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cressidagrey · 1 day

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Stars all aligned - Chapter 1

Summary:

If there was one thing that both Azriel and Zahra Archeron had in common, it was that they were both very good at blending into the background.

They just never thought that their family were going to be the ones who never saw them at all.

Warning:

Bashing of like...every IC member? I think Rhys gets the worst though, definitely disordered eating, kinda depression?, isolation

(Lovely dividers thanks to @sweetmelodygraphics)

He found her deep inside the House of Wind. Far enough from the festivities of Starfall that it was startling to find her.

The second oldest Archeron Sister must have wandered off just like he had.

“Why aren’t you dancing?” Azriel asked her as he spied her sitting in a puddle of her skirts on one of the couches, staring at the empty fireplace.

“Why aren’t you?” Zahra gave back drily, not even looking up at him.

What exactly was he supposed to answer to that? Oh, I can't stomach watching your sister dance with her mate? And even if I could stomach that, Rhys's mental commentary to him about it had turned his stomach. Even when Azriel had kept away from Elain just like Rhysand had ordered him to do, ever since last year. So really...what was he supposed to answer?

“Dancing isn’t exactly my favourite activity,” Azriel finally replied. It wasn’t a lie.

"Yeah, well, mine neither," she answered with a shrug. "Not that I ever learned."

"You never learned?" he asked surprised. Nesta had learned. Elain had learned.

"Bastard, remember?" Zahra said drily. "I am lucky that I got to learn how to read and write and do basic math. I was not going to be molded into a perfect lady, because no self-respecting man would marry me anyway."

The blunt way Zahra was talking stunned Azriel momentarily. There was something harsh, something almost...bitter and resentful in her voice as she spoke.

It seemed like it didn't matter if one was born a bastard in Illyria or the Human lands. It was horrible either way.

"Your sisters will miss you," he said instead quietly. "And you'll miss the spectacle."

"I don't really care for the festivities," she said with another shrug. "I don’t like the holidays. Humans don’t have any. We… they are too busy trying to survive," Zahra corrected herself quietly. "And besides, I am only here anyway so I don't end up being an indentured servant until some of you decide that I am back in your good graces,” she gave back caustically.

He grimaced. That Zahra had vehemently disagreed about their treatment of Nesta was well known.

It had surprised him too because it was just as just as well known that Nesta seemed to not care for her half-sister on a good day. They weren't particularly close, in any way, shape or form.

Something in his chest clenched painfully. Not from the insult she threw in his direction, but from the defeated way she said it. That she thought that they would just…toss her aside like that.

She was one of them.

"We won't," he said firmly. Her eyes slowly turned toward him and there were dark shadows in those eyes. Out of all the Archeron Sisters, she was the only one with green eyes. Azriel wondered if she had inherited them from her late mother.

Zahra was only the half-sister after all. The result of her father’s dalliance with a maid. Her age put her somewhere between Nesta and Elain.

It was easy enough to pick out the differences between Nesta, Elain and Feyre and Zahra. Dark hair similar to Elain’s, but green eyes. Skin a few shades darker than any of theirs. Lips that looked like Feyre’s but a nose that looked like none of her sisters.

Zahra seemed to belong but didn’t.

And right now, these green eyes…something was wrong. Something was off with these eyes.

"You don’t know that," she said with a humourless laugh. "Do you want to lie to me too, and tell me that Rhysand has nothing to do with whatever happened between Elain and you?"

Azriel stiffened, a low sound escaping his throat. She knew. She knew.

"How did you-" he croaked hoarsely and Zahra cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Do you really think that I hadn't noticed the two of you dancing around each other for months? Or the fact that you two can barely manage to be in the same room together?" she asked dryly and Azriel averted his gaze. "There is no one as beautiful and kind as my sister," Zahra said drily. "I don't fault you for falling for her."

Azriel said nothing, the pain in his chest growing at her words. The pain...and the bitter realization that his feelings were not as well-hidden as he had thought they were.

"It doesn't matter," he said quietly. "She has a mate. She deserves better than me anyway."

"Did Rhysand tell you that too?" Zahra said drily. "You never tried to hide the fact that your mate was dying from the same, so you have that on him."

Azriel gritted his teeth, the pain in his chest becoming almost unbearable. "It doesn’t matter," he repeated firmly, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. "Elain is happy. I would do nothing to put that in danger."

"Yes, she is," Zahra agreed. "For what it's worth, I am sorry," she apologised to him, her voice honest.

Azriel swallowed, the pain in his chest lessening only to be replaced by something else. Something...much more complicated. Something like…pity.

He pitied her. This young female was so full of bitterness. He couldn’t even fault her for it either. She had been just a bastard. Even when they had first met the Archeron Sisters…Zahra had been working in the household as a maid. Half employee, half part of the family. Like their father couldn’t make up his mind what he should do with his bastard daughter.

"You don't have anything to apologise for," Azriel finally told her quietly. "Do you really not want to watch?" he asked her. "You are supposed to wish for something when you see the stars fall."

She snorted, the sound bitter. "What I want, I am never going to get," Zahra said, her voice brittle.

He took her in in more detail at that moment.

The simple green gown she wore, high necked and long sleeved...that long gown that did little to hide how thing she was. The dark brown hair, pulled into a braid, obviously trying to hide the pointed tips of her ears and failing...the way her skin, darker than all of her sisters, was nearly ashen.

They had all thought that she was doing well. That Zahra at least was adjusting well.

But she wasn't. She wasn’t doing better. She hadn't adjusted. Azriel would bet anything that all she wanted in her life was to be human again.

She hadn't adjusted. She just acted in a way that didn't bother anybody, that didn’t spell trouble for anybody. Zahra had gotten herself a job, managing the accounting at an apothecary in the city. She had gotten herself a little cottage to rent. She didn’t go out and get drunk. She didn’t use any money from Rhys or Feyre. She showed up for family dinners, staying quiet and polite.

And if she was miserable…well, then nobody cared, because she didn’t bother anybody. Azriel could understand that. The same was the case for him.

Azriel clenched his jaw, watching her quietly sitting here. The way she was trying to hide away. The dress that was more like a potato sack than anything else. The way her skin was almost...grey. That bitter voice.

The shadows were stirring and he was unable to look away from her. She looks upset, Master, they told him helpfully.

"Do you want to go home?" Azriel offered quietly. Home to her cottage? Maybe some peace and quiet would make her feel better.

Zahra shrugged, not looking at him. Not giving him an inch. That wall of bitterness and sarcasm was so firmly in place, that it was practically a solid wall between them.

“Don’t want to end like an indentured servant, remember?“ she quipped drily.

“You won’t,“ Azriel said evenly. “You had a headache. I brought you home.“

She still didn’t look at him, her hands tightly knotted into her skirts as she sat there. She was so thin, almost fragile-looking. Her skin was sickly grey. “Come on,” he said finally, walking towards her.

Zahra finally looked up at him. Those green eyes. A bitter and lonely light in them. “What are you doing?“ she muttered.

“I’m bringing you home,” he said simply, holding out his hand. “Come on, get up.“

Zahra looked at his hand, her gaze wary. “Why?“ she asked quietly.

“Because you look like you are about to keel over,” he said, more bluntly than intended.

“Gee, thanks,” she said dryly, her voice sarcastic and bitter. But she placed her hand into his own and let him pull her to her feet, even though he could feel the tension in her entire body.

Azriel wrapped his arm around her shoulders, steadying her. “Come on. Let’s get you home and into bed,” he said firmly.

He led her towards the balcony, the last few streaks of light painting the sky, and he grasped her tightly as they shout these few feet into the air until he could winnow to the cottage she rented.

It’s ugly, the shadows complained.

He had to agree with them. The cottage was an ugly little thing. Plain. Small. The type of thing that was more of a hovel in the outskirts, rather than anything else.

“Home sweet home,“ Zahra said dryly, pulling away from him and a key out of her purse.

That cottage was in serious need of some renovations when the red paint that was flaking off the door was anything to go by.

As she unlocked the door it became obvious that while she kept it clean and neat.. even that couldn’t help much. This is a hovel, the shadows hissed.

Azriel was inclined to agree. He looked around with a frown, as the shadows scuttered around the tiny cottage. “You live here?“ he couldn’t help but ask. It was a terrible hovel indeed.

Zahra shrugged as if she didn’t notice the disgust in his voice. “I couldn’t exactly afford anything else at first,” she said drily.

At least not without taking any money from Rhys and Feyre, and clearly that was nothing that Zahra wanted to do.

He was struck by how empty it all looked. There was a small kitchen space, a table with a few chairs a fireplace… And the door that led to her bedroom, he assumed.

“How long have you lived here?“ he asked carefully, taking in the bare emptiness. There were no pictures on the walls. No trinkets and little belongings anywhere. It was…lifeless. She shrugged again and kicked off her shoes, making her way towards the bedroom. “A year?“

The room was equally simple and bare. A bed, a few clothes. A little bathing chamber. That was it.

“You’ve lived here for over a year?“ Azriel repeated, his voice turning sharp as he looked at everything. There wasn’t even a mirror on the wall.

When she just shrugged again, he was done. He grabbed her arm and towed her back into the main room. “Stay,” he ordered, pointing at the table and one of the two rickety chairs.

“What are you doing?“ Zahra asked, raising both eyebrows at him. Her irritation had started to rise considerably. At least that had done something to the sickly colour of her skin.

“Making sure you eat something before you pass out on me,” Azriel muttered, turning back into the kitchen area, looking around with a frown.

There was…nothing. His shadows reported as much. She literally had a few pieces of bread and some cheese in the whole house. He was more than fuming. That was not enough that she was living in…this hovel, she was apparently also starving herself.

He pointed at the chair again. “Sit,” he ordered a little sharper than he had intended.

The glare she gave him did not surprise him. Zahra hated being ordered around. “No,” she said firmly, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “I’m not hungry.“

Azriel clenched his jaw, the anger flaring. How stubborn could she be?

“You clearly haven’t eaten in days,” he said, pointing out the obvious. “You have nothing in your house to eat.”

“I have what I need,” she retorted, her own anger flaring. Azriel gritted his teeth, the urge to snap at her almost overwhelming.

“You are skin and bones,” he hissed. “There is barely enough fat on you to keep out the cold.“

“Why do you care?“ she snapped right back.

The question hit him squarely in the chest. Why did he care? Why, he asked himself for a moment. Why indeed.

He wasn’t going to lie to himself and say that it was just because she was Feyre’s sister.

Thankfully, Azriel was saved from actually having to answer, when her stomach grumbled.

Loudly. Azriel almost chuckled at the sound of her own stomach betraying just how hungry she really was. “Clearly your body disagrees with you,” he said drily.

“Shut up,” Zahra snapped, her skin flushing at the sound of her own stomach.

“I will shut up after you’ve eaten something,” Azriel said firmly, folding his arms across his chest.

Zahra gave him a glare that could strip the paint from the walls, (but then, the paint was already flaking off anyway). Still, she grudgingly sank down on the chair, her eyes avoiding his.

He turned back into the kitchen, opening cupboards and drawers and found absolutely nothing. There was nothing. Not even some fruits or vegetables.

He slammed the last cupboard closed, almost causing the hinges to break, the anger flaring hotly in his chest. That stupid, stubborn, stubborn woman.

“I will personally come here every day and stuff you full until you burst,” he snapped before he could stop himself.

“Why?” she asked and he could hear the challenge in her voice. Her own anger rose to meet his own. “Why would you even bother?“

“Because you are starving yourself,” he said, spinning around to face her. “Because you are so thin, I could snap you in half with one hand. Because I’m pretty damn sure you haven’t eaten a proper meal in at least a year. That’s why.“

“Maybe I don’t deserve a proper meal,” she shot back and something inside of him snapped at the tone in her voice.

Because he knew that feeling. He knew. For just a moment he froze. They were far more similar than they should be.

It was a terrible realization. He knew what the self-hatred and bitterness was like. He understood it far better than he wanted to.

“Nobody is going to suddenly show up and care,” he told her quietly. He saw her eyes flare at the words and he knew she got the meaning behind them instantly.

She sat there, her jaw tensed. “And what do you know about it?” she snapped, her voice bitter.

“I know what it feels like to starve oneself,” he said calmly. “I know what it feels like to have not a single person notice or care.“

The words rang truer than they should. Her eyes widened for a moment, shock flashing through her.

“I know what it feels like to be the one be always at the edge of the family. I know what it feels like for everybody around me to meet their mate but not me.“

The words slipped out before he could stop them. The pain he had buried so deep, deep down flaring up. The pain and loneliness and bitter realization that would never have what everyone else had.

He realized only then how much they really had in common. How similar they were.

“I know what it feels like to be the afterthought,” he continued, unable to stop now. “I know how it feels to be shoved aside. I know how it feels to watch everyone around me find someone while I’m the one left behind.“

He took a step closer to where she was sitting, towering over her. “And I know how it feels to hate myself enough to deny myself the basic needs I actually have.“

The last words made her flinch. He was so close he could almost see the pain and guilt and bitter realization flit across her face. Her eyes were on her lap, her fingers wrapped around the edge of the table.

“I know what it feels like to feel as if I don’t deserve to eat,” he said quietly. “Because I’m not good enough. Not worthy enough. Not deserving enough.“

He knelt down in front of her, forcing her to look at him. To meet his eyes.

She tried to look away, but he wouldn’t let her. He wanted her to see. To understand that she wasn’t as alone as she thought. “I know what it feels like to punish myself by not giving myself what I actually need,” he said quietly.

Her breath hitched at the last words, her eyes widening ever so slightly. She was listening. Really listening to what he said.

“You’re not the only one who hates yourself, you know,” he said quietly. The look in her eyes shattered him. The look of realisation. Of bitter understanding. The realization that they were so much more similar than either of them had thought before.

Zahra bit her lip, the guilt flashing across her face. Her hands started trembling, ever so slightly.

“You don’t deserve to go hungry,” he said quietly, his voice firm and quiet. “You don’t deserve to starve yourself. You don’t deserve to live in this… hovel.

“The cauldron should just have killed me,” Zara said her voice brittle. “I don’t like this life.”

And didn’t that break his fucking heart?

She laughed bitterly, but there was no humour in it. “I’m not even surviving,” she said, a bitter smile on her thin lips. “I’m existing. There is a difference.“

The words hit him hard. She was right. She didn’t survive, she just existed. There was a difference and a huge one at that. “Then stop just existing,” he said quietly.

His hand was still cupping her cheek, his thumb stroking gently over her skin.

“Says the guy that just keeps moping around,” she quipped.

It was a low blow but also true. Azriel’s jaw tensed at the comment. “I don’t mope,” he bit. “I just..“

He didn’t really have a good argument in his defence at the moment.

He sighed. “We should both stop rotting away,” he said drily.

“Yeah, well, that’s easy to you to say,” Zahra said and he could hear the bitterness in her voice.

“Eat your cheese,” he responded.

She rolled her eyes and snatched away the slice of cheese off the table. “Happy now?“ she muttered.

“Delighted,” he gave back drily, as he moved towards her fireplace.

“You don’t need to do that,” Zahra said quietly. “I can do that.”

“Considering you’ve been too starved to think straight, you are going to let me do this,” Azriel cut across her calmly. “You are more than likely to burn yourself.”

“Don’t the flames bother you?” She asked him quietly. He froze.

Nobody else had ever asked him. They had just expected him to be over it by now. He had 500 years to be over it. His hands clenched.

“Yes,” he answered quietly. “They still do.” It was the honest truth. A truth he never told anyone before, least of all someone like her. The shadows curled around his shoulders and arms as if to calm him down. The flames still bothered him. They always would. “But I learnt to deal with it a long time ago,” he continued.

“That’s not fair to you,” Zahra said, her voice quiet. “You are always the one in discomfort. And nobody cares.”

Her words hit him square in the gut. It was true. It was painfully true. He was always the one being uncomfortable. Always the one on edge. It had always been expected of him to be over it by now, the pain and the hurt. The fear and the bitterness.

He finished building the fire. Using a match to light it carefully, then closing the door quickly.

“I can deal with it,” he answered quietly. “You should go to sleep,” he advised her.

“So should you,” Zahra told him just as quietly. “You look terrible.“ He knew he looked like crap. But that didn’t matter.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, brushing off her comment. Even though he knew it was a lie. Even though he knew they were both terrible at taking care of themselves.

“You are a terrible liar,” she quipped. He looked at her and was surprised to see a tiny smile on her face.

“And you’re a very stubborn, very stupid, very annoying woman,” he quipped back just as quietly.

The smile on her face broadened the tiniest bit at the comment. “I could say the same about you,” she shot back.

“Sleep,” he told her again.

