mug across the table, the steaming cup of caffeine now in front of his spot. But he didn’t touch it, only gave it a small deprecating look—no different than his usual attitude.

In truth, it was the paperwork and the check on the surface that you were staring at, trying to make a mental decision without the pressure of actually rereading those numbers.

Some people would be ecstatic, with so much money at their disposal. But it wasn’t like that, not a lottery win, it was only more pressure.

What you were supposed to do—that was literally still on the table, just like the reason he was still here—unbeknownst to you. It’s not like you were going to ask Simon, that would only complicate things further. Besides, even you knew deep down you weren’t in any state to be left alone. Perhaps the graceless feelings and tension would be just a little less if your company was anyone else.

There was no one else, though.

“You’re starin’ again.”

Your head shakes away the trance again, seeing his head cocked with confusion, still the steaming cup is untouched. “Was I?”

“Sorry, I’m just—” You draw in a quick breath, lungs, and body both unsteady from the crushing weight of the meeting this morning. Just how everything worked out this way, it had to be a miracle. Perhaps, fate, even.

“I know.”

The fabric around his eyes wrinkles slightly, as do his eyes when they squint. At first glance, he looks displeased. But they have that softness to them again, like the night he saw those photos, and most like the night on the rooftop—when things between you were still fresh and untouched.

You didn’t need to finish your sentence. His gift was observance, noticing each small cue and quirk, and it seemed he was miles ahead of you before your lips could draw a response. Still, he stayed; enraged, distraught, grieving, screaming, even through your fugue state of speechlessness.

Your fingers combed through your locks, riddled with small cuts and mended scars, a tense grip causing white knuckles and a searing scalp. By now, your forehead had met the table, almost in a dramatic way, “you don’t need to stay with me, pity me. I’m an adult.”

“I see that.” He says and would chuckle at the sight of your grump if the circumstances weren’t so serious.

“And I’m not pitying you. I would never do that.” His last sentence wasn’t one of empathy, it was reality. Support, protection? All potent qualities of his. Pity, charity? None, whatsoever. One sure thing about him, he wasn’t going to pretend to be something he’s not.

You propped your face up with your elbow resting on the table, and a fatigued cheek smushed against your palm. Why was he still here? “Good. I don’t need it.”

“You need something, or you’re gonna put a hole in that shotty drywall,” he began, rising to his feet with a small grunt, “am I correct?” It wasn’t a question, just like his first sentence was an experienced observation—one he had seen within himself many times.

There is a clinking of glass, and then a scape against the table, before the bottle hits your arm, halting the force of its smooth slide across the wooden table. You give a disgusted look, but it was true, you needed something.

“Whiskey isn’t the solution… But I’m going to drink it.” You twist off the metal cap, smacking it onto the table with the whole force of your troubling convictions. It had been months since you had a drink, let alone straight from a bottle.

Perhaps, it was Simon’s only way of bonding without verging on feelings territory—a line neither of you needed to cross again.

You toss back a quick sip, sliding the bottle back to him. The burn of it coats your throat, down your esophagus, and through your stomach, sticking there as it simmered. It made your face contort, but the smoothness of the amber liquid was easily addictive.

Simon lifts his shirt and wipes the tip off the bottle, ridding it of your careless salvia, before turning away to take a small sip of it, an arm raised to lift a small bit of his mask. When he turns again, it slides back your way once more.

You agreed to a shot, not a drunken seesaw with him.

But here you were, taking another sip of it. This time, the wrinkle of disgust was a little less strong, and the potent taste of it had dulled when your taste buds numb to it.

Your nerves did diminish a bit, the longer the alcohol sat with you. “Well, you were onto something, I’ll give credit where it's due.”

“Don’t need credit.” He lets out a loud sigh, despite his tolerance to the substance.

You scoffed at his answer, coating your tongue with a bigger chug this time. Might as well, right? “Do you have an off switch, or are you always a wet blanket?”

To your surprise, it’s not a defensive comment or a snarl coming from his clothed lips. Instead, he chuckles—genuinely, void of his usual sarcasm—well, half of it, at least.

“Good one, I’ll remember that.” You had no doubts about that statement, and it would probably come to bite you in the ass later, much like every other thing you’ve said.

“At least when you’re buzzed you have a sense of humor.” Through the fabric of his mask, there is a smug brow cocked.

For the first time, bouncing off the other didn’t mean a conflict of half-empty comforts, it was a wholehearted conversation. A human one; a small aspect of life you had been missing so dearly, but without noticing the need for it.

A hand rested on his clothes thigh, legs spread wide in the dining chair as you both returned the bottle once you were done. Each time, he repeats his routine of turning away to take a sip—a habit that surprised you very little, in actuality, not at all. His privacy was one thing he never lost, despite all that you had been through at his side.

The stoic man with a mask treated you more authentically, more humanlike, than the one with no crooked teeth and a thousand material things to buy you.

The wounding irony of it made you nauseous, made you want to pound your fists into concrete.

This drinking game persisted for several minutes, and neither of you showed any intention of pacing yourselves. Simon, of course, was relatively unfazed by the substance, only speaking a little sluggish and reeking of it from across the table. You had gone off the deep end, with little restraint in holding yourself back. You had nothing binding you to sobriety, no job or husband, no worry of how to pay your rent—most significantly, your own personal guard was right here, with no sign of leaving.

There was only a shot left, more or less, when you slid the bottle back to him for the last time. He raised it, finishing it off until it was nothing more than a hollow glass vase.

“I’m… gonna get you a tea. This is my fault.” He muttered, a slightly widened look when he saw your current state.

You weren’t babbling like an idiot, or slurring like a drunken nuisance—your face was in your hands, a somber expression written on your face as you whispered to yourself, depressing phrases he couldn’t quite pick up on.

He hadn’t anticipated drunken clarity paired with depressed thoughts. What he wanted was less tension in your shoulders, an ease in your troubles, not the urge to find the roof and jump off.

On the bright side, for Simon at least? You hadn’t spewed yet, you were too occupied clawing at your insides for that.

“I’ll get it.” You snapped at him, legs moving a little slower than usual. But you had made it to the counter regardless, a hovering, offended hand shoving him out of the way. You swirled your finger, groaning under your breath when you had to find the effort to grab the items needed.

Simon placed a hand on his hip, leaning against the counter as he watched your odd mannerisms. Eyes reddened, hands twitching as you clumsily began boiling the water. To be frank, he was baffled that you could read the knobs on the stove.

You did it, eyes half open as you impatiently waited for the audible bubbling, and soon the loud whistle of the kettle to give you a migraine, surely. “You have a scar on your neck. Hm.” You pointed to it, but didn’t touch it—you weren’t that foolish, and you still had a desire to have your hands tomorrow.

He nodded and rubbed his thumb against it; the scar that showed when he wore t-shirts, stretching from his collarbone all the way to his chin, a once nasty laceration he got during knife combat, several years ago.

You truly hadn’t noticed it before, at least in its full magnitude.

There was a story there, one you didn’t want to know about. In truth, you only commented on it to pass the waiting time, not because your clouded mind told you to.

His fingers found the bottom of his mask, lifting it until the fabric rolled up to his bottom lip, the rest of his face still hidden. “See? A nasty bastard when it was fresh.” He figured, what the hell; you were in no position to hold this against him tomorrow.

You tilted your head, seeing that it deepend in the middle like that was the part the blade went deepest, then tapered off into a light indent when the slice finished. It wasn’t red or brown, it was scarred enough to match his pale flesh.

“Can I?”

No, you could not.

Nonetheless, he did nothing to stop the hand from reaching out to feel the mark. He wanted to close his eyes when he felt his muscles tense, how gently your fingers traced the scar. But they remained open, watching for any jerks in your movement—he couldn’t help it, his defensive instincts on high alert.

Your touch wasn’t predatory, nor invasive, despite his inner voice screaming at him to clench around your wrist, to squeeze it tight until you never did this again.

That self-protective part of him, he could contain, because it was foolish.

He couldn’t contain the way this made him feel, for the same reason, because it was foolish.

You could feel the tenseness of his shoulders, the small inhale when the pads of your fingers made contact with his neck, and most of all when they landed near his lips.

“Sorry.” You removed the hand, putting it back on your side.

But, he wasn’t irked, that much you could tell. In actuality, it was all you could pay attention to currently—him.

“Your water’s boiling.” The kettle hissed not a second after his words finished, forcing your attention to the stove. You found the knob and twisted it off, cutting the heat before your jumpiness caused a nasty scar of your own.

To reach the cleanest mug, you reached past him, head almost in the crook of his elbow. His height was an advantage, nearly an archway for you where the space of his arm opened enough for you. You grabbed it with haste, fighting every urge to run out of the room and bellow into the nearest cushion.

Waiting for the tea to turn was yet another opportunity for deafening silence. You set the mug aside after placing the bag of tea leaves in. For the liquid to have any effect, you needed it strong, so you were smacked in the face with another several minutes of staring.

It didn’t have to be like this, but it was, whether you were sober or inebriated did nothing to change that.

You had leaned down over the counter, face in your hands with regret. “I didn’t mean to push you. So you know, Simon.” You murmured against the wood countertop, left with little urge to lift your head and face him again.

What was once boldness and depressing clarity, was now pity on yourself and your actions—the one thing you so vehemently didn’t want from him.

“You’re…” He trailed off, lips tightening under his mask. “It’s nothing, ‘s alright.” It pained him to explain what had happened away, because it wasn’t nothing, to him. He still felt he needed permission from some unknown force to feel these basic things—attachment and touch.

“It’s not nothing.” You finally lift your head, picking up the steaming mug that wasn’t done yet. Your brows had contorted, and the reddened eyes had turned glossy. “I shouldn’t have pried like that. I’m sorry.”

Your past was talking for you, that dooming feeling of punishment for slipping up, for committing the crime of being yourself. Once met with a blow or insult, now met with a gentle touch to your shoulder, urging you to set down the cup.

“Let’s drop it, alright? I said it was nothing.” His tone was firm, but he wasn’t upset. His hand hovered again when you only gripped the porcelain mug tighter, looking into his eyes for proof of sincerity.

Simon felt he couldn’t be any more sincere than he was right now, in his own way. “How about you sit down somewhere… Please?” As much as he wanted to remain firm, he couldn’t. It wasn’t your fault for dipping into old habits out of distress, as much as it wasn’t his.

“I don’t want to sit.” You wanted to step back from him, distance your body from the potential harm of another brooding man, though he didn’t have an ounce of that in him—for you, at least. “This is what I didn’t want, for you to be upset with me.”

Your fretting look made his body ache, how convinced you were of repercussions coming your way in the form of his own two fists.

“Do I look upset with you?” He questioned rhetorically, reaching for the mug again. “Just… Find somewhere to sit this out, before someone gets hurt.” It came out worse than he wanted it to, wide open to your wounded analysis.

Once a worried expression, had dropped into a compliant look, the pound of your heart overtook any urge to retort or argue. That wasn’t how he meant it, it couldn’t be. If you weren’t inebriated, could you have believed that?

You turned on your heels, eyes darting toward the dining table feet away, white-knuckling the mug of tea to soothe this all-too-familiar feeling stabbing you.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he says from behind you, now a concerned looming figure, “if you want to stand, you can stand. If you want to talk, then talk.” He placed a hand on your tensed shoulder, but it barely made contact, in dread that his touch would make matters worse.

A stray tear floated from your eye down your cheek, and you wiped it quickly before turning around, finding him close and hovering. “This is pathetic, isn’t it?” You chuckled snidely at your own pain, but there was little humor he could find in your own struggles.

“Crying in front of you again, seems to be a pattern when we’re together.” You sniffled, thumb finding the corner of your eye to smear away more tears.

His hand lifted off, but remained outstretched in a tense fashion like the appendage itself was unsure of the next step. “Drink your tea, and… relax.” Even his voice hesitated, a worrying stare on the shaking mug, daring to spill from your unpredictable hold.

You couldn’t bring yourself to drink it, not right now. Not when he was in this position again, just like when he had hovered over you after the argument, or when he pulled your head into his chest. Your focus was limited right now, as was your ability to regulate your being. The tender look in his eyes wasn’t helping, nor were his exposed lips, chapped and tension-filled.

“I’m so sorry, Simon.” You let out a sharp breath. “This isn’t your burden.” Your words mirrored that of the night you sobbed in his chest, before the meeting you had this morning set off this domino effect of emotions, landing you here.

It seemed he had forgotten his mouth was exposed because you could see the frown on his face. You shouldn’t be the one giving the apology, the only one that should be was in a morgue, unclaimed but still mourned by the woman in front of him.

One of his hands found the side of your cheek, resting a light palm on it for you to nuzzle. The other reached for the mug, the sheer size of his hand overtaking yours in an instant. He was supposed to take it from you, to help you find a comfortable seat, hell, to tuck you in for the night. But he didn’t. He had only restricted you, your cries like a knife in his side, twisting with each one.

Instead, he had leaned down, finding his chin on your shoulder for a few seconds, then your faces were inches apart, both sets of eyes squinting from their own troubles. Then, they met each other, heavy breathing escaping each of you as the other mouth stifled any rejections.

The trend of letting you cry it out prevailed, but it was different this time. So different, his fingers were clammy and his stomach turned. It was wrong, so wrong he would bludgend himself if he could.

The mug he was holding had slipped, sending it shattering to the ground. You jerked in his grip, eyes wandering to the tea spilled on the ground, but the firm hold he now hand on either side of your face prevented a recoil. The most agonizing part of it for you wasn’t the kiss you didn’t want, it was how you wanted this act of intimacy.

His mouth was agape now, hot breath against your chin, his own saliva dribbling down your chin, and you didn’t want to go anywhere. The act resumed again, this time with more force, your back finding the counter with some force, fingertips digging into your cheeks ever so slightly.

It didn’t hurt, it only urged you further into this.

The kiss wasn’t a placeholder for deeper intimacy, he meant every bit of it—up until his emotional walls rebuilt themselves. What the hell was he doing? Right here, right now, of all places?

From each side of your face, his hands now found your arms, yanking you away from this. “No.” Simon hissed, nails digging into your flesh to keep you from returning it anymore.

You couldn’t figure out which party those words were meant for—a scold for himself, for initiating this kiss, or you, for being vulnerable enough to kiss him back.

Still, your eyes were glossed and pouring, and even more now that the entire relationship would be altered permanently from here on. Maybe it was your fault, you thought, using physical intimacy to make up for spats, yet another habit Cal had embedded in you.

Simon wanted to apologize, so badly. But he couldn’t, no matter how shameful his gaze was now. His fingers found the rolled-up fabric of his mask, yanking it downward until his mouth was concealed again.

He couldn’t find those two words—the ones you had just said to him before the kiss. Instead, he dropped to his knees in front of you, fingers finding the shards on the tile and scooping them up without care for his skin, despite how deeply they pinched it.

Your thumb found your saturated lips, wiping away the evidence.

“I’m… going to bed.” You murmured, more to yourself than him. The smell of alcohol on your breath only acted as a reminder, as would the hangover tomorrow morning. With hesitance, you whipped around his kneeled position and exited the kitchen, eyes still wide with shock. Your stumbling feet carried you all the way to bed, a slow crawl until you could cover yourself completely with the duvet, like a cocoon of denial.

When forced into solitude with your racing thoughts, there was one dim light at the end of this tunnel.

You came to a decision about those papers, one that would land you far away from this chaos.

TAGLIST: @random-thot-generator @littleobsessionsandlifeslessons @illyanam1011 @stunkbiggu @bi-witch-bxtch @warm-milk-with-honey @xheera @kiamewrites @01trickster10 @m0chac0ffee @tizylish @midwesternwitchery @ramadiiiisme

#mw2 #mw2 fanfic #call of duty #simon riley #simon riley x reader #task force 141 #ghost mw2 #task force 141 x reader #simon riley fluff #simon riley smut #simon riley angst

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yes-i-am-happyaspie · 6 months

Note

How about Peter feeling touch-starved and asks Tony for a hug?

These mini fics often turn out super self-indulgently soft. Haha. But hey! We love it, right?? We're here for the fanon?? I know I am! I hope Anon is too because this one is hurt/comfort with a heavy emphasis on the comfort. Peter desperately needs a hug and doesn't know it. Good thing Tony does. :) Super sweet. Very fluff.

Peter Parker Needs a Hug 967 Words

At sixteen-years-old, Peter was eminently capable of spending a week alone in the apartment. May had been begged to take some shifts at a short-staffed hospital a few hours away. She’d tried to decline. She’d told them she had a nephew at home and couldn't uproot him in the middle of the school year.

Peter had argued the compensation was too good to give up. He’d assured her he would be fine. It wasn’t like he spent that much time at home anyway. He’d attend school, patrol, complete his homework and sleep. If he needed anything, he would have the Leeds’, MJ and Mr. Stark.

Reluctantly she had accepted the offer. She’d packed a few bags, hugged him tightly and driven off.

As it were, Peter flourished in the independence. He woke up early to make himself breakfast, watched whatever he wanted on the television and made sure to get to bed at a reasonable hour. It was great. And when the first week went well, May apprehensively agreed to one more.

While Peter missed his aunt, he wasn’t terribly upset that she had decided to stay longer. It was only seven more days and they talked on the phone all the time. However, the intrigue and sense of accomplishment that came with being trusted to care for himself came to a screeching halt in the middle of his eleventh night of solitude.

For no discernible reason, Peter woke up too early in the morning feeling uneasy. He didn’t think he’d had a nightmare. If he had, he certainly didn’t remember it. Sighing, he went to get a glass of milk from the kitchen; something he often did when he simply couldn’t sleep. But as he walked down the hall, he realized something was different. What he ordinarily thought of as a peaceful silence in the apartment, had been replaced with an eerie feeling of emptiness. He rolled his eyes at his own dramatics and flipped the light on.

The rest of his day didn’t go any better. He got to school and went through the usual paces. Really, it would have been a completely ordinary day had it not been for the lingering discontent in the back of his head. It made him irritable and anxious, and he had no idea how to combat.

When lunch came around, Ned put a hand on his shoulder and asked him if he was okay. He shook his head, his eyes stinging with unshed tears as he fought back the overwhelming desire to pull his friend into a bone crushing hug. Being that they were in the middle of the crowded cafeteria, he fought the urge and wrapped his own arms around himself instead. He mumbled he was just in a bad mood, apologized and tried to go back to his suddenly tasteless sandwich.

Patrol was a no-go. He wanted to go out and help, but lacked the motivation. It was odd. He couldn’t think of a time he’d ever not wanted to patrol. He brushed it off as another symptom of a bad day and went straight home. He’d only been there about ten minutes before Mr. Stark texted him.

‘You’re not patrolling today?’

‘Taking a break,’ he replied, not wanting to give too much away.

‘Want to take that break at the tower? the next message read. Followed by, ‘I could use your help.’

Peter read the message over a few times, surprised that going to the tower actually sounded really nice. Hurriedly, he changed into this suit and headed in that direction.

“Hey, Kiddo!” Mr. Stark cheerfully greeted. “How goes your lack of parental supervision? I haven’t gotten any emergency calls, so I assume it’s gone well.”

Dubiously, Peter narrowed his eyes. “May asked you to check on me, didn’t she.”

Mr. Stark smiled sheepishly, his hand moving to the back of his neck. “She did. Said you sounded a little down this morning.”

Peter’s eyes tried to well up again. It was super aggravating. Especially in front of Mr. Stark.“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he growled. “I’m antsy and annoyed for no good reason.”

Mr. Stark’s head tilted to the side. “How long has May been gone?”

Peter scrubbed at his face and did a mental tally. “Almost twelve days.”

There were a few beats of silence. Then Mr. Stark beckoned him closer. “Come here, Buddy.”

