#and this woman nods kindly and then says ‘do you like her? it’s okay if you do’

[starfinss]

ᴏꜰ ᴛᴇᴀᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴇᴅᴅʟɪɴɢ ᴍᴇʟᴜꜱɪɴᴇꜱ — ᴡʀɪᴏᴛʜᴇꜱʟᴇʏ

𝘍𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘮: Genshin Impact

𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: Wriothesley + Reader

𝘙𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨: NSFW 

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 12,925

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: After beginning work as a doctor at the Fortress of Meropide, Siegwinne decides you and the Duke are a good match, and will do anything in her power to get you to together, even if she has to take drastic measures.

Or, alternatively, Siegwinne adds a little something extra to the Duke's tea. Chaos ensues.

As soon as the suture needle so much as touched the man sitting before you, he was already flinching away.

“That hurts!” He cried, “please, doctor, be gentle with me.”

It was almost laughable, really. Monsieur Phillip was a hardened criminal, or so you’d been told. He was a career criminal, you remembered the Duke remarking, and he’d been sentenced to serve time in the Fortress of Meropide for a myriad of things, such as assault, and even attempted murder, but here he was, a hulking mass of a man, whimpering in pain at the slightest prick of a needle. 

“Hush,” you said, tutting gently, “the quicker I start, the quicker it’s over. Now hold still.”

He flinched back again, eyeing the needle like it was out to get him. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Please try and relax. I can assure you, I did go to medical school.”

Before he could say anything else, you made the first stitch, carefully, but quickly enough so as not to cause him too much pain. Even with the numbing gel you’d applied, it seemed that the patient’s pain threshold was quite low. It usually removed enough sensation that any leftover pain would be no more than a pinch, but even with that, you could see tears beading at his lash line.

A hardened criminal, indeed.

You finished the sutures quickly before bandaging the injured shoulder and giving Phillip some care instructions.

“And,” you said, “no more getting into altercations about work times, okay?”

Phillip sighed, casting his eyes away from you.

“Yes, ma’am.”

You smiled, kindly. “That’s doctor to you.”

It wasn’t wholly unexpected. Men tended to have lower pain tolerances than women did. You’d given stitches to many people before, and when it came to whining, the men tended to be the most common offenders. 

After Phillip left, you checked up on a woman who was resting in one of the infirmary beds, and after taking her temperature and walking away with your clipboard, you nearly tripped over Siegwinne, who had somehow snuck into your path without you noticing.

“Archons,” you exclaimed, a hand flying over your heart, “I need to put a bell on you.”

Siegwinne ignored your remark. “May I see the patient’s chart?”

You handed it to her. “The patient shows signs of improvement. Her fever has broken, and her delirium has started to clear up. She should make a full recovery.”

Siegwinne hummed meaningfully. “Very good. I was worried about that one. I am glad to hear she is healing well.”

You nodded, then turned, starting towards your desk, but before you could make it, Siegwinne called your name, making you pause.

“Yes?”

Her expression remained impassive, eyes curious, unsuspecting, and she tucked the clipboard under her arm as she closed the distance between you.

“Have you seen the Duke today?”

There it was. You didn’t know what you’d been expecting aside from this. Ever since Siegwinne had caught onto the fact that you’d developed a crush on the Duke, she’d tried to do everything in her power to set you up with him. In the beginning, that was all it was. A crush. It was a crush in the same way one would develop an infatuation with a colleague or schoolmate, based on their appearance or the limited positive interactions they had with them. It was no secret that Wriothesley was an attractive man. He was tall, and handsome, anyone with eyes could see that. You’d heard the whispers among female inmates and guards alike. You were not unique in feeling some form of attraction to him. 

But to Siegwinne, your silly crush was an opportunity. 

“You’re a good woman,” she told you, “and His Grace is always stressed. I fear for his health. I think you would be the right person to keep him company. You are a good match. Your influence and affection would do him much good.”

Siegwinne came to you with this a few months after you’d started work at the Fortress, completely out of nowhere, stunning you to silence. You had no idea how she’d caught on to your feelings, and when you expressed as much, she went into a rambling tangent about human behavior, something about the dilation of pupils, and how she’d been taking notes, and that was when you cut her off.

“Absolutely not.”

But nevertheless, she persisted. 

Siegweinne’s matchmaking attempts rarely ended conclusively, since she tended to see things as a logical cause and effect, and did not at all fit the way any normal human would attempt to court another. They mostly involved putting you and Wriothesley into situations that forced you to speak or interact with one another, with little to no regard to how much said situations were an inconvenience to you. Her first attempt, as such, embarrassingly enough, involved telling the Duke you’d had some kind of accident with an inmate, and when he came to the infirmary to check in, finding you unharmed and working at your desk, all that ensued was a lot of confusion. You wondered why he’d come all that way to see you, and he was surprised to find you not laying on one of the infirmary beds.

But, what her attempts did do, was make the way you felt about Wriothesley, which was no more than a passing fancy at first, grow into something more. 

And despite your best efforts, that only made Siegwinne latch on even harder. 

“Hello?” Siegwinne said, shaking you from your thoughts, “I believe it is polite to answer a question when asked one, or have human customs changed?”

You brushed off her unintentional rudeness, instead answering what she’d asked you.

“No,” you said, “I have not seen His Grace today. He’s a busy man, Siegwinne. You know that.”

“Well, you should go see him.”

You sighed, leaning down to take your clipboard from under her arm, then crossing to your desk.

“I don’t have a reason to go see him,” you said, sitting down, “and like I said, His Grace is a busy man.”

She didn’t push after that, simply going back to work as you did yours, and you tried to put it out of your mind. You and Wriothesley were friends, you’d say. Even though you usually found yourselves meeting in less than normal circumstances, you were still fond of him. You enjoyed his frank, matter-of-fact personality, and dry sense of humor, and he seemed to enjoy your company as well. Your relationship was as casual as it could be between you and a man who was technically your boss, and friendly enough that you had conversations outside of work related matters. You’d never let Siegwinne know this, but her repeated and clumsy attempts at setting you up were not without some benefits. 

That was fine, you supposed. You’d bonded over Siegwinne and her antics, and built a friendship over a shared love of tea, as well as an author you both enjoyed, among other common interests. But that was it. As much as Siegwinne, and, begrudgingly, you, would like to say otherwise, you and The Duke were only friends. 

And, it seemed, as you settled into that fact quite comfortably, Siegwinne only grew more brazen in her attempts at Melusine style matchmaking. 

Her latest attempt involved trying to shut you in a locked room with The Duke, which failed when Wriothesley produced the master key in order to open the door. It happened a little over a week ago, which made you nervous, because Siegwinne didn’t like letting too much time pass between her less than gentle shoves. You were almost completely certain that Wriothesley knew what was happening, he’d have to be stupid not to, though he hadn’t said anything about it. This was probably to spare you from any further embarrassment, which you appreciated. 

The situation was hopeless. You knew that well. But Siegwinne didn’t, and that was beginning to become a problem. You didn’t know why you’d let her get away with this for the handful of months that you had, but maybe, deep down, you hoped that something would actually come from all her meddling. 

And apart from that, you had a certain degree of professionalism to uphold. Wriothesley was your boss, and you were both his employee and his doctor. As much as you found yourself wishing otherwise, pursuing your feelings, even if that was an option, just wasn’t ethical. 

But still, you could dream, you supposed. Dreaming was harmless. 

“I need you to run an errand for me.”

You turned in your chair, raising an eyebrow at Siegwinne, who was staring over at you innocently, a thermos in her hands. You looked at it, then back at her, puzzled.

“Siegwinne, I’m not in the mood.”

She frowned. “To do your job? How unbecoming. I’m simply asking you to deliver this tea to the Duke. His Grace is suffering from a headache. I delivered some to him this morning, but the problem still persists.”

You glanced at the thermos again. “Tea? What’s in it?”

She immediately became defensive, and for a moment, you almost felt guilty for doubting her. 

“Medicine!” She cried, “what do you take me for? I’ve brewed a painkiller into the tea. It should help with His Grace’s headache. If you don’t trust me, you can take a sip yourself.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Why can’t you do it?”

Her brows pinched together in annoyance, and maybe a little indignance. “I have to go see a patient, thank you. A young man is complaining of nausea, and finds it hard to stand because of it, so I am going to see him in his cell. Now, will you bring His Grace the tea, or not?”

You sighed. In your own mind, your hesitance was completely justified. Siegwinne had tried to trick you into being alone with Wriothesley many times before this, but then again, if the Duke was actually feeling unwell, and you refused to bring him medicine, what kind of doctor would you be? 

And so, you relented. With another sigh, you stood, snatching the thermos from Siegwinne’s outstretched hand. 

“Fine,” you said, “I’ll be back as soon as I drop it off.”

If Siegwinne was disappointed by this, she hid it well. She simply nodded, then crossed over to her desk to busy herself with her medical bag. You glanced over a few more things at your own desk before scooping up the thermos and leaving the infirmary after calling a quick few words of parting to Siegwinne, who only nodded. 

You shivered a little as you left the infirmary. Siegwinne tended to keep it warmer there, with a space heater sitting in the corner to combat the cold dampness of the rest of the Fortress of Meropide. It was better for the patients, she said, if they had somewhere nice and warm to rest and recover. You were fairly certain she also said something about humans and their preference for warmth, but that wasn’t important at present. 

The clang of your boots against the metal floors rang out as you walked, head held high, thermos in your grip. The air smelled of iron and brine, a scent you’d grown used to in the time you’d been working in the Fortress. Artificial light cast everything in a sort of ominous hue, and the low strength of it left everything in partial shadow. It used to make you nervous, not knowing what hid behind them, using them like masks. Now you knew that whatever was waiting for you was something you could handle.

You glanced down at the thermos in your hands. It was warm, likely just brewed. There was no way Siegwinne would have you serve the Duke cold tea. The thermos was plain; unassuming. It was slate gray, probably stainless steel. You turned it over in your hands, studying it. It was just tea. You had no reason to think it was anything other than that. But with Siegwinne, you’d learned to expect the unexpected.

Absently, you stepped into the elevator to take you down to the administrative floor. The car jerked, and with a mechanical clank, began to move. You turned the thermos over in your hands again. It’s just tea. For the Duke. Your poor, ailing boss. You twisted your mouth. It was fine. There was no way Siegwinne would ever do anything to actually harm Wriothesley. You tapped your nails against the surface of the thermos, almost jumping from your skin when the elevator came to an abrupt stop as it reached its destination, jostling you where you stood and ejecting you from your tangled thoughts. 

You sighed as you left the elevator, tucking the thermos into your arms and against your chest. Everything was fine. If Siegwinne took anything seriously, it was health. You’d caught her staring intently at you on many occasions, and when you asked her about it, she told you she was making sure you were healthy, in a very matter-of-fact tone, like it was obvious. She may be odd, but she wasn’t going to try and harm anyone. 

As you reached the doors to the Duke’s office, you reached into the pocket of your skirt, digging out the key to the lock. Because of the Fortress’s status as a prison, it was only natural that important areas such as the office of the warden would remain locked. The only way to get in was if you had a key or if you were invited by Wriothesley himself. There was also the off chance that the Duke left the doors unlocked, but that was uncommon. Regardless, before you put the key in the lock, you raised your hand, knocking on the door with a great clang. 

“Your Grace?” you called, though it was unlikely he heard you through the thick steel, “I’ll be coming in now. I have some tea for you.”

And with that, you pushed the key into place, twisting. With a grunt of effort, you pushed the doors open.

It was as you were opening the door that you heard him, calling to you. It was muffled under the mechanical clank of the doors, making you only vaguely aware of his call of your name, and you hurried to close the door to answer him. The lock clicked as you did, signifying that the mechanism had reset to its previous locked state. 

You expected Wriothesley to call out to you again after your lack of response, or even possibly to come see you. It was unlikely that Siegwinne would send you on an errand without previously announcing your arrival. But instead, you were met with silence. You gripped the thermos more tightly, hesitating.

“Your Grace?”

You heard something else then. A soft intake of breath, only able to be heard because of the complete lack of noise, save for the quiet hum of machinery from beyond the doors. Then, you could hear him clearing his throat. 

“Yes,” you heard Wriothsley say, from up the stairs, “up here.”

You sighed, relieved, as you made your way up the curving staircase and into the main office.

And as for things you expected to see, this was not among them.

Wriothesley was sitting at his desk, but he looked more than a little disheveled. His coat had been discarded, draped over the back of his chair, and his tie was undone, hanging loose around his neck. His waistcoat was also unbuttoned, as were the top two buttons of the dress shirt he wore underneath the garment. His gloves had also been removed, laying out on his desk beside an empty teacup. His hair was tousled, more than usual, and his face…

You furrowed your brows, suddenly concerned. His face was flushed, a deep pink settled in the apples of his cheeks, very evident against his usually pale skin. Breath, feather soft, expelled itself through parted lips, almost too quickly, as he looked over at you, brows pinching together, as if pained or troubled before the expression calmed. Wriothesley straightened, clearing his throat again, and he was hurriedly fixing his clothing, deft fingers doing up the buttons of his shirt, smoothing back over his hair. 

His eyes fell to the thermos in your hands, lingering, before sliding up to your face. 

You stared at him, your concern growing more by the second, and after a beat, you crossed to the desk, setting the thermos down.

“Your Grace,” you said, “I’ve brought you painkillers for your headache, but you look… May I examine you? You do not look like you’re feeling well.”

“Examine me,” he repeated, then took a slow breath, squeezing his eyes shut before shaking his head, as if clearing away a fog. He swallowed, raking a hand through his hair, and it was then that you spotted sweat beading on his forehead. 

“Yes,” you said, gently, already in doctor mode, “please, let me help.”

He cleared his throat, for what was probably the third time, and you narrowed your eyes. You were rapidly beginning to get suspicious in addition to concerned. There was something he wasn’t telling you. Absently, you found yourself mentally scolding yourself for neglecting to bring your medical bag.

“I’m fine,” he said, though he certainly didn’t look fine, “please, don’t trouble yourself. You’ve come all this way for me, so would you at least sit with me for a cup of tea?”

You blinked, surprised by the sudden shift. It was fine, though, you supposed. Staying around wasn’t a terrible idea. It would give you a chance to more closely study the Duke’s behavior, and try and figure out what the problem might be. And so, you stepped to the table off to the side, picking a clean tea cup from the collection displayed there. 

“I don’t need any, really,” you said as you leaned over to take the thermos from the desk, “Siegwinne made this for you, for your head. I am happy to sit and talk with you, though, if you want me to.”

Wriothesley smiled easily. “If you like, I can brew you a cup from my personal collection of teas. What do you like?”

You flushed, feeling special, and you turned to busy yourself with arranging his cup of tea to hide the pink in your cheeks. 

“You already know my preferences, Your Grace,” you said, over your shoulder, “just a cup of earl gray is fine.”

You heard shuffling, then the sound of a drawer being pulled open, and you knew the Duke was rifling through the collection of teas he kept stored in his desk. Shifting your focus, you removed the small travel cup attached to the top of the thermos, then unscrewed the lid. Immediately, you were hit with the scent of the tea. It was unexpectedly sweet, and sort of floral. It certainly wasn’t the Duke’s usual style, that was for sure. You took another lungful of it, and could make out notes of various medicinal herbs, including rosemary and feverfew, both known to help with headaches. You could also smell a hint of lavender. But there was still that floral, sort of rosy scent, undercut by the bitter, citrus aroma of the feverfew. It smelled a bit like rainbow roses; of petrichor and morning dew and sweet fresh petals. It certainly had herbs in it, some of which were known to help with what the Duke needed, but the combination of them that you were able to discern was puzzling to say the least.

You put it out of your mind, chalking up the roses to being there to help with the bitterness of the feverfew. With a sigh, you poured the steaming liquid into the teacup. It was sort of a deep rouge color, bordering on purple. A nice color, you decided, and not entirely unexpected with what was contained in the tea. You placed the cup on a saucer, then carried it, alongside the still half filled thermos over to the desk, setting them before the Duke. In exchange, he handed you the tea bag you’d requested, which you accepted gladly. 

After you’d filled a cup with boiling water, which the Duke always seemed to have on hand in any nearby kettle, ready for a quick cup. You added the tea bag, as well as a few spoonfuls of sugar, then took your seat on the couch by the tea table. 

Wriothesley’s face twisted as he took the first sip from his cup, seemingly troubled. 

“It’s very sweet.”

You tilted your head. “Is it not to your liking? I’ll be sure to tell Siegwinne to tweak the recipe.”

Wriothesley waved a dismissive hand. “No,” he said, “I just wasn’t expecting it. It’s not my usual style, but I don’t dislike it.”

You nodded meaningfully, blowing over your tea once more. 

“How are things over in the infirmary?” He asked, and you sat up straighter, engaged. 

“Fine. The usual. I had a man who was scared of needles just before I came over,” you said, “I’d barely touched him before he was telling me to stop.”

Wriothesley laughed, amused. He took another swallow of tea.

 “Oh, really?” He said, “Monsieur Phillip, I suspect? That man always gets into brawls, but is terrified of medical treatment. And he never wins those brawls. The gardes always have to pull the other guy off of him.”

You hid your smile behind your teacup. “I know,” you said, “Siegwinne is always scolding him when he comes in for being reckless.”

Wriothesley rested his head on a closed fist, thoughtful, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“Maybe a few rounds in the Pankration Ring would do him some good,” he said, and you raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t go putting any ideas in his head,” you said, “he might become a permanent resident of the infirmary if he starts entering into any matches.”

Wriothesley made a face, pale blue eyes moving to rest somewhere in the depths of his teacup. “Maybe he’d pick up a few things about proper combat, though.”

It was your turn to laugh. “Maybe, but at the cost of his health.”

You enjoyed this. It was hardly the first time you’d been invited to stay for tea, in addition to being personally invited to tea a handful of times before. Wriothesley’s presence was pleasant and inviting, despite his intimidating stature and appearance. His height dwarfed many other people, and you’d seen few as tall as he was, save for the Iudex, who was far more slim than the Duke was. Where Monsieur Neuvillette was tall and lithe, Wriothesley was broad and powerfully built. His sheer size alone, made only more prominent by the bulky coat he wore around his shoulders, was enough to intimidate anyone.

But despite that, he was an amicable and good-humored man, earnest and straightforward. He made you feel at ease, and your growing affection for him settled low and warm in the spot behind your heart. 

His face was getting more pink, you noticed, with a start. You took another sip of tea, watching him closely. His brow furrowed, just briefly, and he was fiddling with the bands of leather around his throat, as if they were suddenly too tight. He shifted in his seat, seemingly uncomfortable.

“Your Grace?” You said, and he seemed to snap out of whatever had overtaken him, regarding you with raised eyebrows and an expectant expression.

“Sorry,” he said, “what were you saying?”

You studied him, eyes narrowed, and he laughed, a little awkwardly.

“You’re doing that thing Siegwinne does,” he said, “the thing she does with her eyes. I don’t know how you replicated it so perfectly. There’s nothing wrong, I promise. It’s just suddenly kind of hot in here. Do you feel that?”

You shook your head. In fact, to you, the room was cold. Just as cold as the rest of the Fortress, save for the infirmary. It was the reason for the thermal lining in the pale blue overcoat of your uniform, the color that marked you as medical staff, as well as the reason for the thicker uniform fabric worn by the majority of the other general staff. 

“No,” you said, and Wriothesley looked puzzled. 

“Oh,” he muttered, puzzled, “I was warm earlier, but I’m starting to get… hot now. I don’t suppose that’s normal?”

You cracked a smile at that. “No, I don’t think so.”

A spell of silence passed before your mind snapped back to what he’d just said.

“You were feeling overly warm earlier? When did that start?”

Wriothesley furrowed his brows, considering your question before answering. He took another sip from his cup, then poured more of the contents of the thermos into it.

“This morning,” he said, “I can’t pinpoint exactly when it started, but it was maybe shortly after I had a cup of tea.”

You snorted, amused. “You realize how little that narrows it down, don’t you? You drink more tea than anyone I know, Your Grace. I need a measure of time, not cups of tea.”

He chuckled at that. “I apologize. I believe it was after Siegwinne delivered the tea she made for my head. Which is feeling much better, by the way. I think what I’ve been drinking while we’ve been chatting has helped kick the rest of it. I’m almost finished with the thermos.”

Suddenly, you made the connection. 

Almost robotically, and with learned efficiency, you went over the contents that you’d smelled in the tea, along with their uses. Feverfew, maybe some lavender, and rosemary. All of those had various uses, though they all had one thing in common, which was pain relief. Finally, there was the rainbow rose. The petals and buds were used for medicinal purposes, and could be used as such, similarly to common red roses, for anything ranging from headaches to a sore throat. 

Something was missing. Something was wrong. The scent itself had been off.

“The tea,” you said, “from before. Was it sweet?” 

Wriothesley nodded, taking another gulp, and finally, pouring the last of the contents of the thermos into the cup. “This brew is sweeter, though.”

You stood, then reached for his teacup, bringing it to your nose and inhaling. You caught the same things as before, but as you mulled them over, something else clicked. 

Siegwinne wouldn’t. Would she?

“It’s really hot,” Wriothesley said, and you could see the sweat beaded at his hairline, sticking the hair at his temples to his skin, cresting down his cheekbone. 

You reached out, and when the back of your hand made contact with his burning forehead, he flinched, making a soft sound in surprise and alarm.

“Why is your skin so much colder than mine?”

Your skin wasn’t cold. In fact, your body was at an average temperature, kept warm by the layers of clothing you were wearing. By your own assessment, your hands were probably relatively warm. You frowned, reaching into your pocket and withdrawing your penlight, circling the desk to situate yourself closer to the Duke.

The way he was looking at you when you drew closer was strange. Almost hungry. Famished, ice blue hues swept over your form, and you watched as his hands, previously resting on the desk, folded in front of him, over his lap. 

You moved closer, leaning halfway over to him, hand making contact with his face to tilt it towards you. He flinched at your touch, breath shuddering, and you studied his eyes closely before muttering a warning and shining your light into his face, instructing him to follow the light with his gaze.

“This isn’t… necessary,” he protested, weakly, and you ignored him. His pupils were blown wide, dark pits in the center of the sky blue of his irises. 

“Mydriasis,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him as you switched off your light and pocketed it. 

Your hand dropped from his face to just under where his jaw met his throat. You pushed aside the leather straps, just enough to access his pulse point, pressing two fingers to the spot. His heart was racing, quick and erratic, and you felt him shudder, breath heavy, his jaw setting tightly as your hands drifted across his skin, probing and searching. His skin was burning with heat, feverishly so, and coupled with the elevated heart rate, the blown pupils, and the way he seemed to flinch whenever you made contact with his skin directly, you could only make one conclusion.

“So,” you said, backing up to stand up straight, “this started after you had the first brew Siegwinne dropped off, yes?”

Wriothesley nodded. “It did.”

His voice. It had dropped several octaves in the time you’d been examining him, and you cursed the effect it had on you, coursing hot through your bloodstream. It felt so deeply unprofessional for a doctor to even think of her patient in the way the brief thoughts that fluttered through your mind suggested you do.

“Is it worse after this second batch?” You forced yourself to say.

He huffed a laugh. “You could say that.”

And it was then when you noticed, from where you were standing, that Wriothesley’s belt was undone. Rosy hues colored your cheeks as you yanked your gaze away.

“You need to tell me all of your symptoms,” you said, “spare no detail.”

Panic briefly flashed across his face as he crossed and uncrossed his legs.

“Hot,” he said, “I feel far too warm. Do I have a fever?”

You narrowed your eyes. He was purposely hiding the truth, but nonetheless, you answered.

“Yes,” you said, “but I believe it’s because your body is overheated and not because you're fighting an infection. I just said not to leave anything out, Your Grace, please tell me everything. As your doctor, I–”

“I’m… Archons, I don’t want to say it,” he paused, searching, almost frantically for something else to focus on. “What was in that tea?”

You swallowed, leaning back to rest against the desk. 

“Herbs,” you said, “rosemary, feverfew, and lavender. All meant to help with pain and headaches. But I could also smell rainbow roses.”

Wriothesley brightened. “Yes, I thought that was what I tasted. It brings such a unique flavor to the table, don’t you agree?”

You fought a smile, endeared by him, but now was hardly the time. You needed to figure out what was wrong with him, not to discuss tea. 

“Yes,” you said, “but it was strange. Too sweet. It only gets to that level when the powdered roots of a Sumeru rose are included alongside the powdered roots of a rainbow rose, in which case the combination can make–”

Oh. Oh. 

As you were talking, it clicked into place. The scent, which you’d thought was much too sweet before, suddenly made sense. Sumeru rose must have been the final ingredient. It was flavorless when consumed, but smelled quite sweet. When combined with rainbow roses, the scent of the two grew overpoweringly saccharine. Unless diluted, it would almost resemble a syrup. If the rainbow rose petals were boiled alongside the powdered roots of the Sumeru rose, it could become a powerful medicine able to soothe a bad cough. But if the roots of both plants were powdered, the results were…

You cursed yourself for being so stupid. Of course, Siegwinne would see nothing wrong with this. Medicine was medicine, regardless of what the outcome of its ingestion spelled, so long as it got the desired result. To her, the suggestion of something unbecoming would be taken with great offense. 

“‘Can make?’” Wriothesley supplied, and were already imagining the ways in which you were going to rip Siegwinne a new one.

“I need your symptoms. Now. I am a doctor, Your Grace, I promise I will be as non judgemental as possible, just please–”

“Damn it,” he interjected, face hidden in his hands, “I’m aroused.”

Anything you’d just been about to say left your mind, swept away by dread, because you knew what was happening.

Siegwinne was evil. You could already picture her expectant, innocent face, asking just how her little ‘experiment’ had gone, and it filled you with boiling rage. 

Though, there was also the fact that she could simply be misinformed. Melusines had different reactions to some medicines than humans did, and it was equally possible that she simply thought that, if dosed with the tea, the Duke’s feelings for you, if he had any, would just be made more prominent. For her sake, you hoped it was the latter. 

“Aroused,” you parroted, trying hard to stay professional and failing miserably, because this was unethical on so many levels, “tell me more about that.”

He made a strangled, startled sound. “You want to know more?” 

You wanted to melt into the floor. “I need to know how strong the dose you’ve been given is.”

“Dose?!” He said, “of what?”

You refused to look at him. “When mixed together, the powdered roots of a Sumeru rose and a rainbow rose create a powerful aphrodisiac. I believe the first dose you received was a weaker version, and this one is much stronger.”

Silence followed as Wriothesley took in the information, then cleared his throat.

“Do you have an antidote?”

You raised your head to look at him properly. He looked almost haggard, the flush from his face creeping down his neck. 

“There… kind of isn’t one.”

Wriothesley made a sound of frustration in the back of his throat, hands raising to card through his hand, and it was then that you noticed it. Now that his hands were no longer hiding it, you could see it, there, outlined against the dark fabric of his slacks. 

He was hard. 

A wave of suffocating, shameful arousal washed over you, and you forced yourself to look away, to ignore it.

You could only begin to imagine how he was feeling. The way you were feeling was nothing compared to him, his condition undoubtedly much more intense than your own physical reaction in response to his arousal, and you could feel his eyes on you as you scrambled to find a solution. 

“What am I going to do then?” He asked, “it’s getting… I’m sorry, It’s getting rather unbearable. I tried everything. It’s impossible to ignore, and I know I can’t use my hands.”

You spared him a glance. “Why?”

“Because,” he said, “I was already trying that. It wasn’t enough.”

Oh. The unbuckled belt. His disheveled state when you’d walked in. He’d already been dealing with the effects of the first dose, or at least attempting to. The call of your name, as you were entering the office. The silence before he summoned you up to the second floor.

Fuck. He’d been thinking of you. 

That had to be one of the hottest things you’d ever heard, professionalism be damned. Arousal rolled over you like a breaking wave, making you bite into your lower lip.

You knew what needed to happen. You knew the effects of this particular drug would take, and you knew that the only way to relieve his symptoms was either to very painfully wait it out or to… find relief. In this case, that entailed another person. 

“You need to have sexual intercourse,” you said, “or you can wait it out.”

