#and proximity with al helped

[viperwhispered]

So... did Jamil behave differently for those first few months before Kalim turned up at NRC? Did anyone (Azul certainly comes to mind) notice the difference once Jamil had to pull himself into the background again?

Like, iirc Jamil himself talked about feeling freer when he got to NRC, but I do wonder how outwardly noticeable that would have been in how he interacted with his peers, how he performed in his classes, and all that. And did he suddenly withdraw, rein in his grades and performance and perhaps even his presence?

Basically

a) how differently would've Jamil acted during those first months, compared to the good servant persona before book 4

b) was Kalim's arrival basically a candle getting snuffed when it came to Jamil and

c) did anyone even notice?

[ovaryacted]

WISH YOU KNEW || CH. 1

─ KISS THE GIRL

─ Logan Howlett/Wolverine x fem! reader

SYNOPSIS: Another mundane afternoon rolls around that quickly turns into a new beginning after Logan abruptly meets one of Wade's close friends.

CONTENT/WARNINGS: MDNI/18+. NSFW. NO SMUT. Worst! Logan / Variant! Logan. Friends to lovers vibes. Mutual pining. Sexual tension. Close proximity. Flirting. Playful Banter. Kissing. Alcohol Consumption. Profanity. Logan catching feelings. Wade being an instigator. Age gap implied [Logan is his canon age, reader is mid to late 20s]. Reader has an established friendship w/Wade. Descriptions of reader's clothing. Mentions of other characters.

WC: 7.9K

A/N: Super excited to be posting this today, I hope everyone enjoys it as much as I enjoyed writing it despite it taking me a little while. This whole story and first part is an extensive addition to these headcanons I posted a while back. Huge thank you to @ozarkthedog for the proofread and encouragement to finish this project, and shoutout to my baby @joelsdagger for helping me with the aesthetics and vibes of this post. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are greatly appreciated! <3

NAVIGATION | SERIES MASTERLIST | NEXT PART | AO3

Leaping into a new reality after everything he’d been through was far from the strangest things Logan had to experience in his incredibly long life. If anything, he was secretly appreciative to be given a second chance, a way to redeem himself from the horrors of his previous timeline and possibly live up to the expectations of his former self.

Though, he imagined things would be much more different. He thought that by now, he’d be living independently with a stable source of income outside of taking odd mercenary jobs alongside Deadpool, of all people. Crashing on the couch of the culprit that brought him into this mess was far from what he wanted, but getting adjusted to this new way of living was taking much longer than he anticipated.

Wade whistled to himself as he stayed busy in the kitchen. Still dressed in his pjs, the pink kiss-the-cook apron was neatly tied around his waist, paired with an obnoxiously crisp chef’s hat. He poured some batter into a flat pan, watching it puff up and sticking his tongue out in concentration as he flipped the pancake, ensuring the edges didn’t burn.

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon, usually full of playing reruns on the TV and sleeping off the previous night of copious whiskey drinking. The alternative was dealing with Wade’s get-togethers, where his friends stopped by for game night. Logan could, in theory, stay behind and beat everyone at the table in a good game of poker, but having so many individuals in the tiny one-bedroom apartment he was already sharing with two other people and a dog could be overstimulating. 

The doorbell ringing disrupted the rarely calm atmosphere, sending the hairs on Logan’s nape to rise. He didn’t think it could be Blind Al coming back home so soon unless her daily walk was cut short. Wade made quick work of the pancakes in the current stack, setting them to the side and striding into the entryway to look through the peephole. Squealing to himself, he gave the grumpy man on the couch one more glance as a warning to behave and swung the door open to let an unknown figure come into view.

In walks a new stranger, someone Logan hasn’t had the pleasure of meeting personally. He was presented to Wade’s inner circle once he was brought into this world, surprised at the diverse group of people who tolerated his behavior longer than he had. Your face was refreshing compared to who he usually saw, and your abrupt entrance captivated him.

He diligently observed how you rummaged through the kitchen, tearing open the overhead cabinets and searching for something he couldn’t quite decipher under your mumbles. You have yet to sense an additional presence in the apartment, and you’re too busy in your quest to take a peek at the couch. 

“Where the hell did you put my wine, Wade? I told you to hold it for me, not pop it open.” Your voice cut through the room, hitting Logan’s discerning ears. As strange as it was, he thought the pitch of your voice suited you, or at least what he suspected would closely resemble it.

“Well, happy Sunday to you too, honey bunches. Are you looking for it? Sorry to burst your bubble, but Blind Al drank all of it,” he joked with a devilish grin. There he was again, jerking someone’s chain when given the chance, and yet Logan found himself curious about your dynamic with his roommate.

“Since when did Althea drink wine? I swear if you opened my rosé without telling me, I’m never bringing you anything again,” you playfully threatened as the corner of your lips curled up in a smirk.

A righteous aha! came from you as the bottle manifested in your hand, smiling widely at your successful find. You turned around, spotting Wade in his apron before your eyes moved further to the right, noticing the aged man for the first time since you barged into the apartment. He could see how your pupils dilated at taking him in, the cogs turning in your head as you tried to figure out who he was and his association with Wade.

“Who’s the big guy?” You jutted your chin toward the mutant, forcing Wade to take the initiative to bridge the introduction between you two. 

“Ah, him. Yeah, that’s Logan, the Wolverine. Kinda resurrected him as Marvel Jesus and brought him from his timeline into ours after saving the world. Now we’re happily married with a kid,” Wade said with full confidence, another one of his meddling tactics. 

“Oh, oh. This is Logan?” You tilted your head to study the man in question, all while he fought the urge to raise an eyebrow. Has Wade mentioned him to you before? “So you two are…”

“No, no we’re not,” Logan finally spoke, quickly rising from the couch to end the dubious dialogue. A pout formed on Wade’s face at his friend’s intrusion, no longer feeding into the delusion that they were somehow more than cohabitants.

“Don’t know what he’s told you, but I’m crashing on the couch since your friend brought me here.” Somehow after the brief explanation of how he got here, it sounded even worse coming from Logan’s mouth.

“Peanut, do not embarrass me right now. I know you’re shy about our true love, but sugarplum here is very much an ally,” Wade lifted a finger at him, more comical than the overall discussion, as Logan sighed in annoyance. He figured he might as well introduce himself properly since he’s gotten this far.

“Logan,” he opened his palm to offer a handshake, catching your name grace your lips as you clasped your hand over his. The squeeze you gave him was reassuring, and he reciprocated in kind, holding your gaze and drawing his hand away. 

“I’m guessing how you got here is a long story?” Your eyes dashed to Logan in interest, sparing him the embarrassment of denying the initial claims your mutual friend made without his knowledge.

“Very long.” Before Logan could smack his hand over Wade’s mouth, he closed his eyes, waiting for the raunchy commentary soon to follow.

“That’s what she said!” Wade clapped his hands, receiving a groan from the older man and a chuckle from you.

“You’ll have to tell me about it some time then. I’ll never understand Wade’s quests, all he talks about is who he kills and how much fun he has doing it.”

“Honey, the complexities of the space-time continuum are way too extreme to explain in one sitting. I’m going to need a podcast and a projector to elaborate on it,” while Wade kept responding to you, Logan observed the exchanges between you two, making mental notes as he read your body language. 

“I think you’re banned from the tech stores within the tri-state area, but maybe you can try Amazon,” you offered him, the same lively smile popping up once again. “The new season of Love Island USA drops this weekend. Are we still on for our watch party?”

“You must be fucking crazy if you think I will miss this premiere,” he beamed at you, mimicking your expression of delight.

“Then I’ll bring some of those sweet ‘n salty pretzels you and Althea like next time I stop by,” you announced, kissing Wade’s wrinkly cheek to honor the words threaded onto his apron. Your hand hovered over the front door handle, meeting hazel eyes to the right. “I hope to see you around Logan.”

One final glimpse at them, and you were out the door, the silhouette of your shadow no longer in the older mutant’s peripheral. Wade returned to the kitchen to continue cooking his late breakfast, putting strawberries and maple syrup on a stack of chocolate pancakes and cutting into the sweetened heap. 

“Is she another one of your friends?” Logan asked, his encounter with a new face birthed a sense of novelty that flickered in his mind.

“Mhm. Met her at a grocery store when I was finding something for Blind Al and kept bumping into her throughout the city. We just became friends, plus Althea loves her, probably because she’s always bringing her sweet treats,” Wade answered casually, his mouth half stuffed with the pancakes he bit into.

“Hmm. So I should be worried about seeing more people entering this apartment?”

“She comes for our religious reality TV and movie nights. It’s no biggy, she’s like everyone else I know. Think of me, but with a brain, and maybe not with the whole ‘immortal’ thing I got going on here,” he clarified, the thought of having to deal with anyone remotely similar to Wade filled Logan with inexplicable anxiety. Yet, all he did was shake his head and cross his arms across his chest.

“Great, the more the merrier.”

“You know, maybe if you weren’t such an asshole, you could actually have friends in this world, or even get laid. But instead, you’re too hellbent on being a grouch,” Wade replied, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Maybe I’d have friends and get laid if people didn’t think we were fucking all the time,” Logan reacted defiantly, grabbing hold of Mary Puppins and attaching the leash to her collar, getting ready to take her out on a walk around the neighborhood.

“Live in your truth, Wolvie. Be who you are!” Wade exclaimed again, ignoring Logan’s curses as he stepped through the front door to get some fresh air.

Logan held on to the leash with one hand as he walked down the block with Dogpool, taking in the acquainted streets and ignoring the looks that came his way. Thankfully, after being in Wade’s world for a while, the stares have transitioned from hate to mere tolerance, aiding his adjustment. As he turned the corner, his intrigue spiked as he thought more of his brief interaction with you, another of Wade’s friends who will inevitably return for a visit. 

Who are you?

Sticking to Wade’s words, you stopped by the apartment more than Logan expected. You’d come by and drop off some dinner and pastry dishes bought on your way home from work when you had the chance, and you shared what you got with Wade and Blind Al. For the most part, you made delivery stops to Wade’s place once every other week, walking into the space with a couple of pans of food and placing it on the nearest kitchen counter. You’d stay for a few minutes talking to either Wade or Althea, giving each of them a friendly kiss on the cheek or the top of their head before heading home.

Logan wouldn’t always be around when you visited the other two, missing you by a few minutes when he would be fulfilling a job or out and about. Still, when he was home, he’d be in the background observing you, talking to everyone while keeping himself at arm’s length. You supposed he had the whole grumpy, mysterious vibe that made him tough to approach. So, instead, you’d offer him a cordial wave and a mutter of his name, at least something that acknowledges him when he was in the same space as you.

Week by week, your face became a regular thing for Logan, mainly on Saturdays when you joined Wade in watching whatever current reality TV show was occupying your attention. The brutish man would be on his way to the local bar when you rang the doorbell, dressed in some comfy loungewear and your tote bag full of snacks.

Logan made it a habit not to intrude on your time with Wade. He was already with him for most of the day, the least he could do was respect your time when granted. That didn’t mean he wasn’t wondering what you were like outside of being friends with his companion.

Eventually, he got his moment.

A Thursday afternoon rolled around when Logan came home from the gym to an empty apartment, a rare occurrence he planned to relish. A note on the fridge from Wade mentioned he was out with Big Al and Mary Puppins doing God knows what, not that he wanted to know nor ask. He took a shower to rinse off the grime from his workout, threw on a ribbed tank and sweats, and headed to the kitchen for a cold beer. Popping the bottle cap off, he managed to take one sip before the front doorbell rang, his eyes squinting at the entrance and internally sighing as his moment of tranquility was interrupted.

Leaving the bottle on the counter and opening the door, he was surprised to find you on the other side of the threshold with a covered tin foil pan, no doubt containing something edible. You were still in your work clothes: a pencil skirt and button-down shirt on your body with heels to match, your purse hanging off one of your shoulders.

“Oh, hey, Logan. Came to drop this stuff off for Wade. Do you mind?”

“Nah, ain’t a problem,” Logan shifted to the side to grant you entry, eyeing the back of your head as you wandered past him and into the kitchen.

“I’m guessing Wade and Al are out?” you asked the man as you handled your business, inserting the tin pan into the fridge and closing it with your hip.

“Yeah. Probably doing something I shouldn’t worry about.” You laughed at that, a light sound that he preserved in the imprints of his consciousness.

“Let’s hope they don’t bring back some cocaine. Lord knows the last thing that lady needs is a sniff of powder.” It was Logan’s turn to chuckle, the rumble of a hum you considered equivalent to a laugh.

“So it’s just you in here?” you said as you placed your work bag on the nearest surface, an attempt to rest your arm from lugging the extra weight around.

“Just me,” his broad shoulders lifted and dropped as he leaned against the kitchen wall. “They’ll be back in a bit. You can wait for them if you want, and I can head out.”

“You don’t need to do that. Do I really make you that uncomfortable?” you raised an eyebrow at him as his features softened at your inquiry.

“Uncomfortable isn’t the right word,” he shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest again, the muscles in his biceps tightening as he did so. “You and Wade, you’re close, were close before I got here. Not trying to bother what you two have going on.”  

You hummed then, standing straight on one leg and entering a more relaxed stance. Logan could tell by your body language that you weren’t disturbed or intimidated by him, which he assumed was a good sign.

“Sure, I’ve known Wade and Al for a while, but I don’t mind having you around. You’re a little hard to talk to. Figured you were one of those types who liked to brood in silence, at least from what Wade told me.”

“What exactly did he tell you about me?” Logan contested, looking directly at you when he could.

“Do you want to hear the pg-13 or the explicit version? He had a lot to say. Not sure you’d be too happy about it, though,” Logan’s lips pursed, and his eyebrows furrowed at the thought. Knowing Wade, he probably said more than enough, and everything under the sun that wasn’t true.

“Fucker has a big mouth,” he almost took back what he said until he caught your nod of agreement, easing him a bit.

“He doesn’t know when to stop talking, but I can’t hate him for it. He’s just…honest, maybe a little too honest,” you claimed. “If you’re that worried about what he said, I didn’t take any of it literally. You’ll just have to prove him wrong.”

Logan’s sight bounced to you, curiosity laced in your stare as you glanced at him. For a moment, he was taking another read at you again, debating if you were as trustworthy as Wade makes you seem. He sensed your heartbeat and the steady pulse at your neck, even in pace, without a singular beat missing in rhythm. You were already here, and he reasoned he’d have to get used to all of Wade’s acquaintances sooner or later. Why not add you to the mix?

“Guess so,” his lips slightly turned upwards as his focus remained on you, deeming it acceptable to quit hiding in the background. A beat of silence filled the kitchen, one watching the other and your eyes unmoving from Logan’s face. For a split second, your pulse spiked with an intake of breath and releasing it, shaking you out of the sudden trance.

“I gotta go, but tell the deadly duo that there’s tiramisu in the fridge. You can take a piece too, I know they can be stingy,” you grabbed your work bag and threw it over your shoulder again, heading for the front door and offering Logan one last smile. “Don’t be a stranger.”

There you were, out the door again and off to your place with only the conversation you shared and the tiramisu you brought as proof of your presence. Logan huffed a breath and reached for the beer bottle sitting on the counter, making his way to the couch. He plopped down, sipping away at the lukewarm beverage and throwing his head back along the edge, staring at the ceiling with your words playing on loop in the space between his ears.

Don’t be a stranger.

He tries to deny the slight tug of warmth fluttering in his chest, manifesting into an exhale and a shake of his head, followed by another sip of his drink to wash it down.

He makes sure he won’t be.

Integrating Logan into your established dynamic with Wade and Althea was seemingly effortless. You didn’t make a big fuss about forcing him into joining the weekly TV binging when he was home, but it was nice to hear more of your voice directed at him occasionally. Whenever you stopped by Wade’s place with baked pastries or dishes, Logan hovered in the backdrop, returning your gestures when you threw one his way.

He liked having you around, not to mention the food you dropped off would fill him with a sense of comfort he hadn’t felt in a long time. Once, you handed Wade these red velvet cookies Althea liked from a downtown bakery. Logan side-eyed them munching away at the baked goods, silently judging them for satisfying their sweet tooth to such an extent. His facade was maintained until the middle of the night when Wade and Al were asleep in the bedroom, walking on muted footsteps to finish the rest of the cookies in the pan. He goes back to playing the part of being the nonchalant roommate once the sun rises, pretending to be shocked when Wade starts pointing fingers and gets into a blaming match with the blind woman he shares a bed with.

It was a matter of time before you offered more than just food, keeping the newest member of your friendly circle in mind the next time you decided what to bring to the household. There was a double knock on the door, and Wade was on the other end, waiting for you with girlish excitement.

“Hey, Wadey. Hi Althea,” you wiggled your fingers at the elderly woman. Dropping the pans on the dinner table, everyone gathered around the middle of the apartment, anxiously lingering to see what you had brought. 

“Finally, I’ve been waiting for this all fucking week,” Wade approved happily, nudging you by the shoulder. “Show daddy the goods! Come to papa.”

You giggled and unwrapped two tin containers, unveiling baked lasagna and penne a la vodka. You could practically hear everyone’s stomach rumbling at the collective awe of the food in front of them, still warm to the touch as the scent of the meal wafted through the apartment.

“Thought Italian would be good, so I called this restaurant a while ago to set some dishes aside for pick-up. Got devil’s food cake too, I hope you’re in the mood for chocolate,” you voiced, smacking Wade’s hand away that threatened to dip into the pasta.

“Honestly, I think we should get married. You don’t even have to see me at all. As long as you bring me food like this, I’ll give you one kill a week.” Wade’s proposal made you smirk. Though it was tempting, you knew better than to get associated with the mess of his job.

“Don’t want to be a homewrecker,” you gestured to Logan, who rolled his eyes. “I did bring something for the grump, too. Consider it a very late welcome to this world gift.” 

He watched as you handed him a paper bag, your fingers wrapping around what appeared to be the neck of a bottle. Logan held the familiar weight in his large hands, peeling back the bag to drag out a nicely sized whiskey bottle, Johnnie Walker, to be exact.

He didn’t realize how high his eyebrows raised at receiving a gift, much less something from you. The food containers did get bigger after Wade complained about somebody eating everything after 24 hours. But knowing you were somehow thinking about him revived that pulse in his chest.

“Thank you,” he said genuinely, russet irises focused in your direction. “Really, this is nice.”

“It’s the least I could do since I’m always coming over here,” you said, appreciating Logan’s kindness and mirroring his grateful expression.

There it was again, the beat of silence that entranced the both of you when you entered the same room. The space between Logan’s ribs ached, a strange and unnerving thumping that carried a wave of unfamiliarity.

“Are we going to fucking eat or what?” Blind Al muttered out loud, disrupting the moment you shared with Logan.

“Aht aht, being greedy isn’t nice, Althea. I’m still pissed you ate the corner piece of the brownies I called dibs on last week,” Wade squinted his eyes as he blamed the elderly woman for a crime she didn’t commit. That was, in fact, Logan.

“Motherfucker, if we stand here any longer, the lasagna will get cold,” Althea criticized, the two bickering amongst themselves beside you. You shake your head in disbelief, going to the kitchen to grab some plates, with Logan following behind to help you bring the utensils and cups.

“You want to stay a while?” The suggestion tumbled out of him without thinking, anxious that he had just shot himself in the foot. When your smile reappeared, his worries passed.

“Yeah, I got time,” you held a few plates, heading to the dinner table to join the others in fighting over the pieces of lasagna.

Logan reached other milestones in your bond over the upcoming weeks when you invited them to dinner at your apartment to celebrate your recent job promotion. He didn’t know why he stressed about which shirt to wear or how to style his hair, wanting to put some effort into his appearance this time. Deciding on a red flannel and a leather jacket, he didn’t say a word when Wade was messing around with wigs to wear for the evening.

After a few threats of slicing Wade’s head off if he didn’t hurry the fuck up, they were on their way to your place. An 8-minute walk around the neighborhood and a buzz of the intercom later, you happily greeted the two men at the front door. Stepping aside to let them both pass, you briefly eyed the breadth of Logan’s back flexing under his jacket as he trekked inside, closing the door behind them.

“Al didn’t come along?” you questioned, half expecting the elderly woman to join you.

“Nope, she’s fast asleep. You know how old people are, strict curfews and powdery smells,” Wade quipped, glancing around the table to see what you had prepared.

“Surprised you don’t have a wig on right now,” you lightly jested, straightening the collar of Wade’s polo and approving of his outfit choice.

“I was deciding between a short bob and a tapered fade when Logan threatened to tear me limb from limb. I think that’s his way of flirting.”

At the mention of the other male, your gaze landed on him as he surveyed his surroundings. Your apartment was nice, small yes, but homey, just enough for one person. The living room consisted of your TV and a plush couch, a colorful blanket thrown over its edge, and a leather armchair beside the windows draped in sheer curtains. Two sets of bookshelves rested on the walls closest to the entryway, a collection of books and knick-knacks filled the shelves, a mix of genres from thrillers to romance to fantasy. He took in the setting of your space one last time before pivoting to face you.

“Sorry, Wilson, but you’re not my type,” Logan replied, his hands digging into the pocket of his jeans.

“He’s in denial and emotionally constipated. Don’t worry, Wolvie. I will wait for you forever, as long as you return home to me.” Logan ignored him, mumbling a quiet shut the fuck up under his breath.

The rest of the night went by smoothly, and Logan used it as an opportunity to learn more about you. Through conversing with Wade, he discovered you work at a media studio further downtown. Initially, you were just a journalist pitching stories that would sometimes be published or given the spotlight. Your promotion now makes you the head of your department, giving you more creative control over the stories you want to be told, something you’ve worked hard to get. In your own words, you were happy that bitch Janice at your office didn’t get the role, and now she will have to deal with you being her superior.

Logan liked how you smiled from ear to ear after being so accomplished, and when he mentioned he was glad it worked out, the way your face lit up wasn’t overlooked.

Munching into the lamb chop you cooked for tonight, Wade retells the stories of the recent mercenary jobs he’s completed with Logan by his side, throwing innuendos and graphic details of his missions between every couple of sentences. You listened to him talk, drinking your wine and resting your chin on your hand, nodding and providing commentary when needed.