“Why?” Peter asked, feeling more defensive than he should have.

“Just come here. Trust me.”

Peter did as asked. He closed the distance between them and was met with a tight embrace. He stiffened for a split second before melting into the pressure. He couldn’t restrain the fresh round of tears that sprung to his eyes. Mr. Stark tightened his grasp, swaying gently as he ran a hand up and down his back. He didn’t stop until Peter gathered a breath and pulled back on his own.

“Better?” Mr. Stark asked, one hand still squeezing Peter's bicep.

“Yeah,” he replied, his cheeks pink with mild embarrassment. “Yeah, that’s better.”

“I know you’ve been doing fine on your own, but you know you’re welcome to stay here tonight,” Tony offered. “Pizza and movies. I’ll get you to school in the morning.”

Relief Peter didn’t even know he needed, washed over him. “That actually sounds really awesome,” he sighed, leaning in for another brief hug. “Thanks, Mr. Stark. You always seem to know what I need.”

“That’s my job,” Mr. Stark said softly. “But next time you need a hug, all you have to do is ask, okay, Pete?”

“Okay,” Peter echoed. He bit back a smile and looked up through his lashes. “Can I have a hug?”

Tony barked a pleasant laugh. “Of course, Kiddo! Any time,” he said, arms outstretched for Peter to fall into. “Absolutely anytime.”

#happyaspie mini fic #<- check out that tag #mini fic prompts are open #send an ask!#mini fic #fic under 1k #tumblr mini fic #peter parker #tony stark #irondad and spiderson #marvel #spider-man #iron man #mcu #irondad #touch starved #peter parker needs a hug #peter parker gets a hug

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lostinlewis · 11 months

Text

Just a little something…

Mature.

He was barely touching you yet he felt so heavy against you, the weight of his body was nothing in comparison to the weight of desire that soared through you.

Every breath he took fell to your skin, warm yet raising goosebumps as if cold, you nearly lost yourself without a hand even touching you, so powerful he was when he wanted something and it just so happened that today he wanted you.

“Are you scared?”

His question brought you back to a reality you were in no way ready for, had you known this morning when you arrived at work that you would find yourself alone in a room with the man you had lusted after for months now, you would have been more prepared.

You shook your head unconvincingly, although he wasn’t able to see your face as you stood by the door, he could read your body language well enough to know that nerves rushed through you.

“I’ll be gentle with you, I promise.”

It was as his promise rang through the air, his voice no more than a whisper, careful to not let the world know of the moment you both found yourselves in, Lewis dared a hand on your hip for just a moment, pulling you back into his body.

“I’ve wanted to get you alone from the moment I first saw you.”

The first gasp left your lips as you felt the tip of his nose brush against the skin of your neck, rolling your head back instinctively asking for more, it was only as his lips made their first contact with you that you felt a tingle unlike no other, a tingle that made it so the gasp was replaced with a whispered moan.

His hands trailed your body like they were exploring territory unknown, never quite finding a place to settle until one rested on your hip whilst the other dared to explore more.

“Keep quiet for me…”

You barely had time to register his words before you felt his hand slip under the waistband of your pants to find the place you wanted him most.

His lips made their way up your neck, nibbling on your earlobe as he placed a finger inside of you, revelling in your gasp that only grew as his finger became two.

“Mm, so tight…you’re going to make this hard for me…”

His thoughts were said out loud as he tapped against your spot in the most perfect of rhythms.

“Lewis, I…I…”

“Tell me…tell me what you want…”

His words growled in your ear as he felt your knees weaken, he knew what you wanted but he wanted to hear you beg.

“Please can you…please…”

“Can I what babe?”

His tapping grew faster, the pressure intensified as if he was making it as hard as possible for you to let out words.

“Need you to…fuck…need you-“

Both of you froze as there was a rapid knocking on the door.

“Ten minutes until you need to be on the grid.”

The monotone voice of one of your colleagues sounded through the door, having no idea the moment they had interrupted and subsequently ruined.

“Shit…”

You felt his reluctance as he pulled out of you, stepping away from you to let you gather yourself.

“It’s okay, we both have jobs to do.”

You fixed your team shirt back into place as you zipped up your pants. A few deep breaths taken to try and make yourself not look as flustered.

“We do…”

Lewis stepped towards you once more, the very moment you turned around to face him.

“I’d much rather do you though…”

The smile on his face was quite devilish, yet he had never looked more attractive.

“Maybe another time.”

You weren’t sure if what just happened was a one time thing, but you felt it only right to let him know it was what you wanted.

He didn’t respond with words instead he let you watch as he brought the fingers that had been inside of you only moments ago, up to your lips so he could taste you.

“Delicious.”

Lewis disguised his praise with a kiss that stole all of your breath.

“Now both of us will have the taste of you on our lips as we work this afternoon. You better leave before me, we wouldn’t want people to talk…”

It was as your hand found the door handle that he stopped you with his words once more.

“I want you back here after the race, we have unfinished business…”

#LHex #unedited and all that jazz

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niiine · 1 year

Text

𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒

Character(s). Xiao, GN! reader

Synopsis. The golden-eyed yaksha never looked forward on his birthday, what is to celebrate? A life that is not even close to one? So no, at least not until you came.

Fluff, comfort

Birthday boy Xiao🎉

NOT PROOF READ!!!

Because I'd rather die than not write anything for my most beloved's birthday. ILYSM my short king! ❤👑

Xiao's gripped at the railings of the Inn's veranda tightens each passing minute. Eight? No, no... That's not right. Probably ten. Yes, you're ten minutes late from the time of your usual arrival now—of all times. Don't you know that he needs to attend to his duty already?

Thirty minutes. One hour. His heart tugged as the clock ticks and there's no sign of you coming by anytime soon. Did your forget about today? The adeptus heaved a sigh; no, of course you don't. You never missed this day. Maybe you're just busy. Yes, that's just it. He reassured himself, honeyed-eyes scanning the vicinity once more, hoping to catch a glimpse of you to no avail, before leaving to patrol the whole Liyue. Chest a little heavy and clouded with uneasiness. Somehow his body's just reluctant of moving.

Xiao is not one to partake on desires to consume human food. Not one to halt his demon-hunt for an afternoon break, but maybe you'll be— No. He's not waiting for you. he's just hungry. Yeah.

But the way his lips twitched, stomach falls, and eyes dimmed once he arrived at the inn without your presence tells another story. Heart heavy (though he will deny it) at the fact that you're still no where to be found. The thought of your interest in him fading crossed his mind. Maybe you're done of him? After all, he never showed any appreciation of all your shenanigans related to this day in the previous years you've accompanied him. His chest tightens, and the desire to see you just flares. He can't put a name on the emotions creeping up to him though.

Xiao pushed it deeper. Unwilling to accept whatever monster clawing up on his heart, maybe you just forgot. Yes, you never did before, but there's always first right? And this is your first time forgetting about his birthday. He took a sharp breathe. So what if you do? It's not like today's important...

But he's important to you, right? right?

Lost in his thoughts, Xiao did not notice you slipping through the door behind him, treats present at hand. Your walked towards his unmoving form, and Xiao jumped at the touch of your soft palms on the small of his back.

"(Y/N)" He uttered your name in shock. His golden eyes looking at you wide, as if surprised at your visit—aren't you doing this every year? what's with that reaction?

"Are you alri—" your words were cut as he planted his head at the crook of your neck, his arms snaking in your waist (A/N: if you're reading most of my work, you'll notice that I love doing this. Please don't judge me. This position is just sooo cute) "Xiao, what happened?" Curiosity and worry flooded your tone because this is a very unusual action for your lover.

He shook his head, and your empty hand reached out to run your fingers through his hair. "I thought you forgot"

"What? No, I did not! I was busy making this," you stated, pointing at the cake resting on your other hand "I will not forget what today is, Love." His heart beats faster at your endearment. All his worry of being discarded gone the moment your lips placed a kiss on the diamond on his forehead.

"Happy birthday my beloved" he raised his head to meet your eyes, his own softening at the sight of you. Your hand cupped his face before you lean in for a kiss. Butterflies in his stomach fluttering at your actions. Archons, he never thought that his birthday would feel this special.

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your-local-baguette · 1 month

Text

Rather Be, Rather be

part 1

Warnings:not proofread, contains triggering subjects, read at your own risks. Cheap ass german btw manga spoilers

Half of this was made a lot later, so, apologies if they are a few incoherence. Enjoy!

You walked next to isagi, the first match was in ten days, you were simply walking in silence, both with one earphone. You grabbed the hair tie around your wrist and started tying up your hair in a small ponytail. You yawned before holding the door open for Yoichi, walking inside the cafeteria with him. You went to sit at a table, while isagi went to get his meal, you took out your phone, scrolling through some messages. Mostly from your mom, sometimes Anri, but that was pretty rare. Someone sat in front of you and it wasn't Yoichi, you raised your gaze to be met with micheal's, you raised an eyebrow at him. "Why hello" he said, that fake ass smile still attached to his face, you didn't answer at first but you gave him a little wave. When isagi arrived, he sat next to you, placing his plate, while he took out the earphone you gave him, handing it to you. Yoichi looked at your lack of food " not hungry ?" You shook your head, while he raised his shoulder, pretty much ignoring kaiser. "I simply accompanied you here so i wouldn't spend the evening in my room" he nodded, before placing his chopstick on the rest. "That's understandable, anyway, what training did you do today?" He asked, legitimately curious "i did core strength and dribbling" he chuckled "just sharpening your best skills gain, mhm ?" He had managed to get out a little smile out of you "yea.."

"dribbling huh ?"

A voice behind you said, one you knew a little too well, you looked over your shoulder only to be met with a pair of teal eyes. "Rin..." He didn't say anything else "you should sharpen your other skills instead" he said, still with his emotionless face. "I do, i do, but just not today" you said of a gentle voice, your features softening around the itoshi, when he sat down next to you, you rested your head on his shoulder, while he rolled his eyes. Nonetheless, he didn't move, acting as if he didn't care ( he does care). As for kaiser, that was sitting in front of you, was smiling, 'that fake ass'.

You lifted your gaze to cross the blond, letting it linger far too long on his his.

'wait a damn minute..'

'that look he had...'

"micheal...?"

His lips tugged into a smirk, raising an eyebrow.

"calling me by my first name now, what is it ?"

You rolled your eyes at his teasing tone

"can we talk later..alone"

"oh ? Sure hübsch" ( i'm so sorry if i didn't spell it right, i'm sure it means pretty but correct me if it doesn't)

"i'll come get you.."

For once, the blond was actually quite cooperative, simply nodding and walked off.

"Say rin ?"

He hummed

"did you see it too ?"

"...yes"

I nodded, raised my head from his shoulder and stretched my arms out a little.

"i'll see you two another time, i have to go talk to choppy hair"

Yoichi snickered, but as you walked away he glared at rin, the two didn't get along that well, but not the kind like shidou and rin. The older player got up and walked away with his empty plate, leaving rin lost in thought.

As for you, the quiet sound of your shoes hitting the ground couod be heard, you were walking quite fast to reach choppy hair's room. You walked past many, many doors until you reached the desired one.

Although you asked him to talk, you felt quite nervous about this, but you knocked. It didn't take long before the blond opened the door, inviting you in, you nodded and walked in.

"you seemed serious about talking to me earlier, what is it "

"micheal, i know it might be indiscreet to ask this, but i'll get to the point"

...

He stayed silent

"why do you hate yourself?"

Kaiser swore he felt his breathing stop hearing your question. You're right, why did he hate himself, he didn't even know.. No that's not true, he knows why, but he doesn't want to admit.

"why do you wanna know that ? You care about me, hübsch?"

He responded, still with that cocky smile of his, but his gaze crossed your again, contrary to his, the energy you gave off, you were dead serious.

That's when it hit him, you were being for real, real, you actually cared, being that sassy exterior, you fucking cared. That's what made it harder for him to say it...but guess what ? He did it anyway.

"because i'm not good enough, if i don't get better then my career will just go down...i need to surpass N-"

"that's the problem, setting goals for yourself is fine, it'a good even. But if you can't do it now, take a step back to take two forward. You're allowed to rest micheal, but i can tell, that's not the only thing bothering you, is it"

That wasn't even a question, he couldn't answer that, he knew that you already know, but, now did he expect you to hint towards it ? No he fucking didn't.

The more his eyes loosed themselves in yours, the more he felt like you read him as an open book.

"body dismorphia? It isn't easy, is it ?"

He didn't answer, but what purpose would it do anyway, you already knew the answers to all that.

" why?"

....

"why do you ask me all this when you know the answer ?"

"because i want to know how you feel it"

"but micheal, it i'll be fine, so hang on a little longer, mkay ?"

What followed after this was the last thing he expected, his forehead was resting on your shoulder, and he broke. The tears, they spilled out, he just couldn't anymore, he felt your arms around him.

'oh, as much as this comforts him, he'd rather be, rather be, somebody else'

_________________________________________

Thank you for reading up until now, now, this story was not necessarily romantic with micheal, but more platonic. Hopefully you weren't disappointed.

#blue lock #bllk #blue lock x reader #x reader #blue lock fanfic #bllk x reader #fanfic #fluff #fanfiction #bllk fanfic #angst #rather be rather be #rather be #micheal kaiser #micheal kaiser x reader #platonic #rin itoshi #yoichi isagi

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that-gay-guy-from-hell · 5 months

Note

Can I request headcanons or a scenario for Reader (pick a gender, idc) giving V a handjob? Just holding him close, somewhere safe in some nice + safe bolt hole somewhere in Red Grave city, listening to him moan (and maybe talk? If he can talk while getting off) while Reader gets him off? Please, his voice is so pretty, he'd sound so nice 😍 And he deserves to feel good 💜

Lineaments of Gratified Desire: V x G/N Reader

Minors DNI; FOR 18+ ONLY!

Seriously, go away; go read some fluff or angst or something.

SUMMARY:

Despite V’s physical limitations and condition, the fragile man has saved you on more than one occasion from certain death. Today, you decided to repay his kind deeds.

BEGINNING NOTES:

Requested 10th June 2023 by Saiyanblood2 on Tumblr :))))

🛏️📔🛏️ Submissive V x G/N reader Fluff..? If you squint Smut Handjob; V receiving 📔🛏️📔 🟪Takes place during DMC 5 🟪The reader is a demon hunter who works with the DMC. 🟪The reader uses Gilgamesh and Revenant. 🟪Quick reminder that “sword” sizes are found in the character's H/C chapter (Linked here) 🟪I haven’t finished “Visions of V” yet (not very good at reading things and I haven’t had much time/motivation to do so no Vergil joke intended lmfao) but I’m like 99% sure that this conflicts with that, sorry. 🟪Yes, I know that jumping from a window you should do like a parachute roll or whatever it’s called; just let me have this lmao 🟪Bagheera is the name of the jaguar from “Jungle Book” which I’ve never seen, if I’m honest. But! I feel like Dante and Vergil would’ve seen it as kids since the movie was made in 1967 and they were born in 1980. (I use Bagheera in here and I figure I should explain it lol) 🟪Boxer briefs (as far as I am aware) usually have a zipper fly; so V’s do as well. 🟪This is my first time writing (and acknowledging) that I h/c V to have an uncut dick. It might be a bit rough; sorry. (Fun fact: I also h/c Vergil and Dante to also have uncut dicks lmao)

===

“So,” Nero mindlessly wandered around the interior of the van, waiting for Nico to finish her work, “You and V, huh?”

As you adjusted Gilgamesh’s gauntlets and furrowed your brow, responding without looking up, “What about V and me?”

Leaning against the inner wall of the van, Nero stuck his hand in his jeans pocket in an attempt to act casual, “You two a thing?”

“Wh-what?” A flustered expression adorned your features as you slowly panned up to meet Nero’s curious gaze.

“Come on,” he gave a playful smirk, leaning forward slightly, “You can--”

A loud southern-accented voice cut him off from the back of the van, “He an’ I got a bet if y’all are fuckin’ or not.”

“If we’re…” You slowly blinked, processing what was said, “V and I are not-” Putting your hands up, you shook your head, “We aren’t anything or doing anything.”

Nico clicked her tongue in disappointment while Nero pumped his fist with a quiet, “Yes!”

Rolling her eyes, Nico pulled a wad of cash from her back pocket, counting out what looked like ten dollars. Nero strolled over to her workbench, a smug grin plastered on his face. In an almost exaggerated manner, he snatched the money from her and tucked it in his duffle bag, which was neatly placed underneath the couch.

A squeak of the van door caught everyone’s attention, V looked around for a moment before his gaze fixated on you, “Pardon my late arrival, I was… busy.”

You smiled and took a few steps to stand closer to him, “It’s alright; it was nice having a break for a few minutes.”

Nero raised a brow, “You guys are already heading out?”

With a nod, you turned to address the pair, “Just a quick sweep of the next dozen or so blocks; we shouldn’t be long.”

“Uh-huh,” the white-haired man took a deep breath, shaking his head with a small smile, “You’re gonna burn yourself out again; gotta sleep at some point.”

He tossed you Revenant which you caught and slid in the holster on your lower back, “I’ll sleep when I’m dead. Besides,” you took a deep breath and sighed, “the city’s not gonna clear itself.”

Making a phone call motion with her hand, Nico spoke, “Keep in touch, hun.”

With a playful sarcastic wink you gave her double finger guns, “Will do babe,” the two of you shared a laugh before you addressed V, who, unbeknownst to you, hadn't stopped staring at you, “Ready?”

“Of course,” he pivoted around, opening and holding the door open, “I’ll follow your lead.”

With departing waves, you stepped out the door, V following suit. A warmth found its way to your face as you smiled as you walked side-by-side; a comforting silence settling between you. Despite only knowing V briefly, you had grown quite fond of the lithe man. The way he treated you and spoke to you was so different compared to the roughness of both Dante and Nero that it made his first meeting with you stick out like a sore thumb.

===

It had only been a week or so after the Qliphoth had appeared.

After only God knows how long, you had taken some vacation time and left the city. Upon hearing the news about the outbreak, you immediately turned around and put your holiday on hold. This wouldn't have been too big of a deal if not for the unbelievably high amount of military checkpoints you had to go through; re-explaining that you work as a devil hunter and your employer had been asked to help handle the situation. It was monotonous, to say the least.

Not to mention that Nico, Nero, and the client--whom you hadn't met yet--were on the complete opposite side of the city.

An exasperated sigh left your lips as you kicked a rock using Gilgamesh's boots. It had been nearly 72 hours since you'd slept, eaten, or had any sort of significant source of water. Exhausted didn't even come close to explaining how you felt.

Thankfully, life decided to throw you a bone and you stumbled upon a relatively un-damaged apartment complex. Not passing up the chance, you headed straight inside and cleared out the first and second floor: given it was only lower-level demons like Empusas. One of the second-floor rooms had a door still attached and a corpse-free bed. Quietly shutting the door, you flopped onto the bed.

Even with you sleeping with one eye open, you were jumped by a demon that you hadn't heard. It was a Nobody and by the time you got your arms up to block, it was too late to ground yourself. The demon smacked you out the room's window.

Landing on your feet, Gilgamesh took the brunt of the fall; however, it still sent a shocking pang of pain up your body. Crumpling over on yourself, you grumbled some obscenities before returning upright. Your eyes settled on a newly formed horde and you put your hands up, ready to fight.

The extent of your exhaustion was becoming evident as you threw sloppy punches and were only able to kick half as high as normal. Despite this, you still managed to clear the demons... or so you thought.

An icicle from a Baphomet nicked your bicep causing you to hiss in pain. Placing a gauntlet over the torn flesh, you spun around to see the demon which was floating right out in the open. Though it was a stupid move, you spirited straight at the icy demon, avoiding all manner of magical attacks.

