#puls open air

[wemalyri]

— ON THE BEACH ⋆｡°⭒˚｡⋆

𐙚⋆° heeseung × fem!reader / genre: est. relationship, fluff, smut (MDNI) / ~2k words

warnings: mentions of the car sex, sex in a public place, mutual mastirbation, unprotected sex (don't!), mention of getting caught, dirty talk, praise, use of petnames (baby, sweetheart), I would say pretty sweet and soft

a/n: i wrote it really randomly.... thanks to the edit with heeseung that made me find out about the song and inspired me! (I have one more draft with a heeseung fic inspired by a tate mcrae song btw)

if you liked the fic, pls repost, like or leave a comment!

You two had gone already three or four times — you couldn't remember. With his mouth on your wet folds, licking all clean, with his fingers, rubbing your cunt, with his dick, buried deep inside you. Everything — in his car with the rolled down windows that weren't hiding the sounds you two were making inside.

Originally, it was a planned trip to a beach. Something relaxing, fantastic, that could distract you from daily life and help to escape from the reality of deadlines and endless tasks. But it ended up in you two finding another way to relax, making a mess in Heeseung's car — he couldn't care less because his baby is you, not the car.

When you finally stepped out of the small space, hanging the door open, you immediately felt the fresh sea breeze. You closed your eyes, spreading your arms and inhaling the air, while Heeseung was still in the backseat, adjusting himself and zipping up his shorts. When he stepped out of the car, you felt his hands settling on your waist, his chest pressing to your back.

"Doesn't it feel good?" you asked, not looking away from the sun, that was about to hide in the horizont of the water.

"I think it felt better back in the car," Heeseung joked with a sly grin, making you slightly hit his hand. "No, seriously. I think we should go back," he added, causing you to roll your eyes.

"We came here for the beach," you whined, turning around to face Heeseung. "You promised," a slight pout on your face softened his expression. He affectionately rubbed your arms, looking into your eyes.

"I'm sorry, babe. I was joking," Heeseung gently cupped your face, kissing your forehead, then pulling your head to lay on his chest. You wrapped hands around his waist, enjoying the warmth of his body. Heeseung rubbed your back, leaving a kiss on your temple.

You two headed to the beach. It was quite abandoned — a place that someone could hardly find. A bunch of trees were covering the most part of it, so it felt like you were on the uninhabitated island. The sun was settling down, only the crying of the seagulls could be heard. One of the Heeseung's hands was holding a basket with a picnic mat, another one — your hand.

You laid the mat on the sand and sat down in silence, watching the scenery peacefully. Your eyes caught Heeseung's beautiful profile — his relaxed eyebrows, sparkling deer eyes, straight nose, puffy lips. You still couldn't believe that was your boyfriend.

"I'm glad there are no people here," you mindlessly said. "We can enjoy the view alone, focus on each other with no distractions."

"You know that even if there were people, my eyes would be only on you, right?" Heeseung's words naturally left his mouth  — not trying to rizz, to flirt. They were sincere. When you looked into his eyes, they were full of endless love and affection.

Your gaze moved down to his lips. Heeseung noticed. Just after a few seconds of silence, the lips that you were looking at were on yours.

Heeseung's hand moved to your hair, holding you at place, another one rested on your back, encouraging to lean closer to him. His lips were softly moving against yours, already making your head spin. You wrapped hands around his neck, immediately straddling his lap. He rested both of his hands on your waist, tracing them down to your hips.

When Heeseung slipped hands under your shorts, making an attempt to touch your clothed core, you quickly stopped him. He pulled away from the kiss in slight confusion. You stood up, sitting on the mat across from him.

"Babe?" Heeseung enquired with frowned eyebrows.

"I love you," you softly said, looking into his eyes and taking off your shorts. His eyes traveled down your body. "And I'll touch myself for you," you slipped your hand under your shirt, slowly caressing your bare skin of the stomach and moving up your breasts. His breathing hitched. "Watch me," you whispered before hissing, when your fingers pinched your nipple.

Heeseung's mouth slightly opened, but he didn't hesitate and leaned back, holding himself on his arms and watching you like it was a movie. The most interesting, fascinating movie he'd ever seen.

"Take off your shirt, baby. I wanna see your pretty tits while you're touching yourself," Heeseung softly commanded, his eyes traveling down your body, stopping on your panties, wondering if they were already getting soaked.

You listened and pulled up your shirt, tossing it aside after. Your breasts on the display, nipples hard.

"Shit..." Heeseung groaned, already reaching for the zipper on his shorts. "Good girl," he praised, stroking himself through his boxers.

Your hands traveled all the way down your body, touching it everywhere — your breasts, your stomach, your thighs. When control finally felt to slip away and desire started aching between your legs, you whined.

"Wanna touch myself there," your thighs squeezed, trying to get some friction in between them.

Heeseung breathed out, watching you being desperate just from your own touches. That wasn't even his hands. With them, you would lose control already minutes ago.

"You can. But only through your panties," you sighed, already reaching for your aching core. "And don't rush," Heeseung commanded, seeing your desperation, "Take things slowly. Be gentle, baby."

Your shaking hand started slowly caressing your pussy through the panties you were wearing, finger tracing lines between your folds. Your eyebrows frowned, eyes slightly rolling down from the sensation.

Heeseung felt blessed from the sight in front of him. You, touching yourself like there is no other day. On the beach. Just for him. The only thought of having you like this was making his head spin and his cock semi-hard, even though he still hadn't touched it properly.

"Does it feel good, baby?" Heeseung asked, watching you starting to grind your hips against your fingers. "Are you wet down there already?"

"I am," you breathed out in a whiny voice. "Feels so good, Hee. But not as good as when you touch me."

A proud smirk spread on his face. "Is that so? But yet you are already wet. Tell me how wet you are, sweetheart."

His voice and dirty words only intensified the fire inside you. You didn't hesitate to obey, slowing down your fingers on purpose.

"So wet, Hee... My panties are soaked," Heeseung groaned, palming himself through his boxers. "If I took them off right now and touched myself, you could hear it more clearly."

"Do," he said in a low voice, already losing patience. "Take your panties off, baby."

You whimpered at the permission, slightly lifting yourself on your knees, finally pulling down your panties.

"Lie down on your back," Heeseung commanded, when you were already naked. You did as he said, spreading your legs before him. "Shit..." he breathed out, seeing your wet pussy so close and spread just for him. "Just like that, baby. Let me see all of you."

When you finally touched yourself with no barrier, it felt like heaven. Your pussy immediately clenched, sensitive from all the previous waiting. Heeseung pushed his hand under the boxers, pulling out his already hard cock. When you looked at that, your back immediately arched, pussy clenching again.

"Want your cock, Hee," you whined, fastening the speed of your fingers in desperation. The wet sounds now clear in the air.

Heeseung groaned, stroking his cock at the sight. He couldn't take it anymore — seeing you so wet and spread before him, not able to touch what belonged to him.

He snapped out, moving from his position to your body, immediately pressing it to the mat. His hard cock accidentally touched your core, making you two moan.

Heeseung's hands finally settled on your hips, holding you in place, his cock brushing against your folds, savoring the wetness you made just for him.

"H-Hee," you whined, throwing your head back. "Please...I can't wait anymore."

Heeseung drowned in your pleas, taking his cock in his hand to line with your entrance. He traced its tip against your folds a few more times, making you whimper in impatience. When he finally slid inside, it felt like heaven. Like everything was finally on its own place — you under Heeseung, his cock inside you.

He didn't need to give you time to adjust to his size — you were already stretched after a few rounds in his car. Heeseung started slowly moving his hips, pushing all the way in and out.

"So tight... even after I stretched you out so well in the car. It'll never be enough, yes, baby?" he mumbled in your ear, his cock slowly moving inside you.

You desperately shook your head. "Never. Want your cock inside me forever," Heeseung groaned at your words, slamming all the way in and hitting that one spot that made you gasp.

"That's it, baby. Such a good girl for me," he mumbled in your lips before kissing you. The kiss was firm and made the tie in your stomach tighten even more. His hips started moving faster, speeding the rhythm and causing you to moan in Heeseung's mouth. He pulled away from your lips, burying his face in your neck and leaving fresh marks against old ones there. "Don't hold back. Scream my name. No one's here anyway."

You didn't need to be told twice. Every time Heeseung hit the spot inside you, your moans were getting louder. His pace was rapid, trying to give you two that expected release. The sweat was dripping down his forehead right on you.

When Heeseung lifted your thighs, placing them on his shoulders, the new angle started feeling too good.

"Shitshitshit Hee, I'm so close," you managed to mumble, and it felt like he only started pounding into you deeper.

"Come for me, baby," he whispered in your ear, and it made you completely loose. You came with a loud moan, Heeseung's hips not stopping, chasing his own high and prolonging your orgasm. When he finally came to an edge too, you felt his seed spilling inside you. After a while he stopped moving his hips, lying on top of you. You both were heavily breathing.

When you seemed to calm down, Heeseung slowly pulled away, making you two gasp, still sensitive after an orgasm. He leaned to kiss your damp forehead, whispering praises.

"You did so well. Just as always," his lips were all over your face, softly soothing after an intense action. "And I love you too."

You two sat on the mat for a while, enjoying the already darkened sky, then gathered your things and headed to the car. To your surprise, there was another car standing next to yours. Heeseung and you glanced at each other, acknowledging its presence. Then your eyes caught a group of people that was standing next to a car. All of them looked at you two with unbearable expressions on their faces. Like they knew something.

Or heard.

Or saw.

You shyly looked away, putting up with the thought that five strangers probably heard you screaming Heeseung's name. Or maybe even saw your naked bodies, crushing against each other on the mat.

Heeseung noticed your reaction and protectively wrapped his arm around your waist, glaring at unfamiliar people with a threat. He guided you to his car, opening a door for you. Inside of it, you were silent. Heessung covered your hand with his, caressing your skin.

"Let them be jealous. They don't know what they're missing."

You gave him a small smile, intertwining your fingers with his. "I love you," you whispered, looking into his eyes.

"I love you too," Heeseung answered with a smile, bringing your hand to his lips and kissing your knuckles.

Being caught in the middle of the act by a group of strangers didn't bother you anymore. You loved your boyfriend too much. That's why after you arrived at your place, you had another one round in his car.

And another one in the bed.

And maybe another one in the shower.

You loved your boyfriend too much. And he loved you too much even more.

© All rights reserved. Do not copy or translate without permission.

[crystalflygeo]

Kinktober Day 3 - Oviposition ft Dan Heng (Honkai Star Rail)

Soooooooo.... this got out of hand WHEEZE as it always does when it involves dragon eggs. I'm-.... I'm just hopeless atp. Buckle up I'm about to ignore canon and pull a lot of made up shit from thin air for the sake of horny, lmaoooo. Lovingly dedicated to @moraxsthrone

This is how Tang Tang was made//HIT

At first, you aren’t sure if you heard correctly. 

Dan Heng says nothing but pointedly avoids your gaze with a healthy blush on his cheeks.

“Did you say, uh… maybe I misheard but-” You start.

“Eggs.” Dan Heng repeats. “Dragon eggs, much smaller, of course, but they… could be viable…”

“... Eggs.” You say with a blink. 

Dan Heng sighs. “Yes.” And turns around to stare and interact with a few screens. “According to some ancient records it seems, those who have fully realized their potential as draconic Vidhyadara and manifest the dragon-like characteristics and behaviors, could, in theory, be able to pass on genes and reproduce like our reptile counterparts.” 

He is still not looking at you. Scrolling mindlessly through windows of text and opening and closing tabs. He’s nervous, you know it. 

“Children.” You blurt.

“Yes, I… it’s understandable if you have reservations. There is time to consider, I don’t want you to feel obligated to anything or…”

There’s a bit of hope in his voice, your heart warms up and flutters. Children. It’s been such an accepted impossibility in your relationship. You’ve entertained the idea of adoption someday. Now there could be a chance?

You just never imagined it would involve getting railed and apparently pumped full of-

You inhale, close your eyes, and decide to speak before you think too much about it. “Alright, but you have a lot to explain.” 

------------------

And so, he explains. In excruciating detail. 

Dan Heng seems to be pondering aloud just as much as he is trying to explain the whole process. All an educated guess, though, as he puts it. You’re working with estimations and are not sure how to feel about that but he’s put an incredible amount of research into it all and that, at least, soothes you.

Over the years you’ve seen Dan Hang in many different ways and dealt with your fair share of… interesting Vidyadhara traits. Mates? Good. Funky dragon anatomy? Very good. Being protective and territorial over you? Yes. But eggs… will definitely be new. 

Your back hits the mattress and you shiver nervously, only in your underwear. Dan Heng kisses you softly, his hand cupping your cheek. Like this his eyes have an almost ethereal glow and his long dark hair is unbound falling down his back. Teal horns crown his head, and though they aren’t new you can’t help but be amazed by them every time.

“How do you feel? Are you sure about this?” He asks tenderly. 

You’re trying hard not to think too much about your previous discussions, sneaking a glance at his underwear out of the corner of your eye, or more accurately, at the large bulge in it. 

You lick your lips nervously and nod “Yeah… yeah, sure.” 

He sighs and smooths a hand along your shoulder. “If you have changed your mind-”

“No, no! I haven’t I promise I just… I’m nervous, there’s a lot to consider and…” You stare at him for a moment and remember, he is walking this path with you, just as lost and nervous. “I love you.” You smile reassuringly. “I love you so much. I want this.”

His breath comes out in a woosh and he leans forward again to kiss you. 

It’s passionate, demanding, his tongue tangles with yours and explores your mouth and you groan, your body melting under him, hands roaming each other’s bodies. You see his teal dragon tail manifesting, swaying about excitedly before curling around your ankle possessively.     

He massages your breast, pinching a nipple between his fingers to bring it to a stiff peak, you whine and arch your back, he takes the chance to make short work of your bra and toss it somewhere along the dark room before your arms curl around his neck once more to pull him down into another kiss.

His hips buck into yours and he moans. Even through the fabric you can already tell this time something is different. 

And honestly you can’t wait. 

Your fingers hook at the edge of his underwear, teasing, and start to pull down, Dan Heng groans and helps you discard his last piece of clothing, your panties quickly joining after and this is it. You stare.

Not just his gorgeous, thick cock you’ve come to love so much but two. Two.

One is relatively normal, his shape and girth familiar despite the clear draconic hue from his dark uncut tip and soft ridges. The other slightly larger, with a pointier tip, not as strange as Dan Heng had made it out to be. The Vidyadhara had been all shy and hesitant about it, both out of embarrassment and perhaps because he was afraid it might scare you off. 

Instead, desire pools between your legs. Oh, how you want.

“A-Alright, so first I should-!!” Any other words are lost in a strangled moan as you reach out and wrap your hand around the unfamiliar length. It’s hot in your palm, thick and firm. Dan Heng hisses as you tentatively jerk it a bit, squeezing around the tip, it’s spade-shaped and neatly tapered, perfect for reaching deep and pressing on just the right spots. 

Or so you assume, won’t know until you try.

He bucks into your hand with a grunt and you stare fascinated at the leaking tip, before either of you can process it, you dark forward and lap at it. “Hng!” He tosses his head back and his hand flies to grip at your hair. 

It tastes salty, slightly more viscous and you can’t get enough of it, you gingerly kiss at the tip and mouth at it before closing your lips around the crown, it’s thick in your mouth, your hand teasing the rest of it. 

You stare up at Dan Heng, his eyes shut tight, brow furrowed and face flushed all the way to the tips of his pointy ears, he’s tense and shivering, clearly holding back from rutting into the wet warmth of your throat. 

So, you attempt to take him deeper, moaning for good measure so the vibrations drive him insane, and you’re rewarded with more pleasured noises that make your pussy clench.

“My love… w-wait-” He gasps, you run your tongue along the underside of his length. “Fuck-!” Ohhh he’s losing his composure, his grip on your hair tightening. When your other hand curls around his unattended cock, thumb swirling at the tip, he snaps. “Enough.”

You pull off with a wet pop, licking your lips and catching your breath. 

Dan Heng pushes you back with a hand and you follow easily, back hitting the mattress and spreading your legs eagerly for him to slot in. He reaches for a pillow and places it under your hips, raising the slightly, his tail now curls around your thigh. 

Your stares cross, love and lust mixing. 

“Are you ready?” He asks, his thumb rubbing over your entrance, finding you dripping wet. 

“Yes, Aeons, yes…”

He leans down to kiss you again, tender this time, there’s a sense of intimacy that warms you. How you love this man, this dragon. The way he dotes over you, the way he breathes in your scent and kisses you and holds you close, tender. 

He sinks two fingers inside you and you whimper into the kiss. He works you open slowly, reverent, pulling in and out, stretching them a bit and adding a third. You’re squirming, desperate and worked up. Nails dragging on his back and shoulders. “Dan Heng please…” 

He kisses at your neck, nips the skin there with his fangs. “Be patient, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t. Please, just put it in. Breed me.” 

He stops, you hear a little growl, ragged breath on your collarbone, and suddenly the fingers are gone. You barely have time to miss them when that thick pointy cockhead is pressing against you. 

Then it sinks in, the glide slow and gentle with Dan Heng’s careful movements.  

And oh, oh- you feel him stretch you. Thick and long and so, so hot. It spears you open in the most delicious way, rubbing at your insides as he pulls out ever so slightly before fucking in deeper with slow rolls of his hips.

You toss your head back and moan. You feel so full, deliciously complete. The draconic cock settling deep inside as Dan Heng bottoms out, his balls flush against your taint and the second cock dribbling precum everywhere on your thigh and navel.  

You take a moment or two to settle, both of you, and then he starts moving. Dan Heng pulls back and rolls into you languidly, slow and deep, testing the waters. 

“So good for me… so warm and… thigh-!” He murmurs against your skin, pressing kisses anywhere he can reach. You keen, arching off the mattress and meeting his every thrust.

The air is thick and heavy, he presses as close as he can against you, your legs lock behind his back as he gradually speeds up. Your thoughts are fuzzy, blissed-out. The room is a cacophony of moans and whimpers and the sound of skin on skin. 

“I need- please- Dan Heng-!!”

The drag of his cock sets you alight, every nerve stimulated, pleasure building and building…

“I’m close” He rasps out. You’re about to tell him to come deep inside as he always does and then you remember.

“Oh.”

Dan Heng’s grip tightens in the sheets, his thrusts slow to a crawl and you suddenly feel a subtle bulge pressing against your hole. “T-that’s-” You say breathlessly. 

An egg.

He presses his forehead against yours and rolls his hips a little more insistent, trying to ease it in “Careful now…relax for me.” 

You’re trying but the pressure is intense and you’re already so full of thick cock. How can you take more? You whimper.

“I’m-”

“You can do it.”

A dragon egg, a little dragon baby. A tiny piece of you and him joining to create something wonderful. This is why you’re doing this. 

“Almost there” His voice is a soothing balm, con contradictory to the way he ruts into you, pushing your limits. But the way his teal eyes almost glow, pupils pulled to slits, flushed and panting but so determined, staring at you with so much love. You bite your lip and cant your hips, muffling your cries as his cock slips deeper with every thrust. 

It feels like an eternity when the ovipositor slips back all the way inside, and you cry out.

Dan Heng’s thumb traces your clit and while he can’t really pull out, he fucks into you with a nice deep grind.

“Dan Heng-!” You whisper, nothing more than a debauched breathless mess. “Dan Heng, Dan Heng, Dan Heng…”

The coil in your gut snaps and you come with a scream, tears springing to your eyes and your walls fluttering around his length, easing the egg deep inside you. He fucks a few more thrusts into you and then makes a noise you never heard from him before, a sort of choked growl.

Then, he stills.

You spend a few moments catching your breath and Dan Heng nuzzles into you, kissing away your tears as you lie a full, overstimulated, flushed mess. 

“Bear with me just a little longer.” He pants, pulling back a a little to hover over you. You groan, having almost forgotten about this particular step and the promise of his other cock, the one more familiar to you. 

He eases the ovipositor out of you slowly. The egg vaguely feeling heavy and round in your womb. You can’t think straight as Dan Heng shifts against you, his other cock resting against your entrance before easily sinking in, smaller than the first, bottoming out immediately. 

You sigh.

“I… I won’t last long.” He admits.

“Breed me.” You repeat. “Our egg will take.”

It seems like the right incentive as he starts fucking into you in a frenzied pace, pressing and pulling at your insides. You sob and squirm, uselessly trying to match his rhythm. He growls, groans and tips over surprisingly quickly, filling you up with sticky cum. 

Your body sags, spent, aching, full, and so utterly satisfied. He stays lodged in deep and doesn’t move. You both take a moment to come down from the intense high. 

Dan Heng slides a hand along your tummy, smoothing the skin there and feeling the very small subtle bulge there. “Mine. All mine… both of you.” He claims.  

You place your hand on his and smile weakly.

He finally pulls out, making you groan at the emptiness, and maneuvers you both onto your sides, spooning you. He brushes at your hair and kisses the back of your neck, whispering sweet nothings “You did so well. I love you.” His hand rests on the soft curve of your stomach. The barest signs of a bump that could be easily missed. “Rest.” 

You sigh deeply, content. “Love you too…” Comes out slightly slurred. And so, you rest.

[moonlightwritingf1]

At His Mercy | LN4

🌸 summary ━━━━━━━ Lando and Y/N try handcuffs and blindfolds in the bedroom.

🌸 pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

🌸 word count ━━━━━━━ 6.5k

🌸 warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content, p in v, unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), creampie, teasing, handcuffs, blindfolded

Based on this request.

“Do you trust me?” Lando’s voice was low, almost a whisper, as he leaned closer to her, his breath warm against her ear.

Y/n’s heart skipped a beat, her eyes narrowing slightly as she tried to read his expression. “What are you up to, Norris?” she asked, her tone laced with both suspicion and amusement.

He smirked, that signature Lando smirk that always seemed to both infuriate and intrigue her. “Come on,” he said, his voice teasing, “just a little something I’ve been thinking about. Nothing too crazy. Unless you’re scared, of course.”

She raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smile despite herself. “Scared? Of you? Don’t flatter yourself.”

Lando chuckled, his fingers lightly grazing her arm as he leaned back, those bright blue eyes of his sparkling with mischief. “Good. Because I was thinking… maybe we could try something new. Blindfold, maybe some handcuffs. You know, just to… spice things up a bit.”

Y/n’s eyes widened slightly, her cheeks flushing as she processed his words. She wasn’t sure if she should laugh, slap him, or kiss him. “Handcuffs? Really, Lando? What’s next, a whip and a chair?”

He laughed, the sound rich and warm, and she couldn’t help but smile. “No whips, I promise,” he said, his tone softening. “Just… trust me. I want to make you feel good. And I think you’d like it. But only if you’re comfortable, of course.”

She hesitated, her mind racing. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him—after a year together, she knew he’d never push her too far. But the idea of being so… vulnerable with him was both thrilling and terrifying. Still, the way he was looking at her, his expression so open and sincere, made her heart flutter.

“Fine,” she said finally, her voice steady despite the nervous excitement bubbling inside her. “But if I don’t like it, we’re never doing it again.”

Lando grinned, his eyes lighting up. “Deal.”

---

The apartment in Monaco was quiet, the soft hum of the air conditioning the only sound breaking the silence. Y/n sat on the couch, her legs curled under her, as Lando poured them both a glass of wine. They had spent the day exploring the city, and while Y/n had initially been nervous about being in such a luxurious setting, Lando’s easy-going nature had quickly put her at ease.

As he handed her the glass, their fingers brushed, and she felt a familiar warmth spread through her. No matter how many times they touched, it always felt electric, like the first time all over again.

“So,” she said, taking a sip of the wine, “handcuffs, huh? Where did that come from?”

Lando shrugged, his smile sheepish. “I don’t know. I just… I want to try new things with you. I want to make sure you’re always happy, always satisfied.”

She raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk on her lips. “And you think handcuffs are the way to do that?”

He laughed, setting his glass down on the table. “Maybe. Or maybe I just like the idea of having you all to myself. No distractions, just… us.”

Y/n’s cheeks flushed again, and she looked down at her glass, her fingers tracing the rim. “You’re such a romantic,” she teased, though her voice was soft.

“Only for you,” he said, his tone sincere.

---

The air in the bathroom steamed, the scent of her jasmine body wash lingering as Y/N stepped out, towel wrapped snugly around her dripping body. The soft thud of her feet on the tiled floor echoed in the quiet apartment. She ran her fingers through her wet hair, the water droplets cascading down her shoulders and onto the towel. Her reflection in the fogged-up mirror caught her eye, and she felt a twist of nervous excitement in her stomach. Lando was somewhere in the apartment, waiting. She could feel his presence like a current pulling her toward him. She tightened the towel around her, the fabric rough against her damp skin, and padded out of the bathroom, her bare feet sinking into the plush carpet. Lando was leaning against the doorframe of the bedroom, his arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips as he watched her. His eyes traveled slowly, deliberately, down the length of her body, stopping where the towel clung to her curves. “Took you long enough,” he teased, his voice low and smooth, like velvet. Y/N rolled her eyes, though her cheeks were already warm. “Shut up, Norris. You’re the one who insisted on showering together but then bailed.” He chuckled, pushing off the doorframe and closing the distance between them. His fingers brushed against her arm, sending a shiver down her spine despite the warmth radiating from her skin. “Trust me, if I’d stayed in there with you, we’d still be in there now.” She shot him a look, though her lips curved into a smile. “You’re impossible.” Lando’s grin widened, his hand moving to tuck a wet strand of hair behind her ear. “And yet, here you are.” She didn’t have a retort for that. Instead, she let herself be led into his bedroom, the air cooler now, the soft sheets beckoning. Lando left her standing there for a moment as he crossed the room to the nightstand, his movements fluid and unhurried. Her heart began to race, the towel suddenly feeling too loose, too revealing, as she watched him pull out a small, unassuming box. “So,” she said, her voice steadier than she expected, “this is the big surprise?” He turned to face her, the box in his hand, his gaze finding hers in the dim light. “Trust me,” he said again, his voice a promise. “You’re gonna love it.”