At some points in the conversation, Logan would jump in when Wade allowed him to, roping him in to tell you about the cool shit he can do with his claws. Your eyes sparkled at Logan’s words, hanging on to whatever came out of him and holding it close as if it would be the last time you’d hear him speak. He couldn’t bring himself to deny that having your attention on him felt good, and when he let Wade control the dialogue again, his eyes would stay on you for a second longer, sipping on the beer you saved for him.

He hopes you didn’t notice.

Other times, Logan joined you and Wade on the couch for reality TV and movie nights, something he figured would help him become more of a social butterfly. Though he didn’t always understand the current events of 90 Day Fiancé or Love Island USA, you didn’t mind catching him up on the episode that played despite Wade itching to give out spoiler warnings.

You’d be situated between them on the small couch, the popcorn bowl on your lap, and sharing it with Wade, who wore his patterned PJs. Although Logan was relatively quiet while you watched the TV screen, you’d let him take a handful of popcorn, washing it down with a drink to enjoy a somewhat tasteful combination.

What he didn’t expect from you was how welcoming you were of his touch. Of course, given that the couch wasn’t that large, you’d be hip to hip with Logan and Wade on either side of you. The larger man did his best to stay in his corner of the couch and to manspread less to give you space, but you stayed close to him.

Maybe too close.

One night, his arm slipped from its perch on the edge of the couch, dropping on your shoulder and causing you to jolt from the sudden contact.

“Shit, my bad,” he was fast to mutter an apology, but you were just as quick to shake your head, quelling his worries.

“It’s fine. I don’t mind, really.” You were permitting him to leave his arm on your shoulders, and he wasn’t going to say no to that, the heavy bulk of muscle making a new home over the width of your back.

The fleeting touches persisted when you watched Australia for Wade’s sake, suddenly growing fascinated with the main male character and proclaiming Logan somehow favored him. He grumbled, zoning out of the movie and not realizing Wade had fallen asleep within the first hour. It was just you and him for a while until you also dozed off near the two-hour mark, still with 45 minutes left.

Logan had lost track of the plot within the first 30 minutes, so he no longer cared for the film. He focused on your torso, slowly leaning into his body on the couch, gravitating toward his warmth. Instinctively, he moved his arm on your shoulder, bringing you closer so you were flush with his chest, snuggling against the stability of his figure.

Logan swears he could hear a happy hum fall from your lips in the form of a sigh, getting more than comfortable against the man who had become a new addition to your life. If you were awake, he was sure you could hear how hard his heart was beating inside of him, providing a comforting squeeze to your arm to signal he was still here with you.

For the next little while, he’ll enjoy his current position without qualms, and he can imagine just for a second that this was a part of your usual interactions. This is as close as he’s going to get anyway.

“You like her.” Wade’s voice filtered through the static noise of Logan’s channel surfing, settling on a Tom and Jerry episode that played in the background, his head twisting to scrutinize the pain in the ass he called a roommate. 

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Oh, you know,” he grinned mischievously, “Honey bunches, you have the hots for her.”

The neurons in Logan’s brain fired at rapid speed as he comprehended what his friend was insinuating. Sure, he liked having you around and looked forward to when you stopped by every week to sit on the couch. He ignores how you smell or breathe next to him or how you don’t mind when his arm is on your shoulder. He doesn’t care that you inch the slightest bit closer to him, hip to hip, eyes still on the screen during movie nights. He dismisses how you look at him, how you smile when he’s in your space, and how his heart skips a beat when it happens.

“No, I don’t." He knew he was lying.

“Really?” Wade’s Cheshire smile broadened, dissecting Logan by the minute. “You sure, Logan? Are you sure your stone-cold skeleton doesn’t melt when you graze your fingers together?”

“What is this? Couple’s therapy? Shut the fuck up and drop it.” Logan’s mask was cracking the more Wade badgered him about his suppressed emotions, and frankly, he wasn’t sure how long he could keep the truth from his friend or himself. 

“Oh shit…Wolvie, you’re in denial. Are you scared of rejection?” Wade covered his mouth in faux shock, taking Logan’s deep scowl with pride as he hit a nerve. “It’s alright, Casanova, no need to be worried about your unrequited love life. I’ve watched enough episodes of The Bachelor and The Bachelorette to put romancers to shame. I will make this happen.”

“Wade. Drop it.” The threat came out with a paired growl, the mutant’s fingers curling into a tight fist as the skin of his knuckles split to unsheath the blades embedded between them.

“This is now a telenovela baby. Just imagine how much we’d make with you two as the leads. ‘Loving the Wolverine.’ The title is a work in progress, but we’ll revisit that later.”

“Wilson.” Logan’s nostrils flared, the metal claws fully out with a sharp schling. The vein in his forehead bulged as his blood pressure skyrocketed from his anger, ready to slice the man any second now.

“You can be angry all you want, but feelings are feelings. And if you don’t say something soon, I fucking will!” The apartment filled with a loud squeal as Logan pierced Wade’s thigh with one hand, the other aiming for his torso, puncturing him through his hoodie.

As pissed as Logan wanted to be towards Wade, he knew he was right. Whatever sentiments had developed between you and him were undefined, and he hated himself for believing there was a chance it could be anything beyond friendly. You were younger than him, a given anyway, with an established life he didn’t want to ruin or get too involved with. Why would you choose him when you could have anyone else?

It wouldn’t work, not in his book. As Logan continued to puncture Wade’s body like a voodoo doll in the name of stress relief, he still had a hard time ignoring how he felt. He doesn’t think he will anytime soon.

His inner turmoil peaked when Wade hosted another get-together at the apartment, and of course, he invited you. He mentioned this would be a chance to set you guys up, and Logan tried his hardest not to shove his claws into his head or ruin the vibe before the party started.

The people closest to the host bustled into the apartment the following Friday night, along with the few new additions brought back from the void. Logan was entertained by talking to Laura and watched the entryway every few minutes to see when you’d walk through it. The time couldn’t come soon enough, the familiar notes of your scent hit his nose the second Wade opened the front door to let you inside, showing the assortment of alcohol bottles you brought to make cosmopolitans.

From where he sat on the couch, he studied your appearance. He raked his eyes over the casual jeans that hugged your thighs and the low neckline of your top, the jewelry adorning your neck brought more than enough attention to the dip of your collarbones.

Logan must’ve been starting too hard when you caught him in the act, your mouth bending up when you noticed him. Without a word, he only smiled at you, drinking his beer to wash down the incessant pounding in his body.

You busied yourself with making drinks in the kitchen, periodically darting to watch Logan while he mingled as much as his social battery allowed. You chatted with the other partygoers, catching up with Vanessa to ask how things were going with Wade and talking to the bubbly Yukio, who stood beside her girlfriend as you joined in teasing the host for the party hat on his head.

Everyone eventually had a red solo cup in their hand, uttering their thanks to you as the influx of a new alcoholic thirst quencher streamed through their bodies. The space to the right of Logan was empty after Laura rose to steal more chips from the dinner table. You took your chance, having a plastic cup in one hand as you strolled over to the gentleman sitting comfortably on the couch.

“That seat taken?” you asked, the bister eyes you’ve come to adore ran over your features, glinting slightly under the hanging light above.

“It’s free now,” Logan jerked his head to gesture you to sit beside him, the smell of your perfume hitting his senses when you walked past him. He swallowed his beer again, hoping it would help curb his growing urges.

“Avoiding me, huh?” The lively tone of your voice conveyed something he couldn’t precisely define despite it making him nervous. “Didn’t get up to say hi or anything…”

“You were busy making drinks for everybody, wanted to have you focused. Don’t want anyone to get alcohol poisoning from fucked up proportions.” You chuckled at his words, rolling your eyes and spinning the ice in your cup.

“Surprised you’re even here. Did Wade force you to stay around this time?”

Yes, he did. That was what he wanted to say, but one glance at your face, and he couldn’t be mad that he listened to the bastard for once.

“Decided to be a little social,” he answered calmly, the tip of his bottle lined up with his lips.

“You? Social? That’s a first.”

“Are you complaining, bub?” he remarked, turning to you with a raised eyebrow and a teasing attitude.

“No, not at all,” you shook your head, giddy in anticipation of what qualified as “social” for the man next to you. “Nothing wrong with trying new things.”

The world tuned out as you conversed with the older mutant, taking every word in stride. Believe it or not, Logan could talk for a while if you ignore the curse words he adds every other sentence. Still, it was nice to just talk to him, even if your sight wandered. On your second cosmo and probably Logan’s fourth beer, the distance between you on the couch closed with each shift of your hips, leaning into the back of the couch and facing him while he rested against the length of it.

With each passing word from Logan, you watched his jaw flex and his lips part as he spoke—counting the wrinkles of skin beside the slight hints of gray at his temples. You took another sip of your mixed drink, discreetly running your eyes down the column of his throat and his collarbone, peering at the coarse hair that peeked from his flannel’s first two undone buttons.

You didn’t know if he could read the signs of your desires or sense the palpable tension brewing in the air, but you remained willfully ignorant. Oblivious to you, the notion was reciprocated when you spoke, rambling about stuff with your job to bits and pieces of your childhood. Logan’s eyes never left your face, landing on the shimmer of your glossy lips or the pendant that dangled on your chest when you weren’t looking.

In the next breath, the topic changed to something concerning Wade’s most embarrassing instances and jokes that would only come from him. Logan must’ve said something right when you broke out in a fit of laughter, deep and hearty, as it came straight from your stomach and emitted through your chest. He didn’t say anything to disturb your moment, commemorating your eyes scrunching up and your mouth opening wide to laugh harder. He didn’t jolt when you smacked his sternum a few times, the warmth of your touch radiating through the layers of his clothes.

He craved more of it.

“I think you’re spending too much time with Wade. He’s rubbing off on you,” you calmed down from your laughing fit and wiped the tears that threatened to spill.

“Maybe. Gotta tolerate the guy,” Logan was carefree as he spoke despite the stirring emotions.

Your hand was still on his chest, resting comfortably on his body. You didn’t move it as quickly as you should, nor would Logan tell you to take it away. Grazing your thumb over the fabric of his shirt, you whizzed lowly to yourself, the alcohol pumping through your body, loosening your inhibitions as you continued to touch him.

Much to Logan’s disappointment, you pulled your hand away, looking over his shoulder to see Peter showing off the chain that connected his nipples to whatever was underneath his pants. Downing the rest of your beverage, you placed the cup on the coffee table, sitting up straighter.

“I think that’s my cue to leave. It’s getting late anyway.” The nagging voice in your head pressed a question you wanted to admit, an invitation you knew wouldn’t work if asked incorrectly. Thankfully, you didn’t need to speak out loud.

“Let me walk you home,” Logan suggested through the racket, firm and determined in his proposition. “Could use the fresh air if I’m being honest.”

You didn’t need much effort to say yes.

“Sure.” You rose from the couch to say goodbye to everyone, giving kisses on the cheek and hugs when warranted, your last stop being Wade. He looked between you and Logan, throwing the older man a thumbs up as he grabbed his jacket and headed for the door.

Side by side, you walked down the block, Logan keeping you on the opposite side of the street and serving as a barrier between you and the road. He didn’t reach out for your hand despite the urge to hold you steady, nor did you hold on to his bicep as you strode beside him. But you both talked on your joint stroll, confessing things amongst yourselves that would otherwise be omitted by all the noise.

He followed you through the lobby of your apartment complex, up the flights of stairs that dropped you off on the second floor to your front door. He remained vigilant, standing behind your figure as you inserted your key into the lock, guarding you until your door opened and looming as you spun to face him again.

“Thank you for walking me. It was nice,” you expressed, the cosmopolitans you consumed earlier heightened the glassiness in your eyes.

“Ain’t a problem. It was good to get off the couch,” his hands went to his pockets. “You gonna be alright by yourself?”

“Yeah, I’m a big girl. I can handle a little alcohol,” you snorted, the sound bringing a grin to his face.

As your hazy vision landed on him, he felt the pull in his chest again, the one that comes when time and space stop moving in that beat of silence shared only between you two. He sensed the change in your demeanor, the increased pumping of your heart, and the rush of your blood flowing faster.

Logan halted his breathing when you stepped forward. You preemptively set a hand on his chest and tipped upwards to kiss his stubbled cheek.

“Really, thank you, Logan.” Your serene voice was muted when you said his name, sweet on your tongue that drew him in like a siren’s song. He’d do anything to hear you say it like that again, and again, and again.

“Any time,” you held his gaze, eyes going from his tawny pupils to the tip of his nose and plush lips. He was right there, right in front of you, and the only thing you had in mind was to get a proper feel of him.

There was a jolt of hesitation, taking a step back to get more space between you until you felt the heavy weight of Logan’s palm reaching for your hip. He kept you in place, squeezing your frame and curling his hand to your lower back. Your heart hammered in your ribcage, glimpsing up at him one more time as his head tilted towards you, the only signal you needed to get what you both yearned for.

Your lips landed on his, soft and gentle, testing his reaction. Logan didn’t let you venture too far from him, holding you close and kissing you more fervently, opening his mouth to make room for your tongue as it traced his bottom lip. The groan that reverberated deep within him grew louder when your hands went up to drive through his hair, changing your position to have your back against the entryway of your apartment.

You whimpered when he squeezed your waist, a sound that would haunt his dreams for the next upcoming nights, causing him to push further against you. Your fingers tugged at the collar of his flannel, seeking more of him than you could reach. The metal of his belt buckle pressed into your lower stomach, a faint moan tumbling out of your mouth that Logan hungrily swallowed.

“Do you want to come inside?” you breathlessly invited him as you pulled away, face heated to the touch and body thrumming with a need you didn’t expect. He could read your reactions, almost smell your arousal in the air, but the last thing he wanted to do was fall into the pattern he was familiar with when it came to partners. You deserved better than that, better than just a fun night, even if that’s what you wanted.

“I want to, I do,” Logan tried to say, already noticing your look of disappointment at his upcoming rejection. “But, maybe we can try this again when you don’t taste like fucking vodka and cranberries?” You laughed a bit, teeth sinking into your bottom lip, relishing the tingling sensation left behind from his kisses.

“Thought you didn’t mind alcohol?”

“Vodka isn’t my favorite. More of a dark liquor kind of guy.” Even as he spoke to you, his hands stayed on your body, a reassuring weight you didn’t want to leave your midriff.

“Then you can make it up to me with dinner. That sounds good?” You were cheeky in your response, refusing to let the prospect pass you by, and Logan wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” he warmed at your proposal and accepted one more kiss as he let you part from him.

“I’ll see you around, Logan.”

It was the last thing you said to him before you closed your front door, leaving him in the hallway to deal with the feelings washing over him. He could still discern your heart beating on the other side of the door, probably grounding your breathing and walking further into your apartment. His eyes fell to his feet, mind running a mile a minute and exhaling, deciding to take the longer way home back to Wade and Blind Al.

The apartment was empty when he came back. Althea had fallen asleep in bed, and Wade was busy cleaning up the leftover mess in the dining room. The lopsided party hat was still on his head, brown eyes scanning Logan’s features and analyzing him.

“Well, that was fast. Thought you’d last a bit longer, peanut,” Wade mocked with a grin, detecting the leftover gloss on Logan’s lips and a spot on his face. “I’m guessing Cupid was successful tonight?”

“Not another word,” Logan was back to his prickly mood, murmuring under his breath that he was going to the bathroom to take a piss, locking the door behind him.

He looked in the mirror and noticed the faint shimmer of your lip gloss still on his features, leaving your mark on him without realizing it. He chuckled, smirked wide to himself, and privately enjoyed the remnants of your touch.

He’ll make a note to pick places to take you out in the morning. For now, he’ll appreciate this feeling for as long as possible.

©️ ovaryacted 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

[that-one-p00k1e]

───〃★ the way I love you ೃ⁀➷˚ ♡ ⋆｡˚

Their love language w/you ft. Hajime Umemiya, Hayato Suo, Ren Kaji, & Haruka Sakura | Demon Slayer ver.

c/w: 🎀OOC🎀, fluff, gn!reader (I think), use of "my lady" in Suo's, established!relationship in Umemiya's

GRADUATING 2DAY RAAAHHH🗣️🗣️🔥🔥🔥🦅🦅🦅

—Haruka Sakura being the easily flustered tsundere he is, words and physical touch aren't really in his dictionary of how to express his feelings. He isn't good at being forward verbally in the environment of love, nor is he able to initiate close proximity gestures.

Without realizing, one of his particular ways of showing his care was through acts of service. Helping each other around town has become a normalcy. Thus, he wouldn't stand out when doing you a favor purely out of his own will; he prefers to be discreet to avoid getting called out, not wanting to be viewed as soft and lose his dignity.

He'd claim that he couldn't give any less of concern for anyone. Yet, he couldn't help but feel an uncomfortable tug at his heart when you mentioned forgetting to bring an umbrella during the rainy weather. He contemplated whether to do something about it or not, torn between his pride and feelings.

Just as you were about to step foot outside, you felt a hand on your shoulder that brought you to a halt.

“The hell do you think you're doin’? Trying to get a cold?”

You weren't given enough time to let out a reply before a folded umbrella was held up to your face.

“You could've asked to borrow one, y'know. I have a spare, so save the fuss and just take it.”

With that, you thanked him and gave a smile of gratitude before taking your leave with the lent umbrella. Little did you know, that boy did not own a spare…

—Hajime Umemiya is so pure he's guaranteed to shower you with every. possible. way. imaginable to express his love. But physical touch would be one of the most prominent.

No matter the occasion, no matter the time, you somehow will always get pulled into an embrace one way or another. He loved the feeling of cradling your petite figure between his strong arms; it made him feel like he was shielding you from any harm. His hugs were warm, comforting, and provided a sense of safety. He'd wrap his arms around your waist from behind and spoon you in, he'd rub his hand up and down your back as you cry into his chest, he'll run up to you and let you jump into his arms, spinning you around as he lifted you off the ground.

He loves the feeling of your hands against his; your soft skin contrasting with his calloused palms. The comparison between the size of your hands and his was somewhat cute to him, making him want to protect you even more as if you were the most precious yet fragile treasure in this world.

“Next time you come in here looking all beat-up, I'm kicking you out and locking you outside,” you scolded him as you tended to his injured hands, irritation yet concern etched on your facial features.

Ume let out a chuckle at your threat, gazing at your grumpy yet worried facial expression which he thought endearing.

“Aww… You really have the heart to be so cruel to your beloved and caring boyfriend??” he whined as he looked at you with an exaggerated pouty face.

“So-called ‘caring’ but doesn't even seem to care about how worried his girlfriend gets when he comes over looking like a used dog toy.” He felt a twinge of guilt at your words, feeling bad for making you so worked up over his condition.

Gently, he held your wrist and brought your hand up to his face, softly placing tender kisses on your knuckles.

“I'm sorry for worrying you, sweetheart…” His deep, gentle voice conveyed such words so smoothly, like a soothing melody strumming its way through your ears and into your heart. You couldn't help but loosen the wrinkles that tugged your eyebrows, letting out a sigh as the tension slowly left your nody. You knew it was his duty to protect the town and all, but the amount of fight he gets into this week devastated you.

“Just… try to avoid doing it alone, please? I know you're strong, but it hurts me seeing you go up against many by yourself.”

“I'll try… Promise.” With that, he leaned over to plant a reassuring kiss on your forehead.

—Hayato Suo enjoys being discreet and mysterious. He finds amusement in seeing your confused face when you receive any form of gift anonymously. At first, he'll start out completely unknown; he wants to satisfy his curiosity on how you'd react for the first time. Once he saw the confused yet happy look on your face, it made him want to perform the act of gift giving even further.

The type of gift would often be small flower bouquets. Occasionally, a little pack of candy would be stuck to it alongside a little note. Written inside those little notes; through either riddles, poems, or song lyrics, he started giving subtle hints on who the sender was. Day by day, he watched patiently as you took your time to connect the pieces.

Until one day.

You were at Pothos, helping out Kotoha as the first-year gang hung out. While wiping the front counter, you overheard Nirei sharing his opinion on how cool Suo was that he understood flower language. You internally agreed. Suo was a man of many quirks, and you've secretly admired him for that. He understood trivial things that most people wouldn't; poems, flowers, riddles– Holy shit.

Your body froze up the moment realization kicked in, heartbeat accelerating as you tried to quickly form everything in your mind. The elegant handwriting, the heart touching poems, the beautifully arranged varieties of flowers. Could it be–

“Suo.”

The crowd suddenly went quiet at the abrupt mention of one of the personel. You decided to take things somewhere a little more private.

“Please be honest with me,” you demanded as the both of you stood in front of the café.

“Are you the one who has been placing random flower bouquets in front of my doorstep? And before you come at me, there is no one else I know that understands flower language, poems, or-”

“Ah, so you've finally noticed,” the brunette chimed innocently with a sweet smile.

You blinked. “W-What?”

“Yes, I'm the perpetrator behind all those floral gifts you find every day. Are you uncomfortable with it? I can stop if you'd like–”

“NO! I-... I appreciate it. It's just… why? What for? Did you get a dare or something?”

Ever so subtly, his eyes softened at your words. “Why, it is simply because I like you.”

The moment the confession escaped his lips, it felt like your whole world was shaken. You were excited, happy, yet unsure. Unsure if he meant it or not. After all, you knew the kind of person he was.

“... Please don't joke about this.”

He understands what you mean, and he doesn't blame you for that. “My lady… I may be one to bluff, but involving one's feelings is where I draw the line,” he spoke with a tone oh-so gentle, wanting to convey the sincerity his words bore.

“Then… what are you trying to get out of doing all of this?”

“Your heart.”

Blood rushed into your cheeks like a marathon. Your heartbeat acceleration exceeded a speed limit you didn't know you had. With a deep breath, you gathered all ability left to respond.

“... You already did.”

Not even a second passed, and the young man felt a pair of arms embracing him tightly; a sigh leaving his lips as he looked down at the fair maiden in adoration and fondness.

Little did they know about the little audience they had through the glass window of the café.

—Ren Kaji has an aloof demeanor that he tends to keep to himself and distance his existence from the world. He's not one to listen nor speak, preferring to focus on the music blasting through his headphones. Though he enjoys being in rowdy places, he doesn't get loud and excited himself. All in all, quality time would be his best aspect in the language of love.

He'll accompany you on your walks, either when he bumps into you during patrol or when you're going home from school. He'd claim that walking you home was a part of his ‘duty’ and that you just happened to appear as an excuse. Along the journey, he'd listen to you talk your heart out while humming occasionally to let you know he was listening. Even if his headphones were on, he'd lower the volume to be able to hear your voice.