And then he left that little cottage to get back to the House of Wind. He didn’t bother winnowing, instead, he shot up into the sky with one flap of his mighty wings. He wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway.

His mind was whirling as he flew back to the House of Wind. So much had happened in the last few hours and it was all still a lot to process.

He had always been good at keeping a rein on his thoughts and his emotions. But this time, he simply couldn’t.

Zahra and him, always on the outskirts of their family. Ignored and expected to get on with it.

They were so similar in so many ways. It was shocking to realize just how much they actually had in common.

The loneliness and solitude he had come to live with, she had experienced herself. The pain and the bitterness, he could recognize it on her, for he had felt it himself.

Where are you, Az? Rhys demanded at that moment mentally. Azriel would like to scratch out his eyes, but he didn’t.

I’m flying back to the House, he sent back curtly. Zahra had a headache, so I brought her home.

A headache, Rhys shot back incredulously. Azriel could almost see the look on his High Lord’s face. You really think I will buy that?

I don’t care if you believe me or not, Azriel responded icily, his temper rising already at the tone. It is the truth and I really don’t wish to have a discussion over it.

There was a pause in Rhys’ mind. Then a slight huff. You can be so unbelievably stubborn sometimes, you know that?

Azriel didn’t bother reacting to that.

Elain and Lucien are figuring things out. So keep away from her, Rhys told him sharply.

I am keeping away from her, Azriel shot back, irritation flaring. You really think I will go and ruin this for her?

I don’t know what you are up to, Rhys retorted, and Azriel knew the High Lord was irritated. But I really don’t have the time to deal with your crap right now. That’s an order.

Understood, High Lord, Azriel snarled back and he felt Rhys chuckle in his mind at the tone. I will keep away from your precious Elain, I promise.

Damn right you will, he heard Rhys mutter in his mind and the mental connection between the two of them snapped close.

Azriel snarled in irritation as he landed on his balcony and stalked into his room. It wasn’t enough that he was wrestling with his own emotions, No, he also had Rhys all up his ass about it.

And he was infuriated about the whole thing.

Nobody will suddenly show up and care, he has told Zahra. It was the truth. Nobody would care.

They only cared as long as they got what they wanted from him.

Chip away the pieces they didn’t like. Mould him into a person they could stomach.

Either it was Rhys ordering to keep away from Elain…or ordering him to behave around Mor and Emerie… and to be quite honest…Azriel was done.

It was always him that needed to bend to make everybody else comfortable. Nobody bends for him.

So many years of following orders, of keeping his mouth shut, of bottling up the anger.

Even when everyone around him was getting what they wanted. They got their happily ever after. And he was left behind. Not once did someone ever realize that he was struggling. Not once did someone notice that he needed something…anything. That he was hurting and in pain. Nobody even bothered to check on him, to ask how he was doing.

They all got what they wanted. Mor, Emerie, even Feyre. They all got the mate that they wanted. Rhys, Cassian and even Amren had Varian.

He was the one always helping everyone else. Always the one having to endure everything. Never anything for himself. No love for himself.

Orders, commands, demands…that’s all it ever was. He didn’t get a say in anything. They just expected him to be fine. And if he wasn’t…he had to push through it.

He was the tool that did whatever needed to be done. The spy that got the order to do the dirty work. The shadowsinger that just had to endure everything.

All for scraps of attention.

Azriel was done.

He was so done. With everything. With everyone. With the one-sided affection that he had given in a desperate attempt to feel…something, anything….

He needed to stop expecting to get anything from them.

Zahra did not. She seemed to have given that up a very long time ago

The cold realization that they had been doing the same to her hit him. She was also the tool they used when they needed it. She may not be a spy, but they used her just the same. Expected her to be fine.

She was alone just as much as he was.

Alone and isolated, an afterthought to their family just as much as he was.

***

It was quiet in the little cottage.

Peaceful.

Comfortable.

Sie should be happy. Or at the very least…she should be content, should she not?.

Zahra had a roof over her head. And if she wanted to…she could afford food.

Her job didn’t pay that well, but it wouldn’t leave her starving. She just wasn’t hungry. She seemingly never was.

That was a lie and she knew it. Deep down she was hungry all the time. She just refused to give in to eating. She refused to listen to her body screaming for sustenance. It didn’t matter, anyway. Nobody cared.

She didn’t care.

Something inside her had broken during her bath in that cauldron. Her humanity had burned away and with that…with that everything Zahra had ever wanted.

She didn’t crave anything anymore. Not love. Not affection. Not attention. Not food. It was all gone. All she felt was numb.

Cold, empty and numb. Like her shell had hardened and frozen over.

She had never thought it was possible to feel so damn tired without having done anything.

Zahra forced herself to get up. Forced herself to heat some water on the stove… to make tea. The cheapest tea she had been able to find at the market.

It wasn’t the best. The taste was bitter and the color was more brown than black. But it was tea and she was thirsty enough to drink it.

It wasn’t very warm and left a bitter aftertaste on the tongue. Like her life itself.

Maybe just dying would have been easier, she reflected bitterly. Was this how eternity would feel? Alone? Tucked away in this cottage?

All her sisters had been given a mating bond. They had been given another person who loved them unconditionally…that was at their side. That wanted them around. That wanted to spent time with them.

And then there was her.

She had been closest to Feyre during the years in that cottage. Nesta gave her the fault for seemingly everything htat had ever gone wrong in her life, though Zahra privately thought that for Nesta, Zahra was just the evidence of another of her father’s failings…Elain…well, Elain was more embarrassed than anything about Zahra’s very existence. But Feyre…well, Feyre hadn’t cared. And so Zahra had tried to dote on her as much as she could.

And then clearly she had been replaced in Feyre’s affections.

She didn’t fault her for that.

Feyre had made her own life. And she had every right to do that. She was busy with her mate and her son and Mor was her best friend and…there was seemingly no place for Zahra there.

Which was fine.

It was.

But if Zahra was completely honest with herself…she was unspeakably jealous of the mating bond of every single one of her sisters.

Of that promise of at least one person that would be on her side, come Hel or High Water.

Clearly, something was wrong with her that she hadn’t been given a Mating Bond.

She wasn’t worth a mate. Clearly, something was broken inside her. Otherwise, the cauldron would have given her a mate, right?

Maybe she was broken so thoroughly that nobody even wanted her.

Why would they? She was a shell of a person, a ghost of the woman she was supposed to be.

She was cold, empty and numb. Everything that nobody could possibly want.

Everyone else got a mate, love and happiness. Not her.

She had nothing.

Her hands clenched around her lukewarm cup of tea.

Some random sparks of light sparked against the mug. A gift from the cauldron. They didn’t seem to do anything but warm whatever they touched. Maybe that was that random power the cauldron had given her. Neither future or death…but…warmth. She supposed it was something.

She wasn’t quite sure what to do with it, and she had never bothered telling anybody about it.

Sometimes she allowed herself to play with them when she couldn’t sleep. They were strange and utterly useless.

It wasn’t the power of foresight or the power of a death god…no. She had the stupid power to create sparks. Useless sparks of light.

Oh well.

Complaining about her sparks wasn’t going to help her either.

So she pulled out her work and sat down to do her work as the sun came up and the day went on.

Zahra balanced the account ledgers for one of the apothecaries in Velaris. Which meant she had a whole box of receipts to sort through and put into said ledger.

One receipt at a time, one name after the other.

It kept her busy. It paid well enough. She seemed to have some kind of aptitude for it…maybe the fact that her father was a merchant had come through for once.

She worked until the late evening. Until her eyes couldn’t concentrate on the numbers anymore.Until her back and shoulders ached with pain. She stretched her shoulders back.

She wondered if she should eat something. Her cheese was gone, thanks to Azriel standing over her until she ate it…but she still had one or two slices of bread, didn’t she?

She could go food shopping…buy another bread, another chunk of cheese tomorrow.

Then Zahra heard a knock on the door.

Confusion spread through her. Who would knock on her door at that very late hour? It was after 9 pm already.

She got up, walked towards the door and opened it carefully.

It was the last person she would expected to be standing on the front porch. Azriel.

“I am making you dinner.“

Her eyes widened at that announcement. “You are what?” she asked him dumbly.

He just gave her a deadpan look and pushed past her. “I am cooking dinner because I am assuming that you haven’t eaten yet,” he told her plainly.

It was true. Zahra hadn’t eaten a proper meal in god knows how long. But why did he care?? “Why?” she blurted out. “Why do you care if I’ve eaten?”

He gave her a sharp look and pushed her towards the kitchen chair. “Sit down,” he simply ordered and she was too taken aback to protest against it.

He had brought his own ingredients. His own knives, all tucked away in a little basket that he put on her countertop. “Can you peel potatoes?” He asked her as he rummaged through it.

She could just stare at him.

“Who do you think cooked the meat Feyre hunted?” Zahra replied drily.

Azriel froze in the process of digging something out of the basket on the counter. “You can cook?” he asked her and she heard the surprise in his voice.

Zahra let out a snort. “Yes, I can cook,” she retorted. “What did you think I was doing this whole time in the cottage? Twiddling my thumbs?”

He shrugged. “Honestly, I had no idea what you were up to,” he told her truthfully. “I thought you were as useless as Elain and Nesta were at that point,” he admitted.

“Nesta did all the cleaning and hacked the wook,” Zara corrected him quietly. “Elain mended. I cooked. Feyre was the only one who hunted. And yes, we should have done more, but I did help run the household. The only one who never helped was our father.” The bitterness bled into her voice at that.

There was a long pause after her admission. Then Azriel exhaled. “I guess I shouldn’t be as surprised as I am,” he muttered. “You don’t strike me as a pampered useless damsel.”

“Thank you for that assessment, Shadowsinger,” she quipped back. “I will make sure to remember it when I need a pick-me-up.”

He put a sack of potatoes in front of her. “I take it I’m peeling potatoes,” Zahra murmured, staring at the sack that was in front of her.

“Yes,” Azriel confirmed in that no-nonsense voice of his. “While I prep the meat. I do hope you like rabbit,” he added drily.

“Oh good,” she muttered, grabbing a knife and started to peel away at the potatoes. “Did you hunt it?”

“Yes,” he confirmed, his voice neutral. Zahra bit back a snarky remark and focused on the potatoes.

They worked like that in silence. Him preparing the meat, her peeling the potatoes and the carrots.

It was odd. This whole thing was odd. Sitting and cooking with Azriel. She hadn’t even known he could cook.

And yet…it was comfortable. Like the silence wasn’t awkward and neither of them felt the need to break it. It was a comfortable domestic kind of silence. Like they had done this a thousand times before.

“How are you with spicy food?” Azriel asked her after he had taken the potatoes from her.

Zahra blinked in surprise. “I have a pretty good tolerance, why?” she asked, curious.

“All the food I can cook is Illyrian,” Azriel answered drily. “I learned from Rhys’ mother and later from my own. It’s spicy.”

“I can handle a bit of spice,” she assured him. “It should be fine.” He nodded in response.

The sound of the fire crackling in the stove and him stirring up the meat were the only sounds filling the kitchen as they continued their work.

Zahra honestly had no idea Azriel could cook. He didn’t seem like the type of male who spent time cooped up in the kitchen, making meals. It was a little surprising.

And yet, the scents of spices and rabbit were filling her kitchen right now... It smelled almost heavenly.

She hadn’t smelled something as heavenly in a long time. And her stomach growled in response to the delicious scents of food. Zahra tried to remember when she’d last eaten something actually decent, but she couldn’t think straight. The food was distracting her.

“You look half starved,” Azriel observed in a deadpanned tone and she snapped her head up only to find him looking at her.

His eyes were focused on her, a frown playing on his forehead. “When was the last time you actually ate something properly?” he asked her, his voice firm.

She averted her gaze. “I don’t know,” she muttered, looking away from him and to the pot bubbling on the stove. “Maybe a week ago?”

He was silent for a moment. “That long?” he asked her, his voice carefully neutral. She just shrugged in response to keep herself from admitting that she actually couldn’t remember exactly.

He poured hot, thick stew into a bowl for her and then put it in front of her, holding out cutlery for her to take. “Why are you doing this?” Zahra asked him weakly.

“Because I wish somehow had done it for me,” Azriel responded

That simple statement made her blink in surprise. It was not an answer she had been expecting. She bit her lip, not really sure what to say.

And then he simply said. “Eat. You look like you’d blow away at the slightest breeze.”

She should have been angered by that blunt statement, but somehow she wasn’t.

So Zahra ate.

The food tasted incredibly good. She had to admit that the Shadowsinger was talented with cooking. The food was spiced just perfectly, hot and filled with flavour.

Every bite made her realize just how incredibly hungry she was. Her stomach filled slowly and the hunger abated with every spoonful. It was like her insides started to come back to life. The numbness was slowly disappearing, replaced by an odd sort of warmth flowing through her limbs.

"Thank you," she finally said weakly.

Azriel just nodded at her, watching her eat. “Of course,” he murmured and continued with his own food.

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x oc #azriel x reader #azriel fanfiction #azriel fanfic #Azriel x Archeron!Reader #Stars all aligned

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eupheme · 2 days

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Your best friend Wade who always jokingly flirts with you the way he flirts with everyone - and you hate it because you have a real genuine crush on him and the flirting doesn’t mean anything… does it? It has to take a mutual friend to be like “oh my god he’s in love with you and doesn’t know how to tell you, so that’s why he’s always joking about boners” (please and thank u ilu 😌)

omg avo this kicked my ass, the amount of pining for Wade as he (jokingly, you think) flirts with you would be off the charts 🥲💖 I wrote a little drabble with how that might go, I love you and your ideas - thanks so much for sending this to me!!!

— cause every time we touch (i get this feeling)

best friend!wade wilson x mutant!reader

<1k | flirting, dirty jokes, heaps of pining

Blow job. Leg Spreader. Slippery Nipple. Liquid Viagra. Sex on the Pool Table. Pink Silk Panties.

Each time Wade comes into Sister Margaret’s - which is four or five times a week - he asks for dirtier and more obscure drinks.

"Wishful thinking", he tells you, each time.

Even with the roll of your eyes, you have to admit that it keeps you on your toes. That you look forward to seeing your best friend so often - tamping down the jolt in your belly, night after night.

Reminding yourself that yes, he got you this job, but he's not here to see you.

That this always was his spot.

It had been an easy sell. Used to working overnight shifts - security, back then. After the disaster with Weasel, they had been desperate for a replacement. Wade had come to you immediately, dropping to his knees as you opened the door.

Winning you over with a "you could literally get paid to hang out with me. How is this not a win-win-win? How is this not your dream job?"

And here, you didn't have to hide what or who you were. Reading feelings and intent were a bonus, when a handshake could tell you everything you needed to know. Their feelings spilled as easily as they were written, when you were negotiating contracts.

It also helped in-house. A human lie detector. Able to break up fights, settle arguments. A party trick, when things got slow. The regulars trying to get things past you - tales based in truth spun tall, seeing when you'd catch them.

Wade never plays, but you think that's because you know him so well.

And what seems like a sell, quickly evolves into more. Warping, as days pass. Spending more time with a crush sounds tempting, on paper.

The reality is something else.

Yes, there is a seat saved for him at the bar. Literally saved - his name scrawled across the vinyl, and you still haven't been able to scrub it out. Stopping by at all hours to chit chat.

Teasing you - how he's "so glad he doesn't have to stalk you at your old job anymore". An over-the-top sigh about being relieved that you're safe now - in your new job, surrounded by mercs.

Begging for the best job. Puppy-dog eyes. Fake coupons for favors that would make a sinner blush. Crossing his heart that you could have anything, and he means anything you wanted, if he could only get "that thing involving the murder clowns".

It's enough to make you hope.

Later, at home - in the early hours as you're pulled under. Replaying his comments. The filthy jokes and the shameless flirting - wondering if that's all they were.

Wondering if he'd be waiting for you tomorrow, perched on his stool.

But there's the downfall.

You see him - but you also see him with everyone else.

The charming smiles. Head thrown back in a laugh as he works the room. A friend to all, and as you watch him - perched on the knee of a goddess of mercenary as he yaps away, you can't help the swift current of jealousy.

Of foolishness.

It's enough that you're almost regretting agreeing.

Your mood is sullen, as you wipe down glasses. Trying to ignore the ache when you see him flirt. That realization that the something special you thought he had with you, might just be a part of his personality.

And when Dopinder shuffles from the back with more ice for the chiller behind the bar, it only takes one look at you before he's sighing.

"Not again. Please, I am begging you. I cannot take more of your yearning.”

Your lips quirk. Hadn't realized you'd become that obvious. He'd become your go-to, in the long hours you spend together behind the bar. Pinkie-promising not to say a word - but you always thought you'd had a decent handle on your expressions.