Using Gilgamesh's saws on your boots, you sprung upwards and drilled up into its brain with the gauntlets; killing it. Smiling to yourself, you landed and shook the corpse from your hand.

Your hair stood on end and your expression fell.

Slowly pivoting around, you came face to face with a trio of Hell Judeccas. As you waited with bated breath for one of them to move, you felt the blood from your wound glide down and drip off your fingers. The Baphomet was a challenge enough right now; so this fight would most likely end poorly for you. Death was almost a guarantee and there wasn't even anyone around to see it.

Taking a deep breath, you took off towards the demons and dodged two sets of blades that were sent straight at you by sliding on your knees. Pulling Revenant from its place on your back, you shot at them, praying that you hit at least one. However, you weren't so lucky and they all moved or teleported out of the way.

Quickly getting to your feet, you readied for another attack when a strange cat-like snarl from behind you caught you off guard. The supposed source of the sound, a large black jaguar, darted passed you and attacked the opposing creatures.

Then a shrill cackle came from behind in the same direction, quickly approaching and flying over you, “Ha! Bagheera was right, I’ll be damned.”

Confusion set in as you watched with mouth slightly agape at the demons being shredded by, what you could only assume to be, more demons.

“ “The most sublime act is to set another before you. / If the fool would persist in his folly he would become wise.”.” A low sultry voice from behind you caught your attention, turning slightly; attempting to keep an eye on both the demons and the new voice.

“Who-?”

You froze, your already pounding heart picking up a few extra paces at the sight. Though Dante had called you and given you a small description of the newest client of (The) Devil May Cry, you hadn’t expected him to look like this.

He slowly walked past you, sliding the well-kept brown pleather and golden accented book into his, rather promiscuous, leather jacket. When you turned back around to face the demons, the amount of confusion you had only tripled. The two animals had taken care of the three Hell Judeccas, all looking oddly de-saturated and on the verge of death. The gaunt tattooed stranger, using his cane, swept up one of the large demon’s sets of blades and swung them around, slicing it in half. He repeated the action but was able to kill the final two in one combined swing.

All you could muster was a confused open-mouthed huff.

The large hawk addressed the raven-haired man, “Well that was fun.”

Rolling his eyes, the man sighed and turned his attention to the jaguar. The large cat had begun to creep up to you; not in a threatening way but rather, what appeared to be, a curious one.

Just as it got within an arm's length from you, the man placed his cane down using it to support himself, and simply said, “To me.”

Both animals returned to him and quickly disappeared into the man, causing more blackened ink to appear on his pallid skin.

“Are you alright?” His eyes focused on you.

“I-” You closed your eyes and rapidly shook your head, rationalizing that his animals weren't real, thinking it was caused by your delirious state, “I’m fine; thanks for the help.”

A warm smile pulled at his plush lips, “The boy asked me to keep an eye out for someone who looks an awful lot like you,” he gestured with his eyes down to Gilgamesh, “and would have that devil arm.”

You laughed softly, “Nero’s actually here, huh?”

“He is, however, we parted ways after stopping in that woman’s loud van.”

“Nico’s here too?” Shaking your head you looked down with raised brows, “Man, the whole crew’s out here.,” You looked back up, “What about Dante or the ladies? They out here too?”

His smile faded, “No, I’m afraid that they are more than likely dead at this point.”

“Dead? Surely you’re kidding.”

With a flat mouth, he broke his gaze away for a moment, “No. Sorry to relay such bitter news upon our first meeting.”

Grinding your teeth in thought and moving your jaw back and forth, you stood thinking for a moment, “So it’s just Nico, Nero, me, and--?”

“Call me V,” the lithe man took a few strides closer to you, standing comfortably close.

“So you are the client then?”

V nodded, “Yes, that is correct.”

“Man,” you gestured with one hand up and down his body, the other hand resting on your hip, “Wish we had customers like you more often,” for better or for worse, you spoke your mind, “cause damn you’re-- wow.”

He looked down, hiding the slight pink on his face at the comment, and laughed, “You’re much more blunt than the others led me to believe.”

A wide smile stretched across your face, emphasizing the bags under your bloodshot eyes, which V finally noted, “Just callin’ it like I see it, V.”

“May I do the same?”

Putting your arms up, you cracked your shoulders as you responded, “Sure.”

“You need rest.”

Putting your arms down with a heavy sigh, “It’s that obvious, huh?”

V laughed slightly, “Just calling it as I see it,” slowly, he began to walk back the way he’d come from, “We aren’t far from Nico, I'm sure you could rest up there.”

Happily, you turned to follow him, “I’ll follow your lead.”

===

“What’s with that expression Wanderer?” V raised a brow, his voice pulling you from your thoughts.

“Oh!” With an embarrassed smile, you placed a hand on the back of your neck, “Just got lost in thought, sorry.”

“May I ask what you were thinking so intensely about?” He shifted slightly, allowing Shadow to take a break from traveling, and began supporting himself with his cane causing the two of you to move slower.

“Just thinking about our first time, that’s all.”

A breathy sultry laugh left his lips, “ Our first time? Well now, I didn’t take you to be such a bold flirt today.”

“Wh-huh?” Replaying the conversation, your eyes went wide and you turned to him, doing your best to not trip as you continued walking, “No no- I didn’t-- that wasn’t-”

V laughed again, eyeing you up and down from the corner of his eye with a smirk, “Right, pardon my assumption.”

You stared with parted lips momentarily before returning to face the correct way, lips pursed and cheeks unbearably hot. Nervousness settled like a brick in your gut as you watched the ground in front of you, causing you to miss the fact V was staring at you with half-lidded eyes.

Mindlessly playing with his teeth with his tongue, he debated whether to tease you any further about what was said; ultimately he decided to drop it. In truth, however, the lithe man was a bit disappointed that you weren’t thinking about the idea of being with him as he had thought about many times before. V felt almost guilty about the intense lust he felt for you.

The raven-haired poet was unquestionably, unfathomably, undeniably, in love with you--even if he has only known you for a short time. V was certain that he wanted to be with you for the rest of this lifetime and, what could be argued to be, his next; in whatever way you’d have him. Whether it was just as colleagues, friends, or lovers; it didn’t matter, he needed you in his life.

His grip tightened on his cane, realizing that Vergil may end up pushing you away, despite the pronounced dependency on you. You were like a rich dark sweet wine that he was unable to put down and wanted to do nothing but sip upon you till the end of time itself. A low sigh left his nose, secretly praying that he was wrong about how things would be when all was said and done.

“V?” Your voice was quiet as you adjusted Gilgamesh for the umpteenth time, “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” he straightened upright, holding the cane horizontally, gloved fingers wrapping around the blade.

“When this is all over, could we…” You paused for a moment, “stay in contact?”

“Do you want to?”

Sheepishly, you nodded.

V smirked, “Then of course we can.”

Your eyes flicked up to meet his unwavering gaze, smiling brightly at him, “Thanks.”

“Perhaps, if you’d like, we could consider some other things as well.”

“O-other things?” A shake had found its way to your words as you waited with bated breath for his answer.

However, he didn’t answer, instead, he gave a low chuckle and turned his gaze from you, gesturing with his cane, “It seems we have work to do,” he put the metal back down and leaned on it again.

A heavy sigh left your lips and, without a second thought, you took off toward the horde.

Not hearing V calling out for you to stop.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw fast almost unplaceable movement. Although you went to bring your gauntlets up as fast as possible, you were unable to make the time gap. Except when you opened your eyes, instead of a big demon skewering you through your middle, you were on your ass and V was lying on top of you. His arms wrapped around your hips with his face right underneath your navel, face down and breathing heavily.

Before you could ask, a familiar squawking voice chimed in, “Aw, how romantic; Romeo can sure as hell hustle when he needs to,” the bird let out a laugh.

A snarl left Shadow’s maw, seemingly annoyed at the lack of help from Griffon.

“Yeah. Yeah. I’m on it,” Griffon returned to the fight, leaving you to assist V up.

Slowly, he picked his head up enough to look at you, emerald eyes holding a heavy unplaceable emotion. Heat quickly filled your face at the realization of the position you were in which didn’t go unnoticed by the raven-haired man. Without moving too much, V snapped his fingers causing his hair to go white and the last of his tattoos to dissipate.

“Are you alright?” You propped yourself up with one arm and used the other to cautiously tuck his hair back, resting an armoured palm on his cheek.

“Mmn,” he paused in thought, enjoying the feeling of your touch, “If you are then I am.”

A corner of your mouth twitched up slightly, “I’m alright; thank you.”

He took a deep breath in response, resisting the urge to place his face back down against your abdomen. Though all good things come to an end he knew he had to get up. With a grunt, he pushed up and sat up in a kneel, one knee up for him to push off of. However, you were quick to your feet and offered a hand instead, which he graciously accepted.

“I’ve got this,” you squeezed his hand before letting go, “Don’t worry about it.”

Not giving him time to banter or reject your offer, you took off and finished off whatever half-dead demons were strewn about.

It didn’t take long for the horde to disappear into nothing but blood and gore. Admittedly, V always enjoys watching you work--especially with hand-to-hand weapons. Whether it is a holdover from Vergil’s distaste for guns or if it is because of the innate sensual nature of the style; he couldn’t help but find it arousing. The way you seemed to show off for him was just a cherry on top.

There was something in the way you pranced around that he couldn’t help but be mesmerized by. With all of this considered, V was struggling to not become visibly excited and, much to his dismay, was starting to lose the fight.

Once the demons were dead, you waltzed over to V and carefully grabbed his arm, tugging slightly, “Come with me.”

“Is something the matter, Wanderer?” The lithe man’s hair returned to its dark shade as Nightmare faded from sight.

You shook your head, flashing him a closed-eye smile, “Nope; just trust me, V.”

He swallowed hard and nodded, “Very well, lead on.”

A confused tilt adorned his brow as he tried to piece together what you were doing-- or planning. It wasn’t long before the two of you reached the destination you wanted, a mostly intact hotel.

“Could you leave Griffon and Shadow out here, please?” You turned to him, stopping in front of the entrance.

His gaze thinned, “May I ask why?”

“Last time I went into one of these, I got attacked and thrown out a two-story window,” you gave him a falsely doe-eyed smile, “Figure they could be our lookout for a little bit--just until we’re done.”

V wanted to push for a better answer, knowing that made no sense; however, his curiosity got the better of him and, deciding to play along, summoned both familiars.

“Stay here, we will be back shortly-”

Griffon immediately turned to you, laughing with a slightly impudent attitude to his words, “Be careful with him, don’t need him dying of a heart attack-”

You laughed, cutting the bird off, “I’ll take care of him; I promise.”

With that, the two of you disappeared into the building.

“I’m going to scout ahead a bit; okay?” You let go of his arm, making V ever-so-slightly frown.

“Sure.”

As you went on, V’s eyes quickly drifted to your hips. Lewd thoughts echoed in his mind as he watched you seemingly bounce down the hall, peeking into each room with just the right amount of lean forwards so that he got a perfect view of your body. Each stride of yours had this certain flaunting nature to it as if you were purposefully taunting him.

Reaching the final room on the first floor, you decided to head in. Though no one else was aware, you’d already surveyed this building earlier and cleared out every demon within; meaning only small fries--like Empusas--would be here, if at all. This room was the closest to normal there was, having almost zero damage.

The room was relatively large; the bathroom was to the left of the doorway and the rest of the room to the right. The bedding was still neatly tucked, the faucet still ran, and there was even a radio with quite an array of classical CDs.

You made your way over to said radio with a hum, bending over at the waist to rummage through the music.

V joined you in the room, looking around in slight confusion before his gaze settled on you again. A sway had found its way to your hips and, despite your flustered and nervous feeling, you smirked. You knew he was looking at you; confirming your hunch about his oddly vague words.

Eventually settling on a random assortment of Tchaikovsky's work, you slowly stood upright and placed the disc in the player with a half-surprised laugh at the fact it still worked. When you turned around, a wide-eyed stare was all you could give to V, who was shifting awkwardly and avoiding your eyes. Though you’d hope some light teasing would get him in the mood, you hadn’t expected him to get so hard so quickly.

Without a word to him, you slipped past him and into the bathroom. Carefully, you placed Gilgamesh’s gauntlets and Revenant on the countertop then washed your hands, using the soap left in the dispenser. Returning to the room while drying your hands, you meandered toward the extremely confused horny goth.

As you discarded the towel, V finally spoke up, “Wanderer, what are we doing here?”

“Well,” you gently grabbed the open of his jacket, a hand on each side, thumbing over the black leather, “After how many times you’ve saved me, I figure that it’s about time you get a reward.”

His eyes flicked all around your face then down to your forearms, resting his cane against a nearby wall. Cautiously, V snaked his arms around your back and pulled you tight to him, “A reward ?”

“Yeah,” you leaned closer and placed your nose beside his, lips just barely apart, speaking with a whisper, “If you’re interested…”

Closing the gap, V leaned into you for both support and to deepen the kiss. An icy hand slid up your back, gracefully dancing across your still-clothed skin, and came to rest on the back of your neck. Your hands slid down his sides, coming to rest at his belt line, hooking your forefingers into the loops of his ever-tightening skinny jeans.

Switching to long drawn-out heated kisses, V squirmed under your touch as he felt you pull his hips into yours. Breaking away for a moment, the two of you stayed close, breathing heavily in content. A smirk pulled at his lips as he moved to kiss your up jawline, taking his time, making his way to your earlobe, tugging on it with a bite.

V rested with the side of his face against yours. The hand from your neck made its way to your upper back and, mindlessly, the thin man began to sway with you, enjoying the music and relaxing in the moment. You could feel his heart racing from just his chest resting against yours; no wonder Griffon gave you shit about V having a heart attack.

Bit by bit your hands left his jeans and went to his corset, undoing the already loose strings further. Taking the hint, V let go of you and removed his jacket then his corset; being tossed onto the bed and floor, respectively. A small huffed moan left his lips as he watched your hands grope up and down his torso.

“Wanderer…” His voice was low, but brimming with an unmistakable lust.

Resting your hands on the sides of his hips, you stood for a moment. A smirk tugged at your lips as you watched his chest rise and fall with each breath. Leaning closer, you placed a kiss at the crook of his shoulder, followed by a soft bite. V submissively tilted his head away from you, giving you more access to his neck. A smile tugged at your lips as you placed tender kisses, and the occasional bite, along his cold skin. A hand slid to the front of his jeans, finally, your touch wasn’t to just tease him.

V placed his hands on your sides, holding you closer, pursed lips hiding a groan that hung in the back of his throat. Though he knows it’s a bit pathetic, just feeling your hand against his cock was proving to be somewhat of a challenge for the inexperienced man to not prematurely finish.

Using both hands, you went to remove his belt, before stopping. V’s swaying had become much more pronounced--not having a means of support other than you.

You whispered against his neck, “Why don’t we sit down, hm?”

V, much to your surprise, seemed to stumble over his thoughts, “Any par- particular position?”

Fully leaning back, you grabbed his hand and guided him to the bed, “Get up here-- do you need help?”

He gave a nasally laugh, “No, I am alright,” he crawled up onto the bed, kneeling with his knees both on the bed, “Now what?”

Without answering, you climbed atop the mattress as well, sitting with your back nearly against the headboard, and patted your thighs. Understanding what you wanted, V sat on your lap facing you, wrapping his legs behind you.

“You’re beautiful, V,” reaching up, you moved a strand of hair from the front of his face, tucking it behind his ear, and leaned in close, speaking right above his lips, “So very beautiful.”

The gap quickly closed between you and V’s hands cupped your jaw, thumbs rubbing against your cheeks. Your hands went back to work on his belt, making him shift slightly. Feeling that you had the belt fully undone, his lips left yours, and he moved back just enough to look you in the eyes. With kiss-swollen lips slightly agape, V swallowed hard as he heard you unbutton his jeans.

Slowly, methodically, you unzipped the fly on his jeans, making sure to note every little micro-movement V made. This had been something you’d wanted for a long time and you were going to make sure to enjoy every last bit. When you finally broke from his gaze to look down, you raised a brow.

Nervousness pooling in his gut, V noticed your expression, “Is- is something wrong, love?”

A wide smile tugged at your lips, “No- not at all,” trying to hold back a laugh you looked back up at him, “It's just, with the rest of your outfit, I honestly expected you to be wearing a thong or g-string; not boxer briefs.”

V let out a laugh of relief, “I see; I-” A stifled moan cut his words short.

Resting your hand on the inner side of his thigh, you started to slowly run the side of your thumb up and down his bulge.

Heavy exhales left his nose as he watched your hand and he moved his hands to the outsides of your shoulders.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw V’s coat on the bed and got a wicked idea, “You know V,” your motions slowed even further causing him to let out a small huff of disappointment, “I really like your voice…”

His brow twitched slightly, attempting to figure out what you had in store, “Is that right?”

Carefully, you reached over to his jacket, grabbed his book from an inner pocket, and then handed it to him, “Why don’t you read me something, hm?”

“Is there a particular poem you’d like?” The prized item was held between you both, the top of it resting gently against your chest.

You shook your head, “Whatever you think fits best.”

As he flipped through the book, you resumed your touch. With eyes trained on his crotch, you unzipped the boxer’s fly and heard his page-turning falter slightly. Slipping his cock out into the open air, V let out a small moan, a page pinned between his forefinger and thumb.

“Now, now, V.” You looked up at him from the tops of your eyes, “You stop, I stop; got it?”

He pursed his lips and then nodded, continuing with his search. There was a visible shake to his hands as he did his best to play along. Ghosting your fingers along his shaft, you noticed that he had pre-cum already dribbling from his tip and he was heavily twitching; apparently, he was much more sensitive than you’d expected.

Rolling his foreskin back slightly, you thumbed over his tip. His page-turning had stopped again, and you hummed slightly, “Find one?”

With a slightly strained voice, he nodded, “Y-yes, I,” he moaned as you lightly wrapped a hand around his shaft, closing his eyes he continued, “I found something suitable.”

“Good,” you brought your thumb to your lips and put it in your mouth, cleaning the digit, “The floor is yours,” V’s eyes flicked to you, watching you mindlessly roll your tongue over your lips, and his blush deepened tenfold.

A shaky breath left his mouth as he focused on the page before him, “ “What is it men in women do require? / The l-lineaments of Gratified Desire.”.”

Spitting into your palm, you once again wrapped a hand around his shaft. With slow lazy pumps, you noted the feeling of his cock in your hand. Eyes flicking between his face and dick.

V’s brow twitched as he let out a hissing groan, “ “Wh-what is it women do in men require? / The lineaments of Gr-gratified Desire.”,” The raven-haired man’s hips unintentionally jerked slightly at the feeling of you putting your forefinger and thumb tips together, encircling his cock, and gently pulling up on his tip.

He hunched forwards slightly, his hair falling in front of his eyes, “ “The look of love alarms / Because ’tis f-fill’d with fire; / But the look of s-soft de-deceit- / Shall Win the love-lover’s hire” Ngh-ah~” The fragile man’s legs constricted your middle ever tighter with each passing moment. Returning to stroking his entire length, you slowed down; not wanting him to finish quite yet.

Lips trembling, he continued, “ “S-soft Deceit & Idleness, / These ar-are Beauty’s sweetest dress. He--”

A sustained groan left his lips as he leaned forwards even more, placing the top of his head against your lips, which you placed a loving kiss upon, “ “He who binds to himself a- a joy / Dot the winged life d-destroy;”.”

V bucked his hips slightly upwards, desperate for more friction, speaking with a whimpering moan, “Please, Wanderer, I can’t-”

Whispering against him, you slowed your motions even further, “You’re almost done, my love… finish it for me; please?”

