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delirious-donna · 3 months

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Baby, I Would Die For You [Toji Fushiguro]

an: flirting with your boss is always dangerous but when you find that the feelings are reciprocated, it’s hard to resist the urge to give Toji everything.

pairing: Toji Fushiguro x female reader

warnings: boss/subordinate dynamic, flirting, lewd talk, pussy eating, reader is not a shy wallflower, biting and mark making, pussy drunk Toji, a little humour (I think)

Masterlist

What you were doing was wrong. It surely broke every HR policy you could think of, and you should stop, walk away before you crossed that final line that could never be taken back or undone. The problem was… you didn’t want to.

Toji Fushiguro might be your boss, but he was so much more than that to you. Seeing him as simply the man you reported directly to was impossible after months of not-so-subtle flirtations. Famed for his direct approach and no-nonsense attitude towards pretty much everything, others might be surprised by how coy he acted when the two of you were alone.

Those long hours picking over every little detail in the latest performance reports or going over his schedule for the upcoming week were times you looked forward to, perhaps even the highlight of your week if you were totally honest. The smile that rose to his lips when you shimmied into his office, closing the door with your hip as you balanced two coffees and your notepad and pen, was one that never failed to tighten all the muscles in your lower half.

With a thick head of midnight black hair that lay artistically messy and piercing green eyes that had a way of delving straight into your soul, you would be a fool not to find him attractive, but it wasn’t just that. His humour was wickedly sharp, so many times your sides had hurt from being folded over with laughter, sometimes at your own expense, but there was a kindness to him that piqued your interest.

Every morning, without fail, he would deposit your favourite caffeinated beverage on your desk even though that really should be your duty to bring to him, and he always asked how you were. It wasn’t a pleasantry either, he really wanted to know how you were and took interest in your life outside of the walls of the office. Never had you shared so much of yourself with a superior and you didn’t think you ever would again, not if it came with the swelling feelings that took root in your heart.

It didn’t help that he was possibly the most tactile man you had ever encountered, always finding the smallest reason to lay a hand on you and none of it you would consider inappropriate, or well, more inappropriate than it already was for a manager to touch his subordinate. His fingers grazed yours when you handed him files, he held doors open for you and the warmth of his palm would fit snugly at the small of your back. He would nudge your shoulder with his when you made him laugh in the lift, and he would hold out his hand expectantly anytime you got a fresh manicure, not happy until he had inspected the handiwork up close. “Nice colour. It’s better than the last set.”

Of course, those touches didn’t help with smothering the flame that had long since ignited. Oh no, they only stoked them with gentle care until what was once a fledgling match struck and sure to die as soon as the stick was engulfed, was now a roaring bonfire in the pit of your stomach. It turned you just that little bit more cautious, and you were sure he had noticed but he never called you on it.

You found yourself admiring the cut of his suits far more regularly, staring at the white expanse across his chest and back. His hands were their own source of fascination, how he always played with a pen between his fingers and the deliberate strokes he placed to the beads of condensation running down his favourite soda cans. How could you not wonder what they might feel like on your bare skin, on the sensitive inside of your thighs, cupping your sex or playing with your breasts?

So many nights were spent alone in your tiny apartment, a toy pressed to your aching clit and your eyes screwed shut as you imagined the buzz being replaced by a hungry mouth with a sharp tongue and magnetic green eyes. That scar on his lip pulled taut at every flick delivered to your sticky folds, and his large palms full of the meat of your ass. The ghost of wet slurps filled your ears until the band of tension that had been growing all day long snapped clean in two and you came with a shout of his name, only to be brought back down to Earth with a bump. He wasn’t with you; you weren’t wetting up his ruggedly handsome face and he would never know that you wanted that more than anything.

That was, until one evening where your flirtatious bantering finally came to a head…

It was well past clocking off time, and you were still at your desk finalising some last-minute spreadsheets that found their way into your hands way too late on a Friday afternoon when you heard a rumbling call from the office at your back.

“What you still doing here?” Toji’s voice rang out to the near-empty office, your finger hovering over the mouse poised to shut down and finally head out. Instead of yelling back, you stood and made the two-minute journey into the corner office.

“I was just leaving, but I could ask the same of you, Mr Fushiguro.”

The sleeves of his white button-up were rolled to his elbows, the sinewy strength of his forearms on display and distracting you from the attempt at an intimidating look in his direction. You swallowed, cursing the abundance of runny saliva coating the inside of your mouth.

He clicked his tongue against his teeth. “Got nowhere better to be, but you on the other hand… don’t you got a date or something?” Toji let his cheek rest atop his fist, drinking in the sight of you after a long day.

Your outfit was just the tiniest bit ruffled, blouse untucked in one place that you unlikely hadn’t noticed, and your hair had more than a strand or two out of place from all the times you had taken it down only to pull it back up moments later. The lipstick from earlier that day had long faded, but it only made your lips look all the more kissable, naked and in need of his slanted over yours.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but no,” you asserted with a roll of your eyes, arms folding over your chest in a defensive gesture that wasn’t lost on either of you.

Toji’s eyebrow lifted, and he beckoned you closer with a careful flick of his wrist until your legs shook, closing the distance until you were by the side of his desk looking down at him. His stance was spread wide, not a damn care in the world and you nervously glanced towards the door which stood wide open.

An expansive hand roughened in a way you wouldn’t expect of a man who slaved away behind a desk, wrapped around your arm to pull it free from the way you had it hugged around your middle. It felt like a crackle of pure electricity when his fingers encircled your wrist, thumb delicately placed over the thumping pulse. There was air trapped in your throat, bubbling up but refusing to escape past your lips whilst the man you teasingly called ‘boss man’ manoeuvred you to sit on his desk, shining forest green eyes searching your face carefully.

“Pretty little thing like you and you don’t have a date? That can’t be right.”

His inky black hair looked so soft and relaxed given how late the hour was. His tanned skin seemed so intriguing under the low lighting emanating from the lone desk lamp flared to life, like you might find hidden secrets if you were to go peeking beneath the crisp cut of his shirt. There was a dusting of stubble gracing his cheeks and jaw, the sharp contour highlighting the masculine aura that swirled around him without effort, and it affected you more than you admitted to yourself. Your thoughts became a jumble, entirely wayward as you wondered how that sharp scratchy stubble would feel against your thighs.

He wasn’t stupid, of that you should know by now, and your micro-expressions and breathy pants were more than ample evidence of the direction of your mind. Toji’s head canted further to this side, knowing what you wanted and wondering if he would have to voice them for you. His eyes fell to your hand, watching it slowly curl inward and then back out with little crescent moon indentations appearing on your palm. His mouth sloped open, ready to help you cross this final line at long last, but before he could, you surprised him.

“Why would I be interested in anyone other than the man sitting before me?”

Immediately, you gasped. Your brain caught up with the words that poured instinctually from your body, and dare he say… heart, with a sharp intake of breath. He could feel the heat rising from you, spreading outward in search of dry kindling to expand the fury of the inferno, but Toji was already aflame. He needed no encouragement to be consumed by the fire, he simply masked it far more adeptly than you.

His cock thickened further against his thigh, the ache settling into the depths of his stomach and for once, he wouldn’t have to wait to relieve it by hand alone. For weeks he had found that his mind pinged back to you with worrying regularity, especially when he found the need to fist himself in the shower before the working day began. Long had he wondered if you would bite just as much as you did when he challenged you professionally. He wanted to know if you would give as good as you got because Lord knows he needed that.

Gone were the days when he found the simpering doll eyes of painted young beauties more than a passing attraction. No more could he find it within him to chase after those who would roll over immediately for the dark flame that resided within his heart. There was no thrill in complete subservience. He could only wet his dick so many times to women that he shared no interests with, where there was no witty repertoire or conversation deeper than a puddle already drying after a rainstorm.

You stood up to him when his mood darkened and others scurried away as fast as their legs would carry them, refusing to be a chew toy for his frustrations. You worked in the same manner he did, head down with complete diligence until the task was completed, but always to kick back when all the i’s were dotted and the t’s crossed. Work hard, play harder.

Not only that, but you were receptive to his touch, drawn to it like magnetised water. Whether you were aware or not, your spine would arch subtly when his palm filled the space at your lower back, and your pupils dilated when his fingers skimmed yours in exchange of hot drinks or paperwork. He wanted to know, once and for all if they would dilate even further when he reached between your thighs to pet the pretty pussy he knew resided there, if you would lose the sharpness of your gaze or whether you would become even more calculating when he thumbed at your clit. His money was on the former, though he wasn’t known for making good bets.

“So, what you’re saying is… you want me,” he conceded with a jerk of his wrist to bring you stumbling down onto his spread lap, the weight of you settling perfectly over his thighs. “I’m flattered, but I can’t deny that you’ve got good taste.”

His voice mellowed, a hint of humour in the words but one daring look at his face told you everything you needed to know. This was no game, it was no laughing matter and if you wanted to escape, this would be your last chance. Toji was baiting you, and he should realise by now that you never backed away from a challenge, and certainly not when your nightly desires were being served up on a silver platter.

Bracing both palms on his shoulders, you moved into a more comfortable position, which meant you were straddled over his lap and that did not go unnoticed.

“Like you haven’t thought about this, Mr Fushiguro,” you chided with a squeeze of your knees at his hips. “I bet you’ve spent a time or two imagining what it would be like to bend me right over this very desk.”

“Little fucking minx… you’re speaking to your boss, y’know?”

Despite his comment, his hands passed agonisingly slowly down your sides, mapping out the contours of your frame as your waist pinched in only to flare at the swell of generous hips. He throbbed from the knowledge he was gaining, intent on putting it to good use.

“I’m well aware, boss man.”

Toji chuckled at the long-standing nickname, a frisson on delight travelling down his spine at the new intonation behind it. Leaning back in his chair, you followed him, your face inches from his and sweeping over his features with interest. You couldn’t help but reach out, fingertips skimming the jagged scar bisecting the side of his mouth. He didn’t move, didn’t try to stop you, only focused on your eyes whilst you touched the raised skin. Maybe one day he’d share its origin, but for now he was content to let you dream up your own stories for how he acquired it.

Your gaze bounced between his eyes. “Kiss me.”

His large palm gripped at the back of your neck, eliminating the remaining distance until his lips met yours—finally. It was surprisingly soft, his hold determined but gentle and there was none of the rough urgency you had expected. You melted against his chest, the playful resistance ebbing out of your bones and turning you pliant into his mammoth hold. His whole upper torso dwarfed you, making you feel small for the first time in a world where you usually didn’t.

There was coffee on his tongue, the bitter edge of the roasted beans softened by vanilla and a hint of chocolate, coaxing you to take more and more until you were satisfied, and everything was not how you expected, but in the best way possible. There was no pawing at your clothes, no impenetrable grip on your skin and absolutely no sense that he wanted to stop or change the pace.

It was you who drove it harder, you who pushed against his chest and dove your fingers through his hair. His thumb stroked over the pulse in your neck from the hold he maintained, smiling against your open mouth and tasting your moans on his tongue. He’d stay like this a while if you’d let him, but there was an itch to be scratched and he’d be damned if he was going to let it go unaddressed.

“Come ‘ere, darling, I know what you need,” he rumbled between little nudges of his nose along your cheekbone until you glanced at him with those spectacularly expressive eyes, desire not even thinly veiled any more.

You found yourself spread like a feast on his desk, the clutter swept to the floor like you had seen play out in so many movies and never believed it happened in real life. Toji towered over you, clever fingers working to divest you of your blouse without jerking the sides clean apart and scattering the buttons across the floor. Your legs wound around his lean waist; skirt hiked up well above your hips and you were shameless in pressing your clothed pussy against the hard ridge of his erection.

“Mr—”

“Toji,” he corrected. An unyielding finger and thumb captured your chin until you conceded with a nod.

“Toji… I need you.”

“Where do you need me, sweetheart?” He knew exactly where you needed him, but where was the fun in giving in so readily? You were strong-willed and perhaps just as stubborn as he was, it would be nice to see how much ground you were willing to concede.

His lips skimmed your neck, traversed the expanse of your collarbone and down to the perfect spill of your breasts restrained by the flimsy gauze of your bra. You arched beautifully when his tongue grazed over the lace cup, nipple quickly peaking to be captured between his lips. You hadn’t yet answered his question and he bared his teeth, careful but deliberately biting at you through the thin barrier until you howled and snapped your head down.

“Asked you a question, need an answer. You know how this shit works.”

“Lower!” You huffed through your nose, panting at the delicious tug of his teeth and lips on your breast and wishing he’d do something about the bra. “I need you lower.”

Toji tsked. Moving a hand around your back, he unclasped your bra and let it fall to the floor along with your blouse. He met you with glimmering eyes, a path of wet kisses decorating your skin until he stopped at your midriff. His tongue dipped into your navel, swirling around and around with sick satisfaction quirking his lips. Your stomach quivered from the action, jaw slack at something you had never experienced or expected.

“Here?” He asked absently, sucking little bruises into the soft rolls that begged for his attention. Salt, soap and the faint remnants of perfume crept over his tastebuds, his antics at teasing you somewhat backfiring when he became intent on creating an image of his own on your stomach.

“No,” you bit out. The worst of your ire melted away at the vision of the hulking man looming over your midsection, his eyes at half-mast and a satisfied grin each time his mouth left your skin long enough to witness. “Please…”

Toji groaned at the hissed “please” you delivered through gritted teeth, your small fingers threaded through the tufts of his hair and offered a yank that might see a lesser man whimper like a pup, but you’d have to try harder than that if that was your goal.

Massaging at your ample hips, he let himself sit once more and rolled the chair back, so his face was now level with the heat of your cunt. The seat of your underwear was soiled with arousal, the wet spot seemingly growing beneath his study. From this angle you couldn’t see his face, you had no way of knowing that he was committing this scene to memory and adjusting the troublesome trouser snake to be free of distractions for now.

“Impatient as always. How many times have you taken the stairs ‘cause you couldn’t bear waiting for the lift to arrive any longer?”

You baulked; caught in a moment of pure disbelief as he asked you the seemingly innocent question whilst tracing the outline of your labia through the cotton of your underwear. He hummed, smug in the knowledge he had made you speechless for the first time in months and determined to continue his winning streak. Leaning in, he inhaled the scent of you and let out a perverted exhale.

“Fuck… yeah. I knew you’d smell like a whole fucking meal,” he breathed against the inside of your thigh. The points of sharp teeth bit with delicate care, the plush flesh trembling beneath the imprints of what would become his unique markings.

Your upper arms shook from raising yourself up, determined that you watch his every action for as long as you could. Toji rummaged in the desk drawer, searching blindly as he huffed in your dewy scent with his nose pressed to your cunt. Without warning, the flash of a blade caught your eye, and you shrieked as he held it under one side of your panties, slicing through it before repeating the action on the other side.

“Are you insane? You’ve got a fucking weapon in the office?”

You failed to mention how wet you were, how tightly you were clenching around nothing and wanting to feel him buried deep in your belly. He gave a bark of laughter, lifting his hand with the offending item without so much as raising his head. He wasn’t buying your act one little bit, his nose brushing over the smattering of damp curls.

“Oh.” You blinked at the letter opener held between two fingers, the blaze of your self-righteousness smothered immediately.

Toji spread you open, peeling you apart like the petals of a flower to reveal the aching little bud at its core. He thumbed at it once, pressing the thick digit into his mouth and bringing it back dripping in spittle. This time, his tongue played along your folds, sucking the skin between his lips and driving tight circles around your erect little button. His nostrils flared at being buried in your essence, your thighs quaking on either side of his head and he palmed at the meat of your ass with his free hand—desperate for more.

Whilst the urge to pull his cock free from his trousers was burning white-hot, he shook off the weight of his own relief in favour of ensuring yours. If you weren’t squealing his name to the ceiling, he wouldn’t be satisfied anyway, and wasn’t that the whole point of this? You asked for what you wanted when you wanted it and with how you were rolling your hips dangerously close to the edge of the desk, you had no qualms about being as direct as he craved.

He massaged the ring of muscles at your entrance, dipping a finger deeper only to extract it again quickly. Your hole puckered and gaped, wanting more and he repeated the action but with two fingers this time. It was a squeeze when his knuckles brushed your walls, the velvet sides gripping and holding him hostage.

“Look atchu. Pussy got a grip on her.”

“Toji—mouth… want it on me. Want more,” you said with a broken whimper.

His head fell back against his neck, cracking from side to side before he rose to lay over you, his fingers still pumping in and out of your cunt to the wet squelch of your slick on his skin. You could only blink as he captured your lips, tongue curling over your teeth to deposit the taste of yourself into your mouth. It was entirely teeth and tongue as he worked you harder, thumb poised to flick over your clit each time you tried to fight for the right to inhale lungfuls of the thick air.

“—hng… not—fuck—not what I meant!”

Toji sat with a loud creak of his chair, his not-so-insignificant weight groaning the leather and metal to within an inch of its life. His smile was pure predator, the ink of his pupils almost eating up the entirety of his irises.

He huffed a dry laugh. “Yeah, but I like fucking with you.”

He didn’t wait for your reply, diving for your cunt and the tendrils of heat luring him in like a siren calling to a lost sailor. His nose nudged at your hood, giving him ample space to graze the flat of his tongue over the surface and alternating to a pointed tip that poked and pressed it in each direction. The puffy, swollen lips of your labia demanded attention too, nipping with his eyes focused on your breathing and every bodily jerk for discomfort. When he found none, only the arch of your spine and a hand finding its way back into his hair, he doubled down until you were mewling beneath him.

Your thighs tightened around his ears, their plushness muffling your lewd moans but only heightening the noises coming from his strong chest. He grunted like an animal at every fuck of his fingers, every lap of his tongue, emboldened by the reactions you so openly displayed. With a lewd pop, his fingers escaped your tight pussy to be replaced with his mouth. The second you rutted your cunt against his eager tongue, he was done.

Never before had he been this close to busting in his trousers, especially without help, but the way you humped against his face brought out a younger, less controlled version of himself. A shiver coursed up his spine as you fucked yourself on his strong, wet muscle, chants of his name falling from your sinful little mouth. He could feel the tension in your limbs, the curl of your toes against his shoulders and the bough broke with one carefully aimed suck of your clit.

The rush of adrenaline tore through you, mixed with dopamine and every reminder that this was completely wrong. You pinched at your nipples in turn, prolonging the first cresting wave as it broke over you. You felt limp, out of control and so fucking good you were certain you wouldn’t sleep for a week until this high wore off. Toji was a drug and you never wanted to be clean. His mouth slurped and guzzled, swallowing you down and it felt like if he could unhinge his jaw and devour you whole, he would.

With a whine and a wince, you managed to shove against his heavy mass and buy yourself a reprieve. He looked as drunk as you felt, sluggish and kiss swollen as he brought his chin to rest against your lower abdomen. You wanted to ask for him to fuck you now; to flip you over and press you into the wood so he could fill your belly with all that he had taken and more, but he reached those sticky fingers up and tapped your lips before you could speak.

“I haven’t spilled in my shorts since I was a teenager, shit…” He chuckled, admiring your tongue wrapped around the calloused edges of his fingers and cleaning him so efficiently, the perfect little worker bee that you were.

“Guess I’m out of luck for a fuck, huh?”

“Not here. I want your juices staining my sheets, not my paperwork,” he countered, kissing your stomach once more. His soft green bedroom eyes fixed raptly on your sweet face.

“Sounds reasonable, Mr Fushiguro. We shouldn’t push our luck anyway. I’m surprised security didn’t catch us in the act!”

Toji laughed, wiping a tear from his eye. “You’re right, sweetheart, but the cleaner has been past twice.”

#delirious writes #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji smut #toji fushiguro smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #toji fushiguro x reader

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thecharacterchronicler · 5 months

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District Girl (Part 1) || (Peacekeeper) Coriolanus Snow x Reader || Smut

Outline: In district 12, peacekeeper Coriolanus Snow catches you sneaking past the fence. Thankfully for you, he accepts when you offer him a special arrangement in exchange of his silence.

Word count: 2’700

Warnings: power imbalance, consensual coercion (if that’s a thing), explicit smut.

(( Part 2 )) - (( Part 3 ))

It had been a long day. The sun was shining bright in the sky and yet, the air was saturated with humidity, making it hard to breathe. His peacekeeper uniform and gear felt heavy. He had showered before leaving the barracks and was already sweating again, adding to his discomfort with the already constant humidity. He hated it here. He hated everything, from the weather to the decaying buildings and the miners walking around with dirty clothes and faces. More than once had he thought about deserting his job, running back to the Capitol where people could manage to maintain a semblance of elegance and dignity, even while starving. But his family were the only people who would welcome him back home, he had nowhere else to go, and illegally deserting would put not only him but his cousin and grandmother in trouble. So he bite down on the inside of his cheek, tasting blood, as he once more gathered courage to keep going.

He had been asked to patrol the outskirts of District 12 for the rest of the afternoon. Smiley had been assigned the same task, covering the eastern part of the border while Coriolanus took care of the west. Without his bunkmates and colleagues to entertain him, time went by slowly. He walked along the tall fence that bordered the district, separating the village and the mines from a vast expanse of tall grass and trees in the distance. He found himself wondering what was hidden behind the forest, if there were other people somewhere that the Capitol didn’t know about. Maybe district 12 would have been nicer if it had included that large and lush landscape within its borders, the idea of patrolling under the shade of the trees seeming a lot more pleasant than doing it under the scorching sun. Maybe there even was a stream of fresh water meandering through the trees or better yet, a lake of cold water in which he could dive in and finally get rid of the beads of sweat that never seemed to leave his forehead, not since he had stepped in this foreign place.

His imagination running wild with ways to make his new home more bearable, he almost missed it. That movement in the corner of his eye, that trail of trampled grass leading to the fence… He turned around to see a silhouette, crouching down to enter the limit of the district from under broken wires he hadn’t even noticed when he had walked passed it a few minutes earlier. A trespasser. But were you an intruder or just a rule breaker ?

“Hey!” He shouted, the authority in his tone surprising both you and him. You lifted your head, eyes widening as you saw him and tried to hurry but the hem of your skirt was hooked to a sharp piece of wire that didn’t seem to want to let you go that easily.

