#{Accent and fumble. So there. : P }

[blog-o-meter]

Room 5 - Nicholas Alexander Chavez x fem!reader

summary: (Y/N) escapes to a quaint little hotel by the beach for a few days. On the first night, she realizes that the hot guy in the neighboring room is a... loud guy, and she finds that she can't seem to escape him no matter where she goes.

warnings: 18+, voyeurism (auditory), self-masturbation, fingering, unprotected p in v, cursing

required listening: 24 Hours by Sky Ferreira

word count: 17,415

a/n: sorry this one is so long (compared to my other fics), but I just had too much fun writing this one. I honestly could've gone writing more. If anything, I can just add on, but I think I wrapped a nice, little bow on this one. I hope you guys like it, and I would appreciate any and all feedback!! pls enjoy :) edit: I continued the story in a sequel of sorts, which you can check out below!

Making Room (Part 2) | Room On Fire (Part 3) | Room To Breathe (Part 4)

reblogs and likes are appreciated and lets me know if you'd like to see more!

The boutique hotel looked absolutely adorable, white brick on the outside and only two stories — a tiny café and gift shop downstairs and the rooms up top, just steps away from the ocean. It sat between two tall condo buildings, which mostly housed an older crowd of out-of-state tourists.

I was in search of the perfect place for a weekend getaway, and this place seemed to check all the boxes. It wasn’t near any of the busy beach accesses where all of the rowdy high schoolers seemed to hang out at, and the pictures of the café seemed like it was straight out of an interior designer’s Pinterest board. This place, The Pearl, seemed perfect.

Actually, I had been looking forward to this weekend for a long while, having booked this trip about a month ago. Funnily enough, I lived just 30 minutes away from the beach but never had the time to just get away for a couple of days — until now.

After I checked in, I carried my weekend bag and backpack up the narrow staircase to the second floor, the wood creaking underneath my sandals. When I turned on the mid-level landing, that’s when I heard a second set of footsteps coming down from above. I turned my head up, my eyes falling on the drop-dead gorgeous man carefully shuffling down the steps.

Our shoulders brushed as I squeezed by with my luggage, the warmth of his skin sending a shiver that branched out from where our arms grazed.

“Sorry,” I whispered without missing a beat.

The guy smiled politely as he turned his head back, his big, brown eyes inviting, “You’re good.”

My heart skipped a beat hearing his warm, low voice. The stranger was ridiculously attractive, his muscles bulging out of the wife beater covering his torso, his tousled brown hair elegantly falling over his eyebrows. His smile, though, was what made my skin prickle — a wide, genuine grin that showed off his perfectly white teeth behind his pink lips.

I returned a polite smile, continuing my journey up the stairs before he could notice my blushing cheeks. When I arrived to the top of the landing, I saw that the second floor was T-shaped, the rooms in ascending order the further I walked down the hallway.

I turned the corner, immediately sensing the change in atmosphere compared to the row of rooms I had just passed. This section of the hallway seemed much more secluded, quiet, possibly because, indeed, it was in its own corner of the floor away from all the other rooms.

I passed by the one other door in the hall, reaching my room — 6 — at the end where a singular window accented the softly-lit hallway. Setting my bags down, I fumbled for my phone, scrolling through my text messages with the hotel manager for the code to my door. I appreciated the fact that the rooms had a code to enter instead of a plastic key card that I could lose in the sand.

As I input the code into the lock, the wooden staircases creaked as a set of footsteps became louder and louder making their way toward me. It was the same handsome man I had brushed shoulders with earlier, a backpack slung over his shoulder as he approached the only other door, room 5.

Our eyes met briefly, a flicker of recognition in his. “Good night, neighbor,” he said with a slight nod, that same smile that made my chest warm flashing across his face as he made his way inside his room, the heavy door falling closed behind him.

I let go of the breath I didn’t realize I had been holding. What are the odds the hot guy and I were staying next to each other? 1 in 5 it seems.

Shaking off the butterflies fluttering around my stomach, I finished inputting the code and dragging my bags inside the freezing room, stopping to admire the details of what my hard-earned paycheck had managed to spoil me with. The room was quaint, a neutral island color palette — the large bathroom and queen-sized bed to my right and the 70” flatscreen tv and closet on the shared wall to my left, a built-in marble counter all along the bottom.

The bathroom was my favorite: an art-deco flair with hints of coastal influence. The full shower was astounding in the best way possible — a beautiful mosaic pattern along the whole wall, double shower heads on opposite ends, and with enough space to possibly fit maybe 5 people. I could literally walk about ten steps between the two shower heads.

I walked back out to the room, setting my bags on the counter and starting to unpack, not in any particular rush to venture outside. As I organized my stuff — bikinis, pajamas, toiletries — I turned on the tv, flipping through channels and settling on HBO, Black Swan playing a few minutes in.

Enthralled by the movie and remembering I had a few snacks in my backpack, I changed into my pajamas and dug out a box of Lady Godiva chocolates from my backpack, climbing into bed and stretching out my arms and legs, excited to start my weekend getaway.

At some point, I had drifted off with a chocolate in my hand only to be awoken by a sound. I didn’t know what it was at first, choosing to ignore it and keeping my eyes closed, hoping I’d drift back to sleep. But it persisted, and it wasn’t a sound I had expected to hear — a woman’s moans.

My eyes fluttered open, thinking it might’ve been coming from the tv. After all, Black Swan did have a sex scene. However, I found the tv to be off. Maybe I had forgotten I turned it off myself before drifting off to sleep. Then, a low, drawn-out groan rumbled through, clear as day.

Oh.

Oh.

My cheeks flushed, burning at the realization of what I was hearing. I mean, I know a boutique hotel might not have the same amenities as a more established hotel chain, but you’d think thicker walls would have been a forethought. How could somebody planning to open a hotel not have thicker walls?

Again, I heard the moaning, and there was only one other room in the hallway that they could be coming from — room 5, the hot guy. I sat up in bed, heart pounding as I processed what was happening in the room behind the tv. The sounds were so clear you’d think they were having sex in the hallway.

In fact, I thought just that. There was no way that was happening right? I walked up to my room door and carefully peeked my head out, finding the hallway empty.

I retreated back into my room, my heart racing. Any other person would’ve probably turned the tv back on, or put on some headphones, something to block out the sounds, but what I did, I couldn’t tell anyone else about. I stood frozen, listening. I listened past the rhythmic porn-like moaning of the faceless woman, instead focusing on the low rumble of the hot neighbor guy’s voice.

The closet that shared a wall with his room beckoned my name, tempting me to inch closer. Before I knew it, my bare feet were shuffling toward the closet door, quietly swinging it open. The space was small, just big enough to fit a luggage rack and a few hangers up top, but the rhythmic thumping and guttural groans just behind the plaster called out to me.

Carefully, I leaned over the luggage rack, pressing my cheek against the cold, white wall. Every sound was clearer now — the creak of the bed slowing to a stop, the huffing coming from my neighbor, and the yelps coming from the mysterious lady. I could even make out some words.

“Bend over,” my neighbor spoke, his voice deep and seductive.

My stomach twisted hearing him speak in such a commanding yet intimate manner. I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that a stranger so polite in passing could be so primal behind closed doors; though, wasn’t everyone?

“You’re so huge, Nicholas,” the mystery lady spoke back.

I know I shouldn’t have been listening, but I was just so enthralled. Did they know just how thin the walls are, assuming they’d block out most sound like I did? I couldn’t imagine someone knowing the walls were thin and still choosing to have sex, especially knowing there was an occupied room next door.

The plaster was cool under my cheek, refreshingly so as I could feel myself becoming warmer and warmer. The sounds of their erotic encounter seemed to vibrate through the wall, through me. Without noticing, I had squeezed my thighs together, my hand finding its way at the band of my pajama pants. As soon as I felt my fingertip slip under my underwear, I was jolted out of my trance. What was I doing?

Before I could feel any more guilty for lingering longer than I should’ve, I pulled myself away from the wall and scampered back toward the bed, choosing to ignore what was going beyond next door, my heart racing. Grabbing my headphones from my nightstand and slipping them on, I threw myself into the sheets and turned on my white noise playlist. But as much as I forced myself to focus on the therapeutic noise, my imagination wandered, picturing the faces my neighbor — Nicholas — might be making right now as he pleasured the woman accompanying him. Before I knew it, though, I had managed to fall asleep.

In the morning, I made my way down the staircase to the hotel’s tiny café, eager to start my day with a light, sweet breakfast. As I descended down the last few steps, I looked over to the sea of tables, hesitation in my heels as my eyes landed on Nicholas sitting by his lonesome as he enjoyed a cup of steaming coffee in one hand and a beat-up book in the other.

Swallowing the thought of what I did, and listened to, last night, I walked past him and approached the café counter, the smell of warm croissants and muffins enveloping my nostrils, a temporary distraction that I was grateful to experience.

“Hi,” I politely smiled to the employee, “Can I just get an Italian crème croissant with a hot green tea, please?” I quietly asked, not wanting to interrupt the quiet, calm atmosphere for the patrons of the café. 

The barista nodded her head, inputting my order into the tablet register, “We’ll send it over to your table,” she smiled.

I slipped her the money for my breakfast, smiling, “Thank you so much,” and making my way through the slew of empty tables.

I settled in at the corner table on the opposite end of the room, wanting to be as far away from Nicholas as possible to avoid any awkward conversations. Though, I may have chosen the worst table for my plan, accidentally giving myself a clear, unobstructed view of Nicholas from across the room.

His hair was damp, not purposefully styled in any particular way but still somehow falling over his eyebrows in such a perfect manner. He wore a loose flannel with a few buttons loose, the shirt billowing open to tease just enough of the gold cross chain draping over the sculpted valley between his chest.

He hadn’t noticed me yet, completely enthralled by what he was reading — Tropic of Cancer by Henry Miller. I was stunned by his choice of literature. There was an old fellow a few tables down reading the newspaper to get his local news, meanwhile this guy, Nicholas, was probably on some page where the author is describing, in excruciating honesty, a night he had with a prostitute just as easily as one could describe their morning routine. In a way, I was impressed, curious.

As I waited for my breakfast, fiddling with my fingers, occasionally looking at my phone, my eyes would glance over toward Nicholas, my gaze lingering just a beat too long. The way he achingly turned the page, the tip of his finger playing at the corner of the paper, or the way he’d carefully bring the mug of coffee up to his lips — it was all so titillating.

Thankfully, though, the barista came over with a small pot of piping hot tea and my croissant, interrupting my trance and carefully setting down the items in front of me. Just as she left, my eyes flickered up to Nicholas to find that he had glanced up from his book, a polite smirk at the corner of his lips when his eyes met mine, lifting his mug in a silent, “Cheers.”

Not sure if I should wave or say hi or flash a toothy smile, I settled for a polite closed-mouth smile, lifting my mug back at him before quickly focusing my attention to the food in front of me as my cheeks grew warm. The greeting wasn’t graceful at all, but how could I focus on being graceful knowing I eavesdropped on his privacy just last night? If I was awkward at all, I figured it was my subconscious trying to punish me.

I served myself some tea and picked at my croissant as I looked out the window to the occasional family or couple walking down the street, all carrying their beach items and taking their time to get to the sand. I’d even glance around to the other patrons at the café. Though, I think part of me wanted to see if any of the girls would join Nicholas at his table and reveal herself to be the high-pitched moaner from last night. However, nobody ever did join him. Was he here alone? Or maybe she had taken the morning to be by herself.

Every impulse in me was begging me to take just one more look at Nicholas, to savor his image one last time, but I fought it. Everything except anything in Nicholas’s direction became intriguing to me. The checkered tile on the ground, the promotional poster on the window that I could barely read because of the sunshine striking through it, the older fellow enjoying his newspaper — I didn’t think I’d find myself focusing on the details of such things trying to avoid the gaze of some guy I had talked to for no more than 10 seconds, maybe less.

When I finished up, I quietly tidied the table, collecting all of the dishes and brushing off any crumbs, making my way out of the café and toward my car.

The breeze was refreshing, a nice whisper against my cheeks. I opened the trunk, staring at all of the beach gear I had to carry by myself. It was a struggle, but I managed to carry everything in both my arms — umbrella, picnic, basket, beach chair, headphones, blanket — using every crevice of my upper body to anchor something to me so it wouldn’t fall on the way over.

Thankfully, the beach access was right next to the hotel, and the path to the open sand wasn’t too long. When I got to the end of the path, I was grateful for having woken up early for the opportunity to pick a spot in an otherwise empty beach, a few umbrellas and chairs here and there from the condo occupants. I chose a spot that didn’t have any people too close by for maximum relaxation, carefully setting everything down on the sand.

I stabbed my pink, frilly cabana umbrella into the ground, laying out my beach blanket and beach chair in the shade, sliding everything else onto the corners of the blanket so the breeze wouldn’t pick the fabric up and blow sand toward me.

The water was calling my name, the light green water perfectly sparkling against the morning sun. But before I could strip my clothes off and jump in, I looked around to see if anybody would be looking as I pulled off my clothes. I didn’t see anybody particularly interested in my arrival, so I quickly pulled off my jean shorts and tee to reveal my glittery brown bikini set underneath. Before I became too hyper aware of my body, I walked toward the water, instead letting the feeling wash over me just as the waves of deliciously cold seawater did.

The occasional squawk of seagulls, the sun warming up my skin as it rose higher and higher in the sky and the sound of the waves crashing was all perfect. This moment was all I wanted out of this weekend. No distractions, no work — just me and the ocean. Needless to say, I was very excited to be able to repeat this routine for the next couple of days. 

I continued walking into the water until I was chest-deep to let the ocean devour me whole. The feeling that a wave could crash over me entirely was exhilarating. The water slowly picked me up by my feet as I hopped around.

I lingered for a few more minutes in the water, splashing water around or searching for little fish before stepping back out once my fingers started to wrinkle. As I strutted out of the water, though, I saw the familiar shape of somebody relaxing in a chair just a few feet next to my umbrella — Nicholas.

I shouldn’t be surprised. I mean, he was a guest in the hotel, too, after all. Why else would someone book a room in a hotel by the beach if they wouldn’t find themselves relaxing in the sand? But did he have to set up next to me when there was an entire football field of available space?

Meekly and careful not to trip or stumble on the way over, I walked toward my umbrella, fighting the urge to steal a glance at Nicholas, but from the corner of my eye I could see he sat there with his chest exposed. I had to let myself give in; what was the harm in a little peek?

He sat reclined in his chair, his skin deliciously glistening under the killer sun as he took it in. His hair was lightly brushing across his face from the sea breeze, like Mother Nature herself was playing with his hair. Nicholas’s long legs stretched out in front of him, his feet digging slightly into the sand. Both hands rested lazily on the arm of the chair, open. It was like he wanted to take up as much space as he could. Dark sunglasses covered his eyes; I couldn’t tell where he was looking or if he was looking anywhere at all. He radiated a kind of tranquility, as if the ocean had washed away any burdens he carried, something I hoped to experience myself this weekend.

I realized I was staring, my breath caught somewhere between awe and curiosity. I darted my eyes away, afraid I might be caught, which is absolutely the last thing I want.

Growing cold from the breeze brushing my wet skin, I grabbed my towel, drying myself off and squeezing the water out of my hair, mindful of turning myself from Nicholas so as to not flick any water droplets his way or have him think I was trying to grab his attention deliberately. Maybe he just sat there without knowing he had set up next to me. After all, I was in the water this entire time.

As I settled in, I brushed my wet hair over the back of my chair and reached for my picnic basket, pulling out my headphones, sunglasses, and my current read, White Oleander. I didn’t want to distract myself with any energetic music, instead opting to listen to the White Oleander movie soundtrack for the perfect accompaniment to the book.

I read through the chapter I had left off in, but I found myself having to reread some paragraphs, even entire pages, every time I saw Nicholas shift in his seat from the corner of my eye every few seconds. Even the way he jittered his knee up and down was distracting, almost like he wanted to grab my attention. After some minutes, he stood up from his chair, letting out a groan as he slowly stretched his arms and walked toward the water, and I silently thanked the universe for finally letting me have a few minutes to myself.

Though, I couldn’t help but occasionally glance up from my book to observe Nicholas in the water. The sun accentuated his muscles in an almost picturesque way, the stark shadow falling under each crevice of his body perfectly. He cut through the water like a knife as he walked deeper and deeper in the water, splashing water over his chest and shoulders, eventually dipping himself under the water to wet his hair. When he reemerged, the surface broke with a powerful splash, Nicholas throwing his head back and brushing his hair back with his hands.

Shaking myself out of Nicholas’s trance, I buried myself back in my book, trying not to look back up to him and letting myself get lost in the story, and for a while, I did. However, the universe seemed to like playing cruel jokes. About two chapters later, a shadow crossed my face. Curious to know if it was a bird or somebody’s umbrella flying away, I looked up to find Nicholas standing in front of me with a small grin.

“Good book?” He asked, drying his hair with a towel.

Shocked, I almost couldn’t form any words, but I managed to spit out a normal-sounding sentence, “Uh, so far, yeah, but I’m more familiar with the movie.”

“I’ve never seen it,” he confessed, dragging the towel up and down his dripping torso, almost deliberately. “Do you recommend it?”

I was quiet first, trying to clear my head of any thoughts of the night before that kept replaying in my mind. My eyes drifted up from his torso to the smile on his face, his straight white teeth in full show. Thank god I had my sunglasses on

“Totally. The dialogue in that movie is…” I trilled my lips, searching for the right word, “poignant.”

“Sounds raw,” he threw the towel over his shoulder, resting his hands on his hips, his lat muscles flexing outward like wings. “Is it your favorite movie?” He asked as he sat down in his chair, shifting until he found a comfortable position.

“One of,” I replied, turning my head to face him.

“I’ll check it out then,” he smiled, grabbing Tropic of Cancer out from under his chair and spreading it open.

“There’s a movie on that one, too,” I pointed to the book in his hands.

“Really?” He cocked an eyebrow, looking at the cover of the paperback, like he had forgotten what book he was reading. But then, a cheeky grin grew on his lips, “Did you like it?”

I couldn’t help but stifle a chuckle, knowing what Nicholas had meant. “I wouldn’t know; I’ve never seen it,” I smiled, turning my head back to the book in my hands, having almost forgotten about it.

All I heard back from him was a quiet chuckle before he settled back into his chair, the both of us reading their respective books.

After a half hour, I tossed the book and my sunglasses back into the basket and walked out over to the water. I paused at the dry edge of the sand, letting the water nip at my toes, trying not to picture Nicholas behind me. He could have been glancing at me as I made my way over, but he could also be looking at the sky, or the book in his hands, or maybe even his phone. As much as I wanted to peek over my shoulder, I continued forward, letting the sea swallow me.

I lingered, brushing my fingertips over the surface as I planted myself in knee-deep water, clutching the sand underneath my toes as it dissolved under me. As the water hugged my calves, I searched the water for anything I could find — maybe a lost pair of sunglasses, some little fishes, or maybe a conch laying at the bottom of the ocean floor. To no avail, I slowly started to retreat from the water, picking my head up to find Nicholas was looking forward, hiding behind his sunglasses again.

I didn’t let the fact he was looking over to my direction affect my ability to walk properly. After all, he could be looking past me. Maybe under those sunglasses he had his eyes closed. I wouldn’t know. However plausible any of those situations were, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched.

Upon approaching my chair, I wrapped myself in the damp towel, deciding that my time at the beach for today would be over for now. Slowly, I started to pack up my things, but I honestly didn’t know how I was gonna carry everything back now that I was damp and shivering. I tried juggling some of the things in my arms, but occasionally something would slip from my grasp. I really tried not to seem so helpless, but when the umbrella slipped out from under my arms with a loud thump, I knew keeping up that ruse wouldn’t work.

“Need help?” I heard Nicholas’s voice behind me.

I turned around, catching him push his sunglasses to the top of his head to show off his crinkled eyes, smiling. It seemed to be more from amusement at watching me struggle, not smiling from politeness.

I struggled to hold onto everything in my arms, “No,” I shook my head, laughing nervously. “I mean, I managed to bring everything over in the morning.”

An exhale escaped his lips before he tossed the book to the sand and stood up from his chair, making his way over with a satisfied look, “Let me help.”

I bit my lip, debating if I should let him help or to just push him away so I wouldn’t have that constant reminder of hearing him have sex in my head. Before I could answer, though, Nicholas grabbed the beach chair out from under my arm and picked the umbrella up off the floor.

“Thank you,” I mumbled as I adjusted the remaining items in my arms, now much more manageable without having to carry the bigger things.

“No problem,” he spoke in a low tone, that same tone I overheard when he said ‘Bend over’ to the woman in his bed last night.

My breath caught in my throat. Suddenly, I felt inexplicably warm, like the back of my neck was on fire. His expression was soft, casual, like the same man I had run into in the hallway yesterday, not at all like the man I heard in his room in a false sense of privacy.

We walked back toward the hotel, the sand kicking up behind us with every step. I was too afraid to say anything to him at all after remembering the way he spoke to his late night companion.

“So, are you from around here?” He spoke up, his voice cutting the tension that only I seemed to be aware of.

“Kind of,” I replied, hiding my face behind my damp hair, “I live 30 minutes out. I just came here on a solo-trip for a few days to escape. You?” I didn’t expect the question to slip from my lips, but in a way, I guess, I wanted to coax information out of him. Maybe if I knew more about him, that pang of guilt in my stomach would leave on its own.

He stifled a chuckle, “Not at all. I’m from Colorado, actually.”

I raised an eyebrow, surprised at the answer, “Wouldn’t California beaches be closer to you, maybe even look better than this old shore?” I looked back out into the beach, admiring its charm, but even then, I know it wouldn’t compare to a California beach.

“Actually, I live in LA, so I go out there all the time. I guess, I just wanted to visit a different place,” he answered.

I was surprised at his honesty, but I scoffed, not believing that any person from out of town would want to come here willingly, “Well, you picked a different place, indeed. Not much goes on around here, except when it’s spring break.”

Nicholas stifled a warm chuckle, “Yeah, I think I read that online.”

A part of me wanted to prod. Was he single? Who was that girl from last night? Another guest? The only appropriate question that I could think of that didn’t sound too suspicious was, “Are you here on a solo-trip, too?”

He nodded his head, “Yeah, I do a lot of solo travel. There’s a certain freedom in not having to worry about anyone else except yourself.”

I glanced over to him and saw a smirk playing at the corner of his lips as he looked over to me. Something fluttered in my chest, or maybe it was just the droplets of water trailing down from my head.

“Sounds liberating,” I managed to spurt out before the long pause became too awkward.

“It is, but sometimes it’s nice to share it with someone else, even for a little bit,” he said, his words hanging in the air.

I didn’t dare reply. I wasn’t sure if he was alluding to our current moment or maybe to the similar encounters of last night he has with women during his trips. Of course, there’s no way he’d know that I knew what he did behind closed doors, but what if he did?

“Yeah,” I absentmindedly agreed to his statement, eager to cut the conversation short.

We arrived at my car. I opened the trunk with my keys that were in my picnic basket, watching as Nicholas bent over to place the umbrella and chair inside, then grabbing everything from my arms and setting them beside each other, closing the trunk.

“My name’s Nicholas,” he held his hand out for me to shake.

That’s when I realized that he had never introduced himself. The only reason I knew his name was because I had my ear pressed against the wall just as his lady friend from last night had moaned it out of her lips.

I hesitated for just a fraction of a second before breaking through that one-sided tension and reaching out to shake his hand, his warm palm sending a shiver up my arm, “(Y/N),” I introduced myself, meeting his gaze for a second or two before looking down at my feet.

“Pretty name,” he smiled.

Blushing, I shyly said, “Thanks,” retreating my hand from his grasp and whipping back a strand of wet hair behind me.

Nicholas lingered a moment longer, the soft curve of his smile inviting me to hold his gaze. “Any chance you’d wanna get a drink later?”

I blinked, my mind scrambling for a response as the question hung between us. This stranger, Nicholas, was never meant to be more than just some nameless blur that happened to also be a guest at the same hotel I was staying. We were only supposed to bump into each other a few times in the hallway, never going into conversation and being fine with that. Now, here he was, asking me if I wanted to have a drink with him.

I kicked my feet nervously, looking down, afraid to look him in the eye as I turned down his offer, “Actually, I have plans.”

His brow lifted slightly, an amused look on his face. “Solo plans?” he asked, clearly poking fun at my earlier words.

I couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh, despite my nerves. “Yeah, something like that.”

“Fair enough,” he said, his tone casual but with a glimmer of understanding. “But if you change your mind…” he leaned in the tiniest bit, some tiny droplets from his hair dripping onto my skin, “you know where I’m staying,” a mischievous smirk at the end of his lips.

I felt my stomach jump at his words, catching the double meaning. He lingered a bit too long, like he was testing me, before he pulled back, still smirking.

I nodded, “Yeah, I’ll let you know if I change my mind.”

I watched as he walked past, sauntering back toward the beach. The way his shoulders shifted as he walked, relaxed yet deliberate, made it impossible to look away. The nerve of him, the audacity to be this calm, this magnetic. Maybe it’s because I’m never forward with people I just met, especially if I think they’re attractive, but I couldn’t wrap my head around the swagger Nicholas oozed. It was like he was aware of the effect he had on me.

Desperate to wash away the sand in my crevices, I trotted toward the hotel entrance, going up the stairway and to my room. I felt relief when the cold air of the room hit my face, pulling my hair away from the back of my neck so the air could creep its way and bring some relief to my flustered self. My head buzzed, replaying anything having to do with Nicholas — the way he dried his towel in front of me, his soft chuckles, even the way he walked.

Get it together, (Y/N). He’s just a guy. Just a guy you won’t see ever again after this weekend. Ever.

I sighed, dragging myself to the shower and stripping the wet bikini off my body and letting it fall to the floor without a second thought.

I was grateful the shower was huge, that way I didn’t feel as suffocated with the warm water steaming up the glass. However, each time I closed my eyes to let the water fall on my face, all I could picture was Nicholas’s charming smile, all I could hear in my head was the way he said ‘Bend over’ to the girl in his bed last night, and suddenly, I could feel a tension pool low in my belly.

Fed up, I turned the faucet knob to cold, shuddering and gasping loudly the moment it fell down my spine. It might’ve been drastic, but it did help. All I could focus on was trying not to tremble under the cold stream of water enveloping me instead of focusing on a certain man.

Once I was done with my shower, I wrapped my hair and body in a towel each, padding out into the cold room, my ankles shuddering at the cold floor beneath me. I changed into a casual set of clothes, thinking I’d probably go out for a walk later. As I dried my hair with the towel, I made my way over to the window, looking out toward the beach to see Nicholas still lounging out in the sand. He was splayed out on the chair, legs wide open as he leaned back and looked out into the water.

Tired of my mind drifting to him, I jumped into bed and put on my headphones, opening up Hulu to catch up on shows. Before I knew it, hours had gone by and it had become nightfall.

I walked to my luggage resting on the built-in counter, zipping it open to pull out a bag of chips I had bought before arriving. That’s when I heard a light knock on my door. I froze at the sound, too scared to shuffle over and check who it was.

“(Y/N), you there?” I heard Nicholas’s voice call out. I didn’t answer, standing still, my heart almost pounding out of my chest. “If you are, I’m heading over to the bar across the street, if you wanna join me,” he calmly spoke through the door, his voice cool and collected.

After a bit, I heard his feet shuffle away, becoming fainter and fainter. I still didn’t dare move an inch, paranoid he might’ve pulled a fake-out and is actually still standing outside my door. I sat on the counter, debating his invitation, but I decided against it. I’m not exactly sure why; any other girl would already have been out the door by now. I just had to trust my gut on this.

Later that night, at about 1:30AM, I found myself still awake, quietly scrolling Instagram on my phone. That’s when I heard the loud giggles of a woman outside in the hall, followed by a deep shush, the giggles falling to a quiet mumble as I heard a door open and quickly fall closed. I ignored the sounds, continuing to scroll and catch up on posts I missed during the day.

Some minutes pass by, about 10. That’s when I heard the bed on the other side begin to thump against the wall, a lady slowly starting to moan. The moans sounded different, belonging to another woman. Then, the all-too-familiar grunts coming from Nicholas started to join in.

I couldn’t reach for my headphones to drown out the sounds of sex coming from the other side; my headphones had died just 30 minutes earlier, now charging on the outlet above the counter. Tossing and turning in bed, I burrowed myself under the covers, hoping it would make some barrier, but to no avail.

Irritated, I walked over to the counter, checking to see if my headphones had any juice that I could use even for just a few minutes until I fell asleep. Just as I reached to disconnect them from their charger, that’s when I heard Nicholas’s voice rumble through the wall.

“You’re so hot,” he said, his tone thick with pleasure.

I stood there frozen, my hand still hovering over my headphones. The more I heard Nicholas speak, the more I found myself inching closer toward the closet. My heart was racing, beating faster the moment I opened the closet doors, carefully stepping inside and resting my cheek against the shared wall.