Taking a stuttering inhale through his nose and low breathy exhale from his mouth, he licked his lips before continuing, “ “But he who ki-kisses the joy as it flies / Live in Eternity’s sun-sunrise.” Ah-ah~”

Quickening your hand even faster than before, you placed another elongated kiss against his hair, “Good boy.”

Tossing the book from his hands V sat upright. Icy fingers wrapped around the back of your neck and gripped the side of your shoulder. The raven-haired man began to thrust his hips into your hand, practically riding your thighs.

You smirked and leaned in to place kisses on his collarbones, “I love you, V.”

“I- Uh-ah~,” another loud noise came from the man as he felt you add you use his pre to slick his cock even more, “I love you too, Wanderer.”

You upturned your face slightly, kissing his throat up to the underside of his jaw, a confident purr to your words, “You gonna cum for me, V~?”

The frantic shifting of his hands to cup the sides of your face gave you your answer. V guided your face up to his and placed his forehead against yours.

“Please,” his voice was soft and pleading, his mind a hazy lust-filled mess that was unable to come up with any other words.

Upon using one hand to stroke him and the other to play with his tip, you felt his thigh muscles tighten and his fingers dig into you. He pushed his lips onto yours, kissing you as if he were never going to be able to again. His hands wandered down your body, groping at your clothes.

Balling up your shirt in his hands from his grip, he broke off the kiss, a string of saliva connecting you momentarily. The skinny man leaned back and arched his body into yours.

He let out a final full-mouthed moan and bucked his hips one last time as his body tensed.

Warm silky white fluid decorated your hands as you slowly rode out his orgasm. A feeling of pride filled your heart as you made sure to etch the sight before you into your mind.

V’s skin had completely lost all of the inky patches and his chest was heaving. With how far he arched back, you could see the underside of his ribs and the prominent hip dips on each side. You watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he audibly swallowed a few times.

After a moment, he leaned back towards you.

Ghostly white hair fell in front of his flushed features as V’s eyes met yours. A small smile found its way to his lips and the two of you shared one more kiss. This time, however, it wasn’t lustful but a sweet loving gesture. With slow long kisses, V placed a forefinger under your jaw. Upon breaking away, you both shared a breathy satisfied huff and he slid his hand to cup your cheek, thumbing over your skin.

“So,” you relaxed into his touch, “Are we getting attacked or something?” His brow twitched in confusion, “Your hair.”

“Did I really..?” he leaned away and focused on the strands in front of his eyes which were slowly returning to black, “That’s… I didn’t know that would happen; how strange.”

You removed your hands and looked at them, a slight playful teasing to your voice, “Little pent up there V?”

Although you weren’t complaining, V had cum quite a lot harder than you’d expected and made a mess between both of you.

With an embarrassed laugh, he turned from your gaze, and rested his hands on his thighs, “Perhaps it is because you are so important to me…” V didn’t want to admit that he hadn’t even tried to masturbate while in this form--not to mention that Vergil hadn’t done anything like that in over twenty years.

Humming quietly along to the long-forgotten music, you brought your hand up to your mouth and cleaned it off. V’s eyes immediately flicked to you and he stared at you wide-eyed. Slowly, your eyes drifted to his as you continued.

When you went to give your other, less coated hand, the same treatment, you noticed something else and raised your brows in surprise, “That was a quick turnaround.”

The tattooed man looked down and then back at you, “It’s not my fault you are so… appealing to me,” once more, he leaned his forehead against yours, “Wanderer.”

“Mnm, well then,” you placed a long kiss against his lips, biting his lower lip after, “Guess my work isn’t done then, hm?”

“Your work?” V backed away and removed his legs from your waist, running a hand down your middle, resting it just above your hip line, “If it’s all the same to you, this time, I’d much rather be the one to play.”

===

ENDING NOTES: Not me having no clue how to end this lmfao 🛏️📔🛏️ Been a long time since I’ve tried to write V lol I really should write him more Also hope that this was close enough to the request. I just kind of ran with the flow so it’s not exactly the same--the poem reading isn’t really what was asked but I figured it was close enough. Another thing, sorry for the improper dividing of dialogue trees when V’s reading. It was too chaotic for me to feel comfortable leaving in one chunk (which is technically what I should’ve done since it was only V talking) sorry lol Also if you are into like video edit shit, I’ve been re-watching one from “V’s Love” on YouTube titled “V | Slow Down | DMC 5 GMV”. Give it a watch- seriously it’s fans myself gayly oh boy. 📔🛏️📔 Poem(s) Quoted: William Blake: Proverbs of Hell William Blake: Several Questions Answered (full version)

If you like what you read here; please check out the rest of my one-shots on AO3. Comments, reshares, and likes/kudos are appreciated!! Thanks for reading!

MASTER LIST FOR TUMBLR

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fairy-writes · 2 years

Text

FALL INTO ME

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Arcane: League of Legends (2021)

Pairing(s): Viktor x Gender Neutral!Reader

Genre(s): Fluff

Notes: Songfic with the song “Fall Into Me” by Forest Blakk

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Viktor never really let himself belong anywhere. He was a crippled professor’s assistant from the Undercity. So why would anyone want to associate with him?

Then he met Jayce, and his life changed.

They started Hextech, and suddenly everyone wanted to be his friend. He was stopped on the streets by potential partners for Hextech and people wanting “get to know him.” He always panicked when these types of people approached. Jayce always dealt with those people better than he did.

When it became evident that he wasn’t going to become friends with anyone, people began to get mean. Not outright, of course. People didn’t throw food or cast him out, but he wasn’t invited to galas or events. Instead, they all went to Jayce. However, his friend always got around it by bringing Viktor as his plus one. They also began to avoid him, casting glares when he’d hobble down the streets of Piltover to and from his apartment to the Academy.

That was… until he met you.

The day that I met you

The world had just spit me out

On my way to the bottom

Sure I'd never be found

You had approached him in the street, a notebook in hand and reading glasses perched on your nose. You looked vaguely familiar. Had he seen you somewhere before? You offered him a friendly smile,

“You’re Viktor, correct?” You asked kindly, and he nodded, eyes narrowing as he took in your appearance. Blazer, neatly pressed shirt, stiff-legged trousers, dress shoes. With your notebook and glasses, he assumed you were a journalist.

Great.

“Do you mind if I ask you a couple of questions?” You asked as he continued on his way to the Academy.

“Yes. I have places to be.” He said curtly, but that didn’t deter you. Instead, you adjusted your glasses and smiled that smile of yours. A feeling settled in his stomach that he couldn’t identify.

“It’ll only take a moment. I wanted your view on Hextech!” You said and stood slightly in front of him and off to the side. Not enough to be in the way, but enough that it would be rude if he kept walking.

Then you saw me for me

Made me believe in myself

On the day that I met you

It all turned around

You were good—one of the better journalists he had seen. You weren’t exactly pushy, just firm in your questions and desire to get answers.

“Wouldn’t those questions be better to ask Jayce?” He asked, and you shook your head,

“I wanted the input of the elusive and brilliant Viktor, if that’s okay. I’ve already interviewed Mr. Talis.” You said, and he felt a burning in his cheeks. Sure he had been called brilliant before, a genius even. But it felt different coming from you.

So he agreed.

You said close your eyes

Don't look down

It wasn’t long before your article was published in the newspapers. It exploded, and Viktor received an influx of letters thanking him for his time in the interview. It was safe to say he was overwhelmed.

One day, there was a knock on his laboratory door, and he glanced up in annoyance. It had been a day of constant knocking, and he couldn’t concentrate for the life of him. But he called whoever it was in nonetheless.

It was you.

You adjusted your blazer and waved sheepishly.

“I hope I’m not interrupting?” You said hesitantly, and he found himself shaking his head,

“No, not at all. What can I do for you?” He said, and you smiled,

“Well… to celebrate my article doing so well and to thank you… I wanted to ask you out to dinner?”

Fall into me, and I'll catch you, darlin

We'll dance in the street like nobody's watching

It's just you and me, and the song on repeat in my head

Playing over and over

Viktor arrived ten minutes early, nervously adjusting his grip on his cane as he scanned the heads in the restaurant. Finally, he spotted you in the back of the establishment. You spotted him at the same time and stood to wave. He made his way to the back table and handed you a bouquet of flowers. Sunflowers, to be specific.

You grinned and buried your nose in the flowers, taking a deep inhale.

“I hope you weren’t waiting too long.” He said, and you shook your head,

“No, no! I just got here myself. I was excited, I suppose.” You said sheepishly, and he found himself smiling as he took his seat.

“I suppose I was the same.”

I'm drunk on your voice high on the moment

I'd fall for you twice if that's what you wanted

I'd give you my life from now till forever

I'm falling in love with you

Over and over again

The date—could he call it that? Was this a date?—went off stunningly. You talked as if you had been friends for years. You asked probing questions about his work he was more than happy to answer. He was delighted to talk about Hextech, and you were more than happy to listen.

The two of you ended up staying until the restaurant closed. You actually got Viktor to laugh. Laugh. When was the last time he actually laughed?

He walked you home. Jayce had said it was the gentlemanly thing to do, and he was lost when it came to dates. Sure he had been on them before, but they never amounted to anything.

Your house was quaint and small, but it didn’t matter. You stood on your doorstep, smiling gently as you cradled your sunflowers in your arms.

“Thank you for the wonderful night Viktor. Truly, it was amazing.” You said, and he found himself smiling in return,

“Thank you for the magnificent time.” He said and turned to leave.

“Wait!” He stopped, turning back just in time to feel something press against his cheek. He blinked and saw you leaning away, hurriedly climbing the stairs to your home.

“I—” He stammered, and you waved from the doorway,

“Good night Viktor!” You said and shut your front door before he could say anything.

Had you just kissed him?

Until I had met you

There was no sun in my sky

No mirrors for monsters

And no love in sight

Viktor didn’t see you for days afterward. Had he scared you off? He wouldn’t be surprised. No one wanted to associate with a broken man such as him.

That was… until you came back.

Then you walked down those stairs.

And I knew my heart wasn't mine

On the day that I met you

My whole world came alive

Another soft knock on his laboratory door. Jayce was out getting parts for their newest project, and left him tinkering with his gadgets.

“Come in.” He called and looked up just in time to see you entering with your hands behind your back.

“Hello again.” You said softly, adjusting your glasses on top of your head

“Hello again.” He said just as softly, and your lips broke out in a smile.

“I was hoping you’d still want to see me after the other day.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Now you looked down, scuffing your feet and looking uncharacteristically meek.

“Well… I kissed you without your consent. I was worried you’d be upset.” You said, and he stood, hobbling his way over, his cane thumping on the ground. When he got to you, he took a leap of faith and reached forward with his free hand, cradling yours in his. Your hands were calloused from holding pens and papercuts.

“Don’t feel bad. I—I enjoyed it.” He whispered, and your eyes shot to his, wide with hope.

You said close your eyes.

I got you now

You leaned in, nose brushing his, and suddenly, it became all too real.

Did he want this?

Was he ready to take this step?

Was it too soon?

Fall into me, and I'll catch you, darlin

We'll dance in the street like nobody's watching

It's just you and me, and the song on repeat in my head

Playing over and over

Just as your lips brushed, Jayce burst in, tripping over his feet and nearly dropping his box of supplies.

“Sorry!” He shouted, and you flinched at the noise, jumping away from Viktor but not necessarily letting go of his hand.

“I—It’s fine. We were just leaving.” He said and promptly dragged you from the room as fast as his limp would allow.

He wasn’t sure why, but the two of you ended up inside the custodial closet. His cane leaned aside as he tapped his fingers at your hips.

The door slammed shut behind you, and you giggled,

“Well, that was embarrassing.” You said, entwining your fingers together at your hips, and he felt his heart thump in his chest.

“Indeed it was.” He said softly. The two of you were close. Almost too close. But Viktor didn’t mind. He didn’t care as long as he was close to you.

It was safe to say he was smitten.

I'm drunk on your voice high on the moment

I'd fall for you twice if that's what you wanted

I'd give you my life from now till forever

I'm falling in love with you

Over and over again

Your nose brushed his, and he felt his eyes close. He could feel your breath bathing his lips. You smelled like peppermint.

“Can I kiss you?” You whispered, and he settled his weight against the wall, taking another leap of faith and pulling you against him. Your arms tickled the baby hairs at the nape of his neck.

“I’d love that.” He shivered as you leaned in and kissed him.

I'm falling in love with you

I'm falling in love with you over and over

It was surreal.

Kissing you, that is.

You tasted like you smelled, like fresh peppermint and hope. He tilted his head and moved his lips against yours, taking in your quiet gasps as your hands moved from his hair to his shoulders, where they gripped the fabric.

It felt all too soon when he broke apart, panting and opening his eyes. Your eyes were still closed lightly, eyelashes fluttering against your cheeks.

“Wow.” You said, and he laughed, breathy and quiet.

“Wow, indeed.”

Fall into me, and I'll catch you, darlin

Let's dance in the streets like nobody's watching

It's just you and me, and the song on repeat in my head

Playing over and over

It didn’t take the two of you long to become official after that. Jayce hadn’t been surprised, he claimed you were just Viktor’s type. The intellectual reporter and the inventor. The engineer and the writer. You two were the perfect match in Jayce’s eyes. You could do the reporting for Hextech, and Viktor and Jayce could give you all the information you needed.

It was perfect.

A match made in heaven.

I'm drunk on your voice high on the moment

I'd fall for you twice if that's what you wanted

I'd give you my life from now till forever

I'm falling in love with you

Over and over again

Viktor was hopelessly in love with you. Utterly and hopelessly in love. But he didn’t mind. He never minded when it came to you.

Fall into me, and I'll catch you, darlin

Let's dance in the streets like nobody's watching

It's just you and me and the song on repeat in our heads.

#arcane league of legends #arcane: league of legends #arcane #viktor arcane #arcane viktor x reader #arcane viktor x you #arcane viktor #viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #arcane x reader #fairy writes

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royallyprincesslilly · 2 years

Text

Title: Star-Crossed: #HFT {1}****

Professor Chris Evans x OFC University Student Calliope “Cali” Jamison AU

Warning: NSFW, Cursing, 18+ Content, PLENTY OF WORDS, Plot,

Word Count: 12.2k

Synopsis: Look out for it in chapters 3 or 7.

Note: Another one because I can't stop thinking about this idea. I have been sitting on this for MONTHS because I wanted to wait until I wrapped some things up BUT life is short and I wanna share this. I have been thinking about this trope a lot. I am in no way condoning teacher-student relationships especially if said student is a minor and/or not of sound mind. However, I am a lot more open to a college professor-college student relationship. I prefer this trope to any in its subgenre/sub-trope even though it may not be ethically proper, depending on the debate you listen to. That being said I’ve wanted to tackle this idea of mine for some time and dipped my toes in with “Anatomy 101” which I wanted to expand on some time in the future. Now, I am going to remix and expand on this professor-student trope. Hope you guys enjoy it.

Note II: Included is some Moroccan Arabic/Arabic in general. The translations are provided by Google.com. If the translation is incorrect, I apologize, please don’t hold it against me. Feel free to correct me, I don’t mind.

As always, thank you for reading, liking, commenting, reblogging. I appreciate it!!!!

If you enjoyed this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!

****Characters in this Fiction Story are of legal age, sound mind, and are consenting through no dubious means. ****

**NOT Edited/Proofread**

***Interactive***

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Derived from but not really a continuation: Anatomy 101

Chapter One: Desert Rose

“Cali, try not to wander too far tonight.”

You looked in the mirror at your father who was rustling through a folder of papers on his right while an ancient-looking book rested in front of him. It was his latest acquisition on yet another one of his excursions. His face never looked up from the papers. It was classic for her father, the man who was able to do ten things at once with two eyes, and two hands. Sometimes you thought his brain was a super machine that none other could rival. He always amazed you. Not just with his intellect or aptitude in his field but with his passion for what he did and how he lived his life.

It was him who instilled in you the desire to travel and find the answers to the world and humanity through travel, languages, literature, and love. He believed we were all connected through those three things and through those things could we better understand each other. He and these trips were probably the reasons you’d decided to transfer colleges and switch majors while tacking on a few more for good measure. If any little girl ever felt like their father was their hero, you were that little girl. He was yours.

He looked to you, and you took in his appearance with his glasses lodge on his nose bridge and his forehead crinkled from deep thinking. He was no longer a young man, but the years had been kind to him—very kind.

“Understood young lady?”

You rolled your eyes at his faux authoritative tone then sighed, “Dad, I’m twenty-two. I think the days of me being a young lady are long gone.”

“Twenty-one. Your birthday hasn’t come yet. We still have three months.”

“Two months and twenty-nine days, thank you,” you corrected.

He scoffed then shook his head. “You have your whole life to get old Calliope. Don’t rush it. One day you will be my age thinking where the time went.”

“I can take that as long as I am exactly where you are in your career,” you replied.

He smiled and put the papers in his hand down. “As long as you remember career isn’t everything. Living is most important.”

You thought about his words for a moment then continued applying your lip color. A silence that stuck for a few minutes befell the room. Once you were satisfied with your bold makeup application, you stood.

“Where are you off to tonight?”

“There is this lounge I wanted to check out before we left. It’s supposed to be real chill.”

“Ah, a lounge. All right, just remember our flight is tomorrow at five, and you cannot be late,” your father drilled.

“I know dad. I won’t be late.”

You readjusted your dress, smoothing your palms over the thin creases your sitting had created, then walked to your purse. Beside it, the vase of vibrant colored hibiscus flowers caught your eye. You traced your fingers along a delicate petal and plucked a red one out of the mass to arrange in your hair just behind your ear. Pleased with how it complimented your dress and the exotic look it gave you, you nodded to your reflection. When you got to your father you kissed his cheek.

“Don’t work all night dad. It’s our last night here. Who knows when you’ll be back. Take some time to smell the desert air.”

He sighed and looked up and through the panoramic window before him. No doubt the desert was calling his name.

“Don’t wait up,” you whispered before you scurried to the door.

“Don’t drink too much,” he called out just as you closed the door behind you.

You planned on drinking too much, taking part in some of the unspoken draws of Morocco, and dancing until your feet hurt. This was your last night of fun before the next chaotic and rigorous stage of your life began. You didn’t expect to have any free time to accompany your father on his work trips for the foreseeable future. As you waited for the elevator to open into the lobby of your hotel you took a quick selfie with the gold backdrop of the elevator wall. That and the warm lighting only enhanced your look.

By the time the elevator opened, you’d posted your selfie with a simple caption of red-painted kissy lips and a hibiscus flower. Less was more after all. As you walked across the lobby, you felt eyes flit toward you. You received several head nods and pleasing smiles that said the look was much appreciated.

“Can I get you a car ma’am?”

One of the hotel valets stood outside in his red and gold uniform waiting for your reply.

“How far from here is Shaida?”

“Hm, maybe a fifteen-minute walk or a five to eight-minute car ride.”

You weighed your options while looking up and down the street. The night was beautiful, the weather divine, and part of you wanted to take it all in.

“If I may ma’am, I suggest a car. After a two-minute walk, the heat will make it impossible to not sweat.”

You smirked then shrugged. “You might be right. Thank you.”

He stretched his arm out and seconds later a black car pulled up with one of the hotel’s drivers behind the wheel. The valet opened the backdoor for you then waited as you climbed in.

“Enjoy your evening ma’am.”

You thanked him just as the car pulled off. Settling into the seat you kept your eyes glued to the views that passed the window. Morocco was a favorite destination for you. This was your eighth time coming and each time still felt new to you. The truth was, Morocco held a special place in your heart, it was the land of your maternal side. Your father had met your mother twenty-seven years ago while he was fresh out of grad school while studying for his doctorate. He’d always said she opened him up to a whole different view on life. It was a view that influenced everything he did after meeting her whether it was professional or personal.