Never had he admitted how he felt comfortable with your presence, and maybe he never will. Words and touches weren't in his field of knowledge, making him seem to be difficult to approach. But little did you know that deep down, he held a spot for you as one of the exceptions – which he was clearly oblivious to.

“... Kaji… Kaji.” He rolled the sucker in his mouth and pulled down his headphones as he felt a poke on his cheek.

“Go on ahead without me. I'm gonna head someplace to eat.”

“I'll come with.”

“But you have patrol.”

“And I also have Enomoto and Kusumi. End of discussion.”

With a defeated sigh, you decided to eat at Pothos; the safest place to eat and thankfully the closest to your place. You offered to treat Kaji for dinner – not wanting to be the only one eating – but the young man declined and said he wasn't hungry. You didn't care; still getting him something as a way to thank him for his willingness to accompany this whole time.

“What? I said I wasn't hungry,” he claimed in defense while pulling his head away once he saw you bring a spoonful of omelette rice to his mouth.

“Just shut up and eat. I'm not living with the guilt for having you go through all this trouble for me.” You pulled out his sucker and replaced it with the awaiting spoon, not giving him time to argue back. He swallowed and looked away before muttering lowly.

“I'm not doing it for you.”

“Whatever you say…”

He begrudgingly let you feed him the whole food, chewing quietly and kept himself distracted on his phone. Unbeknownst to you and him, tints of pink adorned his cheeks.

Little did y'all know, Tamon's second year's vice captains had a good view, but decided to save themselves a scolding.

[yesihaveaobsession]

The Facility Manager

Alastor x female!maid reader

Summary: Alastor uses his title of the hotel's facility manager as an advantage to be with the new pretty maid. You.

Warnings: Al is VERY flirty, actually.. I Mena (how can you not when you're wearing a hit maids dress am I right?)

A/N- hope y'all enjoy :)

You were hired as the new maid for the Hazbin Hotel. You were quite excited because you believed in the cause and you loved to clean and organize. It was your first day on the job, and the Princess had a simple task for you: dusting. You were dusting something from below, so you had to bend down slightly. That's when you heard a voice that sounded staticky.

“Charming, I haven’t seen you around here before!” The voice struck you out of your thinking space. To your surprise, you turned your attention to the voice—it was a rather tall and slightly handsome deer man who was right at your face. You didn't know how to respond before he did.

“Pleasure to meet you, Dear, just a pleasure! I’m Alastor, the radio demon! You must be the new maid, hmm?” You stood up from your somewhat bent position and brushed off your maid's dress that was black but had red accents. "Yes, yes, I am," you replied, taking a small step back to give the two of you some space. The deer man only smiled.

He hovered over you, then he bent down at the waist as his finger rested under your chin. "You're quite adorable," he complimented you. You weren't sure if your blush had shown, but all in all, Princess Charlie regretted to tell you that the Radio Demon was one at the hotel and two the Facility Manager in the first place, so your interaction between the two of you was just you being shocked.

"Um, thank you?" you replied, and the smile that he seemed to be wearing this whole interaction only got bigger. Then he said, "You'll be working for me, I'll be keeping a close eye on you." Confused, you told him, "Well, the princess said I'll be working for everyone, technically."

"In a way, yes," Alastor hissed as he drew a finger down your exposed chest due to the uniform that was given to you. You definitely blushed, and he most definitely noticed. Angel Dust, the fellow pink spider, had told you about his nickname for the demon: tall, dark, and creepy. And in this scenario, you would agree, but you had a feeling that he was flirting with you. Was he?

"I... um should get back to work..." you said, picking up your duster. But he didn't seem to get the hint. "Oh, don't be so silly! You can take a small break..." Before you could respond, he leaned in close again to your face, and you only just looked up at him as a response. "Take a break." Your heart started to pound in your chest all of a sudden due to the close proximity.

Most certainly didn't help when he ever so slightly moved closer to where you could feel his breath on your lips. "Mr. Alastor, I—" you began, but certainly was shut down. He covered your mouth with his claw with another wide grin.

"Oh, but it's only just getting fun." What did he mean by that?

"I need to get back to work," you pushed once more, but of course, the man LOVED to invade everyone's personal space, so he pushed back. He knew he was making you flustered, so he only kept it going by placing his other hand on your shoulder.

"I said, you're taking a short break," Alastor said with hooded eyes almost and a closed-lipped smile. You had to get away from the conversation and wanted to veer away from it. "Could you show me to where I'll be staying?" you asked. His eyes got wider with a head tilt, the Radio Demon said, "Of course," he purred while placing a claw on your lower back and leading you towards a door, his eyes closed and head up before the two of you stopped in front of the door.

Alastor holds the door open for you to your room. You walked in. "Now, my room is right next to yours, so it won't be an issue if you ever need me, dear."

"Great... thanks," you said. Of course, he put your room right next to yours; the two of you share walls, just what you had ever wanted. Placing your bag on the bed, feeling Alastor press against your back, "You're welcome," he whispered with a smirk. You paused.

"Now, I'll be keeping a close eye on you, so be sure to behave," you gulped, and Alastor took a step back as you just looked at him. He laughed and patted your head. "So serious."

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight. my dear" Alastor placed a hand on your hip and whispered again. Your heart pounded in your chest. Alastor then shut the door softly, leaving you just standing there, rethinking what just happened. Then you decided to finish getting settled in and then going to bed. An hour or two later, there was a soft knock on your door. Groaning, you got up and were in your PJs, opening the door. He stood there, looking down at you. "...Can I come inside for a moment?"

"I um, suppose." He nodded and walked into your room as he looked at the progress you made of settling in before looking back at you.

"Now, you must be tired, no?"

"I am."

"Alright then... let me make you... 'a bit more comfortable. "He steps closer, and what did he mean by that? Your heart sank. Truly. "Actually, I'm okay..." You didn't care if he heard the terror in your voice; there was no way that you were going to get down to the supposed Facility Manager on your first day.

"Oh? You're turning down my kindness?" He said as he took a small step forward. "I'm comfortable but thank you."

"Hm... are you sure?" His neck cranked to the side, and he was now dangerously getting close to you. Only inches now stood between you two. Your back had hit the bed, and you were laying on top of the covers.

"You... sure you're comfortable?" He was still staring down at you.

"Yes, thank you." You said, and he leaned down again, a few millimeters away from your lips, he had that small closed-lipped smile again. He reached for the blanket to put over you.

"Goodnight, again." A sinister grin spread across his face. "...Sleep well, my darling."

You went to sleep and was ready for your second day of being the Hazbin Hotels maid.

HERE'S THE PICTURE OF THE DRESS I DESIGNED :D

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Deathless Death

Pairing: Osferth x nameless female character (third person perspective) Warnings: Religious guilt. Smut. Fingering. Slight exhibitionism. Oral (f receiving). Gratuitous Hozier references. Word count: 3.5k

Summary: When a young woman's father is killed following Skade's attack on the priests of Alton, Osferth agrees to take responsibility for her, feeling a need to protect a fellow Christian. However, the longer they travel together the deeper they have each other questioning their faith. Based on this request. Series masterlist.

Author's note: No gods, no masters, no tag lists. Only scabs community label fics. If you find yourself tempted to slap a label on this, please block me instead.

The Lord works in mysterious ways. This is a belief that Osferth has always clung firmly to, it is the only way he can justify his existence; the result of a union between a serving girl and a deeply religious king who, so embarrassed by his extramarital indiscretion, had ensured that Osferth was enrolled as a novice monk as soon as he was old enough, and refused to ever acknowledge him as his son.

Osferth is a bastard, yet he must have a purpose, for God does not give life without intent. He feels he has found his reason for being when he crosses paths with Uhtred, a man his uncle, Leofric, had always spoken kindly of. He offers to serve Uhtred as a warrior, though he has no fighting experience. This is the divine path chosen for him, he is certain of it. He clutches the hilt of his sword as tightly as he often grips the cross that sits around his neck in times of anguish, and does his best to be brave in spite of how afraid he feels.

Reluctantly he learns the ways of ale and women, surprised when the Lord does not smite him down for his sins. He surmises that he has misinterpreted the teachings of the Holy Book; a life of piety does not have to mean an existence endured in abstinence. Though his faith in God never once falters, he grows to enjoy, and even seek out, the pleasures he’d once mistaken for temptations. They are not a means for him to stray from the light, but another outlet in which he can revere it and give thanks.

It is not until he reaches the village of Alton with Uhtred and his men that he discovers the true purpose of the journey he has embarked upon. A group of Danes with a seeress named Skade in their midst has attacked the village, killing all of its holy men.

That is where he finds her. Such a fragile looking thing, sobbing her heart out while huddled behind a vegetable cart, clutching her cross in much the same way he used to do with his.

“Don’t be afraid.” He reassures her calmly, crouching so his face is level with hers.

“Are you an angel?” She asks tearfully, her eyes wide and imploring.

Osferth cannot help but smile at that. For you I’d like to be.

With gentle persuasion, Uhtred agrees to allow Osferth to bring the girl along, provided he is responsible for her. He is all too happy to agree to that. Her mother is long dead and the attack on Alton has killed her father, she has no one else. He was meant to meet her, he feels it in his heart.

Naturally, she is fearful of the others, her only prior encounter with heathens had ended in the death of her only living relative and left her all alone in the world. She clings to Osferth, but he does not mind it. He sees a lot of himself in her, how scared he’d been when he’d first left the monastery to accompany Uhtred. But if she is anything like him, she is resilient and she will pull through this.

As the weeks pass, her face becomes less marred by fear and grief. She is beautiful, Osferth realises. He has been grateful to have someone to bow his head in prayer with, however, the way that she snuggles next to him for warmth in front of the campfire, how closely she leans back against his chest as they ride together and the proximity in which she lays her bed roll next to his no longer feel so innocent, at least not to him.

He feels ashamed for harbouring such illicit thoughts about her. Her piety makes him feel like he is the worst kind of sinner. She does not partake in ale and stays quiet when the rest of the group share lewd jokes. Where her prayers are earnest and heartfelt, his feel flimsy and disingenuous. He would renounce the Lord and worship her instead if she asked it of him. The idea makes his stones ache. When she shivers and huddles to him for warmth it occurs to him that he’d burn everything in his path if only for her to never feel cold again.

Guilt blooms heavily in his chest at the thoughts and feelings she elicits from him, especially when she looks at him, her eyes are always filled with gratitude and adoration. He has grown to crave her gaze, despite the fact that she will never view him as anything more than a protector.

When it becomes too much for him to bear, he seeks the comfort of the nearest brothel. With each thrust into the whore beneath him, he imagines her face, how those hands that fold so delicately in prayer would feel clinging to his shoulders, how soft and supple her flesh would be against the wiry hardness of his own. When he reaches his peak, picturing her, he comes harder than he ever has before in his life. It feels like he has died and approached the very gates of Heaven.

If that is how it feels merely to think about her, he wonders what it would be like to actually be inside of her. It would surely feel holy and sacred, a pleasure not meant for mere mortals. For the second time that night he craves her, and so he seeks out another woman offering her services in the pleasure house.

He pays them well, and he is not unkind to them. He is convinced that that is why they fight over him the next day. He is mortified, especially when he sees that she is watching. She will think him godless, sinful. He hopes that the Lord is merciful and does not intend for her to leave him. He sends a silent prayer of thanks when she remains by his side in the days that follow.

It is not until Uhtred, Sihtric and Finan pay a visit to Alfred, and leave Osferth and her back at camp that he realises they’ve never truly been alone together. He shifts uncomfortably on the log he sits upon, glancing up from the flames of the fire every so often at her, unsure of what to say. She eyes him curiously the entire time, the warmth from the fire and the sunny afternoon meaning she does not snuggle to him as she usually would. Secretly he is disappointed.

“Do you still believe in God?” She asks quietly.

Her gaze is timid and as Osferth turns to meet her eye, she looks to her lap as though ashamed to have asked.

“Of course I do, my lady,” He replies softly, smiling at her. He wants more than anything for her to look at him again, there is something reverent in the way she regards him that makes his chest swell and his cock twitch. He could die happily with a single glance his way from her. “My faith has never waivered.”

“You are not as devout as the people from back home.” Her fingers pinch and stroke over the fabric of her skirt as she says this, not looking up at him as he sits across from her.

“I used to be,” He admits with a slight shrug, wondering if she thinks less of him for his perceived lack of faith. “I suppose travelling with Uhtred has taught me that faith does not mean deprivation. The Lord made life for living.”

She nods, her voice barely above a whisper, as her eyes flicker to his. “Is that why you visit brothels, and why those women fight over you?”

He feels his cheeks heat up as she asks this, and suddenly it’s his turn to look away, embarrassed. He takes a moment to consider his reply, not wanting to sully her innocence with vulgarity, or say anything that might frighten her. “I was celibate when I was a monk…” He begins awkwardly. “I’m not anymore. Truthfully, partaking in the pleasures of the flesh feels like the closest experience to meeting God without dying.”

He knows he has turned pink all the way to the tips of his ears by the time he finishes speaking, he cannot bear to look at her for fear of what he might see in her eyes. She must think he is utterly depraved.

The moment of silence between them hangs thick and uncomfortable before she finally breaks it. “If that is why you are fought over…then I am eager to find out for myself.”

His head snaps up, his eyes wide, stunned and unsure of if he has heard correctly, it seems too forward a statement for such a pious little thing like her. However, her stare is steady and unwavering as it meets his, causing his breath to hitch. He hadn’t misheard her and she meant every word.

The cracking of a twig causes them to finally look away from each other, as they turn to see the others returning. He has never been displeased to see any of them before, but can’t help but wish they’d left it a little longer to come back.

Her words play on a loop in Osferth’s thoughts. I am eager to find out for myself. He frantically strokes himself to release that night, once more plagued by visions of her, the silkiness of her hair, her scent, the dulcet tone of her giggle. There is no sweeter innocence in his mind than the gentle sin that he shares with her.

There is a storm the following evening. Though they are camped beneath a thatch of trees, protected from the worst of the downpour, it does little to block out the boom of the thunder and the crackle of lightning. She whimpers at every crash, clearly frightened, and Osferth’s heart aches for her. He’d do anything to make sure the expression of fear and sadness she wore for the first few weeks they traveled together never returns.

He pulls her tight to him, wrapping the furs around them both as they sit around the fire with the others. They don’t bat an eye at the familiarity between the two, understanding of the fact that she finds comfort in a fellow Christian’s presence and that Osferth is simply offering kindness to someone in need of it.

She melts into his embrace and he allows his hands to wander over her beneath the furs, tracing the curves of her through her dress. He has never dared to touch her like this before and she looks up at him questioningly, though makes no move to stop him.

Emboldened by her silent consent, he strokes her hair with his free hand, while allowing the other to push up her skirt. She gasps at this and buries her face in his chest. He holds her tighter while Uhtred, Finan and Sihtric continue their conversation, all assuming she is just startled by the storm that rages above them.

Her inner thighs are velvety smooth as his fingertips trace over the flesh of them. Not even angel’s wings feel as divine as this, he thinks. As the pads of his digits make contact with the gusset of her smallclothes he draws in a shaky inhale at finding that it is damp with her arousal. It darkens the desire within him to have confirmation that she is just as affected by him as he is by her, and he pushes her underclothes to the side, stroking through the slickness of her folds.

She shudders against him, her breathing growing heavier and he quietly shushes her, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple. He looks up to see Finan give him a sympathetic smile, clearly assuming Osferth is comforting her, before he is distracted by Uhtred swatting him softly with the back of his hand in order to gain back his attention.

Osferth looks back down at her, she is peeking up at him from where her head rests against his chest and in the flicker of the firelight he can see that her pupils are wide with lust. It is a look he has seen on the faces of many of the women within the pleasure houses he’s visited over the years. To see it burning bright within the eyes of someone so pure is enough to drive him to madness with the desire it awakens within him.

Shielded from view beneath the furs, he circles her pearl with precision, silently delighting in the way she clutches at his robes and bucks slightly up at his hand. He feels she’s growing close when her body tenses against his and she stares up at him, worry evident in how her brows pinch together. Poor thing has never peaked before.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.” He murmurs, coaxing her to let go.

He cradles her head to his chest as she trembles and gasps against him, before finally going limp. Osferth withdraws his hand, allowing her to slump sleepily against him, smiling softly down at her as her eyes drift closed.

He knows in that moment that she will be both his salvation and his damnation, and he welcomes both with open arms.

It is another week before they are left alone together, and life carries on as normal. They do not speak of what happened beneath the furs on the night of the storm, despite the fact that it’s all Osferth can think about.

The others head away from camp one evening to scout the locations of a possible attack from the Danes. It is too dangerous for her to come along, so Osferth remains behind so she is not left alone. This time she seats herself next to him, and he feels his mouth run dry, heart hammering in his chest as he struggles to think of what to say to her.

He startles when she places her hand on his. “You are right,” She says with a shy smile. “It felt…like something divine…when you touched me.”

Osferth swallows thickly. “You liked it?” He asks, already knowing the answer, but desperate to hear her say it.

She nods, chewing her lip nervously. “I did. Does that make me a sinner?”

His eyes widen in mild horror that she could ever consider herself such. “No, that is something you could never be.”

“I am not repentant though,” She muses, her eyes slowly meeting his. “I have thought of nothing else.”

“That is only natural.” He tells her, suddenly aware of how close their faces are, noses almost brushing. His gaze flits to her lips momentarily. Osferth has never kissed a woman before, though he has fucked plenty; the ones he exchanges coin with do not allow such intimate gestures. He desperately wants to kiss her though.

He is surprised by her boldness when she leans in first. It is a quick peck to his lips, which she rapidly withdraws from, looking sheepish. He cups her cheek, coaxing her back and presses his mouth to hers with more pressure. She softens against the movement and for a moment it feels as though time has stopped for Osferth. There is only her. It is a kiss riddled with youthful inexperience and yet he does not think there has ever been anything better.

“Will you…” She mutters against his lips, clearly uneasy with attempting to ask for what she wants.

“Touch you?” He finishes for her.

“Yes,” She whispers, “I want to feel…” She places a hand over her face, giggling. “I have never laid with a man before. I do not know what to ask for.”

“It’s okay.” He reassures her. “I understand.” Osferth coaxes her to sit on his lap as she had the night of the storm, only this time there are no furs to cover them, and he rucks her skirt up around her hips, rather than slipping his hand beneath it.

“Take these off for me.” He says, plucking at her smallclothes.

She does as he instructs and he pulls her tight against him, her back flush with his chest as his arm snakes around her waist, dipping his hand between her legs. She is wet already and he cannot help the groan that escapes him as his fingers make contact with her core.

He circles her bud slowly and she clamps her mouth shut, cutting off the mewl that threatens to spill forth.

“You don’t have to be quiet this time.” He tells her, as she turns her face into his neck, her breath coming in hot puffs against his skin.

Tentatively he dips a finger into her entrance, conscious of the fact that she has never had anything inside of her before - the thought that he is the first makes him swell painfully hard against her rear as it presses back into his lap. Her grip on his digit as he inserts it is vice-like and he wonders how she’d feel squeezing around the length of him, if she ever allows him to take things that far.

He sets a steady rhythm of dragging his finger against a rough patch inside of her that causes sounds that are prettier than any of the songs he’s heard at æfensang to spill forth from her, while circling her pearl with his thumb.

She squirms against him, her arm reaching above and behind her to wrap around his neck, her fingers scrabble desperately at the back of his robes. Her jaw is slack, her eyes glassy and Osferth believes that if the Heavens could speak then her wanton cries of pleasure would be their mouthpiece.

She falls apart with a violent shudder, clenching ceaselessly around his finger and he withdraws it slowly as she begins to calm, continuing to hold her close. Though he is pleased to have brought her to peak, he feels disappointed that the moment is over so soon. He wants, needs, longer to enjoy her.

“You are so beautiful.” He whispers to her, pressing his face to her hair. “Will you allow me to taste you?”

“Taste me?” She asks, confusion etched across her pretty features. “I do not know what you mean.”

“I will show you.” He tells her, ushering her off of him and laying down. “Come here.”

There is no question in Osferth’s mind that he would ever allow her to lay upon the ground, she is too good for that. He will gladly let her sit atop him so that she never has to experience that indignity or discomfort.

He guides her to straddle him, pushing her upwards towards his face, but she falters.

“Osferth, I’ll crush you!” She protests, hovering above him.

“You won’t, my lady.” He tells her with a soft chuckle, tugging insistently at her thighs.

She relents, hovering over his face. “What are you going to…oh!”

He cuts her off, gripping her outer thighs and runs the flat of his tongue against her centre. He can taste the remnants of her previous climax and hums at the sensation. She is sweeter than honeyed wine, an essence so pure it must be holy.

Tugging her flush against his face he laps at her like a man starved, sucking harshly against her pearl, before licking hungrily through the slick that gathers as she whines and writhes above him. If there is a Heaven then he has found it between her thighs and never wants to leave.

He strains painfully against his breeches beneath his robes as she begins to lose control, grinding against each flick of his tongue. He knows she will not last long, already sensitive from his earlier attention and so he savours each moment; her taste, her scent, the feel of her against his mouth and how she moves against him. She is a vision of beauty beyond comprehension as she sits astride him, thread thrown back, moans of ecstasy offered up to the night sky.

She was created in the image of all things good and pure, and his journey so far has led him to her; she is made for him, of this he is certain as she reaches the apex of her pleasure. He swallows down her release like it’s communion wine. In her gratification he is cleansed, reborn.

Osferth lays her down carefully on her bed roll afterwards, covering her body with his own. She appears almost drunk as she gazes up at him, eyes heavy lidded with a soft smile upon her lips.

“My sweet girl,” He coos to her, softly stroking her face. “Can you take more? Will you let me inside?”

As she opens her mouth to answer, the raucous laughter of Finan can be heard in the near distance. The group is returning.

Osferth moves quickly away from her, laying down on his own sleeping mat, watching her as her eyes flutter closed. He hopes she will dream of him. He hopes they will have further opportunities to explore each other. The Lord works in mysterious ways, and she is the most precious mystery he has yet to encounter.