I knew I shouldn’t have been listening in, again, but I couldn’t stop myself. It was this urge that I had to follow through with. I closed my eyes for a moment, listening past the girly moans and searching for Nicholas’s voice. My chest grew tighter, my thoughts beginning to spiral.

“Just like that,” he growled.

Had I said yes to drinks, would that have been me in there? Would I be the one moaning under him instead of the mystery girl inside? My stomach tightened at the thought, frustrated. I’m not sure why I was letting it get to me like that. Maybe because hindsight is always twenty-twenty. But just knowing that it might’ve been me Nicholas said all those things to had I just agreed to drinks… It drove me crazy.

“Say my name.”

My body tensed at his words. Somewhere between spiraling and intrigued by the events happening on the other side, I had closed my eyes, achingly moving my hand to my shorts, slipping it under the waistband. What if I just pretended it was me he was saying all those things to?

I clenched my teeth, feeling a heat bubbling low in my belly as it slowly rose up to my chest. The sound of Nicholas’s voice; he sounded so close yet we were separated by this thin wall. It was maddening. I slipped my fingers under my underwear, grazing them over my damp self. I covered my mouth with my other hand, proactive about not wanting to be heard from the other side just as I heard them.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Nicholas groaned on the other side.

My breathing became deep, my nostrils pushing out all the air that couldn’t leave my mouth. As my fingers found my throbbing bud, I quietly whimpered out, pretending Nicholas was saying those words to me. I rubbed myself in small circles, bucking my hips into my fingers.

On the opposite side of the wall, Nicholas’s groaning had become guttural, primal. The more the headboard thumped against the shared wall, the more powerful his movements had become. At one point, I thought something might fall off the wall from my side of the room.

As I slipped a finger, then another, inside myself, my breathing became erratic. I imagined Nicholas taking me, right now as I am, hard at the thought that I had been listening in on his sexual escapades. Maybe he’d push me up against the wall, cornering me so that I might not escape him. He seems like the type to want to be in control, and I’d be happy to give it to him.

I pumped my fingers slowly, at first, but then picked up the speed to match the thumping on the wall. The tension in me began to build tighter and tighter. I was so close to collapsing in pleasure, but the moment I heard a loud moan escape the woman’s lips from the other side, I was taken out of my imagination completely, remembering that it wasn’t me he was having sex with.

My eyes ripped open, realizing what I had been doing. I pulled my fingers out and collected myself, shamefully walking out of the closet and reaching for the headphones on the counter. I couldn’t believe that I had been pleasuring myself to the sounds of somebody else having sex. Even more embarrassingly so, I didn’t even arrive to a climax, so I couldn’t even say it was worth it.

I climbed back into bed, trying hard to ignore the sounds coming from the other side and slipping on my headphones, putting on anything that would distract my mind.

The next day, I didn’t wake up as early as I had liked. I ended up falling asleep pretty late, almost 2:30 in the morning, which was not my usual bedtime, clearly. But it was 12PM, still enough time to enjoy a light brunch before officially starting the day.

I changed into some loose clothes, making my way down to the café. Even though I felt guilty about last night, I felt ok enough to confidently walk into the café knowing Nicholas wouldn’t be there. Either he’d be too tired from his late night drinking and stayed in, or he would’ve started his day earlier and already had his coffee for the day. And when I entered the area, I found myself to be correct. He wasn’t there.

Comfortably, I ordered the same meal from yesterday, a croissant and a pot of tea, taking my seat at the same table. What can I say, I’m a creature of habit. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

Almost as soon as I sat down, the barista came over with my things, setting them down with a polite smile. Tired and hungry, I pulled a chunk out of the croissant and placed it into my mouth, savoring its sweet taste. I enjoyed my first meal of the day calmly and slowly, relaxed to know I wouldn’t bump into Nicholas right now. Maybe I’d have a few hours to myself before I did. But of course, my peace was short-lived.

As I picked at my food, the front door to the hotel chimed. I was too focused on pouring myself the last few ounces of tea into my mug to look up, but I didn’t have to. A familiar presence approached my table, “Mind if I join you?” Nicholas asked.

I looked up, my eyes locking onto his. He had that oh-so charming smile plastered on his face — innocent, as if he wasn’t the one partially responsible for keeping me up late.

“Sure,” I said, pulling the pot away from my mug.

He pulled up a chair from the neighboring table, sitting down across from me while his gaze flickered down at my half-eaten croissant. “You like taking your time, don’t you?”

I felt a rush of heat creeping up the back of my neck at his casual teasing. He was wearing a faded tee, not from age but one that looked like it had been drying out in the sun too long, his gold cross chain hidden under the collar. I’m sure he looked good in anything he wore.

“Don’t you?” I asked without missing a beat.

Nicholas stifled a smirk, tapping his finger against the table, “So what’d you do last night?”

I almost choked on my own spit at the question, clearing my throat. Dear god, please let me not stumble over my words. “Not much, why?”

He sharply inhaled, like he was unsure if he should answer, “I had knocked on your door to invite you out to the bar again, but you didn’t answer.”

I stifled a chuckle, shrugging my shoulders, “Why? Were you afraid I was doing something better?”

Nicholas’s fingers played at the edge of my plate, smirking. “I figured you were out walking or something,” he smiled.

“Well, I planned to,” I picked at my croissant, ripping off a tiny piece and placing it in my mouth, “but I ended up staying in.”

“Oh? You stayed in?” He shifted in his seat, thinking about his next words. “Sleeping?”

I calculated my answer. I didn’t want him to be embarrassed about the fact that I could hear him having sex the past two nights. “Yeah, early night,” I kept it short, hoping he’d drop the subject or, at least, change the topic.

I wasn’t sure if he believed me, but I didn’t care to elaborate. His presence was disarming enough without dredging up last night’s… intrusive thoughts. Instead, I took another sip of tea and focused on not meeting his gaze.

“So, then why’d you come down here so late in the morning?” He asked, a grin playing at his lips.

I stumbled on my words, trying to find an answer, Nicholas becoming more amused and entertained the more I stumbled. Was he waiting around for me? Did he know his proclivities had kept me up? Did he know I could hear through the walls?

“Lazy morning,” I shrugged my shoulders. He stifled a chuckle, accepting my answer without too much kickback. “What about you?” I asked, turning the tables on him. “What did you get up to last night?”

His grin didn’t falter. If anything, it grew sharper, and he leaned forward just slightly, resting his forearms on the table. “Me? Nothing much,” his finger twiddled near my croissant, pushing around the tea spoon next to it, “I had a drink or two. A little company.” His eyes flickered up to meet mine.

I swallowed hard, the tension between us thickening. His choice of words hung in the air, deliberate and calculated. He knew exactly what he was doing dangling that tidbit of information in front of me, seeing if I’d bite, but I wasn’t going to.

Taking a sip of my tea, I pretended to brush off his words, “Sounds like you had fun,” I spoke casually, keeping my expression neutral.

Nicholas tilted his head, watching me closely. “I would’ve had even more fun, but I had some plans fall through,” he paused, “I had to improvise.”

Oh, the calculation in his words were driving me mad, especially because I didn’t want him to have the satisfaction of baiting a specific reaction out of me. Was I right? Could that have been me in his room last night if I decided to go out with him?

I set the cup down as calmly as I could manage, but inside, I was shaking, “Doesn’t seem like you had any trouble improvising, then.”

For a moment, Nicholas’s fingers stopped tapping against the plate, that infuriating smirk returning. He leaned back into his chair, amused, “You heard, didn’t you?“

My eyes nearly fell out of my head, but I tried to keep it cool, "Heard what?"

His laugh was soft but full of certainty. "Come on, (Y/N). I heard you watching a movie the other night. These walls,” he gestured lazily toward the ceiling, “are paper thin; it was like I was in your room watching it with you.” He leaned toward me, resting his arms on the table again, “That’s why you woke up late, isn’t it?"

God, I wanted to shrivel up and die right then and there. It was absolutely infuriating how he could figure me out so easily. But my suspicions were confirmed — he did know, this entire time, and he still decided to have loud sex knowing anybody in the neighboring room could hear. And he had no shame about it!

My face burned with embarrassment, and l avoided his gaze like my life depended on it. "I didn't hear anything," I stammered, lying so poorly I might as well have just admitted the truth. “I’m a deep sleeper.”

Nicholas tilted his head, that insufferable smirk deepening. “A deep sleeper, huh?” His voice dripped with amusement. He rested his chin in his palm as he studied me like I was some kind of puzzle. “Alright, I’ll take your word for it.”

My grip tightened on the edge of the table, desperate to regain some semblance of control.

“For what it's worth...” Nicholas pushed back his chair and stood, smiling down at me. He leaned down toward me, his tone softening just enough to send a shiver down my spine. "If I'd known you were listening, I might've put on a better show." He took a small bite of my croissant, dusting the crumbs off his hands and making his way toward the door, winking at me before he exited.

Unable to fathom what had just happened, I stayed planted in my seat. Did he seriously just say that? My thoughts spiraled. Was this a game to him? Could he tell just how truly flustered I was by his teasing? Was I really that easy to rile up?

I pushed my plate and mug away from me, hoping to regain some space to avoid feeling suffocated by the remnants of his presence that Nicholas had left behind in his wake. And yet, I couldn’t deny the pull he had on me. No matter how hard I tried to push it down, to deny the heat in my cheeks and the butterflies in my stomach, it was there. Nicholas was under my skin.

I tried to avoid running into him the rest of the day, to suffocate him out of me like one would a parasite, but to know you’re avoiding someone, you’d have to be on the lookout, on your toes. Every corner I turned, I checked to see if he was there. Every room I entered, I scanned around looking for his distinct tousled hair. On the beach, I hid behind my sunglasses, scanning the shore for the familiar build of him. Finding him nowhere, I relaxed a bit, choosing to free myself and going for a short walk along the water.

I let the water lap around my ankles, rhythmically enveloping them as I slowly walked along the borderline empty beach. I picked up a few shells that caught my eye — only the colorful, unique ones. In fact, I kept walking, walking, and walking until it became evening, the sun setting over the beach, slowly but surely.

I returned to my spot, sitting back and admiring the colors of the sky. In fact, I was so relaxed, huddled under my towel, that I may have yawned once or twice. As I continued to look out into the horizon, I felt a cold tap on my shoulder, turning my head up to see who was interrupting my moment of relaxation. Of course, by now, I already knew who.

Nicholas stood there, towering over me with a pair of beers in his hand, holding one out for me. “Pretty, right?” He asked with a smile, looking out into the purple water.

I glanced at the beer in his outstretched hand before shifting my gaze to his face, the fading sunlight casting an orange glow over his sharp features. I kept my expression neutral, taking the beer from him without a word. He took that as an invitation to plop down in the space next to me, stretching his legs out and taking a sip from his can.

We sat there in silence for a while, the only sounds being the gentle crash of waves and the occasional chatter of distant beachgoers. It was… oddly peaceful, almost enough to make me forget about the tension that seemed to follow us — or should I say, me — like a shadow. Maybe, also, because I was a little sleepy.

“So, did you find what you were looking for today?” Nicholas asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

I frowned, confused. “What do you mean?”

“You were walking up and down the beach for hours,” he said, motioning toward the small pile of shells I’d collected.

My mouth grew to a smile, cocky, “You were watching me for hours?”

For the first time, Nicholas stammered on his words, and it was a sight I was incredibly amused by. His head fell as he chuckled, maybe flustered that I had finally caught him in a moment instead of the other way around, “Yeah,” he nodded his head, his cheeks pink, “I was.”

I couldn’t help the smirk tugging at my lips. Watching him falter, even slightly, was a rare treat, one I planned to savor. “I can see why you like pushing people’s buttons now.”

“I don’t like pushing people’s buttons,” he said as he brought the beer to his lips, “just yours.”

It was insane just how quickly Nicholas could turn something back onto you. The admission was so casual, yet it hit me like a rogue wave. I stared at him, half-expecting him to laugh or brush it off as a joke, but he simply leaned back on his hands, eyes on the horizon like he hadn’t just set my pulse racing.

“I’m sure you say that to all your company,” I turned to face the water, sipping on my beer and trying to hide my flushed cheeks. I chose my words carefully, wanting to see how’d he react.

Nicholas let out a low chuckle beside me. “I don’t,” he said simply, his voice drawing me in despite myself. “Only you.”

I stole a quick glance at him, but he was already looking ahead, the way his profile caught the last rays of the setting sun, casting long shadows across his features. There was something magnetic about him, and the more time I spent around him, the more I couldn’t ignore it. He was confident, teasing, but there was something underneath, something deeper that made it hard to read him completely.

A part of me wanted to challenge him, maybe even keep him on his toes. But there was another part of me, the part I kept hidden, that wanted to give in to the tension, to see where it could lead. My mind raced with the possibilities, each thought contradicting the last, until I was sure I was overthinking every moment, every word we exchanged.

I cleared my throat and shifted my position in the chair, facing toward him completely. “Indulge me. What makes me so different that you just can’t help but push my buttons?”

He smiled, like he had an answer prepared since the moment we met, “You don’t give in easily, but you seem like the type to give yourself completely once you do.”

Nicholas’s words lingered in the air, making my pulse quicken. It was strange how effortlessly he could unravel me with just a few words. I tried to maintain my composure, but the quiet between us seemed to stretch longer than I was comfortable with. His words felt like a challenge,  but also like a promise. My mind kept drifting back to the night before, to the sounds of him on the other side of the wall.

“I’m not so sure about that,” I replied, keeping my voice steady, though it didn’t quite mask the undercurrent of uncertainty I was feeling.

Nicholas raised an eyebrow, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips as he shifted closer. “Really? Because there’s only so much pressure somebody can take before they start to crack.”

I wanted to say something sharp, something that would put distance between us, but his confidence was suffocating, almost intoxicating. I couldn’t seem to gather the words to shut him down. So, instead, I took another long sip from my beer, pretending to focus on the view ahead of me, though my mind was anything but at ease.

His smile widened, “Aren’t you cracking?”

For a moment, it felt like time stopped. The world seemed to fade into the background, and it was just the two of us, sitting there in the fading sunlight, with nothing but the sound of the waves and the sudden weight of his words hanging between us.

I cleared my throat, finishing my beer, “I don’t think so,” I said lightly, trying to mask the effect his words had on me.

“We’ll see about that then,” he finally said, his voice low and casual, though I could tell there was a hint of challenge in it.

I was almost afraid to look at him, afraid of what I might see in his eyes. But I couldn’t help it. Slowly, I turned my head, and our eyes met, the connection between us palpable. My head slowly started to move forward by itself, millimeter by millimeter, toward Nicholas. My heart raced faster and faster, it was practically thumping out of my chest when I realized that he was leaning in, too. Right as I was about to close my eyes to welcome whatever was about to happen, I heard a group of people loudly laugh as they passed by behind us. I quietly chuckled to myself, thinking that may be my cue to leave.

Satiating my dose of Nicholas for the day, I dusted myself off and stood up from the beach chair, handing him my empty beer bottle, “I guess we will,” I said, not too much of a challenge behind my words. I grabbed my chair and looked back at Nicholas with a friendly grin before walking off.

I couldn’t shake the feeling of Nicholas’s eyes on me, but I powered through, making my way to my room. The second I entered, I went to the bathroom and stripped off my sandy clothes, turning on the shower to warm myself up from sitting in the cool, evening breeze. The hot water streamed over my skin, washing away the lingering chill from the beach. I let out a deep breath, closing my eyes as the steam began to fill the space.

My mind wandered back to the conversation with Nicholas. His words replayed in my head, their weight sinking in a little deeper with each memory: We’ll see about that.

After my shower, I slipped into a cozy tee and shorts, feeling a bit more grounded. I sat by the window, towel drying my hair, watching the moonlight dance on the water. The calm of the night settled around me, but my mind was still restless.

To distract myself, I turned on the tv, not caring what was on but making sure to keep the sound at a reasonable volume to not disturb Nicholas but just loud enough that I might not hear tonight’s mystery woman moan through the wall.

As the night stretched on, I tried my best to focus on the random show playing on the screen, but my thoughts kept drifting. Every sound outside my window, every muffled thump from the hallway, made my heart race just a little faster thinking it might be Nicholas arriving to his room.

The hours ticked by. I hadn’t heard anything from his side of the wall yet — not a voice, not the creak of a bedframe, nothing. It was almost worse than the alternative. The anticipation was maddening. I half-wondered if he knew I was waiting, if he was deliberately drawing this out just to mess with me.

Finally, around midnight, I heard the faintest sound of a door opening and closing. My stomach twisted, though I wasn’t sure why. I told myself I didn’t care, that whatever he did wasn’t any of my business. There were a few thumps followed by a silence on the other side. I tried to focus on the tv but my ears seemed to be tuned in on what was going on the opposite side of the wall.

Minutes passed, and the silence persisted. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe Nicholas had turned over a new leaf tonight, or maybe he just couldn’t hook himself a lady tonight. But just as my focus started to drift back to the tv, the silence was broken by a clear, unmistakable groan — Nicholas. I half-expected it to be followed by the high-pitched moan of a woman, like it was both nights prior, but it never came. 

I should’ve turned the volume up, drowned it out, or grabbed my headphones. Instead, I sat there, frozen, as the groaning grew louder — his voice, unmistakable and far too close for comfort. I hated how my body reacted. The heat in my cheeks, the way my chest tightened with every noise, the throbbing sensation between my thighs. I shook my head, trying to dispel the thought, but I let my curiosity get the best of me.

I slid off the bed and crept toward the closet, my heart pounding in my chest. My rational side screamed at me to stop, to mind my own business, but something about the sound of his voice pulled me in. But the little devil on my shoulder told me that I had already eavesdropped twice before, what’s one more time?

Opening the closet doors quietly, I leaned over the luggage rack and pressed my ear lightly against the cool surface of the wall, listening. The groans continued, low and guttural, accompanied by the light sound of a rhythmic wet slapping, sending an uninvited warmth through my body. It took a moment for me to realize there was no second voice, no telltale feminine giggle or breathy gasp. It was just Nicholas.

My breath caught in my throat. He's alone. The realization sent a shockwave through me, equal parts relief and something else I didn't want to name. He wasn't with anyone tonight. He was... taking care of himself.

I pressed my forehead against the wall, closing my eyes as his voice — raw, unguarded, and achingly intimate — filled my ears. My hand instinctively moved to my chest, clutching the fabric of my shirt as I fought the conflicting feelings that raced through me. However guilty I felt for listening in, I couldn’t pull myself away. I was entranced.

His groans deepened, interspersed with uneven breaths, and I felt my knees weaken. It was maddening how his voice seemed to reach right into me. My lips parted slightly, my breath shaky as my body betrayed me, responding to the sounds with a heat I tried desperately to ignore.

The wet slapping quickened, a whimper escaping his lips followed by erratic heavy breathing. I lost all inhibitions, slipping my hand under my underwear. I exhaled shakily, my head resting against the wall, feeling the vibrations of his voice travel through me. My fingers moved instinctively, slow and hesitant at first, matching the rhythm of the sounds spilling from him. Each groan, each sigh seemed to draw me deeper into a haze I couldn't escape.

My mind was a mess of contradictions: shame, desire, and something more dangerous — an unspoken connection, even if he didn't know I was there. I bit my lip, trying to stay as silent as possible, but the tension within me built with each passing moment, threatening to undo me entirely.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” Nicholas quickly whined out, followed by a loud moan.

I slipped my other hand under my shirt, kneading my breast, as my fingers worked my throbbing clit. I felt the rapid beat of my heart as it matched the rhythm of his breath. The heat between my legs intensified, and the sound of his voice grew louder in my ears, pulling me further into the spiral. His groans were rough, almost frantic now, and I could feel every pulse, every heavy breath reverberating through the wall like it was echoing through my very bones.

I tried to focus, tried to pull myself out of this situation before it became something I couldn't undo, but I couldn't stop. I couldn't pull away, couldn't shake the pull of him. I closed my eyes tightly, my fingers rubbing harder against my clit in frantic circles, then moving them lower and slipping my middle and ring finger inside of me. Desperate, I pulled my shorts off me, letting them land at my feet.

My own breathing became erratic, escaping through my nostrils as I tried to keep myself from making any sound, biting the inside of my cheek and shutting my eyes closed as I pleasured myself.

His voice broke through the haze of my thoughts again. "God... need you..."

The words, the desperation in them, sent me into a frenzy. I couldn’t hold in my voice any longer — a quiet, whimper escaping my lips as I pumped my fingers inside me, pretending they were Nicholas’s. I could feel the tension in me coiling tighter and tighter the more I heard him talk through his pleasure.

A high-pitched groan slipped out of him, the wet slapping quickening even more. I could almost picture him on the other side — laying down in the middle of his bed, shirtless. his legs dangling off as he tugged at himself, his eyes shut as he grabbed at his hair, giving in.

My breath hitched at the vivid image in my mind. It was a dangerous thought, but one that I desperately wished I was there to see.

I could almost hear the strained breath in his throat, as if he was on the edge, about to break. The thought alone sent an electric charge through me, spurring me to move faster, my fingers pressing deeper, matching the intensity of his own rhythm.

"Please," he moaned, his voice broken, raw with need. "Fuck..."

The vulnerability in his voice, so exposed, so real, made me lose all control. I found myself unable to think or reason anymore. I was lost in him, in the sound of his pleasure, and in the dangerous path I was walking.

His voice faltered, his groans growing more frantic, and that's when I felt it — the sudden wave of warmth, the rush of sensation sweeping over me. But just as I was reaching my peak, so was he. Nicholas let out a sound so intimate and raw that it sent a shiver down my spine. Then came a low, guttural groan followed by the unmistakable — my name.

“(Y/N)- fuck!”

It happened just as I was about to reach orgasm, but I was so startled to hear my name that my eyes shot open and I stumbled back from the wall, knocking over the luggage rack below with a solid thud as it tipped over. I tried to catch it before it hit the floor, stumbling to reach for it, but my effort was for naught. A deafening silence filled the room after the loud noise quickly settled. The only thing I could hear was the loud thumping coming from my chest, becoming faster as I realized my predicament.

My breath came in shallow gasps, my body stiff with tension, caught somewhere between shock and embarrassment. On the other side of the wall, there was a beat of complete silence. I held my breath, waiting to hear something — anything — but nothing came. Not a footstep, not a sound. My mind raced, praying that Nicholas might’ve not heard the ruckus through his climax. Don’t orgasms dull one’s senses?

And then, as if the silence was suffocating me, I heard it. A faint creak — Nicholas’s door, opening then closing with a heavy thud. My chest tightened, anxiety coursing through my veins. I stood there frozen, my legs completely unable to move as if I had stuck them in buckets of cement. I felt every inch of my skin burn with humiliation. That’s when I heard a knock at my door, not light like the day before. It sounded desperate. I couldn’t run; I couldn’t hide. Nicholas knew I was in here.

Slowly, I inched closer to the door, my hand trembling as I reached for the doorknob. I tried to swallow my nerves, but I couldn’t fight the fact that I felt like I wasn’t getting enough oxygen. I breathed heavily as I opened the door, clutching at the edge as my eyes fell on Nicholas’s heaving bare chest.

He stood there, his chest rising and falling, glistening from the thin layer of sweat that he had worked up. A slight satisfied grin played on his lips as his eyes trailed down my body, lingering on my bottom half as I stood there in nothing but my shirt and lacy underwear.

He didn't wait for an invitation, stepping inside as soon as the door cracked open, closing it behind him with a deafening click. We stood there, facing each other, the silence hanging thick in the air. I could barely meet his gaze, my cheeks still burning with humiliation. I stammered, hoping to explain myself with a pathetic excuse of a reason, but he interrupted me with a quiet shush, still smirking.

He placed a finger gently over his lips, his eyes dark with something unreadable. "No need to explain," he whispered, stepping closer, his presence dominating the space between us. My breath hitched as he closed the distance, cornering me against the wall, his body heat enveloping me, making my pulse race.

The air felt thick, suffocating, as if the room was closing in on me with every breath. My heart was pounding in my chest, and I couldn't quite figure out what to do with my hands, so I held them behind my back, pressing them against the wall.

“Were you listening in?” He asked, brushing his hand up my sides before it settled on my hip, my body trembling under his touch. It was everything I wanted him to do to me, and yet, I still felt nervous under him.

Too ashamed of myself to open my mouth to answer, I nodded my head hesitantly. Nicholas's smirk widened, but there was no mockery in it. No teasing. His hand slid to my chin, tilting my head up so that our gazes locked. There was no escape now — no way to hide.

“I hoped you were,” he murmured, his voice low and warm, sending shivers down my spine. His thumb traced the line of my jaw slowly, deliberately.

He was so close now that I could feel his breath against my skin, and I was painfully aware of how badly my body was reacting to him. His thumb brushed over my lips, and I instinctively parted them, my breath hitching as his gaze softened, darkened. I could feel the tension between us, so thick that I could almost taste it.

His other hand slid around to the small of my back, pressing me into him, the heat of his body sending waves of electricity through me. His eyes never left mine, and I could hear the rapid beat of my own heart in my ears, drowning out everything else.

Nicholas murmured, his voice dark and full of intention, "Did you enjoy what you heard?" His fingers tightened ever so slightly on my waist, as if testing my response, and I couldn't help the small, almost imperceptible nod that escaped my lips.

Nicholas's smirk deepened, and he closed the gap between us, his lips barely grazing mine. His breath was hot and intoxicating, and the world seemed to disappear around us.

“Were you touching yourself?” He questioned, his hand moving down to my hips, my body squirming the moment his finger hooked itself under the band of my underwear.

I closed my eyes, my lips parting at his touch, nodding my head again. My hands clenched behind my back, the urge to touch him overwhelming. But I couldn't seem to move, too caught up in the magnetic pull between us.

Nicholas's thumb traced the outline of my lips again, the action slow and deliberate. His gaze never left mine, and I could see the hunger in his eyes, the way he studied me like I was something he wanted, something he couldn't resist.

His voice was a whisper, low and intoxicating. "You can touch me if you want to." It was a quiet command, but there was an invitation in it.

I hesitated for a moment, but then, as if drawn by an invisible force, my hand slid up his chest, feeling the firm muscle beneath the soft skin. My fingers traced the lines of his collarbone, skimming down to the waistband of his pants before I pulled away, suddenly embarrassed by the boldness of the move. Nicholas didn't give me time to retreat too much, though. With a gentle but firm grasp, he pulled my hand back to his chest, guiding it lower, urging me to feel the hard planes of his body.

His lips parted slightly as he lowered his head, his breath hot against my ear. “Don't be shy,” he whispered again, his voice thick with desire.

I swallowed hard, my pulse racing as I let my hand roam over his body, feeling the heat radiating from him. The muscles of his chest were solid under my touch, his skin warm and soft in contrast. My fingertips trailed down to the waistband of his pants again, this time without hesitation. He didn't stop me, didn't pull away. Instead, he let out a low, approving sound, his body shifting closer to mine.

The closeness was dizzying. His scent filled my senses, sharp and intoxicating, and I couldn't help but pull him toward me by his belt loops and lean in, my lips just inches from his.

He took charge, his lips brushing mine softly at first, teasing, testing, until the pressure grew, and I found myself kissing him back without hesitation. The kiss was electric, hungry, full of that same tension that had been building between us for days. His hand slid around my back, pulling me closer, as I tangled my fingers into his hair, deepening the kiss.

My body responded to him, betraying all the resistance l'd tried to put up. I felt his hands everywhere — on my back, on my hips, his hands softly squeezing my ass, pulling me closer as if he couldn't get enough. A groan rumbled low in his throat as his lips moved to my neck, trailing kisses down the curve of my collarbone. I tilted my head back, surrendering to the sensation, every nerve alive, every thought clouded by the pull of him.

His hands slipped under my shirt, sliding along my bare skin, and I gasped at the coolness of his touch against the heat of my body. The intimacy of it all, the way he seemed to know exactly where to touch, how to make me shiver, was overwhelming. But I wasn't the only one lost in this; it was clear from his ragged breathing, from the way his hands shook slightly as they explored my body, that he was just as desperate as I was.

"Everything I did this weekend was to get your attention," Nicholas murmured against my skin. His lips pressed against the curve of my jaw, trailing to my ear, where he nipped at the lobe gently. "I've wanted you since the moment I saw you in the stairwell. I can't get enough of you, (Y/N),” his voice rough, almost pleading, “I want you.”

His confession hit me like a tidal wave, and for a second, I couldn't breathe. His words, his desire, everything he was feeling was laid bare before me, and I couldn't deny that I wanted him just as much.

"I want you, too, Nicholas," I whispered, my voice barely audible, but the raw honesty behind it made his body freeze. His hands paused where they rested on my back, and I could feel the weight of his gaze on me, as if he was trying to read my soul.

I, however, didn't hesitate. My hands found the sides of his face, pulling him back toward me as I kissed him fiercely. The kiss became frantic as our bodies collided, desperate, as though we were both starved for this connection. His hands moved quickly, pulling my shirt over my head and discarding it on the floor. I felt the cool air hit my skin, but it did nothing to dampen the fire building inside me.