The savory scent of street foods cooking all around you made you moan and your stomach rumble, but you ignored it not wanting to get sidetracked. Only a few minutes passed, and the driver was pulling up to the entrance of the lounge. From the looks of the street, it didn’t look like it was a well-known place because it was so nestled off of the beaten path, but you didn’t care. After thanking the driver, you stepped onto the sidewalk and walked the few remaining feet to the door. Standing outside was a man dressed in street clothes with a makeshift bandana wrapped around his head. He looked you over once then averted his eyes back to scoping out the street.

Once you stepped inside you realized that the exterior looks were deceiving. It was a full house. The heady scent of flowers, incense, smoke, and a mixture of snacks hit you like a train and you immediately felt transported to a different time in history. The hypnotizing sounds of an Arabian Flute and the Bendir played cohesively together to make you feel like could have been transported back to the time of King Idriss of the Idrisid Dynasty.

As you walked through, you scoped it out impressed by the sultry red décor that screamed both royalty and sin and taken aback by how smoky the place was. It didn’t take long for you to feel as if you’d made the right choice for the night. Finding a place at the bar you sat and adjusted to the vibes of the establishment getting lost in the music. You understood now who the man outside was, he was a scout. This was one of the few places one could come and enjoy Morocco with a touch of both modern and ancient. A man passed you puffing from a tube and from the scent of the smoke you knew the risk this place was taking. Hash.

“You have the distinct look of both a tourist and a local.”

You spun around to the woman behind the bar whose curly hair must have been the envy of everyone she knew. She had a mischievous smile that only highlighted her kind eyes.

“I guess I can be classified as somewhat of both,” you said.

The woman took you in a bit longer, fully assessing you.

“Ah, I see. Our blood flows through you but you are American.”

You smiled and nodded.

“In that case welcome. Blood is what matters here.”

She took a glass down and poured a clear liquid into a glass then placed it in front of you.

“What is this?”

She didn’t look as if she were going to answer so you did the only hospitable thing—knocked it back. Instantly, you knew what it was, Mahia. This was your traditional welcome.

“Mm, thank you.”

She nodded. “So, tell me, are you here for business or pleasure?”

“Me? Well, the business is done so I’m all about the pleasure.”

The bartender smiled widely and refilled your glass. “Then you have come to the right place. We have drink, music, dancing, snacks if you choose, and—substances.” She nodded to a passing woman who was also puffing from a tube.

“Let’s start with the first three and see where the night takes me.”

She smacked the bar, “I like you.”

She walked off to tend to another customer and your eyes followed and watched her pour another man a drink. Just behind her, you caught sight of a man who seemed out of place but also looked like he belonged. The glass in his hand was almost empty and the way he held it said a lot about him. Where everyone else would hold it fully, with the palms of their hands, he held it with just his fingertips. Nine out of ten people at a bar would hold the glass in the middle, he held it closer to the rim and the icing on top was him holding it with his pointer out instead of his pinky.

You’d been around a lot of men in your life -thanks to your father and his line of work- that you’d taken a large interest in your own life experiences, and you’d come across them all. Men who were meek and soft-spoken because they never fully asserted themselves and preferred for things and people to come to them. Men who were boisterous and presumptuous and assumed everything was meant for them and attempted to claim it all regardless of what anyone else said. Men who were easily overlooked because of their non-threatening disposition, and even men who were hard to miss because of their titillating mix of all of the above.

From the way he held his glass, to the way he sat on the battered wooden stool you could tell there was something different about him. You didn’t know what yet. You watched as he drained the glass, placed it on the bar then tapped the rim while making eye contact with the soulful-eyed lady bartender. She topped off his glass without a word then busied herself with the patrons around her. With the glass firmly between his fingers again he took another long sip while his eyes remained glued to his phone. Your curiosity piqued as an urge to know what he was doing overtook you and you got lost thinking of all the possibilities.

Heavy Arabic speaking drew your attention to your right. When you turned, an attractive man with deep-set brown eyes, a full goatee, and a man bun of lustrous locks. He looked like a blend of an old-fashioned but modern local. His full lips moved again.

“Aljamal almahaliyu.” {Local beauty?}

You smiled. You’d always found the Arabic language beautiful.

“American?” He lifted his brow as a look of uncertainty filled his features.

You snorted and took a sip from your glass.

“Aljamal almahaliyu wulid fi 'amrika,” you replied. {Local beauty born in America.}

The man smiled widely as surprise and satisfaction filled his eyes.

“Your Arabic is very good,” he complimented in damn near perfect English. The only thing that gave him away was his heavy accent.

“And your English is quite good.”

He held out his hand to you, “Deladim.”

You shook his hand.

“Cal.”

The softness of his hands contradicted the ruggedness of his outfit. His clothes said he could have been an explorer, but his hands said he was a masseuse. “Interesting name,” you followed up.

“Well, my full name is Abdeladim, but Deladim is what my friends call me, and Dim is what my lovers call me.”

His words were like a lite tap against your cheek out of the blue, shocking.

“Wow.”

Every time you’d come to Morrocco with your father, you’d been approached by plenty of smooth-talking locals who all thought they could snag an American for the night for their stories with their buddies. You never fell for it.

“Very bold of you.”

You turned your body back to the bar and continued nursing your drink as Deladim continued to give you his best lines. By the fourth line, your eyes slipped to your left to find the same man from before now watching you. His drink was ever present in his hand, but the screen of his phone was now dark. You had his undivided attention. There was something in the way he looked at you, something in his eyes that made you feel like he darted an electric current right through you. Your skin tingled and that slight curiosity about his reading preferences had not transitioned into full-blown wonder over who this man was.

You didn’t know how long you’d stared at each other, but he was the one to look away first and when he did his luminescent blue orbs went right back into his phone. Before he lifted it to his face you glimpsed words. Was he reading a book in a bar?

“Took care of it,” the lady bartender said before you as she nudged her head to your right.

The seat beside you that was filled a short while ago, was now empty.

“A blind man could tell you weren’t interested,” she filled in.

You smiled, raised your glass to her, and took a mouthful of the strong liquid.

A short while later and a handful of drinks, you’d drifted over to the lounging area of the business where men were smoking and chatting up a storm, mellowing out to the soft sounds of Moroccan wooden instruments. The smoke in the air only heightened the hedonistic vibes of your surroundings and you didn’t mind one bit. Feeling like wanting to take a walk on the wild side for your last night in town, you decided to partake. After a blend recommendation from the bartender, you got comfortable in a slightly secluded corner that was draped in red silk and shadows and lit up the hookah contraption. This was by no means your first recreational excursion.

Upon your first inhale, you moaned gratefully for the choice. Its aroma was similar to flowers but there were hints of fruit and smoked nuts but those did not distract from the strength of the drug itself. You leaned back, closed your eyes, and let everything that you’d been worried about earlier drift away. Nothing mattered, not the looming start date of your third year of college, not the stress of moving from one top tier university to another top tier university in the middle of your degree program, not the double stress of changing said degree program and adding two more on for a full-on double major with double concentrations. You knew the next two years would be your most rigorous and though you’d never admitted it out loud, you were slightly worried you wouldn’t be able to pull it all together.

A few more puffs and your mind was as empty as your glass. Across from you, your eyes met the stranger from earlier, and again his eyes were on you. Under this light and in this atmosphere, you itched to touch him. Seconds away from blurting a likely thirsty comment, you bit your bottom lip hoping that would stop the words. It barely worked; the urge remained.

“You look like you have something to say,” he said.

You instinctively turned to look behind you, but only came face to face with the wall. When you looked back at him, he smirked, lifted his glass then took a puff from his own hookah-like contraption. When he blew out you watched the smoke drift up in a hypnotizing swirl-like spiral. This wasn’t his first recreational excursion either.

“Cat got your tongue?”

His eyes met yours again while you sat there dumbfounded.

“Feeling jealous about it? Would you rather have my tongue instead?”

His smile was wider and again that spiral of smoke escaped. “I don’t know how easy you think I am, but I’m not that kind of man.”

You snorted then giggled unable to keep it in. He sounded like one of those women who used that as a defense to throw the man they were interested in off the fact that they really were that kind of woman -a liberated woman who never needed to make excuses for her behavior and was damn proud of it- but they didn’t want them to know that.

“Then what kind of man are you?”

He didn’t answer right away. He sat there watching you. His eyes roamed over you in the sultriest way, in a way that no others had traveled you. A small flame lit at the nape of your spine that made you sit up even more. Your body was on full alert for something impending, something that would change your life. Was it him?

After a long pause, he spoke, “You’re welcome to find out on one condition.”

Interested, you took a long drag from the tube and slowly swallowed before making an “o” with your mouth to huff out the smoke in a series of o shapes. He softly smiled before sipping his drink.

“What condition?”

His smile stretched. “You have to throw in some Arabic here and there.”

You smiled and that small flame at your spine went up a notch in intensity and location. You patted the seat beside you and waited to see his move. It didn’t take long for him to stand and walk over with his hookah contraption and drink in his hands. The closer he got to you, the more you could make out his outfit. The black appearing jeans he wore had rips at the knees and gave the peekaboo effect showing off his flesh and outlining what looked like slim but strong thighs.

As your eyes raked up his body, the semi-tight white shirt he wore gave you an idea that he either had a six or eight pack and that was when your teeth sank into your bottom lip. He placed the hookah down beside yours then sat in the seat that you’d patted seconds ago. The rush of air gave you your first whiff of him. He smelled like the incense that was currently surrounding you but also musky scents that were so similar to cedar or hickory and a touch of sweetness. It was completely masculine, completely unique to him with something you couldn’t quite put your finger on, something different.

“How did you know I was speaking Arabic?”

He smiled, leaned forward, and took another long drag from the Hookah. As he blew the smoke out, he looked at you. “I know and can recognize tens of languages.”

“Do you speak it?”

He shuffled his head then shrugged, “Conversationally. I’m by no means a local beauty.”

You smiled hearing him tease you with what the man from before had called you.

“Cute.”

You took your own pull from your Hookah and allowed several moments to pass in silence.

“He wasn’t wrong though. You are a beauty.”

Your eyes met his but only for a moment before he looked down and into his glass. He swirled the liquid then downed the rest.

“Thank you but I’m sure you must say this to all the girls you meet in underground Moroccan clubs while smoking semi-illegal hash.”

He checked and it was deep, and it made you wonder what his actual laugh sounded like.

“I don’t meet any girls in underground clubs in Morrocco while smoking semi-illegal hash, much less talk to them. You would be my first.”

Your eyes lingered and you couldn’t ignore the thrill that raced through you.

“Oh I do so love exclusivity,” you said while batting your eyelashes.

It was an action he snorted at. A few more moments passed in comfortable silence.

“So, tell me, what is a Moroccan rose doing here? Business or pleasure?”

“Moroccan rose?”

A small shy smile spread across his lips and for a second you didn’t think he would clarify.

“It’s uh—your scent. You smell like Moroccan roses.”

You stared at him surprised he could smell you in a place so filled with so many smells.

“I didn’t know you could smell me.”

“I smelled you since the moment you sat down at the bar. Moroccan roses with a slight hint of hibiscus,” he said nodding to the bud still in my hair. “You’re quite distracting.”

He went right back to puffing from his Hookah as if he hadn’t dropped two very important facts. One, he noticed you as soon as you walked in and two, he found your scent distracting. Those were very good signs.

“Uh—pleasure, strictly pleasure,” you replied.

His head snapped to you, and you glanced at him with a coy smirk.

“I came for a bit of business, but it’s really been only for pleasure. This is my last stop and tonight was supposed to be the culmination of that fun. Sort of like my last hoorah.”

“Ah, a wanderer?”

You leaned back and sighed. “I have been known to wander a bit but not all those who wander are lost.”

The smirk on his lips disappeared and his head cocked to the side.

“Tolkien.”

You smiled and nodded, “A favorite quote.”

He didn’t speak for a few moments, instead, he just stared at you, locking your eyes. The look that flashed across his face made you curious. He looked like he’d just discovered something rare, seen something he couldn’t understand or explain. As soon as the look came, it went, replaced by one of awe.

“Gorgeous chaos, he mumbled in a hypnotized daze.

“What?”

“She’s a mess of gorgeous chaos and you can see it in her eyes.”

The way he said it made your heart race so fast you could have sworn it was audible over the instruments in the club. He looked as though he were looking through you, either right to your soul or to every little atom that made up your aura and all the stars of your being. In all your years you’d never been looked at like this. He looked at you like the reflection of the universe, and all of the galaxies could be seen through your orbs like he was so transfixed that if he dared look away the world itself would crumble around us casting us into oblivion, like dreams were made of this one moment and his dreams were all about me. Every woman wished someone would look at them like this and right now you didn’t want this moment to end.

“Let not light see my black and deep desires,” he added.

Fuck, you thought. You felt like he’d just cast a spell on you that pinned you right where you were. You watched his hand lift and move toward your face but before he touched your cheek his hand froze. Shaking his head, he dropped his hand while clearing his throat.

“God, I’m very sorry. I don’t know what—what came over me,”

He took a deep pull from his tube and kept his eyes forward. You cleared your throat and took another pull of your hash. “It’s okay. No harm no foul. Let’s just consider the effects of Charles Bukowski and Shakespear. A two-hit quitter.”

“You know those quotes?”

Blowing out the smoke, you nodded, “Yep. Charles Bukowski and Shakespeare, Mcbeth.”

He looked impressed.

“Wow, many would get Shakespeare because he’s a classic but not Charles Bukowski.”

“You shrugged. “What am I say, I’m a total literature snob.”

“All literature or just American?”

“All. The thoughts and writing practices around the world have always fascinated me. Did you know in some parts of the world the style often reflects societal beliefs of love?”

You could feel yourself running to the edge and prepared to jump off it though you remembered the looks most of your exes and flings gave you whenever you went off on a tangent about literature and love. It didn’t stop you.

“Through research and travel I find that though every area in the world relates to love, African and Middle Eastern literature whether novels, memoirs, or even poetry showcase it in such a way that one cannot miss the sentiment of love.”

Without giving him a moment to interject, you continued pointing out things your father had shown you on this trip. Things that were from well over two hundred years ago. You’d spent hours lost in the texts just immersing yourself in what life and love were like then. By the time you stopped speaking and your eyes returned to him, you’d realized you’d done it again.

“Uh--,” you awkwardly began trying to find the words to smooth things over or show him you weren’t so bookworm. However, the words escaped you. Sighing you continued, “I’m sorry I just—do that sometimes. I’ll stop.”

“Don’t ever apologize for your intelligence and passion for learning. A well-read mind is a beautiful mind and yours I can already tell would make many drunk off its beauty.”

He had a way with words—a beautiful, sensual, and sweet way, a way that made you eager to know more about him. A slow smile spread across your lips before you dipped your head feeling the full weight of your self-consciousness.

“Um--.”

“I’m Chris.”

He held his hand out to you waiting for you to take it. After a few moments of contemplation, you took it.

“Cali.”

Shaking his hand, you allowed yours to linger for a bit longer than necessary, as did he. It was your turn to get lost in his eyes, his impossibly deep eyes that somehow in the dark shone bright blue. You both released each other at the same time but your hands rested on the seat between you, so close but so far.

“Tell me more about literature steeped in love.”

You smiled then continued not needing any more of an invite. The next several hours passed with the two of you in an enthralling conversation about literature of all sorts and the differences between cultures, beliefs, and even society. You tapped into your knowledge from your major and all that you’ve learned over the last two and a half years on top of the things you’d discovered while traveling with your father. The more you talked about the topic the more you realized you’d made the right decision in changing your major and eventual career path.

When Chris tuned in and added his own findings and experiences you couldn’t help but sit there mesmerized by his intellect. You’d always had a weakness for a smart man. This man happened to be blessed with brains and beauty—a deadly combination. All you wanted to do when he spoke was listen and pay attention. There was something commanding about him, something that demanded attention.

“Am I boring you?”

“Huh? What?”

He smirked then bit his bottom lip and your eyes dropped to them.

“You’re staring like you’re lost,” Chris explained.

“Oh, no. I’m sorry. I was listening to you just—lost in thought.”

“What were you thinking?”

You looked around the room and realized that there were plenty more people who’d wandered in and the new additions made the club louder. You knew then that you’d been sitting here much longer than you’d thought. You roamed your eyes over him resigning to your fate. It had to have been fate. A man who looked like him, who was your type in every way that mattered, who checked every intelligence criteria box you had and made you want to do such bad, dirty, nasty things too. Talking to him had only intensified your desire for him.

“Highly inappropriate things,” you said before grabbing your freshly refilled glass to take a sip.

“Care to share with the class?”

Resting your hand on the back of the seat, you nudged your jaw in your palm and gazed at him trying to decide if you were drunk enough.

“What if your highly inappropriate thoughts match mine?”

Your belly fluttered. Was he saying that he has also been having inappropriate thoughts about you this whole time? You were at a loss for words and that was rare. His amusement twinkled in his eyes but there was something else there—seduction.

“Are you trying to seduce me?”

His lips quirked before he tipped his glass to them.

“Me?”

He scoffed. “I don’t think I have one seductive bone in my body.”

He had to be kidding. You’d been trying to find one unattractive thing about him for hours, just one and every attempt was a failure.

“I’ve been sitting here with you for the last few hours, and I doubt that very much.”

Chris smiled and under the colored lights, you could have sworn you saw him bite his bottom lip. It was a quick action but done in such a sensual way that goosebumps pricked your skin.

“Have I seduced you, Cali?

“It could be that you have, or it could be these never-ending drinks, or the hash and whatever else is in the air. Who’s to say.”

“See, told you, not one seductive bone in me. You on the other hand--.”

“What about me?”

Chris looked like he was weighing the pros and cons of divulging this information.

“Foreswear it, sight! For I ne’er saw true beauty till this night!”

A giddy giggle escaped you and you clamped your hand over your mouth a tab bit too late. Chris laughed joining in with your laughter.

“Oh my god,” you said before an abomination came out of your mouth in the sound of a snort, straight-up Steve Urkle style.

Horrified your eyes widened but Chris only laughed harder, clapping his hand over his chest. He didn’t look to mind. “Cute”.

As if the compliment was the incantation to opening King Midas’ doors, you slid closer realizing somehow your bodies had naturally drifted closer to one another already. Now he was only a few inches from you. Again, Chris’s hand rose and traveled to you, this time he didn’t stop until he was centimeters from you.

“May I?”

You nodded. The back of his hand touched your jaw softly, then he slowly trailed It up to your ear before turning it so he cupped your cheek. The heat from his palm seared your skin in the most delicious way making your teeth sink into your bottom lip.

“Are you saying my beauty has seduced you?”

Chris didn’t speak at once; he just allowed his thumb to skitter across your cheek in feather-lite touches, but they couldn’t be missed. Your skin tingled, heart raced, and stomach knotted. His effect on you was so instantaneous that you couldn’t help but be confused.

“Cali—I dare say that you have bewitched my mind--.” His thumb slid across your bottom lip.

“--My eyes--.” Now it was pulling your bottom lip down ever so slightly feeling.

“--And my curiosity with far more than your beauty.”

On instinct, you caught the tip of his thumb between your teeth and but down—not enough to hurt though. A deep groan fell from him, and holy hell did it sound sexy as fuck. Not only did your brain think so but so did your body, the evidence was the slickness between your legs. You watched his face drift closer and closer to yours but when he was a few inches from your lips he stopped and waited. You were confused for only a few seconds when it dawned on you, he wanted you to have equal say in how this moment played out. He wanted to know that you wanted to kiss him as much as he wanted to kiss you.

Chris's eyes were on yours searching but patiently waiting. They flited between your eyes and your lips, and you wanted to know how patient of a man he was. As if he heard your thoughts, he smirked.