"We don't have to talk about it." Your hands raise, placating, "Just let me yearn in peace. I'll get over it."

"You know that almost half of what DP makes a month is funneled back in here, right?" He gives you a long look, "Before you, I saw him once a week. I had to beg him to come get his paycheck."

Doubt still lingers.

"Doesn't mean anything," You shrug - eyes dropping, as you help him restock.

"You do not think Mr. Pool worships the ground you walk on?"

The intensity of his question has you side-eying him, "I mean... I don't think he sees me that way. He acts the same with me as he does with everyone."

“Sure.” He huffs, leaning against the bartop, just as Wade plunks down in the seat in front of you.

“God, I haven’t been over here in like-,” Wade checks a fake watch, “Fifteen minutes? Feels like longer. Felt like a fucking hour.”

Pivoting back and forth on the stool as he adds, “Is it possible for people to get separation anxiety? Or is that just dogs? Is this how Dogpool feels when I’m gone?”

You just manage to catch the last bit, as Dopinder slips away.

“Exactly the same.”

Tonight, Wade is the first person that sits down in front of you for the game.

A frown, as you peel off your gloves - your barrier, to the outside world.

His own already bare - sliding back-and-forth over his suit-clad thighs. You'd mistake it for nerves, if you weren't so sure Wade had never been nervous in his life.

"What's your story, Wilson?" You ask, "Hope you brought something good."

"Oh, it's a whopper. A real fucking doozy. Apparently, you're not gonna believe it. " His laugh is a little too loud, and your eyes narrow, "But let's give it a whirl, okay?"

There's a flicker, behind the bar. A sideways look towards the bar, where Dopinder's hands cover his face. You don't need to touch him to read the guilt written across his features - the way he almost flinches, under your glare.

You're going to fucking kill him.

The sound of your name brings you back.

“Ready to play?”

Wade's hands rest face-up on the table - an offering. For once in his life he almost looks serious, and it’s enough to bring you back.

A breath - before you align your own. Letting them drop down, skin mapping against skin for the first time.

It floods through you.

The lick of heat that almost feels like a caress. A deep yearn that causes your own heart to twinge, layering with the feeling of need. Desire. Want.

It's familiar. It mirrors something deep inside, something that’s become as much a part of you as flesh and bone.

Oh.

A laugh slips from you, breaking the beat of silence. Relief tinged with disbelief - your smile stretching wide.

“Yeah?” You breathe, softening.

“Yeah.” He laughs, “Thought I was being obvious. But you are pound-cake dense, apparently.”

Hands flipping over, to entwine between yours. Letting that feeling inside him linger, settling warm and comforting over your bare skin.

“But I like that about you.” Another huff of a laugh, “Like all of you, really. Always have.”

It makes your heart ache. In a way that finally feels full, feels right - instead of the near-agony you’ve been bearing for weeks.

Only you could be such an idiot.

thanks for reading! 💖

#wade wilson x reader #wade wilson x you #deadpool x reader #deadpool x you #requests #avocado-writings #eupheme answers

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midnightorchids · 2 days

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Dick sat at the dinning room table, his case files scattered and his dinner cold. The room was quiet and fairly dim, his only light source was from a small lamp in the kitchen. He eyed the clock on the stove and then leaned back against his chair. The hard metal felt cool against his bare skin and he ran his hands across his face, frustrated.

There was a sudden upsurge of crimes in Bludhaven, all different MO’s, however, Dick couldn’t help but shake the feeling that there was something else going on. There was a connection there, he just didn’t know what it was yet.

Dick pulled his hands away from his face and went back to the file that laid in front of him. He read to himself silently, highlighting and circling important details, trying to find the missing link between the crimes.

It seemed as if hours had passed by, his body ached and his fingers felt sore, but he carried on with his research, desperate and determined.

“Dick, you’re still awake,” your gentle voice suddenly spoke up, pulling him out his trance. He finished reading his sentence before he looked up at you.

He stared at your heavy-eyed and sluggish state, he smiled at the sight of your messy hair. You looked breathtakingly beautiful to him.

“Yeah, I’m almost done though,” he said, yawning. You walked over to the dinning table, the pads of your feet softly tapping against the wooden floors, and you sat down on the chair next to him. He reached his hand out, and with just one swift move, pulled the chair closer to him. It scratched against the floor and you gasped at the sudden movement.

“You were too far,” he whined, while grabbing your hand. He placed a quick peck against your knuckles and you smiled sheepishly at his affection.

Dick was always physically affectionate. He needed to have his hands on you at all times, the small of your back, your waist, your shoulders, he just needed to hold you. You often thought it was his way of grounding himself, especially when he was overwhelmed or overly excited.

You pushed yourself closer to him and gently rested your head on his shoulder. You eyed the mess on the table and that’s when you noticed the neglected plate of food. Your heart dropped.

“Oh my god, you didn’t eat,” you exclaimed, moving your head away from him. You were quick to get up, ready to reheat the meal for him, but he grabbed your wrist before you could leave.

“Sit,” he said and you did.

“But-”

“It’s okay, I’m not hungry,” the worried look in your eyes pulled at his heart strings, and he spoke up again, “I’ll have a big breakfast in the morning.”

“Promise,” you asked, holding out your pinky. You wanted to ask him to eat right then and there, but you knew it was no use. He was stubborn and worked up over the case files, food was the last thing on his mind.

“Promise,” Dick said, connecting his own pinky with yours, he placed a quick kiss against your lips to seal the deal.

“Will you come to bed soon,” you asked and he nodded in response. “Okay, I’ll wait until you’re ready then.” Dick smiled with his heart full and his eyes heavy.

Dick was loved by many, adored even, but no one made him feel the way that you did. No one cared for him like you did.

“Alright, let’s go to sleep now,” he said abruptly, closing his pen with its cap. He stared at the mess of papers on the table and decided that it was a problem for the morning.

“But I thought you had more work to do” you questioned. He didn’t answer and instead lifted you in his arms, the action caught you off gaurd. It was always likes this with him, he was unpredictable, but comforting. You knew you were always safe with him.

You placed your arms around his shoulders and he held you bridal style up the stairs. You laughed at his antics while ruffling his messy brunette locks. He grinned and repeatedly kissed your cheek, enticing more giggles from you.

“Let’s get my baby back to bed,” he said softly before kissing your cheek one last time. Dick opened the bedroom door with his foot and placed you gently against the pale blue sheets.

He walked over to his side of the bed and stretched before laying down next to you. Once he got comfortable, you moved closer and placed your head on his bare chest. Your fingers instinctively wrapped themselves on to the small locket around his neck. He wore your initials. That too, with pride.

You traced the charm with your index finger and Dick let out a deep, exasperated sigh. He ran his hands through your hair. His fingers grazed your scalp and you hummed delightfully.

The moment was intimate and calming. It made your body feel limp with an overwhelming amount of comfort and it slowly lulled you to sleep.

Once Dick felt your soft, rhythmic breathing, he kissed your forehead before muttering a small “goodnight, doll,” and then, he finally let himself get the well needed rest.

#crying he’s so cute #gn!reader #dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson headcanon #nightwing #nightwing x reader #nightwing imagine #nightwing headcanon #batfam

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orimuraa · 2 days

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‧₊˚ 🧷 When you’re not here 911 calling - OT7

(synopsis) ࣪ ִֶָ☾. when enhypen is clingy ~❀

ot7 enhypen x fem!reader ִֶָ☾. tooth-rotting fluff, crack ִֶָ☾. clingy enha ִֶָ☾. kisses, petnames ִֶָ☾. wc 720

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽

𝑳𝒆𝒆 𝑯𝒆𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒖𝒏𝒈 - 이희승

ring...ring...ring...ri- "hello? seungie what's wrong?" you had just left 10 minutes ago to grab some groceries to cook dinner when all of the sudden, you get a call from your boyfriend. "baby? are you done yet? i miss you" your heart melted at the cute, sulky tone of your boyfriend on the other line and you could just envision his pouty face. letting out a soft chuckle, you pay the cashier and head out of the store. "i'm walking home now you big baby" you laugh, adjusting your shopping bag onto your shoulder. "yay!!" heeseung cheered. "you've been gone for agesss" he whined. sure he was a big baby trapped inside of a 23 year old man's body, but he was your big baby.

𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑱𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒈 - 박종성

"ynnieee" you heard your boyfriend whine. you set down your pen and walked over to the couch where jay was currently snuggled into. "i miss you" he frowns and oh does it melt your heart. "awww by jongie missed me? i was just 5 feet away in the other room silly!" you giggle, sitting down next to him on the couch. without warning, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you down next to him and planting a big, fat smooch on your forehead. "shhh, it's cuddle time with my princess"

𝑺𝒊𝒎 𝑱𝒂𝒆𝒚𝒖𝒏 - 심재윤

“jaeyun??? jaeyun are you okay??” you called out frantically after receiving a distressing message from your boyfriend that read: “come back quick pls. i need you here right now” so you turned your car around immediately and sped back home just to find your boyfriend greeting you—perfectly fine— at the door. “hi baby! you came back!” he giggled, his puppy smile showing. “yah! sim jaeyun! what is this?” you yelled, holding up the message on your phone. “ohhhh that! i just missed you!” he smiled. “why you little-” it was safe to say that you loved your very clingy boyfriend very much.

𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑺𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒏 - 박성훈

you had just woken up to your alarm and you were about to get up and ready for the day when a pair of arms pulled you back down. “nooo please don’t leave” a sleepy voiced mumbled from behind you. “more cuddles please” sunghoon asked as he nuzzled his head into your neck. “aigoo hoonie, how can i say no to you” you smiled, giving in to his ask. it was rare for sunghoon to be this clingy so how could you deny him his cuddles? you would never do such a thing anyway.

𝑲𝒊𝒎 𝑺𝒖𝒏𝒐𝒐 - 김선우

“yah! where are you my ynnie???” sunoo yelled out. you had left precisely 6 minutes and 24 seconds ago and sunoo was already calling you back. all you needed to do was finish the cookies but somebody was a bit too clingy today (it’s okay you didn’t mind one bit) and needed you with him 24/7. “cominggg” you giggle at your boyfriend’s clingy actions. walking into his bedroom, he immediately lights up when he sees you. “yay ! you’re here!!!” he then proceeds to tackle you onto the bed, securing his arms around you to make sure you can’t leave him. you always loved when sunoo got clingy.

𝒀𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝑱𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒘𝒐𝒏 - 양정원

we all know that jungwon has his times of being this adorable little cat. so it wasn’t shocking when you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waste and small kisses being gently placed on your neck. “hi wonnie” you smile, knowing he was feeling clingy today. “mm, come cuddle please, pretty” the small whisper of his voice melted your heart and you just couldn’t say no to such a cutie! he took your hand and led you to the couch where he already had a movie and a warm blanket ready for the two of you. “ta-da! now you can’t escape me!”

𝑵𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒎𝒖𝒓𝒂 𝑹𝒊𝒌𝒊 - 西村力

ni-ki didn’t like showing physical affection in public, but he was a big baby behind closed doors. “babyyyy” he whined, trying to get you to comeback and give him more kisses. “pleaseeeee, i’m dying here without youuu” you playfully rolled your eyes as you walked back into your bedroom where your boyfriend was waiting. “now, kisses please” he sat up straight and smiled to you. gosh he was so cute. “whatever you say my big baby” you were so glad that he felt safe enough with you to show this side of himself to you and only you.

hiii! i’m back from the dead!! this made me giggle a whole bunch and while writing ni-ki’s, i just had that image of him making heart fingers for jake (iykyk) anyway, hope you guys enjoyed this and i’ll be back to posting every day if i can! <333

⚘. Perm taglist: @vmpivory

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xx0yeet-everything0xx · 3 days

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you know it would be funny if as nico “jason is my first real friend” di angelo and jason “oh gods… nico” grace get closer and just start vibing together nico slowly starts to notice little things, specifically the way zeus is prominent in jason’s life in all the WORST ways possible and jason never says it out loud but every time his father comes up his face just gets a little more pained and ajdhsjsbja

ANYWAY the point is on jason’s 17th birthday nico gets him a hoodie that says “i don’t need therapy i need to fistfight my dad” on the back (along with other gifts ofc) and everyone stares horrified as jason reads the words and narrows his eyes because “oh shit oh shit he’s like THE son of jupiter why wld u do that??” and also “isn’t that a bit too personal??” but then jason laughs so hard he cries. he wears this everywhere now. he also wears this to olympus like a year later and hades saves him from getting smitten just because it’s really fucking funny

#canonically inaccurate post probably but idc idc it’s fucking funny #jason grace #nico di angelo #pjo #hoo #toa #jasico #??? mayhaps.

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aerithmybbgmypookiemywife · 2 days

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So I just read your fix about Creator!reader reading a fanfic ‘bout them and it gave me an idea. Like HEAR ME OUT HEAR ME OUT-…

Creator!reader reading a spicy/smut fanfic about them, but in reality, Creator!reader is asexual?? IT WOULD BE AMAZING

lmaoooo can imagine the creator reading smut with a straight face just out of curiosity, entertainment or amusement only to be someone who is asexual.

Imagine Creator! Reader sitting on a chair, reading what seemed to be a book. The book was titled 'That time I had a one night stand with the Creator.', the plot was... Interesting to say the least.

It was a fanfiction containing the reader meeting the Creator under a cherry tree or whatever cliche bullshit the author thought off that ended with whoever the reader was and you, the Creator, banging.

It was just a normal day... The sun was out... You were out having an outdoor lunch along with the Archons and some of the Acolytes. But... Instead of eating you decided to just read the fanfic smut. You were curious as to what it would contain, what people thought of you in that way.

The Archons and Acolytes were all talking while you had the book placed on your lap where no one could see it... But... Imagine Creator! Reader having a habit of reading some words outloud...

"And... The wetness... Thrust... Tongue deep into my ass..." you mumbled. Everyone paused, as if time froze. A majority of them knew those words... those lines... BECAUSE THEY READ THAT BOOK SECRETLY IN THEIR SPARE TIME!!

Venti froze, before choking on his wine. Zhongli cleared his throat. Raiden Ei just looked around, a little confused. Mauvuika shook her head, finding this situation a little ridiculous but funny. Neuvillette nearly spat out the Natlan water he was tasting.

Kinich was side eyeing everyone while Ajaw laughed in the background, Ajaw was about to comment something but Kinich was quick to shut him up. Lyney on the other hand just cleared his throat while his ears were red. Childe tried his hardest to hold in his laugh, only plastering a trembling smile on his face. Wanderer scoffed, as if he didn't read the book too. Yae Miko's eyes widened as she hid her face with a fan, trying her best to not laugh.

You looked up at everyone, raising an eyebrow. "Something wrong?" you asked. "You-Your Grace... That book..." Zhongli cleared his throat. "Oh? This? It's interesting... But it isn't exactly a good potrayal of me. I'm not that crazy about sex." you said so nonchalantly that everyone got a whiplash.

Safe to say that word spread fast, smuts were now BANNED as the public deemed they weren't an accurate potrayal of the Creator. Authors who try to publish smut about the creator as publicly shamed too, although the public had a secret desire or fantasy of being with the Creator intimately, they still respected the fact that it isn't something the Creator would want.

#genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #genshin x reader #sagau #self aware genshin #genshin impact x reader #sagau x reader

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gamblersdoll · 1 day

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fwb, relationships, small angst, smut. long fic alert, not proof read, some fluff and some jokey jokes :p worked on this since 11 am.

katsuki bakugou didnt do the whole relationship thing. he felt like it was.. too intimate, too intense for him. a mere distraction for him and his career.

he thinks hes the only one who thinks that, seeing how shitty hair and pinky got together. the way that idiot and the emo chick were always together— fuck, chargebolt made her his whole life, which was fucking ridiculous.

he was more fond of the casual fucking, either going on tinder or hinge or whatever fucking apps there were. his account was booming though, several thousand of messages every five minutes. it annoyed him, shockingly.

“dude, can i get a fuckin’ minute of peace?” he barks out, silencing his phone and pinching his bridge.

“bro, you literally downloaded a dating slash fucking app, and you are the second pro hero.” kirishima reminded him, feet on the coffee table and swigging his soda. “get what you paid for.”

“get your fucking feet off’a my damn table, are you a caveman?”

he hated how kirishima was right, thinking he wouldnt get some kind of attention from an app when he was a hero, an attractive one at that.

so he deleted it, he’ll try going out more than possibly be stalked on a dating app.

he hated how every woman threw themselves at him when they saw him, he doesnt like that much attention. even in highschool, it overwhelms him. every girl in this damned bar was all over him.

well… excepting one. which so happened to be you, you just wanted to be left alone and drink to your hearts content. bakugou can clearly see that, and keeps an eye on your for a bit. later on though? oh he’s gotten loose enough to finally come up to you with ease.