His hand went to his belt, where his weapon was ready to be pulled out in case you were some kind of threat. Even if you didn’t look like it, Coriolanus knew better than to trust people, especially the people of District 12.

You didn’t want to get in trouble. All you wanted was to go back to your shack and forget about this encounter. You had heard enough terrible stories about peacekeepers to know you needed to avoid them at all cost. And mostly, you knew you had to be weary of the new ones like him, the ones who didn’t make deals and trades in exchange of turning an blind eye to whatever the citizens of your district needed to do in order to survive.

He was getting closer. Dangerously closer. And although he was walking slowly, almost carefully in your direction, you had noticed how his long fingers were just inches away from his weapon, ready to grab it and use it on you. So you decided to sacrifice your skirt, even though you didn’t own another one, and ran off, hearing the sound of the fabric tearing apart.

Coriolanus didn’t expect you to run. Where would you go anyway ? He had caught you breaking the law, he knew what you looked like, he wasn’t going to let you get out of it so easily. If he had to abide to rules he clearly didn’t want to follow, do a job he hated and was forced to live in this depressing area just because he was meant to face the consequences of his actions in the Capitol, you would have to face yours too.

He ran after you, easily catching up on you with his tall legs. And, since you weren’t making it easy for him, refusing to stop and comply, he grabbed you by the arm and yanked you back, a scream escaping your lips in reaction.

“Please, let me go.” You begged. “I wasn’t doing anything wrong, I was looking for food past the fence to feed my family.”

He listened. He even understood. He too had struggled to find food for himself and his family a few years back. He knew what it felt like to be hungry. And he knew how it hurt to see your loved ones starving too. However, the people of the districts deserved it. It was the consequences of their actions, a fair turn of the tables that they were the ones knowing poverty now. And hopefully, it would only get worse from now on. They needed to know that they were nothing without the Capitol. And they needed to know that their reckless behavior would cause the downfall of their own people.

He held both of your wrists together in your back, his free hand pressing against the back of your neck to make you walk forward. He wasn’t sure what your punishment would be for trespassing and frankly he didn’t care, the only thing that really mattered was that his superiors would at least notice that he was a good element, if not the best one they had.

You kept begging him for freedom, explaining yourself and assuring him that your escapade to the woods wasn’t a threat in any way to the government but he stayed stoic, still walking you in direction of the peacekeepers’ barracks with your hands held painfully tight in your back.

As the austere buildings came in sight, you decided to fight back, abruptly trying to free yourself from his grip. It took him by surprise and you managed to run forward, all the way to a narrow path by the side of the barracks before he caught you again. He grabbed you with both hands this time, pushing you against the stone wall of the building with your arms held above your head. He was close, his broad shoulders blocking your view of everything else but him. His body was a fence you wouldn’t be able to cross, it was trapping you against the wall, leaving you helpless and at his mercy and he did not looked pleased.

“I promise I won’t do it again.” You said, knowing as well as he did that it was a lie. “I’m going home to tell my family that I haven’t found anything for them to eat today, isn’t that enough of a punishment ?”

Coriolanus’s pale blue eyes stared at you, visibly conflicted. He knew that feeling all too well. And indeed, it was a sufficient punishment in his opinion. An even more cruel one than anything his superiors might have in store for you. However, he couldn’t just let you go like this, not when you had been such a pain to catch. You had interrupted his quiet stroll along the fence, you had made him run under the scorching sun, you didn’t deserve that much mercy.

“Please, I’ll do anything.” You said, making sure he would notice the implications you put in your last word, staring right back at him as suggestively as you could. You knew peacekeepers were easily convinced by the prospect of a bit a fun with a woman since they didn’t get to have that much of it while in service. It was a good way to get out of trouble. And this peacekeeper in particular was handsome enough to make you slightly nervous at the idea of him accepting what you tried to suggest.

Coriolanus wasn’t sure what to think. Or do. For a moment, he wasn’t even sure he had heard you correctly at all, getting lost in your beautiful eyes instead of focusing on your words. Maybe such close proximity to a woman was messing with his head, it had been a while after all. In fact, he had never been that physically close to anyone before and the fact that he had you pinned down against the wall, holding so much power over you made all his blood instantly rush down to his cock. There was something deeply satisfying at the thought that he could do whatever he pleased with you. Especially there, concealed from the other peacekeepers that might be leaving or entering the barracks, with nothing in his back but the fence, he could do anything and no one would know.

“Do we have a deal ?” You asked him, arching your back enough for your hips to brush against his, bringing his attention - and yours - to the impressive bulge that had formed in his pants.

Oh, it was wrong. So wrong. He shouldn’t even consider it, he should do his job and bring you to his superiors as he had been instructed to do in such circumstances but there was something about you that made him hesitate. Maybe it was how short your skirt was now, with half of it still stuck in the fence, it revealed more of your body than you were comfortable with and he definitely liked what he saw. The curves of your body, the shape of you, your lovely face… You were so different from the others. If he could have Tigris design some fashionable clothes for you and arrange your hair, you could look like a girl from the Capitol. One that he could be interested in…

But you were a girl from the filthy and barbaric district 12 and he was a peacekeeper.

“Deal.” He breathed, taking unexpected pride in the way your cheeks turned red at his word. You had never been so shy in front of a peacekeeper before, maybe it was because he was too handsome for words or maybe it was because he had an odd elegance to him that intrigued you, made you want to know who he was and where he came from. But you’d have to wait to indulge your curiosity with small talk, you had the end of a deal to hold and you actually felt pretty eager to get it done.

His breath caught in his throat when you dropped to your knees in front of him, your hands still held up above your head by one of his, yet no longer all pressed up against the wall. He easily opened his pants with his free hand, pulling out his already hard erection for you. Your hands moved, instinctively wanting to close your fingers around his cock but he held them back, still tightly in his grip.

“You won’t need them.” He told you, meeting your eyes. You quietly nodded and opened your mouth as wide as you could, letting him decide what to do next.

Still with one hand, he guided his cock past your pretty lips, the sensation of his sensitive skin gliding on your soft tongue almost ending him on the spot. He wasn’t prepared for how warm and wet it would feel, how his shaft would slide so perfectly all the way until his tip touched the back of your throat, making you gag.

You bopped your head for him, creating friction, having him slide back and forth in your mouth while you also focused on your breathing to avoid gagging too often. His eyes were clouded with intense pleasure when he closed them, letting you take care of him without opposing much resistance.

Fuck, it felt good. Especially when you took him down your throat, his whole cock fitting inside your mouth and your soft lips enclosing the base. He liked the way your cheeks were still colored pink, how your eyes watered from how big he was to swallow and how incredibly arousing it was to have you on your knees in front of him. A moment before you were a rebel, a reckless girl breaking the rules regardless of the punishment you might face and now, he had you tamed and compliant as he slowly fucked your mouth.

But maybe It was a bit too slow. Once the excitement of the new sensations he felt died down, there was only one thing he could think about; relief. That intense pleasure that you had carefully built in the pit of his stomach was begging for release, to explode on your tongue so that he could fill your mouth with his cum. He wondered if you would swallow it all, compliant til the very end or if you’d let it past your lips, drip on your chin and clothes like a very visible sign that he had marked you as his.

He was too eager to find out. He wanted to see for himself, feel how gloriously good it was going to be once his pleasure would splash out of him. So he stepped forward, forcing you back to the wall, hands still pinned up. You had no room left to move your head anymore and it was exactly what he wanted, thrusting his cock inside you himself instead. His rythym was fast and merciless, making you gag and feel breathless. His pushes forward were strong and quick, and soon, you felt his warm release drip down your throat, as his eratic movements finally came to a stop.

His cock was still twitching, spitting out white cum when he pulled it out of your mouth to allow you to breathe again, drops falling down on your chin and chest. He was breathless too, and the hunger you saw in his eyes as he stared at the drop of his cum that was slowly rolling downwards on your chest made you wonder if he was going to ask for more. He sure looked like he was ready to give it another go, right there and now.

But he unexpectedly released your wrists instead, taking a step back to arrange his still hard cock back inside his pants. With the blood finally rushing back down your arms, you tried to stand up. To your surprise, the peacekeeper held a hand out for you, helping you back up like a gentleman would.

You both stared into each other’s eyes for a moment. You wanted to ask him where his manners came from, and why he wasn’t using them to navigate high society instead of being here but you couldn’t find the courage to say anything at all. There were many questions he wanted to ask you too, starting with asking for your name, but he refrained from saying anything, knowing it was better if he kept his distances. The last thing he wanted was to fall for a district girl.

You fled without a word but granting him a smile and he let you, memorizing the way your perfect body looked like in that torn skirt you probably were going to throw away now, wondering if he’d ever get to take a peek underneath your clothes.

When he went out that night with his friends, he didn’t mention you even though he knew it would have earned him the admiration of his roommates. And when he wasn’t able to fall asleep once in his bed, his mind flooded with all the possibilities of what else he could do to you - if he ever got another chance to - he ended up sneaking out of the barracks and walking back to the fence in the middle of the night, to retrieve the piece of your skirt that was still dangling in the wind, hooked to the wire meant to keep everyone in.

#peacekeeper!coriolanus snow #peacekeeper coriolanus snow #smut #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus smut #coriolanus snow #coryo x reader #coryo x you #coryo smut #tbosas smut #tbosbas #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x y/n #coriolanus snow x female!reader

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bitchslappin · 6 months

Text

Figure Studies

Summary: Joel let's his you paint him like one of your French girls (kind of not really).

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, no implied age gap but do what you want, sexual tension, voyeur to some degree, exhibitionism kind of, M masturbation, overstimulation a little bit, fluff for sure, Joel's so in love, idk the tags make it sound lame lol

Word count: 2.5k

“Quit starin’ at me. It’s creepy.”

Joel’s voice is gruff. He’s bent over the dining room table, summer evening sun streaming in through the kitchen window. He’s cleaning his rifle. It’s been too long, he hasn’t been keeping on top of it, it’s been long enough since he’s had to use it. He’s been at it for the better part of an hour, stripped down to his t-shirt, hands covered in a layer of gun oil, sweat starting to bead on his neck from where the sun’s been resting. His girlfriend is standing in the doorway between the kitchen and living room, leaning on the doorframe, just watching him. She’d been down at the Tipsy Bison most of the morning, helping Maria draw up plans for the community garden expansion. Ellie is… well Joel doesn’t actually know. She hasn’t been home since last night. But she tends to couch hop around Jackson these days, and Joel can’t say he’s mad for the alone time while she bothers other people for once.

“Can’t help it.” She tells him with a slight grin as she cocks her head to the side, studying him. “You look so good right now.”

Joel snorts and flicks his eyes to her, annoyed. “Yeah, right. Sweaty and greasy and angry. What a good look.” He snarks.

He doesn’t have to see her roll her eyes, he can feel it. She walks in slowly. “‘M serious Joel. You look good.” She murmurs softly. She’s not teasing him this time, or even really flirting, her tone low and sincere.

He finally looks up at her then, pausing what he’s doing. His breath sticks in this throat a little bit. Even after years together, he’s not good at this. Accepting genuine compliments in a neutral setting. He’s gotten better at the flirting, and he’s more willing to give up some control in the bedroom, but this kind of thing? The softness? He’s still a little shy about it. He just shakes his head at her and says nothing. He won’t argue with her, but he doesn’t know what to say. He turns back to his task, wiping the stock of the rifle, trying to hide the tremor in his fingers.

She sits down next to him, pulling her legs up onto the chair and leaning her elbow on the table, her head in her hands. She watches him silently for a little while, and it’s easy for him to fall back into the rhythm of cleaning, zoning out a bit as he works. As he finishes up, fitting the pieces back into place, she interrupts the silence.

“Can I draw you?” She asks quietly. He looks up at her with a furrowed brow. She’s quite the artist, always sketching and even painting when she has the time. One of her new friends had somehow gotten her a set of oil paints for her birthday, and Joel loved to sit for hours and watch her paint. She’s sketched him plenty of times. He’s seen some of them because she’s shown them to him, some because he spied them over her shoulder. But she’s never asked before.

“You… what, now?” He asks as his brows knit together in surprise. She just shakes her head with a smile. “Yeah now. Come on, please?”

Goddamn him he can never resist that look on her face. Sweeter than sugar. He grumbles. “Fine fine…” He rolls his eyes as she smiles in triumph. “Where d’you want me?”

She stands and drags him by the hand into the living room, grabbing her sketchbook off the coffee table. The light is pouring into the living room as she pushes the curtains open. “Go sit on the couch. Just get comfy.” She tells him. He huffs about it but he goes to sit on the couch, groaning, when she turns back and makes a surprised noise.

“What are you doing?” She asks, an eyebrow raised in confusion. He’s hovering, halfway to sitting, and he frowns at her. “You told me to sit on the couch…?”

She makes a noise in the back of her throat and pushes on her shoulder as she goes to sit on the coffee table in front of him, sketchbook on her lap. “You gotta undress first.”

“What??” His lips part in shock and his eyebrows shoot up. “Fuck’re you talkin’ about?”

She rolls her eyes and sighs. “Come on Joel, please? I haven’t ever been able to do real figure studies. Please?” She’s not teasing anymore, not trying to push his buttons. She’s genuinely asking. She’d always told him that when she was little, she’d dreamed about going to art school in a big city, sketching figure models for hours. But then of course… well you know what happened. He hovers there for a minute. It’s not like she hasn’t seen it before. Hell sometimes he feels like they see each other naked more than clothed. But it’s not the same. This is more exposed, in the sunlight, with her just staring at him.

“Can I just… just take my shirt off?” He asks with a nervous chuckle. He meets her gaze and he can see the slight of disappointment there, though she nods and gives him a smile. “Sure Joel, that’s fine.”

He pulls the shirt over his head and hesitates, watching her face as she flips to a clean page in her sketchbook, twirling her hair up onto the back of her head and pinning it in place with a pencil. The sunlight makes all of her look golden, the strand of hair that escapes down her neck, the freckles on her cheeks… she’s glowing and he is powerless but to give her everything. Even something he thinks is silly. He huffs and commits, unbuttoning his pants and shoving everything down like he’s annoyed, but he’s really just nervous for some reason, and flops back on the couch. He shifts a little as she gazes at him. It feels different from when they’re in bed, the way she’s looking at him now. Now, she’s looking at him like a specimen, like something to study.

“So… how should I sit?” He asks nervously, scratching the back of his neck. Her gaze seems to shift suddenly and her eyes get softer as she smiles at him. She sets her sketch book aside and comes over to maneuver him, her brow furrowed in concentration. She pushes him to lean back, muttering “get comfy” to him softly. He leans back, one arm instinctively going to the back of the couch, his legs falling open comfortably. She smiles at him and adjusts his arm resting on the couch, moving his hand this way and that until she likes the angle. She moves to his legs then, her hands are warm and sure as she pushes at his knees, his thighs, adjusting them a little wider. He lets out a slow breath, trying to keep his cool. ‘This is for art, that’s it’ he tells himself. But then she takes his other arm, adjusting it across his body, placing his hand over his cock, already semi hard from her attention. He bluescreens for a second, looking up at her with wide shocked eyes. She just arches an eyebrow at him.

“This okay?” She asks, her hands hovering and ready to move him if she needs to. He looks down at himself for a half a second before back up to her. ‘Be cool, Joel. Be cool’ he tells himself and clears his throat.

“Yeah. Yeah it’s… it’s fine.” He nods. She smiles brightly then and leans to peck a quick kiss on his lips, before moving back to the table to pick up her sketchbook.

She quickly gets lost in the drawing, holding her book on her knees, her pencil skritching on the paper softly. Her focus on him is intense, almost like she’s not really seeing him, she’s looking through him. For a while, he just watches her, fascinated. The way her brow is furrowed in focus, and the way her eyes move rapidly as she flicks her gaze between him and the paper. It seems silly to think but he finds himself feeling like he’s never seen her so… intimately. There’s something about the demeanor she has while she’s creating. He feels that way when he watches her paint, too, but he’s usually sitting behind her then, watching the colors take shape, looking at the landscapes with her. He’s never been the subject. He watches her fingers, delicate to him, though she might argue after the years of post-outbreak turmoil, as she uses her pencil like a magic wand. The movement of her hands is mesmerizing, the way the light catches her skin…

It doesn’t take long for him to start getting hot under the figurative collar. ‘Stupid caveman brain’ he thinks to himself. He can’t help it. She’s so beautiful and she's looking at him like that and he feels so… vulnerable. He tries to stay still, to hold the pose, as he starts to harden under his palm. The couch under him, the sun streaming in, his hand on himself… everything is sticky and warm and his hard is beating faster. He shifts a bit in his seat, trying to hide it, to stay still for her, but catches the way he shudders as he slides against his sweaty palm. She’s doing some shading and doesn’t even look up from her paper when she breaks the silence in a low voice.

“Do you want to touch yourself?” She asks softly, her gaze fixed on the drawing. His head snaps up and his eyes dart around for a minute like he thinks she’ll be talking to someone else. He clears his throat.

“Wh-what?”

She looks back up at him then. Her face is open, almost confused at his confusion. “Do you want to…” She gestures with her pencil at where his hand rests covering himself, speaking matter-of-factly. He glances down at his hand, curled around his hard dick. His brain still can’t process fast enough and he looks back up at her, just staring for a minute.

“Do you want me to?” Is what eventually spills out of his mouth. He swallows thickly as he keeps her gaze, a flush burning on the back of his neck. He’s never done anything like that before, not like this with her fully clothed and sitting five feet away from him. She smiles at him softly, the sweet look on her face is making him feel fuzzy and warm and he squirms a little bit, trying not to gasp at the friction against his palm. She nods after a beat.

“Yeah honey, you should.” She says simply, sitting back again and picking up her pencil. She continues sketching like it’s a simple as that, but he feels caught in limbo. He doesn’t do anything at first, just sitting there with his hand curled around his cock, in the same position she put him in, a blush burning hot on his cheeks. She looks up at him for an extra beat before nodding her head at him. It’s like a signal and he jolts into action, sliding his hand loosely over his cock.

It feels… way better than it should and his eyes slip closed for a second, his breath hitching in his throat. Maybe it’s the build up, maybe it’s the heat in the room, or maybe it’s just the way she’s staring at him and how easy he is for her… He keeps his fist loose at first, but quickly tightens it as the movements become slick and easy, his arousal spiking. His head drops back against the back of the couch as he starts to lose himself in the movement until her voice cuts through his foggy mind.

“Hold your pose please.” She asks firmly, her voice low. He snaps his head up and finds her eyes trained on him, his breath stuttering. She arches an eyebrow at him seriously. “I’m not finished with my drawing. Wait until I’m done.”

The tone of her voice, the command to wait… it’s like flames licking up his spine and he barely suppresses a whine, his eyes squeezing closed. His hand is still sliding over his cock, slick with his steadily dripping arousal. She’s nearly ignoring him and it makes him feel hotter, desperate.

“Sugar…!” He whines. “I don’t think I can… I’m..”

She looks up at him again, her stern expression making him choke.

“You can.” She says firmly. It’s a little encouraging, a little humiliating. “Just five more minutes.”

He groans but finds himself nodding. She’s not usually so direct and it’s lighting a fire in his belly. He should slow down, back off a bit, but he can’t. It feels too good as he watches her pencil gliding over the page. His hips roll off the couch just barely, trying to meet the rhythm of his hand, and she either doesn’t notice, or more likely she doesn’t stop him. He’s whining through his teeth as he holds onto that knife's edge, he can’t help it.

“Sugar… baby…” he mutters softly, sweat dripping down the back of his neck, his mouth hanging open as he fixes his gaze on her. Maybe it’s the tone in his voice, the needy way he calls to her, or maybe she really is done, but she sets her sketch book aside, putting her pencil down, before leaning back on her hands casually.

“Go on then.” She tells him softly, and he breaks. The moan that tumbles out of his mouth would be embarrassing if he could hear it, but the static fills his ears as he comes hard all over his stomach. With his head tossed back against the couch, he doesn’t see the hungry look on her face, or the way she moves off the couch and kneels in front of him. He works himself through the high, his hand starting to slow and his chest heaving when she pushes his hand away, taking him in her own. He gasps sharply and looks down at her.

“Baby wha..?” He stutters out as she starts to stroke him firmly. She just smiles at him, leaning in to kiss his inner thigh as she works him over. Her grip is tight and slick, hot from her skin being in the sun, much smoother than his own hand, and he moans brokenly through the oversensitivity, squirming in her grip. “J-jesus baby.. Y-you…” He stutters out between sharp chirping breaths, his eyes rolling back in his head.

Eventually she slows her hand as he starts to soften, her movements still firm but stilling. She holds him until his breathing has calmed down. And he looks down at her. “What the fuck was that?” He asks, his voice raspy. She just laughs and shrugs.

“You just looked so pretty, I wanted to join in.” She tells him as she leans her head on his thigh.

He blushes hotly and looks away for a minute. The afternoon has left him feeling vulnerable, but also syrupy and soft, better than he has in a long time.

“I… you…” He looks back down at her before huffing in frustration. “Just get up here.” She mutters and grabs her by the elbows, manhandling her into his lap as she laughs. He drags her in for a kiss, hot and lush, before flipping her over onto the couch, looming over her.

“My turn.”

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction

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swifty-fox · 7 days

Note

prompt #15 for inexperienced/virgin gale & john pleaseeeee

15. “I wanted you to be my first…”

The sheets were scratchy.

Linen chafed pleasantly against Gale's shoulderblades, cradles his head as John tosses Gale's shirt behind them somewhere. Gale hears the soft whisper of it falling on the floor of the room they'd booked for the night. They'd left the rest of their boys at the bar, left Marge with her ladyfriend John had been dancing with all night, and John had driven them to the motel in relative silence.

Silence, not quiet.

The tension between them that had been low vibration at the bar raising with every mile ticked off the counter. John had even turned off the radio, as if to hear the hum of them better.

"You've done this before? Been with someone?" John asks, sucking kisses across the shivering expanse of Gale's stomach.