Wriothesley cleared his throat. “Wait it out,” he said, “right, I can do that. How long will that take?”

You twisted your hands together. “It… depends. You were likely given a pretty strong dose, even for someone your size. By my estimate, it would probably take several hours for it to work its way out of your system.”

He chuckled dryly, humorlessly. “Great.”

You cleared your throat. “Do you have someone I could… call? A girlfriend?”

He snorted, as if amused by the idea. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

That would make sense, you supposed, if he was calling out your name, and not the name of another woman. 

“We both know what Siegwinne is doing,” Wriothesley said, “not just with this, but for the past few months. I can’t pretend I’m not fond of you, and neither of us can pretend there isn’t something between us.”

It was like the ground dropped out from under you at the sheer brazenness of his admission. You stared at him, thunderstruck. 

“You… what?” 

A cavalcade of thoughts crashed together as you rapidly attempted to process what he meant by that, but he barely gave you any time before he started speaking again.

“Look,” he said, “if you don’t feel the same, I can accept that. I’ll wait it out, and we can pretend this never even happened. But if you do, are you even… slightly interested in um… helping me? Because honestly, I feel like I’m about to explode.”

Heat coiled low in your stomach, threatening to overtake you as the lovely rasp of his voice made any of your logical thoughts close to meaningless. This was so vastly unprofessional. He was your boss, and you were his doctor. But something dangerously close to want was settling neatly over that space you usually reserved, that you looked to for reassurance about your professional standing with the Duke, to tell you that your feelings for him, ever growing, were improper. 

And when you turned, watching his face, the way his hungry gaze traced your body through your uniform, something in you snapped, and you threw caution to the wind.

Head lowered, face flushed, you swallowed your rationality and any remaining hesitance you had left. 

“I suppose,” you said, “I could use my hands.”

Wriothesley’s body jolted in anticipation, and his eyes betrayed his hesitance, darkened to steel blue with lust as he nodded once, then once more.

“Hands,” he repeated, “yes, hands are good. Whatever you feel comfortable with.”

You found it touching that he was at least trying to take your comfort into account, even when he was drowning in desire, and you took a slow step forward as he shifted, pulling his chair out enough to allow you room to situate yourself on the floor in front of him. As you took another step, he took his coat from the back of his chair and laid it at his feet, another gesture you appreciated. 

Once you reached him, you knelt down between his thighs, and he watched you with burning eyes, flinching when your palms smoothed over his clothed thighs, jaw tightening. Medical curiosity echoed briefly in the back of your mind, taking note of just how sensitive the drug had made him to the simplest of touches, how he shivered as your nails grazed against the insides of his strong thighs. 

Fuck, he was radiating heat. So much so that it was beginning to affect you, and you shifted back on your knees to remove the overcoat layer of your uniform, leaving you in the blouse and underskirt beneath it. Wriothesley’s eyes followed your motions with rapt attention, and when you moved forward again, settling, you felt him jolt when your palm met his leg once again.

This close up, you could see it, just how much he was straining against his trousers, his erection pressed against his zipper, and hesitantly, you cupped it in your hand.

The Duke gasped at your touch, fingers twitching where he’d curled them around the armrests of his chair, then tightening in a white-knuckled grip as you ever-so-gently squeezed. He twitched against your palm, and you removed his belt entirely, dropping it to the floor with a clatter before you were unfastening his button and zipper.

You palmed him through the fabric of his underwear, and you could already feel how big he was just from that. A sort of eagerness threaded its way into the burn of your arousal as you pushed away any remaining layers, pulling him free.

Fuck. He was so thick, and when you slowly wrapped your hand around him, your fingers just barely met. He was long, too, though you supposed it made sense for a man of his size. He was flushed red, painfully hard, and when you squeezed, you felt him twitch once more, his body tightening like a coiled spring. His hands tightened their grip on the armrests, flexing, and you felt his hips shift forward, unconsciously. 

The first stroke made his head roll back, the sound he let out one of relief, just from that simple touch alone. It made you squirm in place, the sound of his voice and the stricken hitch of his breath causing the desperation of his arousal to bleed into your own building need. Precum was beaded at his tip, and you almost wanted to lean forward to lap it up, especially as more leaked out in response to the way you were stroking him in slow, even movements. 

Heavy breath expelled through clenched teeth, followed by a low, low groan as your thumb found his tip, rubbing in slow circles, and it was then that you leaned forward, giving into temptation as your tongue pressed to the underside of the head of his cock in a slow lick.

“Oh,” he gasped, “oh, you don’t have to– oh, fuck.”

He cut himself off as you lapped at his slit, groaning through his teeth. He was already completely lost to pleasure as you pumped the base of him, and when you took him into your mouth, sucking on the tip, you heard him curse, a sound drawn out with a low, decadent groan. 

“You said your hands– oh!”

Arousal was settling low and smoldering hot in the pit of your stomach, pooling between your thighs, and you whined as he whispered your name. You released him from your mouth, hands moving to rest on his thighs, and you dragged your tongue up and along the underside of his dick, gathering up any precum that had dribbled down. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his slacks, lips grazing the side of his shaft, and he repeated your name, louder, voice twisted with an urgency that made your blood sing.

It was embarrassing, just how quick you’d gotten like this, punch drunk on the reactions he gave you, the way his body reacted to your touch. It filled you with an addicting sort of power, one that threatened to overtake you if you weren’t careful. But right then, all you wanted was to add fuel to the ever growing fire. And, with the way he was breathing, rough and ragged and broken, you doubted he’d be opposed to that. 

Your tongue flicked out, against the fold of skin just below his tip, and he tensed, crying out helplessly. When you finally took him in your mouth, fully, his head fell back against his chair, a feral groan tearing itself from his throat as your tongue pressed firm against him. Your hand moved from his leg to encircle the base of him again, squeezing and stroking in tandem with the slow bob of your head, and making the Duke gasp at the sensations. 

When you sucked, just a little, Wriothesley babbled a string of curses, hips twitching up towards your mouth, and when you ducked down, bobbing your head, one of his hands flew from the armrest to the back of your head. You thought he’d push, or maybe take control, but all he did was lace his fingers into your hair, unmoving. His body shuddered under the roll of your tongue, under the press of your free hand to his stomach, creeping under the layers of clothing covering him, his skin fever hot against your own.

You took him deeper, and he twitched, hips jumping as you hollowed out your cheeks, drawing back before surging forward once again. You relaxed your jaw further as his hips bucked, and he muttered an apology, breathless and feverish. His head pitched back as you rubbed your thumb against his base, and he twitched again, sharply. When you looked up at him, through your lashes, he was gazing down at you with hooded, burning eyes. There was desperation in his cool blue hues, a wordless plea for anything, everything you could give him.

And with everything you had, you delivered. 

You dropped your jaw, swallowing as much of him as you can, drinking in the sound of his breath shuddering, tapering off into a low moan. You sped up, gradually, and the sounds he made were so madly erotic that you found yourself aching to reach between your thighs and take care of your own growing need, but you could hardly focus on anything apart from taking him as deep as possible without choking. The sheer girth of him was enough to make your jaw sore, and when you moved forward again, he hit the back of your throat, making tears catch in your lashes. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, drawing the word out with the sound, long and low and you kneened around him, making him curse and buck. 

The hand not tangled in your hair raised to his face, balling tight, and he bit down on his fist, stifling his uncontrolled cries of ecstasy, eyes squeezing shut, brows pinching in concentration. He was trembling beneath your touches, twitching against your tongue, and when you moved back to suck on the tip, slow and indolent, the noise that left his mouth was nothing short of pornographic. 

“Yeah,” he seethed, voice breathy, needy, “fuck, yeah, don’t stop.”

Not a chance in hell you were doing that. You clamped your thighs together, squeezing around nothing, and you knew you were soaked, evident in the way your panties were sticking to your skin, your thighs tacky with sweat and the soak of your own arousal. Your hand curled into a fist where it rested on his stomach, then flattening once more and flexing, searching for anything to anchor yourself. When you took him into your mouth once more, fully, he bucked his hips, groaning with no regard for volume. He was close, teetering on that edge, evident from the way his grip on your hair grew tighter, the way you could feel the muscles in his stomach tensing, and when you took him deep and sucked, he moaned, long and low, the sound almost forced from his fraying lungs. The sensitivity had to be maddening, you decided, and you’d use that to your full advantage. 

Slowly, you pulled back, lapping at the leaking tip, hand working tirelessly at the base of him, and you barely had any warning before he tipped over the edge, back arching, breath all but leaving him. You shifted back in surprise, reflexively, and cum painted itself across your cheeks, the bridge of your nose, the seam of your lips. You closed your eyes in an attempt to keep anything from getting into them before you were hurrying to take him in your mouth, sealing your lips around him. His hand was fisting in your hair, and the sound he made, a low, breathless groan, was one of sheer, debauched relief. 

You sucked, and he let out an obscene moan as you swallowed down his cum, hips jerking, the hand previously fisted between his teeth flattening against the desk, palm slamming down, just once, and you heard the rasp of wood under fingernails as he moved to grip the edge. 

You slowed, working him through the intensity of his orgasm, as he twitched and throbbed under your touch, the sheer volume of cum surprising you. It leaked from your mouth, down your chin, and you did your best to swallow as much of it as you could. He slumped, boneless, against his chair, and when you moved to clean him with your tongue, you got to listen to the delightful sound of him gasping from oversensitivity.

“Fuck,” you heard him say, dazed and utterly breathless, “fuck.”

Slowly, you drew back, and his eyes followed you, breath hitching and gaze darkening as he took in your appearance. The sight of you, knelt before him, covered in his cum, was enough to make him groan aloud, cheeks flaring pink.

“Archons,” he said, “that has to be the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

You let out a short, breathless chuckle.

“Do you have a rag or something?”

He nodded, once, and you stood on shaking legs before leaning sideways against the desk, and he pulled you closer, gently wiping your face clean with a tissue before depositing it in the trash situated under his desk. 

“How do you feel?” You asked, and he huffed what may have been a laugh, nearly disbelieving.

“That was… Incredible. But I’m still, um…”

You crooked an eyebrow, watching him, expectantly.

He looked almost guilty. “I’m still hard.”

Oh. Oh. 

You weren’t completely surprised. You didn’t know if a blowjob alone would be enough to work the drug from his system, and clearly, it wasn’t. Not that you minded. Your own arousal was a steady pulse below your skin, working like a second heartbeat. Desire coursed through you, and you pressed your thighs together once more. You wanted it. You already knew that. You wanted him. 

“Alright,” you said, and what was left of any phantom of resolve, or the shreds of your until recently professional relationship with him all but vaporized, “sit back.”

“You don’t have to,” he started, the protest as fragile as glass, but you cut him off.

“I want to. I’ve… wanted this– you– for a while. So please, Your Grace– Wriothesley. I want it all. If you’ll have me.”

That was all it took. With a low, shuddering breath, a signal of his rapidly fraying restraint, he was yanking you forward and into his lap, his fingers working the buttons of your blouse open, hurriedly shucking it down your shoulders once undone. He made quick work of the ties fastening your skirt to your body, and you briefly shuffled off of him to drop it to the floor, along with your stockings, before resituating yourself on his lap. 

“If I’ll have you?” He rumbled, the low, rough ombre of his voice sending prongs of lightning down your spine, and he yanked you closer, mouth dragging along the curve of your jaw.

“How could I possibly refuse?”

And then, for the first time, he was kissing you. 

His lips were burning hot against yours, and your fingers found his hair, threading into messy locks, nails dragging against his scalp. He huffed a sigh into your lips as he nudged his tongue between them, tilting his head to slot his mouth more firmly against yours, and when his tongue dragged against yours, you moaned, low and soft, into his mouth. He kissed you slow and deep, almost a juxtaposition to the way he was feverishly running his hands, large and calloused, down your body, and when his fingers grazed over the patch of nerves just where your lowest rib met the curve of your waist, you shuddered in his hold. 

You could taste the tea he’d been drinking on his tongue, cloyingly sweet, and it was almost too much when mixed with the heady, spiced smell of his cologne. Everything about him was overwhelming you in the best way possible, rendering you pliable and soft in his hands. Fuck, Wriothesley needed his own warning label. It was almost funny, really, just how riled up you were when he was the one who had been drugged with an aphrodisiac. 

His teeth caught your lower lip as he drew back, tugging, before he was diving back in, hands planted firmly on your hips, and you let out a stuttering gasp as he pulled you forward, his bare cock pressing against your stomach. 

The way he shuddered at the contact was enough to make your head spin with arousal, and when you shifted forward once more, just to see what he’d do, the grip on your hips grew to nearly bruising. 

“You have no idea,” he husked, low and rough, the very threads of his sanity slipping from between his fingers, “how hard you’re making it to hold back.”

His words shot straight between your thighs, and you rolled your hips again, loving the way he stiffened. You felt his palm, dragging slowly up your body, then finally moving to cup your breast through the fabric of your bra, squeezing. You arched your chest into his touch, his name whisper soft on your lips. 

He unfastened your bra after some fumbling, his coordination clearly beginning to become impacted by the drug. Once the garment was discarded, he barely gave you time to breathe, and you gasped when his head dipped down, mouth dragging across the valley of your breasts, skating along the side of one before his lips found one of your nipples, drawing it into the heat of his mouth.

He groaned at the taste of you, indulgent, as he laved his tongue over your flesh, hands sliding up to grip your waist, holding you in place, allowing him to explore the newly exposed skin with his mouth as much as he pleased. He was strong, his grip like iron, but it didn’t prevent you from slowly rocking your hips, rubbing your clothed cunt against his bare cock, and the way he groaned into your skin was a sound of delirious pleasure. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed, almost disbelieving, “fuck, I’m a lucky man.”

His tender words made your heartbeat quicken, and you squeezed him closer, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. Your hands slid down his chest, fingers catching on the buttons of his shirt, and you quickly unfastened them, pushing the cloth away to smooth your palms over his bare skin. Gently, you pushed him back against the chair you were both situated in to look at him, and the sight before you was almost too much.

You already knew he was muscular, that much was obvious by just looking at him. But beneath his clothing, among thickly corded muscle was a patchwork of scarred flesh. You’d known about some scars; three of them crept up over the collar of his shirt, partially hidden by the straps he wore around his throat. There was also a collection of them on his arms, and of course, the one under his right eye. The ones that were hidden wove their way across his chest like a roadmap, some of them faint, and others more prominent, pale threads across his already pale skin. You laid your palm against him, tracing the one closest, and he shuddered, leaning into your touch, eyes fluttering closed. Your fingers skimmed down his chest, to his trim waist, and when your thumb caught in the deep v at his waist, he let out a soft grunt. 

One of his hands moved from your waist to your hip, squeezing the plush flesh, then migrated to the apex of your thighs, and when his middle finger rubbed you through the sodden fabric of your panties, a high, breathy whine tore itself from your throat. He pressed harder, and your back arched, eyes falling half-lidded when he circled your clit through the fabric.

Then, without warning, he was pushing the cloth aside, and the feel of his calloused finger dragging across your entrance was enough to make you jerk in his hold.

He dipped his head, forehead making contact with your shoulder, and it took you a moment to realize he was watching himself, observing the sight of his hand between your legs. When your hips twitched, he used his opposite hand to hold you steady, effectively forcing you to stay in place as he did what he pleased with your body. 

“Please,” you whispered, and that was all it took for him to tire of his teasing, sinking his finger inside you with a slow, indulgent movement.

You gasped, the sound bleeding into a moan when his finger curled inside of you, and he pushed you down, forcing you to take him to the knuckle. You whispered his name as he curled his finger again, and when he added a second finger, you squeezed your eyes shut. He groaned at the sound it made when he thrust his fingers into you, the lewd, embarrassing schlick of you around him, and you had to take a moment for your jumbled thoughts to catch up with you. His fingers were so much thicker than your own, not to mention longer, and he was hitting spots you didn’t even know existed. He thrust again, and you cried out, hips twitching, causing him to tighten his grip. 

The curl of his fingers hit a spot inside of you that made you see stars, and when he felt the way it made you tighten around him, he began to abuse it with everything he had. 

“Oh, Gods,” he groaned, “you’re so wet.”

You could do no more than gasp as his palm ground against your clit, and he held you there, forcing you to take it as he pressed in slow, maddening twists of his wrist before replacing his palm with his thumb.

It was arousing how easily he could manhandle you, and you had absolutely no desire to fight against him as he pumped his fingers in and out of you. You were getting close, embarrassingly quickly, and you could do nothing to stop yourself from hurtling towards that end, walls throbbing and contracting around his fingers.

One of your hands shot between you, encircling his thick wrist, and you weren’t sure what the purpose of that was, either to push him deeper or simply to find purchase, but you did know that your desperation made his dick twitch where it was pressed between you, forcing him to stifle a groan.

You convulsed in his hold, hips jerking in his iron grip, his name on your lips, and with a final press of his thumb against your clit, you came hard around his fingers, biting down into his shoulder, and he worked you through it with slow thrusts that made stars and celestial bodies dance across your closed eyelids. You called his name, urgent and drawn out, yet high and needy, and he replied with a groan of his own, his free hand flying from where he was holding you in place to wrap around his own cock, palming it, thumbing the head, forcing a moan from between his teeth.

You slumped heavily against him as you fell from your high, and when he withdrew his fingers, you let out a shuddering breath, the sensitivity sending your thoughts into nonsense. Your head was spinning, thoughts in a daze, and all you could feel was him as he panted for breath. 

Seconds of silence, only interrupted by heavy breathing, passed before you rose on unsteady legs to discard your panties before you were settling over him once more, and he watched with hazy eyes as you shifted forward, pressing your bare cunt against the underside of his shaft in a slow grind. His mouth fell open in a silent cry, brows pinching upwards, the sensitivity clearly unbearable. Suffocating, maddening lust worked its way through your bloodstream like a toxin, and you knew he needed more, from the way his hips rutted up in halfway thrusts as you rubbed against him.

“Fuck,” he choked, head falling back as the tip of his cock caught against you, “I wanna–”

You rocked forward, and his entire body jolted, tearing a groan from deep in his chest.

“What do you want?” You asked, breathless, and he lifted his head to look at you, the fog of desire in his eyes downright sinful.

He yanked you close, trapping his cock between your bodies, and into a frenzied kiss, his restraint all but gone as he unabashedly moaned at the feel of your skin. 

“I want,” he husked, mouth pressing open kisses against your jaw, and he stopped, breath hot against your ear, “to be inside you.”

Your breath left you in a rush, and you drew him into a deep kiss, one he returned with vigor, hands smoothing down your body to grab at your hips, pressing you forward and against him once more, and when you pulled back, his eyes were wild with desperation and maddening lust. 

“I don’t have protection,” he said, and you shook your head, dismissing him.

“I’m on birth control,” you said. Siegwinne made the tonic you took, something she supplied even to female inmates to help with lightening periods. But right now, it would be used for its intended purpose. Wriothesley nodded as he took this information in, seemingly relaxing a little.

“Please,” he mumbled, and you blinked, surprised to hear him beg for anything, but you were hardly going to deny him, “I’m going insane. I need you.”

You took a shuddering breath as you shifted up, using one hand to brace yourself as you took his cock in your hand, pressing him against you. You both cried out in unison at the feeling, even the slightest whisper of much needed friction enough to make you feel lightheaded, and you felt his hands grasp your hips, urging you downwards.

You sank down, slowly, and even the tip of him was a stretch, a dull ache blossoming as you pressed closer. Both hands landed on his shoulders, breath heavy, and he groaned lowly at the sensation.

“Slow,” he said, fighting for control, “c’mon, you can take me. Relax, deep breaths.”

You nodded, once, as you did as he instructed. Your knees shuffled as you pressed yourself down, met with more resistance, and forcing you to stop, gasping for air. He was only halfway in and you already felt full, stretched to accommodate him. It was unfamiliar and new, and you weren’t used to this, but his grip was tightening, and with a deep breath, you thrust down, taking the rest of him in one quick motion. 

The sting of the stretch danced across your frayed nerves like a livewire, and you grit your teeth, head slumping forward as Wriothesley let out a long, low groan, both of his hands rushing to your hips, squeezing, keeping you in place. 

A string of curses left his lips as his head fell back, and you could feel him throb inside of you, so deep you could hardly believe it, stuffed full to the brim. 

“Just– oh, or you could just take it all. Fuck,” he quieted, breathing heavily, before speaking again, “are you– did that hurt you? Are you okay?”

The pain wasn’t horrible, and you hesitated to even call it pain. It was just an ache, dull and unpleasant, but you’d been wet enough that taking him hadn’t caused you any actual damage. You sat still as you adjusted, the aching burn of the stretch rapidly fading into something maddening, replaced by a desperate need. 

“I’m fine,” you said, voice strained, “I’m okay.”

He nodded, once, before drawing you close, linking your mouth to his in a kiss far more gentle than you’d expected. You felt him throb, and when you squeezed, you got the pleasure of hearing him groan your name.

“You’re so tight. Please, please– yeah–”

His head fell back as you rocked your hips, lifting yourself up, only to sink back down, and when you repeated the action, he groaned helplessly, a string of almost nonsensical praises spilling past his lips, only serving to make you want to wreck him even further. 

Sheer, uncontained relief was tangled inextricably with every sound he made, his hands squeezing your hips as you took him again, and again, and again, and oh fuck, you felt like you were being split open, impaling yourself repeatedly on his fat cock. The burn from before turned into pure ecstasy, the stretch of him inside of you intoxicating, and you buried your face into the crook of his neck as you moaned out his name. He wasn’t even bothering to stay quiet, not that it mattered, nobody could hear from outside the heavy office doors, which was an advantage right then. 

You keened as his hips rose to meet you, the base of his dick rubbing against your clit. You sank down, taking him fully, ejecting any rational or sensical thought from your head, grinding in deep, easy circles, and you could feel blunt nails digging into your hips as he held you in place, totally drunk on pleasure. 

His grip eased as you slid back up before taking him again, and he was kissing you frantically, one of his hands flattening against your breast, rolling the nipple under the rough pad of his thumb, making you whimper into his mouth.

“Faster,” he hissed, pulling back to meet your eyes, “faster, ride me faster.”

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, using them as leverage to move yourself faster, arching your back as the new speed made you see stars, and you whined, burning pleasure shooting through you at the grind of his cock against your clit.

“Good girl,” he groaned, dizzy with pleasure, “yeah, just like that.”

You could feel yourself getting close again, and you groaned his name as you swiveled your hips. Your thighs were beginning to burn with the exertion, even with just the short time you’d been moving at this pace, and when he felt you shudder, his hands found your waist, helping you along.

“That’s it, gorgeous,” Wriothesley panted, “that’s it, fuck me just like that.”

He was moving you with his own hands, easily, and you tried your best to move along with him, swiveling your hips whenever he bottomed out, and his head fell back in rapture, gasping for air. 

Your orgasm was approaching fast, and you were helpless to its pull as you sped up, chasing after it frantically, the sound that filtered through your clenched teeth one of desperation. You felt like you were losing yourself, and when you sank your teeth into the soft flesh of his throat, an unrestrained groan fell past his lips, his hips bucking up with enough force to make you see stars. When his thumb pressed against your clit, you tipped over the edge hard, stilling as you clung to him, sobbing his name into the curve of his shoulder.

You tightened to a vice grip around him, throbbing as your climax crashed over you, and you heard him growl at the sensation, hips bucking, still working his cock up into your messy cunt. Before you could even start to come down from your high, you were moving, and the frigid steel of the floor met your back, rapidly heating from contact with your skin. One of his hands gripped at your leg, tucking beneath your knee and holding it up, and then he was driving forwards, hips slapping against yours as he filled you once more.

He paused, shaken by the intensity of the sensation, before his head pitched forward, breath heavy, and he was thrusting again with a renewed vigor, nails digging into your flesh. 

His name was the only thing on your tongue as he fucked you, so good it made you feel like your head was emptying itself out. His mouth found yours as he leaned forward, supporting his weight on his forearm, laid beside your head, giving him more freedom to do what he pleased with his hips. The base of his dick was rubbing against your clit once again, and you whined, squirming beneath him, but he wasn’t letting up.

“Wriothesley,” you gasped, head fuzzy, completely cock drunk as he broke the kiss to mouth at your neck, “deeper.”

He groaned, low and indulgent, and when his hips snapped forward, filling you completely, your back arched against his chest.

“Deeper?” he repeated, the baritone timbre of his voice lowered to an uneven bass, “you want it deeper? That what you want, gorgeous?”

“Please,” you sobbed, “please, give it to me.”

A low, rough chuckle was the only warning you got before he was thrusting forward, hips flush against yours, and he repeated the action, again, and again, and again, making you bite your lip to keep from wailing at the intensity of it all.

“Oh, fuck,” you heard him gasp, stricken, indulgent, “fuck, yeah, that’s it.”

It felt so good you could hardly think, and when you babbled his name, lust drunk and fucked dumb, he pressed soft kisses along the column of your throat, almost like a reward, a thank you for letting him do this to you. 

His pace was growing sloppy, but he showed no signs of letting up, and in the back of your mind, you figured was probably just going to keep on going, even if he came. It was rapidly beginning to become far too much for you, and you moaned, high and breathy, when he rammed himself all the way in, grinding his hips before pulling out less than a quarter of the way, then thrusting back in. He was so deep, and you writhed under him, fingernails scraping against the floor before you were clinging to him. He was moaning, low and breathless, the way he was moving causing you to helplessly spasm around him, forcing you violently over the edge when the base of him rubbed just right against your aching clit. 

You could feel tears, beading at your lashline as the sensitivity became maddening, but he wasn’t letting up, even as you arched and bucked and wailed beneath him, the intensity of your climax rendering you incoherent. He knew exactly what he was doing, just how to push every button he needed to, and you were halfway between deliriously begging for more or sobbing at the sensitivity. 

A string of curses left his lips as he came, gushing hot and thick inside of you, but he wasn’t even pausing, even as his groans tapered into breathy moans from the way he was overstimulating himself. You could feel him, throbbing, pulsing inside of you as he filled you, uncaring of the way his cum  dripped out of you. The sound of it, combined with the slap of skin against skin, was unbelievably lewd, but you hardly had the wherewithal to even think, let alone be any kind of embarrassed. If anything, it only drove you higher. 

“Fuck,” Wrothesley cursed, low and broken, “I need it again, please, again– fuck!”

He shifted back, grabbing at your legs and pressing them down beside you, and you thanked the Archons you were flexible as he continued, leaning forward once he had you in the position he liked and taking your body with abandon. He was hardly bothering to hold back his strength as he hammered into you, and your head fell back against the floor with a soft thud, eyes rolling back. 

You’d never felt like this before in your life. Your legs were growing sore, and your back was going to be stiff from the way he was fucking you into the floor, but you didn’t care, not as you got to listen to the way he was saying your name like a prayer, how he was caressing and kissing your body like it was sacred. Exhaustion was a heavy weight against the blurred edges of your mind, and all you could do was lay there and take it as he chased after what he so desperately needed.

It didn’t take long for him to grow close again, and he whispered your name as his end quickly approached. You yanked him into a kiss, which he returned with a groan of ecstasy, and then, with a final, deep, shuddering thrust, he was cumming. The force of it made his entire body tremble, and the sound he made was one of satiated, relieved bliss as he emptied himself out inside of you, the heat of him almost suffocating, burning you from the inside out.

His hips jerked with unconscious movements and spasms as he drifted down from the staggering height of his climax, his breath heavy, and he slumped, weakened, his face pressing into the crook of your neck. His mouth pressed lazy kisses against your skin, and you lifted a hand to run it through his hair as he finally, finally began to grow soft inside of you.

The two of you lay there, still joined, for what felt like hours, bathing in each other’s warmth and the afterglow of it all. His breath fanned across your skin, feather soft as he lifted his head to join your lips together, before he slowly pulled out, rolling off of you, dazed. 

“Are you hurt?” He asked, voice hoarse, and you arched your back, flexing your body. You winced at the soreness. You were undoubtedly going to have bruises from how hard he had been gripping you. 

“I’m fine,” you said, “are you–”

He snorted. 

“Yeah,” he said, “that uh… that did the trick.”