“I am a very patient man, Cali. I could make you break before you me.”

The cockiness coming off of him only heightened your attraction to him. Any other time when it hadn’t been over six months since you’d been with someone or with any other man that didn’t look like him or think like him you would have enjoyed making him eat those words. Tonight—you’d rather him eat something else. With a smirk of your own, you crashed your lips to his and showed him how much you wanted to kiss him.

Chris moaned on your mouth, allowing you to lead the action. His lips felt at home on yours, a perfect fit, and the electricity crackling through you said they were possibly meant for yours. That electricity is what made you pull back to look at him. Did he feel it too? The look in his eyes said he had felt it and it was having the same effect on him.

“Holy shit,” you said.

A wide smile lit his face and this time both of you took lead slamming your lips together again. His hands were on you in seconds, one pulling you flush against his upper half, the other cupping your skull, holding your head in place as he kissed you senseless and into the most frenzied state of arousal you’d ever been in. You wanted this man—this man you only knew a handful of things about—this man you’d only known for a few hours. You wanted him more than you’d ever wanted anything.

Dipping your tongue into his mouth, you wrapped it around his, but he beat you to what happened next. Chris sucked your tongue in a slow sensual rhythm. With each one, you moaned and with each moan, Chris held you closer. You didn’t know if the rapid pounding against your breasts was his heart or yours and you doubted it mattered. When Chris nibbled your bottom lip, you whimpered and gripped him at his waist, crumpling his crisp white t-shirt. You didn’t know when it happened but when you felt the hard rippled ridges on him you realized your hand had somehow made it underneath his shirt. His body quivered while a shudder slipped from his lips.

“The way I react to you and you to me,” he croaked out, his voice husky, raw, and full of desire. “It’s intoxicating.”

You smiled and tipped your tongue out to trace along his lips. He sat there still letting you explore the taste of him. The more you tasted the more you wanted and without warning, he bit your tongue and sucked it into his mouth pulling you into another soul-swapping kiss.

“Christ! Do you want to go somewhere else?”

You moved your face until there were a few inches between your lips and peered into his eyes. You were met by the same patience, the same self-control but now it was not as tightly bound. You nodded first, then spoke, “Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

You nodded again with a smile. “Let’s go.”

Both of you stood and went into motion in unison, him making a move to the bar to settle both of your tabs while you to the restrooms to touch yourself up. A few minutes later, you met him at the door then dipped into a waiting taxi. You got lost in the view once it pulled around the corner to show the darkened beach but when you felt a large hand rest just above your knee at your thigh your attention went right back to where it belonged.

Sitting beside you, he looked like a man who’d made up his mind to seduce you, his eyelashes were low, eyes a mixture of bright blue in color but heavy in headiness. If seduction was a person, he was sitting across from you. Biting your bottom lip, you sucked it into your mouth. Chris’ hand inched higher and higher until it was halfway up your thigh with his fingers kneading the fleshiest part of your inner thigh. A soft moan escaped you.

His reaction was a pleased smile that instantly made you feel shy. Pressing your fingertips to your lips, you turned your head from him to the window and giggled behind it. His fingers never stopped kneading and the more they moved the more you wanted to moan. You liked them on you. suddenly you felt his nose nuzzle your ear.

“God, you’re sexy. I can’t wait to hear that moan loud and clear,” he whispered.

If the eyes of the taxi driver weren’t steadily peeping into the rearview mirror at the two of you, you would have stuck your tongue down his throat. Keeping some equanimity about you; you put your hand on his thigh a few inches from his inseam and squeezed. His groan was guttural and filled with so much yearning your belly did backflips from anticipation.

Before you knew it, the car stopped. Chris thanked the driver, then came around to open your door. With his hand held out, he waited for you to place yours in it. Giddiness took over and you took his hand. He then pulled you out of the car flush against him. You giggled again and allowed him to wrap his arms around your waist as he dropped a teasing open-mouthed kiss to the nape of your neck. He cupped your skull and kept you right where he wanted you as he tasted your neck. You easily got lost in the sensation and the way his lips sent tingles all through you.

“Moroccan rose will be my favorite scent for the rest of my life now,” he mumbled against you.

“Such a sweet talker.”

Chris yanked the back of your neck and crashed his lips to yours, rolling his tongue with yours and nipping at your lips. Moaning you wrapped your arms around him his neck and sagged against him. He began walking backward but he held you tightly never making you feel like you would fall. You felt sand between your toes and that fact was so startling you broke the kiss. When you glanced around you saw the desert before you.

“Oh my god, I thought we were going to your hotel.”

“I didn’t book one. That’s where I’m staying,”, he said pointing off to the right.

A large tent was pitched, and it bellowed with the gentle night breeze.

“A tent? Are you camping?”

“With a view like this, I couldn’t bear to have walls separating me from it. Trust me it’s not as rustic as you’re thinking. Come on.”

Chris took your hand and lead the way to the wood-planked walkway. As he led you, you took notice of the other pitched tents in the vicinity. They weren’t miles away, but they definitely weren’t close enough to be nosey. When you got to the entrance, he unzipped the flap and lifted it allowing you to go in first. When you stepped inside it was like stepping into a little piece of ancient Morocco. This was glamping.

The lanterns around the space were lit and decorative images danced around the roof and walls of the tent. It was beautiful.

“Wow.”

“Like it?”

You nodded. He took your hand again and led you to the back through another flap. To the back, there was a deck, and it showed the vastness of the desert. Where sand touched the sky, the indigo glow was breathtaking. Here the stars were the most visible.

“Wow—incredible.”

You got lost in the stars searching for your favorite constellations.

“Wow, I can see Hercules,” you said pointing out the constellation to the right. “And Canis Major, my god you can clearly see how it resembles a dog. Look.”

Your voice betrayed your excitement. That excitement was how you didn't realize how close he was until you felt his arms wrap around your stomach. His bearded chin nestled in the crook where your shoulder and neck met.

“There is Altair and over there is Vega. Do you know their story?”

You shook your head. Before he spoke again, he kissed a path from your neck to your ear then back down.

“Vega was a celestial princess, one of the goddesses of the sky. That meant she was immortal. Though she was immortal that didn’t stop her from worrying about what everyone else in this world desires--.”

His teeth grazed your shoulder and snapped the thin strap of your dress. With his teeth, he pulled it off your shoulder and then brought kisses back up your shoulder.

“She was worried as it seemed she would live in eternity alone without an everlasting love. Love that she’d watched plenty a mortal obtain.”

He trailed kisses along the back of your neck to your other shoulder and mirrored the same actions. With your straps off your shoulders, the material began to sag off your body. Your skin was cool thanks to the breeze but just beneath the surface you were sweltering, and it was his doing.

“One day Altair, a mere mortal, caught the eye of Vega from her celestial perch. She was so besotted with his beauty and his form that--.”

His large hands slipped a little higher to untie the strings just underneath your breasts. From there it was an easy slide for the dress to fall to your ankles.

“She descended from the heavens to greet him--.”

He turned you to face him then stepped back and slowly looked over your naked body. The heat in his eyes could have ignited sand itself.

“They fell deeply in love. It was a love poetry and plays were written about. A love so all-encompassing, so passionate, so life-altering. They lived every day of his mortal life together until they both retired to the skies to never part for all eternity.”

His voice alone could give orgasms, it was that hypnotizing, that enticing. That coupled with the way he was looking at you in this moment it was impossible to not squirm.

“You give Byron’s words new meaning. She walks in beauty like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies; all that's best of dark and bright meet in her aspect and her eyes; thus, mellowed to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies.”

Fuck, you thought as a fresh gush of moisture dampened your panties.

“You’re beautiful Cali—so beautiful.”

The wind blew but before you could shiver, he was there shielding you, holding you close, caressing your skin tracing a path of fire and desire up your stomach and between the valley of your breasts. When he cupped your jaw, you knew you couldn’t wait any longer. He kissed you softly and slowly teased you. When he broke the kiss, he tailed his lips to your neck and sucked then dipped down. When he stood again, he had you in his arms.

When you felt his lips on your nipple you exclaimed, throwing your head back. If his lips on your neck felt good, now they felt like heaven. As he licked and pleased your flesh, he sat on the reclining chair. With you straddling him, he took your other breast into his hand and kneaded it.

Instantly your back arched; “Mmmm.”

“So receptive of me.”

For emphasis, Chris pinched the nipple that was just between his lips. You sucked in a sharp breath and angled your back further. His hand at your tailbone stopped you from squirming too far. To intensify the sensation, he pinched your other nipple and latched his lips onto your throat.

“Oh god,” you whispered.

“You smell like roses, taste like spun sugar, feel like heaven, but tempt me like a seductress. You’ll drive me mad.”

He licked the swell of your breast and the valley between then shook his head in between your breasts. One second you were relishing the wanton feelings bubbling within you, and the next your fingers were laced in his hair yanking his head back so you could feast on his lips. His moans echoed into the desert behind you enhancing the sultry vibes of the moment you were sharing.

Abandoning his hair, you lifted the hem of his shirt anxious to see the rest of him. Chris sat up, lifted his arms, and allowed you to peel his shirt off. With his chest bare, your eyes dropped and took in every detail. The lite dusting of hair right below his collarbone was inviting. Normally you hated chest hair on men, you found it sloppy and cumbersome especially when it ended up in your mouth. With him, right now it was anything but. Unable to help yourself, you plastered your hands over his chiseled pecs and smoothed your fingers over them. He looked like he worked out every day.

The myriad of tattoos that were scattered across his chest and abdomen made you do a double take. You hadn’t expected it at all. Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip you resisted the urge to rake your nails down his chest.

“Your eyes are glazed over, you okay?”

Embarrassment washed over you and you blinked away from his chest to his true blues.

“Perfect,” you said before kissing him again.

Seconds later, Chris stood holding you against him carrying you inside. When you felt the mattress underneath you, you perched your legs on the bed and watched him stand before you. His eyes roamed over your body again and it was like he was looking right through you.

“Did I lose you?”

He scoffed. “Not a chance, sorry I zoned out for a second.”

“Ah, not doing it for ya’ huh.”

“What? Are you kidding me? Have you seen yourself?”

He grabbed your ankle and pulled you closer to him at the edge of the bed. Keeping his hand on you, he brought your foot to his lips and kissed the bone just there. He then led kisses a little way down your leg while his other hand swirled a path along your leg. Every few kisses, he bit your flesh making chills race through you.

“Have you heard the thoughts your brain forms? God, I don’t think I have ever been this attracted to someone in my life. I’m not just attracted to your beautiful face or your incredibly sexy body.”

His lips were now at your inner thigh, and you watched him sink to his knees before he kissed that bone right beside the most private of your body, just where your thigh and pelvis met.

“Mmm.”

Chris then draped one of your legs over his shoulder while pushing the other down flat against the bed.

“This devastatingly sexy body,” he repeated before he placed a kiss at the top of your mound. “I’m attracted to your mind. This entire night I haven’t been able to help the thoughts I’ve been having like we’ve met before--.”

He hooked his fingers in your thong.

“Spoken before--.”

He pulled the material slowly down your hips then legs, then tossed it behind him.

“Touched before, kissed before.”

With that, he dropped an open-mouthed and sloppy kiss on your clit.

“Uuugh, fuck!”

“This can’t have been the first time I’ve done that.”

He led small kisses across to your pelvis then inner thigh and back again. Every kiss made you squirm, your back arch, and your fists ball the fabric on the bed.

“Are you talking about previous lives now?”

“Maybe.”

You bit down on your bottom lip then angled onto your elbows.

“Careful sounds like you’re awfully close to saying something as cliched as destined mates,” you teased.

He smirked.

“Cliched? Would I be wrong?”

Before you could answer, he delivered a long stroke of his tongue across your sex stopping any thoughts much less words. Your gasp echoed around you as you slammed your back to the bed. With your fists balled beside you, your thighs raised trying to press together to deliver the pressure you needed. However, they didn’t meet. Chris pushed them back to the bed keeping you wide for him.

“What was that Calli? I couldn’t quite hear that.”

You opened your mouth to speak but again his lips found your folds. The slow but precise flicks he delivered make goosebumps freckle your skin as if it were cold trying to preserve its heat when in truth, your body was on fire and steadily reaching the point of combustion.

“Ah, you sighed when he sucked your clit nether lips into his mouth fluctuating the pressure he gave you. When you felt the tip of his tongue dip into your entrance your hands abandoned the sheets and grabbed hold of his hair keeping his head right there.

The feel of him dipping his tongue in and out of you felt so good. He started slow and gradually sped up before he swirled his tongue within you. He slurped and you nearly levitated off of the bed.

“Mmm, you taste incredible, Calli.”

With your nails dug into his scalp, you held tightly to his hair as you felt the beginning stirs of your orgasm. Fuck, already, you thought in pure shock. He’d barely begun. Sure enough, without warning your crescendo came and your grip tightened before your thighs trapped his face between your legs with his mouth just where you needed it.

“Oh my god! Oh god, oh god, oh god! Yesss!”

Chris moaned as he pried your thighs open. Feeling bold and strong from the orgasm you were still riding, you tugged at his hair urging him up. As soon as he was close enough you kissed him, swirling your tongue with his tasting yourself. The distraction was enough to make you roll onto him to straddle his body.

“Mmm, you’re right I do taste good.”

Chris’ grip on your hips tightened as he groaned and kissed you fiercely, stealing whatever breath you had left within you. Pulling away, you traced kisses down his jaw to his neck. His hand slinked down your back to grip your bare ass. It was such a strong grip that you gasped, then groaned when you became wet all over again. You sank lower and kissed his tattooed chest, taking care to tease his hardened nipples. Every groan, moan and fluctuation in his breathing fueled your desire for him making you want to please him even more.

When you made it to his waist you began undoing his belt, then his pants. Within seconds, you had them undone but before you could make the move, Chris flipped you onto your back and crashed his lips to yours. Not having it, you rolled right back onto him but again he flipped you onto yours. The two of you giggled together realizing that neither of you was going to have your way with this one and someone had to yield.

Chris caressed your cheek and gently kissed your lips leading a path of soft kisses down your body. You watched as he trailed the flower that had been in your hair down your flesh. Everywhere it touched goosebumps appeared and everywhere it went it left behind a trail of yearning. He rotated the bud around your nipples, then slowly brought it between the globes of your breasts. When he went down your stomach, he went around your belly button taking his sweet time knowing that every second only made your desire burn hotter and hotter. He then traced the flower to your core, making you flinch.

“Sensitive or hungry?”

You groaned and sucked your lip into your mouth. He then traced the number eight across your sex. After he finished m

“I could watch your body react to this flower all night,” he uttered eyes never leaving the flower. Once his face dipped down and he found himself right back between your legs, eye level with your sex you reached for him.

“I want you.”

“And you’ll have me but not until I have you screaming my name, writhing and dripping begging for me.”

He didn’t wait for your reply, instead, he buried his face between your legs and feasted as none had feasted before. Your moans spilled from you one after the other at varying decibels. You didn’t care how loud you were being. Normally you got a little self-conscious when you expressed your pleasure. You never felt one hundred percent comfortable with any of your exes or partners and it wasn’t due to any fault of theirs. It just was how it happened. With Chris, right now, you wanted him to know just how good he was making you feel, how much you wanted him.

The flower he held never left your body and somehow, he managed to ravage your clit and folds while circling your breasts and nipples with the flower. Just when you thought you were going to come apart and shoot into the night sky above, he bit your inner thigh while pinching one of your nipples.

“Fuuuck!”

With that, you came again, and again, he slurped every single drop like it was the most precious commodity.

Chris then rose and stood in front of you. His pants were open showing off just a smidge of the snug-fitting black boxer briefs he wore. You gave him your full attention as he removed the remainder of his clothes. As the pants dropped, you sunk your teeth into your bottom lip still picturing what he had hidden behind those things.

“The way you’re looking at me is only making this harder; harder being the operative word,” Chris said.

Your eyes dropped to the prominent bulge at the juncture of his thighs. Your tongue snaked out to slide across your lips anxious for him. Chris groaned then tore the underwear off revealing all of him to your eager eyes.

“Wow,” you marveled.

He didn’t move, he stood there allowing you time to take him in, and take him in you did. He was buff, but not in an overly done way, in an everyday guy who was active in his life way. The tattoos on his skin only added to his sex appeal.

“Like what you see?”

You smirked and dropped your thighs back to the mattress and just as expected his eyes fell to just where you wanted his full attention.

“I bet I’d like what I feel even more.”

Chris chuckled, shook his head then stalked toward you. With ease, he nestled himself between your open and welcoming legs and bit your nipple before lowering the weight of his body on you.

“I felt you liked to tease, but I see teasing is just the tip of the iceberg, huh?”

You felt the thick, heavy mass pressing against your sex and you could barely hold yourself back from bucking up against him. His groan was rich, and it sent such a thrill through you. You couldn’t believe you had this strong an impact on someone and that he was freely letting you see it. It’s like he wanted you to know that you had him wrapped around your finger.

Chris softly kissed you once, then twice. Each kiss gave you a glimpse at something deeper, something tender, and sweet. He could be a seducer but that wasn’t all that he was. You rolled onto him again and kissed a trail down his sculpted frame taking care to kiss all the parts of him that tempted you. You kissed each nipple, raking your nails through the dusting of hair on his chest, each defined ab, and his obliques where those mouthwatering indentations resided. At the touch of your lips on that part of him, you felt a heavy thwack against your chin. Glancing down, you saw the offender. Up close you took notice of the violent veins protruding along his shaft and the thick and swollen head that glistened with a long drop of his desire.

“Planning on drawing it?”

“I could if it would make you harder.”

Chris scoffed. “Honey, I don’t think I could be any harder right now.”

“Open for debate,” you replied before tipping your tongue out to lightly swirl around the bulbous head.

He groaned long and loud while arching his head back. The veins in his neck bulged showing you just how desperately he was trying to cling to control. You repeated the action a few more times before you sucked his tip into your mouth applying more than a little pressure.

“Christ!”

You moaned. He tasted like mint and something else—vanilla maybe. Whatever it was, you were sure it was a taste unique to him and a taste you found subtle enough to enjoy. Slowly, you dipped your mouth lower and lower taking half his thickness before you sucked up. His hiss and the slight miss of his hands as they aimed to the top of your head no doubt to hold you in place told you everything you needed to know. He was open. You licked from the base to his tip like he was your favorite flavor lollipop. Another groan was your reward.

“Do that again.”

You licked him again. “That?”

You knew that wasn’t what he meant. The muscles in his jaw jumped then his Adam’s apple bobbed.

“No,” he struggled out.

You smirked and dipped your mouth over him again this time taking him a little further until you felt he was close to the back of your mouth. Chris groaned and fastened his hands on your head keeping your head there trapped. You moaned on him and without warning, he brought your head lower so you took him deeper. With him nestled right where he could feel the vibrations most, you moaned again. His grip loosened as he pulled you off of him.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell. I swear ta gawd, you’re gonna make me cum right now.”

You could pick up an accent and it was the hottest thing you’d heard. He wasn’t the only one that was close to coming.

“Your mouth feels incredible.”

Feeling bold, you took him into the mouth he liked so much and showed him incredible was the beginning. By the time you were finished with him, you’d have him listing off every synonym of the word. As you pleased his flesh, every hiss, gasp, moan and groan became more and more desperate, more and more emphasized and the more he lost control, the more powerful you felt. That didn’t mean that giving him pleasure meant you felt none. You were so turned on it took everything in you to not drop your hand between your legs to inch yourself to the release he was creeping up on.

Quicker than lightning, he’d flipped you onto your back and pressed your thighs apart making enough room for his bulky body and stealing your breath in the process. The way he looked at you as if you were his prey and he the predator only made you want him more.