I couldn't pull away. My body, my mind, all of it was consumed by him. His lips trailed down my neck, his teeth grazing lightly over the sensitive skin of my collarbone as his hands roamed lower, finding the waistband of my underwear again. I gasped as he gently tugged them down, his fingers brushing against my skin with an intimacy that made me tremble.

Nicholas was steady in his movements, never rushing, always making sure I was with him, always checking, always asking if I was okay with everything. But there was a fire in his eyes, a need that mirrored mine, a hunger that couldn't be ignored.

"I want to make you feel good," he whispered against my skin, his voice thick with desire. All I could do was nod my head at his statement, ready to give myself to him.

He wasted no time, lifting me effortlessly. I wrapped my legs around him, hooking them behind his lower back. The feeling of his jeans grazing my bare center was enough to trigger a quiet mewl out of me. Nicholas groaned at the sound, his lips crashing back onto mine as he carried me toward the bed. When my back hit the soft mattress, I felt the weight of him settle over me, his hands bracing either side of my head.

His gaze bore into mine, his chest rising and falling heavily as he paused, his face hovering just inches above mine. For a moment, everything stilled, the only sound was the rhythmic beat of our breaths mingling in the air between us. As he settled down in the space next to me, propping himself up by the elbow, his free hand reached up to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing over my flushed skin with a tenderness that sent shivers down my spine. The both of us laid there, face to face.

His lips parted as if to say something but no words escaped his lips, the hand on my cheek slowly making its way down, down. It lingered, at first, over my sensitive breast, tracing slow circles around my nipple. I bit my lip at the sensation, digging my head into his chest as I quietly moaned.

Nicholas quietly giggled, amused to see me squirming under him, as he slithered his supporting arm behind my head and pulled me closer to him. His lips rested on my forehead as he slid his hand further down, enveloping my center. “God, you’re soaking,” he whispered; I could feel his smirk against my skin.

His fingers massaged my throbbing bud, then slipped his fingers into me, his touch deft and confident. I loudly gasped and clutched at his arm, arching into him. “Oh, fuck,” I quietly breathed, nibbling on my bottom lip to bite back my moans.

He smiled, “Don’t hold yourself back. Be as loud as you want,” he whispered as his fingers continued to coax me, his thumb massaging my clit.

Digging my nails into his shoulder, my chest violently rising and falling as he pumped his fingers, I shook my head. “Somebody’s gonna hear,” I stammered out through my labored breathing.

“So?” He questioned, slipping a third finger in. Nicholas's confidence was maddening, his tone both teasing and commanding, making it impossible to resist him. “Let them hear how good I make you feel," he murmured, his lips brushing against my temple.

My body arched involuntarily, my head falling back into the pillow as a moan escaped me despite my best efforts to stifle it. Nicholas was not having it. He quickened his pace, quickly slipping in and out with ease, as his thumb continued to circle around my clit. His lips kissed at my neck, his tongue licking my skin before gently sucking. I turned my head, my hand clutching at the back of his hair as I passionately made out with him, softly moaning between kisses.

I was unraveling beneath him, my body trembling as the heat coiled tighter and tighter in my core. My moans slowly became louder and louder, filling the room, and I knew there was no hiding how he was making me feel. The pleasure that I was feeling was so great that I couldn’t focus on kissing Nicholas anymore. I had to pull my head away, glancing down at his hand pumping in and out of me before shutting my eyes and burying my head into his chest again. I could barely find the strength to call out to him, my voice faltering as I moaned out, “Nic…” 

"That's it,” he encouraged, his voice a low growl. "Say my name, baby,” his fingers reshaping themselves inside me to reach further

My breathing became erratic hearing him call me baby, my nails raking across his shoulder as I clung to him, "Nicholas," I cried, louder this time, no longer caring who might hear.

The sound of my voice seemed to spur him on, his movements growing even more precise, more relentless. His words, his touch, the heat of his body — it was all too much. "It’s ok; I’ve got you," he murmured against my neck, his lips leaving a trail of kisses along my skin. His gaze locking with mine, his fingers never faltering.

His words were my undoing. I shattered around him, my body arching as a wave of pleasure crashed over me, pulling me under. My cries of ecstasy filled the room, and I clung to Nicholas like he was the only thing keeping me tethered to reality. He held me through it, his embrace steady and reassuring as I rode out the high while his fingers continued to coax every pleasure out of me, slowing to a stop.

When I finally came down, my body limped against his, Nicholas pressed a soft kiss to my lips, his hand leaving my core and coming up to his lips. I watched in awe as he licked at his fingers, wrapping his lips around them as he savored every trace of me with a deliberate slowness that made my breath hitch. His eyes never left mine, their intensity sending a shiver down my spine. I buried my face against his shoulder, my breathing still uneven.

He brushed away the damp hair from my face with the back of his pinky, “You taste even better than I imagined,” he spoke softly, his voice velvety.

The weight of his gaze was almost too much, but when I looked into his brown eyes, all I saw was warmth, tenderness, and something deeper that made my stomach ache. My stomach wasn’t the only thing aching, either. The entirety of me did — my hands, my core, my soul. I ached for him.

Desperate to have him at the end of my fingertips, I trailed my hands across his chest, settling on the nape of his neck as I captured his lips in a kiss. Nicholas replied with a soft groan, his hand finding my waist and his fingers delicately digging into my skin. The kiss deepened, our breaths mingling as I pulled him closer, needing to feel every inch of him against me. My hands wandered, exploring the contours of his back, his muscles taut under my fingertips.

I pulled my lips away, pressing my forehead against his, “I hope you’re not done with me yet,” I whispered.

A soft chuckle escaped his lips, “Far from it.”

He cradled my head in his hand, angling it slightly as his lips moved with mine, urgent yet tender. Nicholas shifted his weight, moving slightly up on the bed, grabbing me by my hips and rolling himself over on the bed as he pulled me on top of him.

My legs straddled his hips, my bare skin brushing against the rough denim of his jeans. The friction sent a jolt through me, and I bit my lip, my eyes locking with his. His hands slid up my thighs, gripping them firmly as if grounding himself in the moment. His gaze roamed over me with unrestrained hunger, making my skin flush under his scrutiny.

His hands continued their slow exploration, sliding up to rest on my waist. "I could look at you like this forever."

His words sent a thrill through me, and I couldn't help but smile, leaning down to press a kiss to his lips. He met me halfway, his hands tightening their grip as he deepened the kiss. I let my hands roam, tracing the lines of his chest and shoulders, marveling at the strength beneath my fingertips. His muscles flexed as he moved beneath me, his hands sliding up to cradle my back, holding me close.

My hips began to move instinctively, grinding against him, and Nicholas groaned, his head falling back against the pillow as his eyes fluttered shut. His reaction ignited something in me, a newfound confidence that made me bold. I leaned down, my lips brushing against his ear as I whispered, "Tell me what you want, Nicholas."

His hands gripped my waist tighter, guiding my movements as he let out a low growl. "I want you," he said, his voice rough with desire.

The intensity of his words sent a shiver down my spine, and I couldn't hold back the smile that spread across my face. Leaning down, I kissed him again, pouring every ounce of my own desire into it. My hands tangled in his hair as our lips moved together, our breaths mingling as the space between us disappeared entirely.

Nicholas's hands slid down to my ass, his touch firm yet gentle as he guided me to move against him. The friction between us was electric, each movement sending waves of pleasure through me. His lips left mine to trail down my neck, his teeth grazing over my skin in a way that made me gasp.

"You drive me crazy, (Y/N)," he murmured against my collarbone, his voice raw, “you know that?"

I smiled, my hands bracing against his chest as I moved against him, my confidence growing with every reaction I drew from him. "I do now," I replied, my voice breathless.

Nicholas groaned, his hand digging into my skin as he bucked his hips upward, meeting my movements. His control was slipping, and I could feel it in the way his grip tightened, the way his breathing grew ragged. I continued to grind against him, trying to coax out the whimpers I had heard escape his lips when I was listening through the wall.

Nicholas's hands slid up my back, his fingers tracing along my spine as he tried to steady himself. His head fell back, his eyebrows tied together as his lips parted in a quiet moan that sent a rush of heat through me. But it wasn’t enough. I brushed my thumb against his bottom lip, slowing to a stop so he could feel the loss, teasing him with the occasional grind, “I want to hear you, Nic.”

He nodded his head, pressing me down against him as he bucked his hips upward repeatedly, desperate for me to continue. “Please, (Y/N),” he shut his eyes closed as he ground himself against me, quietly whining.

Smirkingly, I obliged, slowly continuing to grind against him. I rested my palms on his tense chest, bringing them down to the waistband of his jeans. His fingers curled into my thighs the faster I worked, moaning louder and louder.

“Fuck, I can’t—“ he threw his head back, raggedly moaning.

Looking at him in such a vulnerable state underneath me after days of having to deal with his cocky confidence, it made my blood rush. I played with the button of his jeans, undoing them and shimmying his pants and boxers off just enough for his hard length to free itself under me. I spit my hand, gently stroking him as I positioned his member at my entrance.

Nicholas let out a guttural groan, his hands gripping me firmly as I hovered over him, teasing him with my slow movements. I lowered myself onto him, taking him in inch by inch, the sensation sending a wave of pleasure coursing through my body. A sharp gasp escaped my lips, and Nicholas’s eyes rolled back, his head falling back onto the pillow again. The connection between us was electric, every movement, every sound amplifying the intensity of the moment. Nicholas's hands roamed over my body, his touch both tender and possessive.

As I rode him, I grabbed Nicholas’s hands, leading them to my chest. Even though he could barely keep his eyes open, he understood what I wanted, beginning to knead and pinch at my breasts. I moaned at his touch, bringing one hand of his up to my lips to kiss his fingertips before placing it back on my breast.

Suddenly, I felt him tense under me, arching his back toward me, "Don't stop," he pleaded, his voice becoming an octave higher, his grip on me tightening. "Please, baby, don't stop.”

I didn't. I couldn't. The rhythm between us was intoxicating, building to something that felt almost otherworldly. My name fell from his lips like a prayer, and the sound sent a surge of pleasure through me, pushing me closer and closer to the edge.

Nicholas's hands fell to my hips, guiding my movements as his breathing grew erratic. "I'm close," he groaned, his voice a mix of desperation and pleasure.

I leaned down, my lips brushing against his ear as I whispered, “Come for me, Nic." My words seemed to break the last of his restraint, and his hips bucked up into me with an urgency that sent shockwaves through my entire body.

“Fuck, (Y/N), I —“ His words cut off as a guttural groan escaped him, his body arching beneath me as he came. The intensity of his release sent me spiraling over the edge with him, my body trembling as the product of his pleasure filled me completely, some of the creamy liquid slowly dripping out me.

The aftershocks of our climax left us both trembling, our breaths mingling as we tried to regain control of ourselves. I collapsed onto Nicholas's chest, his arms immediately wrapping around me, holding me close as though he couldn't bear the thought of letting go.

For a while, we just lay there, our bodies pressed together, hearts pounding in unison. His fingers traced lazy patterns along my spine, a small, satisfied smile tugging at the corners of his lips. I could feel the rise and fall of his chest beneath me, the steady rhythm lulling me into a serene haze.

He caught his breath, “That was….” a hint of a chuckle at the end of his words, “That was fucking incredible,” he said as he kissed the top of my head.

I pulled myself off of Nicholas, lying down next to him and covering myself with the bed sheets. I thought about what he had said earlier at the beach — I may not give in easily, but when I do, I give in completely. It felt nice to finally be seen by someone who could understand me even after only knowing me for a few days compared to other people who have known me for years and still manage to get things wrong about me.

I rolled over to face Nicholas, my hand finding his. He smiled softly, intertwining his fingers with mine and kissing the back of my hand. A smile curled at the end of my lips seeing him so affectionate, “When do you check out of the hotel?” I asked, playing with his hand.

“In the morning. You?” He asked, caressing my cheek with his other hand.

“In the morning,” I replied, my eyes flickering up at him to see his reaction.

He was quiet, not saying anything at first, however, he rolled me over and pulled me closer to him, spooning me and pressing a kiss to my shoulder. “We’ll have tonight, then,” he whispered, wrapping his heavy arm around my waist and nuzzling his head into the pillow.

My chest tightened at his words, and I couldn't help but smile softly. I rested my hand above his, intertwining our fingers. Before I knew it, I had fallen asleep to the sound of Nicholas’s soft, rhythmic breathing.

A few hours later, which felt like minutes, I stirred awake to the soft light filtering through the curtains. The remnants of the previous night were scattered around — my shirt and underwear and his jeans and boxers strewn carelessly across the floor, the faint scent of Nicholas's cologne mingling with the crisp hotel room air.

The weight of his big, beefy arm draped over my waist anchored me in place. For a moment, I stayed still, savoring the warmth of his body against mine and the gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath my cheek before I rotated in place so I could admire Nicholas as he rested. 

We were so close that I could count the beauty marks on his face. There was one on his cheek and another on his chin. His lashes cast shadows on his cheekbones, his lips slightly parted as he breathed deeply. I softly grazed my fingers over the scar on his forehead, wondering how he might’ve gotten it, though I’m not sure if I’d ever find out. He looked peaceful, vulnerable even, and the sight tugged at something deep within me.

I let my fingers trail lightly over his chest, tracing the faint outlines of the muscles that had pressed against me so urgently just hours ago. He stirred slightly, a low hum escaping his throat as his arm tightened around me instinctively.

His eyes fluttered open, landing on me before he closed them again for a few seconds, “Morning,” he murmured, smiling, his voice thick and husky from sleep. He opened his eyes again, gazing at me longingly.

"Morning," I whispered back, suddenly feeling shy under his gaze despite everything we had shared. His hand slid up my back, his fingers tangling in my hair as he leaned in for a slow, lingering kiss.

“Are we staying in?” he asked, shifting his body to face me.

I smiled, running a hand through his messy bedhead. "Oh, I wish," I admitted, my cheeks flushing as the memories of the night before flooded back, "but we have to check out.”

Nicholas groaned, his forehead pressing gently against mine. “Don’t remind me,” he teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He brushed a strand of hair from my face, his fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary. “We should get some breakfast together before we leave.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, pushing myself up and sitting on the edge of the bed, stretching my arms. I let out a small sigh, feeling the weight of the moment settle on me. The night had been incredible, but the thought of leaving was already filling me with an unexpected ache. “Breakfast sounds perfect,” I said softly, faking a small yawn.

Nicholas and I didn’t waste any time. I changed into a clean set of clothes and packed up my things, my body slowly waking up the more I walked back and forth in the room. Nicholas put on his boxers and jeans and retreated to his room for a bit, quickly throwing all his stuff into a backpack before coming back to my room and helping me carry my bags to the car.

I think I was too somber to say anything, knowing if I did, that a “goodbye” might be attached to the end of whatever I say.

The silence between us felt heavy but not uncomfortable as we made our way to the café, our movements synchronized without the need for words.

As we entered, the delicious smell of freshly-baked pastries beckoned to us. The morning sunlight filtered through the large windows, casting soft rays across the inside. The sound of light chatter and the occasional clinking of cups and forks against the ceramic plates filled the air, but it all felt distant compared to the warmth between Nicholas and me.

He slithered his hand into mine as he led us to the register, politely smiling to the worker. He ordered his meal, a coffee and a Belgian waffle. I was about to order for myself when he interrupted. “She’ll have the Italian crème croissant and a pot of green tea, please.”

I couldn’t help but smile. That first morning in the café, I could’ve sworn Nicholas was so focused on his book that he didn’t realize what was going on around him; I had no idea he was paying attention to me the entire time.

He paid the worker for our food, letting her keep the change, and waked us over to the same table I had sat in both days prior. We sat close, our knees brushing under the table as we picked at our food, the conversation flowing easily despite the unspoken weight of the situation hanging in the air. After some minutes, the worker came over with our food, and we continued to converse while enjoying our breakfast.

Nicholas looked at me, his expression soft but with a hint of something more playful. “So, at what point are you gonna give me your number?” he asked, taking a bite of his waffle.

I paused, chuckling softly as I chewed on my croissant for a moment before meeting his gaze. “What?” I asked confusedly, trying to keep my tone casual, though my heart rate had sped up slightly.

“What, you thought you’d get rid of me so easily?” He took a sip of his coffee, shaking his head and smirking.

I laughed, the sound a little nervous but genuine. “I just didn’t want to assume anything or get my hopes up,” I admitted, giving him a sideways glance. There was a warmth spreading through me that I couldn’t quite place, something between affection and the lingering thrill of uncertainty.

Nicholas’s eyes softened, and he leaned back slightly, his hands wrapped around his cup. “Well, get your hopes up,” he said, his voice steady but with an undercurrent of something deeper. “because I don’t plan on letting go of you anytime soon.”

I swallowed, feeling my heart rate quicken at his words. There was something about the way he said it — so casually but with an intensity beneath the surface — that made me realize just how serious he was. And maybe how serious I was about him too.

“Alright, alright,” I said, smiling, trying to shake off the sudden rush of emotions swirling inside me. “Let’s trade phones.”

Nicholas’s smile widened, and he handed me his phone without hesitation, his fingers brushing against mine as we traded devices. I typed my number into the phone app, adding myself as a contact.

“Just remember we’re in different time zones before you decide to call me in the middle of the night,” I joked as I handed his phone back to him.

Nicholas laughed, a warm, genuine sound that made my heart flutter. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he replied, slipping the phone back into his pocket then handing me mine, the screen off. “Though I won’t make any promises I can’t keep.”

I rolled my eyes playfully, but the blush creeping up my neck betrayed me.

We finished our breakfast. Nicholas quietly walked me over to my car. He walked close to me, his hand occasionally brushing against mine before finally capturing it. He leaned casually against the car with his arms crossed. He looked so effortless, so at ease, but there was something in his eyes — a softness, maybe even a hint of reluctance — that made it clear he felt the weight of the moment, too.

We both stood there silently, knowing this was our goodbye. Nicholas uncrossed his arms, stepping closer until he was right in front of me. His fingers tilted my chin up, and he searched my eyes, his brows knitting together slightly as if to say something. However, instead of resorting to words, he inched his face closer and closer until our lips grazed. 

The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if we were both trying to hold on to the fleeting moment. But then, as if we both couldn’t help it, the kiss deepened, more urgent now, the electricity between us undeniable. My hands found their way to his shirt, pulling him closer, while his arms wrapped around me, his fingers pressing into my back as if he wanted to keep me there forever. Though, we pulled away slowly, our foreheads resting against each other as we caught our breath. Neither of us spoke immediately, both of us reluctant to break the spell.

Nicholas stepped back, “How about next time you have a free weekend you treat yourself to a trip to LA and come visit me?”

My heart skipped a beat at his words, the weight of his offer sinking in. I couldn’t tell if it was the sudden openness of his invitation or the quiet sincerity in his voice that made it feel so real. It wasn’t just a passing comment; it was an open door between us.

“I’d like that,” I said softly, surprised by how easily the words came out.

He smiled, his expression softening. “Good.” He reached up, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear, his touch lingering as his eyes locked onto mine.

I wanted to say more — something that could make this moment last longer, something to ease the ache already starting to form in my chest. But the words didn’t come, and instead, we stood there, wrapped in silence, our connection hanging between us like an unspoken promise.

He gave me one lingering kiss, brief but filled with everything we couldn’t put into words. When we finally pulled away, he looked at me, as if taking one final mental picture of me standing there, before speaking. “I’ll call you.”

I nodded, feeling the flutter of anticipation start to rise inside me. “You better.”

He squeezed my hand gently before opening my car door and slyly rolling down the window, watching me climb inside and closing the door for me. He leaned on the door, softly smiling, “To be continued.”

I couldn’t help but smile and give him one final kiss through the open window so I could savor his taste before starting up the car. He stepped back, hands in his pockets, to give me enough room to back out of the parking space. I slowly reversed out, waving my hand at him and driving out into the street.

The quiet hum of the engine filled the space, but the silence didn’t feel empty. There was something between us, something that went beyond just a weekend. It was more than I’d expected, more than I’d thought I was ready for, but as I drove away, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t the end.

I don’t think I even left the neighborhood before a phone call interrupted my thoughts. My car’s entertainment screen lit up with the contact name in big, bold letters — Room 5.

I couldn’t help but laugh, shaking my head as I tapped the answer button on the steering wheel. “Hey,” I teased, my voice light and playful, though my chest felt warm at the sight of his contact name lighting up my screen.

“Hey,” Nicholas’s voice came through, smooth and familiar.

It was just the beginning.

Continue the story with 'Making Room' here

[starsofang]

To Be Loved is to Be Seen

johnny mactavish x f!reader

word count: 5.2k

tw: NSFW content, abuse (from other partner), hurt/comfort, smut, oral, p in v, happy ending, bad scottish accent (i tried)

Johnny hated your boyfriend. In fact, if he could string him up on a pole and castrate the bloke himself, he’d do it with a damn smile — that was how much he loathed him.

To get you to realize how shitty your boyfriend was felt like a near impossible task. Alas, you didn’t know Johnny, but Johnny certainly knew you. How could he not, when he’d spent every morning and every night, hearing your shouts and pitiful whimpers of defeat through the thin walls of your neighboring apartments?

He knew your boyfriend had spouts of anger, could tell from the sounds of drywall cracking on occasion, or the sounds of things clattering in a messy heap on the floor, sometimes shattering, sometimes rolling around after a particularly loud thud.

Your boyfriend was a nuisance that didn’t know how to care for a woman, and he made a show of it every night when Johnny heard him.

Now, Johnny was a respectful man. He’d never hurt another person unless they were deserving — perks of being in the military, it made that excuse much easier to use.

But your boyfriend? He was more than deserving. He was practically asking for Johnny to bash his pathetic face in, cowering beneath Johnny as he pleaded and begged for him to stop.

Johnny just had to figure out a way to slowly slip into your life, befriend you as a friendly neighbor, so he could kick the damn reality into that pretty head of yours. After all, Johnny would never hit you. Johnny would never call you names. Johnny would never make you cry in anguish.

The opportunity arose when he went to collect his mail and saw you standing there, fumbling with your mail key in frustration. Faulty lock, he assumed, but that was perfect for him.

“Need some ‘elp?” Johnny asked you, and when you perked your head up in surprise, he was already plotting murder in his mind when he saw the ugly bruise being sported underneath your eye.

“Oh. Yeah, actually, stupid thing never wants to unlock,” you said, and your voice up close and not through a thin wall was like sweet nectar from a flower.

He smiled with a nod, politely stepping up to your mailbox. You handed him the key, and he eagerly placed it in the lock. Wiggling it around a bit, it took him a few moments and grunts of concentration before the mailbox popped open.

Your face lit up in delight and you profusely thanked him, taking the key from his hands. Your hands were soft and warm, he noted when the two of yours brushed during the exchange, and he felt his heart swell with affection.

Such pretty hands on such a pretty girl should be kissed and held with nothing less than care. They shouldn’t be the victim of a fighting match, where it was obvious you were the losing opponent every time.

“No’ a problem. Johnny,” he introduced with his hand outstretched, and when you flashed him that smile as you introduced yourself back, he made it his absolute mission to make sure this wouldn’t be your last interaction.

The next time you saw Johnny, it was when the two of you were leaving your respective apartments at the same time (really, Johnny had been listening on for signs of when you’d leave as an excuse to leave his own place).

You lit up when you saw him, once again thanking him for helping you with the mailbox. Your eyes fluttered over to his door that he was in the process of locking, and you realized dumbly that he was your neighbor.

“I didn’t know you lived next to us, Johnny!” Us. The word made his eye twitch. “You’ve never introduced yourself.”

“No’ around all tha’ much.” He shrugged, and you hummed in understanding.

“I see. I’ve got to get to work, but it was nice seeing you, Johnny. Don’t be a stranger!”

He watched you go, feet leading you down the hall and towards the elevator of the building. He stood frozen in place, the breath in his lungs caught when he noticed the bruising on the back of your exposed calves from the skirt you wore.

A knock on his door days later had Johnny grumbling to himself, and when he checked the time, it was nearing midnight. He’d normally be on guard, what with his whole military career, but the only people that ever visited his place were Simon, Kyle, or Price.

Opening the door, it was neither of the three and instead, you. Sporting comfortable pajamas that swallowed you whole and made him want to scoop you up and keep you safe.

“Hi, Johnny! Were you sleeping?”

He was, but that didn’t matter.

“Nah, wasn’t sleepin’. Ye need somethin’, love?”

You threw him a sheepish smile that could melt any man’s heart. It was a wonder how your own man couldn’t see that. “I, ah, ran out of sugar. Baking’s my hobby, y’know? Silly me, I forgot to buy some from the shop.”

“…S’midnight.”

“…Is that a no to the sugar?”

Johnny huffed out a laugh, a smile perking on his lips. You were cute, it was to die for.

“Nah. ‘Course ye can have sugar. Tha’ all you came ‘ere for?”

You chewed on your bottom lip, contemplating something Johnny wasn’t aware of. Now that he thought about it, your shitty boyfriend wasn’t anywhere in sight, and he hadn’t heard any noise from your apartment earlier.

“Well,” you began, inhaling before slowly exhaling. “Okay, no, I don’t need the sugar. I have plenty of it, actually. It’s just, ah…”

“Go on.”

“My boyfriend went out with some friends tonight and I don’t really want to be alone. I get nervous when I’m by myself, y’know?”

Your boyfriend knew this, and didn’t even bother to bring you with? Wasn’t texting you throughout the night to give you sweet reassurances, telling you he’d be home soon? Was he even out with his friends?

“Ye dinnae have any girl friends to call?” Johnny asked carefully, not wanting to make you feel unwelcome, but also wanting to tread on a thin line. He couldn’t jump to the opportunity, or you might think he’s weird and eager.

When you shook your head with a defeated look on your face, his own heart shattering rang in his ears. The fact you had no friends to confide in, to go out and enjoy yourself with, it didn’t sit right with him.

Silently, he opened up his door a bit more to welcome you in, and you flashed him a pretty smile before eagerly prancing inside.

His apartment was a bit underwhelming, and there wasn’t much that showed he was even living in it besides the furniture to show as evidence. You didn’t seem to mind as you took it in, smile gracing your features when he gestured towards the couch.

“Ye wan’ a drink, lass?” Johnny asked you, and when you saw him standing in the kitchen, he helped up a bottle of alcohol and a bottle of juice. He was offering you a choice of either, but you didn’t see the harm in drinking a bit and letting loose.

“Why not?” You shrugged, pointing to the left hand that held the liquor. He beamed at you, satisfied by your answer and promptly began to pour you and him a drink.

“So yer boyfriend jus’ up and left ye for the night?” Johnny asked as he sat next to you on the couch, placing the glasses on the coffee table in front of you.

He watched as you eagerly took a sip of the liquor, unable to contain the amusement when your nose wrinkled up as you swallowed it down.

“Yeah, I guess so,” you sighed, lips pouting a bit in the form of a frown. He tried not to stare. “Said he needed a night off. And he deserves it, y’know?”

Johnny raised an eyebrow at you, slowly taking a gulp from his own glass before placing it back down. He definitely didn’t think your boyfriend deserved a night to himself, nor that he worked hard in the slightest.

Hell, Johnny could hear the two of you have sex on occasional nights through the shared walls, and that certainly didn’t sound like your boyfriend was working hard. If anything, it was pitiful and sad.

“Deserves it,” he hummed, and you whipped your head to look at him, causing him to snicker into his glass as he took another sip.

You looked conflicted, taking your bottom lip between your teeth again. It puffed up, causing it to turn a bright pink, and he willed himself to keep his gaze on your eyes rather than your mouth.

“He… works hard,” you defended.

“We all do,” Johnny retorted.

“Everybody deserves a night out.”

“Have ye had a night out then?”

Silence.

Johnny might’ve been pushing it too hard. After all, he knew more than you were aware of. He was sure you had no idea how thin the walls were and that he was practically a third person in your relationship issues.

“Consider this yer night out,” Johnny claimed with a warm smile, and it seemed to work because you smiled back, downing the rest of your drink.

“Thank you for keeping me company, Johnny. I know it’s late. You’re sure I’m not bothering you?”

Oh, you could never bother Johnny. He was practically head over heels just from seeing you for the first time and hearing your voice. Love at first sight, he thought, he was completely enamored with you.

“No’ a bother, dove. We’re neighbors. It’d be smart to be friends, aye?”

“Friends?” Your tone was excited and he wanted so badly to be more than that. “I’d love to be friends! Officially, now that we’re technically drinking together, right?”

You gave a playful nudge to his shoulders with yours and he felt his entire being soften with delight. He smiled at you, eyes crinkling into little crescents as he nodded in agreement.

Friends he could do. Being friends meant he would have more opportunity to try and shield you from harm, the harm being your boyfriend, and even if it took patience, he’d wait for it.