“what’cha drinkin?” he asks, an arm supporting his weight on the bar table.. his cheeks were a slight pink, but he doesnt drink enough to make himself so tipsy or drunk.

“strawberry mimosa?” you chuckle, it literally says it on the can. “you must be blind or drunk to not be able to see that.”

an eyebrow of his quirks up, he’s intrigued. “i ain’t drunk, hon’.” he chuckles, “and do you even know who i am?”

“even if you are the ‘great explosion murder god, dynamight,’ yer off duty.” you snark back, hearing a baritone laugh come from his throat.

“and how would you know that?”

“well, pretty sure they wouldnt let you drink onna’ job.” you retort, turning to him now and crossing your legs. you hear a ‘yeah?’ and you nod.

“you sure, sweetheart?” he asks, taking another sip of his ‘oktober fest’. he sees you nod, and he hums. “how are you so sure?”

“pretty sure its common knowledge, but, common sense aint common no more.” you pull the final last word, dynamight nodding and tilting his drink to yours. you both clink your drinks together, holding the eye contact that he initiated.

the drive home was hell, the way he had struggled to keep his eyes on the road, your foot sliding across his lap and feeling him slowly get solid by the second.. you were a little vixen werent you? and to open the door without dropping you was more smooth than anything.

he practically ripped your clothes off, a nipple becoming his first victim and you arching into his mouth. he chuckled, youre so sensitive, arent you baby?

god, he hasnt had a good pussy in a long time.

his body molded into yours, kissing your neck and then lying you down and dragging his tongue down your supple skin until he got to your ankles, then back up to your nipples.

he never kissed your lips though, yet, he also didnt taste you.

the crack of the morning dawn showed its ass bright and early, your frame still within the bed and he was on the other side. interestingly, you both groan groggily and flutter your eyes open, head peering up and looking around.

lucky for you both, you werent hung over. you both peak over to each other.

one blink, two blinks, three blinks… bitch, say something!

“uh—“ you both say, redirecting your gazes and chuckling.

“you wanna go or me go?” he asks, watching you point to him and he nods. “did you like last night?” he asks, just a common courtesy to ask. he sometimes cared. it just depended on how you were in bed.

“i liked it,” you said, getting up and putting your panties on. “i did sleep with the second pro hero.”

he hums only.

“did you walk or drive to the bar?” he asks, pulling up ‘uber’ and looking to you. you mutter a ‘walk.’ and you give him the addresses to your house.

“you just randomly give out your address?” he asks, an eyebrow raised and hes hunched over.

“you just sleep with random people you dont know?”

he sucks his teeth, “you got such a mouth on you.” he taps on the confirmation button, “your uber will be here in thirty.”

“you seemed to love it last night, dynamight.” you glares at you for a second, you putting your dress back on and smirking. “but thank you, sir.”

sir?

you both make small talk, until the uber gets here and dynamight walks you to the car. he leans against the door frame, watching you strap in and take off.

katsuki bakugou wasnt a relationship type man. no, those were distracting and too intense for him. but yet, he invited you over again after exchanging numbers.

this was just casual sex, nothing more nothing less.

“you mean to fuckin tell me—“ he cuts himself off, pausing the show that you both were watching. “you ain’t never had your pussy eaten?”

“well.. no? thats bad?” you ask, taking a sip of the apple cider he brought from his fridge. “you cant get mad either, you haven’t either.”

“i had eaten something spicy, you want burnin’ pussy?” he retorts, taking a sip of water to cleanse his palette. “dont answer that, just lie the fuck back.” he shakes his head, softly pushing you back.

“sir, yes sir.” you joke, feeling his body weight hover over you and kiss your neck. you moan, feeling your shirt be pushed up and shorts be pulled down. he kisses your inner thigh, licking a long stripe up your bare clit— you pulling back for a second.

he peers up at you, heavy and lidded eye’s looking at you. “you good?” he asks, pausing all movement. you nod, feeling him hum and then slowly and softly kiss your clit again. you settle down, moaning his hero name, thats all you know him by.

“call me katsuki, hon’.” he mumbles in your pussy, spreading your lower lips apart and putting your clit in his mouth. he suckles on it like the sweetest candy he’s tasted, his cock starting to get harder by the second.

your breath is starting to hitch, a hand flying to his hair and gripping at the root. he grunts, eyes rolling back for a second and then hips bucking into the couch.

“fuck— mhm.. pull my shit, baby.” he groans, moving down your slit and putting your legs onto his shoulders. his tongue alone is making you clamp down on nothing, he can feel it.

your hips move on their own, grinding down against his lips and chin and he lets you use him, use him to make you feel good and cum on his face like no other. he takes pride in this, being the only one whos ever made you writhe in pleasure because of him.

“go ‘head, come on my face, mama.” and that only set you off, legs trying to close as your orgasm ripples through you in waves and he laughs, rubbing circles in your clit to add more to it. you try to close your legs, you try to push his hands away, only for him to swat at them. “aht aht, dont you fuckin’ go anywhere.”

you lie limp, feeling drained and youre trying to come down from your high and how good it feels to be devoured by him. “you said.. katsuki?” you whisper, and he finishes cleaning up the spit that dribbled down your cheeks and up your back.

“yeah.” he reiterated, pulling your shorts back up and patting your clothed cunt, watching you jerk.

katsuki bakugou wasnt into relationships, no, fuck that. he wasnt into the intense stuff and was damn sure not really intimate.

but yet, he finds himself liking the little things on social media, primarily tiktok. he hates the way people look so happy within relationships, some of them even being heros in different countries or even just here. but, he hates the way it gives him ideas, and brings a smile to his face.

ping!

he looks back at your messages, a small smile on his face and he feels his heart race—

the fuck was his heart racing for?

“do you want to go out for dinner tonight?” he replies back, feeling a pang in his chest, but it wasnt out of fear or anything. he watches the three bubbles pop up, and your response is all he wanted to read.

‘sure, surprise me.’

and he does, taking you to a michelin starred restaurant and making you order the most expensive thing. because he would feel bad if he only order the most expensive things, right?

“do you like it?” he asks, cutting into the steak that he ordered and watching you eat your food.

“yeah, i do. i just sometimes eat slow.” you reply, him nodding and then tapping his foot. “do you mind if i take it home?”

“… why would i be mad if you took food home, stupid?” he asks, like you just asked him if he claps with shitty hands.

“just askin..” you say, watching him wave over the waiter and ask for a box and the check. “we can split the bill if you want.”

he darts his eyes back to you, scrunching his face up and giving you a once over.

“what?”

“split the bill?” he asks, making sure he heard you right. you nod, and he nods with you. “give me yo fuckin’ wallet.”

“because i asked if you want to split the—?”

“did i speak japanese? give me your damn wallet.” he snarks back, snatching your wallet from your fingers and putting his metal card on the check book. “some damn split the bill.”

“well sorry..” you mumble, putting the left over food in the box.

“you can tell me how sorry you are later when we get home.” he suggests, an eyebrow raised at you and a smirk. “you can choose how much to tip.”

“deal.”

both of you could barely get up the stairs, him slamming you against the walls of the corridor that lead to upstairs, but hes already on his knees and shoving your panties to the side, spitting and licking on your pussy.

“wrap this around— yeah, good job.” he praises, holding you up by your legs and thrusting into your soppy walls. “fuck, yer tight tonight.”

your fingers pull at the root of his hair, open mouth moaning against his neck and kissing at it. you feel his groans reverberate in your body. “katsukiiii..” you moan, biting your lip.

“yeah, yeah, yeah, there ya’ goo..” he strews out praises, pressing his head against yours and kissing your neck back. “make me proud, thats it.”

“gunna cum.. gonna cum, kats—“ you say, feeling you clamp and feeling your walls contract against his walls of the house. he grunts, spilling his seed within the condom and growls in your neck.

“hey.. katsuki?” you asked, lying next to him in his bed. he opens his eyes, looking down to you.. “can i ask you something?”

“ask away.” he says, patting your rear and focusing in on you.

“why dont you ever kiss me?” you ask, he furrows his eyebrows, leaning up a bit.

“i do kiss you?” he retorts, something that he doesnt understand. the fuck were you talking about? he kisses you.. he kisses your neck, your head, your fucking pussy for crying out loud.

“yeah, everywhere but my lips.” you reject, sitting up and watching his movements.

he tilts his head for a bit, clicking his tongue. “thats just too intense and intimate for me. and, quite frankly, im not into it.” he admits, then he watches you frown. “what you frowin’ for?”

“we are literally laying in the bed, in nothing but boxers and a shirt and panties.” you remind him of your situation, the fuck did he mean it was ‘too intimate?’ “how can this not be intimate, but a kiss is?”

“this..” he circles to you and himself, “this is just casual fucking.” he tries to remind you, but he starts to grow agitated when you get up and start clothing yourself. “the fuck you doin?”

“this is just casual? but yet you took me on a fucking date.” you say, growing agitated and frustrated yourself.

“that was dinner, not a date.” hes starting to get annoyed, thats why he didnt do this shit often. “i am in no fucking bounds to you, youre not fucking special.” he says, running his fingers through his hair and breathing through his nose.

you stare at him, putting your shoes on and then grabbing your purse. “youre right, im sorry.” you say, grabbing your phone as well and then looking back to katsuki. “ill see you later, ‘kay?”

he stays quiet, getting up to open the door for you and then closing it behind. “for fucking christs sakes..”

he goes back to the king sized bed, closing his eyes and turning the television off. this night already went to shit, and he just wanted to sleep it off.

he wakes up the next day, he’s got another two hours before he goes into patrol. he figured he could just text you to come over, its a new day and apologize, have you stay for a couple hours until he came home and fix something.

“hey, you wanna come over and talk about it?” he typed, sending it to you and waiting for your reply.

twenty minutes had past, its weird. usually youd be up by this hour, but eventually you did respond a thumbs up, and he tided up the living room and waits on you.

“hey.” he gruffly says, letting you in and closing the door behind you. he smells something strong. “did you use incense or some shit?”

“no, its body spray.” you say, plopping on the couch and he smells it again, then it wakes him up even more.

“you wanna try again?” he asks, folding his arms and holding his scowl. “did you just come from someone else’s house?”

you stay quiet, staring at him. the fuck did he want from you?

“you fucked another guy?” he asked again, caging you in and staring into you. “because im not in the fucking mood for these fucking games.”

“am i not allowed to?” you ask, getting to his level as well and then matching his scowl. “im in no fucking bounds to you.”

“so you want to be fucking petty, thats what the fuck this is?”

“to the fuckin’ t.” you respond, grabbing your things and shoving past him. he grabs your arm, pulling you back and staring into your soul.

“who the fuck was it?”

“none of your fucking business, i didnt ask you about the bitches you be fucking that’s not me.” you retort, but it only deepens his scowl, into a face filled with venom.

“i dont be fuckin other bitches.” he growls, then scoffs when you laugh softly. “the fuck is funny?”

“you dont be fuckin other girls?”

“why the fuck would i?” he asks, putting his hands in the air in confusion. “you think i just spread my legs to anyone and everything?”

“wow, i must be so special to know and have that.” you snarkily say, walking to the door.

he groans in agitation and yells. “bitch, fuck you!”

“fuck you, too bitch!” you shout back as he makes his way to you and you slam the door behind you.

the fuck were you both even arguing for?

bakugou wasnt the same after that, he was more stressed at work, feeling the after effects of the argument and not hearing from you in weeks. its shown in the way he fights the villains on the job, a tad bit— no, alot more aggressively than usual.

and he wasn’t going out anymore, just work, gym, then home. he wasnt in the mood, he felt… alone, depressed, like he was missing something.

he had everything that hes had, so what could possibly be fucking missing?

he scrolls on his timeline, seeing that you posted another story at work. he felt his heart pang, a knee bouncing, and like he wanted to reach out.

was he seriously missing you right now?

he sucks his teeth, his head dropping and he’s feeling like such a fucking idiot. he felt it, like he couldnt go a couple of days without you. he needed relief, a certain one.

you both meet up at the bar, the same very place you met and then flirted hard. he watches you sit down, a new dress, huh?

you looked so damn gorgeous, it genuinely pissed him off.

“what do you want?” you ask, telling the bartender for a strawberry mimosa, your usual.

“i..” he tries to say, he hasnt done the whole ‘im sorry’ thing since highschool. “i was wrong.” he admits, staring back at you and watching your face. “was wrong fer callin’ you a bitch, and saying you werent special. and fer gettin’ mad that you slept with someone else.”

“hm.” you hum, tapping your foot and holding your drink. “ill let you in on a secret through the grape vine.” you say, watching him raise a single eyebrow.

“i didnt sleep with some other dude, it was your old cologne.” you say, watching his face contort into confusion. “you showed me an old cologne you used to wear when you were scrolling on tiktok with me. you were half asleep though.”

it all finally clicks when he remembers, and he rubs his face in pure embarrassment and anger. “im going to fucking kill you, bitch.” he says, not truly angry, but embarrassed.

you laugh, and his chest feels less tight. “im sorry for doing that, just tried to show you that what you said wasnt cool.”

“i respect that.” he says, drinking his moonshine.

“thats such a bitch drink..” you watch him swig, and he growls.

“says the one drinking a gotdamn mimosa.” he retorts, and you both finally have a good laugh after about thirteen minutes in.

he feels good, better.

katsuki bakugou wasnt the relationship guy, its too much for him.

but with the way he has you laying ontop of him, a discarded used condom in the trash bin next to his bed. he liked where he was at, the way the sun shined on your face and skin.. he pondered at the earliest hours of the morning. he didnt have to work today, that was good for him since he had you to spend time with. might even a plan a date for you tonight—

a date? the fuck?

he feels himself inclined to you, watching tiktok on the lowest volume so you dont awaken. he keeps seeing these couple tiktoks, watching how they go from tinder, to being married and shit.

could.. could that happen to you? he feels sick, like he was getting clammy and his heart pounded, a imaginative feeling that he finally proposes to you, gives you a couple brats that run around the house he just bought—

…aw fuck no.

“which dress fits me more?” you rummage through the hangers of dresses in the store, he only watches you and picks one out in particular. a split thigh dress with sleeves, since it was about to be fall. “oh, so you want my ass to fall out?��

“your ass aint going to fall out.” he chuckles, pulling it and putting it against you. “youd look good though.”

“would i really?”

he tilts your head up to his, looking into your eyes instead of your soul this time. “always.” he watches you get heated in the face, pulling away out of flustering and scramble to the next aisle.

once you finally start to check out everything, which was just a mere dress that he suggested and some more shirts, you pull your wallet out, just for him to slap it out of your grasps.

“the fuck?!” you say, picking it up and the cashier was already inserting his card.

“told you that when youre with me, i pay.” he reminds, taking the receipt and bag and then holding the door for you.

“did you have to slap my wallet out my hand, though? couldve been robbed!” you say, putting it back in your purse and grumbling.

“anyone trying to rob you infront of me is just stupid.”

“i guess..”

eventually when you got home, katsuki put the goods down onto the couch and then headed to the kitchen, cranking up the flames on his stove. “oh em gee, youre going to cook for me?”

“why did you say it like that, you dumbass?” he turns to you, a confused but laughing face. “yes, im cooking. you need to stop eating out as much.”

“i eat out maybe twice a week.” you say, and he purses his lips. “what? you saying im big?”

“i did not say that.” he growls, tossing the pan and sautéing the veggies. “what?” he asks, seeing your concerned face.

“you have no care for your pans or pots..” you say, watching his shrug and mock you. “on tonight’s episode of hells kitchen..”

“gordon ramsey wouldnt last thirty minutes with me.” he comments, shaking his head and sighing. “im the best cook.”

“no objections.”

and he was, making you a chicken bowl with rice, sautéed vegetables and toasted brioche bread. “thank you, katsu.” you say, the nickname rolling off of your tongue and you didn’t really think of it, but kissing his cheek.

he freezes, staring at you and an eye twitches.

“…what? did i have to brush my teeth after every meal too?”

“katsukii katsuki katsuki!” you moan out, legs pressed to your ears as he pounded away into your cervix. he growls into your ear and pulls you back up, flipping you onto your stomach and wrapping his arm around your throat, holding you in a headlock.

he groans, drilling his cock into your gummy spot that made you see stars like no other. this was more rougher, deeper, and fast paced than any other of your fucks. this one felt.. different.

all because of a fucking kiss on the cheek.

“katsuki!” you squealed strained, eyes rolling back and gritting your teeth trying to endure his cock inside of your fluttering walls.