You laughed, a little breathlessly. You didn’t know how you’d be able to stand after that, genuinely. Your legs felt like jelly, and a deep, all consuming exhaustion was settling over your senses.

“You think it’s gone?” You asked, “the drug, I mean.”

He looked at you sidelong. “I don’t feel uncontrollably horny anymore, so I’d say so.”

Wriothesley sat up, flexing his shoulders. He tucked himself back into his pants, and then he was gathering you into his arms, rising to his feet.

“What are you doing?” You asked, and he raised an eyebrow at you.

“Taking you to the bath,” he said, “I have a bathtub, in my living quarters.”

You relaxed, settling into his arms. “Oh.”

His living quarters were attached to the office, through a door you’d somehow never noticed before. You were far too tired to take in any of the details of it, instead opting to close your eyes and rest your head on the nearest comfortable spot on Wriothesley’s chest, which he didn’t seem to mind at all. 

He set you in the tub, and after the water was run, you were surprised to see him climbing in along with you. It wasn’t unwelcome, and seeing him completely bare was hardly a bad thing, and you were pleasantly happy when he began to gently wash you, and once he was finished, he tugged you back, settling you against his chest.

The bathroom was silent, save for the musical sound of running water, and you allowed yourself to close your eyes, settling into the comfortable atmosphere. 

“I meant what I said, you know,” Wriothesley said, and you opened your eyes to look up at him.

“What?” You asked.

“About being fond of you,” he said, “you’re… an amazing woman. I want–”

You leaned up, kissing him, and effectively giving him an answer to his thoughts. He sighed into the kiss, content, one large hand rising to cup your face, thumb smoothing over your cheekbone.

“I guess Siegwinne succeeded,” you said, and Wriothesley smiled, amused.

“I guess she did.”

You stayed in the bath much longer than you expected, until the water became cold, and once that happened, Wriothesley whisked you off to the bed, tucking you under the covers after supplying you with one of his shirts to wear. You smiled when he joined you, now dressed in a pair of sweats, chest left bare, and curled up beside you, tucking you close to his chest. 

Sleep came quickly after the lights were switched off, the exhaustion from before spreading over you like wildfire. 

And, when he thought you were asleep, you felt him, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head, his body relaxing against yours.

BONUS:

You were agonizingly sore. Your stiff muscles had stiff muscles, and while Wriothesley was sheepish, and apologetic, and promised he’d treat you to dinner to make it up (which you would be taking him up on), it made walking back to the infirmary the next morning a little difficult. 

What was even worse was the look on Siegwinne’s face when you entered, ruby red eyes knowing as she watched you approach.

“How’s the duke?” She asked, and you handed her the accursed thermos without saying anything.

“Fine,” you said, slumping down into your chair with a sigh. 

She smiled. “Good. Are you seeing him again tonight?”

You turned, brows furrowed. “How did you know about that?”

She shrugged, unbothered. “Someone saw you leaving his office this morning. I suppose what I put in the tea worked a little too well.”

You stared at her. “Siegwinne, you put an aphrodisiac in his tea.”

She paused, concerned. “No I didn’t. I put a supplement to further enhance his desire for you. If we’re being frank, it’s closer to a love potion. Just to get rid of any inhibitions. It’s medicine. But it isn’t meant to cause anything like–”

You rolled back your sore shoulders. “Yeah, well, it did.”

Her face went pale, but she briefly covered it up. “I… suppose I miscalculated.”

You laughed, then. Really laughed. It startled Siegwinne, who stared at you with growing concern.

“It’s fine,” you said, “whatever, Siegwinne. At least you don’t have to keep going with trying to set us up. Focus your energy on making ‘love potions’ that aren’t aphrodisiacs in humans, okay?”

She flushed, quiet, then nodded, once, her eyes taking on a determined look. You were beginning to regret saying anything. 

With a smile, and a good natured nod, she put her hands on her hips, ever the dutiful nurse.

“I’ll get right on that.”

Fin.

[nonushu]

03:35 pm

genre: fluff, meet-cute? - wc: 581 [ a/n: i read 'the seventh day' by yu hua, which was recommended by wonwoo! (no mention of a specific book here besides the genre) ]

"i'm sorry dear," the librarian whispers, "the only version of this copy was signed out an hour ago."

you nod, glancing at her apologetic features. the woman removes her glasses and lets them hang by the chain attached to the temples.

"no worries at all, miss," you reassure her, turning away to find something else to read, "thank you."

she smiles kindly as you disappear between the shelves, tracing your finger on each book. it feels almost daunting, lurking from aisle to aisle, waiting for something—or anything to catch your eye.

as you approach the end of the fiction novels, you figure it might as well be the end of your search. with a sigh, you continue your path, only skipping past the shelves and towards the exit.

just as you reach to pull the doors, something—or rather, someone—catches your attention. he's standing at one of the small checkout desks by the window, engrossed in a book. his dark hair falls slightly over his forehead, and his glasses sit at the tip of his nose.

"oh, would you look at this," you hear the librarian say to the young man who's stepped up to the counter, "this book is quite a pick, wouldn't you say?"

you watch him raise a brow at the woman, the man—who you now realize is holding the exact book you were searching for.

"really?" he asks, looking down at the book in his hands. “it’s a popular one, i suppose.”

her eyes crinkle as she hums, averting her gaze to the computer. a smile spreads on her face when she spots your figure above the screen. "in fact, that's them right there."

you feel your face flush as he follows her gesture, his eyes meeting yours. like a deer caught in headlights, you stand there awkwardly, having no idea what to initiate. should you leave or—

he hesitates for a moment before mumbling something to the woman. after you hear another beep, he walks over to you, the book still in his hand.

“hey,” he says, raising his hand to display the book. “i just heard you were looking for this.”

your eyes widen, slightly embarrassed. “y-yeah, i was, but it’s okay. you got to it first.”

he shakes his head, offering the book to you with a soft glint in his eyes. “it’s no problem. i insist you take it. i’ve read it a couple of times already.”

you stare at the book, then back at him. “you sure? i don’t want to take it if you were going to sign it out today.”

“i’m sure,” he says, his grin widening a little. “books are better when shared, don’t you think?”

his words make you chuckle, and you reach out to take the book, your fingers brushing his as you do. “thank you, that’s really kind of you.”

“it’s no problem,” he repeats, his gaze softening as he watches you. his hand reaches for your empty one, “wonwoo.”

you gladly accept his, taking note of how gentle he feels, “y/n,” you reply, feeling your heart skip a beat.

"you think we could maybe...uh, talk about the book some time?" he asks, putting his hand behind his head.

you're quick to agree, the thought of seeing him again making you visibly giddy. “i’d like that.”

“great,” he says, his eyes twinkling with a quiet excitement. “i'll see you around?”

you clutch the book close to your chest, smiling like an idiot. “see you around.”

[strawberrysands]

Spencer Reid x Reader: he gets shot.

Spencer Reid x Reader

Prompt: Reader is Spencer’s secret girlfriend and works at the hospital when he gets shot.

Warnings: mentions of blood, getting shot (not reader), guns, fluff, a little angst, not proofread

Word count: 1.4k

I sigh as I pinch the bridge of my nose, closing my eyes. God, it’s been a long day. You look at your watch and groan; another three hours were left on your shift?

I turn my head as I hear a chuckle next to me, seeing my coworker raise her eyebrows at me.

“Long day?” She asks me.

“You have no idea.” I sigh. “I have touched way more bodily fluids today than I ever intended to in my entire life.”

She chuckles and shakes her head at me. “At least you got someone waiting for you at home.”

I can’t help the blush that appears on my cheeks as she mentions Spencer. Sure, we’ve been together for a while now, but it never got old.

My phone buzzes and I open it, smiling to see a text from Spencer: “We’re heading out now, should be back tonight. Don’t wait up for me ;)”

I quickly reply with a “Stay safe xxx” before returning to the computer in front of me. Those last three hours would feel like days at this rate.

--

An hour or so later, a message over the PA grabs my attention.

“Any available staff, please head to the emergency bay. Male, GSW to the neck.” So I was getting some action tonight.

But oh, I wished I wouldn’t. My eyes grow wide as I recognize who was being reeled in on a stretcher.

“Spencer!” His name had left my mouth before I could stop myself. I rush over to him, putting pressure on his wound.

“His pressure’s dropping!” 

A tear rolls down my cheek as I hear those words, watching his eyes roll to the back of his head. A hand gently pushed me back, struggling against my attempts to get back to Spencer.

“Stop.” Another nurse says. “You’re too close to this. You’re no help in this state.”

I know he’s right, but my heart said otherwise. I stop struggling as Spencer gets reeled into surgery, my arms going limp at my sides as I watch helplessly.

I hadn’t even noticed the people he came in with, since I had never met his team. Their glances my way went unnoticed.

--

My knee bounces as I check the time over and over again.

“Hey.” I look to my right, seeing a woman with colorful clothing and glasses smile kindly at me. “He’ll be alright.”

I nod, not noticing in my own stress how she said ‘he’ or how she seemed to try to convince herself of those words just as much as me.

I shoot up out of the chair I was in when I recognize Spencer’s surgeon come out.

“Is he alright? Is he-“

He interrupts me before I could continue. “He’ll be okay. The surgery went alright. He’s in room 102.”

I can’t help myself as I quickly throw my arms around him. “Thank you.”

The team watches as I quickly make my way to his room.

“Who was that?” Emily asks, but she doesn’t get an answer. The whole team was just as confused as she was.

--

“Did they check your vitals again?” I’m frantic as I check them myself, not waiting for Spencer to answer. “Did they-“

Spencer grabs my hand, pulling me back into the chair beside his bed. “Look at me. I’m okay.”

I quickly shake my head as I sit back down and grab his hand in mine. “You were shot, Spence. You could’ve-“ I cut myself off as I notice the tears that start to well up in my eyes.

“Just- don’t ever do that again.” I kiss his hand, earning a smile from him that I return.

Our moment was cut short when a nurse enters, not even glancing at us as he goes to Spencer’s IV.

“He had antibiotics an hour ago.” I say, frowning at the syringe in his hand. He takes a look at the chart, shaking his head.

“Doesn’t say so here.”

I quickly realize just what type of antibiotics are in the syringe, just as Spencer does.

“Hey, I can’t have those.” He starts, reaching for the nurse. “I have a severe reaction to those, it’s all in the chart-“

When he completely ignores him, I get up. “Hey, stop!”

Just as I grab the nurse’s hand and push it away, I hear Spencer yell. “He has a gun!”

My eyes grow wide as I realize Spencer was right, seeing it just as the nurse pushes me to the floor. I scoot backwards as I stare right down the barrel of the gun. I hear Spencer yell something and commotion outside the room, footsteps coming closer. Just as the man’s hand curls around the trigger, I shoot forward in a moment of bravery.

The sound of the shot has my ears ringing, but the bullet hits the floor just as I grab his legs, tackling him to the floor and kicking the gun away. I’m breathing heavily, wether from the shock or adrenaline, I didn’t know. My hand connects to the man’s face just as the door opens, a rather panicked stern man coming in, other people right on his tail.

I see his lips move but don’t hear him say anything, the ringing too strong. I turn to Spencer to see if he’s alright, finding his eyes already on me. He, too, was saying something as he reached for me, his hand cupping my face.

“Hotch, get him out of here.” I hear Spencer say, my hearing slowly coming back. The stern man from earlier handcuffs and escorts the man out of there, the others behind him staying at the door.

“Are you okay?” Spencer asks, his eyes scanning my face for any sort of injury. I cover his hand on my cheek with my own, nodding at him.

“Yeah, I’m just, uh, I-“ I ramble. “I’m okay.”

“I hate to interrupt, but uh-“ I turn around to see the voice coming from one of the people still at the door, black hair adorning her face as she motions to the two of us.

“Oh, yeah, I really wished you would’ve met under different circumstances, but,” Spencer starts, before motioning from me to the others, “this is my team. Emily, Derek, Rossi, JJ, Garcia, Hotch – this is Y/N, my, uh, girlfriend.”

A few looks of shock pass over their faces as I wave at them, a shy smile on my face.

“I really wanted you to meet her, I did, but it’s-“ Spencer starts explaining, but the man called Rossi cuts him off.

“It’s alright, kid. We understand.” He smiles kindly.

“Damn, pretty boy. I’m proud of you.” Derek says, smiling widely at his friend and winking at me.

“Shut up.” Spencer groans, and I can’t help but chuckle. He was never going to hear the end of this.

“You really pack a punch.” Emily says to me, referring to the man whose nose was probably broken.

“Oh, it was probably just the adrenaline.” I say, getting slightly flustered at all the attention.

“Girl, you broke the guy’s nose. That’s impressive.” The blonde woman, JJ, smiles at me.

“Now, everyone get out. I’d like to have my girlfriend to myself, before all of you steal her from me.”

Spencer’s statement earns a round of chuckles from everyone, before finally leaving the two of you alone.

His thumb runs soothing circles across your bruised knuckles, smiling at you. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

“I know.” I say, grinning. “Your team seems nice. The guy in the suit, Hotch, could loosen up a little though.”

Spencer laughs at that, shaking his head. “I’ve been trying to tell him for years.”

I lean forward, gently brushing your lips against his.

“I love you.” I whisper, feeling Spencer smile against my lips.

--

“He better not let her go.” Rossi says, all of the team watching you through the window.

“How did he not tell anyone for so long? If I had a girlfriend that pretty, I would be boasting about it.” Garcia huffs, shaking her head.

Derek chuckles. “Yes, you would, baby girl.”

Hotch clears his throat. “Don’t you think we’re a bit creepy, just watching them through the window?”

Emily shrugs. “Probably. But they’re too cute, I’m not leaving.”

[synvil]

unknown girlfriend // spencer reid

a/n : it’s been so long since I’ve been on tumblr, I’m forgetting how everything works.

synopsis : spencer has a secret girlfriend, that the others don’t know about, until she shows up at their door.

“WHEELS UP in 30.”

Hearing the familiar phrase that indicates their leave, Spencer gets up from the round table and lets out a sigh, making his way over to his desk.

Emily, Morgan and JJ follow after, and smile in amusement at their residential genius. “What’s wrong, pretty boy?”

“Nothing. Why?”

Spencer furrows his brows as the three members surround his desk curiously, while JJ shrugs. “We just noticed you’ve been a bit different lately.”

“What do you mean?”

Emily smirks as she leans against the edge of his desk and tilts her head. “Well, let’s see. First, it’s the inconsistent timing of your arrival into the office.” She begins, and Spencer clears his throat. “There’s been construction on my road lately, guess it’s hard to make it here on time.” He defends and Derek chuckles.

“Okay, then what about your constant texting and smiling at your phone all the time?” Derek grins, bringing his coffee to his lips as Spencer huffs. “I’ve been looking into facilities appropriate for my mom and found some really nice ones recently.”

Unconvinced, JJ then adds, “you’ve been in such a rush to get back to your desk and phone, and in a rush to get off the plane first thing when we come back from a case, first one to head home,” she continues and Spencer stammers at her words. “I’m just really excited to get back into my apartment is all.”

“Look, all we’re saying is, it seems you have a little pep in your step~” Derek gives a little shoulder dance as Emily and JJ giggle. “Come on, Spence, we’re just teasing. But based on all of that, I’d say you have a little girlfriend as of late. When can we meet her?”

“Profiling me, I see..” Spencer mumbles as he leans down in his chair, making the three smile while Derek ruffles his hair. “Hey, we’re happy for you anyways. Proud of you, kid.” Derek smirks as Emily laughs, getting up from Spencer’s desk and looks to the door instinctively.

“Oh? Who’s that?”

The laughter ceases as the four agents look to the door, seeing a young woman, holding a cup of coffee in her hands, and talking with Anderson.

Spencer’s eyes widen when he sees her and a smile unknowingly forms on his lips as he quickly gets up.

“Excuse me, do you know where I can find Dr. Reid?” You ask softly and Anderson smiles kindly and turns over to the bullpen just as Spencer starts walking over.

“Oh- he’s on his way.” Anderson chuckles and you smile gratefully, nodding. “Thank you.”

Anderson nods in return and walks away, just as Spencer wraps his arms around you tightly, giving you a quick spin out of excitement.

Unable to contain the giggle that escapes your voice, you carefully hold the cup. “Careful, baby, I’m gonna spill-“ Spencer brightens his smile as he sets you down and looks at your hands. “You didn’t-“

“Yep!~” You cheerily hand over the cup and wink playfully at him. “The usual, just how you like it. I figured you could use it.”

Accepting the drink with gratitude, Spencer presses a kiss to your forehead. “Thank you so much, darling.”

“Of course, honey.” Your soft voice reaches his ears as his heart warms as much as his hands does when he holds the coffee.

“So, looks like we were right.”

Spencer offers a weaker, sheepish smile towards his coworkers as you spin around to see the owner of the voice, meeting three new people in front of you.

“Oh- hi. I’m sorry for interrupting, I just wanted to drop off Spencer’s coffee.” You explain and Emily shakes her head. “It’s no problem. We’re happy to meet the person who’s been making our resident genius so happy~” she teases, making you smile in embarrassment.

“I’m Derek, this is JJ and Emily.” Derek introduces kindly, extending his hand out and you shake it firmly, smiling confidently as you shake the women’s hands.

“Nice to meet you. I’m [Name].”

Spencer presses a gentle hand to your back and smiles warmly. “Guys, this is my girlfriend.” His eyes seem to brighten the more he stares at you, and the others make sure to notice how loved he looks.

“How long have you two been together?” JJ grins, happy to see her best friend so in love.

“About a few months so far.. we’ve met and known each other for a while though.” You answer, taking a glance at your watch. “Speaking of time, I have to get going to the office.”

“Oh, where do you work?” Emily hums and you turn to her. “I’m a pediatrician. I work at the local clinic for adolescents.” You then turn to Spencer and press a quick kiss to his lips.

“Good luck on the case, I’ll text you when I get to work.” You turn the other three and wave kindly. “Nice to meet you all again!”

Your eyes then meet with two other men by a railing in the farther side of the room and you nod in acknowledgment, offering a small smile. “I’ll see you later!”

Spencer waves goodbye and watches as you walk back to the elevator before his eyes drift to his coffee.

Derek places a hand on his shoulder and grins. “My man.”

“She’s pretty, and works with kids.” JJ whistles and Emily laughs. “We should set up a proper meeting with her and the rest of the team soon.”

Spencer only smiles warmly and looks in the direction of the elevator. “Yeah..”

a/n: Spencer would totally call you “darling, sweetheart” and all these domestic terms and I’m here for it. I love him.

Synvil™️ do not copy my work.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

I'll Always Choose You

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.8k

Warnings: car accident, injured!reader, bitchy girlfriend, angst, fluff at the end

Request by @jessicalynnann: I’m requesting another one lol. Can I get a request where the reader and Jensen are best friends and Jensen is falling in love with her but his gf is really rude to her and makes him choose. Well the reader hears and distances herself… well Jensen realizes it is too late and the best friend is the one that makes him happy but the reader gets into an bad accident. You decided the ending. Thanks.!!! 

Summary: Jensen is back in town with his new girlfriend and is hosting a barbecue to get together with everyone and catch up. This is the first time you're meeting her, and she doesn't take you to as kindly as she leads everyone to believe she is.

Square Filled: in vino veritas (2021) for @spndeanbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Jensen hasn’t even been back for more than a week and he’s already having a barbecue at his cabin in the mountains. He rents the place out every summer and invites everyone he knows to stay with him for the weekend. The place is big enough to house two dozen people and Jensen knows a lot of people. It’s been a few months since Jensen has been home since he’s traveling with his new girlfriend. You haven’t met her yet but you have talked to Jensen about her. He seems to be crazy about her so you’re not going to ruin what they have.

Yes, you have a crush on him. Yes, you love him. Yes, you’d do anything to make him happy. Yes, he is your best friend. No, you won’t do anything about it because he seems to be happy. What kind of friend would you be if you took that away from him?

Once you finish getting ready into a summer flowy dress, you grab the food you cooked and pile into your car. The cabin is located in the mountains up north so it takes you an hour to get there. There are already a bunch of people there but you don’t mind being later than everyone else. You pull into the driveway and see Jared’s car indicating that him and his wife are already here.

You let yourself into the house and enter the kitchen to place your food there when you see a young and beautiful woman. She must be Denise, Jensen’s girlfriend. You recognize her from the photos he’s sent you.

“Oh, hi. Denise?”

She looks you up and down as if she’s judging you.

“Yeah. You must be Y/N.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” you smile.

“You have such a cute dress on. Don’t let the drinks ruin it.”

It’s the way she says this that makes ou suspicious. She seems a bit passive-aggressive like she doesn't like you. Instead of giving you a chance, she’s already decided that she doesn’t like you. You’re not going to let her ruin your night because you came here for one thing and one thing only.

“I can handle myself. Where is Jensen?”

Speaking of, your best friend walks inside the kitchen using the back door with containers of food in his hands. He looks at you and a big smile breaks out on his face.

“Y/N! You came!” He sets down the food and scoops you into his arms. You don’t miss the way Denise is glaring at you two. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too.”

“Baby, you promised you’d show me around,” Denise says and pulls her boyfriend away from you. “Remember? You said you’d do it when you got done outside.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” He turns to you. “I’ll be right back. Jared and Gen are outside.”

“Okay,” you nod.

Denise practically drags him away, leaving you all alone. You shake off this bad feeling you’re getting and join the others outside. Jared is talking to some guys off to the side while Gen is heping prep the table for the food. Joshua, Jensen’s brother, is using the grill to make his famous chicken on the other side of the backyard.

“Y/N!” Jared says a bit too loudly.

“Whoa, are you okay?” you chuckle and hug him.

“Yeah, I’m great.”

Jared has always been a light weight despite how tall he is. He definitely has the weight to keep the effects of alcohol away but he acts like he’s a hundred pounds when he drinks. It only takes a few drinks to really get him going.

“What number of drink is that?”

“Three?”

“You drink any more, you’ll bring out Doug. Do you really want to do that?”

“Probably not,” he chuckles.

You have fond memories of Jared’s alter ego coming out after he’s had too many to drink. The night usually ends in the cops being called but it’s memories you love to think about.

“So, I met Denise.”

Jared starts laughing at the tone of your voice.

“Yeah, everyone has that same reaction when they first meet her.”

“What is her problem?”

“I don’t know. She’s not the best person to be around but no one says anything because it seems like Jensen is happy. They’ve only been dating for a few months but they seem happy together.”

Jensen and Denise come back from the self-tour and you watch as she clings to his side even though he wants to go over to his friends and converse. He has a smile on his face that doesn’t quite reach his ears. He might be happy but it’s not true happiness.

“You don’t know him like I do.”

You leave Jared’s side to join Jensen’s. He has yet to tell you about his trip and now’s the perfect time to do that. It’s been so long since you’ve seen him, you just want to be around him. However, Denise sees you walking over to them and she tugs on Jensen’s arm to grab his attention. She leans in and whispers something in his ear that causes him to chuckle.

“Sure,” he nods.

They both walk off before you can get to them, and Denise looks back at you to gauge your reaction. You pretend like you weren't walking to them and veer to the right where Gen is. She says something to you but you’re not paying attention. You stare at the couple until they disappear around the corner of the house. Jensen didn’t even see you coming toward him.

You push down your feelings and enjoy the company of everyone else until dinner is served. Jensen took the seat next to you before Denise could pull him away so she is forced to take the other side of him. Everyone digs into the delicious food immediately and the conversation somehow gets on the topic of how stupid Jensen has been in his past.

“Once Jared told me I couldn't do it, I had to prove him wrong. I climbed up to the roof  and got ready to jump into the pool.”

“I told him not to do it but he wouldn’t listen,” you chuckle.

“Yeah, so I got a running head start and jumped off into the pool. I made it in but it was shallower than I thought, and I broke my arm on the side of the pool.”

“You were a big cry baby,” you laugh and lean on his arm in laughter. “I held your hand the entire way to the hospital.”

“That you did,” he smiles down at you.

Denise’s jaw ticks in annoyance and jealously. She grabs her alcoholic drink and walks past you as if she is going to get a refil. However, she “trips” and she spills her entire drink all over your new dress. You gasp from how cold it is and stand up in shock.

“Oh, I am so sorry!” Denise apologizes.

“Shit, that’s cold!”

You look down at your dress to see the alcohol already staining your dress. You look at Denise and see the malicious intent in her eyes. She might be faking an apology but you know she couldn’t care less about this. She did this on purpose.

“Here, come with me. Let me clean this up before the stain sets.”

“Do you need me to come with you?” Jensen asks.

“No, I got this,” Denise chuckles.

She takes you into the cabin before you have  achance to say anything. As soon as the door is closed, she becomes a whole other person. She drops the nice girl act and shows her true colors.

“I don’t know what your problem is, but stay away from my boyfriend.”

“My problem? What are you talking about?”

You grab some napkins to dab your dress without her help.

“You can play games all you want but he’s mine, and I’ll make your life miserable if you keep doing what you’re doing.”

“I don’t want him,” you lie.

“Please,” she scoffs and rolls her eyes, “I saw the way you were looking at him the entire night. Stay away from him or I’ll do more than pour alcohol down your dress.” She walks back to the door but pauses because she’s not done talking. “I am better than you in every way. You might be the best friend but I’m his girlfriend, and I always get what I want.” She gives you a sweet smile as if she didn’t just threaten you. “It’s nice to meet you though. Sorry about the dress.”

As soon as she leaves the kitchen, tears roll down your cheeks. You can’t go back out there looking like a mess so you dry your cheeks and your dress as much as possible before going back outside. Everyone is mostly done with dinner so they’re standing around instead of sitting. Jensen immediately walks over to you with a look of concern on his face.

“Hey, are you okay? I can pay for the dry cleaning.”

You look at Denise who is watching you with careful eyes. Jensen might genuinely be happy with her so you can’t take that away from him and tell him how rotten his girlfriend is. Plus, would he even believe you? Yes, you’re his best friend but would he believe you over his girlfriend?

“No, it’s okay. It was a misunderstanding,” you sigh.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

You excuse yourself and walk over to Jared who has been watching you three the entire night. He had two glasses of water at dinner so he’s sobered up some more. He sees the look of defeat on your face and nudges you arm.

“They won’t last.”

“What?”

“I don’t see them lasting another month.”

“Why would I care?”

“Come on,” Jared chuckles. “We all know you’re in love with him.”

“Shut your mouth, Jared,” you snap.

“What, am I wrong?”

You look at Jensen and Denise who are all over each other. She has her arms wrapped around his neck and his hands are low on her hips. You have to hold back your tears.

“It doesn’t matter how I feel. She clearly doesn’t want me around.”

“Give it time.”

Jensen and Denise walk into the cabin to do God only knows what, and you decide it’s best if you leave now. You don’t want to spend the night and have to hear them through the walls.

“As much fun as this whole thing has been, I should go now.”

You give Jared a side hug so you don’t get the alcohol on him.

“Good luck.”

You can’t leave this party without saying goodbye to Jensen. You’ll steal a couple of minutes and leave and that will be that. You don’t even have to give him a hug goodbye . You walk inside the house in search of your best friend. You walk past the kitchen into the living room where you overhear Denise and Jensen talking.

“What’s wrong? You were fine when we showed up.”

“I don’t like that you spend so much time with her. I’m your girlfriend who loves you.”

“She’s my best friend.” Great, they’re talking about you. How can you go in there now? It’ll only be awkward and you’ll give away that you’ve been listening. “We grew up together.”

“You’re with me now. Y/N needs to find someone she loves and leave us alone. I don’t want to be rude but it’s obvious she wants you.”

You can’t see Jensen’s face from where you’re at but you can only imagine what it looks like.

“You’re overreacting.”

“Do you have feelings for her? Is that why you’re being this way?”

You hold your breath and wait for his answer.

“Be this way? What are you talking about?”

“It’s me or her. Pick one. You can’t have both.”

You can’t bear the thought of hearing his answer because there is a chance that he might choose her. You quickly leave the room without hearing his answer and escape to your car. You shouldn’t have come. He has been with Denise for months across the world. He probably has a lot more fun with her than he does with you. He’s found someone to replace you with. You can’t fault him for choosing her. She can give him everything you can’t.