[huskersbooze]

Helloo! Can i Request an alastor x reader angst? (I love angst im sorry😭) where reader n alastor are good friends, but soon alastor starts catching feelings, he didn’t like that so he starts ignoring reader hoping it’ll go away, but when alastor realizes it doesn’t, he wanted to apologize for ignoring reader and maybe confessing, but he couldn’t cause he found out reader got redeemed into heaven? Please and thank you!!

A/N : Oh fuck yes I'm a sucker for angst. This is actually a really interesting concept! Completely opposite to my other fic where Reader ignores Al. Thank you for the ask <3

Alastor Doesn't Do Feelings

Alastor x Reader

Pairing : Alastor x F!Reader (M!Reader here, Gn!Reader here)

Warnings : Cusing(what do you expect? It's Hazbin Hotel)

Additional Tags : Angst, no use of (Y/n), use of dear/darling

Word count : 1.25k

It was never supposed to turn out this way. Alastor, the fucking Radio Demon, doesn't do feelings.

But here he was, finding himself getting flustered, his cheeks red, ears pinned back and his smile faltering.

And it was all because of you.

"-and so I told him to back the heck away, but I swear his brain can't seem to comprehend simple words! He-"

You went on and on about your day, but Alastor could only focus on the close proximity between the two of you and your hand came so close to brushing his every minute or so.

"Alastor! Freaking hell!" He snapped out of his trance when he heard you yell his name.

He cleared his throat, quickly gathering himself once more, "Yes, darling?"

"Were you even listening to me?"

"Of course, I was." Which, frankly, was a lie.

"Just go to bed, dipshit."

"I don't need sleep."

"Your brain is hijacked, Al." You try to give his ears a scratch. Alastor attempts a dodge but fails. "See? You can't even dodge a simple pet on the head."

"I let you do that."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night."

"Darling, you know I don't sleep."

"It was an expression, babe."

He knew you meant it as a joke, a light-humoured name you called him; like how he called you "dear" or "darling".

But he couldn't help the blush that found a way to his face.

"Alastor! You're doing it again!"

"I beg your pardon?" He snaps out from his trance.

"You're dozing off again. Are your radio parts radio-ing properly?"

"I'm not an actual radio, my dear."

"Well, you sure act like a broken down machine." You let out a giggle, him doing the same, but it ultimately sounded like he was buffering.

"You need help." You get up and give him another ruffle behind the ears, catching him off guard. "G'night, Al."

He doesn't respond.

He's too busy screaming internally.

-----

Alastor doesn't do feelings. Yet, here he was a broken mess because of you.

No, this was unacceptable. All he'd work for. His reputation. The danger it'd put you in.

He couldn't afford any of that gone — especially not you.

How was he to get rid of this weird churning he gets in his stomach when you near, though? How was he to stop loving you?

-----

Alastor doesn’t do feelings. He nearly did, once, because of you. But he’d found a way to stop it.

Or so, he thought.

“Good morning, Al.”

Out of everyone in the hotel, you were the one person he could tolerate. Despite your polar interests and behaviour, Alastor actually found it quite enjoyable to be by your side.

Sure, you rarely cursed, was so sweet and couldn’t bare the thought of killing, but Alastor never minded. You were the one person he looked forward to seeing everyday. He would usually only talk to you.

“Husker, may I have a word?” Yet, here Alastor was, completely ignoring your existence like you were some irrelevant imp a few rings down.

“Uh, sure, boss.” Husk sends you a questioning stare as you return the favour.

He didn’t actually have anything to say to him; it just hurt to see you. The feelings still lingered and he couldn’t do jackshit about it. 

Staying away from you was only supposed to get rid of his feelings, not intensify them.

“Alastor?” Yet, your voice captivated him in every way possible and his desire to be yours increased.

He simply left the room, and the two of you never spoke after that.

-----

“Alastor doesn’t do feelings, honey.”

“I know, Rosie! But we’re just friends and he knows that.” You take a sip from the tea Rosie prepared for you. “Though, lately, he’s been completely disregarding my presence like I’m the bane of his existence.”

“Don’t look too much into it! I’m sure it’s nothing. It’s just Alastor being Alastor.”

“But it’s not.” You sigh. “Something’s changed between us and I’m not sure what it is.”

“Well, did anything specific happen?”

“I.. I don’t know.” Your voice cracks at the agony. “I just.. Everything was fine that night. I just told him to sleep and the next morning it’s like I never existed.”

“Hm. That does sound odd.”

“Exactly! And I’m not sure what to do or if- if I’ve angered him- or- or maybe he’s sick of me-”

“Honey, breathe.” Rosie’s hand finds yours across the table as she rubs soothing circles on the back of your palm. “It’s in his nature to be sending mixed signals. Just give him time. He’ll come to terms with you eventually.”

“Are.. Are you sure?”

“You came to me for a reason.” She jokes, though her warm smile never left her face.

“Thank you, Rosie.”

-----

Alastor, your beloved strawberry pimp, doesn’t do feelings. He didn’t, he doesn’t and he won’t.

At least, that was before he realised he was catching feelings for you.

He’s tried so hard to ignore it. He’s done everything he could to ignore you, but despite his best efforts, you still found a way to float straight back into his mind.

“Alastor?”

“Yes, darling?” It took him a while to comprehend the fact he accidentally called Husk “darling”. His mind was just filled with thoughts of you.

“Uh.. anyways.” Husk cleared his throat. “You were close with the kid, right?”

“I suppose.” He shrugs, saying it as a matter of fact-ly. “Nothing serious.”

Alastor nearly flinched as he said it himself. 

Nothing serious.

But in fact, it was starting to get serious. He was in love with you, head-over-heels obsessed, but he couldn’t come to terms with the fact and decided to push you away.

Fuck. What was he thinking?

“Yes, well I just.. wanted to let ya’ know she’s-”

“In a minute, Husker.” He says, taking off and trying to find you. He had to apologize. He had to talk to you and explain himself. But then, that would mean he had to confess.

Confess. Alastor’s smile widened as he thought of the idea. Blush crept from his face all the way down to his neck and his tail was uncontrollably wagging under his coat.

He loved you.

Turns out, Alastor does, and will do feelings.

-----

“Husker, have you seen her?” After a whole day of looking around the hotel, he couldn’t seem to find you anywhere. 

“Her?” He asks, then immediately realising there could only be one her. “I was trying to tell you, boss. The kid.. The kid passed.”

“What?” His smile falters, eyes twitching, but still keeping his composure.

“Some drunk ass dude got hold of an angelic weapon from the last extermination. She was stabbed on her way back from cannibal town.”

The static in his ears were ringing louder by the second. This wasn’t supposed to happen. No, it wasn’t supposed to end like this. He was only supposed to get rid of his feelings, not you.

This whole plan backfired. It was a mistake. He kept what he hadn’t wanted, and lost what he desired.

-----

Alastor doesn’t do feelings.

He does, but only for you. He keeps his heart closed in hopes you’re still somewhere out there.

Any other demon who tries to get with him, ultimately gets turned down.

Alastor doesn’t do feelings, no; but he does feelings. He saves the romantic kind for you. The platonic ones, however, are open doors now because of you.

Alastor didn’t do feelings, but he does now — in hopes he gets redeemed and can find you in heaven.

———[ End. ]———

[jyoongim]

Okay, can you mabye do a #12 and #7 🟠?

it could be Alastor and really shy reader who sucks at dancing, but he convinces her to try it, I thought it would be so cute 🧡

Prompt 1, #7 & 12: tango kiss/lingering kiss

Why did Alastor ask you to come out?

The red deer had convinced you to come out tonight to Mimzy’s lounge.

You couldnt bare to tell him no, knowing the two of you hardly had time alone.

A drink and good music sounded good.

However…it was dance night.

And you couldn’t dance.

Like you had two left feet.

And Alastor was an AMAZING dancer.

Your eyes watched as he danced with Mimzy, mesmerized at how good he was, even though he had been chugging whiskey.

He had asked you to dance but you declined, feeling shy and embarrassed that you wouldn’t be able to keep up.

You didn’t want to embarrass him since you were a bad dancer.

Alastor hummed as he made his way over to you.

He silently grabbed your hands, slowly pulling you out your seat.

You blinked and tried to make excuses, which fell on deaf ears as Alastor pulled you towards the dance floor.

”A-Al no I-I you know I can’t dance. I just wanna watch. I dont want to step on your toes”

Alastor just ignored you as he pulled you against him and began to follow the dance moves to a song.

You pouted as you looked down, watching your feet, not wanting to step on his shoes, but a finger lifted your chin to make you look into his eyes.

He had a smile on his face as he guided you around the dancefloor

”Just keep your eyes on me darling”

Easier said than done.

One two three

one two three

The tempo of the music made it a little easy to keep up with Alastor’s movement.

You had relaxed a bit, getting used to the steps of the dance. 

It was some sort of tango.

”See? You got it. Now can you keep up?” He flashed you a smile and you grinned back nervously and with a squeak, you were whisked across the dance floor, Alastor essentially twirling you around. 

You kept up pretty good, surprisingly.

You couldnt help but admire Alastor. The dark lights really made his appearance stand out. 

He was gorgeous.

Alastor pulled you towards him and your body buzzed from the close proximity.

You found yourself bent over backwards, back thrown back and Alastor leaning over you.

His red eyes were lidded and filled with an emotion you couldnt quite place.

”A-Al?” You whispered, feeling like you would explode.

Maybe it was the rush of adrenaline or the nature of the music, but Alastor said nothing as his face leaned towards you and his lips pressed against yours.

Your eyes widened and you melted.

He slowly pulled you back up, never breaking the kiss.

It felt like it was only the two of you in the room.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned into the kiss.

The kiss was like one you had never experienced.

It was filled with unsaid emotion and tension.

He nipped at your lips and coaxed his tongue into your mouth.

When he pulled away,  your cheeks were burning and your lidded eyes looked into his and out of embarrassment, you ducked your head down into his chest.

A deep rumble ran through his chest, a chuckle 

“Oh my dear you were exceptional”

Maybe you should have went out dancing sooner.

[goforshexgo]

Smart one

You were up studying for a test, strange maybe for your other vk peers except for Carlos, but you cared about your academics and liked to do well academically. Halfway through your notes you heard someone start knocking hard on your window, it was Jay Al Jafar, one of your closest friends and the boy you had the fattest crush on. Not like you'd admit that, though. You rolled your eyes as you got up and opened it.

"Man, how many times do I have to tell you not to knock so damn hard, Jay." You scolded as the long haired boy climbed through your window, grinning.

"Yea yea, 'It's held together by broken hopes and dreams.'" He quoted as he walked further into your gloomy room before sitting on the dilapidated footboard of your bed and crossing his arms as he gazed at you with his signature smile. Rolling your eyes again, this time with an additional head shake and a smile. You sat back down at your desk and started your studying again.

"What do you want Jay ?" You asked but it sounded more like a statement, earning a pout from your dark haired friend.

"How lowly do you think of me to think that I came over to see you just because I wanted something from you ?" Jay pouted as he feigned hurt before a charming smile overtook his again as he walked over to the run down desk you sat at

"Very. Now what do you want ?" You questioned again not bothering to look up at Jay, who was now standing next to you, his hands planted firmly on the desk as he looked down at you.

"Anthony got this new watch, I want it." Jay confessed with his signature smile, the smile that you loved hated. "And he's throwing a hellraiser tonight."

"I'm not going to a party just to help you steal his watch." You told him flatly continuing to look down at your tattered text book and notes that smelled of mildew.

"Oh c'monnn, you owe me anyway." Your head snapped up to him upon hearing his words. You didn't owe Jay shit.

"I don't owe you shit, Jay." You asserted pushing back in your chair to cross your arms across your chest. Jay chuckled before moving his face closer to yours.

"Oh come one, just this once ?" Jay pleaded, looking at you with the prettiest brown eyes you swore you ever saw.

Hiding the flustered feeling you feel at his proximity you spoke.

"Oh, just this once ? You know it funny because I remember you said that when you asked me to try to steal one of Cruella's coats ? Oh, or when you tried to steal from Gothel and you got me to distract her ? Oooo, or what about the time you tried to convince me to sneak you into-"

Jay cut you off before you could finish the long list of "Just this once's"

"Okay okay, so it's not just this once but I swear it's worth it."

You stare at him with a bored expression as he talks

"And why is that Jay ?"

"Uh, because you get to spend time with me."

"Get the fuck out Jay."

"Come on, you know you want to spend time with me."

His voice sing-songy

You wanted to spend time with him, bad. Like embarrassingly bad. You'd never admit that though.

"Nah, I'm good."

You rejected

"C'mon... please ?"

Jay begged as he grasped at your hands, and VK's never said "please."

"Fine, but you owe me Al Jafar ."

You asserted as you stood, a finger pointed at his chest

"Yes ma'am."

.

.

.

When you got to Anthony's party it was already in full swing. The lights were dim and moody, the music was blaring and kinda shitty because of the busted speakers that the people of Auradon threw away to the people of the isle, and the air smelled of mold, sweat, and expired perfume along other expired hygiene products. Bodies danced and grinded, others stood in corners and chatted or tried their best look as evil and pretentious as possible.

"What now Jay ?"

You questioned as you looked around at the party that went on before you

"Gotta find Tremaine."

Jay answered as he grabbed you hand and walked into the party.

You felt your stomach leap as he made contact with you, frantically looking down where you two were now connected, then smiled to yourself small-ly

The two of looked around for three minutes tops, Jay still holding your hand, before he turned around to you.

"Can't find him, wanna dance ?"

He offered casually.

"We looked for less than five minutes."

"And we couldn't find him, so do you want to dance."

With a roll of your eyes, you agreed and began to dance.

"Was this your plan all along, Al Jafar ?"

"You really are a smart one, huh?"

I changed my mind for the plot of this fic last minute so I'm sorry the ending is lackluster. Also I haven't written fanfic in years. ISN'T HE JUST DREAMY THO 😍😍

[moonselune]

I'm not the same anon who requested for BG3 ladies in compromising positions but could I request for the same prompt with Gale, Astarion, and Halsin with gender neutral reader?

I love theseeee, enjoy!

Gale:

The camp was quiet as you and Gale worked on a particularly complex spell. The air hummed with arcane energy as Gale concentrated, his hands weaving intricate patterns in the air. You stood close, watching his every move with fascination, feeling the magic build in the air. Suddenly, the spell backfired. A burst of magical energy erupted, and in an instant, you found yourself bound tightly to Gale, chest to chest, by glowing bands of arcane light.

His eyes widened in surprise as he tried to move, only to realize the situation. "Oh dear," Gale murmured, his voice tinged with both amusement and embarrassment. "It seems I’ve… miscalculated."

Your cheeks flushed as you felt the warmth of his body pressed against yours, every breath and heartbeat shared in the intimate proximity. "Well, this is… unexpected," you replied, trying to maintain your composure despite the rather compromising position.

Gale's initial shock gave way to a soft chuckle. "I do apologize. It appears we’ll be quite close for the next few minutes until the spell wears off." His eyes met yours, and despite the awkwardness, there was a gentle warmth in his gaze. You could feel the heat of his skin, the slight rise and fall of his chest against yours, the tickle of his breath against your neck.

You couldn't help but laugh softly. "I suppose there are worse ways to be stuck."

Gale’s hands, bound along with yours, gently brushed your sides. "There certainly are," he said softly, a small smile playing on his lips. "Perhaps this isn't entirely unfortunate."

Astarion:

The night was filled with the sounds of battle, the clash of steel and the cries of combatants. In the midst of the chaos, you found yourself beside Astarion, both of you fighting valiantly. Suddenly, an arrow whizzed past your ear, and Astarion reacted instinctively. With a swift dive, he aimed to pull you to cover him, and sacrifice you to the rain of arrows but misjudged his momentum and instead tackled you to the ground, his body pinning yours beneath him.

You landed with a soft thud, the air knocked out of your lungs. Astarion's weight pressed you into the dirt, his face inches from yours. "Well, this wasn’t quite the plan," he muttered, his voice laced with both amusement and embarrassment. His silver hair tickled your face, and you could feel his cool breath against your skin.

You couldn’t help but grin, despite the situation. "I thought you wanted me to cover you, not be your cushion."

Astarion’s eyes flashed with a mixture of amusement and chagrin. "Darling, I did mean for you to cover me. But it seems I’ve ended up covering you instead." His lithe body was taut with tension, his muscles coiled as he tried to maneuver himself without crushing you further.

His proximity was both exhilarating and disarming. The feel of his body against yours, his breath warm on your skin, made your heart race. "You know," you said teasingly, "you could at least buy me dinner first."

Astarion laughed, a genuine, melodic sound that seemed to lighten the air around you. "I’ll keep that in mind for next time," he replied, finally pushing himself up and helping you to your feet. His hands lingered on yours a moment longer than necessary, his eyes locking with yours. "Now, let’s finish this fight, shall we?"

Halsin:

The forest was serene, the air filled with the sounds of nature. Halsin had taken you on a walk, eager to show you a hidden alcove where a family of cute animals had made their home. His excitement was contagious, and you followed him eagerly. As you approached the alcove, Halsin bent down to get a closer look, his large frame accidentally pushing you over a low-hanging branch. You found yourself bent over, with Halsin unintentionally pinning you in place as he leaned in to point at the animals. His hips aligning with yours.

"Look, there they are," he said, his voice filled with childlike wonder as he leaned forward, pressing deeper into you. It took him a moment to realize the compromising position you were in. When he did, he froze, his eyes widening with concern. "Oh, I’m so sorry!" he exclaimed, quickly moving back to give you space.

You straightened up, your face flushed. "It’s alright, Halsin," you said, laughing softly. "You’re just very enthusiastic."

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, his broad shoulders tense with embarrassment. "I didn’t mean to—"

"It’s fine," you assured him, still chuckling. "But maybe next time, a little warning?"

Halsin's face broke into a warm, apologetic smile, his eyes softening as he looked at you. "I’ll be more careful," he promised, his deep voice sincere. "Thank you for understanding." His large hand gently touched your shoulder, the warmth of his touch spreading through you.

Heheehehe things got a bit spicy whilst writing Halsin's, hope y'all enjoy it - Seluney xoxoxoxox

[goblinontour]

Nothing Gold Can Stay

a different side of him…and it’s really hot

part 5 | series masterlist

warnings: prof!al, age gap (not specified), smut, oral (m/f receiving), piv, spanking, orgasm denial(ish), backshots!!!

word count: 9.5k

It was hot. Unbearably hot. With the academic year winding down, you and Alex spent more and more time at home, finishing up final assignments and reports. Alex couldn’t stand it. He hated this part. Office hours were dull, writing reports even more so, and working from home felt more like a prison sentence than anything. But having you there made it slightly more bearable. A lot more bearable actually…If only the heat wasn't so stifling.

Alex couldn’t focus. He let you use his office for your studies, so you kind of claimed it as yours subconsciously. So he found himself wandering the house aimlessly, the oppressive heat making it hard to think straight. He peered into the office, seeing you deeply engrossed in your work at his desk.

You didn't notice him at first, but when you looked up, your eyes widened. Alex stood at the door, completely naked except for the chain around his neck and the tattoo on his arm. He caught your gaze, looking at him, staring, eyeing him up and down, and if you weren’t so shocked you maybe would have noticed him smirking at your reaction.

“What? Did you expect me to wear a suit in my own house? I’m choosing comfort today…and it’s so fucking hot.” he declared, moving to the sofa but never taking his eyes off you.

He lounged there for a moment, but his restless energy got the better of him. He began pacing the room, his presence an insistent reminder of his proximity. You tried to concentrate on your work, but his pacing, his very existence, was distracting you.

Finally, he approached you, sliding into your lap on the office chair. His skin was warm and sticky against yours, and you could feel his frustration with the heat radiating off him.

“God, it’s so hot in here.” he murmured, starting to unbutton your shirt slowly.

You raised an eyebrow. “I get that, but why are you unbuttoning my shirt?”

He grinned, pausing to kiss your neck. “First of all, it’s my shirt.” Another kiss. “And second…” His lips brushed against your skin, sending shivers despite the heat, “I can’t have you overheating in here, darling…you should thank me.”

His kisses grew more insistent, and despite the sweltering heat, you felt a different kind of warmth spreading through you. And yet, you couldn’t help but laugh, pushing him back slightly.

“If this is your idea of keeping cool, you’re doing a terrible job.” you teased, but there was no mistaking the affection in your voice.

He chuckled, nuzzling against your neck. “Maybe. But at least it’s more interesting than writing reports.”

You couldn’t argue with that.

“How are your boobs?” he asked, trying to stay serious, but you could tell he was playing.

You gave him a playful look, “They're just fine?”

“Let me see.” he insisted, grabbing one in his hand and acting as if he were inspecting it carefully. You stared at him, confused.

“What? I just wanted to make sure they're okay.” he said with mock seriousness.

You looked at him, trying to hold your expression, but then both of you burst out laughing. He kissed you again, this time with a deeper, lingering passion. His lips moved against yours, making you forget the heat, the work, everything but the feel of him.

His kissing became more telling, his lips moving with a slow, deliberate passion that sent shivers through you despite the oppressive heat. His mouth was warm and wet, his tongue dancing with yours, exploring and tasting. You could feel every movement, every shift of his lips against yours, soft yet demanding.

As his hips pressed closer, you felt the unmistakable hardness of his cock brushing against your thigh. Each subtle grind, each slow movement, teased both of you, slowly but surely building the anticipation. His breath hitched slightly with each thrust, the friction driving him to the brink.

You broke the kiss for a moment, your eyes meeting his, dark with desire. He smirked at how quickly he got you turned on, but it was edged with his own need. “You know,” he murmured, his voice husky, “If anyone walked by right now, they’d have quite the view.”

You glanced over his shoulder, realising you were right in front of the window. The thought sent a thrill through you, adding to the already heady mix of sensations. “Maybe I should open it," he continued to tease, “Let them hear us too. But it’s too hot even for that.”

You chuckled, but the sound caught in your throat as he ground his hips harder, the slow friction against his cock making him moan softly. “I’m so in the mood for a lazy fuck.” he confessed, sounding almost desperate.

You tried to muster some resistance, remembering the work waiting on the desk. “Alex, I’m busy, I can’t-“

He silenced you with another kiss, his lips pressing firmly against yours. “I’m your professor, you can’t say no to this.” he whispered, his voice a mix of pleading and confidence, his hands continuing their slow, deliberate movements.