“fuckin cum, beg me to let you cum.” he growls with venom, and desperation runs him completely now. he hears you, crying out his name and then fucking him back. “fucking god—hah!”

you cream along his shaft, his cock starting to twitch and he drags you up again, putting you back into missionary to slip away into your spasming cunt to just still inside and keep going.

“k-katsuki what are you?—“ he cuts you off by crashing his lips onto yours, a pang into your chest and arms wrap around his neck to pull him closer. he groans in the kiss, stopping his hips.

he pulls away, looking down to you with a narrowed gaze. “what?” you ask, his face getting a little bit softer.

“i dont want to just casually fuck with you anymore.” he says, getting closer to you. “think… think im in love with you.”

“..so.. because i have sex with you, youre in love with me?” you ask, his face dropping and he flicks your head. “ow— fucker!”

“no, stupid..” he says, “i like the moments we dont fuck. like dinner dates and the.. domestic shit i guess.” he says, biting his lip.

“so you admit that they were dates?” you snicker, and he chuckles in defeat.

“whatever you wanna call them, baby.” he says, but puts a hand on your cheek and. “i love you.”

you try to take it serious, but one factor. “can you tell me this without your cock being in me?” you ask, he shakes his head and pulls his hips back, allowing you to sit up.

“love you.” he says, his heart beating out of his ass.. or so it feels like it.

“i love you too, dummy.”

“now you fuckin ruined my moment.”

#katsuki angst #katsuki smut #katsuki x reader #katsuki x you #katsuki fluff #katsukibakugou #katsuki bakugou #bakugo katuski #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou smut #kastuki bakugou #bakugou x black! reader #katsuki x black!reader #bakugou #bakugou x reader #bnha bakugou #bnha bakugo katsuki

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fallstaticexit · 3 days

Text

Prev / Next / Beginning / Pillowfort

AN: TW this post contains a homophobic slur.

Transcript under the cut

Professor Munch: Everyone, this is Nancy. She’s one of my favorite students. I am so glad she can join us this evening to observe our weekly GSA meeting.

Nancy: And what is a GSA?

Morgan: It stands for Gay–Straight Alliance. It’s just a safe space for queer kids to hang out and talk about real world issues.

Knox: Yeah, we go out and do stuff off campus. It’s pretty tight.

Nancy: Queer? So...this is a club for homosexuals?

Darling: [sucks teeth]

Knox: [chuckles nervously] I mean, sure I guess? Me and Morgan are bisexual. That means we dig the fellas and the ladies, heh.

Professor Munch: What’s important is that this space is for everyone, from all walks of life. We support each other here, no matter who you love. We keep each other safe. That’s why I invited you to sit in on our session. I figured you could use a friend or two-

Nancy: Ugh! Oh my God? You think I’m- I’m not like that, ok!?

Nancy: I am not a homosexual! What the hell made you think I’d want to be apart of something like this?

Professor Munch: No, dear- I’m not implying you’re like anything! This club welcomes all people. I thought you could use the support. Why, your brother started the very first GSA at this school-

Nancy: Oh, don’t you fucking dare! My brother wasn’t some depraved pervert and I’m not a d****!

Darling: [jumps up, chair scrapes hardwood floor] What the fuck did you just say? You can’t come up in calling people that shit!

Nancy: I-I didn’t! All I’m saying is that I’m not like that! I’m not like you-

Darling: Not like who? Not like a d?****?

Darling: What the fuck is your problem? Munch, who is this bitch?

Professor Munch: Easy, Dee. Calm down-

Darling: Don’t fucking tell me to calm down! You let some straight white girl walk in here and say something we heard screamed at us our whole fucking life! Say it again! I dare you!

Professor Munch: That’s enough! Please! Let me handle this.

Nancy: [between sobs] M’sorry...m’so sorry...

Professor Munch: [sighs] Just, take some time to think about this, Nancy. Look inward.

Nancy Narrates: [Look inward] x3

Nancy: If it’s ok...I’d like to apologize.

Professor Munch: Everyone? Is it alright if Nancy speaks?

Morgan: I don’t mind.

Darling: [sighs] Whatever man.

Nancy: [exhales] When I first heard that word, I was 11 years old. My mother found letters I wrote to my pen pal. She mailed a photo of herself from her birthday party, she wore this really pretty yellow dress with little blue flowers on them.

Nancy: Yellow is my favorite color, so I said she was as pretty as a sunflower. My mother tore up the letter and made me rewrite it. She looked me right in the eyes and said, ‘do you want someone to read this and think you’re a-’

Nancy: She said it again when was 14, a girl from my ballet troupe was only brushing my hair. She pulled me from the class. She said it again two years ago, when she found out that I fell in love with-

Nancy: I know that word hurts because it’s been said to hurt me even though I’m not... It doesn’t matter if I’m not, I shouldn’t have said it. It was a horrible thing to do. I am so incredibly sorry.

Professor Munch: Thank you for sharing your story. This is what GSA is about. Coming together, creating a community, and creating safe spaces. Dee, is there anything you want to say to Nancy? Anything you’d like to speak on or about how you feel?

Darling: Nah...

Nancy Narrates: [I knew that an apology alone wouldn't suffice to mend the situation. When it came to friendships, I didn’t know how to genuinely make amends, but as a Landgraab, I knew that I could leverage my wealth and status to create a meaningful impact]

Morgan: You got us the biggest hall on campus?! Nancy, this is sick as fuck!

Professor Munch: [laughs] I’ll have to agree with Morgan for lack of a better word. This is sick as heck! I don’t know where to begin to thank you for this gift.

Nancy: It’s the least I could do. Now you can stop meeting in that tiny corner in the commons.

Darling: Charity work for your little sorority, huh? What’s with you, yo?

Nancy: What do you mean?

Darling: You’re so rich, you just buy your way through shit?

Nancy: It’s how I was raised.

Darling: I can’t figure you out.

Nancy: I promise, I’m not a bad person.

Darling: We’re not like everyone else on campus. We’ll show you something real. You gotta be real with us too.

Nancy Narrates: [I found myself wanting to do exactly that—to show them the real me, whoever she was]

Siobhan: I’m planning a party for the Thetas Friday night. Perfect opportunity for you to bond with your sisters.

Nancy: I’m a little busy Friday night...maybe next time?

Siobhan: Being apart of a sorority is more than just the cute merch and bragging rights. We’re involved with the community and with this campus. As a pledge, I do expect you to commit to these things.

Nancy: I know and I will. I just need to take care of something.

Siobhan: [sighs] Don’t let me down, sister.

[the group murmurs excitedly]

Professor Munch: You did all this, Nancy?

Nancy: I hope it’s ok I’m here. I figured you could break in your new room with a movie night. Everything is already taken care of, and I bought a ton of movies ranging from comedy to horror and everything in between. They’re all yours to keep! Same with the popcorn machine. I know I’m using money again to impress you but... I guess I’m still trying to figure out what it means to be real. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it all.

Morgan: Yeah, not so fast. Stick around, watch a movie with us!

Nancy: Are you sure?

Knox: Of course we’re sure, squirt.

#the art of being seen #tw homophobic slur #tw internalized homophobia #the landgraabs #nancy landgraab #mila munch #morgan fyres #darling walsh #knox greenburg #geoffrey landgraab #siobhan fyres #bob pancakes #sims 4 simblr #sims 4 stories #ts4 simblr #sims 4

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chiara81-4 · 3 days

Note

hey girlie!! could you do lando norris x reader pls🙏🙏🙏 i loved ur charles story and i want u to write one ab lando pls pls pls 🙏🙏 love u

a/n: hey love! of course! I've gotten a couple lando x reader requests so I will do my best to please everyone!

——————————————————————————————————

forever and always - lando norris x fem!reader

warnings: fluff, brothers best friend trope, not proofread (sorry for any typos)

word count: i don't know LOL it's a lot.

——————————————————————————————————

Age 11:

you had an older brother, he was talented since he was young. your parents dumped money into his racing career at a young age, leaving you alone. when it was your 11th birthday, your family went to watch your brother kart. since then you just kind of been there, until lando came along...

Age 14:

your brother came home one day, your parents surrounding him with kisses and hugs. you rolled your eyes, turning around and going to your room. a few hours had past and you heard lively chatter fill the dining room downstairs. you were confused. did a family member come to visit? you strolled your way down, walking into the dining room to find your eyes meeting an unfamiliar pair of green eyes. you furrow your brows, confused. "honey, this is lando" your mother smiled at you. "hey," he smiled. "hi, im y/n" you nervously said.

why were you so nervous? you avoided his gaze every chance you got, you went to sit down next to your brother, who was talking to lando about some karting race they had together. until the conversation fell to a weird silence. lando spoke up "its y/n, right?" he questions. "yeah its y/n" you smile faintly at him. he continues to talk "have you seen the new (movie) yet?"

"oh no i haven't. how about you?" you queer. "me either, we should go together just, you and me." a blush crept onto your face. "i mean, um, sure."

"great, meet me outside your house at 6pm" he smiled

"dude, ew that's my sister, no way you like her." your brother disgustingly looked at him. lando rolled his eyes and continued to smile at you.

-time skip-

the clock reads 5:30pm, only half an hour until lando picks you up and you're stressing. what are you going to wear? you put some light makeup on (you can change anything about the outfit, makeup etc :)) as well as some light blue jeans and a dark blue shirt. by the time you're content with your outfit you hear a knock on your door, you rush down the stairs to find your brother at the front door.

"i'm not sure about this y/n, hes my best friend." your brother says. "oh my god shut up (brothers name), grow up." you roll your eyes and walk out the front door, closing it in his face. you're met face to face with lando. who is wearing black jeans and a white shirt.

"wow, you look really nice y/n" he smiles. you smile back, thanking him as well as complimenting his outfit.

when you arrive at the movie theatre, lando buys the tickets and snacks. you argued (playfully) over who would be paying. "lando, just let me buy the popcorn, you bought the tickets." you say "never." he argues back.

once you guys grab your popcorn and whatever else, you made your way to the theatre and sat down in your seats. "i'm really glad you agreed to join me, y/n" lando smiled. "me too" you return the smile, once the previews start, you and lando are laughing at how bad some of the upcoming movies are. "NO WAY IS SOMEONE GOING TO WATCH THAT" you cackle. lando laughed even harder at your comment, until the lights dimmed and the movie started.

about halfway through the movie, lando turned to you. your eyes were glued to the screen until you saw lando looking at you. "what?" you say. "nothing, nothing" he cheekily smiles at you. you turn your eyes back to the movie playing in front of you. until you feel lando grab your hand. you blush hard. thank god its dark in the theatre.

once the movie is over. you and lando continue to keep your fingers interlocked. until you go home.

when you arrive at your front door lando smiles at you. "thank you again for agreeing to come with me y/n. i really enjoyed it."

"thank you for inviting me, lando." you kiss his cheek. landos face turns a beet red. "see you soon." you say.

"y-yeah, see you soon." lando says, holding his cheek in the place you pecked it. you open the door and turn around to say one last goodbye.

the thing you didn't know is that you wouldn't be seeing him anytime soon after the movie date.

——————————————————————————————————

stay tuned for part 2!!

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simplygojo · 3 days

Text

Public Display of Humiliation

Author’s Note: Hey friends!!! I wrote this little blurb a while ago and figured I’d post it now since I am just working away on a few of y’all’s requests! TYSM to everyone who has requested something, I love all the ideas so much and I LOVE Y’ALL!!!

I hope you enjoy this short blurb, this is my first shorter piece of writing!:) Also, heads up for you beautiful people, I am doing something super special to give back to y’all when I reach 1k followers (we are 140 away!)!!!

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!reader

Inspiration/summary: Gojo gets a kick out of embarrassing you—he likes to watch how flustered you get trying to shut down his antics—he likes to watch the pink warmth rush to your cheeks as he makes you the centre of attention, at all times.

Word Count: 0.8k (blurb/hc)

Warnings: Second hand embarrassment hehe, not even edited once

Requests are open! Please read the Request Guidelines before submitting a request <33

Gojo absolutely lives to embarrass you in public. It’s like he makes it his personal mission to see how red your face can get before you explode from sheer humiliation.

Whether it’s dragging you through busy malls, crowded streets, or even your local café, nowhere is safe from his antics.

It usually starts off innocent enough—just the two of you grabbing coffee or shopping for the day. You’ll be holding his hand, trying to pretend like he isn’t up to something (which, of course, he always is), and that’s when it happens.

Out of nowhere, Gojo stops in the middle of the crowd, wraps your arm around his waist, pulling you closer as he trapped your hand.

“Excuse me!” He’d shout, catching the attention of every passerby.

“Can someone help me? This woman’s trying to kidnap me!” His voice echoes through the busy walkway, and you feel every single pair of eyes turning toward you.

People whisper, some are confused, others look concerned. Your heart drops, and you try to pull away, but his grip tightens as he grins down at you with those impossibly blue eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Gojo, stop it!” You hiss through clenched teeth, trying to maintain some dignity. But he just tilts his head, giving you the most innocent look he can muster.

“Why? Are you denying that you’re my kidnapper? Look at her, everyone!” he laughs, holding you even closer.

The worst part? People start smiling, realizing it’s all a joke, and suddenly you’re the center of attention while he’s just standing there, thriving off your embarrassment.

And when he’s not making you the subject of some dramatic performance in public, he’s pulling his other favorite move—telling strangers you’re related. Just as you’re about to pay at the cashier or make a casual purchase, he’ll lean in casually, completely straight-faced, and say,

“Yeah, she’s my favourite cousin.” The poor cashier or barista just looks between the two of you awkwardly, especially since you both *look nothing alike*. But before you can even open your mouth to correct him, he grabs your face, cupping your cheeks in his hands, and plants the most obnoxious, lingering kiss on your lips.

You go completely still, your face burning hot as you feel everyone around you pause in shock, wondering what kind of "relationship" you two really have. And when Gojo finally pulls away, he does it slowly, like he’s savoring every second of your mortification.

“What? I can’t kiss my *cousin*?” he’ll say, feigning innocence while the smirk tugging at his lips betrays him.

“Oh my god Satoru please shut up—That’s not true!” You’d shout, trying to hide the visible embarrassment you were in.

The people nearby exchange confused, amused glances while you stand there, frozen and speechless, torn between wanting to crawl into a hole and slap the smirk right off his face.

His favorite stunts are always the unexpected ones. You’ll be walking side by side, and out of nowhere, he’ll scoop you up, throwing you over his shoulder like some kind of damsel in distress.

“Help! Help! Someone call the cops, I’m being abducted by this woman!” He’d yell as you pound your fists against his back, furiously kicking your legs while people stare, laughing at the absurdity of it all.

He’d carry you around like that for a good minute or two, even stopping to chat with strangers while you’re still dangling over his shoulder, your face practically glowing with embarrassment.

And of course, no one ever takes him seriously.

They laugh along with him, completely entertained by his theatrics while you’re left to deal with the humiliation. Every time you beg him to stop, he just grins and says, “Aww, come on, y/n. You look so cute when you’re flustered.”

It’s infuriating, the way he can so effortlessly push your buttons and have you turning red in seconds, all while he’s cool, calm, and utterly shameless.

But as much as you hate to admit it, you know that deep down, he loves it. Seeing you flustered, watching you get all worked up, is his favorite kind of entertainment.

And no matter how embarrassed you get, no matter how many times you threaten to never go out with him again, he never stops.

Because, in Gojo’s mind, teasing you in public is just another way of showing how much he loves you—even if it does mean turning you into a blushing mess in front of half the city.

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bon2bonn · 3 days

Text

If These Wings Could Fly

M.V ¹

Max Verstappen x female!driver!reader

`°🦋 For The Rest Of Our Lives `°🦋

Words count : 2.3k .

" Some of Max and our favourite driver most fan favourite moments "

Warnings : not proof read, grammar.

Too Sweet :

Max sat on the long couch between Lando and lance , looking down the two sides with a deep frown then buffed his cheeks and huffed slowly while leaning back and looked up at the ceiling in boredom , lance looked at him then back at the host who was now aiming his question to Gasly on the end of the couch . Max leaned towards Lando and asked something to which the McLaren driver shrugged making Max huff again before turning to ask Lance next , receiving the same answer as before .

Not two minutes later he was staring blankly at the crowd then his eyes swept to the side , lightening up when he spot something or rather someone making their way over , his grin widened as our driver stepped into the frame, her own smile on display as she waved sheepishly before heading to the side as Max made space for her to sit , practically shoving Lando in the process who glared at him but made space anyway as Max's moody self logged off the moment she appeared .