You peel out of the driveway and start the journey back home. Tears are flowing down your cheeks making it harder to see the road in front of you. It’s a particularly windy day so your car is slightly shaking; nothing you can’t control. It doesn’t help you’re driving in the mountains with no light except for that of your headlights. Through your tears, you don’t see the car on the other side of the roading coming straight at you.

You hit him going seventy miles an hour head on, and you’re thrown from the windshield and onto the groound. You left in such a hurry that you forgot to put your seatbelt on. The car you hit is a much bigger car than yours so it doesn’t have nearly as much damage as yours. The car slams on its break before slowly driving off, leaving you on the ground outside.

You gasp in pain and stare at the starry sky above you. Blood runs down your body and pools on the ground. You never took time to admire how pretty the night sky is. Your entire body is in pain but there is a certain peace that comes with being on the brink of death. You close your eyes to get some sleep when you hear someone calling your name off in the distance.

How much time has passed? It seems like minutes but could have been for much longer.

“Y/N!” Jensen gasps and slides on the ground when he gets to you. You open your eyes and see red and blue lights flashing off his face. “I’m right here. You’re going to be okay. Just hang on for me, okay? Please be okay.”

“Sir, you need to move.”

Jensen is pulled back so the paramedics can come in and do their job. You close your eyes because you’re so fucking tired. You feel yourself being lifted off the ground and onto something softer than the ground. You’re wheeled on a gurney into the ambulance with Jensen following closely behind.

“Sir, only family are allowed inside.”

“I’m her husband,” Jensen shouts and pushes past the paramedics.

They allow him to sit inside and be with you until they get to the hospital. Jensen grabs your bloody hand just as you roll your head to the side. You barely squeeze his hand to let him knwo you’re with him and not going toward the light no matter how tempting it might be.

“I’m right here, sweetheart. I’m holding your hand.”

The next time you open your eyes, you’re confronted with blinding white lights. Is this what Heaven is like? Did you die? You blink a few times to correct your vision and see you’re not in Heaven but a hospital room. You groan softly and look to your right where Jensen is. He is holding your hand with his head lowered like he’s praying. When he hears your painful groan, his head snaps up.

“Sweetheart. Hey, I’m right here.”

“Jensen?” you croak.

“Do you need some water?” You nod and he grabs a small cup of water. He helps you drink before setting the cup down. “How are you feeling?”

“What happened?”

“You collided with another car. The bastard left instead of staying but cops found him near where the cabin is. There’s only one road going in and out of town so it wasn’t hard to spot the truck with bumper damage. Your car is totaled though.”

Oh, yeah. The reason why you didn't see the other car is because you had tears flowing out of your eyes the entire time. Why were you crying? Right. Jensen was going to choose Denise over you. You take your hand away from his when you remember this and shift further from him.

“Where is Denise?”

“Gone.” Your eyes snap to his. “I broke up with her.”

“What? Why?”

“She made me choose. Anyone who makes me choose isn’t good enough to be with me.”

“What did she make you choose?” you ask even though you know the answer.

“It was either you or her, and you should know by now I will always choose you.”

“You shouldn’t have had to do that.”

“I’m glad she did.” He grabs your good hand and kisses the back of it. “I was blind to who was by my side my entire life.”

You smile and run your thumb on the back of his hand.

“What does this mean?”

“First, you get better. Then, I’m going to show you just how much I love you.”

“Deal,” you smile shyly.

x

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[porkcutletbowl44]

Beauty & Her Beast

John Price x F!Reader

Warnings: CAVITY WARNING!!fluff, VERY MILD hurt(mention of infertility), husband & wife banter(lovingly)💖 SUGGESTIVE NSFW🔞🔞🔞

(I hope this idea isn't taken! this was just too cute to not write 🥺)

╔═*.·:·.✧🪷✦🪷✧.·:·.*═╗

Accidents happen. And John isn't one for big change, so when you fractured your wrist trying to get out of a hostile's aim of fire and injured yourself, John had a fucking meltdown and finished up the mission quickly to get you back to base. Luckily you only escaped with a fracture and nothing serious, just a few months of taking it easy with your hand.

Naturally you struggled to the adjustment, and John did too. You couldn't hold his hand with your dominant hand for the time being, couldn't make yourself certain dishes, couldn't train to your full potential. You couldn't even shower properly with the handicap hand. Trying to get your hair out of your face was a hassle, pony tail, bun, claw clip, nothing worked. You couldn't do it one handed.

John, being the amazing husband he is, kindly offered to help.

"Let's see..." He mumbles, awkwardly holding a piece of hair in his hand. "Uh," He hums in hard contemplation.

"Never done it before?" You joked softly, feeling him make lose strands twirl together. 

John breathed in slowly, trying to hold back an eyebrow raise — something he failed at as it shot toward the ceiling, his lips twitching in a slight smile.

"Yeah..." John murmured, continuing to "braid" your hair with gentle movements, letting the quiet settle in between you two. 

"It's not as easy as it looks." He finally spoke up, chuckling softly.

"It's alright, divide into three sections." You instructed softly.

John's eyes narrowed in thought, his hand moving a little slower as he worked.

"There..." he muttered, "Three sections."

He took another breath in, focusing on how he'd separate the strands... and he'd do the braiding. John looked up at, eyes meeting yours in the mirror, and he was met with the vision of the most beautiful woman he'd ever met, and you were here... in this moment... with him.

You nodded slightly, "Okay, good. Now take one part, and cross it over the middle." 

John listened carefully, taking a few moments to process what you were saying before he acted. He grasped a strand farthest from the other two, and he started to cross it over the middle, pulling it together once he'd cross it. His fingers moved nimbly, he seemed to be getting the hang of this.

"Is that right?" he asked, looking up and meeting her gaze.

You laughed softly, "Now tighten those two strands criss crossed, grab the last part that's free, and pull it into the middle. Rinse and repeat." You replied. 

"Right..." he muttered, his fingers moving to follow the instructions now that he had a better hold onto the process. With a few moments, he'd pulled the third stand into the middle, and he worked to adjust the strands until it looked like it was actually braided properly. He was surprised; he'd thought it would be harder than it actually was.

"So..." John asked, looking up at you, "Is that it? Or are there still more steps?"

"Nope, go until you run out." You answered.

"Okay." John murmured, glancing down at the strands, and then he continued to braid, repeating the same motion over and over again, his hands starting to ache with the effort as he worked to concentrate. It was a simple process, however, his mind started to drift... wandering to the day he'd been told he couldn't have kids, with his wife in the same room. He didn't snap out of his train of thought for a moment until he pulled the final strand, and he examined the work — it looked good.

You grabbed the end and tied it off, examining in the mirror. 

"Perfect," You praised kindly. 

"Mhm... looks like you could've done it by yourself." John teased, chuckling as he looked over the finished braid. He then leaned back in his chair, exhaling softly, his shoulders and back relaxing in the same breath.

"I guess I'm just not used to doing it... but it's actually not that hard." John murmured, and suddenly, he raised a brow, wondering how a simple action like this was so intimate, loving. 

"My wrist hurts, alright? And you said so yourself. It's not so hard," You teased gently. 

"Alright, alright," John chuckled, not resisting any urge to smirk at your little comment.

"I guess you're right." he responded, "And... I think I'd much rather do it for you anyway."

Despite that last comment coming out of nowhere, he didn't think much of it — he'd just speak and then hope he didn't get into trouble, as usual. You were always independent. 

"I've been thinking about cutting it..." You pondered. 

"Cutting it?" John asked, looking up at you again, confusion plastered on his face before he raised a brow.

"No." he replied instantly, sounding oddly more authoritative.

"Why not? It would be much easier on deployments," You shrugged.

"Because your hair is beautiful." John said back instantly, his expression a stern disbelief. His fingers laced together, forming a steeple of his hands as the thought of your hair being shorter — or possibly gone — sent chills through him.

"And besides," he muttered, "I've got the braiding skills."

"You can do a basic Indian braid, John." You smiled. 

"You said it was perfect earlier," he defended, folding his arms over his chest and raising a brow.

At the thought that you doubted the skills he'd just demonstrated, he looked down at you, eyes almost narrow in jest. 

"it is! A perfect, simple, quick braid. Everything else is a bit too complex," You explained. 

John's face softened; you were right — he'd only done the simplest of braids.

"But..." he started again, thinking of the possibilities, "What if I practiced and got good at the more complex braids?"

You sighed softly,  "Not even a little trim?"

"Not even." He muttered.

John glanced away from you into the distance for a moment, thinking about the question you posed. The thought of you without your hair — or just shorter hair — terrified him. He knew he wouldn't be able to say anything or even stop you from cutting off your hair — but that didn't mean he was going to budge in telling you that it was an awful idea.

"Don't." he said simply.

"My hair grows fast, you know that..." You tried again a soft pout. 

"Your hair is part of what makes you... you." John replied, "Don't cut it."

The mere thought of you cutting it made him a little itchy, as if something would be... well... missing if you removed part of yourself like that.

"Please..." he finally said, his expression softening a bit.

"Okay, okay," You relented, your hands going up in surrender. Your wedding band glinted in the lighting as you moved.

John sighed, relief washing over him as his shoulders lowered. He then raised his hand to the back of yours, gently grabbing them both to stop them from moving.

"Promise me you won't ever cut it," he muttered, his voice soft and gentle, but still holding that authority it seemed to have when addressing you about more serious matters.

"I promise, John," you gave his hand a gentle squeeze. 

"Good." John whispered, but his smile didn't go anywhere.

He was happy with that answer — relieved with that answer.

"Now..." he started again, his voice shifting slightly as he tried to change the subject, "What was with the pout? Did you really think I'd let you cut your hair?"

"...Maybe." You shrugged, a smile tugging your lips. 

"Oh?" John murmured, he knew it — you definitely could pout and get your way. 

"And what did you expect me to say? 'Oh, I know how much you want your hair gone, so go right ahead!'" John asked sarcastically, his body shifting back in his chair and folding his arms again, "That what you expected?"

"Well I do kinda miss it when it was short..." You considered. 

"So you want to cut it?" John asked, his words laced with a heavy dose of skepticism in response to your comment. He'd heard people talk about their 'old hairstyles' missing from their memory, but... were you seriously considering cutting that beautiful hair off?

Not on his watch, he decided.

"Don't do it." he said again swiftly, still keeping up the facade of authority.

"Don't you remember my short hair? I thought you liked it!" You pointed out. 

"I do. But it's not... it's not nearly as beautiful as the hair you have now," John replies quietly. 

He was right — when your hair had been shorter, it was a simpler look, and it looked... more carefree, for the lack of better wording. But now? Your long hair was just more... more you. It made you look radiant and... more feminine, he supposed. He did everything he could after your wedding to postpone your hair cuts, He loved seeing your hair down. It was beautiful, radiant, it was absolutely gorgeous the way it falls over your shoulders, lays on your back, frames your face. 

You rolled your eyes, laughing under your breath at his words...Being just a tad bratty. 

"Oh, stop..." John grumbled, and it was clear in that moment that he was being playful.

But then he went quiet for a moment, wondering if cutting your hair short now would actually make you happier. Was that why you wanted it to be cut? Because you missed it? He'd have to ask you that at some point... but right now, you were too cute to be upset with.

"Then what to you suggest I do?" you questioned. 

"Nothing." John responded swiftly, "You leave it... leave it all alone."

It may have been a simple braid, but if you cut off your hair now... he didn't know how he'd feel about it. He didn't like the thought of your hair being shorter. In his mind, that was a part of your femininity, a part of you that made her... you, that made you beautiful. And if it was cut, he may never get to braid your hair again. 

"Please." he whispered, looking at you with a soft gaze.

"And a little trim is going to be the end of the world?" You joked slightly, walking over to him with your arms crossed.

"Yes." John replied swiftly, incredulously, staring up at you.

Maybe you saw it as a joke, but he didn't think you understood just how he felt about your hair — just how much he liked it. He loved running his fingers through it, watching you brush it beside the window as the sunlight makes it glow. He loves even more how he can grab a handful to force your head up at him, make you look up at him as you take every girthy inch of his cock cramming against your cervix, dragging against that spongy spot that makes your eyes roll and you moan raggedly. You would paw at his back, slurring 's too much, John-

He didn't want something like that to change about you... and yes, he knew it was just hair. But there was something about it that was just... you.

"Fine, then you can't ever shave your beard again." You made a ultimatum. 

"Fair." John muttered, not realizing just how easy  of a win that was to pull.

He'd go years without shaving his beard if it meant that your hair would stay just as it was. His hand went to his chin, and his fingers rubbed against his beard — the familiar feel brought a comforting smile to his face. You did enjoy his beard. 

"I wouldn't shave it off anyway." John added, "not after how much you like it."

"You'd just look weird without it," 

"Oh yeah?" John asked curiously, raising a brow, "Do you think I'd look that weird without it?"

He seemed a little intrigued by the concept, as if his facial hair was just a permanent fixture on his face — almost as if he couldn't imagine a version of himself without it.

"I'd look like a twelve-year-old." he stated with a smirk, making a mental note to not shave it off under any circumstances.

"Yeah probably. More unrecognizable though," You added.

"And you wouldn't like me being unrecognizable..." John teased softly, his head tilting to the side as he thought about your comment.

He enjoyed being able to look at his reflection and know that it was him he was looking at — but more than that, he liked the look of confidence that he saw on his face. He knew he was attractive, you had told him enough times. 

"Okay, fine, I see where you're coming from...do you only love me for my hair?" You laughed softly shaking your head slightly.

"Only your hair?" John responded, raising a brow, "No, not just your hair."

He knew his answer. He loved everything about you — from your playful personality and your sassy, sassy mouth, to, yes, your hair, to your... everything. John couldn't put it into words, but he loved everything about the woman standing before him.

"You're gorgeous, love. you're strong, and you're a cheeky little thing...damn that mouth o' yours." he mumbled, teasing you and returning that smirk.

You grinned, a soft blush on your cheeks.

You both finished off your daily military work, John smoking his nightly cigar while reading reports. You were across the room in his connected bedroom, undoing your braid after it got lose and messy through out the day.

Damn. John thought to himself — that look was just far too perfect to not see. He took a puff of his cigar, his eyes shifting across the room to watch you. It was a gorgeous look, one that would be a shame if you cut off your already beautiful hair.

"You look beautiful today, love." John eventually piped up, not realizing that he had been staring for longer than he'd meant to.

"Just today?" You teased, your hair now curly from the braid, soft waves on your shoulders as you walked into the office again. 

"Everyday." he amended, looking back at the reports in front of him, "But today, you look even more beautiful."

John's gaze followed you as you walked across the room, and he almost wanted to drop everything and follow you to the bedroom. He took another deep breath, trying to stay calm — You smelled so good and you looked so damn good with all those waves in your hair and those soft curves...

You sat on the chair across from him, taking your own folder. In the silence, you noticed John was in deeper thought than usual.

"What are you thinkin' about?" You asked gently. 

"Nothing," he lied, but he knew you could tell he wasn't telling the complete truth.

You knew him a little too well by now to let just a simple "Nothing" answer go unchecked, and he didn't want to tell you the truth. It wasn't like he'd been staring like a complete moron just because of the way you looked, his thoughts wondered from earlier; the position his marriage was, not having children yet in the military still.

"You sure? You can talk to me, John." You said affectionately, 

"Just thinking about our marriage..." John responded, then his tone softened slightly. "Just the fact that we're still..." and then he went quiet again, not knowing what to say.

He wanted to say that they still hadn't had children yet, but could he? Could he really say that to you, after you both found out he wasn't able to?

"...Married?" You finished for him with a confused smile. 

"Not just married." John responded, "But that we still... have no children yet."

He sounded... defeated now. And he didn't want you to be able to tell — because God knew if you heard him, you'd feel pity for him, something that he hated.

"We still can't seem to..." and he went quiet again, not knowing how to finish that sentence.

"I know." You murmured softly, your eyes softening at him.

"You know, I don't need kids to be happy. I just need you," You assured. "You took it harder than me, to be honest." You added. 

"I know, I know." he said softly, but your words still cut deeper than you knew.

His heart squeezed with emotion, with the feeling of failure being the central theme of the words you said about not needing children to be happy. You  didn't need them to be happy, he knew that... but did you want them?

Did you truly have no desire to become a mother? That's what he feared, deep down, in his heart, that he would disappoint you.

"I mean, the doctor said you weren't completely sterile, we would just have a hard time... so the chances aren't zero at least?" You offered, trying to give him peace of mind. 

"But the chances are still low." John responded, his eyes falling to the files in front of him.

He didn't want to think about the fact that there was a chance. Hell, he didn't want to think about what it would feel like to have those hopes raised, and then crushed back down again when it didn't happen.

He hated hope already, but this... this was just... worse.

"I know." You sighed out, reaching and grabbing his hand, giving a small squeeze. 

"I just... I want a kid, so badly." he becomes slightly frustrated, "Everyday, I feel guilty for not giving that to you."

He knew you'd say that there was no reason to feel that way, that you were already happy enough... but he wasn't. He needed to make your life better.

"You deserve it." John muttered, almost to himself.

"do I need one though?" You asked, a playful smile on your lips as you searched his eyes.

"No, you don't. You don't need one..." he murmured. 

But he couldn't help but think, did you want one?

Did you?

The playful look you gave was adorable, and it made his breath catch in his throat.

"But... if you wanted one..." and he went quiet again, not knowing what to say afterwards.

"I certainly wouldn't mind, to have one with you. If we don't, then I'm perfectly fine with that too." You assured.

"Promise?" he mumbled, that hint of hope returning to his voice.

He hoped that she meant it, that you did feel fine with it... because if you did, then it wouldn't leave you feeling unfulfilled. You didn't need child to have a fulfilling life. Or, at the very least, you both didn't need one to be happy.

"You're okay with the possibility of not getting one?"

"Of course... We can keep trying though. If you want," You offered. 

"I do... god yeah." he muttered, looking away.

If you were... okay with it, he was too. He wouldn't force you to have a child if you didn't want one. And even if you never did get one he couldn't bring himself to get that upset over it because you had said that you were perfectly fine without one.

"Let's keep trying..." he murmured softly, looking down at your hand in his, "And whatever happens, happens."

"Okay," You muttered.

"Okay." he repeated, and for a moment, you sat in silence in your usual comfort.

John was silent, but his mind was going a mile-a-minute, going over all the different scenarios that may happen after all of this. And you were sitting, hair a bit messy in the braids you'd undone, his hand in your, still thinking about children as your future. He wouldn't give up on that dream, with you.

He wouldn't, not ever.

"I love you." he murmured softly, then his tone became somewhat teasing. "I don't think I've said it today yet."

"I love you too," You responded back, a loving smile on your face.

He let one of his signature mustache smiles take over as his thumb lightly traced over the back of your hand. Everything was quiet for a moment as he did so, taking in this moment with his wife — your soft curls, beautiful eyes, and the way your fingers moved in his. Your breath was short and sweet, and your smile was infectious. In that moment... it was as if the world had paused for just a little while longer than necessary.

You stood up, releasing his hand. "I'm gonna go to bed, you gonna keep working?" 

"Hm? No..." John responded, also standing up, "I'm gonna go get changed for bed as well."

It had been a long day, and though part of the Captain wanted to stay up just a little longer than needed for some sort of closure... tonight just felt like one of those nights, where you could sleep in his bed together, cuddled up and holding each other tightly.

By the time John comes in, you've changed into pajamas, you were trying to tie your hair back, with some difficulty due to your wrist. John had returned, slowly and leisurely making his way into the room, then pausing his steps at the sight. He smirked  and approached, taking your bad wrist gently.

"Let me," he murmured.

You dropped your hands, letting him re-braid your hair back with ease now that he learned how to.

"You're having fun aren't you?" You mused quietly. 

"Can't deny it." he smiled, and his touch was... slow, and meticulous as he braided your hair from the fresh memory. 

He knew you'd notice, but he didn't care because you deserved to feel cared about in the same way that he wanted to feel.

"I mean, after learning to braid your hair today..." he muttered, a smirk on his face as his hands moved methodically to your hair, "Of course, I'm having fun."

He tossed the braid over your shoulder, giving your waist a soft pat.

"Here you go, love" he breathed, "all done."

His touch stayed on your waist for just a few seconds longer, before eventually removing his hands. You looked so pretty, with your hair all nicely braided. Your hips swayed slightly as you moved, and when you did... John couldn't help but to look at you, even your walk was intoxicating to him. You grinned happily, grabbing him by his shirt and tugging him along with you to bed.

This made John chuckle, his eyes moved to yours with a sly grin on his face.

It seemed his wife had been wanting something else for tonight, other than simply sleeping in bed together. He obliged, and let you pull him along, with that sultry smirk still on his face.

"What's the grin for?" You chuckled, falling back on your side of the bed. 

"Wouldn't you like to know." he teased back softly, smirking.

He fell onto the bed with you, his arm reached around your waist, and pulled you closer, his hand came up and cradled your face. He could tell when you might have been in the mood, and he could tell that you were in the mood for something tonight.

His thumb moved slightly, and it gently pressed against your skin. And, for a second, he was silent as he stared at you, his eyes moving over you in the comfortable space you were in together. Finally, he broke his silence with a quiet mumble.

"Hey, love?"

"hm?" 

"Come closer," he said softly, almost in a whisper.

His hand slid from your face and down to your shoulder and tugged, pulling you closer to his chest, his other hand shifting to your lower back. You scooted a little closer with the help of his movements. The hand on your lower back slowly moved so that both of his hands could slide under the loose T-shirt you were wearing, his warm hands gently touching your back sensually.

You shivered, arching into him with a exhale. His body almost buzzed with excitement when he sees how he can make you react. He felt goosebumps on your skin, letting his hand wander. Up, down, left, right... they continued to move around, just gently, barely touching your skin. He relished in the sensations he was causing. He was taking this slow, as he loved to do. After all, there was no need to be in a rush, not when you had all the time in the world.

He loves the way he makes you squirm, trying to get closer, tugging on his shirt needily. His cock swells against his hip, waking up and getting ready to sink into your hot pussy. 

When he spoke next, his voice was quiet and soft, like a gentle breeze.

"You inna mood, dove?"

"If you keep doing that I'm gonna loose my mind," You mumbled against his chest.

"Doin' what?"

He smiled, one of his hands moved up slightly, and his fingers grazed over between your shoulder blades.

"Touchin' you...?" John asked, almost innocently. He was doing this on purpose.

"Touching me like this," You clarified.

"You like it when I touch you like this?" he asked, and his hand slid higher, all the way up to the nape of your neck near your hairline where the base of the braid was. He wraps it around his knuckles once, tugging to pull your head back.

Oh, this was much better than when your hair is down. 

One hand continued to move over your body as he spoke, trailing over your skin, and moving to tease the underside of your breast, before disappearing back around your back once more.

"John," You whimpered at the tug, licking your lips, as you closed your eyes at the feeling of his beard scratching your throat with kisses. "I like it when you actually touch me."

It made him feel somewhat primal— wanting to take and claim, and he shifted quickly, his hands gripping your waist.  His teeth softly bit down on your neck, and he slowly started marking his way down to your collarbone, while he continued to speak.

"I am touching you."

"But—not all the way," You whined.  

"Not all the way?" he repeated back, his tone playful and teasing, as if he had no idea what the hell you were talking about.

He could tell what you wanted all too well, but he was gonna tease you anyway, until he got the words from you. John was a man of consent after all. He continued to mark his way down, shifting down so that he could bite and suck at the sensitive skin above the area of your sport bra, grinding his girthy cock against your covered cunt. 

"John," You grumbled, grabbing a fist full of his shirt with your good hand. 

Hearing you grumble his name was a sign that he was really, really starting to get you worked up. It was cute, seeing his wife grumble and complain, as if you couldn't just use your words to explain yourself.

"Say please," he suggested, and his beard scratching your skin.

You glared up at him, going to grab the pillow to shove in his face— only to hiss in pain when you used your fractured wrist to grab. His expression hardened for a second before he quickly shifted his attention to your injured wrist, gently taking it away from the pillow and holding it up.

"What are you doing-" he said firmly, and the tone of his voice changed from playful to concerned in just a few seconds.

"I forgot," You gritted in pain, sitting up with him as he cradled your brace.

"You forgot?" he echoed, a scolding eyebrow raised up and an unamused glare on his face.

He sat up with you, being careful to not jostle your wrist that he was holding, making sure his fingers were gentle on the brace. This was the last thing he wanted to deal with, while in a moment like this, but it had happened, and now he was set on making sure you were okay.

"Forgettin' that you're supposed to be restin', that wrist of yours?"

"This is the hand I use for everything," You defended, pouting.

"I'm well aware o' that," he responded back, and his voice was more stern than before.

He knew exactly what you used that hand for, probably more than you did, which is why when he saw your cast move it sent him into a short-lived panic. He took a moment to let the panic subside, taking a breath to calm himself before he spoke again.

"You can't be doin' somethin' like this," he said, his voice still firm. "If you hurt yourself even more, I swear to God..."

"I get it, I forgot, I'm sorry," you retorted in a grumbling irritated tone.

"Look, I get that it's hard with your wrist bein' like this and all, but you can't go forgettin' about it. It's not going anywhere until it heals, and it could take a couple weeks for it to get better."

"It's not like I can help it. I write with this hand, I open lids with it, carry stuff, grab, my other one is practically useless..."

Of course it was hard to forget that you even have a fractured wrist, since it's something you have to use constantly. But it being something you have to use constantly doesn't mean you should.

"You can still do things using your other hand," he said softly, "it's not useless."

"it feels useless." You grunted.

"Maybe useless is the wrong word, then..." John mumbled, and his thumb moved to rub circles on the back of your hand.

He hated seeing you this frustrated, and it just wasn't right. He didn't like that you had to deal with this.

"Impairin'?" he said after a moment, "or maybe uncomfortable?"

"...wrong?" You offered. 

"Maybe inconvenient is the word you're lookin' for, then?" John replied back, his expression lessening into something more relaxed.

There was a faint smile on his face now, and he brought the back of your hand up to his mouth to press a gentle kiss to it.

"And it really itches." You added with a whine.

"Yeah?" he smirked. 

He wasn't surprised that you were complaining about it. In fact, he figured you'd start complaining sooner or later about the itch.

"It itches, does it, love?" he mumbled, and he pressed a few more light and gentle kisses to your knuckles.

"Id rather have a bullet wound than this..." You grumbled. "Id at least have range in my damn hands."

His head tilted up at that, and his smirk became a little more amused.

"Now that's not true, now is it?" he said, a soft tone to his words, and he started to brush his beard softly against your knuckles.

"You sayin' you'd take a bullet for me, dove?"

"Without a second thought." You whispered.

His smirk slowly faded at that, his expression softening, and the tone of his voice shifted at the words. He knew you weren't lying to him, he knew how much you loved him and cared for him, but it still wasn't fun hearing it spoken so... casually.

"Don't... don't say stuff like that," he said softly, and he let go of your one hand to reach the other to press it against the side of your face.

"I mean it." You implored, barely above a whisper.

He knew you did, and that's what made it so difficult to hear. Seeing you right in front of him, the love of his life, telling him that you'd take a bullet for him.

"I know," he breathed. 

His thumb brushed over your cheek as he spoke, his voice still so soft, and his own expression was filled with nothing but affection.

"I don't care to hear you speakin' about takin' bullets."

"Any more than I already have?" You asked wryly.

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth at that question, and his eyes sparkled a bit.

"That's completely different, and you know better than to go bringing up old memories," he said softly, and his hand moved to scratch the back of your neck lightly with his fingers.

"I'm bein' serious. I don't want you sayin' things like that, dove, and I really don't want you actually doin' it."

"But I would if I ever had to," You quip.

"I swear, you are a pain in the ass," he mumbled, but there was an affectionate tone to it. He was half-glaring at you when saying it, but you could tell that he wasn't really annoyed.

"You just love to give me a hard time, don't you, dove? Always findin' a way to make yourself a thorn in my side."

"It's because I love you," You grinned.

That damn smile and cheeky grin always got him, and no matter how annoyed he was, it would still make him smile a genuine smile to himself.

"Love me so much that you make me want to throttle you, huh?"