You managed a playful smirk. “Is that so, Mr. Turner?”

“Mhm.” he replied, lips brushing against your neck. But you still shook your head, pushing him back gently.

“No, Alex. I really can’t.”

He sighed dramatically, “Ugh, fine.”

Sliding down from the chair onto his knees, he spread your thighs apart. The sticky sound of your skin peeling from the leather echoed in the room, adding to the already charged atmosphere. His eyes darkened as he saw your panties peeking from underneath the oversized shirt. The thin fabric barely concealed your arousal, and his breath hitched slightly at the sight.

With a mischievous grin, he pushed the light fabric of his shirt you were wearing to the side, teasing you over the material of your underwear. The subtle, playful touch made you jump, a spark of unexpected sensitivity coursing through you.

“Keep working.” he murmured, his voice laced with amusement and command.

His fingers traced light patterns over your panties, feeling the growing dampness. He watched in fascination as the material darkened with your wetness, a visual testament to your arousal. With a deft movement, he pulled your panties aside, revealing your glistening pussy. He took a moment to just look, his eyes drinking in the sight, his cock hardening and twitching at the view.

“God, you're so pretty.” he whispered, almost to himself.

His fingers returned, slipping past your slick lips, playing in the wetness. The sensation was electrifying, each touch sending jolts of pleasure through you. He found your clit between the tight folds of flesh and began flicking it, his movements precise and careful, driving you to the edge. The heat of his touch contrasted with the cool feeling of the wetness hitting the air, making every sensation more intense.

For him, the feeling was intoxicating. His cock, painfully hard, occasionally brushed against the floor from his position, the rough surface adding an unexpected layer of friction that only fueled his desire. The sight of your arousal, the way your body responded to his touch, made his own need almost unbearable.

He didn’t care about himself now though, his poor cock leaking precum onto the floor. No. All he wanted right now was to play with you, to watch you unravel under his touch. His fingers danced around your clit, flicking it with increasing intensity, each movement sending waves of pleasure through you. The wet sounds of his fingers moving in your slickness filled the room, a symphony to his ears.

He leaned in and his tongue flicked out, tasting your arousal, his lips following in the path of his fingers. The feeling was exquisite, his mouth warm and wet, every movement thought out perfectly to tease you. His cock twitched with every moan you made, his own arousal a constant reminder of his need for you.

Sweat quickly built up and dripped from the top of his thighs all the way to his knees, making the floor slick. He almost slipped, catching himself just in time, his movements becoming more deliberate and cautious. Your own thighs were slipping on the chair, the leather sticking to your skin from the heat and the sensations he was drawing out of you.

As he slipped a finger inside you, the wet squelching noises increased, growing louder and more obscene. The sound was intoxicating, a proof of just how turned on you were. He bit your inner thigh, the sharp sting pulling a gasp from your lips, his eyes locking onto yours with a mixture of desire and a plea for you to give in to him.

“Come on,” he murmured, his voice rough with need, "I need this. I need you."

The taste of you was addictive, a heady mix of salt and sweetness that coated his tongue and left him craving more. Each flick of his tongue was calculated to draw out your moans, his mouth exploring every inch of you. His fingers curled inside you, the slick, warm wetness enveloping them, the rhythm of his movements both torturous and perfect.

Your body reacted to his touch in ways you couldn’t control. His teasing strokes were too light, each one sending frustrating sparks of pleasure that left you wanting more. He lapped at you with slow movements, savouring every taste, every reaction you gave him.

His own pleasure was an afterthought, a dull ache between his thighs as his cock kept brushing against the slick floor. The sensation was maddening, the friction only adding to his desperate need. He bit down gently on your inner thigh again, a silent plea for you to give in, to let him have what he wanted.

The room was filled with the wet, lewd sounds of his fingers moving inside you, the intensity of the sensations making it hard to focus on anything else. His whispered pleas and the feeling of his mouth and hands on you were driving you to the edge, the line between pleasure and desperation blurring with every touch.

You couldn't resist any longer. The pen slipped from your fingers, everything you were working on forgotten. How could you even think you could concentrate with his mouth and fingers driving you insane? Grabbing his head, you bent down and kissed him, catching him off guard. He didn't have time to react, his fingers still buried inside you. You slipped your tongue into his mouth, tasting yourself on him. The mix of sensations was overwhelming, his wet, warm tongue meeting yours as you deepened the kiss, pulling him closer and surrendering to the heat of the moment.

You could feel his surprise melt into hunger, his kiss growing more urgent as he responded. Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, needing him more than anything else at that moment. His fingers continued their teasing movements inside you, the wet sounds mingling with the taste of your own juices on his tongue. It was intoxicating, overwhelming.

His other hand roamed up your body, slipping under the oversized shirt, his touch sending shivers through you despite the oppressive heat. You could feel his cock, hard and leaking, pressing against your thigh, the slick floor making his movements more frantic. He shifted, trying to find a better angle, almost slipping again, his breath hitching in frustration and desire.

You pulled back from the kiss, your lips brushing against his as you whispered, “I can't think when you do that.”

“That's the point.” he murmured back, his voice rough with need. He thrust his fingers deeper, curling them inside you, the sensation making you gasp. “I want you to feel nothing but this.”

You could barely hold back a moan, your thighs slipping on the chair as he pushed you closer to the edge. The heat was unbelievers, the sweat mixing with the wetness between your legs, amplifying every touch, every sensation. You could feel his need, his desperation, in every movement, every kiss.

His teeth grazed your neck, his breath hot against your already burning skin as he kissed his way down your body. He reached your chest, his mouth closing around a nipple, sucking gently before biting down, just enough to make you gasp. His fingers never stopped their relentless teasing, the wet noises growing louder, filthier.

You grabbed his head again, pulling him back up to kiss him, your tongue slipping into his mouth, tasting the salt of your sweat mixed with the sweetness of his need. His fingers slipped out of you, and he bent back down to replace them with his tongue, diving into your wetness, licking and sucking with a desperation that mirrored your own.

His tongue flicked against your clit, making it impossible to think, to do anything but feel, just like he said he wanted. Your hips bucked against his mouth, your body responding to his every touch, every kiss. He was relentless, his need alone driving him, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

His fingers joined his tongue, slipping back inside of you, curling and thrusting in rhythm with his licks. The sensations were too much, too overwhelming, and you could feel yourself teetering on the edge, ready to fall.

“Alex…” you gasped, your hands gripping the sides of the chair, trying to hold on to something, anything, as he drove you closer to your orgasm. Or to insanity. Maybe both. "I-I can't...I need…”

He bit your inner thigh again, harder this time, pulling a scream from your lips. “Give in to me.” he murmured, his voice rough and desperate. “Let go. I need you to let go.”

And with that, you did. The wave of pleasure crashed over you, pulling you under, your body trembling and shaking with the force of it. You could feel him smiling against your skin, his tongue and fingers never stopping, driving you through it, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until you were nothing but a quivering, panting mess.

He rested his head on your thigh for a moment, catching his breath. The sheen of sweat on his brow glistened in the dim light, his chest rising and falling heavily.

“Have I earned my fuck now?” he asked, his voice joking but clearly out of breath, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

You chuckled, equally breathless. “Yeah.”

He sat up, balancing himself on the edge of the desk for a moment before picking you up from the chair. His grip was firm yet gentle, the warmth of his hands seeping through your skin. He settled into the chair, then pulled you back onto his lap, your still clothed back pressed against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart against you.

Alex's hands roamed over your body, fingers tracing the contours of your curves, enjoying the feel of your heated skin against his. His lips found the curve of your neck, placing lazy, lingering kisses there, his breath hot and heavy against your ear. The heat between you was almost too much, beads of sweat forming and mingling on your skin, but you didn’t mind it at this point. You could feel his cock pressing insistently against you, the hard length of him pulsing with need.

His hands snaked around you, his fingers dipping below the waistband of your panties. He pushed them down just enough, letting them slide to your knees before they dropped to the floor. The whole time, his hard cock rubbed between your arsecheeks, slick with both his precum and sweat, making it easy for him to slide against your skin.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice thick with anticipation. You nodded, feeling his hand guide his cock to your entrance. He slid inside you smoothly, the wetness making it effortless, yet the tightness due to your position made it all the more intense.

“Fuck…” he swore, his voice a low growl. “So tight...so perfect.”

Every inch of him was buried inside you, and you could feel his body shudder against yours. The sensation of him filling you completely, combined with the overwhelming heat, created a heady mix of pleasure and discomfort that was maddeningly good.

You gasped, gripping his thighs for support as he began to move, his strokes slow and deliberate, savouring the feeling of your walls clenching around him. The friction was exquisite, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through both of you. Everything was wet, slick with sweat and arousal, amplifying every movement, every touch.

“Take the shirt off.” Alex murmured, his voice rough.

You glanced at the window and shook your head. “But the window-”

“I don’t care.” he replied, his words taking a more commanding tone. He reached for the collar of the shirt and pulled it down from your shoulders. There was a momentary cool sensation, but the feeling of his hands roaming your now exposed body quickly brought the heat back. He kept the shirt in his hand, occasionally wiping the sweat from his forehead to keep it from dripping onto his face.

Alex's hands slid down your sides, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. He wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you firmly against him as he thrust into you. The rhythm he set was slow and deep, each thrust a measured stroke that made you feel all of him. You could feel his cock throbbing inside you, the tightness of your position making every sensation more intense.

“God, you're amazing.” he murmured. His lips brushed against your ear, sending shivers down your spine again despite the heat. "So fucking wet...I can't get enough of you."

His words sent a jolt of pleasure straight to your core, and you could feel yourself clenching around him in response. Alex groaned, his grip on your waist tightening as he picked up the pace, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more demanding. The chair creaked beneath you, adding to the symphony of sounds filling the room. The wetness of your bodies moving together, the ragged breaths, the low moans of pleasure.

You could feel the sweat dripping down your back, mingling with his, making your bodies slide against each other with each movement. The heat was suffocating, but it only seemed to reel him further. Alex's fingers dug into your hips, guiding you as you moved together, each thrust pushing you closer to the brink.

He tried to take his chain off from around his neck but couldn't manage one-handed, his other hand wrapped tightly around you, keeping you from falling off his lap. “Help me take this off, please.” he said, his voice strained.

You didn’t understand at first, so he clarified, “The chain. Now, please. I can’t-”

You placed your left leg over his thigh, your other hanging between his legs, turning enough to unclasp the gold necklace for him. “Nothing gold can stay.” you whispered, stopping to kiss him. His thrusts slowed as well, your position making it difficult for him to move.

“Poetic…I thought that was my thing.” he whispered back between heavy breaths. “Any hidden meaning to that?”

“Are you asking me if I think we’ll last?” you asked.

“Hmm…so you’re saying we’re gold, huh?” he teased.

“I think we are.” you said.

“Yeah, you’re just as pretty…”

“And you’re just as soft, Mr. Turner.” you replied.

He responded with a hard thrust, making you moan and cling to him tighter. “Soft?” he asked jokingly, proceeding to push you forward, steadying yourself on the edge of the desk.

The shift in position intensified everything, making his movements even more pronounced. He resumed his rhythm, each thrust getting more powerful. You could feel the friction of his cock sliding in and out, the tension building with every stroke.

Alex's breath was hot against your back as he whispered, “You're driving me crazy, you know that?”

Your response was a breathless moan, the intensity of his thrusts stealing your words. His hands moved to your hips, gripping tightly, guiding you back into his hips as he pushed deeper inside you.

“Tell me how it feels.” he demanded, his voice rough and desperate.

“It feels…amazing.” you managed to gasp out, your nails digging into the wood for support. “So deep, so good…”

He groaned in response, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more erratic. The sweat dripping from his forehead onto your back made you twitch in his hold. You could feel the tension building inside you, the pressure mounting with each thrust.

“I’m close.” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“Me too.” he replied, his grip on your hips tightening as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge. “So close,” he groaned, his voice strained with effort, “I can't hold back much longer.”

“Don't.” you whispered, your own voice breathless with need. “Come inside me, I want to feel you.”

Alex still wasn't entirely used to coming inside you, despite you being on the pill for a while now. He loved the feeling, though, always waiting for your permission each time. The sensation of filling you up so deep, of his cum spreading around his cock as he fucked it into you, was something he cherished every single time.

He groaned as he thrust deeply into you, the slickness of your combined arousal making each movement more intense. “Fuck.” he swore, the word barely escaping his lips as his orgasm built. You felt his cock throb inside you, a sign of his impending release.

With a final, deep thrust, he buried himself completely within you, his grip on your hips almost bruising as he held you in place. The heat of his release filled you, spreading warmth throughout your core. He shuddered against you, his breaths ragged and heavy as he emptied himself inside you.

You gasped at the sensation, the fullness and warmth of his cum making you feel complete. His thrusts slowed but continued, each movement pushing his release deeper, mingling with your own.

“Fuck, I love this,” he murmured, his voice filled with awe and satisfaction, “Feeling you take all of me…”

You tightened around him in response, eliciting another groan from his lips. “I love it too.” you whispered, your body still trembling from the intensity of your orgasm.

He finally stilled, his head resting against your shoulder, both of you panting and spent. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close as you both basked in the afterglow, the heat long forgotten.

For a moment, neither of you moved, both too spent to do anything but hold each other. Finally, Alex pulled back slightly, his breath still coming in heavy pants. He pulled you back against his chest and held you tightly, heaving with each breath, his lips pressing gentle kisses to the back of your neck and shoulder.

“You’re incredible.” he murmured.

You smiled, leaning back against him, your body still humming with the aftershocks of pleasure. “So are you, Mr. Turner. So are you.”

As the sweat cooled on your skin, you felt a sense of contentment settle over you. The heat was still oppressive, but it didn't seem to matter anymore.

You and Alex sat at opposite ends of the bathtub, facing each other with your legs entangled. The water was almost frigid, sending shivers down your spine. Alex noticed and teased, “Did I not get you hot enough, love?” He smiled that charming smile of his, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

You couldn’t help but smile back, taking a moment to admire him. His wet hair curled naturally, especially the little pieces by his ears, making him look endearingly boyish. His clean-shaven face accentuated his puffy lips, giving him a soft, almost innocent appearance. His eyes, always so soft and full of warmth, met yours, and you felt a wave of tenderness wash over you. He was, in fact, soft, like you’d said earlier, you thought. And maybe he knew it too, though he didn't always want to admit it.

“Come here.” he said, beckoning with his hand for you to turn around. “Let me warm you up.”

You moved toward him, and he wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pulling you against his chest. He sank a bit lower into the water to make sure you were comfortable. You felt the immediate warmth of his body, and you sighed in contentment. “Muuuuch better.” you murmured as his fingers started to play with your hair.

A comfortable silence enveloped you both. The contrast between the cold water and the warmth of his body created a unique sensation, making you feel both relaxed and completely awake.

After a while, Alex broke the silence, his voice full of affection. “You’re the most beautiful girl in the world. You are my dream.” He placed a long, hard kiss on the top of your head, making you feel deeply loved, with just that tiny gesture.

You nestled closer to him, feeling his heartbeat against your back, and let the tranquility of the moment wash over you. His hands continued to play with your hair, occasionally trailing down your arms in gentle, soothing strokes. You closed your eyes, feeling completely at peace in his embrace.

“I love you.” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the water swooshing.

“I love you too,” he replied, his voice equally soft, “More than you’ll ever know.” He hugged you tighter, his fingers tracing small circles on your skin.

The bathwater slowly lost its chill, your bodies generating enough heat to make it comfortable. You stayed like that for a while, basking in the simplicity and intimacy of the moment, in the feeling of each other, of him. You loved him.

The last day of class felt unbearably tense. Your eyes were glued to Alex, unable to tear your gaze away. You didn’t even realise that you were staring at him the whole time. The months together had built up an intense connection, driving you both restless, but today was somehow worse than ever.

He noticed, stuttering when he caught your glance, or fidgeting with his jacket he insisted on wearing despite the sweltering summer heat.

When the lecture finally ended, a text buzzed in your pocket: “See me right after.” You waited until the room emptied, then approached him.

“What was that?” he demanded, frustration clear in his tone. You had no answer, only the overwhelming urge to close the distance between you. Grabbing his face, you kissed him desperately, your lips crashing into his so quickly he didn’t even have time to respond.

“Mmm…stop…we shouldn’t.” he muttered, breaking the kiss, but his resolve wavered under your gaze.

“But we could.” you whispered, looking up at him through your eyelashes, giving him those eyes you knew he couldn’t resist.

With a conflicted sigh, he said, “Meet me in the bathroom.” and hurriedly packed his things, shoving everything into his bag and throwing it over his shoulder.

As he left, a smirk played on his lips before the door closed behind him. You waited a few moments before following, your heart racing.

Entering the men’s room, you found him leaning against one of the sinks, with that familiar grin reserved just for you. He approached you slowly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, then kissing you once, softly. Grabbing your hand, he led you into one of the stalls, the door clicking shut behind you.

His lips found yours again, more urgent this time, unable to get enough. Your mind raced, a mix of excitement and fear. The forbidden nature of your relationship made each touch more endearing, every kiss more intense. Alex’s hands roamed over your body, pulling you closer, his need for you palpable. You melted into him, the thrill of being caught making it all the more exciting for both of you.

Slipping your hands under his jacket and up his back, you eventually pushed it off his shoulders. He caught it in his hand before it could fall to the floor, hanging it along with his bag on the hook behind him. That left him in only the tight white vest tucked in his jeans that he was wearing underneath.

His arms looked incredible, muscles taut and defined, each movement highlighting the strength beneath his skin. The vest clung to his back, damp with sweat, making the fabric semi-transparent. As your hands roamed over his body, you felt the heat of his wet skin, the sensation thrilling and intimate.

His lips were soft on yours, and you wanted to feel them forever. He tasted so good, and his tongue on yours felt electric. Alex had that way of kissing that was just perfect, leaving you breathless and craving more.

What began as an intimate yet not-so-intimate makeout session quickly turned into something that should only be done in private. And especially not here.

His leg wrapped around you, causing you to almost lose your balance if it wasn't for him holding you up, his hardness rubbing against the front of your jeans. With your lips still touching, you palmed at his jean-clothed length eagerly. His hand went to grip your neck, softly, not squeezing, just holding you in place. Your only goal was now to ensure he was satisfied.

The stall felt smaller with each passing second, the air thick with the scent of sweat and anticipation. Alex's breath was hot against your skin as he murmured your name, his voice a low, desperate whisper that sent shivers down your spine. You responded with equal fervor, your hands exploring the expanse of his back, tracing the contours of his muscles.

His fingers slipped beneath the hem of your shirt, teasing the sensitive skin there before moving higher, pushing the fabric up and over your head. You helped him, lifting your arms. The cool air hit your bare skin, but the heat from his body quickly enveloped you again.

Alex's eyes darkened as he took in the sight of you, his hands moving to cup your breasts, thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples. The sensation made you gasp, arching into his touch. He smiled against your mouth, a mixture of satisfaction and desire.

“Someone could walk in anytime.” he muttered, his lips moving to your neck, sucking and nibbling at the sensitive flesh there. “You know that?”

You could only moan in response, your hands fumbling with the button of his trousers. You needed to feel him, the barrier of clothing becoming unbearable. He seemed to sense your urgency, helping you with the zipper and pushing them down.

The stall was filled with the sounds of your heavy breathing, the rustle of fabric, and the occasional thud as your bodies moved against the partitions. Alex's hands were everywhere. Sliding down your sides, gripping your hips, caressing your back. He pulled you closer, your bare chest pressed against his, the contact sending a jolt of pleasure through you as your nipples brushed against the material of his top.

Your hands roamed over his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. The knowledge that this strong, composed man was just as affected by you as you were by him was intoxicating.

Driven by the desire to please him, you dropped to your knees, your hands finding the waistband of his boxers and pulling them down. His cock sprang free from its confines, hard and eager, the tip glistening. Without hesitation, you wrapped your hand around it, feeling the heat and firmness in your grasp.

Alex's hands found their way to your hair, his fingers threading through the strands as he gently guided you closer. His intentions were clear. He wanted your mouth. But he wasn’t going to straight up ask for it. You leaned forward, taking him into past your lips, savouring the taste of his skin and the salty hint of precum. His grip tightened slightly, a soft groan escaping his lips as you began to move, your tongue swirling around the head before taking him deeper.

The sensation of him filling your mouth was heady, each movement sending shivers of pleasure through him. Alex’s hips began to move in rhythm with your mouth, his breaths coming faster and more ragged. You glanced up, seeing the raw desire in his eyes, knowing that you were the one driving him to this point of ecstasy.

His hands continued to guide you, the gentle pressure urging you on as you bobbed your head, your mouth working him skillfully. The taste of him, the feel of him, the sound of his pleasure, it all combined to create an addiction, one that you never wanted to rid yourself of.

Having your lips around his cock, watching as you took him down your throat, your head bobbing quickly, making sweet sounds around his length. Ugh. You worked at him like a dog in heat. How precious. His pretty little thing. His eyes stayed on you. You were everything he wanted. And you knew it.

Your eyes stayed on him as well, you knew better than to look away. Would be blatant disrespect if you did. He loved making you remember the way his features changed as he got closer, making sure you remembered how his eyes filled with pleasure as he would come down your throat, holding the back of your head as you worked on his throbbing cock.

But then, the sound of the bathroom door creaking open shattered the bubble you were in. Someone was coming in. Alex’s eyes widened, and before panic could take hold, he quickly pulled you off his cock.

With a barely silenced growl, he lifted you slightly, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively. You could feel the still hard length of him pressing against you, even through the denim of your jeans. The friction was delicious, and you ground against him, seeking more. His hand clamped over your mouth to stifle the sounds of your gasps. He tucked himself back into his trousers, his breaths heavy and erratic, the tension in the stall palpable.

You both remained frozen, hearts pounding in unison as you listened to the intruder's footsteps echoing off the tiles. Each second felt like an eternity, the fear of getting caught suddenly not as exciting as it became too real. You could feel Alex's heart beating wildly through the hand that still gently held your face. He glanced down at you, a mixture of frustration and arousal in his eyes, as he listened intently for any indication that you were alone again.

“You're going to be the death of me,” he whispered, his forehead resting against yours as he tried to catch his breath, “But what a way to go.”