The two of you found yourselves in a flurry of conversation, the bottle of liquor dwindling down until there was nothing left. Time seemed to slip away between you, and when the clock hit 3:00 AM, a series of bangs came battering at Johnny’s door.

They were loud and angry, relentless and never ending until Johnny forced himself off of the couch to swing it open.

Your boyfriend’s face came into view and Johnny wished he could rearrange his teeth in that ugly scowl of his.

“Is she here? I heard her voice,” he demanded, and your head peeked out from behind Johnny. Guilt and shame shined in your irises, and it was as if all of the joy you felt when spending time in your newfound friendship with your neighbor had vanished into nothing.

When your boyfriend saw the sight of you, he put on a sickeningly sweet smile. If he was trying to play off his anger until he got back into your apartment, he was doing a poor job of doing so. Or it was because Johnny already knew about his true colors.

“I’m home. Let’s get you to bed, yeah? It’s late,” your boyfriend cooed, and Johnny had to stop himself from sneering at the venom that dripped beneath his tone.

You nodded silently, shuffling by Johnny and out of the threshold. Johnny and your boyfriend watched as you entered your own apartment, disappearing inside and leaving the door open.

Johnny knew what was going to come, and as much as he wanted to stop it from happening, he knew he couldn’t. Not yet.

“Thanks for, ah, taking care of her while I was out. Let’s not make it a habit,” your boyfriend practically spat, and Johnny gave him an unphased smile.

“Only if ye stop makin’ it a habit to hit ‘er every chance ye get,” Johnny replied back in the same tone, keeping his smile on his face. It was a threat, a warning, and Johnny wasn’t ashamed to make it clear. “I see another bruise on ‘er body, I’ll fuckin’ kill ye.”

Your boyfriend must not have had many people retort back to him. His face morphed into a stunned one before flashing in anger and annoyance, and when he went to snap back, Johnny shut the door in his face before he had a chance to.

He made sure to stay up the rest of the night, eyes staring at the ceiling from where he laid in bed. He kept his ears locked in to the shared wall, listening in for a single sound of fists connecting with bone or a broken wail out of your lips.

When he heard nothing, he knew he’d gotten through for now.

You’d visit his apartment when your boyfriend wasn’t around. You’d come to enjoy his company, and even went as far as going against your boyfriend’s wishes of never seeing Johnny again. You told him it was because he was your only friend, and he’d accept you with open arms every time you came knocking.

The back and forth went on for months. Johnny was even more smitten than before, and his patience for claiming you as his own was slowly slipping.

He hated seeing you sad when you’d come on nights after a bad argument. He hated seeing the tears flowing down your cheeks, smothering your delicate skin with dewy shine, reddening your pretty eyes and glossing them over with heartache.

The heartache you felt would transfer on to Johnny.

He didn’t understand why your boyfriend didn’t treat you like the lovely canvas you were. Didn’t cover you with love and affection, instead covering you with black and blue. He tainted you with colors that didn’t clash with the beauty of your skin, when you deserved to be painted with skies of pink.

Johnny knew you deserved better.

When you came on a particular night, face swollen with tears of sadness and blood, he nearly saw red. Such a delicate thing to be so cruelly used as a personal stress reliever should never have happened, and Johnny was at his wits end.

“Leave ‘im,” Johnny ordered when he brought you inside of his apartment. He stood in front of you in the vacancy of his bathroom, a warm washcloth nursing your wounds with tender hands, grimacing every time you winced from pain.

“I can’t,” you whispered, and he shook his head.

“Bullshit. Leave ‘im. A pretty bird like ye doesn’t deserve this.” When you said nothing and stared down at your hands in your lap, he pushed further. “So many men out there wouldn’t lay a finger on ye. They’d never hurt ye. They’d never hit ye. I’d never do that.”

Your eyes flickered up to meet his, and he allowed it, locking your gazes with one another as a heavy silence filled the room. Your eyes remained filled with unshed tears, glistening in the dim lighting of his bathroom. To you, you looked like broken mess. To him, you looked like you held the entire night sky in your eyes.

Everything happened so quickly, Johnny’s mind nearly didn’t comprehend it. One second, you were staring, the next, your lips had crashed into his without a second thought.

Even with a split lip that tasted faintly of metallic blood, he thought you tasted divine. It was as if sweetness exuded from all parts of you, painting him with a sugary high that he could never get enough of.

One hand strayed to your hair while the other rested along the bathroom counter where your hips rested. Your own hands fisted the front of his shirt, tugging him closer, as if scared he’d fade away.

He planned on going nowhere. This was all he ever wanted, from the moment he heard you for the first time as his neighbor from behind the walls of your apartments.

When he first heard you belting out a song he didn’t know the name of in the security of your own place, presumably when your boyfriend wasn’t around to quiet you down.

When he ran into you at the mailboxes and finally learned your name. When he heard your speaking voice that wasn’t filled with anguish, trembling with shaky tears.

Johnny pressed into you further, consuming every part of the kiss with an eager passion. When he heard the faintest whimper melt from your mouth into his own mouth, he would’ve killed the entire world to hear it again.

“Dinnae be quiet,” he breathed into your lips, smile curling against them. “No need for tha’. Can be as loud as ye want here.”

Your eyes blinked prettily at him from where your foreheads connected. His thumb grazed along your cheek in such a tender manner, it pained your heart in the best way.

Your boyfriend never touched you that way. Never treated you that way. Never loved you that way.

Johnny returned his mouth to yours and you fell back into the clumsy dance of lips and tongue, like a waltz the two of you were learning with one another.

It was intense and fierce, yet gentle and passionate at the same time. You felt dizzy, your mind clouding with nothing but want and desire.

It was wrong of you to do this. Johnny was your friend and neighbor, and you had a boyfriend.

But then you thought back on everything Johnny had been making you realize — a man who loved you would never treat you how your boyfriend treated you. He’d treat you how Johnny was treating you now, soft and caring, pouring his heart and soul into every delicate touch.

On late nights when you stayed up, Johnny was there with the door already unlocked for you. He’d make you laugh, make you smile, he’d heal the inner child you desperately needed to seek. You’d lost her along the way, and Johnny was there to remind her.

“Johnny,” you breathed out, and his smile returned.

“Wha’ is it, dove?”

“I—“ You inhaled sharply, trying to collect your scrambled mind and piece together the words. “I want you. Please.”

Johnny sucked in his own breath, eyes piercing into yours. They flickered along the features of your battered face, and even in this state, he graveled in your beauty.

“I can make tha’ happen.”

Johnny laid you on his bed as if you were the most precious thing to cushion it. His hands roamed your body like mapping out every roll and curve, keeping it noted in his head for future endeavors.

He took his time with you, placing gentle kisses along every bruise, bump, and scar that your sorry excuse of a boyfriend had left embedded in you to remember forever. Johnny didn’t look at them in disgust like you expected, no — he ravished them like fine china, careful and precise, spending as much time needed to ensure each and every one was cherished.

His hands were eager yet patient as he stripped you of your clothes, making sure to take his off in the process so you didn’t feel uncomfortably exposed.

He only thought of your best interests, and it made you feel desired.

“Look at ye,” he breathed, hands slowly gliding down the plains of your stomach and to your thighs. He carefully parted them, eyes dropping down to the glisten of your cunt, taking it in. He sucked in a breath, thumbs stroking along your knees.

Your hands lifted to cover your face, embarrassment filling you to the core. He tsked, lifting a hand to grasp your arm and pull it from your face. He pinned it lightly to the side of your head, peering down at you.

“None of tha’,” he pleaded. “Wanna see ye, bonnie.”

You nodded your head, silently agreeing with him. He took his hand off your arm, flashing you a pleased smile.

He returned to caressing, cascading rough hands down your sides, to your hips, to your thighs, until they traveled back up. The touch of his fingers was light against your core, testing the waters.

“Oh,” you gasped, air getting caught in your lungs. He smiled again, all teeth and all crinkly eyes, before delving his venture further.

His index found your clit and he began a slow and antagonizing pace, circling and stroking, eyes focused on your face to piece together your reaction.

Your eyes were fluttering at the ceiling, breasts rising and falling with every staggered breath.

It was a sight to see. Johnny felt his chest swell with pride that finally, after pining after you for months, feelings hidden away in the dark, he was the one making you this way.

His finger slipped down, seeking the wetness that seeped shamelessly. He scooped his finger in the mess, lifting it to his mouth to wrap his lips around it.

You watched, eyes dazed and hazy. You shouldn’t have enjoyed the sight, but it burned a fire in you.

His smile turned into a bashful grin when he popped his finger out of his mouth, and before you had a chance to breathe, he slipped that same finger inside, prodding you open.

“Oh, fuck,” you whimpered pathetically.

“Yeah?” he breathed. You nodded dumbly. He huffed out a laugh, curling his finger in a way that had you squirming. “Look bonnie like this. Ye my pretty girl, aye?”

You nodded again, hands fisting his bedsheets beneath you.

“Won’t ever hurt ye,” he continued, and before you knew it, his second finger joined in. “Won’t ever make ye cry. Too pretty to cry, aren’t ye?”

“Johnny,” you pleaded. He pumped his fingers slowly at first, but the sound of his name on your lips urged him to increase the pace.

It was heaven hearing it come from you, and combined with your sweet moans? He was hearing church bells in his mind.

You squirmed beneath him, panting and writhing like the pretty thing you were. He wanted more, he wanted to hear you.

Johnny dove his head down, fingers still buried to the knuckle. His tongue poked out to press flat against your clit, lathing you in bliss and making you see stars.

Your boyfriend never made you feel this way. You were on a cloud, floating peacefully in the skies above.

He could never pull the desperate moans out of you, he could never make your thighs tremble like you’d just run a marathon around the world.

Johnny’s mohawk was soft on your fingertips when you grasped them. You held back, only gripping softly.

“Pretty girl, ye can grip harder than tha’,” he assured when he came up for air. You stared down at him with wet eyes, filled with hazy pleasure. He wouldn’t return to using his mouth until you followed his order, so you did, grabbing a fistful of hair and lightly pushing him against your cunt.

He groaned in approval, burying his face between your legs and eagering fucking his fingers in you.

The stimulation caused your back to arch, a moan bursting out of you. The sound surprised you. You’d never heard yourself sound so wrecked, especially before the main event.

This was how sex was supposed to feel. Cherished, adored, and downright sinful.

The knot in your stomach seemed to tighten, and your thighs clumsily squirmed around, encasing his head between them. You panted breathlessly, the sounds filling the room with an unforgivable act of immorality.

“Johnny, Johnny, I—“ Your words were cut off by your own broken sob, and he feasted harder, urging you to your breaking point more and more.

It was too much. You wouldn’t be able to hold back, nor did you want to. This feeling was too blissful to pull away from, so you allowed yourself the moment of selfishness.

When it hit you, your entire body convulsed. Your stomach tightened and clenched, thighs gripping tight around Johnny’s head, quivering with every movement.

“Tha’s it, dove. Good girl,” he praised. You keened, eyes squeezing shut as your climax came over you.

His fingers slowed their pace but didn’t dare leave your body as he pulled you through the last drops of your orgasm. When he felt you had enough, he swiftly pulled them out, staring up at you with eyes pouring with admiration.

“Look at ye,” he whispered, reaching a hand out to stroke over your cheek. You hadn’t realized they were wet with tears until he stroked them away with a thumb. “Gorgeous girl. Tha’ okay?”

“Absolutely,” you breathed, voice broken.

You regained your breath, chest no longer heaving like a panting dog, and you came out of your clouded haze.

“Let me make ye feel even better, aye? Can fill ye up, wanna feel ye, please, bonnie—“

You nodded before even making up your mind, but really, you didn’t need to. It was already made up the moment he let you into his home and offered friendship.

Johnny climbed over you, careful not to crush you. He hovered, face aligned with yours and a smile on his face. You stared at him in awe.

That smile of his could light up the whole world if he allowed it. It lit up yours, after all.

His hand dove between your bodies, and when you felt the head of him slowly press to your entrance, you sucked in a breath.

He took his time, slowly easing into you, filling you and leaving you with greedily wanting more and more.

“Oh god,” you groaned, and he followed after. His eyes were squeezed shut as you took him in fully, and when he bottomed out, he forced them open to gaze down at you.

“Look at me the ‘ole time, aye? Wanna see ye,” he said, and who were you to deny it?

Johnny began to move and you had to force your eyes open every time they threatened to flutter closed. He filled you from an emptiness you weren’t aware you had until now, and you never wanted it to leave.

Just like with his fingers, he started off slow. He didn’t want to hurt you, but the more he stared at the pleasured, fucked-out look on your face, his resolve broke and he found himself losing control.

One particularly hard thrust had you gasping, hands scrabbling for purchase on his biceps, and that was all he needed to snap.

Hips thrust erratically into you, plunging deeper and deeper every single hit. The noises were nothing but dirty, a mix of sinful slaps and shaky moans filling the atmosphere.

“Takin’ me so good, bonnie,” he sighed, hand cradling your cheek as he continued his relentless torture. “Made for me, yeah?”

“Yes,” you whimpered, fingernails dipping into his skin and marking him with crescent shaped indents. “All for you, Johnny, nobody else.”

“Tha’s right, sweet girl.” His head tilted down to graze his lips along your jaw, peppering loving kisses up to your ear. “Dinnae need tha’ bloke of yours anymore. ‘M gonna take care of ye.”

That sounded divine. You wanted all of that and more.

“Please,” you begged, though unsure what for.

Johnny smiled against your skin before pulling himself back up. He grabbed hold of your legs, gently pressing them up so your knees were level with your chest.

His eyes never strayed from your face, not even when he went back to giving you everything he had in the way he fucked you.

He was proudly marking his territory, taking everything you had while giving you everything in return.

You couldn’t compress the moans that escaped you with every brutal thrust in your cervix. He was hitting every damn spot in you, as if he had your entire body already mapped out.

“Gonna take ye away from ‘im,” he grunted, his fingertips digging into the flesh of your thighs where they pressed against your chest. “Never gonna let another man hurt ye again.”

You cried, tears pouring down your cheeks in rivers. Your body was so overwhelmed with the pleasure he brought you, but god, you wanted all of it. You were going to make sure you took it all.

Johnny continued his string of praises as he glided in and out of you, your cunt molding around him like the perfect fit. He was fast and hard with his actions, yet his words were sweet and tender, only ever showering you with things you needed to hear.

“Ye gonna give me another one, pretty girl?” he asked, his own voice nearly failing on him from his own pleasure.

You nodded quickly, eyes locked on to his. He grinned in approval, cocking his head to the side.

“C’mon, bonnie. Ken ye can do it f’me.”

Those words of encouragement were enough to have you clenching around him, body succumbing to your second orgasm. You felt absolutely divine, head completely spacing out and relieving itself of any worries or stress.

“There ye go,” he cooed, unstopping of his thrusts. He chased his own release, sweat beading along his forehead and dripping down his temple. “Such a good girl, bonnie.”

You whimpered, body spent and exhausted. You didn’t stop that from allowing him to seek out his pleasure. The thought of him filling you, of fully claiming you as his stirred a wild thought in your mind, and you needed it.

“Please, Johnny,” you whined, and he let out a breathless chuckle. It vibrated you to the core.

“Dinnae worry, dove, I’ll give ye what ye want.”

It didn’t take him long to find himself. His movements became less precise and more sloppy, hands slipping from your thighs when his grip became unfocused.

Warmth filled you from the inside and you reveled in its comfort, sighing shakily. He pumped himself in you a few more times, making sure to get out every drop, before stopping to catch his breath.

Johnny looked gorgeous like this. Glistening in sweat, lips parted to suck in air, cheeks flushed pink from the warmth that took over the room.

You couldn’t stop your hand from lifting off of his arm to gently caress his cheek. When he felt your touch, he smiled, leaning into it.

Your heart nearly burst in fondness.

Johnny cleaned you up and let you change into his clothes, which you happily put on.

The two of you laid in the comfort of his bed, his arm tucking you into his side, your eyes staring up at the ceiling.

“I meant everythin’ I said, dove. ‘M gonna take ye away from ‘im, ye won’t ever have to deal with ‘im again,” Johnny said softly.

The thought of leaving your boyfriend was scary, but the thought of leaving behind Johnny after this was scarier. You knew what the obvious choice was.

You had to trust him. And trust him you did.

“Okay,” you whispered in return, and when he turned his head to smile down at you, you’d happily go along this journey into the unknown with him.

finally got around to writing smut like i’ve been planning on and what better choice than mr mactavish himself 🙏🏻 hes so yummy i wanna eat him

[bonbonly]

pairing: carlos sainz x f!reader ; tw: p in v, praise? maybe? dunno

prince!carlos sainz who's always lavishly surrounded by ladies no matter where he goes. old, young, it doesn't matter. the queens of various countries, old enough to be his grandmother, pinch his cheek and the little duchesses want nothing more than to hold his hand as he guides them back to their parents. as for the princesses? every night, there's another woman in his bed. another princess moaning, another princess screaming, another princess mewling about how handsome of a prince he is.

"that i know," his spanish accent floods their ears, as he'd give them a wink. having spent much of his life fed to him on a silver spoon, he figured his future bride would throw herself onto him, making his job much easier.

you weren't an ordinary princess, though. not because you weren't interested in him, or didn't believe in arranged marriages. you were far too prude for your own good, head always held high which gave you the advantage of looking down at others. you curtsied when asked, rarely ever let another man touch you unless it was your father, and reminded every young duchess what her duties were at a young age. prince!carlos sainz wanted to corrupt you so badly, his cock just ached at the sight of you dancing with a young prince from another country. you weren't betrothed to the gentleman, everyone in the ballroom knew that you belonged to prince!carlos, but he sometimes wondered if you knew. as in if you craved him as much as he craved you.

he sees you pick the ends of your ballgown, exiting the ballroom towards an empty hallway. he asks the butler of where you were headed, and is more than delighted to hear that you were heading to a bedroom upstairs to change into another dress for dinner. your parents wanted you to impress not only the Sainz family, but the other royal families as well. the promise was that when you became queen, everyone would know how grand and proper you were as a princess.

prince!carlos watches you walk into another room on accident and before you fumble out, he slips into your designated room and hides in the wardrobe. he glances at the display of the beautiful gown on the bed, and wonders how good it'll look on you... or off you in this case. he has to stop himself from being too excited, biting the skin on the edges of his fingernail as he watches you through the sliver of light in the wardrobe.

you didn't bother to call the servants to help you since the event downstairs was of more importance. you undid some of the lace strings on the outermost part of your dress, slipping it off easily before doing the same for the large skirt of the dress. and then came the tricky part, the part that made you hate ever being a princess which was a very rare occassion. the corset. it was a really pathetic scene in front of carlos, watching you struggle with the strings on your back. you had even gone as so far as to bend over on the bed, arms behind your back as you try in vain to free yourself from the material. the sight makes prince!carlos's breath hitch, and he can no longer control himself.

he exits the wardrobe as quietly as he can, and walks over to where you lay squirming in bed, panting at how hard it was to get this stupid corset off. he finally takes his opportunity and presses his chest against your back, pinning you to the bed as he whispers into your ear, "I can help you, princesa,"

you gasp at his words, hands now helping you push off the bed and you spin around to face him. his hands rest on your waist, searching your eyes with a very predatory look.

"Carlos," you begin but he raises an eyebrow, which causes you to mumble, "Your highness, forgive me for calling you the wrong title."

"i'm disappointed, cielo, you should know better than to call me by my first name. i thought that was part of your rules, no?" he teases, though you are unaware. you nod your head, admitting your lack of manners,

"m-my apologies, your highness. i just find this situation rather innapropriate, you see-"

"oh, i do see," he glances you up and down, stepping closer so that your knees hit the edge of the bed, "but we are to be married in a few weeks, i don't think there is a problem here."

"o-oh, but there is! if my father comes to see-"

he cuts you off once more, "you are a guest in my palace. you are going to be my wife in a few weeks. your father's words are useless here."

you gulp, trying to wrap your head around his words. usually, you had the knack to wittily respond, having garnered praise for being bold and formidable. but all words flew out the window, and all you could do was avert your eyes.

"you called me carlos on accident," prince!carlos mentions,

"and I apologized for it," you blurt out. he raises his eyebrows at how loud you just were, and he shakes his head,

"not enough for me, princesa, i'll find it hard to accept your apology," he crosses his arms, watching you nervously fidget with your fingers. the last thing you wanted was to incur your future husband's wrath for not following the guidelines like you always did! you were supposed to be better than him!

"then how can I have your forgiveness?" you ask. he grins at you,

"finally... finally, you ask the right questions, mi reina."

your moans echo through the hallways of the palace as he fervently gives open-mouthed kisses along your neck and tits, promising you that they would leave bruises so that everyone would see that you were his princess, his queen. and no other man in the world could have you. he makes you cum around his tongue, his fingers and his cock. you've never felt like this before, and you were never taught if you were supposed to be quiet or loud. prince!carlos enjoys seeing your body contorting like this, and he has you everywhere he can at the moment. who knew how long it would be before you returned for another ball? he'd have to wait for weeks until he'd finally be your husband, he needed to use every opportunity he had!

you're gushing around his cock for the 5th time that night, overstimulated beyond compare, each thrust of his hips has you whining out loud. he now has you against the window, tits pressed against the glass so that he could show the guards outside who he'd have every morning, afternoon and night once he marries you. his cock just can't seem to get enough, and he doesn't care that your juices are falling onto the rich velvet material of the daybed he has near the window. he wants to ruin you, make you ache for him even when you're alone in your bedroom back at your kingdom. your fingers should never be able to satisfy him now that you've had a taste of his cock. his hands find their way into your hair, and he yanks you back to his chest, a hand rubbing your sore puffy clit once more. you're crying furiously, begging him to have some mercy but at the same time you wanted to cum, you wanted to feel heaven again.

"anything you want, i give, princesa," he coos, kissing your neck and he's groaning as his thrusts become more erratic. you squeeze around him, back arching as you cum again and he does the same, resting his forehead against your shoulder, murmuring praises of how beautiful you'll look as the queen to his kingdom, how you'd look amazing being pregnant and carrying his royal children.

he's interrupted by the butler knocking on the door, asking for the presence of both of them, the guests had a few... noise complaints, to say the least.

[blahblahwritings]

Collateral Souls - 1

Hello! Guess who is jumping on the Thunderbolts bandwagon? It's me. I hate how few longer fics there are out there of our boy Bob so I cracked my knuckles and got to it.

I'm planning on this being about 20ish chapters long? I drafted out a plan but it could be longer or shorter depending on the storybeats and how things go. And knowing me I might randomly stop posting because of work.

Reader has shadow abilities kind of like ACOTAR if you've read those.

This chapter is just a lot of set up really. I've already written chapter two so I will post that tomorrow.

Slow burn. Eventual smut probably. Reader described as female. Sorry if they seem a bit OOC.

I haven't written in literal years. Be gentle.

PART TWO

PART THREE

PART FOUR

Word Count: 3205

Chapter One - New Foundations

Four months post-incident. 

Each month brought a wave of new issues. Press, missions, refurbishments, moving in. Valentina had been ruthless, scheduling interviews and conferences and missions and on and on and on. If anything, moving some boxes into the newly decorated Avengers tower was the most relaxing thing that the team had been told to do. Not that there were many boxes. Most of the team had very few possessions, given their line of work. 

The team walked on to the main residential level of the tower. It was one of the only four fully furnished floors of the tower. The air was cool, almost overly so—Val’s idea of comfort, Bob guessed. On the right, a large modern kitchen fitted with state of the art appliances. The only thing Bucky cared about was if it had a coffee machine. It did. In front of the elevators was a living space. A spacious couch covered in cushions and throws curled around the area with a coffee table in the center and a generously sized TV in the open section. The walls still gleamed with sterile, untouched gloss, like a showroom that no one wanted to live in. Some boxes with their names on them stood stacked in an open space by the elevator. Alexei chuckled, the sound reverberating off the walls as it came from deep in his chest. He threw his arms out as he walked forwards.

“Home sweet home, eh? The TikTok will love this.” He said in his thick accent, a hand fisting his phone out of his pocket. The rest of the team groaned as he fumbled to open the app, his large thumbs struggling to hit the right buttons.

”Alexei please, enough with the TikTok stuff.” Bucky moaned as his head tilted back, looking to the ceiling as if looking for some higher power to step in, Yelena seconding his words. Ava immediately moved to the doors on the left to claim a bedroom for herself. The rest of the team eventually followed. 

“New base, new me, huh?” John smiled, nudging Yelena with his elbow but no one laughed. Or even reacted.

They each looked at the almost identical spaces on the floor before bickering over who wanted which room. John and Alexei argued for fifteen minutes over who got the slightly bigger room at the end of the corridor. Yelena and Ava simply looked at each other and nodded, too tired to even care which bedroom they passed out in. Bucky took the bigger room whilst Alexei and John were too busy trying to justify which one of them was more deserving of it. By the time they had settled on an answer, Bucky had already moved his boxes into the space and started hanging up his clothes in the closet and drawers. Bob watched as the remaining super soldiers begrudgingly claimed one of the other rooms each, then silently settled into his own room next to Yelena’s.

Bob didn’t have much of anything. A few sets of comfortable clothes consisting of oversized jumpers and baggy pants, the serum in his veins making him resent the feeling of anything too scratchy or tight against his skin most days. He hung them in the closet against the same wall as the door. Some books, self-help and fantasy titles were now stacked on his bedside table. A journal, which he was told to keep by his therapist, was locked away in the desk that stood perpendicular to the large floor to ceiling window overlooking New York. He looked around, shifting in place. It had been a long while since he had somewhere to call his own, and as he took in the grey walls and floors, he realised his existence had been reduced to so few possessions he felt like he barely existed at all. 

Bucky unpacked his possessions quickly and efficiently, giving everything a neat and tidy place. His favourite copy of The Hobbit sat on a shelf above the bed right next to a framed picture of himself and Sam and a signed baseball from one of his favourite players. He carefully shelved his vinyls and set up his record player on the desk. He found that having music kept him calm when he was alone, stopping him from thinking too much and often helped him drift off to sleep when he was struggling. He stood, eyes giving the room a once over, then stashed his guns around the room in case of emergency.

Yelena shoved her boxes in a corner, closed the door to her room, locked it, and fell into her bed half asleep already. She had been on a mission the day before and her body ached immensely. She didn’t even have the energy to undress. Unpacking could wait. 

Ava stood quietly in her room, a box in her hands. She felt a little lost. Unsure. Why bother unpacking if she would likely have to move again soon anyway? She didn’t trust that she would be here long. Something would happen. She grabbed her essentials bag from the box and placed it by the bed, ready in case something happened and she had to run.

John unpacked slowly. Framed pictures of his wife and child, him and Lamar, himself receiving a medal of honour, all lining the shelves in his room. A few pieces of memorabilia from his days in the military were dotted around the room. He placed his shield by the door, standing and looking around with a nod.

Alexei had boxes upon boxes of stuff. Every piece of Thunderbolts memorabilia or advertising scattered on the desk in the corner. There were even some poorly made prototypes he had made for pitches to Valentina. Pictures of him, Yelena and Natasha, the thunderbolts football team and more sat on his now cluttered bedside table. His clothes half hung in the closet, half still in a box.

-

Shortly after they had finished settling into the new space, they were called to the briefing room, the next floor above. It was filled with tall, fancy looking glass offices and one big meeting room at the center. A few people in shirts and ties wandered around, seemingly organising files and still setting a few things up. They slowly stepped into the meeting space, each of them looking around, taking in their surroundings. Mel stood at the head of the table, papers in hand. A call comes through on the screen above her and Valentina’s name appears in cold white text. The atmosphere tenses in an instant as her voice pitches through the speakers.

“Good afternoon team..” She starts overly chipper, as if she hadn’t rangled all of them into this involuntarily. “I hope you’re settling into your new space well. But first, I wanted to make it abundantly clear how all of this will work. This is a new chapter — no handlers — just you and second chances.” She went on to explain. The team looked between each other with hardened gazes. Bob shifted nervously, his hands lost in the sleeves of his sweater as he fidgeted with the cuffs. His pulse roared louder than the speakers, a drumbeat behind his ribs. Ava stood, arms crossed, scowling at the screen. Bucky had his hands on his hips, jaw set as he looked at Mel who had the decency to look apologetic. John and Alexei stood, listening to Valentina as she continued.

“You have all been government-approved as a ‘Rapid Crisis Response Team’ with full autonomy. But, with that being said, I will be reviewing the cases before passing them on to you all. You will help people. You will be trusted.”

Ava and John both scoff at the last word, visibly tense and not believing it. After everything they had done individually, how could they be trusted? The public would undoubtedly be split and unsympathetic to the idea of a bunch of murderers being given praise and status and autonomy.