"In the good ways?"

"In both the good and the bad ways," he confirmed, and that smirk came back full force.

"You've still got your fair share o' brat in you, after all, even after all these years of being married."

You laugh through a bitten lips. 

"See? That's what I'm talkin' about," he pointed out. 

When you started biting your lip like that, he knew that there was some cheeky comment coming.

"You just can't help yourself, can you?" he asked, a hint of tease to his voice as tugged he you into him. "you think it's funny gettin' on my nerves, don't you?"

"100%." You sighed, settling into his arms.

He shifted to get a bit more comfortable with you in his arms, and his arms wrapped snuggly around your form.

He loved having you near. In his lap, in his arms— close enough for him to feel your body heat, to smell your hair, to feel you.

"You are a brat," he repeated softly, and his hand started rubbing up and down your side again.

You stuck your tongue out at him. He knew that was coming the second you settled into him. He was about to respond to the tongue, maybe with a comment about how you're a child or a brat, but he was a bit distracted. He smirked, and his arm snaked around your waist to keep you in place, and in one quick, fluid movement he leaned forward and caught the tongue between his teeth, tugging gently. Your squeak only fuels his smirk, and now there was smugness to it.

He loved to get the upper hand over you in these moments, and he loved the noises that were coming from you. He loved you. His hand on your side slid into the small of your back, and he used it to bring you closer into him, keeping you right against him.

"That was mean," You grumbled, cuddling him while his hand traced your braid.

"Yeah, I know," he said softly, his hand continuing to run along the length of the braid. 

His fingers moved gently across it and moving up, his nails brushing over your scalp.

"You just make it so easy, I can't help myself, sometimes. Besides, you know you like it."

He chuckled again, and his arms wrapped around you a little tighter as you cuddled into him. His own hold on you was always safe, a secure feeling that came with the strong arms that wrapped around you, and the gentle warmth that came with his chest and body heat. His beard brushed against your temple as he buried his nose into your hair, and his voice was a soft whisper.

"Did I mention that I love your hair when it's braided like this?" he gave it a soft, gentle tug, to feel it slide against his hand. 

"It looks even more adorable when it's braided, I swear. It's like I find new ways to love you more and more each day, and I wasn't sure that was even possible."

"All thanks to you and your braiding skills." you giggled.

His smirk morphed into a small, prideful smile at that compliment, and he gave a dramatic scoff.

"Damn right it is," he said in a playful tone. "All my doin', I'm the reason your hair looks so cute right now."

"Just wait until you see what it looks like when I make extra curls." You said, closing your eyes with a smug smile.

"Fuckin' hell," he said with a shaky exhale, and he almost felt a bit light-headed just at the thought.

And if he was being honest, his mind was definitely imagining it, picturing what you'd look like with your hair a little differently, and he knew that it would be breathtaking.

"Purposefully curling hair?" he mumbled, his voice soft, and there was awe mixed with surprise. "You can do more?" and he could suddenly see it, your hair all freshly done, framing your face, and it was making his heart flutter.

"You'd do that f'me?" he asked softly, and his voice was just filled to the brim with adoration as his expression.

He already knew the answer, he already could imagine what you'd look like with your hair all dolled up, and the thought of it was just-

"I could, if you'd like." You shrugged. 

That was all it took.

Just the idea of how you'd look like with your hair curled, adding a little extra, the thought of you running your fingers through the ringlets, or how you'd look with your hair all fresh curled, blown out and bouncing around when you moved.

"Please," he said quickly, and his voice came out almost pleading. "I would very much love to see that, dove."

He was already dreaming about it, the images in his head of you laughing and smiling, your hair all curled and moving around, the way he knows you'd probably mess with the curls.

"You're going to look absolutely gorgeous, you know that, right?" he asked with a soft murmur, his tone one of complete adoration.

"You're so dramatic sometimes," you teased, using his chest as a pillow.

He playfully scoffed a laugh at that comment, and he feigned offense.

"It's not dramatic, dove," he mumbled, "It's called being honest."

Your head was resting against his chest, your cheek using his firm, broad chest as a pillow, and he tightened his arms around your form to keep you snuggled up to him.

"Mhm, honest, my bad..." You mumbled, finally getting settled with him.

He gave a small, satisfied hum as you finally got settled against him, and he laid back against the sofa, bringing you with him as he laid down. His hand continued to rub up and down your side, moving in a small, smooth motion, his touch soft and gentle. His breathing was slow and steady, a slow, gentle rise and fall beneath you. He loved how you smelled, the familiar scent of your shampoo and whatever else you'd use in your hair was comfort, and it made him smile each time.

"Goodnight," You whispered.

Soft, warm feelings swelled in his chest when you murmured your goodnight. He could feel his features soften, and his expression turned tender and affectionate.

"Night, dove," he replied softly, his voice a quiet murmur.

His hand snaked up to your head, fingers sliding through and gently massaging your scalp. His hand moved slow and soothing circles across your scalp, rubbing gently and massaging tenderly.

His nose slides against yours, pressing a loving, prickly kiss to your lips.

He could feel himself growing more relaxed with you snuggled up and rested against his chest, feeling you rest against him, your warmth and weight a comfort. His eyes were already closed, and his breathing slowly evened out, his chest falling and rising evenly with each deep breath.

[gussypatatasfritas]

So, she keeps flirting with your husband as if you weren't there. You married a handsome man, your mistake....

"Look, isn't this beautiful?" she says, completely excited, leaning towards your husband until her cleavage shows.

You're completely used to girls like her, so you just look at the other decorations, while your husband follows you like a little puppy and occasionally responds to the interior designer they hired for their new home.

"Yes, do you like it, my love?" he seeks your gaze and you nod with a smile.

You step away from them to look at the precious paintings hanging, maybe one for your husband's study.

You know he doesn't like to work in places that don't look comfortable.

Then you turn around and there she is again, hanging onto your husband's arm.

A tic forms in your eye, but if you were too jealous, you wouldn't be married to him.

He quickly moves her aside and moves on to join you again.

"Do you like it?" you ask, looking at the paintings. He hugs you around the waist and you hear his warm breath on your neck.

"I adore it. Should we buy everything and go home?" he suggests, giving small kisses on the curve of your neck. You laugh softly and shake your head.

"No, I want our house to look beautiful, so let's do this." you turn around and rest your hands on his chest, fiddling with the buttons of his shirt a bit.

"OH, LOOK AT THOSE CANDELABRAS." you say, completely excited.

You run to where those discreet and cozy candelabras are.

You're going to put one in each room; your house is big, perfect for several points of light.

Your husband said, "Budget? Unlimited," so why not?

You hear her annoying voice calling your husband again. You take a quick glance and they are both being approached by a store employee.

You approach slowly trying to figure out what's going on.

"Wouldn't your wife like it?" the employee says kindly, looking at the interior designer standing next to your husband.

"Would you like it? She says we can take everything we buy home today." your husband leaves the designer and approaches you.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I thought... Never mind..." the employee says, putting her hand on her stomach.

It seems she's upset about the mistake.

"It's okay, I would love to. Can you go?" you address your husband and let him go with the employee, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

Your husband gives you a kiss on the forehead and leaves, leaving you alone with the woman.

"Listen to me, I've dealt with women like you since I met him. It's unpleasant the way you degrade yourself for a little of his attention, and if you want to keep working on decorating the house I share with my husband, stop." you explain, looking at the small blue cups with golden details.

"I'm sorry." she mumbles embarrassed.

You turn to look at her and smile before returning to your husband.

He welcomes you into his arms and kisses your cheek. Maybe they're being too clingy today, but you don't mind.

They're newlyweds, and you love having him all to yourself....

BOKUTO, OIKAWA, GOJ O, geto, kuroo

[megistusdiary]

i have two words. sub arlecchino. HEAR ME OUT HEAR ME OUT OKAY!!

i read an x reader where it depicted her not used to having such gentle touches or being taken care of (cuz yknow shes been through alot and lost a lot of people, with no one there to whose gonna reassure her?) so shes just so confused as we hold her n shit. this has been in my brain and i have been SEARCHING EVERY APP FOR SOMETHING LIKE THIS AND I CANT FIND IT!!!

can i be 🐈 anon meow!

hiii, yes, you are welcome to be a new anon! and that's such a cute idea 🥹 ofc

(nsfw utc - tw sub!arle, cunnilingus, arle called peruere here)

your hands are gentle on her skin, treating her so kindly despite her past. the same hands you touch so sweetly have been coated in blood one too many times. your thumbs swipe over her hands, bringing them to your lips to kiss each fingertip with such a tenderness she's never known.

"let me take care of you, peruere." you insist, cupping her cheek. "may i?"

she's breathless, eyebrows furrowed, expression betraying her as she shudders. "you may." she nods slowly, feeling you kiss down her body.

"you're so beautiful." you smile up at her, placing gentle kisses on her stomach. "i'm so lucky to have you."

she turns away but you pull her attention back when you kiss her clit. "look at me. you're perfect. i love you." your voice brings her to tears, feeling your tongue on her pussy as you gently suck her clit.

"so wonderful, so perfect..." you hum. "does it feel good?"

"very-" she huffs, gripping your shoulder as your tongue slides into her slightly. "but you speak as if i deserve gentle treatment."

"you do." you smile, kissing her thigh. "you deserve the world. i'd serve it to you on a silver platter if you would smile for me."

she blushes, eyebrows furrowing again as you speak. "you mean that?"

"i wouldn't say it if i didn't."

she feels you kiss her clit again, treating such a powerful woman like she's just a fragile doll. you're so... gentle with her, hands holding her thighs with such care. her head falls back into the pillows, letting you bring her to the edge and ease her back down afterward, kissing her thighs and leaving soft little marks while her heart swells full of a long forgotten sensation; love.

[valuunit]

after midnight

summary: some steamy sex after dancing at the club with harry in his frat era.

title because im obsessed with chapelle roan, as you should

Content: She/her pronouns. smut (mdi), alcohol consumption, hair pulling, using a tie as a way to muffle sound ;), oral (m receiver), finguer fucking, clothed sex?, oh, a photo taken during sex, this oc is really stupid and horny, don’t show you’re face in an explicit pic of yourself wit someone new. that’s it ig :)

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so if there’s any mistake I'm sorry, please let me know so i can correct it :D

y/n

why did i agree to this? jesus, this is the shitiest-

“y/n, my miracle is here!” the strong mature voice of Patricia sends shivers down my spine.

“hi” i quietly say, accepting her hug.

“here, i want you to met someone.”

fuck. social interaction.

i’m so so tired for this, i just want to pet my beautiful dog and sleep cuddling with him.

“Michael! here she is, y/n, y/n that’s Michael Young, owner of the record label i told you.” she whispers the last bit. my attitude automatically changes, another rich man who wants more money.

a very well preserved old man turns around, he’s like the definition of daddy if i were attracted to him, he gives me a gentle handshake. “nice to meet you miss, i’ve heard great things about you.”

“thanks, it’s very nice to meet you too.” after that he kisses Patricia’s cheek and excuses himself, promising to get back a little later.

“well, that didn’t go as planned.”

i chuckled. “maybe in a bit will go better, he said he was coming back”

“that’s the equivalent of a guys promising you he’s calling you back after fucking.”

“oh, then forget about it, let’s drink!” i smile eyeing the open bar.

“you do you, honey, i’ll be here if you need me.”

“okay mother, thanks.” i love that woman even if she’s in my monthly payroll.

“love ya.”

i pass some people, looking for the edge of the bar, and fortunately it was empty. “hi, can i take an old fashioned, please?” the bar tender nodded. life like this is kinda good.

harry

“that girl, she’s fit.” louis said.

oh i know lou, i’ve been watching her since she stepped in the club.

“who?” niall said genuinely curious to look at a cute girl.

“there, in the leather jacket at the edge of the table.” louis kept trying to get a better look at her.

“you should go talk to her.” niall says after also looking.

“i think that harry’s job here, he’s been drooling here for her.”

“what?, no, i didn’t even saw her before you mentioned her.” you fucking liar. you even know her name and music.

“okay, then i’ll take the word from nialler here and go count that lady.” you’re a good player louis, but not the best.

he’s testing me to push myself to go there.

“no, not at all.” i simply reply.

“ehh! louis, louis, louis!” niall cheers.

and there he goes, confident steps but playing with his hands.

y/n

i feel a pair of eyes on my back, i try not to think to much about it, i’m here to enjoy myself not to pay attention for others.

“hi” a particular voice says.

i don’t reply, maybe it’s not for me, i don’t want to embarrass me.

“hey, you like it old fashioned?, you’re like a dad?” okay, maybe that is for me.

“yeah, i probably have someone pregnant rounding around the world. i’m at that stage of my life.” i simply replied.

they laughed “i might like you. i’m louis, nice to meet ya”

“hi, y/n” this is louis tomlinson, one of the most famous boys at the moment. if this was happening a couple of years ago i would probably pass out, but i’ve slowly realized that doesn’t matter you ‘status’, you should be treated as kindly and respectful as anyone.

“aren’t you going to invite me a drink?” he says offended, playin, obviously.

“yeah, because i’m the one who approached” i said smiling. “what would you like? it’s on me.”

“oh, becoming my sugar mommy, i get it. i’ll get a shot, tequila.”

“yeah, the free aspect does play a roll here.” he laughs again and looks to where he came from. “four shots of tequila please, extra lime.”

“two rounds, i for sure like you now.” he immediately takes one of the caballito, waiting for me.

“i was just hopping you’d get pleased with that and leave.” i also take one, he hums and aproches for slice of lime.

“damn, that’s tough, if you want me to leave you’re not going to achieve it giving me drinks.” he talks quickly, then proceeds to cheer and gut down the little but dangerous liquid. i follow.

“oof, party animal, aren’t ya?” a deep and also british voice comes in.

“harry!, your finally came, i thought i was gonna stay here all night mate.” he looks at me “not that i would mind”

i completely turn around to look at a curly haired guy, he’s also really handsome, and how not? he’s harry styles.

“ah, yeah, thanks man, see you?” his confused comment makes me laugh.

“yeah, whatever you say. it was really nice to meet you, y/n, hope we can finish this round one day.” he pats the back of his friend and gets out. damn, what the fuck.

“am, i’m really sorry ‘bout that, i’m harry though, you’re y/n?”

“yeah, no it’s fine, if you want you can finish the shots with me?” i say also confused, he looks so nervous and i don’t know why, i'm not that scary am i?

“sure, thanks.” and it becomes silent. well, the conversation with louis was better, that’s for sure.

we swallow the drinks and when i reach out for the fruit i find his hands in the same one i was about to grab, i quickly change my election, and he does as well, i laugh at the awkwardness. he smiles at that.

“i heard your album. it’s amazing.”

“what? you’ve heard my album.” a say fascinated while sucking the last bit of sour liquid.

“what? are you surprised i listen to good music?” he smiled and smooths his chin.

“i wouldn’t say that, i just thought it didn’t reached that many people for you to listen to it.”

“what do you mean? it’s hit after hit, it’s really popular.”

“well, i don’t often look at the logistics of it. but thanks, i wasn’t really sure about it, nor my record label i almost got dropped.”

“well, they’re losers, it’s great.” he smiles and i also do, it’s really nice to heard that from someone who doesn’t know me, it feels genuine.

“i feel like i have to return the compliment but i haven’t heard 1D in like one year, ahm, i really love c’mon c’mon.” he and i laugh.

“yeah, i don’t blame you.” he suddenly looks uncomfortable.

“i’m really sorry.” i try to read his eyes, he was looking at a light above, but now his eyes are back on mine, he doesn’t look as happy as some people seem when they talk about something the love, like music. “you’re not satisfied, are you?”

“you could say that in a lot of aspects.” he smirks.

“okay, i don’t wanna hear it.” i say laughing nervously.

“let’s not talk about this depressing stuff. wanna dance?”

“sure, i’d love to.”

he takes my hand to make sure i don’t get lost in the crowd, he pauses for a second to give louis a warning look when he makes quiet wolf whistles.

“he’s an idiot, sorry.”

“i figured, no problem.”

promiscuous is blasting across the club, this song is sexy and i’m with a sexy guy, i must be a little sexy.

i’m against his chest, the room between our bodies is none, and the space we have to dance is limited, but we can make it work.

i see him starting to sway his shoulders first, trying to get used to the beat. i put my arms on his obliques, also starting to sway my hips, looking at his chest tattoos.

his hands go under my leather jacket and stay in between my hips and my waist, following me. i hear him pant, his mouth is slightly parted and his forehead falls to mine.

“can i take this?” he grabs the tie that hangs loosely in my neck, trying to distract himself for the erection i feel near my left hip.

“sure” we separate out heads and he puts it around his neck, the red looks good on him.

harry

she’s the hottest, most gorgeous person i’ve met.

her lips are as bright as the tie i just grabbed from her beautiful neck, i really want to kiss her. but maybe she’s not into me in that way.

“fuck, how are you so hard, a minute has hardly passed” her voice is deeper than before. i feel slightly embarrassed, but also no.

“that’s the reaction my body has with you.” i say honestly. some say that fake it till you make it, and that what i’m gonna do, fake confidence, maybe it’ll let me somewhere good.

she hums and looks at me in the eyes, to the lips and back at my eyes, with a bright smile and a dark look.

she grabs the tie, pulling me to her, we’re centimeters apart. when i’m about to kiss her she speaks.

“may i kiss you?” she whispers. this might be the hottest thing she’s done so far, or maybe the tie thing it’s.

“of fucking course.”

y/n

this kiss is as alex turner would say, were teeth collide.

is desperate, full of the sexual tension we’ve managed to build, and i couldn’t want it any other way.

we dance, grind, kiss and even moan, at least me, for what seems like the entire night, but when we take our make out session to the back of the building it seems like it barely 12 in the morning.

“jesus, love, i would love to take you home.” he says between wet neck kisses, all i reply is a fervent nod.

after that i feel his warm and big hand on my cheek, making me look at him, then is when i reply with actual words. “we can go back to my place, it not far and it’s alone.” i smile.

“you sure?”

“yeah, if you want.” he smiles and pecks my lips, i don’t know why his hand here makes me wanna melt against it.

“of course, love. it’s better than a shared hotel room.”

“yeah, probably.”

we decide to walk, it’s like i said not far away. the walk was definitely less heated, but it was something.

he asked if he could borrow my purse or my jacket to hide his boner, i laughed so much at that. but the outfit ended up amazingly on him, with the red tie and the also red small bag in his hands contrasting with his all black base.

as soon as i get home blake jumps, almost to the height of my head.

“i’m sorry, honey, i had somewhere to be.”

i think this might kill the mood, maybe not.

“who is this little bud?” harry asked when blake started sniffing his legs. i hang my jacket on a chair and take my purse from harry’s hand, leaving it in the same spot.

“blake, i hope he doesn’t bother you.”

“what, how could he.” he kneeled petting his puffy black hair. “right bud?, you’re adorable” blake turned into his back, to get some love in his belly.

okay, this is really cute, i feel bad for getting wet at the sight of him like this, being sweet to my dog.

“want a drink?, water, vodka, tequila?”

“no, i’m fine. i would prefer to get back were we left it.” blake has lost his interest on him and went to his bed.

“okay, you can go to my room, i’ll be there in a minute.” he looks around the house looking for the destination, “upstairs.” he nods and heads up. “blake. i have some… stuff to do, so please don’t cockblock me, please love, you’ll get a lot of treats tomorrow.” his ears move when he hears ‘treats’.

i grab a cushion from the couch and put it at the beginning of the stairs, hoping he can’t jump over it. “love ya, i’m really sorry if you hear something!” i whisper-scream.

getting near the door i smooth my skirt out and take may hair out of my face.

when i enter harry is sitting at the edge of my bed, he’s cheeks look very red now that i see them in a different light. i smile at him and he smiles at me.

“you look great in red. in your cheeks and my tie” i whisper as i sit in his lap.

“thanks, i might borrow it for another day.”

“you’re still, you know, hard?” i say almost laughing at how cringe that sounded to me.

“you’re wet?” he says. i nod, desperate to kiss him. “perfect.”

his hands crawls up my knee, ass and thigh, reaching my underwear, which was very much soaked.

“i feel flattered, love, i haven’t touched you and look at this” he makes me stand in my knees and slides my panties down my legs, finally showing the mess i made. “we’re gonna keep the skirt if that’s fine with you” i nod and he kisses me.

as soon as the kisses starts it becomes a kiss full of passion. he undoes my white shirt and i do the same with his black shirt.

he’s now laying down, his legs hanging from the bed and im right in top of him, my core against his belt, which feels weird in a good way.

i moan when he sits down, grabbing a handful of my hair and pulling it backwards. “your really pretty when you’re all flustered.”

he slides the shirt down my shoulders and for my bralette he slides it upwards, passing through my head.

“i feel like you have an advantage here.” i look down his opened shirt and pants, hell, he even has his shoes on.

“take whatever you want.” he smiles and kisses the in middle of my breasts.

i hug his neck with both of my arms, letting him please me with his kisses and bites in my chest.

he pays equal attention to both, i think he gave the same amount of bites to each, i don’t know, i was enjoying myself to much to care.

when i fell his mouth starting to separate from me i begin to go down his body, taking the tie and the shirt off, kissing his shoulder, chest, stomach and his boner from above the denim material.

he groans desperately but doesn’t move, just seats there with his hands on each side of his body. “you’re really a tease, baby.” he whispers.

“i think it will be worth it.” i say, quickly undoing his jeans and sliding off his boxer, leaving his cock free.

i think of what to do for a second, i could do a handjob or a blowjob, i finally decide in a hybrid.

i first take his length in my right hand, slowly feeling his body react, his legs move a bit and his body leans back. i then start to move down, making my eyes align with his crotch, and with my hand still in the base i start by wrapping my mouth at the tip. his makes a beautiful sharp gasp.

“god’s fucking sake.” he decides to look down at me, looking deep into my eyes.

harry

her eyes are gonna be the death of me. she can look evil but also innocent. and that makes me want to take her right now and leave her dumb fucked.

my dick disappears in her mouth, over and over again, i don’t know how she manages to keep a consistent move in her hands and in her mouth, including her tongue and her head. the guitar must help her multitasking abilities.

“love, t-that s-sss amazing. ah, but i w-won’t last a lot longerr and i will like to do sooo… much m-more with y-ya…”

she gets my dick out of her mouth, god that’s so dirty, an i love it. but yeah, she does so, chuckling a bit with a sense of pride, some drool goes down her chin, she’s perfect.

“okay, next time i guess.” fuck yeah, hopefully.

“now it’s my turn” she come back up, sitting her naked clit into my semi, this little minx jumped into my dick, and she knows it, she smiles.

“sorry.”

“you’re not.” i smile.

“no, i’m not.” she smiles.

“but you will.” i grab her hips from under the washed denim mini skirt and switched our position, leaving her laying down on her chest and me above her, looking at the greatest fucking view; her face was looking at me over her shoulder, he naked back and her skirt rolled up, leaving nothing to the imagination, her ass was in perfect alignment with my eyes.

i decided to be a little wild and spank her, she moaned, but i quickly turned to look at her “was that okay?”

“yeah… fucking perfect.” she moaned more.

“who would’ve thought…” i say, giving her another one, this one harder, making her cheeks giggle.

i pull her skirt even further, and also pulled from her hips to make her stick her ass up, giving me better access to her clit. i begin caressing her outer lips, soft touches to get her desperate and my fingers getting lubricated.

i inserted one of them, the ring finger to be specific. she moans softly, pushing her hips back. “more…”

“patience, love, want to cherish the moment.” but i do what she says, i enter another and begin to diversify my movements. when i get to a specific and wet point i feel her body shake.

“t-t… there.” she sighs “right therrre.” she purrs.

she looks so angelic like this: baby hairs stick to her sweaty forehead, eyes closed, mouth open full or profane sounds, i also see her stimulating her breasts, just like she could read my mind.

when i put my third finger in i feel her lips stretch, so i turn my hand, she screams at my move. “shh… we don’t want to scare blake, or anyone for that matter. would hate for someone to interrupt, right?”

“mhm” she opens her eyes, they are watering now, i don’t know whether to worry or to be turned on.

“everything okay there, baby?” i ask pulling her hair to the side to look at her fully.

“gr-great!” she sights when i touch her newly founded button.

i feel some more palpitating, some more stretching and i see her jaw being clenched. she’s close.

“you’re getting there, aren’t you?”

“yess! i’m goo…” sight “gonna cum.” her hips push against my hand, i took my index finger out because it felt like i couldn’t move my hand at all.

“patience baby, let it all out” i groan at her cunt stretching around my hand.

she screams my name, might be my new favorite sound of all time. it’s a mix of a hoarse and sweet voice.

she stops moving her hips i see a bit of liquid being thrown against my still moving hand, she squirted. i try really hard not to cum also.

she pants and groans. one hand reaches to mine, telling me to stop.

“good job, love” i slowly take my hand up and taste her discard. i then lean to kiss her cheek.

“want you inside of me” she whispers against the mattress.

“of course baby, just waiting for you to catch your breath at least.” i chuckle. she pouts but stays still.

“i’m fine. i just want you to fuck me.” she looks at me undress completely. biting her lip as she check me out.

“ouch, wouldn’t thought you’ll just use me like that, love, thought this was real.” i say jokingly offended and also a bit nervous. maybe this is just a one night thing, and i wouldn’t like it to end like this.

“maybe it is, but i would really like you to fuck me good so i can consider you as a potential candidate.”

nice answer, miss y/n.

“fine, firstly, do you have any condoms?” she sakes her head no.

“i’ve got iud and clean. if you’re up and clean we can make it raw.” she says nonchalantly.

“fucking hell” i go to kiss her mouth, gripping her cheek harshly, “i’ll make you scream really loud, so i think we could put this to some more use”, i say taking the tie from the floor.

she smiles, curious. i hover over her body again, pass the tie through her head to stop at her mouth, tightening it.

“wow” she barely says.

“you can grip me at the arm of you want to stop, okay?” she nods. “show me” she takes my forearm and tightens her grip around it two times. “good girl.” i kiss her cheek again.

i look down, she still has that fucking skirt i hope every time she uses it she remembers who fucked her in that, i direct my dick into her clit. i soak my tip into her cum and wetness.

and finally i enter, our mouth open at the contact, i thrust slowly and fully, i stay there “goodness, this is g-ood.” i whisper in her ear, she moans quietly.

“look at me angel.” she deserves the nickname. i could take a picture of this obscene and artistic piece. “can i take a picture?, i promise ill protect it with my life…”

she hesitates a bit, but when she looks at me in the eyes she nods “yeah”.

i lean over to the bedside table, take my phone and quickly snap one time.

“move?” she says.

“as you wish.” i let my phone slide off my hand and focused solely on her.

i put one hand next to her face , the other went to her hip. giving me the base i need to get her good.

my hips roll against hers, looking at her face to her ass and back and forth.

i quickly gain a fast, hard and pleasing pace.

she hides her face into the pillow and grips the bedsheets tightly. her muffled moans and screams, my groans and screams and the sound of our bodies colliding is the only sound i listen to, and maybe in a 1 mile radius.

“doing good, l-love?” i ask her, my breathing is shaky, maybe not that sexy.

“mhm.” she turn her face to look at me “y-yesh…”

“look so fricking good like this…” i wished i could look at her full face.

she screams something that sounds like my name, and i know i need to she her climaxing around my dick.

“we’re g-gonna turn…” groan “you around, ‘right?”

“yeahyeahyeah” she said.

“h-hug, hug your leg darling.” i pat her left leg , she struggles a bit but makes it. with the force i have i turn her almost limb body.

she moans when her back hits the mattress and i thrust into her faster, while kissing her face, she entangles both her hands in my hair, pulling. fuck.

“hmm. c-c… cum!” she sights into my neck.

thanks love, i wouldn’t like to burst before you.

“perfect. relax, baby…” i groan, struggling to keep that fast of a pace, she’s squeezing my dick so hard and i might come way too fast.

“ha… haffy!” she screams again.

“i’m cu…ming love.”

i feel her groaning at the overstimulation, so i give a final thrust and let it all out.

y/n

i’ve been talking with harry for probably 30 minutes, after last night fucking midblowing fuck i barely was awake, but harry made me change into some pajamas and then he changed the bedsheets. it was the best aftercare ever.