You smiled, your fingers threading through his hair, pulling him in for a kiss. His hands moved to help you redress, handing you your top and watching as you slipped it back on. He pulled his jacket over his shoulders, the fabric clinging slightly to his damp skin.

Alex exited the stall first, striding confidently past the other doors towards the sinks. There, he saw a fellow colleague washing his hands, glancing up as he approached. Their eyes met, and Alex gave a curt nod, a silent acknowledgment of the shared awkwardness. The colleague's knowing smirk indicated he was well aware of the situation, but neither said a word.

Alex washed his hands, the sound of the running water masking the rapid beating of his heart. He quickly texted you to meet him at the car, the message clear and concise. He had started parking a couple of streets down to avoid suspicion, allowing you to leave together when your schedules aligned without raising any eyebrows.

You stayed in the stall for a moment longer, adjusting your appearance and calming your racing heart. The adrenaline still surged through you, making your fingers tremble slightly as you straightened your clothes and smoothed your hair. Once you felt composed enough, you took a deep breath and stepped out, making your way to the exit as quietly and quickly as possible.

As you walked down the hallway, you couldn’t help but glance around, hyper-aware of every sound and movement. The thrill of the near miss and the thought of seeing Alex again in just a few moments made your pulse quicken. You pushed open the door to the outside, the cool evening air a stark contrast to the heat of your encounter in the bathroom.

Walking briskly, you made your way to the car. You spotted Alex leaning against it, his jacket now draped over his arm. He was smoking a cigarette, the smoke curling up into the darkening sky, dissipating into the twilight. The soft glow of the cigarette illuminated his face, casting shadows that made his features appear even more chiselled. He looked so focused on nothing in particular, lost in his thoughts, the furrow in his brow suggesting the intensity of whatever was running through his mind. You could have probably guessed what that was.

He took one last drag from the cigarette, the ember glowing brighter for a moment before he tossed it to the ground, crushing it beneath his boot. The movement was almost practised, a small, unconscious ritual he performed without thinking.

As he met your gaze, his face softened, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He opened the car door for you, helping you in before getting in himself.

As he settled into the driver's seat, he turned to you, his hand reaching over to rest on your thigh. “You okay?” he asked, his voice slightly concerned.

You nodded, placing your hand over his. “Yeah. Just…that was close.”

He chuckled softly, his thumb stroking your skin. “Too close. But God, I can’t stay away from you.”

You leaned over, capturing his lips in a kiss that was both reassuring and needy. The car was filled with the quiet hum of the engine and the rapid thumping of your hearts. As the kiss deepened, you felt the tension from the bathroom start to dissolve.

Finally, being the one to break the kiss, Alex started reversing out of his spot. Well, not really his spot technically, but he kind of claimed it as his, parking there almost every time he drove to work.

You watched him, mesmerised by the sight of him reversing the car. His arm was draped casually across the back of your seat, the movement causing the muscles in his arm to flex subtly. The streetlights streaming through the windows highlighted his sharp jawline from all different angles, casting shadows that made his features even more striking.

“You’re so fucking hot.” you said mindlessly, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

“Oh, I know, love.” he replied, smirking as he started driving toward his apartment. He wasn’t full of himself. It wasn’t how that was supposed to sound, you knew that. He’d told you that you helped bring out a less insecure part of him, and you loved that.

“You’re still in trouble though, can’t have that with no consequences.” he joked.

You hit him softly over his thigh, making him jump subconsciously. The sudden movement brought his bothersome erection back to the forefront of his mind, causing him to shift uncomfortably in his seat, trying to find a position that didn’t put so much pressure on it. You noticed and started rubbing his thigh, trying to ease his discomfort, but likely doing just the opposite.

As the car moved through the city streets, the atmosphere between you was thick with unresolved tension. The sensation of your hand on his thigh, combined with the rhythmic motion of the car, heightened his every feeling. Every touch, every brush of your fingers, seemed to amplify the heat burning inside of him.

Alex's breathing grew heavier, and his grip on the steering wheel tightened. You could see the effort it took for him to keep his focus on the road, his need for you evident in the way his eyes occasionally flicked toward you, filled with want and frustration.

The drive felt both endless and too short, the anticipation of what was to come making every second feel like an eternity. You didn’t even know what he meant by ‘consequences’. As you approached his apartment, the tension within the vehicle almost reached a boiling point, what might await you behind closed doors hanging heavily in the air.

In his apartment, Alex hadn't said a word since entering. He slipped off his boots and headed straight to the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed. You followed him, and he patted the spot next to him for you to sit. As soon as you sat down, he grabbed you and bent you over his knees, making you gasp at the sudden move.

His hands spread over your ass, grabbing at your flesh a couple of times before undoing your jeans and pushing them down your thighs, leaving you unable to move your legs apart. You looked back at him in anticipation, waiting for his next move. He bent down to kiss you as his hand came down across your cheeks for the first time, your yelp getting lost in his mouth.

His touch alternated between rough and tender, his hands exploring your skin as his lips met yours again and again. The sensation of his hand striking your flesh mixed with the softness of his kisses, the blend of pleasure and sharp pain, was intoxicating.

You could feel the heat radiating from him, the tension in his body evident as he continued to spank you. His hand came down again and again, the sharp sting followed by the soothing caress of his fingers. The sound of each slap echoed in the room, mingling with your muffled gasps and his ragged breathing.

Each strike seemed to bring you closer to a breaking point, the intensity of the moment building with every touch. His other hand held you firmly in place, ensuring you couldn't move away from his lap. The vulnerability and trust between you deepened with every second passing.

Between spanks, he would pause to tease you over your underwear, his fingers brushing lightly over your clothed cunt. Each touch sent shivers through your body, amplifying your need for him. He knew exactly how to keep you on edge, providing just enough stimulation to drive you wild, but never enough to satisfy. The fabric of your underwear felt damp against your skin, a proof to your growing arousal. You were enjoying this.

Alex's teasing fingers moved with agonising slowness, tracing the outline of your lips through the fabric, barely dipping into your folds. Each featherlight touch was a tantalising hint of the pleasure that awaited you. Your hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more contact, more pressure, but he held you firmly in place, denying you the release you craved.

“You feel that, right?” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “That's how I felt the whole drive here. Desperate. Needing more. But I couldn't do anything about it. Now it's your turn.”

His words sent a thrill through you, the knowledge that he was controlling your pleasure as skillfully as he did your body only heightening your arousal. You could feel his breath against your ear, hot and uneven.

Alex's fingers continued their maddeningly slow exploration, brushing over your sensitive clit, making your breath hitch. Each touch was maddening, it felt so good, but it was never enough to push you over the edge. He was drawing out your torment, making you feel every second of your need.

“Tell me…” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. “Tell me how much you want it.”

“I want it…so bad.” you gasped, your voice trembling with need. “Please, Alex, I need you.”

A satisfied hum rumbled in his chest. “Mhm…Just a little longer. I want to see you desperate. I want to see you beg.” he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice.

His words sent another wave of arousal through you, and you felt your body responding, your hips rocking against his hand. The friction of your underwear against your sensitive skin was exquisite torture.

Eventually, he stopped teasing, his hand moving away from your aching core. You whimpered at the loss, but he shushed you gently, his other hand stroking your back soothingly.

“Patience, love.” he murmured. “You know I always give you what you need, just let me play this time.”

With that, he resumed spanking you, each strike harder than the last, the sharp sting a stark contrast to the gentle teasing. Your yelps were muffled, your body trembling with the mix of pain and pleasure. It was getting almost too much to take, but you trusted him completely, knowing he would take care of you.

Finally, he paused, his hand resting on your reddened skin. He bent down to kiss you again, his lips lingering on yours as he whispered, “Was that too much?” the raw emotion and worry in his voice made you melt in his arms, and you shook your head ‘no’, unable to find the words to respond.

Alex helped you sit up, pulling off your jeans all the way, his hands gentle now as he pulled you close. The intensity of the moment lingered, the air between you charged. He guided your hand to his excruciating erection over the tight material of his jeans. You struggled to undo his belt, so he helped you, slipping it off lazily as you worked on the button and zipper.

You pulled his vest out of his pants and he held it up out of the way as you freed his cock from his boxers, stroking it a couple of times. His eyes rolled back at the feeling. He nudged you down, and you dropped to your knees on the floor in front of him. He brushed your cheek with his hand lovingly, petting your hair and making it sit all pretty again.

Having you in front of him stirred something deep inside Alex. All the emotions still took a toll on him sometimes, and now was one of those moments. Did he go too far? Did he even enjoy it, or was it just something he did for no reason? But that didn’t even matter anymore. He needed you. So bad. He guided you to his cock, letting you take him in your mouth and setting the rhythm himself.

You didn’t mind his control, you wanted to make him feel the best. You tried to take him deeper and faster, but you accidentally nicked him with your teeth, making his grip in your hair tighten.

“That’s it, darling…” he muttered. “That’s it…do it again.”

Hearing that, you decided to scrape your teeth along his cock and see how he liked that. His hand fell from your head, and he leaned back on his arms, gripping the sheets instead.

“Uhhh, fuck- fuck, yeah. Again. I like the pain...” he said, his voice filled with raw need.

You obeyed, your teeth grazing his sensitive flesh as you moved. Each scrape elicited a shudder from him, his hips bucking involuntarily. His grip on the sheets tightened, knuckles turning white. The mixture of pleasure and pain was driving him wild too, and you could see it in the way his body reacted, the way his breath hitched, and his muscles tensed.

“You’re so good at this.” he breathed, his voice low and strained. His free hand tangled in your hair, not guiding you this time, but simply holding on as if grounding himself in the overwhelming sensation.

You hollowed your cheeks, taking him deeper, the tip of his cock brushing the back of your throat. His eyes rolled back, a guttural moan escaping his lips. The praise, the raw desire in his voice, spurred you on, pushing you to take him even further.

Alex’s hips began to move in rhythm with your mouth, shallow thrusts that drove him deeper into your throat. You could feel him throbbing, the tension coiling in his muscles as he neared his release. His breaths came in ragged gasps, each one laced with the sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure.

“Fuck, I’m so close.” he groaned, his grip in your hair tightening as he held you in place. “Don’t stop…please, don’t stop.”

You had no intention of stopping, not when he was this close, not when you could feel his pleasure building, the climax just within reach. You wanted to be the one to push him over the edge. The only one to cause him so much pleasure that his mind shut down.

He came unexpectedly in between desperate thrusts, hot and pulsing in your mouth. You swallowed around him, taking everything he had to give, feeling his body shudder with the force of his orgasm. His moans filled the room, a melody of satisfaction that echoed in your ears.

As his glow subsided, he slumped back, pulling you up onto the bed beside him. He looked at you with his soft eyes that you still couldn’t believe were real.

“I’m not done with you yet.” he whispered, his voice hoarse from the intensity of the moment. He pulled you into his arms, turning you over so you were on your back under him.

He pushed your top up, exposing your breasts but not bothering to take it off. He just wanted to touch and see and feel them as he wished. Grabbing both your legs together, he bent them up, urging you to hold them in place. His hips began to thrust, his cock brushing over your underwear as he got rock hard again. The friction was exquisite, and you swore you couldn’t take it much longer, but he shushed you gently.

He pushed your panties to the side and rubbed his length over your wet pussy, wedging it between your folds. Each thrust brushed against your clit, eliciting countless soft moans from you. Occasionally, he would slap your clit with his cock, making your whole body twitch with the sensation. He went so far as to wrap the flimsy material of your panties around his hard length and thrusting into them, teasing you to no end. Seeing him and feeling him so close but not actually inside you was infuriating.

Your legs eventually grew tired in that position, and you were almost tired of his teasing as well. You rested them on his tummy, still keeping them up as he wanted. He liked that. He really liked that. He held them in place with one hand, massaging up your legs in time with his movements.

His fingers brushed over your clit, circling it with the same rhythm he had set with his thrusts. Your body arched into his touch, your breath hitching as the pleasure mounted. He leaned down, bending your body almost to a breaking point, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue in your mouth mimicking the movements of his fingers on your pussy.

“You're so beautiful like this,” he murmured against your lips, “I could watch you all day.”

You moaned into his mouth, your hips bucking against his hand. The teasing was driving you wild, the need for release becoming unbearable. You could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter, every nerve ending on fire.

“Please, Alex.” you whimpered, your voice barely more than a breath. “I need you, please.”

He smiled, his eyes dark with desire. His fingers continued their teasing dance, bringing you to the brink only to pull back just enough to keep you teetering on the edge. It was sweet torture.

Finally, when you thought you couldn't take it any longer, he pushed his cock into you, filling you completely. The sensation was overwhelming, a perfect blend of pleasure and relief. You cried out, your hands clutching at the sheets as he set a steady rhythm, each thrust sending you higher and higher.

He watched you in awe and satisfaction, his eyes never leaving your face. The connection between you was electric. You were his, and he was yours, in that perfect moment of your bodies connecting, both physically and emotionally.

As he moved inside you, his pace quickened, the urgency building once more. The room was filled with the sounds of him sliding in and out, the wet slap of skin on skin, the gasps and moans of pleasure. It was raw, it was primal, and it was everything you needed.

Your orgasm came crashing over you with a force that left you breathless. Your body convulsed around him, your cries of ecstasy mingling with his as he felt you tightening around him. With a gentle but firm motion, he pulled out, only to flip you around.

“You’re doing so good.” he whispered, his voice filled with genuine encouragement. He positioned you on your knees, and you struggled to hold yourself up on your arms, but you wanted to be able to see him.

You watched him as he wiped the sweat off his face with his arm before giving you a quick slap on your ass, the sting from earlier resurfacing. He continued teasing you, or more so teasing himself, rubbing his cock right at your entrance but not quite pushing in. His hand planted on the small of your back, guiding you back towards him but not pushing in, only the head occasionally slipping past your lips in the wet mess pooling there.

And he loved it. The sound of his continuous moaning, intertwined with your weak whimpers, let you know just how much he loved it. Finally, he pulled you by the hips, pushing in all the way, feeling even deeper in this position. He started so gently, his hand on your back keeping you grounded while the other rested back on his hip. He kept that pace for a while, but the need for release took over.

He quickly pulled his top over his head, the need for skin to skin contact overpowering him, and he slid his jeans lower, pushing his boxers down with them.

He moved with an intensity that matched his desire, each thrust more powerful than the last. His hands roamed your body, one sliding up to grip your shoulder for leverage, the other moving down to tease your clit. The combination of sensations was so overpowering, your body trembling with pleasure and overstimulation. He whispered words of encouragement and praise, his voice hoarse with need.

As his thrusts grew more frantic, the room filled with the sounds of your shared moans. His breathing became ragged, his movements more desperate as he chased his own release. You felt him tense, his grip on you tightening as he finally came again, spilling into you with a shuddering groan. The intensity of his orgasm triggered your own, your body pulsing around him as you cried out.

Spent and breathless, he collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms. The sounds of your heavy breathing seemed so loud in the room. He held you close, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin as you both basked in the afterglow.

He looked down at you, concern flickering in his eyes. “Was I too rough?” he asked softly, the question hanging in the air. You could see the beginnings of doubt starting to cloud his features, and you knew he was already overthinking it. He often did that, and he only recently started to realise that it would be better to just ask than to torture himself with doubts and fears. He didn’t need to do that. Not with you.

You shook your head and gave him a reassuring smile. “I loved it,” you said sincerely, “But you don’t have to be like that all the time if you don’t want to. Just be yourself, whatever that might be.”

He sighed, relief mingling with lingering uncertainty. “I did like it,” he admitted, “but I felt a bit...out of character. I don’t want to hurt you.”

You shook your head again, squeezing his hand. “You didn’t hurt me. You were amazing. It’s interesting to see different sides of yours.” you assured him, reaching up to stroke his cheek.

He nodded, his fingers continuing their gentle caress on your skin. “I just want to make sure I’m giving you what you need.” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“And you are.” you replied firmly. “Always.”

He smiled, the tension in his shoulders easing as he pulled you closer. The rawness of the moment softened into something tender.

a/n: this one’s supposed to be set a good few months into them being together so he’s comfortable with himself and everything bla bla bla my friend said that first scene is the best thing i wrote so i really like it now🥺 also, i uploaded this whole fic to wattpad as well in case anyone prefers reading there, my user is the same as here. oh and, the title is from ‘Music To Watch Boys To’ by Lana, they’re always from songs so i thought i’d mention it :)

tags: @4chaos @st7rnioioss @theonlyoneswhoknowsblog @ohladymoon @rentsturner @yourstartreatment @avxoxo1 @menace-to-the-devil @jqsvi @turnersfav @youresodarkbabe @psychedelicrocker @feyasgotgroove @aacheinthejaw @hellcatshalalalaa @zayndrider @humbuginmybones

[lunarw0rks]

OOOOOO, 141 boys + ale n könig—trying to get something but it’s too high up for your reach so you ask them for help but their belt gets stuck to the back of your jeans/pants and you both are in an awkward position….and they’re just like, ‘stop moving so much i’m trying to get it unstuck’ sndjndjdjd

『 simon 』 ── reached to the top shelf, retrieving a box of cereal for you, because he accidentally put it away on the highest one. he didn't notice he was stuck until he was about to walk away. you came with him, stumbling against his chest. "quit fuckin' squirming, i'm trying!" lowkey frazzled, but only because you were pressed so close to him. hates close proximity, with the exception of you, but this was too close.

『 price 』 ── you were trying to be nice. to let him sit back, relax, and have you make him some breakfast. well, nothing ever goes right, does it? you needed his help, and he was insistent on reaching for the spice you needed before you rolled your ankle. so, he did it, promising to sit back down and admire you in the kitchen. well… he ended up stuck to you, and he wasn’t exactly upset. “hm, guess you’re coming with me, sweetheart.” before you could think, he had untangled his belt from you, throwing you over his shoulder, and taking you upstairs.

『 soap 』 ── was standing beside you when he asked, and planned on just reaching up like normal. but you were on your top toes, and you were you, so he had to. he had to press his hips against your backside to retrieve the item. of course, one hand roaming your hip when he did it. then, stepping away, he heard his belt jingle, as well as the faint strain of fabric. this wasn’t embarrassing, not for him. this was another opportunity. “guess we can take ‘em off, then, huh?”

『 gaz 』 ── lowkey found it hilarious, too simple of a request to pass up. not you asking him to reach something [which he found adorable] but when he got stuck. “shit!” he hissed, laughing it off. the close proximity made his cheeks heat up, though. “hang on, hang on, love… god this is bloody embarrassing…” he ended up just taking off the belt, ending up flustered in silence afterward, dating or not.

『 alejandro 』 ── mr. smooth, was practically waiting for you to ask him. he admired your struggle from afar, stalling just so he could savor it. but then he eventually came over and retrieved the item. then, his knees almost buckled when he tried to walk away. instinctually, he grabbed your waist to prevent a fall. it was like that moment when your chair leans back to far and your life flashes before your eyes. yet, vocally he remained calm; "Cálmate, cálmate! I got you, amor."

『 könig 』 ── always, and i mean, always grabs stuff for you, before you can even ask. everything was going as planned, his stature used as your own personal delivery system for items unreachable. his belt didn't get stuck on you because he was standing behind you, no, it was because he was trying — and failing — to whisper something cheeky about the size difference. he ate his words quickly, ending up deeply humiliated as he fumbled with his belt. "let's not speak of this, liebling, hm?"

[bredstick]

Artist! Male reader x Architect! Kaveh

You draw Kaveh as one of your frienchgirls~

NSFW! SoftDom!Kaveh x Sub!Reader

During these 3 months of dating Kaveh, he has already grown accustomed to you asking him if he could pose for you, show you his pretty delicate hands, and in general his face. He was your official muse.

But he wasn't thinking ahead of time, what else you'd like him to show you to fulfill your, specifically said, anatomy knowledge.

When you came to Kaveh's place stressed from work, all you wanted to do is lay in your lover's arms all night. But you also wanted to ask the big question that you weren't sure when the right time would be for it, but you were impatient. "Would you please undress for me?" sounds a bit perverted, while even telling him about you wanting to draw his body makes you quite concerned that he'd be creeped out by the idea. But you were ready to risk it all, Kaveh is understanding and it wouldn't be a problem, would it?

When you made up your mind, you opened the bedroom door and upon seeing those bright red eyes, there was no way nervousness wouldn't crawl through your body. You felt sweat forming in your clutched fist, your throat closing up as Kaveh looked at you with a gentle smile, happy you came to visit him. You see, he gave you another spare key so you can come to his place freely- it took a while to convince Al Haitham to trust you with the access to their home though.

You slowly walked over to him, trying to hide your nervousness by smiling back, sitting down on his bed and letting out a big sigh. Kaveh looked at you intently, sitting at his desk with many architectural blueprints, leaning back against his chair. "How are you? There seems to be something troubling you." He says in a soft tone, fiddling with his fingers.

"Ah, it's nothing! It's just been a very tiring day for me so far.." you look away, a slight blush coating your cheeks. You were always easy to read, Kaveh thought. Deciding to know more about the true intention of your actions, he stood up from his desk and stood right infront of you, his hands on his waist.

You look up at him, feeling even more nervous by the proximity of your bodies, unable to speak at all. The most you did with Kaveh in these past couple of months was hold hands and kiss, but nothing else other than supporting eachother's lives. You weren't sure how to take a more intimate approach.

"Tell me, it can't be that bad. I hope you're not keeping anything from me!" he says, slightly pouting while looking down at you. You looked down again, your cheeks burning with embarrassment, as you mumble out your question; "Can... can you help me out with anatomy practice...?" your voice was shaky as you spoke, looking at his feet. There was a moment of silence engulfing the room, making it seem like he hasn't said a word in hours until he softly spoke up;

"Why didn't you tell me sooner? I'll always help you with your practices, no matter how embarrassing the pose may be," he chuckled lightly, looking down at you with a slight blush on his cheeks. He kneeled down, looking into your eyes as he mumbled; "Just tell me what to do. If you need any part of my clothing removed, I'll do it." Kaveh was always the one who was passionate about art, why were you even nervous?

Your stomach has never had this many butterflies floating around, looking into his eyes excitingly as you gripped your sketchbook on the bed, smiling up at him as you opened up your sketchbook.