“Barnes, you will be acting field leader-” Bucky cuts in to protest, visibly uncomfortable with the idea. He was used to taking orders and making decisions when it was only himself to work with, not leading. She talked loudly over him and he took a deep breath, eyes closing, jaw clenching as she continued. “You are the most experienced person on the team with over 70 years in the field. You are the only correct choice and I trust that you will make the right decisions going forwards.” John didn’t look too pleased with the idea but being the good soldier he was, stood quietly, eyes locked on the screen still. Mel walked over to the group who were still standing by the door, handing them each a booklet of papers each and looking sheepish about the whole situation.

“Mel has some papers for you to read through. Terms and conditions, that sort of thing. You need to sign them before any operations can go forward. You have until tomorrow evening.” Valentina finished. Everyone opened their mouths to argue but the call cut before they could get a word in. Bob took his papers, offering a small smile to Mel and a ‘thanks’ as he started to flick through the handout. Bucky and John were reading through, shaking their heads and laughing but there was no humour in it. 

“A new chapter. Government approved but autonomous but also Valentina gets to decide what missions come through. Sounds about right.” Yelena complained. The team shared the same sentiment. Alexei was already looking for a place to sign.

“Well, we have some reading to do. Best get to it.” Bucky said with resignation. 

-

The residential level was silent. Each member of the team shut themselves in their respective rooms as they read over the documentation after the meeting. The space felt too big. Too empty. A subtle sense of isolation in the air. Bucky stood alone on the balcony, papers in hand. His eyes scan each page carefully for any risky clauses, anything that could get them stuck. Given everything, it was actually a pretty fair agreement. Funding from the government in return for service. He couldn’t help but remain suspicious. Working for corporations and institutions like this always came at a price.

He brought the glass of whiskey to his lips, sipping it and feeling the burn as it trickled down his throat. With a swallow, he looked out at the New York skyline. If anyone knew what to do here it would’ve been Steve. He pulls out his phone, scrolling through his contacts until he gets to Sam’s name. His thumb hovers over the call button, hesitating. He locks the phone and pockets it again, turning on his heel and heading back inside and to his own room. Footsteps echoed too sharply in the open space, like the building hadn't yet learned how to muffle secrets. He picks up a pen, then signs the last page, throwing the documents onto the desk before flopping into his bed. New team. New chapter. New government contract.

-

Time passed in rhythms. Read, sleep, train, wait. And then, the next call came.

Four weeks had passed since they had submitted the paperwork. They started to settle into their own routines of training, missions and preferred activities. Bob was often left to his own devices in the tower, alone whilst the others were on missions. Although he was practically indestructible, they couldn’t risk him losing control out in the field as Sentry or Void. So he settled into a routine of going to therapy, writing in his journal and keeping things mostly tidy around the residential level when he had the energy and motivation. He read and listened to music in his downtime, finding it helped keep him focussed on something other than his racing thoughts. And he was always there when the team returned. 

Today was no different. Bob’s cup smelled sharper than it tasted, more caffeine than flavor. Therapy, coffee, writing, coffee, dishes, tea, read. The elevator dinged twice, signalling someone had arrived. He peeked out from over the back of the chair he had claimed, overlooking the city as he read. Bucky and John were arguing about whether they should keep her. Bob frowned, hands trembling. The raised voices jarred him—but curiosity crept in Bob cupped the warm mug in his hands like it might steady him. Who was her. His eyes followed the men, still in their suits as they went to the kitchen, continuing to bicker as they grabbed a bottle of something hydrating. 

 “We should not keep her here, we have no idea what she is capable of.” John protested. Bucky had his eyes set on the other super soldier. “It stinks to high heaven, Bucky. We get sent to a HYDRA facility, told that there's a package we have to extract and we come home with her in stasis. Her file is encrypted. Valentina won’t give us answers-” John continues, rattling off the reasons he didn’t trust the whole situation. Bucky cut him off sharply.

“I knew her.” He replies. Voice cold, brittle. John pauses, stepping back slightly. Bob watches the whole thing, eyes wide, questions swimming through his skull. “I was tasked with taking her from her family when she was a kid and protecting her from facility to facility as the Winter Soldier while they did something to her. I was never told the details and I was moved somewhere else pretty quickly.” He admitted quietly. 

Bob could just overhear as he stood, silently shifting across the floor until he stood at the entrance to the kitchen. The elevator dings again, Yelena, Ava and Alexei stumbling out of the metal box. Yelena had a cut across her eyebrow and a bruise forming on her jaw. It was then that Bob noticed everyone looked worse for wear. More so than usual after a mission.

“What the hell happened out there?” Bob questioned, looking at them all. Alexei brushed past him to the kitchen. 

“We find new team member perhaps. Valentina seems interested in her, no?” The russian said as if it was the most casual thing on the planet as he grabs a pop tart from the cabinet by Bucky’s head, tearing open the pack and biting greedily into the sweet treat. “Mystery lady. Very pretty. Scary though.” He says the last part holding up a finger. The kitchen lights flicker. Alexei frowns and mumbles something about the continuous renovations.

“Who is she?” Bob asked, turning to Yelena and Ava who stood by him. He shifted, book still in hand, fingers keeping his page. He saw the look they all gave Bucky as he shrugged. 

“Valentina hasn’t given us further information. We have people looking into decrypting her file. We don’t know how long it will take. All I know is she was being used by HYDRA for some kind of testing.” He says, drinking from a bottle.

“She is surrounded by shadows in her little box.” Alexei chimes in, mouth half full. “Black as night, shimmering.” He describes, almost in awe. “They curl around her like protective shield.” Pieces of pop tart scatter from his mouth as he speaks. Yelena grimaces but says nothing.

“Maybe she’s like us. A pawn. We all know how it feels.” The blonde explains, shrugging and wincing as her shoulder moves slightly the wrong way. 

“Whatever she is, until we know more about her she's a danger. We should move her somewhere more secure, the detention level isn’t even fully operational yet.” John says, clearly trying to make everyone see sense in his riled state. Bucky sighs. “Like where, John? We don’t have anywhere to move her to. Valentina said to bring her here, that's what we did-” Bucky says, gesturing with his hands as another ding sounds from the elevator. “Speak of the devil and she may appear.” Bucky mutters under his breath. He stepped aside as the elevator doors opened. Valentina steps out into the space and approaches with a grin, Mel on her heels.

“Great job everybody. I hear it all went well?” She says a rhetorical question. Ava goes to speak.

“We had our arses handed to us before we could finally subdue the ‘package’.” She chastises, the last word punctuated by mimicking quotation marks with her fingers. “A little more clarification next time would be nice.” She spat. Valentina’s smile faltered for barely a second before she returned to normal.

“You did it. She’s here. And alive. That’s all that matters—for now.” The venom mixing with her sweet tone was not lost on the team. They all nodded. “Good. Her file should be decrypted shortly. How exciting.” She turns to walk back to the elevator but they all move to follow her, John grabbing her upper arm tight enough to stop her but not to hurt her.

“Hold on a second, we deserve some answers. Who is she? What is she? We-” She cuts him off. “As far as I know she has certain abilities that could be useful to us.” She snaps, sharp. “That is all you need to know.” She looks up at John with a sweet smile, her voice now sweet. John clenches his jaw, reigning in his attitude and letting go of her arm with a curt nod and they all follow her down to the detention level. 

It's half lit, most systems not fully in place yet. The shadows didn’t fall naturally—they pooled, like ink dropped on tile. The lights buzzed overhead, flickering in places like they were deciding whether to fail. Most of the power on the level was going directly to a small reinforced glass chamber. In it, lay a stasis pod with a small window. There were flickers of shadow beyond it, occasionally shifting to reveal her face, peaceful, asleep. A camera was locked onto the chamber, onto the pod. Monitors were set up, showing her vitals.

Bob took in the surroundings, having never been on this level. It was devoid of natural light, all the windows shuttered down. Half-built with construction materials all over the place, plastic hanging from light fixtures above and incomplete walls and floors. Wires of all colours curled like snakes across the floor to the desks with makeshift set ups surrounding the chamber, some of them connecting to the pod within. 

Scientists and doctors fluttered around the space chattering about her status, her vitals showing anomalies. She didn’t have any kind of super serum, but her DNA was surrounded by something dark, some kind of matter. They were scrambling to figure it all out. The word enhanced travelled like a whisper through the people working. Her vitals started to spike, as if she was starting to wake. 

He cautiously approached the monitor showing the camera focussed on the window of the pod, her face flashing intermittently between smoky shadows. For a moment he could have sworn they weren’t in the monitor at all, curling towards him from the LED screen. He blinked, then stared, curious, but on edge. The lights flashed, monitors flickering for a moment. Black. Then back on. A prickle ran up his spine as he met her eyes, the sensation of being watched by something not quite human. 

“She’s awake.”

[lokisivy]

Hi! Im a big fan of your work and I saw you were taking requests :) I had a smut fic idea in mind with young (before paralysis) Professor Charles Xavier x fem!student reader. Maybe you and Charles have had some flirty/sexual tension for the longest time until one night when everyone is in bed in their dorms, he reads your mind and notices that you are still awake, touching yourself and having just obscene thoughts of him till he comes into your room and takes matters into his own hands and the rest just be pure smut lmao 👀👀👀 keep up the good work!!

First of all, thank you soooo much for u liking my work. Second of all, it took me like 3 times to process what you requested. I'm ovulating rn, so I'm just so stunned.

Warnings: age gap, mind reading, slight breeding kink, reader is above 18, cursing. use of nicknames, p in v, unprotected sex, daddy kink, slight size kink. let me know if i missed anything

READERS POV

I'm a good student, I focus in class, get good grades, and am always polite to my professors. but there is this one class where I can't seem to focus no matter how hard I try.

Professor Xavier's class like right now I'm sitting in today's class what is the topic? DNA mutation blah blah blah.

he was looking and me oh his eyes were so blue like the ocean I could drown in them- Fuck he can read my mind.

GENATICS! FLOWERS! this isn't working he is smirking he knows what I'm thinking of. I bite my lips hard, trying to think of something else. His arms in that dress shirt sleeves rolled up his hands on my throat- FUCK think of something dark.

"Y/N read page 269 about Genetic mutations" the professor announced "Ahh-" fuck I didn't even have my book open shit. I used my telekinesis to open the page but it didn't I was fumbling for the page until Professor Xavier came behind me and opened the page for me.

"next time focus in class and refrain from having dirty thoughts about me," he whispers in my ears his sharp voice making me sudden goose bumps arise.

"Sorry professor. I promise that it won't happen again" I flirt looking up through my lashes and giving an innocent look.

he leans down to give me back my book "Good Girl."

With my powers, it was gonna be impossible for me to keep him out of my thoughts I was basically a magnet for him my mind like an open book for him. It doesn't matter because no matter what he was my teacher and nothing could happen between us even though I'd sell my soul to the devil for us to touch. and our age gap people would think he was a predator but at this point, I think I am the predator with the unholy thoughts I'm getting.

1:39 Am my clock read I couldn't sleep my interaction with Professor Xavier kept replaying 'having dirty thoughts about me in class'

'good girl' my hands snuck past my nightgown rubbing circles on my clit. imagining Charles bending me down the desk fucking me into oblivion 'Such a naughty girl only focusing on my cock and not the class' I imagined his rough thick accent. I pushed one finger inside me feeling the warmth it was relieving the pressure but not enough I needed more I needed him in every way possible.

3rd pov

You and Charles had always flirted with each other during office hours it was obvious in the being you were attracted to him he was very good-looking and muscular made women weak in the knee and because he could read any person's mind it made it easier for him to know when to flirt back he knew when you were sad or feeling under the weather but when the rumours started to spread around the acted tough with you in class you knew it was a show and it kept all gossip down it not like you were very young you came here after finishing high school to learn about your abilities and how to control them but you were still a student but something Charles never did was crossing the line until today he was awake trying to study a new students abilities. He wondered if you were awake and he was met but dirty thoughts that made his cock burst.

a growl came out of his throat "fuck me!" he adjusted his pants the thought of you touching yourself while thinking of him was gonna make him burst this second he started to palm his cock but could take anymore when your moans grew louder coming close to your orgasm.

Fuck it he thought and walked to your dorm room absolutely angry about the way you made him feel hands running through his hair he was gonna punish you for every time you made him hard, for every time your mischievous ass made him think about you.

He reached your room door knocking lightly not waking anyone and talked to you through your thoughts 'Open this door now!' He interrupted your fantasies making you rise in panic

Readers POV

Fuck Fuck FUCK! How did he read my mind it was 1 am everyone is asleep. I panic opening the door panting from how fast I got up.

"hey proff how you doing, bro?" I opened the door trying to act casual.

"Are you messing with me right now." It was more rhetorical than a question. He slammed the door, pining me against it.

"I-"

"What you thought you could be whore and touch yourself thinking about me and get away with it." He was frustrated both sexually and mentally "and why were you listening to my thoughts anyway I should be able to think what I want without having to worry about you getting into my head." I rolled my eyes. A part of me liked the thrill, but sometimes it was nice to have my thoughts to myself.

"You can block me out but you don't."

"It's exuasting. what you want me to masterbate and think about you and block you out." I sigh

"You don't know how hard it is for me to contain myself from letting all these thoughts of yours come true right now." He leans closer, his body towering in front of me.

Closer.

And Closer.

our lips so close but yet so far.

Till there was nothing but a fine line between our lips.

"Then make them come true." I barely got the words out.

"This is wrong." He voice became deeper

"I saved your life in Cuba professor." I whispered

"Fuck it." He said kissing me knocking the air out of my lungs, his hand come to cup my face our his toung fighting with mine. moving us towards the bed his hands roaming through my my silk PJs unbouting the buttons.

"Charles!" i moaned when his lips contact with my neck marking me plaming and squeezing my breasts, "please" I didn't know what I was pleading for but I needed the relief with the ache that was growing I was so wet aching for him to touch me.

" What darling, what do you want me to do?" he smirked, he knew what I wanted he could read my mind "I- I want you to touch me." I barely whispered my voice practricly unaudioble,"Louder darling?" he disaproved "I want you to fuck me charles like the way I was thinking about when I was touching me self on here." I run my hands through the sheets of the bed.

"Fuck my little whore wants me to fuck her," he growls, he grabs my neck and slams me down the bed causing a moan to leave me. His knee separated my legs from closing. he slid off the top I had on letting my breasts hit the cold air causing my nipples to harden. his thumb ran on my nipples rubbing and pinching. "Charles Please" I beg.

"Have I taught you nothing?" he kissed my chest slowly down to my breasts "Patience is how you achieve everything perfectly. "

"Charles Xavier if you don't fuck me right now I'll throw you against the wall." pull him by his shirt collar kissing him

"I may teach you science, but I think I need to teach you good manners." I rolled my eyes, ripping off his shirt. I stopped to take a moment to take in the sight of his toned muscles, running my fingers through his abs in awe. something inside him snapped at the way I looked at him. he immediately took down my shorts and unbuckled his pants.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked me,"Yes ever since Cuba Charles," I assured me, but something told me he was reading my mind to check if I had any doubts. "Good. Because the moment I start, I won't stop"

"Start first then we can speak about stopping because all I'm hearing is yap yap no acti--" I was interrupted by his fingers entering me all three of them. making me moan very loudly.

"Shh baby your classmates will hear you." he groans at the sight. "S-sorry."

his hands worked magic, and the rhythm was steady, hitting all the good points, building up the fire in my stomach fire that might explode any moment "Charles I'm so close." I whimpered at the loss of contact "Too bad your only gonna cum on my cock tonight" I looked down at his length it was big and thick and precum leaked out his hardness he positioned my left leg on his shoulder positioning himself and entering me at a slow excruciating pace stretching me into half.

"Fuck your so big." now I understood why he was taking it too slow his cock was gigantic that's why he walked around so confidently he is packing.

"Fuck you're tight." he groans the burn started to fade into pleasure "Charles please" probably begged for the millionth time tonight he was killing me. his pace started to grow faster "You are taking me so well darling." he praised me sending it to my pussy clenching on him tighter."Fuck Y/N!" he growls

"Charles faster" he complied going at an unforgivable pace the angle he fucked me in was make me feel all of his length he keeps hitting that spot that was about to explode any second now. my moaning became louder and harder to control probably making someone from outside hear us "Be quiet sunshine" he told me in between his rough thrusts he pinched my nipples lightly causing an overly loud moaning to come out he silenced me with a kiss and replaced his lips with his hand he gave me a warning look then removed his hands. my fingers running through his hair tugging on it tiny moans slipping out of him sending me over the edge with bliss and euphoria washing over me seeing starts in the back of my eyes. his cock twitching "Yes give me all your cum Daddy." I moaned my back arching scratches down his back. his hot warm cum filling my walls making me moan with pleasure it felt right. Charles put my legs down making me turn on my side, as I was about to sleep he grabbed my jaw. "Daddy is not done with you yet sunshine" he teases me.

"let's get you cleaned up sweetheart." he carried me to the bathroom

[xx-dinah-writing-xx]

A surprise for Kepus

Daemon Targaryen x niece!Targaryen reader smut 18+, mdni

warnings: praise, kissing, virginity loss, power play, dirty talk, claiming, marking, fingering, p in v, explicit language, unprotected sex, etc.

————

The fire in Daemon’s chambers burned low, casting shadows across the stone walls as he stepped inside. He paused, his sharp violet eyes narrowing slightly at the faint scent of jasmine and myrrh that drifted through the air. It wasn’t there when he had left earlier.

His gaze swept across the dimly lit room, and then he saw her.

She was draped languidly across his bed, her body covered only in swathes of silk the color of molten gold. The fabric barely concealed her curves, slipping off her hips and revealing tantalizing glimpses of bare skin. Her hair, wild and silver as the flames of Old Valyria, cascaded over her shoulders and down her back.

“Kepus,” she purred, her voice a smoky caress.

Daemon froze, the door shutting behind him with a quiet click. For the first time in years, he felt his breath catch. His niece—his fiery little dragon—lay before him, a vision of seduction and power. She was no girl tonight; she was a woman, and she had prepared herself for him.

“What is this?” he asked, though his voice lacked its usual sharpness. It was husky, his accent thickening as he took a slow step toward her. “What game are you playing, little dragon?”

She sat up slightly, the silk sliding down to pool at her waist, baring the soft swell of her breasts. Her skin glowed in the firelight, and she tilted her head, a wicked smile tugging at her lips. “No game, kepus,” she replied. “A gift. For you.”

His eyes darkened, a dangerous gleam flickering to life as he approached the bed. “A gift, you say?”

She nodded, holding his gaze as she reached for the small vial of oil beside her. Her fingers were steady despite the racing of her heart, and she poured a small amount into her palms, the scent of jasmine intensifying. “You’ve given me so much, Daemon,” she said softly, her voice dipping into reverence. “It’s only fair I return the favor.”

Daemon’s lips curved into a smirk as he sat on the edge of the bed, his leather-clad fingers tracing the edge of the silk that barely covered her thigh. “And you thought to do so like this?” he asked, his voice dripping with amusement and intrigue.

“Does it displease you?” she asked, her tone innocent despite the heat in her gaze.

Daemon chuckled darkly, his fingers tightening ever so slightly on her thigh. “Far from it,” he said. “But I hope you understand what you’ve invited, little dragon.”

“I do,” she whispered, leaning forward until her lips were a breath away from his. “I want this. I want you.”

Something in him snapped at her words. Daemon cupped her face, pulling her into a searing kiss that left her breathless. His lips were demanding, his tongue sweeping into her mouth as his other hand slid up her thigh, pushing the silk aside and baring her completely to him.

She gasped into his mouth, her hands fumbling with the ties of his tunic. Daemon chuckled against her lips, pulling back just enough to watch her struggle before shrugging the fabric off himself.

Her hands roamed his chest, tracing the planes of muscle and the scars that marked his skin. She poured the jasmine oil into her palms once more, her touch hesitant but eager as she began to smooth the oil over his shoulders and down his arms.

“You’re trembling,” Daemon remarked, his voice low and teasing.

“I’ve never done this before,” she admitted, her cheeks flushing.

He smirked, catching her wrist and pulling her hand to his lips. “Good,” he said, pressing a kiss to her palm. “I like knowing I’m the first to feel your touch.”

He leaned forward, his lips finding the sensitive spot beneath her ear as he whispered, “And I’ll be the last.”

Her breath hitched as his hands replaced hers, smoothing the remaining oil over her skin with practiced precision. His touch was firm yet gentle, his fingers gliding over her curves and igniting a fire that burned hotter with every passing moment.

“You’re a dangerous woman,” Daemon murmured as he pushed her back onto the bed, the silk forgotten as it slipped away completely.

“And you’re a dangerous man,” she replied, her voice steady despite the way her body trembled beneath him.

His grin was feral as he claimed her lips once more, his hands exploring every inch of her. “Then let’s see what havoc we can wreak together, shall we, zaldrys riña?”

Her hands gripped his shoulders as he kissed lower, trailing down to the hollow of her throat. His hands were not idle; they slid over her curves, pushing aside the flimsy silks that barely covered her. When his palm cupped her breast, his thumb brushed over the sensitive peak, drawing a sharp gasp from her lips.

“Drēje iā gevie zaldrītsos,” he whispered. Sweet, beautiful little dragon. His tone was filled with reverence, but there was an edge to it—a possessive hunger that sent a shiver down her spine.

Daemon shifted, his lips capturing the hardened peak of her breast as his hand teased the other. She arched into his touch, a soft moan spilling from her as his tongue flicked over her sensitive skin.

“Kepus,” she gasped, her hands tangling in his hair as he lavished her with attention.

He hummed against her, the vibration sending sparks of pleasure through her. “Say it again,” he demanded, his lips brushing against her skin as he spoke. “Let me hear you call me yours.”

“Kepus,” she repeated, her voice trembling with desire.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his hand sliding down her body to rest on her thigh. He pushed her legs apart gently, his fingertips teasing the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. “So eager for me,” he said, his tone both mocking and adoring. “Do you want me to touch you, zaldritsi?” Little dragon.

“Yes,” she breathed, her voice barely more than a whisper. “Please, Daemon.”

Daemon smirked, leaning down to kiss her again as his fingers found the slick heat of her core. He groaned into her mouth, his composure slipping as he felt how wet she was for him. “Perfect,” he muttered, circling her sensitive nub with deliberate slowness. “You’re perfect.”

Her hips bucked against his hand, a soft cry escaping her lips as he slipped a finger inside her cunt, stretching her gently. He added another, his movements slow and careful as he prepared her.

“You’ll take me so well,” he said, his voice thick with need. “I’ll make you mine tonight, fully and completely. Ruin you for every other man. I’ll go and fill your royal cunt with my heirs right in front of them if I have to.”

Her breath hitched at his words, a delicious thrill running through her as he pulled his fingers away and positioned himself between her thighs. His arousal pressed against her entrance, and she instinctively tensed.

“Relax,” he murmured, his hand brushing her cheek as he leaned down to kiss her softly. “I’ll be gentle.” His palm gently caressed her under belly, his fingers tracing soft patterns on her lower abdomen.

She nodded, her trust in him unwavering as he began to push into her. The stretch was intense, and she gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders as he paused to let her adjust.

“You’re doing so well,” he whispered, pressing kisses to her cheeks and forehead. “So tight. So perfect for me.”

When she nodded again, he began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate as he filled her completely. The discomfort faded quickly, replaced by a growing pleasure that made her cling to him, her legs wrapping around his waist.

“Feel that, little dragon?” he murmured, his lips brushing against her ear. “That’s me claiming you. Every part of you is mine now.”

“Yes,” she moaned, her body arching against his as she met his movements. “I’m yours, kepus.”

Daemon groaned at her words, his pace quickening as he chased his release. “Say it again,” he demanded, his voice rough with need.

“I’m yours,” she cried, her nails raking down his back as pleasure built to a crescendo within her.

Her release hit her like a wave, her body tightening around him as she cried out his name. Daemon followed moments later, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he spilled himself inside her.

He collapsed onto the bed beside her, pulling her into his arms as their breathing slowed. “Drēje iā zaldrītsos,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. Sweet little dragon.

She smiled, her eyelids heavy with exhaustion. “Was I everything you wanted, kepus?”

Daemon chuckled, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on her back. “You were more than I deserved,” he said softly. “But make no mistake—you’re mine now, and I’ll never let you go.”

The room was drenched in the heady scent of sex in a matter of seconds, the firelight casting shadows over their entangled forms. Daemon loomed above her once again, his silver hair falling into his face as he thrust into her with a feral intensity, but this time, it wasn’t just him claiming her. She was matching his fervor, leaving her own mark on the Rogue Prince, just as fierce as he was.

Her hands gripped his shoulders, nails digging into his skin with enough force to make him hiss through his teeth. The sting of it only fueled him more.

“Fierce little dragon,” he growled, his voice rasping as her nails raked down his back. “Do you wish to scar me? To brand me as yours?”

“Yes,” she gasped, her voice breathless yet resolute. “I want everyone to know you’re mine, kepus. Mine.”

A wicked grin spread across Daemon’s lips as he adjusted his angle, driving into her deeper, harder, eliciting a sharp cry from her lips. “Then mark me,” he challenged, his tone dripping with arrogance. “Mark me, zaldritsi. Make me remember this night every time I look in the mirror.”

She didn’t need to be told twice. Her lips latched onto the taut skin of his neck, sucking hard enough to bruise. She could feel his pulse beneath her mouth, fast and hot, as she worked to leave a deep mark just below his jawline.

Daemon groaned low in his throat, the sound guttural and raw as her teeth grazed the sensitive spot. His hips stuttered slightly, and he buried his face in her neck to stifle a groan, the sensation of her claiming him intoxicating.

“You’ll ruin me,” he murmured against her skin, though there was no trace of protest in his voice—only awe and pride.

Her tongue flicked over the bruise she’d left, her hands roaming over his body. She dug her nails into his back once more, drawing thin red lines down his skin as he moved inside her. The motion made him shiver, and his growl vibrated against her collarbone.

“Kepus,” she moaned, arching her back as she pressed her chest against his. Her teeth nipped at his shoulder this time, and when he didn’t stop her, she bit down harder, hard enough to leave a crescent-shaped imprint of her teeth on his pale skin.

Daemon hissed, his hips snapping forward harshly as his hand gripped her thigh. “Greedy little dragon,” he rasped, his voice dark with approval. “You’re taking all of me.”

She smiled wickedly against his skin, licking over the bite mark in a show of possession. “You’re mine now, kepus,” she whispered. “I’ll make sure no other whore even thinks of touching you.”

His response was a feral growl as his lips descended onto hers in a bruising kiss. His tongue tangled with hers, his hand fisting in her silver hair to hold her in place. When he pulled back, his lips were swollen, his pupils blown wide with lust.

“Look at me, zaldrīzes,” he said, his tone commanding. “Do I look like I want to taste another cunt after I’ve claimed yours?”

Her gaze roamed over him, and her breath hitched at the sight. His neck was littered with dark marks, her lips having painted a map of her possession across his skin. His shoulders bore red streaks from her nails, and his chest was dotted with faint bruises from where her teeth had nipped him.

Daemon looked wrecked, but in the most exquisite way. He was the Rogue Prince, the wielder of Dark Sister, the blood of the dragon—and now he was hers, claimed as surely as if she’d carved her name into his flesh.

“No,” she whispered, her voice soft but filled with satisfaction. “You’re mine, and everyone will know it.”

Daemon chuckled darkly, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to her lips. “Oh, they’ll know,” he said, his voice dripping with pride. “I’ll wear your marks like armor, little dragon. And when they see me, they’ll know the beast that claimed me is fiercer than any flame.”

As he began to move again, their passion reigniting, she knew this night would leave more than just bruises on his skin. It would leave a memory—a declaration that Daemon Targaryen was as much hers as she was his.

[pedrosyouknowwhat]

Breaking in (Part 2)

Summary: You relish on a silent prayer as Joel and his men break you in. (part 2)

Warnings: Dead dove do not eat, noncon, kidnapping, dark themes, unprotected p in v, after math of previous chapter (check warnings), rough oral (m receiving), rough sex, choking, rough protected p in v, restraints, blindfold, belly bulge (from cum), reader is on the thin line of fainting, mentions of somno, over all foul.

Pairings: Dark! Joel Miller x reader, Dark! Javier Peña x reader, Dark! Marcus Acacius x reader, Dark! Oberyn Martell x reader, Dark! Agent Whiskey x reader, Dark! Dieter Bravo x reader, Dark! Frankie Morales x reader

Series Masterlist

The strain on your biceps relieved, and you falles to your bruised side, pain shooting at your hip. You were too tired to even protest, as firm but not careless hands pulled you off the bed.

Was it over?

Of course it wasn’t, if you had learned something about this men it was that they were restless. You felt pressure on your shoulders pushing you on your knees, into the cold, jagged hardwood floor.

A hand fumbled with the blindfold, pulling the hair over the knot as brief streams of light peeked through. Someone held your locks in a makeshift ponytail as they rearranged the scrap of fabric.

“Open up, baby.” Javier softly commanded, and you knew what was happening. A wail left your mouth, fueled by shame, as you pried your lips open.