He leaned and asked her something with a small pout , she nod then leaned to whisper something back while digging through her pockets , handing it to him with a gentle smile, he looked at what seemed like sweets and another smile made it's way home upon his face , taking them with a quiet ' thank you' and ate one with a smug face as Lando saw him chewing and asked for one , only to receive an apologetic smile from our driver and a taunting grin from Max. Lance was beyond amused by the display, looking at the two beside him then at the camera with raised eyebrows before turning back to the host when it was his turn to be asked.

Custody Battle Of ' Orion L/N_Verstappen ' :

Max ventured through the pit lane towards the Merc team garage, pausing just outside and waited for a few seconds in which Toto was having a stare down/glaring contest with him before our driver finally made her way out with an exited shout of " my baby! " as she ran towards Max with her arms wide open.

She took her 'baby' out of Max's arm gently and greeted " oh I missed you! So much ! " Making the said baby let out a happy ' meow! ' in return, nudging his head under her chin in greeting, before looking up at her with another ' meow! ' as she started to ask him " you had fun with your dad ? , hold on ! What is this ? , this is torturous ! " Her smile fell as She held him out and looked at the small sized Red Bull t-shirt he was wearing and glared up at Max who shrugged and pointed out " at least he's on the winning side" she gasped dramatically and turned her head to ask Orion with a heart broken voice " Ori? You let him dress you in this forsaken , ugly....." Max scoffed at her and called back" I'll let you know he chooses to wear it and was delighted to " she scowled and looked at Orion with a bout " you did ? " He hid his face against her shirt with a small purr and decided to feign ignorance, she looked back up at Max in accusation " you did this !! , you're turning my own son against me! " .

He gave her a unimpressed look and pointed out " he's my son too " , she shook her head in denial " not anymore, I'm suing you and taking him for good!" , that earned her an eye roll from him before he scratched Orion behind the ears and asked " Ori, you like your winners shirt? " Orion lifted his head and called out " meow! " Max nod smugly at her and left a kiss on his son's head , smiling as he received a nudge on his chin .

She growled and swung her foot to deliver a kick to his leg , which he dodged with a laugh and taunt " I'll win in court . ' Your honour, she threatened to take my son away from me, she hit me , Infront of him ,and so on and so forth....... ' That's an easy win , easier than a win against you losers " she gave a hiss and turned back to head inside , flipping her hair as she called back " you'll hear from my lawyer " he waved with a wide grin " you'll hear from mine too " then called out " bye bye Ori " to which Orion called back as he rested his head over her shoulder with a loud happy " meow! " Before resting back in his mother's arms , listening as she ranted on about getting him proper teams merch and his dad's awful taste in clothing.

For The Rest of Our Lives :

Soft music played aloud as the dance floor started to clear up a little, our driver was resting her feet up on the chair besides hers after discarding her heels , which was Max's who was on his way back from getting himself a drink , leaving her with his suit jacket a sleeping Marc who refused to let go after a few dances in , seeing as the wedding stretched beyond his bedtime he was as grumpy as his aunt when she ran on a few hours of sleep every race day, and decided that he needs a nap to chase the cranky feeling away .

When he returned Marc was passed to his parents who were heading back after deciding to call it a night, bidding the two a quick goodbye with a promise of a lunch treat for looking after little Marc for them . He picked her feet and sat in their place before letting them rest on his lab instead, tickling her bare soles lightly Which earned him a shove in the side and a stifled laugh from her , he glared at her with a side eye and held away the drink he got her " this is the kind of treatment that I get ? , that's it . No more drinks for you " she rolled her eyes and leaned back on her chair and glared back " what treatment?! You're basically abusing my poor feet ! " he scoffed and pinched her behind the knee , but she didn't let him go unpunished, she tugged his ear making him wince in annoyance before tugging a curl of her hair in revenge.

A familiar tone played as she was about to whack him upside the head making her almost screamed her lung out of excitement, Max on the other hand groaned in feigned annoyance, glaring halfheartedly as he pointed at her " don't even think about it" she batted her eyes at him and nodded her head from side to side along with the beat before standing , her hands found his before he could protest and dragged him out to the dance floor , swaying gently as she started to sing along with the first verse making him roll his eyes before talking one of her hands to his shoulder while the other stayed in his, his now free hand went to her back .

She sang her heart out with the chorus " If These Wings Could Fly " her smile widened as he smiled back softly and tucked a curl behind her ear as he sang along " for the rest of our lives " then twirled her twice before bringing her back to him . Her hands wrapped around his shoulders and her head leaned back to smile up at him .

Heart Shaped Sunglasses :

She sat comfortably on one of the blush chairs of the F1 media station as she was getting her duties done for the day, the final round was a rapid questions segment , when someone decided to pop in and sit on the chair beside our driver with a smile.

" Hello " he greeted then his eyes lit up with a smile when they fell on the familiar pink heart shaped sunglasses on top of her head , the host greeted with a nod as our driver introduced " Hi! , and here we have Red Bull driver , the one and only Max Verstappen, how are you today Max? " He took the offered mic as the two took over the interview. " I'm good, thank you " she hummed and asked teasingly " ready for me to kick your ass and take the win this weekend, again ? " , he smirked at the declaration " you wish , all you'll see this weekend is my rear wings throwing dust on your fossil engine " she smirked in turn , flipping her hair over her shoulder as she leaned on the arm of the chair between them " let me remind you , with that fossil engine you ate my dust several times more than I could count " , he clicked his tongue as he used his pinter to shove her head " because you're a pain in my ass " she poked him on the side with a sweet smile " you love me " rolling his eyes he took the sunglasses gently out of her hair , tucking back the flyaways and smoothed the ones that fell around her face behind her ears whispering quietly " yeah , I do " before putting the glasses on with a wide smile after taking his cap off . The host looked at the camera with wide eyes mouthing ' are we interrupting? ' then Looked back at the two who were arguing back and forth on who wore them better .

They eventually settled on Fernando who was walking by and was robbed into modelling them before he approved and walked away with the sunglasses .

Never Too Far Away From You :

Max could be seen on sitting on one of the equipments boxes by the corner , he was sitting with his front to the camera, one of his arms wrapped around his middle, he leaned his head back a bit and said something, nodding after a moment then said something again before reaching his free hand to search through his pocket, taking out a pack of candy then handing them behind his back.

A smaller hand took the offered pack and disappeared back, emerging seconds later to offer him some to which he took with a smile as he swayed gently from side to side. A head peaked from behind his back then disappeared down as he loosened his arm around his middle to reveal a smaller arm wrapped around him from the back , he then turned a bit to the side to get a better look at the person behind him which was our driver who said something to him with a frown , he shook his head and replied with determination , making her shake her head in return and looked away in sadness .

He then turned fully to meet her eyes and spoke with a gentle hand taking hers , his other hand started to count things to which her smile grew more and more until she let out a laugh before leaning her head on his shoulder to hide the wide grin on her face , while he wrapped his arm around her and leaned his head against hers while mumbling something, making her wrap her arms around him in a tight hug .

An Angel :

Max was wrapping up another segment for the media team but was asked another question that brought a smile to his face as he answered " Y/N ? " He received a nod as he thought about it then answered " an Angel . Sometimes a demon reincarnated as a garden troll but , she's kind , gentle , understanding, supportive,........... And you'll find it hard to believe if you don't really know her , because she gets misunderstood quiet a lot, misjudged just because she don't want to the fitted into something she's not. She'll tell you things as she sees them, as they are without sugarcoating them and that might piss people off most of the time because they think of it as rude, but that's just her being honest " behind the glass window our driver was walking between Lando and Charles, her face was deadpanned as the two kept arguing back and forth for the past half hour, and she had enough , she asked Lando who rolled his eyes and said something making Charles laugh loudly and her to glare threateningly at them , she pointed a warning finger between them both but when they kept laughing she smiled sweetly and set her phone on a nearby table along with her glasses and water bottle, and it wasn't a second later that the two drivers were running for their lives, screaming with our furious driver following closely behind , she smacked Lando hard on the back before he dodged the second hit and ran away , she gained speed and a second later she had Charles with his arm locked in a tight grip behind his back , bending backwards as she dragged him down. Lando took the chance and booked it for his garage completely ignoring the scream of Charles who called after him in betrayal " little fuc#ker!! " Then he himself proceeded to plead for his life . The host looked between Max and the scene behind him with squinting eyes as he affirmed with a smile " yeah , an Angel " .

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x driver!reader #wys #weathering your storm #f1 x female driver #f1 x driver!reader #driver!reader #female!driver!reader #female!driver #f1 x reader

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austinbutlerslovers · 1 day

Text

After Hours

Label Mature 18+

One Shot

Summary Things get heated when you lay eyes on your handsome bartender for the night, fueling your need to have him tend you in more ways than one.

❤️‍🔥Passionate Smut❤️‍🔥 drunken banter •teasing• edging• BJ in a Bar• sex on a bar• protection• orgasm

🏆 Inspired by @austinbutlerfly @feralgodmothers @umika @aust-een 🔥

After Hours

The bar is dim, the kind of low light that makes everyone look better, but Hank doesn’t need any help with that. He stands behind the counter, muscles flexing beneath the fabric of his black tee as he pours shots with practiced ease.

His longer blonde hair peeks out from under his black cap, curling slightly at the ends in a way that suits him naturally.

His eyes, a steely blue, meet yours every so often with a quick flash of something that isn’t just professional courtesy. It’s something intentional, charged in a way that makes the air between you buzz.

Each time he hands over a drink, his strong forearms flex, veins running down his skin, making him look like the kind of man who works with his hands—hands you can’t stop imagining.

He leans in teasingly as he slides another shot your way. “Careful now,” he murmurs, his voice low, “don’t want to get too ahead of yourself, sweetheart.”

It’s not the first time he’s flirted like this, you can tell. The playful smirk, the way his eyes linger a second too long before flitting back to another customer—it’s all second nature to him.

But it works. Damn, does it work. You can feel your body reacting, heating under his gaze, your skin prickling with anticipation every time he gets near.

He leans in close, his forearm brushing yours as he places another drink on the bar, “You really ought to slow down, or I might have to carry you out of here myself,” he says, that same cocky grin on his face, eyes smoldering with barely restrained intent.

You’re tipsy now, maybe more than tipsy, but it only makes the game more fun. His flirting gets heavier, words slipping between drinks with a confidence born from knowing exactly how to read people, how to push the right buttons.

“You gonna make it a habit of coming here just to get my attention?” he quips, flashing a sly grin before turning to serve another patron, but not before his eyes find you again, like he can’t help himself.

By the time he places your last drink on the bar, his hand lingers on the glass just long enough for your fingers to brush against his again.

Flushed and drunk on more than just the liquor, you giggle and grab your phone, tapping the screen for his number. He grins typing it in like it’s the most natural thing in the world before he returns to work, his gaze lingering on you as he moves around the bar.

As the night winds down, you stumble out of the bar and into a waiting taxi, the city lights blurring into streaks as the driver takes you home. Your head spins, and it isn’t just the alcohol.

Hank—his hands, his smirk, the way he looked at you—is all you can think about. You fumble with your keys as you finally make it inside, but something tugs at your mind, like a puzzle piece missing from the night.

Your ID. Where the hell is it?

You search your bag until you swear under your breath, a laugh slipping from your lips as you realize—either you left it at the bar, or maybe, just maybe, Hank kept it.

Without even thinking, you dial his number. It rings, once, twice, before Hank picks up, his voice smooth through the phone.

“Did you miss me already?” he teases, his tone making you grin feeling a rush of heat though your body.

“I think you have my ID,” you reply, the heavy alcohol in your system making your tone playful.

“Oh, I have it,” Hank says, dragging the sentence out like he’s savoring each word. “You’re gonna have to come get it though.”

Something about the way he says it, that low rasp in his voice, makes heat pool in your stomach. You bite your lip, barely hesitating before grabbing your things and heading out again.

The ride back to the bar feels like a blur, the city lights swirling in front of your eyes as you try to keep your excitement—and your balance—in check.

When you arrive back, the bar is dark and looks completely empty. All the shutters are drawn closed, but the windows glow faintly, illuminated by the remnants of the advertisement lights inside and as you pull the handle you realize the doors are completely unlocked.

When you push inside, the familiar smell of whiskey and polished wood hits you as you stumble forward, and your heart races feeling the thrill of the moment mixing with the alcohol swirling in your system.

Hank is already there, waiting for you behind the bar his tall frame leaned casually over the counter, a cocky smirk tugging at his lips. Between his fingers, he twirls your ID like a prize, holding it for you to see before gesturing you to come closer.

“You came all the way back for this tonight?” he asks, his voice teasing, his eyes glinting under the dim light.

You’re lighthearted, drunk, and giddy, the heat between you two undeniable now as you step closer, your body buzzing with anticipation.

“Maybe I did,” you reply with a flirty grin.

He lifts his chin, motioning for you to come.

“If you want it,” he says stepping back his voice smooth and laced with mischief, “Come get it.”

You feel your heart race, the playful tension thickening in the air as you step around the bar his eyes tracking your every movement.

There’s an unspoken dare in his gaze in the way he watches you approach, like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

You’re unable to resist the pull, and when you finally reach him, your fingers stretch out to grab the card.

But just as your fingers brush it, Hank pulls it back just out of reach with his height, his grin widening.

“Not so fast,” he says, his voice dropping lower, a teasing edge in his tone.

You can’t help but notice the way his strength shows with even the smallest movement, making your pulse quicken just a little more.

You grin, nervous and excited, as you reach again, but he quickly tucks your ID behind his back, forcing you to lean in.

“You must really want it” he teases, his voice like velvet, watching you struggle as you reach around him and before you can even realize what’s happening, his free hand snakes around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

His body is firm and unyielding, the heat between you undeniable as he holds you there, your heart racing faster with each second you stay pressed against him looking into his eyes.

In a swift, smooth motion, he turns you, pinning you against the bar. His body presses hard into yours, trapping you against the wood. The heat of him is overwhelming, as he keeps you in place. You can feel every inch of him, and your pulse quickens, your breath catching in your throat.

His movements are slow, deliberate, as he leans in, his lips grazing the curve of your ear.“

“You’ve been driving me crazy all night,” he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. “The way you kept looking at me, like you knew exactly what you’re doing.” His voice is low, rough, and dripping with promise

His words send a rush of desire through you, your body reacting to his closeness the heat for him pooling in your core.

His biceps tense as he grips the counter on either side of you at the bar keeping you firmly in place and his body pushes against you, his lips lowering close to your neck.

You look to him, catching his gaze, and the intensity in his eyes nearly takes your breath away. He’s in complete control, like he’s toying with you, enjoying every second.

But you don’t care. You want him—need him—with a hunger that’s insatiable.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” you admit, your voice breathy as you press back into him, craving more contact.

“Yeah?” He says as his lips brush your ear again. His hand trails up your side, his fingers just barely grazing the skin beneath your shirt. “How badly?”

Before you can answer, he leans in with his face mere inches from yours and you can feel his breath warm against your lips.

You close the distance in an instant, your lips crashing against his, and it’s like a dam breaking.

He leans in to the kiss, deepening it immediately, his hand sliding up to grasp the back of your neck, pulling you closer as he takes control.

His kiss is intense, full of heat and hunger, and as he presses you harder against him, the energy between you is undeniable.

Your body responds instinctively, hands grasping at his shirt, pulling him closer, needing more.

His body dominates yours, pushing into you with force as his hands roam and explore, guiding you exactly where he wants you. His lips trail down to your neck, kissing, biting lightly, making you gasp with every touch.

“You want more, don’t you?” he murmurs against your skin, his voice thick with desire. His hand slides down your side, his touch making you shiver. “Tell me.”

“Yes,” you breathe, your voice barely a whisper as you tilt your head, giving him more access. “Please.”

He grins softly, his lips brushing just below your ear again, sending another wave of heat through your body. “I thought so,” he whispers, his tone playful but commanding, teasing you, pulling you deeper into him. “But I like making you wait for it.” he whispers.

You’re eager, desperate even, hearing those words and his hands tighten on your waist, his hips pressing into you in a way that makes it clear just how much he wants you.

Every second with him so close feels like an eternity, but you can’t get enough, your whole body is aching for more of him.

“Good things come to those who wait,” he whispers, his lips grazing your jaw before he meets your eyes again, the heat in his gaze unmistakable. And when you kiss him again, it’s even more intense, every part of you craving to lose yourself with him so badly.

Your hand slides down, fingers grazing over the hardness beneath his jeans, and you can feel the size of him under your touch. Your breath hitches slightly, and you whimper into his mouth grasping the length cock, wanting to feel it all.

His voice is deep as he grabs your wrist gently but firmly, guiding your hand. “Easy sweetheart,” he says, the words sending a rush through you and with deliberate slowness, he steps back, his eyes never leaving yours.

His hand brushes over your cheek before trailing down your neck.