Gale stares up at the ceiling, tries to ignore the way his body throbs at every single touch. He's trying to show some restraint, or maybe self respect, and not give into the desperate need to beg Bucky to climb right inside his skin. Linen burns against his skin for how he's got his fingers all tangled up in the sheets. John's mustache is a wet prickle-press against his oversensitive skin. He thinks every touch might be enough to have him crashing out.

John's face comes back into his vision, flushed and dumped with hungry concern. His fingers, just big enough to make Gale feel dainty, slide along his jaw, cupping the sharp of it gently.

"Buck?"

"Not a lotta opportunities in Cheyenne or Sheridan, Bucky."

They come together in a sucking kiss, echoing around the room with wet skin contact and a quiet noise from Gale, who was taken by surprise everytime the bold force of John's tongue slipped past his teeth with casual control.

"Plenty of boys up for it in college, more so in basic training."

Gale barely makes the words out through the press of their lips, it takes longer for him to remember to reply. Longer even to allow himself the vulnerability of tender honesty.

"I wanted you to be my first," he stubbornly refuses to allow the color rise to his cheeks.

"Oh," John sighs though there's nothing delicate about the exhalation.

Instead, he sounds ravenous.

His face melts into Gale's shoulder, pressing languishing hungry kisses there, works open-mouthed against Gale's shoulder like there was something to delve his tongue inside of. It sends Gale keening, one knee coming up to cup against John's broad body.

They're rutting against each other and every movement sends his cock squishing wetly against his hip. There's a wet spot on the front of John's slacks, drooling a thin string of connection when he pulls away. Gale watches it stretch and snap, mouth watering like he's a starving man and shuts his eyes when John palms him in one broad hand.

"That's okay, doll," John says softly, "Kinda doing it for me, honestly, that I'm gonna be the one to show you what a man feels like."

"Why you gotta say it like that?"

"Like what?" John works his belt open and pulls his cock out with one smooth movement.

Gale watches John jerk himself root to head in one smooth movement, drooling fat drops of need onto the still-clothed line of Gale's own arousal. Marking him.

He doesn't know his mouth is open in shocked need until John presses a thumb to his bottom lip, smoothing back and forth as if appreciating the plump of it.

"Like I'm your girl."

John grins at him, all crooked lips and twinkling eyes, "Aren't you?"

"Bucky."

Their gazes hold for a long moment. John's still got a hand on his prick, guiding it in a slow grind against the rise of Gale's cock, ruining his pants. Finally, John acquiesces.

"Nah, you're not my girl," John bends down to nip loving teeth at Gale's nipple. Licks the beading sweat from the center of his chest and scrapes along the rise and fall of his torso muscles. They were fit fighting shape, peaked and ready for war.

"You're my fella," John croons, "My man. My copilot."

#swiftywrites #clegan #buck x bucky #mota #masters of the air

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yangkitties · 1 year

Text

Studio Surprises ✩ h.hj

pairing: hwang hyunjin x gn!reader [established relationship] || word count: 0.4k genre: fluff || warnings: proof read but im only human so there may be mistakes, but nothing else :) synopsis: It is when Hyunjin's entire soul is immersed in his art that you decide to surprise him, only to be surprised by him. note: eeeeeeee it's so nice to finally be able to post again :D i've been writing a bit more just to practice endings bc i suck at those :/ anyways as usual, i hope you enjoy reading, mwah have a great time!

The quiet pitter patter of the rain on the windows goes unnoticed by the hyper focused Hyunjin. To him, the only sounds in the world are the sloshing of his paint water, the gentle stroke of his brush, and the meaningless thoughts in his head.

Day passed into night and yet he sits there, painting away, each and every movement calculated and precise, hoping for a perfect picture.

When Hyunjin works, he doesn’t just work with his hands and his eyes. He works with his entire soul. He tends to drown in his work, to get caught up in the blur of the colours and the swipe of the brushes, loosing himself to the empty canvas. And when this happens, the world falls away behind him, and nothing could shake him.

And so you take this opportunity to surprise him. Opening the door quietly, you sneak up behind him, only to stop dead in your tracks when you see what he’s painting.

Bright pink flowers with a mix of deep purples and lush greens adorn the bottom half of the canvas. The other half is occupied by two people, holding each other and leaning against a tree. It takes you but a moment to realise it was you and Hyunjin, from a date about a week ago.

Your arms immediately wrap around his shoulders, needing a way to let him know how much you loved him for this. You squeeze him, tighter and tighter, with each moment loving him a little bit more. Hyunjin’s brush falls from his fingers with a clatter, beads of paint splattering over the covered floor.

‘Y/n… y/n honey, you’re choking me.’ Hyunjin rasps as you press kisses onto his ears and the sides of his face, tears slowly rolling onto his hair.

‘And you’re literally the sweetest most amazing and talented boyfriend in the entire world and I love you so much,’ you said, spinning him on his chair. Facing you, Hyunjin smiles, eyes disappearing into the expanse of his face. He laughs before wrapping his arms around your waist, burying his head into your tummy.

His muffled voice whines from your abdomen, ‘I haven’t finished!!! And it isn’t even that good.’ You pick up his face by his chin, eyes staring deeply into his.

‘Hyunjin. Stop that. No matter what you do you always do your best and it shows. All of your works always look beautiful and amazing and are of the best quality. Don’t say anything bad about your works. Or I’ll flick your head,’ you said, your intense stare making Hyunjin’s heart dance.

Hyunjin pulls you impossibly close, and it's in the arms of each other that you find an endless love.

©️ yangkitties 2023 do not copy, plagiarise, or repost

#stray kids #skz #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids drabble #hwang hyunjin #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin drabble #🖋️: nyx.writes ━ skz ☆

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hangesdarling · 6 months

Note

yn as commander hanges stress relief please ;)

relief — h. zoë

PAIRING. Hange Zoë x female reader SYNOPSIS. You are Hange's comfort and relief during a stressful night. CONTENT. 18+, MDNI, making out, oral sex (hange receiving), hair pulling, shower sex, fingering WORD COUNT. 1.6k A/N. I was thinking of making this hot, steamy, and maybe a bit angsty but it turned very fluffy because I want to comfort hange so badly :")

There are times when Hange forgets their own strength. When stress and frustration strike, they wouldn't notice little things getting knocked over or the way they would put down things a bit too loudly. At one point when they were reviewing reports and paperwork, their pencil snapped in half from how tight their grip was. Taken aback by this, Hange took a moment to recollect themself. Pacing around, or watching the view from the window despite the darkness outside. Surely, that would help, right?

At that moment while they were lost in thought, you entered the room, tiptoeing to give them a surprise hug. Hange caught your attempt to be sneaky, smiling as they pulled you in for a kiss. Their lips would attach deeply to yours, their tongue feeling the warmth of your mouth.

Hange loves it when you smile into the kiss, even giving them small massages on their back and arms.

"You okay, darling?" you asked as Hange's arm kept a firm grip on your waist.

Hange hums in agreement, pulling their lips away to kiss your forehead this time. Their hands felt for your silk wardrobe, sliding down to every curve on your body, knowing you had nothing underneath.

"Just missed you a lot, sweetheart," they mumbled, probably wishing they were in bed, head deep between your thighs rather than buried under piles of work.

"C'mere, darling," You chuckled, pulling them until they were sitting back on their swivel chair. Hange sat, spreading their thighs enough for you to sit comfortably on. Just having you on their lap could fix all that frustration building up inside them.

However, you knew you could do more than that so you kissed their cheek, and knelt in front of them. Slowly, almost teasingly, you placed a kiss above their zipper before gently tugging it down with your lips.

Being intimate during their office hours wasn't new to you. You're used to doing it under the table or over the desk, the thrill of some scouts or their assistant walking in makes your heart leap in inexplicable thrill.

Placing both hands on their thighs, you began to tug on their underwear until your fingers brushed over their clit. Hange groaned softly as your thumb ran over their slit, gathering up the warm slick in between your fingers.

Their hands clenched on the edge of the table, whispering, "Please, darling" above you.

That's all it took you to replace your teasing fingers with your warm, wet tongue. Sucking on their clit, you pushed your head further, Hange's thighs unconsciously squeezing the side of your head. The expanse of your tongue licked a stripe off their cunt before slowly pushing in to curl and circle on their velvety walls. Their toned thighs felt so plush against your head, their soft moans reaching past your ears and down to your aching core.

You lapped onto the juices soaking your mouth and lips until they were dripping down your chin. Hange kept on clenching on the table, afraid they might get too rough once they got a hold of you.

Your eyes looked up to their flushed cheeks, their temples beading with sweat as their hips bucked gently against your tongue. It is undeniable that Hange is a touchy person, hands always on your thighs or waist or chest. It was a struggle to see them holding back.

You took hold of their tensed arm gripping the table and guided their hand to the back of your head. "It's okay, sweetheart. Hold me," you mumbled.

Hange's breath hitched, a thick gulp on their throat as their hand relaxed on your hair.

"You sure, hon? I... I don't want to get too rough just yet," they tried to chuckle, a way to ease themself up from the frustration and arousal melding on their insides. Hange knows you don't mind their roughness but they don't want things to get out of hand.

"Sure, love. I don't mind. Use me the way it suits you best, alright?"

With that permission, Hange's heart beat loudly against their chest. Their body seemed to melt into your words, their hand moving to grip your hair and push you inward onto their heat. Hange bundled your hair into a fist, strained moans spilling from their lips as your tongue circled in all the right ways inside them.

Your head bobbed between their thighs, their hips thrusting forward till their cunt met your lips in wet slaps. Hange groaned, gripping your hair with a last bruising thrust before they cum in your mouth. Their release coated your tongue, spilling past your lips and chin until it dripped down the smooth upholstery of their chair.

Hange lifted you off the floor and back to their lap, their face buried in the crook of your neck as they whispered, "You still doing alright, my love?"

You hummed in response, your body curled into their embrace.

They kissed your forehead and whispered, "Love you so much, sweetheart."

"Love you too, Hans," you mumbled, placing a kiss on the shell of their ear. "Come to bed with me."

It would make sense to go to bed late at this hour. Maybe they should cuddle you a few hours more and sink into your embrace. But the paperwork from their table seemed to glare at them, a frown forming their lips at the memory of everything being far from finished.

"I'm sorry, my dear," they mumbled apologetically, their body betraying their words as they still wouldn't let go of your waist. "I still have some work left but don't worry, alright? I'll go to bed in a few."

The gentle pout that came onto your lips nudged at their heart. "But darling, you've been working all day already. Maybe at least have a shower with me, please?" you pleaded.

Hange couldn't resist you with the way your cheek rubbed on their chest like a cuddly, doe-eyed cat. They bit on their lip, thinking hard whether they should give in, but one small kiss from you had their mind reeling.

You yelped a bit as Hange stood up, easily carrying you into their arms and out of the office. "You know I can't resist you, huh?" they smirked at you.

A laugh resounded from your throat as Hange carried you to the bathroom, only placing you down once you reached inside. A hand circled on your waist as your fingers worked to unbutton their clothes, sliding the material down into their arms until it fell down the floor. Hange was quick to discard your clothes as well, their lips kissing on every inch of your skin being exposed.

Once inside the shower room, Hange hugged you from the back, the warm water dripping down your body. You could hear Hange’s faint breathing against your neck, the plink of water droplets gentle against the bathroom floor.

"You know, it was really difficult to make you go to shower before," you chuckled at the memory. "I'll have to tell you at least three or five times. Glad I found a way to make you shower without much resistance."

"Oh, shut up," they mumbled. Hange's cheeks heated up, remembering how easy they submit to your request to shower as long as they do it with you.

Hange gathered your dripping hair, running their lips on the nape of your neck. "Honey, I want to make you feel good too," they whispered, voice dropping into a husky tone.

Their hands snaked downwards, fingers teasing your folds with much delicateness as when one prods a flower open. You tried to muffle your moans as their fingers dug inside you, reaching deep as their knee parted you open from the back.

"Come on, Y/N. I want to hear you," they mumbled into your ear. Your fingers dug into the shower wall, gripping at nothing as your voice broke into breathy moans.

Hange pushed you further into the edge, caressing your breasts as their supple fingers pumped in and out of you. As your release came washing at you, Hange had to wrap an arm around you so you wouldn't slide off the wall.

Time ticked away, fading into the tender night. Your touch diminished all Hange's frustration from earlier, their worries awashed somewhere else. They sat on the tub with you, leaning on your chest with their eyes closed and relaxed as you washed their hair. Hange felt like melting into a puddle with how loving and patient you are, even humming to yourself as if you weren't struggling to comb their brown locks tangled into knots.

At one point when you were combing their hair, Hange would just pull you into a deep, passionate kiss full of love and gratitude. they muttered a soft "thank you" and no matter how brief their message was, you know it came from their heart

It wasn't just your loving touch that could ease them, but also your willingness to lend an ear.

Unlike all those formal meetings often riddled with aggression and complaints, you make Hange feel more at ease to talk about their side and in turn give your insights. Hange listened to your soothing voice, too tired to speak more but fascinated by every idea you had to say. Your voice was a mellow lullaby, reaching to wrap around their heart— an assurance that everything is bound to be alright.

After that pleasant shower, Hange couldn't find the will to go back into that godforsaken office, trading the few hours of the night to playfully carry you back to bed. Hours faded into midnight, your lips locked against theirs, and your night robe unfurled for their touch. They realized their exhaustion just by how willingly their body melts against yours.

How did I ever deserve you? Hange would think to themself, their pressed face against your chest as you brought them closer to slumber.

likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated, sweethearts <3

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lancermylove · 7 months

Text

Moments of Love (Oneshots)

Fandom: Obey Me

Pairing: Mammon, Satan x gn!Reader

Warning: None

Word Count: 965 (Mammon), 1453 (Satan)

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As the roadway turned around a gentle curve, small buildings lined the streets, nestled intimately together like a collection of vibrant boxes arrayed along a serpentine path. The charming town that was cradled between two majestic mountain ranges radiated a sense of tranquil seclusion. The air was invigoratingly fresh, and the sun shone brightly—a picturesque setting for exploration or simply taking in nature's beauty.

Despite the town's enchanting and serene ambiance, Mammon initially cast a skeptical gaze at the storefronts and buildings. The simplicity of a small-town festivity seemed lackluster compared to the grandeur he envisioned for a romantic retreat. He wanted an extravagant experience at a secluded resort with private beaches, sumptuous spa treatments, and luxurious amenities. You, however, preferred the small town's peaceful allure and retro charm. So, to make you happy, the demon gave in to your wish to celebrate the vacation there.

"We will be staying here," you exclaimed as a cottage came into view.

The cottage was nestled amidst dense foliage, offering privacy and seclusion accompanied by the soothing sound of rushing water from a nearby river. Mammon nodded but softly sighed in resignation. What was he supposed to do? He didn't care for the lush forest, didn't want to observe the wildlife, and definitely didn't want to ruin his expensive shoes by hiking the muddy trails. Although, he didn't say any of this out loud for your sake. 'Anything for your happiness,' he repeated over and over in his mind. While you excitedly explored the cottage, Mammon leaned against the porch railing, absentmindedly staring at the trees.

In the evening, you and Mammon ventured into the town. Much to your shock, the town had transformed into a tableau of romance, illuminated by candles and adorned with festive embellishments. The townspeople had gone above and beyond in their efforts to create a romantic atmosphere, bringing a feeling of intimacy and romance to the town. Heart-shaped lanterns and strings of white beads hung from the trees and buildings; streetlights had been draped with white and red velvet ribbons and sprinkled with rose petals; candles had been tucked into every available crevice.

You were taken aback by the transformation of the quiet, quaint town into a romantic wonderland. As you walked arm in arm with Mammon down the dimly lit street, you caught glimpses of couples sitting on benches, sharing intimate conversations, and kissing beneath the flickering lights. The atmosphere was truly romantic. Though you could feel Mammon's reluctance to openly admit his surprise, you noticed his slightly widened eyes wandering around.

Eventually, the two of you discovered a secluded hill offering a panoramic view of the area. The town below, bathed in the moon's ethereal glow, sparkled like a trove of gemstones scattered across the velvet of night. Countless flickering candles in the town cast a gentle glow across the area while the stars above choreographed a silent ballet in the expansive sky. The air was perfumed with a blend of nocturnal blossoms and the earthy scent of the surrounding woods. It was as if the universe had conspired to create a cocoon of romance exclusively for you and Mammon.

Nestled amidst this dreamlike setting, you spread a plush, soft blanket on the grassy underlay. Inside the pink wicker basket, an assortment of delectable treats and a bottle of fine wine were set beside two crystal glasses. For the final touch, you turned on a lantern and put it in the center of the blanket. Mammon looked at the setting in awe as a small smile graced his lips. "Man, you've outdone yourself."

"Only the best for a night like this," you replied affectionately, genuinely wanting to give him an unforgettable night. The two of you savored the curated selection of cheeses, fruits, pastries, and chocolates for a while as you made small conversation. Just as the velvet cloak of the night wrapped itself more snugly around the world, the distant horizon came alive with a sudden burst of color and light; fireworks of all sizes and hues erupted against the dark sky, painting it with streaks of red, blue, gold, and green.

Your eyes widened with delight, and a gasp escaped your lips. "Look, Mammon! Isn't it beautiful?"

Your boyfriend turned his gaze toward the spectacle, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Yeah," he whispered. However, his gaze returned his attention to you, the reflected light of the fireworks dancing in the softness of his eyes. He enjoyed watching your reaction more; the more excited you grew, the more drawn he was. Reaching his hand to your cheek, he gently brushed your skin with the back of his fingers.

"The fireworks ain't got nothin' on your beauty," he whispered, his soft murmur caressing the edges of your right ear.

Surprised by his unexpected words, you slowly turned your head in his direction as your cheeks grew hot. One look into his gaze and the world receded; the sounds of the fireworks, the scent of the blooms and earth, the sparkling stars, the softness of the blanket under your legs - everything was gone. It was just you, Mammon, and a gentle breeze lightly tussling your hair.

Little by little, the two of you leaned in. Your heart pounded against your chest as the anticipation built. What felt like an infinite moment ended when your lips melted into a tender kiss, but the tenderness only lasted momentarily. You could feel the rush of blood through your veins, the butterflies in your stomach, and the heat rising in your body. With your lips still locked, you slowly leaned forward onto his body until Mammon's back was flat against the plush blanket. It was going to be one the longest and most romantic nights of your life.

The warm smell of coffee and waffles wafted through the air as Satan, disguised in his professorial guise, stepped into the quaint local café. Red and white streamers adorned the ceiling, fluttering gently in the warm breeze from a nearby heater, adding a festive yet somewhat gloomy atmosphere. Each table bore a small, delicately crafted heart-shaped statue, its glossy surface reflecting the soft, ambient lighting that cast a cozy glow throughout the room. Despite the romantic setup, the café was surprisingly devoid of patrons. This emptiness seemed to echo Satan's own sentiments as he found himself alone on a day traditionally celebrated with loved ones.

"One large black coffee," he ordered, his emerald eyes not meeting your gaze or even looking at your face once.

Wordlessly, you handed Satan a large black coffee, its dark, rich aroma wafting up in the cozy cafe. He gracefully accepted the cup, his fingers brushing against yours momentarily, sending a surprisingly warm tingle through your hand. He then made his way to a secluded corner table that offered both solitude and a view. As he settled into the chair, his emerald orbs drifted out of the window.

Outside, the city pulsed with life, unaware and indifferent to the turmoil within its walls. People passed by in a blur, each absorbed in their own world, their laughter and chatter distant and foreign. Satan's gaze deepened, reflecting a weariness that seemed to span eons. The weight of countless memories, of love lost and solitude endured, pressed heavily upon him. He cradled the cup of coffee in his hands, seeking warmth in its black depths as he grappled with an emptiness and a silence more profound than the void from which he once emerged.

With its quaint heart-shaped panes, the window framed snapshots of the world outside, where young couples meandered by, their hands entwined, their laughter and easy conversations floating in the air like music. The sunlight radiated a warm, golden hue over these shared happiness vignettes, highlighting the lovers' closeness and ease. Each couple seemed to exist in their own little bubble, a sphere of shared joy and connection that Satan found both enchanting and heart-wrenching.

He observed how their eyes sparkled with the reflection of someone who saw them as their whole world and how their bodies leaned into each other as if drawn by an invisible force. For a moment, Satan allowed himself to imagine what it would be like to share such a bond, to feel the joy of being deeply connected to another soul, to experience love not as an observer from the shadows but as an active participant in the light. Yet, as he watched these displays of affection and unity, his ache deepened.

While Satan was engrossed in his contemplation, you stole glances at the enigmatic stranger who had just entered your café. His presence was striking—blonde hair that fell just right, fair skin that seemed to glow under the café's lights, and deep emerald green eyes that held a universe of stories untold. Your heart fluttered as you observed him from behind the counter, his brooding demeanor only adding to his allure.

Seeing him so lost in his thoughts, so utterly alone, stirred something within you. You wanted to reach out, to offer a gesture that might pierce his solitude, even if just for a moment. Determinedly, you selected a heart-shaped cookie from the display, meticulously iced in white. It was a small token, but one infused with the warmth of human kindness. Approaching his table with a tentative smile, you placed the cookie before him, disrupting his thoughts with a gentle touch of reality.

"I thought you might enjoy this," you softly said. "The cookie is on the house, a little gift for White Day. I hope it brings a bit of sweetness to your day."

Satan's world momentarily paused the second his eyes landed on your face. The simple act of kindness, paired with your sweet smile, pierced through his haze of loneliness. As you return to the counter, he observed the lightness in your step and the bounce of your hair. After composing himself and finishing the cookie, which he found surprisingly delightful, Satan rose from his seat. With a newfound confidence, he approached the counter and slightly leaned against it.

"Excuse me," he began quietly, "Thank you for the cookie. Your kindness brightened my otherwise gloomy day. Would you…allow me the pleasure of taking you out for a coffee once your shift ends? I realize we're in a coffee shop," he added with a slight, charming smile, "but perhaps a change of scenery could provide a fresh backdrop for what I hope could be an enjoyable conversation."

His eyes locked with yours, a silent plea for companionship laced with a hint of hopeful curiosity as he waited for your response. Your heart skipped a beat at his unexpected invitation.