“would you like to go for a coffee later in the evening?” he says looking at me with his beautiful green eyes.

“yeah, as long as blake can come.” i say jokingly.

“of course, love, little man is always welcome.”

“see? that’s what makes me want you every day and every night!” i hit his chest lightly, he chuckles. “you can’t say shit like that, i’ll get attached.”

“is that something wrong?” he smiles. “i also want you, i really like you, and it might be too soon, but i would like to get to know you and be something else.”

“i would love that too.”

[dsybouquet]

all i need ੈ✩‧₊˚ - ellie williams

genre: gf! ellie x fem reader, ellie being mean, verbal fighting ? fluffy, ellie being very vulnerable, mentions weed, swearing

summary: ellie is mad and does not want to talk

“Get the fuck out of my sight!”, Ellie yelled before slam shutting the door to Joels house. She walked off, more angry than you‘ve ever seen her. You just shared a sigh with Joel, who reopened the door again.

“I’ll talk to her.”, you promised before you placed a hand on his shoulder. “Give her some time.”

Joel nodded and put his hand on yours. “Maybe she’ll listen to you.”

The cold winter air was making you shiver as you made your way towards Ellie’s home. Hands shaking before you knocked on the door. You knew why she was mad at Joel and you’d be wrong if you’d say you do not understand her.

“Ellie?”, you softy called as you knocked on her door. She did not reply but you did hear the door unlock. Slowly, you entered, allowing cold air follow you in her little home. “What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

The brunette didn’t say a word, she just scoffed and threw her jacket across the room. “I don’t want to talk.”

“Ellie, please. What is going on?”, you asked, already suspecting the main reason of her anger.

“Nothing, _______! Nothing is going on!”, she yelled. Her voice was so firm yet so fragile, like she was about to break. You took a deep breath, taking a step forward in order to approach her.

“You know, I can only help you if you let me.”

You leaned against the wall and looked at her sitting on her bed, her hands holding her head and her fingers messaging the sides of it.

“Look, I don’t need help. Not yours, not Dinas and most certainly not Joels. Got it?”

You nodded slightly. “And I don’t want to talk. Just do me a favour and get out.”

She looked at you, her emerald eyes slightly watery. “Ellie, I-“

“I said get out ! Fuck off, ______!”

She bit her finger while getting up from her bed, walking around, trying to contain her anger. “Please just fucking leave before things happen we both would regret.”

You sighed. “If you need me, I suppose you know where to find me”

Ellie flipped her hands in the air, noticeably holding back from saying things she’s gonna regret, before she shoved you towards the door. “I won’t!”

And before you could say anything else, the door was slam shut in your face.

You made your way to your own little home. Dropping on your bed, you stared at the ceiling. Ellie can be a lot when she’s angry, and you know. And you know better than getting on her nerves by being pushy about what’s going on.

If she need’s the time, that is fine. After all, you have plenty of it between the patrols and the duties around Jackson.

“______! Are you home?”, you heard Dina in front of your door, knocking ever so slightly. “Come in!”

Dina entered your home, placing her jacket in your couch. “You okay? I heard Ellie was pretty mad before.”

You sighed, letting yourself sit on your bed to face the woman. “It’s because of Joel. I was trying to talk to her but she didn’t let me.”

Dina sat down besides you, smiling kindly. “You know her temper, let her cool down and then you can talk to her.”

“Oh I know. I’m not mad or anything. I just can’t stop being worried.” You fell back on your bag, hands behind your head. “But yeah, she has a bad temper.”, you laughed, remembering all the times when Ellie was the biggest asshole towards you, who apologised an hour later.

❀ ✿ ❀ ✿ ❀ ✿ ❀ ✿ ❀ ✿ ❀ ✿ ❀ ✿ ❀ ✿ ❀ ✿ ❀ ✿ ❀ ✿

Darkness has fallen upon Jackson by now. You put your book, which you’ve read for three times already, back on your nightstand and pushed yourself off your bed.

Snow kept falling, causing the night to appear lighter than usual. Your, by now tired, body moved to your shelf with old movies you used to look out for with Ellie on patrols. “Maybe that’s gonna make her feel better.”, you quietly mumbled to yourself while taking your copy of Jurassic Park.

Prepared for the cold, though the way to Ellie‘s was approximately five minutes long, you left the warmth of your home.

Jackson was quiet. Most people asleep, others still engaged in conversations. You enjoyed this. The quiet. The peacefulness. In this world, you felt lucky to experience this in between fighting for survival.

Lost in your own mind, you almost walked past Ellie’s home. Quickly you walked to her door, knocking quietly. „Ellie?“

No sound from inside.

You tried opening the door and to your surprise, it was unlocked.

Inside it was dark and the smell of smoked weed reached your nose immediately. It was almost too dark to see the figure of your girlfriend in her bed, covered in her blankets. You sighed. „Hey baby.“, you quietly said, sitting down besides her.

„Hm.“, was all she gave as an answer.

Slowly your hand found a way in her hair, stroking it slightly. „How are you doing?“

Again, no reply.

„Do you need a hug? Anything I can do for you now?“

Ellie now turned around to look at you. Her face was illuminated by only the street lights from outside. Eyes puffy and red, from crying and smoking. You took off your jacket, allowing it to fall on the ground.

„Come.“

You lay down besides her, crawling under the covers. Ellie was quick with resting her head on your chest, taking in your scent. „I‘m sorry, babe. I didn’t mean to yell at you.“

Her hands clawed into your hoodie, scared of you leaving. „It‘s okay.“, you tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

Silence overcome the two of you, a comfortable silence. „Why didn’t you just tell me you needed a hug?“, you dared to ask.

„Because I wanted to be alone but when I made you leave I was way too alone and you didn’t come back.“, her voice was fragile, almost just a whisper. „I was scared you‘d leave me.“

„El, You know I‘m not going anywhere.“

She shrugged and didn’t add anything to it.

You rarely see her like this. Usually Ellie is dominant, taking a leader role, not allowing emotions to control her like this.

But you know better. You know she can be so fragile, vulnerable. After all, shes someone so deeply hurt inside, she could break so easily if it wasn’t for her ego - and for you.

You kissed the top of her head before she buried her head in your neck, placing featherlight kisses on your skin.

„I‘m sorry. You don’t deserve this. But Joel was just pissing me off. His never ending lies, the overprotectiveness, the control he‘s try‘na take.. I‘m old enough you know.“

„He’s just worried about you. After all, he sees you as his own flesh and blood. Everything can happen in a world like ours, Ellie.“

She sighed, shifting her body and looked at your. Her long fingers traveled along your sides, leaving goosebumps on your skin.

„I know, but I‘m not a kid anymore.“

„You‘re most certainly now. You‘ve grown into the woman I learned to love. But for Joel.. you‘re still a little girl.“

Ellie scoffed, her hand resting on your waist where she pulled up your hoodie slightly. „I know you‘re right. Maybe I should talk to him. Try to forgive but never forget perhaps.“

Her voice was quiet.

You nodded, knowing how rough the whole Saint Mary Hospital story was. He shouldn’t have lied to her. He should have been honest and tell her the truth right away before leading her on a trail of lies and heartbreak. But if you were in Joels shoes, you would‘ve done the same. So would Ellie.

„You should, El.“

She sighed, curling up more against you. The warmth of her body made her feel safe. Safer than she ever felt before.

„Can we switch the topic, Babe? I don‘t want to talk about this anymore.“

You nodded and slightly pushed her off you to reach your jacket.

Her face turned to the one of a puppy who has been rejected off the couch before she saw the movie box in your hand.

The sad eyes suddenly started to shine a teeny tiny bit when she read Jurassic Park.

„And that’s why I love you.“, she said, taking the movie off your hands and walking over to her TV to put it in.

„I love you too.“, you laughed, turning on the little fairylights she has around her house.

Your eyes landed on the halfway smoked blunt in the ashtray. Quickly, you picked it up and put it between your lips. „Weed and Jurassic Park?“

„Sounds like a date to me!“, Ellie smiled, opening her arms for you to fall in.

„Thank you.“, she said after a moment of silence. „For what?“, you looked up to her and shifted in your position.

Her eyes met yours, still red from the weed your two just started sharing, but filled with love.

„For simply being there. For being all I need.“

You smiled and punched against her shoulder lightly. „Stop that, Ellie or I‘ll blush.“

„But it’s true!“, she kissed your neck before holding your cheek with one hand.

„You are all I need.“

And with that, she placed a kiss on your lips, before giving you the prettiest smile you‘ve ever seen. „You‘re so beautiful.“, you just said, not comprehending the beauty of her. The auburnish hair, green eyes, her lips, her nose, her freckles. Everything was so beautiful to you.

„So are you.“, she whispered against your lips before kissing you again.

[luveline]

it's been two hours but I'm being so emotional about Roan like she's so so attached to the reader already she's so sweet 🥺 just imagine someone at the grocery store or a coffee shop seeing them and thinking of the reader as Roans mom and she's just like yeah 🥰 I've claimed this girl as my mother now

I kind of did you claiming her as your kid but also from how much she wants to sit in your lap she definitely claims u back | dad!eddie x fem!reader

As soon as Eddie leaves to get drinks, Roan slides off of her chair and onto the floor with a great whoosh of curls and tulle. Her skirt fans out around her and she looks at you in shock. You don't think she meant to fall quite like that.

"You slipped!" you say, trying to sound as happy as you can. "Poor girl, is your skirt more slippery than you thought?"

She smiles likes it's funny and you consider the situation salvaged. "I fell off the chair," she says.

"You did. Do you wanna come and sit with me instead? I'll keep you up here, no more slipping," you offer. You suspect that had been her intention anyhow.

She gets onto wobbly legs and walks around the low table separating you both. She reaches up and you slide your hands under her armpits to pull her as kindly as you can into your lap, her back to your chest, your arm around her soft tummy.

"How's that?" you ask quietly.

"Thank you," she says.

"You're welcome, sweetheart," you say, brushing back the curtain of hair hiding her face affectionately. You couldn't mean the pet name more; she has the sweetest heart ever.

"Are we having cake?" Roan asks, dipping her head back against your chest to look at you upside down.

"Mm, that depends. Have you been nice to your daddy this week?"

"Mostly nice."

"Mostly!" Your eyes crinkle with humour. "Yeah, I heard all about what happened yesterday."

Roan pouts and drops her head. "It was only by accident."

Roan had pushed a picture frame off of Eddie's night stand. Whether it was truly an accident has yet to be decided — Eddie had confided that he didn't think it was accidental at all, because Roan had cried for hours. Guilty tears, he'd theorised, reluctantly fond.

"I know, baby," you say, worried to provoke her into a tantrum. It doesn't really feel like your place to tell her off, either way. "And you said sorry, didn't you?"

"Yeah."

"And daddy said it was okay?"

"Yeah, he did."

You wedge your hand against her side and tickle her. "Then it's okay. I bet daddy'll get you cake and ice cream no problem if you ask nicely."

She giggles into your arm and starts grabbing at you to stop you. You grin and try harder, fingers scratching lightly over her sides. Her laugh is piercingly brilliant. You look up, hoping Eddie will be on his way back from the counter with your drinks so he can witness her catching happiness and end up locking eyes with an older lady passing by.

"I think you've trapped her," the old woman says. She talks kindly and has a very grandmotherly air about her as she smiles.

"Me too. Gotta keep the little trouble-maker pinned," you say, smiling brightly.

"That's the truth! Or they'll run circles around you." She throws her hand out like she's batting away a fly. "You look like a good girl, though."

You dip your head toward Roan's ear. "What do you think, are you a good girl?" you murmur encouragingly.

Roan nods frantically. You and the old woman both laugh. "I think she is," you say.

"That's the way. You keep being good for you mom, okay?" the woman says, giving a little wave before continuing on to the bathroom.

Your heart does this weird skip. You could correct her, she doesn't exactly walk fast. You could open your mouth, say, "Oh, she's not mine."

You don't. You tighten your arm around Roan's middle and push your nose into her hair, kissing the top of her head. "You're always good for me," you say smugly.

"And always a menace for me," Eddie says.

He holds a plate in one hand and two cups of coffee in the other, an expert balancing act. You'd get up to help him if you could bare to move his lovely daughter, but you can't so you don't.

Eddie takes your sheepish smile like it's nothing and carefully places the plate and one mug in front of you. "Cake for my baby, coffee for my baby."

"Which ones for me?" you ask teasingly.

Roan reaches for the cake and almost slides right out of your lap. It really is a slippery skirt. You hold her to your chest and nab the plate for her, delighted to find it hosts a fresh looking slice of chocolate cake and a small scoop of ice cream, a silver spoon wedged deep in the cake's buttercream.

"Did you want cake?" he asks worriedly, stood in wait.

You hold the plate in your lap and settle, offering Roan the spoon. She grabs it and digs in with a gleeful hum.

"I'm good," you say. "Did you?"

Eddie strokes his hand from the centre of your forehead to your hairline and kisses the invisible line left behind. "Got all the sweetness I need right here," he says.

-

more eddie and roan

[lemoncrushh]

Scars

Summary: You have scars and are hesitant about letting Harry see you naked for the first time.

Warnings: body image issues (scars), smut - 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 2920

A/N: This was a special request from an old mutual back in 2016 (I still think of you often hon, wherever you are). Reader fic with a very sweet and caring Harry.

It was date number five...but who's counting?

You and Harry had spent the entire afternoon together, going to lunch at your favorite cafe and then shopping. You'd been a bit surprised when he'd suggested it, but it had turned out to be one of the most pleasant days you'd ever had. You'd browsed antique shops, thrift shops and a vintage record store, rounding out the shopping at a small boutique that you'd passed earlier, finally stopping to give a dress in the window a second look.

"Go try it on," Harry suggested, nudging your arm.

"What?" you blinked, looking up at him. He gave you an encouraging smile.

"We've passed this store three times. You obviously like that dress. Go try it on."

You bit your lip and gave a shrugged. "It's okay. It's late. I should probably be heading home."

"Y/N," said Harry, "Go. It'll look beautiful on you."

With a hesitant grin, you nodded. Harry opened the door for you and you stepped inside the boutique, immediately scanning the room for the dress on display.

"May I help you?" a kindly looking woman asked.

"I-" you opened your mouth, but it was Harry that answered.

"She wants that dress in the window."

The woman smiled at both of you. "Ah yes, right this way."

You followed her to a round rack near the wall where she asked you your size. Pulling one of the dresses out, she handed it to you.

"Fitting room is in the back," she sang. "My name's Delores if you need anything."

"Thank you," you replied.

Harry walked with you to the back of the store, finding a floral upholstered chair to sit in while you went in the dressing room.

Trying on clothes was not your favorite thing to do. In fact, you loathed it most of the time. But when Harry had given you his million-dollar smile, insisting that you try the dress on, that you'd look beautiful it nonetheless, it had made you feel a little less self-conscious. You only hoped the dress covered your scars.

Standing in front of the mirror, after removing your bra, you ran your finger over your most prominent scar. The type of dress this was, you would definitely have to go braless. Letting out a deep breath, you pulled the dress over your head. As soon as the fabric fell over your hips, you knew. It fit you perfectly. Twisting in it in front of the mirror, making the skirt twirl, you felt pretty. The thin straps didn't sag, the bust of the dress hugged you the way you'd hoped it would. And no scars could be seen. With a silent giggle, you took the dress off, placing it back on the hanger.

Once you were dressed in your own clothes, you emerged from the fitting room. Harry looked up from his phone, his expression disappointed.

"Did it not fit?" he inquired.

"No, it did," you grinned. "I'm getting it."

"Oh. But I didn't get to see."

You chuckled, heading toward the register. "Sorry."

Delores came around the counter, beaming. "Did that work out for you, doll?"

"Yes," you said as she rang you up.

"Let me get that," Harry offered, attempting to produce his wallet.

You turned to glare at him. "No thanks."

"Please?"

You raised a brow. "It's fine. I got it."

Once you'd paid for your dress, Harry held the door open for you again, following you out to the sidewalk. When you reached Harry's car and he unlocked it, you nearly jumped when he grabbed your hand.

"Since it's getting late, what do you say to dinner?"

You blushed, looking down at the ground. "We already spent all day together."

Harry's face fell. "Are you saying you're tired of me?"

You shook your head and laughed. "Far from it. I just didn't want you to get tired of me."

Harry stepped closer, his other hand brushing a strand of hair from your hair and tucking it behind your ear.

"That's not gonna happen," he muttered.

Your skin tingled from his gentle gesture and his deep voice.

"So, dinner?" he asked again. "You could wear your new dress. I'd love to see you in it."

You sucked in your lips, ready to burst out with an ecstatic yes, but not wanting to seem to eager.

"Okay," you finally whispered.

Harry drove you back to your place so you could change. He waited on the sofa while you went to the bedroom to put on your dress. You twirled in front of the full-length mirror, giggling at yourself before opening the door. When you stepped into the living room, Harry gazed up at you, his mouth slowly stretching into a smile.

"You look amazing," he said sincerely, standing up to meet you. His eyes travelled down your body and back up again, sending even more tingles throughout your skin. "So pretty."

Harry put his hands on your waist, pulling you closer to him. He placed a soft kiss on your forehead, then another on your lips.

"Thank you," you grinned, your hands on his chest. "So where are we going for dinner?"

Harry sighed, his fingers gripping you tighter. "'m gonna have a hard time thinking about food."

You laughed out loud, your wrists winding around his neck. "Is it really that effective?"

Nodding, his fingers slid up your back. Then he rested his forehead against yours. "You have no idea," he added with a groan.

You bit your lip, your eyes even with his, though he was focused on something else.

"Don't do that, love," he pouted.

"What?"

Harry lifted his head from yours then, his thumb grazing across your bottom lip.

"Biting this lip," he explained. "Drives me crazy when you do that."

You raised your eyebrows. "Seems I'm learning a lot of new things about you today."

Harry gave a sexy smirk, one of his hands running up your arm to your shoulder. "What else you wanna know?"

The color rose to your cheeks and you shook your head. "Never mind. Let's go eat."

Dinner was wonderful. You sat in a round corner booth in a dimly lit, intimate restaurant. After appetizers and a glass of wine, Harry became very flirty, leaning in to place soft kisses on your neck and shoulder. His hand found your knee under the table, staying there for almost the rest of the next course, occasionally giving it a little squeeze. You smiled at him, covering his hand with yours. The way he looked at you made you warm all over, and you knew it wasn't just the wine.

By the time you'd finished eating, to say you were ready to go back to your place would be an understatement. Sometime during dessert, Harry's hand had begun traveling up your thigh, pushing your dress up just slightly. You were feeling a bit light-headed, knowing where this was surely going to lead.

You were nervous. So many questions had begun running through your mind. Was five dates too soon? What exactly was too soon? You'd already kissed him several times, the end of date four already coming close to a make-out session. You knew you wanted to sleep with him. He was sweet, fun to be with and extremely sexy. The anticipation was already getting to you. So, what were you nervous about?

Your scars.

No man had seen you naked since your surgery. You were scared about what he would think - or do - when he saw them.

"Ready to go?" you heard Harry ask, pulling you out of your thoughts.

"Sure," you blinked.

The car ride home was almost unbearable. Your insides trembled with desire, but your head was still running a mile a minute with worry and doubt. As you walked to your door, Harry took your hand, threading his fingers through yours before bring it to his mouth to kiss it. Then he stood behind you, his arms around your waist as you inserted the key. You bit your lip as you struggled to get the door unlocked.

"Stop it," Harry growled, his chin landing on your shoulder.

"Stop what? I'm having trouble with the key."

"That lip."

"Oh," you stifled a giggle, finally pushing the door free.

Harry released a breath, letting go of you long enough to enter the apartment. He stood to the side as you shut the door, watching you almost intently. Licking your lips, you tossed you bag on the sofa before turning to face him. Within two strides he'd crossed the room, taking your face in his hands. His mouth captured yours in an intoxicating kiss, soft and gentle at first before dragging his tongue across your bottom lip. You sighed, melting into him.

"I suspect this is when I usually leave," he conveyed, his eyelids heavy.

You nodded, your hands resting on his arms. "Yeah."

"But I don't really want to," he added.

You swallowed hard. "I don't want you to either."

His jaw tightening, Harry slid his hands down your shoulders, his fingers looping around the straps of your dress. You felt yourself tense up involuntarily and it wasn't lost on Harry.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," you breathed.

"Do you wanna go to the bedroom?"

You nodded silently. Harry took your hands, gesturing toward the bedroom with his head.

"Lead the way."

You bit your lip again, this time causing Harry to grit his teeth. "And stop fucking doing that."

You chuckled and pulled his hand, guiding him to the bedroom. As soon as you closed the door, he pushed you against it, his mouth covering yours. You made a sound, but not in protest. His body pressed against yours as you wrapped your arms around his neck. His kisses were hungry, his tongue dipping in your mouth repeatedly. Your entire body was on fire, and you knew you were only moments away from being disrobed.

Harry's hands roamed up your sides, cupping your breasts in your dress. The thin fabric did nothing to hide the firmness of your nipples as he ran his thumbs across them. You released a moan against his mouth, your fingers grasping at his hair.

"I want you, baby," he confirmed when he let go of your mouth, his eyes burning into yours.

You slowly lowered your arms from around his neck, sliding your hands down his chest. Harry closed his eyes softly as you did so, the touch apparently something he liked. His eyelids fluttering open, his lips parted slightly, he grabbed hold of your dress straps again. When you shuttered this time, Harry titled his head.

"What's wrong?"

"Um..." you stumbled. "It's...it's not...you."

Harry raised his eyebrows, stepping back. "We don't have to do this," he said.

You shook your head. "No, I want to."

Harry stared at you, his gaze silently willing you to speak.

"I...um...had surgery a couple years ago. I still have some...scars. And...I guess I'm a little self-conscious about them," you finally explained. You felt like a huge weight had been lifted off of you.

"Oh, love, it's alright," Harry cooed, stepping closer to you again. "Where are they?"

You dropped your head, gesturing to your chest. "Here."

Harry lifted your chin with his finger, forcing you to look at him.

"Listen to me, Y/N," he said tenderly, "If you don't want me to see them, I'll understand. But just know that I don't mind. You're beautiful. Your body is beautiful."

You felt yourself relax a bit at his words. You sighed before biting your lip, which you released immediately. Harry shook his head.

"You're gonna drive me fucking crazy, baby," he muttered.

"Sorry," you grinned.

"C'mere," he beckoned as he backed into the bed behind him.

He sat down, pulling you to stand between his legs. Running his hands up and down your hips, he lightly kissed your stomach.

"Tell me how I can make you comfortable," he requested.

"What?" you asked in surprise, your hands on his shoulders.

"I want to make you feel good, baby," said Harry. "But first I need you to trust me. So tell me what to do. Would you like the light off?"

You considered his question for a moment. Having the light off would make it easier. He wouldn't see your scars. But then you wouldn't see him either.

"Maybe....um...maybe just the lamp?" you pointed to the small lamp on the bedside table.

Harry turned his head to look at it. "Okay."

You walked over to the table, switching the lamp on before turning off the overhead light. It gave the room a warm glow.

"That's nice," Harry remarked. "What else?"

You shrugged. "I don't know."

"Do you wanna lie down?"

"Okay."

You kicked off your shoes before crawling on the bed, your head falling back on the soft pillow. You heard the sound of Harry's boots hitting the floor as he climbed up next to you, propped up on his elbow. His hand glided across your abdomen, his face inching closer to yours until he kissed you.

As his lips left a trail of kisses down your neck, he shifted on the bed, his leg between yours. You could feel his erection pressing against you while his mouth met your shoulder, just next to your strap, though he didn't move it.

Suddenly his hand on your stomach moved down, finding the hem of your dress. You gasped when his fingers met your panties, pushing them to the side. The pads of his fingers rotated on your clit, causing your breaths to quicken while his mouth still assaulted your neck and shoulders. When his lips came in contact with your dress strap again, Harry lifted his head and looped his other hand through the strap.

"Do you trust me?" he inquired.

Your eyelids were heavy from desire, the sensation of his fingers on your wetness making you see stars.

"Yes," you nodded.

Harry grinned, gently pulling the strap down off your shoulder, releasing your arm through it. He then continued to kiss your shoulder, moving down slowly to your chest. You closed your eyes when you knew he had to be reaching a scar. But he said nothing. He only kissed.

Quicker than you were ready to admit, he stopped his other hand, hovering over you to lower your other strap. His eyes were focused on yours then, with such intensity it almost made you want to cry. After he pulled your arm free from that strap, he finally lowered his head again, kissing your bare skin. Before you knew it, he'd grabbed the hem of the dress and pulled it down further until removing it completely. Lying in only your underwear, you gazed up at him, trying to read his expression.

"You're so beautiful," he said.

You blinked rapidly, biting your lip once more.

"Gimme that," Harry demanded, pulling your lip free with his thumb. Then he captured it between his lips, sucking gently. You let out a mewl, grasping at his shirt.

"Mmm...baby..." he breathed. "Do you still trust me?"

"Yes," you said with more affirmation than before as you watched him slide your panties down your hips.

"Do you want me?"

"God, yes."

Harry sat up, reaching behind himself to grab the back of his shirt, pulling it over his head before quickly returning to your mouth. You ran your hands down his back, bucking your hips against his. He groaned, the restraint of his jeans unacceptable.

Standing from the bed, he produced a condom from his wallet before removing the jeans quickly, as well as his boxers. You watched as he rolled the condom on, then positioned himself over you. His eyes never left yours as you felt the sting of him entering you. You grabbed his waist to guide him inside, where you wanted him the most. You saw his eyelids flutter as he pulled out almost fully before pushing in again.

"Baby..." he cried when he began to thrust faster.

You opened your legs wider for him, making him lift your thigh to get a better angle. The feeling was incredible, and though you didn't want it to end soon, you knew at this rate it would.

Harry cursed as he pumped into you, reaching deep inside. You cried out his name, climbing closer to your peak. Finally when he managed to tap your most sensitive spot again and again, your body shook, erupting with orgasm. Harry soon followed, his body stilling over yours as he came, a low groan rising from his throat.

"Jesus," he exhaled, collapsing on top of you.

You held him for a few minutes, your hands tickling his back. When he finally lifted his head, he planted a kiss on your mouth, and once again traveling down your neck and shoulders. When he reached your chest, he stopped, studying your scars for a few seconds. Ever so gingerly, Harry lifted a finger, tracing them with care. Then he lowered his mouth again, repeating the tracing with kisses.

You thought you heard him mumble something before he looked at you, but you couldn't make it out.

"What?" you asked, curious.

"I said you're wonderful, and beautiful, and you need to know that. So I'm going to make it my mission to make sure you always do."

With a slight smile, you pulled him to you, kissing his lips with fervor. Because you also wanted to make it your mission that he always knew you appreciated him.

MASTERLIST | KO-FI | FEEDBACK | PATREON

[ddejavvu]

A bit late for multi-monday but what about Professor James sending students with love letters every session to Professor Reader?

How are you anywaay? How was your day?

today is multiverse monday, send me any au you can think of! :)

--

James has chosen a blonde woman to deliver your mail today, a chem major that has perpetual bags under her eyes. You get it. If you had majored in chemistry, you'd be exhausted constantly, too.

"Professor Potter asked me to give this to you," She smiles awkwardly at you, letter in hand, "He said not to open it, and I didn't, the sticker just came off in my backpack."

"I trust you," You smile kindly at her, taking the note and nodding to her seat, "Thank you for being our messenger."

She departs with a kind nod, but you have a feeling she hadn't enjoyed running James's message. She takes her seat and you peel the letter out of its envelope, peering down at James's messy, but endearing scrawl.