“On your knees for me,” he says, his voice so commanding, that before you know it, you’re sinking to the floor, looking up at him with wide eyes, eager, desperate for what’s to come.

He takes his time, running his thumb along your lower lip, teasing you as he begins to unbuckle his belt. “So eager,” he whispers, a smirk tugging at his lips.

He watches your hungry gaze as his fingers work the buckle, the click of metal filling the silence around you. His movements are slow, deliberate, as if he’s savoring every second, drawing out the moment just to see you squirm with need.

“You’ve been dying for this, haven’t you?” he asks, his voice low, his tone playful yet filled with dominance.

His jeans loosen as he pulls the zipper down, and you can see the bulge in his boxers even more pronounced now, your body heating up in anticipation.

“I could see it in your eyes all night. You couldn’t stop thinking about it, could you?” He asks making your heart race even faster.

You nod, your breath catching, eager and almost trembling as he stands before you, watching your every reaction. He slides his hand through your hair, gripping it lightly at the base of your neck, guiding you closer.

“I like how eager you are,” he says, his voice laced with approval, “but you’re going to take your time you understand?”

You look up at him, your eyes wide with desire, and nod again, your lips parting as you wait for him, ready to give him everything he wants.

His hand holds you in place as he lowers the front of his jeans and boxers pulling his large cock free.

He’s thick and much bigger than you expected, the weight of him heavy in his hand as he strokes himself slowly.

His gaze never leaves yours as he releases your neck, reaching into the pocket of his jeans. He pulls a magnum condom tearing the wrapper with a flick of his fingers and with a practiced ease he glides the condom down his thick cock.

His size is impressive, and the way he wraps his hand firmly around the base holding it steady makes the moment even more intense.

His eyes darken with desire as his thumb brushes over your lips savoring the softness.

“You ready?” he asks, his voice low and teasing, but the lust in his eyes tells you he already knows what you want and you nod eagerly.

“Open wide for me,” he says, his voice low, dripping with intent as his hand returns to the back of your neck. “Take it slow. I want to feel every inch of that mouth.”

You lean in as he guides you closer, your lips parting around the head of his cock, feeling its smooth warmth as it presses along your tongue. He’s thick and firm, the weight heavy in your eager mouth.

He groans softly, the sound deep and full of satisfaction, his hand remaining steady on the back of your neck, guiding your pace, controlling how much you take in.

“Good girl,” he whispers, his voice laced with pleasure. “You’re doing so well.”

You move with purpose, taking him deeper, your hands gripping his thighs for balance. Every time his cock fills your mouth, he tightens his grip just enough to keep control. His breath hitches, his hips rolling forward slightly as he watches you work.

“Don’t rush,” he snaps, his voice rougher now. He pulls back slightly, making you pause, savoring the way he slides out your mouth and just when you’re aching for more, he thrusts his cock deeper again, filling your mouth with a delicious intensity.

You love it—the way he commands you, the weight of him on your tongue, the pulse of his need. Every time he pushes in deeper, you’re more eager to please him, your body trembling with excitement.

You can feel the tension building in him as you suck him harder, taking him deeper into your mouth, your saliva coating his cock, making it warm and slick.

“Just like that,” he groans, his hand tightening in your hair, his eyes locked on yours. “You’re so good at this. You know exactly what I like, don’t you?”

His praise sends a thrill through you, driving you to take him deeper, to give him everything he wants.

You quicken your pace, encouraged by his words and his hand stays on you, guiding you, pushing you as he groans through gritted teeth, the need for release becoming undeniable.

His hips start moving in rhythm with your mouth as his breaths grows more ragged, and you can tell he’s starting to lose control.

“Fuck… you’re so good,” he pants, his voice thick with need as his control slips further. “Just keep going. …Keep going just like that…” he pants.

You keep at it, your mouth gliding along his cock with precision, pushing him closer to the edge with every second.

His cock twitches in your mouth, and you relax your throat moaning in anticipation wanting more, wanting him to come.

You can hear his breath quicken and feel the tension building in his body. Just as you think he’s about to let go, he suddenly pulls out, releasing his cock from your mouth with a wet pop, a string of saliva connecting you to your lips.

He grips your hair tighter, keeping you in place as he watches you, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “So close,” he breathes, his voice laced with both control and amusement.

You can see the desire in his eyes, an enjoyment in making you wait, in holding back just a little longer. He brushes his thumb across your swollen lips clearing the saliva as he savors the sight of you beneath him.

There’s a look of satisfaction in his eyes, dark and intense, as he reaches down to help you to your feet. His touch is steady, as he guides you. He keeps a hand on your waist, pulling you close, his breath warm against your ear as he leans in.

“You’ll get what you want,” he says with a grin, his voice low and filled with intent.

His grip tightens on your waist as he smoothly turns you around, pulling your back against his chest. His lips brush just below your ear, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down your spine.

“Now bend over for me,” he says, his tone laced with authority, the command making your pulse quicken.

There’s no hesitation in your response as you lean forward, your hands bracing against the smooth wood of the bar your chest presses into the cool surface.

His hands slide down your hips, possessive and firm, pulling you back against him just enough to make you want more.

Your pulse quickens, the need for him growing uncontrollably as your hands instinctively reach back, lifting your skirt, offering yourself to him without a word.

“Look at you,” he grins, his voice low and filled with amusement. “You’ve been wanting this ever since you walked into the bar haven’t you?”

His words hit you like a wave, stoking the fire already burning inside, and you can feel your heart pounding in your chest as your face flushes with heat.

Every glance, every touch, every word has been building to this inevitable moment, something you’ve craved since the first instant his eyes met yours.

You nod, feeling every part of you ache for him, your body responding to his touch as his hand trails down to your lower back holding you firmly in place as he presses you against the bar.

“I know how badly you want this,” He says as you feel him brush his cock against your inner thighs, the weight of it heavy with every movement.

The teasing contact, as it slips against your soft skin, has you trembling, your breath hitching with every near touch, the anticipation driving you mad with need, knowing that at any moment he will finally give you what you crave.

"And you've been so patient for me," he praises, his voice laced with satisfaction as he steps back his hand sliding lower, pulling your panties down, leaving you completely exposed and desperate for him.

His fingers brush over your skin, soft and deliberate, sending a shock of pleasure through your core as his hand trails down, finally reaching the heat between your thighs.

You softly moan as his fingers graze lightly against you and a low groan of appreciation escapes his lips, feeling how wet you are for him.

“You’re absolutely soaked,” he says, his laden with satisfaction, the teasing edge in his words making you exhale as you shiver.

“I’ll give you what you need,” he promises, and his words are like fuel to the fire inside you, igniting every inch of your body. His hands return to your waist, gripping firmly as he pulls you against him. Your breath hitching as you feel the firm heat of his cock pressing your entrance and with a firm deliberate thrust he finally gives you exactly what you’ve been aching for.

His cock stretches you inch by inch until its deep inside, his hips pressing firmly against yours, filling you completely. The weight of his size makes moans spill from your lips as you grip the bar in front of you.

He sets a hard, commanding pace, each thrust making your body tremble as his hips snap against you. “You like this, don’t you?” he rasps, his voice dark with satisfaction as the intensity of his cock renders you speechless.

Your body is overwhelmed as soft whimpers and moans escape your lips, the pleasure washing over you in waves as each of his hard thrusts pushes you over your limit.

“I can tell by those little sounds you’re making,” he praises, his voice rough as he keeps driving into you, each thrust deliberate and forceful. His grip on your hips tightening as he presses harder, guiding your body in sync with his, making you moan and whimper louder with every thrust.

“That’s it,” he praises. “Let me hear you. I want to hear every little sound you make.” His words send another rush of pleasure through you, and his hips begin clapping against yours, jolting you forward with the force of his thrusts.

The world around you blurs as your heart pounds in your chest, your breath coming in shallow gasps. The tightness inside you builds, almost unbearable, the pleasure climbing higher with every firm stroke.

“Taking this cock so well,” he praises, his voice filled with raw admiration, as he continues to push deeper and drive into you harder.

You can’t help the moans and gasps that slip out, with your body completely at his mercy and his hand slides up to your hair, gathering it into a ponytail, tugging it tight.

The pull on your scalp makes you gasp, forcing your head up, and you find yourself staring at the bar mirror across the room in front of you, watching the way your body moves against him.

The sight is almost too much, the tension building in your core as he takes control, every thrust pushing you closer to the edge.

“Watch,” he says, his voice rough and commanding. “I want you to see how perfect you are when I’m inside you.”

You can only moan in response, your body clenching around him as he picks up the pace his hips snapping against yours with raw, desperate intensity.

The world around you begins to blur again as your heart pounds in your chest. You core throbs with anticipation as your breath comes in shallow gasps. Your pulse begins thundering in your ears, as the tightness inside you builds to an almost unbearable peak.

His hand releases his grip firm your hair and slides up to your chin, tilting your face toward the mirror in front of you. “Look at yourself,” he whispers roughly in your ear. “Look how good you’re taking me.”

Your gaze locks with his through the mirror, the reflection capturing the raw intensity of the moment as moans spill from your lips. Your breasts bounce with each of his powerful thrusts, your hips meeting his in a rhythm as his body collides against yours, sending shockwaves through your core.

His eyes are locked on yours, dark with lust, watching your every reaction. His cock filling you deeper,thrusting harder as your moans grow higher in pitch

He groans through gritted teeth, his voice strained as he drives into you. “You feel so good,” he pants, his voice thick with desire. “I’m gonna come… you want that, don’t you?” he asks, his breaths ragged, filled with urgency

Your eyes flick to the mirror again, seeing the way your bodies move together and the way he dominates you from behind makes your orgasm build even faster, pushing you closer to the edge with every thrust and you nod to him as you moan.

“Keep taking me…-just like this until I come” He rasps as his thrusts become rougher, the sound of his skin slapping against yours filling the room as he chases his release.

You watch your reflection as you moan desperately, your body arching back into him.

His thrusts are relentless, each one sending shockwaves through you, the impact driving you to the edge. Your muscles spasm uncontrollably as the tension in your core snaps, your orgasm hitting you with a force that makes your vision blur. Your walls clench down hard on his cock, gripping him tightly as wave after wave of pleasure ripples through your body, leaving you gasping

He groans and his eyes lock onto yours in the mirror “I’m gonna come,” he pants, his voice rough with pleasure as he buries himself deep into your walls. His cock is throbbing as he spills himself completely inside of you the heat of his release makes you clench around him again as you moan in pleasure.

His grip tightens on you as he rides out the waves of pleasure, his breaths ragged as his hips move slowly, savoring every second until he’s finally, spent and satisfied.

You’re both left breathless and trembling as he slowly pulls out of you. The sudden loss of his fullness makes you shiver, and he steps back slightly, his chest rising and falling as he catches his breath.

“You’re unbelievable,” he says with a satisfied grin, watching as you pull your panties back up and smooth your skirt down.

You hear the soft snap of him removing his condom, and when you turn, he’s buckling his jeans, that same cocky grin still playing on his lips as his gaze meets yours, filled with satisfaction and pride, as if he knows exactly the effect he’s had on you.

He casually reaches for something on the bar and holds it out to you and you look down smiling to see your ID, between his fingers

He twirls the card, then holds it steady just as you take it from his hand with a smile.

“Thanks,” you say, turning to leave, but before you can even take a step, he grabs your wrist, pulling you back toward him. His grip is firm but teasing, his voice low as he says, “You think you’re walking out of here that easily?”

You raise an eyebrow, the heat between you undeniable. “What, you’re not done with me yet?” you tease trying to play it cool even though you both know there’s a secret bond that’s formed between you.

He smirks, his fingers still wrapped around your wrist. “Not even close,” he murmurs, his eyes locked on yours. “In fact” he says pulling you in closer “ We need to do this again tomorrow,” he says with a satisfied grin.

You pause, pretending to think it over. “Tomorrow?” you say, tapping your chin playfully

He leans in just enough for his lips to brush near your ear, his voice a low, tempting whisper. “Trust me,” he murmurs, his lips grazing your skin, “by tomorrow, you won’t be able to think about anything else.”

You meet his eyes, and the heat between you is undeniable. Slowly, he leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss that reignites the fire inside you, leaving you wanting him all over again. Just as you give in, he pulls back, his control clear in every move.

He watches you for a moment longer, his eyes lingering on your lips before a smirk spreads across his face. “Tomorrow then,” he confirms, his voice low and full of promise, and you readily nod, excitement coursing through you.

You step back, breaking the contact, but his fingers linger on your wrist for just a second longer, enough to leave you aching for more before he lets you go.

As you head toward the door, you glance over your shoulder, catching his gaze one last time. He leans casually against the bar, his eyes locked on you, the same confident smirk playing on his lips. “Don’t keep me waiting when I call,” he says his tone playful but firm.

You flash him a smile as you push the handle,“I won’t ,” you reply as he takes one final look at you, then you push the door as you step outside.

The night air hits your skin, but it does nothing to cool the excitement building inside as you breathe in deeply, trying to steady your pulse, but it’s no use—your mind is consumed by Hank.

The way he looks at you, the way he satisfies you, the teasing promise in his voice—it’s all you can think about.

A small, knowing smile tugs at your lips as you hail a cab, your thoughts entirely wrapped up in him. There’s no question in your mind—you’ll be back, and tomorrow can’t come soon enough.

🧢 End

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myzticbean · 2 days

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Cat!Dad Series: You're My "Maine" Squeeze

Pairing: Qin Che | Sylus / MC (fem! reader) Tags: Super fluff, established relationship, cute cats, domestic bliss Can also read at A03

Previous posts in the Cat!Dad series:

Zayne: Quit kitten around - let's celebrate

Title: You’re My “Maine” Squeeze

Wrapping my arms around Sylus, I rest my hands against the motorcycle’s tank as it rockets down the dark street. I slip a hand under his leather jacket as we both lean into the tight corner, disappearing into the condo’s underground private entrance. The motorcycles that had been following us blew past, unaware we had already made our getaway.

I laugh, a little giddy from the rush of adrenaline at the chase and successful escape (ahem, joyride), hugging his broad back and resting my helmet between his shoulder blades as he slows and parks the bike.

“I told you it would be fun,” Sylus says calmly after he pulls off his helmet. I tug mine off as well, my bun squished to my head and tangled flyaway hairs sticking to my face, but I know I’m still grinning from ear to ear.

“Another successful mission with my criminal mastermind partner,” I chuckle, shaking my hair out of the hair tie before throwing it back up into a ponytail. I swing my leg over and hop off the bike, and he stands as well, wrapping me in his arms in a quick hug.

We wear matching black leather jackets, my curb stomping boots laced up over black jeans, and a custom thigh holster holding my (not-quite-legal) gun. I lean into his embrace, lifting my face to smile smugly at him.

“Admit it, I definitely helped you a lot this time.”

“You literally started a fight and got us thrown out -- of my own club,” he answers sardonically, tightening his grip around my shoulders and waist. But he can’t hide the lip twitch of amusement and the softness in his gaze as he stares down at me.

“You needed to hire better help anyways,” I say airily, stepping out of his embrace and flicking a strand of my ponytail back over my shoulder saucily. “That they didn’t even recognize their boss…tut.”

“You do realize most people shouldn’t recognize me, otherwise it defeats the purpose of being the mysterious leader of an underground organization,” he responds dryly, locking the steering on his bike and grabbing the straps of our helmets in one hand.

“That they didn’t even recognize your dark, dangerous, and sensual aura and let you do whatever you wanted is just a crime against nature,” I answer cheekily. I open my mouth to continue my teasing despite his grimace, when the hissing and howling of cats interrupts me.

As we neared the elevators, I saw a couple of cats brawling, two smaller dark colored tomcats wrestling a dirty, fluffy, absolute monster of a cat. Even while clearly outnumbered, it was holding its own and about to turn the tide of the fight when another cat appeared, intent on jumping into the fray.

“Oh no,” I say, taking an unconscious step forward. I wasn’t sure how to intervene without getting scratched to holy hell when an empty can was suddenly thrown from behind, clattering as it pelted one of the dark cats on top.

It screamed, not that it was actually hurt, but more in surprise as it backed off of the giant cat on the bottom. Without waiting, the big cat sprang to its feet, roaring like a tiny lion and racing forward aggressively.

The tomcat didn’t bother waiting around to see if it could take the big cat on - it scrambled to its feet and raced away, the other cats following close behind. The bigger cat stopped, sitting on the ground in exhaustion, bloody scratch marks on its face, back and ears.

“You poor thing,” I murmur, squatting down to try to get a closer look. It would probably be pretty skittish, especially if it has been a feral, unneutered male used to roaming the streets of the N109 zone and surviving.