"Well," you whispered, a playful glint in your eye, "since we're already in a coffee shop, how about you try making a coffee for me instead? It's not every day we allow someone to come behind the counter."

Satan's expression shifted from hopeful anticipation to mild astonishment, clearly taken aback by your counteroffer. After a bit of hesitation, a smile broke through his surprise. "I accept your challenge," he declared, a spark of excitement lighting up his eyes. "I hope I can brew a cup that lives up to your standards."

With a nod, you beckoned him behind the counter, aware of the rules you were bending but too caught up in the moment to care. The café was empty, and no cameras to record the event, so the chances of you getting into trouble were slim. Your gaze followed his every movement, from familiarizing himself with the coffee machine to his gradual shift from hesitant to confident. To your surprise, Satan grasped the essence of coffee-making rather quickly.

"You seem quite at home with all of this," you remarked, unable to hide your admiration. "Have you worked in a coffee shop before?"

He glanced up, a hint of pride in his smile. "Not exactly. But I have a friend who owns a coffee shop, and I've lent a hand a few times. It's an enjoyable change of pace from my usual… engagements."

With a final flourish, he presented the latte to you, the surface adorned with an intricately designed foam cat, its whiskers and eyes crafted with impressive precision. "I hope this meets your approval."

Taking the cup in your hands, you were charmed by the artwork and the gesture. "This is amazing," you admitted, genuinely impressed. "I think you've just set a new standard for our lattes here."

One sip and your taste buds were shocked. It was as if all the flavors had been perfectly balanced to create a symphony of flavors in your mouth. "Are you sure you're not a professional barista in disguise?" You joked.

Satan's laughter momentarily filled the café with a different kind of warmth. "Perhaps I've missed my calling," he replied with a twinkle in his eyes, suggesting he was enjoying this unusual interaction.

As you took another sip, a dollop of milk foam stuck to your upper lip, unbeknownst to you. Satan's gaze lingered on the unintended mustache, and a playful smirk formed on his lips. "I must say, you wear that white mustache quite well," he teased.

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment and delight as you quickly wiped away the foam. But you were not prepared for Satan's next words. "I was half expecting you to ask for my assistance," he whispered, his voice dropping a few notes.

With a mischievous smile, you took another deliberate sip, ensuring a new layer of foam decorated your lip. "Well, I might just take you up on that offer," you replied, locking eyes with him.

The air between you and Satan became charged with a new spark, something neither of you expected. His thumb brushed against your skin, softly wiping away the foam, but he purposely touched your upper lip. The contact sent a ripple of sensation through you, your breath hitching slightly in response. The world seemed to pause around you both, the hum of the coffee machine and the distant city sounds fading into a hushed backdrop.

His eyes were deeply locked with yours. A mix of curiosity and a hint of something deeper was reflected in his emerald gaze. The blush that colored your cheeks was mirrored on his. It was as if time slowed, allowing you both to linger at this threshold between casual interaction and the potential for something more profound. There was a hint of a beginning, a promise of a story yet to unfold.

———————————————

➣ Obey Me Masterlist: [1][2][3] ➣ Main Masterlist

➣ Buy me a Ko-fi? ➣ Commission: Open ➣ HC/Scenario Requests: Closed || Quick Ask Requests: Closed || GIF Requests: Closed

#obey me #obey me oneshot #obey me nightbringer #obey me mammon #obey me satan #mammon x reader #mammon obey me #satan x reader #satan obey me

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tieronecrush · 1 year

Text

꒰ა ONLY ANGEL ໒꒱

javier peña x f!reader

chapter five: hard liquor mixed with a bit of intellect

series masterlist

rating: E (18+ only, MDNI)

summary: After his return to the US, Javier is trying to settle back into a normal life without the pressures of Colombia and the DEA, but he finds himself feeling isolated with no one to spend his nights with. Now a newly appointed criminology professor at Texas A&M, he is drawn to you, a post-grad student in one of his classes. You’re intelligent and witty, sweet and kind, and he can’t get you out of his mind. To cope with his growing loneliness and to rid himself of thoughts of you, he signs up for an “arrangement service” to connect him with somebody—a sugar baby—he can care for. After he is matched up with Angel, he finds himself developing feelings quicker than he ever expected, but what happens when he finds out Angel is really you?

series warnings: power imbalance (prof and student), sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship, discussion of money, criminal activity, judicial systems, graduate school, smut, daddy/papí kink, praise kink, degradation, self deprecation, discussion of self worth, multiple sexual or romantic partners, sex work, cursing, use of spanish, likely more warning so read at your own risk!

word count: 6.8k

a/n: SURPRISE! got my life together and got the chapter done for y'all <333 also thank you for always validating me and loving these two as much as me <3 you are stuck beta-reading for me forever hehe @northernbluess

“Christ, Bebita, that one is as good as the last one and the one before that and the one before that. I can’t pick, you look too damn good in all of ‘em.” Javier traces his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, reaching a hand up to swipe his thumb at the corner of his open mouth and sniffling on an inhale. Expansive, strong torso and broad, steady shoulders trail down to his legs that stretch out from the small square stool in the corner of the dressing room you’ve been occupying for at least twenty minutes.

His gentle toffee eyes study your form in the earthy olive-toned cocktail dress; the silky material hugs your curves while you twist in view of the mirror, the hemline hitting mid-calf and a halter top covering your chest modestly while leaving your shoulders and back bare. There’s delicate glass beading embroidered into floral and leafy patterns along the bodice, reflecting the lights. You can imagine the way it will look in the low light, swanky library party with enough champagne passed around for all of the academics to let loose. It’s a bit of a stretch for appropriate for the department event, but with the burning of Javier’s eyes into your skin, you know that this one is doing something a bit more than the last five dresses. Sighing with resignation, you drop your hands from where they are mapping over the intricate beading. Your bottom lip releases from between your teeth and you take a step closer to Javi, chuckling softly when his hands involuntarily reach for your hips to pull you between his open legs.

“That isn’t helpful feedback, Javier. I need some concrete decisions to be made. You’re in charge of my dress unless you can’t handle it cause then I’ll—”

“Oh, no. No, no, no. This one, I choose this one,” he muffles his voice when he leans forward to press kisses against the skin of your forearms, toying with your fingers and intertwining them with his when his large hands find your smaller ones. “You’re beautiful in everythin’, Bebita, any of these dresses, or even a paper bag, and you’re fucking stunning. But I can tell you liked this one most.”

Javier lifts his head to meet your eyes, one side of his mouth ticking up in a smile — satisfied, content, proud that he knows you so well to be able to read you like that.

It’s simultaneously making your heart beat faster, your stomach drops to the floor, and your palms grow sweaty. He’s so much more to you, but you’re too cowardly to admit it to him. Javier is…everything you’ve hoped for, but has come at the worst time.

It’s a job. That’s all. He has to be, or else you’re screwed if you say ‘fuck it’ and drop all of your other clients and give Javier your heart. There’s no way that you could continue living in your apartment and attending school; you would probably have to go back to working full-time until you could break your lease and find somewhere cheaper or move home and transfer your credits.

“Y’alright there, angel? Lookin’ a little flushed.” Javier’s brows knit with concern until you brush them away, thumb lightly rubbing the fold in his skin to relax it.

“M’alright, Javi. Think it’s time to quit the try-on portion of the day.” Hands reach back to find the zipper, Javier jumps up quickly and walks you back a few inches to have the room to slip behind you and take over the task.

“Guess it’s the take-off portion? Lemme do it for you, gonna need the practice of gettin’ this off when I take you home Friday night.” Through the reflection, he catches your eye and smirks boyishly, dragging the zipper down your lower back and folding forward to press ghosting kisses to your smooth skin. “Mm, so soft, angel. Smell so sweet.”

His voice drops lower, rasp biting out on the upticks of his speaking, “D’you know what watchin’ you in all these pretty dresses has done to me?”

A sigh escapes your lips, shaking your head languidly, rolling it on your shoulders, “No…Wh-what did it do?”

Without a word, Javier unclasps the halter of your dress, dropping the material to fall to your ankles. In the midst of you stepping out of the circle of fabric, he grips your hips tightly and tugs you back to his chest. Then you feel it, when your back arches and your lower half presses backward, the bulge of his hard cock prodding into the swell of your ass.

“Javi—”

“Nuh uh, Bebita. No Javi.” His lips are at the pressure point under your ear, your eyes fluttering closed while one hand snakes back to tangle into his hair. Grinding back against him, you lick your lips and whimper when a hand of his reaches around your front and slips between your legs to brush your clit.

“Papí…Fuck, papí…Need you.”

“Manners, Bebita. Or else you’re just gonna get on your knees and take care of me. Ask nicely and I’ll help both of us.”

“Please, papí, may I please have it?”

“Have what, angel?”

“Your c—cock,” you whimper out, the tail of the word trembling out when Javier’s fingers hook under the center of your panties and tease at your dripping entrance.

“There’s my good girl. How could I say no to you bein’ so sweet for me? Think I need to get you ready before I give you my cock, though, Bebita.”

With a sigh, your mouth opens and you reach one hand to grip Javi’s forearm wrapped around you, your other arm stretching out to press your palm against the full length mirror. A dark chuckle slips out of Javi, two thick fingers pushing into your tight walls. In an immediate reaction, a whimper squeezes out of your throat in a yelp. Knuckle deep in your cunt, Javi hooks his fingers to nudge at the spongy spot, extra sensitive. The sensation buckles your knees, Javi catching you with his thigh between yours and his arm flexing tighter around you, tugging you back up while his hand moves faster. Your teeth catch your bottom lip, biting down to silence the noises threatening to expose your activity.

His lips line up against the shell of your ear, brushing lightly against your skin and sending goosebumps across your neck and shoulders, “Bet you’re dying to give me those little noises of yours, angel. How ‘bout just one ‘papí’, Bebita? Jus’ one for me, and I’ll let you come.”

The heel of Javier’s hand rubs the cotton fabric of your panties against your clit, the friction feeling delicious and sending tingles across your nerves to curl your toes. Your head shakes back and forth subtly, enough to be perceptable to the man behind you. The speed of his fingers slows to a stop, pulling out to sit shallowly inside of you without leaving completely. Metallic taste hits your tongue, part of your lip broken from how hard you’ve been biting it to keep everything inside.

“Is that a no, angel? Gonna say no to my lil request?” He questions you, a rough squeeze grips one of your ass cheeks, opening your eyes to meet Javi’s in the reflection, “Answer me.”

An audible swallow slides down your throat before you open your mouth again, bottom lip swollen with it’s split, “I don’t wanna get caught, Javi—”

The last syllable raises in pitch when he sinks his fingers into you fully, a third added effortlessly. They still inside of you, stretching you divinely, but there’s a craving, a fullness that feels like a burning need in the pit of your stomach. You see the game he’s playing, the upper hand he loves to have with you that you give away willingly. With a bend of his fingers, that same spot is getting its desired attention and sending your logic spiraling.

Fuck it. Javier can get an old sheriff buddy to bail you both out if you get arrested.

Reaching one arm behind you, your left still pressed against the mirror for support, your fingers tangle into his hair and tug his head over your shoulder more. Javier rolls a low groan from his throat, the sound ringing in your ear. You turn your head to face him, nose nudging against his while fingers continue to work you up, teetering you on the edge. Open mouths pass warm breaths back and forth, Javier chasing your lips and skin with his, desperate to feel his mouth on yours.

The tightness around his fingers drives his circulation below the waist, straining against the fabric of his slacks. Grinding against your ass as he fucks you with his hand, all he has on his mind is feeling you convulse under his touch, driven so far over that you can’t stand up.

His teeth scrape against the skin at your jaw, a smirk growing subtly on your face — it’s his telltale sign of the height of his desperation.

Leaning your head back further, your lips are much closer to his ear; when the speed of his fingers increases, your own grip his hair tighter and moan, the sound soft and airy but coated in lust.

It’s a spark in his mind, sliding his left hand resting on your right hip across your lower stomach and down your thigh, grabbing it from around the inside and lifting it up. The position change allows his fingers to reach deeper, your head pressing hard back into his chest.

“Oh, fuck yes—“ The noises you want to make die in your throat, mouth hanging open as Javi chuckles darkly against your cheek.

“Say it, baby, tell me what you’re thinking and I’ll let you come. I’ll give you what you really want. Gonna fuck you full of me, Bebita. Isn’t that what you’re aching for?” His words hold you at the edge, toes curled against the wooden floor of the fitting room while your head rolls to the side against him.

Recovering from your dry mouth, you conjure up the first thoughts that pop into your head, the image of him fucking you and the closeness of your release projecting the words from your chest, “Papí, papí — oh my god! Always know how to make me feel so, so good, Papí…God, even your fingers make me f-feel so full. M’gonna—fuck, gonna come, please.”

“Good girl, such a good girl for me. Mi zorrita buena, acaba para mí. Come for me, Bebita.”

Your wall tightens around his three thick fingers, the sound of you moaning catching in your throat as you attempt to hold back. It comes out in a higher pitch, struggling but heard by Javier whose head is still on your shoulder. He’s mumbling to you, kissing the corner of your jaw while his hand comes to a slow stop to guide you through your orgasm. When he pulls his fingers out, he brings them to his mouth, sucking them clean while you look behind at him.

A satisfied smirk takes the place of his hand when he pulls them out with a pop, reaching out for you and pulling you back against his chest with a stumble. A delicate kiss is pressed to your bare skin at your back, a shiver running down your spine while one of Javi’s hands finds the swell of your ass and squeezes.

“You want my cock now, Bebita? Bet you do. Want everyone in this fucking store to know you’re mine, right? Want them to hear those sounds that you just can’t hold back, want them to hear you calling me papí, don’t you?” Your eyes flutter shut, mouth falling open as any sort of response flees your mind. Javier stands up straight behind you, quietly fumbling with his belt, the sounds of metal piquing your attention. His button and the drag of his zipper follow shortly, the soft noises of him barely undressing stirring up your stomach.

Between your legs, you feel a rush of arousal when his sigh hits your ears, the same one he always makes when you take his cock out of his pants. Saliva coats your mouth in eager awaiting, shallow breaths attempting to fill your lungs.

Javier surveys you, licking his lips as his hand passes down your spine, gently pressing your forward until both arms catch your weight against the mirror. He traces the new arch in your back before his hand finds your panties, not bothering to take them off again, but pausing for a split second to admire the wet spot you made. His mouth hangs open slightly, bated breath heightening the temperature of the small room. The sight of your cunt dripping for him dries his mouth out, eager to have another taste, but ultimately prioritizing his needs and the higher risk of being caught the more time passes.

Lining his head up with your entrance, he thrusts in slowly, allowing you to feel every inch of him filling you. He sighs deeply while reaching for one of your shoulders for leverage, gripping it with his fingers as he starts a shallow thrust.

Meeting your eyes through the reflection, he chokes out a hushed warning, “Fuck, Bebita, m’not gonna last long. Feel too fucking good.”

You moan softly in response, the mirror fogging up with the puff of hot air that leaves your mouth. Javier turns his attention to where you’re connected, mesmerized by the sight of you taking him easily. When his eyes flick back to your face, your own are closed as you make muffled, sweet sounds of pleasure.

“Open up, angel, want you to look at yourself gettin’ fucked. Look in the mirror, Bebita, and see how pretty you look taking my cock, how much you love fucking in public for everyone to hear.” Javier words have you reaching for a grip against the flat surface of the mirror, nodding with a whine as he gives you slightly deeper thrusts. “Tell me how much you love it, Bebita.”

“Fucking lov-love when you give me your cock, Papí. Love it even more knowin’ someone can hear us, that they’re gonna know m’all yours,” you watch Javi’s face contort with attempted restraint, nodding as one hand drifts to grab at your tits, his strong hold pulling you to stand with your back flush to his chest.

The next few thrusts are audible with how hard he fucks into you, mumbles of Spanish and English spoken into your ear, “Una chica tan sucia. Eres perfecto para mí…(Such a dirty girl. You’re perfect for me…) Wanna jus’ take care of you, Bebita — my babygirl. You’re a good girl, angel. So fucking good. Te sientes bien, como un nuevo comienzo. Mi nuevo comienzo. (You feel good, like a fresh start. My fresh start.) S’like you’re my angel, Bebita. Mine.”

At the last word uttered, Javier moans into your ear, the sound clipping into a hiss as his warm spend fills you up. Your chest is heaving from the exertion of it all, skin burning with those ramblings from Javier.

He’s made it clear how he feels, short of three words.

At the thought, a sharp pain in your chest seizes your lungs, choking out a cough while Javi pulls out of you and fixes your panties. A hand pets your hair, his lips pressing into the crown of your head from behind.

“You alright, Bebita? M’sorry I didn’t last long there. All this shopping got me worked up, I guess. You feel good though? Satisfied, mi Bebita?” He accepts the answer of your nod and softened smile through the mirror, planting one more kiss on your cheek before he unravels from you and gets fully dressed again. “I’ll take the dress up front to pay while you get dressed, okay angel? Then we can go wherever else you wanna go.”

Taking in his affectionate expression, softened brown eyes and one side of his mouth quirked up in a Javi smile, you feel the same pain in your chest, the words of a confession tingling the tip of your tongue. Instead you swallow it back and match his smile, taking the two steps over to him and pulling him in for a chaste kiss.

“So shoes next then?” Javi’s nose nudges against yours before his head tilts back with a slightly defeated laugh.

“Anything you want, Bebita. Told you m’gonna take care of you.”

This time you physically bite your tongue to hold back, wrapping him up in a fleeting, squeezing hug.

“Thank you, Javi.”

Hearing yourself back, you can’t tell if it was meant as permission to let yourself fall, those three words serving as placeholders, or if it was a last ditch effort to sever your feelings for him.

Either way, you still knew you were in trouble.

The flute in your hand is cool to the touch when you pick it up from the entry table in the old university church that was converted into an events space. The gothic details of its once lived purpose catch your attention as you look around, dark, carved wooden fixtures and slate gray stone walls. The carpet is dated, an aged beige that spans most of the room that is filled with people from across the Psychology and Sociology department; large leaded windows line the interior, framed by heavy curtains in burnt orange.

There’s a bar at either end of the room, a handful of high top cocktail tables littered around. Your eyes continue to scan, this time focusing on all of the attendees. Peers, former and current professors, administration, and donors all mingle with each other — there’s a few familiar faces that you send a smile to, continuing your exploration for the one face you’re actually looking for.

Your nerves are tingling like the bubbles popping in your glass, bringing the fragile rim up to your lips for a long sip. Relaxing your shoulders, the first drink of alcohol sitting warm in your stomach. Before you put on a brave face and step forward to go mill about, a low rasp from close behind catches your attention.

“I’ve got some pretty taste in dresses, huh Bebita?”

Javier’s voice sends goosebumps down your spine and across your shoulders; you fight a smile, the corners of your lips turning up slightly as he steps up beside you. After eyeing the glass of whiskey in his hand, your stare grazes along his body.

He’s wearing a gray suit, crisp white button down underneath his open blazer. Your smile grows when you see his olive tie, patterned with stitch-thin white pinstripes. Immediately, your eyes flick up to his face, a knowing smirk and a wink shot your way.

“Nice to see you, Professor Peña,” you say courteously, bringing your glass up to your lips for another sip.

“Having a nice night so far?” he counters, turning his body to face you, closing you off to the rest of the room and filling your view with only his frame. “Lookin’ beautiful tonight, angel. All this for chatting shit with professors.”

“I wear a lot less to chat shit with one of my professors.” You send him back a wink, smirk growing as you hold it back while he laughs and sip at your drink.

“Got me there. But we both know m’not just one of your professors, Bebita.” His fingers grip at his glass of whiskey tighter, lifting it to his mouth before he rasps out, only loud enough for you to hear. “Can’t wait to get you home, gonna rip that fucking dress off of you.”

The words send a rush of warmth down your body, clenching your thighs together where you stand. Javi’s hand grazes your side as he lifts his drink to yours, clicking them together.

“Cheers, Bebita. Gonna be a long night not bein’ able to have my hands on you, but jus’ want you to know I won’t be thinking about anything other than you.” The heat spreads to the back of your neck, your own hand reaching out to brush your fingers against his in a fleeting touch.

“You better go mingle, angel. Go let everyone know that you’re the smartest person in the room,” he whispers to you with a lopsided grin, moving to stand at your side once again.

You shake your head and roll your eyes playfully, swatting a hand at his affection, the smile you’ve been fighting finally lighting up your eyes.

“See you later, Javi. Meet at your truck later?”

“I’ll be there for you, Bebita.”

The room’s temperature has to have risen a few degrees from all the hot air that these academic stuck-ups have been blowing all night. It’s all bullshit, what he finds himself listening to — no one has any experience in the field like he has, most of them lawyers who barely see the inside of a courtroom these days.

As he takes a sip of his second whiskey of the night, his eyes find you across the room. Standing at a table with a small group around it, your back is to him with your face cheated to the side so he can make out your profile. Drinking you in, he notices the body language you’re displaying. Leaning onto the table toward the man next to you, curling yourself in to make yourself smaller, meeker. Your eyelashes are batting, slow blinks that he pictures you doing when he’s between your legs, the image in his mind and the thought of you doing that for someone else kindling a flame of jealousy inside of him.

He studies you two having a conversation, clenching his jaw tighter with every laugh and beaming smile you give to the man.

The guy next to you is dressed similarly to Javier, a navy suit with crisp white shirt, but no tie around his neck — he’s one of those. Must be one of the rich donors based on the crispness of his suit, the starched button-up giving Javier the clue that he regularly gets them serviced at the dry cleaners. He’s clearly older than Javier, gray hair speckled with whites and a few more lines across his face than what Javier has, despite the extreme stress of the last near decade of his life.

You must be keeping him young.

His eyes stay glued to the two of you, the kindling ashes catching into hotter flames when your hand rests on the man’s bicep. This scumbag’s own hand slips around your back, trailing down to the hem that sits in the middle of your back. The twitch of his fingers moving further south propels Javier into action, excusing himself from the small circle he’s standing in to make his way over to you.

He controls his speed, wanting to rush over and clock the man in the face for touching you, for taking advantage of you being a student at the mercy of his generosity.