-

Kaveh is now sprawled against his white silk bedsheets, almost naked if it weren't for his boxers. He looked like sleeping beauty, his little stretchmarks across his hips glowing and his soft pecs and milky toned skin, not to mention his soft pinkish nipples begging to be touched, all on display for you and you only to draw every curve and outline of his body. Your mind was racing, looking at every inch of his body, praying to god that you can imprint it into your brain forever.

"Tell me when you're done, I've thought about a pose you might like." he told you while fiddling with his boxer strap. You were too busy drawing to realise how innapropriate that sounds, humming in concentration, sitting on the bed next to him.

When you were done, you looked up at him with a smile, turning your aketchbook around to show the drawing you were very much proud of- your innocent smile dropped when you locked eyes with his- his pupils blown wide as he looked at you, biting his lip anxiously.

Your heart started beating faster, immediately realising why he was looking at you like that. Your stomach was doing backflips, trying to control yourself. "...Why aren't you saying anything?" you mumble, blush spreading across your cheeks by the sudden silence.

Kaveh sat up close to you, kooking at the drawing closely. He blushes a deep shade of red, observing every pencil stroke carefully. "You're an excellent artist, the details are perfect- and you did it in such short time!! How long has it been? Twenty minutes??" I guess he snapped out of his previous mood, you thought, as you smiled at him thanking him for the compliments.

Suddenly he took your sketchbook out of your hands, carefully putting it on his nightstand. As your face contorted into confusion, he kissed you softly.

As you were opening your mouth in protest of you not processing it at all, he quickly shoved his tongue down your throat. The sounds of heavy breaths and soft moans filled his bedroom, as he slowly pushed you down, hovering over you, not breaking the heated kiss.

Once you fully processed the situation, heat started to spread across your body, knowing what Kaveh wants. This is the first time you'll do it together. It makes you a bit nervous, but you trust him.

As you two break the kiss for some air, he looks at you softly, holding your hand as he whispers; "Do you want to... take the next step? Tell me,.." he waited in anticipation, seeing you nod loosely, "Say it please, I want you to be completely sure." "Yes," you said quickly, the nervousness taking over you yet again.

-

Your loud moans were heard all across his room, biting your hand to shut yourself up as every part of your body was flushed in embarrassment, your legs spread wide open with Kaveh inbetween them, fingering you skillfully.

"You're taking 2 of my fingers so well dear," he looked down at your face, gripping one of your thighs, "Can you take three for me darling?" he says slowly, your dick twitching at his words, Kaveh rubbing your tip in a circular motion. You were so immersed in the pleasure that all you could do was say a couple of words mushed up together- he slowly added another finger, causing you to whimper softly, feeling more needy every dying second of the experience. At this point you didn't care how needy you sound, so all you were mumbling about was you needing him inside of you. Kaveh found this quite adorable, looking down at you with a smirk and kissing your neck, suddenly biting down and stroking your cock quicker.

"Puh-please!! Please- hnn.." you muffled out nonsense as a big wave of pleasure danced across your body, pulling Kaveh closer by hugging his hips with your legs, making his obvious erection rub against your ass as he whimpered slightly.

As he finally put it in, he waited for a moment waiting for your plea to start moving- eventually bottoming out and gripping your hips tightly. He kept thrusting fast then slow, trying to find a good rhythm- which you weren't even focused on. You were focused on his chest, going up and down as his pretty and soft looking nipples were encouraging you to touch them- to make them swollen.

Kaveh let out a loud gasp as he picked up his pace, your mouth working wonders on his left nipple and fondling with the other, occasionally letting out whimpers and moans yourself. This is heaven, you thought, arching your back and making him hit your prostate several times as you release his nipple- he hugs you tightly, burying his face into your neck letting out high pitched whines as his hips started to lose their pace, signalling that his orgasm is near.

You grip his blonde locks as tears start forming in your eyes, whining his name repeatedly as both of you came undone at the same time, your breaths rigid as he was still buried inside of you and holding you tight, not letting you go.

He props himself up on his elbows, looking at you with pure adoration;

"You're so incredibly divine," he exclaims, and starts thrusting into you again as you take a sharp breath from the overstimulation, gripping his forearms in protest. "I-I wanna ride you please- I wanna draw you from underneath me," you breathed out, making Kaveh slightly flustered as he pulled out of you, allowing you to go on top.

The whole night consisted of both of you trying out different positions, while you got the best anatomy practice drawings you'll ever need- maybe they can be used for the time your boyfriend is on a long trip away from you~

[slayfics]

Truth or Dare

Muichiro x Reader short series

The game of truth or dare continues.

Warnings: Muichiro aged up | Story is a little suggestive~

Part 2

Mitsuri easily slipped into your uniform and then offered to help you with hers as it was trickery to wear.

"Oh wow... aren't you ever worried... some things might slip out?" you asked as Mitsuri helped adjust you.

"I was superrrr embarrassed the first time I tried it on. I suppose I'm used to it now, and it helped that Iguro bought me long socks to cover my legs."

"Hm... he really likes you," you said almost to yourself.

"You think so?" She said turning pink.

"Oh yeah, it's painfully obvious." You stated as Mitsuri continued helping you in silence, but the pink shade on her face remained.

"Ok, ready?" She asked.

"As ready as I'll ever be I suppose."

"Oh don't worry, you look so cute!" She said smiling and walked out of the room. You followed close behind her hoping to hide behind her.

Obanai turned quickly to see Mitsuri in your less revealing outfit. He immediately noticed how far more comfortable she seemed. He found himself wishing Mitsuri had made more of a fuss about her outfit. Not that he didn't enjoy the view, but it pained him to know how uncomfortable she was in it, and he didn't like the thought of others looking at her.

"This is really comfy!" Mitsuri said as she walked back to sit by the table. That's when Muichiro saw you in Mitsuir's outfit. His pupils instantly dilated and his eyes followed you as you came to sit back down next to him. You continued looking down and tried not to look at Muichiro as embarrassment took over you. You felt exceptionally vulnerable in Mitsuri's outfit, and it made you nervous feeling his eyes intently on you.

"Ahem!" Mitsuri cleared her throat. "Tokito, it's rude to stare so hard..." she stated. Muichiro snapped his head away from you, forcing himself not to stare any further.

"My apologies,” he said, but he kept stealing glances at you every so often.

"Ok well, I suppose it's my turn," Mitsuri said, watching Tokito's face flush each time he stole a glance at your exposed skin.

"Tokito, I chose you." Mitsuri chose.

"Hu?" He said, seeming to snap out of his daydream caused by the sight of you.

"Truth or dare?" She asked.

"Dare." He said fighting the urge to turn and look at you again.

"Well I see you can't seem to take your eyes off of them so I think you should kiss them," Mitsuri said, a blush forming on her face from her own idea.

You felt the blood drain from your face from the shock of her dare. She dared Muichiro to kiss you?? That wouldn't happen, surely the Hashira would refuse you thought.

"Ok." He stated simply.

Your body couldn't move even if you wanted it to. Muichiro said ok? Was this real life? You suddenly became aware of your abnormal breathing.

"You alright? Not going to pass out on us are you?" Obanai said mockingly at you.

"It's ok if you don't want to. I'll do the truth instead." Muichiro offered, confusing your reaction for disapproval.

How gentlemanly of him you thought. That only makes him more attractive. You froze in the moment trying to gather your thoughts. Crap. Speak you yelled internally at yourself. You had to say something before Muichiro opted to do the truth instead, but your face was starting to gather sweat and your hands were shaking.

"No! It's ok!" You managed to squeak out feeling like you were indeed going to pass out.

"You're so obvious it's embarrassing," Obanai said laughing.

"Hmm?" Muichiro looked at him curiously.

"It's obvious she has a crush on you," Obanai stated.

You wanted to yell at him. Who was Obanai to be making fun of someone for that?? He's the one that is so head over heels for Mitsuri that the whole demon slayer corps knows it! At least you've managed to mask your feelings more than him.

"You like me?" Muichiro asked, his eyes lit up and he moved closer to you. All the bitterness you were feeling towards Obanai washed away at that Hashiras proximity getting closer to you. All you could manage to do was feebly nod your head.

Muichiro took your disclosure as consent for him to kiss you and moved closer to you. You felt your heart pounding as the Hashira gently pressed his lips to yours and it felt like fireworks went off in your head at his touch. Everything else seemed to melt away at that moment as you lost yourself in his touch.

He pulled away after a few moments and it took everything in you not to grab him and pull him back. It was impossible to speak but you wanted so badly to divulge the depths of your feelings to him.

"Mphf!" You heard and were taken back to the room. It was only now you remembered Mitsuri and Obanai were here. You looked over to see Mitsuri hiding her face in her hands. "I'm sorry that was just so adorable!" She said into her hands.

"I believe it's my turn then?" Muichrio asked.

"Yup!" Mitsuri said, bringing her head up, her face dark red at witnessing the event of you and Muichiro kissing.

"Hmm ok, I dare myself to kiss you again," Muichiro said, looking at you.

Everyone in the room seemed to freeze. You felt like you were really going to pass out now. He wanted to kiss you again? This truly felt like a dream.

"Umm... I don't know if it works like that." Mitsuri said, placing her hand on the back of her neck. Obanai didn't say anything but his eyes were huge staring at Muichiro. The gull of this guy he thought.

"Hmm ok then. Iguro, why don't you kiss Miss Kanroji. It's clear you have feelings for her." Muichiro said, shrugging his shoulders.

"WHAT?!"" Obanai exclaimed, almost falling backward.

"Oh... it's ok if you don't want to Iguro." Mitsuri said, looking disappointed.

"No no... It's not that I uh-" Obanai couldn't seem to get any words out. Mitsuri watched him with expecting eyes, waiting patiently for him to gather his thoughts. As much as you wanted to tease Obanai for revenge, you took this distraction as a chance to talk to Muichiro.

"You know, you don't need a dare if you want to kiss me again." You said to Muichiro, a blush forming on your cheeks.

Muichiro's eyes widened at your invitation, and he quickly devised an excuse to be alone with you.

"Hey. I think we'll give you two some privacy for that dare." Muichiro said standing up and placing his hand out for you to grab.

"Oh ok." Mitsuri said, turning the darkest red you had ever seen her. The events of the night were too much for the Love Hashira to handle.

"Good luck." You said winking at Mitsuri as you got up and grabbed Muichiro's hand. Muichiro guided you down the hall to one of the vacant rooms in the mansion. The last sight you saw of the other two Hashiras was Obanai looking like he was on the brink of passing out as Mitsuri inched her way closer to him.

Thank you to everyone who was invested in this story! I’m tagged everyone here that asked, since when this is scheduled to post I might be away from my phone. Thank you again for your support, I hope you all enjoyed it 💚!

@parcqq @aeolia18 @theday-dreamer17 @meaningfulstonestan @xxliliana-screamsxx @seven-teen-world

[lanawinterscigarettes]

Being best friends with jennifer check and one day she suggests you practice kissing on each other "just for fun" until you slowly realize you're falling in love 💓💓

this is the kind of Jen content we need more of honestly 💖

Practice Makes Perfect (Jennifer Check x reader)

Warnings: (almost) friends to lovers, kissing (duh), swearing/salty language, slightly suggestive, could be seen as coersion as reader isn't entirely sure to kissing at first

Jennifer had invited you over to her house for what was supposed to be a study session, but it ended up being more of a hang out than anything else. The two of you were lounging on her bed, Ayesha Erotica playing faintly on her MP3 player in the background.

You were just about to ask if she could change the music to something less vulgar when she dropped a major bomb on you.

"We should kiss," she suggested in a way that was much too casual for your liking as she filed her pristine nails, not even bothering to look up. "You know, for practice. In case either of us meets someone and we need to know how."

You choked on the soda you were drinking, which led to a good two or three minute coughing fit before you were finally able to respond. "What?" You asked incredulously, a look of shock evident on your face.

"I said," she began with an eye roll, speaking slow and condescendingly. "We. Should. Kiss. What's the matter, scared you might like it?" She taunted with a smirk.

You scoffed at her question as if it was the most ridiculous thing in the world. Truth be told, you were a little afraid of liking it, but more than that you were worried about her making fun of you for being inexperienced.

"No, that's not it. I just- I wouldn't want to ruin your lipgloss, is all." A lame excuse, even by your standards, and one that she could surely see through, but it was better than nothing.

It was now her turn to scoff at you. "Oh, please. Don't be such a pussy." She moved over to where you were sitting on the bed, reaching her arms out to wrap around your neck before you could stop her.

"Wha- you-" You tried to speak, but your words got caught in your throat. It didn't help that the close proximity was making it damn near impossible for you to think straight.

"Are you telling me that you don't want to kiss me at all? Not even in the slightest?" She asked in a tone full of false offense and hurt, sticking her bottom lip out as she pouted at you.

"N- No, that's not- that's not what I'm saying, Jen..." your voice trailed off as she leaned in close, the scent of her perfume filling your nostrils.

"Then kiss me." She said in an uncharacteristically soft tone, doing her best to look as innocent as possible. "Please?"

Your resolve weakened and you finally nodded your head before closing the distance between you and pressing your lips to hers. She tasted like her strawberry lipgloss and felt like a dream come true.

She pulled you down on top of her on the bed as you kissed, but you barely noticed. Until you heard her let out a soft moan, that is.

You quickly shot back up, feeling your face grow warm as you realized what just happened. Jennifer merely giggled as she looked up at you from where she was still laying down, her legs spread slightly.

"Oh, come on. Don't leave me hanging," she teased as you shuffled away from her, going to sit on the opposite end of the bed. She sat up and slowly crawled over to you, smirking before giving you another kiss.

"We should do this more often," she murmured suggestively, her lips still close to yours. "After all, practice makes perfect."

You didn't say anything in response, instead choosing just to kiss her again. After all, what do you say to your best friend when you realize you might be falling in love with her after one stupid kiss?

Likes < reblogs | comments are greatly appreciated <3

Main masterlist | Jennifer's Body masterlist | wanna be added to my taglist?

🏷 taglist: @missmewts @iloveentrapta @ghot-girl @taecube @corn3liiia @gilmore-angel @your-next-daydream @alexxavicry @noisy-dumb-piece-of-shit @lovelyy-moonlight @red1culous (if you were crossed out it means I couldn't tag you for some reason)

[empresskylo]

beneath the mask ✩ chapter 4 ⬅ch. 3

➠𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈; 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓; 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 ➠SIMON "GHOST" RILEY X AFAB!READER ➠CHAPTER TAGS | afab!reader. kinda mean!ghost. forced proximity. blood, war, and death. wc 5.3k. ➠AUTHOR'S NOTE | this one was fun to write!! it's a bit longer than previous chapters too. thank you for all the messages and ideas for this fic, i hope i do it justice! and as usual, feedback is appreciated &lt;3

𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐜𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

...al mazrah…

you sat trembling on board the razor-1, your bag tucked between your legs, wedged nervously between two insanely muscled marines that made you feel minuscule in comparison. ghost stood as the aircraft began to land and soap gave you a reassuring look from across the terminal. 

you undid your seatbelt and you felt your fingertips vibrate as they clung to your tactical vest, all of your adrenaline was starting to make you feel sick. 

“this is capture or kill,” soap had said to you. “but we need him alive.”

“that’s where i come in,” you mumbled under your breath. 

soap nudged you on the shoulder. “don’t worry so much. you’ll hang back while we infiltrate the base hassan is camped up in. then you can swoop in to save the day when i have him bleeding out on the floor.” you rolled your eyes at soap’s confidence. “easy.”

“right,” you mocked, trying to hide the terror that was slowly seeping into your bones. 

ghost began rambling off orders, the aircraft shaking as it made contact with the ground, and you tried to instill it in your brain that you had nothing to be so fearful about; this was just another mission for the guys. they did things like this all the time for the sake of their country. but the fact that you had never been on the frontline before kept niggling your mind. you began to wonder if you were really made for this kind of shit.

it wasn’t that long ago you had wanted nothing more than to join the military to help wounded soldiers when you realized you had nothing left for you back home. after your friend died in combat, an injury that could have been mended if they had enough medics in their arsenal, you decided to put on a brave face and save soldiers just like him. regardless of what you thought about war, you wanted to be a medic, meaning neutral ground. you were there to mend the fallen, it didn’t matter to you what side they were on.

and as much as you didn’t like to brag or be filled with a sense of pride–it always made you uncomfortable–it was just a technicality to say you were at the top of your class. the best of the best , as price had said. 

“keep up,” ghost grunted to you as he turned to exit the craft, walking down the ramp. you shook yourself out of your head-pounding thoughts and quickly followed the group of men out of the ship, leaving team alpha behind. 

you stumbled onto the ground, the strays of your hair that stuck out from under your beanie beneath your helmet fluttered in the wind as the ship took off to take team alpha downrange. 

“razor-1, all bravo deployed. moving to secondary hlz,” the pilot said over the comms for everyone to hear. 

your eyes locked onto soap’s, his gun at the ready. he nodded his head, urging you to follow him. you both made your descent with the rest of bravo, willing your hands not to shake as you held your gun up, your night vision goggles set over your eyes.

“all stations- razor-1 is bracketed, we’re getting lit!” the pilot’s anxious voice echoed in your ears. “incoming- flares! flares!”

you watched as the horizon lit up in front of you, hustling to stay beside soap. 

“shit that was close!” another voice spoke. 

and then, an urgent “second missile!”

you tensed, scurrying after the group of men who crept down the small incline. things were picking up fast. you had barely been out of the ship–it was certainly less than two minutes–and explosions and gunfire were already filling the air.

“oh fuck…!”

“razor-1 going down! we’re going down!”

your teeth clenched as you switched into a run, all your gear slowing you down and making you huff your breaths. 

“stay close!” you heard soap yell in your ear. 

you nodded even though you knew he couldn’t see you. the smell of ash began to fill your senses.

“hold up,” ghost commanded. the team stopped, a small explosion erupting at the bottom of the hill where building 1 was located.

“alpha, what’s your status?”

coughing and wheezing breaths harrowingly echoed on the comms. 

“alpha, how copy…?” ghost said with a bit more urgency. 

“bravo- alpha is immoblie. multiple critical!” a brief pause sounded between the man’s reply. “oh, shit! we’re taking effective fire!”

you clenched your gun. what if you, or soap, or ghost had been assigned alpha? you sucked in a breath of air and tried to calm your racing heart. 

“alpha, we’re moving to building 1. hold tight.” ghost’s voice was so smooth as he spoke like this type of shit was a regular occurrence to him. the same candace as someone who was greeting a friend in a coffee shop. his nonchalance sent shivers up your spine. 

“ghost, we need to secure that crash site now,” soap spoke.

“first, we clear for hassan, that takes the heat off alpha. then we secure the crash site. clear?”

“roger that.”

“let’s move.”

ghost, hustling towards the rocky house, swept into your line of sight. soap turned his head and when he saw you were close behind him, he took off after ghost. 

“force up to the house.” ghost whispered. 

you stumbled over the uneven terrain, the weight of all your gear and the obstruction the goggles caused was making it difficult to see. 

the sound of shuffling pants, boots crunching the pebbled earth, and the slight hum of machinery was the only sound in your ears when no one was speaking. you felt your chest tighten with nerves. 

suddenly, with your body realizing the height of the situation, you began to steady. you were good under pressure. exceptionally good. this is why you were here , you told yourself. you could do this .

you heard an enemy soldier shouting something in the distance that you couldn’t quite make out–he must have been speaking arabic.

the group rounded up outside the house and ghost scaled the edge of the building. a man handed him a sledgehammer. “breacher up,” he said faintly before he slammed it into the wooden door. you felt a chill catch along the hairs of your arms as he broke open the door in one swift motion, you could see his muscles taut even through his thick layers of clothes. 

“sweep through,” ghost called. soap was at the doorway and began shooting.

you tried to pay attention to your surroundings as you waited for soap and ghost to clear the way. the blazing fire in the distance sent eerie shadows along the buildings and barren trees. 

“first deck clear! negative on hassan,” a bravo said. 

another replied, “copy that, second deck’s clear!”

“rog,” ghost grunted. 

you slipped into the building behind the men, watching as they scanned their surroundings and made themselves safe behind barriers. 

“contact! building 2!” a voice shouted. 

you stumbled back against a storage cabinet as gunfire ricocheted off the walls. 

“they know we’re here!” ghost shouted. in a startling motion, he turned to you, spying you immediately as you shifted your weight. “stay down!”

you nodded and huddled behind a workbench. the men began shooting rounds at the men in building 2. the sharp metallic clank of a bullet hitting a metal desk off to your right made you jump, the shell clinking on the floor like a fallen coin. you felt your eyes widen slightly. 

“all bravo, move on building 2!” ghost stated, his voice a welcoming sound through your headset. you tried to focus on his voice instead of the shouts of men and blasting echoes of weapons.

ghost and someone from alpha spoke to each other as the men started their way towards building 2. soap appeared beside you and helped you up. “you alright, lass?”

you nodded, “m’good.” you brushed yourself off and followed soap as he led you out of the building and towards another that was roughly 100 feet before your squad. you could see ghost already approaching the second building, his feet shuffling as he stayed out of the line of sight of the open doorway. 

shouts in arabic made you stagger as you walked. gunshots in the distance followed by the occasional explosion filled the otherwise gorgeous night. you slid your goggles up and glanced at the starry sky. if it wasn’t for the bloodshed unfolding before you, you could easily see yourself laying out on one of these hills, the cool night air ruffling your hair as you watched the stars–they were so bright without all the light pollution.

soap slid up to one of the open doors and motioned for you to huddle beside another fellow sergeant. soap was bundled in his uniform, his sleeves rolled up, and his night vision goggles on–same as you. you wondered if you looked as intimidating as he did. 

“prep for breach,” ghost said. 

“7-1 moving interior,” soap responded. 

he quickly shot down three enemy soldiers before disappearing inside the building. you followed in pursuit, your heart hurting as you saw slouched bodies pool with blood, even if you knew they were the enemy. you hurried after soap and caught a glimpse of ghost using his knife to slice into a man with barely any effort. blood began to coat his gloves. 

you crept behind soap as he slowly moved up the stairs to the second floor. gunshots repeatedly fired in front of the two of you. 

“i’m hit!” a bravo shouted. 

you dashed up the stairs but soap pulled you back before you reached the top, gripping your utility vest to bring you into him. “hey! wait till i clear it!” 