He opened it, revealing a pair of soft, silk blindfolds and a set of handcuffs. Y/n’s eyes widened as she took them in, her stomach twisting with a mix of excitement and nervousness.

“You’re serious,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lando nodded, his expression serious now. “Only if you want to.”

She hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

He smiled, his eyes softening as he reached out to gently take her hand. “Trust me,” he said again, his voice steady.

“I do,” she replied, her heart fluttering.

Lando moved slowly, his movements deliberate as he tied the blindfold around her eyes, the soft silk brushing against her skin. She gasped softly as the world went dark, her other senses immediately heightening.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice close, his breath warm against her neck.

She nodded, her lips curving into a smile. “Yeah. Just… different.”

“Good different?” he teased, his fingers lightly trailing down her arm.

“We’ll see,” she replied, her voice breathless.

He chuckled softly, the sound sending a shiver down her spine. Then she felt the cool metal of the handcuffs as he gently secured her wrists, the sensation both thrilling and slightly unnerving.

“Lando…” she whispered, her voice tinged with both excitement and uncertainty.

“Trust me,” he murmured again, his lips brushing against her ear. “I’ve got you.”

And then he was kissing her, his lips hot and demanding against hers, and all her worries melted away. She moaned softly into his mouth, her body arching towards him as his hands roamed her body, teasing and exploring.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice rough with desire. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

She shivered, her body responding to every touch, every word. “Show me,” she breathed, her voice trembling.

Lando didn’t need to be told twice. His hands slid down her arms, fingertips brushing over her damp skin until he reached the edge of the towel. His touch was light, deliberate, teasing as he hooked a finger into the fabric, letting it loosen just enough to make her breath hitch. She felt the cool air of the room against her skin as the towel threatened to slip, her body instinctively arching toward him for warmth—or maybe to close the distance. His lips grazed her neck, his breath warm and uneven against her ear. “You’re fucking perfect,” he murmured, his voice rough and low, sending a shiver through her. His hands moved lower, tracing the curve of her hips, his fingers dipping just beneath the towel’s edge as if testing the boundaries of her resolve. She gasped, her pulse racing under his touch, her body responding with a heat that made her forget everything but him. “Lando,” she whispered, her voice trembling, a mix of need and anticipation. “Trust me,” he repeated, his lips brushing against her jawline, his hands firm yet gentle as they teased her, drawing out every sensation until she was trembling in his arms.

“Lando,” she moaned, her hips bucking instinctively.

“Patience,” he murmured, his voice low and husky. “We’re just getting started.”

And as he continued to tease her, drawing out her pleasure with every touch, every kiss, Y/n knew one thing for certain—she was completely and utterly his.

Lando’s hands lingered on her hips for a moment, his fingers digging slightly into the softness of her skin before he gently pushed her back onto the bed. The mattress dipped under her weight, and she let out a soft exhale as her body sank into the plush duvet. Her hands, still cuffed, instinctively moved to her sides, but Lando was quick to intervene. He reached for her wrists, lifting them above her head with a quiet firmness that made her pulse quicken.

“Keep them there,” he murmured, his voice low, almost a growl. His lips brushed against her ear as he leaned in, his breath warm and uneven. “Don’t move them. Not unless I tell you to.”

Y/n swallowed, her heart racing as she nodded. The blindfold was still securely in place, blocking her vision, amplifying her other senses. She could feel the weight of his gaze on her, even though she couldn’t see it. His hands began to explore her body, starting with her arms, tracing the delicate lines of her shoulders, down to the curve of her biceps. His touch was deliberate, unhurried, and it sent shivers cascading down her spine.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he breathed, his voice filled with an awe that made her stomach flutter. “Every inch of you.”

His hands moved lower, skimming over her ribs, his thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts. She tensed, a soft gasp escaping her lips as his touch lingered there, teasing her, drawing out the sensation until she was squirming beneath him.

“Lando,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need.

“Shh,” he hushed her, his lips trailing down her neck, leaving a trail of soft kisses in their wake. “Let me take my time with you.”

His hands continued their exploration, moving lower, his fingers tracing the curve of her waist, dipping into the dip of her hips. His touch was feather-light, almost torturously slow, and she could feel the heat pooling between her legs, her body responding to him in ways that made her head spin.

“You’re so fucking soft,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. His hands moved to her thighs, his fingers digging into the supple flesh, his touch firm yet gentle. She could feel the heat of his breath against her skin as he leaned in, his lips brushing against the inside of her thigh. “And you smell so good.”

“Lando—” her voice cracked, her hips bucking involuntarily as his lips pressed against her skin, his kisses growing more insistent, more heated. “Please.”

“Please what?” he teased, his lips curling into a smirk against her thigh. “You have to be specific, love.”

She could hear the amusement in his voice, the playful tone that made her cheeks burn. “Don’t make me beg,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Oh, but I think I will,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, sultry tone. His hands moved to her hips, his fingers gripping her firmly as he positioned himself between her legs. She could feel the heat of his body pressing against her, the hardness of him making her ache with need. “I want to hear you beg for me.”

His lips brushed against her inner thigh again, his kisses trailing higher, closer to where she needed him most. She could feel her breath hitching, her heart pounding in her chest as he teased her, his touch maddeningly slow.

“Lando, please,” she whimpered, her hips lifting off the bed, seeking his touch. “I need you.”

“You need me, huh?” he teased, his lips brushing against her core, his breath hot against her skin. “What do you need, love?”

“You,” she gasped, her back arching as his lips finally made contact with her, his tongue darting out to taste her, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to her core. “God, Lando, please.”

“Please what?” he murmured, his tongue teasing her, lapping at her with slow, deliberate strokes that made her moan. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want you,” she sobbed, her hands tugging against the cuffs, desperate to touch him, to pull him closer. “I want you inside me.”

“Good girl,” he purred, his hands gripping her hips, holding her in place as he continued to tease her with his tongue, his movements slow, deliberate, driving her wild. “But not yet.”

She let out a frustrated whine, her hips bucking against him, but he held her firmly, his tongue lapping at her with agonizing slowness. She could feel the pleasure building, her body trembling beneath him, but he wasn’t letting her go, wasn’t letting her fall.

“Lando, please,” she begged, her voice breaking as his tongue circled her clit, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through her. “I can’t—I can’t take it anymore.”

“Yes, you can,” he murmured, his voice filled with dark promise. “You can take it, love. You’re so fucking strong for me.”

His words sent a shiver through her, her body responding to the praise in ways that made her head spin. She could feel the pleasure cresting, her body teetering on the edge, but he wasn’t letting her fall, wasn’t letting her go.

“Lando, please,” she sobbed, her voice trembling with desperation as her hands tugged at the cuffs, her wrists straining against the cold metal. Her hips writhed beneath him, seeking more, needing more. Her thighs quivered, her body taut with tension. “I need it. Please, let me—” “Not yet.” His voice was a low growl, thick with amusement and something darker, hungrier. His tongue dragged against her in a long, searing stroke, dipping between her folds to taste her fully, teasing the sensitive ridge of her clit. She could feel the heat of his breath against her slick flesh, the slow, deliberate rhythm of his movements sending electric shocks of pleasure pulsing through her. He lingered there, his tongue circling her clit with maddening precision, each taunting flick coaxing a whimper from her lips. “I want to hear you beg for it.” Her breath hitched, her chest rising and falling rapidly as her body quivered beneath him. The blindfold intensified everything—the way his tongue felt as it lapped at her, slow and deliberate, the way his breath fanned over her sensitive skin, the way his hands gripped her thighs to keep her spread open for him. She could feel every flick, every press, every lick as if her nerves were made of fire. “Please, Lando,” she begged, her voice breaking, raw with need. The sound of her own desperation echoed in her ears, but she couldn’t stop herself. “Please, let me come.” He hummed against her, the vibration sending a jolt of pleasure straight to her core. His tongue slid lower, exploring her entrance, teasing her with shallow dips that made her hips jerk. He lapped at her with agonizing slowness, savoring her taste, his tongue circling her clit again in tight, rapid circles that had her crying out. “Good girl,” he purred, his voice dark and commanding, and she could hear the smirk in his tone. “Now come for me.” The moment he gave her permission, her body surrendered. Her back arched off the bed as the first wave of pleasure crashed over her, dragging a sharp, keening moan from her lips. Her legs trembled violently, her hands pulling against the cuffs as if they could anchor her to reality. His tongue didn’t relent, working her through the orgasm with relentless precision, each flick of his tongue sending another wave of ecstasy rippling through her. She felt weightless, her mind hazy with pleasure, every nerve in her body alight with sensation. And as the last tremors of her release faded, she collapsed back onto the bed, her chest heaving, her body limp and utterly spent.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice filled with dark satisfaction. “You’re so fucking beautiful when you come.”

She could feel his lips pressing soft kisses against her thigh, his hands soothingly stroking her hips as she rode out the waves of pleasure. Her body was still trembling, her breath coming in short gasps as she tried to calm herself down.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe. “Every inch of you.”

She could feel him shifting, his body moving over hers, his lips brushing against hers in a soft, tender kiss. She could taste herself on his lips, the thought making her cheeks burn.

“You’re mine,” he murmured, his voice low, possessive. “All mine.”

Lando pulled away from Y/n’s lips, his breath warm against her skin as he shifted his weight off her. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her body still humming from the intensity of their connection. She could hear the rustle of fabric as he stripped off the rest of his clothes, the sound sending a fresh wave of anticipation coursing through her. The blindfold heightened her senses, making every sound, every touch, every movement feel magnified.

She felt the mattress dip as he knelt between her legs, his fingers skimming up her thighs. She gasped softly, her body instinctively arching toward him. His hands found her hips, his grip firm but gentle, anchoring her in place. The air between them felt charged, electric, and Y/n’s pulse quickened as she waited for his next move.

“You’re so fucking beautiful like this,” Lando murmured, his voice low and gravelly. “Completely at my mercy.”

Y/n shivered at his words, her breath hitching as she felt the soft brush of his fingers against her inner thighs. She was already so sensitive, her body still tingling from her earlier climax, and the slightest touch sent sparks shooting through her.

Then she felt it—the hot, velvety tip of his cock pressing against her, teasing her entrance. She whimpered softly, her hips instinctively trying to move toward him, but his hands held her firmly in place.

“Uh-uh,” he chided, his tone playful yet commanding. “You’re not in control here, love. I am.”

Y/n let out a frustrated moan, her body trembling with need. She could feel how wet she was, her arousal slick and warm between her thighs, and the knowledge that he could see her like this—completely exposed, completely his—only made her burn hotter.

Lando chuckled softly, the sound sending a shiver down her spine. “You’re soaked for me, aren’t you?” he said, his voice dripping with amusement and desire. “God, I love how responsive you are. Every little thing I do to you turns you into a fucking mess.”

She whimpered again, her hands tugging uselessly at the handcuffs above her head. “Lando, please,” she begged, her voice trembling with desperation.

“Please what?” he teased, his tone light and teasing. “You’re going to have to be more specific, darling.”

“Please…just…” she trailed off, her words dissolving into another soft moan as he pressed the tip of his cock against her clit, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure through her.

“Just what?” he prompted, his voice low and teasing. “You want me to fuck you? Is that it?”

“Yes,” she breathed, her hips instinctively trying to move toward him again.

But Lando held her firmly in place, his grip unyielding. “Not yet,” he said, his voice a soft growl. “You’re going to wait until I say so.”

Y/n let out a frustrated whimper, her body aching with need. The blindfold made everything feel so much more intense—every brush of his skin against hers, every hot breath against her neck, every whispered word sent her senses into overdrive. She could feel every vein, every ridge of his cock as he dragged the tip through her folds, the sensation maddening.

Lando’s fingers traced a feather-light path down her inner thighs, his touch deliberate and unhurried. He paused just short of where she needed him most, his breath warm against her neck as he chuckled softly. “Patience, love,” he murmured, his voice a low, teasing purr. “You’ll get what you want when I decide you’ve earned it.”

She sucked in a sharp breath, her hips involuntarily lifting toward him, but his hands pressed down firmly, holding her in place. The blindfold heightened everything—his voice, the heat of his skin, the weight of his presence. She could hear the slick sound his fingers made as they brushed through her folds, already soaked and aching for him.

“Look at you,” he said, his tone thick with amusement. “So fucking wet for me. Do you even realize how much you’re dripping? I bet I could slide inside you right now, and you’d take every inch without a second thought.”

She whimpered, her thighs trembling as he trailed the tip of his cock along her slit, slow and deliberate. The sensation was maddening—hot velvet against the most sensitive part of her, teasing but never quite enough. Her body throbbed with need, every inch of her desperate for him to fill her, to stop this unbearable torment.

“Lando,” she gasped, her voice breaking. “Please. I need you.”

His laughter was soft, dark, and full of intent. “What do you need, darling? You’ll have to be specific.”

“I need...” Her words faltered, swallowed by a moan as he dragged the tip of his cock over her clit, the pressure just enough to make her legs jerk. “I need you inside me. Now.”

He hummed, the sound vibrating through her as he leaned closer, his lips brushing her ear. “You’ve got to do better than that. Beg for it. Tell me how much you want me.”

Her breath hitched, the humiliation only intensifying her arousal. “Please, Lando. I want you so bad. I need you to fuck me. I can’t wait anymore.”

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice dripping with approval. But instead of giving her what she begged for, he pressed the tip of his cock against her entrance, just enough to make her gasp. He held it there, his grip on her hips unyielding as she tried to push against him.

“Uh-uh,” he chided, his tone firm yet playful. “You’ll take it when I say so. Not a second before.”

She let out a frustrated whimper, her body trembling with the effort of staying still. The blindfold made everything feel ten times more intense—the slip of his precum against her, the way her pulse raced as he teased her, the way her nerves screamed for release. She could feel every ridge of his cock as he slowly dragged it back and forth along her soaked folds, the friction driving her wild.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he growled, his voice rough with desire. “I can’t wait to feel you wrapped around me, squeezing me so hard I’ll forget my own name.”

She moaned, her back arching as he circled her clit with the tip, the pressure just enough to make her toes curl. “Please,” she begged, her voice trembling. “I can’t take it anymore.”

“Oh, you can,” he teased, his voice low and taunting. “You’ll take it because I’m the one in control. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” she gasped, her body on the edge of breaking. “Yes, Lando. You’re in control.”

He chuckled darkly, the sound sending a shiver down her spine. “That’s what I wanted to hear.” He pressed the tip of his cock against her entrance again, this time sinking just an inch inside before pulling back, leaving her clutching at emptiness.

“Lando!” she cried, her voice breaking with desperation.

“Patience, darling,” he murmured, his tone dripping with amusement. “I’m not done playing with you yet.”

She could feel the way her body clenched around nothing, desperate for him to fill her. The blindfold made every sensation sharper, every touch magnified, every sound louder. She could hear the way her breath hitched, the way her pulse pounded in her ears, the way his soft laughter stirred something deep inside her.

He teased her clit with the tip of his cock again, the pressure just enough to make her gasp. “You’re so fucking desperate for me, aren’t you?” he taunted, his voice low and dark. “Begging me to fuck you like the needy little slut you are.”

Her cheeks burned, but the humiliation only drove her need higher. “Please,” she whimpered, her voice trembling. “I need you so bad. I can’t wait anymore.”

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice full of promise. “Don’t worry, love. I’ll give you exactly what you need. But first, you’re going to wait. You’re going to be patient and let me take my time. Can you do that for me?”

She nodded, her body trembling with the effort of staying still. Every nerve in her body was alive, every touch amplified, every word a spark that set her ablaze. She was completely at his mercy, and the knowledge only made her burn hotter.

“Good,” he said, his voice softening. “Now, let’s see how long you can last.”

Lando’s breath was hot against her ear as he leaned in, his lips brushing her skin in a way that sent shivers down her spine. “You’re so fucking wet for me, aren’t you?” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. “I can feel it—every single drop. You’re dripping for me, love.”

Y/n whimpered, her hips instinctively arching toward him, desperate for more. But Lando was in no rush. He dragged the tip of his cock through her folds, slow and deliberate, savoring the way she quivered beneath him. The sensation was maddening—just enough to tease, but not enough to satisfy.

“Lando, please,” she breathed, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I need you.”

He chuckled softly, the sound dark and delicious, and she felt him shift slightly, adjusting his position. “You need me, do you?” he teased, his lips brushing her neck. “What exactly do you need, darling? Tell me.”

She swallowed hard, her mind racing as she tried to form the words. But before she could answer, Lando moved again, rubbing the length of his cock through her folds, the motion slow and deliberate. The sensation was overwhelming, and she couldn’t help but moan, her head falling back against the pillows.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice filled with satisfaction. “Let me hear you, love. Let me hear how much you want this.”

Her body was on fire, every touch sending waves of pleasure crashing through her. She was completely at his mercy, and the knowledge only made her burn hotter. “I need you inside me,” she finally managed to say, her voice trembling with desperation. “Please, Lando. I can’t take it anymore.”

He smiled against her skin, his breath warm and steady. “Oh, I know you can’t,” he teased, his voice dripping with confidence. “But I’m not done yet. I want to feel every inch of you before I give you what you need.”

With that, he adjusted his position again, this time angling himself so that the tip of his cock pressed against her entrance. He didn’t push in—not yet. Instead, he rubbed the tip against her, the motion slow and teasing, just enough to drive her wild.

Y/n let out another whimper, her hips arching toward him again, desperate for more. “Lando, please,” she begged, her voice breaking with need. “I can’t—I can’t take it.”

He chuckled softly, his lips brushing her neck again. “Oh, I think you can,” he murmured, his voice dark and teasing. “You’re stronger than you think, love. And you’re going to wait for me. You’re going to be patient and let me take my time.”

She let out a frustrated groan, her body trembling with the effort of staying still. But Lando was relentless. He continued to tease her, alternating between rubbing the length of his cock through her folds and pressing the tip against her entrance. Every touch was agonizingly slow, every motion calculated to drive her wild.

By now, his cock was completely soaked in her wetness, and Lando couldn’t help but smile at the sight. “God, you’re so wet for me,” he murmured, his voice filled with awe. “I love seeing you like this—completely undone, completely at my mercy. You’re perfect, love.”

She whimpered again, her hips instinctively arching toward him. “Lando, please,” she begged, her voice trembling with desperation. “I need you inside me. Please, just—just fuck me.”

He chuckled softly, his lips brushing her neck again. “Oh, I will,” he promised, his voice dark and delicious. “But not yet baby. I told you, you’re going to wait for me. You’re going to be patient and let me take my time.”

He pressed the tip of his cock against her entrance, slick with her wetness, teasing her with shallow, maddening movements. Just the tip, gliding back and forth, barely breaching her. Y/n’s hips bucked instinctively, trying to force him deeper, but Lando’s hands clamped down hard on her hips, pinning her in place. 

“Behave,” he growled, his voice thick with authority. “You move when I tell you to move.”

“Lando, please,” she whimpered, her voice trembling almost to the point of breaking. Her body felt like it was on fire, every nerve ending hypersensitive, every sensation amplified by the darkness surrounding her. The silk blindfold heightened everything—his touch felt electric, the heat of his breath on her neck unbearable, the ache between her legs consuming. She could feel every ridge, every throb of his cock as he teased her, and it made her mind unravel. It felt bigger inside her, harder, more insistent, and the anticipation of him filling her completely had her hovering on the edge. 

“You sound desperate,” he murmured, a low chuckle vibrating through her skin. His lips brushed her ear, sending shivers down her spine. “So fucking wet for me. I can feel it—every drop. You’re soaked, love. But I’m still not done playing.” 

She whined, her hips straining against his grip. “Please, Lando, I need you. I can’t—I can’t wait anymore.”

He paused, letting the silence stretch between them, letting her desperation build until she was practically writhing beneath him. Then, without warning, he slowly pushed into her, inch by agonizing inch, the stretch overwhelming in the best way. The blindfold made it feel even more intense; she couldn’t see what was coming, couldn’t anticipate the way he’d fill her so completely. Her breath hitched, a moan tearing from her throat as he seated himself fully inside her. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, his voice rough with desire. “So tight, love. So perfect.” His hands shifted to her hips, pulling her closer as he began to move, slow and deliberate, each stroke dragging against her sensitive walls.

Y/n arched into him, her body trembling with pleasure. Every thrust felt deeper, harder, more consuming than usual. The darkness intensified every sensation—the scrape of his chest against her nipples, the way his hands gripped her tighter as she moved with him. She could feel every pulse of his cock, every sharp intake of his breath, every muffled groan that escaped his lips.

“You’re mine,” Lando growled, his voice low and commanding, shattering the silence of the room. His hands gripped her hips firmly, fingers digging into her skin as he thrust into her deeply with a hunger she’d never felt from him before. Every inch of him filled her completely, stretching, claiming. The curve of his cock pressed perfectly against that spot inside her that made her see stars.

Her breath hitched. “Lando— fuck,” she managed through staggered gasps, her body writhing beneath him.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his words dark and laced with raw desire. His gaze raked over her bound wrists above her head, the way her chest heaved, and the flush spreading across her skin. Underneath the blindfold, her pupils would be blown wide, her lips parted in helpless gasps. Just the thought made pleasure shoot through him.

He pulled out slowly, savoring the sticky drag of his cock moving through her slick walls; she whimpered frantically. Her thighs trembled as if begging for more, desperate not to lose him.

“Do you feel how tight you are?” He snapped his hips forward again without warning — she cried out sharply. Lando groaned behind clenched teeth as her inner muscles clenched around him repeatedly, so velvety soft yet searing hot. It felt almost too intense, every nerve of her squeezing him tautly mid-thrust, coating him entirely until all self-control slipped further away.

His arms trembled on either side of her, sweat dripping off his forehead as his pace quickened. The slap of skin against skin echoed through the room, punctuated by her ragged breaths and his low groans. Each stroke felt deeper, harder, impossibly more consuming. She tightened around him like a vice, her legs trembling and her fingers pulling at the handcuffs uselessly.

“You’re so perfect for me,” he choked out, one hand moving down to grip her thigh, driving himself even deeper. “How did I get so lucky? How do you always feel even better than my dreams?”

She whimpered.

“You’re mine,” he whispered, his voice dark and possessive. “All mine. And look at you—completely undone. Begging for me. Needing me just as much as I need you.” He leaned down, his tongue tracing the shell of her ear before he added, “Come for me, Y/N. Let me feel you.”

Her orgasm crashed over her in waves, her body clamping around him as pleasure rolled through her. Lando didn’t let up, driving her higher with every thrust, every deep, unrelenting stroke. “That’s it,” he murmured, his voice filled with awe. “God, you’re so wet. So fucking perfect.”

Her pussy clenched around him, a vicious, deliberate squeeze that ripped a guttural groan from his throat. Lando’s hips stuttered as his control shattered completely. His fingers dug into her thighs, anchoring himself as his release surged deep inside her, hot and pulsing, flooding her with every throb of his cock.

“Fuck,” he hissed against the crook of her neck, his lips brushing her skin in desperate, muffled gasps. “Y/N—fucking hell.” The intensity of it had him shuddering, his body coiled tight before collapsing into hers, his weight pressing her into the mattress.

She smiled faintly beneath the blindfold, a hint of satisfaction curling her mouth as she deliberately tightened around him again. The sensation made him hiss through clenched teeth, his hips jerking involuntarily, drawing another wave of pleasure from her. It was mutual—his cum filled her achingly warm, the steady pulses making her shiver as her own climax rolled through her again, drawn out by the way he throbbed inside her.

“You’re going to kill me,” Lando muttered hoarsely, his breath ragged as he pressed his forehead against her shoulder. His voice was wrecked, almost unrecognizable, but she could hear the grin in it, the pure, unbridled satisfaction.

She didn’t answer, couldn’t, not when every nerve in her body still fizzed with leftover sparks. Instead, she arched slightly into him, savoring how full she felt, how impossibly close they were even now. His skin was fever-hot against hers, his breaths slowly evening out, but hers still came unevenly, little tremors chasing each other down her spine.

He kissed her neck softly, almost reverently, as if all that intensity hadn’t just cracked between them moments ago. “You’re...” He trailed off, words failing him—but she knew. She could feel it in the way his hand slid up to tangle with hers above her head, their fingers intertwining tightly, like he needed to anchor himself to her somehow. And she let him because right then, nothing else mattered but them.

“You okay?” Lando murmured, his fingers brushing the blindfold gently, his voice laced with concern.

She tilted her head toward the sound of his voice, the silken darkness still wrapped around her, and let out a breath that was part laugh, part sigh. “More than okay.”

His laughter was soft, warm, and she could feel the way his chest moved against hers, his body still hovering over her, their skin still connected in the most intimate way. “How’d it feel?” His words were a whisper, grazing her ear, sending a fresh shiver down her spine.