“Fuck,” you whispered out.

“If you insist.”

His lips pressed to yours and his tongue swirled with yours. The man was a kissing connoisseur and magician, and this was the way he cast his spells—this was the way he bewitched. When you felt the tip of his intrusion brush against your inner thigh you shook and immediately felt embarrassed. Chris’ smile was soft.

“The feeling is mutual, believe me.”

He kissed you once, twice then a third, and on that third kiss, he joined your bodies in one slow, torturous, and impossibly delicious feeling thrust. Every inch he filled you with made your back arch and every arch pressed your breasts onto his hard chest. Chris tore his lips from yours first then buried his face into your neck and whimpered.

“Oh—you feel--.”

It was a sentence he never finished—not with words. Instead, he shuddered into your ear and let his body mirror it with a shiver. With him buried to the hilt, you felt impossibly full, but you still wanted more. Wrapping one leg behind him to rest at the crest of his ass, you lifted your hips to meet his next thrust. The movement was unexpected and his snapped to yours. With your eyes locked, you clenched around him and circled your hips.

“Fuck!”

Chris pressed one hand to the bed and brought the other to your throat, but no part of his grip hurt. It was the motivation he needed to speed his movements. With every connection, your breasts jerked, and every retreat your leg around him tightened as your muscles.

“Uuugh, you’re going to kill me gorgeous,” Chris croaked out with every thrust.

“Then return the favor. I think death by fuck would be a good way to go.”

His eyebrow crooked and you saw the moment something shifted within him. His jaw twitched and then with his next bruising thrust he clasped both your wrists in one of his hands and pressed them above your head. From then, his thrusts became rougher, harder and so damn wild. The pattern her set was one of chaos and your body responded to it. He kept you guessing, needing and whimpering until you were sure that the other tents nearby could hear just what was going on and you didn’t care. You hoped they were listening.

No matter how you tried to free your hands to touch him, it was no use. He held you right where you were taking everything he wanted while giving you just as much. Soon, the pit of your stomach tightened, and your legs trembled, you were close and the grin on his face said he knew it.

“I think death by multiple orgasms sounds like a better way to go.”

Chris thrusted forward hard then circled his hips sending you over the edge. You screeched and allowed your body to shake as it wished. You had no control over it, he did. You panted and bucked against him needing more and having too much all at once. When his thrusts continued, he’d released your hands and grabbed your thighs keeping them apart and you slightly elevated in both his strong arms. This new angle told you that you’d be crashing over the edge in seconds.

Sure enough, you came again and again with him showing no mercy nor giving you any reprieve. Instead, he changed the pattern again, slowing things down. The sudden change sent your body into hyperactivity and your hips bucked again. Chris groaned and moved his hands to your hips. He held on to you like he was riding a bucking bronco trying to control you. With a groan that sounded so close to a growl, he pulled out of you then flipped you onto your stomach and sheathed himself once again.

“Aaaah! Fuck, yes!”

The action was so quick your head spun but not for long. When you felt his hand at the back of your neck and the other coming down on your ass you lost your shit.

“Oh god—Chris.”

“Mmm. Still sound like a good way to go?”

He dropped his lips to your back and kissed a path along your spine until he reached your shoulder. Once there, he sank his teeth into your flesh. You dropped your head back and for the first time, you noticed that this particular part of the tent was see-through, and it gave you the perfect view of the stars. As another orgasm claimed you, you felt yourself transcending to touch those stars. Chris slowed his movements and brought his kisses to your jaw, then your lips. This kiss was different, it was languid, teasing, but filled with longing. It was a different longing than before; it was a longing for more time.

“You’re perfect, Cali,” Chris mumbled on your lips. “So fucking perfect.”

Your belly fluttered. Mustering all your energy, you pulled from him, then pushed him onto his back. He stretched his arms behind his head with a wide smile as if he couldn’t wait for the show. You stood on the bed giving him a full view of your body then stood over him legs wide enough that he could see just what was in store for him. As he licked his bottom lip you saw a spark of worry in his eyes.

“Scared?”

Smirking he stretched his body and groaned. “Should I be?”

“I don’t know. I could do whatever I want to you.”

“I’m counting on it.”

His cockiness was too damn attractive, and you couldn’t believe you liked it. Scoffing, you lowered yourself over him. His eyes dropped between your legs and watched with bated breath. He looked like he was mumbling an incantation in his head drawing your body to his. Just before you sank onto him, you stopped hovering just out of reach. Chris groaned then cracked his neck.

“Are you afraid?”

“Not at all.”

“Then sink that gorgeous, deliciously tight pussy on this cock.”

“No please?”

He smirked.

“Oh, so you want me to beg.”

“Are you above it?”

Chris brought one hand to his mouth, licked his thumb then brought it to your clit. The first stroke was feather-lite.

“Mmm.”

“Are you?” He dipped his thumb lower swiping your slit coating his finger before bringing it back to swirl around your bud. You moaned again but made a silent vow to not give in.

“Try as you will, I guarantee you will not hear me beg for anything.”

“No?”

For emphasis he gently pinched your clit sending a sharp electric charge through you and right back to your sex. Unconsciously, you dipped lower, your folds brushing the tip of his cock. You both groaned at the same time, both bucked your hips together, but you were the one to rise back up.

“Stubborn huh.”

“More than you know. However, I would have mercy on you if you said the magic words.”

“What words may they be?”

His finger was now going back and forth and round and round in a synchronized show of skill. It was becoming harder and harder to resist. You wanted him to fill you as much as he wanted to be nestled in your heat.

“Please—take this—dick.”

Again, your body dipped lower and brushed his tip. This time you didn’t lift up, instead, you rocked your body back and forth like a wave coating his bulging appendage. With each swipe of your sex, Chris softly grunted and subtly lifted his hips. You didn’t know if it was an involuntary movement or if this was a ploy.

“God, you’re so wet for me, Cali.”

“Mm-hm. Dripping.”

His finger sped and you knew you were close. You just hoped he gave in before your body betrayed you. Circling your hips, you took a few centimeters of him giving him the impression you were giving in but when his hand came to your waist you lifted up denying him the satisfaction. The groan he let out was one of frustration. You saw the veins in his neck protruding and wondered how much longer he could hold out.

“Still so tight,” he whispered.

“Do you want to stretch me out?”

He scoffed, smirked, and angled his head back.

“You are playing a dangerous game, Cali.”

The authority in his voice made you straighten your spine. He sounded like he often gave orders, and you wanted him to command you.

“This dangerous game has consequences. Can you afford them?”

“Like?”

The pressure he applied to your pearl increased and you knew your face betrayed how much you liked it.

“Loss of voice, sore muscles, raw throat, inability to sit properly for a week or two, among others.”

“What about the consequences for you? Can you afford them?”

“Such as?”

“Inability to think of anything else but this tight, dripping pussy, hallucinations of seeing me everywhere you go but when it isn’t me wishing it were, daydreams that take you back to this night for months on months, frenzied wet dreams every single night, and the fate of inadequate self-pleasuring where it never is good enough because it is not my hand, my mouth, my tight delicious pussy. Your punishment for tonight will be a lifelong one. Can you afford the price of your pleasure?”

He looked at the end of his rope like he was about to release the beast any moment. His jaw ticked, throat bobbed, and breath shook.

“Cali—please—take this dick so I can fill you and stretch you so perfectly that weeks from now you will not be able to have another because you will only see my eyes.”

As the victor you dropped onto his cock, taking him fully into your body and loving every second of it. Chris grunted then gripped your hip. He didn’t move you though, he wanted you to take control. You instantly set the pace bucking against him with quick swipes. Chris sucked in a breath and watched you move, in complete awe. Rather than sticking to one pattern, you swirled around him before you began bouncing on his hardness.

“Fuck!”

He matched every move you made with an upward flick of his hips. Every time he did it, it threw you off until you’d stopped moving completely and allowed him to jackhammer up into your core.

“Fuck! Chris, yes, right there. Oh my god, I’m gonna cum.”

“Cum for me—cum with me.”

His thrusts became more and more aggressive and the sharp twinge of pain at your hip from his fingertips said you’d have a bruise to remember this night. It was a bruise you wouldn’t mind. Chris sprang up, held your hips more firmly, and rocked you against him as he fucked you. You could tell by the glazed look in his eyes that he’d lost control and was chasing the same thing you were—a release.

“Yes, Yes, God Cali.”

Your eyes locked and you felt the same longing he did. If only tonight wasn’t all you had. Before you knew it, you’d crescendoed over the edge pulling him with you. Both of you rode the wave of pleasure that kept producing sparks of fire and thrill straight through you making neither of you want to break apart. You kissed him allowing everything you were feeling to spill into him.

If tonight was all you had, then you would take it and press it to memory.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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sariahsue · 1 year

Text

Let Me Count the Ways

Chapter Ten - Movie Date

[Ch 1] [Ch 2] [Ch 3] [Ch 4] [Ch 5] [Ch 6] [Ch 7] [Ch 8] [Ch 9]

Adrien was in a foul mood by the time patrol rolled around.

He hadn't slept well, which made his early morning photo shoot and the punishing akuma that followed all the more grueling. That didn't even count the math test he was sure he'd bombed, plus the ton of homework he needed to do over the weekend. Who knew if he would even finish it all? Another long shoot was scheduled for tomorrow, and Hawk Moth would probably send extra akumas just to spite him. His mood was so bad that he wasn't even excited about patrol, but he hauled his sorry self out his window and trudged across the rooftops anyway.

When he was just two blocks away from their meeting place, Ladybug sent him a text on his baton. He checked it more for the excuse to stop than the desire to see what she said.

The message read simply: Bring the blanket.

He shoved the baton roughly back to its spot and turned around, bristling at the terse order. With his luck today, she wanted him to return it.

Stomping all the way back to his house, he yanked back the duvet and revealed the blanket, which he wadded up in his arms, leaving the bed unmade. He didn't feel like putting in the effort to make it look nice for no one.

It only took a few minutes until he was close enough to see their meeting location. A flat section of roof sheltered on one side by a taller portion of the building. Ladybug was kneeling there, in the middle of a pink blanket and taking something out of a bag. A few jumps closer, and he could smell the chocolate and sugar.

"Cookies?" he asked when he landed next to her.

"Sorry for making you turn around." She stood, holding the overflowing plate out to him. "I needed more time to set up and panicked."

He stared at the plate, hands still full of crumpled blanket. Ladyfingers and lemon cookies and macarons and lots of ganache drizzled over everything.

"Oh," she said. "Here." She shifted the plate to one hand and grabbed the blanket from him so they could switch. Then she turned back to her setup. At the head of her pink blanket, leaning against the brick wall, was a giant black pillow. It was shaped like a cat's head, with large ears and a hand-stitched face made with green thread.

Ladybug shook out his black blanket, folded it in half and sat with it across her lap. "Well, if you're not going to eat them, can you bring them over here?" She patted the spot next to her.

Did she make the pillow like she had his blanket? It matched the color scheme. The cloth looked like the same type. He put the cookies between them and sat down, only to have her immediately pick up the plate and slide in close to him.

He really loved the blanket she'd given him, and how cuddly she was whenever she and it were both near him. He barely managed to stop himself from leaning into her warmth. To distract himself he asked, "Did you make the pillow, too?"

"Yup, finished it last night. It's for you. Isn't it cute?"

His voice felt suddenly too heavy to use, so he just nodded.

Balancing the plate of cookies on her knees, she pulled out her phone. "You seemed upset this morning, and I wanted to cheer you up. So, movie night?"

Huh. Some time between his arrival and now, she'd managed to clear his bad feelings without trying, and he hadn't even noticed. "Sounds good," he said.

"You want to talk about it?" Her hand hovered over the screen.

His mouth twitched. He did want to. "Can't. It's mostly what I've been doing all day."

Ladybug chewed the inside of her cheek, like she was actually… considering? But she shrugged, and the moment passed, and the faint sound of opening music spread out over the silence between them.

After thirty minutes, Chat Noir wasn't sure what movie they were watching, even though he'd been staring at the screen for all he was worth.

Because Ladybug was touching his hand.

It had started out so slowly that he'd thought it was accidental, just a light brush of her fingers against his wrist, so he dutifully moved his hand out of the way (but still close enough for it to happen again - just in case).

And it did happen again. After just a few minutes, the edge of her hand slid right up against his.

He frowned at the screen, unseeing. She'd been doing a lot of touching like this lately. He'd thought it was unconscious at first, but there had just been too much - it had to be on purpose.

He just couldn't figure out why. His Lady was many things, and indecisive was not one of them. If she wanted to hold his hand (or do anything else), they would be doing it already. And she wasn't coy either. She wouldn't be playing with him. So what was she doing?

Ladybug's hand started to move again. An explosion on the tiny phone screen was nothing compared to the explosions that were happening in Chat Noir's brain as she started mindlessly playing with the tips of his fingers and stroking his knuckles.

Every muscle in his arm clenched with the effort of holding still. He shouldn't react. She might pull away if he did. So he chanted don't, don't, don't as he imagined grabbing her hand and kissing it, the back of it, the palm, every fingertip and knuckle, dragging his lips around her wrist, and up to the soft hollow of her elbow, and higher and higher until he reached her mouth.

But he kept himself very still, not even a twitch, until his arm ached with the effort, and she finally pulled her hand away.

---

Author’s note: The next chapter will probably be the longest one. :)

Tag list: @clawsout83 @trippingovermyfeet @tbehartoo @yoonjae20 @random-cartoon-fangirl

#ladynoir #ml #mlb #miraculous #miraculous ladybug

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lumiseung · 2 years

Text

[21:07] jungwon

❝Just ten minutes, okay? ❞

PAIRING ❥ yang jungwon x reader

GENRE ❥ fluff, bf!jungwon, they are students <3

WARNINGS ❥ none

WORDCOUNT ❥ 900+

[21:07]

You sat cross-legged in a nest of duvet and pillows. Wrapped in your boyfriends’ larger clothes and freshly showered. His dizzying scent wafting around your head, pulling you deeper into your half-lidded, hazy bliss as you attempted to finish your prescribed readings in time for class tomorrow. Frustratingly, sleep was knocking on the door harder than your academic motivations were.

You were reaching the end of your list of tricks to keep yourself awake - turning up your laptop screen brightness to the max had worked well, for all of about 20 minutes. Another coffee would do more harm than good at this point, and the shower you took 15 minutes ago was lulling you deeper than it was pulling you out.

“Come on y/n, last stretch, let’s go.” You exhaled in attempt to muster up motivation. You stretched your arms out and shook off the drowse as you switched positions to leaning forward.

A chuckle drifted through the doorway as your boyfriend, Jungwon, strolled into the room with his closed laptop and a writing book under one arm. “Still going?” A warm, empathetic smile graced his face as he takes in your dilapidated state.

You smile back, tilting your chin up to face him as he walks to your bedside. His heart squeezes, seeing your sleepy eyes droop and your grin widen as he approaches you, casting aside your work.

“Are you close to finishing? You’ve worked so much already today.” He remarks, concern tinting his tone. His eyes flit down to the hoody of his you are wrapped up in, sending a small smile to his face. He reaches to smooth your hair back into place, his gentle eyes tracing every movement he makes along your face.

“I’m almost done! Maybe I can just finish it in the morning, I’m past the point of comprehending this reading, I think.” You muse aloud with a gentle chuckle, watching Jungwon intently as he places his book and laptop down to take a seat sideways on the bed to be facing you.

“Are you on your way home now?” You ask, straightening your posture as he leans towards you.

“In 5 minutes.” He groans in a lowered voice, placing an arm on either side of you.

“Is my Wonie tired as well?” you ask gently but teasingly, your hands coming up to cup either side of his face.

Jungwon closes his eyes momentarily, letting the fatigue wash over him in the comfort of your embrace. “Let’s just nap for 10 minutes quickly, hmmm.” He suggests as he collapses onto your chest with a huff.

A giggle is drawn from your chest as he remains unmoving, he listens to the rising and falling of your breaths as he is tempted into dreamland.

“You will never wake up if I let you fall asleep right now Wonie you know that” you counter, only sounding half as convincing as you had intended. Truth be told - against your better judgement - all you wanted was to wrap up warmly with Jungwon in bed and nap to his hearts content. Nothing compared to falling asleep curled up next to him, listening to him gently humming a melody while his hand lazily traces your shoulder as he dozed off in record-breaking time, always tired from either his class representative duties, taekwondo or hanging out with his friends.

You don’t know how he did it, honestly. You could never fathom having so many responsibilities and somehow managing to balance all of them so well with such a positive attitude. It was one of the many things you admired and loved about him. Another was the way he always made time for you despite said busy schedule. Which was why, despite your selfish desires, you had to send him home to get some much-needed rest, knowing that if you didn’t, he would stay until dawn just to be by your side.

“I have 9 minutes left at this point and what I would really like is to spend it cuddling with my baby. So please, baby, lie down.” He pouts, looking back up at you with those sparkling boba eyes that get you every time.

“Yang Jungwon, you are my biggest weakness.” You relent, as you let him gently push to you lie down. He moves up the bed and lays his head on a pillow, tenderly tucking your head under his chin as his arms move to cradle you. A deep sigh of tranquillity leaves him as he places a soft kiss to the crown of your head.

“Just ten minutes, okay?” you murmur into his chest, feeling the heavy haze of sleep descend mercifully upon the two of you.

“I know, baby.” He reassures you, a small smile tugs on his lips as he feels your body grow heavier with every passing moment.

Ten minutes turns into twenty and twenty into forty.

It’s 23:02 when Jungwon rouses gently before slipping out from your grasp reluctantly and grabbing his belongings. He makes sure you are tucked in warmly before placing a chaste kiss to your forehead, “sleep well, see you tomorrow,” he whispers with a pleased hum, before turning and slipping out your window lithely, starting the short journey down the road to his house. Jungwon shoves his hands deeply into the pockets of his jacket, a content smile on his face as he slips into the darkness, already thinking about seeing you tomorrow morning.

#yang jungwon #enhypen fic #yang jungwon fic #jungwon x reader #jungwon drabbles #jungwon x y/n #jungwon fluff #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen drabbles #enhypen

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darklydeliciousdesires · 1 year

Text

Edge of Seventeen - Chapter Seven.

It’s bonus chapter time, besties! Thanks for all the reads and reviews, I appreciate you all so much. Now, onto the chapter... shit, as they say, is about to hit the fan...

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 4,403

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, minors DNI!

Hank refused to do it.

As soon as his brother’s discovered his request, they told him not to do it.

Angel had never been one to pay mind to the opinions of others.

“So, does she know you’re having this done?” the tattoo artist inking Bella’s name above his heart asked, as she finished the first loop on the B.

Angel shook his head. “Nope, she has no idea. I told her I was getting something on my arm, so when she turns up, she’s gonna freak out. Hopefully in a good way!”

The artist smiled. A lot of people refused to put names on someone, but she herself was a hopeless romantic, and never objected to doing so. “How long have you guys been together?”

“Not long,” he confessed, wincing a little. “It’ll be fourteen weeks in two days, and I know, it’s really quick to be getting her name tattooed on me, but she’s the one. When you know, you know.”

“Awwww, that’s so romantic!” she cooed, smiling while wiping away the excess ink. “And you’re absolutely right. I’d been with my husband for three weeks when I knew I’d be with him forever. We celebrated our fifteenth anniversary last December.”

Angel smiled, thinking about having the same with Bella. He’d fifty-one and she thirty-three. Would she be famous by then? He hoped so. Would they be married, maybe have kids? Again, he hoped so, although he wouldn’t rush her for either of those things. He understood that such thoughts were his mind running away with him, his desire to settle and start the family of his own he so desperately craved and recognised he’d unhealthily sought in almost every woman he’d previously ended up in a relationship with, but Bella would be different. He might have fallen for her quickly, but he wouldn’t rush a moment of it.