The distant sound of fumbling made your ears perk; a belt buckle a zipper, a groan, and the tap of a thick tip against your cheek.

You fought your body, as it begged you to keep your mouth shut, knowing better than doing it.

“Wider, and keep your tongue out.” Oberyn accented voice sang, so much lust recognizable as day.

You wetted your tongue at the back of your throat, easing the sting from your hollowed cries, and then you let your tongue slip past your lips, muscle tingling with unease.

A thick, calloused hand patted your cheek as a praise. And you shivered, recognizing the tell tale chill of a wedding ring.

Despite not having any other option, it all felt a hundred times worse. You tasted salty precum as the tip slid through your tongue, not as thick as the ones you have been impaled with, but thick enough to send tears slipping down your cheeks.

You didn’t need the blindfold, as your eyes clenched shut either way. He fed you more of his cock, and your throat seized, signaling he had reached the limit. Still, a hand came down to rub at your jaw, as if telling you to relax.

You did, and it was a mistake. The torturously slow pace made you gag, filling your mouth with an uncharacteristic easiness.

Relax. You told yourself, trying to concentrate in anything but the invading length being forced down your throat. It tastes like avocados. You remarked in your mind, flinching at the discomfort; your nose brushed against some stray hairs at the nest of his cock.

A body dropped behind you, slipping thighs between yours. You fell onto your hands, thighs aching and jaw struggling to accommodate the position.

The man before you fell to his knees, aiding your fall as his cock still remained alined in your mouth. You whimpered, feeling the lack of air getting to you. As you did, your throat seized around his cock, sending a burning sensation shooting through you.

The man behind you grabbed one bound hand at the time, hiding your thumb into your fist; you felt the gagging sensation diminish slightly. You faintly recalled hearing your friends do something like this.

But it wasn’t like that; they did it when their boyfriends begged them to do oral, you were doing it to an unknown man in a cabin you were being held hostage in.

The hands behind you slowly begun pulling you off the cock, and you spluttered, choking on the length as it stroked your uvula. Through ragged breathes, you felt something menacing pressing against your core; still clad in denim, yet thick and imposing.

He rolled his hips into you, needy, as a soft belly grazed the curves of your ass. You felt a growing pain in the hollow of your back, strained from the position. The hands became rougher, flesh spilling from the digits as they squeezed your ass. Your throbbing holes latched onto the coldness of the zipper and metal button. In an attempt to escape, you jerked towards the cock that nudged at the roof of your mouth.

Like a man on a mission, it spurred him to began alternating between deep thrusts and bobbing your head from the grip on your hair. You whined as your ass pressed obscenely onto the man behind you, who seemed to grip your shaking body onto his hard on.

You attempted to breathe through your nose, the tear-brought snot making it impossible. You felt your lungs falter, static for air as your chest heaved. His cock was so big and deep down your throat, your tongue lapped frantically along it’s curve, desperate to push it out.

His thrusts became wild, and you felt the knuckles if the men behind you graze your slit carelessly, fiddling with his jeans.

“Not your turn.” Joel chastised, and the man behind you protested in a low rumble. You were to gone to notice, delicate skin of your face chaffing against the zippered edges in front of you as his deep hollers filled your ears, engrained themselves.

He pushed two hands on the back of your head, and your cheek met the cold feeling of a big obnoxious belt buckle.

There was, your only salvation from choking on that cock.

Your bound hands reached to push against his thigh, the tense muscle fighting against you as his hands held you down. By some miracle, perhaps adrenaline rush, you managed to detach his cock from your mouth.

Your head forcefully slammed against his thigh, and you gave yourself a few seconds to regain your breath.

God, you could hear Joel getting angry, the heavy breathes almost indecipherable from the ones above you.

“Whiskey.” You blurted between gasps, assertively. You felt your dampening skin shine with sweat, and your ass sagged against the lap behind you.

“That’s my name, baby.” He drawled in the thick cowboyish accent that seemed almost comforting, almost reminiscing of movies with your dad as a kid.

A few more tears slipped down your rouged cheeks as he started again, fucking into your chapped lips with a renewed sense of pride, hips eager as he searched for his relief at the back of your throat. His thumb fiddled with the fabric, light painful against your adjusting eyes.

Someone gave a low growl, as a threat, but he simply charmed him with a deep sensual voice. “Just wanna see this pretty eyes as I cum down her throat, already knows it’s me fucking her slutty mouth.”

Barely above a whisper, but enough to send you squirming as he tilted your head up. His chest bulged from the thin button up shirt, sweat wetting the fabric along his collar bones as his pink tongue slipped out of his lips to touch the bottom of his well groomed mustache; God, he still had the damned hat tipping to the side.

His chocolatey warm eyes gawked at you underneath concentration scrunched brows, tan skin beaded with sweat.

As if the mere sight of you was enough, you felt his cock twitch deep inside you, hot and bitter cum splurging into your open mouth.

You coughed, hard, but he held you down. His cock begun to soften, and he still wouldn’t let go.

“Swallow.” He commanded, noticing how your eyes peered at him pleadingly. You did your best to contract around his cock, and he hissed at the touch of your teeth.

He pulled out, and you wheezed, small drops of saliva and cum landing onto his thighs.

The forbidden friction of your core against the warm denim had made you forget the pain, along with the brutal mouth-fucking. Loosing balance, you rested your face of Whiskey’s knees, regaining an ounce of composure as you stared blankly into the space between the bed and the floor.

You whimpered, feeling the man behind you grope at your ass, wiggling back on his knees to examine your used holes.

The cover fell around your neck as he hauled your body over the edge of the bed, feet scrambling for support. Your head reeled, exhausted, as your face was shoved mere inches from where the mattress had stained with god-knows-what.

You barely registered the shuffling of clothes before a hot cock forced its way in, jerking your body taut up against the bed from in instinct.

Your eyes widened and your mouth dried, a pathetic cry itching at your throat.

“Fuck!” The voice gritted in your ear. “love fucking a cum-filled hole.”

You recognized him, but you were too busy gripping onto the mattress, a weak attempt to crawl away that was as futile as begging for mercy.

“Dieter!” Someone barked at him, reprimanding him for ruining the mystery of the game.

Your cheek scratched against the mattress as he pounded you, a horrible sense of deja vu over and over again. This very same scene but on top of the kitchen counter, his movements brutal, invasive and needy.

“She’s too cock drunk to hear.” Dieter excused, and his ringed fingers skimmed your sides before curling his body over yours.

Your fluttering eyes rested on him, cursing yourself for thinking him handsome. The dark rugged hair, disheveled, as his dark rimmed eyes took delight in your weakness.

The little metal hoop in his ear gave a slice of relief on your burning skin, and you began feeling suffocated; by the way the thin yet existing layer of pudge in stomach pressed against your back, thick shoulders dwarfing you.

You were balancing on the thin line between life and death, or at least you felt like that, eyes begging to be closed, to let go, to surrender. But a burning part of you feared that, unknowing what they could do one you could no longer move, one your eyes could hold no burden upon them.

“Come on baby, you gotta tell me who’s fucking you,” Joel jolted you awake, and you fought your eyelids from fluttering. He stood by the side of the bed, hands propped on his narrow hips.

Your hands formed fists against the mattress, giving you an ounce of dignity as Dieter humped into you.

You seethed, teeth clenching together. “Dieter.”

Joel gave you a self-satisfied grin, signaling something at Dieter with a flicker of his eyes.

You blacked out, feeling your stomach bulge with the thick amount of cum pumping into your body. Thoughts stopped, the only thing in your mind being the sound of blood rushing to your ears.

“Fucking. Perfect. Whore.” He punctuated with each wild thrust of his hips. You lost the will to cry, feeling so utterly raw; as if you had been skinned to the tender bits and poked at, your faith wavered immensely as your eyes stared lifelessly into the brownish and yellowish stains of the mattress.

And as soon as it all left, it came back as soon as Dieter pulled his softening cock out of you; cum spilled obscenely onto your thighs. Your body was rigid, like an animal playing dead to prevent being killed.

The pregnant pause lingered in the air, the only sound being the former actor’s loud and obnoxious pants.

As if on your last breathe, you begged one more time; “Shower.”

@tateypots @koshkaj-blog @paink1llerf0rm1ller @oldloganslittleslut @purple-fig @megjohnston23 @katwriteshardy @natalieispunk

@puduvallee @pedrofan @rant-throw-away @jalepp

[lucydixon]

Casual pt.2

This is part 2 of my casual miniseries. You can find part 1 here

Summary: Flashback to the night you met Faust. Warning: NSFW, Oral Fem!Receiving, Unprotected P in V, Hand Stuff, Size Kink, Praise Kink (Always), Casual sex that doesn't feel all that casual.

You found yourself standing in a dark, crowded venue with one of your friends, unsure what the hell you’d been thinking when you’d agreed to come along. 

It really wasn’t your scene, but you had to admit that there was something about all the long-haired, pretty men dressed up in leather and chains. It was hard not to stare at everyone as you got your bearings, following her through the crowd. 

You couldn’t care less about the band on stage, more invested in the sea of metalheads. 

A tall boy with dark hair and full lips, who looked about your age, caught your eye, and as if he could feel you staring, he turned his head and met your gaze. 

You didn’t waver and kept staring, trying to determine what colour his eyes were under the red and blue stage lighting. 

He looked a bit startled by the attention, but immediately seemed interested. 

You gravitated towards one another throughout the first song of the set, stealing glances every few seconds. 

“Do you wanna get outta here?” You shouted over the loud music as soon as you were standing next to eachother, nodding towards the door. 

The tall stranger nodded eagerly, show be damned. 

You mouthed a ‘goodbye’ to your friend, who only rolled her eyes, and led the way to the door.

“I’m not looking for anything serious.” You felt the need to say the second you stepped out into the cool night air, and could tell right away just from the look on his face that he was taken aback but trying not to let it show. 

He looked a lot softer in the light. 

Sweeter. 

You could see now that his eyes were a beautiful chocolate brown, not unlike those of a puppy. 

He really didn’t seem the type to be capable of having a one-night stand, but you wanted to leave, and he was cute, so you ignored the voice at the back of your head screaming that it was a bad idea. 

“This isn’t a date, and there won’t be another one. I just need you to understand that.” You told him seriously. “I don’t want a boyfriend or anything.” 

“That’s fine.” He muttered unconvincingly, “I can do that.” 

It was the first time you’d heard his voice. It was dark, laced with a heavy Norwegian accent and the false confidence of a man who was about to fall head over heels in love. 

“Okay,” You nodded anyway. 

The second you got in through the door, he was all over you, which only surprised you a little. 

You’d made it painfully obvious why he was there, standing in the entryway to your apartment, in the first place, which took a lot of guesswork out of it. 

It was clumsy at first, all teeth and fumbling, unsure hands. You could feel his cheeks burning under your palm when you cupped the side of his face with one hand, gently guiding him to slow down a little. 

You led the way to a steady rhythm, and grabbed his wrists to guide his hands to your ass, where they settled. 

He was tall enough that he was hunched over you. 

You didn’t have to tell him to pick you up and slam you against the wall. He just did it, but gently. 

You felt his bulge press up against you and swallowed the groan that fell from his lips, offering a moan in exchange. 

The sound seemed to send him into a frenzy, and those clumsy, obviously inexperienced hands grew confident and sure. One stayed on your ass, keeping you up against he wall, while the other rested on your hip, fingertips digging into the exposed skin between th when of your shirt and the waistband on your jeans, as he rocked into you, grinding himself against your clothed heat. 

Even through all the layers, you could both feel it so intensely.

You were the first to peel off an article of clothing. 

Your coat hit the floor first, then your top. 

He stared blatantly at your lace covered tits and palmed one of them, groaning into your mouth while you helped him get his leather jacket off. 

“My room is down the hall,” You muttered into his mouth, pointing vaguely in the direction he was expected to go in. 

Immediately, he pushed off the wall, and you yelped, grabbing onto his shoulders so he didn’t drop you. You couldn’t help the girlish giggle that fell from your lips when you felt the rumble of laughter in his chest. 

“It’s not funny!” You pouted, but he could hear the smile in your voice. “I thought you were gonna drop me.” 

“I would never drop you.” He ducked down to press his lips to your bare shoulder, and your breath hitched in your throat. 

It had been such a small, simple act, but it had felt more intimate than anything you’d ever experienced up until that point. You were used to getting tossed around, ripping each other's clothes off. Not being carried around by tall strangers with gentle hands and soft lips. 

And you’d liked it, too. 

Despite yourself, you had. 

Shit. 

He found your bedroom with very little help from you, and set you down in the centre of the bed, looking down at you in awe. 

Your lacy, black bra seemed to have his attention, and you happily ached your back to unclasp it, sliding the straps down your arms slowly as you pulled it off. 

“You waiting for something?” You asked after tossing it across the room, looking up at him with mischief in your eyes. “Strip.” 

He didn’t need to be told twice and eagerly took off his boots, fumbling with his studded belt as he kept his gaze locked on you. 

You’d kicked off your shoes and shimmied out of your jeans with a surprising amount of grace while he struggled to keep himself upright, stumbling around like a baby deer to get his pants off. 

You laughed softly at the pure, unadulterated look of adoration on his face when he finally managed to strip himself down to his briefs. 

The laughter died in your throat when you glanced down at the massive bulge beneath the thin fabric. 

“Holy shit” You breathed, sitting up to gawk at it while he stood there with pink cheeks. “C’mere.” 

A little awkwardly, he crawled into bed with you and settled in between your thighs, looking down at you and the crazed look in your eyes with a slightly furrowed brow. 

“Could kill someone with that thing,” You muttered, rolling your hips into him from below, smirking softly when you got a sharp inhale and fingers digging into your hip in response. 

“We don’t have to uh-” His eyes widened slightly, as if he though the size of his cock was going to stop you from climbing him like a tree.

“Not what I’m saying.” You kissed him hard, “Not even a little bit.” 

Your fingers threaded through his hair, and you used your grip on it to guide his mouth towards your neck, where he enthusiastically trailed sloppy, open-mouthed kisses, swirling his tongue over your skin like some kind of expert. 

Your head fell to the side, and soft, breathy sounds started spilling from your lips. 

The sounds seemed to send him into a frenzy, and spurred him to trail further down until his mouth was latched around your nipple, rolling his tongue over it while his hand palmed your other tit. 

Your back arched, pressing them further into him, and he groaned into your skin. 

“So fucking pretty.” He muttered, looking up at you through hooded, lust-filled eyes, continuing his path down your body until his head was in between your legs. You could feel warmth in your cheeks at the compliment. It was so simple, but yet again, he’d managed to make it feel so intimate.

His eyes were still locked on yours as he licked a strip up your folds, tongue catching on your clit at the end. 

All you could do was gasp and hold onto his hair, beyond surprised by how much more intimate it felt to be staring into his eyes like that. You’d never had a hookup maintain eye contact like that, and could count on one hand how many had eaten you out. 

He paid attention to the sounds you made and the way your body twitched, depending on where he focused his efforts, and very quickly had you approaching your peak. 

You were panting and grinding your hips against his mouth. He took it as a sign that you wanted more. 

Your back arched so far when he eased a long, calloused finger into your heat that you felt like you were levitating. 

The sounds coming out of you at that point were near pornographic. 

Within seconds, you were seeing stars and had to throw your head back, breaking the eye contact you’d maintained for a shocking amount of time. 

You came hard, and he watched in awe as your entire body went still and your mouth hung open in a silent, breathless scream while he slowed his movements and let you ride out your orgasm. 

You all but dragged him back up to meet your lips once you caught your breath, tasting yourself on his tongue as you moaned into his mouth. 

“You’re dangerously good at that,” You muttered into his mouth in between hot, open-mouthed kisses. “You know that?” 

“Really?” He sounded surprised and pulled back to stare at you, eyes full of uncertainty. 

“Yeah, baby.” You scoffed, brushing your fingertips over his burning cheeks, chuckling softly at the obvious shock of hearing you call him ‘baby’. “Got me off, didn’t you?” 

His entire body shuddered when he felt your soft hand wrap around his length. A soft moan tore its way out of his throat, and he immediately looked embarrassed by it. 

“Don’t hold back on me, now.” You commanded, smirking softly at the way he squirmed under your stare. “I wanna hear all those pretty sounds. Got it?” 

He nodded immediately. 

“You gonna fuck me, pretty boy?” you cooed, rubbing his weeping tip through your folds “Split me open with that big beautiful cock of yours?” 

He was very obviously not used to dirty talk and groaned, hips bucking forward involuntarily as he again nodded eagerly. 

He made a broken, breathy sound when he sank into your dripping cunt while you bit down on his shoulder, unable to conjure a sound with the way it knocked the breath out of you. 

The stretch was overwhelming. 

He stopped halfway, and you were grateful he did. 

“You okay?” He asked, sounding like he was struggling not to just keep going. 

“Yeah.” You gasped into his shoulder, “Maybe just give me a second?” 

“Am I hurting you?” His eyes widened slightly, looking horrified. “Should I stop?” 

“Just,” You choked out a laugh. “You’re just really big. I need to get used to it. Just don’t move for a minute.” 

When you gave him the okay and he started moving again, he cradled your body beneath him like you were something precious, staring into your eyes the entire time while muttering curses under his breath. 

His pace was slow, but he was going so deep with each thrust that it made your toes curl and your breath hitch in your throat. 

The eye contact was doing things to you. You could feel every inch of him stretching your walls, down to the veins protruding from his shaft. 

It was intoxicating. 

“Fuck” He exhaled shakily “feels so fucking good-” 

You hummed in agreement, unable to much much else. 

He was fucking you stupid without even having to try.

You rolled your hips into him and gasped sharply when his hips bucked forward, ramming into your cervix. 

“Shit. Sorry” He pulled back, but you wrapped your legs around and brought him back, reaching for his face. 

“Do it again.” You told him, staring into his soul. 

“Are you sure, I-” 

“Do it.” 

He complied hesitantly and watched you writhe beneath him. “That’s good.” You whined, “Really fucking good, keep going.” 

That seemed to sell it for him, because before you even knew what hit you, he was rutting into you and buried his face in the side of your neck to muffle the breathy gasps and groans falling from his lips while you just made shapeless sounds of pleasure, rolling your hips into him with every thrust. 

Both of your breaths picked up, and the pitch of your cries grew higher.

You could feel yourself teetering on the edge of bliss, already pulsating around his glistening length every time he sank into you fully. 

The muttered curse words, although you couldn’t understand half of them, were all it took to pitch you into your second orgasm of the night. 

You made a choked, gasping sound when you clamped down around him and you’d swear up and down that he’d fucking whimpered into your skin. He sped up his efforts until he was pumping you full of cum. 

He rolled off of you almost immediately and you winced at the empty feeling his cock had left behind. He pulled you right into his chest, like you were right where you belonged, regardless of the fact that you’d only known one another for a few hours. 

Lying there, wrapped up in his arms afterwards, felt strange at first. 

Usually, you’d be tripping over yourself trying to get whoever was in your bed out the door, but no one had ever held you like this. The way his fingertips were trailing up and down your bare arm was enough to make you shudder. 

And then he kissed the crown of your head. 

So soft and tender that it made your chest hurt. 

It almost felt nice. 

You didn’t have the heart to send him home, so you didn’t. 

That night, you fell asleep wrapped up in his arms, feeling warm and safe.

When you woke up, you blinked at the bare chest you were using as a pillow for a solid half hour, trying to talk yourself into getting up and kicking him out. 

When you finally did, he got himself dressed without a complaint, but hesitated at the door. 

He ducked down and kissed you softly, cradling your face in his hands. 

“Do you think I could maybe get your number?” He asked with pink cheeks. “I had a good time last night.” 

You almost shook your head, but the big, chocolate brown eyes boring into yours with a glimmer of hopefulness had you frozen in place.  

Fuck. 

How the hell were you supposed to say no to that face? 

“Yeah,” you sighed, unable to help the little smile tugging at your lips when he immediately smiled goofily at you. “You can have my number.” 

Despite your better judgment, you grabbed a piece of paper and a pen and wrote out your phone number before folding it up and handing it to him. 

He gave you one last peck on the lips and a fleeting look before ducking outside with a smile on his face.

As soon as you shut the door, you groaned and pressed your forehead against it. 

What the fuck were you doing?

Despite wanting to see him again, you were also still very sure that a life of monogamy wasn’t for you. You had no interest in settling down or having a boyfriend, and you had a feeling that he did. 

He was too soft for the hookup life. 

When the phone rang an hour later, you did not have the slightest inkling who it might be. 

“Uh- hey, it’s Faust.” A raspy, yet quiet voice spoke from the other end of the line. 

“Faust?” Your brows pulled together. 

“Yeah, from last night?” He sounded nervous. 

It wasn’t until then that you realized that you hadn’t even asked for his name once. 

“You mean from an hour ago?” You raised a brow, sounding amused. 

“Can I see you again?” He blurted, unable to contain it any longer. 

“Look, Faust,” You frowned, “I told you last night, I’m not looking for a boyfriend.” 

“I know.” 

“I just don’t want to give you the wrong idea,” You sighed softly. “If you come over again, it’s just gonna be to fuck. You do realize that, right?” 

You heard the slightly sharp inhale on the other end. 

“That’s fine.” 

He sounded just as unconvincing as he had the night before when you were leaving the bar, and really, you should’ve ended things there, but you just couldn’t. 

“Then yeah.” You cracked a little smile. “You can see me again.”

Dividers made by @saradika-graphics

MDNI Banner Made by @cafekitsune

GIF By @lords-of-mayhem

Masterlist

[nakedinthetrees]

can i ask for miles Quaritch x reader please add some smut hehehehe mother

Hey love! Thank you so much for your interest in making a request. While I appreciate it, I am not currently taking requests for new stories. I do however have a story I wrote in the past that may be to your liking.

This prompt was from @pandoraslxna's Kinktober event in 2023. I hope you enjoy!

KINKTOBER 2023

DAY 10 Knife Play

Avatar!Quaritch x Na'vi!Reader

WARNINGS: 🔞MINORS DNI🔞, SMUT including knife play, dub-con themes, p in v/intercourse between male and female participants, riding, grinding, slight blood and violence, hate fucking.

Na’vi word key: 

Vrrtep - Demon Ngeyä fahew lu kewong - Your smell is alien  Txavä’ - disgusting

Like a Palulukan stalking in the shadows you moved carefully and precisely through the Pandoran night, watching as the strangely clothed Avatar below you studies his surroundings. He was lost, separated from the rest of his group, which unaware to his knowledge, has already been dealt with by the rest of your hunting party. The sounds of gun fire had distracted you from your previous task, leaving your blood boiling when you discovered the bodies of a pack of viperwolves, mercilessly slaughtered and you would not let these invaders of your home go without a fight. Your fangs ground against each other at the way this demon walked around the forest as if he were a God. Little did he know that tonight, you would put the fear of just that into his skull.

Just as he moved to the position directly below you, your body sprung into action leaping from the branch above with your hunting knife drawn, a silent silhouette painted by the streams of moonlight breaking through the branches and leaves. Your sudden weight sent the faux Na’vi to the ground with a loud grunt, making him plant face first into the forest floor. Straddling his back, you securely grasp his kuru, giving it a harsh tug, to which his head followed suit, screaming in agony, leaving his neck open and vulnerable. Without hesitation your arm wraps around to his front, pressing the blade directly against his throat, a menacing hiss spilled off your tongue like venom, “Vrrtep…”. You were utterly fuming, your skin hot to the touch. You could end him right now and be done avenging your fallen brethren of the forest, but that seemed too easy. You wanted him to suffer.

Adding more pressure to the blade you begin to slide it up from his throat to his jaw, “You invade our home, uproot and kill for your own personal greed…” your native accent is heavy as you speak the alien tongue of your enemy, continuing to drag the blade up to his cheek, leaving behind a small trail of blood as it just barely rips at his skin. “Yet you are foolish to think that there would not be consequences.” You seethe into his ear, pressing the blade down with more pressure before quickly swiping at his cheek, leaving a generous cut across his skin. The man below you hisses in pain at the action, before taking a few breaths to stabilize himself, “If you’re gonna intimidate me, you may wanna cut a bit deeper, doll.”.

Without even a chance to retaliate, your captive bucks his head back at full force into your nose, causing you to release his kuru without even thinking of your actions, as you fumble backward in a haze. In an instant the avatar is attempting to pin you down to the ground himself, trying to disarm you in the process, yet failing as you quickly come back to your senses and push back on him in defiance, trying to reclaim your earlier position to pin him below you. As the two of you roll around on the forest floor, the forests’ bioluminescence illuminating your bodies, your heart feels as if it’s pounding in your ears as the adrenaline spikes through your body. There was something about this struggle that was almost exciting to you, fighting him to end as the dominant and more powerful opponent in the end. You let out a strained cry when an aggressive tug at your kuru sends you curling up on the ground, just with enough time for the man to restrain you beneath him, yet you are quick to replace your blade against his throat, which earns you another tug at your braid.

“Feisty little kitten aren’t yuh? I can't tell if you want to kill me or fuck me.” He chuckles darkly looking between the two of you to your bare intimates, noticing how your tweng had been moved to the side during the struggle, the bulge in his pants now pressing eagerly against it. You wanted to feel sickened by his response, the revelation that he was turned on by this almost made you want to vomit… almost. If it weren’t for the fact that your rush of adrenaline had gotten you worked up to the point where you had practically soaked through your loincloth, enough to make it slip nearly clean off of you. Your initial instinct was to press the blade more firmly against his throat, yet the simple action seemed to draw out another condescending chuckle from the avatar, “I already told you; you’re gonna have to press a little harder than that. Don’t be shy… let me feel it.”.

Somehow you are compelled to obey, applying further pressure to his throat watching as his skin indents around it. If he were to make any sudden movements of his head, the blade would surely slip, resulting in a nasty cut, “That’s a good, kitty.” He growls in a hoarse, almost seductive way, or maybe that’s just how your ears perceived it . Suddenly and silently, as if to test the waters, the man slowly brings his hand from the side of your head to glide his thumb over your lips, dragging them down slightly, before pushing inward to prod at your teeth. You can only stare up at him with a confused expression, not sure of what else to do other than slowly open your mouth, allowing his thumb entry to slide over your tongue, pressing down on it just enough to manifest a noticeable sensation. “Ha… who knew a feral little brat like you could be tamable?” His words enabled you to gently bite down on his thumb as you bare your fangs at him, letting out a muffled growl.

“Not so tame yet, hm? Why don’t we change that, cupcake?” He smirks, shifting his body weight to press his pelvis against your own, wetting the crotch of his pants with your slick, as his bulge begins grinding against your clit. Your teeth bite down harder on his thumb before progressively easing up, letting a soft whine escape you. Your mind was completely conflicted. You didn’t even know this man’s name, and here you were beneath him, letting him grind into you, a thumb in your mouth, while his other hand still firmly held your kuru. There was something about the look in his eye that was irritating enough to make you both hate him yet want to dominate him at the same time. Your eyelids gently flutter as you close your lips around his thumb, suckling at it hard, being sure that your gaze never faltered from his own.

An appeased groan rumbles in his chest as he watches you, “Naughty little kitty… you want more, hun?” He purrs, pressing his erection harder against your clit. Although the words were familiar to you, your own failed you, only being able to nod in response. The avatar lets out a gravely chuckle as he gently removes his thumb from your closed lips with a pop, before shifting it down to the belt on his camouflaged pants, undoing its latch masterfully, then hastily unbuttoning the garment. You had seen the contraption of a zipper before on a scientists backpack before and the eager fingers of your free hand moved toward it to assist in removing the garment faster, only for a rough tug to be performed on your kuru, “Nuh-uh-uh.. no touching, pretty thing.” He orders before not so aggressively swiping your hand away to finally unzip the garment himself, shimmying them down his hips enough, along with his undergarment to allow his cock to spring free.

Your chest rose and fell with excitement as you stared at it, absentmindedly licking your lips and spreading your legs as much as you could beneath him. “You gonna behave for me, little pup? You listen to me and I’ll let you have it, but I don’t want any games.”. You give another more eager nod, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth. With a hum of approval the avatar takes his hand off of your braid to use it to guide your hip, while his other hand sits at the base of his cock as he pushes his hips forward to stroke his tip along your folds teasingly. Finally free from your restraints, your hips suddenly buck up into him, using the force of your knife to force him into submission as you roll over on top of him, his cock now sitting snugly between your pussy lips against his lower abdomen, “You will be the one listening to me, vrrtep.” You growl, lifting your hips enough for his cock to stand tall in the air, before lowering yourself onto him, surprisingly sliding into you with ease despite the lack of prep.