'Dear Professor Y/L/N,

I'm writing to you today to speak about the administration's new budget cuts. Starting 9/01, there will no longer be Nespresso pods stocked in the break rooms, nor will there be a machine for you to bring your own. I'm sure you'll lament this loss just as much as the rest of us, but it's either that or our salary that gets cut, and I think- okay, hopefully that was enough boring bullshit to deter any unwanted eyes. The last bloke I sent to you had the thing open before he was even out the door. I'm gonna tell Allison to keep it closed, but you know nosy students. I have more interesting things to talk about than coffee machines: I managed to find a substitute to proctor my students on Friday! We can take the whole day out on the town, we'll peruse the street market and catch dinner and a show. I would have told you over text, but this seems, like, a million times more romantic. Plus I can't write in red glitter pen over text. Go with me, darling? Say you'll be sick for your Friday lecture, send out an email the night before. Students love that. Not that they don't love you and your class, though. Bet they just don't love you as much as I do. Which is a lot, I love you a lot.

Your love (who loves you a lot),

James Potter <3'

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

hi I’m such a big fan of your writing 💕and overall so grateful that you write for Donna since I feel she is very underrated especially RE Donna

but I wanted to request ✨ a scenario where Donna and R are having a normal afternoon and R out of nowhere blurts out how they used to do modeling for a little while and Donna get curious so R shows photos of a photoshoot where she wears a little revealing dress and Donna get slightly jealous so R convince Donna she will give her a personal photoshoot and so they do it and it turns into smut

go Donna please 🙏

also if you don’t want to it okay and you can just ignore this request but hope you have a good day ❤️☺️

Yess!! Thank you for your request and for your nice words!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!! :))))

You can leave your veil on

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem!! Reader

Warnings: G!P Donna, smut, Minors DNI, fluff,

Word count: 6,440

Summary: Maybe a photo session can make her jealousy disappear...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!!I love you all!!!

“Be careful, it's hot,” Donna commented, leaving a steaming cup of tea on the table. You smiled gratefully, nodding as you looked out the window of the old house.

You could have tried to run away, escape from that cursed village, but you didn't. In your work as a photographer you had visited many places, but certainly none like that. A village set back in time, servant and faithful to someone similar to the witches in stories.

But, in reality, you saw no reason to do so. One priestess, four Lords, that was the system by which that place functioned. A castle, a dam, a factory, a house. Of all your options, the house was the best one.

Donna Beneviento, ventriloquist and doll maker, had a series of nightmares prepared for you, to drive you crazy.

You fought against those hallucinations, you screamed, you ran away until it was no longer necessary. No matter how much fear a woman like her could cause in someone like you, it wasn't enough. She was a mysterious, mourning figure that hid her face behind a black veil. The mystery overcame the fear and you stopped living those nightmares, to live in dreams.

Little by little, you got to know that woman, and the more you did, the more you fell in love with her. Compassion, love, you couldn't say why you didn't end up jumping into the void, down that waterfall. Maybe it was that Donna was as lonely as you in this world, maybe she didn't want to kill the last ray of hope of dark and lonely life.

So there you were, you had been on that estate for months and you didn't regret it at all. Her hidden beauty, which you forced her to show you, the changes Mother Miranda caused in her body, everything that gave her a complex was suddenly eclipsed by your kisses, by your words of love, by the whish to leave your boring life behind to join hers.

“Thank you, Donna,” you said kindly, as she sat in front of you, looking at you with that same bewilderment from the first day. An eternity could pass, but Donna would still wonder why you decided to stay, why you loved a sick, dark woman like her.

Her corners turned up as she raised her own cup to her lips. You sighed as you remembered everything that had brought you there, and above all, when you thought about the reasons that made you never want to return home, reasons that sat in front of you like every afternoon, that you hugged every night, reasons that had a first and last name: Donna Beneviento.

“Is it, is it to your liking?” She asked timidly, with the soft and hoarse melody she had for a voice. You smiled even wider, pretending you hadn't comically burned yourself.

“Yes, I... Ugh, it's perfect,” you said, fanning your mouth in a funny way, to which she laughed in a shy and funny way, looking away.

“I told you it was hot,” she murmured, with a knowing whisper, with that so intense look which could even pierce your skin.

“I should learn to listen,” you joked, shaking your head. “That's what they told me at school.”

“Did they tell you that it was hot?” The lady asked, disconcerted. You would always admire that shy innocence.

“No,” you said, laughing, making Donna look at you confused. “They told me that I didn't know how to listen.”

Donna Beneviento was a lonely woman. She had been alone for so many years so human relationships didn’t exist in her own world. At first you were surprised by those curious reactions to simple phrases or expressions, but little by little, you got used to them, finding them adorable in their own way.

“It's funny, they told me the same thing,” she said, with a melancholic smile. You nodded, blowing away the smoke of that burning tea.

“Did they? Because I think there is no one in this world who is capable of listening as well as you,” you said in a soft voice, making your compliments, once again, to get her cheeks blush.

“That's not true,” she said, downplaying that true fact.

After days of nightmares, you had only heard her speak through the Angie doll. It took a lot for Donna to be able to communicate with her own voice, even after your first kiss.

“Well, well, I don't want to contradict you but... Yes it is,” you whispered the last sentence, making the smile light up her face again, hiding it shamefully behind her cup of tea.

There was a small moment of silence, one of hundreds every day. A contemplative moment, in which your photographic eye admired each of her features, her figure. Yes, there was nothing more beautiful for your camera, you were sure.

“Mmm,” you murmured, savoring that delicious artisanal tea that Donna adored you with every day. “It's delicious.”

“Everything I make is delicious according to you,” she whispered, suspicious. Alert, insecurity approaching at high speed.

“Well, yes,” you said with a serious tone, crossing your arms. “Everything.”

Donna smiled again, shaking her head.

“Don’t say those things…. You know it makes me ashamed,” she said with a pink tone on her cheeks, with a mischievous but shy look at the same time.

“What did I say?” You asked amused, leaning your back on the couch.

“You know what you said,” Donna said hurriedly, with her hands trembling because of the shyness and nervousness caused by your seductive gaze. Yes, you said it on purpose.

“I said I like everything you make to me,” you said with an indifferent tone, ignoring that too obvious insinuation. “Why are you ashamed of that?”

“Because I... You know, you mean...” She stammered, further evidencing her nervousness.

“Your food,” you joked, leaving her completely confused and much more embarrassed.

“My food?” Donna asked, blinking profusely, looking with her eye for a place to hide after that sentence.

“Yes, of course, what did you think I was referring to, Donna?” You asked, biting your lip. Maybe you shouldn't play with her that much... But it was quite funny.

“I don't... You know what? I'm going to get more tea,” she said, getting up from the armchair to cowardly flee, as always when the conversation got a bit hotter.

“Uh, uh, honey…” You said hurriedly, standing up and grabbing her wrist tenderly, caressing her soft skin with your thumb. “Come on… Don't be nervous, it was just a joke.”

Donna nodded, letting you grab her waist and pull her into a slow, loving kiss, calming her breathing with it.

“So...” She murmured, with a more relaxed expression, playing with the buttons of your blouse. “You like my food.”

“I love it,” you said amused, stealing another quick kiss from her. “You have to show me how to make it.”

“Sure, of course,” she said, excited by the idea, moving away from you and dragging you back to the tea place.

“Before I met you, the only thing I could make was something prepared in the microwave,” you explained, sitting down again, changing the conversation to an easier and less... Hot one.

She nodded curiously, sipping her tea calmly, as if that little joke had never happened.

“Once, I remember that I had to promote some diet products. I was eating protein bars for a month, I guess that's my level of cooking,” you commented amused, remembering that part of your past. Donna looked at you curiously again, frowning.

“Em... Yes, I...”

“You didn't understand anything I said, did you?” You joked, making her shake her head, scratching the back of her neck.

“Niente”

“Niente,” you repeated, amused. “Well, I worked being a model once, you know, I had to take photos with products, with clothes...”

“Model?” She asked, this time leaning towards you, showing interest in that detail. You nodded, not caring.

“Yes, well, I had to pay for the photography academy somehow,” you explained with that same amused tone, which calmed down when you saw her confused and with an intriguing face. “Once a man from a clothing brand came and well, it is known that he found me attractive enough for the job.”

“A man? What man?” Donna asked abruptly, you couldn't tell if she was curious or annoyed.

“Well, one man...” You whispered, studying her movements. “Bah, it doesn't matter, that's part of my past.”

“It matters, who was that stronzo?” She asked, with a dark and worried tone. You should already know that your past, like lovers and relationships, was a completely forbidden topic in that house.

“Hey, don't worry, Donna, he was just a businessman,” you said, moving your hands to calm her increased, nervous breathing. “It's not a dark thing at all, I promise you. I just let them to take photos with new clothes, or things like that.”

“What things?” She asked, still with distrust in her voice.

“You know what? I better show you, I still have my photo book,” you said, patting your knees and walking towards the room.

Everything that had to do with the modern world aroused a certain curiosity in the lady in black, but also jealousy, a lot of jealousy. You couldn't blame her for being possessive, not after knowing her past. Maybe you thought it was a good idea to show her what you did when you modeled.

“Come, sit here,” you said, indicating the woman to come to your side, while you opened the photo book for the first page.

“It's you,” Donna said, bringing her closer to that photo, a bit provocative one, to be honest.

“Yes, of course, see? I wore clothes that they wanted to promote and they took photos of me, nothing strange,” you said, turning each of the pages slowly, being studied by the lady in black, who couldn't help but smile. “I looked beautiful, huh?”

“So beautiful…” She whispered with a tender smile, running her hand over one of the photos of her. “That dress is interesting. Maybe I can make a similar one for you.”

You nodded curiously, studying her reactions. Everything seemed to be going well, just one more afternoon in which you dedicated yourselves to talking about your past life, to astonish Donna with the world she didn’t know about, and she would never know about, the world you didn't want to return to.

“What is this?” She asked after a few minutes, with her expression changed, showing you a photo that occupied both sides of the book. A photo that even made you blush.

“Oh, well...” You whispered, taking the book and not having an answer that would help her face to relax. “Me, posing, with a dress.”

“That's not a dress, (Y/N), it's more like a long scarf, not even that,” she said angrily, looking at you with an expression that alerted even more jealousy. You had to make an effort to hold back your laughter at the reaction and shook your head.

“No, no, it's a dress, do you see the sleeves?” You said, pointing to a part of the photograph.

“What I'm seeing are your breasts,” Donna responded, without looking at your face, with her eye fixed on that photo, which, yes, was a little too suggestive.

“Oh, they can't be seen at all,” you said, downplaying it. Donna sighed, ignoring your excuses. “They are well covered.”

“I can see them,” she corrected, with a brusque tone. “You say everyone could see these photos?”

“Well, yes,” you said whispering, closing the book and leaving it on the side of the couch, with a shameful smile. “At least during the advertising campaign.”

“The campaign... Let's see if I find out, are you telling me that everyone could see you showing your breasts?” She asked, with an annoyed tone, her chest rising and falling rapidly again.

“Well, not everyone…” You said, shaking your head and rolling your eyes. “Only those who passed by the bus stop on line 4, those who bought fashion magazines, those who went to a hairdresser, those who…”

“Basta,” she said, having a hard time. Unlike you, who was having a lot of fun because of her absurd jealousy.

“Besides, you can't see my breasts, I've already told you,” you said in your defense, feigning anger and crossing your arms. “I don't understand why it bothers you, Donna. You've seen them too... And I know you love them,” you said in a seductive tone, nudging her, making her head turn towards you abruptly, with that childish anger in her look.

“I'm your girlfriend, (Y/N),” she hissed, revealing what you were to her right at that moment. You hadn't thought about it, but you knew that girlfriend wasn’t enough. She was the woman of your life.

“Oh, I see... You're jealous, huh?” You asked with a funny tone, launching yourself at her body to tickle her, which made her laugh, trying to push you away. “How jealous are you…”

“Stop, (Y/N),” she said, holding your hands so they would stop playing with her dress, diluting that funny moment with jealousy. “I don't understand why you had to do something like that. Showing your body to everyone is...”

“It was a temporary job, nothing serious, Donna,” you said calmer, worrying because her jealousy didn't seem to give in to your cuddling.

“It seems serious to me,” the lady in black protested, trying to calm herself down with your little tricks for anxiety. “I don't even want to think about how many people have seen you and…”

“Hey, come on. It's okay,” you said, wrapping your arms around her and rubbing her body to comfort her, something that usually worked. “That's the past.”

“That's what you say, but I don't even want to think about how many people look at those magazines and... (Y/N), they probably masturbated with that photo,” she said with a serious tone. But the words entered your mind causing you to laugh, a laugh that you couldn't contain.

“Masturbated? Donna… Really?” You said laughing, but with a stab of reality hitting you in the back. Well, she could be right and that was… Disturbing.

“I don't see where the fun is. I'm completely serious,” Donna protested, moving away from you to show how offended she was by your laughter.

“Yes, yes, it's just that... It's a very uncharacteristic statement for you,” you explained, letting her know the reason for your amusement. When Donna was nervous, she might say that kind of things. Well, nervous or terribly excited.

“Why? I used to masturbate before I met you. It’s a natural need” she said, still with that abrupt tone. You had to stop laughing or Donna would get really angry and you didn't want that.

“Oh...” You whispered with a different tone, returning to that tireless seduction that your body was asking for. “I see… And would you have done it by looking at that photo?” You asked in her ear, making her body shiver and the blush return to her cheeks.

“Yes, (Y/N),” she said in a barely audible voice, her fists clenched on her knees. “That's why I don't understand how you could...”

She couldn't continue speaking, because your lips crashed against hers abruptly, kissing her wildly, trying to make her passion blind her jealousy, at least a bit.

“I would love to see you doing that...” You whispered, giving her one last kiss and checking that your actions had an effect, making her smile slightly.

“Um, (Y/N), I...” She stammered, fleeing from the caresses you made on her chest, caresses that distracted her from her anger with unprecedented success. Maybe it had been the sight of your barely covered breasts that made her calm down. That excited you, a lot.

But an idea appeared in your head to interrupt that moment, a much better one, one that would dispel the doll maker's jealousy forever, or so you thought.

“Mm, I have an idea, Donna,” you said thoughtfully, making curiosity return to her face.

“What idea?” She asked, moving nervously on the couch, revealing her excitement, trying to hide it in the black fabric of her dress, a detail that you, of course, didn’t overlook.

“What do you think if you do a photo session for me? One just for you...” You proposed, resting your head in your hand and biting your lip as you saw how she played with her dress to hide her enthusiasm.

“A photo session?” The lady asked curiously, frowning, but interested, of course.

“Uh-huh,” you stated, taking her hand so she would stop playing with the black fabric and you could caress her. “One that only you can look at…”

“Only me...” She sighed with a smile, intertwining your fingers.

She seemed to think about it for a few seconds, but, after that time, she nodded profusely, giving you her approval.

“Wait, I'm going to get the camera,” you said amused, running towards the elevator stopping at the last moment to pick up your old modeling album with an amused expression. “I'll take this, to avoid temptations...” You joked, calming her protest at your inappropriate comment with a kiss on the cheek.

Well, at least you had managed to solve the jealousy problem and the idea sounded quite... Funny in your head, well, also in your head.

“Say cheese,” you said jokingly, shooting a photo towards the couch, catching Donna off guard, almost blinding her with the flash.

“Don't do that, (Y/N)” she protested, rubbing her eye while you laughed in amusement, looking at the result on the small screen.

“Oh, look how pretty you are...” You said, ignoring her complaints and showing her that improvised photo. Her natural expression was truly worthy of one of your favorite works, of course.

Donna leaned in to look at herself, and she stepped back immediately, shaking her head.

“No, I'm horrible,” she said, with that tone that betrayed nervousness, the fierce attack of her complexes again. You caressed her cheek, forcing her to look at you.

“You're beautiful, Donna, the camera doesn't lie,” you said softly, placing your lips on hers.

“But you do,” she said, ignoring your compliment, looking askance at that improvised photo. “I could never be a model like you. Not with my hideous face.”

“Oh, come on, Donna... You know you're beautiful, you know it, I know you know it,” you said, relaxing a bit, wiping away a tear that was slowly running down her cheek.

“I know you don't think that way but... Thank you,” she whispered, closing her eye due to your caresses, resting her hand on yours, squeezing it against her skin. You smiled, kissing her again, not insisting on making her complexes disappear. You had your whole life to get it.

“I have to make some room on the memory card... I took a lot of photos when I arrived at the village,” you commented, ignoring that conversation, which was getting really sad. “Oh, what the…? Angie!”

You shouted to the doll as you flipped through photo after photo, showing the irreverent puppet posing comically in many of them. What a session she had given herself.

“What do you want, stupid stranger?” The doll Asked, running towards you in a graceful and fast manner, climbing into the lap of her owner.

“Have you been playing with the camera?” You asked, ignoring her contempt. You would always be a threat to Donna, Angie would never like you, or so you thought.

“No,” she responded childishly, earning a suspicious look from her owner. You blinked in disbelief, turning the camera towards her.

“What is this?” You asked, going through the photos that the doll had taken one by one, making her laugh with a sinister laugh.

“Mmm, it looks like me,” the doll murmured, making you roll your eyes, with a severe pose, reminding yourself of your parents when you did something wrong.

“Yes, yes... What have I told you about touching my stuff?” You protested, sighing. “You could have broken it.”

-But I haven't... Look, Donna, this photo is great, don't you think? It's me, with me, and with you...” the doll said, ignoring your scolding, pointing to one of the photos that had Angie posing next to the portrait on the stairs.

Donna smiled, looking at you amused. You were incapable of getting as angry as you wanted.

“Wonderful, Angie, you are quite an artist,” you mocked, trying not to laugh to emphasize your annoyance. “Although I have to admit that I'm surprised that you've learned to handle the camera that well,” you said, more to yourself than to her. Angie jumped mockingly, pleased by your admiration.

“It's easy, stupid, you just have to hit that button,” she said, pressing the camera trigger and blinding you with the flash.

“Oh, shit...” You said closing your eyes and listening to the puppet laughing as she cowardly ran away from you. “Damn…”

“Are you okay, tesoro?” Donna asked, with a hand on her mouth that prevented you from seeing she was laughing. Laughing at you, of course.

“Yes, I... Are you laughing at me, Donna?” You asked amused, blinking to eliminate the lights that formed your eyes after that flash.

“No,” she said with the doll's fake tone, something that made you sigh with tenderness.

“Well, well, we'll see if you laugh so much after the photos you're going to take of me...” You sighed, getting up from the couch.

“But, but I don't know how to use that device,” she protested, allowing herself to be dragged towards the elevator.

“If Angie could do it, so can you... Come on, I have a lot of ideas...”

It took you a while, but you finally managed to make an improvised photography set. The place chosen was the doll workshop, one of the bleakest parts of the house, but artistically perfect. All those wooden limbs hanging from the ceiling and its stone walls and floor made it an ideal place for that private session, one that you were eager to begin.

“Just a bit more...” You said, giving instructions to the brunette to move a wooden table, which you would desecrate with your sensual poses “Perfect, leave it there.”

Donna sighed, unable to hide the desire she had for those photos, for that gift for her, just for her.

“Come,” you said, gesturing towards the tripod where you had placed your camera, pointing it at the middle of the room. The lady in black approached slowly, studying that curious device. “Look, Donna, you can see what you are going to photograph through this gap here. Come on, take a look.”

The lady obeyed nervously, looking into the camera and smiling afterwards, letting you know that she understood you.

“Whatever appears here will be seen later on that screen, right?” She asked curious. You nodded.

“Yes, but don't use it as a reference, the light could deceive you. Okay, then you keep the lens centered and put your finger on the button, like this,” you said, taking her hand and gently placing her finger on the button, making the lens move. “You see? You have to press it softly first to get it to focus, otherwise it will be blurry.”

“Oh, it seems complicated,” Donna whispered, checking what was in front of the camera and then above it.

“It's not, trust me. You'll do it great...” You said, patting her on the back and heading towards the suitcase you brought with you, choosing what your first item of clothing was going to be. “If you can’t, I can tell Angie to do it…”

“No,” she said abruptly. “I can do it.”

You nodded with a smile. Naturally, that was the answer you expected.

“Well, then... How about this one to start?” You said, displaying that red and provocative dress that aroused so much jealousy in the brunette.

“(Y/N)...” She hissed, annoyed by your choice.

“You don’t like it? My breasts can be seen with it...” You hummed, waving the garment comically until a shy smile formed on her face as she shook her head.

“Shut up and put it on,” Donna ordered, hiding her embarrassment with the camera while you played with the red fabric, making it look even more provocative.

Your modeling days were still evident in your actions, posing naturally under her attentive gaze, perhaps too attentive. You posed in a much more provocative way, making her hands shake when taking the photographs.

It was funny, very funny, especially when it came to raising a bare leg towards the table, or kneeling on it in a seductive pose, which made Donna have to clear her throat several times to focus.

After that dress, successive combinations of the clothes you brought to the village came: lace bras, negligees, your entire wardrobe being captured by the camera lens, as well as by the eye of Lady Beneviento, who seemed to enjoy that seductive vision, the provocative poses and the increasingly obvious lack of clothes.

“You like them?” The brunette asked after a fun and exciting time. You flipped through the photos and nodded in surprise. They were good, much better than you thought. Luckily, none of them would ever leave that house.

“Sure, it's a good job, Donna,” you said, hugging her waist from behind, making her laugh pleased. “Besides, they are all for you.”

“Yes, that's the best...” she sighed, looking carefully at the places of your naked skin, which you exposed on purpose.

“Wait, the best is yet to come,” you said amused, moving away from her and leaving the workshop.

“(Y/N)? Where are you going?” Donna asked, confused by your sudden escape.

You ran to the bedroom, eagerly looking for that piece of clothing you wanted to use on a crazy idea in your head, an idea that presented itself in the middle of that improvised session.

“Can I use it?” You asked, entering the workshop again and carrying Donna's black veil in your hand, that veil with which she covered her face long ago, and with which she continued to do so with anyone that wasn’t you.

“Um, yes, but... What do you want it for?” She asked confused, watching how you played with the black fabric in your hands.

“Well, I've thought that I would like a couple of photos with it on, if you don't mind, of course,” you explained, looking at that fabric, looking for the correct way to put it on.

“Fi, fine,” the lady in black murmured turning it over, and placing it on your head making you laugh with amusement.

“How can you see anything with this thing?” You joked, reaching out to touch her while you tried to make out something with your eyes. “Donna? Who turned off the light?”

“Stop fooling around and stand there, tesoro,” she said, amused, pushing you towards the table, which you prevented by digging your feet into the floor.

“Wait, wait... I'm not ready,” you whispered in her ear, moving away from her and pulling at the tie that kept one of your dresses stuck to your body. “I want you to take some photos of me with the veil on...”

“Yes, you already said that,” she said, confused, interrupted by a finger between her lips.

“Just with the veil on,” you whispered, slurring your words as the clothing covering you fell to the stone floor, leaving Donna in the same material, looking at you up and down, checking that during your escape to the bedroom, your underwear also disappeared.

“I think you like the idea, don't you?” You whispered again, biting her earlobe and running your hands over her body, caressing the incipient bulge in the black fabric of her dress.

She nodded nervously, closing her eyes at your fleeting touch, one that disappeared at the same time you walked away from her, leaning on the wooden table.

“Come on, move, Donna.  Shoot,” you said seductively, making Donna blink and shake her head, her entire body trembling from the view she had.

Her attitude was much more nervous than before, taking her time with each photograph. You played with your body, opening your legs slightly, moving the fabric away from your face to show how you were biting your lip. It was a vision too erotic for Donna, who could not bear more than a dozen photographs.

“Wait, (Y/N),” she said stuttering, making you laugh and get off the table where you were kneeling, pushing the veil away from your face again.

“I hope you captured these last ones well, Donna, I think they're going to be your favorites,” you joked, continuing with your sensual movements, moving your hips in an exaggerated way as you walked slowly towards her.

“They definitely are,” the lady said, her voice low, moving away from your naked body, only covered in that black cloth.

“Mm, this photo session has warmed me up,” you murmured, removing the veil from your face and playing with it in your hands, surrounding the neck of the brunette with it. Donna was receding more and more. “Where are you going, my love?”

“Um, I...” She stammered, unable to speak clearly, with a marked and suggestive accent as she was dragged by her own veil towards your naked body.

“You're hot too, huh?” You asked on her lips, touching them but without kissing them, taking advantage of that erotic moment that you were not going to lose. “Shall we take a break, Donna?”

She nodded, unable to resist the temptation of kissing you in a hot, wet way, bringing her body closer to yours, making her arousal more than evident, something that made you moan in anticipation.

“I want to take you, (Y/N),” she whispered in your ear, making your entire body tremble in satisfaction from that statement. You smiled and raised an eyebrow, holding her gaze and pulling the black fabric closer.

“Mm yes, it could be a good break,” you said, removing the veil from her neck and walking towards the table, opening your legs again, shiny with excitement, making the humidity between them more than evident, running a finger through your folds under her attentive gaze and slow steps.

“Wait,” she said, approaching, but with something in her eye that made her reveal a hidden intention. “Put it on again, please,” she whispered, taking the piece of black cloth that was still in your hands and putting it back on your head, to which you frowned and laughed amused.

“Oh, fine...” You whispered, pulling on her waist, with the black fabric clouding your vision, but not your senses, which were beginning to burn with the kisses that Donna began to place on your neck. “Wow, do you like that?”

Donna didn't speak, nor did she nod. She simply caressed your face beneath her veil, letting you know her response as she played with the buttons of her dress.

You gasped at her seductive, burning touch, at how her hands ran over your bare skin, at how they covered your breasts while her mouth traveled down your neck and her body rocked against yours.

You laughed, closing your eyes, noticing how her hand moved the fabric away so her lips could devour yours for a few moments while her fingers played with your nipples and her obvious erection rubbed against your body.

“Mm, Donna...” You murmured, opening her dress so her torso was revealed to you, so her pale skin would send shivers through your body.

“Shh, silenzio,” she whispered, laughing sinisterly, squeezing one of your breasts with subtle strength, which made you gasp with pleasure and move your hips against her body. “They are mine, you understand?” She asked. “Just nod.”

You obeyed, curious about that question, about that attitude so out of the ordinary for Donna.

“Only mine, (Y/N)...” She sighed again, joining the movements of your body as her own bra gave way in your skillful and mischievous hands, hands that she grabbed immediately. “No, no, tesoro…”

“I'm yours?” You asked, defying her order to keep you quiet, pushing aside her veil so you could shamelessly capture her lips, making her move away, placing her hands on your chest.

“Mine, (Y/N),” she responded, slowly turning you around and leaning over the wooden table, leaving you completely exposed to her desires, to her body's desire to dominate yours, to make it hers, again.

“Very well, then make me yours,” you said amused, separating your legs, making her gasp at the exciting vision she had before her. Your face was still covered by that black cloth, which she placed in such a way that it wouldn't move, before leaning down to your ear and pressing her shaft against your wetness, now free of her underwear.

“Don't take it off, (Y/N)...” Donna whispered softly as her hands ran down your back, down your legs, until one of her fingers ran through your wet folds, making you moan and nod, moving your legs.

Her caresses were slow, almost like a small warning of what was to come. The wetness that permeated her fingers was enough to make her moan as well. The position you were in and the veil prevented you from seeing her face. You knew she was smiling, you knew she had that smile.

“Shh, stay still,” she told you, lowering your back so it leaned on the table while her finger played with your entrance, with your clit, moving in circles so your hips demanded a little more contact, just a little more.

Her hot commands entered your ears like a current of warm air, causing your legs to spread even further and her finger to slide inside of you slowly, making your world spin, making you fervently desire more contact, more pleasure, more Donna.

“Stop playing with me,” you protested, amused, feeling her finger curl inside of you, exploring your body, getting your walls used to the contact.

“I like to play with you,” she hissed, raising your back so she could kiss you on your neck and continue dancing with your body.

“Donna, don't make me suffer,” you begged, clenching your fists on the table as her finger disappeared from your body and her hands roamed your chest from behind, squeezing your breasts, claiming them as hers.

“Okay...” She sighed, leaving that game aside and approaching you, placing her shaft at your entrance but just playing with it, running through your folds in a hot and wet caress.

You moaned at the contact, at her erection caressing your body, making you claim her to be inside of you with a few discreet movements of your hips.