“okay, then hurry up!” you huffed as soap went ahead of you and leaned around the corner, taking out the men in the other room. 

you used that time to scurry off behind him and out onto the terrace where the injured soldier had crawled in order to get out of firing range. 

you crouched beside him and slung your bag off your shoulder. “here,” you said as you pressed a cloth to his bullet wound. “hold pressure!”

a loud shotgun in the next room made you jump. you turned to look, your hands deep in your bag. you spotted soap and let out a breath of relief knowing it wasn’t him at the end of the barrel. 

you heard soap’s footsteps return out onto the deck. “one’s in the hallway,” the soldier said to soap. 

you worked deftly to pack and wrap the wound as soap slid off down the hall and you heard a strangled cry as he knifed someone. 

“ghost, enemy rockets down,” soap said in your ear. 

“thanks,” the man before you mumbled as his hand replaced yours where he began to hold the bandage. you heard soap speaking in the next room.

“the house is clear. time to go,” ghost muttered in your ear. 

“it just grazed you,” you said to the sergeant. “you should be alright as long as we limit the bleeding.”

soap appeared beside you moments later, helping the man up as he limped. “you good to walk?” 

the man nodded. 

“all bravo circle up outside,” ghost commanded. 

“let’s go,” soap said down to you. 

you ran after soap down the steps and out into the field. you spotted the crash site not too far ahead and you felt your ears ring seeing the formidable tower of flames in the backdrop.

it didn’t take long to approach the ship and you followed soap and ghost as they entered the terminal.

“we got five k.i.a., one wounded. it’s just my gun and i’m low on ammo.” 

you slid past soap and rushed to the man on the ground. the sergeant was knocked out cold and you quickly tried to make a mental note of his vitals. you tried to remember his name, but with everything that was occupying your brain right now, it eluded you.

you knew the others were talking, but you didn’t hear them as you honed in on the man bleeding out before you. 

“get your gun on that tree line,” you finally deciphered through your hazy thoughts as ghost spoke.

you looked over your shoulder as loud explosions went off and shook the craft. 

“fuck, man! fuck,” the alpha said. 

“you called it, lt.!” soap said as he aimed his gun out the ship’s window. 

as you bandaged the man, ghost and soap began firing rapidly. 

“they’re getting close. secure the ramp!”

your heart felt like it was in your throat. another bomb went off and the craft shook violently. you yelped, falling sideways. 

“sergeant!” ghost called. you pushed yourself up and tried to orient yourself. ghost shouted your name when you wouldn’t reply. you looked up at him. “you alright?”

you stared at him before your eyes flickered to soap who was shooting his gun out the window. 

“are you alright?” ghost said more forcefully, his frame bending in half, his face now in your direct line of sight to grab your attention. it hadn’t registered that ghost was talking to you. you were only frazzled from the rocking of the craft, the explosions ringing in your ear, but you were otherwise safe behind ghost and soap, so you weren’t sure why he was so set on making sure you were okay. 

however, ghost seemed to not be able to accept that you were okay until you verbally told him. 

“yes,” you said faintly. ghost turned back to aiming his gun out the window without a second thought.

after another minute of gunfire, there was a lull. 

“we clear?” soap asked. 

“for now…” ghost replied. 

you finished wrapping the arm of the bleeding soldier, and assessed that he had hit his head and had knocked himself out. 

“alpha, you’re with us.” ghost commanded as he took off out of the ship. you and the men followed. you spoke over the comms to let the others know you left a soldier back in the crash site. he was wounded, but would be okay. 

“those fuckers used us as bait, didn’t they?” alpha 0-2 said. 

“they’re well supplied and fighting relentlessly. thanks to hassan,” ghost said unhappily. 

soap looked back at you. “keep up. we’re gonna need ya.”

you hustled behind him, your pistol at the ready.

the lot of you ran a wide berth, sprinting towards building 3, hoping hassan was inside. the sharp whistle of a bullet spiraled past you. 

“a.q. sniper on the roof! get down!” ghost shouted to everyone. before you even had a chance to move, ghost was pushing you down into the grass. you gasped as you were squashed beneath him, laid out on the dirt. he held his gun up and aimed at the roof as he lay beside you. 

“soap, take out the shooter. rest o’ ya stay low until we’re all clear!” ghost said, not acknowledging the fact that he had just pressed you flat to the ground, his body half covering yours. 

soap shot a bullet. “sniper down!”

ghost rolled off of you and stood up, giving you a quick hand as he heaved you upright. he didn’t even look at you before he took off running towards building 3. your entire body was tingling.

it looked like a gallant eruption of fireworks above the building as enemy bullets fired toward you. air support lighting up the sky. soap was a few feet behind you and picked off the snipers one by one. you followed close behind the others as you approached the building. 

soap was quick to follow, coming up from behind and going up the stairs and into the decrepit house. “7-1, moving interior,” he said. 

glass exploding rippled in the building and you peeked inside to see soap shooting someone down. 

“check the bodies, we need positive i.d. on hassan,” ghost said as he slid off to go in the right-side entrance. 

you hunched over slightly as you followed behind him, looking down at ghost’s trail of corpses as you did, checking for hassan. 

“anyone have eyes on hassan?” ghost asked after a minute. 

“negative on hassan,” soap replied. 

you tripped over rubble and fell to your knees with a huff. “shit,” you muttered to yourself. your foot was lodged in the concrete chunks. you tried to pull it free but that just shifted the rubble further, a large piece falling over your ankle. it was too heavy for you to move yourself. the house shook.

“sergeant,” ghost said, making you look up. he had backtracked when he realized you were no longer behind him. 

“i can’t get my foot loose,” you said. 

arabic echoed down the hall making your head snap up in alert. ghost began moving faster, squatting down as he approached you and heaving the rubble aside to get your foot out in one easy motion. 

“ow, fuck,” you said, biting your lip to try and muffle your sounds. 

ghost’s eyes flickered to yours before he moved the last piece that set your foot free. 

the rest of bravo had already moved to the antithetical end of the house when the voices began to close the distance. 

“shit,” ghost mumbled, pulling you up. he did so with such force that you collided into him, your hands landing against his chest with a gasp.

the men sounded close and you counted at least four different voices. their candace rose as they edged closer, like they were right around the corner when you were moved by ghost and suddenly faced with darkness. 

“wha–” 

ghost’s hand covered your mouth to silence you, pushing you against a wall. your eyes adjusted and you saw a sliver of light pour in through the slats of the door. ghost had pulled you into a closet. a very tiny closet at that. 

your chest was pressed flesh against ghost’s, the room far too small to hold yourself and ghost–who was already too big to fit in a closet on his own, let alone one with you. 

you could feel his chest move up and down as he steadied his breathing. your hands were on his utility vest. the voices of the men were now right outside the door. your fingers gripped tight on his vest as you tried to be as quiet as possible. he slowly let his hand fall to his side when he could trust you to be silent.

why wasn’t ghost attacking them? you’ve seen him take down trained men in less than two seconds. so why did he decide to hide now? was four too many for him? you doubted it, but you also tried not to think of the logistics because all that swam through your mind was how close ghost was to you. there was almost no space between your bodies, his front flesh against yours as he pushed you against the wall. 

a rectangle of light slid across ghost’s face, illuminating his eyes which were visible now that his goggles were turned up on his helmet, making the brown in them gleam. like he could feel you staring, he looked down at you and you felt your face heat. you shifted your stance, trying to widen the distance between your bodies but your back was already flat against the wall. there was nowhere to go. 

“what’re you doin’?” he said quietly.

you glared at him in response as you continued to slightly shift your body, wanting to at least have it so your side was pressed against him and not your front. you tried to shuffle your feet, wanting to turn, to push him back a bit, but you ended up just rubbing against him instead.

“quit squirming!” he finally hissed, his hands coming out to rest on either side of your head. 

well now you were just stuck in an awkward stance so you tried to move your hips a bit, wanting to pull them away from ghost and back to how you were originally standing, but with the limited space, you were essentially just moving your hips against his own. 

ghost growled in his throat and you stopped moving and let your breathing steady. you felt something hard press against your stomach and your eyes widened as you stared at ghost’s chest. 

oh my god, you thought.

you couldn’t help yourself as your eyes flickered to his own, his eyes already pouring into you. your breath got caught in your throat. “i told ya to quit fuckin’ wiggling ‘round,” he said as if that made things more appropriate. 

a flash of heat ebbed through your core. you told yourself that this was purely a physical thing– men could get turned on by a goddamn gust of wind if it hit them the right way. this had nothing to do with the fact that it was you pressed against him. this kind of bodily response would have happened no matter who it was against him.  

you went to clench your thighs together in nerves and heat but you were stopped by ghost’s thigh. you realized the ceiling in there was too short for him and he had to hunch over, his knees bending and leaning on the wall between your own legs. oh my god , you thought again.

your face went red hot. fuck, of course you were stuck with ghost in the world’s smallest closest.

ghost’s eyes traced your face when he felt your legs press against his own, a sudden flare igniting in them. 

oh no, did he think you were… you quickly worried. you wondered if ghost could tell you had been squeezing your legs together to subdue the quick sweeping sensation of arousal you got–this was not the time or place!

ghost’s head shifted ever so slightly closer to your own and his eyes were now disguised by the shadows of the closet. you could feel his warm breath against your face as he panted through his mask. you were trapped. he had you pinned, his large arms encasing your head, his leg between your own, his face inching closer to yours. 

you felt your breath get lost in your throat, your mind suddenly going blank. 

“ghost! ghost, where are you?” soap’s voice broke through both of your ears. 

ghost halted any and all movement, his eyes flickering between your own. you realized you no longer heard iranian voices and wondered how long the men had been out of range. 

it was as if ghost realized that at the same time you did because he pushed away from you and slid out the door, into the dusty and war-torn living room. now that he was away from you and not clogging your brain, you thought you might have imagined the way he had been edging toward you.

“deck one secure. any i.d. on hassan?” ghost spoke, his voice strained. 

you slid out of the closet behind him. “negative, lt.” soap replied. 

ghost turned to you as you stumbled into him, your ankle giving out at the most opportune time. 

“ shit ,” you grunted. ghost turned his head to look at you, his eyes glowing in the flames that brewed inside the building. “sorry,” you muttered. 

“keep close,” he said to you. you felt your chest ignite. you had to control your eyes from shifting to his waist to see what you felt moments earlier. you were surprised your willpower was strong enough. 

ghost led you around the bend and up a set of stairs, soap appearing beside you both. “pushing second deck.”

you slid on your night vision goggles and watched as ghost scurried to the side of a door when he made it to the top of the steps. a man opened it and walked through, ghost grabbing him and slamming him against the wall, the man’s gun pressed to his chest. in two swift motions, ghost shot his abdomen then his head, letting the body sink down. 

jesus . you always knew ghost was a ruthless killer, but that was more so knowledge in theory. it was another thing entirely to watch it unfold before your own eyes. 

you followed the men as they stealthed into the next room. you heard soap’s gun go off, and then ghost’s voice. “clear. hassan’s everywhere…” 

you could hear hassan’s voice as it played in the distance, seemingly from every room. a video on loop of him speaking nonsense sat in the shadows like a horror movie. you felt a chill run down your legs realizing that no matter which way you turned, hassan’s voice was not far off. 

“everywhere but here,” you mumbled. ghost’s eyes scanned you up and down before trailing on into the next room. you swore every hair on your body stood on its ends. 

“the perpetrators of general ghorbrani’s execution must be sentenced to the death penalty and the world must witness the death of those responsible!” hassan’s iranian accent sang through a crackling radio. 

you and soap poked around, not finding anything of use, apart from soap spotting hassan’s uniform, meaning he had recently been here. 

“so he was here,” you muttered.

“lost him when we secured the crash site,” ghost spoke, looking between you and soap.

“are you sayin’ we shouldn’t have helped?” soap asked.

ghost averted his eyes on his next words as if he didn’t like what he was about to say. “choices have consequences…” his eyes gazed over to yours, burning holes through his skull mask. you could see the disappointment and guilt that was attached to his statement. you were surprised at how much emotion he was able to exude through just his eyes. you wondered if he knew that. 

“all bravo- we got movement out here,” someone said over the comms. 

ghost reached up to click his receiver, his eyes still on yours, “on the way.”

you followed behind the two men as the continued to speak. as you made it out behind the house, ghost spoke, “what do we got?”

“a warehouse. roll up doors open. heard somethin’ inside.”

ghost spoke with a sense of assuredness, “copy, let’s clear it.”

you trailed the men as they all took off towards the large warehouse, ghost and soap hoping that hassan was nestled inside. 

you rested your back against the building as the men started inside, gunshots and smoke bombs going off as they fought the enemy planted in the warehouse. 

“all alone?” a husky voice with a thick iranian accent spoke. you looked to your right, your hands grabbing your gun, startled, when a man disarmed you in a quick, fluid motion. 

you yelped as his hand wrapped around your neck, pressing you forcefully to the exterior wall. you saw static stars begin to spread across your vision. 

shit, shit, shit.

your legs flailed as you tried to kick and squirm your way out of his grip. his hand held you tighter. you swore your feet began to lift off the ground. recalling all the training you had done the last two weeks, you propped your knee up, bending it as much as you could against your chest, then shot it out with all the strength you could manage. the man stumbled, releasing you, as he collapsed onto the ground. 

“eahira” bitch . he scrambled to get up and you panicked, trying to get your knife out of it’s sheath. 

before the man could grab you again, his body just a hair from your own, a bullet pierced his skull. flecks of his blood squirted across your exposed face like red freckles. you stood in complete shock, the man sinking to the ground with a thump.

it was ghost that replaced the dead man, his hands resting on your shoulder, his deep voice saying your name repeatedly. 

you finally looked up at him. “are you okay?” you swear you could see a bit of pride in his eyes as he took you in.

you nodded weakly, wincing as your neck muscles throbbed in pain from the small movement. 

ghost yanked your mask up to look at your neck, already beginning to bruise. 

his eyes darkened as they met yours again. “if that fucker wasn’t already dead, i’d tie him up and rip off his limbs one by one for that.”

you couldn’t help the astonished laugh from escaping your lips at the exorbitant threat. then a pang of heat surfaced when you realized ghost had made no such threats as his other men were picked off. he also didn’t seem to rush to their aid immediately. yet here he was… with you. 

“hassan,” you said meekly. 

ghost’s hands left your shoulders as he straightened. you felt a bit of sadness at the loss of contact. 

“not here. found an arsenal of ballistic missiles. american missiles.”

your eyes widened at the information. “and shepperd…”

“already alerted.”

you nodded. “so that’s it then?” you asked, referring to the war trail you and your men left behind with nothing to show for it. 

ghost gave a nod back. “we’re one step closer. we’ll find him.” 

you don’t know why you took his word with such ease, but you knew he meant what he said. ghost wouldn’t rest until he had hassan in his clutches. 

day broke by the time a humvee arrived to carry you all back to base. the injured men were loaded on one, the rest of bravo and alpha on another. there were significantly fewer men than when you started this hours ago. you felt a heavy feeling swarm your chest. 

you were busy making sure your bag was closed and that you had all your things in it when you looked up and saw ghost step into the back of the vehicle. 

you scurried to catch up, the last one as you climbed into the back. as you went to stand, the humvee took off, making you stumble and lose balance. 

fuck , was the last thought you had as you felt yourself falling backward out of the vehicle. your arms flailed, trying to grab onto something, when a hand gripped your vest, yanking you forward and onto the humvee. 

you looked up in relief to find ghost glaring at you. his hand was still tight around your tactical vest, the other men closest to the back were out of their seats in an effort to grab you. but of course, ghost got there first. 

his eyes bore into your own, an odd wave of spite in them. 

you knew it was your fault for dilly-dallying, but was he really going to be upset at you for almost falling out of the vehicle? it should cause more annoyance than anger, really. 

you gulped and ghost released you, moving back to his seat. you stared after him until you felt soap touch your wrist. “sit,” he mumbled. 

you focused on him instead of your lieutenant and sat in the empty seat beside soap. 

you shifted your bag so it was on your lap, the men around you silent, all of them exhibiting a mix of disappointment in their mission and exhaustion. 

you felt his eyes on you–something that seemed to happen a lot lately. you tried to resist, but you looked in his direction and met his gaze. you thought he’d look away, but he held you in a challenge across the truck. he still had all his gear on when most others had stripped some of theirs off.

he sat a bit forward, resting his arms on his knees as he glared at you. 

you felt your heartbeat race and you felt like you might be sick with all the adrenaline running through you today–it couldn’t be healthy.

you finally coward away and looked down at your bag. a looming feeling coursed through your body. for whatever reason, the moment he pulled you into the truck felt like it was a breaking point for him. he was right back to hating you. despising everything you did. you felt yourself shrink in on yourself.

you never felt his eyes leave you the entire way back. 

chapter 5 ➡

[cinebration]

Only Ours (Geralt of Rivia x Reader) [Request]

Geralt x fem!reader. Old friends find each other again after many years apart. Used to be lovers or almost lovers (up to you) that parted ways due to circumstances out of their control. They still care for each other a great deal and reminisce about their past together and what could've been. Can end up together or not. Not looking for angst per se, more just wistful, bittersweet tone. Thank you!—Requested by anon

Warnings: none

Gif Source: lamberts

In all the taverns in all the world, you walked into the one Geralt had been forced to take refuge in to give Roach a rest and to escape the rain. He noticed you first—not because he saw you, but because your familiar scent constricted his chest and made his nostrils flare. Glancing up from under his damp hood, he tracked your movements across the tavern as you went up to the barkeep and slapped coins onto the bar, calling out an order of thighs and a flagon of ale.

The barkeep happily obliged.

Balancing your plate in one hand and clutching your flagon in the other, you surveyed the dearth of available tables.

Geralt tensed as your attention moved closer and closer to him. The pain in his chest tightened, made it hard to breathe. He desperately wanted you to notice him, while at the same time he wanted to hide.

He remained frozen.

Your gaze passed over him, then shifted back, recognition dawning instantly. A faint, tentative smile pulled on your lips as you slowly made your way over.

You looked better than he remembered. He didn’t understand how—you were no sorceress—but the fact remained you did. He pushed off the hood as you reached the table and set down your dishes, your eyes never leaving his.

“Geralt,” you murmured, surprise and hesitation in your mellifluous voice.

He murmured your name back, the sound of it sacred on his lips. He hadn’t spoken it since you last parted years before.

“It’s wonderful to see you,” you continued, your voice still soft, as though afraid to spook him like a deer. “How long has it been?”

“Eight years, give or take.” The rasp of his words sounded worse than usual, perhaps worse.

“Closer to nine, I think.”

And Geralt knew you had been counting, just like he had.

Staring down into his tankard, he watched the foam shift as the liquid sloshed underneath it. The din of the tavern faded to the background, all his attention arrested by your presence. The smell of you, the close proximity, made his head spin.

“You look good,” you said.

He chuffed a laugh. “For a right bastard.”

Chuckling, you bit into the chicken thigh, chewed as you scrutinized his face. He wondered what you saw there, anxiety sparking beneath his skin the longer you looked. Would you see the Butcher of Blaviken, the White Wolf? Or would you only see him, as you always had before?

“I hear stories of hard times for you.”

A chill slithered down his spine. “Still a mind reader, I see.”

“Your eyes don’t lie, Witcher.”

Grunting, he shrugged and covered his expression with a long swallow of his ale.

“Well, there’re stories of hard times for me, too,” you added when he set his tankard down. The momentary flicker of a haunted look in your eyes made his fist clench tighter around the tankard. “But I’ve no interest in recounting those and ruining the evening.”

“I’m told talking helps,” he noted dryly.

“Not here.” You gestured with your chin at the other patrons in the tavern. “Prying ears and all that.”

He nodded. “What do we talk about, then?”

A sly smile pulled at your lips. “Did you ever find that griffin?”

Snorting, he shook his head. “Low-hanging fruit, mind reader.”

“What? No reunion is complete without mention of the griffin!”

“Give it a rest.”

“So I take it you did not find it.”

“No, I did.”

You waited for an elaboration. The faintest smirk touched his mouth. “You didn’t take it out, I know that. I would’ve heard, what with that bard immortalizing you and whatnot.”

He remained silent, enjoying the agitation building up in you.

“Pfft. If I had to guess, you found it and got new scars for your trouble with no head for a prize.”

The smirk faltered.

“I knew it!”

“Mind reader,” he groused, but his eyes were bright with amusement.

“See, should’ve had me by your side for that. Maybe I would have taken its head while you gave it new meat to chew on.”

“Hardly. You would be lucky to snatch a few feathers.”

Clicking your tongue in disagreement, you countered, “No way am I doing that again.”

“How disappointing. I rather enjoyed watching you prance around.”

You laughed. “I bet you did!”

Geralt offered another chuffed laugh, feeling himself filling with the warmth of your presence and the brightness of your smile. Neither had he ever forgotten, but his memory didn’t compare to the flesh-and-blood vision before him.

“I’ve missed you,” you said, reading his mind once again.

He didn’t know how to answer that, the tightness in his chest making it hard to breathe, let along speak. You nodded as though you knew his response, however, and offered him a smile that threatened to shatter him.

“I shouldn’t have let you leave.”

You glanced up from your plate, then shrugged. “We didn’t have a choice, Geralt.”

“There’s always a choice.”

“Not an acceptable one.”

“Acceptable varies by degrees.”

“I know,” you whispered, staring down at your food. Shaking your head, you looked back up at him, regret fading into a rueful smile. “But it didn’t kill us, the separation.”

“Something died.”

Silence weighed heavy in the space between you.

You sighed quietly. “Things are what they are. I’ve accepted that.”

He grunted, not trusting his words.

“Still, sometimes I think about…I never did work up the nerve, did I?”

“Your nerve was never in question.”

“I’m not blaming you. I could have taken the initiative as much as you.”

“Fine,” he conceded. “We both were too afraid.”

You nodded, the rueful smile returning. “Funny how much that fear pales in comparison to the things we’ve seen in the last few years.”

Grunting again, he lifted his tankard and met your gaze. Lifting yours, you clinked the metal cups softly, the ringing sound of their meeting subdued.

“I’m surprised the bard doesn’t know the story,” you said after swallowing a sip of the ale. “Our story, if that’s what we can call it.”

“I didn’t tell him.”

“Why not? It’s exactly the kind of thing bards would kill to sing about.”

“Because it’s ours,” Geralt growled. “Only ours.”