“Different,” she admitted, her voice thick and slow, still catching her breath. “So different. I couldn’t—I couldn’t see you, couldn’t touch you. That was... maddening. But... everything else—” She broke off with a shaky exhale, her hips shifting slightly beneath him, drawing out the feeling of him still inside her, still pulsing. “Everything else felt... incredible. Like I could focus on nothing but you.” Her fingers flexed against the handcuffs, and she gave a small, playful tug. “Hated these, though. Not being able to touch you at all... drove me crazy.”

Lando chuckled, the sound low and rough, his lips pressing a kiss to her collarbone. “Good. I like you a little crazy for me.” He unhooked the cuffs from the headboard, freeing her wrists, and she immediately reached up, her fingers brushing against his face, tracing the sharp lines of his jaw, the curve of his cheekbone.

He leaned into her touch, his breath hitching as her fingers smoothed over his skin. “Missed this,” he said, his voice softer now, almost reverent. “Missed your hands on me.”

“Me too.” Furrowing her brow, she vocalized her insecurities. “You’re so handsome. It’s really unfair sometimes.” She slid her palm against his cheek, brushing her thumb across his lower lip.

His reply was immediate, almost annoyed. “Stop that. Don’t talk about yourself like that.” A frown creased his face as he pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist. 

He then reached up to gently pull the blindfold off, and her eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the light. The way he was looking at her—intense, almost awestruck—made her stomach flip. “Better?” he asked, his voice still rough, still carrying that edge of possession, but mixed with something tender now.

“Better,” she murmured, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. “But don’t think this means I’m letting you off easy next time. I want my hands on you from start to finish.”

He grinned, that cocky, confident grin she loved and hated in equal measure. “Next time? Already planning the next time?”

She rolled her eyes, but there was no bite to it, just warmth and something she didn’t want to name yet. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Norris.” Still, she couldn’t stop her smile as she pulled him down for a kiss, slow and deep and full of something that felt like more.

[aquaholicsanonymousworld]

Love your writing for The Pitt and dr. Robby 🤭🤭!!! If you’re still taking requests, could you write something about how instead of Dana is the one that gets hit, it’s reader instead? So just angst and fluff🤭 super open but basically just him losing his shit over it and comfort, thank you!!!! No worries if not of course :))

Crossing the Line

Pairing: Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x Surgeon!Reader

Summary: You were just stepping outside for air, desperate to get away from the suffocating chaos of the ER. But before you could even take a breath, an angry patient from the waiting room took one look at you—and swung.

You fought back, but the bastard still got away.

Now, as you walk back into the ER bloodied, bruised, and pissed off, everyone stares in shock. But the only reaction that really matters is Dr. Robby’s—because the second he sees you like this?

He completely loses it. You barely felt the hit. At least, not at first. The adrenaline took care of that, numbing the initial impact before you even registered what had happened.

One second, you were outside, just trying to breathe after an exhausting few hours in the ER. The next some angry asshole was swinging at your face—knuckles colliding hard with your cheekbone, sending you staggering back before you even had a chance to react.

And yeah, you fought back—threw a sharp elbow to his ribs, aimed a kick at his shin—but ultimately, the bastard was bigger. Stronger.

And when his second hit connected it sent you to the ground. By the time you looked up, he was gone.

“Motherf—” You wiped your nose, wincing when your fingers came back bloody. Awesome. This was gonna be fun to explain. With a deep breath, you pushed yourself up, wobbled slightly, and turned back toward the ER.

The second you stepped through the doors, the entire room went still. Nurses, techs, even patients in the waiting area—they all stopped. Because there you were— Bruised. Bloody. Swearing under your breath.

And Dr. Robby? He lost his damn mind. He was at your side in seconds.

“What the fuck happened?” His hands gripped your shoulders, eyes scanning you with a mix of rage and panic as he took in the damage—your swollen cheek, the blood dripping from your nose, the scrapes on your hands from the fall.

You tried to shake him off. “I’m fine—”

“You’re not fine.” His voice was low, sharp, dangerous. “Who did this?”

The intensity in his tone sent a shiver down your spine. When you didn’t answer right away—He turned to everyone else. “Did anyone see what happened?” His voice boomed through the ER, setting everyone on high alert.

A nurse hesitated. “We—we heard yelling outside, but we didn’t think—”

“It was one of the patients,” you muttered, wiping your face with your sleeve. “Some guy from the waiting room. I went out for air, and—”

Robby’s jaw clenched so tight you thought his teeth might crack. His hands dropped from your shoulders—only to immediately grab your wrist instead, tugging you toward an open bed.

“Sit.”

“Robby—”

“Sit.”

You knew better than to argue when he used that tone.

So, with a sigh, you plopped down on the exam bed, letting him grab gauze and antiseptic as he muttered angrily under his breath.

“Can’t believe this shit. Of all people. You?”

You smirked. “Kinda hot when you’re mad.”

He shot you a look. “Not the time.”

You hissed when he pressed the gauze against your nose. “Broken?” you asked.

Robby tilted your chin, examining you with unreadable eyes before shaking his head. “No. But you’ll have one hell of a bruise.”

You exhaled. “That’s hot.”

He glared at you.

But you saw it—the tension, the way his fingers were still shaking slightly as he cleaned you up. He was furious. Not just at the guy who hit you—but at himself.

“Y’know,” you muttered, smirking despite the pain, “for a doctor, you have terrible bedside manner.”

His fingers stilled. Then, slowly, he exhaled. Barely holding on. “Come with me.”

You blinked. “Uh, what?”

Before you could react, he grabbed your wrist—firm, but careful—and pulled you toward the hallway.

“Robby—”

“Not here.”

He didn’t give you a choice. Within seconds, you were inside an on-call room, the door shutting hard behind you. The second you were alone, he turned on you. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

You raised a brow. “Excuse me?”

“You went outside—alone—at night—” His voice was low, rough, filled with something dangerous.

“I went out for air,” you said, crossing your arms. “Not to get into a fight.”

“And yet,” he snapped, gesturing at your face, at the bruises, the blood, the proof of what had happened.

His breathing was uneven. His fists clenched at his sides.

You tilted your head. “Why are you so—”

“Because it’s you.”

The words ripped from him before he could stop them. And suddenly, the room felt a hell of a lot smaller. Silence. Heavy, loaded silence.

He looked at you—really looked at you—like he was barely holding himself together. You knew that look. Knew exactly what it meant.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted, voice low. “I don’t—” He exhaled, shaking his head. “I never wanted this to be messy.”

You tilted your head. “Messy?”

“This.” He gestured between you. “You and me.”

You swallowed. “And yet, here we are.”

A humorless laugh. “Yeah. Here we are.”

Silence. But it wasn’t awkward. It was just… there. Hanging between you. And then—“I care about you,” Robby said.

It shouldn’t have hit you that hard—not when you already knew, not when his actions had said it long before his words ever did.

“You’re reckless sometimes,” he continued, shaking his head. “You don’t think. You push people just to see how far you can get before they push back.” He exhaled sharply. “And I let you do it to me because—”

He cut himself off, running a frustrated hand through his hair.

And then, softer—“Because I can’t help it.”

Your stomach flipped. “You can’t help it,” you repeated, voice quiet now, too.

He looked at you like he was finally letting himself feel it—letting himself stop pretending this was anything less than what it was. “I tried,” he admitted. “I really tried.”

You swallowed. “To what?”

“To keep this professional.”

You almost laughed. “Well, you did a terrible job.”

That almost got a smirk out of him, but then he was serious again.

“This job is my life,” he said, voice steady. “I don’t fuck around with it. I don’t get involved with people here. I don’t let things—” He stopped, exhaling sharply. “But then you walked in, and I haven’t been the same since.”

Your chest tightened. Because for once, there was nothing guarded in his expression. No defenses. No distance.

Just Robby, standing in front of you, telling you exactly what he hadn’t been able to say for months.

And god, what the hell were you supposed to do with that?

You stepped forward. Just slightly. “You’re really bad at keeping things professional,” you murmured.

He huffed. “Yeah. No shit.”

Another beat.

Then—“I care about you,” he said again. Quieter now. More certain.

And this time you let yourself believe him.

[moonlight-joy]

The Rogue’s Flower

Fandom: House of Dragon

Summary: Betrothed to the fiery and unpredictable Daemon Targaryen, you navigate the jealousy of Rhaenyra and the scrutiny of the court, emerging as the only one who can match Daemon’s fire with unwavering grace, solidifying a love and union that even the Rogue Prince vows to protect at any cost.

Pairing: Reader/Daemon Targaryen

The halls of the Red Keep buzzed with whispers, and you were at their center. Wherever you walked, the courtiers turned to watch, their gazes following you with awe, envy, and curiosity. They called you Westeros’ Flower, the most beautiful woman in the realm, a title that seemed almost too small to contain the presence you carried. But it wasn’t just your beauty that captivated the court—it was your grace, your strength, and your betrothal to none other than Daemon Targaryen, the Rogue Prince.

Daemon had always been a man who bent the world to his will, a force of nature who answered to no one. His engagement to you had shocked many, for he was a man of fire and fury, and you were the embodiment of serenity and elegance. Yet beneath your composed exterior lay a spirit as unyielding as the man you were to marry. It was this balance that had drawn Daemon to you, though not everyone saw it so clearly.

No one struggled more with your presence than Rhaenyra Targaryen. Her bond with Daemon had always been close, their shared dragonfire a connection few could rival. But your arrival had shifted the dynamics, and Rhaenyra found herself watching from the sidelines as Daemon’s attention, once hers to command, was entirely consumed by you.

Rhaenyra’s jealousy simmered quietly, though it was impossible for her to fully mask. At a feast held in your honor, she approached you with a wine cup in hand, her expression poised but her violet eyes betraying the storm beneath. “You must find this overwhelming,” she said, her tone polite yet laced with an undercurrent of challenge. “The court, the whispers… my uncle’s affections.”

You tilted your head, meeting her gaze with a calm that belied the tension in the air. “Overwhelming?” you repeated, your voice soft yet unshakable. “No, Your Grace. I have always understood the weight of responsibility.”

Her smile tightened. “And my uncle’s… reputation? Does that not concern you?”

You held her gaze, unflinching. “It does not. Daemon may be many things, but above all, he is loyal. When he loves, he does so fiercely. I trust him.”

Before Rhaenyra could respond, Daemon’s voice cut through the tension. “Rhaenyra.” His tone was firm but not unkind, though his focus was entirely on you. He moved to your side, his hand resting possessively at the small of your back. “I trust you’re making my betrothed feel welcome?”

Rhaenyra faltered, the fire in her gaze dimming as she realized she could not compete with the unwavering way Daemon looked at you. “Of course, Uncle,” she said, her voice clipped. “It was only a friendly conversation.”

Daemon’s smirk was faint but unmistakable. “Good,” he said, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “Because she is my future.”

Rhaenyra excused herself soon after, and the air felt lighter without the weight of her envy. Daemon turned to you, his violet eyes softening as he reached for your hand. “She’ll come to accept it in time,” he murmured. “But I don’t care if she doesn’t. My heart belongs to you, not her.”

His words sent warmth blooming in your chest, and you squeezed his hand gently. “Let her think what she will,” you said. “As long as you are mine, nothing else matters.”

Daemon’s devotion to you was not hidden—it was as fiery and open as the dragons that soared above the Red Keep. He spoke your name with reverence, defended you fiercely in court, and looked at you as though you were the only thing worth conquering. His reputation as a rogue melted away in your presence, leaving behind a man who was utterly and unapologetically yours.

One evening, as you walked together through the gardens of the Red Keep, he pulled you aside, away from the prying eyes of courtiers. The moonlight bathed the world in silver, and the faint scent of blooming roses lingered in the air. Daemon cupped your face in his hands, his gaze intense yet tender. “Do you know why I chose you?” he asked, his voice low, almost reverent.

“Perhaps for the alliance,” you teased lightly, though your heart raced at the sincerity in his tone.

He shook his head, his lips quirking into a faint smile. “No. The alliance was a convenience. I chose you because you are the only person who sees me as I am and does not flinch. You do not fear the fire in me. Instead, you stoke it.”

Your breath caught, and for a moment, the rest of the world faded. “And you,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion, “are the only one who makes me feel as though I am more than just beauty. You see the woman behind the title.”

He kissed you then, his lips fierce and unrelenting, as though he was claiming you all over again. When he pulled back, his smirk returned, tinged with mischief. “The court can call you Westeros’ Flower,” he said, his thumb brushing your cheek. “But you are my queen, and that is all that matters.”

The day of your wedding arrived with the sound of dragons roaring overhead, their cries echoing through the Red Keep. The Great Hall was transformed into a spectacle of splendor, the air thick with the scent of flowers and dragonfire. As you walked down the aisle, every eye was on you, but yours were fixed solely on Daemon. He stood at the altar, resplendent in black and red, his silver hair gleaming in the light of the chandeliers. His gaze was unyielding, drinking in the sight of you as though nothing else in the world existed.

“You are mine,” he said softly, his voice meant only for you. “And I am yours. Forever.”

As the High Septon performed the rites, Daemon’s eyes never left yours. When the ceremony was complete, and the court erupted into cheers, he kissed you with a fervor that left no doubt in anyone’s mind where his heart lay. The feast that followed was filled with songs of your beauty and your union, but it was the way Daemon never left your side that spoke volumes. He danced with you, toasted to your happiness, and defended you from even the faintest whisper of doubt.

Rhaenyra watched from her seat, her hands clenched tightly in her lap as the reality of your bond with Daemon became undeniable. For all her fire and ambition, she knew she could never rival the love he bore for you. You were not just the most beautiful woman in Westeros—you were the woman who had tamed the Rogue Prince without ever needing to clip his wings.

As the night wore on and the court began to fade into the background, Daemon pulled you close, his voice a soft murmur in your ear. “Let them whisper, let them envy,” he said. “You are mine, my flower, and I will burn the world for you if I must.”

And in that moment, you knew there was no force in the realm—no jealousy, no ambition, no fire—that could ever come between you. Bound by love, fire, and blood, you and Daemon were unbreakable.

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[tweedcola]

I'm very new to posting here but please enjoy 4.1k words of soft Bucky smut!

Do It Properly

You’re not sure what wakes you in the end. Whether it’s a creaky floorboard, a rustling of your sheets or merely the change in the air that another person brings. Whatever the reason, you open bleary eyes and squint into the darkness, reaching for your phone to check the time. You only notice another presence in your bedroom when he clears this throat and steps forward to the end of your bed.

You let out a tiny ‘eep’ of surprise before your mind registers who the shadowy shape belongs to, but you recover quickly enough to ask, “Bucky?”

Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes; centenarian, former Winter Soldier and current cat-dad stands looking defeated by your feet.

“Hey,” he responds hoarsely, and you scramble for the switch on your lamp, desperate to see him properly.

The light starts low, gradually brightening the room as it warms up, bringing Bucky into visibility. He looks… well. You’ve seen him worse, definitely. He has this issue (you think it’s an issue, he doesn’t see the problem) in which he throws his whole body into fights with reckless abandon, his own well being taking a backseat when you’re not on missions to remind him that he should look after himself. That he needs to look after himself so he can come back home to you.

His right hand is bandaged which means it must have been pretty bad – they generally don’t bother wrapping up the super soldiers as most of their injuries have faded by the following morning, but it’s his face that really makes you gasp.

“Buck!” you whisper, horrified, as he shuffles forward, bashful under your gaze. “What happened?”

He shrugs off his jacket and you’re hit with the scent of gunpowder and smoke as he chucks it unceremoniously on the floor by the desk chair where Alpine is curled up. Al activates with an inquisitive puurp? arching his back in an elongated stretch to greet his daddy. Bucky turns to scritch the feline’s ears, rolling his shoulders at the same time. You take that to mean, don’t ask but you can’t ignore the angry red welts around his neck, the dark purple blooming under both eyes and Bucky’s wince when he huffs a laugh at Alpine when he kicks his back legs against his fingers as he tickles his tummy.

“Bucky…” you try again, shucking back the covers and reaching for his shoulder. You kneel on the bed and run your hand down his back soothingly, pretending that you’re not looking for further injuries. “You get your nose broken honey?”

Bucky ducks his head and looks at you through his eyelashes pitifully.

“Sam set it back already. Took the shield to the face,” he admits slowly, enjoying your touch as you ease the muscles in his shoulder and at the base of his neck with your fingers, searching out the pressure points that make him groan.

“Why, what’d you say?” you tease, gently.

Bucky huffs again, then cringes as it causes him pain, slumping close to lean on you.

“Wasn’t my fault,” he mumbles into your neck, pressing his forehead to your shoulder. His left hand comes up to play with the strap of your tank top and you shiver against the cool metal. “Steve doesn’t enunciate. He only warned me to duck after he threw the damned thing. Jerk didn’t stop laughing the whole way home.”

You press your lips together and stroke the back of his head, making sure he stays buried in your neck so he can’t see how you’re struggling to hide your amusement.

“And this? You get on Sam’s bad side too?” you stroke his neck lightly, brushing against the vicious bruising that decorates the delicate skin there. Bucky stiffens almost imperceptibly, and you realise that he can’t talk about it. Not yet anyway. You know he’ll come to you when he’s ready.

You heave a sigh and push at his shoulder until he straightens, tilting his chin up to look you in the eye. “You just let me know if I need to go kick bird-boy’s ass, yeah?” you grin, peppering kisses over his eyebrow, betting that it’s a pain-free area before pulling him close again.

“Thanks baby,” Bucky answers on a heavy sigh. You continue threading your fingers through the short hair at the nape of his neck, knowing the comfort of your touch is what he needs right now, rather than a dissection of his latest mission. You need the contact too, the physical reminder that he’s safe in your arms for the time being, though you make a mental note to ask the Captain why it looks like someone tried to garrotte your boyfriend. Honestly, what good is Steve if he’s not watching Bucky’s six when you’re not there?

You remain kneeling on the bed, letting Bucky use you as a crutch for as long as you can bare the weight of the 240-pound super soldier but eventually you have to push at his shoulder to get him to draw back. He harrumphs disappointedly but you know he’s not serious when his eyes drop from your face to skim along the length of your body, his right eyebrow raising appreciatively at the thin camisole and itty-bitty lace panties you’re wearing to counter the heat.

“Damn babydoll…” he begins, his hands hooking around the backs of your thighs to tug you along the bedspread, slightly closer to the edge. “You look good enough to eat.” He gives you a wolfish smile that has you admittedly a little weak in the knees and goes to duck towards your tits but you push at his forehead with a scoff.

“Uh-uh Barnes, don’t even think about it. You need a shower.” With your hands on his hips, he allows you to keep him at arm’s length while you slide from the bed and steer him towards your bathroom, his expression shifting from predatory to a dopey pleased grin as he allows you to take care of him.

“You gonna join me, sugar?” he asks, leaning against the sink as you turn the knobs and crank up the heat to a frankly dangerous degree because Bucky really doesn’t like the cold. You turn to catch him stifling a yawn into his fist, still fully dressed and you gesture at him impatiently.

“I don’t know, you gonna be able to keep your hands to yourself Sergeant?” You start unbuckling and tugging at his clothing, fighting with the supple leather that moulds to his arms as Bucky endeavours to stay awake. It’s a testament to how tired he actually is when you drop to your knees to wrestle his trousers down his legs and he doesn’t make a lewd joke, though you do see his half-hard length give a valiant twitch in his boxers before you tug those down too.

You help him into the shower, thankful that you don’t see any other bruising on his body but knowing that doesn’t mean he isn’t hurt before you go to gather his clothes up into your arms. You don’t get that far though, as the glass door slides back open behind you and you’re tugged into the near-scalding water still in your sleep clothes.

“Buck!” you squawk, pressing yourself away from the water ineffectually as the spray soaks the front of your vest anyway. He crowds you up against the tiles that are already slick with condensation, effectively ensuring that no part of you has stayed dry.

“Mmm, you said you’d join me…” he mutters into your shoulder, nuzzling against your damp skin as his hands play with the lace covering your backside.

“And you said you’d keep your hands to yourself,” you huff playfully, reaching for the bar of Imperial Leather soap because old habits die hard and for Bucky the saying is doubly true. You lather the soap between your fingers and start moving it along his shoulders and back where you’re able to reach.

“No…” he drawls, slipping his fingers beneath your panties to stroke over the skin of your hips and ass as he presses his now very interested cock against your lower stomach and rocks you against him. “I didn’t answer and you interpreted my silence as agreement,” he murmurs. “I was very careful about that.”

You draw back and are faced with his incredibly pleased smile, almost impish in his glee that he’s managed to wrangle you into the shower with him for him to do as he pleases. You don’t have the heart to shatter his illusion with the truth, that you’d follow him anywhere under any conditions.

He tickles the soft skin between your thigh and hip and you squeal. You love seeing this side of Bucky, almost child-like in his mischief, even if the activity that you’re doing is very adult.

“Hmm, very clever…” you muse, drawing the soap down his right arm before sliding it up the other, ridding his skin and left arm of two days of sweat and gunpowder before starting to work on his chest. Bucky lets you work for a few quiet moments, watching your movements with half lidded eyes. You glance up at him and snort at the expression on his face; he’s hard for you but obviously can’t decide if he’s more sleepy or horny.

“Relax Buck,” you implore, working soap over his hips and kneading the bone there before making your way down his lower back, eliciting a sinful moan when you hit a knot and the muscle releases.

Bucky mumbles something into the skin of your neck between sweet kisses and you use one hand to tilt his head to the side when you ask him to repeat himself.

“Magic hands,” he slurs, rocking himself in time with your ministrations. “Magic, angel hands. Y’so good to me darlin’.” He pulls back and busies himself with playing with the strap of your tank top. “Wanna be good to you too.” Bucky’s hands drift southward to the waistband of your underwear, dipping his fingers in and teasingly raking his nails over the sensitive skin of your pelvis.

You shudder and feel his cock jump in response. Abandoning your task, you let the soap slide from your grip, ignoring the dull clunk as it hits the porcelain of the tub and instead wrapping your hand around his length and giving him one firm stroke from root to tip.

Bucky grunts, his hips jerking forward towards you. His hand slips fully between your thighs and you let out a sigh when his clever fingers part your folds to trace over your clit gently. Your natural slick mixes with the hot water still beating down on you both creating a heavenly slide that Bucky uses to his advantage, his movements becoming slightly rougher as you pant in his ear.

“That’s it baby, that feel good?” his voice is gruff as your desire heightens and he dips his forefinger into your core up to the first knuckle just to feel you clench around him when he strokes over the top of your clit just right. “Mmm, certainly seems like it feels good.”

You just have the wherewithal to register the slightly mocking tone in your boyfriend’s voice and retaliate with another firm tug on his member, the soap suds lingering on your palm making the glide smooth and slick, cutting off the rest of his sentence when it devolves into a whine.

You continue to jerk him slowly, reveling in the stuttering mess that you’re able to reduce him to with such a simple touch.

“Mmm, so sensitive honey,” you coo into his ear, increasing your pace incrementally. Bucky is completely at your mercy, his hand slackening in your panties and the coil in his stomach tightening with your movements. He rocks upwards on a gasp before straightening and grabbing desperately at your wrist.

“Stop – stop,” he pants, squeezing the base of his dick to stave off the orgasm that had crept up unexpectedly. “Fuck, almost made me blow my load in your hand baby, shit.” Your giggle sets him off with a growl and Bucky hoists you up into his arms, shredding your underwear with a wolfish grin.

“Bastard,” you say playfully, nipping at his bottom lip as he steadies you on a convenient shelf that you’ve only needed to replace three times since Bucky moved in with you.

“You gotta learn doll, none of your underwear is safe around me.”

As if to prove his point Bucky grabs a fistful of your top at chest level and you can see the gears turn in his head as he gets ready to yank and separate the body from the straps –

“Wait!” you call, throwing out an arm to catch his. “Just gimme a minute, damn,” you mutter, peeling the offending piece of clothing from your body and letting it drop to the floor with a wet thwack. “Running out of pyjamas thank you very much, some hopped-up super soldier keeps shredding all my clothes.”

There’s no remorse on Bucky’s face as he eyes your tits hungrily and you wonder when you lost your soft, sleepy boyfriend to this sex-starved menace. Deciding to tease him just a little more, you cup your chest, stroking lightly over your nipples and watch as his pupils dilate fully.

Bucky feels barely restrained, watching as you enjoy the delicate grace of your own touch and damn near drooling, desperate to get his mouth on your tits. He’s captivated by your movements.

“You okay there, Sarge?” you question, punctuating your words with a soft gasp as you apply more pressure to the sensitive peaks of your breasts. You arch your back a touch, your chest lifting just an inch or two closer and Bucky is salivating.

“More,” he requests, the whimper in his voice dampening the order. He recognises the tone for what it is – a plea – and he’d give almost anything to have his hands on you but – god – the way you’re writhing and panting before him, the slick folds of your cunt on display when you let your thighs fall open – Bucky can’t help but think you’re a goddess. He watches you for a minute longer, his body so tense that even the slightest touch might shatter him but what’s a goddess for if not to be worshipped? And Bucky will supplicate at your feet for eternity for you to rid him of his wrongs and cleanse the days before you. He’s been the luckiest son of a bitch for over a year now and he knows he’ll find heaven within you, that you lay peace and forgiveness down before him with simple caresses and erase his guilt with your lips.

You gift him a coy smile and let your hands drop, twining your fingers with Bucky’s and drawing him close until he’s stood between the ‘v’ of your legs, sharing your breath and feeling the heat rolling off your skin.

You tilt your head up and slant your lips against his, dragging his hands up your body to replace where yours had been on the mounds of your chest, encouraging him to squeeze and play as he wishes as you hook your calves over his hips and urge him closer still.