“Donna,” you said with a more serious tone, hitting the table with one of your fists, looking at her through the sides of the veil. “Please…”

She sighed, but she didn't say anything. She simply complied with your wishes, slowly inserting the tip, letting your body adjust to hers. You moaned in pleasure, noticing how your walls stretched, hugging her body in a terribly exciting way.

“Am I hurting you?” She asked by surprise at your hisses of pleasure. Donna always will be the kind innocent woman in black. She couldn't be any other way.

“No, no, move, please,” you said, moaning with pleasure when she was completely in you, sliding along your wet and eager insides.

She obeyed your request slowly also beginning to moan at the sensation, gently grabbing your hips to maintain a stable rhythm, but it couldn't help but be anxious, desperate.

The wooden table creaked under your movements, adding to the wet sounds of your improvised lustful act, turning that sinister room into the warmest one ever, the most obscene ever.

“You're so wet, (Y/N)...” Donna whispered in an amused tone, panting as she moved inside of you, alternating strong thrusts with weaker, more intense ones. Just the way you liked it. That was just for you. “Did you like posing for me?”

You smiled, grabbing the edge of the table to keep from losing your balance, moving your hips to match her thrusts, to feel how your walls hugged her erection, how they made it slide inside and almost out of you.

“Mmm, yes, I love posing for you,” you said almost without thinking, overwhelmed by pleasure, by all the sensations you had experienced, by the relief you felt between your legs and by the excitement that wearing that veil caused you.

“I see...” She murmured, laughing amusedly as she leaned over you, reaffirming her control, reaffirming that you were hers, reaffirming that she was inside of you and you, even if you wanted to, couldn't get away. You didn't want to either.

“Donna, fuck... I'm, I'm close,” you moaned with a growl, noticing how your body tensed little by little, how the pleasure clouded your vision much more than the black veil.

“You're rude, (Y/N)” she said, amused, giving you a small spank on one of your buttocks, which was the spark your body needed to arch completely, letting yourself be carried away by the waves of pleasure from your orgasm. A scandalous one, probably the most scandalous one you had ever had.

Donna held you tightly so she could continue moving inside of you, this time much faster, affirming with her actions how close she was to possessing you again. It didn't take long to happen, causing the heat to accompany your orgasm with her wet caresses, making you full of her again.

The lady sighed, letting herself fall onto your back, staying very close to you, inside of you as her body relaxed, enjoying the obscene wetness that dripped between your legs.

Exhausted, you turned around, pushing the black fabric away with one hand while you kissed her, as long as you owed her that love that you used to give her in those situations. Although this time, she didn't seem to feel insecure at all.

“I love you,” she said, returning to her being, returning to being the shy and affectionate Donna that a lust caused by you had hidden for a moment.

You took off the veil, passing it back around her neck and pulling it, looking at her with a loving and satisfied expression at the same time.

“Me too...” You sighed, returning her affection with a slow, loving and tender kiss, far from the previous actions. “Hey, I've been thinking...”

“What?” She asked curiously, burying her head in your shoulder, letting herself be embraced by your protective arms.

“I would really like to take some photos of you with the veil on too, just with the veil on...”

[queenshelby]

The Basement (Part Two)

Pairing: Dark! Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Smut, CNC, Anal, Rough, Derogation

Four weeks after you signed the contract, you arrived at Cillian's house which, at least from the outside, looked like every other house on that street.

You were greeted by a woman named Mandy who took your bag and gestured for you to come inside.

"You brought clothes, that's sweet," she chuckled, raising an eyebrow as she led you into the house and you simply nodded shyly, feeling slightly intimidated by the thirty something year old woman. 

"You know, you won't need them sweetie, so maybe leave them in the spare room for now," she then said, indicating a small room off the hallway.

Feeling like you had no choice, you quietly dropped your bag on the floor and followed Mandy down the corridor. The rich scent of expensive perfume filled the air, mingling with the faint aroma of exotic spices wafting from somewhere deeper within the house.

"Uhm, may I ask who you are? I didn't expect anyone but Cillian to be here," you said hesitantly, trying to get more information about your circumstances.

"Oh! That's right, you don't know me yet, do you?" Mandy replied coyly, winking at you. "I'm Mandy, a friend of Cillian's and I'm going to look after you for the next two weeks," she added cheerfully before taking your hand and leading you downstairs to the basement.

"Where is Cillian?" you asked Mandy as your heart pounded wildly against your chest. You couldn't help but feel anxious about what was coming next; the prospect of being trapped in this home for two whole weeks was terrifying but also strangely arousing.

"He's out at the moment, but will be back in a few hours," Mandy stated. "He asked me to get you ready for when he returns," she added, leading you down a winding staircase until you reached a dark but spacious room, containing a big, beautiful bed with chains, a leather chair, and a mirror on each wall. There was also a spa bath and small ensuite and whilst the room was nicely decorated, the sight of your windowless surroundings made your stomach churn nervously.

"What do you mean ' getting me ready'?" you then ought to ask, swallowing hard and Mandy smiled kindly at you. Her tone was soothing, almost maternal.

"Well, for starters, I will talk you through what you can expect from your stay here and then he has asked me to restrain you for your first encounter with him, just to make things more interesting," Mandy explained, reaching out to stroke your cheek gently. You flinched away instinctively — Mandy chuckled softly.

"You read the contract before signing it, didn't you?" Mandy asked, cocking her head slightly to one side, her brow furrowed in concern. The question hung between you—a loaded gun aimed straight at your guilt. Your eyes darted toward the corner of the room, avoiding any confrontation with the older woman.

"Yeah, I did," you finally admitted, mustering all of your courage. 

"Good, then you should know what is about to happen," Mandy said, patting your shoulder reassuringly. "So, how about you undress sweetie, so that I can apply the restraints properly?"

With a weak nod, you began to unbutton your shirt while Mandy turned around. It felt strange to undress while someone else watched, especially since you knew what would happen once you were completely nude.

As you slipped off your shirt and pants, leaving only your underwear on, Mandy cleared her throat loudly before turning to face you again.

"Very nice, darling," she murmured, looking you over appreciatively. "Are you comfortable with wearing nothing at all?" Mandy asked, her voice softening. "If not, we can cover you up with a robe, if you prefer."

She seemed genuinely concerned about your comfort, which struck you as odd considering the circumstances. However, there was something oddly comforting about her gentle, patient manner. It made you trust her enough to respond honestly.

"No, I guess I'm okay with being naked," you managed to say weakly. "It feels weird, though."

You could see Mandy smile at your response, her expression warm and understanding. "It does, doesn't it?" Mandy responded sympathetically. "But I guess it makes things easier access wise," she then told you while you began to remove your bra and panties, leaving behind the stark reality of your vulnerability.

Mandy's gaze wandered across your body, taking in every curve and line. "Beautiful," she whispered under her breath. "You have such stunning curves, no wonder Cills took an interest in you."

The compliment left you feeling both flattered and embarrassed. "Thank you," you muttered awkwardly, averting your gaze to the ground.

"Now, please put your wrists behind your back," Mandy instructed in a soothing voice. You hesitated for a second before complying, apprehensive about what would happen next. You clumsily interlocked your fingers, feeling the cold metal touch your skin as Mandy attached the first chain. "How tight is this supposed to be?" you whimpered, squirming uncomfortably.

"Just right," Mandy answered confidently, tightening the chain further.

"A bit uncomfortable, but not too much." You tried to relax your shoulders, but the cold metal digging into your flesh made it impossible, which was something Mandy ought to ignore.

"Now lets talk about the particulars, shall we?" Mandy started, sitting you down on the edge of the bed. "Cillian asked me to go over some details with you so that you know exactly what to expect during your stay," she explained, her tone warm and friendly. "The first thing is that you'll be staying in this room for the entirety of your stay, unless he decides otherwise. All meals will be delivered to you and the bathroom is equipped with everything you might need, including fresh towels and toiletries."

You glanced around the room, noting the luxurious amenities.

"Now let me tell you what is expected of you, little one," Mandy spoke in a calming voice, her hands resting on your shoulders. "Cillian will come down here four or five times a day, to... entertain himself with you. This includes intercourse and anything else he wants to do. Anything he asks for, you do. No questions asked."

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat growing larger by the second.

"Occasionally, he asks me to join in or hold you down for him," Mandy added casually, checking the chain's tension. "He will like to watch you struggle a bit and I can guarantee you that you will become rather sore after the first few days. But it's all part of the fun, isn't it?" Mandy said, patting your bare leg gently.

"Now you consented to him ejaculating inside you and the doctor has given you a depo shot two weeks ago to make sure you don't get pregnant. You also consented to anal sex and you agreed to him having sex while you are asleep, for which sleeping pills were prescribed to you, correct?" Mandy asked, her voice matter-of-fact.

"Uh-huh," you croaked, nodding feebly. Your throat constricted painfully, your breathing shallow and ragged.

"Good," Mandy nodded approvingly, patting your knee. 

She paused, her tone turning softer. "Also, you understood that you are forbidden to masturbate or play with yourself, yes?"

"Yes," you managed to utter, blushing profusely.

"Good," Mandy said, patting your knee affectionately. "Now I will let you relax. Cillian should be here soon," she reassured you and you gave Mandy a weak smile, nodding in agreement.

The thought of enduring countless sexual encounters with Cillian, without any chance of escape or even self-pleasure, terrified you. Yet, a strange sense of anticipation began to wash over you. What kind of person would choose to endure such humiliation willingly?

The thoughts swirled in your mind, creating a whirlpool of confusion and doubt. You tried to rationalize what lay ahead, grasping at straws to justify your decision. Was it curiosity, perhaps? Or was it the lure of his fame that enticed you into this predicament? Regardless of the reason, you found yourself submerged in a sea of desperation as you faced the inevitable truth. You sighed heavily, casting a longing glance at the door, willing it to swing open and reveal the object of your fascination.

As the minutes ticked by, your impatience grew, gnawing at your insides like a ravenous beast. You were chained to the bed, naked, and time seemed to slow down, the seconds stretching into eternity until, suddenly, the door creaked open.

"Alright, little one," Cillian murmured, stepping into the room as he shut the door behind him. His presence sent a shiver down your spine, the mere sound of his voice causing your heartbeat to race.

"I can see that you have settled in nicely," Cillian said, his voice husky, as he walked closer to the bed. His eyes, bright blue, held a hint of excitement as they scanned your body.

You nodded silently, your throat constricting. Words failed you, replaced by a tumultuous mix of emotions. Fear, anticipation, shame, and arousal swirled within you, creating a whirlwind of sensations.

"Why don't you turn onto your stomach for me?" Cillian suggested, his voice calm and confident.

Your heart raced, but you managed to roll onto your belly, facing away from him while the chains twisted tighter, the rope tangling up at the bedhead.

"Perfect," Cillian murmured, running his fingers along your spine while caressing your upper thigh.

His touch sent goosebumps dancing up your arms, and you shivered involuntarily.

"Now tell me," Cillian prodded, his voice dripping with wicked intent. "Have you ever had anal before?"

You swallowed hard, your voice barely audible.

"N-no, I haven't," you stammered, your heart hammering against your ribs. 

"And yet you agreed to it," Cillian murmured, his voice laced with a hint of satisfaction. "This should be interesting, then," he chuckled, his eyes twinkling with anticipation.

"Please," you whimpered, the word escaping your lips like a plea for mercy. "Just don't hurt me when you put it in there," you begged and Cillian's laughter echoed in the room, filling the space with an unsettling energy.

"Don't worry," he soothed, stroking your back gently. "I promise to be gentle. At least at first," Cillian murmured, his fingers trailing up and down your spine.

"You're trembling," he observed, pausing to brush loose strands of hair away from your neck. "Is it because you're scared?"

'A little,' you manage to squeak out, your breath hitching in your throat.

Perhaps it's the thought of the unknown, or the realization that you're bound to a stranger, powerless to escape his whims. Cillian smiles, his teeth white and perfect, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement.

"Don't be, I will ease you into it," he assures you, placing a warm hand on your back. "I might fuck your pussy a little bit first, that should loosen you up," Cillian said, unbuckling his belt and pulling down his pants, revealing his erect cock.

"And while I fuck your little pussy, I might start stretching your asshole with my finger," he continued, moving onto the bed.

"We'll see how that goes," he teased, crawling up behind you.

You gasped, the sensation of his throbbing member rubbing against your hip sending a jolt of anticipation rippling through your body. You could feel your juices pooling between your legs, soaking the thin mattress beneath you.

"Let's see how much you can handle," Cillian murmured, guiding his cock towards your entrance.

You braced yourself, your muscles tensing as you waited for the entry. He pushed, his length sliding effortlessly into your wet heat. Your moan echoed in the silent room, a muffled cry of pleasure reverberating off the walls.

"That's it," Cillian growled, each thrust driving deep within you. "Fuck, you are so tight," he groaned, his hips moving rhythmically, pistoning in and out of you. Each stroke sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, your muscles quivering with desire.

"Good girl," Cillian purred, his grip tightening possessively as he thrust deeper. "Take it all, baby. Show me how much you want it."

You moaned, your voice hoarse and desperate while Cillian groaned, his pace quickening.

"You're so wet, so hot," he moaned before pulling out of you abruptly.

"What are you doing?" you cried out, your voice cracking with frustration.

"Shhh, little one," Cillian murmured, stroking your back soothingly. "Relax, I'm just preparing you for what's to come," he said, kneeling between your legs, pulling you onto your knees so that your chain hands were resting on the bedhead.

He then thrusted in to your pussy again, harder than before, ramming into you like a jackhammer.

"That's it," he growled, his voice laced with lust. The room was filled with the sounds of your grunts and the slap of flesh meeting flesh.

"Now I will spread your ass cheeks apart. alright?," Cillian murmured, his voice laced with anticipation and you gasped, your body stiffening in anticipation. "So that I can see your little virgin hole back there," Cillian he then told you, squeezing your cheeks apart roughly.

You winced, your body protesting as he rubbed your asshole with his index finger, coating it with your pussy juice, making it slippery.

He then pressed his fingertip against your sphincter, applying gentle pressure. 

You flinched, your body resisting the invasion. 

"Relax," Cillian murmured, his voice thick with lust. "I'm just getting ready to stretch you out," he told you as he slid his finger into your rear, breaching the barrier with a gentle pop. 

You gasped, a wave of discomfort washing over you.

"That's it," Cillian purred, his voice laced with anticipation.

"I'm just testing the waters," he said, adding another finger, widening the gap. "Can you feel it spreading wider?" he murmured, his voice husky with lust.

"It hurts," you whined, squirming beneath him.

"I know, baby," Cillian murmured, his voice thick with lust. "Just breathe through it," he said, pressing a firm kiss to your collarbone. "You're doing great," he praised, his voice laced with adoration.

You inhaled deeply, letting out a shaky sigh as you adjusted to the intrusion.

"Good girl," Cillian praised, his voice laced with satisfaction. "Now, lean forward onto your elbows," he instructed, slipping his fingers out of you.

"I want to prepare you for my cock," he said, stroking your back soothingly.

Without hesitation, you complied, leaning forward onto your elbows, presenting your sore little hole to him.

"Good girl," he cooed, kissing your back. "This might feel a little cold now," he warned, lubing himself up with a generous amount of K-Y Jelly. He then positioned himself behind you, his hard cock pointing directly at your ass.

You shuddered, bracing yourself for the impending invasion. He grabbed your hips tightly, holding you steady as he rested the tip of his cock against your opening.

"It's going to hurt a little," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "But remember, it's all part of the experience," he reminded you, his words a whisper against your ear.

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly.

"Ready?" he asked, his voice low and gravelly. You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest.

Suddenly, he thrust forward, the head of his cock breaching your entrance.

"Oh god fuck, you are too big," you screamed, your muscles spasming in shock.

"Shhhh, baby," he murmured, his voice softening. "Just breathe through it," he repeated, pressing a tender kiss to your exposed neck. "You're doing great," he praised, his voice thick with adoration.

Cillian continued to work his cock into your rear, inch by excruciating inch. His rhythmic, deliberate movements felt as though he was carefully sculpting you, carving his path deeper and deeper.

"It hurts," you yelped, your voice breaking. "Fuck!" you spat, squirming beneath him. 

"Shhh, baby," Cillian cooed, his voice thick with lust. "This is what you wanted, right?" His words were meant to taunt you, but they served a different purpose altogether.

"You wanted me to use you," Cillian murmured, his voice soft and soothing as he pushed all the way into your rear.

"To claim you, own you, and fuck you however I wish."

You whimpered, your muscles clenching involuntarily. Every push sent a sharp pain shooting through you, but it was accompanied by a growing sense of fullness which felt strangely satisfying.

"Tell me what you think about me using you like this, Y/N," Cillian breathed into your ear, his hot breath fanning your neck.

The command, so blunt and demanding, left you stunned, unable to form coherent words.

"Come on, little one," Cillian urged, his voice softening. "Tell me how it feels."

You struggled to find the words, your voice cracking as you forced out a reply.

"It feels strange," you croaked, your breath hitching in your throat. "Fucked up, actually."

Cillian chuckled quietly, his warm breath fanning your neck. "I bet it does," he murmured, his tone dripping with smug satisfaction. 

"What else?" he asked, his voice husky with lust.

Cillian's question hung heavy in the air, a weighty reminder of the depth of your surrender. You squirmed, feeling his erection pulsating inside you, filling you up in ways you never imagined possible.

"It feels dirty," you confessed, your voice breaking. "Like I'm just your toy," you said as your voice trembled, a quiet whine echoing in the room. 

Cillian laughed, his voice deep and rich with satisfaction. "Exactly," he replied, his tone laden with triumph as he thrusted into you again, hard and fast.

You gasped, your body responding despite the agony coursing through you.

"You're mine now," he proclaimed, his voice echoing with confidence. "My little toy."

The words stung, yet there was a bizarre sense of satisfaction in knowing that you belonged to him, body and soul.

"Oh god, why am I enjoying this?" you asked, your voice strained and desperate as the pain increased. "Why do I crave more?" you asked out loud, confused by your emotions. 

Cillian smirked, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Well, clearly you like being dominated, controlled, and used," he said. His words cut deep, but there was a strange allure in the idea that you were a natural slave.

You felt ashamed, disgusted, and utterly helpless as you accepted the truth. You were indeed a natural slave, thriving under the control and domination of others.

"I think you enjoy it even though it hurts, don't you?" he asked, his manhood relentlessly plunging into your ass. With each brutal thrust, you could feel your resistance melting away as the intense pleasure consumed you.

"No, I don't," you lied, your voice cracking. But deep down, you knew he was right. You did enjoy it - the roughness, the pain, the complete submission to his desires. It was liberating, freeing you from the constraints of societal norms and expectations.

"You're a liar," he growled, his fingers gripping your hips tightly. "Admit it, you love being dominated and controlled."

"Oh god," you panted, feeling your insides tighten around his massive shaft. 

Cillian chuckled, his voice deep and dark as he pulled out slightly, before slamming back into you, sending a jolt of pain through your core.

"Your ass is going to be so sore after this," he gloated, his cock thrusting mercilessly into you. "It's going to hurt a lot actually," he teased, grinning wickedly while you moaned at the sheer thought of it all. 

"And guess what? I won't let you cum until you've earned it so the pain will be even worse," Cillian said, his voice dripping with wicked delight. "You'll beg and plead for release, but it won't come until I say so."

You shivered, the prospect of endless torture exciting you beyond measure. This is what you signed up for, you reminded yourself. A man who possessed the ability to dominate and control you completely. The idea thrilled you, sending a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins.

"Now, I need you to hold nice and still for me while I fill your little hole with my seed," Cillian murmured, his voice thick with lust. "Are you ready for me to mark you as mine?"

You nodded, your heart racing with anticipation. As Cillian withdrew his cock, you felt a sense of loss, a void forming within you that only his presence could fill.

"Put your face down in the pillow," Cillian ordered, his voice commanding. "I'm going to slide in deep now, baby," he said, positioning himself behind you once more.

"I want to feel you squeezing my cock with your tight little channel, begging to be marked with my seed."

You could hear the hunger in his voice, a palpable force that resonated loudly through the room. The thought of being claimed, owned, and possessed by him excited you beyond belief. You moaned softly, arching your back in anticipation.

He rammed his cock back into your now gaping rear with such force that it hurt, causing you to scream out in pain.

"Ah! Fuck!" you yelled as tears welled up in your eyes from the intense penetration.

"Good girl, let me hear those pretty little screams of yours!" Cillian roared, his words punctuated by the forceful thrusts of his cock. 

You grimaced, biting on the edge of the pillow to muffle your cries. "Ow! Ah!" you groaned, your voice muffled and shaky. Despite the mounting pain, you couldn't help but revel in the sensation of being thoroughly taken by someone so unrelenting.

"Here it comes, baby," Cillian rumbled, the words vibrating against your skin as, with a final, triumphant thrust, he surged into you, filling you to the brim with his seed.

You cried out, the sudden influx of warmth overwhelming you.

"There we go," Cillian murmured, a satisfied grin playing across his lips. "Now tell me, how does it feel?" he asked while withdrawing his cock slowly, causing your gaping hole to shrink almost instantly.

"It burns," you whispered, your voice quivering as you felt his hot semen leak out of you, staining the bedding beneath you. "But I loved it," you admitted, the words tasting bitter on your tongue.

"I knew you would," Cillian chuckled, his voice dripping with pride. "Now you're mine."

You flinched, a wave of dread washing over you. Now that it was done, the reality of your situation hit you like a ton of bricks.

"What happens now?" you asked hesitantly, your voice trembling.

"It's simple, really," Cillian replied nonchalantly, his voice laced with amusement. "I'll continue to use you as I please, whenever I please. And you'll learn to accept your new role as my pet," he explained before giving you a quick wink and untying you from the bed. 

[steinfellds]

Don't Trust Strangers

Pairing: Dark!WandaNat x Fem!Reader

Summary: You always felt like your neighbour, Wanda was always too nice to be true.

Warnings: mommy kink, daddy kink, dub-con, kidnapping, head (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), mentions of strap-on sex, slapping, emotional abuse, teasing, finger sucking, exhibitionism 

1.3k Words

a/n: yeah..not too proud with this one either but idc enough to fix it

/ masterlist / / w.n masterlist /

"How hard is it to fucking behave?" You don't even notice that Natasha slapped you until you heard the loud crack.

Your eyes immediately fill with tears and you bring your hand up to soothe your cheek. You can tell that your cheek is going to bruise by the throbbing pain.

"I give you everything and this is how you repay me?" Natasha yells, stepping further towards you and cornering you into a wall, "This is the 5th time you've tried to escape this month."

You're quiet. You're always quiet whenever Natasha yells at you.

"You know what?" Natasha grabs a handful of your hair, dragging you towards the front door, "You wanna leave so badly, huh? Get out."

Your heart drops as Natasha throws you out into the cold night, slamming the door behind you and locking it. Immediately, you start banging on the door, begging her to let you back inside.

"Natasha, please! I'm sorry." You cry, your fist starting to ache, "I'll be good, I promise."

After 10 minutes of begging and banging on the door, you realise that Wanda wasn't going to let you back in. She doesn't love you anymore. Your heart breaks at that realisation.

You pick yourself off the floor and walk away from the door, travelling down the rows of apartments. You pause when you hear a door open in front of you, revealing a woman with brown hair. She’s wearing a nightgown and looks like she was about to sleep.

"You okay, detka?" She asks kindly, concern written all over her face.

You feel comfort in her words as Natasha always calls you 'detka'. You don't know what language it is, but you love hearing it.

Your face must be stained in tears because the moment you close enough to her, the woman wraps her arms around you, tightly hugging you and kissing the top of your head.

"Do you wanna stay with me tonight?" She offers.

With a simple nod from you, she leads you into her apartment. Her apartment is cozy. There are lit candles and shelves filled with many books. The woman leads you over to the couch, giving you a blanket and a pillow.

"My name is Wanda." She introduces herself.

As she introduces herself, you realise that you're in a stranger's house without the protection of Wanda and start to panic. You feel helpless and vulnerable without Natasha.

"Y/n, breathe, it's okay." You don't even notice that Wanda somehow knows your name in your panicked state.

"I-I don't know you." You mumble, shuffling away from Wanda. Wanda crouches down in front of you, her hands coming up to rest on her knees, keeping you in place and unable to move away from her.

"You're safe with me, Y/n." Wanda's face is soft and her words are convincing. Wanda looks behind you and stands up, "Do you like to read?"

You nod your head, watching her pull a book from her bookshelf. She places it in your lap and you hesitantly pick it up.

"Read aloud for me," Wanda says, returning to her original place. You open the book and start to read the first page confidently. You've always been a good reader. Suddenly, Wanda grabs onto your thighs, pulling you closer to her and spreading them apart. You let out a squeal and immediately try to close your thighs, but Wanda's too strong. "Keep reading, detka." She demands, her fingers slowly moving up to your clit, rubbing soft circles over the fabric.

You start to protest, "My mo- my girlfriend says only she can touch me there." Your face heats up at your slip-up, praying that Wanda wouldn't notice.

"Your mommy says it's okay," Wanda smirks at your blushing face.

You start to question what Wanda means but are unable to get a word out as Wanda pushes your panties to the side and roughly pushes her fingers into you, curling them and pumping them into you.

You drop the book and cover your mouth with your hand, muffing your loud moans.

Wanda pulls your hand away with her free hand and puts the book back into your hands.

"Read," Wanda demands, her thumb coming up and rubbing your clit. You let out a whimper and start to read the book again. Your words are shaky and whiny, and you can't control the deep blush that flushes across your face as Wanda starts to tease you.

"Awe, baby, can't you read? You really are a dumb little baby, aren't you? You just need your mommy and daddy to look after you."

You shake your head, trying to deny words that you both know are true.

"You couldn't even wait 20 minutes, Wanda? How pathetic." Natasha's voice makes you pause and look over at the front door with wide eyes. You didn't even hear her come in.

As Natasha starts to move closer, you start to feel very exposed and try to close your thighs around Wanda's hand. Natasha tsks at you and Wanda forces your thighs back apart.

"Dumb little girl, you couldn't even control yourself from letting another woman touch you?"

You start to deny her words, trying to explain how you told Wanda that she couldn't touch you but Wanda curls her fingers, hitting the spot that immediately makes you see stars. Your back arches and you let out a whiny moan as you cum around her fingers.

Natasha grabs Wanda's hair and pulls her into a kiss. Wanda moans softly and you can feel yourself getting even wetter by the second.

"Nat-" Wanda moans out, her breathing laboured as the other woman starts to play with her tits through her shirt, tugging and pinching the nipple between her fingers.

You whine loudly, disliking the sudden lack of attention.

Natasha pulls away from Wanda with a laugh. She likes to hear how desperate you get.

"Make her feel good, Wands." Natasha helps the younger girl back onto her knees before turning her attention back to you. "And keep reading, baby."

You obediently pick up the book and start to read again. Wanda pushes your panties back to the side and easily slips her fingers into you. Her mouth wraps around your clit, and you moan, grabbing her hair and pulling her closer to you.

Your attention is quickly pulled over to Natasha when she moans loudly. She's sitting on the couch across from you with her hands in her pants, getting off at the sight in front of her.

"Don't stop reading, Y/n." Natasha's voice is surprisingly strong and steady compared to her flustered state.

You shake your head, letting the book slide out of your hands as your head drops forward, "I'm gonna cum, daddy." You warn, your fingers digging into the couch to steady yourself.

Wanda immediately pulls away from you, her lips shining with your slick as she looks back at you with blown-out pupils. You want to whine about her ruining your orgasm, but you know better.

Natasha's orgasm quickly washes over her. Her moan is silent and she continues to stimulate her clit until she's too sensitive.

"Come here, Wanda." Natasha holds her fingers out to Wanda, grinning when the girl wraps her mouth around them, sucking them clean.

"Such a good girl," Natasha mutters and Wanda blushes at the praise.

Natasha finally turns her attention to you. Your eyes are filled with tears threatening to fall over.

"Awe, poor baby. Did you want to cum?" Natasha softly grabs onto your chin, making you look up at her.

You nod, letting the tears fall down your cheeks.

"Too bad." Natasha lightly slaps your cheek before undressing herself and Wanda, revealing your favourite strap.

"Let's show her what good girls miss out on, hm?"