Instead, he clenches his fist and downs the last of his alcohol, slamming the glass onto a table that he passes by in his path to you.

Saddling up behind the two of you, he smacks on his best charming smile as he clears his throat to interrupt. The man’s hand drops from you, and yours from him, both stepping backward from each other and facing his interruption.

“Evening,” he begins, using your name as he greets you. In your eyes, he can see the widening of them, as if you’re surprised — no, as if you’ve been caught?

Caught for what?

He presses on, desperate to get you away from this creep and into some place where he can hold you. Somewhere private, alone, secluded for the two of you.

“I don’t think we’ve met before, my name’s Javier Peña. Professor in the Sociology department.” Javier reaches out his right hand to the man, his left flicking his open jacket back and resting on his hip as he pops his leg out.

The man shakes his hand as his eyebrows raise, nodding, “Mark Shepherd. It’s great to meet you, Professor Peña. Or is it still Agent?” Mark attempts a light jest, laughing until he sees Javier isn’t.

“Professor’s just fine. Turned in my badge when I retired.” A look over at you and he can see guilt all over your face.

Guilt.

Flirty body language.

Laughing at jokes that couldn’t have been funny — this man is as dry as the desert.

You’re fucking him.

“How’re liking the university so far? Enjoying the new building? Hopefully my donation was large enough to get you your own office — I was talking to Dean Banks just a few minutes ago and he brought up how you’re the Big Man on Campus…”

Javier tunes out the rest of what Mark is saying, a full blossoming of his temper boiling him from the inside. He keeps his eyes on you, your own avoiding him while you look around the room.

Why did you lie to him? This whole time he was telling you that it’s only you for him; how could you sit there and hear that and feel all the devotion he has for you — all of the care he’s given you, and not tell him the truth?

He thought it was only him. That you were his, that there was something more growing out of this. He was in so deep, he was starting to forget the circumstances that brought you two together, starting to ignore the balance changes in his account monthly.

Fuck, he was wrong about you.

Interrupting Mark, Javier turns back to him with the same friendly smile, telling him you’re his student in one of his courses, “I’m so sorry, buddy, but do you think I could steal her away for a few minutes? There’s someone I wanted her to meet that I mentioned in a lecture last week.”

Your face contorts with confusion as Mark gestures for the two of you to head off, Javier leading you from behind to weave in and out of the groups in the room all the way to an exit into the corridor. When the doors shut behind him, he takes one look at you before he storms off in the direction of the doors to the small patio attached to the building.

“Fuck me. This is not how I wanted this night to go...” you mumble to yourself, feeling your emotion catch in your throat — a similar feeling to being caught in your mess of lies and omitted information only moments ago.

You were caught out by the last person you wanted to find out that way — the one person who’s feelings you would work to protect everyday, which is why you lied in the first place.

Craving his touch, his arms wrapping you in his strong, solid embrace, you follow after him, hope beating in your chest as you formulate the best possible explanation of it all.

Outside, the winter is biting into the weather, a chill breeze blowing the tendrils of Javier’s hair up while he fishes a cigarette from the box in his inside jacket pocket. The same wind is blowing out the flame of his lighter as he attempts to light the small vice in his mouth that will allow him a moment of peace, a moment to think.

“Goddammit,” Javier curses under his breath as he struggles to click his lighter on, the cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth. He sighs defeatedly, kicking his shoes against the brick when he hears the creak of the heavy door. Turning over his shoulder, he’s met with the view of you, purse hanging over one shoulder and heels clicking slowly as you approach him.

Without a word, you reach into your purse at your side, fishing out an aged silver Zippo lighter. Your arm outstretched, lifting it to pass it over to him. He takes it from you, your fingers brushing with the lick of a flame. Between his fingers, he can make out faded engravings in the shape of angel wings. His thumb runs over the design, chest constricting with pain before he flicks the lighter open and holds the flame to the end of his cigarette. A long drag relaxes that pain, attempting and failing at calming his still racing heartbeat.

“Javier, I can explain—” you start, but he lifts his hand with the ashing smoke in it, shaking his head as he blows the fumes away from you.

“You don’t have to. I fully understand that while I’ve been completely focused, devoted, loyal to you, you’ve been off with another man. And couldn’t even have the balls to tell me. Every time I asked you out, and you said you were busy, was it him?” He paces for a few strides before leaning against the brick barrier of the stone patio, eyes boring into yours.

“No. No it wasn’t. Sometimes I really was just busy, with my friends or with school. But yeah, I can’t lie now and say that there weren’t times I made up an excuse or avoided telling you a reason I couldn’t see you…” Your weight shifts on your feet, the points of your stiletto heels scraping against the slate. “There—there’s a couple others besides him.”

Javier’s eyes widen, a crackling inhale of his cigarette pulling smoke into his lungs before he speaks again, “A couple? How many other people are you seeing?”

His voice has a sharp edge to it, patience wearing thin while jealousy and embarrassment root in his stomach. Your face cringes at the harshness of him speaking, intertwining your fingers together and squeezing hard.

“I have three clients besides you. Most of them have been for a few months longer than when I started seeing you…” Your throat clears and your shoulders roll forward, shrinking your usual confidence around him. “I thought you would have…I don’t know I thought you would have known what this was like for me. It’s my job, Javi. With those other guys, it’s still just my job and when I see them, it genuinely feels like work. But—”

He cuts you off again, kicking off the wall and starting his pacing again. “But what, angel? You just told me everything I needed to know. I’m a job to you, just work. That’s fine, we can draw that line here and now. I won’t do anything more for you unless you ask, treat me like everyone else. But forgive me for thinking there was something else there with us.”

Venom in his words hits you with a punch to your gut, this side of Javier one you haven’t been privy to. He’s cold where he normally holds his warmth toward you — his eyes, his dimple, the flex of his arms when he holds you, withdrawn from his normal attachment to you, always a hand kept on you when you’re together and a tab kept on you when you’re apart, stiff where he’s normally malleable, forming to your opposite, complimenting you completely.

This feels like the Javier you would have met a year ago in Colombia, guard up and emotions naught.

Anger blooms in his chest, feeling his insides turn a dark, dampened forest green with envy. Flicking the burnt out cigarette to the ground, he stomps it before walking away from you, cold shoulder freezing you out while he heads back inside.

You were supposed to be his. His Bebita, his angel. He doesn’t own you, no, but he wanted to feel chosen by you. And all of this, the fact that this whole time there have been other people that you see the same as him, he knows he was never the only choice.

“Javier, stop—” you plead with him while your arm grabs his bicep, his step faltering for a moment before he recovers and removes his arm from your grip. In the low light from the warm, yellow lamps at all corners of the patio, he can see the glistening veil over your eyes. The corners of your mouth are downturned, the bottom lip jutting out in that normally irresistible pout.

“Don’t. Don’t pull that shit, you knew what you were doing. I—I think you should get a different ride home tonight.”

Without another breath in your direction, his heavy footsteps carry him inside, leaving you with a chill across your skin that is no match for the iciness of his behavior. A piece of your heart breaking like a crack in a glass, delicately, finely, but one more more and it shatters completely.

He said he was going to be there for you. Yet here he is, leaving you when you want him—need him the most.

Javier strides up to the bar, ordering a double whiskey neat. Once the crystal glass is set in front of him, it’s a blink of an eye before it’s set back down completely empty. His eyes comb the room, a glimpse of you getting caught by a professor, skin burning as jealousy boils inside of him.

Is he one of your clients? Or are you only friendly with him? Was the babysitting story with Professor Quinn bullshit? Were you with him at one point too?

Was anything real with you? Maybe he was naive to assume you were feeling all the same things he was, that this was anything more than a job. The line was blurred for him from the start, infatuation snowballing into something more — he’s in love with you.

And now he knows he’s just a job to you.

Doubt worms its way into his thoughts, anger blossoming at the thought that he was vulnerable, careful, open with you. For the first time in years, he’s let his guard down, fully falling into the comfort of your affections and completely forgetting the way you two were brought together, and now he’s getting burned. All he can remember is the few times before, long before Colombia, when he had the same feeling; tightness in his chest, shallow breathing, sweating at the nape of his neck.

Pressing his palm into his chest to find any type of relief, he feels the rapid beating of his heart. His eyes glue to you, watching your interactions and feeling suddenly desperate for fresh air. Clicks of his dress shoes echo when he finds himself in the marble-tiled lobby, stretching his lungs with every breath with a furrowed brow and thoughts racing in circles.

Muscle memory leads him to his car, folding over and supporting himself with arms outstretched against the hood. Closing his eyes, he focuses on his breath, slowing himself down to deepen them. As he tries to clear his mind of all his doubtful thoughts, the image he conjures is of you, bare under the sheets the morning after that time in your apartment.

Breezy, dawn light coated the side of your face while the two of you talked in whispers, as if any louder would ruin the peace. At one thing he said, he can’t even remember now, you rolled onto your back, the sound of your laughter echoing in his ears as he saw the beaming smile of yours.

That was when it solidified in his mind, his care and affection and desire rolling into the one word that encapsulates it all — love.

The pressure of a hand on his shoulder makes him jump, smudging the image to nothing as he turns to face whoever is interrupting him.

Your eyes meet his, his brow returning to its furrowed state while his eyes round with softness. The sight of him, the emotion painted on his face, tears into your heart, but you tell yourself you have to stand your ground, to tell him all that you couldn’t when he rushed back inside.

“Javi—” your voice trails off when he interrupts you.

“We’ll talk about this later,” Javi clips at you, index finger and thumb pinching the bridge of his nose when you scoff.

“Who died and made you king? You’re not the sole-decider, Javier, and after all the shit you just said to me, I think I deserve a second to speak to you,” your voice is steady despite the emotion crawling up your throat, tears burning in your waterline as you look at him in front of you, “It’s not fair for you to get angry at me. When I’m with those other men, I’m doing my job. It feels like work, and it is for me. I need the money, Javier, or else I’d have to drop out of school and still be responsible for my student loans. I’m doing what I was hired to do, the same thing you signed up for, so I don’t need the shit from you.”

Standing up straight from leaning against his car, he chuckles mockingly and shakes his head before countering, “You know, I thought when I was signing up, I would have someone just for me. Didn’t expect to get someone for everyone.”

The tears burning at your waterline fill your view, blurring him standing in front of you until they start to fall in quick succession. Inside of your throat feels raw, swallowing hard and wiping the streams across your face. Mascara is definitely running down your cheeks, and your nose is sniffling while you press your tongue to the roof of your mouth to keep your sobs at bay.

He doesn’t deserve to see you so hurt. He doesn’t get to know how you really feel about him, not anymore. You made a mistake trusting him, crossing the line, and getting too attached.

Another swallow pops in your ears, mustering as much volume as you can without completely breaking, “I really thought you were different, but I guess not. Now I know what you really think about me.”

You shift your weight in your heels, looking at Javi once more, stoicism on high and the emotion you saw before completely void. Anger is strong across his face, with the brief reprieve of gentle care when a small sob slips out. Turning around to walk back inside and collect yourself, the sound of Javi’s rasp stopping you in your tracks.

Javier hears what he said played back in his head, the sight of your tears constricting his throat. With a dry mouth, he stutters out an attempt to back track, “Wait, wait—I didn’t—Fuck, I didn’t mean it like that, Bebita.”

You flinch, the name that normally sends warmth spreading across your chest now feeling like a dagger in your heart.

Facing him again, you cross your arms over your chest as your temper engulfs your emotion for a moment, spitting your response to Javier’s acrimony. “Don’t call me that,” you snap, eyes stinging as you look at him and watch his face fall from your words. “How did you mean it, Javi? Did you mean for it to have me begging for forgiveness, begging you to accept me even though I’m such used merchandise? Well, newsflash, Javier, but this was my job before you came around and screwed with my head. How can you say that shit when you tell me how much you care?”

He takes one step forward, and you take two back, shaking your head at his advance. His eyes round with softness again, tense brow shifting into a sorrowful one. Mumbling under his breath, he runs a hand through his hair before he looks at you. The need to win, to be right, to be justified in the end has him speaking before thinking yet again, “I didn’t know this is what I was getting into exactly. I thought you were with one person at a time, that all of your experiences were from the past, like, year not the past few weeks. I told you that I was only with you — you had plenty of opportunities to let me know about all the other jobs you’ve been doing. Were you telling them all the same shit? How many have you had over? Or stayed over at their place? Was I really just some fucking job, a shift you scheduled every week?”

“Fuck you, Javier. Fuck you. Forget about this, about me, I’ll tell the company to cancel your payments and refund you. Don’t fucking call me, don’t pull me after class. We’re done.”

Finally turning around again, Javier is silent as he watches you walk away, shoulders slumped forward with your arms crossed. Part of him is begging to go after you, to make it alright, to fix it for you. The other part is keeping his feet planted where he’s at, staunch in his anger toward you, toward the situation.

At the sound of the heavy building door shutting behind you, he runs his palm over his face before sighing deeply and getting into his car. He feels something in his pocket, fishing it out and confronted with the lighter you handed to him. His thumb runs over the engraving again, tracing the worn lines of the angel wings in the metal body of the Zippo.

He’s on his way down, falling from the heaven — the haven — you created for him into the familiar abyss of hell.

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bloopitynoot · 29 days

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13 WangXian Social Media Au's

This list was requested by @yiling-laozu-is-loml and is all about WangXian social media stories. NOTE: All of these fics are tried and true! They include fics I have read an enjoyed and wanted to share.

Request:

WangXian

Social media can include; group chats, online forums, blog, tweets, OF, youtube etc really the public eye (I included some actor/famous/reality tv with fans fics too) or chat based fics.

if applicable Bottomxian only

book canon only if applicable

If you want a specific rec list for WangXian dm me! I love putting these together :)

Enjoy the list!

1 Welcome to Pepper & Bun! (9560 words) by PaidSubscription

Chapters: 1/1 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dating Advice Columnists, Relationship Advice, Demisexual Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji, Bisexual Disaster Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Mastermind Nie Huaisang, Inspired by Twitter, Autistic Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji, Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian Has ADHD, Getting Together, Fluff and Humor, Those Who Can't Do Write Advice Columns, Idiots in Love, Mainly Wei Wuxian Because Canon, Podfic Available Summary: Wei Wuxian: Did you catch our first letter? Shall we meet up and discuss it? Lan Wangji: No need. Sent draft just now. Wei Wuxian's email pings with 'Column Copy- Final Draft.' It contains two words. "Dump him." OR: Gossip Editor Nie Huaisang strikes gold when he picks Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji to be co-writers of a new dating advice column. The only slight problem? Lan Wangji has never dated.

NOTES: Okay this fic was so damn sweet!!!! If this was a real advice column I would be invested in an unhealthy way- the two of them are adorable. It gives a little bit of frenemies to lovers and I am always here for this dynamic- the duo who seemingly has nothing in common falling for one another. My heart! Also Nie Huaisang is a marketing genius.

2 For a Good Time, Call (170842 words) by ScarlettStorm

Chapters: 21/21 Rating: Explicit Additional Tags: Modern AU, Getting Together, Pining, Porn, like in the writing and also as a plot point, onlyfans au, repressed lan zhan, sex worker wei ying, in this house we support sex work, Minor Angst, major shenanigans, hornt(tm), way too many details about onlyfans probably, they say write what you know, No beta we die like wei wuxian, mental health, therapy is good actually, in which I reveal my true otp and it's anyone in the untamed/therapy, okay so actually more angst than I was expecting, a surprising amount of genuine feelings, whoops?, Background Jiang Cheng/Wen Qing - Freeform, background lan xichen/nie mingjue, background Jiāng Yànlí/Jīn Zixuān, Nonbinary Nie Huaisang Series: Part 1 of See all this and more for just ten dollars a month! Summary: The picture is of Wei Ying, that much is clear. It’s of a lot more of Wei Ying than Lan Zhan is used to seeing. He supposes that, technically, Wei Ying is dressed. It’s a bare technicality, since one of Wei Ying’s hands has rucked up his black tank top practically to his collarbone, showing a long expanse of abdomen and one nipple. Sweat beads on his sternum, catching the light like jewels. His other hand is--Lan Zhan feels his eyes widen, as though unable to look away from a train wreck--on his hip, one thumb tugging down the waistband of a pair of red briefs. Wei Ying is biting his lower lip and looking directly into the camera, sultry, his eyes dark and inviting. His erection is obvious, outlined against the red of the briefs and framed carefully with the hand on his hip. Lan Zhan’s brain goes wildly, screamingly blank. Or: Lan Zhan accidentally finds his best friend's OnlyFans account and has an ongoing emotional crisis.

NOTES: I love an OF plotline and this one is exceptionally good. Poor Lan Zhan going THROUGH the moralities of not only finding your besties OF account but also subscribing and also finding it too hot to handle. The amount of tears and cash this poor boy spends. It has a happy ending so no stress with his moral angst! ALSO the sequel is so so good KILF (Knits I'd Like To Fuck in (pls note the sequel has them tagged as switches so full disclosure there if it is a deal breaker for you).

3 兔's Clues | Tu's Clues (12296 words) by Anonymous

Chapters: 2/2 Rating: General Audiences Additional Tags: Crack Treated Seriously, Single Parent Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Minor Jiang Yanli/Jin Zixuan, Fluff and Humor, Misunderstandings, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Minor Lán Huàn | Lán Xīchén/Niè Míngjué Series: Part 2 of AUs only a mother could love Summary: Most childrens’ show hosts are cheerful, energetic people who wear eye-catching clothing. The man on-screen is none of those things. This man (“that’s Lan-xiong!” A-Yuan says helpfully) is eye-catching for completely different reasons. When A-Yuan had started talking about 'Lan-xiong' and rabbits, Wei Wuxian had briefly recalled 18-year-old Lan Zhan sitting back on his heels with two baby rabbits in his lap, but the idea of his high school crush hosting a childrens' show had been so ludicrous that Wei Wuxian had chalked it up to coincidence. So either Wei Wuxian is hallucinating or that is indeed Lan Wangji on-screen, talking to two rabbits. As the host of a childrens' show. --- or: A-Yuan's new favourite thing is a show about solving clues left by rabbits… or something like that. Single dad Wei Wuxian is very much not prepared to see his high school crush hosting a childrens' show.

NOTES: So listen, this is tagged as Crack Treated Seriously and honestly the energy was not so Crackish. It was a surprisingly adorable and very cute fic. Lan Zhan WOULD be a stoic AF bunny handler as a children's tv host.

4 shoot your shot -- hot or knot (51435 words) by defractum

Chapters: 5/5 Rating: Explicit Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Reality Show, Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Canon-Typical Violence, Extremely Dubious Consent, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Humor, Additional Warnings In Author's Note Summary: "Hi, I'm Wei Wuxian. I'm a Career Omega and this is my fourth season on the show. I like spicy food, archery and alphas who are funny. Or maybe I don't, I haven't rolled over for one yet." On-screen, Wei Wuxian winks at the audience laughter. Hot or Knot is the world's most popular reality TV show. Part dating show, part survival show, Hot or Knot is everyone's guilty pleasure - and Wei Wuxian is a fan favourite. - The Love Island/Hunger Games reality dating tv show A/B/O au

NOTES: Okay, but here's the thing. This is S tier crack fic and no one can change my mind. Did I think I would be out here reading a Love Island/Hunger Games/ ABO reality show fic- absolutely not but let me tell you *slaps fic* this baby has so much good shit in it. Just pls trust me and go in with open energy LOL

5 episodes (34947 words) by kasunn

Chapters: 8/8 Rating: Mature Additional Tags: Fluff, basically all fluff, Youtuber Wei Ying, Social Media, Actor Lan Xichen, Artist Jiang Cheng, Chef Jiang Yanli, Babysitting, lowkey kidfic, Surgeon Lan Zhan, Canon typical feels, Taiwanese Wei Ying, Copious amounts of Chinglish, pets!, Secret Relationship, Kind Of, bad pet names, Established Relationship, wen yuan is a wen Summary: “Lan Zhan-gege,” Wei Ying sighs when he reads the tweet and Lan Zhan pats his knee. “I said hello,” Lan Zhan says. That he did. The tweet simply reads ‘Hello’ with a waving hand emoji. Terrible. Wei Ying is ashamed of himself for not teaching him better. “Your brother is going to kill me,” Wei Ying says. (or just a lot of domesticity between Wei Ying the Youtuber and Lan Zhan (his husband) + a mild, mini mystery for Wei Ying's viewers)

NOTES: I love this fic so much. The wholesome domestic energy is everything. WY is a youtuber and quite popular online in this and his husband is a mysterious man no one sees or knows anything about- obviously fans get curious and oh, Lan Zhan gets twitter.

6 you are safe / loved / worthy / enough (150003 words) by everythingispoetry

Chapters: 28/28 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - College/University, Social Media, Mental Health Issues, Healing, self-care, Anxiety, Hurt/Comfort, the mortifying ordeal of self-acceptance, Falling In Love, Depression, Slow Burn Summary: One of the more timid-looking posts, in pale greens and creams and yellows, says Hello, I'm managing to be fairly high functioning right now but I'm really not doing as well as it may appear, and Lan Zhan feels as if someone sneaked into his mind and read his most secret thoughts, the ones he's never even dared to admit to himself. (Lan Zhan falls apart and finds himself through the most unexpected means.)

NOTES: So a few things with this fic; first it takes the prompt social media a little lighter as in social media is used for healing and there are social media talks but it isn't the forefront of the fic, second CW if you struggle with depression this fts that heavily and in a descriptive way. So heads up there. This fic is stunning, it's about healing, recovery, autonomy and love. That being said, your boy Wangji really goes through it in this fic. The poor guy is Not Okay. It is a beautiful fic though and he does get better.

7 Badreads (37442 words) by arabii

Chapters: 8/8 Rating: Mature Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Writing & Publishing, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Bullying as a Flirting Technique, Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian in Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian's Body Summary: Lan Zhan rated it ★☆☆☆☆ August 12, 2022 shelves: should-have-abandoned Picked up solely because I thought that a book release clouded with so much controversy would at least be entertaining to read. I was wrong. How does Wei Wuxian manage to make a book containing cannibalism, necromancy, and a sex cult boring? Lan Xichen and Wei Wuxian are romance authors with large social media followings. Nie Huaisang sees an opportunity to get publicity by faking a relationship between them. This action will have consequences.