His four fingered hands hastily grab onto your hips as you sink down on him, pinching his brows together as your wetness takes him in completely. “Ack-! E-easy there, kitty. Ahhh god damn…” he curses as you begin to slowly roll your hips experimentally, moving your knife from his neck, down his collarbone, watching as his blue skin splits with small beads of blood. “Haah.. ahh~ Ngeyä fahew lu kewong. Txavä’.” You moan with a bit of a growl as you scrunch up your nose at his intrusive scent while beginning to bounce on his cock, rolling your eyes back as it’s tip pushes against the opening of your cervix perfectly. “S’That so? Hard to tell how disgusted you are by it from the way you’re taking this alien’s cock so eagerly, darlin’.” He says between groans, bucking his hips up into suddenly, loving the view of you arching your back, nearly falling forward onto his chest, before your hand reaches out to stop you. Pleasure coursed through your core like blazing lava, your armed hand dragging the blade of your knife down his chest, tearing a very much present line down his shirt until reaching the top of his bulletproof vest, bouncing on him with more vigor, causing the recom to have to swallow his own spit before leaning his head back to let you take control momentarily. “Oh fuck yeah, take this cock baby- raah~.” He moans huskily, his grip on your hips being used to shove you down onto his cock as he thrusts assertively into you from below, making you take every inch of him over and over again.

Your moans echo off the surrounding trees, unable to control your voice with the way your tight, slick walls are hugging his cock just right, making your climax approach with an impossible speed. You lift your knife slowly finally giving his skin some relief, although crimson trials paint his neck and chest dutifully. Raising the knife higher and higher, the more the knot in your core tightens by the second, before a particular brush of his tip against the gummy parts of your cunt has your pussy fluttering around him gleefully. Just as you release your essence on his cock, you bring the knife down swiftly into the chest plate of his vest. “Holy shit!” He exclaims, as his heart doubles in pace before matching its rhythm with his thrusts. Just the adrenaline rush he needed before hastily lifting you off of his cock and releasing his load onto his pelvis.

Your gaze was locked onto the hunting knife semi-lodged into his armored vest, your mixed pants fill the still air as you each attempt to gather yourselves. The severity of the situation then allowed itself to slip into the forefront of your mind. This was still the enemy, and if he weren’t dealt with now, he and his group of demons would only succeed in further wreaking havoc on your home. Your grip on your knife tightened, fist shaking as your nerves became tense. The recom watched you cautiously as he noted the sudden shift in your expression. In an instant your knife is yanked from the confines of his vest, now moving to your feet to stand over him, eyes finally meeting his in that instance. His own eyes showing a similar confliction as you sheath your weapon in its holster across your bosom.

“Do not think because I spare you today, demon that I accept your presence in my home. This is a mercy that will not be granted twice… use it wisely.” The warning rang loud and clear in the recom's head as you turn away with those being your final words to him, unsure of if or when the two of you would ever cross paths.

If there are any more of my past stories you'd like me to post, let me know! I'll try to get in the habit of posting previous stories of mine once a week.

tag list:

@pandoraslxna, @minnory

[iadoreoldermen]

Day 1: Shower sex

Pairing: fem!reader x Lando Norris (first person pov)

Word count: around 1.5K

TW: unprotected p in v sex (wrap it before you tap it guys!), oral (m receiving), smut smut smut, fluffy Lando at the end, slight angst if you squint.

A/N: literally something I would love to experience, hope you enjoy it! MDNI

Third place again. It felt like the whole world was trying to rip my heart into tiny pieces. Looking up at Lando I could see the smile on his face, but I knew it wasn't a real one. He took off in such a great place and now this.

I made my way back to the garage as fast as I could to ask where he was. Passing Oscar I could see defeat in his eyes so I hugged him tight, feeling him relax a bit. After the hugging I patted his back in sympathy and made a beeline towards Lando's driver's room.

Knocking on the door I spoke. "Lan, are you in there?" Before I could say anything else, the door was pulled open by him, facing me with glazed eyes. I gently pushed him in so we could fully be in his room. I grabbed his hand and led him to the couch and he sat down immediately.

"Baby you did amazing, why do I see tears in your eyes?" I asked concerned.

"I could've, no, I should've done better, I don't get how I cannot get a win at all." He sniffled and as I was still standing I pulled him close so his head was resting against my tummy.

Patting his hair gently I whispered "Your time will come Lan, you did your best, we both know that."

"Yes but still, I just-I don't-ugh I just don't know what else to do, I mean, I know the strategy isn't the best but still." He trailed off, I knew it was time to head back to our hotel.

"How 'bout we go back to our room, shower, eat, rest and you can tell me all about it?" I suggest and I feel his head tilting up, looking at me.

He whispers "That sounds good" and stands up to hug me properly.

The ride back to our hotel went by fast, Lando driving with his hand resting on my knee and I felt him relax a bit. Making our way up some stairs we finally made it and after fumbling with the key for long enough we were inside.

"Alrighty, set some comfy clothes out for us while I start the shower please darling." I said as I moved around in the bedroom to find our towels.

"Okay hun" he said with that gorgeous accent of his.

The shower was ready and I ushered him in the bathroom in only my underwear. "Tell me if you're done okay?"

"Would you please shower with me?" He looked at me with the biggest eyes known to mankind.

"Of course, give me just one second." I said whilst stripping. "Alright, let's get you cleaned."

Washing each other off I could feel him staring at me but I payed no mind, he was tired after all. I got behind him and massaged through his thick muscles and heard him groan in painful pleasure. After I've done that I got back to work on ridding him from the champagne leftover from his abs and he leaned his head on my shoulder. I felt him gasp in my neck so I asked him "What is it baby?"

"Need you." He nearly whimpered.

"How do you need me?"

"I need your mouth..please." He murmured and looked down at me as I got on my knees in front of him. Stroking his thighs I could finally taste his sweet cock, licking him softly and he tangled his hand in my hair, not to control me, just to have something to ground himself. Grabbing his cock I take his tip in my mouth and the whiny moan he let's out tells me I'm doing a good job. I take a big breath through my nose and take him down my throat. The response I get is one of the most beautiful moans I've ever heard. So beautiful, I have to sneak the hand that's not holding the base of his cock to rub my aching pussy to get some relief.

"Oh baby you must be drippin' -fuck- you're so good to me" He coos and damn yeah, my arousal leaks down my thighs. "I'm not gonna last long, I'm -fuck- so-sorry ngh" Oh my god, he's trying to kill me, I feel my end approach too, I could cum just by the sounds he makes. In a matter of seconds I can feel his thrusts halt and eventually stop as his cum leaks down my throat while I try my hardest to swallow all of it. Looking up at him we make eye contact and I moan around his lenght, but just as I feel a euphoric wave wash through me, he grabs my arms and swaps places with me, getting on his knees in front of me. Just as I'm about to ask him why he stopped me, he lifts one of my legs to hook over his shoulder and licks a broad stripe along my wet, awaiting cunt, making my knees buckle.

"Fuck- oh my god Lan!" I moan in pleasure and I can still feel him panting against me but that's the last thing on my mind. It's embarassing how close I got from only this much stimulation. "I'm close, Lan- yes!" With the way he thrusted two fingers inside me while licking at my clit I cum on his face so hard, I see stars. I tug at hsi curls a little harsher than I intented and when I feel like it's too much. He groans but kisses his way up my body until he reaches my mouth and kisses me like I'm his last source of oxygen. When he finally pulls away I giggle and he lifts his head to look at me and started laughing as well.

"Hello you" I said with a huge grin on my face as he scrunched his nose up.

"Hi babe" He said while nuzzling my neck. "May I still fuck you please?" How could I possibly say no when he asked so nicely.

"Go ahead, you don't even need to ask baby boy." I said while running my hands up his back delicately. I reach his hair and I have to grab his shoulders quickly because he raises my leg and thrusts up into me deeply. I feel my knees buckle and thank god he's holding me close or else I would've fallen. My eyes roll back to the back of my head as he strokes my warm walls in the most perfect way.

"Shit..You like that huh?" I can barely hear him say because he's continously hitting my g-spot. "Talk to me baby, d'ya like it?" He whines in my ear and I clench around him, Iknow he feels it because his grip on my thigh tightens.

"I-yes, yes I like it-fuck" I manage to answer as he speeds up his thrusts and I feel myself getting close again as I rock my hips against his and he groans, no growls out my name and that alone brings me close to the edge and I feel him getting closer too. I feel his hand cupping one of my breasts and in the blink of an eye he's sucking my nipple into his mouth, I suppose to gain some composure, like he always does when he doesn't want me to see him in this state, so I slowly lift his face. He looks up at me with his eyebrows furrowed in pleasure, an almost invisible string of spit connecting my nipple and his mouth. I drag his face further up to kiss me and I moan into his mouth as I get pushed over the edge. The kiss is nothing short of messy. Tounge and teeth.

I slowly come back from my mind numbing orgasm and he's moaning into my mouth as he sucks my tounge and with a last couple of thrusts his hips stutter and he spills into me. We pull back from the kiss and he drops my forehead against mine as he slowly calms down but still pants against my face.

We stay like that for a couple minitues until he pulls out of me with a hiss, making sure I'm okay before washing me down. I return the favor and wash his face and and chest and arms. I notice after a while that he's just looking at me. I look at him and see him have the biggest smile on his face and he giggles a little.

"What's got you smiling like that hm?" I ask.

"I adore you, you're all I ever needed, I can't think of anything else but how beautiful you are. I don't even care about the race anymore just..you" he nearly chokes on his words, still grinning like an idiot.

An idiot in love.

I grab his face and look him deeply in his eyes. I'm smiling now too, tears running down my face.

"Oh Lan...I love you so much." I pull him close and kiss him briefly before pulling him into the tightest hug ever, because that's what he deserves.

Love..

A/N: Hope you liked it! I'm still a little new to writing so feedback and critisism is welcomed! ❤

[stellewriites]

i was tagged last wip wednesday by the amazing talented extraordinary price duo @pricegouge & @pricetagged but i had nada to share at the time

this week? you can have some butch fem!ghost x reader (context: simon is a he/him lesbian and reader replied to his online post looking for a new roommate),, pure raw unedited thoughts atp so it might be VERY clunky :p

you weren’t sure what you’d been expecting when you arrived and found a table near the window - what you’d been picturing riley to look like - but you’d had to school your features into something less flustered when a tall woman in a baggy hoody and a pair of work out shorts walked in and bee-lined for your corner.

as he walked your eyes glued themselves to his black workout shorts as they rose up his thighs, indecently tight, showing off the thick muscle covered in a smattering of soft, unshaven hair, light enough that it glistened in the afternoon light. as he got closer you noticed a trail of scars leading up his shins to his knees and stretch marks curving around the inside of his thighs.

you felt the need to reach out and touch when you felt the weight of his own gaze taking you in for the first time.

“riley?” you’d asked hesitantly, when you finally managed to lift your head up to face him, cheeks ablaze. beneath his hood you could see that the scars continued on his face; most prominently one ran from mid chin through his lips and up his cheek, another, smaller but thicker, ran from his hairline to two inches down his forehead slightly off centre.

you were mesmerised.

“prefer simon,” he’d corrected but nodded, his voice lighter than you’d expected but thickly accented.

he pulled down his hood with a scant look around the cafe to reveal a short cropped haircut, a little shaggy at the top. he took the seat opposite you and you sat up straight when your knees bumped accidentally. you snatched your legs back beneath your chair and clenched your thighs tightly together as the warmth of his bare skin throbbed through your jeans.

christ what was wrong with you? you had the attention of one hot, tall butch and suddenly you were a bag of nerves and fumbling all over the place. get it together.

“oh! yeah ok, cool,” you said and tried to smile normally. “simon.”

“not what you were expecting?” he asked wryly.

“uhm, no,” you admitted with an embarrassed little huff. “not exactly, don’t really know what i was expecting though to be fair.”

you felt wrong footed in front of his confidence. his legs were spread wide beneath the table, feet planted on the outside of yours and you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was less like a first meeting for a roommate and more like your ideal first date.

you looked over at the counter and tapped your leg impatiently when you couldn’t see the drinks you’d ordered. you needed to clear your head if you weren’t going to make a fool of yourself and miss out on a decent rent deal.

shout out to woolie and gouge for letting me chunter away at them and giving me ideas for this fic when i’ve gotten stuck! báir’s inspired me to get back into mood boarding too so check under the cut for a bit of fun that’s got nothing to do with the actual fic lmaoo

npt (i just want to see what everyone’s working on) : @ohlawdthebirds @gloard @syoddeye @disgustingtwitches @xxshadowbabexx @3amfanfiction @groguspicklejar @gemmahale and anyone else who wants to share!

lets be nice yeah i haven’t done this in a while and there’s noooo plot points yet to be able to base this off so we’re going vibes and pretty colours & textures only,, but it’s good practice

[kai-anderson-whore]

His protégé (James Patrick march x fem reader smut) (kinktober fic 3)

Summary: you met James like his other “students” but after years off him taken you under his wing you couldn’t handle the pressures.

Warnings: smut, mentions of killing, becoming a serial killer, p in v sex, slight edging, knife kink, oral (reader receiving), tiny bit of spanking (like one spank), feeling like being watched, fear of abandonment(James not wanting reader to leave like the countess sort of did), James being possessive.

Word count: 3k

•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•..•°˚˚°•.•¤❅¤•.•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•.

You met him over three years ago, the same way as all his "students". Coincidentally waltzing into the Cortez when the world felt like it could swallow you whole, well at least that's what you felt like you wanted the world to do. To say this was the worst week you ever had was the understatement of the century.

You sat by the bar toying with the glass of alcohol in front of you. 'Was drowning your sorrows even worth it?', 'is getting so wasted that you'd might get kicked out the the hotel even worth it?' You wondered something that became routine over the past few days residing at this hotel. The bar was practically empty considering it was late on in the night.

The bartender who you soon known as liz shooting you a sympathetic smile every now and then. You observed the lavish historical hotel, full of art deco some antiques from the 1920s. You had heard all the rumours and stories of this hotel's history to say that it intrigued you would be the best way to put it. You heard near enough everything about the hotel Cortez and the "ghosts" residents here thanks to billie dean Howard.

You felt preying eyes on you, furrowed brows you turned and saw nothing... weird you thought. Maybe it was your imagination after all your in an infamous "haunted" hotel. But that was impossible ghosts aren't true, right?. Decided on calling it a night you thanked liz and went to your room 64, famous for being the room of two serial killers John Lowe and the former office of the owner james Patrick march coincidentally.

You still like you were being watched but tried to shrug it off 'relax no one is watching me it's in my head' you thought. Oh how you were wrong, several of ghosts who resisted here had their eye on you. Some curious on why you would come here, others wanted you as their next victim but one specific ghost wanted you as their protege, their next successor.

You finally made it to your room, fumbling around in your Jean pocket for your room key, you jammed the key into the door unlocking the door not before looking around to see if someone was near you. You couldn't shake that feeling that somebody was watching you, no matter how much you tried to shake it off.

Locking your room door you let out a breath out didn't know you were holding in. Making your way over to your suitcase you picked out your night attire. You still felt that eerie feeling going into the bathroom to clean your makeup off.

You exited the bathroom now in your pyjamas, the little clock on the nightstand played it's little song like usual "that thing freaks me out" you said out loud. "Don't let that frighten you dear" a voice chimed in making you let out a yelp in fright. Seeing a man sat on the chair a glass of whiskey or bourbon in hand you didn't know.

"Who the fuck are you" you hissed feeling mixed emotions shock, anger, fear of this intruder. "My names James Patrick march I'm the owner of this hotel and I'm afraid I don't like your tone dear" he introduced in a velvety accent getting up from the chair. He was dressed sharp in a pinstripe suit, crisp white shirt with a neck scarf.

"The owner of this hotel died like almost a hundred years ago" you scoffed at the man, which didn't faze him. "Yes that is true but you see in this hotel the dead doesn't exactly die" he stated stepping closer to you as you took steps back. You could see him more clearly now dark hair, pale skin with a pencil moustache that decorated his upper lip and beautiful chocolatey brown eyes that held something sinister in them.

"What do you want from me?" You asked. Even though his eyes held something evil within them you felt drawn to him like he wouldn't hurt you. "I've been watching you my dear, and I couldn't help but see the rage you secure within you" he said. A confused look on your face 'was I that noticeably angry?' You thought. "Right so?" You shrugged not quite catching on to what the ghost was saying.

"I want to help you set that rage free"

...

You didn't really remember what happened after that night all you remember was James teaching you everything there is to know about being a killer. For those three years he had taken you under his wing, taught you his ways, showed you his little contraptions within the hotel. And you were nothing if not willing to go through with it all.

You listened to every word that rolled off his tongue about his little plan. There were only three rules he had when it came to his little hobby 1: don't have a method. 2: don't be sloppy about it. 3: don't get caught.

You had just came back from another kill entering James's room on the 7th floor. "Ah your back dear how was it? Tell me the details" James's voice chimed the old fashioned record player playing an old time song. "It was the same as any other time James quick and easy" you sighed finding an old rag to clean yourself up.

"Quick you say, how so?" He asked confused at your lack of creativity unlike it usually was. "Because James I don't want to get caught I have a funny feeling that I'm going to be caught soon so I'm done" you sighed placing your knife on the little table by the bed. James watched your every move deep in thought. He wondered if your proposal was a good move "your going to stop killing?" He asked removing his blazer placing it on a chair, rolling his sleeves up.

"Yes James I'm sorry, I'm grateful you showed me your ways and I really did enjoy my time with you but it's best if i stop now before the heat on my ass gets me burnt" you held your hands up in defence making your way to the door.

James didn't know if he was sad or angry at the fact you've given up on your little spree or was it because you were essentially leaving him. Just as you turned the handle ready to exit till that sophisticated accent stopped you. "Don't go... please" he begged.

James didn't want to admit it to himself but these three years he spent with you were the best years he had in this hotel after he died. He didn't spend his time chasing after his ex-wife the countess, he spent every moment near enough with you enjoying the sick bond you both formed. He grew very fond of you more than his other students you had potential the same characteristics as himself.

"What?" You didn't quite believe what you were hearing, it wasn't the words it was the tone complete desperation. Only time you heard that tone of voice was around the first time you met him when he was desperately trying to get the countess back.

"Please don't leave me I couldn't bare it" he pleaded once again with a meek voice. The door still ajar, your hand on the handle. "James it's for the best anyway we had fun but it's time to get out before it's too late but I need to leave before I get caught" you stated. "I DONT CARE ABOUT THE KILLING Y/N" James yelled taken you aback. He never raised his voice at you once even when he was frustrated with you for some reason he never ever raised his voice.

James walked closer to you his face now red with anger. He wasn't going to let you leave he let one woman slip away he doesn't intend to let it happen again. You were a little nervous at the sudden shift in the room.

"I will not let you leave this hotel not after everything" his voice was calm but his expression said otherwise. You didn't know what was going to happen "what do you mean not letting me leave this hotel?" You asked. "I've grown rather fond of you my dear, I look forward to our little meetings and I guess I can't let that go" his cold breath fanned against your neck sending shivers down your spine.

You almost crumbled as his cold hands rested on your biceps, your breathing quickening with the small touch. Looking into his dark eyes held anger and lust. "I've never felt this way for anyone since the countess but with you dearest, it doesn't compare to the feelings I have for you" his lips in a smirk, seeing you melt from just his words.

It all made sense to you now, you couldn't lie to yourself and say you didn't grow to have strong feelings for the ghost (because that was far from the truth). The truth was you were infatuated with James Patrick march, you spent every moment with him for the past three years it felt impossible not to. People would call you a stupid girl for it.

"James-" you were cut off by his ice cold lips on yours. The kiss was rough but you responded nonetheless. His tongue swiped along your bottom lip demanding entrance. Parting your lips moaning into his mouth, he showed dominance with just his mouth, giving into him, kicking the door shut with your foot.

James guided you to the bed effortlessly, the backs of your knees meeting the foot of the bed. His tongue explored your mouth before he pulled away. James then unbuttoned his dress shirt, your hands roamed his bare chest biting your lip. Your fingers hooking around his suspenders pulling James close to you crashing your lips back on his.

A delighted hum left him as he pushed your body down on the bed. Your legs parted automatically allowing James to slot himself between them. His lips moved to your neck slightly biting the flesh there making you feel dizzy. His hands roamed your sides feeling, caressing every curve that came in contact with his hand.

You sat up as James began to remove your slip dress leaving you in just your underwear. "Your beauty doesn't compare to anything in this world" James's voice was more deep, thick with lust making you grow wetter by the second. "Your mine now dear, I'll never let you go" James snarls, his fingers hooking into your underwear peeling the fabric off your body.

Now just kneeling on the foot of the bed James got a perfect view of your dripping core. "Your all mine" James hummed against your thigh trailing his rough lips upwards till he met where you needed him the most. He was like a possessive animal and you were loving every moment of it.

James licked a strip between your folds bringing you arousal to your clit. You gasped at the shot of pleasure of his mouth on your clit, sucking, swirling his tongue on the sensitive bundle of nerves. His hands held your thighs apart as wide as he could getting all access to you.

A moan escaped you as he continued his assault on your pussy. Your hand's gripped into the bedsheets underneath you for leverage. It was already too much but you never wanted it to stop. You already felt dangerously close to the edge. James darted his tongue in your entrance, his nose brushing against your clit adding to the pleasure.

"I'm so close" you warned feeling that knot tightening in the pit of your core. James hummed against you devouring you like his last meal. He never stopped his movements bringing his attention back to your clit more rougher than before coaxing you to let go over his tongue.

Your orgasm ripped through you, back arching, toes curling practically screaming his name. "That's it dear let everyone hear who's making you feel this euphoric" he chimed against your glistening heat. He licked up all your juices before pulling away from your heat.

"Oh god" you sighed regaining your breath. Moving your body to sit up by the pillows. James peeled his suspenders off his shoulders, removing his shirt in the process. His hair now disheveled, a beautiful sight to see. You removed your bra leaving yourself fully naked in front of him.

James glanced at the silver knife on the nightstand, he still felt rage for you ready to leave him. He picked the knife up making up gulp, you didn't know his intentions now a look of slight fear yet excitement in your eyes. "I'm not going to hurt you dearest" as if he read your mind with his free hand he undid his slacks and removed his underwear freeing his rock hard cock.

You were drooling at the sight, he was long and thick but not to thick were you'd think he'd slit you in two. His cock slight curved it was probably the most prettiest cock you'd ever seen.

James then got on top of your body slotting himself between your legs. Crashing his lips back on yours, the blade still in hand. Feeling the flat surface of the cold metal on your thigh, sending a shiver through you. He began dragging the metal down your outer thigh, his cock grinding on your inner side.

James pulled away from your lips taking the sharp edge of the knife to your cheek. "You will never leave me dear, I wouldn't allow it" his eyes dark, lustrous and sinister. It all was too addicting, "I'll never leave you James" you whimpered pathetically, the blade dragging from your cheek to under your chin, not to cut you but feel the harshness.

You grew more wetter than you were before. James lined himself up with your entrance before pushing himself into your sopping cunt without warning. You cried out as his thrusts were rough as merciless. Your hands gripped his shoulders, digging your nails into his skin coaxing his thrusts to become more harsher and expeditious.

James dragged the blade to the valley of your breasts. You moaned out feeling the cold metal under your breast. A grunt leaving James's lips "you feel like heaven" he grunted "you will never leave me, you belong to me from now on" he said in between his thrusts. Your walls clenched around him the desire burning like fire.

"Oh fuck" you cried out, chest heaving, eyes rolling to the back of your head. You could barely hear what he was saying. You could see that veins popping out of his neck the blade soon discarded and replaced with his hand on your breast fondling the lump of tissue.

A sigh of pleasure left your lips, feeling close to the edge once again. James didn’t let it go unnoticed, feeling you clenching around him. Much to your dismay James pulled out of you leaving you feeling empty and whimpering. You shot the ghost a confused look “don’t worry dear just turn around for me” James ordered.

Nodding your head you got on your hands and knees, feeling your wetness dripping down your legs in the process. “Your so wet, who for dear?” James cooed in his velvety voice. “You James all for you” your voice was scratchy from the high pitched moans. You felt that blade once again on your lower back.

“Yes dear all for me, no one else” James was possessive over what was his, you were no exception. From his student to now bent over for him as he drags the knife lower over your ass to your core. You moaned in pleasure you didn’t think this would be your type of thing but with James you’d do anything.

A sting on your ass making you jolt forward, James hand colliding with the skin there. You moaned at the sudden feeling, James’s hand soothing the red mark. Lining himself back up with your entrance effortlessly. Your greedy cunt taking him with one thrust.

Your hands gripped the bedsheets once again, your body jolted with each harsh thrust he delivered. All that could be heard in the room was a mixture of you and James’s pleasures, skin slapping off each other and the bed rocking beneath you.

You could have sworn you could feel him in your stomach, one hand on your hip the other toying with the knife along your lower back again. The thrill of what he was going to do next wasn’t like anything before, the anticipation eating you up.

James couldn’t get enough of you, you were like a drug he never wanted rehab for. The way your walls would clench and flutter around him was enough for him to come undone then and there. The way your loud moans filled the room, like music to his ears. You were just perfect to him, his perfect little protégé.

“Who do you belong you?” James grunted thrusting rapidly into your poor little pussy. You tried to get the words out but you couldn’t comprehend amongst all the overwhelming pleasure. Only a strangled moan leaving your lips instead.

Feeling the knife against your neck and an arm pulling you up flush against James’s chest, his cold breath fanning against your ear. “I asked you a question dear, very impolite not to answer” his thrusts harder hitting your cervix granted to make you see stars. You throw your head back to rest in James’s shoulder as you managed to answer.

“I belong to you james, I’m so close” you warned.

James discarded the knife once again, replaced it with his own hand chasing your orgasm. You reached out for his hair tugging on it, your other hand gripped onto his arm around your waist. “Let go for me, darling” he whispered, that was enough for you cumming for a second time. Your grip on his arm tightened releasing all your juices over his cock.

Triggering his own orgasm, James hips snapped upwards spilling his seed deep inside you. A low moan left James as you came with his name on your lips like your only prayer riding out your highs.

Once you both calmed down you leaned onto James skin glistening with sweat, breathing shallow. Gaining the energy to lift yourself off of James you threw yourself onto the pillows feeling knackered. James got off the bed to grab a rag to clean up.

After getting you both clean James threw his undergarments back on climbing into bed beside you. “I won’t leave you James” you said with a weak, tried voice. James wrapped his arm around you, bringing yourself closer to him resting your head on his chest. “I know darling” he hummed deep in thought.

[sugoi-writes]

Suck It Up, Buttercup

Husk x GN!Reader Drabble

Haha-- It's the voice. The accent. DON'T JUDGE-- (No warnings, minus drinking mentions. Pure fluff!)

I miiiight turn this into a thing with multiple characters... a 'surprise kiss!' scenario with each of the main cast, just to practice writing for others. (I did similar things with KNY not too long ago). Not that I don't love Alastor, but I should try to mix things up a bit! If yall like this, let me know who you'd like to see next. Oh, and of course: please enjoy~

♥️♣️♦️

You groaned as you nursed your drink, cheek lazily smushed against the wood grain of the counter.

"Ughhnn.. shit, I passed out, didn't I?" You wince in pain from your throbbing headache, your vision slowly stabilizing as you took in your surroundings. Husk hums in agreement, coming out from behind the bar to your side.

" 'Sure did. C'mon, Buttercup. It's time to get you to bed." You whined, your flushed face giving away your drunken state," One more drink? Pleeeease..." Husk sighs, shrugging," A'ight, but it's probably a lil' too hard for ya." You stick your tongue out at him playfully, making him smile and shrug, both hands shooting up in his defense," Don't say I didn't try to warn ya..."

You felt your cheek press further into your eye as you watched Husk with a smile. You didnt bother to lift your head as you observed his movements. Quick, effortless, and cunning... despite his nihilist attitude, he always moved with a purpose while mixing drinks. He moved in ways that made what he was doing even more impressive to watch.

Once he was done, Husk made a big deal of sliding this 'concotion' towards you, your glass sporting a succulent lemon wedge on the rim. You felt a surge of energy enter you as you hastily took a gulp, before your expression soured.

"Water....? Husk, you said--!"

"Y'said to make you somethin' that'd make you forget somethin' else. That headache, for example," the cat demon chastised, before leaning forward," And you're gonna drink every last gulp before you carry your ass to bed. Got it?"

You groan again, rolling your eyes," Only if you'll carry me there~" You teased, shimming your shoulders. Husk narrows his gaze at you, his fur around his neck bristling," I ain't some powdered prince, y'know... and I don't do shit for free."

You sigh dramatically, leaning backward and arching your back over the counter," Ohhh, woe is me! I was convinced I finally found my knight in shining armor~!" At this, Husk snorts, leaning on his elbows and looming above you, his face hovering just above yours. For a moment, the two of you shared a laugh, then it grew stagnant... and then, there was a moment when you stared at one another, waiting for someone to move or say something. The tension that lingered felt heavy on your chest, as you felt your throat run dry. You open your parched lips slightly to say something, but your phrase died on your tongue, unable to leave.

Husk sighs, leaning down to kiss you gently on the forehead, officially breaking the silence.