It turns to look at me at the sound of my voice, its tail flicking back and forth as it surveys me from where it sits on the cold concrete. “I wonder if he’ll let us take care of his wounds,” I say to Sylus who stands behind me, his hand propped casually on one hip as he looks between me and the cat.

“It’s a tom, probably not,” he answers.

“I tamed you,” I say a little tongue-and-cheek as I glance at him slyly over my shoulder.

“Hmm,” he hums thoughtfully. “I might argue it was the other way around, kitten.”

“Here kitty, kitty,” I whisper, flicking my fingers at him. I moved to kneel down on one knee, not moving closer, but holding my hand out in case he wants to come over for a sniff.

The cat didn’t deign to move closer, but also doesn’t seem afraid or inclined to scamper away from us. He just peers at me with intent yellow eyes, his fluffy tail flipping back and forth as if to lure me in with the promise of touching it.

I can’t help myself -- I shuffle forward a little bit, my hand still outreached, wanting to see if he’ll let me get close enough to at least take a better look at his scrapes. He’s certainly not afraid - his watchful eyes are flickering all around.

“Look at this handsome boy,” I croon, voice pitched a little lower, trying to entice him to take a step towards me. I wish I had some food for him.

Sylus just sighs behind me.

“Ignore him, kitty,” I suggest, trying to stifle a giggle when I see the cat’s yellow eyes briefly dart behind me before locking back onto mine. “You are definitely the biggest, most handsome cat on the block. If you come juuuust a little closer, I want to make sure you haven’t been hurt.”

The cat yawns, his sharp teeth on full display before he licks his nose and gives me a blink.

“That’s right, big guy. You know I won’t hurt you.”

Sylus suddenly chuckles behind me. “Let’s do this a little faster, shall we?” Without pausing, he activates his Evol, wrapping the cat in red and black swirls of color and lifting it into the air. It yowls in immediate displeasure, thrashing and kicking.

“Oh, don’t-” I try to say, before Sylus deposits it in my arms, though still wrapped up and held immobile by his power.

It freezes, looking up into my face, while I peer down at him. “It’s okay, kitty, I won’t hurt you,” I say soothingly. I resist the urge to pet it - it’s trapped and can’t escape, and my touch could do more harm than good. Instead I hold him close against me, cradling him gently in my arms as Sylus guides me towards our private elevator.

We ascend to the penthouse as I’m trying to look over his wounds - with his thick hair, it doesn’t seem like he sustained too much damage, but I wouldn’t be sure until I could investigate more thoroughly. He is, however, extremely dirty and covered in fleas, which I can see crawling through the dirty fuzz.

“He needs a bath,” I say, looking him over. “Do you think we should take him to a vet instead?”

Sylus scoffs quietly behind me as we enter our private floor. “I’ll make a call.”

“My rich boyfriend is so strong and powerful,” I laugh, walking further into the condo and heading towards the bathroom.

“Do we have any of that blue dish soap?” I call out as I settle the cat down in the shower. I need to grab a towel, and with Sylus’ Evol still activated, he won’t be able to move too much. I kick off my shoes and socks and grab a few fluffy dark towels from underneath the sink, whispering to the cat as I reach for one of the handheld shower heads. Since the shower is big enough for 10 people, the cat is safely outside of the spray as I test out the water and let it warm up.

“What a good boy you are,” I croon, kneeling down by the cat once the temperature has been adjusted, gently allowing the warm water to soak into his fur. The cat gives a grimace and gnashes his teeth, but otherwise doesn’t fight it.

“Yes, you’re so smart, what a sweet kitty you are. You were definitely going to win. It was three-on-one, and look how strong and brave you were…” I ramble on and on as I soak him from the neck down, gently carding my fingers through his fur to try to get him completely wetted.

Sylus walks in with a bottle of the dish soap, rolling his eyes a little at my running commentary. “I’m worried about you, sweetie,” he says lightly, squatting by the shower entrance and setting down the soap bottle.

“Hush,” I say, fighting back a smile as I throw a mock-glare over my shoulder. “Squeeze me,” I say, holding out one palm.

“I wish,” he mutters before he obliges, squirting a heaping handful of soap.

I soap my palms together and get to work, thoroughly (but gently) cleaning up the poor, battered cat. His cuts and scrapes aren’t bad, but I’m careful to avoid getting too much soap in those areas to avoid any stinging. I keep speaking to the cat, voice low and calm, and he doesn’t otherwise flinch at being doused in water and soap.

“I wonder if he was someone’s pet?” I question thoughtfully. “He’s too well behaved for a feral cat.”

Sylus just hums but doesn’t say anything, his Evol still containing the cat though it’s obvious the animal isn’t fighting it. I make sure to wash off as much of the dirt and fleas as I can, rinsing and repeating one more time, and the amount of dirt pooling beneath the two of us turned the pale gray tile completely black.

But as the cat emerges, clean and victorious, I’m astounded to see a pure white beauty in its majestic display. “He’s so handsome,” I gasp, gently drying him off with a soft towel.

“I know, you’ve already mentioned it many times,” Sylus says dryly, but the humor glinting in his ruby-colored eyes is obvious. “I always knew you’d be a cat person.”

“You call me kitten often enough, I thought it was obvious,” I say, smiling playfully.

It’s quiet again for a moment as I finish drying the cat off, before noting, “I don’t think he’s seriously hurt, but he had fleas and could use a check up.”

As if waiting for my remark, the doorbell chimes, announcing a visitor. I look over at Sylus, who has climbed to his feet and casually strolls out of the bathroom.

I reach out, cradling the cat in a new clean towel and exit the bathroom and into the living room where a man with a black kit is waiting for us. Without much expression and with almost no conversation, he takes the cat from my arms and begins his check up, and the cat -- who is still held by the black strands -- immediately begins to meow and scream non-stop.

“Oh, poor baby,” I whisper, clenching my hands but unable to help. I look on in concern, trying not to react as the impersonal vet quickly doctors the cat’s wounds and gives him a few shots.

“He’ll be fine in a few days. I’ve given him his vaccinations, and a pill that will help kill off the remaining fleas.”

“What kind of cat is he?” I ask, the cat looking even larger as the fur dries.

“I’d guess Maine Coon based on his size and features,” the vet says. “You can do a DNA test if you want to know for sure.”

“Will he get bigger or is he fully grown?”

The man lifted the cat’s lips, checking his teeth. “He’s a young cat, maybe still under a year old, so I would guess he’s still growing. Maine Coons can keep growing until they are around two years old.”

He gives me a few instructions on how to continue caring for the animal, and without much fanfare, leaves.

“Let’s let him free now,” I murmur to Sylus after setting him down on the floor. Sylus releases his Evol, and the cat slowly stands, taking a few steps and sniffing the air.

“He’s so cute,” I sigh, watching him tentatively explore his new surroundings.

“He better not pee on anything until we can get him neutered,” Sylus mutters. “We’ll never get the smell out.”

I reach out, wrapping my arms around his waist and nuzzling into his chest. “You’re so wonderful,” I say, content and a little tired. The doorbell rings again, and I lift my head off his chest to look up at his face, puzzled.

He motions for me to go, saying, “Get in the shower, I’ll get him settled. The twins brought some supplies.”

I smile in relief, giving him another squeeze, and silently beg for a kiss as I stand on my toes and lift my face. He cups my chin, brushing warm lips over mine in a chaste kiss. He gives me a second kiss on my forehead.

“Go on,” he murmurs. “I’ll join you soon.”

More than a week has passed since we rescued the cat. I’ve had to travel to and from Linkon for work, but Sylus never asks if I am going to take the cat with me or drop it off at the shelter. Instead, the cat seems to settle into the plush penthouse as if he had never lived a life on the outside, his kingly attitude right at home in the dark, romantic surroundings.

After arriving a little later than I expected, I put my overnight bag away in the bedroom before I grab one of the new cat toys lying about. It’s a stick with a feather dangling from a string, and I flick it around on the floor and up in the air, laughing aloud as the cat makes a daring leap trying to catch it.

“You can do it, Junior,” I cheer as he stretches out his paws, dagger-like nails exposed. Mephisto caws angrily in the corner, pacing back and forth on his stand as he watches the playful cat. They’ve been sassing each other all week, with the kitty missing chunks of hair and Mephisto decidedly more ruffled looking with mechanical feathers lying twisted on the ground.

The door opens and Sylus walks in just in time to hear me, raising his eyebrows as he comes towards me carrying a couple of shopping and garment bags.

“Please don’t tell me that name means what I think it means?” he sighs.

I start giggling and the cat takes a flying leap, tackling me to the ground. I ooph out a rush of air, his heavy body colliding with mine as I clutch him to my belly and roll backwards. Sylus drops the bags into the couch and strides over, grabbing the cat by the scruff of the neck and tossing him (somewhat gently) onto the coffee table. He reaches down, helping me to my feet as I fight off a giddy laugh.

“It’s exactly what you think,” I answer, a sly smile twisting my lips as I reach down to pat Junior on the top of his head, his large, fuzzy ears twisting to catch our voices. “He looks just like his daddy, after all…”

“I did not, in fact, sire a cat. But if my little kitten is so inclined to have her own litter, I could be persuaded.”

I burst out laughing, pushing at his shoulder (he didn’t budge). “I’m not ready for a baby right now. Baby making, however…”

His eyes glint in the light, strangely dark as he locks his gaze onto mine, tugging me closer and into a tight embrace. He leans down, nuzzling his face into my neck, arms wrapped around my waist. “Let’s go practice now,” he suggests, teeth nipping gently at my skin in blatant invitation.

I sigh, languid from the pleasure that courses up my spine as he trails long fingers down my back in a slow caress. He kisses me tenderly, tongue tracing the seam of my mouth before I open to let him in, our tongues pressing against each other in unhurried exploration. We’ve kissed hundreds of times, but each press of his lips to mine brings a fresh wash of affection and excitement.

I lift my arms to wrap around his neck, falling deeper into his kiss, but a demanding howl from the coffee table shatters the moment. I look down, meeting the irritated eyes of the cat staring back at me. “Sorry, Junior. You shouldn’t be watching mommy and daddy like this.”

Sylus stifles a long exhale before he reaches down, adjusting himself, and steps away back towards the bags. I follow along with interest, trying to peek into the bags, but he covers it up.

“You can open this one now,” he says, holding out a shopping bag. “I’ll show you the others later.”

I look with interest at the other handful of bags and garment bags, but don’t press. I’ve learned that any surprise from Sylus is well worth the wait. Instead, I tear open the bag and read the brand name on the box. “Evol CommuniCollar?” I question, looking up at him in surprise. “Aren’t these ridiculously expensive?”

He scoffs, waving a hand dismissively. “Maybe if you’re not me.”

I roll my eyes. “You are such a snob sometimes.” I eagerly read the description. “It says here that it can translate everything your pet says into human language. This is so cool!”

I sit down and start fumbling to open the box, tearing off the flap corners in my haste to get it open. “Oops, I hope we don’t need to return this,” I say. He looks completely unconcerned as he settles on the couch next to me, as Junior perches politely on the coffee table near my knee, tail swishing back and forth.

Reading the instructions, I open my phone and download the app as Sylus checks the battery charge on the collar. I fill in Junior’s information, noting his suggested breed and age in the settings. While Sylus isn’t watching, I set the AI voice to one of my favorite male celebrities that is (surprisingly) available in the list.

Sylus gently adjusts it around the cat’s neck, making sure his fur isn’t being pulled or tangled, and gives him a single pat on the head.

Junior is still watching Sylus and gives a tiny meow, and the collar suddenly beeps, a deep, masculine AI-voice is clearly projecting from the collar. “Father.”

I gasp, practically swooning on the couch. “He knows you’re his dad,” I squeal, covering my mouth to hide the huge grin. Sylus looks taken aback, one eyebrow raised as he stares down at the cat that is still looking up at him. He obviously recognizes the voice when I see his sidelong glance at me.

I hurriedly continue reading the instructions. “While animals may not experience the same family bonds, environmental stimulus, language or emotional capacity that humans do, they’ve been able to map the closest electrical triggers to feelings that we can understand.”

I laugh a little. “So I guess he knows you aren’t his birth father. Maybe you’re his step-dad.”

The kitty looks at me chuckling on the couch, attention flicking back and forth, and as he looks at me directly, he gives a single, long blink. “Wife.” The masculine voice is low and rumbly as he purrs a little.

My mouth drops open, and I don’t dare to look at Sylus. I’m trying desperately to stifle a cackle of mischievous delight, and I reach out to stroke my hand along his back.

“No,” Sylus says, reaching out to catch my hand. “Don’t reward him for bad behavior.”

“How is he being bad?” I ask, choking on my laughter. I’m trying not to cry, eyes welling up as I gasp for breath.

“This collar is defective. Let’s throw it away,” he says resolutely, reaching out a hand to unclasp the collar from the cat before I bat his hand away.

“Don’t you dare. This is priceless.” I try to be stern, but my quivering lips and definitely giving it away.

He looks slightly irritated but does take his hands away and folds his arms across his chest. I turn back to the cat, giving him a little scritch behind one fluffy ear, and he closes his eyes, rumbling in pleasure.

“Feels good. It’s itchy,” the cat collar says in its low, dulcet tones. “Wife. Wife.” The purrs get a little louder when I switch to the other ear.

“No, I’m your mom,” I correct, and the collar gives another little beep with tiny rumbling noises as if to translate what I said.

“No, not mother. Wife,” the cat collar responds, and the cat blinks up at me again, holding eye contact.

I cover my mouth to hide my laughter when I see Sylus stiffen up beside me. “No, I’m your mother. And this is your dad,” I say, pointing to Sylus. “I’m his wife.”

I pretend I don’t see Sylus whip his head around to look at me. I’m trying to make a point to a cat, and this is the easiest way to get it across. How would a cat understand human dating behavior?

The cat looks obviously disgruntled as the collar makes more translation noises. His tail lashes angrily back and forth, and he turns his head away from me, obviously not agreeing to my words.

I lean forward, giving him a little kiss on his forehead, ignoring his mew of unhappiness. “I love you so much, my handsome little guy. You’re the bestest boy, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I’m the best cat. Better than the bird,” the collar agrees, and the cat turns to nuzzle his head into my chin.

I pepper little kisses all over his cute little cat face. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes, I’m hungry. I’d like dinner, please. I want the fish one. The wet food, not the crunch food.”

“Oh, you like the tuna more than the chicken? You should really eat the kibble too, it’s better for your teeth if you can eat some crunchy food,” I say, and we walk into the kitchen, chatting together.

Sylus leans back against the couch cushions, sighing as scrubs one hand over his face before climbing to his feet and going to store away the bags.

Junior and I chatter back and forth, his sentences slowly becoming longer and more in-depth the more the collar was used.

He finally finishes his food and I ask to gently wipe his face and whiskers with a clean towel, and he happily obliges, purring loudly as I clean him up. We walk together back into the living room, where Sylus has once more taken a seat on the couch, the fireplace crackling and the low throb of classical music coming from the record player.

“Father,” Junior murmurs, leaping onto the couch and then clambering into Sylus’ lap (uninvited, but also undeterred). I smile, nestling into his side as he raises an arm and pulls me in closer.

“Father, play with me. Play with me,” the cat begs, raising one paw and tapping it against Sylus’ chest.

I try to bite back a smile, shifting away slightly so I can quickly snap a photo. Sylus resigns himself, reaching down to flick one furry ear before he tugs gently at a whisker. The cat grows ever more exasperated as he tries to bat away Sylus’ hand, who snaps his fingers and conjures up a handful of black feathers dusting along Junior’s head and back.

“You wanted to play, and now you’re mad?” Sylus asks, listening to the cat muttering profanities (with the help of the collar) and hiding a small smile.

Finally the cat huffs and flops down, and the feathers immediately disappear. We both look down at the large cat stretching himself along the length of Sylus’ thighs, Junior’s head resting closer to his stomach. I reach out, giving him a scritch as I nuzzle into Sylus’ broad shoulder.

Sylus presses a tender kiss to my forehead as he sweeps one long-fingered hand down the back of the cat in a soothing, absent-minded stroke. He drops his head, feathering kisses across the bridge of my nose and cheeks, before pressing a deeper, sweeter kiss to my lips.

“So about that litter of kittens you mentioned…” I pull away to whisper into his ear as Junior finally settles and little snores start to emerge.

Activating his Evol, he carries that cat over to his bed, settling him into the cushions lightly while he stands and hefts me over his shoulder. “Practice makes perfect, sweetie,” he purrs, striding into the bedroom and shutting the door while I try to muffle my giggles.

Junior licks his lips, snuggling deeper into his bed and drifting off into an even deeper, satisfied sleep.

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