NOTES: I absolutely LOVE when Lan Wangji is a Bitch and this is peak Bitchiness. WY and LXC are romance writers and LWJ is a book reviewer with 0 fucks to give. The brutality in which he makes a point to read and review each of WWX's books brings me so much joy. and OFC they fall in love.

8 Falling to the Rhythm (128916 words) by Selenay

Chapters: 14/14 Rating: Explicit Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Alternate Universe - Dance, Alternate Universe - Strictly Come Dancing Fusion, Ballroom Dancing, Dancer!Wèi Wúxiàn, Violinist Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji, Pining While Dancing, Oblivious Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Gratuitous Costume Descriptions, Gratuitous dancing descriptions, Slow Burn, Rating applies to later chapters, The unbearable romance of being cared for, Podfic Available Series: Part 1 of Wangxian Strictly AU Summary: "So it's a bet?" Jiang Cheng said. "Dance the showcase if you get him, fancy coffee machine if you don't?" Wei Wuxian considered the machine. "Fine. You're on. I want it in red." "Don't start planning your caffeine overdose yet." "It's in the bag," Wei Wuxian said cheerfully. "There's no way they'll match me with someone like Lan Wangji." Teaching Lan Wangji to dance in front of the nation for twelve weeks, how hard can that be? Wei Wuxian is about to find out.

NOTES: I love everything about this fic. It was so good and light (a tiny sip of angst because competition and some pining). The Strictly Come Dancing (basically Dancing with the Stars for North America) is *chefs kiss*. Also the fact that WY went in on it for a bet because he wanted a coffee machine I cant.

9 Gusu's Drag Race (55079 words) by DizziDreams

Chapters: 15/15 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Additional Tags: the gang's all here, Drag Queens, Drag Race AU, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Nonbinary Character, Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Reality Show, whistleblower, There Was Only One Bed, Alcohol Abuse, ambiguous setting, American political system - Freeform, Big Bang Challenge, Background jyl/mianmian Summary: Meet the Queens of Gusu’s Drag Race Season 5! by QIN SU Oh my god, we’re back again. Hot on the heels of the shocking finale of season 4, Gusu’s Drag Race is back, with perennial judge Lan Qiren, Gusu’s grumpiest shufu, and featuring the return of the grandmother of drag Baoshan Sanren. And this season is already promising one. “We’ve never had such a strong cast of refined, professional queens. It has the makings to be the greatest season of Drag Race yet.” Big talk for the Emmy-award-winning show that has shot dozens of queens to fame, bringing drag to the mainstream. “The mainstream may be taking notice, but there’s nothing mainstream about drag done right,” says co-host Baoshan Sanren. “Drag is about disobedience. It’s rebellious and anti-mainstream by its very definition, and we’ve got some queens this season with the chops to prove it.” With all that to look forward to, let’s Meet the Queens who’ve already captivated our judges.

NOTES: I know I said that Hot or Knot was PEAK Crack, but this one is up there too! We have the MDZS ensemble, we have Drag, we have unionization and the fight for working conditions, OH AND INCLUDED ART. This was so fun to read.

10 Yesterday Once More (22725 words) by Sweetlittlevampire

Chapters: 7/7 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reality Show, Long Lost Family AU, Adoption, Family Reunions, Reunions, Lost Love, Getting Back Together, Family Feels, Found Family, Angst with a Happy Ending, Mild Angst, Happy Ending, Podfic Welcome, Podfic Available Summary: „I remember him as…sunny,” Sizhui tells her. “His whole personality radiated sunshine and warmth. He was always smiling, always cracking a joke. He loved playing and rough-housing with us kids, but he could also be very gentle if he wanted to. Looking back, he couldn’t have been older than twenty-five; he was probably even younger than that, now that I think about it. But despite the short time we’ve spent together while he was looking after the kids at the orphanage, he always felt like a father to me.” In which Lan Sizhui goes on a TV show, to find the man he saw as a father figure while he was in the orphanage, and who disappeared one day. …and who just so happens to be his adoptive father's long-lost love.

NOTES: Okay way less crack, this fic actually made me tear up. A wholesome journey Sizhui centric in which he goes on a reality TV show to find his Xian-ge. The "show" was so beautifully narrated and "produced" and the ending ultra sweet.

11 Love at Second Sight (49893 words) by flowerofgusu

Chapters: 17/17 Rating: Explicit Relationships: Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji/Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian Characters: Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji, Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Luo "Mian Mian" Qingyang, Wen Qing (Modao Zushi), Wen Ning | Wen Qionglin, Jiang Yanli, Jiang Cheng | Jiang Wanyin, Lan Yuan | Lan Sizhui Additional Tags: Background SongXiao, background mianqing, Romance, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Reality TV, Musicians Wangxian, Comphet Wei Wuxian, Coming Out, Demisexual Wei Wuxian, Rated E for the Small Amounts of Smut, Eventual Smut, Romantic Comedy, Falling In Love, Misunderstandings, Rivals to Friends to Lovers, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage Summary: Popstar Wei Wuxian agrees to go on Nie Huaisang’s reality TV show, wherein celebrities play an arranged married couple for a month. His manager, Wen Qing, insists this will be good publicity—plus, the funds raised will go to a children’s music school. He’s excited—he’s never been in a relationship before, let alone a fake-arranged-marriage. But when he finds out that he’s been arranged to be married on the show to his rival Lan Wangji, he doesn’t know whether to grin and bear it, or run the other way. How much can he act smitten for the cameras?

NOTES: On a good day I am already too invested in real life trash reality tv so it's no surprise that I am here to include yet another reality tv dating show au. This one was so good. I love a good "fake it till you accidentally actually fall in love" trope and this one does that plus a solid slowburn to realization exquisitely. These poor babes so oblivious- such messes.

12 cookin' up a storm, piece of cake (9562 words) by livinginaworldofnoise

Chapters: 1/1 Rating: General Audiences Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Social Media, Baking, the dumbest comments u have ever seen, wei wuxian being a troll for nearly 10k words, lan wangji suffering the most that any recipe blogger has ever suffered, Baker Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji, Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian is a Little Shit, Crack, content warning for absolute unhinged nonsense, told in the form of recipe comments and emails, Epistolary Summary: yiling_patriarch: first time making a cake with alcohol! it’s still in the oven but it smells great so far ↳ Gusu Lan Kitchen: There is no alcohol listed in the ingredients for this recipe. yiling_patriarch: i didn’t have any oranges or orange juice so i replaced those with a can of orange sparkling margarita! tasted super weird [★★☆☆☆] ↳ Gusu Lan Kitchen: Are you being deliberately obtuse? OR: life is tough for baker!lwj when online troll!wwx won't stop commenting on his recipe blog

NOTES: I know @yiling-laozu-is-loml has already read this (and the next fic) but I legally (not actually) had to include this one on this list. This fic is so damn cute- flirting through bad baking, trolling, and blogs??? What is there not to love. It is extra sweet how they end up together in the end.

13 don’t threaten me with a good time (60023 words) by livinginaworldofnoise

Chapters: 11/11 Rating: General Audiences Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Reality TV, Alternate Universe - The Great British Bake Off Fusion, wwx is a chaos demon determined to make gbbo more exciting, lwj cares about the Integrity of Bake-Off, who will win????, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, gbbo au, content warning for absolute unhinged nonsense, Enemies to Lovers, by enemies i mean BAKING RIVALS of course, the last two chapters are the twitter reactions to the show so, Social Media AU, Podfic Available Summary: “I’m using orange liqueur to make my cake more interesting. Give it a bit of a kick, you know?” Lan Wangji’s expression has only changed minutely—not a lot of range there, it seems—but Wei Wuxian can tell he is perturbed by this information. “Alcohol? In cake?” “Honestly, I’m not sure any cake should even be made without alcohol,” Wei Wuxian says, offering another beatific smile that Lan Wangji does not return. OR: the great british bake-off au???

NOTES: Bake off AU! BAKE OFF AU! It's got cakes, scandal, disasters, enemies to lovers, and clothing so distracting WWX bluescreens. A very wholesome social media + reality TV competition. I highly recommend for good vibes. Bonus with the juniors idolizing Lan Zhan- such little cuties.

#wangxian fics #wangxian #wei wuxian #wei ying #lan wangji #lan zhan #social media au #rec list #wangxian rec list #All of these are so good #DM me with requests #Honestly I love making these lists #bloopitynoots wangxian recs

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sunandsstars · 2 years

Text

PASKALIN

Miles Socorro ‘Spider’ x Na’vi!Reader (Platonic)

Summary: He never had someone to look after him before, but when two species collide it all changes for the better. Warnings: Angst elements, Talks of death and abandonment Word count: 1.9k

Taglist: @itsyoboysparkel @dumb-fawkin-bitch @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed

Soft sobs were heard from deep within the forest. They were high pitched like a child’s and ___ felt herself drop the beads she held in her hands, going towards the sound. Her forehead furrowed and ears pulled back, confused. What is going on? Who left a child on their own so far into the jungle?

She stepped over tree roots and piles of fauna, leaves tickling her shins. She took note of the darkening sky, eclipse was near and Pandora’s night was just beginning. It drove her to find the source of the noise even faster.

The sobbing got louder as she stepped next to an overly large tree root, ears swivelling at the cries. Her steps were quiet as she got closer, pulling back flowers and vines. The sight that greeted her was one she did not expect, not entirely.

It was a human.

He seemed extremely small, smaller than the humans she knew at Hellsgate. He was about the size of a baby Na’vi. Her foot stepped on a twig in her distracted state and the boys head jumped up, seeing the large woman and whimpering. He scooted back further under the root, hoping to hide from her.

“Shh I am not going to hurt you” she spoke in English, her words heavily accented. His eyes widened slightly, not expecting to understand her. “My name is ___ te Tsakxel Rola’ite” she introduced herself, hoping to get his in return and find out who he was. He must have been apart of the other humans at camp, but she has never seen him before.

“I am Miles” now it was her turn to blink in surprise, his Na’vi was accented with that of a skypersons, but his words were fluent like that of her peoples. She kneeled to the ground and got down to his height, or as close as she could get, trying to be level with him as to not intimidate the child.

“Why are you here alone paskalin?” she figured it was safe to talk to him in her mother tongue and continued to do so when she saw no signs of confusion on his face. “Why so far out from home?”

“I…I am lost” he sniffed and faced the floor, feet digging into the dirt. His hair was matted and dirty and so was his skin, he held blue paint over the expanse of his body ‘to look like one of us’ she mused, her tail swished when she took note of the fact he wore a tweng and no human clothes, he wants to be Na’vi.

She stalked a little closer to him, looking into his eyes and seeing no flinching from him so she proceeded to go forward. She sat on her bottom next to him and pulled the boy into her arms as he continued to weep silently “But that is not all, is it?”

“My friends, they left me” he pushed his face against her arm, or tried to with the mask “We were playing a game and then they left me here” he spoke in both Na’vi and english. He would need work on his language skills.

“Hush ‘evi” she cooed sweetly, feeling motherly instincts take over her and brushed his locks back. Taking note of the forests glow, it was officially night and they would have to head back soon. “Come I will take you home”

The boy didn’t budge when she stood up and started to cling to her leg, afraid she would leave him alone even though she just stated the opposite. She smiled sadly and picked him up, holding him like any other baby or child she held. “Ma Miles, who is your family?” she started the walk back to camp, starting up a conversation as to not be in awkward silence.

“I do not have any” and her heart shattered. This poor child.. it was only five years since the war, maybe his parents died fighting. But this child is still alone, afraid and upset. “My mum died in a crash. My dad died..trying to kill the Olo’eyktan” at that ___ paused her walking and looked at him in her arms, forehead scrunched up.

“Your father.. he was the man that destroyed Hometree?” he nodded and more tears welled up in his eyes, he didn’t want her to cast him out like the others. She seemed nice.

“Srane. Please don’t be angry!” he buried his face against her again, this time in her neck. ___ hushed him and stroked his head, trying to calm the child.

“We are not at fault for what our parents did. I will never be angry at you paskalin” she continued to walk.

‘Honey’ it was a Na’vi term of endearment. Something he has never been called before. At her calming words and quite footsteps Miles Socorro was lulled to a peaceful slumber in her motherly arms.

“Miles!” Norm shouted out at the kid who awoke just mere moments ago, already rushing to grab an exopack to get outside. “Kid! At least take an extra!”

“I’ll be ok!” The boy ran through the door the adult held open for him and watched as the child climbed over the hill, shaking his head. That kid was a cheeky little thing.

Ever since waking up, all Miles had on his mind was the woman. He rushed his breakfast and immediately went out to seek for her. Not caring for any other trivial things that the scientists wanted him to do, no he doesn’t want to bathe, or cut his hair, why must he have no hair?

As he was running he came to where the other Omaticaya were, eyes looking left and right for the woman who helped him. He stumped through large legs and weaved through kneeling aliens as he sought out the only thing on his mind.

“Boo!” the human squealed as he was turned around forcefully, seeing one of the Na’vi kids. His friend. Not the one who left him yesterday but his good friend. Kiri. “What are you doing monkey boy?”

“I’m looking for someone! Can you help me find her?” now this caught Kiri’s interest, he never went seeking for anyone but her and her brothers. So who could he be talking about?

“Who?”

“___… I can’t remember the rest of her name” he stated bashfully. Their names where long and filled with unnecessary titles, could you blame the kid?

“Oh! I know her! I think she is by the river! I will-“

“Kiri!” a more larger, angrier figure came into view, it was Neytiri. Tsahìk in training and his friend’s mother. “Za’u, set” she ushered the four year old away from the skyperson, glaring at the small boy and they walked away. Kiri turned her head back with furrowed brows and pointed to the direction where ___ was. Silently apologising for her mum.

Miles understood well, knowing he wasn’t favoured by Neytiri. He tried not to let that get to him and followed the direction his friend pointed to. Running off into the deep jungle.

Now that the day was bright and the light cascaded well through the tall trees, it was easy for him to see. Which meant easier for him to climb. He jumped over pieces of wood to the best of his ability and vaulted over bits of hill. Manoeuvring a little clumsily but he was skilled, or at least he thought he was.

His foot caught onto a dip in the logs and he tripped, tumbling down luscious green plants and falling face first into a pile of dirt and mud from the rain a few days ago. He sat up and wiped his mask, trying his best to clear it.

Soft laughing caught his attention and he turned to the sound, seeing a blurry blue blob through his exopack. “Nga tam?” ___ giggled at him, helping the boy stand up.

“Yeah.. I’m fine” he said, blushing a little in embarrassment. That wasn’t supposed to happen.

“What are you doing here, monkey boy?” her ears wiggled and a grin stretched on her face, when taking Miles home to the humans she and Norm had a little talk about him. Everyone called him monkey boy, or spider, simply because he moved like the small animals back on Earth.

“Oe za’u ne run nga” he still wiped the mask, not yet seeing anything clear.

“Me? Why would you ever want to see me again nìhona ‘evengan?” his face burned even darker at the endearing nickname. ___ noticed his struggles of getting clean and picked him up, carrying him towards the river. “Tell me in a bit, let me get you clean”

She proceeded to place him in the shallow end of the water and scrubbed the dirt off his skin, using a large leaf nearby to take of the stubborn dry bits. Using her hand she washed his hair and the mud off the exopack so he can see better “I will redo your paint” she pointed to the very faint blue stains on his skin and Miles nodded.

“Wait!” he suddenly stopped and leapt out of the river, not caring about his now dirtying feet. ___ huffed. He went into some bushes and came out a few moments later with a beaded bracelet “I.. I made this for you! Irayo Si! For saving me”

___’s ears turned back against her head and she smiled, never having been given a gift from someone so sweet “Irayo spider boy, I love it!” she immediately shifted it up onto her wrist. A perfect fit.

Miles grinned happily, he has made people gifts but they have never been worn before. Seeing it on her made his chest puff with pride. He squealed as the woman gave his head a big smooch, exaggerating the sound and tickled his stomach a bit.

As promised Miles’s paint was redone and they both relaxed on the river bank, ___ snacking on some fruit she saw nearby and saved some for the boy to take home later.

“I had a son” she started and it immediately got the humans attention, wide eyes staring up at her. “He would have been your age this year” her eyes held a distant look as she reminisced on the past, eyes slightly watering.

“What happened?” Miles took in her expression and knew he was stepping into uncharted territory but he couldn’t help but ask.

“Tawtute”

‘Human, Skyperson’ it was what killed her baby and her mate. The boy felt a wave of sadness hit him and he scooted closer to lay his head in her lap, understanding her but also not fully. He can’t remember his parents, she can remember her son. They both lost people that were dear to them. He felt empathy towards her.

“I am sorry”

“There is nothing to apologise for monkey boy. I have met you, no? The great mother has truly blessed our encounter” despite him being the species that killed her family, her people, her home. He was just an innocent child who has done no wrong.

Miles felt tears gather on his lash line, no one has ever said something like that before. The nicknames. The sweet words and embraces. It was like what he has seen mothers do to their children. Something he secretly longed for.

“My sweet child there is no need to cry” ___ cooed “I will take care of you”

“Do you swear?”

“With my life”

#✰ — avatar works — ✰#avatar the way of water #x reader #atwow #avatar x reader #atwow x reader #avatar the way of water x reader #na’vi #fluff #platonic #spider #miles socorro #child miles socorro #mama reader #little angst #Mentions of kiri #Kiri #neytiri #norm spellman

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theeoriginals · 2 years

Note

Ok. But I need to know what happened with Athena, Stefan & Caroline at that party?? 👀 in smutty detail 🙏

three’s a party

author’s note: i was going to hell long before this so i’m unashamed

warnings: threesome, smut, MINORS DNI! general sex things ig ? idk how to word this, they’re having all of the sex! service top athena, bottom caroline, face sitting, overstimulation, piv sex, technically unprotected sex but vampires can't procreate so we have all of the unprotected sex we want over here! girlxgirl & girlxgirlxguy. enjoy!

smut below the cut - 18+

it's natural, the way athena and caroline fall back together, the way stefan melts over athena. they're giggling drunkenly, but they're not drunk– it's not like any of them could really get drunk at this point, but the raging party downstairs and the heavy tension makes every whisper and every touch feel like it's dialed to a ten.

it feels like hours, and perhaps it is, when they finally part long enough to remove their clothes, and really, the gift is for caroline, so athena makes that her main priority.

she dips back down between caroline’s legs, the movement familiar as she takes in her taste.

caroline moans, head thrown back at the first bout of pleasure that sings through her body like a symphony. athena laughs into her skin, pulling back to press a trail of wet kisses on the insides of her thighs as stefan shifts behind her, brushing his hands up and down the bare expanse of her olive-toned back.

when athena swipes her tongue through caroline’s folds again, the girl lets out a choked moan and athena shifts, using her strength to hold caroline’s legs open. her fingers dip into the meat of her pale thighs, sure to leave fingerprint-shaped bruises there in her wake if only for a moment.

stefan grips her hips suddenly, pulling her back, and she sits up, knees digging into the mattress as caroline takes a breath, her chest flushed with the exertion. stefan spans his hands around her waist, dragging them up until he is gently cupping her jawline, tilting her head to the side and revealing the soft skin of her neck.

caroline’s eyes darken, the faintest hint of veins crawling up beneath her eyes when stefan’s fangs brush against her skin, not piercing the skin but bringing her blood rushing to the surface.

the sudden scent of her blood makes both of the vampires groan. “you guys are so predictable,” athena tilts her head back onto stefan’s chest, letting out a breathy, smug laugh. “i flash a little bit of neck and you can hardly contain yourselves.”

stefan makes a noise of discontent, and digs his teeth a little harder to her skin, finally piercing it. a small bead of blood bubbles up and slides down her neck, and stefan quickly dips down, dragging his lips across the red ambrosia, smearing it across her neck.

athena's smug smile falters and her breath stutters around a moan, her hand coming up to comb through stefan's hair and hold his lips to her neck.

caroline watches, her bright eyes darkened with the veil of lust that had settled over her, and she watched with rapt attention as stefan lifted his head up and brought athena into a kiss.

athena pulls away from stefan, her dark brown eyes falling back down onto caroline as the blonde squirms in anticipation. "i think we're making the birthday girl feel a little left out, stefan,"

the vampire chuckles lowly, bringing his head back up from where he'd been at her throat again, and he fixes his eyes on caroline with a smirk. "well, we can't have that, can we?"

stefan releases his grip on athena and she drops down over caroline, pressing her hands into the mattress on either side of the blonde's head.

athena slowly presses her lips to caroline's, but just before the blonde leans up into it, athena pulls away, dragging her lips across caroline's cheek and down to her jaw, resting them at her throat just like stefan had moments ago.

athena smirks against her pale skin and bites down suddenly, making caroline let out a surprised noise that quickly melts into a moan. athena pulls away, watching the bruise she's sucked into her neck slowly fade before she leans back in and makes another one in its wake.

satisfied with the breathlessness she's left caroline with, athena moves down, trailing her lips against her bare chest, nipping the skin with her teeth in between the soft kisses she was giving.

it filled her with a certain satisfaction to see the tarnish of her canines fade, knowing that even though they were healing, caroline was still writhing beneath her touch. it made her feel heady and powerful, especially with the knowledge that stefan was watching.

"athena," caroline puffs out her name, frustration laced in her voice that makes the goddess smirk against her stomach as she slowly makes her way back down to the peak of caroline's thighs.

"caroline," athena echoes her name, looking up at her from beneath thick, dark lashes. she turns suddenly, sinking her teeth into caroline's thigh one last time as the blonde finally teeters over, sinking her hands into athena's dark hair and pulling her to her core.

athena presses the tip of her nose into the sensitive skin there, not moving, looking up at the girl. "do you want something from me, care?"

caroline throws her head back, the vibrations of her words touching on her delicate nerves. "do something– tongue! use your tongue, please,"

athena puffs a laugh, the small bit of air making goosebumps break out on caroline's skin. the goddess sends a brief glance over her shoulder to her boyfriend, quirking a sharp brow.