You chance a quick glance up at his face to find that he’s completely enraptured with your chest, snorting a laugh even as he feathers his thumbs over your nipples, raising goosebumps up your arms.

A shudder runs through Bucky’s body when he feels the tip of his cock brush against the heat between your legs and he tilts his hips forward to glide his length along you, delighting in your gasp when he grinds down against your clit.

“You want this?” Bucky asks, his expression split between cocky and desperate as he rocks against you, spreading his hands over your lower back and digging his fingertips into the meat of your ass.

“Mmm,” you whine, your head lolling back to rest against the shower tile, waiting for him to start pushing forward, for that first divine stretch that feels like nothing else –

But it’s not forthcoming. You crack your eyes open and lift your head questioningly.

“Please baby,” Bucky whines, pressing his hips into yours again. You reach up to stroke his cheek and just stop yourself from frowning.

“You need me to say it, Buck?” you ask softly, still running the tips of your fingers along his stubbled jaw, enjoying the scruff that pulls at your fingers.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah –“ each breathless plea is punctuated by an eager grind against you and you bite your lip against a moan when you feel his cock throb from where it’s trapped between your bodies.

“Okay honey,” your voice is shaky with desire for your man but you fight to keep your tone clear so he knows exactly how much you want him. “Please fuck me Bucky – I want it so bad, needed it the whole time you were gone – ah!”

You’re barely through your sentence when he thrusts into you, burying himself to the hilt before stopping just as quickly as he’d begun.

“Fuck,” Bucky hisses. “Fuck, that’s so good.”

“Mmm,” you whine in response. “Need you to move honey.”

He raises his head and shoots you a look. It’s one that you don’t get very often but you cherish the pinched eyebrows and lip trapped between his teeth as he fights to stop himself from coming prematurely.

“Needja to be patient baby,” he gasps out, his hands clutching at your thighs bruisingly as his Brooklyn accent slips into place. You can almost see his thought process as he runs through baseball statistics and multiplication tables in his head. You’re sweating by the time the tension finally drains from Bucky’s shoulders and you can’t stop yourself from clenching down on him when he gives a couple of gentle test-thrusts.

“You’re not helping,” he grunts, as he gets a better grip on your slippery skin to hoist your legs higher, and you’re honestly not sure if he’s speaking to you or your pussy.

You don’t have time to dwell on it though, as Bucky lets you know he’s ready with a sharp snap of his hips and a grunt from deep in his chest when you dig your nails into his shoulders in surprise.

“Careful with the claws, kitten,” Bucky groans before really laying into you.

You cling to one another as his hips snap into yours orchestrating a rhythm of skin hitting skin that is only amplified by the water. The bathroom echoes with your lovemaking, even as you bite at your lip – it’s still the middle of the night and you share walls with two other apartments in this block, not to mention your poor downstairs neighbours.

It only takes a few moments for Bucky’s rough strokes to build your pleasure high enough for you to stumble and a sharp moan of his name escapes you.

“Oh god honey,” Bucky pants, uncurling his left arm from around your waist to reach out and grab the top of the shower door for stability. “That good, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you pant, “S’good Buck, it’s good.” Your words escape you in a staccato, hiccoughing rhythm that he punches out of you in time with the movement of his hips. You tip your head back and Bucky takes the opportunity to litter a series of sweet kisses against your neck, whispering words of devotion in between the brushes of his lips, drinking in the ecstatic sounds that you’re making.

“Fuck sweet girl, you’re so good, s’good, don’t wanna leave, never gonna leave ya again, love you so much baby,” Bucky’s inner monologue escapes without direction as your pleasure climbs, his words encouraging your end almost as much as his movement.

“Please – please Bucky,” you stutter out, dropping your hand between the two of you to stroke at your clit, your desperation for an orgasm acute after being without him for too long.

“Me, honey, let me,” Bucky insists, leaning his upper body away from you slightly to find the best angle. His practiced fingers find you easily and you feel yourself clench involuntarily around him when his thumb massages you in just the right pattern. The moan that you let out is quiet but so desperately needy that Bucky hisses when his cock throbs in response but by that time it’s too late for you anyway.

You dive off of the precipice, arching your back and feeling your pussy pulse uncontrollably as you’re ignited from the inside. Bucky pushes in to the hilt one final time before he too lets go, whimpering quietly as he joins your bliss.

You remain entwined beneath the water for a few long moments, relishing in the feel of one another before Bucky tilts his head back to look at you, his eyes still hazy with lingering pleasure. You know he’s not able to get drunk but if you saw him like this at any other time you’d assume he was intoxicated. You snort internally and go to make fun of his pussy-drunk expression when –

“Marry me.”

You slap your hand against the shower wall, groping desperately for the button that will halt the stream of water beating against the glass because you think that you just heard your super soldier boyfriend propose to you while he’s still very much inside you.

“What, Bucky-what?!” you finally locate the off switch and shower ceases, leaving the pitter-pattering of water droplets as the only sound in the room while you and Bucky stare at one another. “Did you just – ”

“No.” His response is short and sharp, cutting over the end of your question, as though he can’t bear to hear the words leave your lips. When you blink at him, he has the gall to look guilty and his shoulders drop in defeat. “I said – I – ” he takes a moment to clear his throat twice before speaking again.

“I said marry me. I’m sorry.”

Silence reigns again while you absorb the shock of his words.

“Bucky…” you begin slowly, wriggling back slightly to bring attention to his cock still buried to the hilt and his hips still fit snuggly between your thighs. “…are you proposing to me while you’re still balls deep?”

Bucky groans and lets his head drop to your shoulder as your laughter rings out but you wrap your arms around his neck and squeeze him as close to you as you possibly can, hooking your ankles one over the other at the small of his back so he can’t escape you.

“I – I had a plan, and a ring –” he starts to explain into your neck but you silence him with a tug to his hair so that you can meet his eyes. The concern etched on his face disappears almost as soon as he sees your joyful expression and he gifts you the softest, sweetest smile in return before taking a deep breath in and you just know what’s going to come next.

So you reach up quickly and place the tops of your fingers over his mouth.

This man – this man who has been through so much more than anyone should have to, who has survived horror and death and the loss of his autonomy only to come through the other side still able to love – deserves to have exactly what he wants. He deserves to have this moment, his proposal, exactly as picture perfect as he’s always imagined. And so although you know you’ll say yes, that you’ll marry him in a heartbeat, you halt Bucky’s next words.

“Wait,” you instruct gently. “Just wait. Do your plan – give me the ring.” You don’t explain further but brush your lips against his once, twice and whisper, “I love you.”

“I love you sweetheart.” Bucky responds just as quietly, and you feel the full force of his devotion and adoration hit you when he rests his forehead against yours briefly.

The moment is ruined when he steps away from you to turn the shower back on to wash away the evidence of your lovemaking with a mumbled; “It’s a good thing you didn’t say yes, Sam woulda never let me live it down if I’d proposed like that.”

You shuffle under the warm spray and wrap your arms around Bucky’s waist to gaze innocently up at him. “Oh – I’ll definitely be telling Sam about this,” you state. “My pussy game is so good that I got a marriage proposal? Bucky, I’m telling everyone.”

Your squeal echoes off the tiles as Bucky growls and digs his fingers into your waist in retaliation, grinning wickedly, and barely able to stop himself from sprinting to his underwear drawer to recover the ring nestled at the back.

He’ll do it properly tomorrow.

[pretty-little-mind33]

Pietro Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: ask: Maybe Pietro and reader are the only ones in the avengers facility (the other were with their families, on vacation, etc), and he's really excited to spend Christmas with her because he has a crush on her but never really told her (or even done something about it because when he's around her he doesn't know what to do), and he's really excited because it's gonna be just the two of them there and he wants it to be special and surprise her.

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: AU where Pietro isn't dead, this is only a few months after Avengers: Age Of Ultron but in my head Pietro, Wanda, and reader are early 20s!

~ i hope you like this @thewinterv 🤍~

Normally, around the 20th of December, the Avengers Tower would be buzzing with the sounds of voices, the hum of machinery, and Tony's unrelenting playlist of 80s Christmas hits. But this year, it was dead silent.

Most of the team had scattered for the holidays; each of them returning home to their families. Tony was spending Christmas away with Pepper at some romantic destination no one knew about, Thor had returned home to Asgard, and Cap was spending his holidays with his friend, Bucky. Natasha, like almost every year, was spending Christmas at Clint's family house and this year Clint had opened the invitation—

Because Pietro disliked spending holidays away from his sister, and Wanda had told him her and Vision were spending he holidays with Clint, he'd been considering the offer.

However, when you'd told him in passing that you'd politely declined the invitation, Pietro's heart sank. You didn't want to impose, was your excuse, and it didn't sit well with him.

He didn't want you alone on Christmas.    

So, he found himself lingering in the common area of the tower, his foot tapping anxiously against the wooden floor. He felt the anticipation bubbling up inside him as he shakes his hands, a mixture of excitement and nervous energy bouncing inside him. He glanced at the clock hanging over the door for the tenth time in the past twenty minutes.

You were here, probably in your room. The thought alone made his heart speed up. The two of you were the only ones left now and all that was left was his excitement. For months now, Pietro had been harboring these feelings for you—feelings he never quite knew how to express. Around you, his usually confident self, became a jumble of awkward smiles and half-finished sentences.

But this Christmas, he was determined for that to change.

You wander into the kitchen, yawning. It's Christmas morning and Pietro is standing by the stove, stirring a pot with uncharacteristic focus. His usual blur of motion is replaced by small, deliberate movements, and you can't help but smile.

"Merry Christmas," you say, leaning your hip against the counter. 

Pietro's head shoots up, his icy blue eyes widen in surprise as he spins around. "Y/n," he exclaims, his Sokovian accent more evident in the early morning. "Happy Christmas," he smiles and continues to stir, "Ah, I made horká čokoláda, ah what is the word… hot chocolate? It's… traditional, yes?"

You smile, pushing some hair away from your tired eyes. "Very traditional, Piet," you say, leaning over some more and smelling the air. It smells sweet. "Smells yummy. Can I get some, or is this all for you?" you ask with no hint of annoyance in case he had made it for himself.

His cheeks turn pink, quickly ladling the hot chocolate into two mugs. "Of course, for you too. I made it special."

"Special?" you echo, taking the offered mug. You taste the hot chocolate and it tastes quite normal, but still delicious. 

"Yes," Pietro whispers, finding his words again. He feels nervous again but he swallows down the nerves. "For you. I made it special for you." 

Your smile widens and you take another sip, hot chocolate coating your upper lip. Pietro leans in and wipes it with his thumb. He's pauses, hesitating, but when you don't pull away he relaxes. "Thank you," you say honestly, feeling an unfamiliar warmth in your stomach. Pietro just grins, feeling his nerves disappear. 

Later that day, Pietro leads you to the training hangar, though he continuously refuses to explain why. Once you arrive, however, your jaw drops. The massive space has been transformed. Twinkling string lights crisscross the rafters, and a makeshift skating rink gleams at the center, its surface a mirror of ice. Soft holiday music plays from a speaker in the corner.

"Pietro," you breath, turning to him. "Did you do all this?'

He looks a little sheepishly. "Friday helped and I had some time. Plus, speed also helps," he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. "Do you like it?"

"Like it? Piet, it’s amazing," you exclaim, stepping onto the edge of the rink, feeling the ice. It's cool and smooth beneath your fingers. "But I don't have any skates."

"Pshh, already handled." Pietro speeds away and returns in a blur of blue lightening that dances around you. he steadies himself and holds two pairs of skates in his arms. He holds one out for you in your size. "For you, Princezna (Princess)."

You laugh lowly, seeing how his hair sticks up a little. "Do you ever slow down?"

Pietro thinks for a moment, rubbing his nape. "Only for you," he says softly, the words escaping before he could really stop them. Your cheeks warm, but you don't look away. Instead, you smile and walk to a bench in the corner, lacing up your skates. Pietro does the same, basking in the comfortable silence.

One on the ice, you struggle while he moves with surprising grace. He skates circles around you, teasingly close but careful not to knock you off balance.

"Show-off," you say, flapping your arms desperately. Pietro skates up to you and holds out his arms, not touching you but keeping an eye on you in case you fall.

"I have to impress you somehow," he quips, but his tone sounds lighter than usual, less guarded, and you like the change. He's acting like how he does with everyone else, not as stiff as he is when he's around you usually, and you like it.

The two of you continue to skate for what feels like hours, laughing and sharing stories. At one point, you almost slip, and Pietro reaches out and catches you, his arms wrapping around your waist.

"Are you ok?" He asks, his breath warm on your cheek. You nod and for a moment, you both don't move.

"You're really good at this," you whisper, trying to steady your heartbeat as your nose almost touches his. You pull away a little.

"I had a good reason to learn," he replies, his voice barely above a whisper. "Wanda and I used to skate a lot at home, with Mama and Papa."

"Must have been nice."

"It was," he reminisces, smiling at you and then he pulls away.

After you're both finished and your feet start to hurt, the two of you return to the lounge, where the electric fireplace is crackling softly. Pietro had prepared another surprise: a small, slightly lopsided Christmas tree, decorated with whatever he could find around the facility. Paperclips served as makeshift hooks, holding up ornaments fashioned from lab equipment and some minimal leftover holiday decorations Tony had lying around.

"Oh," you say, wrapping your arms around yourself as you smile. "You really went all out, hm?" you tease, sitting beside him on the couch.

"I didn't want you to spend Christmas alone," he says simply, as if it's nothing. When you look at him, he hesitates, then adds, "You deserve it all."

"Pietro," you whisper, placing your hand on his arm. You don't even know what to say.

He takes a deep breath, his usual bravado faltering as it always does when you're around but he swallow it down. “I like you. A lot," he admits, the words stuck in his throat as he confesses;

"But when I'm around you, I never know how to act. I'm nervous. Very nervous. Which is ridiculous, because I'm never nerves around girls. But with you, I want to be careful. Because you're important to me. I want to impress you. I want you to like me."

You stare at him, your heart pounding. "Pietro, I like you too. I've always liked you, I've just been waiting for you to say something."

"You have?"

You nod, a smile tugging at your lips. "Yeah, you aren't the only one who is nervous, you know? You're quite intimidating."

Pietro laughs, taking your hand in his. "Me? Nesmysl (Nonsense)," he chuckles and strokes his thumb over yours. He smiles, his blue eyes locked onto yours. He leans in, his lips suddenly brushing against yours as he closes his eyes.

The kiss is hesitant at first, then it becomes more certain when you kiss him back, your hand finding themselves in his hair. The world seems to stand still, a rare moment of stillness that Pietro actually enjoys.

For once, he wishes he could stop time forever.

When you finally pulls away, Pietro is grinning like a love-sick school boy, his cheeks flushed pink. "Best Christmas ever?" he asks, his tone teasing but very honestly hopeful.

You return his grin and squeeze his hand, resting your head on his shoulder.

"Best Christmas ever."

[theliving-radio]

Big brother malleus ... I love him 🥺 . What about a baby sibling who had a brother back at their world ?? How would he feels about that ??

“You have an older brother back in your home world?” Malleus asked after you told him the new information.

Currently, you were showing Malleus how to sculpt with air dry clay. He’s been showing you the process of how gargoyles were made, and you suggested how you want to make small little figurines of them. Malleus was ready to get his supplies ready to carve mini stones, but instead you just showed him a small container you got from Sam’s. Curious on it, he joined you in your little arts and crafts endeavors.

Malleus was happy to spend time with you. Anything you two did together was a special moment for him. When both of you were talking, you confessed how you had an older brother back in your home world.

That threw him for a loop.

“Why haven’t you told me about him?” Malleus sets his little clay sculpture down and turns to you.

You avoided his gaze as you sprayed more water onto your creation, not wanting it to quickly dry out. “I dont know, it just never got brought up. How my life is like at home, I mean…”

“What makes you bring it up now?”

You huff out a laugh as you roll a small piece of clay, then attaching them to the head of your sculpture. There was a long pause of silence before you let out a sigh. “He’s a college student, Art being one of his majors and he took an interest in sculpting.” Your hands dip in a small bowl of water to get some of the clay residue off.

“I would watch him bring home his projects, amazed by what he’s created. There was one time he brought home a sculpture of a woman holding a vase. And you were able to place flowers inside her vase! He gifted it to me after I graduation from middle school.”

Malleus was listening intently as you recalled memories with your older brother. Your ACTUAL Older Brother. Not him. He watched as you rattle on, telling stories with a bright smile.

And slowly that smile started to fade.

“On my seventh birthday, he gifted me air dry clay like this. We spent the whole day making figurines, and little trinkets. We made so many that mom couldn’t even find a place to display all of them…”

You set your gaze down at the small gargoyle you made. He was lumpy looking. Cracks started forming from the clay not being set properly.

Malleus watches you as you zoned out staring at your own figurine. He notices how your eyes were starting to gloss over, and that pained him.

He crossed his arms and closed his eyes, deep in thought. He then hummed as he opened his eyes again and stared at you.

“I’ve made up my mind.”

“What?” You sniffle and quickly wipe your eyes.

“I’m going to find a way to meet my Baby Brother.”

There was a long pause as you slowly turn to face Malleus.

Did he really just say that?

“Crowley says he’s trying to make progress on how to make it back to your home world, yes? I do not doubt for a second that my magic will allow me to come back to Twisted Wonderland once we visit your home world.” Malleus nods to himself, already planning on how the meeting will go with his Baby Brother. If he’s just as kind as you, then there’s no doubt that they will get along.

The fae prince opens his eyes when he hears your loud laughter, a few tears roll down your face as you went ahead to wipe them away. You look at Malleus and he only tilts his head at you, causing you to laugh even harder.

“My dear Baby Sibling, I don’t understand what’s so funny.”

“You! You’re what’s so funny!”

“I still don’t understand how.”

It took awhile for you to calm down, and when you did, you got up from your chair and hugged Malleus. His eyes widen at the gesture, but after a few seconds he wraps his arms around you as well. He didn’t know what caused you to hug him all of a sudden, but a hug from his Baby Sibling is always welcome.

“Thank you, Horton. You’re a great Big Brother.”

“I’m glad you think so. I would do anything for my Baby Sibling.”

You pulled away and went back to your own chair, going back to playing the air dry clay.

“So, would my new Baby Brother like Gargoyles?”

“Like them? He wrote about them for an Art History Project. He even made a miniature one for our house.”

Malleus could hardly wait to meet his new Baby Brother.

————————————————

A/n: Hello! I enjoyed this small idea! I really like to think that as soon as Baby Sibling mentions this to Malleus, he’s just “My family is growing bigger by the day”.

[sturnsdarling]

after party

tour!matt and his girlfriend can’t wait another second once he gets off stage…

vibe check: smut with no plot, established relationship obvi, short lived matt the munch, sex on the counter, chris with impeccable timing, hints of softdom!matt, no protection (i’d tell you to wrap it but i’m not your mother), matt cums inside her (kill me now)

1k words

a/n: i was thinking about this on the bus ride home from work the other day and i haven’t been able to get it out my head since lmao

love and cigs, merc x

it was the sexiest thing you’d ever seen in your life. your boyfriend on stage, cracking jokes and controlling the crowd, shooting you a quick wink every time you locked eyes. the few hours the show went on for felt like an eternity, but after patiently waiting with your thighs clamped shut, you were finally exactly where you wanted to be, pressed up against the door of Matts dressing room, one leg hooked around his waist, arms around his shoulders as he fumbled with the door, opening it behind you without breaking the intense, knee buckling kiss he had trapped you in the moment he got back stage.

you stepped back into the room, Matts hands gripping the small of your waist as he walked you backwards, not once breaking the kiss, his tongue pressing against yours and small groans filling your mouth as he kicked the door shut with one foot.

“you were so handsome up on that stage” you said, breathy into the kiss, Matt chasing your lips with a chuckle as you spoke.

“handsome, huh? is that all you thought watching me up there?” he said, a smirk heavy on his mouth, his soft lips grazing yours

you chuckled, biting on his plump bottom lip slightly, “maybe some other things” you smiled.

“oh yeah?” he said, his hand coming to your jaw, “like what?” he said, cutting you off with his tongue as he pressed it against yours.

you moaned into the kiss, Matt leaning down slightly to pick you up, hooking your legs around his waist. he carried you over to the desk with ease, putting you down with vigour, your back hitting the mirror slightly as he leaned further into you. you were clawing at him, desperate to feel his skin against yours as you pulled and tugged at his top, your legs hooked around his hips, pulling him into your core. Matt couldn’t help but chuckle at your desperation, pulling away from the kiss slightly to lift his top up over his head. yours followed swiftly after, and in a tangled mess of limbs and a pile of clothes, you were clad in nothing but your underwear, and matt just in his jeans.

he trailed his kisses down your mouth, his tongue pressing against your jaw and down your neck as your head flung back into the glass once more, your nails clawing at his warm, bare back as he made his way down your chest, his mouth locked around one nipple as his fingers pressed and toyed with the other. the cold from the air conditioning made all your hair stand on edge, whilst Matts body heat radiated off of him onto your skin, his warm, soft tongue leaving little trails of fire in his path. he made his way down your torso, stopping to kiss a wet straight line across the hem of your panties, his blue eyes glaring up at you as he did.

you were desperate, and your face was riddled with it.

“please” you whimpered, involuntarily.

Matt smiled his devilish smile, needing no more instruction before he brought his hand up, hooking his fingers round the small covering of fabric over your pussy and pulling it to the side. before you had even a moment to think about the cold air hitting your core, Matts mouth was wrapped around your pussy, warming it up with the press of his wet tongue. your hand flung to his hair instantly, gripping onto his messy curls as he lapped and sucked at your glistening folds. you couldn’t help but grind into his face, his name mixed with moans spilling from your mouth as he devoured you, the vibration from his groans sending little bouts of shivers up your spine as you pulled and clawed at him.

your whole body was on fire, your head pressed firmly into the glass as Matt worked your pussy with his mouth, eating you like he’d been starved all day. he was working over time, sucking at your clit as his fingers suck between your folds, two long digits slipping inside you with ease, curling up against your sweet spot instantly.

Matt knew your body like no one else, the pressure of his tongue circling against you your clit sending you spiralling as his fingers worked your insides. your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he hardened his pace with his fingers, his tongue working small circles around your sensitive nub, your pussy encapsulated in his warm mouth.

something about the way that Matt went down on you, like it was his favourite thing to do in the world, made your head spin and the anticipation of this very moment made you extra sensitive, and it wasn’t long until you felt your legs begin to tremble around his head. the sounds of him moaning into your pussy filled the room, your pussy so slick it was almost impossible to stay in one place. you ground your face against his mouth, Matt matching your speed, his fingers being sucked back into your hole every time he tried to thrust them in and out. with a breathy cry of his name, and a tight grip on his hair, your orgasm washed over you, littering your vision with stars as Matt coaxed it out of you with his slender fingers, relishing in the way you tasted on his tongue.

despite how mind numbing his tongue felt against your throbbing clit, there was only one thing you could think about, and you knew nothing would satisfy you until you got it.

“Matt — I n” you cut yourself off with a moan as he helped you ride out your high with his mouth “— need you inside me” you stuttered out, just about able to open your eyes as you looked down at him.

Matt reluctantly tore himself away from your perfect pussy, pressing two gentle fingers into your clit as he looked up at you, “you don’t wanna give me one more, angel? v’been thinkin’ about it all day” he said, almost in a pout.

you shook your head, your lip tight between your teeth at the sight of Matts pleading eyes, somehow able to be so dominant and yet so desperate for you all at once.

“I need you inside me, Matt, now” you whined.

your words made Matts ears ring, and without hesitation he got to his feet, making fast work, with your help, of his jeans and tugging them down slightly, freeing his painfully hard cock from its confines as it slapped against his stomach. your mouth literally watered at the sight, your hungry gaze interrupted by the feeling of Matts tight grip on your thighs pulling you to the edge of the desk, your legs hooking around his waist on instinct as he lined himself up with you, pressing his tip against your folds before slipping his cock into your tight, sopping pussy.

his head fell to your shoulder at the feeling of you instantly clenching around him, one arm coming to support himself behind your head, a sweaty hand pressed against the mirror as you moaned out in bliss in his ear. you were practically hanging off him as he began to move in and out of you, bottoming out with a hard thrust that made you jolt against the glass every time.

“you feel so fucking good, baby” he groaned, head heavy from the satisfaction of being inside you after waiting all day.

he was pounding into you, one hand gripping you in place, the other pressed against the glass behind you. with your arms wrapped lowly around his neck, your head tilted back on its axis, giving Matt a perfect view of your pretty face as it contorted with every staggered moan that left your mouth.

“so pretty” he said, breathless, “my pretty, pretty girl”

you couldn’t help but smile, legs tightening around his waist as he continued his steady pace into your pussy.

through the strings off moans and praises neither of you heard the sound of Chris calling after Matt down the hall on the other side of the door;

the door handle rattled, and Chris opened the door, his sights luckily set firmly on his phone in his hand “yo, Matt the —“

“Chris!” you both shouted in unison at his brothers intrusion

“oh shit, sorry sorry sorry” Chris cried out, covering his eyes and slamming the door shut. With his hand firmly on the door handle and his back against the door, Chris turned to the behind the scenes crew with a sheepish grin, “he’s a little busy right now” he smiled, and gestured them down the hall.

the two of you couldn’t help but laugh, Chris’ intrusion doing nothing to stop Matts relentless pace into your clenching hole.