He didn’t have to. In his mind, and hers, they had all the time in the world ahead of them.

By the time Bella arrived, Ami had just taped a piece of saran wrap over Angel’s chest, leaving one side un-taped so he could show off the surprise for his girlfriend.

“Oh, changed your mind over the arm piece, then?” she asked, greeting him with a kiss.

“Yeah... I might’ve lied a little, so I could surprise you with this.” Lifting the edge of the wrap, he pulled it back to reveal the tattoo, Bella gasping, covering her mouth with her hands as she jiggled around, stamping her heel with excited disbelief, beginning to cry. There it was, her name, right above his heart.

“Oh my god! Oh... my... god!” She couldn’t speak, kissing him, squeaking a little, hiding her face in her hands, Ami cooing softly at how sweet her reaction was, offering her a tissue. “Angel, this is so bloody adorable! I mean... bloody hell! You have my name tattooed on you!”

He grinned, kissing her forehead. “So, you like it?” he teased, making her laugh.

“I love it!!” she then looked thoughtful for a moment, biting her lip. “Excuse me, do you have any free time coming up?” she asked Ami.

“I do, actually,” she confirmed. “My appointment after your guy here cancelled last minute.”

“I want the same, his name, right here.” Ten minutes later, and she was sitting wincing as her love’s name was etched at the top of her left breast, holding his hand and sharing kisses with him. Some might’ve called it crazy, in fact, most would, but that’s just what they were; crazy about one another.

Once finished, he took her out for dinner before heading to the clubhouse, his brother shaking his head at their tattoo choices.

“You’re both insane, but whatever. As long as you’re happy.” Underneath, EZ feared that Angel was repeating his usual form of becoming completely wrapped up in the girl he was dating, but this time, much more than before. Whenever he wasn’t attending to club business, he was with Bella, and while EZ did see quite clearly that for once, he’d actually found someone who was good for him and seemed to settle rather than exacerbate his slightly childish and dramatic nature, he still felt concerned. What could he do, though? He was thirty-seven, old enough to be making his own decisions regarding his life.

It was confirmed further to him later that night, just as it was to the rest of his club, too, over how much of a positive effect Bella had on the often-volatile Angel.

“So, you here with anyone tonight, pretty girl?” Hector, a member of the Stockton charter asked, coming over to where Bella was sitting at the bar, having a conversation with Amelia, Gilly’s girlfriend who she adored, Angel over playing pool.

Bella covered her mouth politely, pointing to indicate she was still finishing the mouthful of peanuts she’d taken, trying not to laugh as Hector encouraged “chew, mami, chew!”

“Sorry,” she giggled, clearing her mouth with a swig of beer. “Yeah, I am. I’m Angel’s girl.”

“Oh! Well, didn’t he just do very well for himself with a fine assed looking lady like you. One with hella good taste in boots! Are those the whiskey brown?” he asked, pointing at her cowboy boots.

“Yep! Limited edition, all sold out on the Loblan site now. I’m still trying to break ‘em in a little, get the leather softer,” she nodded, lifting her foot to show off her new purchase.

“You wanna know what’s best? Neatsfoot oil. Wash ‘em down with saddle soap, and when they’re almost dry, coat ‘em in the oil and let the leather drink it in. You gotta feed it almost, it’ll help preserve them and care for the leather while making it supple as well. I’ve done it with my boots for years now, same for all my horses’ saddles and bridles, too. It works,” he advised.

“You have horses? Oh, I love horses!” she enthused, thinking how nice it was that as soon as he’d heard she wasn’t available, he’d changed his demeanour entirely, going from giving her the come on to now simply making friendly conversation. Angel, however, wasn’t convinced.

“Yeah, I got Bob, great big Clydesdale cross thoroughbred, and Mack, who’s a pure-bred quarter horse. He’s only three so still a barely broken, living fucking nightmare of an animal,” he laughed, just as they were joined by a terse looking Angel.

“Yo, Hector. Back up off my girl, man,” he warned, Hector holding up his hands.

“I’m just chatting to her, homie. No harm done, no damage,” he replied brightly, Angel snorting.

“You keep on at her, and there will be damage. Trust me.”

Bella interjected there, Hector’s face darkening as they neared one another.

“I ain’t caring for your tone at all, bro,” Hector warned, Bella shoving herself right against Angel when he made a lunge for him.

“Hey, hey!” she yelled, pushing him backwards. “Angel, look at me, Angel.” She grabbed his face, turning him to make him focus on her. “We’re talking about boots and horses; he isn’t coming onto me. He asked if I was here with anyone, I told him I was your girl, and he backed off. He’s just being friendly. You need to settle down and hear that.” She stroked his face, watching him visibly calming a little. “Baby, you can’t fly into a fit at every bloke who talks to me, especially when I’m telling you I don’t have a problem, so you shouldn’t either, alright?”

Angel looked between her and Hector a few times, Bella focusing on him again, her thumbs stroking her beard as she leaned in close. “Don’t be totes emosh.” He snorted then, unable to prevent the quiet ripple of laughter that came, his anger dissipating in a second.

“Sorry, man. I’m just protective over her,” he explained to Hector, watching him nod.

“I would be, too. We’re good.”

“Did she just...” Bishop asked quietly as he stood next to EZ, watching the scene unfold from across the room.

“Completely deflate his rage in about ten seconds? Yep. She did that.” Through clear communication, setting her boundaries of what she found acceptable and didn’t in how he chose to behave, Bella had done what few ever managed to with Angel; she’d made him listen to her. Few women had that power over him. Yes, Bella most certainly was a very good fit for his brother. Perhaps their decision to have matching name tattoos done wasn’t as bad as he’d first thought.

The same opinion wasn’t held by Deborah Thorpe, though, once she saw her daughter’s new tattoo a few days later.

“Sweetheart, please don’t... oh, god!” Pushing back Bella’s open shirt, she shook her head at seeing it there, the name of the boyfriend she was yet to meet, right there on her chest. After just a few weeks shy of four months. “Bella!”

“What?” she asked, raiding the fruit basket for an orange and a couple of kiwi fruits, beginning to construct a fruit salad for their breakfast. “I’m in love with him. He got my name done as a surprise, so I decided to get his done, too. He’s the one, mum. I know it.”

Deb shook her head. “I think you’re both too bloody young to know whether that’s the case, especially after only three and a half months.” Oh no, her mum didn’t know how old Angel was, and Bella had good reason for that. She wouldn’t approve of such an age gap, so she’d told a white lie and said Angel was her age. She also knew that her mum would worry about her only daughter dating an outlaw, too. Bella knew she had to come clean eventually, that one day she’d have to introduce him to her, but she wasn’t willing for her little love bubble to be burst with her mother’s concerns and objections just yet. “It’s your mistake to make, though, I suppose.”

Bella put the knife down on the chopping board with a loud clang, taking a deep breath, her lips pursing. “Mum, what if it isn’t? What if this is the guy I’m going to be with forever? You and dad started going out when you were fifteen, and you two were meant to be.”

She had her there, of course, Deb pausing, closing her eyes momentarily. There he was, right there in her mind’s eye, her beloved Nick. God, how she still missed him. Smiling, she softened, nodding. Moving to her daughter, she stroked her hair lovingly, kissing her forehead. “Alright, belly-boo. I still think the tattoo is a little extreme, but I support your choice. Shall we add berries to the fruit salad? I bought just about everything they had at the farmer’s market yesterday.”

Bella smiled, pleased that she saw things from her point of view. She didn’t expect her mum to be thrilled about something as permanent as a tattoo, but that was okay. As long as she saw Angel as permanent, that was all that mattered. Anything else could wait. “Yeah, good idea.” She spent the day with her mum, hanging out, walking the beach, eating an early dinner together before Deb dropped her at the train station, Bella heading down to Santo Padre to spend the night with Angel.

As soon as they were through his front door, the fact that hadn’t seen one another for three days played out in the way you’d expect.

“Fuck, I missed you,” Bella announced through their steamy kisses, pushing him back against his front door, her fingers rapidly undoing the buttons of his black denim shirt.

“I missed you too, B, and damn, I’m gonna spend the rest of the evening showing you just how much.” Picking her up, his mouth found its way between her breasts as he carried her to the bedroom, Bella kicking off her sandals on the way, giggling as she was thrown onto the bed, having the big, gorgeous body she’d craved covering hers as second after.

He made short work of removing her dress, but took his time with her underwear, pausing to undress himself before moving back between her legs kissing and stroking her all over with sensual focus as he rendered her just as naked as him. His lust spiralled greater than his need to tease, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses full of longing over her body, avoiding her still healing tattoo, but kissing around it, sucking her nipple, loving seeing it right there, his name, her love for him matching his for her. And god, how he loved her.

His mouth glided lower, tongue swiping over the small line of remaining pubic hair, settling where he’d craved to taste, slowly starting to probe her opening, using movements so light he hardly touched her, drawing soft gasps as her hips pushed out further towards his mouth. Her hands kneaded his thick shoulders as he explored her slit, tongue seeking her clit and beginning to trail over it with long, firm strokes, Bella feeling as if she had tiny comets of pleasure streaking beneath her skin.

“Fuck!” she gritted, his lips encircling her bud and sucking, his hands smoothing over her stomach, chasing goosepimples, holding her still when lustful quakes caused her to be anything but.

She cried out in total rapture, his tongue flicking rapidly as he inserted one, then two fingers into her molten core, driving them into her slick heat hard as she groaned deeply, her nails raking across the back of his neck. Fuck, he was just too good. Whether he was born with it or learned it, she didn’t care; she got to enjoy it, the fact that Angel was thoroughly adept in driving a woman out of her mind with pleasure.

She squeezed his biceps as he gripped her thigh, preventing her from sliding across the bed with the strong pounding from his other hand, a third finger joining the other two, alternating between thrusting and circling them around, massaging her cunt thoroughly, raking wetness from her with his incredible skill.

Pleasure skittered through her, heat glimmering as the coil in her belly grew tighter, his fingers driving hard, tongue quickening in its flicking, chasing her headlong towards a magnificent undoing. If her release was a wave, his mouth was the shore, crashing against him as she wailed, tingles pulsing as her legs closes around his head, Bella completely lost to the force.

He brought her back from the cloudy, warm haze, his long, thick cock filling her plentifully, his mouth closing over her nipple as his hands bracketed her ribcage. They exchanged kisses of fire and honey, his mouth muting her lust filled gasps, fingers coming through her hair. He bottomed out, pulling back and then driving forth again, her body being sent to erotic heaven with just one thrust.

She wrapped arms and legs in a tight clutch around his hard, well-defined body as they began to move in fluid unison with one another, gazing into his gorgeous, dark eyes between kisses, her hands beginning to roam. The feel of him was arousing to her in itself, how his body completely blanketed hers, making her feel tiny beneath him, the bulk of his muscles imposing upon her lithe frame.

Her nails dragged his shoulders, kissing his neck as the acerbic lust began to fizz, Bella turning him onto his back, not losing the tangency between them. Sitting up, she sank all the way down on his cock, each blood engorged vein standing out on his shaft stimulating her walls as she clenched around him.

With every last inch of him snugly within her hot, dewy centre, she began to rock up and down on him, stroking his chest and sighing contently as his hands moved to cup her breasts and pinch at her nipples. Rolling her hips into him, she stared down at him lustfully, taking one of his big hands and sucking his fingers with a soft, sensual moan, her other hand pressing into his chest to steady herself as he began to quicken beneath her.

“You’re going to buck me off!” she gasped through her giggles, hanging onto his arms.

“I ain’t a fucking horse, B! Well, one part is pretty similar,” he replied smugly. He had good reason to be, she thought. “You’ll just have to hang on, won’t you?”

They moved together perfectly, Bella crying out as his cock filled her rapidly, throwing her head back and wailing in utter bliss. He pulled her down, arms locking around her as they shared fervent, feverish kisses, turning her again onto her back and pushing her legs up until they touched her chest.

She pressed her knees together to make the penetration tighter, her cunt tingling as he slammed into her, the slick wetness he invaded so mercilessly dripping, lewd noises echoing through the room as he fucked her voraciously, his deep groans making her arousal spiral. Opening her legs and resting them over his shoulders, he leaned down to kiss her torridly, his fingertips trailing the back of her legs as his hips pounded against her body, making her cry out helplessly.

Easing his weight up off her, he continued to hold her legs close to his chest, covering them in kisses as he groaned deeply, invading her with long strokes, thumb rubbing over her clit at speed as she felt those familiar, tight contractions of her inner walls beginning to quiver and lock around him.

“Come on, beautiful. Cum hard for me.” He panted through each ragged breath, pounding her rigorously, making Bella feel as if she were being turned inside out, gasping for air as fire licked her spine. Their movements become climatically frantic until they both almost simultaneously crested, breathing ragged as their hands clenched together and the white heat burned, waves breaking through them in an intense rolling, until it ebbed away, sinking back to the sea, leaving them breathless.

“Mmmm,” he groaned, softly kissing her. “You always look so pretty when you cum.” They lay there stroking and nuzzling one another for a long time afterwards, basking in affection, in the adoring luminosity they felt from one another. She was utterly perfect for him, Angel only continued to realise, especially a few further months on from then, upon the anniversary of his mother’s death.

With no gravesite to visit, Angel came to the same place now upon the date, the spot at the border fence where his father had returned her ashes through the gap and back home onto Mexican soil. He saw that Felipe had already visited that morning, a bunch of sunflowers, his mother’s favourites, propped against the fence, the same within Bella’s little woven rucksack which she pulled out. He’d been his usual forgetful self and neglected to purchase flowers, thinking he’d go and collect some on the way after picking Bella up from the train station, touched to see her carrying them when she’d exited the train.

She’d even wrapped them in a purple ribbon, his mom’s favourite colour, which he must have only ever mentioned to her once in passing, same with the flowers, and she’d remembered. They stood sombrely, Angel reflective as he remembered her at her happiest, singing in the kitchen while she cooked, tending to her garden, pulling him close to tell him how much she loved him.

Taking the flowers from her bag, Bella walked to the fence, propping them against it next to Felipe’s bunch, kissing her fingers and touching them against the yellow petals tenderly. “We love you, Marisol. Fly free.”

He could have cried in that moment, turning away for a second, pinching his nose as his eyes filled with tears at her words, her tenderness and regard for his mother, a woman she’d never even met. It wasn’t because he was sad, though, turning back, Bella approaching, reaching for him.

“It’s okay to be upset, you know,” she soothed, Angel smiling widely, stroking her cheek.

“I’m not,” he began, wrapping his arms around her. “I’m really happy, because finally, I’ve met someone who loves me just as much as she did. I just wish she could be here to see it, how happy you’ve made me.”

Emerging from beneath his chin, she smiled, stroking his face and kissing him. “She sees it.”

She said all the right things, her gentle nature so soothing on his tattered soul, breathing light into him by just being her. She was his little slice of heaven, he realised, holding her in his arms.

“Can you do something for me?” he asked, stroking her hair, the apple scent of her shampoo flooding his nose, comforting to him.

She looked up at him, her fingernails stroking his neck. “Anything.”

He kissed her forehead, his arms tightening around her. “Never leave me.”

“No.” She shook her head, kissing the tip of his nose. “I never will.”

Because of her busyness at college, getting all of her work wrapped up before she broke for the end of term, ready to spend the festive period with her love for as much of it as she could, Bella only stayed in Santo Padre until the evening, Angel running her home.

“Sure you don’t wanna let me stay? I’ll just go hangout in the bath or something while you get your assignment done,” he asked, shaking kisses with her as he leaned back against his bike, Bella shaking her head.

“Nope, because then I’ll be distracted by that thought and come and join you. Friday is only four days away, though, and mom doesn’t get back from her conference until Sunday night, so we have all weekend here together.” He was looking forward to it, too, but damn, letting her go. He never enjoyed it. It wasn’t ideal, the fifty-minute journey each way to La Jolla, but he hoped that one day, perhaps when she’d finished at college, things would be different. There’d be no running her home, because his home would be hers, too.

Meanwhile, over in the Losa household, college was the subject of discussion between Bishop and his eldest, Hadleigh sitting at the kitchen island, working away on a drawing. The light was best in there, so once her mom was done clearing up after dinner, she usually absconded to there.

“It still amazes me, how you draw like that,” Bishop spoke, taking a seat adjacent to her with his coffee, Hadleigh handing him a coaster.

“Mom just wiped up, she’d freak if you don’t use that!” she winced, her mother suddenly appearing from the basement stairs, shoving the door closed with her hip as she carried two large jars of preserves.

“You bet your butts, I will. No mess, now!” Julia warned, pointing at her husband in particular with a stern finger after placing the jars down. She might have been austere, but the hands that reached for him were loving as she passed him by, kissing his cheek, grabbing a diet Coke from the large refrigerator behind where he sat and heading back into the lounge to help their youngest, Cece with her homework.

“Oh, and thanks too, pops. I just have to hope they’re good enough,” she sighed, looking at her sketches again, not entirely too sure. She was studying fashion and textiles, and had to submit her final project of the year project in five days, with both hand drawn and digital renderings of her proposed garments that she would then go on to actually craft, come the resumption after Christmas.

He scoffed lightly, sipping his coffee. “Of course, they’ll be good enough. I won’t sit here for long, disturbing you. I just wanted to spend a bit of time with you, since I’m actually home early enough to do so for once.”

Hadleigh smiled, loving that he was there at a reasonable hour. He always was when possible, even if he did go out again later, it meant a lot to him, being able to sit and eat dinner with his family. “I need the break, to be honest. It’s making my eyes go weird.” Taking off her glasses, she stretched, rubbing her face with a little groan, the very same one he always mumbled whenever he was exhausted.

“All you kids getting your end of year out of the way are really up against it right now, huh? Angel’s girl is the same. I think you know her, actually. Bella Thorpe?” Bishop spoke, Hadleigh looking at him slightly stunned.

“Angel is dating Bella?”

Bishop was surprised at her widened eyes. “Yeah, they’ve been together for, oh, I dunno, five months, something like that?”

“Jesus,” Hadleigh began, puffing out her cheeks. “That’s dicey.”

Her dad frowned. “Why?”

“Well, because of the obvious, her age!”

Again, Bishop was befuddled. “She’s eighteen?”

Hadleigh snorted, sliding off the stool to go and retrieve a soda from the fridge. “Is that what she told him?”

He had a sinking feeling beginning to weigh down in his gut. “Yeah, why?”

Returning to her stool, she shook her head. “She isn’t, daddy. Bella’s sixteen.”

He gaped slightly, confused. “Nah! You can’t have that right! She’s taking her BA, she’s just begun her second year!”

Her head shaking continued “Bella’s on the foundation course, because again, she’s only sixteen. They wouldn’t let her take her BA until she’d taken that introductory course first, which she’ll begin next fall, after she’s turned seventeen.”

He winced, biting his lip, hating that he’d found out about this, but thinking it lucky that he had, too. He hated it, because now he had to go and shatter Angel’s world by telling him the girl he was in love with had been lying to him, but lucky because truly, he needed to know. She was underage. Still, though, it filled him with dread later that night, heading back to the clubhouse after checking with Taza that Angel was there, having to go pull him aside and deliver such news.

Wondering how he’d react filled him with much trepidation, because he knew Angel, and he knew what his reaction would be. He’d be absolutely livid. Angel Reyes might have been a lot of things, but Bishop knew that he most definitely wasn’t a man who’d be cool with the revelation that he’d been in a relationship with a girl who was underage. Not at all.

This was going to break him completely.

A/N - And now you all know the other reason why this is titled Edge of Seventeen!

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