"you heard her, stefan; tongue, please,"

stefan's fingers dig in where they're wrapped around her thighs, making her eyes flutter slightly as she turns back to caroline, finally dragging her tongue through the soft, pink folds again.

caroline's moan is partly muffled by athena's as stefan leans down, finally sinking his teeth into something else, and athena falls forward, tongue sinking deeper into caroline's wetness as stefan feasts on her.

stefan's own moan is muffled between her thighs and athena wraps her arms around caroline's thighs, letting the girl squeeze her head as she uses the hand in athena's hair as leverage to pull her in as close as she possibly can.

athena moans into her taste, eyes fluttering shut at the liquid gold that floods her tastebuds, practically pouring from caroline's weeping hole. shifting, athena undoes the complicated pretzel she'd weaved herself into and slides her hand beneath her front, bringing a finger up to delicately trace the path her tongue left.

caroline shivered at the extra stimulation and athena swiped two fingers through the arousal spread messily around her mound, and slipped them back down, right into caroline's pulsing hole.

her loud moan fills the room again, and athena smirks as she leans back into her, lips pressing against her sensitive clit. she curves her fingers, earning another poignant moan.

athena's eyes roll back as stefan follows suit, sinking two of his thick fingers into her heat, and she moans into caroline's pussy, the sound making the blonde echo one back.

"stefan," athena pulled back, chest heaving as her fingers slipped out of caroline, her own pleasure distracting her momentarily. "stefan, please,"

"what do you want?" he pants behind her, pupils dilated with lust. "tell me what you want, sweetheart."

athena drops her forehead onto caroline's lower stomach, digging her fingers into the sheets as he curves his fingers into the sensitive, spongy spot inside of her that makes her weak in the knees every time. he does it again, once, twice, three times in quick succession until she clenches around him with a prolonged moan as her release hits her.

"fuck!" athena's voice cracks on the moan that breaks from her throat and stefan pulls his fingers from her core, watching as she clenched around nothing.

caroline watches with rapt attention as athena falls apart, and she meets stefan's gaze from where he's kneeling behind the goddess. her cheeks flush even further when his hungry stare rakes over her naked form and she fights the urge to cover up under his attention. after all, caroline had never misunderstood why athena was so smitten with him. he had a way of giving his attention to people that made you feel like you were the only one in the room. of course, he only ever chose to make athena feel like that, though.

athena comes back to herself quickly, snapping her head up quickly to flick her hair out of her face. she licks her lips, swallowing as the slight tremble in her knees stops.

stefan finally looks away from caroline, turning his full attention to athena as he pores over her, brushing her hair off her face from where it was sweat-slicked against her cheeks. he presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth, holding her hair in a makeshift ponytail. "what do you want caroline to have, hm? tell me,"

"i want–" she stops, cutting herself off quickly as she presses upright onto her knees, twisting around to kiss stefan firmly. "want you to fuck me, while i make her come on my face,"

stefan nods, taking in a breath as his deep eyes shift to caroline, athena's doing the same.

under their gazes, caroline flushes, remembering that this is about her. this is for her. she isn't too dumb to realize this is a one time thing, and she won't turn any ideas down because of that.

athena wraps her hands around caroline's legs and tugs her down the bed, making the girl yelp in surprise and then glare up at athena. "you want that, care? you want me to make you come?"

caroline nods, feeling breathless all over again. just like stefan, athena was good at making you feel like you had all of her attention, but there was something about her that had always just taken caroline's breath away. knowing that she was a goddess seemed to make the effect worse, but in the best way.

"you wanna watch stefan fuck me while you ride my face?" athena smirks, as if she can read the thoughts running through her brain. "he's real pretty when he does, baby, you'll love it."

"yeah, yes– want that, i want that, please,"

"alright, move for a second," athena taps at her thigh and the blonde shifts, moving at her command.

athena twists, shifting from stefan's hold and she flops back onto the mattress with a breathless giggle. her dark hair splays out around her head, and stefan can't resist the urge to lean over her and kiss her again, stealing the laughter right out of her mouth.

athena swipes her tongue over his lips and he parts them for her, letting her lick into his mouth for a moment before she pushes at his shoulders and takes in a breath.

her dark eyes shift to caroline who watched the scene with wide, entranced eyes, and she beckoned the girl toward her with a motion of her fingers. "come here, care,"

hesitantly, caroline scoots towards the top of the bed on her knees, swinging a leg over athena's head, careful not to pull her hair or hit anything as she went.

"wait," athena's gaze shifted from her face down to her bare center as it hovered over her, and she smirked at caroline's shaky sigh. "turn around, face stefan."

caroline whined, pink flooding her cheeks. "'thena,"

"don't you want stefan to see how pretty you look when you come? come on, baby, you'll be fine,"

caroline didn't put up much more fight, the thought of stefan having his eyes on her making her stomach clench with arousal. she carefully shifted, turning around to face the other vampire as he kneeled between athena's thighs, bringing her legs up to straddle his hips.

stefan smirked, quick to take athena's lead in a situation. he leaned forward, cupping caroline's cheeks as she glanced away from him.

"look at me,"

her blue eyes quickly met his green ones and she inhaled sharply at the heavy gaze.

"we'll take care of you, yeah?"

caroline nodded silently as he trailed his thumb down, dragging the pad of it across her bottom lip and tugging slightly. instinctively, caroline's tongue darted out, bringing his thumb just barely into her mouth, enough for her to lathe her tongue over it before nipping at it slightly with her teeth.

stefan inhaled sharply, hand clenching on her jaw at the action.

he looks away from her, tearing his eyes to where athena rests in between caroline's thighs, looking between them with an insatiable lust that makes his blood sing through his body. he wraps a hand around himself, releasing his hold on caroline's jaw as he finally lines himself up with athena's weeping hole, dragging his leaking tip through her folds just to hear her frustrated puffs of air like always.

he smirked slightly before pushing into her, and he let out a soft moan at the familiar feeling of her warm, tight walls gripping at him, pulling him further into her. athena let out a high pitched noise, one of relief as he finally gave her what she wanted.

caroline watched as he sunk into her, his hips pressed firmly against her ass as athena tried to thrust up into him, trying to make him move immediately.

stefan pushed her hips down with a grunt, fingers digging into the skin there and steadying her.

taking the silent order as it was, athena suddenly pulled caroline down onto her face, sliding her tongue from the top of her clit to her hole, before sinking into her to fully feast.

caroline threw her head back, falling forward over athena's upper half and planting her hands on the mattress as stefan began thrusting in and out of athena steadily.

athena quickly pulled caroline closer to her again, not letting the girl get too far away before she was furiously licking at the arousal that was dripping from her.

"'thena," caroline moaned out her name, eyes squeezing shut at the onslaught of pleasure that washed over her. "fuck,"

the goddess pulled away slightly, using her fingers to spread the spit and arousal around, making a mess out of the girl. "look at stefan,"

caroline let out a breathy whine as athena pushed a single finger into her, not enough to truly stimulate her but enough to make her want more.

"look at him, caroline," athena muttered, pulling her finger out to add another one in beside it. "let him see you, let him touch you,"

caroline pushed herself up, resting her hands on athena's waist as she slowly met stefan's gaze, already finding him looking at her. caroline whimpered as athena swiped at the sensitive spot inside of her teasingly, eyes rolling back slightly before stefan brought a hand to her jaw again, forcing her to look at him.

"does it feel good, caroline? is athena making you feel good?"

she nodded, swallowing roughly around the lump in her throat. "yeah, yes, please, more," she let out another moan as athena licked around her fingers, picking up a rougher pace. "stefan,"

athena moaned into caroline's core and stefan smirked, slowing his thrusts down as he lowered his hands to caroline's chest, swiping at her sensitive nipples.

stefan lowered his head, swiping his tongue across her tits, careful to keep both of them equally lavished in attention as caroline's peak grew closer.

"i'm gonna–"

"are you gonna come?" athena slowly added a third finger in her, and she moaned out, feeling the goddess push against her spot, this time with more purpose. "come, caroline. do it, now,"

under her spell, caroline shuddered as her climax hit her, a low moan spilling from her lips as athena kept her fast pace, not giving her a second to come down from her high.

"athena, 'thena, please,"

"do it again," athena muttered pressing purposefully against the spot, almost immediately bringing caroline to her second high. "that's it, come on,"

"i can't, i can't,"

"yeah, you can, come on," athena slowed, pulling her fingers from caroline to give her a moment's break. "we're almost there, we're almost done. you can give me a third one, come on,"

caroline watched as stefan picked up his thrusts again, skin slapping against skin as athena started to lap at her sensitive pussy again. "yeah, yeah, one more– one more, fuck!"

the blonde moved, bringing her fingers down to athena's mound to swipe them through the pooling slick there, and she teased around her center, making athena and stefan moan out at the extra stimulation.

bringing her fingers back up, she pressed down on athena's clit, rubbing the button in gentle circles that quickly sped up.

athena moaned into her core and the vibrations made her shiver. doubling down on her mission, athena pressed her tongue firmly against caroline's clit and swirled it around, feeling like she was about to lose her mind as her own climax approached.

athena pulled away, panting for air as stefan drove her to her peak and she felt the suddenly sloppy roll of his hips as he drew closer.

"fuck, fuck," caroline moaned out, the sounds echoed by the other two, though her moans her quickly swallowed as stefan pressed his lips to hers. caroline moaned as his tongue swiped against her lips and she mirrored the move, dragging her tongue against his.

"come on, care," athena panted, repeatedly pushing at the over-sensitive button inside caroline's warm walls. "together– let's do it together, come on, give it to me,"

caroline breaks from stefan, falling forward again as she put more pressure on athena's clit, briefly flicking her eyes up to see stefan's roll back in his head.

"oh, fuck," athena's breathless words seem to fill the room and it's an unintentional command to them all to let go.

low moans from stefan are drowned out by the desperate ones caroline lets out, and athena's are muffled into the meat of caroline's thigh as her fingers remain thrusting relentlessly in and out of the girl.

"athena, fuck!"

caroline grips at the bedsheets as athena finally slows, pulling her fingers from her as the aftershocks tremble through her legs.

stefan lets out a somewhat shaky sigh as he pulls from athena's wet heat, his eyes looking at the mess he'd made of her.

caroline swings her leg back over athena's head and practically collapses onto the mattress, earning a breathy chuckle from stefan as he slid off the mattress, coming around to the other side of the bed.

athena blinked tiredly, wiping a hand over her mouth and chin with an exhausted but still smug smirk on her slick, red lips. she let out a heavy breath and laughed to herself. "i think i could sleep for a thousand years after that, holy shit,"

stefan hummed lowly in agreement, but he tugged at athena's arm and gestured to caroline. "shower first, then bed,"

caroline groaned, turning her head away from him. "bed now,"

"no, we're all sweaty and sticky, and these sheets are already going to have to be washed, we need to shower," stefan reaches over athena and pushes her shoulder, making her get to her feet as she grumbles unhappily.

"fine! fine, we can shower first,"

"no," athena mumbled, her eyes fluttering shut as she waved them off.

"athena."

"not. happening."

stefan heaved a sigh, rolling his eyes upwards towards the ceiling as caroline shook her head with a laugh, already heading towards the bathroom to turn the shower on.

stefan turned and picked athena up before she could realize it, and he heaved her over his shoulder, making her yelp in surprise.

"stefan!"

"we're showering, athena," he muttered, walking towards the bathroom. "then we can go to sleep."

"you are so mean,"

he laughs, bringing a large hand up to slap at the bare skin of her ass, making her yelp out, the sound barely concealing her slight moan. "come on, sweetheart, the party doesn't have to end yet. it's still caroline's birthday, after all."

athena's silent for a moment and then she hums in agreement. "three's a party,"

#stefan salvatore smut #caroline forbes smut #smut #the vampire diaries smut #the vampire diaries fanfiction #tvd smut #tvd fanfic #stefan salvatore x reader smut #caroline forbes x reader smut #caroline forbes #stefan salvatore #athena hunt #athena x stefan x caroline #athena x stefan #athena x caroline #wattpad #fluff

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zin-fan-del · 10 months

Text

Orange Inflation Afterparty

2,500 word story written over the course of a day. Features two men startled by an expansive beginning to their lazy morning after a huge house party.

“Hey, dude,” I nudged the husky boy asleep on my couch. He tossed and turned as my prodding continued throughout the minute, lulled into drowsiness by its gentle suede texture. I sighed, pulling myself back to admire the snoring slob: his short but stocky frame curled admirably into the loveseat, strange wine stains dribbled down the white wife-beater stretched across his chest and tucked into red track pants. Still seemingly asleep, he lifted his shirt with a slow hand and scratched at his happy trail. My eyebrows raised.

“Yo, Austin.” I pressed harder against his arm, and the thick eyelashes hooded by dark furrowed brows parted lightly. “Oh, shit, man. It’s even worse.” “What’s worse?” His hoarse, deep voice creaked out as the man gradually climbed out of slumber. His body jolted before he erupted into a belch loud enough I was forced to wait for it to end. After he recovered with a deep breath, I launched into my explanation:

“There’s some stuff spreading on your face.” It was succinct but accurate; the sweaty athlete hunkered down on this chair in the middle of the sofa and went basically comatose. I could smell alcohol on his breath as the burp pervaded my general area, which explained his roaring gut—but orange…?

“Stuff? The fuck?” Austin, ever the wordsmith, quickly leapt into action with a curious arm, shuffling his digits all over that sleepy freckled visage. “I don’t feel anything. But man, what a party, right?” Beneath the discoloration, I could tell that my eyes burning holes in our star player brought a lively rosiness to his slender pale face. Between burps, he tried to give me a reassuring grin.

My brows furrowed as I watched him sit up, dipping his face down as he pulled his center of mass upward. When he raised it, I gasped: his entire head was bright orange, minus the worried hazel eyes that darted about and those pearly whites. “You look like… well, like an orange?!” My arms crossed and my mouth fell open as I guffawed at the deeply discolored athlete surveying his body on my couch. By now, whatever this effect was had slid down his thick trunk enough to be noticeable even by him.

“What in the hell…?” His muscular arms stuck out as he watched the hue spread down them as though someone had taken an airbrush to his skin. Beads of sweat dripped from his brow as his breath began to quicken and the rumbling of his belly churned even louder. The confident smile on his face mutated into a surprised, inquisitive glare as every last inch of his skin was doused in what looked like beaming neon orange paint.

It would seem that things were at a head to the two of them: this transformation alone was bizarre enough to be simply inexplicable. How did this man, who has been sleeping for hours, just get turned into a walking orange highlighter? If it wasn’t for the clothes wrapped around his nearly fluorescent body, the beaming glow amplified the luster of his rough skin. I was pinned to the spot, admiring this abnormality as he lifted up his arm and took a heavy whiff of the hair in his armpit. At first, he pulled back as though reacting to the pungent body odor he expected; but he froze, lulled into a sense of curiosity, and went back to sniffing himself.

“This is insane, man. What just happened?” I asked him, finally composed enough to assemble a functional question.

“I smell so fucking good,” he muttered. “Good God,” he reclined into the cushion and closed his eyes, ignoring my inquiry outright. He puffed out his gut with a heavy breath in, his hands sliding down the front of his torso to gently dig his fingers in his abdomen. Austin’s pot belly was the talk of the fraternity after he ballooned up 50 pounds in weight within a year, fattening himself up with an insane diet that expanded him seemingly faster than pregnancy could have. He would slim down considerably as years passed, but beneath the wrinkles of his sleeveless shirt I could spot the plump paunch that time left behind.

“Are you… are you okay?” I began to wonder what merit these questions of mine even held at this point, since he seemed preoccupied by moaning and groaning. “You’re not in pain, are you?” I stepped towards the human nightlight, concerned his writhing was out of pain.

“M-Mitch,” he gasped between breaths and deep belches. “I’m gonna pop… H-help…” From that belly beneath the off-white tank, sounds of gurgling as vicious as boiling water erupted.

“Pop?! What, what, are you horny or--?!” My question would get answered not with words but with yet another astonishing sight. At first, I thought Austin’s heavy breaths were causing his body to expand with air. But as he rumbled away, moaning uncontrollably, he seemed to fatten up at an insane rate. What remained of his Adonis belt melted as every last pound he lost over the years were immediately reverted.

Austin must have been stunned speechless, because the only thing coming out of his mouth was dribble seeping from the corners of his pursed lips. He ballooned up as though someone shoved an air compressor up his rear and cranked it up without warning: the little belly Mitch noticed before swelled round and tight, pushing out over the lap between his spread legs. The front of his shirt was pulled out from under his sweatpants, unable to remain tucked as the hunky man’s gut filled it out in seconds. The deep voice he spoke with seemed to quiet as his cheeks filled up, puckering his bright red lips and forcing his pitiful moans up an octave.

Mitch could only watch in shock as his friend’s dramatic growth spiraled out of control. It appeared as though his belly was growing into a nice, fat orange all on its own up until the expansion began to spread. Whatever was pumping him up seemed to have no intention of letting up anytime soon and this world-record-sized ball gut surely couldn’t fit much more in it? Austin groped at it with his hands vigorously, pressing against himself to try and empty his growing body before he loses all control.

He felt a heavy surge of liquid fill his bottom and stretched his neck out to confirm it by sight. His thin but nimble legs had puffed up into ridiculous water balloons in his pants, stretching the seams of his pants to their limits. The bubbling had spread throughout him wherever he seemed to swell; as his wide breasts fattened like beach balls, his head sunk behind them and his moaning drowned in the orchestra of noises his huge body was letting off. Periodically, gas would release from either end of the humongous boy’s body at a rapturous volume but the pressure filling him tight refused to ease whatsoever.

I watched him widen, his wide butt ballooning up enough to spill out from behind his thick legs. Any slack in those track pants had stretched out to its limit, struggling to contain the burgeoning fat within. Before my very eyes, his expanding body transformed like a balloon animal, filling up with girth enough to shove his limbs out. Austin grumbled and groaned as he strained against his own frame, appearing to be drowning in the expanding pool of weight centered around his waist.

His groin lifted his belly up like an auto lift as it grew, twisting the seams of his pants and fully pulling his stained tank out from under their waistband. His furry gut bulged out from beneath his shirt enough to reveal a dense happy trail leading up to his belly button. Surely, his weight had doubled in an instant. The growth appeared to crawl to a stop, leaving the quarter-ton balloon pinned to the couch in a resigned starfish pose.

I strained my ears as the vicious roiling subsided somewhat, having stepped forward and placed the side of my head against his swollen paunch. Were it not for the rough touch of his skin, which sent shivers up his spine when pressed into, there could have been a weather balloon puffed up under that raggedy top or some other exaggerated inflatable costume. He even sounded like a water balloon, the surge of growth from earlier having quieted into a gentle glug, glug, glug…

That explains the ripe orange smell tickling my nostrils, and the syrupy citrus flavor his skin imparted on my curious tongue. The pool of liquid building up beneath him, the bright blotchy stains around his nipples and groin, the relentless bubbling and gurgling… it suddenly all made sense. But, this has to be a dream, Mitch rubbed his own belly, concerned that the effect might be contagious only after tasting his friend’s engorged belly. He could see the orange stain left behind on his tongue but otherwise felt normal; what did Austin do to turn into a fat piece of fruit all of a sudden?

As that thought crossed my mind, I realized that my focus had been lost. Somehow, in the instant I looked away, the rapid expansion that seemed to have been quelled resumed in full force. If there was a hose up the vivid athlete’s rear as Mitch once hypothesized, whoever was its cruel master dialed its pump up to the max. With a troubled yell, muffled by the juice filling his face, Austin’s growth exploded in rate. The boy rocked back and forth as his ass, swelling with the rest of his waist, raised him out of the relaxed pose he assumed on the couch. Buuuuurp! With a splatter of juice raining over his breast down upon my head, the overblown blob of a man belched, likely in response to the rumbling of gas bubbles rising within his distended stomach.

I barely recognized Austin in the mass that bellowed like a fluorescent hot-air balloon. I could see the top of his freshly-shaven head, the floral tattoo running down his right arm, the clothes he’s been wearing all night. But this was barely a human any longer: his skin stretched beyond its natural limits to contain the juice being crammed into it. The lower half of his body grew from a bloated pear-like shape into that of a teardrop as his midsection ballooned out around his waist and sucked in the thick legs beneath it. His socked feet, dirtied by an evening of partying, pressed tight against the flesh that swallowed them up. The overblown remnants of his legs shoved were apart by the mass expanding between them and filled with enough juice to bring them flush with the curvature of his fat waist.

“No, no!” I could barely recognize the words beneath the goop sealing his trap. Austin’s growth refused to slow as his chest similarly forced his arms out to the side and swallowed them up. Slap, slap. His bare hands struck what little they could reach, immobilized and enveloped in big fat arms fit for a nice, round orange.

“What the fuck,” was all I could say as I scanned the human blimp. Just moments ago, I expected the nimble athlete to slink off the couch and crack open a beer like usual. In fact, I came here to ask if he wanted my lunch leftovers, since he slept uninterrupted straight through midday. “Um.” Needless to say, I was shocked into speechlessness throughout almost the entirety of Austin’s sudden inflation. But surveying his new plump body was exhilarating both to the eyes and to my curious digits.

At the base of his shirt and near the fattest area of his waist, the seams of his clothes lost their valiant weight against his girth. But shockingly, the orange was still wrapped in clearly undersized apparel where it counted: juice spurted from his wide nipples gently, the fountains of liquid pushing through the cotton tank squeezing into his torso. The imprint of a penis sprayed it to the side as though his polyester track pants were hardly present, right where it should be at the base of his groin. Wordlessly, I sated my curiosity by pressing my upper body into the blimp, marveling at its immense heft and soft texture.

“Mmmph!” Austin’s eyes rolled as he moaned, the streams surging from his round frame intensified only slightly by my prodding.

“Shit, Jesus, man,” I stumbled back, winded. “You’re gonna fucking blow.”

The boy before me clocked in at least several tons. The couch beneath him began to fold as juice pumped him ever fuller with each passing second. Despite having fattened into a nearly perfect sphere, his extremities only sunk deeper into the hyperventilating athlete’s zeppelin of a belly. The flapping of his hands and feet grew even more rapid until he was too plump to even be mistakable for a living being any further.