“m’gonna kill him” he said, shaking his head with a smile as you giggled.

you pulled him into a sloppy kiss, the angle of his body changing to hit your pussy deeper than before. the shift made you squirm, his long cock pressing against your gummy spot with every thrust.

you moaned into his mouth, Matt catching your sounds on his tongue and swallowing them like sweet whisky as he relished in the feeling of you wrapped around him, your nails painting lines down his back as he pound into you.

“s’this what you had in mind, baby, seeing me up on that stage?” he said, his words breathy.

“mhm” you whined, “s’almost perfect”

“almost?” Matt said, pulling away to look at you, his brows furrowed.

you bit your lip, tightening your legs around his hips, locking your feet together as you stared up into him with needy, doe eyes, “almost” you said, your voice thick with seductive honey.

Matt near enough growled, not needing any further explanation. the grip he had on your flesh tightened, his eyes darkening as he set a fast, hard pace into your pussy. it was euphoric, the feeling of his cock stretching you out, his hips beating against yours relentlessly as he groaned and whimpered, chasing your messy kisses every time you pulled away with a moan.

The hand behind your head came to your jaw, holding you in place firmly as his thumb pressed soft circles into your skin, a juxtaposed feeling to the blissful sting of his cock splitting you open. His tender dominance made your whole body tingle, and your pussy clenched tight around him as his lips locked against yours, his eyes clenching shut as he began to stutter inside you, moans and whimpers filling your mouth as he bit down on your bottom lip, chasing his high, using you as his personal anchor. with a few hard thrusts, and a teeth clashing kiss, he filled you up, using his cum as lube to ride out his bliss inside you, never wanting the feeling to end.

small whimpers left his throat, his hips stilling before he reluctantly pulled out of your spent pussy. you whined at the emptiness, legs going heavy around his waist as his head fell to your shoulder, Matt placing a line of small kisses along your warm skin.

your hands came to his hair, your gentle fingers caressing his scalp, earning a satisfied hum from him, his lazy arms wrapping around your back, pulling you into him tight, your collective body heat a comforting sensation as it engulfed you both.

“you did so good up there today, my love” you said, softly

Matt smiled into your skin, your words making his ears hot as he lifted his head up, “s’always better when you’re in the crowd, angel” he said, looking at you with hooded eyes and placing a soft kiss on your lips.

taglist: @sturniozalt@mattslolita@shaquilles-0atmeal@blahbel668@sleepysturniolo@le4hsblog @sarosfilms @joemamaaa42069 @2muchofaslvt @seluky10 @cherib3lla @jetaimevous @witchofthehour @sofieeeeex @ncm9696 @lovesturni0l0s @pepsicola-pussy @ifwdominicfike @dani-sturn @stupendousjellyfishpost @aesthetixhoe @sturn-rose @mattsnronebitch @chriscorqutte @elizasturn @ribread03 @st7rnioioss @maggieflms

[hederasgarden]

Something Better

Summary: A chance encounter with your academic rival reminds you there's more to life than looks. Pairing: Scott Miller (Twisters) x F!Plus Size!Reader Word Count: 1.4K  Rating: Mature, 18+ only. College AU. Light angst, body insecurity, heavy petting and kissing.  A/N: For my dearest @clairewritesandrambles based on this ask. Thank you @ryebecca for the beta. Turns out I'm terrible at sticking to the 100 word prompts. Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day.

Masterlist ♡ David Corenswet Characters Masterlist

It’s a struggle to escape the press of bodies on the dance floor, the pounding bass thrumming uncomfortably in your chest. You wipe angrily at your face, jaw clenched as you fight to keep the tears at bay. No one seems to notice — everyone is too drunk or high. You could find your friends, but beneath the desire for comfort is the sharp, burning sting of shame. 

You should have known better than to trust Tyler Owens. 

All those sweet words and flirtatious smiles were meaningless to him. In the end, you were just another notch in his belt and the worst part is, that you have no one to blame but yourself. Everyone knew he wasn’t the type for commitment, but you were blinded by his charm and the way his deep green eyes made you feel beautiful. He said you were special and you were just stupid enough to believe him.

Escaping into the cool night air brings you a brief moment of relief. You close your eyes and tilt your head back. 

"Where’s the cowboy?"

The unexpected voice makes you flinch. You don’t need to turn around to know who it is. Only one person ever called Tyler Owens a cowboy.

"Not now, Scott." 

Usually, you didn’t mind going toe-to-toe with him, enjoying the opportunity to match wits with someone as sharp as Scott. Tonight, though, you’re exhausted, and he’s the last person you want to show any weakness to. In class, he was quick to exploit any hint of vulnerability in an opponent.

"Is that all you’ve got?" he taunts. "Spending time with Owens must have really lowered your IQ."

You bite your tongue, curling your hand into a fist. You can’t handle this right now. You can't handle him.

"Just...go away." Despite your best efforts, your voice betrays how you feel — strained and fragile.

He doesn’t listen, of course, the gravel crunching under his feet as he approaches. Your shoulders slump, and a fresh wave of tears escapes. You stare at the ground and wait for the cutting remark Scott's sure to deliver when he sees you like this. When nothing comes, you hesitantly look up, meeting his cool blue gaze. You’re surprised to see a soft furrow between his brows. He almost looks…concerned.

"You're crying." 

It's such an obvious statement from him that you laugh, but it comes out more as a sob and you press the back of your hand to your mouth. Scott steps forward, making an abortive gesture like he means to touch you but thought better of it. He looks past you, the soft curve of his lips tightening into a sharp, displeased line. Then his gaze cuts back to you. 

"Did Tyler do something?" He asks. 

You shake your head. The truth is, you hurt yourself by thinking someone like Tyler would ever want to date you. Why would he, when he had Kate Carter on his arm? She looked beautiful tonight, her honey blond hair curling softly around her delicate features. She was slender and striking in a way you'd never be. She’d be easy to hate if she wasn't so kind and smart.

"He did something," Scott presses.

Just then, the door swings open, and a group of people spills out into the night. A few of them look over, and you’re quick to turn away, hunching your shoulders in embarrassment. It’s bad enough that Scott saw you like this; you don’t need anyone else witnessing it.

Beside you, Scott lets out a sharp huff, his breath escaping through his nose in a rush. Without a word, he grabs you, his long fingers wrapping firmly around your bicep. He pulls you effortlessly to the side of the building, out of view. 

“Sometime happened. You never shut up, and now you’re just…” He trails off, using his free hand to gesture irritably.

You shrug out of his hold and wrap an arm around your middle. You try to steady your voice, but it quivers when you whisper, "It's nothing."  

“Oh, I see,” he responds coolly. “You think you’re better than everyone now because you’re dating the star football player.”

Scott’s accusation is so far off the mark it’s almost laughable, and on any other day, you’d relish the chance to set him straight. But right now, all you want is to disappear.

“Typical,” he mutters. 

A sudden burst of anger flares under your ribcage and you surge forward, jabbing a finger hard into his chest. You’re so close your body brushes his but you don’t care. 

“You want to know what happened?” you ask. “We slept together, but the second someone skinnier and prettier showed up, he acted like I didn’t even exist. And honestly, I can’t even blame him," you continue with a bitter laugh. "Just look at Kate Carter.”

As soon as the words are out of your mouth and you realize what you’ve just admitted, you shrink back against the brick wall, feeling exposed. Scott rolls his eyes, and you tense up, bracing yourself for whatever he is about to say. 

"Kate Carter isn't as smart as us," he says dismissively. "She's a fucking bio major. You think she even took differential equations?”

Of course he didn’t get it. People like Scott and Tyler moved through the world differently than you. “No one’s looking at her transcript  She’s beautiful.”

“Yeah, and so are you.”

You freeze and the unexpected compliment hangs in the air between you as you search his expression for any trace of sarcasm. Scott stares steadily back at you and something in your stomach flutters to life, sweeping up your chest in a hot rush. 

“Scott…”

“Don’t make this a thing,” he says quietly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “It’s not a thing.”

He dips his head and then suddenly, he’s kissing you, those soft, plump lips of his sliding against yours almost sweetly. You clutch the front of his sweater, tilting your head back until your nose brushes against his. A quiet moan builds at the back of your throat and Scott surges forward, caging you in between his body and the wall. The rough brick catches against the soft skin of your shoulder but you don’t care, not with the way he’s kissing you.

“Gonna let me in?” he whispers.

Without hesitation, you part your lips, welcoming him into the wet heat of your mouth. He groans in response, grasping your hips. He kisses just like he argues with you in the classroom — relentless in his pursuit, overwhelming you in the best way possible until you yield. This time you want him to win, but you can’t resist trying to outdo him. You draw his lower lip between your teeth and bite down until he grunts.

“Fuck,” he pants, his hands sweeping up and down your sides. 

You cant your hips forward and he grabs the back of your thigh, grinding into you.

“I’m going to take you home,” he promises, mouthing at the side of your neck. "Then I’m going to fuck you until you forget that asshole's name.”

You shudder, freeing one of your hands trapped between your bodies and burying it in his thick black curls. A light tug has him nipping at the soft skin of your throat. Everything about him feels so good. It would be easy to lose yourself to this, to him, but you pull back, blinking away the haze of lust. You refuse to repeat your mistake with Tyler. 

“What happens after?” You ask him, breathless. 

Scott blinks, running his tongue over his swollen bottom lip. “After?”

“After we, you know….” That little shadow appears between his brows again. You shift uncomfortably, drawing back. “With Tyler…after, he—”

“We date,” Scott interrupts.

Maybe it’s the kiss or the whirlwind of emotions you’ve experienced tonight, but for the first time, you're at a loss for words with Scott.

“Date?” You repeat dumbly.

“Yes.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing. “Do you require the definition of the word?” He looks half annoyed now, staring down his nose at you. “If you can’t keep up, I’m not sure we can do this.”

“Do what?” 

“Date,” he replies tersely. “You know, you’re killing the mood here.”

“Well,” you sputter, “it’s not my fault you’re a poor communicator.”

Scott rolls his eyes. “This was better when we weren’t talking.”

“Agreed,” you fire back.

“So it’s settled.”

When you nod, Scott grasps your hand and tugs you forward. His long legs make it difficult to keep up but after a few seconds, he seems to notice and adjusts his pace to match yours. He casts a brief glance at you and you see a faint twitch at the corner of his mouth, as if his lips were about to part but he thought better of it. 

“What?” You ask, amused.

He shrugs. “Nothing.”

“Okay,” you agree. “Just as long as you’re not making this a thing.”

Scott lets out a small, exasperated sigh and turns away, but not before you catch the smile tugging at his lips.

Send me a request

[enree9h]

CANDY | lhs

PAIRING : tutor!Heeseung x afab(lowkeydom?)!reader

SYNOPSIS : When a drunk Heeseung shows up to your house for your weekly tutoring sessions you don’t hold back on the relentless teasing. (Smut with little to no dialogue)

WARNINGS : SMUT, fingering, swearing, hickeys, oral (f receiving), drunk Heeseung, making out. Both are in their early twenties. If you end up finding any grammatical mistakes, let it go.

WC : 1.7k +

MDNI

a/n : for the losercore, pathetic boys enthusiasts (like me)

“Are you drunk?” 

Your voice floats in the air for a few seconds until it reaches Heeseung. It takes another couple for him to process your words and form a coherent response. 

“No���, his voice holds a rasp, scratching against his burning throat. And you feel yourself growing eager at the sound of it. Eager to grab him by the chin, make his slightly red, half-lidded eyes run over you until it compels him to close the distance. You could study for the midterms later. Maybe a late-night session to compensate for it?

“But you look drunk”, your palm slowly comes to sit on his bicep, and you feel the muscles under your fingers tense up the very next second. 

Heeseung lifts his head from the table and throws it back with an audible groan. Your eyes find his neck soon after, flushed and exposed. The thoughts of running your tongue over his burning skin cloud your mind. Just as they have been since the hour his tutoring gig found you. 

With a whispered ‘fuck’ his head falls into his hands the next second, lazy fingers run through the mop of his black hair. Your fingers twitch.

“Heeseung” you call out, and your voice floods his ears. 

As he attempts to become conscious of his surroundings, he finds the distance between the two of you to be much less than it was ten minutes ago. 

Did he unknowingly move closer to you? Did you? The alcohol was working its way through his body.

You’re too close, your thighs pressed against his. And Heeseung loses focus the moment your fingers run up his biceps and reach his shoulders, nails lightly scratching his clothed skin. 

“You know what”, he manages, trying to sit up straight, “Let’s reschedule” Your fingers fall off his shoulders and Heeseung watches with a clouded gaze as they reach for the tiny candy on your table. The lack of sugar in his system hits him at the sight of it but before he could reach for it and snatch it out of your hands you pop it into your mouth.

“Do you have another one?”, he asks, voice hoarse and hopeful. 

“Last one”, you shrug but your eyes stay on him, a glint of mischief lights your gaze up. And you stick your tongue out, “You want this one?”, the candy sits on it, glistening. Heeseung eyes you with a cautious glance. Was he hallucinating? Did you just offer him the candy sitting on your tongue? 

He sits in your chair and watches you stand up, his eyes struggling to focus. You bend down to his eye level, and a teasing grin spreads across your face “Take it” you whisper against his mouth. 

The vanilla of your body wash floods Heeseung and he finds himself growing dizzy with every breath he draws.

You hold the candy between your front teeth for a second and then lean in. 

Heeseung accepts your open mouthed kiss with a slight shiver and the candy falls into his mouth soon after. Your fingers hold his face in place while you drive your tongue inside his mouth. 

To Heeseung this kiss was time bending, all the air gets knocked out of his lungs while the liquor in his blood roars. He bites into the hard candy and it breaks apart in his mouth, your tongue swirls in his mouth for the treat.

Being intoxicated enough, he lets you steer things your way. So when you pull him off the chair and push him onto your bed he doesn’t utter a word.

You break the kiss with a quick popping sound that leaves heeseung fingers twitching. Slumped down on the tattered mattress of your room, he looks up to meet your eyes. And the moment you tilt your head to meet his unsteady gaze he fights the urge to pull you down on him with every passing second. Sugary treats long forgotten. 

You watch him with a newfound impatience, pupils dilate the longer you stare into his bloodshot eyes and climb into his lap. The vibrations of the strangled groan that falls on his lips leave you slightly out of breath as you gradually lower yourself on his clothed dent. 

Leaning forward you let your lips hover over his, “Hee”, you whisper and feel him lean into you, eyes rolling back. Heeseung didn’t know he could feel any more light headed than what he was feeling seconds before your lips came looking for his. 

The taste of cheap rum coats your tongue as you fight your way inside his mouth. And his fingers make their way down your hips to the curve of your ass. You try to pull away lightly but feel his nails dig into your flesh, pulling your body closer, flush against his. Your fingers wrap around his nape in response and gradually make their way into the messy mop of his hair.

You taste blood soon after, and your bottom lips stay swollen as Heeseung sucks on it while you attempt to hide how out of breath you were, only seconds into the kiss. 

Your hands find his shoulder, nails mar the skin underneath. 

Before you have the time to process anything your back hits the mattress. Your skin sits hot under Heeseungs roaming fingers as they dig into the flesh of your thighs. When you look up to meet his eyes you find them lazily running over your clothed body. 

He stands towering over you, his thumb circling the waistband of your shorts as he finds your eyes. Heeseung slips your legs out of your clothes the second you nod in response. 

You watch him kneel and before you manage to draw in a complete breath his hands part your thighs. His mouth is on you soon after, hot and eager. “Oh my god”, your back arches at the contact and you feel your legs shudder the second his tongue starts circling your opening. 

It's almost like Heeseung already knew what got you gasping for air, because he’s licking into you, his nose pressing against your swollen clit and your thighs start trembling.

“Heeseung”, you gasp and his name falls on your lips every two seconds thereafter. Your clit throbs in anticipation and you let out a strangled cry when he pushes his tongue inside you. 

He halts for a fraction of a second at the sound of you, “Glad I-” he mutters between the kisses that dot your inner thighs, “didn’t reschedule” You watch the corners of his mouth stretch all while you try and catch your breath and the sight drives you over the edge. The sight of his glistening lips and drunk eyes.

When he dives in for the second time your fingers find the strands of his jet black hair. His mouth takes you in and your body shudders with the intensity of your pleasure as his lips suck on you once again. 

Heeseung feels you tug on his hair and realizes that nothing could have gotten him more drunk. If he could, he would spend all his waking hours between your thighs, burrowed in your heat as you pulled on his hair and screamed his name into your pillows.  

You don’t know what comes first, the wave of pleasure breaking through your entire body or your system shutting down at the intensity of it. But when you feel Heeseung licking the sides of your inner thighs you recall the previous couple seconds. 

Your clit throbs as you ride out the after effects of your orgasm. Overstimulated, a whine leaves your lips when you feel Heeseung lick your hole, tongue wet with you all over him.

Moments later the mattress dips and you find Heeseung over you, his arms caging your breathless body. You feel his gaze burn through your clothes but you refuse to meet his eyes as you lay under him- flustered and in a daze. 

Heeseung dwells in the sight of you, his mind mapping every minute emotion that crosses your face. The slight part of your lips, skin flushed red and the sensation of your hardened nipples rubbing against his clothed chest as you try to steady your breathing. The alcohol swirling around in his system only made him more eager with every breath you took. 

“Liked it, angel?” 

Words don’t reach you anymore as you become aware of his lips on your neck. Your body arches into him the more he sucks on the skin of your neck. Bruises of purple and red dot the slope of your neck. And you are left gasping for air. 

All you wanted at the moment was his mouth to be on yours, your teeth biting into his lips. So you pull him closer and your arms circle his neck. A tremble sets through your body the moment you feel him slide his fingers inside you. Your jaw almost unhinges at the sudden sensation. 

Nails dig into his skin and Heeseung winces lightly at the sting secretly hoping they will draw blood, leave marks, your marks. 

His fingers pump in and out of you in an excruciatingly perfect rhythm and you groan into the crook of his neck. He adds another finger and your thighs shake, walls clenching around his fingers in response. You hear him swear under his breath, words whispered against your shoulder and feel lightheaded at the sound of his voice. 

Knuckles deep, Heeseung moves just right. The moment his thumb finds the hood of your clit, your eyes roll back. A whimper leaves your mouth and you bite into his skin while he continues circling your pulsing clit with gentle pressure. 

This was not supposed to happen. But you wanted it, wanted him on you, over you, under you. Your body arches into a curve of pleasure with every light thrust of his fingers. 

His long fingers crook and bend inside of you, a cry leaves your lips and Heeseung chuckles against your skin, “Yeah? You like it, baby?” And you make a mental note to bite him harder the next time. 

But right after that thought your mind goes blank. His thumb against your clit brings the building pressure in your abdomen to a new high until you come crashing down. The sheer intensity of it knocks the breath out of you for the millionth time. 

Your legs shake and Heeseung holds you through it. His lips find your neck and soft kisses bring you back down to earth. If this is what weekly tutoring sessions with Heeseung included along with piles of lecture notes then you were all up for it. Anytime.  

[leighsartworks216]

You're Not A Burden

Zayne x gn!therapist friend!Reader

Based on my own experience as the therapist friend and my struggles with being genuine about my emotions with people close to me ✌️

Warnings: hurt/comfort, established relationship, childhood friends, crying, nightmares

Word Count: 1,517

Main Masterlist

First Love and Deepspace Masterlist

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Third Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

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Zayne has seen this same pattern ever since you were little; the weight of being the person everyone dumps their problems onto, rants to, leans on no matter how small you may be. It's happened for so long now, he can't remember a time you weren't the one stepping up to bear the brunt of someone else's troubles.

He remembers so vividly one day during recess. Your friend was crying because one of the teachers was being mean and unfair. You held them close, let them cry into your shoulder and blubber about their troubles. And then you went into class with that same teacher, experienced that same cruelty, and held your tongue. It was never about being stronger than anyone else, or that admitting anything was wrong was a weakness; only that admitting anything was wrong would place your troubles onto somebody else.

One time, when his parents were away, he slept over at your house in a pillow fort in the living room. He woke up before you, and you had dry tears on your cheeks.

You take the burdens as easy as you take in a breath of air. Even now, in the middle of your quiet night in, your friend called to rant about their job, their relationships - anything they needed to get off their shoulders. You smiled apologetically at Zayne, kissed his cheek, and disappeared into the bedroom to finish the call without disturbing him further.

He understands, better than most, how difficult it is to watch someone suffer, physically or emotionally. How many times had he gone out of his way to ease the burden of his patients outside of medical care? Trying to get a plushie from the arcade for a girl who was too sick to get it herself. Playing chess with a lonely old man, even when it cut into his lunch breaks. But even he has limits to the burdens he carries.

He listens attentively for your voice through the closed door from his seat on the couch. Quiet hums to show you're listening. Muffled words of advice and support. The call goes on for some time, an hour or more, but not once does he hear you talk about your own struggles. Yet, he knows work has been more demanding lately, you haven't been sleeping or eating well, and you were really looking forward to an uninterrupted night in with him - information gathered through observation, more than not.

Not a single word of complaint.

He can't focus on his book, so he sets it aside in exchange for his laptop. The soft clack of keys fills the silence. It nearly drowns out your voice entirely; the typing pauses every now and then to listen when you speak. His work isn't as efficient, so focused on listening for you, but he manages to get through a few emails and a report or two.

When the door opens, he perks up like a dog whose owner just came home. His fingers are still on the keyboard as he watches you come out from the hallway, smiling apologetically once more as you tuck your phone away with a final glance.

"Sorry about that," you murmur as you sit back in your spot on the couch. He closes his laptop and sets it aside. "Lisa's been having a lot of guy troubles lately and just got back from a bad date."

He hums his acknowledgement and turns his body to face you. Cool hands grab yours, holding them in his lap as his thumbs massage into your palms and work out the tension in your fingers. "You didn't say much."

You laugh lightly, as though it's completely normal. As though it should be completely normal. "I didn't want to bother her with my own problems - she has enough of her own to deal with."

"What problems would those be?" he questions. You tense up, like you want to pull away. You don't, but you stare at the ministrations of his hands with a shake of your head.

"It's nothing."

"But if they're problems," he tilts his head, trying to catch your gaze, "shouldn't I know about them?"

You glance at him with a grin that doesn't quite meet your eyes, and a slight downturn in your brow. "You're not on duty right now, Dr. Zayne."

He lifts one of your hands to kiss your palm. Your fingers brush his cheek. He leans into them without thought. "I didn't think I had to be to listen to my partner's issues," he shoots back, shooting down your deflection. His voice grows softer. "It's unhealthy to keep negative emotions bottled up. I am always here to listen should you need to let them out."

Something stirs in your eyes. Discomfort, at being called out and exposed. Worry, and fear. You look away again. "I don't want to bother you with that stuff."

"Who said you would be bothering me? I want to hear about the issues you have, however minor they may be." He releases one of your hands to cup your cheek. He directs your face back to him, leans forward to rest his forehead against yours, stealing your ability to look away. Your eyes remain lowered, staring at his nose. "You always carry the burdens of others. Allow me to carry your burdens, before you collapse under the weight."

You're silent. He shifts his fingers slightly, resting his middle and ring finger over your pulse point just under your jaw. Your heart is beating wildly. It stutters, jumps, skips. You inhale softly.

"You..." You shake your head slightly, nose brushing his. Your free hand fiddles with your pant leg. "You don't tell me about the issues you have, either."

He smiles slightly, wryly, as though you've just started trying to deal with a shrewd businessman who can't resist haggling.

"I had a nightmare last night," he admits softly. That draws your eyes up to his, finally. "When I woke up, it felt like I was still in the dream."

"What was it about?"

He gives you a pointed look. You frown. Your hand clenches around your pant leg, like admitting anything about yourself is agonizingly painful.

"I... I haven't been eating lunch during my breaks."

It's barely admitting anything, but he hums his approval nonetheless. "I was in the hospital, but the corridors were dark. I heard your voice echoing down the halls..." Your heart skips a beat in time with your concerned look. "Why aren't you eating lunch?"

You squeeze your eyes shut, hiding from the inevitable disapproval on his face. "I haven't been sleeping well, so I've been sleeping in my car during my breaks... I... passed out once, at my desk, because I was so tired... I don't want to concern my coworkers like that again." You wait a few seconds before cracking your eyes open. Sure enough, it's his turn to frown with worry. He knew you were tired lately, but he hadn't heard anything about you passing out at work. He can only be grateful you weren't out on the field at that time. "What happens next?"

"... I can't find you." His frown deepens, eyes flickering down your face, taking you in. "No matter where I look, you're not there. And when I wake up, it takes a moment for my mind to catch up and realize you're right there beside me."

Neither of you speak. Your pulse is calm now. The dark bags under your eyes concerns him more than ever now. The daze in his eyes when you woke up this morning to find him looking over your face flickers back into memory.

Eventually, he breaks the silence. "We'll take our lunch breaks together," he tells you, leaving no room for argument. "The next time you feel faint at work, or too tired to keep going, please tell me."

You nod slowly, silently sealing a promise with him. "The next time you have a nightmare like that, you have to tell me, too."

He nods in return. "I will."

You blink, pausing, waiting for something that doesn't ever come. Waiting for him to decide your burdens are too heavy to bear, or become disillusioned with you now that you're no longer this infallible beacon of strength and dependency. But it never comes. Instead, Zayne strokes your cheek with all the tender patience in the world, rubs his nose purposefully against yours in semblance of a kiss, sits quietly with you with no expectations.

Large drops of water begin to form in your waterline. You swallow, fighting the starting tremors in your lungs. He wastes no time in wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into him, helping you sit in his lap where you hug him around his neck and hide your face in his shoulder.