"You're lucky you're a'ight to be around, otherwise I wouldn't be doin' this shit..." You barely had time to recover, your eyes wide with disbelief. Your fingertips ghosted over the pecked spot on your forehead, as if to replicate the feeling... before you felt yourself being lifted up. You fumble about in Husk's arms, clinging desperately to his chest. You were surprised with long, soft fur, a small mass easily being gripped and held in your trembling hands.

"O-Oh fuck I was-- I was jokin', Husk-- you can put me down!"

"An' risk you passin' out at my bar again? Fat chance..." A comfortable silence falls upon you both, and you can't help but lean into the cradle that Husk created for you. He was warn... exceedingly so. His breathing was slow, even, despite having to heave you around. You were surprised with how strong he was, not taking him to be the burly type. But all the same, it comforted you, and you swore that you heard a very subtle, deep purr as you smoothed your hand across his silken chest fluff.

It wouldn't be long until you've passed out again, head bobbing rhythmically as he brings you to your room. The stoic demon is careful when setting you down and tucking you in, a flash of sincerity crossing his stern features. He can't help the tired chuckle that slips out, leaning down to kiss your forehead again. A hand runs carefully across your crown, smoothing your hair back against your pillow, creating a halo around your sleeping face.

" ...'Night, Buttercup. I'll see you in the mornin'."

[v-ternus]

Winner

hiiiiiiiii @iamthecomet here’s Copia taking advantage of rewarding Aeon (with consent ofcourse)

MDNI |||||| 18+

Aeon walks to Copia's dressing room, expecting to be sent back to the pit after his mishaps during the ritual. But what he gets just has him confused.

t!Copia and Aeon |||| pussy/cunt and clit for Copia

Elements of dubcon, but I swear he wants it.

~2800 of nastiness, there might be plot if you squint hard enough.

tags: topping from the bottom, power dynamic?, dubcon? first time, virgin Aeon, trans Copia, P in V, oral, riding, praise kink, dacryphilia, knotting

Three quick knocks interrupt the swipes of a damp cloth over his black stained skin. Whoever it is says his name, asking to see if he’s even in the room. His summoning day feels as fresh as yesterday, so he doesn’t recognize the voice.

“Yeah come in,” The door cracks open slowly to reveal one of the ghoulettes. He flipped through his mind before finding her name, Cumulus. 

Her voice was lively, kind. “You were great tonight,” He pressed his lips together, it's not a frown, but it's not exactly a smile either. Her words felt like a forced compliment— he had fumbled some notes throughout the ritual and they sounded jarring against everyone else's flawless playing. He felt exposed under the bright lights. To say he was disappointed in himself was an understatement, so he didn’t have it in him to really smile. 

Cumulus moved over to bump shoulders with him infront of the vanity, giving him an innocent smirk. “Copia wants to see you whenever you’re able,” His insides quickly sour, as if she just delivered his death sentence. He thinks of what the meeting holds for him. Wrath. Punishment. Banishment back to the pit. As new as he was, he already knew he was replaceable. 

His fear must’ve been written all over his face, because the next words from Cumulus are ones of comfort. 

Dont be so hard on yourself. It’ll work out. 

She gives him a quick squeeze on his shoulder before leaving him to finish. The silence is ringing in his ears and he cant seem to move. He tries to unfreeze his muscles— better to go now and not drag it out, he thinks. 

He sets the damp cloth on the counter and reaches for his balaclava and helmet, slipping them on with little grace. It was a foreign routine to him still and it showed— it looked a little sloppy. 

The walk to Copia’s dressing room is short— straight to the end of the hall, turn right, second door down. He feels like his boots are being filled with concrete the closer he gets. 

He stands in front of the inconspicuous door, mulling over what could be his last moments topside before he knocks. They sound almost soft enough for the sound to be drowned out by the building’s low, constant hum— or at least that's what he thought. Copia calls out, with that signature odd accent and Aeon finally breaks through the barrier into the frontman’s space. 

He didnt know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasnt this. The room didnt have a velvet couch, or a red carpet or a lavish bathroom that seemed fitting for the head of the church. His room was just like all the rest of the ghouls’— plain, bordering on rundown save for the better looking furniture scattered throughout. 

“Ah, thank you for coming so quickly Aeon,” He looks relaxed on the graying couch set along the opposite wall. He sets down some paperwork next to him on the small side table and moves further into the corner, patting the other side, making more space for the nervous ghoul to take a seat. 

Aeon takes a seat and keeps his eyes glued to the ground, not wanting to take in anymore of Copia’s attention. 

“I wanted to talk about tonight,” The words echo in his head and bile starts to rise. Copia lets the words hang between them for a moment before standing. Aeon only notices the change when he sees two feet move between his own on the ground. “there were a few hiccups, I'm sure you’re aware.” Copia’s voice makes him shiver. Here it comes.  

He hooks a finger under Aeon’s helmet, forcing uncomfortable eye contact that has his insides in knots. There’s nothing but anxiety laced around his silver eyes, and he’s sure Copia can see it clearly. 

“But Im very proud of you.”

Aeon flinches, expecting a stern talking to, instead hearing praise. Papa was proud of him? He must have seen the confusion and knew he needed to clear things up. But Copia was going to drag him through the ropes a little, wanting to see him squirm just a bit more. 

“You thought you were in trouble, didn’t you piccolo?” Aeon cant speak. Instead, he unclenches his jaw and he leans back onto the couch, away from the fingers on him. He’s dumbfounded to say the least, wary. Copia’s face screws up, expecting an answer. “Yes,” His voice wavers. It sounds choked off. 

“You messed up. But you finished didnt you? You recovered, no?”

Aeon opens his mouth to answer, but nothing comes out. He doesnt even know what he would say.

“The answer is yes ghoul. You did well.” Copia is stern, holding the voice of the head of a church, not just a man. “It would serve you well to speak when spoken to.” 

“Yes Papa. Thank you Papa,” The compliments are unexpected, and unbelievable because of his own standards for himself. This is what he was called in for? Surely a little congratulation wasn't worth a whole meeting. 

Copia set his hands on the couch, bracketing the wide helmet, looming over him. Even though they are about the same build, Copia feels just that much larger above him. It feels like god is staring into him. 

“Take off your helmet.”  He follows the command with trembling hands. The idea of losing the one thing protecting his face from the assault of Copia’s eyes makes him turn an even brighter shade of red. “Good boy.”

“Would you like a reward?”

“-m sorry?” If he wasnt confused before, he definitely was now. “I asked if you would like a reward?” He tore apart his brain for what Copia might have for him. Maybe a small gift to commemorate things. Maybe a night out on the town with the rest of the ghouls on his dime. His naivety was laughable. 

“Yes.” The unsteady words barely leave his lips when Copia kneels before him, resting back on his heels. Tell me if you want to stop. Copia drags his warm touch up along his thighs and can feel Aeon tense with each second. He squeezes at the lithe muscle, trying to press the anxiety out. It sets the already high strung hell beast to high alert. 

Copia’s hands inch higher as he meets Aeon’s eyes, looking for him to say no. Aeon just stares back at him blankly. 

With no opposition, Copia palms over the slight tent in his pants. Aeon groans, deep from his chest. When did he get hard? The light touch has him filling out quickly and the confines of his pants begin to hurt as his shaft presses into the zipper. 

Copia digs the heel of his palm in harder. Just enough to make him buck into the friction, enough for him to chase his hand when he pulls it away. Aeon was at least a little excited. Copia works to undo his belt and wrestles the uniform down around his ankles. 

Aeon can't peel his eyes off of his Papa, watching him as he hooks a finger in his boxers, pulling and tucking the band under his balls, he’s watching as Copia’s eyes widen when his cock springs out, bouncing against his vest. With his reactions, Aeon could guess that his superior was more excited by this than he was.

Copia dribbles spit onto the tip before finally wrapping his hand around the throbbing shaft, bringing another to cup his heavy balls. A thumb swipes over the tip, smearing around the slick mess. A sound passes his lips, not really a moan, but its high and feminine and it makes Copia’s cunt feel so absurdly empty.  “You sound so pretty, little one,” 

The continued praise makes his skin feel electric, like Copia’s words are shocks of lightning from the skies— the warm hands working him sure dont help the almost overwhelming sensation. He lets his eyes fall shut, almost losing himself in the pleasure. The only input he can process is Copia’s hand stroking him languidly. Its so good. Better than anything he’s had so far— which admittedly wasnt much. He had fooled around with Aether during their lessons, but it was really just rutting against eachother in the instrument closet. 

He was sure that this was as good as it got. He’s quickly proven wrong when a new warmth envelops him. Its wet. So very wet. He drags his eyes open and the sight before him makes his cock twitch. 

Oh. 

Copia has his lips stretched around the flush head, gently sucking and dragging his tongue along the underside. “Papa why?” He digs his claws into the couch and digs his fangs into his lip. His world is so hazy but it feels so good. 

Copia pulls off of him and Aeon cringes from the lack of warmth. 

“It’ll feel good, little one. Just relax.” The nonchalant words fill him with a bit of worry, it replaces some of the white hot pleasure that's been pooling in his gut. He’s still racked by confusion.

The head of the church, the right hand of Satan, on his knees rewarding a mere ghoul. The infernal one wanted this for him, it didn’t feel right to say no. Surely, couldnt say no. Right?

He wants to hold, feel something else so he can ground himself to reality. He wants to run his hands through the salt and pepper hair, tug a bit— drag out a groan. But he doesnt. That feels too imposing, too forward. He wont take more than what’s offered.

Before he can get too far into his mind, Copia brings his mouth back, taking him all the way until his nose is buried into the short curls at the base. Aeon isnt as well endowed as some of the other ghouls— Mountain— but he’s still something to choke on. And choke on him he does. He bobs his head at the bottom and keeps the tip of Aeon’s cock nestled in the back of his throat. Tears build in the corners of his eyes but he does his best to will them away. 

Copia swallows around the swollen head and all Aeon can think of is how soft his throat is. He tongues at the underside and massages his balls, rolling them, pulling gently.

“Fuck, fuck please—” The desperation makes Copia hum around him, and his balls draw up tighter, he’s right on the edge. Whatever breaths he can manage are short huffs. 

To say that the frontman had a golden mouth would be an understatement. Aeon taps on Copia’s hand, “Papa, Im so close,” 

Copia’s hand wouldve been enough to push him over the edge— kitten licks around the tip and base, fucking into his tight fist, his spend dripping over those slender fingers onto his uniform as Copia held onto his knot. Damn the mess. It would’ve been enough, but Copia had something different in mind. 

I think you deserve something even more special. 

Aeon can only stare and replay the words that just filled the air.

“What does that mean Papa?” It's a squeak, a small voice that matches how he feels. His head tilts, involuntarily, as if the innocent gesture would get him an answer any sooner. His heart is pounding, and its not just from the stellar blowjob he just received. What does he mean? The question isnt entertained, Copia decides to show him instead.  

He’s quickly off of Aeon, fingering at the laced front of his pants, working them down his pale thighs before kicking them off along with his boots. He looks up to Aeon gawking. His gaze is locked on the pretty patch of hair between his legs and the flush, wet cunt that rests below it. He watches as Copia moves towards him and swings his legs over his thighs. 

Aeon was frozen, muscles refusing to act on his brain’s command. He was helpless to stop Copia’s hand from dragging the near purple head of his cock through his damp folds, smearing his slick all over. He was helpless as Copia lined up his cock up with his pulsing hole, helpless to stop Copia from spearing himself, lowering his tight warmth onto his painfully hard cock till his ass rested on his hips. All he could do was breathe and try to resist the urge to buck up into the welcoming hole.

Aeon was going insane. He had never felt heat like this, not even in the pit. The pleasure from the soft walls gripping him was at odds with the feelings swirling in his head. He tried to think rationally, tried to find the word no, but each bounce from the man on his lap knocked out brain cells. It didnt help that his Papa sounded so delicious as he rode him— each roll of his hips was punctuated by punched out breaths and high pitched whines. Even though he wasnt happy during the ritual, he was atleast happy he could make his Papa feel nice. 

“Make your hands useful,” Copia grabbed them and rested them on his hips, wanting the ghoul to rock him back and forth on his length or grind his hips down— anything. Not that he needed the help, he just wanted more participation. Aeon just looked at him all dumb and brain dead. 

“Ive never…” He sounds so ashamed. The fear of disappointing him rises again. 

“Papa help.”

Copia’s eyes blow out. The word all but smacks him across the face— virgin. If this really was his special ghoul’s first time, he was hell bent on setting the bar high. 

“Its ok little one,” He coos. 

“Allow me.”

He starts bouncing, purposefully tightening his cunt when he drags himself up. This was his reward for Aeon, but he would be silly to deny that he was chasing his own release. Aeon reached into him perfectly, the blunt head dragging against his walls, hitting his g-spot each time he moved. He felt Aeon twitch inside. They're both close, he could feel that familiar bulge bumping against his swollen lips. 

“Go on ghoul. Let me have it.” He winces when Aeon’s cock kicks, feeling himself get wetter. Aeon digs his nails into the plump hips under his hands— sure he’s left crescent shaped dents. Copia rests his forehead against his, focusing on the warm breath against his clammy skin.

“Fuck your cum in, make me take it. Make me catch.” Aeon answers the foul words with a gasp. He wants to so bad. Its in his nature to want it. But he tries to shut it down with his first coherent thoughts of the night. 

You cant just say that. Please just get off and finish me with your hands. Please. Just hold it in your hand. 

Knotting someone was a big thing, topside or not. Alot came with it. Copia wanting it? It was insane. 

“We both know thats not what you want.” Aeon tried pushing Copia off, tried to stave off his orgasm before he inevitably buries his load into his raw cunt. But his efforts were futile.

Copia reached down to thumb at his clit, eyes rolling into the back of his head as he came and gushed over Aeon’s cock. He used the extra wetness to glide himself around the swollen base. The right squeeze and Copia fluttering around him was more than enough to send him off the cliff. 

He lurched forward when he came, wrapping his arms around Copia, squeezing as he rocked his hips up.

Thank you Papa. Thank you. Thank you. 

He groaned into Copia’s neck, lapping at the junction between it and his shoulder, using what little consciousness he had left to not mark the soft flesh with his fangs. He focused on draining his balls, fucking his knot in, brushing it against that special spot that sent blinding pleasure up Copia’s spine as his cunt milked him dry.

Copia was stuck so good, too good. He would’ve liked to stay that way forever, but the post nut clarity was starting to filter in. He needed out. 

“Papa please stop. It wont go down if you dont stop.” He was breathless, he sounded wounded. Copia turned his head to look at the ghoul, taking in the fucked out look splashed against his gray skin. He felt him shake from each gentle roll of his hips. 

He almost felt bad for the ghoul, key word almost. 

“Of course starlight, anything you want.” He smirked before clenching his cunt and rocking up, tugging against the swollen knot. The poor ghoul was sensitive, and the overstimulation was too much. The pressure finally made tears fall against Aeon’s pretty cheeks and Copia could feel his chest heaving with small sobs. He leaned over to lap at the wetness.

Before the ghoul could get anymore messy, Copia settled in his lap and placed a filthy kiss against his lips. Aeon was slow, still mindless and blissed out, but he responded by fucking his tongue into his mouth, licking at whatever he could reach. It was nothing he had ever felt before. 

They sat there, mouths entwined, waiting for the swell to diminish. 

The silence was broken by knocking at the door. 

“Bus call in fifteen, guys. Hurry up,” That lively voice rang through again, of course it was Cumulus. He couldnt help but chuckle against Copias lips. 

This was going to be an interesting few weeks. 

[jessielefey]

I love you topical song lyrics as fic and/or chapter titles

I love you songfics that are half pre-existing lyrics in italics

I love you meandering plots that don't know what needs to stay and what's okay to go so they end up sounding as much like some chimera of diary entries and stream of consciousness as a story

I love you chapters that just end because the author hit the word goal

I love you five hundred chapter fics that span decades because the author keeps finding new Situations to put those poor boys(gender inclusive) in

I love you author asides to the audience mid-scene about how silly the fic is or how they just don't feel like writing this part and are skipping it or to have an argument with the character about the plot. I love you fics that just shrug and go "I don't know Japan, so this is all wrong, but you're probably an American too reader so shut up."

I love you blatant callouts of canon's flaws and plots scripted out of spite to prove how this potential concept *should've* been done

I love you awkward smut. I love you awkward lack of smut. I love you bashfully smashing barbies together before the author confesses they're ace and don't really get it. I love you author that understands it way too well and is having so much fun servicing exclusively themself

I love you ashamed author notes about how the chapter didn't come together the way they wanted on some of the best writing I ever seen in my life. I love you ashamed author notes where the author is entirely correct on their lack of skill and I love those fics too.

I love you spelling/grammar mistakes that let you know why the person is having trouble with english. I love you fics by dyslexics who are pushing through and writing anyway. I love you typoes that touchscreens tend to cause and typoes physical keyboards tend to cause and typoes speech-to-text ais tend to make. I love you six page chapters with only two paragraph breaks and three periods. I love you comma chains and semi-colon abuse and allergies to the shift key.

I love you No Beta We Die Like <Noteable Character Death>. I love you best No Beta We Die Like My Respect For Canon.

I love you in-universe typoes the characters do as a form of character expression. I love you phonetically correct misspellings to show accents. I love you things that seem like mistakes but are actually dialects or english-adjacent languages.

I love you mistranslated idioms and inconsistent pronouns because the author's native language doesn't gender pronouns and other weird quirks of grammar that give away an author's mothertongue. I love you for writing it in english or at all anyway even though it's embarassing and people can be mean.

I love you fics that include sign language references. I love you fics where the author knows the sign language; I love you fics where the author is semi-educated on the language but sorta fumbles showing it; I love you fics where the author doesn't even try and just goes "the characters know, fill in the blanks yourself if you're so smart."

I love you ten chapter fic that last updated in 2019. I love you 68/70 chapter fic that will never finish.

I love you cringe self-insert OC; I hope they gave the author what they needed when they write themselves into the story

I love you folktales. I love you stealing back characters from Official Canon. I love you OOC.

I love you AO3. I love you tumblr. I love you wattpad. (I never loved you fanfiction.net :-p but I don't hold it against your authorbase who I love very much.)

I loved you livejournal and geocities and angelfire and old shipping websites on someone's parent's work server only accessible through webrings. I loved you so much usenet rpg, even if I cannot love discord.

I love you. I love you *for* everything you're ashamed of. I don't think you should be ashamed for any of it, but I love your ambition to improve. Please let it improve you not silence you, okay?

I. Love. You.

[fandom-junk-drawer]

The Witcher Headcanon (Modern AU) - Upset - Part 2

Jaskier sat on the floor after Geralt and Yennefer left, feeling the dampness from his wet blanket slowly soaking into his shirt. He sniffled and wiped his face on his sleeve, and finally summoned the energy to get up and put his blankie in the dryer. He heard Yennefer in his head

Dry it on low, love...

Jaskier felt guilty now. He'd yelled at his friends and they were still there, taking care of him. He started the dryer then turned off the light. He sat on the floor in the dim light from the window with his back against the dryer to wait.

The heat felt nice, soothing, and after a few minutes he yawned. He was tired now, but feeling calmer.

Yes, his blankie had gotten washed, but it was still his blankie. Yes, it was pretty roughed up, but it was still mostly in one piece. At least it hadn't gotten shredded in the wash.

He sighed. He wasn't really mad at Geralt. He'd felt his thoughts and emotions through Yennefer's three way link, and knew it truly had been an accident. But it still hurt like h*ll. He'd lost something very important to him.

Jaskier took his blankie to his room when it was done drying, then got some ice for his chest. He carefully felt the two small lumps next to his breastbone. They were a little more prominent than the others, but they had been that way ever since The Alley Incident. They had never healed right.

The cartilage was a little inflamed and irritated, but they didn't feel like they had separated from his breastbone. They were just going to ache for a bit then. Oh well, at least the soreness wasn't as bad had it had been in the past when it would flare up.

He didn't sleep well that night. He tried to ignore the frayed edges and the tattered bits and the missing smell, hoping that the familiar weight, 'squish', and softness would be enough to help him sleep. He thought he could almost smell that familiar scent, but it was just so faint, masked by the smell of laundry soap.

He cuddled his blankie, and tried to sleep. He would start to drift off, but then his brain would jerk him awake, alerting him that something wasn't right.

Yennefer and Geralt didn't sleep much either. They laid awake, feeling Jaskier's distress hammer at them while he moved restlessly around his room and fought back his frustrated tears.

Geralt got up early the next morning since he was already up anyway and went to make a phone call. There was one person he knew who would be able to help.

Jaskier refused to come out of his room in the morning. Geralt and Yennefer had knocked on his door several times, only to be ignored. They could feel that he was p*ssed. Not being able to sleep or comfort himself had not helped any.

Jaskier rolled onto his side, curling up and ignoring the knock that sounded at his door. He was not in a good mood.

Knock, knock!

Jaskier did not answer

Knock, knock!

Jaskier ignored it again.

Knock, knock, knock!

"F**k off!" Jaskier snapped.

"Dinnae speak tae me that way ye wee shite!" a stern voice chastized him sharply from the other side of the door. "Ye best get yer bahooky up an open this door, noo!"

Geralt choked back a giggle at the word 'bahooky', and grunted when Yennefer jogged his ribs. He stiffened when he received a reprimanding glare from their guest, and hastily mumbled, "My apologies!"

Jaskier's body was moving on its own out of pure reflex, while his short-circuting brain desperately tried to send coherent signals to his body. Oh f**k, oh f**k! he thought as he flailed off the bed, tumbling to the floor and finally gaining enough motor function for coordinated movement. He made it to the door, fumbled with the knob, and yanked the door open.

He threw himself to his knees in front of the short elderly woman standing before him and desperately begged her forgiveness. Geralt and Yennefer heard Jaskier's slight Northern accent get thicker, "G-Grannie! Am sorry! I-I didn't know it was you!"

He quailed under Grannie Pankratz's withering glare. "Ye best mind yer mooth, Julain," she said, giving him a light finger-shaking, "I gave ye yer first hiding the day ye came in tae this world, and I'll gie ye another if ye speak tae me like that again!"

"Yes, Grannie, am sorry!"

"And ah hope ye dinnae speak tae Miss Yennefer like that either! Ah raised ye better'n that!"

"No, no I doon't!"

He heard Yennefer's voice sing playfully in his head, Oooh, you just lied to your grandmother's face!

Shhh! Shut the f**k up!

"Awright then, up ye get!" Grannie said, unaware of the silent conversation.

Jaskier got up from the floor and gave his grandmother a hug. He broke down in tears almost immediately when she put her arms around him. Grannie Pankratz's voice turned soft and warm.

"Here noo, me wee finch, tell yer Grannie what's wrong!"

Geralt and Yennefer went outside to sit on the back porch so Jaskier and his grandmother could talk privately. They waited out there, drinking iced fruit tea and discussing Grannie Pankratz' delightful accent.

The blankie was examined, and Grannie took it with her so she could repair it, saying that whole cloth quilts were a breeze and she'd have it back to him in two shakes of a monkey's baws.

Jaskier spent two nights without it. He was antsy and irritable, but he felt a little better knowing it was in good hands. Grannie was the one who had made his blankie after all. She owned the most successful textile business in Oxenfurt. She knew what she was doing when it came to blankies.

The blankie was returned, looking brand new. Grannie had used the same 4 layer double gauze it had originally been made from. She said the wool batting had been in good shape, and since the original gauze had been worn so thin, she'd used it as a stabilizing fabric on one side of the batting.

Jaskier had been impressed. It was still the same weight, still just as cushy, and his old blankie was still in there! His fingers immediately found the familiar corner and started rubbing at it before pressing it against his nose.

Grannie had patted his cheek sympathetically when she saw his face fall a little. "There, there, noo. With the way ye drool, it'll get just as manky as it were before in no time."

Jaskier had tried his best to make do, but Blankie Therapy was just not working as well. As the days went by he became more and more stressed, and his attitude got sh*ttier.

Even Madeleine noticed his worsening mood, and that he couldn't seem to concentrate on his music. He was constantly fidgeting, putting the tip of his index finger in his mouth and holding it there, biting on it. He just looked so tired and worn down.

She decided a break was in order and they went to her flat for tea. He wasn't very talkative, and everything seemed to irritate him. She knew something was off when he tripped over a floor cushion, tumbled to the floor, and instead of making a joke or laughing about it like he usually would have, he'd flopped onto his back, ground the heels of his hands into his eyes, and screamed "F***ing C*CK!"

Madeleine had thought that maybe he was just playing around at first, but then he'd rolled over onto his stomach, put his arms over his head, and screamed into the carpet. She had cautiously rubbed the back of his shoulder after the screaming had died down to ragged panting. He slowly got up and sat on the couch, rubbing his hand through his hair.

"Jaskier?" Madeleine asked worriedly, sitting beside him. She palmed his cheek, then put her hand down the back of his shirt, checking for fever. There was just normal body heat, so he wasn't ill, but something was definitely wrong. "Are you alright, pet?"

"Am.... No, no, am not..." He paused to rub his temple, then finally spoke, and Madeleine could feel him trembling where she had put her arm around him.

"Geralt... Geralt washed my blankie. He f***ing washed it, Maddy! It was an accident...but I'm so d*mn mad at him right now. It got torn up a little. Grannie was able to fix it, but now it doesn't smell right, I can't f***ing sleep well, and I'm frustrated. I know I shouldn't be p*ssed, but d*mn it, if he hadn't washed it, this wouldn't be happening! ...I'm just really f***ing tired, Maddy!"

"Have you asked Yen for help?" Madeleine asked, shifting and pulling him closer so he could lean his head on her shoulder. He bit at the end of his thumb as he sheepishly answered, "Er...no. I...uh told her to f**k off, and I, uh, might be avoiding her. She's probably really mad at me anyway,"

Madeleine snorted, a smile tugging at her lips, "Honestly, Jaskier, you can be so thick sometimes." she leaned back on the couch, and Jaskier turned so he could lean on her more comfortably. He tucked his head under her chin and kept talking.

Madeleine started stroking the bridge of his nose with her fingertip.

His voice started to trail off and get quieter as he started to fall asleep. His words became a bit muffled as he put his thumb in his mouth, not conscious enough to even realize he had done it.

Madeleine felt her heart twist a little. She'd known him long enough to know what that meant. She's seen him do it often enough in the early years when their band was just starting out and things were rough.

She kept quietly talking to him and rubbing the bridge of his nose, until he stopped talking altogether, then she started humming until she felt him relax against her.

She patted him and rubbed his arm when he started to stir after only a few minutes, and was relieved when it lulled him back to sleep.

It worried her that even though he was asleep, he was still holding tension in his body. She could feel it in his neck and shoulders and around his chest. She put her arms around him and squeezed, pulling him tight against her, and held him like that. He made a quiet sound, and she felt him shiver as some of the tension left. She pulled the throw blanket over them both and tucked it around him.

Madeleine rested her cheek on the top of his head. He was well and truly asleep now, breathing soft and even, heartbeat slow and steady. And he was drooling all down her shirt. She texted Yennefer and let her know what had happened and that she had gotten him to sleep, then she yawned and decided she needed a nap too.

Jaskier woke almost four hours later. He sniffed and groggily blinked his eyes open, wondering where he was before he remembered he was at Madeleine's.

Ugh. He'd been sucking his thumb again. F**k... Maddy wouldn't say anything, she never had, but still...

Madeliene felt him go still for a moment, and saw him tuck his thumb into his palm as if to hide it. She reached up and put her hand over his, rubbing his knuckles with her thumb. Her hand moved up his arm and around to the back of his shoulder to rub at the tense muscles there. Jaskier relaxed after a few seconds.

"Finally," Madeleine said with a smile after he sat up. "I was wondering if I was going to have to abandon all dignity and just p*ss myself." She had woken up a while ago and had passed the time by playing on her phone and texting pictures of Jaskier sleeping with humrous captions to Yennefer.

"You should of just pushed me off."

"You needed the sleep and I got a four hour long cuddle out of it. Aside from a soaking wet boob, I count it as a win-win."

Jaskier huffed a little chuckle and let her get up, incase she wasn't joking about needing to p*ss.

Madeleine took him home and handed him over to Yennefer. She gave him a peck on the cheek and told him to take some time off from band business.

Jaskier felt a little better. He wasn't as tired, but he was still irrationally angry. He could sleep without his blankie when he had to, but it was never restful sleep. It was like getting just enough sleep to function 'good enough'. And he could only do it for a few days. He was rapidly apporaching his limit.

F***ing Geralt!

He knew Yennefer worried for him. Days of interrupted sleep, and the odd nap here and there were not good for him. He felt the anxiety attack that he was hovering just at the edge of. He desperately clung to his blanket, carrying it around the house with him, snuffling frustratedly at that one corner.

Yennefer had tried offering him calming teas and potions that would help him sleep, but he refused them, and she would not force him. Nor would she use a sleep spell on him, not with out his consent. She wracked her brain trying to come up with a way to help their bard.

Geralt was the one who came up with the solution...