Ten feet, I guessed he must have grown to in both height and width. Folds formed where his arms and legs ballooned up around smothered hands and feet. His face pointed straight up at the ceiling yet his yellow eyes still darted from point to point as though searching for help. I could hear his periodic cries for help beneath the surging, bubbling, straining orchestra unleashed by his impossible growth. Juice gushed from every orifice on his body, dribbling on the furniture and floor messily beneath him.

Boom. Preemptively, I must have plugged my ears and forced my eyes shut, because the earth-shattering bang I was expecting sounded like a distant sound effect. A tsunami of warm liquid showered over me in an instant, forcing me to hold my breath in the heavy deluge for several seconds. But as the dripping of drops transitioned from intense rainfall into a gentle shower, I creaked one eye open toward the scraps of the man once known as--

Austin? My eye took some time to adjust to the brand new paint job the late athlete provided us with during his explosive end. At least, during what I assumed was an explosive end, prior to finally focusing on the camouflaged orange figure lackadaisically louging on a sofa stained the same color as him. Instead of anguish, his flushed face sported closed eyes and a hearty smile, alongside a militia of sweat drops. He, too, opened an eye and spent a moment getting his bearings on the situation; his belly rose and fell with heavy breaths and the arms and legs I watched rise like dough in an oven had reverted to their slender forms.

“Guh…” I guffawed eloquently at my slim friend, whose fate I feared was sealed by his own unending girth.

“G-gotcha.” Austin’s shit-eating grin grew wider.

#myart #body inflation #blueberry inflation #male belly inflation #body expansion #expansion #male #male blueberry inflation #blueberry #blueberryinflation #writing

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mikhailwrites · 7 months

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Soaring Ever Higher 1 - Ghoap/Ace Combat 7 crossover

Remember when I said it's gonna be a one shot? Yeah, me neither...

Ghost looks up, into the vast expanse of clear blue sky. To be honest, he never paid too much attention to it. His fight is and has always been on the ground. Now, he can’t help but wonder: how does being up there feel? There is no ground to support you, no cover to help you, no nothing, just you, the mission, and almost endless space. Is it freeing or terrifying? Maybe both? Maybe he will ask MacTavish, if they cross paths again...

This chapter on AO3 | Next chapter

„This is Bravo 0-7. I’m in position and ready,“ Ghost says into the com, crouching in the vegetation, trying his best to ignore a bead of sweat tracing his spine. Of all the places, the jungle is probably his least favourite. Everything around him slithers and crawls, the humid heat making him sweat gallons.

“Copy that, Bravo; ETA on Strider is T-minus seven minutes; be ready to paint the target,” Laswell informs him in her signature matter-of-fact manner.

Ghost takes the laser designator out of the backpack and mounts it on a tripod. The conditions are less than ideal; the sky is uniformly grey and overcast. It’ll be hard, if not impossible, for the laser to penetrate the clouds, and even then, there’s still a dense jungle that could thwart the attack. It’ll take a damn skilled pilot to make this work.

“Bravo 0-7, this is Strider 1 en route; how copy?” a new voice on the coms. Ghost’s eyebrow twitch in surprise as an unmistakable Scottish brogue greets him.

“Solid copy,” Ghost answers out of habit more than anything.

“Some taps-aff weather today, eh? I reckon I’ll be entering the OA in about three minutes.”

Sure enough, a few minutes later, a behemoth of a jet emerges from the clouds like a bloody reaper surfacing from the Styx. Ghost has never seen a plane like that before, all sharp angles and planes of dark grey stealth coating. It looks like something from a sci-fi movie. And right behind it comes the thundering sound, unable to quite catch up to the plane.

“Strider 1 entering OA. I’m getting a solid reading on the laser, moving up to drop the package. You might want to turn around, LT,” the pilot warns as the jet closes in on the target. The drop is flawless, and Ghost doesn’t turn away despite the advice. The jet thunders by, and a few seconds later, the whole enemy base goes up in an eruption of fire, debris and smoke. The explosion shatters the building and shakes the ground. Ghost is grateful for his protective headset because it most probably just saved his hearing.

“Bloody hell!” Ghost shields his eyes as the shock wave reaches him and, with it, the gust of dust and dirt. The worst of the dust settles in, the jet gone, up above the clouds once more, as if it was never here in the first place, a spectre of destruction. “Bravo 0-7, confirming a direct hit.”

“Happy to hear that. Strider, Bravo, you’re RTB. Get out of there before the enemy regroups,” Laswell instructs, just as Ghost is packing the designator and prepares to trek back through the jungle to the RV, where the helo will be waiting to pick him up.

No sooner than he starts to think the mission’s been a breeze, the bullets start flying. The base is destroyed, but apparently, what’s left of the enemy managed to regroup rather quickly. Ghost curses and immediately lifts his rifle as he scurries through the dense vegetation, hoping to lose the tail. There’s no telling how many are onto him, but it doesn’t matter; he’s alone, and that’s some crappy odds he doesn’t want to test.

“This is Bravo 0-7. I’m in a hotspot, multiple tangos on me,” he hurriedly explains his situation just as a bullet chips away at the tree not even a few feet from him. He has no choice but to throw himself on the ground to make himself the smallest target possible. “Fuck!”

“Break the contact and proceed to the RV!” Laswell urges him.

As much as he’d love to heed her words, he’s pinned down. “Negative, Watcher 1, I’m stuck!”

“I can turn around and make a sweep; he’s got the IR tag; I’ll see him and can provide support,” Strider cuts into the conversation.

“You’re RTB, Strider 1; do not stray from the course!” yet another voice, male, older. Perhaps Strider’s CO.

“I’m not leaving him there if I can help!” Strider 1 argues, sounding more irritated than agitated.

“That was a direct order, Strider. Return to base immediately! You are not armed for close air support!”

“I still have the 20mm; that’s more than enough! Re-entering OA in two minutes!”

Ghost doesn’t say anything, but he’s bloody grateful for Strider’s help, insubordination or not. Carefully, he turns and dusts one tango he has in his sights. There’s plenty more as another salvo of bullets flies over his head.

“ETA thirty seconds, Ghost; hang in there, soldier!” Strider says, sounding breathless.

“I’m going to have your ass for this, Trigger!” the man on comms shouts.

Ghost is almost tempted to say something at that point. Luckily, the grey war beast makes a hell of an entrance right then. Ghost’s only warning is a shout of “incoming!” as the fighter swoops in from the left and spreads some 20mm cheer across the jungle—the vegetation yields. The enemies do, too. The jet is gone, leaving an ungodly amount of devastation in its wake. Only to make a second pass from the right moments later. Strider had to pull off some serious high-G turn to be that fast.

It paid off, though. There’s not a single living thing near Ghost.

“I’m in the clear, heading to RV now; thanks for the air support, Strider 1. Much appreciated, mate,” Ghost says as he’s finally on his way from this hellhole.

Ghost can’t leave it alone. He wants to thank the man properly, so after a lengthy mission report, during which he hasn’t forgotten to stress that Strider saved his life, he heads to the hangar. Sure enough, the aircraft is there. Up close, it looks even stranger. Like it shouldn’t even be able to fly, let alone be capable of stuff Ghost had witnessed earlier that day. The jet is huge and imposing; short, diamond-shaped wings and vertical stabilizers placed on the outer edges of the craft only enhance the overall alien look. Ghost also notices distinct white decals on its vertical stabilisers: three scratches and a clawed paw. It feels familiar, yet he can’t honestly remember why. Maybe he overheard someone talking about it, or maybe his mind is playing tricks on him.

“Bonnie lass, ain’t she?” someone asks from behind his back. The voice is a little familiar now. Simon turns around to put a face to it. And is surprised. Pleasantly so. The man is a bit shorter and well-built, obviously fit, but that goes without saying. You can’t sustain high-G manoeuvres without some proper muscles and strength. His face is pleasant, too, thin lips curling in a smile. He looks like a father proudly displaying his offspring. Only the “kid”, in this case, is a multimillion-pound war machine. Ghost pauses his inspection on the mohawk. How cliché is that? Yet, it suits the man.

“What is it even?” slowly, he turns back to the plane.

“An old prototype made for the Americans. They went with a different plane in the end, the F-22. The two of these were meant for some sort of museum or whatever. Got a chance to rescue one, so I did,” Strider shrugs, looking at the plane almost lovingly.

Ghost hums in contemplation. The plane looks like a prototype, alright. But whatever does the Strider even mean by rescuing it? How do you rescue a jet? And why? “What’s your name?”

That seems to get the pilot’s attention. For a split second, he looks confused, then bursts into laughter. “Aye, that’s fair, boasting about my plane, and I haven’t even introduced myself.” He walks closer, extending his right arm. Ghost shakes it, noting the firm grip. “John MacTavish, call-sign Trigger.”

“Ghost,” Ghost replies, not bothering with his name and surname as he suspects Trigger already knows. “Thanks for… earlier.” The Lieutenant nods to show his appreciation further. Trigger truly saved his ass back there. What an apt call-sign, too.

“Don’t mention it. You needed a backup, and I was close by,” Trigger waves his hand to dismiss the gratitude, looking almost sheepish as if anyone would do the same. Ghost knows only too well it’s not true.

“You disobeyed a direct order,” Ghost reminds him, having a very clear idea about the reprimand and possible disciplinary actions that awaited John.

“I value life over the orders, anytime, and from what I’ve heard about you, I think you understand,” suddenly, Trigger’s face became unreadable, blue eyes searching Ghost’s own for… something.

The Scot is not wrong, but how exactly does he know? He has no idea. Ghost’s notoriety comes mostly from the mystery behind his mask and his combat skill. Sticking up for his teammates is usually not part of the legend.

At first, Ghost thought MacTavish to be yet another flamboyant hothead. Fighter pilots are an odd bunch, all of them. Yet MacTavish seems different, somehow. As if he wants to fit the stereotype; wants the people to see him for someone he’s clearly not. Why? Ghost has no idea. There seems to be a growing number of ‘whys’ around the man, and Ghost would be lying if he said he’s not intrigued. “I do, which also means that I can appreciate the sentiment all the more.”

“Tell you what, if you really want to thank me, how about you buy me a drink? I’m parched!” Trigger proposes, and the smile is back on his handsome face.

Ghost has a pretty good idea about where this is heading, but there are not many reasons not to pursue it. The bloke is interesting, entertaining, and easy on the eyes. If he’s game, then Ghost is, too. And if he’s misreading the situation? Well, he deserves a drink anyway.

“Give me a few minutes. I’ll finish up here and meet you by the gate,” John says as he takes a rag and cleans an oil stain on the nose of his plane.

Ghost nods and heads out. The night has fallen while he was in the hangar, but the base and especially the tarmac are always well-lit.

Ghost waits by the gate, just like Trigger asked him to. However, it’s already been over thirty minutes, and there’s still no sign of John. Ghost gives it another ten before he comes to an inevitable conclusion that he’s been stood up. Ghost shakes his head in disbelief. In his thirty-odd years, this has to be the first.

The Lieutenant chuckles as he starts to the barracks.

#Soap is Trigger #And flies YF-23 #call of duty #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghostsoap #soapghost #ghost x soap #ghoap #ghost mw2 #soap mw2 #ace combat #ace combat 7

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mysticmellowlove · 1 year

Text

a/n; *fucking dies* welcome to week 2~

warnings; wax play, sub male, dom reader, gn reader, pain play?,

word count; 771

The heat from the candle in your hand only seemed to add to the overall atmosphere in the room. On the bed was your partner, a stoic boy who actually was your manager. How you managed to get someone like him to actually agree to this was beyond you but just the mere sight of him made it all worth it.

His hands were bound to the head of the bed with pretty red ties and his eyes were covered with a matching blindfold. His body was spread before you, his mouth slightly open in anticipation. Your footsteps echoed on the wooden floors as you moved around, letting the tension climb higher and higher.

You looked down at the candle in your hand before taking it from its holder. For a moment you let the wax drip down the column and onto your skin, letting the slight sting of the hot wax linger as it cooled.

Slowly you made your way over to the man on the bed and gently tipped the candle in his direction over the expanse of his chest. The first drop of the wax landed with a ceremonious jerk from him as he finally allowed a deep moan to leave his mouth. The sudden intrusion of the wax and therefore the sensation invaded his mind through the lack of stimuli.

Steadily ypu continued to line drops of wax down his chest, taking extra delight in the way he cried out when the wax hit his nipples and covered them in a red casing.

"Red is a good colour on you." You drawled as you let the candle dip lower, the height decreasing as you continued to paint him. He whined, high-pitched and needy, at your words.

"Please give me more, lower... please." His voice crooned as you let the wax dip over his stomach. You clicked your tongue at his greediness, you had only started and yet he was already wanting to get to the main event.

"So greedy aren't you pretty boy?" A whine left his mouth as he lifted his hips up, trying to goad you into paying attention to his cock. You rolled your eyes but did as he wanted. Slowly you let the trail of wax drip down his pelvis until the beads were making little red indents onto the base of his cock.

As soon as the first drop touched his skin he let out a hiss of pleasure, his mouth opening to babble thanks and gratitude as you watched with rapture at his desperate movements. The arch of his back was delightful as you finally let your hands trail over his cock and the wax beads. Slowly they peeled back and fell to the bed, exposing the reddened skin underneath.

"You look so cute like this, like my own personal good boy." You crooned as you let the candle hover over the tip of his dick. Some of the wax landed on his head, making him jerk with a surprised shout while others just fell to the towel below him.

"Does it feel good baby, to let the wax brand you're pretty little cock for me?" You couldn't help but laugh at his desperate whines as he begged you to touch him, to soothe the pain while also begging for more at the same time.

"Candle's nearly finished darling, where would you like the last of it to go?" You asked even though you were pretty sure you knew what the answer would be.

"My cock, please~" He groaned as his hips trusted upwards. You smiled even though he wouldn't be able to see you and let the candle drip onto his sensitive skin. He cried out as you brought the candle closer to his skin, eliciting a hotter bead of wax to splash against his reddening cock.

A laugh left your mouth as he continued to thrust upwards, chasing both the wax and his impending orgasm until finally he stopped and his hips shuddered. You blew out the mere stub of the candle as he came, his dick pulsing as ropes of cum lazily dripped onto the towel below.

His breaths were heavy as his chest heaved. Your nail hooked under some of the dried beads from before, eagerly peeling them off of him as you dragged your fingers down his body.

"Oh my, did you think we were done my boy? No, not quite yet... besides I didn't even say you could cum did I?" You cooed as the situation seemed to sink in for him. Now, now the real fun could begin.

#sub male #dom reader #kinktober #gn reader #kinktober 2023

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violettduchess · 1 year

Note

Happy 1k! 🥳 Could I request nr 9 for Clavis? (Or Napoleon)💖

A/N: It IS nearly his birthday so why not fulfil a Clavis request? Here you go @my-day6 💜 I hope you enjoy it!

Clavis x female reader

First Kiss Prompt: Heat of the Moment

WC: 1551

“Get me out of here!”

Your voice cracks at the strain of maintaining that volume. The dark, damp earth swallows the sound of your foot as you stomp it in frustration. Soon all you’re left with is a mighty glare which you lob at the pit’s edge. Above you is a perfect circle of sky, blue and bright, innocently shining, unaware of the fate that has befallen you.

You press your palms against the cool walls of the pit. They are too smooth, too well-constructed. You would never be able to grasp anything and climb your way out. Not a handhold or foothold in sight. Digging your fingers into the compact earth proves to be an unpleasant, crumbling mess of an idea which you give up immediately.

“Damn it, Clavis,” you mutter under your breath, a hand pressed against your side. The fall wasn’t too far, but it still knocked the wind out of you, surprise lending it a helping hand when it robbed you of breath. “Why?”

Of course there is no answer. Just a few fluffy white clouds that drift into view, stretching themselves lazily across the expanse of blue. With a huff, you lower yourself to the ground, crossing your arms. Your pink blouse is already streaked with earth and the fall ripped the side of your gray skirt wide open, up to the thigh. You yank the material closed as best you can, closing your eyes. Fine. You’ll wait. You’re already stuck at the bottom of one of his stupid hidden pit traps. It can’t get any worse.

The first raindrops are like small, cold kisses, harbingers of a very muddy and possibly dangerous future if you don’t get out of this pit now. You scrabble to your feet, the ground already wet enough to suck at your boots.

“HELP!”

The circle above your head is now gray and foreboding, releasing more and more gleeful raindrops who are happy to be free of their cloudy prison. They freefall towards the royal garden, bringing more and more of their friends along for the ride. Pushing wet strands of hair from your face, you are forced to shut your eyes against the onslaught of steadily falling rain and open your mouth to scream. You’re not sure if it’s a scream for help or frustration or fury but just when you’re about to let go, a voice rings out against the sound of the downpour: “Oh dear, how unfortunate.” A head of twilight hair, dark with rain, and two twinkling golden eyes peer over the pit’s edge.

“GET ME OUT OF HERE CLAVIS LELOUCH!”

He leans down, extending a hand which you grab hold of. With surprising strength, he pulls you easily from the pit and onto the soft, cold green grass of the western corner of the royal gardens. You spring to your feet, full of righteous fire, hands curled into fists as you take a step towards him. The Prince does not move. Instead he regards you, head tilted to one side, a hand raised in a gesture of peace.

“I do apologize, my dear. This trap was intended for a brother who was supposed to be collecting edible blossoms for tomorrow’s tea.”

You shake your head and then grab his hand faster than he can pull away. Fueled by anger, by the cold, damp feel of your clothing as it sticks to you, by the dull ache in your side and the feel of your broken skirt around your legs, you yank him towards the gazebo where you are sheltered from the rain and where he can’t slip away from you.

Clavis shakes his head, water droplets like tiny diamond beads in every direction. He pushes his hair back with one hand, his lips still lifted in a grin.

“Do you really want time alone with me—” His quippy remark is cut short by you clamping a hand over his mouth, eyes bright with anger.

“I was STUCK in a PIT for HOURS!”

You’re close enough to him for him to hear you loudly over the now pouring rain, to notice the rain drops sliding from his wet hair down the planes of his handsome face. Something glitters in those aurelian eyes as they regard you over your merciless hand. You shift your weight from one foot to the other, keeping your hand firmly in place.

“I could have gotten hurt in the fall! I could have drowned in there had you not come along! These pits are a HAZARD!”

How dare he refuse to look away in shame. How dare he keep his gaze on yours, his eyes holding you just as captive as that pit did. What is he thinking?

~ Your hand is warm against his mouth, your skin softer than silk.

How dare you smell so good, soaked in rainwater, streaked with dirt. How dare you look so beautiful, tendrils of hair framing your face like a work of art. Your clothes revealing so much and so little. Your skirt parted like the Red Sea, revealing a shapely path to what must be the Holy Land. How dare he want you? You, who is forbidden? You, bright flame that deserves so much more than him…worthless, weak little him.

And yet he can’t help what he feels.

The thunder of his heart echoes through his veins, the feel of your fingers, the palm of your hand bewitching, conjuring a storm inside him. He is lost in the brilliance of your eyes, a universe he could spend eons exploring. Lost and never wanting a way out, ever again.

But he can’t do this.

He can’t.

He must keep this secret locked down in the deepest well of his heart, where the shadows lurk and darkness is a tyrant, towering over a small boy who only wants to be enough for someone. ~

He jerks his head away from your hand, blinking, his muddy boot scuffing the wooden floor of the gazebo as he steps back, away from you. The light in his eyes has dimmed.

“Ah my dear, it was only a joke. All in good fun.”

Something inside you shifts as you feel him pulling away. No. You want to see the fire in his eyes again, that glowing gold in all its intensity.

You step towards him.

“I see you were offended by my silly trap. I’ll be more mindful of where I place them.”

No, this isn’t what you want. You don’t want him rambling on about his pranks, gaze not on you but the falling rain, his body shivering with cold, his spirit slowly folding inward, closing like a flower bud in reverse.

No.

You take another step towards him until he bumps up against the curved railing, his hands reaching back to grip the wet, white wood.

“I do apologize for upsetting you, dearie. I— W-What are you...?”

Your body is crackling with frustration. He needs to STOP TALKING about the damn trap. You’re still angry at him for digging it but you’re also angry at the way he is retreating further and further behind that façade of his, that wall of quips and polite distance and controlled flame. You’re practically trembling with the desire to.....

You grab him, fistfuls of his wet coat, and pull him to you, capturing his mouth with yours. He gasps audibly, body going rigid with shock. You will not relent. You want that wall between you gone. So you tear it down with your lips, pressing kiss after kiss against his mouth. You tear it down with your left hand, still curled into the heavy material of his lavender jacket like an iron fist. You tear it down with your right hand, the one that has traveled up to his neck and is holding him there, warm palm against slick, cold skin. You tear it down with your leg, exposed and pressed tightly against his.

Kiss by kiss, touch by touch, you besiege him, vanquishing the cold with the heat of your body, crumbling his hesitation with the strength of your will. What man stands a chance against a perfect storm like this?

You feel when you have triumphed. He snaps as if struck by lightning and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you against the long, lean lines of his body, tipping you back so you’re at a better angle for him to taste. You wrap one arm around his neck, holding on as he comes to life, his mouth moving over yours, deepening the kisses, sending your senses reeling. One hand supports your lower back, the other drops to the skin of your thigh and tiny tornados of electricity dance across your skin.

Was this what was hiding behind those quick smiles? Those flashing golden eyes?

You kiss him as the world around you rages, wind and water roaring through the royal gardens, But desire, which has been biding its time, smoldering patiently, now breathes fire into your lungs, blazes white-hot through your veins.

As you both sink to your knees, still wrapped in each other’s arms, as he tears his mouth from yours to hungrily ravish the soft skin of your neck, you don’t wonder what will happen when the storm fades.

Because you know that this?

This is just the beginning.

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-writer @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @redheadkittys @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @queen-dahlia @aceuuuuu @scorchieart @bubblexly

#ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #clavis lelouch #ikepri clavis #ikemen clavis #clavis x reader #ikemen fanfiction #ikemen fanfic #otome fanfic #1k first kiss celebration #kiss fic #violettwrites

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