He kisses the side of your head as your body cries with a practiced silence, rubbing his hand in soothing motions against your back. "You're not a burden for having problems, or for sharing them with others," he whispers. "You don't have to carry everything alone anymore."

---

Tag List:

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[milfharkness]

honey, on your knees (when you look at me) | part two

pairing: agatha harkness x fem reader

summary: agatha wasn't lying when she said she's an incredibly generous boss.

contents: g!p agatha, dom agatha, sub reader, dirty talk, degradation, praise, oral (reader receiving), fingering (reader receiving), vaginal sex, spanking, talk of breeding

part one

You scramble to get on your feet, practically jumping to get to her black leather couch. You don't care in the slightest how pathetic you must look, you've never needed—or wanted—someone more than this woman.

Agatha's still wearing that smirk when she stalks over to you, a predator seizing up its eager prey: "So needy...take off your skirt."

You obey mindlessly and slide it down, letting it fall on the floor so you're left in your lace underwear, grateful that it's black so the wet spot wouldn't be as visible.

It really, really doesn't help when Agatha lowers herself to the floor in front of you and bites her lip. You squirm on the sofa, whimpering under her gaze.

"I fucked your throat once and you're already like this? God, how are you gonna act when I finally fuck your cunt?"

Still untouched (and painfully aware of it), you moan.

"Fuck, please just...God, anything."

Agatha takes pity on you. With a quick motion, she moves to unbutton your blouse, unnecessarily careful in not just tearing it off as if you cared about any piece of clothing at this point.

Once it's unbuttoned, you push it off your shoulders, much to Agatha's amusement: "Someone's eager."

"Agatha, please, I am so-...this is torture."

And it is. You can feel yourself throbbing, and you're not sure you've ever been this turned on in your entire life.

She ignores you, instead moving to unclasp your bra and taking it off you. Cold air hits your nipples and you inhale sharply when she finally touches you again, caressing your breasts with soft hands. Veiny hands. Fuck.

"So pretty, such a pretty girl," she mumbles more to herself than you, watching your nipples harden under her touch. You don't stop squirming, your hands making their way into her hair, trying to guide her lower where you so desperately need her. She chuckles at your attempt, sending vibrations through your body and making you whine.

"Agatha, please, I need you so bad..."

"Mm...beg."

Isn't that what you've already been doing? Whatever.

"Agatha, please just fuck me...need your mouth, your fingers, your cock, anything, need you to fill me up and make me yours."

Agatha releases a low growl at the last part and you bite your lip in anticipation—her next touch is soft, caressing your bare thighs. When she finally pushes your underwear aside, not even bothering to take it off, you gasp at being exposed to the cold air—she actually moans at the feeling of you on her fingers, dragging them through your folds lightly before circling your clit.

Your eyes flutter and your head falls back against the back of the couch, mouth opened in a silent scream, eyebrows knitted together. You've been so turned on for so long, you're certain it won't take long for Agatha to make you come undone.

"Good girl, y/n," she coos, face contorted in pleasure.

When she finally pushes a finger into you, you feel like you're ascending to heaven. She curls it immediately and doesn't hesitate to add another.

"Fuck," you call out, breathy and high-pitched, "Harder, please."

She obliges, thrusting into you (much too slowly for your taste), hitting a spot that made you see stars, and leaving you gasping.

You arch your back off the couch and just when you really think you're gonna die, she closes her lips around your throbbing clit and sucks.

The moan you let out is borderline pornographic and she chuckles against you, the vibrations driving you even crazier than before.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!," you exclaim, nodding your head vigorously.

She replaces her lips with her tongue, drawing small circles around your clit before flicking it—your hands are still fisted into her hair, trying desperately to pull her towards you, craving more pressure.

"Please, Agatha," you sob, "I need more, please give me more..."

Agatha hums: "How bad do you want it?"

"So fucking bad, holy fuck, I'll do anything."

"Anything? Jesus, you're a slut."

"Your slut, Agatha!"

"Mm...I guess you do deserve it," she smirks.

So Agatha gets to work. Drawing circles, flicking, once more closing her lips around your clit and sucking, all while thrusting into you and curling her long fingers inside of you, God, just the thought of her hands is-

"Come on, baby. Be good for me, cum for me."

It's like time stills—at her command, you immediately come undone, slipping into a state of bliss from one second to the next, a stage you never imagined someone would be able to put you in in a matter of minutes, not even in your bed at night with your hand between your legs, to some magazine with Agatha on the cover.

You don't know how long you lay slumped against the couch, brows knitted together, eyes closed, panting heavily—it might be minutes, might be hours, you don't know and you don't care.

Only once you hear shuffling around the room do you open your eyes, and the sight makes your heart skip a beat. Agatha stands by the side of the couch, her blazer and her blouse torn off and somewhere on the floor behind her. Her pants are still on, but like before, zipped down with her hard cock on full display, one hand on the arm rest and one stroking herself. Your eyes widen and you look up at Agatha, just to be met with that signature smirk of hers.

"Oh, did you think we were done already?"

You get up immediately, legs slightly wobbly when you walk towards her and cup her face to do what you've been wanting to do since the first time you saw her—you kiss her.

It's not heated, but soft and warm. She tastes like you. When you slowly pull away, Agatha is smiling puts her hand over yours.

Your hands move from her face to her neck, collarbone and finally, her chest. You hesitate, but Agatha nods: "You can touch."

And you're planning on taking full advantage of that. You unclasp her bra with one hand, running your thumb over her nipple and leaning down to put your mouth around her other one. She inhales sharply, fisting her hands in your hair and pulling—a whimper escapes you, and she chuckles, head thrown back as you continue to suck, lick and kiss.

A gasp tears itself from her throat and you smile to yourself, proud to be able to get such a reaction from the big bad lawyer.

"You're so beautiful," you murmur against her skin, "I wanna do this forever."

"Fuck, I might let you."

You look up at her—disheveled hair, wide eyes, mouth slightly agape, she looks like a fucking dream.

When she meets your gaze, her tongue darts out and she licks her lower lip.

"Bend over."

You don't dare disobey and bend over the side of her couch, propping yourself up on your elbows. A blanket is thrown over it, warm and soft, keeping your skin from sticking to the leather.

With way too much self control, she slowly slides a finger inside. Agatha bites back a choked little groan, pumping her finger in and out of you before adding a second. You just whine, still sensitive from your first orgasm, letting out jagged breaths every time she curls her fingers inside you.

"Jesus fuck."

"Such foul language for a pretty little girl like you, hm?"

You'd be rolling your eyes if you had the brain capacity left to think about what she said. It's like your brain is cotton candy, all inhibitions lost, with only thing on your mind being Agatha Agatha Agatha.

"y/n? I asked you a question. I expect an answer."

"Yes," you reply shakily, just praying that that's what she wants to hear.

The stimulation is not quite enough, you think desperately to yourself, with nothing on your clit, but you still roll your hips, trying to force her fingers deeper.

"Little slut," you can hear her hiss.

Without warning, her free hand comes down on your ass with a sharp smack. You yelp and squeeze your eyes shut, face contorted with pleasure.

"Please, please fuck me."

"I am fucking you," she responds coolly, accentuating her sentence with a particularly hard thrust and curling her fingers.

"Your cock, Agatha, I need your cock!"

"Greedy little girl."

"Yes, fuck, I'm so greedy, need you inside me so bad..."

Agatha chuckles, shaking her head: "I should've called you into my office and fucked you on your first day. Bet you would've let me."

"I would've," you nod vigorously, "Would've let you do anything to me."

She pulls her fingers out of you suddenly and you let out a sob.

"Would you have let me used you? Stick my dick in you on day one?"

"Yes," you admit. You want to cry from how empty you feel without her fingers inside of you—fortunately, Agatha has another idea on how to fill you.

Her fingers dig into your hips; she arranges them so that the head of her cock drags slowly along your pussy. You gasp and grind yourself down against her.

"Fuck!," she throws her head back, "You're so fucking wet. I know how bad you need it, baby, all you have to do is say 'Please, Agatha.'"

"Please—," you cry, voice rough, and she flexes her hips upward, pleased, nudging the tip inside of you. "—Fuck. Fuck, Agatha. You're fucking big."

She stills and her fingers dig into your hips, stopping your movement. "You can take it," she says, "You will take it."

You close your eyes, squirming around the intrusion, and try to shift your hips, to fuck yourself further on her cock, but her grip is like iron: "You gonna be a good girl for me?"

Speaking is so, so hard, but you manage to gasp out "Yes, Agatha".

She sucks air through her gritted teeth. And then, she slams you down onto her cock.

The stretch is intense. You clench around her, feeling so fucking full, before she withdraws and pushes in again, groaning loudly.

You're still sensitive from your first orgasm, as you imagine she is, so you know it's only a matter of minutes before you'll come again.

Her hips jerk upwards, driving her deeper than you thought was possible. There's no room inside of you for anything else, nothing, not even thoughts. Just Agatha and the way her cock is splitting you open.

"Perfect little cunt, so fucking tight and hot for me," she groans, "Knew you fucking would be, knew you'd feel so good around me."

You whine your agreement in cute little whimpers, ripped from your mouth as she rolls her hips. Agatha's fingers dig themselves impossibly tighter into your skin, leaving marks—the thought of her leaving marks makes your eyes flutter open—as she grinds herself into you.

"Gonna cum inside you," she growls raggedly, "gonna fill you up and breed you."

She tears a hand away from your skin to reach underneath you and messily rub your clit with two fingers, reveling in the way you spasm around her, moaning loudly.

"You're all I think about," she growls, thumbing roughly at your clit, "At work, at home, always want you so fucking bad. Wanna keep you, do anything I want to you."

"Yes," you gasp, "Yes, anything you want, I'm so close."

"Already? I should train you to last longer for me, make you my perfect little toy...come on, toy. Beg me to let you come."

"Please, Agatha, fuck, please let me come. Oh, please," you whine, pushing yourself back into her, spreading her legs further to give her better access to your clit.

"Okay, okay, fuck, come now."

With a last thrust of her hips, you come, biting down on your lip so hard you think you might draw blood as pleasure ripples through your body once more, and you seize up.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, baby," she chants as you clench tight around her, "Feels so fucking good, fuck."

You gasp out another moan as hot cum floods your cunt.

Agatha groans, long and loud, pumping through her aftershocks. Her skin is hot against yours and the warmth inside you makes your eyes roll back in your head.

Agatha doesn't pull out. Minutes pass with her inside you, not a single word spoken, as you both calm down from your highs. Sweat clings to you, you're hungry and you could really go for a shower—but you don't want to leave this moment. You think you could probably live in it.

That is, until Agatha does eventually pull out. You let yourself rest fully against the couch, still silent as she cleans the both of you with more wet wipes. You vaguely hear her getting dressed again, before she takes a seat right next to where you're laying on the couch—still bent over its side.

Her hand makes its way into your hair and she strokes it, more slowly and carefully than you would've expected. She even lets out a little laugh at the sight of you: "Baby, c'mere. Let's get you dressed."

Your response is a long groan. Even just the idea of standing up is so far away. The only thing close is Agatha's voice, her touch.

She hums, enamored smile and soft gaze, when she stands up again and collects your clothes: "You'll get cold, darling. Come, sit up, we can—okay, you're probably gonna have to...throw out this pair of underwear, wow."

She sounds almost impressed.

"I'll just—I'll buy you new ones. Do you like Thai? I'm getting kind of hungry. We can eat here, people'll start leaving soon, anyways."

You crack open an eye to look at her. She's straightening out your blouse, and you smirk: "Domestic."

"Hey, aftercare's important," she snorts.

"Thai food in your office is aftercare to you?," you slowly peel yourself off the couch, inhaling sharply when your legs touch and you're reminded of now sensitive you still are, and probably will continue to be for the next few days.

"Oh, sorry, would you prefer Italian?"

"Just get over here, Miss Harkness," you scoff as she hands you your blouse and skirt, putting them on carefully, "Jeez, are you like this after fucking other interns, too?"

"Like what?"

"Just come hug me, my God."

Agatha, despite looking slightly irritated, walks over to you and lets you wrap your arms around her, even going so far as to pull you slightly onto her lap.

"You okay?," she mumbles into the crook of your neck. The slight hint of concern in her voice melts your heart.

"Yeah. Just...so tired...I don't think I've ever cum so hard, twice, within, like...twenty minutes?"

Agatha looks pleased with herself: "You got any plans for today?"

You shake your head.

"Come over to mine, then. We'll order food there."

You perk up, raising an eyebrow with a grin on your face: "Oh, is that what it takes to be invited to yours? Best blowjob of your life and my pussy?"

Agatha huffs, unable to hide a genuine smile, and tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear: "You're just assuming that was the best blowjob of my life?"

"Am I wrong?"

"No. Still bold, though. Want me to get you a coffee?"

"Can you just...stay here for a bit?"

"Yeah," Agatha nods. If you weren't completely spent, you might've wondered if this is what she looked like nervous. Her free hand now rests on your thigh with the other one still stroking your hair, and you feel a strange sense of comfort.

"Anything you want, honey."

[cliosunshine]

𝐎𝐟 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐚𝐭𝐬 𝐈𝐈

Jason Todd x dragon trainer!reader

Summary: after a portal mysteriously opened in your world, setting all of your dragons loose, you must find a way to take them all back home before it's too late and before you catch feelings for a certain cute guy in a red helmet

Warnings: none, slight mention of mythological creature abuse, Jason and reader begin to bond

Word count: 3.2k

A/N: second part to my first ever fic! I was happy so many of you enjoyed it, please let me know if you'd like a third part <3

As you walked around the cave, all you could do was admire the advanced technology surrounding you. You were craning your head up to get a better view of the animatronic T-Rex, a cup of tea in your hand. It was kindly offered to you by what you could only assume to be Batman’s butler, Alfred. The old man had kind eyes and also gave you a slice of pecan pie, which you really couldn’t refuse, especially after everyone in the room heard your stomach grumbling.

“So, tell me,” you started to say, swishing the amber liquid in your cup, “how can we find a way to get me and my dragons back home if we don’t know who opened the portal in the first place and where it was activated?”

Batman let out a contemplative hum, his back turned to you. He was sitting at the console typing away. “We need to check all of the security cameras in the city and also take a look at the air’s static and electromagnetic radiations that have possibly interfered with the electronic devices in Gotham”

The others were in the room as well, each one of them with their brows furrowed, having clearly switched to ‘professional’ mode, as you liked to call it.

With their domino masks and helmets gone, you could see how the three young men – Nightwing, Red Hood and Robin – starkly resembled Batman. You didn’t know why they decided to reveal their identities. Thinking it over, you realised they actually didn’t since you couldn’t recognise them and they hadn’t given you their real names. It probably figured that since you came from another universe altogether, you’d pose no threat to their identity.

Your gaze lingered on Red Hood’s face. He had a rugged yet defined look to him that didn’t let your eyes glance away. Be it the greenish eyes, the white streak on is hair or the scar on his neck, but you couldn’t look away. You must’ve been staring pretty intensely since he lowered his gaze onto yours, a slight blush creeping up his neck and covering his ears.

You quickly looked away, your own face heating up in embarrassment at being caught.

Jason cleared his throat, trying his best not to let a chuckle escape him at your flustered reaction.

Cass raised a brow at you two, tilting her head to the side curiously.

“We should go out and stop the dragons before they cause even more damage,” quipped Dick all of a sudden, quickly rising to his feet with newfound energy.

You clasped your hands together, nodding in agreement.

“Yes! We should-”

Roarrr

Your brows furrowed at the noise. It clearly came from the batcave, but that wasn’t a voice you recognised at all.

You looked at the others with a puzzled expression. They all seemed rather calm and even amused by the sound.

“This way, Goliath, please, use your legs for once in your life-”

You turned to where Robin’s voice came and your expression lit up upon seeing the cutest and fluffiest red dragon just mere meters from you.

“Aww who’s this now?” you asked as you approached the creature.

Robin pushed the dragon towards you to no avail and you couldn’t help but chuckle at the scene.

“He’s- Goliath-” he explained between pushes, clearly out of breath.

The dragon eyed you warily.

You smiled softly at him, extending a hand for him to sniff, “He can probably smell the other dragons on me,” you explained as you saw his ears perk up upon smelling your skin.

He gave you a look of approval and you began stroking his red fur. It was far softer than you had anticipated and it had a weird feeling to it. You pulled your hand back, examining it.

You grimaced as you saw your entire hand covered in a shiny, slippery substance.

“Why is he covered in oil?”

Robin gave you a pleading look for half a second, before regaining his usual stoic composure.

“He’s been itching a lot for the past few weeks and we figured that-…uhm…the best way to treat him was to put an ointment on his body,” he explained, your wild out gaze on his making him freak out internally that he somehow messed up.

“Poor Goliath,” you cooed at the dragon, scratching his chin. You were grateful that you couldn’t bring Obsidian in the cave with you or he would have thrown a jealous fit. You continued your ministrations as you gave him a once over. His skin was reddened because of the itch and the ointment and he continued to scratch his ears.

“I think he may have a skin infection,” you diagnosed, cleaning your hands with a tissue Robin gave you. “If I were at the sanctuary, I would make him a sage compress and given him a two-week treatment.”

You sighed in contemplation, wondering what to do.

Robin came over to you, a map in his hands, “Gotham’s botanical park is a few blocks away from here. Nobody’s there during the night so maybe we could break in and get the ingredients you need.”

You raised your brows at him, amused by the fact that a vigilante would actually commit a break in and theft.

Sounds of agreement followed his proposition and you could only nod along.

“We can drop by and get the ingredients while we search for the other dragons,” suggested Nightwing, looking over at you. You nodded again.

“Great then,” he said, clapping his hands once, “We need to separate so we can cover more ground,”

Immediately hands flew up and shouts were exchanged about who was going to team up with who.

“I wanna go with the bat!” snickered Spoiler, “I can’t wait to see him try to catch a dragon”

Batman still had his back turned, but was definitely listening to the conversation because his shoulders stiffened.

“No, I must go with Batman, I’m Robin after all-”

“You wouldn’t even tease him like I would!”

The bickering stopped as everyone’s attention snapped onto Orphan, who was signing something.

“What did she say?” you asked, not being able to understand her and honestly just having learned a few signs for one of your deaf dragons, nothing more.

Nighwing beamed, “She said that you and Hood over here should team up and search for both the dragons and the herbs together”

Oh.

You and Red Hood both looked at each other and you suddenly registered what was bound to happen.

You and this incredibly attractive stranger on Obsidian’s back.

Oh fuck.

You laughed nervously and he seemed to mimic you.

“Uhm, alright then,” you squeaked out, feeling everyone’s eyes on you, even Batman’s.

“Off you go, then, shoo,” Nightwing escorted you to the exit of the batcave, earning more than a few grumbled cusses from Red Hood – or should you just call him Hood?

You hardly managed to choke out a “goodbye” before the door closed centimetres from your face.

“What a dickhead,” said the vigilante next to you, this time with only his domino mask on, “I apologise on his behalf- he doesn’t know when to shut up,” he says with an irritated groan.

You chuckle at that, reassuring him. As you approached your dragon, you glanced up at him once more, taking in how his sharp features contrasted greatly with the soft curls of his black hair.

The moonlight gave him a sort of vampiresque look and you couldn’t help but notice how his eyes seemed to…glow? It seemed as if his blueish-greenish eyes did a complete 180 and became this neon green colour.

You narrowed your eyes at that, continuing to walk.

Meanwhile, Jason side eyed you the entire walk back to Obsidian.

His mind wandered as he tried to come up with possible explanations about this whole situation. Who were you and where did you even come from. He wasn’t buying the whole “Oh, I come from Earth!” thing and neither were his brothers. Maybe there was a possibility that you truly came from a parallel universe were apparently dragons existed, but then why hadn’t they had at least one encounter with these anomalies before?

He thought back to Superman and Krypton. Although it probably wasn’t the exactly same thing, he guessed that if Bruce was allies and friends (although he’d never admit it) with Clark, then anything was possible.

He also found you really pretty and not alien-looking at all, but that’s beside the point.

His eyes wandered back to the lasso on your utility belt. He had sworn that when it was up in the air, swinging above your head in loose circles it looked exactly like Wonder Woman’s.

He had to ask you about that later. For now, he could only grief his bike even further as he took a good look at the dragon in front of him that looked like it wanted to tear his head off.

He could only reciprocate the glare as your back was turned to both of them, fishing out your list of ingredients that were needed to make the compress.

“Ok, so” you started, oblivious to the death stare contest between Jason and the dragon, “are you ready for a once-in-a-lifetime experience?”

Jason looked at your excited expression and gulped nervously when your dragon huffed begrudgingly, clearly not wanting to let him on.

“You sure about me getting on this thing?” Those were fighting words for the dragon, who shrieked offended at being called a thing.

You tried to not worsen things further, putting your palm out in dissuasion, smiling nervously.

“He can understand your every word, Hood” you explained, your nervous and apologetic tone prompting Jason to see in the corner of his eye how the black dragon huffed in agreement, the smoke coming out of his nostrils making him wince.

He rubbed his neck sheepishly, “Sorry, I didn’t realize”

You waved him off with a smile, “It’s all good. Have you ever ridden a horse before?”

Jason took a second to think to himself – have I ever rode a horse before? - . He didn’t know if he had no memory of doing so from all the concussions he’s had this year alone or because your gaze was making him slightly nervous. Yeah, it was probably the latter.

“No,” was all he manged to blurt out, really not wanting to get on your dragon’s back.

“Good, because it’s nothing like it!” You laughed out, your shoulders relaxing, “I feared you would’ve been one of those people who tried to get Obi moving by slightly kicking on his stomach because trust me – it would’ve ended badly”

Jason didn’t find humour in that, but chuckled along nevertheless.

He watched as you hopped on your dragon’s back with elegance and precision, not a single movement wasted. He also took notice at how Obsidian helped you up by lowering one of his wings. He put his helmet on, missing your disappointed look at his now covered face.

“Come on, take my hand and put your right foot on Obi’s wing bone” you instructed as you pointed at where your foot previously was, your other hand outstretched for him to take.

Jason looked at your hand, then at your face. He looked at your hand again.

You couldn’t possibly lift half his body weight up with a single hand, right? A hand that was significant smaller than this, nonetheless.

“Are you sure about this? I’m a big guy, I don’t want to – Oh shit!”

He didn’t finish his sentence as you bent down to grab his hand and Obsidian nudged his foot on his wing, only to lift his whole body up as if he weighted nothing and fling him up in the hair. Jason screamed as he tried not to fly right into the bush behind you. He thankfully didn’t as your tight grip on his hand prevented him from becoming the next rocket man of Gotham.

He landed right behind you, his whole body shaking as he tried to regain his composure.

“Don’t worry about me, Obi does all the heavy lifting,” you said as you laughed so much that tears started to form at the corners of your eyes. Your dragon seemed to mimic your laugh with huffs and puffs as he moved his head up and down with closed eyes.

Behind you, sitting with an unamused expression and arms crossed over his chest, Jason had a half-mind to just ditch the two of you and walk to the botanic garden alone.

Your laugh quieted down and you looked back at him, this time with a genuinely apologetic look in your eyes.

He lifted the corners of his mouth ever so slightly, thankful for his helmet covering his face.

At least someone had the guts to mess with him like that.

“Hold on tightly. I’m warning you, I’ll try to go as slowly as I can but Obi doesn’t like men that much and will actively try to throw you off, so it’s better if you hold onto me, that way he won’t do it,” you told Jason and he glanced down at the dragon, who was already looking at him with an already mischievous look in his eyes. Fucking hell. He hoped to survive his first ever dragon ride.

Jason lifted his hands that were previously on his lap and carefully held your waist, only his gloves and a few layers of clothes separating your skin from his. He swore he could feel the warmth radiating from your body.

“I said tighter, Hood,” you told him in a firmer tone, to which he responded by getting closer to you and pressing his chest to your back, his arms now circling your waist tightly.

He could feel your heartbeat picking up significantly and smiled to himself.

“O-okay, that’s better,” you managed to squeak out before tapping your dragon’s neck once.

The sudden movement made him spread out his wings and soon enough you found yourselves up in the air, taking in Gotham’s skyline from above.

Jason couldn’t help but bring you in even tighter, trying his best not to hinder your mobility as you tapped Obsidian’s ears to signal when to turn, opting your practiced tapping signs rather than having to shout out directions, now that you had someone else riding with you.

“Is this the place?” you turned around towards Jason as you got closer to a sign that had “Gotham Public Botanic Garden” written in dark green letters.

Jason nodded, not being able to utter a sound as the proximity between you two made him nervous. He was accustomed to being held from behind when he rescued civilians and tried to take them someplace safe, but to hold on to someone and trust them with his life as he travelled on a dragon’s back? Yeah, that was a new one for him.

You patted Obsidian’s back twice, prompting him to land near the entrance. Thankfully no one was in sight as Jason figured you would’ve gotten more than a few odd looks.

He was the first one to hop off the dragon’s back, already missing your body’s warmth as he tried to hold on to whatever remains where left of it on his leather jacket.

You then slid down, petting Obsidian’s snout with tenderness and placing your lips near his spiked cheek, “Thanks, Obi. Now let’s go, we need to find quite a few things to help Goliath out.”

As you made your way through the various greenhouses, Jason walked by your side and Obsidian on the opposite one, protecting you from harm.

If he could say one good thing about that damn dragon, Jason would praise him for his protectiveness over you. He noticed how, from the very start, he always kept his eyes trained on you, not missing a single sign of discomfort and immediately taking action when he felt like you were being threatened.

Other than that, he was a complete jerk.

You continued to walk in peaceful silence that was only interrupted by you telling him you found another herb needed for the compress.

When you had almost gone through the whole list, Jason spoke up.

“How do you know so much about dragons?” he asked, curiosity lacing his voice.

You smiled fondly at nothing in particular, as if reminiscing some good memories.

“You see,” you continued walking, your gaze never leaving the herbs in your hand, “I was absolutely distraught at how the majority of the people where I come from treat animals that aren’t your usual house pets, especially dragons. They would more often than not abuse, torture and kill them just for fun or to boast to others how they managed to kill a dragon-” you cut yourself off with a shaky breath, anger evident in your voice and your eyes.

Obsidian nudged your arm with a sad face, letting out a low grumble and you smiled weakly at him. Jason wanted to put an arm around your shoulders and pull you close to him, but he restrained himself.

“I found Obi one morning while working out in the park,” you continued, “and he was so cute, sitting there in that box that he accidentally had set on fire, so chubby and round with those big amber eyes- gosh he was adorable,” you chuckled, a single tear managing to escape and running down your cheek. Jason’s hand twitched by his side.

“I took him home. My parents were seething with rage at the thought of me taking care of a dragon, an animal everybody in our community despised. So I left home and went to live with my best friend, Katie, in a house near our hometown’s lake and from there, piece by piece, we learned more about dragons as we rescued them.”

Jason stayed silent, your words making him see you in a new light. He admired your strength and perseverance, your will to not give up and go against your parents to do what you knew was right. He saw a lot of himself in you and he liked that.

“That’s incredible…wait, I never got your name” he paused embarrassed, having completely forgotten to ask your name at the batcave.

You smiled softly, not a hint of offence in your kind eyes, “No biggie,” you shrugged light-heartedly, “it’s Y/N”.

“That’s a pretty name.”

“Thanks”

You stayed like that for a while, content in the silent agreement you both had settled upon. Jason liked you. you weren’t over the top like his siblings were, but also not a complete recluse who disdained human contact, as he often found himself to be like. You were…you. And he liked that.

Soon enough, you had gathered all your ingredients and were getting back onto Obsidian’s back. This time the dragon was much gentler with Jason. He probably felt the shift in demeanour you and him had during the walk and eased up on him. Jason was grateful for not getting hauled up like a ragdoll a second time.

As you were back up into the air, a sense of tranquillity engulfed the both of you before a faraway shriek reminded Jason that you still had another dozen or so more dragons to find and bring back to the manor.

Exchanging a look with you, he observed you directing Obsidian to where you had heard the sound, before a blaze interrupter your path and a pair of glowing eyes were set on the three of you.

Jason’s blood ran cold and his mouth moved faster than his thoughts could as he pointed a gun at the fire-spitting dragon.

“That’s the fucker that melted my bike!”

[magiccath]

Secrets big and small

tenth doctor x GN!reader

Summary: in which you are forced to admit your feelings for the Doctor, even if you think he will leave you for it

A/N: For the absolute love of my life and favorite beta, thanks for dealing with me talking about this more than I wrote it

The Doctor poked his head out of the TARDIS, his nose twitching as he sniffed the air. After a few good inhales, he popped back inside the ship, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. 

You waited by the ship's console, your hands planted firmly on your hips. The Doctor had promised you a beach vacation, and judging by his face, this wasn’t a beach. Sometimes you wondered how much control the Doctor actually had over the ship, considering it only landed in the places he intended about 25% of the time. 

“We’re not at a beach are we?” 

The Doctor ignored your question and moved over to the console, grabbing one of the many oddly shaped screens attached to the control panel. He pulled his glasses out of his suit pocket, perching the spectacles on the bridge of his nose. 

“Interesting…” He hummed, more to himself than you. 

“Where did we end up this time?” You asked, opening the door to peek outside. You knew better than to walk off without the Doctor, but a little look had never hurt you. 

The minute you opened the door you were met with the bustling noise of a street. All kinds of aliens walked by you, each one unique in their own way. 

“It would appear we landed on the planet Phact, but I’m not sure why.” 

You continued to stare out of the TARDIS wide-eyed, taking in all of the strange creatures before you. Your eyes followed an individual who walked by, a series of tentacles hanging out of his mouth.

“Is it safe?” you asked as an afterthought.

“As far as I know,” the Doctor shrugged, putting his glasses back in his pocket. He moved away from the console to stand at your side by the door. 

You looked over at him, debating if you should tell him that wasn’t exactly a reassuring thought. 

“Since we’re here…” he smiled cheekily, inclining his head toward the door. You laughed and rolled your eyes. The Doctor never could resist a good adventure. 

You followed him out the door, waiting momentarily as he locked the TARDIS up. 

“Remember that time you forgot to tell me it was rude to wear less than three layers on Titan 4?” you ask, watching him slip the key back into his endless coat pockets.

The Doctor shrugs, pushing his hands into his pockets and leaning toward you. “Yeah, what about it?”

“Is there anything I should know about this planet?” you raise your eyebrows questioningly.

The Doctor’s brow wrinkled as he thought about it, trying to remember his limited knowledge about Phact.

“I don’t think so,” he shrugged again, smiling softly. 

You scrunched your nose slightly, not sure you believed him. Still, you followed him.

The Doctor talked excitedly as the two of you walked through the city streets. Most of the time, you only understood half of the words he was saying. Frankly, you just enjoyed listening to him talk.

As you walked your eyes took in everything around you. It didn’t matter how long you traveled with the Doctor, it always seemed like there was more for you to learn and discover. 

The Doctor continued talking, waving his hands about in the air. Abruptly, he stopped to look at a nearby poster. You followed him, trying to peek over his shoulder to see what he was looking at. The Doctor shifted to the side so you could read the sign too, the TARDIS translation circuit making the writing legible to you.

“The 998th Olympic games?” you read aloud, your eyebrows furrowed. 

“That would explain all of the species here!” he smiled brightly, looking at the diverse crowd around you. 

You nodded in agreement, following his gaze. There really did appear to be all kinds of species from around the galaxy. 

“Want to go?” He whispered to you, raising his eyebrows mischievously. 

“We don’t have tickets. Or money.” 

The Doctor wiggled his eyebrows again, pulling the psychic paper out of his pocket. He shook it at you with a mischievous grin.

A smile took over your own face as you nodded, “alright then,” you said excitedly. You’d never been to the Olympics, let alone the space Olympics. 

The Doctor guided you through the crowd towards the giant area, holding your hand tightly so as not to lose you. You tried not to focus too much on the feeling of his hand wrapped around yours. He just didn’t want you to wander off, there wasn’t much else to it, right?

“Y’know I carried the Olympic torch once,” he smirked back at you, still guiding you through the crowds. 

“Why am I not surprised?” 

“What?” the Doctor asked, not catching your comment over the chatter of the crowd. You smiled softly and shook your head, deciding it was best not to repeat yourself.

The Doctor led you to the ticket line, waiting patiently for the guards to check your tickets and let you in. He bounced slightly on his feet, unable to stand still for too long.

“Are you sure this is going to work?” you asked anxiously, eyeing the copious amounts of security surrounding the arena.

“Of course!” the Doctor smiled brightly, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb. The movement made both of you realize he was still holding your hand, even if he didn’t need to. With a small, hardly discernible blush, the Doctor slid his hand from yours. 

The line moved forward and the guard asked for your tickets. The Doctor winked at you before handing the psychic paper over with a confident smile. 

“Are you serious, mate?” The guard laughed dryly, looking between you and the Doctor. 

“Most of the time,” the Doctor’s confident smile didn’t waver. 

The guard sighed and leaned into his walkie-talkie, chattering softly to someone on the other end. You looked up at the Doctor with wide eyes, urging him to explain.

“Probably getting us a special escort or something,” he shrugged, turning the paper around to see what your fake tickets said. When his eyes landed on the paper his face instantly turned ghostly white.

“Doctor…” you growled softly. 

“W-we should probably run now,” he whispered back. Before you could react, the security guard pulled the two of you firmly to the side. 

“Doctor, what is going on?” You whispered as the guard led the two of you to a police car. At least, you assumed it was a police car. Unless flashing red and blue lights meant something else on other planets, it was definitely a police car. 

“I’m sorry,” the Doctor winced softly as the security guard guided the two of you to an officer. The cop looked you up and down before guiding you inside of the car.

“I would feel a lot better if you told me why.” 

You weren’t necessarily mad about the police car, it wasn’t the first time you had gotten arrested on the Doctor’s behalf. Usually, he was able to get you out of it. You were more frustrated that he wasn’t telling you what was happening. 

“Remember Titan 4?” he winced. 

“Doctor!” you snapped angrily, “I specifically asked you if I needed to know anything about this planet!” 

“Right, I know I’m sorry, I forgot,” he whispered, shaking his head softly. 

“How bad is it?” you sighed, looking down at your lap. 

“They’re not gonna kill us,” he shrugged with a sad smile. 

“What did we even do?”

“You can’t lie on Phact.” 

“Like, physically?” 

The Doctor grimaced, thinking the question through, “not exactly,” he offered. You waited for him to further explain. 

“They can tell telepathically if you lie and that ability extends to psychic paper.” 

“I gathered as such,” you sighed, “but that still doesn't explain why we’re in a cop car” 

“It’s illegal to lie.” 

“Seriously?” you gaped, “any kind of lie?” 

The Doctor nodded.

“Even if you tell your friend she looks fine when she really looks a mess 'cause you want to spare her feelings?”

The Doctor frowned but nodded again, more tentatively this time.

“That’s a horrible idea.” 

“Don’t tell them that.”

You sighed softly in agreement.

“I really am sorry,” he looked at you with those big, sad brown eyes of his. It was very, very hard to stay mad at him when he looked at you like that. It was your weakness.

“It’s fine,” you shook your head. “What are they going to do?” 

Before the Doctor could answer, the car stopped and a cop came around to help you out of the car. The officer led you inside a very space-looking police station to a very Earth-looking interrogation room. You sat next to the Doctor in metal fold-out chairs, a table separating you and the officer. At least they didn’t cuff you.

“Names,” the officer groaned, clicking his pen and hovering it over a yellow legal pad. He had the kind of face and demeanor that told you he would rather be anywhere else.

“The Doctor.” 

“Really funny, what’s your actual name?” the officer frowned. 

“That’s my name,” the Doctor pouted, offended that someone would think it wasn’t. You smiled softly to yourself, finding the Doctor’s disappointed frown adorable.

“Fine,” the officer groaned, scribbling it down on his paper. “Age?”

“904,” he said without blinking. You hid your widening smile with your hand. You were starting to feel a little bad for the police officer. 

“You’re how old?”

“904.”

“Species?”

“Gallifreyan.” 

“Never heard of them,” the officer shook his head, writing it down on his paper. “You lot must age differently,” he grumbled, more towards his paper than the two of you.

“Right, and you?” the officer asked, tilting his head in your direction. 

The Doctor nodded softly at you, urging you to comply with the officer’s wishes. You sighed and answered the same questions. The officer just seemed relieved to write down something less ridiculous. 

“Alright,” he slid the paper pad away from him before leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed “You have been charged with a first-class felony of deception. You will not be fined or executed. To be released from custody you must provide your biggest secret”

“That’s it?” you asked, it seemed a little too simple. The officer nodded, clearly fed up with you and the Doctor.

“Look, folks, let’s just make this easier for all of us and get on with it?”

The Doctor nodded his agreement, casting a nervous look over at you. You nodded back, trying to think of something you could say. You knew easily what your biggest secret was, but you knew you couldn’t say it out loud. Especially not in front of the Doctor. 

“I’m terrified of hospitals,” the Doctor said with a small frown. 

“That’s ironic,” you chuckled, assuming he was making a joke. The officer stared at him for a few minutes, probably thinking the same thing. 

“Checks out,” the officer sighed, writing “scared of hospitals” next to his other notes on the Doctor. “Weird secret, mate,” he added before turning his attention to you.

You fiddled anxiously before leaning back in your seat, your eyes trained on your hands. 

“Does he have to be here for it?” you asked softly. The Doctor looked at you confused, wondering what was so bad you didn’t want him to know. 

“I just admitted I'm terrified of hospitals as a doctor, it can't get worse than that,” he laughed.

“Does he?” you asked the officer, ignoring the Doctor. The cop looked between the two of you; the Doctor staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed at you, and you trying to act like he wasn’t there.

“Yes,” the officer challenged, leaning back in his seat again. You narrowed your eyes at him, wondering if he only said that to see how things would play out. 

“So, what’s your secret?” he smirked, confirming your suspicions. “I’ll know if you’re lying” 

You sighed, trying to steady your racing heart. You wanted to scream, maybe even cry. You wanted to blame the Doctor, even if it wasn’t really his fault. Even more, you wanted to wipe that stupid, smug smile off of the officer’s face.

You took one last look at the Doctor, smiling sadly at him. He looked back at you with confusion, unsure why you were looking at him as if it was the last time you’d ever see him. To you, it felt like it would be. He could never look at you the same, not after this.

“I’m in love with this idiot,” you sighed, cocking your head towards the Doctor. The silence that followed was deafening. While the Doctor’s brain struggled to process your words the officer sized you up, searching for any falsities in your statement. 

“What a strange pair,” the officer shook his head, leaning forward to write on his pad again. “In love with the other one”

You looked at those words scribbled on the thin, crappy paper and felt your heart clench. It was out there now, the Doctor knew. At the moment, you couldn’t think of anything worse. You would rather spend your entire life in prison than have had to admit that.

“You’re free to go,” the officer waved you off, more preoccupied with writing more things on his paper pad. It seemed so simple, yet one little secret had turned your world upside down.

You nodded solemnly and stood up, heading out the door. The Doctor wasn’t far behind you. 

The walk back to the TARDIS was really quiet, a stark contrast from a few short hours ago. You tried not to sulk too much as you walked through the busy streets back to the ship.

The Doctor unlocked the doors without a word, holding them open for you. You walked inside the ship for what you assumed was the last time. The Doctor followed, heading over to the console to mess with a few buttons. 

“I’ll pack my things,” you whispered, more to the floor than the Doctor. You moved towards the hallway that led to your room but the Doctor cut you off. 

“What?” 

“I’ll pack up,” your eyes remained trained on the floor, not wanting to look into his. You knew the Doctor wasn’t going to keep you around after this. It was glaringly clear that he didn’t have those feelings for you, that he couldn’t.

“Why would you do that?” he frowned, moving away from the console. 

“You’re kicking me out.” 

“I think I would know if I was.” He moved so he was standing in front of you, tilting his head down in an attempt to catch your eye. 

“It’s ok,” you shook your head, your eyes trained on your shoes, “I know you don’t want me around anymore.” 

“Is this about the whole secret thing?” the Doctor asked gently.

“I know you don’t feel the same, I never expected you to,” you shook your head, averting your gaze again. “I’d understand if you just wanted to drop me back at home.” 

“Is that what you want?” 

You shook your head, clearing your throat, “It’s not exactly about what I want is it?” 

The Doctor remained silent, his mind working for the right thing to say. He didn’t fully comprehend what was happening. 

“You’re under the assumption that I’m going to drop you because you love me?” He said softly, still trying to catch your eye. 

“Is that not what’s happening right now?” You frowned, confused. 

The Doctor laughed softly, moving away from you with one long stride. He ran his hands through his hair, tugging at the spiky strands. You continued to frown at him, confused by his demeanor. 

“I can establish a psychic block,” he explained, waving his hands about as he talked. You frowned, confused as to why he was talking about this now. “I told the officer a secret, but I didn’t tell him my greatest secret.”

He had the kind of look on his face he got when he was trying, and failing, to figure something out. It was a look you knew well at this point, you had just never been the cause of it. 

“There’s so much of you in my head,” he groaned, waving his hands by the sides of his face, “which is saying a lot 'cause I have more in my head than you will ever experience in your entire life.” 

You gaped at him, unsure what you were supposed to say in this scenario. Was this his secret?

“You take up so much space,” he emphasized exasperatedly, repeatedly running his hands through his hair. “Even when you’re not here I’m constantly thinking about you!” He leaned his hands against the console, hanging his head as he continued rambling.

You stared at him like he had grown a second head. No, three extra heads. And a tail. 

“I’m sorry, what?” you asked.

The Doctor moved back over to you, reaching out to cradle your face in his hands. He cupped your cheeks gently and bent his head forward so your foreheads connected. 

“You take up so much space,” he whispered, his breath fanning across your face. “And the fact that you can’t see that kills me, it really kills me.”

“Doctor-” you whispered in shock. In your mind, there was only ever one way that the Doctor could react to your feelings, and this certainly wasn’t it. “Are you saying what I think you are?” 

The Doctor laughed sharply, shaking his head against yours, “You’re clueless, y’know that?”

“You’re not much better,” you frowned back. “But that doesn’t answer my question.” Your heart thudded against your chest, threatening to beat right out of your body. The mere implication that the Doctor could have even a shred of feelings for you was sending your senses into overdrive.

“Yes, I am,” he whispered. That was all you needed. You knew it was hard for him to say things like this. He wasn’t exactly the “I love you” type. The fact that he had said this much already was a wonder. 

You didn’t really think about it, you just kissed him. His lips fit against yours perfectly and the kiss was over much sooner than either of you had wanted.

Your face was still cradled in his hands as the Doctor bent down to press another, quicker kiss against your lips, returning the act of affection. You smiled happily as he pulled back, looking up at him with pure adoration.

“Are you really afraid of hospitals though?” you asked, your eyebrows furrowed. 

“Terrified,” he shook his head.

[lupinqs]

CHAPTER FOUR ━━ Caged Bird

☆ ━ pairing: hopkins!paige x oc (dani callan)

☆ ━ word count: 6.9K

☆ ━ warnings: literally just outright homophobia w a slur (sorry), conversion therapy, religious guilt, dani’s just super fuckin depressed, too damn long to proofread

☆ ━ links: my masterlist, take me to church masterlist

☆ ━ author’s note: here is where you can learn more about conversion therapy. believe it or not, this is still a fucking problem in the US today, as an estimated 20,000 minors are subjected to it yearly i believe. just because instances of it are included in this does NOT by any means mean that i condone it. one of my friends actually went through something similar for a little while and it’s so fucked up. if anything, this is to bring awareness of the fact that shit like this is still happening!!!!!!

MAY 2019

DANIELLE CALLAN has never felt more content in her life. The soft morning lights spill through the blinds, casting golden stripes across her bedspread. She stretches lazily, her body still buzzing happily from last night. Everything has finally fallen into place. She and Paige finally said it—finally admitted their feelings, after all the years of hiding behind jealous stares, half-hearted jokes, and touches that lingered far too long to be deemed friendly.

Paige left earlier this morning, ready to catch her flight that’ll take her away for the rest of the summer. But even the distance can’t dampen the giddiness Dani feels, all over, almost like she’s caught some sort of illness that has her body and mind repeating Paige, Paige, Paige over and over again. She lays in bed, replaying when Paige she kissed her on the porch, when she kissed her goodnight, when she kissed her good morning, when she kissed her goodbye. Her mind glazes over as she remembers the blonde whispering “I love you” into her ear like it was a secret only they were allowed to share. It all felt so right, so natural, like they’ve always meant to be together in that way.

Dani pulls her phone from the nightstand, grinning at the last text Paige sent her, the one she’s been glancing at all morning.

Paige ❤️‍🔥

Boarding now. I love you

Can i call you when I land

Dani ❤️‍🔥

ofc you can

i love you too have a safe flight ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥!!!!!

Dani holds her phone to her chest, cheeks blooming pink, a smile spreading across her face. It’s real now. All of it. For the first time, she doesn’t have to pretend, doesn’t have to wonder if Paige feels the same way. The uncertainty is gone, replaced by a warmth that makes her feel like she’s floating.

Reluctantly, she swings her legs over the side of the bed, knowing she has to get up. She pads over to the window, trying to pul the curtains open a bit more, eager to let the light flood in. However, it seems as though they’re jammed, and, after a poor fight on her part, Dani sighs, rolling her eyes and letting the curtains stay closed, engulfing the room in darkness.

Nevertheless, she’s still smiling as she heads downstairs, the scent of coffee wafting through her nose, the faint sound of the TV playing in the living room registering. Her dad’s probably watching his usual morning news, she figures. She feels lighter than air as she bounces down the steps, a pure happiness that’s been harder to come by recently.

But as she reaches the bottom of the stairs, something about the atmosphere seems to shift. Dani’s stomach flips anxiously; the air feels heavy all of a sudden—thick. She pauses, her hand resting on the banister as she peers into the living room. Her dad is sitting in his usual spot on the couch, but something seems different—off. He’s hunched over, elbows on his knees, his phone in his hand. The TV’s on, but the volume is low, almost as if it’s been forgotten.

Not to mention that her dad’s expression isn’t what Dani’s used to seeing. There’s no relaxed, Saturday-morning ease in the way he sits. Instead, his face is set in a rigid, tense mask, his jaw clenched so tightly Dani can see the muscles in his neck straining. His eyes are fixed on his phone, unmoving, and there’s a darkness in them that makes her want to go right back up to her room.

“Dad?” Dani’s voice is cautious, her lighthearted mood evaporating as she takes a few tentative steps forward. “You okay?”

He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t even look at her. It’s odd. Usually, he’d greet her with some offhand remark or ask about her plans for the day. But now, there’s nothing. Just silence.

Dani’s unease grows, her inside twisting with unfamiliar dread. She steps closer, trying to get a better look at him. “Dad?”

Finally, he looks up. His eyes meet hers, and the expression on his face is enough to make her swallow thickly, unsure how to feel. He looks at her angrily, coldly, and it sends a jolt through Dani’s chest.

He says nothing at first. Instead, he simply turns his phone around, showing her the screen. At first, she can’t make out what she’s looking at—just a video, playing on a small square of the screen. But then her heart plummets into her stomach as she recognizes what exactly is being filmed. The porch. Her and Paige. Last night.

Her breath catches in her throat as she watches the footage. There Dani is, fumbling with her keys while Paige kisses her neck, whispering those three words that meant everything. The video captured it all—the giggles shared between them, the way Dani turned around and pulled Paige in for another kiss, savoring it. This moment that was meant to be just theirs, is now playing out in front of Dani’s father’s eyes.

Fuck. Dani should have realized, should have remembered. They have a Ring doorbell—it takes footage of any movement near it. But she was drunk and stupid and in love and she’d forgotten. And now, by the look on her dad’s face, she’s about to pay for that.

Her mouth goes dry, her heart hammering in her chest as she looks up at her father. He’s still holding his phone out, eyes smoldering with an anger that makes her feel like she can’t breathe.

“Dad,” she whispers, voice barely audible. “I can explain—”

“What the hell is this, Danielle?” he interrupts, his tone low, the kind he only uses when he’s really, really angry. It makes her flinch.

She opens her mouth, but words don’t come. What can she say? How can she possibly explain something she’s barely had enough time to process herself?

Her dad stands abruptly, his movements sharp and filled with barely restrained rage. “You think this is acceptable? In my house? Under my rules? I—I don’t know what happened. You’ve always been a good girl. Danielle, you have a relationship with Christ! How could you do this? How could you throw everything I’ve given you, everything I’ve done for you, everything God has done for you for… for this?” He shakes the phone in his direction, his voice rising. “For this disgusting, sinful bullshit!”

Dani recoils like she’s been slapped, the weight of his words pressing down on her. The thoughts that she’s pushed to the back burner of her mind echo quietly, agreeing with her father. It’s wrong. A girl loving another girl is wrong. Sinful. But the part of her mind that’s taken over, the one that thinks about the blonde basketball player day and night and can’t help but think about how right it felt to be with Paige in that way, fights back. “I—I can explain, I swear—” she starts, but is quickly interrupted.

“Explain what?” he spits, face twisted in disgust and disappointment. “There’s nothing to explain, Danielle. I saw it. I saw you—kissing that girl. Paige.” He says her name like it’s some kind of poison, and it makes Dani’s chest constrict. “I knew something was off about that friendship. You think I haven’t noticed how you two are always together, always too close?”

Tears well up in Dani’s eyes, her whole body tensing in a panic. “It’s not like that—”

“Don’t you dare lie to me,” he snaps, eyes flaring. “I saw what I saw. And I won’t tolerate this… this perversion under my roof.”

The tears begin to pull over now, Dani’s chest heaving as she tries to fight the sobs that rip through her. “Dad, please—”

“You’re not seeing her again,” he cuts her off, his voice final, cold. “I don’t care how long you’ve been friends. I don’t care that you’ve known her since you were kids. I don’t care that she’s our next door neighbor. Whatever that is, it’s ended. Now.”

Dani shakes her head frantically, panicking, tears falling faster. “You can’t do that!” she shouts, voice cracking. “Please, Paige is—she’s my best friend—please—we”

“No!” he yells over her, vocals booming around the room. Dani flinches, her body trembling as she wraps her arms around herself. “You will not see her again. You won’t even go near her. Do you understand me?”

“Dad, please, just listen—”

“I said, do you understand me?” he repeats. “This is not up for discussion, Danielle. She’s a bad influence, a—” he hesitates, and then with a sneer that makes Dani’s stomach churn, he hisses, “She’s a filthy fag, and I won’t let her corrupt you any more than she already has.”

His words hang in the air like a death sentence, and Dani’s world tilts on its axis. It feels like the floor has been ripped out from beneath her. She’s never heard her father speak like this, never seen such venom in his voice. Of course she’s known he’s homophobic; he’s made off handed remarks every now and then, says things about how “those people” are disappointments to God. But this? The way he’s looking at her—it’s like she’s a complete stranger to him. Like he doesn’t even recognize his own daughter anymore.

The sobs break free through Dani’s chest and her hands shake as she covers her red-rimmed eyes with them. “Dad, please,” she begs, though she knows it’s probably useless at this point. “Please don’t do this.”

But her father’s expression doesn’t soften. If anything, it grows harder, colder. “Go to your room,” he says through clenched teeth. “I’ll deal with you later.”

Dani looks up at him, her vision blurred with tears. “Dad—”

“I said, go to your room!” he practically roars, and the sheer force of it makes her stumble backward toward the stairs, body shaking.

Her heart is in her throat and she’s trembling uncontrollably as she turns and runs up the steps, her sobs echoing in the otherwise silent house. She barely makes it to her room before collapsing onto her bed, her face buried in her pillow as she lets her tears free fall.

Everything’s ruined. Her dad hates her. He’s seen everything—and now he hates her.

And Paige…

Dani can’t even let herself think about that. How, just hours ago, she had everything, and—within minutes—it all slipped between her fingers.

And now all Dani can feel is shame.

JUNE 2019

The camp—if that’s what you could call it—isn’t the kind of summer camp Dani expected when her father first mentioned it to her. No, this place isn’t about hikes or bonfires or s’mores. It’s something else entirely.

They call it a “church camp,” but it didn’t take long for Dani to realize what it really is. Conversion therapy, as simple as that. A way to “fix” her, to cleanse her of her sins.

The camp is deep in the woods, secluded and quiet, the kind of place where no one would hear you scream, where no one would notice if you disappeared for a few months and come back changed. The other girls and boy here are like Dani—at least, that’s what she’s been told. They’ve been sent here to be “cured,” to be saved from the deviance inside of them, the sickness that led them astray from God’s light.

At first, Dani tries to resist. She fights it, mentally at least. The idea that something so integral to her—love—could be a disease was unthinkable. She thinks of Paige, her best friend, her first love, and tries to remind herself of the warmth, the joy, the rightness of it all. Paige always made her feel seen. Safe. Loved. How can any of that be a sin?

But as the weeks drag on, the messages seep in, and, slowly but surely, Dani’s defenses erode. The camp counselors—rigid, strict men and women with eyes that seem to stare straight into your soul—speak of salvation and sin in the same breath. They quote scripture, twisting it into something Dani never heard before, making her feel like her very existence is a rebellion against God.

They say the attraction she feels for Paige is a temptation, a test from the devil himself. That her love isn’t love at all, but lust, base, and immoral. Every day, they hammer this message into her through sermons, through private “sessions,” through exercises designed to break down her spirit, to rebuild her into someone who can conform, who can be pure again. They say they’re just trying to help her.

The forest surrounding the camp becomes a symbol of her isolation. The trees loom tall, casting long shadows over the compound, as if the very earth is trying to swallow her whole. There’s no escape, no outlet. Dani’s never felt more alone in her life. She wants to cry, to scream, to run, but there’s nowhere to go. No one to turn to.

Her days become a blur of routine and control. They take everything from her. Her phone, her freedom, her identity. She isn’t allowed to speak of Paige—hell, she isn’t even allowed to think of Paige without facing repercussions. They watch her closely, scrutinizing every move, every glance, every word, looking for any sign of weakness, any sign that she hasn’t fully accepted the “truth.”

Some days are easier than others. On the good days, Dani finds herself almost numb, going through the motions, letting the words of the counselors wash over her without sinking in. But on the bad days… the bad days are hell. On the bad days, the guilt is so overwhelming that she can hardly breathe. She’ll lay in her cot at night, staring at the ceiling, her mind racing with thoughts she can’t quiet. Maybe they’re right. Maybe I am sick. Maybe I’m not supposed to feel this way. Maybe… maybe Paige will be better off without me. Maybe I’ll be better off without Paige.

The worst part is that she can feel herself changing. Slowly, bit by bit, the person she’s always been—Dani, the girl who loves photography, the girl who loves to write, the girl who love Paige—slips away. In her place, there’s… someone else. Someone who’s afraid. Afraid of herself. Afraid of the world. Afraid of God.

There are moments, brief as they are, when Dani finds herself alone, sitting on the edge of the lake that borders the camp. The counselors allow “reflection time” out there, a chance to sit in nature and contemplate God’s will for their lives. Dani doesn’t feel God’s presence out there, though. Instead, she feels only emptiness. The lake, still and dark, mirrors the hollow ache in her chest, the ache that started the day her father found that video and had only grown since then.

She thinks of Paige during those moments. She can’t help it. Paige’s laugh, her smile, the way her fingers would brush against Dani’s hand when they were alone together. She thought of the way Paige’s voice had cracked, just slightly, when she’d said, “I love you,” as if it had been too heavy, too important, to carry without breaking.

And then the guilt would come rushing back in like a tidal wave, drowning out the memory of Paige’s touch. This isn’t right. I’m not supposed to feel this way. The counselors make sure of that. They drill it into her head day after day until she begins to doubt every thought, every feeling, every memory she has of Paige.

The uncertainty is the worst part. At night, lying in her narrow cot, Dani closes her eyes and tries to remember how it had felt to be with Paige. How, just a few short weeks ago, her heart had been so full of love that it felt like it might burst. But now, those memories feel like they belong to someone else, like they’re fading away, replaced by a gnawing doubt that maybe—just maybe—what she felt isn’t love at all.

The isolation gnaws at her. Dani’s faith—which, despite everything, was pure before—has become tainted, almost like she’s trying to crawl away from it—or at least, trying to crawl away from the twisted version of faith that the camp preaches. They tell her that God loves her but only if she can repent, only if she can reject the “unnatural desires” that have led her down this dark path. They tell her that true salvation means giving up everything she’s ever known, including Paige.

They don’t just want her to stop loving Paige. They want her to stop being herself.

But the hardest part is, after so many weeks, Dani doesn’t really know who exactly she is anymore. She feels like a shell of herself, hollowed out and empty, filled with nothing but fear and shame. And she begins to wonder if it’s working. If they’re right. If this is how it’s supposed to be.

But still, sometimes, Dani wakes up in the middle of the night, her heart pounding, her body drenched in sweat, a sense of panic so intense that she can hardly breathe. In these moments, she presses her face into the scratchy pillow, biting her lip to keep from screaming. Because in the darkness, in the quiet, when no one else is watching, she still wants Paige. She still loves her. No matter what they say, no matter how much they try to break her down, that small, fragile piece of her heart still beats for Paige.

And that scares her more than anything.

She doesn’t know how much longer she’ll be able to hold on to that part of herself. It’s slipping away, little by little, with every sermon, every “counseling” session, every prayer that she shoves down her throat. She’s being worn down, and she’s afraid that one day, she’ll wake up and not feel anything at all.

And maybe… maybe that’s what they want. Maybe that’s what God wants. Maybe that’s what she deserves.

Dani doesn’t even know how long she has left at the camp, nor how long she’s been there. After the first couple weeks, time begins to lose its meaning. She’s stopped counting the days (since they don’t tell her the date), stopped waiting for it to end.

JULY 2019

Dani sits in the chair, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her eyes downcast as she stares at the scuffed linoleum floor. The room is cold, sterile, and devoid of any warmth or comfort. It’s the same room she’s been sitting in for the past two months, every time she’s called in for her one-on-one “therapy” sessions. The wooden cross on the wall looms large above her, a constant reminder of the weight she’s supposed to carry, the sin she’s meant to repent for.

Across from her sits Mrs. Keating, one of the camp’s lead counselors. She’s a stern woman, always impeccably dressed, with sharp features and cold, piercing blue eyes that seem to cut through whatever walls Dani tries to put up. She’s been Dani’s assigned counselor from the start, the one tasked with guiding her back to the “right” path, the one who’s delivered the harshest sermons about the dangers of temptation and sin.

Today is supposed to be their final session—or, at least, that’s what Dani has been told. She knows the routine by now. Mrs. Keating will ask her a series of questions, probing deeper into her thoughts, her feelings, her beliefs. Dani’s learned to say what’s expected of her, to give the answers the woman wants. At first, she resisted, clinging to the hope that she could hold onto who she really is, but that hope has withered away in the weeks she’s been here.

She isn’t even really sure who she is anymore.

Mrs. Keating sits behind her desk, her fingers laced together as she regards Dani with that unreadable expression she always wears. It’s a look that makes Dani feel small, insignificant, like a child being scolded.

“So, Danielle,” Mrs. Keating begins, her voice cool and steady, “you’ve been with us for quite some time now. How are you feeling?”

Dani swallows, her throat dry. She hates these questions. They always feel like traps, no matter how carefully she answers. But she knows better now than to hesitate. She’s learned what they want to hear, and she’s learned that it’s easier to comply than to fight.

“I feel… better,” Dani answers, her voice quiet, almost mechanical. “I feel like I’ve been able to reflect on… everything.”

“Good, that’s very good,” Mrs. Keating replies, nodding approvingly. “And what have you learned in your time here?”

Dani’s fingers twitch in her lap, her nails digging into her palms. She hates herself for what she’s about to say, but she can’t stop the words from slipping out. They feel foreign, like they were coming from someone else’s mouth. But she thinks they’re right. After all this time, everything she’s gone through here, how can they not be?

“I’ve learned that… what I was feeling before… it was wrong,” Dani murmurs, her heart heavy. “That it wasn’t love. It was temptation. Sin.”

Mrs. Keating’s smile is small, satisfied. “And you understand why that is, don’t you?”

Dani nods, her gaze still fixed on the floor. “Yes. Because God doesn’t want us to… live that way. It’s against His plan.”

“And your feelings for the girl… ?”

They don’t say her name. They never say her name. And Dani’s glad. They don’t deserve to say Paige’s name. She’s too good, too full of light, for all of this. Dani’s stomach twists as the image of Paige’s face flashes through her mind—her bright eyes, her playful smile, the way her touch always feels so soft and warm. Dani’s chest aches with the memory, but she pushes it down. She can’t think about that now. She can’t think about her. It’s wrong. It’s wrong.

It’s wrong.

“I don’t… feel that way anymore,” Dani says, her voice barely above a whisper. “I know it was wrong. I know it wasn’t real love.”

Mrs. Keating’s eyes gleam with approval, as if she’s won some silent battle. “That’s right, Danielle. You’re starting to understand. Love, true love, is a gift from God, and it’s meant to be between a man and a woman. Anything else is a distortion, a lie from the devil.”

Dani bites the inside of her cheek, the taste of blood sharp on her tongue. She’s heard this speech so many times that she can recite it in her sleep, and each time, it chips away at her a little more, hollowing her out from the inside. She wants to believe that maybe it’s a lie—that what she felt (feels?) with Paige is real—but after weeks of being told otherwise, it’s getting harder and harder to hold on to that belief.

“And how do you feel about your future now, Danielle?” Mrs. Keating asks, her tone almost gentle, as if she’s speaking to a child in need of guidance. “Do you feel ready to live a life that honors God?”

Dani’s hands tighten in her lap. She feels the weight of the cross around her neck, its presence suffocating. She’s worn it every day since she received it from her father years ago. But ever since she’s gotten here, it’s become a constant reminder of the expectations placed upon her, of the person she’s supposed to be.

“I want to do what’s right,” Dani replies, her voice steady even as her heart stutters. “I want to live the way God wants me to live.”

Mrs. Keating leans forward slightly, her eyes narrowing as if she can sense the apprehension buried beneath Dani’s words. “And you’re willing to renounce those past feelings? Those sinful urges?”

Dani’s throat tightens, but, nevertheless, she nods. “Yes.”

“Good.” Mrs. Keating’s smile widens. “You’ve made remarkable progress, Danielle. You’ve come a long way from the confused girl who arrived here, and I’m proud of you for embracing the truth.”

Dani doesn’t feel proud. She just feels empty.

The silence in the room grows heavy, oppressive, as Mrs. Keating studies her, as if trying to gauge the depth of Dani’s conviction. After a moment, she rises from her chair and walks around the desk, coming to stand in front of Dani. She reached down, her cold fingers brushing against Dani’s skin as she presses her hand to the small silver cross hanging from Dani’s neck.

The touch makes Dani flinch, but she doesn’t move. She can’t.

Mrs. Keating’s fingers linger there for a moment, her grip firm, almost possessive. “God will forgive you for your sins,” she says softly, her voice filled with the kind of certainty that Dani can never muster. “He is a merciful God, and He wants nothing more than for you to be redeemed in His eyes.”

Dani’s pulse races beneath the surface of her skin. She wants to believe that. She wants to believe that all of this—everything she’s gone through—will lead to forgiveness, to peace. But deep down, something in her resists. Something in her whispers that maybe God won’t forgive her. Maybe she isn’t worthy of it. Maybe there’s no redemption for someone like her.

She swallows hard, her eyes stinging with the tears she refuses to shed.

Mrs. Keating releases her hold on the necklace, her hand falling back to her side. She smiles, the gesture cold and calculating, as if she’s just won a battle Dani hadn’t realized she was fighting.

“You’re almost there, Danielle,” Mrs. Keating tells her, voice smooth and placating. “You’re so close to being saved.”

Dani doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t think she trusts herself to speak.

Because in that moment, all she can think about is Paige. Paige’s face, Paige’s laugh, Paige’s love. She can feel it slipping away, the memory of it growing dimmer with every passing day. And the worst part is, she isn’t sure if she wants to hold onto it anymore. Bitterly, she doesn’t know what the point would be. What would be the point at all, if this is who she’s supposed to be now?

“Remember, Danielle,” Mrs. Keating says firmly, brows scrunched slightly, “God’s love is stronger than anything. Stronger than sin. Stronger than temptation.”

Dani nods mechanically, her mind a haze of conflicting thoughts and emotions. She’s heard this so many times, and every time, it feels like another piece of her soul is being chipped away.

But maybe that’s for the best.

AUGUST 2019

Dani’s home.

That simple fact should bring her comfort, but as she stands in the middle of her bedroom, staring at the familiar walls and the neatly made bed, nothing feels the same. The space seems smaller, suffocating almost, and everything inside her feels hollow. It doesn’t really feel like home anymore.

She doesn’t know what feels like home.

She doesn’t think she has one.

It’s strange—coming back from camp was supposed to be a relief, a return to normalcy, but nothing about this feels normal. Dani expected some kind of closure, maybe even a sense of peace after everything she’s been through, but all she can do is feel a dull, heavy weight pressing down on her chest, right under her necklace. She feels like she doesn’t even belong here anymore. And it’s not just her house; it’s her whole life.

Dani doesn’t hang out with Thaliah or Jalen anymore either. They try to reach out when she gets back—text messages, phone calls, even a couple visits—but she pushes them away. It’s not like she really wants to—it’s just easier. Easier to stay locked inside herself, easier to avoid the questions she knows they’ll ask. Easier to pretend that things can just… move on.

Because they can’t. Not after everything. Not after her.

It’s easier not to think about Paige this way. Paige is still gone, away on basketball things for the summer, and with her absence, Dani’s managed to build up walls—tall, thick ones that keep the memories at bay. She has to. Thinking about Paige, about what they shared, about how it all fell apart without the blonde even knowing, is too much. So, she doesn’t think about it. She can’t.

Her dad doesn’t bring it up either. Not directly, at least. They’ve never spoken about what happened—about the reason Dani was sent away in the first place. Instead, he acts like it never occurred, like she was just at a normal summer camp, learning life lessons, finding her footing. That suits Dani fine. The last thing she wants is to talk about her “past mistakes.”

Instead, they focus on what her father considers the right things, like Beau Hudson.

Beau is someone Dani’s known since elementary school, a boy she’s always thought is a typical jockey douchebag—the kind of guy who’ll peak in high school and will probably spend the rest of his life chasing after some sense of former glory. He’s loud, obnoxious, and has a habit of talking like he owns every room he walks into. Dani’s never liked him, never thought twice about him, except to occasionally roll her eyes when his name comes up.

But now, Beau seems to be the answer to her father’s prayers.

Apparently, Beau mentioned to his parents that he thought Dani was pretty. And apparently, her father—who happens to work with Beau’s father—thinks that’s just great. It’s perfect, actually. Perfect in the way that Dani knows her father has always envisioned for her—a respectable boy, from a respectable family, with respectable values. There’s no need to talk about her past anymore, no need to dwell on those mistakes. If she can just date Beau, everything will fall into place. She can be the daughter her father wants her to be.

So, she does it.

She begins dating Beau, and it happens so fast that she hardly has time to question it. One minute, she’s saying yes to dinner with his family, and the next, they’re officially together. It isn’t something Dani really wants, but it’s something she can tolerate. It’s easy. Beau’s world is uncomplicated, shallow in a way that’s almost comforting because it doesn’t require much from her.

She starts hanging out with his friends—people she’s never given the time of day before. Guys from the football team, girls from the cheer squad. Serena Corren, one of the cheerleaders who’s always been a bit of a bitch, turns out to be not that bad. Dani finds herself spending time with her, more than she expects. Serena’s loud and a little crass, but she isn’t mean, at least not to Dani. In fact, they get along well enough that Dani finds herself relaxing a bit around her. Serena talks about meaningless things, gossips about people at school, complains about cheer practice, and it’s a nice distraction.

Everything is a distraction at this point.

A distraction from Paige.

Paige, who’s back now.

The minute Dani opens the door and sees her standing there, everything crashes down on her. It’s like a punch to the gut. Paige looks the same and different all at once—still beautiful, still Paige, but something about her feels… distant. Or maybe it’s just Dani who’s distant. She can feel her defenses rising the moment she meets those familiar blue eyes.

“Paige,” Dani acknowledges, throat tightening.

Paige’s voice is soft, tentative. “Hey, Dan. Can we talk?”

Dani swallows hard. She shouldn’t let her in. She should shut the door, turn Paige away before it gets any harder. But she doesn’t. Instead, she steps aside, letting Paige walk into her home, into her life once again. “Sure. Come in.”

The living room is quiet, and Dani can feel the tension simmering in the air as she sits on the couch, body rigid. Paige stands a few feet away, arms crossed over her chest, looking at Dani like she’s searching for something—an explanation, an apology, maybe a sign that Dani still cares.

But Dani can’t give her any of that. She can’t let herself break.

It starts with Paige asking, “What’s going on? Why didn’t you tell me you were back? Why didn’t you—”

And then the floodgates open between them. Dani tries to keep her face neutral during it, shutting down any emotion that threatens to spill out. She can’t afford to feel—if she lets herself feel anything, even for a moment, it’ll all come crashing down, everything wrong and bad spilling out. Her eyes stay cold, her voice flat, and every word that comes out of her mouth feels like poison she has to swallow herself. She tells herself she’s doing the right thing, that pushing Paige away is for her own good. That it’s for both of them. But God, it hurts.

Watching Paige’s face fall with every sharp word she throws at her is like watching someone chip away at a sculpture, little by little, until it’s unrecognizable. Dani sees the flickers of confusion, hurt, and then anger that spread across Paige’s features. She sees the way Paige’s shoulders tense, the way her eyes burn with disbelief. Paige has always been so expressive, her emotions right there on the surface, easy to read. And it kills Dani to know that she’s the cause of every negative expression that paints the blonde’s face.

The worst part is seeing the way Paige’s eyes gloss over, like she’s on the verge of tears but is too stubborn to let them fall. Paige isn’t the type to cry easily, but Dani knows her too well. She can feel Paige’s hurt even without seeing the tears. It’s palpable in the air between them, suffocating.

But Dani can’t break. She has to be strong, even though it’s the hardest thing she’s ever done. So, she says the words that’ll sever whatever hope Paige had left. She tells her that their kiss, that their confessions, were both mistakes. That she doesn’t want her, that it’s all just over. The words are like knives in her own chest, but she forces them out because she has no choice. If Paige knew the truth—about the camp, about her father’s threats, about everything—Paige would fight for her. She’d try to save Dani from it all. And Dani can’t let that happen. Everything would just get worse. It wouldn’t help anything.

Besides, whatever Paige and Dani have is wrong. It’s wrong, it’s wrong, it’s wrong. Dani repeats it in her head. She fiddles with her necklace, her eyes flit to the crucifix on the wall, she thinks about how God doesn’t appreciate girls loving other girls. It’s wrong.

Nevertheless, when Paige finally leaves, when she turns her back and walks out the door, it’s like Dani’s entire world collapses in on itself. She’s built a wall around herself for weeks, convincing herself that this is what she’s needed to do. But the second the door closes behind Paige, it all comes tumbling to the ground. The numbness she’s been clinging to melts away, leaving behind raw, unbearable pain.

It’s wrong anyways, she tries to remind herself. It would’ve never worked out. God doesn’t permit it.

But that doesn’t seem to matter. Because no matter how wrong it is, it fucking hurts.

Dani presses her forehead against the door, her whole body trembling as the sobs begin to escape. She didn’t cry in front of Paige. She held it together, made sure to be strong, made sure that Paige wasn’t aware of what’s truly going on. But now, with no one watching, Dani just breaks. Her shoulders shake as the tears come hard and fast, her chest heaving as she lets it all out. The sobs are uncontrollable, wracking her body as she finally allows herself to feel everything she’s been holding back since the day she was dropped off at camp back at the beginning of June.

She cries for the years of friendship she’s just destroyed. For the love she has for Paige that she has to—and will continue to—deny. For the fact that she has to pretend not to care when every fiber of her being screams that she still does. She cries because she knows she’s just shattered Paige’s heart, and in doing so, she’s shattered her own.

Her father’s voice echoes in the back of her mind, a cruel reminder of why she’s done this. She can’t be with Paige, can’t even be her friend. Not if she wants to keep Paige safe from the consequences, not if she wants to keep them both pure in God’s eyes. Besides, if Dani even tried to slightly interact with the blonde, her father would never allow it, and Dani knows the lengths he’ll go to if he thinks Dani’s stepping out of line. The threats he made over the summer, the way he sent her to that camp to “fix” her—it isn’t something she can let Paige be part of. And it’s certainly not something she’ll let herself be subject to again.

(Besides, she has Beau. She likes Beau.) (Enough.)

But the knowledge doesn’t make it hurt any less. It doesn’t make it easier to breathe through the sobs that wrack her chest. Dani feels like she’s drowning, suffocating under the weight of everything she’s just lost. Paige has been her best friend for over a decade. She’s been the one constant in Dani’s life, the person who has understood her better than anyone else. And now, Dani’s pushed her away, and she doesn’t know if she’ll ever be able to get her back.

Eventually, the sobs slow, leaving Dani feeling hollow and empty. Her tears soak through the fabric of her tank top, and her throat is raw from crying. She doesn’t know how long she stands there, leaning against the door, but it feels like an eternity. All she can think about is Paige’s face as she left, the way her eyes had looked so broken, so betrayed.

Dani did this. She has to live with it.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers to the empty room, though the words are meant for Paige.

OCTOBER 2019 (PRESENT DAY)

Paige was right. Dani is a coward.

She knows she is. She thinks about it constantly. She thinks about that night, at the party, where she and Paige fought. She thinks about what Beau called her. She thinks about how she didn’t step in, how she didn’t defend Paige. She thinks about how she’s settled into a routine that feels like she’s merely a spectator in her own life. She thinks about how she hasn’t done anything to try and change it. She thinks, she thinks, she thinks.

She thinks a lot.

About certain things.

Certain people.

(Paige.)

She tries and tries to fight it, but her mind is rogue, a resistance that always has a mantra of Paige, Paige, Paige whether it’s in the front, the corner, or the back of her cerebrum.

She dates Beau. That doesn’t change. She knows who he is—not a good person. He’s arrogant, dismissive, and often cruel, but Dani finds herself in his company night after night. It’s not that she doesn’t recognize his red flags; she does. But there’s a twisted sense of comfort in being with someone who embodies the superficial, the expected. Beau is a mask she can wear, something to hide what’s beneath. What she doesn’t want people to see.

So, she dates Beau. She kisses him. They do other stuff a lot, too. He always initiates it, but she never stops it. It’s okay—not great, not terrible. It’s not exactly who she’d prefer to do that kind of thing with—but, who she would exhibits every single little thing that’s wrong with her. Every single little thing that she’s been trying to shake out of her, off of her, since she arrived at that camp. God doesn’t appreciate it. And so neither does Dani.

School has become her other distraction. A good one, too.

She retakes the ACT. When she gets her score back, she’s happy with it, a rare moment of relief and pride.

College applications weigh on her as well, and she’s certainly had the time to do them. She only applies to two school. Minnesota—her dad wants her to stay in-state, somewhere close. And, trust her, she knows how deluded it sounds, but—she applies to Connecticut, too. Don’t ask her. She doesn’t even really know why.

She focuses heavily on her Calc class, her AP Bio class, her AP Lit work. She focuses, she gets good grades, she makes her teachers and maybe even her father proud. She’s just doing her best, distracting herself. (Though it doesn’t help that, without fail, every single day Paige’s stare bores holes into Dani’s back in Lit. All she wants is to continue her distractions, to continue her streak of nearly perfect scores, but those baby blues burn into her skin from behind and it makes Dani’s heart race.)

She continues on with photography, too. She goes to the football games and some of the other sports—soccer, field hockey, etc.—and takes her photos for yearbook. It’s a good distraction until she spots Paige in the student section (this happens every Friday night), and Dani’s mood seems to simmer out.

Paige is everywhere. Fucking everywhere. School, games, Dani’s head. It doesn’t matter. She never leaves.

Dani wishes she would go and wishes she would stay all at once.